Condolences to the Damned

Water beaded off of Seri's skin as she stepped from the shower, moving through the dormitory facilities until she had returned to her locker. Her expression was heavy with thought, and she had been lost in concentration ever since Tomaya had accused her so brashly. She even noticed that her fingers were still trembling as she slipped quietly into her lace. Luckily, Reisi seemed to take the wolf's taunting with a grain of salt, which saved her an incredibly awkward explanation. Though, with how defensive Saruhiko was of her as time progressed, she also worried that he might get the wrong idea about their relationship as well, especially after he caught her supporting the young vampire's thirst.

'Tetsuko made it sound so easy,' she theorized despondently. 'Does he have no love for that friend of his? Could he be so cruel as to take life so easily?' Her gaze tapered on her belongings in the locker when retrieving her sweater left her PDA uncovered atop the pile. 'What am I thinking? Of course. He is truly one with the beast dwelling within him.'

Not only was Tomaya cursed with the violent tendencies to satisfy his primal nature, but he'd also lived since the incident involving the founders of the two clans. It was quite apparent that he was simply bored with life at this point. However, it made her consider that every immortal lingering as part of their tedious world might eventually feel the same given time.

After finishing dressing, Seri reached for her mobile and checked over her shoulder before dialling out. Since Tomaya had mentioned it, her interest in the situation weighed heavily on her heart. They knew that killing Kagutsu off wasn't going to be the problematic part. The grim reality would be taking responsibility for the lives waiting to crumble to dust if that was their fate. There was no hiding from it anymore. If they didn't act soon, there was a chance that Kagutsu was going to get free and take more than vampire lives. That was equally as inconceivable.

As she listened to the line ring, Seri's eyes remained fixed on SCEPTRE4's logo mounted on the wall of her locker room. She had a duty as Munakata Reisi's second-in-command to act in the best interest of humanity, no matter the cost. In the beginning, she felt like she understood that better, and that was why she closed off her heart to anything else. Letting him in may have been the worst decision she'd ever made, but she couldn't let it keep her from her purpose. If she failed to act when necessary, SCEPTRE4's reputation as a government faction meant to serve and protect could be compromised.

Ever since the first day she adorned her uniform, it still filled her with great pride to represent her clan, her king. As badly as it hurt, she couldn't let her heart get the better of her mission. If they succeeded in curing any trace of Kagutsu's curses, she would delightedly embrace the love she'd found. On the other hand, Izumo was right. If the vampirism remained, she couldn't bring herself to stay by his side, and maybe he wouldn't give her a choice. Whereas she would wither away over the decades, he would be his vibrant self for generations to come. To tie him to her slow decay wasn't fair either. So, she decided that at that moment, until the ideal outcome fell into their hands, she would focus on her mission to save every one of the afflicted.

"Kusanagi."

The hushed gasp to startled Seri had her heart fluttering like she hadn't just taken her thoughts down a bleak path. Maybe tomorrow would spell disaster, but that night, she could still hear his smooth voice on the other end of the connection. "G-good evening, Kusanagi-san," she murmured gently. "This is Awashima. Are you… busy?" An even chuckle sounded over the line that had Seri squirming.

"I always have time for you, Seri-chan." But as he said it, she could sense the exhaustion in his voice, noting that something was troubling him.

His willingness had her flustering as she paced the quiet locker room late that night, preparing to return to her dorm for the evening. Unfortunately, she'd just called to hear his voice, to comfort in his reassurance, so she wasn't sure where to take their conversation next. "The Captain addressed Tetsuko this afternoon regarding the situation between Kagutsu and Habari-san."

"The old dog was around for that, huh? Bet he's just fit to be tied."

A curt snort sounding with notes of amusement caused Seri to roll her eyes. "He should be, and to a short post," she growled. "At the very least, gagged at all times. That mouth of his is vile, and he doesn't hold back his vulgarity in the slightest. Not to mention those senses of his are downright uncanny."

"Wow, Seri, I didn't know you were into that sort of thing," Izumo drawled mischievously. "Are you dropping hints?"

"Don't be absurd," she bashfully reprimanded. "You and he are nothing alike."

"Mn, didn't say we were," he teased. "So, what'd he have to say?"

That was where Seri lost her confidence, the certainty in her voice draining to soften her tone. "He seems to believe that striking down the demon is a frivolous task," she admitted candidly. "The Captain's sword seems to have the ability to destroy the demon somehow. That was how Habari-san did it the first time."

"Really?" Izumo sounded doubtful. "I don't know how much of that I believe. If he did use that sword the first time, maybe it's time for a better sword, because it obviously didn't do a real great job back then."

"Fushimi and the Captain are looking into that as we speak. We don't intend to make the same mistakes as our predecessors, but it's difficult for us, too," she reasoned. "Habari-san passed before he could tell anyone how he managed to slay the demon. We've only just confirmed that his sword, now in the hands of our Captain, might very well be the key."

"That king of yours sure moves fast," Izumo marvelled. "I'm impressed."

Seri smiled softly, subtly prideful on her king's behalf. "And you?" she prompted. "How is the situation there? We haven't heard much from your clan since Christmas Eve."

That was when Izumo's tone lowered, and the playful spirit in his voice flattened with traces of the disdain that he struggled to conceal. "We told the boys about the situation today." He laughed lightly to try and break the ominous vibe surrounding the subject. "Turns out the best way to get them to settle down is to tell them all that their days are numbered."

Hearing the mockery in his voice caused Seri to stiffen, but her stern order remained tender with concern. "Don't say those things," she enforced in a firm whisper. "You know that we're doing our best here to see that-"

"I know, I know," he interrupted softly. "Relax, Seri-chan. It was a joke."

Her eyes fell weak as her lips tightened around her grief. "You have a bad habit of making them at inappropriate times."

"Yeah, I guess I do…"

The silence between them dragged, and on his side of the conversation, Izumo could swear he could hear the static crackling over the once crystal-clear sound of her voice. Everything felt distorted, even reality, especially reality. He didn't know what else to say or do. He felt lost, and just hearing her voice was a warm ray of hope that he'd do anything to hold onto for just a little longer. Unfortunately, words and their meaning were fading together, leaving nothing but silence in their wake.

A cold draft caused Izumo's skin to crawl as he stared vacantly into his blackened storefront. He sat at one of the tables, creating a tiny crimson ember to surge among the gloom with every breath he inhaled through his fourth or fifth cigarette. Finally, he couldn't stand listening to her trembling breaths on the other line. He wanted to feel them against him. He wanted to feel her warmth surrounding him. For just one more night, he wanted to believe that there was a chance that everything could work out.

"Hey, Seri-chan?" A small smile livened his expression as she choked out a jittering acknowledgment as if he'd startled her. She was the one who called him, after all. "I don't suppose… you might be interested in-"

"Please be serious…"

Izumo closed his eyes around his next inhale, surrendering that he probably took their situation too lightly for too long for her to realize just how serious he was.

"I have to be up early to see Fushimi off."

"Duty first, eh? I see how it is…"

"No, that's not what I-"

"I'm teasing you, Seri," he murmured half-heartedly. "I know this is important to you. It's one of the things I love most about you. You're a woman who knows exactly what she wants." And he wished that he could make his words sound more convincing as his fingers trembled around his smoke. "I've got a customer here, so you do what you gotta do, and we'll catch up later. I've got nothin' but time."

After muffling awkward goodbyes, Izumo disconnected the line, dropping his forearm and phone between his legs as his elbows continued to rest on his knees. He hated the taste of his fear as his fingers touched his lips around his cigarette. A part of him hated how casually he could look at their situation. Then, he figured by the time reality struck him hardest, he would continue to be the stone to break the wave of tragedy washing over them.

Still, as he sat in the empty bar in complete darkness listening to the rain falling outside, he couldn't help but long for sunshine. It wasn't that he'd been denied it during his stay as a vampire, but the irony of the day's deluge had a mocking grin painted weakly on his lips. "What a crappy day," he muttered bleakly to himself. "But, I guess there's always tomorrow."

The moment that Saburōta went to unlock his apartment door only to realize that it was already open, he cringed. It was hard enough to face Neirah before, but after what was exposed to them that day, he felt like his death couldn't come swiftly enough.

It wasn't that he wanted to die. The thought terrified him because he wasn't brave enough to face that reality. The reason he'd sought power in the first place was that he was envious of people like Yō, or his king, people who could take what they wanted when they wanted. They were in complete control of when and how they suffered. For a while, he had a taste of that freedom, but now, it seemed like it was slipping away.

When he opened his door, he could see Neirah balled across the room. She sat by the window with her knees tight to her chest, her head in her arms as she watched droplets race down the glass. She was his loss of control, the very embodiment. Any chance he hoped he had of finding common ground with her had fled the moment that Izumo spoke the condemning words he shared that evening. Now, not only had Saburōta stolen her hopes and dreams, but because of his actions, she would die with them, should it come to that.

But he didn't want to give up on her. He didn't care if it seemed stubborn or outlandish. The time that made vampires so arrogant was running out, and for some reason, that saddened him. Even if things hadn't been easy that week, they were exciting and new. He liked the way it felt, the way he felt when she was near. She was unpredictable, and the thrill of the hunt continued to encourage his chase.

"H-hey, you're still up?" Saburōta quietly closed the door behind him and tried to keep the plastic bag in his hand from rustling too much. He didn't want to disturb her any more than he had to. "I uh…" After kicking his shoes off, he straightened and opened both handles of the bag to peek the contents. "I figured it's kinda a crappy day, and after all… well, anyway… I didn't feel like makin' anything to eat." He didn't mention his complete lack of appetite. "So, I thought that soup was kind of acceptable with all the… everything."

Neirah turned sad eyes over her shoulder to where Saburōta had reached to pull out one of the takeout containers, offering it with a pitifully small and tight-lipped smile.

"I got enough for you, too, if you're hungry…"

Somewhere in the centre of her throat, Neirah felt the sting of tears, and they forced her to turn away from him entirely. She was starving, and as knotted as her stomach was, she knew that she needed to keep up her strength. Izumo had driven that home earlier that afternoon. "Take those ridiculous sunglasses off. It's raining for crying out loud…" Her tone was noticeably cracking with emotion even as she tried to sound perturbed. She blinked more frequently to fight the tears she noticed blurring her vision even more than what the raindrops on the windowpane offered. "I can't take you seriously when you're wearing them."

In a way, hearing her berate him may have been the most comfort he'd found all day, and with a slightly broader smile, he obeyed. "Ah, sorry, old habits, I guess…"

"And don't apologize so quickly," she commanded. "It doesn't offend me when you wear them."

The comfort of her aggression soon faded as the moments passed, so Saburōta surrendered her share of supper to the vacant seat across from him. "I'll just leave it here if you want it."

For a moment, Neirah just watched him fidget at the table with the lid of his soup. He pushed it around a couple of times, staring into the miso broth like he was counting bits of tofu while he waited for it to cool. Then, she comprehended that he probably wasn't hungry at all, and he just needed an excuse to try to do something kind for her. That only made her feel worse. She knew that he was going to be guilt-ridden with accountability for everything she'd experienced that week, and that would continue right up until the very end. From the beginning, it was unfair to hate people who were suffering just as much as she was.

Without speaking, Neirah gently unfolded her numb legs, padding away from the window. She approached the warm offering as if she were a stray dog judging the sincerity of the scraps laid out by a kind stranger. How strange, she thought, that she was still comparing him to one even after the night they spent in each other's arms.

Neirah raised her eyes timidly just once as she reached for her meal, but when she did so only to catch his gaze directly, she rushed the remainder of the process. She snatched her food, diverted her blushing face and hurried to her misty windowpane to watch the rain.

It was there that she sat in silence. After popping the lid, she raised the container between both hands and sipped the broth warming her to the bone. That didn't seem to help her feel any more comfortable as they sat worlds apart, eating their modest meal in a cramped apartment, but for whatever reason, there was still no place she'd rather be.

"My mom used to put pork gyoza in miso soup."

Neirah's sudden attention darted towards where Saburōta was absently swirling the takeout container like he was disturbing the scallions at the bottom.

Despite the sadness in his voice, he still laughed mildly, as if recalling the memories brought him some level of peace. "I guess I used to refuse to eat it unless it had meat in it, so that's… that's what she did."

After glimpsing her bowl, Neirah redirected her attention outside and brought it to her lips for another sip. "I always preferred mine with leek and as many shitake mushrooms as I could fit in the bowl."

Across the room, Saburōta's attention seemed to brighten as he looked hopefully towards the woman. "Ah, s-sounds good!" Frankly, it wasn't to his taste, but he sure was excited that she responded to his meek conversation starter. He supposed that he'd finally found an appropriate icebreaker.

Even if she couldn't let it display on her face, Neirah felt the comforting smile linger in her heart as she watched traffic signals change colours below. The world exploded with lights as it glowed beneath the rain. The dull streets shone with vibrant colours, and, given the right perspective, things looked just a little less dreary. "I don't know when I started that, though," she whispered. "I can't remember how my mother used to make it."

Saburōta shifted anxiously as the topic devolved. "Shōhei mentioned something about that," he started cautiously. "He said that you lived with that werewolf guy since you were a kid."

"Tomo?" Neirah didn't reconnect their gazes as she admitted it. "Yes. That's right."

And that was where Saburōta expected the conversation to end when she drew out the delay between statements.

"He killed my parents one night when I was young, and we've been together ever since."

It was hard for Saburōta to conceal his bemusement without the protection of his cherished accessory. "W-whoa, hold on," he babbled. "And you were just… okay with that?"

Neirah didn't seem affected. "It was a strange situation," she explained. "My family and I moved around a lot, and we were driving late at night when my father hit something. He thought it was an animal, at first. They went to check the damage on the vehicle, and my mom told me to wait in the backseat." She lowered her eyes, watching people pass by many stories below. "By the time I finally got up the courage to leave the vehicle, he'd calmed down." She softly snorted like she wanted to laugh, but she didn't outwardly mock the situation. "We didn't talk about it much afterwards. I think he mainly saw me as a utility for his preservation, but the thing that stuck out to him most that night was the way I approached him."

"I think I was still in shock." She turned to face Saburōta's keen interest with a faint smile. "Instead of asking him what he was, I asked him why he did it. I wanted to know what crazy nonsense just turned him into a bloodthirsty monster in an instant." Despite the severity of the situation, she remained relatively calm as she spoke about the trauma. "You know, I never saw myself as much of a dog person. I always preferred cats. But at that point, I didn't have much to live for anymore. My friends were on the other side of the country, and far from my reach. We hadn't made it to Shizume in time for me to make any more. Once my parents were gone, I didn't have anyone but him. I guess I was a little cynical. If he wanted to kill me in my sleep, I just hoped it would be quick, but that fear of death sort of diminished in me."

"That's why you were so calm when… with the whole vampire thing."

She avoided his reiteration entirely, trying her hardest to fight the dread welling within her. "I guess I grew up believing that things like who you are or why you do something is more important to me than what you can't help being. And that's why… I can't hate you for this, no matter how hard I try."

'That's why… she asked my name…' Hearing the weakness in Neirah's voice made Saburōta shudder, and he calmly rose from his chair as if he might approach. It was cautiously, however. He didn't take his first step towards her until he was sure. "Is it… okay if I come over?"

"I never said that you couldn't…" she whispered.

Those were the moments Saburōta not only enjoyed but felt like he lived to experience. His heart began to race as he approached, folding his legs and taking a set next to her on the ledge, not so close that she would flee, but close enough that he could feel her warmth contrasting the icy windowpane. For a moment, he just sat with her in reassuring silence. His back was against the glass, her back was to him, but it felt… nice. It felt nice.

"So, does that mean… you're not afraid of… what might happen?"

Neirah slowly shook her head, her tears finally beginning to bubble over as she listened to the rainfall intensifying. Her pitiful state, the awful weather, the measly meal, the painful memories, her chaotic feelings, and her doubt, everything struck her all at once. "I don't think anyone really wants to give up on life," she whispered weakly into the still night. "But we aren't always given a choice to fight."

Saburōta's brow tightened with dismay when he heard her sniffle on the other side of the windowsill out of his sight. If he knew anything about the woman next to him, it's that she was a fighter. She was determined, one way or another to see things through, even them. If she genuinely didn't want anything to do with him, she could have left at any moment. She was strong enough for that, and he envied her. But instead of sitting by her side while she suffered being jealous, he used her bravery as his inspiration, and just once, reached to satisfy his greed.

The gentle touch on Neirah's neck startled her, but she didn't retreat. She let it flutter against her skin, withdrawing her loose curtain of hair before searching her face. She turned into his curious advance until he could hook his fingertips around her chin, encouraging her to turn her head over her shoulder and face him. When she met his eyes, they lingered heavily with sedation in a way that wasn't typical. For a moment, he almost looked sure of his touch, of what he wanted from her. She found that incredibly attractive, even enough that a bashful pink hue dusted her cheeks while she lowered her gaze to his approaching lips.

Unlike anything they'd experienced together, the kiss to follow was unbearably tender, and while she enjoyed the fondness that it incited, her tears released freely over her cheeks. She could feel her lips trembling as she withheld the need to sputter with nervous emotion, and the strain in her neck was encouraging her to wonder why she didn't just adjust or deny her need to be closer. Everything just seemed to be going wrong, causing pain and heartache. She was tired of it.

A muffled choke caused her to slip away from his nearness, and she took the opportunity to wipe away the tears draining over her face. Her words came out sounding drowned as she struggled to gather the strength that she needed to carry her brave façade, but she couldn't get her voice to harden. She supposed that, in the end, they were just two enamoured adolescents sneaking around in each other's arms, lovesick and trying desperately to take on the cold world around them. "Thank you." She straightened her legs, squaring up beside him as she attempted to banish her mawkishness. "For not burning me that night…"

Saburōta snapped his teeth together, strained by the weakness that Neirah was comfortable enough to show him. It reminded him of the night she'd come to him begging for his attention, and a part of him wondered if her efforts weren't to fulfil his desires. One of the very few things that she knew about him was that he liked to get his way, and when it came to the quiet moments that they were together, her submission was absolute.

Without thinking, he wrapped his arm across her body, shimmying her down the window ledge until she was sharing her bashful heat with him. His lips were back against hers, harder the second time, and hungrier. Once she relaxed to his sudden display of passion, he raised to his feet, gaining the higher ground as he took hold of her face and tipped it backwards until he could devour it.

All she did outside of whimper was raise her weak fingertips to the beak of his hat and gently peeled it away from his crown, letting it fall to the floor beside them. When she felt him nudge closer to her body, she leaned against the window, parting her knees to allow him room to step between them. She slipped her roaming fingertips under his shirt, feeling the play of tight skin stimulated by her presence as she parted her lips for the broad pass of his tongue.

What she didn't notice while she lingered in blissful silence, was that outside of her comprehension, golden embers exploded with life beneath her breast to connect with the calming aqua. It was reminiscent of the golden sand of a beach steadily combed by the tide. Everything about their union was soothing, despite the ignition of every nerve beneath their skin. As desperately as she wanted to see it, she couldn't bring their connection into focus with how overwhelming everything was that night, and she was discouraged when comprehending that he had never seen it before. It might have been that he didn't know he was capable of such a thing, or maybe her clumsy lover just didn't have that ability.

Eventually, she had to escape his passion so she could catch her breath and finish drying her eyes that continued to wet intermittently. "Last night," she whispered breathlessly. "That was your first time, wasn't it?"

Saburōta seemed to shrink away with a deeply shamed blush as he diverted his eyes. "It was kinda obvious, huh?"

'Well, yes,' is what she wanted to say if she were feeling crueller. "Your first time sticks out, though, like it's important and means something." She watched him actively recall his words from their first encounter, and finally, a faint smile returned to her face. "I wasn't thinking about that when I, you know."

"Heh… I guess we're even then," Saburōta muttered through an appreciative and bashful grin. He couldn't get his discouragement to evacuate his expression entirely as he reached for her, weaving his fingers into her hair just behind her ear. Maybe running out of time was what they needed to find common ground, and from there, it might be possible to glimpse what their future could look like at a distance. Tragedy might be the force to synchronize them in ways that transcended immortality and mortality combined. There was no more waiting and no more lies, just two sporadically racing heartbeats. "What do you say we start over on an even playing field?"

At that point, Neirah surrendered to finding an explanation or justifying the reassuring connection. If she faced death any day soon, she would live each one to its fullest and indulge in the simple pleasures his touch could bring. She comprehended that her fingers were too needy to find the beauty in her lust for his devotion. "Would it be… rude of me to ask you to hold me tonight?"

Surprisingly, Saburōta found a playful smile breaking his panting breaths as he tugged absently on his shirt collar. "Want me to take my shirt off?"

A blissful sigh rushed past Neirah's lips as she smiled tenderly and eagerly matched his enthusiasm. "Hah… yes, please…"