Ugly Games

December 30th 4:38 pm

Keys clattered beneath Saruhiko's fingers to his swift command as he quietly skimmed through SCEPTRE4's archives one last time before facing the resurrected demon lord of old. 'There've been no obvious attempts on the Captain since last night,' he reasoned in thought. 'He must still be holding out for Habari-san's seal to break so he can take over the Red King for good.' He snorted. 'Knowing Suoh, he isn't making it easy for that bastard.' He raised his fifth coffee drink to his lips, keeping his eyes locked on his screen as he sipped it. 'Right now, there's a chance that Suoh could fight back. That's why he was able to save Awashima before he left, though, a lot of good it did him.'

Tsk.

He set down his beverage and continued plucking the keys to adjust the search criteria. 'I still don't know how much time we have, though. I thought I might be able to calculate it if I figured out what year Habari-san was born, but how the hell does someone calculate the lifespan of mortality that's separated from someone's body?'

"Did you hear? The Lieutenant is still missing. Someone said she's joined with the demon."

Saruhiko ground his teeth, trying to focus on his task despite the constant shuffling of his clanmates around him. 'Then there's the sword. Tetsuko mentioned that Habari used it to kill Kagutsu, but I know that's wrong because I've seen the seal, so for him to think that, Habari must have attacked Kagutsu before he laid his trap. But was that crucial?'

"Yeah… I heard she's one of them now, a vampire."

'Is it an important aspect? Does Kagutsu have to be injured for the spell to work? How did he link Tenrō to Kagutsu so directly? That's not an easy thing to analyze without the Captain catching on.'

"But she's not like that girl the Captain brought back with the flame. I guess she's one of the wild ones."

"Poor thing… To think that is how those monsters destroyed such a proud woman."

Finally, Saruhiko couldn't take the chatter around him anymore. He slammed the flats of his palms against his desk, making the fibres crack beneath the pressure of his anger as he climbed from his seat. "You just love to hear yourselves talk, don't you?"

Akira was the first to raise his voice, his tone calm as he addressed their riled clanmate from his unsteady chair. The first thing that Saruhiko should have said to him was that chairs have four legs for a reason. "Fushimi-san? Is something wrong?"

'Other than the way you're sitting in that chair?' he thought. "Yeah," Saruhiko growled bitterly. "You are. All of you. About the Lieutenant, about vampires, but still you talk." And talk, and talk, and talk. His fingers curled into a tight fist as he glared at the scanning screen, and when his search came back dry, he felt his ire take its hold. "How annoying," he snarled. His frustration with his clan, his computer, and his surroundings became unmanageable. "You don't understand anything, but you talk like you're some great heroes protecting the world." He felt it, and that made his teeth tight, but he didn't stop his cuspids from dropping. He was done hiding and suffering the constant ache of keeping them concealed. "I can't stand listening to you. If you want to talk shit about something you don't understand, then do it someplace else so the rest of us can learn!"

The moment that Saruhiko cut his fierce sneer towards Akira, the resting brunette panicked enough that it knocked the last two legs beneath his chair free. He tumbled from his perch with a loud crash at Yūjirō's feet. Ren was the one among the small gathering to take a step forward like he was going to intervene.

"Fushimi-san, what is the meaning of this?" Ren's voice filled with worry as he watched the young man relax. Afterwards, Saruhiko turned his disgruntled snort away from their clamouring entirely. "This isn't funny. Playing such cruel pranks at a time like this-"

"Pranks?!" Andy shouted defiantly. "How does somebody just make their teeth change without touching their face?! How else is that possible?!"

"H-hold on," Akira defended mildly. He half-climbed onto his upturned chair after resetting its position from the floor. "I'm sure Fushimi-san has an answer." He turned worried eyes towards where Saruhiko seemed to have calmed his nerves. "I mean, it's Fushimi… He always has an answer…"

"Fushimi-san?" Himori took a step towards the commotion, helping Akira back to his feet. "You seemed to know a lot about what the Lieutenant was going through the other day." When Saruhiko didn't answer right away, Himori lowered his eyes towards the damage done to the desk beneath Saruhiko's tantrum. "You're one of them, too, aren't you?"

"I realized something the other day, about us, about what we're supposed to be." Saruhiko turned his heated glare towards the bewildered gathering. "Our job here isn't to hunt down supernatural entities like they're animals. We're not animals," he confirmed. "Our job is to understand what we can do to save the lives that are suffering somewhere beneath the curses. If that's the case, let me help you. There are times when death looks plenty inviting, but like the rest of you, I have a damn job to do." He gently closed the top of his laptop with a quiet click before tucking it beneath his arm. "So, if all you're going to do is sit here talking like you ever cared to understand, I'm going to find someplace quieter."

Saruhiko glared at the floor, hating everyone at his back. In a way, he felt indebted to Seri. Even though it was difficult for her to think like a vampire, she honestly did try for him and Izumo. It caused him trace amounts of grief that her dedication to her doctrine became her undoing.

"Fushimi-san, wait!"

The moment that he heard Akira's voice behind him, Saruhiko tensed, stopping in his tracks despite his desire to sprint away. He slowly turned over his shoulder to watch Akira bolt out of the office space where his clanmates congregated.

Akira took a moment to catch his breath, and Saruhiko noticed that he was keeping his distance, unlike usual. That was a common prejudice against creatures that feed off human blood, though. "Just now, you said that it was SCEPTRE4's job to understand supernatural entities, right?" He straightened, a small furrow in his brow like he was flashing signs of disappointment towards his teammate. "But how could we understand when you never told us? Did you not trust us?"

He didn't trust himself, and, at first, Saruhiko didn't seem to take his statement seriously. "The Captain was made aware. I didn't feel that anything further was required." He was rather impatient with it, after a while, because he honestly didn't understand how he'd managed to keep it hidden for so long. His skills for vampire hunting were impeccable due to his thermal detection and night vision, not to mention confrontations were frequent with his charms. 'Did they honestly think I was just that good?'

"Oi! Fushimi!" From within the office, Andy poked his head out around the doorframe to assess the situation, and after a moment, he came barreling out with palpable determination. He wasn't nearly as cautious as he intruded on Saruhiko's personal space, almost brushing noses with the man as he stared at his tightly-sealed mouth.

The first instinct Saruhiko had was to backhand the boy out of his face. It wasn't because he was a vampire; he just didn't like the way Andy was sizing up his tight lips like he was fantasizing about his first kiss with a demon. At that point, Saruhiko didn't even want to part them to speak. "What. are. you looking at?"

"Do it again." Andy raised his shining emerald eyes, his eager smile flashing deviously, and inches from Saruhiko's face. "You can do it whenever you want, right?! Or is it only when you think about blood? Here! Pretend you're going to drink my blood!"

So Saruhiko swatted him with his unrestrained force, causing the youth to yelp in agony. "Idiot," Saruhiko hissed. "Did you already forget that we're at war here?"

"I wanna see," Andy wined upon cradling his aching head. "It was so cool!"

"Cool?"

"A-ah! Don't be so insensitive!" Akira rushed out nervously. He wasn't even sure it was, but he was willing to tread cautiously in the meantime. "Dōmyōji-san, maybe you should just leave him alone for now, okay? Maybe when this is all over, you can try to ask him properly."

"Is he a child?" Saruhiko grumbled.

But instead of meeting the disgust with the intended insult, Akira smiled back at him kindly. "Hah, we probably all look like children to you, don't we?"

He wasn't wrong, and Saruhiko knew that, but he had to admit that being with the Blue Clan over the past few years did add a sense of normality to his life. Saruhiko felt like he'd gone back to a life where every day was new, the world was changing, and for a time, he pretended that he might change with it. But he didn't. He was still bitter, and so alone.

"Sure."

Akira was just as surprised as Andy was when Saruhiko mumbled the curt response that fell into the favour of their suggestion.

"When this is all over, and Kagutsu is gone for good, I'll show you again," he half-heartedly promised. "So, you better work extra hard until then."

Andy's eyes lit up with youthful vigour as he eagerly pumped his fists, a look of determination sharpening his cat-like gaze. "You got it!"

But as he eagerly departed, Saruhiko knew better. He understood something better than any of them. When all was said and done, if the best possible outcome managed to prevail, the curses would lift, sparing the many lives attached. Even then, the price paid to see that optimistic reality to fruition would be his immortality. No matter how many scenarios and paths Saruhiko considered, he couldn't see one where he walked away with his life.

Maybe Saruhiko even teased himself into thinking that he might survive, at first. If he had unlimited lifetimes to sacrifice, perhaps he could retain just enough life to live out the remainder of his allotted lifespan as a mortal. Then again, he also didn't expect something as intangible as lifeforce to flow like water from a tap that you can just turn off when the seal was full. Even if that were the case, he didn't know how one would measure it.

No, nothing was ever that easy. If it were, Saruhiko wouldn't wrack himself as thoroughly as he was over his conundrum. He knew the end, and he had the means. What came after was inconsequential. All that mattered to him was the life he led before, and the person he shared it with at the time. Even if it meant his life, he would fix his mistakes, because somewhere between the dreams of world domination and thirst for human blood, he thought maybe he'd become an adult capable of making such mature decisions.

Then he snickered lowly to himself at the mere thought. If anything, he saw himself as more childish then ever. He couldn't live with the pain of condemning the only person who ever cared about him, so he found an easy solution. That was all.

December 30th 9:11 pm

The room was thick with tension, and the view was nothing short of despairing. Neirah sat at a table in the corner of Bar HOMRA, her limbs pinched so tightly against her sides that she looked like a broken pencil arranged in sections on her seat. If anyone got too close, she glared. She didn't want to be there in the first place, but things only got worse when she arrived.

Some of their usual companions were absent, and she understood that they were quite probably somewhere with Saburōta. Somehow, it seemed that the demon known as Kagutsu Genji had managed to sink his claws into their king, and from there, picked an assortment of their teammates to abduct like pawns for his sick game. On the list of those missing, Saburōta joined with Eric, Yō and what they assumed was Misaki. Nobody had seen him since they'd been educated on their circumstance, though, so that was unconfirmed. Then, there was the kind agent with SCEPTRE4 who tried to feed her while she was in prison. Somehow, Seri managed to contract their affliction, and that was where Neirah's mind went hazy. She was guilty of losing interest in the details along the way.

All she could think about was that for just two days, she almost felt like life was starting to get back on track. Her time as a vampire was a blur and its influence gave her a chance to open up to people she usually wouldn't have taken an interest in before. She'd shared things with them through solidarity that she couldn't explain, and that was even before she added synchronization into the mix.

What she'd birthed by peeking into somebody's heart was a beautiful and terrifying thing. When Shōhei explained the situation over the phone, she charged into the bathroom and leaned herself over the tub for fear that she was going to vomit. The toxic obsession that she'd fueled just by existing turned the one person who she felt safest with against her. Her tan complexion looked pale when she peeked her reflection in the mirror that morning, praying she didn't see those savage eyes again. Only something despicably vile could turn something so gentle into the ugliest shade of terror in her heart.

She thought it was of no consequence. She just understood that vampires built strange bonds through otherworldly connections. They were deceitfully honest through the ways they communicated, which jumbled up everything that she ever knew about human communication. She learned to appreciate feelings over the words people said, but now she was comprehending that maybe words weren't wholly empty. It made her wonder if it would have made a difference if she could have broken their kiss and demand that he come back to her. She knew something was wrong the moment he smiled without a trace of shame. She knew his temperament was a façade, and she knew it was a self-defence tactic used to protect a fragile heart.

But she never nurtured it. She knew Saburōta craved her attention, and she longed for his, too, believing that in a world where all rules surrendered, and everything was new, that was enough. It wasn't. When she felt him against her on edge and begging for her rescue, she couldn't answer. She wondered if it was because she'd forgotten how. Maybe being human was like riding a bike, and you never truly lost the skills, but it seemed so estranged to have to tell somebody you needed them when you could share the excitement through some mysterious unspoken connection. How lazy, she thought.

The keyword was unspoken. Someplace where nothing made any sense anymore, what Neirah felt when she connected with him was comforting. It's how she knew that the people around her were kind. It's how she knew that Saburōta would never hurt her. She thought she knew…

He did, though. Neirah's chest was threatening to burst as she waited in the silence of the bar for his return, for somebody to shout they're here! We found them! And she knew that she wasn't the only one. Tatara was upstairs, tending to an ailing Anna, who had taken ill the moment Mikoto had left. Then, Izumo spent most of his time in direct contact with the Blue Clan, working out the details of their strategy. She heard bits and pieces as she drifted in and out of comprehension.

Neirah had divulged to Izumo about her experience with Saburōta that morning, leaving out some finer details condemning to their complicated status. When she heard Izumo share the information with their unlikely allies, that was when her ears began to focus more on the words spoken. Izumo had agreed with her the moment she shared the most critical element from that morning. He didn't heal. Whether his body wasn't focussing its energy on preservation mid-possession or not, they weren't sure. The way the Blue King had made it sound, the moment Kagutsu took control, the seized vampires became something else entirely, which meant that there was a chance that they could die. The greater meaning behind his concern was that Genji had found a way to shield himself with expendable pawns knowing that none of the remaining clansmen could kill their friends.

She could see it in empty eyes as her dense aura spread throughout the quiet corners of the bar. Rikio was intermittently calling Misaki. He would dial once every ten minutes or so, religiously. Masaomi was sitting at one of the tables far opposing her, spinning a chrome lighter against the tabletop. She found that odd, at first, because she was pretty sure that lighter belonged to Yō. Then again, she'd seen it in Masaomi's hands just as frequently, so she wasn't sure what details she was missing. Kōsuke was probably the calmest of all of them. He sat on the sofa beneath the storefront window with his hands in his lap, watching out the front window like he anticipated the same thing she had.

It seemed like everything stable and good in her messed up world was crumbling, and even if she could understand the pain of those around her, she couldn't be comforted in their presence. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to go back to the home she'd begun to build with her- well, fellow vampire. Her idea of home was just as strange as she'd expressed to him a couple of nights past. She spent most of her life on the edge, never really knowing what to expect out of Tomaya. He was violent, and although she understood why, it still made her nervous. Despite him never hurting her, it was an unpleasant environment, and it was all she knew.

When she first comprehended her attraction to the man who'd changed her life forever, she tried to propagate her experiences like it was normal, despite knowing it wasn't. Maybe a part of her thought that it would help them find common ground like she and Tomaya, which is what she ultimately strived toward. If he yelled, and then she yelled back, but every time they synchronized, she felt the pain. Because she couldn't read his mind, she didn't know where the grief originated. It wasn't until their conversations deepened that she had comprehended what she'd done.

The suffering she was feeling was brought on by memories of his past life. After they ate their soup and admitted to a fresh start, he finally shared his story with her, the one he danced around the first time they spoke on common ground. His father was a particularly nasty man who'd abused his mother for years. His willingness to surrender to the curses their Red King carried, was to protect her. So, he killed him. He killed his father and set his mother free of the damnation.

Then she passed away shortly after.

Unknowingly, Neirah's need to act as she and Tomaya did, encouraged Saburōta to recall the times when his parents would keep him up all night screaming at each other. But she never apologized for surfacing tart memories, and he never blamed her. What was normal for her, what was normal for him, and what society deemed as such were three very different stories, and none of them harmonized. She found it disgustingly ironic. Vampires had this superior ability in addition to human comprehension, and they still bumbled around like fools, breaking hearts, hiding their tears. In the spinning blur, in the whirlwind where she danced between worlds with her ears ringing, she wondered if there was ever a difference.

She didn't understand why that night had to mean anything at all. Yes, Saburōta bit her, making her something inhuman. But the resentment she felt that night was premeditated. She felt like she had to hate him for stealing her life, but the truth was that he'd thieved her heart the moment he whispered his clumsy apology against her ear. She didn't see how it was any different from a circumstance where she might have met him at a bar, maybe they had a couple of drinks, and he wound up kissing her on impulse. He apologized, and they'd laugh it off, maybe exchange numbers. Perhaps he was the kind of guy she would take home and make bad decisions with all along. If that were true, then everything to follow wasn't nearly as confusing. It made perfect sense.

They met, they flirted, they fell in love. They fell in love. And like the young and foolish hearts they were, regardless of their abilities, neither of them said a thing. Instead, they comforted in an eternity of tomorrows. This time, tomorrow didn't come, and that's what it took for her to admit that she couldn't wait for him anymore. She knew what he felt because she was a vampire, but he kept it to himself because he was a vampire. She hated it. She hated all of it so much that it made her teeth mill to keep from screaming.

Neirah's next breath let a gentle squeal slip through, which immediately embarrassed her. The room was so quiet around her that she was sure everybody heard her, but she was grateful that none of them acknowledged it. Instead, Rikio redialed Misaki's number, Masaomi popped the top of his lighter, and Kōsuke's steady breath fogged up the windowpane. Meanwhile, she made herself as small as she could on her chair, drawing her socked-heels to the surface where she sat. Her knees met her chest as she coiled her arms around them, trying to replicate the reassurance she found when Saburōta had clung to her instead.

Since the very first time she'd met him, he was like that. He'd kept her close, weaving a protective safety net with his arms as he clutched her tight to his warmth. She vividly recalled his long legs framing her hips, his warm palms on her waist and his head on her shoulder. There was nothing evil or perverted about it. His charm worked to weaken his targets, but the only reason he struggled to be in control was that, where he came from, it was scary not to be. But she'd noticed something the moment she tried to coax that lust for superiority out of him the first night they laid together.

He didn't really want to dominate anything. He wanted to feel safe, wanted someone to trust. Sometimes, that meant forcing other people to submit to your idealistic reality. He'd grown up without those things, and that was the part that they'd shared. That was the link in their chain that would break the illusion and bind them. That night, Saburōta told her that he was afraid he wouldn't stop, and she took that as his confession that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. She felt that apprehension had a duality. He was afraid to need her too much, which is what ultimately happened. He didn't stop at holding her. He'd learned her; her touch, her body and scent, the way she breathed. He was so amazed that he'd finally found something decent to hold onto that he broke, and lost himself entirely to their enemies.

Then was it a sin to love? Because she loved every second of his devotion, those quiet moments where he would just stare at her across the room, his fixed gaze hidden beneath the protection of his ridiculous sunglasses. She knew that he was confused, and so was she, but he tried so hard. He held onto her until the very end, and even when she fought his persistence, he came back. He made sure she always had a safe place since the day they met. When she submitted the first time, Saburōta could have dropped her to the cold pavement and flashed that arrogant grin scarring her senses that morning, but he didn't. He didn't because he cared. And no matter how sick he was of being at the bottom of life's barrel, he never let it turn him into the monster his father must have been, the demon Genji was about to make him.

Neirah buried her face in her knees, concealing her feverish brow as she began to weep quietly in her corner. She existed in a world where nothing mattered, but at the same time, every detail counted. Learning to appreciate what made you human or inhuman was all a point of view, but her eyes were too blurred by tears to see past her nose. Life either moved too quickly or far too slow to take the time and consider the intricacies surrounding her, and she'd missed the most important one to come into her life since Tomaya. She'd betrayed his unyielding devotion by failing to comprehend that it existed.

You're my responsibility, so I'll protect you.

You're mine, so no one else can have you.

I love you, so I'll keep you safe by my side.

Another choked cry sounded muffled behind her knees as she began to shake. The nagging scream locked in her throat caused her to start choking, and she knew she wouldn't be able to avoid their attention for long. Soon enough, someone was going to walk over to her and tell her that everything was going to be okay, but as precious as time was to them, she couldn't tolerate that they weren't acting. She didn't want to hear their lies. She wanted the man she loved to come home and protect her from her fears in the same clumsy way that only he'd learned how.

"Here." Shōhei's voice was kind as he quietly laid a cup of tea in front of the coughing woman. "I don't know if vampires can choke to death, but it doesn't sound overly pleasant, does it?"

Neirah's glassy eyes tipped towards the calm brunette before her, wondering why she didn't seem to mind his intrusion. Then again, she figured it was the same reason why she kept Saburōta's PDA in the centre pocket of his navy hoodie that she'd dressed herself in before leaving their apartment. At that point, she didn't care about their speculations. She showered with his body wash and found the biggest sweater he owned to hide beneath. At that point, she figured that Saburōta was the only one daft enough not to have picked up on her true intentions the moment she commanded that she would live with him.

Regardless of wanting to be alone, Neirah gratefully accepted Shōhei's offering, and when she did, it seemed she'd unintentionally invited him to take the seat next to her. She cleared her throat in preparation to speak, taking a slow sip of her tea shortly afterwards. "I'm sorry," she whispered mildly. "I'm acting incredibly selfish."

"That's alright," he assured her. But that was all. He didn't once claim to understand.

His tone was gentle and filled her with a warmth that she wanted to blame on her hot beverage.

"I just wish he could see this." Shōhei turned his caring chocolate gaze to where Neirah glanced back at him skeptically. "He was so worried about messing things up. Do you know he tried to get me to give up my bed when you said you were gonna live with him?" He laughed, causing more attention to slink their way than her tears ever did. "He didn't want you to have to sleep on the floor."

"He obsesses over the most ridiculous things," she whimpered dimly. "Like that little incident at the harbour, and then-" Her cheeks dusted as she diverted her guilty expression. "Well, there are other things too."

"I think it's the first time he's ever really had these feelings, so he just wants everything to be perfect."

"He doesn't know what perfect is," she whispered. "None of us do." Finally, she found an awkward smile crossing her face that must have seemed just as out of place as Shōhei's laughter. 'That's probably why when something is good, or not good, he just says it outright.' And a gentle titter tickled her tongue when she recalled the way he'd just flopped over and played dead the time when Shōhei had interrupted their petting. But even if it wasn't perfect, it was good. It all felt good, and she wanted more of it. She didn't need anything more than his ungainly charm to keep a smile on her face in times of tragedy. "But what we had was good," she admitted in a dry, but somewhat tender tone. "And I want it back."

"Me too," Shōhei supported.

What interrupted their quiet conversation was a hooded figure stepping into the bar, and it caused Izumo to raise his attention from the documents he was studying behind the counter. "I'm sorry, but we're actually closed today," he assured the tall figure as casually as he could muster through his stress. "Coulda sworn I put that sign out."

"If you're closed, why's your fucking door unlocked?" A derisive snort hissed past flared nostrils as Tomaya lowered his hood, ruffling up his reddish mop beneath. "Makes zero sense."

Izumo immediately straightened and hardened his tone, on high alert as the golden irises of his unwelcome guest cut over the dark circles framing his eyes. "I'm sorry-?"

"Tetsuko-san?" Neirah climbed to her feet, rushing across the floor towards the familiar face joining her for the first time since his imprisonment. "They've released you?"

"Hold on," Rikio rumbled nervously. "Wasn't that the werewolf guy?"

Tomaya shot his impatient glower towards the heavyset man and wrinkled his nose until it bunched the freckles on his cheeks. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." He diverted his attention and growled his continuation under his breath. "Asshole. How'd they not get your fatass?"

"Don't be rude," Neirah demanded ardently with a firm swat. "I'm glad you're safe, but this is a terrible time for us."

"Us?" Tomaya mocked dryly. "You've been a fucking bloodsucker for like a week."

"And I am not in the mood to discuss it any further!" Neirah cautioned him sternly. "What do you want, Tomo?"

"Are you callin' me Tomo 'cause you stink like the fuckboy?" His exhausted gaze tapered on the sight of her trembling defiance. "Oh yeah, he's all over you," he growled intolerantly. "Let me guess, the reason all your shit's gone from our place is that you shacked up with the little punk and you're stashin' it all there now, aren't you?"

Without a stable thought to contradict her actions, Neirah swung her leg up over her head with every intension on breaking her foot against his head. Before her strike could land, his palm was intercepting. "Piss off, you're just gonna hurt yourself," he grumbled. When he felt the room shift around him in defence of the woman defying his unsolicited intrusion, he sighed and released her dainty foot. "Relax. I didn't come here to hunt bloodsuckers."

"Vampires." Neirah's statement was flat and filled with pride as she confronted her caregiver. "And if you didn't come here to fight or pay your respects, then maybe you should leave."

"I'm gonna leave," he reassured her sternly. "And I'm takin' you with me."

"Say what?!" Rikio thundered. "Listen, pal. You can't just come in here and-"

"Enough!" Neirah screeched. "No more! I can't handle everything all at once." After trying her best to calm her nerves, she threw her finger out towards the door. "I'm not going anywhere until Bandō comes back."

"Well, I hate to break it to ya sweetheart, but Fuckboy's as good as gone." Tomaya didn't show an ounce of leniency in his command as he glanced around at the other mortified gazes in the bar. "Yeah, that's right. I know where he is. I know where they all are. The bluecoats sent me after 'em."

"Was Yata-san with 'em too!?" Rikio commanded urgently.

"Who the fuck-?! Which one of the hundreds was he?!" Tomaya raged.

"Wait, hundreds?" Izumo nervously pried. "You say there were hundreds of- what? Vampires?"

"Fuck if I know. I didn't get close enough to see their faces. It just so happens that this particular bastard stinks of frat boy. Alcohol, sex and tears." He growled upon tugging the sleeve of a sweater he knew didn't belong to his moon. "Betcha he flunked every one of his exams too."

"Don't talk about him like you know him!" Neirah swatted his arm away with a defiant hiss, and it only incensed her more to realize that she wasn't even sure what level of education her lover had. She felt hypocritical just for saying the words.

"You don't know him!" Tomaya raised his voice and threw his hand out towards the remainder of their congress. "You don't know any of these shits! But I know you, Tsukiyo! You have a sick obsession with digging out the best in people, even lowlife scum like me. But you go and put your nose where it doesn't belong! It doesn't belong here!" He turned and clasped both of her shoulders to keep her trembling steady as he forced her to meet his intense leer, and as he'd suggested, she could see the worry in his eyes. "What's comin' isn't pretty. Take it from someone who's seen it happen before. This bastard's playin' for keeps and-"

Tomaya cut his impatient sneer over his shoulder, glowering at their nosy company before lowering his tone to try and exclude them. "And I know I used to say that it didn't matter when you died 'cause you'll always be my moon. But I don't want you to die like this. I wanted you to grow up to be a cute little old lady with fifty cats and a shogi obsession." His expression softened with bitter concern as he considered the cult-like congregation scattered throughout the area. "And I woulda played with you," he admitted vaguely. "You put up with my shit for too long to go out like this."

Even as the worried tears stung her eyes, Neirah continued to shake her head. "You were there," she whispered. "You knew that he came for me that night."

"That was different, Neirah!" he barked impatiently. "The blues aren't shit compared to Kagutsu! Your boy's not comin' home!"

"Then I'll go to him!" She shook his callous touch free and stepped towards Shōhei. When she did, Neirah felt his reassuring support reach for her hand, and she knew she wasn't alone. Maybe she was speaking for herself because her heart was hurting, but she wasn't the only one. She never was. "He'll fight it! I know he will! And I'm not going to just abandon him because I'm afraid to die!" She lowered her voice, unashamed of the tears that began to fall. "Remember what you told me the night we met? Everyone dies someday, even you," she whispered. "But you had all that time to do something with your life and be somebody better, but you didn't. You sat around and watched television all day like the world bored you."

She drew Saburōta's PDA from his sweater pocket and clutched it tight to her chest. "But over the past couple of weeks, I lived more than I have in a long time. I learned things about humans and demons, and what separates us isn't as different as you think."

"Yeah, well, we'll see if you say that when you're staring death in the face," he scorned.

"Maybe I will scream and cover my head like I used to when I was afraid," she admitted lightly. "But I refuse to give up on him when he fought so hard for me."

"You little idiot…"

"She's right, though," Izumo reasoned soundly from his post behind the bar. "Everyone dies someday. Your time could be sooner than you think if Kagutsu gets control of things. He strikes me as the kinda guy who, if you're not with him, you're against him." When Tomaya turned his disapproving snarl towards the interruption, Izumo persisted. "I hear you're mighty talented when it comes to busting heads. Why not fight with us? I'm sure Munakata wouldn't complain about the extra hands, or paws, whichever."

"Y' think you're pretty funny, huh? Well, let's see who's laughing when you see what's waitin' out there in the dark."

"I know my buddy's there," Izumo murmured. "And he's probably every bit as terrifying as he was the last time he almost tore me to pieces." A calm smile found his lips as he picked up a bottle of liquor before turning to store it back on the shelf at his rear. "But we brought him back then, too. Even had a lotta fun for the past few decades after things calmed down. Maybe Tsukiyo's got the right idea." He sighed, keeping his eyes from their company as he meditated on his thoughts. "It'd sure be nice to think we had a couple more left in us when all is said and done."

Then, he finally turned to address their unlikely informant. "So maybe we're all idiots, maybe you're a coward, but the only difference between us is what we choose to do with whatever time we've got. In the end, we both have the same objective; the friends that we love suffering somewhere we can't reach them. That's why you came back, isn't it? Why you came for Tsukiyo before reporting back to the blues?" He waved his hand to the look of ire building in the tension of Tomaya's expression. "Well, that's not important," he dismissed. "What is is the little girl upstairs crying for her best friend to come home. So, I'm gonna go round 'im up and see that she gets her wish."

Tomaya gave a parting glance that warned Izumo that he didn't care about what the man did, but he wasn't comforted when he returned his attention towards Neirah. All she did was calmly shake her head.

"You're serious right now?" Tomaya rumbled dismally. "You're gonna stick around for that twat?"

Surprisingly, when she shrugged her shoulders, a faint smile accompanied her tender blush. "I don't know why you're surprised," she whispered. "I didn't leave him behind the first time you tried to take me away, either." Her bright azure eyes were apologetic as she offered him her meek grin. "I guess he turned out to be my king of all bloodsucking fuckboys after all."

Tomaya's chest ached with pride even as he heaved a steady sigh of defeat. He couldn't blame her for being the same way she'd been since he'd found her nearly fifteen years prior. He just liked it better when she felt that contagious positivity towards him instead. "I hope he's damn good in bed because he's gonna have to step up his game to outdo how bad you just fucked yourself," he snorted dismissively.

"We'll get there." Her tone was light and teasing, but it still caused Shōhei to flinch at how casually she addressed such a crude topic. It made him wonder if she hadn't already had her way with his deprived friend.

"Fucking disgusting…" But even as he growled the words, they formed through a devious smirk. "Well, it's your funeral," he derided. "They're out by Kōtō, near the islands. If I had to guess, I'd say he's gonna make a clean sweep across the centre, and by the time he picks up speed, he'll swallow up the north and south ends. Some friendly advice, don't get cocky because of your flame. Kagutsu can take it back in an instant, and his is ten times hotter."

"But he hasn't yet," Izumo reasoned carefully. "Which means he's either not strong enough yet, or Mikoto is still fighting back. That's hope enough for me."

"Don't care," Tomaya admitted curtly. "I'm not gonna fight with the blues 'cause they killed my brother back then, and grudges don't die." That was quite apparent when they considered that Genji's entire resurrection hinged on a grudge match with SCEPTRE4. "But I'm sure as hell not gonna go in with Kagutsu this time either," he admitted blandly. "I'm gonna go dig a deep hole and hide my tail there for a bit."

Before turning, He dropped his palm on the top of Neirah's head, encouraging a gentle gasp from behind her lips. It reminded him of when she was young. He used to do the same thing, ruffling her roots before placing a gentle kiss on the top of his hand. The moment he repeated the endearing gesture, he saw the youthful shimmer in her soft eyes as she admired the tenderness. It was Tomaya's favourite thing about her. She could get so caught up over silly things like a tender touch.

"Fine," he rumbled quietly. "Go fetch your fuckboy, see if I care." But the hostility had left his voice. "Maybe, when I feel like it, I'll climb back out of my den and bury your bones."

There were tears in Neirah's eyes as her smile spread, and she chased after him through the bar entryway with a mousy shout into the street. "Don't you dare chew on Bandō's when I'm not looking!"

"Gross," Tomaya murmured to himself as she shouted at his hunched shoulders. "Nah, I think you're the only bitch who'd drool over that pussy."

As she watched Tomaya leave her field of vision, Neirah's smile faded beneath the taste of her tears, and her lips began to tremble. Soon, it was just nervous blubbering dampening her skin that was cold that late December night. Then, suddenly her knees felt weak, and when she turned, she stumbled right into Shōhei's arms. At that point, she stopped fighting. She didn't want to think about it anymore. She was scared, so she clutched the front of his overshirt in her hands and defiantly smeared her damp face against his chest with angry movements. "He's wrong!" she shouted bitterly. It was easier to stop the pain if she was mad at somebody, and seeing as Saburōta wasn't around to take the brunt of her wrath, she turned it on the departed Tomaya. "He'll come back. I know he will…"

"We'll get him back," Shōhei assured her kindly. He raised his gaze towards the blackened sky and made his silent vow. He knew what Saburōta felt for the woman in his arms, and he could see why he'd fallen for her. She was crazy about him, and if he had to guess, Saburōta probably liked the attention. He didn't exactly know what they were to each other, but he didn't pry. He didn't need to to feel the way she shook violently in his arms, begging for a chance to see her lover one last time.

'Don't worry about Tsukiyo, okay, San-chan?' He closed his eyes and tipped his face against the top of her head, allowing her to vent her despair. It wasn't going to have any place where they were going, and he felt like he could sympathize with her in the slightest. Now wasn't the time to mourn losses that hadn't been stripped from their lives yet, it was the time to get angry, angry that someone was brazen enough to interrupt the shred of peace they'd found together. 'I'll protect her until you get back, so come back soon, kay?' His smile was weak as he listened to the riled woman pout sullen attempts at berating her missing dork, which was an insult she seemed to repeat frequently. 'She might be too feisty for me to hold back for very long.'

In Kōtō, the black water was clear on the harbour and still among the quiet night. Across the way, the nightlife was bright and colourful, mocking the impending disaster. Somewhere behind Saburōta, flames were roaring, but there wasn't much else in the way of sound. No matter how many souls gathered, willingly or not, everything was still as the grave. Aside from the moaning of the blaze at his back highlighting his dark silhouette on the canal, the only other sound he could hear was the sound of his skin tearing beneath his nails that had long clogged with flesh and blood. The lesions on his neck stayed open since that morning, and if he couldn't stop scratching, they wouldn't heal. But every minute he was away, his corrupted thoughts drew anxious stresses to mind. If he wasn't there, who was holding her, his beautiful, perfect prize? Whose fingerprints did he have to dust off with his dedicated abrasion? Whose scent did he have to bleach from her skin?

The itching intensified.

His jaw ached, but he couldn't get his teeth to realign. Just like he'd feared the day he met his king, they'd fixed permanently in place now. He couldn't stop his skin from burning every time he moved, but he couldn't sit still, not knowing that she didn't come with him. Her betrayal wasn't sitting well at all. But his king was at his back, so everything was okay.

Followed by more itching.

At the very least, he didn't have claws like some of the creatures heeding the call around the harbour, and that comforted him, slightly. Otherwise, he would have long tore through his throat, and he wasn't sure how long it would take a vampire to bleed to death, but it would be slow and agonizing. He could already feel his collar dampening around his hood with the excess flow, but he didn't stop. He missed his hat, his glasses, but they weren't something he thought to grab when he was fighting against possession. The only thing he thought about the moment she slipped out of consciousness beneath him was getting as far away from her as possible.

So, there he stood with a white hood draped over his head, but nothing else keeping his crimson eyes from what they saw lurking about in the shadows of a revolution. And he was standing on the wrong side of the water. The moment that he felt nervous tears in his eyes, he stopped tearing at his skin only to lay his balmy palm against the marring, clutching it tightly as his clenched jaw stifled his desperate whine. Yes, his king was at his back, but it wasn't Mikoto, it was something ugly gathering a flock of moths with his flame.

All he could do was pray that she wasn't foolish enough to come after him this time. It wasn't like the night Tomaya had chased them. If she came for him now, he could hurt her, and if he ever saw her suffer again, he would open up his wounds until there was no way to stop his blood from draining. He'd spill it all into the black waterway before he would accept that he caused her pain.

Once-relaxed fingers twinged against his collar.

The best course of action would be for her to stay away, somewhere safe, somewhere where something protected her, or someone. Maybe that person would hold her and tell her everything was alright, and let her tears drain until she accepted that he would never come back, because she missed him, right? Of course, she did. She was his to worship and no one else's, so she would come for him. She would find him, and when she did, he would boil every stain of anyone else from her body, his body.

And the scraping persisted.