Disclaimer: All characters mentioned belong in the animé series Weiss Kreuz. The plot is taken from the book Scarlet Moon by Debbie Viguié. ALL credit goes to her. Please don't sue me…?

SO, what's up in this chapter? Surprise appearances of very strange people (wink). Enjoy!

Scarlet Moon

By Ninetails

Chapter 2

Nine years later

The trees moaned and sighed as below them a deer died a sudden, violent death, its life taken by another creature. Claws and teeth slashed at the animal, rending flesh. There was nothing the trees could do but stand and watch and worry. The creature below them tore into the deer, devouring it as quickly as it could. What a disturbance; what a tragedy; how very unnatural.


Ken slammed the hammer down on his thumb and choked back an oath. Why are you so clumsy this morning? he chided himself.

He plunged his hand into a bucket of cool water nearby. After a couple of minutes he pulled it out and crossed to a bottle that sat on a shelf across the room. He picked it up, squeezed a thick liquid on his thumb, and slowly rubbed it in. The scent of chamomile, geraniums, lavender, lemon, myrrh, and rose filled his nostrils. The remedy was his grandmother's recipe, and it was designed to alleviate swelling. Years before, Ken had started keeping a supply of it on hand in the shop. Every finger knew it well.

He let out his breath slowly, forcing himself to relax. After a minute, he stared gingerly at his hand. He grimaced at what he saw. It was rough and red and laced with scars. Through the years, he had broken three fingers, but thanks to more of his grandmother's treatments and care, none of them were crooked.

He sighed and closed his eyes, hearing snatches of local gossip in his head. "He is a well-formed lad, but his heritage destroys him. He is spawn of a vile creature. I would never let my daughter near him. I don't think he will eve get married!" "Yes, and pity that. He also seems like a coward, not presenting himself to join the Crusade and such. What a shame!" The women of the village thought he didn't know, didn't hear them talking about him. He heard, though, and the words hurt.

I can fight against a sword, or fists, but I don't know how to fight against words, he thought bitterly. Worse, I know it hurts Father, though he would never say.

Ken clenched his fist and watched the muscles in his forearms jump. The years of his being a blacksmith had honed his body well. Constant exposure to the forge's heat had given him a tanned sheen, although the numerous accidents he met in his work has taken a toll on him. He still thought that his brown hair and brown eyes were too commonplace for anyone to take notice of him though.

"When Youji returns, there will be time enough for me to worry about marriage," he muttered to himself. It was an old mantra, but it still gave him strength. He didn't let himself think about what would happen if his brother never did return. Eventually he would – he must. Just six months before, a young man had returned to his home in the village. He said that the fighting was still raging. Knowing his brother, he wouldn't return until it was done. Until then, he would continue to help his father and pray for his brother's safe return.

He glanced down to see his muscled arms still had scars from his work with the tanner's knives. He was not ashamed of those; after all, he earned every one of those scars. Thinking of them was enough to make his legs begin to ache. He grimaced as he sat down on a barrel and rubbed them. Those scars I didn't earn, he thought grimly. There was nothing about them to be proud of. His thoughts flashed, as they often did, to the wolf that had caused them. I wonder if he's still alive out there?

Ken shook his head to rid it of the question. The woods held enough terror for him without him allowing thoughts like that in. No, he probably died long ago. That thought did give him a great deal of satisfaction, and he stood, ready to continue working.

He crossed to the anvil and bent to pick up his hammer. A shadow darkened the door and he glanced up. A man stood there, his form thin beneath travel-stained clothes. His brown hair was unkempt and some of it straggled to his shoulders in a shaggy do.

"What can I do for you, stranger?" he asked.

"I guess I would seem a stranger to your eyes, but I know you, Ken," he said, his voice cracked. "Though when I last saw you, your appearance was less that of a handsome man and more that of a scrawny kid."

Ken wrapped his good hand around a metal rod used to stoke the fire. "Who are you?" he asked warily. He stood his ground as the strange man advanced.

When he got close enough that he could see his eyes, Ken froze. "Kase?" he whispered.

The wraith before him nodded. "What's left of me."

"Kase!" he cried, dropping the poker and flying to him.

"Careful!" his cousin exclaimed as his now taller form hugged him fiercely.

"Sorry," Ken laughed, pulling back slightly. He couldn't believe the boy he remembered had grown into the man before him. Only his eyes were the same – a soft dark brown, shot through with lighter golden browns. Even they had changed, though; a shadow was in them that had not been there before.

He glanced over his shoulder to the open door. Would his brother stride through next? Several seconds elapsed and he could feel disappointment curling like a serpent in the pit of his stomach.

Kase just continued to stare at him, and tears slowly began to trickle down his cheeks. He looked as though he were struggling to speak. Finally he gave up and just shook his head.

"Come," he said, still gripping his cousin's arms. "I must take you to see my father. We will dine and you will tell us everything."

He nodded before clasping his hands once more. After a moment he pulled away with a pained laugh. "Lead on, Ken."

He smiled self-consciously, brushing off his trousers hastily. Quickly, he dampened the fire in the forge and checked to make sure nothing else needed immediate tending. Satisfied, he took Kase's arm and led him from the shop toward his home.

Warm memories of childhood filled him as they walked. He watched Kase as he looked around him with eyes that seemed slightly bewildered. He caught him watching and gave him a ghost of a smile.

"I never thought I would see this place again. Somehow I expected it to be different, changed."

"Like you?" Ken asked gently.

"Strange, the thoughts one has when far from home."

"Well, you're back now, safe. You can put such thoughts behind you."

"One day, maybe," he admitted. "But that day seems far away."

His cousin's words struck him strange, but his worry for his brother pushed them away.

Suddenly, a man cried out, "Kase!" and rushed toward them. Kase jerked and twisted toward the sound. He relaxed visibly after a moment.

"Hello, Marcus," he called good-naturedly.

Marcus embraced him and then turned. "Kase has returned from the crusades!" he shouted.

Within moments people were streaming from their homes, shouting Kase's name and rushing forward to touch him. Two men lifted him high into the air and paraded him up and down the street, laughing with joy. Ken's father rushed up and they delivered Kase into his arms. He crushed his nephew with a happy cry, and Ken felt tears burning his eyes.

Kase is the returning hero, but where is my brother and when may we welcome him home? He shook his head, willing himself to be patient just a while longer. Kase will surely have news.

Down the road his father led the impromptu parade honoring his nephew. Ken began to walk slowly, trailing behind. In his heart a nameless fear began to form, and he felt as though a shadow had passed over him. No matter what he did, he could not shake the thought that some darkness was about to touch them all.

When he entered his home, he found his father and Kase already seated at the table. He joined them and within minutes they were all eating. He watched Kase under lowered lashes as his cousin wolfed down his food. He attacked it, eating so much so fast that he thought surely he would explode.

Out of courtesy, his father said nothing and neither did he. Instead they both ate and watched and waited. At last Kase pushed back his plate and shifted in his chair. He lifted his eyes and they darted between Ken and his father.

"Thank you," he said. Hesitantly, he continued, "It is good to see you both, to be here again."

"You are a welcome sight to us," his father answered gruffly. Ken glanced at him in time to see him wipe away a tear.

They sat for a moment, the silence thick with unasked questions and answers they were all afraid to hear. Finally Ken broke it. "Tell us your story."

Kase nodded slowly. "We sailed to Spain. It was a long journey and many died along the way. From there we sailed to France , and then down the Mediterranean Sea to Acre. There we fought. Some of us went on to Jerusalem, but many did not."

"And what of Youji?" Ken asked at last, unable to bear it any longer.

Kase said not a word, but instead dropped his head into his hands and began to sob brokenly. Ken stared fearfully across the table at his father, who held his eyes only for a moment before turning away.

"What of Youji?" Ken asked again, his voice trembling.

"One night, there was a covert attack. Most of us were tired or injured from the battle earlier in the morning. When we realized that we were under attack, it was too late. Most of the troops were killed, and some…."

Ken's eyes widened, feeling his face blanch at the suspense.

"Some of the men were captured by the heathens. It was said that their prisoners of war didn't survive a night. We… didn't find Youji among the bodies, and his sword was missing from his bedroll so he must've had a fighting chance, at least," Kase finished with barely contained anguish, his voice weakening until it broke. He let out a series of gasps before his sobs overwhelmed him.

All Ken could do was stare at him as he was talking. Over and over in his mind he told himself that it couldn't be true, even as the emptiness in his heart convinced him that it was. He didn't look at his father; he just couldn't look. Youji was missing. He was left in the Holy Land where the infidels lay to ravish the noble people who were living out a noble mission. He might even have… died. What unspeakable horrors have befallen him in the hand of the barbarians, they could only imagine. They had both known it could happen. If he was honest with himself he had suspected it for years, but there had always been a part of him that held on to hope. Jerusalem was far away and the battle was doubtless long and hard.

He stared down at his hands and noticed in an almost detached way that his fingernails were cutting into his palms and drawing blood. He forced himself to relax his fingers. Tiny droplets of blood beaded on his hands and fell onto his pants. That didn't matter, though. Nothing mattered.

"Everyone loved Youji," Kase continued. "He was always the one to turn to for comfort. He helped save so many. He even saved the duke's life. He was so grateful he gave Youji some of his own armor to wear, marked with the duke's seal. I brought it back with me; I found it in one of his packs that we have recovered in the battle. He would have wanted you to have it."

He then reached into his bag and pulled out a breastplate. He offered it to Ken and he took it with trembling hands. The duke's seal, that of a crescent moon, was emblazoned on the front. He had seen it's like before. He passed his hand over it and then cried out as he took a closer look. There was a red stain splashed across half of the moon.

He stared in horror, the hair along the back of his neck on end and a sick feeling beginning to overwhelm him. At long last he looked up, his eyes seeking out Kase's.

"It's his blood," Kase said, confirming his fear.


The fog lay heavy upon the land, covering all in a shroud of gray. Death hung thick and rank in the air and Ken could smell the blood of some woodland creature that had been freshly slain in the night. The earth itself was dying, the cycle of the year coming to an end as one by one the days of autumn slipped from existence, beyond grasp of a mortal man.

As he walked the barren path, the black corpses of trees appeared slowly from out of the haze. The birds that remained were hushed, awaiting the coming of the sun in the last moments of the lingering night. All was silent as the grave, and Ken thought of his beloved brother whom he may no longer see. His body might be somewhere in that distant land held by the infidels, a fallen warrior in the pope's holy wars to claim Jerusalem.

Ken cared nothing of popes or wars or infidels; he only knew that he who had loved him best in this life could have proceeded him to the next, and that he would give all he owned or would ever have for one last glimpse of his precious face.

But still, he put one foot before the other, moving on just as nature and all life did and must. Far off in the woods a branch snapped. Almost unconsciously his hand tightened around the hilt of his brother's dagger. It was his now; he might never return to claim the dagger, the very one he had used to save him from the wolf so many years before.

He peered into the darkness, wishing for the eyes of an animal so that he might see what they did. Nothing moved, at least not that he saw. A shiver danced up his spine and he turned his eyes back to the path. As he continued to walk, his legs tingled slightly where there were scars. They too had never forgotten the feel of the wolf's fangs.

In a sack upon his back he carried his brother's armor. He couldn't think about it though, or he would start crying again. Lost in thought, he didn't see the body until he was nearly upon it.

He jumped and let out a startled yelp as he realized that another man lay across the path. His first impression was that of scarlet locks and pale, soft-looking skin. The man lay still, as though he were dead, and he was completely naked. He felt his whole body heat up in a hot blush.

At his exclamation, the man on the ground stirred and then suddenly jumped to his feet.

"Who are you?" Ken gasped, averting his eyes.

For one moment the man stood, panting like a wild deer, before turning to flee into the woods.

"Who are you?" he shouted after the retreating figure.

Only silence met his question. He strained his ears but could hear nothing. Is he hiding just out of sight, watching me? he wondered. The thought sent a chill of fear through him. He clutched his dagger tighter and hurried on.

Who could he have been, and why was he asleep naked in the forest? Questions crowded his brain, each demanding to be heard and answered. Above him the trees began to whisper to themselves, and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck rising. He realized that his heart was pounding in fear, and he broke into a stilted run. At every step the armor banged against his back, a painful reminder of his grim errand.

Above him the trees continued to whisper and sway; dark warnings crowded his mind, and he did not know if they were real or imagined. Faster his feet flew, the path familiar to them as it twisted through the trees. At last he slowed as he neared his destination.

Ken's grandmother, Manx, lived deep in the forest. Her house stood, proud and alone, in a small clearing. As Ken came into sight of it, he saw smoke curling slowly from the chimney, blending with the fog until the two were indistinguishable.

The door hung a little crooked so that all manner of insects found their way underneath and inside. Grandmother always just sighed and carried them outside. There was not a straight board in the whole of the house. Manx was gifted at many things, but carpentry was not among them. Still, she took pride in having done all the work herself.

Not that she had a choice, Ken thought bitterly. She had an almost infinite knowledge with healing and she used it to maintain her looks, though she wasn't overly vain. His grandmother had been banished from the village before Ken was born, amidst the accusations of witchcraft. As a result, she had an ageless, almost youthful look; she looked younger than Ken's father, he had to admit. It was a miracle the villagers had been content to only banish her and not burn her. Ken shook his head. Grandmother is no witch; she just asks questions no one else will and manages to find the answers.

Ken reached the door and knocked lightly before pushing it open. "Grandmother?"

"Hello, dear," the older woman called cheerfully. She was stirring something in a large pot hanging over a crackling fire.

Ken carefully set down his sack and walked over. "What are you experimenting with now, Grandmother? Another healing potion, or a fertilizer for your garden, perhaps?"

"Breakfast," Manx said with a toss of her flame-colored hair, her green eyes shining with good humor, "and you're just in time to join me."

Ken wrinkled his nose. "I already ate," he fibbed.

Manx clicked her tongue. "What have I told you about lying to me? You'll have some- it won't kill you."

That's what worries me," Ken said with a sigh.

He sat down on a chair and looked around the house. It was cluttered, as always, with all of his grandmother's things. Row after row of glass jars lined crude shelves. They held a variety of plant life that Manx used in making her salves and ointments and various other creams to keep her youthful beauty. On a small table were more contraptions and jars spread around the room haphazardly.

On one wall hung a large piece of parchment with black dots marked upon it. Ken knew they represented the stars in the summer sky. Mapping the stars was one of his grandmother's latest projects, and on several nights she had managed to enlist Ken's aid.

"I didn't expect you until Thursday," Manx commented as she removed the boiling pot from the fire.

Ken nodded, his throat tightening as his eyes drifted to his sack.

"What is it?" Manx asked sharply, as though sensing Ken's change of mood.

"Kase came home yesterday from the crusade."

Manx lunged forward with a cry of excitement. She hugged Ken tightly and when she pulled back, tears of joy were filling her eyes. "And Youji?" she asked after a minute.

"The infidels… they…" Ken sobbed, unable to continue,

The tears of joy turned to tears of sorrow as they held each other and cried.


After eating, Manx reverently removed Youji's armor from the sack Ken had brought. As Ken again caught sight of the bloodstained moon, he shivered.

"It was given to him by his lord, as a reward for his service," Ken explained.

Manx nodded slowly. "I can see that." She passed her fingers lightly over the moon. "I saw a scarlet moon once, when I was a child. It rose in the night sky, the color of blood. My mother told me it was a bad omen, a marker of death. I didn't believe her then, though I confess this makes me wonder now if maybe she was right." She shook her head.

"Can you do something with it, make it into something I could wear?" Ken asked, his voice hoarse from crying.

Manx nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

"Maybe I can make something you can wear for protection as you walk through the forest."

"You're the one always telling me I have nothing to fear from the woods."

"It's not the woods I'm worried about," Manx said meaningfully.

Ken had almost forgotten about the man he had seen earlier, but his grandmother's words reminded him. "I saw a man on my way here today. He was lying naked in the path. He woke up and ran away before I could get a look at his face."

"Are you alright? He didn't harm you?" Manx asked, voice filled with alarm.

"I am alright, although puzzled."

"Some mysteries we should not seek the answers to," Manx said ominously.

"What does that mean?"

Manx smiled, but Ken could tell it was forced. "Nothing. I'm just glad you're alright. And don't start peeping at young naked men in the woods. You're too young yet."

"Grandmother, I am old enough! And I- I… I don't like men that way," Ken said with a slight blush coloring his tan cheeks.

Manx only stared at him, a slight smirk on her suddenly older features.

"Be that as it may, you shouldn't go chasing after strangers. They can be dangerous, especially ones running around in the forest like animals."

"I won't," Ken said, trying to keep his voice light.

There was a knock at the door and Manx rose to answer it. she held it wide as a young man and woman entered with their heads bowed reverently.

"Ouka, Masafumi," Ken uttered, nodding to both of them.

They murmured greetings in return. Ouka and Masafumi were the only ones besides Ken who visited Manx. They came to learn from her, and she had taught them much about medicine and nature. Ken was the only one who knew they were studying with his grandmother. The villagers might not begrudge a grandson calling on his grandmother (although they are slowly disapproving this, from what can be seen from their behavior towards him), but they would be quick to condemn two people calling on an accused witch.

"I should go," Ken said softly.

"No, stay and we shall explore the mysteries of nature together," Manx urged.

Ken hesitated for a moment. It was a Sunday, so there was no work to be done. Normally he would have spent the day with his father, but he and Kase were doubtless catching up. There was nothing he could do at home, and the truth was, he didn't want to go back quite yet.

"Thank you," he said.

Manx smiled.

For the rest of the afternoon they studied some of the deadlier plants, Manx warning them how to spot the poisonous ones and how to make some of them safe. Ken should have been fascinated, but his mind was elsewhere, on an unknown terrain in the presence of the enemy.

A few of the tears coursed down his cheeks, and he let them. This was the only place such tears were welcome. In the village he had to be strong, both in the shop and at home. His father did not welcome tears, believing them to be a sign of weakness. Weakness was a privilege that Ken had given up the day Youji left for the crusades. His father was a kind man, but he kept his emotions hidden.

When Ken was younger, he had been a little warmer, but the departure of his brother had been hard on his father. I wonder if things might have been so different with me and father. How would my life have played out if I had never learned to fight, if Youji had never left?

Youji. Over and over in his mind he imagined his brother being tortured by the heathens, his body frail and helpless. In his mind he saw his green eyes as he endured the pain, the love and hope fading slowly from them until…

"Monkshood needs to be avoided at all costs," Manx said.

Ken snapped back to attention and watched as his grandmother displayed a plant with deep green leaves and clusters of dark blue flowers.

"This one brings only death, swift and ugly. The tiniest amount of it can cause numbness, and a little more can cause death. It is popularly used as a poison. It grows in moist soil. I haven't been able to find a single positive use for it yet."

Masafumi turned noticeably paler. "What do you experiment on?" he asked, his voice quavering a little.

Ken bit his lip to keep from howling with laughter. He knew all too well what the answer was going to be.

"I will tell you when you are ready to know," Manx answered.

Masafumi's eyes widened in alarm and Ouka gave a little gasp. Ken hid his smile by tilting his head down, his shaggy bangs hiding the mirth in his brown eyes.

At least Grandmother can still make me laugh, he thought. The truth was, Ken himself didn't know what Manx experimented on. For a while he had suspected it was animals, but his grandmother cared too much for the woodland creatures to risk harming them.

Then Ken had thought his grandmother experimented on herself, but that seemed too dangerous and ill-conceived to be true. At last he had come to terms with the fact that he likely would never know. I would tease her and say she experiments on the townspeople, but given their hatred of her, and her banishment, she would likely find it painful rather than humorous.

"Well, I believe that will be all for today," Manx said at last. Her voice sounded strong and clear, almost cheerful, but Ken could see the pain and exhaustion in her eyes. In one day, she had found one grandson and lost another.

Ken rose and went to his grandmother, gently encircling his arms around her. The action startled Ouka and Masafumi, who were unused to seeing such open displays of affection.

"I'll be alright," Manx whispered against his ear.

Ken nodded, sniffing slightly as he pulled away. Manx reached out a hand and caught one of his tears. "Do you need to stay here tonight?" she asked, eyes loving and concerned.

"No, I should go home. Father needs me more than ever."

"Then go, and be safe."

Ouka and Masafumi rose from their seats on the floor and said their good-byes. Together, the three of them left the cabin. Outside the shack, they parted ways. As Ken faced the path he would take back through the woods, he shivered.


It was near dusk when the three left the cabin in the woods. Two went their own way, by a path known only to them, and they were safe. The third walked the same path he always walked, and the trees were afraid for him. It was not safe in the woods- a predator lurked just out of his sight.

The trees whispered, the trees moaned, but still he ignored them. At last a wind whipped up, and as it passed through their limbs, the trees began to shriek. He looked up, his face white with fear.

Yes, hurry home, child. Your father is waiting and the wolf is close behind. He broke into a trot and they whistled, encouraging him. Faster, he is close at hand. One of them sacrificed a branch, letting it fall scant feet from him. He screamed and began to run. Satisfied, the trees began to whisper again amongst themselves.


Ken was drenched in sweat when he burst out of the forest. He panted as he slowed slightly, his eyes fixed on the village. Heart pounding, he forced his tired legs to keep moving.

Why am I so afraid? He wondered. 'Twas only a falling branch. No matter what he told himself, though, he couldn't shake the feeling that it had been something more than that. There are times when I hear something- a whisper, a voice- like the trees are trying to tell me something, he shuddered as he slowed at last to a walk. The first time I heard it was the day the wolf attacked.

He stopped just short of his home, not yet ready to go in and see his father and Kase. He stood, still winded, trying to banish the fear from his mind, but it was hopeless.

It doesn't matter what else I'm feeling, the fear is always there. If I'm happy, there is still the fear. If I'm angry, there is still the fear. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe more slowly. And if I'm sad, the fear is overwhelming. No matter how strong I am, how much I can lift, or how well I can fight, I'm still afraid.

He turned and glanced over his shoulder with a shudder. The trees looked like ghosts as the evening fog rolled in. They swayed and shook, though he felt no breeze. Haunted- that's what the woods were, at least for him. For a moment he thought he saw something slipping between the trees, a gray phantom. It's just one more of my ghosts, he thought. To me, there will always be a wold in these woods. He turned away and forced himself to take the last few steps home.

TBC


Author's Notes:

Darn it, I hate this new QuickEdit thingy. Um, I'm so sorry for making Manx the grandmother. For the people who read Robert Jordan's books, just apply the Aes Sedais' "ageless look" with Manx. This means that one cannot put an actual age to Manx since she may look like a young woman in one instant and then not precisely a grandmother, but a woman too wise for her years in the next.

I hope I didn't confuse you with all the "he's" in this story. The original character, as you might have guessed, is a lady so using the third person POV is pretty easy. But in yaoi, it's just plain confusing. So just bear in mind that almost all "he's" refer to Ken. Btw, you understand why I made Ken an almost crybaby, ne?

Coincidentally, as I was typing the first chapter, I looked out the window and guess what I saw…. Yup, a lunar eclipse. (Not really sure what that is.) Yup, a real, honest-to-goodness red moon. It might have been unusual coloring in the fog, it might have been air pollution, heck, it might even have been sinister forces (Muraki, anyone?) wreaking havoc on hapless victims. All in all, the sky was beautiful that night.

As for Youji… don't kill me yet, people!

Replies to Reviews (Chapter 1):

HeatherR…. You reviewed me…. (runs frenziedly around the room screaming "HeatherR reviewed me!" at the top of her lungs) Wai! You liked it! Really! Wow…. (stares off into space…) Aww, I hate animal torture too but it had to absolutely be done. So sorry about the poor wolf! Oooh, got that little detail fast, ne? Goodie! As for Ken turning into a wolf too, well you just have to wait for the next chappies…. The Crusades play a little role here since it's sort of at the background of the plot and I'm not making sense here so I better shut up now. Thanks for reviewing!

Ru-chanDarn it, how did you guess! Was it really that obvious! (ignores incredulous stares) Wow, thanks! Wait…. Ru-chan reviewed me again! WAAAAIIIII! (goes into a giggle fit before annoyed brother whaps her with a hard pillow… hard.)

Chitoshiya no TohmaWai! You again! Your life is happy and glorious! I'm fervently hoping that it's not because of me because I only bring doom and despair to the people of the world! Nyahahahaha! Err… (ignores the twitching of her brother) 'Nyways, Thanks SO much for reviewing my fic. Hope you like chapter 2!

beautiful-aloneOooooooh! LOVE your name! Did you know that Beautiful Alone is my selected funeral song? Of course, my best friend wants it too and since we figured that whoever dies first gets the funeral song of her choice, it's a no-win situation. Err, did I creep you out? Hope not. Listening to Beautiful Alone makes me extremely happy. (ignores strange stares directed at her) Thanks for reviewing and here's another chapter for your enjoyment!

RosefaerietaleRedWhew! Hope I got your name right! Hehe. Err, Peter and the Wolf? … Not… quite… really… Ehehehe… But it's good that you actually tried to guess it. I was expecting that people would ignore this fic and everything. You like fairy tales! Me too! (ignores the shouts of "You're 18 for Pocky's sake!") Thanks for reviewing!

Celeste1Wow, another familiar name! It's interesting? (stares off into space for a few minutes, NOT comprehending the phenomena that reviewer had stated) Really! Truly! Wai! Arigatou! Hope you like this new chapter! Thanks for reviewing!