A/N: Wow. I'm glad you all like it, constant readers. I realized that I'd gone quite a few chapters without an author's note. So today, I decided to let you all know that I am in fact still alive. And that's pretty much it. On to the story!

Actually, I seek your opinions. Of Toklata and dear Ronin. I've been wondering if Toklata is starting to become a weak character, and if Ronins getting to be an oh-my-god-my-masters-dead-and-now-I'm-all-depressed character. Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine. If it was, Kurda would still be alive.

Now onto the story.

--

Dishes, laundry and gardening. Those were Konosuke's orders to Toklata. And that was only for the first half of the day (he was giving her until noon to finish them).

She had looked at him with a sallow face when he even suggested her lifting a pinkie—after all, she was his hostage, not his slave—but gave into his demands after a rather unusual threat. He hadn't threatened Ronin's outright death this time. This time, he had said, "You'd better be able to get those simple chores done. If you don't I'll beat you black and blue, got it?"

Toklata had nodded her head quickly and ran off to do whatever Konosuke wished of her, not thinking twice about saying no to him with the expression he had been wearing (an expression that quite clearly dared her to disobey his simple orders, because he would like very much to beat her).

Granted, there were very few dishes and she only had to carry the laundry to the washing and drying machines at the end of the hall, but she still didn't enjoy the work. She would much rather be hand washing Ronin's cloak, which was at least decently clean already, aside from her dirty feet marks. The work was simple but tedious, and very boring, especially for someone with the attention span of...well, a nine-year-old girl. And Konosuke's laundry was something no decent person would want to touch.

And, as if the surprises of his home would never end,Toklatafound a small, very weedy garden out back. She had thought that Konosuke had been joking about that. Sighing, she got on her knees and began to pull out the thick weeds, which was what most of the garden consisted of. It needed a good watering too, she found, as her bare legs met the dry, clumpy dirt.

All the while, she wondered if Ronin was okay. She also wondered if he was going to bring her backpack. She was pretty sure her flute had been in it.

By time she was donewith all of this(around 12o'clock, sure enough), her hands and knees were sore from crawling around and tugging on things, and she was incredibly relieved when Konosuke brought her a glass of lemonade, even if she didn't really want to be around the man himself.

He didn't do much to acknowledge her backbreaking work, just handed her the glass and herded her back inside the house, sitting her down on the falsely cheerful yellow couch. He disappeared behind the kitchen counter for a while. Toklata sat there patiently, sipping the lemonade all the while, until Konosuke reappeared from the small room and sat down opposite of her, with his own drink (though she suspected it wasn't lemonade).

"So," he said, attempting a smile. "You've done pretty well. Maybe I'll keep you around even after I kill Ronin Takoda." He noticed her pale at the idea and snickered. "Don't like the sound of that, eh? C'mon, I'll need a wife sooner or later…Oh don't look at me with those big, round eyes; I was kidding. Well, I see you're not amused."

For the first time since that morning, Toklata spoke up, her voice cracking from the lack of use. "Sir, w-would you like me to do something or…?" She trailed off, deciding to let Konosuke say what he needed to say.

"Yes, gir—What did you say your name was?"

"Toklata, sir."

"Okay, then." Again, he put on that sickening grin. "All I need you to do right now is answer a few questions—make sure you're drinking too, I can't have you dying of a heat stroke or something." He waited for her to lift the drink to her lips before continuing. "Your buddy, Takoda. You seem so fond of him. Why is this?"

She set the glass upon her lap and stared at him quizzically. "Why…do I like…Ronin? Because he likes me, I guess. Not many people like to hang around me."

Konosuke's eyes narrowed. "Whys that?"

"I dunno," she said, shrugging. "But Ronin does. Or at least, he doesn't push me away." She took a mouthful of her lemonade.

"You know him well, then?"

"What's there to know?" Toklata asked sleepily. She suddenly found herself becoming increasingly drowsy. Hoping it would wake her up; she kept on drinking, but later found that it wasn't helping.

"Any…any weaknesses he may have?" Konosuke asked, sounding innocent enough to Toklata's ears.

She felt herself slump into the chair. She knew she shouldn't be telling Konosuke Ronin's secrets, but felt too lazy and heavy to lie, or even to give outright answer. Instead, she just babbled out things she remembered about the vampire.

"He…um, he likes wolves. But not other vampires. Except, he really liked his master, Jaden. When he sleeps, he has nightmares about her…well; he says her name while he's dreaming, anyway. Um…he's really not as mean as he acts, and I think he's too nice to be a vampire. Obviously, the sun…um…"

"And you?" Konosuke asked, gently pushing for more. "Are you a weakness to him?"

"I'd like to say that I'm not, but yeah, I guess so." She began twiddling her thumbs.

"If I were to kill you, what would he do?"

"Mmm…" Toklata knew what Konosuke was doing. He was trying to figure out if it would be in his best interest to just kill her now. Unfortunately, it was. She tried to make up a good lie, but it seemed like only the truth would spill from her lips.

Deciding not to fight, she finally said, "He'd be sad. And mad at himself. I don't think...I don't think that he would put up much of a fight against you."

"Girl, you've just brought yourself into a corner."

Her body fell limp. The drugged drink crashed to the floor as she slumped farther into the chair and her eyelids became too heavy to hold open.

--

Charna's Guts! How could I have let this pass me by! Damn it all!

Despite the blazing sun, Ronin was ducking through the underbrush expertly, even with his thighs bruised and growing bloodier by the minute. He still had no idea where to even begin looking for Konosuke, but that didn't hinder him in the least.

Knowing that Konosuke wasn't completely human had a huge impact on his search for Toklata. It had drawn a certain urgency into finding her before Konosuke got sick of her and decided to drain her.

Of course, he didn't know whether the hunter was a vampire, vampaneze, or, possibly, something else, but that didn't seem to make a huge difference at this point.

Not to mention, Ronin found surprise at his own emotions about the girl. She was now seriously in danger, and it was completely his fault. It wasn't "she knew the risks she was taking, so I'm not going to bother with her," it was, "I'm so sorry, Master. I screwed up. A lot. And now, I'm finally going to fix it." Letting Toklata die seemed like an evil, soulless thing to do, and he simply couldn't allow it. Having her follow him into the woods that day now seemed like the beautiful beginning of some sort of salvation. The world did in fact have some pure souls left in it. That was good to know.

When Toklata had first gone out to wash his cloak, before the threat of Konosuke had come swiftly to its climax, he had (out of pure curiosity) gone through the backpack she had brought along with her. He found lots of seemingly pointless papers, but what really caught his attention was the battered flute case shoved precariously between a folder and a math book.

Apparently, life's ironies were never-ending. Jaden had been fond of carrying a clarinet around.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been quite as loving towards it. Many times he had tried to break it an half and/or smash it to bits, but each time it seemed the instrument outsmarted him.

Jaden could play well when she wanted to, but that hadn't been too often, as she had always been playing the highest notes she could get out of the stupid thing, which wasn't a very pleasing sound to his ears. "Squeakstick" had been it's almost affectionate nickname, and it had lived up to it many times.

So, naturally, the first thing on Ronin's mind was one question. Is the flute as obnoxious as the clarinet?

Smiling at that day, and at how everything had seemed so carefree not so long ago, Ronin continued dashing through the lush foliage, hoping he wasn't already too late to save future flutist and his friend, Toklata Samson.

--

A/N- I know, drugged lemonade, doesn't that just sound so dorky? Oh and to any offended clarinetists…I play the clarinet and, honestly, it's probably one of the easiest instruments to make fun of. But I do love it, especially the bass, so no offense intended. .