Momoshiro laid Ryoma down on the divan-bed, resting the boy's head on a fluffy pillow. He bent down and kissed Ryoma tenderly, licking away the blood. Fuji watched was he lapped up every last drop of blood, and knew which path Momoshiro had chosen. And he was glad.

"Momoshiro?" Ryoma's voice was weak, tired, he also sounded very confused. "I feel so tired…and cold… What happened? Are you killing me because of what I saw?"

"No." Momoshiro's smile was tremulous. "No, I could never kill you. But you are dying, Ryoma, and I have to save you. You might want to throttle me for it later, but you haven't a choice now, do you understand?" He ruffled Ryoma's hair, absently marvelling at how soft it was.

"Why would I want to strangle you? I'm in mortal peril and you're saving me." He pressed into Momoshiro's hand with a tiny smile. "That feels nice… Normally, I don't like people to touch my hair, but with you…it's different."

"I'll remember that. And remember what you said when you feel like killing me later." And then Momoshiro bent down and stole another kiss. Then he brushed his lips down Ryoma's jaw and along his jaw line, trailing dry kisses down his neck, until he found the weakly throbbing pulse. "I love you, Ryoma."

And then he sank his elongated canines into soft, delicate skin.

He heard a faint cry of pain, but knew that the sensation was fleeting, replaced by something far more pleasant. And true to prior experiences, Ryoma relaxed once more, making a sound that seemed rather similar to a purr. Momoshiro felt arousal add on to the heady rush that the gush of fresh blood gave him. Ryoma was sweet, an intoxicating brew of innocence and fiery passion. When the flow of blood began to slow down to a sluggish seeping of blood, rather than a gushing flood, Momoshiro ran his tongue over the twin punctures, closing them in an instant. He lapped up the last of the blood staining Ryoma's skin, and then left a small wine-coloured bruise there.

Ryoma was dead weight in his arms, as he nestled the boy in his arms, cheek pressing against Momoshiro's chest. With one hand, Momoshiro ripped his shirt open, and then raked one single claw over his heart. Blood began to bead in a crimson line, and then a slow, but steady, flow of blood trickled down towards Ryoma's pale lips.

"Come on, drink up," Momoshiro whispered. "It's good for you." He dabbed a fingertip in the bright red liquid and touched it to Ryoma's tongue. Ryoma sleepily licked his finger clean, and then lapped lazily at the dripping blood. He latched onto the bleeding wound like an infant would its mother's breast, and suckled.

Momoshiro pressed Ryoma's head gently, urging him on silently. His fell back when Ryoma's hair brushed against his nipple. After a few more moments, he felt the lethargy coming over him, and he gently nudged Ryoma away. "Feeding time's over, koi. Too much will make your stomach hurt." He licked his thumb and wiped at the wound. It closed and Ryoma, defiant of orders as he normally was, bent forward to lick away the lingering vestiges of blood.

"You're never going to listen to me, are you?" Momoshiro kissed the top of Ryoma's head. "Sleep now and rest. I'll wake you up later, okay?"

"Mm, oyasumi…"

"Yeah, oyasumi to you too." Momoshiro felt Ryoma take his last breath, and then that slender body was completely still. He glanced at Fuji, fighting back the fist burst of panic. "Is it supposed to be like this? He'll be okay, won't he?"

Fuji heard the faint tremor in Momoshiro's voice, felt the waves of fear emanating from the younger man and sighed. "He'll be perfectly fine, Momo. Maybe a bit hungry when he wakes up later, but fine, nonetheless." He strode forwards to unlock the door. "Go on, bring him to your room. Rest with him. The two of you have had a very emotional night." He opened the door and gave Momoshiro a gentle shove out.

They all watched Momoshiro cradle Ryoma in his arms, and disappear into the privacy of his chamber. And then all eyes were on Fuji. Their fawn-haired leader simply smiled. "Don't worry, Eiji. Not a single drop of blood on your sheets. He did everything perfectly, for a virgin sire. It would seem that we now have a new one to care for."

There wasn't any pain. That was what struck Ryoma as odd, as he lay dying. He'd always thought that dying would hurt. A lot. But it didn't, in fact, he felt curiously…numb. But then Momoshiro promised to save him, and then he kissed him, on the lips, and then at his neck. And then it hurt. But only for a second, and then the pleasure…it was indescribable.

It had felt like Momoshiro was draining him, drinking him dry, but it had felt too good for Ryoma to consider stopping him. But then Momoshiro had stopped, and made him drink something…it tasted sweet, yet spicy, with a coppery after-taste. And for some reason, Ryoma had felt thirstier than he'd ever been in his whole life—even after a long tournament match.

Momoshiro had stopped him halfway, but he managed to sneak in a bit more, before fatigue crept over him. He distantly recalled Momoshiro telling him to sleep, to rest.

He'll wake me up later… He'll wake me…

Ryoma woke up, jerking to full alertness, instead of drifting slowly to consciousness like he usually did. He wondered why.

"Ryoma?"

Momoshiro? He smiled. So Momoshiro was the one responsible for him waking. He stretched, sighing at the comfort the actions brought. There was a faint twinge in his neck, and he touched the aching spot tenderly. When the ache didn't intensify nor go away when he rubbed it, he decided to leave it alone.

"Awake yet, sleeping beauty?"

"Sort of, and watch who you call sleeping beauty." He sat up and blinked. "Momoshiro, I can see."

"It's not like you're blind."

Ryoma looked at him. "But it's dark. There's hardly any light at all, but I can still see you." He reached out to touch Momoshiro's forehead. "You look so worried, there's even a crease right here."

"I didn't know if you'd be okay," Momoshiro admitted.

"Oh, right." Ryoma blushed. "You saved me. Again." He managed an embarrassed scowl. "This is becoming a damn habit." He snorted at Momoshiro. "Don't get used to it. I'm probably having a really unlucky day."

Momoshiro grinned. "Well, this is the luckiest day of my entire life, so I'm sorry, but I can't feel the same way you do."

"Oh, shut up…"

Then Momoshiro saw the expression on Ryoma's face change from embarrassed, to confused. He saw Ryoma's brilliant gold eyes light up with hunger and bloodlust. Ryoma shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. Momoshiro knew all too well what he was feeling.

"It's not going to go away, Ryoma."

"I feel weird."

"I know." Momoshiro moved to sit beside him. "I know, Ryoma. You're just hungry, don't worry."

"I know what hunger is, and this isn't it." He frowned. "I feel so thirsty, but you already made me drink something just now, so that can't be it-"

"It's been a few days already, Ryoma."

"Huh?"

Momoshiro caressed his lip with a thumb. "It's been almost four days since that night. But like I said, don't worry, it's perfectly natural for you to feel like this. I know what you need." He nuzzled Ryoma's hair, murmured into his ear. "Do you trust me?" He asked.

"With my life."

Momoshiro smiled. "That's good to hear." He ran his fingers through Ryoma's hair. "I remember you said you liked me to touch your hair."

He heard a kittenish sigh. "It feels nice…"

"Will you kiss me, Ryoma?"

Ryoma found himself agreeing, and even as he wound himself up to refuse, he was already brushing his lips against Momoshiro's. He darted his tongue out for a brief taste, and found himself in Momoshiro's mouth. And he lost himself in that hot, moist heat.

"You taste so nice…" He murmured, pausing.

"I know something that will taste better." Momoshiro gently guided his new lover down his face, to his neck, mirroring where he had marked Ryoma. He rubbed his thumb against one of Ryoma's canines, bringing it to its full length for the first time. "Does it hurt?"

"No, but it feels odd…maybe a bit itchy."

"It will, the first few times, but after that, you won't feel a thing." He tilted Ryoma's head up to meet his eyes. He saw the glistening fangs, pale in the darkness of his room. "Such pretty teeth you have, Ryoma." He pricked his thumb on one needle-sharp point, smeared the blood across Ryoma's lower lip. He almost moaned with need when he saw that lush, pink tongue flick out to lick at the reddish smears.

"Want more, koi? Then use those pretty little weapons of yours." He touched the spot over his pulse. "You know how."

Ryoma glanced up at him, golden eyes large. And then he pressed a tender kiss to the throbbing beat, and then sank his fangs deep into Momoshiro's neck. Blood rushed into his mouth instantly, and he gorged himself on it, starving. He remembered the taste the hazy, intoxicating sweetness, and that unique spice that he somehow knew, belonged only to Momoshiro. He drank until a gentle tug on his hair roused him from his dazed feeding.

"That's enough for now, Ryoma."

Ryoma felt the hunger dissipate, and sealed the pin-pricks with a languorous sweep of his tongue. He rested his head in the crook of Momoshiro's neck, sated. "Now it all makes sense," he muttered.

"What makes sense?"

Ryoma sighed. "I really did it this time, didn't I? I went and got myself kidnapped and killed by a bunch of tennis-playing, vampire bikers."

"You're not really dead."

"Aren't I? You drank my blood, I drank yours, I died, woke up and had my first proper meal." Ryoma gazed into the dark room. "That's why you said I'd feel like killing you when I woke up, right?"

"Your memory is working pretty well."

"Well, I've had my breakfast," Ryoma snorted dryly.

Momoshiro laughed. "More like lunch. It's the middle of the night."

"So? That means I'm dead, right?" He thought for a moment. "Or is that undead?"

Momoshiro reached down for his hand and brought it to his heart. "My heart beats, and it wouldn't if I was dead, would it?" And then he touched it to Ryoma's chest. "Feel your heart beating?"

"But I felt it. I felt myself die." Ryoma looked up. "I felt myself slip away, and it was all dark until you woke me up."

"I guess it's kind of like when your heart stops beating and the emergency medical staff shock you back to life…just a more extended version. Your heart did stop beating, and let me tell you that it was the most horrifying few hours of my life. But once you body finishes converting into one of our kind, something stimulates your heart to work again. And you rest until you're ready to wake up."

"I'm not going to think about that. Something tells me I'd give myself a headache."

"Smart boy." He continued holding Ryoma's hand. "You're taking this very, very well. Most people would be screaming in horror. I mean, this is like something out of a horror movie."

"I knew. I saw the others in the lounge, remember?" He burrowed closer to Momoshiro. "And I think I already sort of knew when that idiot went and molested me before that. He went straight for my neck too, actually."

"And what a pretty neck that is." Momoshiro stroked the skin there with a brief chuckle. "But I still say you're taking this really well. It feels like everything happened only a little while ago for you."

Ryoma didn't reply. For a long while he simply sat there, nestled next to Momoshiro.

"What would be the point? It's already done. There's no reversing this, right? I could scream and shout and kick up a fuss, but it wouldn't make a difference. I might as well get used to it." He replied with a defeated sigh. He tried to smile. "Besides, you promised me you'd take care of me. You promised to save me. You kept your promise, and that's what counts." A vague memory flash through his mind. "You said you loved me. I heard you."

"I didn't mean for you to hear me," Momoshiro muttered, quickly averting his face to hide the beginnings of a blush.

Ryoma decided to leave that for another time. "So what's it like, being a vampire and all."

Momoshiro cringed slightly. "We're not really 'vampires'. At least, not the kind that you see on TV, or read about in books."

"I just sucked your blood. If that's not vampirism, I don't know what is."

"Look, there's this…thing in our blood, and depending on the quantity, it can either alter or entirely rewrite the genetic code of whatever body cells it comes into contact with. That's what Inui told me. He told me more, but after a certain point, I stopped understanding what he was saying." He paused, trying think of a way to phrase what was in his mind. "We're like an entirely different race. We look like humans, and in a way, are, but with a few differences.

"Like surviving on blood?"

Momoshiro rolled his eyes. "Why are you so hung up on the blood bit? No, we can't just survive on blood. We eat normal food like any normal person, just not as much, and we need supplement our diets with blood. It's kind of like vitamin C to us."

"So I won't die if I don't drink any?"

"It's never been seen before. We all drink blood. I doubt anyone's tried that and succeeded, for long."

"Why?"

"Remember how thirsty you felt when you woke up?" Momoshiro shrugged casually. "After awhile, the bloodlust grows into something you just can't control, at which point you'd probably go into a killing frenzy, instead of a controlled feeding."

Ryoma blinked. Okay, so maybe that would be a bad idea. He'd rather make someone temporarily anaemic than actually kill that person. "Then what about special powers? Can I fly? Or turn into animals?"

"Why the heck would you want to turn into an animal!" Momoshiro looked genuinely appalled. "I don't think so. I haven't seen any of us do that before, or fly—so don't try!"

"I'm not suicidal." He sighed. "So I can't fly, I can't turn into cool things…what can I do?"

"Some of us seem to have more…interesting abilities. But the rest of us don't." He shrugged. "I don't think I have any."

"Fuji does, doesn't he?" Ryoma asked, his voice flat.

"Yes. I think it has something to do with age. He, Tezuka, and Inui are the oldest of us. I don't even know how old they are."

Ryoma snorted. "Now I really feel like a kid, damn it." Then he stilled. "How old are you?"

Momoshiro counted, pausing for a moment while he sorted through his memories. "Around two hundred and fifty-two years old, if I remember correctly."

"What! Go away, you're way too old for me." He muttered half-heartedly. "And I thought oyaji was old…"

"Hey, I'm not old! Kaidoh and I are the youngest, after you, of course."

Ryoma shrugged, and stood up, stretching. "Doesn't mean you aren't still old." And then he remembered a very important question. "Sunlight. Will it kill me?"

"Direct sunlight can burn us. I suppose if one of us was actually masochistic enough to stand outside long enough on a sunny afternoon…but as it is, only direct sunlight will actually hurt. The older you become, the more you're used to it, and the less uncomfortable it is."

"So I can still go out and play tennis?"

"Try to stick to evenings. You'll be quite sensitive to light for awhile."

"That…doesn't sound so bad," he admitted, the corners of his lips quirking into a faint grin. "I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't play tennis…"

"I'm sorry…" Momoshiro murmured contritely. "I… You were dying and I wanted to save you and this was the only way I could. I didn't really think about what I'd be doing to you…"

"I've already said that what's done is done. You saved my life, and I'm grateful for it. Let's leave it at that, okay?" And then he smiled and held out his hand. "Why don't you show me the wonders of the night instead, Momoshiro. Teach me to love what I've become."

Momoshiro took his hand and led him to the door.

Momoshiro brought Ryoma on a tour of quieter, more suburban areas nearby, and while Ryoma initially scoffed at the idea, he quickly became fascinated by the way everything seemed so new. He attributed it to his keener senses, his heightened vision. He saw things he'd never noticed before, heard the subtle song of the deep night, and felt the barest brush of the midnight breeze. It was like being born into a brand new world.

Momoshiro stopped the motorcycle by the side of the road and they walked off the asphalt onto grass. Ryoma recognized the place. They were on the grassy slopes flanking a large canal. During the typhoon season, it was often flooded, but now, the water level was low.

They settled on the grass, staring up at the vast blanket of stars overhead, at the inky dark that held more secrets than could be discovered in a single lifetime.

"This is amazing…" Ryoma whispered, eyes wide, smiling without even knowing it. "Who needs a telescope? I can see galaxies, Momoshiro!"

"Yeah?" Momoshiro felt a warm, foreign sensation settle over him, calming, soothing. For the first time ever since he'd entered this life of immortality, he felt…at peace. "See that faint pinkish smudge?"

Ryoma screwed up his eyes a bit. Much as his eyesight had improved tremendously, there was still a limit as to the brilliance of his vision. "The one that looks like a donut?"

"Yeah. When Inui first brought me out to look at stars, it was before the concept of light-years came about, but a bit more recently I found out that that galaxy's a good million light-years away or something. Awesome, isn't it? And if you stay out here long enough, you'll see more. When I first went star gazing, it took Kawamura and the threat of sunlight to drag me away. That feeling of getting lost in the stars…it's something that very few people can experience. Especially on a scale like this." He grinned at Ryoma, who was entranced by the glittering marvels of space. "Pretty cool, huh?"

Ryoma muttered the affirmative, his voice a dreamy murmur. His features, normally layered with a trace of adolescent arrogance and lukewarm detachment, were laid wide open, innocent and carefree. A dazed, enthralled smile curved his lips, erasing the smirk that was usually in place.

"Not a cloud in the sky… It's on nights like this that I feel like I can see to the ends of the universe."

"Mm hm…" Ryoma's fingers found a stalk of wild grass and began absently playing with the thin stem.

Momoshiro chuckled, recognizing the look on Ryoma's face. He'd had the same look two and a half centuries ago. He stroked Ryoma's hair gently. "It's never the same. Each time you look, something seems to have changed.

Ryoma barely heard Momoshiro. Too lost, he was, in the endless field of sparkling stars and smoky, wispy galaxies. There was too much for him to take in all in one night. Indeed, he could stare into the night sky every night for as long as he lived, and still not be able to scan every inch of the twinkling canopy—not that that was going to stop him. Lost in the pinpricks of brilliance against the inky black, he never even noticed when he fell asleep.

Long before the harsh rays of the morning sun could kiss them, Momoshiro brought his young love back and tucked themselves beneath a soft blanket. Arms loosely wrapped around Ryoma, one long leg casually draped over a pair of shorter, more slender ones, Momoshiro drifted off into a light sleep. Gone were his days of deep slumber, for he now had something dear to watch over.