Dirt churns and gravel pops underneath the wheels as the bus slows to a stop. A glance outside the finger-streaked windows confirms that she's reached her destination, and thus Mugen stands with a sluggish blink and a sleep weakened hand clutching at the strap of her bag. She edges through the walkway, aware of all the empty seats without even ghosts to see her off, and stops just short of the steps. The bus driver doesn't turn away from the wheel despite Mugen's unmoving presence.
Finally, after having been silent the whole ride from her boring hometown to this dreadful bus stop in the middle of nowhere, Mugen voices her question.
"This headmaster guy . . . is he the real deal?" The morning air feels coldly crisp flowing into her lungs despite the dry, bleak terrain and the crashing red sea lapping at the cliffs like boiling blood. "He can help me?"
"If you let him," is the chuckled reply that answers her. The bus driver chews on his cigar while Mugen frowns. "He typically has solutions so long as you agree to them. However, the answers to problems as complicated as yours can be quite. . . messy, I find."
"That's vague."
The bus driver shrugs his shoulders. His eyes glows beneath his cap like burning moons when he smiles, finally turning his head to focus them on her. His canines are overly apparent when his teeth bare. "You should be asking him then, not me. Now get, you're going to be late for the opening ceremony."
Mugen sighs and steps off the bus. The doors close with an ancient creak and the exhaust spits out black flumes when the engine sputters to life. Slowly, the bus circles and makes its way back into the tunnel. She stares after it for a long moment and can almost still hear the bus driver's laughter. Shaking her head, she turns to appraise her surroundings.
Dark, it's dark, dark, dark, so dark, dark like us—
She ignores the hissing.
A scarecrow topped with a pumpkin head carries a sign, welcoming the reader Dead trees claw for the sky without water and left large, creeping shadows on the ground. Tangled bushes sparsely dotted with leaves but more decorated with thorns make up the entirety of the undergrowth. A bat hangs from one corpse of a tree, sleeping soundly, and the only bird calls were that of crows, a murder of them observing her with beady orbs and twitching heads in the branches above. Below them a patch of land cuts through the woods in a winding path, barren and wide enough to be called a road. On the opposing cliffside, past the woods, she can see the academy, making the journey ahead of her obvious.
If she were any other normal person—freak, freak, freak, you're a freak—Mugen might be wary of traversing such haunted looking woods. Luckily, or unluckily if you were her, she considers herself cursed enough that no other misery could deter her. Willfully oblivious to her dark environment, Mugen rolls up her sleeves and starts making the trek to Youkai Academy. She only hopes she'll get there before classes actually began. Her shadow walks alongside her, a stalwart yet ever shifting constant while she follows the singular trail that wound through the woods. The long black stretches out from her feet and thins, shrinks and widens as she kicks up dirt mindlessly, wishing she had remembered to bring earbuds.
Twenty or so minutes in and after checking her phone that has no cell service, Mugen knows the opening ceremony must have finished. She huffs and considers the path before her as she continues walking, stuffing her phone back in her pocket. Hefting her bag over one shoulder, she bumps up the pace. Though she dreads the coming introductions and mindless drum of other students catching up that came with every first day of school, she'd rather that than have everyone stare at her for being late.
Whirrrr.
Mugen pauses, ears primed. The noise sounds again, and then again, a continuous rhythm in the distance that grows closer.
"Watch out!"
Mugen flinches and jumps to the side, bug-eyed at narrowly avoiding the bike that bursts through the trees. A cry comes from the rider as the bike crashes and they're thrown from the bike. A cloud of dust plumes upwards from the impact, the tire wheels spinning relentlessly even with the bike laying on its side. Unhelpfully, Mugen waves away at the dust and stares at the crumpled form of a girl who groans weakly, mumbling under her breath as she props herself up on her arms. "Are you alright?"
The girl startles and her eyes—green, deep green, serene and calming—shoot to Mugen's dull gray. "Oh, no—I mean, yes—I mean I'm—I'm so sorry, I almost hit you!"
"Almost, but not quite, so it's fine," Mugen mutters, stepping forward and offering the girl a hand. She tries to ignore the way the girl's gaze drops to the scars. "Are you okay? That kind of looked like it hurt."
The girl with green eyes shakes her head, smiling weakly in a shy sort of way as she looks from Mugen's hand to her face. Mugen is dimly glad there's no judgement on her face as she accepts Mugen's hand without hesitation and stands. "I'm alright, just scrapes. My anemia kicks in at the worst times—"
Abruptly, the stranger clasping Mugen's hand sways, and falls into her.
"Woah, hold up," Mugen freezes as the girl's head rests easily in the crook of her neck. Mugen can feel the girl's lips against her neck, a hot breath escaping between them and prompting Mugen's face to heat up at the unusual proximity. Suddenly, the girl tenses and mumbles something against her neck.
Mugen strains her ears. "Hey, what—yowch!?"
Two sharp pinpricks insert themselves into her neck. Mugen can only imagine the pain to be from the girl's teeth finding their way into Mugen's neck, but can only stare into the trees numbly.
She's biting us, biting, it hurts, she's eating us, she'll eat us alive, why are you letting her bite us, will you let her or will you—
It hurts, but Mugen winces more from shock than pain while clutching at the girl's shoulder blades in reflex. Is she really being bit right now?
Her mind is floating away as all too soon the sensation turns into something else entirely. The girl's mouth closes over her neck more comfortably, a wet heat where she could feel the girl sucking against the vein throbbing under her tongue. Mugen clenches her hands around the girl's jacket, unsure of how name the feeling tingling in her neck, trying to tell herself to pull the girl off of her, because she's biting her, and—it's bad, isn't it?
Bad, it's bad, it's bad, but it's warm, when was the last time we were—
The stranger returns to herself before Mugen can. The hands wrapped around Mugen's back move instead to her shoulders, and shove. Mugen's nearly thrown off her feet as the girl struggles to get away from her, shame and self-loathing twisting the stranger's expression into something painful. Mugen stumbles away open-mouthed, disoriented. Her hand presses to her neck.
"Oh, no, no. . ." The stranger almost seems to struggle with herself and sways even still, but from something other than weakness. Mugen's blood lingers on her lips like lipstick. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just—I couldn't help it!"
"What the hell?" Mugen finds her voice. She pulls her hand away from the bite. There are no traces of blood on the skin of her hand but there's also no mistaking that the girl had just sucked her blood. "You couldn't help biting me? Is there a new meaning to anemic or something?"
The girl flinches and licks her lips nervously, grabbing at her elbows in an uncomfortable display. The smear left behind from Mugen's blood is erased by the pink of her tongue. "No, no. I just—it's just . . . I'm a vampire. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave a bad impression, I just didn't think to pack more bags or juice before I came, I was in such a rush, and I was so hungry. . ."
Mugen blinks over the girl's stammering. "Wait, wait, did you just say vampire?"
"Yes," the girl confirms slowly, green, green eyes drifting to the ground.
Mugen pauses. She's just been bit. Allegedly, by a vampire. Her mind still feels disconnected from her body, but her body is at least obeying the messages being relayed to it. She rubs a hand down her face and peers at the girl over her hands. A few months ago, she wouldn't be even considering what she was being told, but given Mugen's own unbelievable situation, who's to say vampires don't exist? Finally, "Okay, first, don't you guys have like—red eyes? And can't come out during the day?"
The vampire—again, allegedly—shakes her head. Her hand comes up, pale fingers pressing against the rosary Mugen only just now notices. The cross shines a dull silver in the dim lighting filtering through the dead trees. The eye of the rosary is ruby red and glinting as Mugen focuses on it. Somehow, she gets the feeling it's staring back at her. "That's only in our true form, though most of us are unsealed. And the sun doesn't bother us either way."
Mugen spares the cross another second of a glance before focusing back on the girl. "Right." Like that made a lick of sense to Mugen. Seals and true forms? But maybe that's why she's only just now finding out vampires exist. "So, you bit me. Does that mean I'm going to turn into a vampire?"
"That's not . . . really how that works, so, no."
"What about, like, garlic and stakes through the heart? Is that a myth too?"
"Garlic is more something we're allergic to than something fatal," the girl answers slowly. She looks uncomfortable now that the line of questioning has ventured into the methods of how to theoretically murder her. "And anything to the heart has the potential to kill us, depending on our power and whether we're sealed or not."
Kill? Kill, kill? We'll kill? Kill, kill, kill, killing is warm, living is warm, biting is warm—
Mugen takes a moment to study the tense shoulders and downcast expression of the girl. Despite biting her, she seemed genuinely apologetic, with an honesty to her words that could be felt. On the fence but willing to give the benefit of the doubt, Mugen sighs. "Alright. I believe you—I think—so I suppose I can let it go. Just don't go biting me without asking anymore, alright?"
Bite us, bite us, bite us. . .
The vampire balks. "You're not mad?"
Mugen shrugs. "I guess not. If you're telling the truth, you couldn't help it. Just don't starve yourself to the point you try and eat me again and we're good."
The girl beams, relief evident on her face. "I promise I won't! Thank you, I really didn't mean to start off my first day at a new school like this but I'm glad it was with someone willing to try and understand."
"Yeah, I don't see it having gone over as well with anyone else," Mugen snorts. "What's your name, Miss Vampire?"
The girl blinks. "Uh, my name?"
"Yeah, unless you want me to keep calling you girl in my head, or Miss Vampire? But I don't think you want that." Mugen points out.
"Oh, n-no, thank you. It's . . . Moka. Akashiya Moka." Moka executes a small bow, and her glossy pink hair nearly touches the ground at the downward sweep of her head. "Nice to meet you. And—and may I know yours?"
Mugen smiles at the formality. "Anzen Mugen."
"Then, Anzen-san?"
Holding up a hand, Mugen tuts. "Mugen, if you please. Anzen is pretty formal when we're already on necking terms."
Moka blushes. "N-necking? Ah—that's—I didn't—!"
Turning her head away, Mugen tries in vain to keep her lips sealed in a firm line as her shoulders shake minutely. Moka gasps indignantly at the sight, realizing she's been had.
"Are you teasing me?!"
Mugen lets herself laugh. "Yes. Yes, I am."
"Anz—Mugen-san, that isn't nice!"
"I'm not nice. But I am late, and I reckon so are you."
"Oh! You're right! But. . ." Moka trails off, staring forlornly at the wrecked bike, wheels bent. Mugen takes a glance at it herself, before shaking her head and walking over. Grabbing the bike in one hand, Mugen turns and gestures to the road.
"Come on, I'll carry it for you."
Moka's gaze hesitantly flits between the bike and Mugen. "Are you sure? You really don't have to."
"I don't mind," Mugen says. "Besides, we're going the same way, and I can't in good conscious leave you to it after the tumble you took."
"Even if I bit you?" Moka asks.
"Eh. It didn't hurt that bad. And you needed it, so. Yeah." Mugen starts walking, regardless of whether Moka was following or not. "You'll come to find I typically roll with whatever comes my way. Now come on, I don't want to start my day off with a tardy. We can see what we can do about your bike later."
"Ah, okay! And, um, thank you again."
They're not actually late, but they cut it close.
They chain up Moka's wrecked bike and Mugen rolls down her sleeves as soon as they enter the main building. They get their schedules from the administration office and realize they're heading to the same class when they both bring up their schedules to try and figure out which way to head. Despite the circumstances, Mugen's kind of relieved to know someone—in her homeroom, at least—and Moka tentatively shares the sentiment before Mugen can even voice it. Just as quickly, Mugen jokingly considers rethinking her opinion as Moka awes over the gothic architecture even as they rush in what they think is they right direction to their classroom.
The class number they're looking for is labelled on an overhanging sign above an unassuming door, dull chatter coming from within, and they share a look before Mugen opens the door and gestures for Moka to head inside. Immediately, the thrum of student voices goes silent as numerous eyes fall on them. The bell rings mockingly that very moment.
Mugen is quick to look away from the sea of judgmental gazes and ensuing whispers—they're whispering about us, can you hear them, why aren't you listening, they know—when the teacher standing in front of the desk addresses them. Bizarrely, the blond hair arranged in cat-like tufts atop the teacher's head twitches. "Nya. . . welcome to your homeroom class, ladies! It's lucky that you got here when you did! My name is Nekonome-sensei. I was just about to perform roll call, so you can go ahead and find any open seat to sit in and wait until I call for you to announce yourself."
"Thank you," Mugen and Moka chorus.
Mugen doesn't get the chance to look around for a seat when Moka grasps at her arm. "Mugen-san, look, there's two seats over there!" Moka points out lowly. Mugen looks, and yes, there's two seats, one behind the other and both pressed against the wall underneath the classroom's long windows. "We can sit beside each other . . . if that's okay?"
Mugen only has to glance at Moka's eyes to see the pleading in them. What makes this girl, this vampire, think that Mugen's worth hanging around, Mugen doesn't know, but for now she figures it's okay to indulge Moka. She nods and allows Moka to guide her to the seat. Moka takes the first seat, and so Mugen sits behind Moka. Moka turns around, face full of gratitude as she beams at Mugen. Roll call begins and Mugen ignores the warm stirring in her chest.
Warm, warm, warm, she's warm, warm. . .
Class begins. Introductions pass, and Mugen keeps her short and simple, Moka's sweet and shy in comparison. Mugen keeps her hands pressed face down on her desk.
"Alright, nya! Now as all you already know, this school was founded on the concept of monsters learning to coexist with humans in the human world, albeit in disguise."
Monsters, monsters, monsters, monsters hiding, look at them, they're hiding, just like you. Do you see them?
Mugen takes a moment to process that the first words her teacher says to her class are loony. What? Her brow furrows, but no one else reacts to the words when she looks around. Her classmates act like this is the norm, and in front of her Moka has turned back around to nod at the teacher's statement.
Nekonome-sensei continues, and Mugen can see a golden tail rise out from behind her as her hair tufts—those are really ears! Mugen realizes—twitch again. "As such, you're all expected to stay in your human forms and keep your true self a secret even to other students and faculty, save for our medical staff. Consider it like an ongoing test that lasts up until you leave Youkai Academy. Slip up, and you fail!"
Some brave—or stupid—soul raises a hand to interrupt. Mugen is too busy wondering if she's dreaming, or even hallucinating, to notice Nekonome-sensei pause. With Nekonome-sensei's attention on him, the student's raised hand turns to point at her visible monster features. "Then, does that mean you fail too, Nekonome-sensei?" he says cheekily.
Kitty, kitty, kitty. . .
Disturbingly, Nekonome-sensei's closed eyes slide open a fraction in a deadly glare. Before anyone can react, the brave fool is sporting a hashmark of bloody scratches across his face. His hands come up again only to cover his face with a pained yelp and whimpered apologies.
I don't think that's legal, Mugen distantly thinks. But if this is a school for monsters, I'm not sure if human laws apply.
No one says anything as Nekonome-sensei closes her eyes again, though she's behind the desk as opposed to in front of it now, and her unending smile has lowered a fraction. Her bright, happy tone remains even though there's a touch of danger to it. "Now, be aware that for the first week, the punishments for violating this rule aren't that severe! But beyond that the penalty will grow and you could even face suspension or worse, expulsion! So be good children and stay in your human form for Nekonome-sensei, won't you?"
Everyone nods, save for Mugen and another student sitting directly to Mugen's right. Mugen palms her forehead, swallowing thickly. She isn't afraid but she doesn't know how to feel other than that. So, I'm not the only freak out there?
If Mugen hadn't believed Moka before, she believes her now, especially as the student to her right sports a long, slimy tongue that extends outwards and wriggles, making her cringe as she catches sight of the appendage in her peripherals.
The owner of the tongue sports several piercings, an undone tie and open jacket, and cold, dark eyes that scan the room maliciously. Casually, while throwing his legs up and crossing them on his desk, he remarks, "But Nekonome-sensei, I don't see the point in hiding. Never have, not when we're so much stronger than them. Even ten of them don't amount to one of us. Why do we need to blend in when we can conquer?"
"Komiya Saizou-kun, isn't it?"
"Yeah, that's right."
Nekonome-sensei frowns, considering the obvious delinquent that voiced his opinion. "Then, Komiya-kun, the reality is that we're outnumbered. Despite our supernatural strength, we would be overrun by the sheer size of the human race, and their technology. Many of the monster races are already on the edge of extinction, and any losses sustained may spell the end of an entire race. So theoretically, we could win the battle, but not the war. And some monsters rely on the human race for survival, as either a food source or for their energy, so even their extinction would spell doom for others."
"Tch. Has anyone even tried or is this all just speculation? I don't see why we can't kill off all the men and enslave the women for our own." Saizou's tongue flicks out, and he inhales as though in bliss at the very idea. "We can make more as we need them. . . can't be that hard, can it?"
Mugen goes cold.
Several other girls, and even boys she notices, despite their newfound status as monsters, voice disgust at the proposal. Saizou laughs, enjoying the negative attention. "What? I'm not the only one thinking it!"
Nekonome-sensei smiles so sharply that even Saizou shifts warily, laugh petering off. "Nyaaa. . . Well, Komiya-kun, you could make the attempt yourself, but know that few would join you and most would look at you like you were mad, and such a rash decision is tantamount to suicide. But my role is to educate—what you do with the knowledge is up to entirely to you. Even if no teacher likes to see their student blatantly court death."
Somewhat cowed by Nekonome's sudden frosty demeanor and wary of her claws, Saizou scoffs but makes no further comments. And just like that, class proceeds. The first day is more just going over what they'll be covering throughout the school year, what rules need to be followed, and where to go for remedial lessons if a student isn't up to snuff. Easy, easy enough for Mugen to space out and mull over the reality in front of her that seemed so obvious, yet she's been blind to it this whole time.
Monsters are real, she thinks to herself.
Then, Maybe . . . that's what I am? A monster?
But Moka is a vampire. Nekonome-sensei is obviously some sort of feline, a cat monster or demon if Mugen decided to take from her obvious name, and the guy next to her . . . she doesn't even know what he is. They were all different. Does that mean Mugen has her own race?
Or was she just. . .
Mugen frowns down at her desk, scratching at the chipped wood. Perhaps the school's library holds some of the answers she seeks, even what she sought might be obvious to her classmates. Barring that, she still has a date with the headmaster—the man running the show, who promised her a solution to her problem, who maintains a school full of monsters beneath the nose of the human race. Yes, if he doesn't have the answers, then Mugen doesn't know where else to turn.
For a dreary realm separated from the human world, the sky still proved to be a glorious blue, and the wind clean. Perks of being away from the city, Mugen supposes. There's no factories or light pollution. I wonder if the night sky looks as nice? I bet there's more stars.
Moka gently drops down beside Mugen on the bench. She's close enough that their sides brush when Moka extends the extra drink in her hand to Mugen. They're shadows blend together in the afternoon sun.
"An official apology," Moka says as Mugen stares at the drink in her hand, "for me drinking your blood without consent."
"Way to make it sound like a violation, Moka-san," Mugen laughs and takes the cold can. Moka turns the faintest bit red but her pale skin makes it blatantly visible. Huh. Was that Mugen's blood, rushing to her cheeks? Or did vampires have their own blood flow? "Will you hold it against me if I don't like it? I haven't tried this flavor before. I typically just drink pop."
"It's okay if you don't like it, so long as you accept trying it in the first place," Moka replies sweetly.
"Well, alright. Here goes." It's disgusting, actually, but Mugen swallows anyways. She makes a face that sends Moka into a fit of giggles when she pulls the can from her lips.
"Gross?" Moka asks.
Mugen nods. "The worst. Thanks."
And then Mugen chugs the rest.
"You don't have to do that!" Moka laughs, though she's enjoying the show. "I'm sorry, it's okay. You can throw it away."
"I don't like to waste," Mugen says with vague disgust on her face from the taste. "Plus, it's a gift from a friend. It'd be rude to throw it away without finishing it. I just ask that you get me something else next time."
Moka freezes beside her.
"What?" Mugen's brows pinch together at the stunned expression on Moka's face. "What's wrong?"
"We're friends?" Moka asks quietly.
"I mean, yeah." Mugen leans back, dropping the hand holding the drink down to her leg. The bottom of the can leaves pleasantly cold rings of condensation on her leg. Their shadows separate as Mugen turns her head to look at Moka clearly. "I like to think we are at least."
"I bit you," Moka reminds her.
"Yes, I remember. It only happened this morning."
"And you still want to be my friend?"
Mugen scoffs. "I wouldn't be sitting here if I thought we weren't."
"I just . . . I didn't think you would, after. I've never—it's never been easy, or simple for me to make friends."
"It doesn't have to be hard," Mugen says, coming to the realization that there's a deeper issue here than just Moka's misunderstanding. The vampire's apparent shyness is beginning to make sense, her hesitance throughout her every interaction with Mugen the symptom of a fear of rejection. Maybe it's due to her issue with controlling her hunger, but Moka doesn't seem like a bad person even with that, or one who would have much trouble making friends or being popular given her compassion and beauty.
But beautiful people are often targets as Mugen has found out early in life. It won't surprise her if Moka has been subjected to bullying or the like. Cruelty almost always proves to be in more abundance than kindness, as Mugen has personally experienced.
". . . It was always hard for me." Moka admits softly, slowly. She swallows. Her green eyes are shining, the dew-like glitter of tears threatening to slip down her face. "Because I'm a vampire . . . everyone feared me. And in human schools, I was too strange for them, too strong. They wanted to see me cry. They were so hateful, and some of the things they did to try and humiliate me. . ."
Moka grimaces. "Sometimes I had to act like, when they pushed me, they were strong enough to throw me down. Eventually I started thinking that, even if it was safer in human schools for me, I didn't want to go there. And even if other monsters were afraid of me too, or scorn me, it'd still be better to come to a school like this. A place where I didn't have to pretend to be something I wasn't. To be something I hated."
"Weak?" Mugen guesses.
Moka shakes her head. "No. Human."
"Oh."
She didn't expect that. For a long moment, Mugen looks down at the drink in her lap, half empty. She stares past it at their shadows, separate and lonely. What would Moka think if she knew?
"Humans can be cruel. I won't ever try and argue otherwise. The things they're capable of. . ." Mugen clenches her hands. "Especially when they're afraid of things they know nothing about. . ."
"You understand?" Moka asks, reaching out and putting her hand on Mugen's arm.
Mugen smiles at her. She wonders if it looks as plastic as it feels curving her lips. "How can I not?"
Moka sighs in relief. "I'm glad. I'm glad to have a friend, one who understands at that."
Would you be glad if you knew? Mugen wonders again. Probably not. But that's okay. Even if Moka wasn't, it would only be one more reason for Mugen to cure herself. Mugen pushes those thoughts down. Maybe in another life, she thinks, instead, and the two engage in more conversation.
If Moka is now the more relaxed of the two and Mugen more reluctant, neither notice enough to mention it, their fledgling friendship too new for such comprehension. They return to class and the rest of their periods pass quickly.
"Should we go check out the dorms?" Moka proposes, after the last bell of the day has rung. She's twisting a brass key in one hand, a make similar to those in medieval times, though a number adorns the head of it.
"We can," Mugen says, taking out her own key.
Comparing the numbers, they find their rooms will likely be right beside each other, if not across. A happy coincidence, but Mugen wonders if there's such a thing as fate. Moka has been nearly attached to her hip before school even began, and now they'll end the day together as well. They exit the classroom and Mugen ignores the not-low-enough whispers regarding Moka's beauty, and how Mugen can't even be held up in comparison to her due to her sheer gap between them. People are wondering why they're hanging out together. Thankfully, jealousy is an emotion Mugen finds no need for, save for in one particular instance, and she's yet to come across a scathing remark close enough to cut her more than her own thoughts, so she pays their passing gossip no mind.
The afternoon sun casts long shadows as they make their way outside of the building. The mill of students steadily disperses as some choose to make detours, or bundle up in pockets of chatter. Still, there's enough people around for Komiya Saizou to be noticed coming up behind them as they near the girls' dormitory. Mugen frowns when her shadow is overtaken by another's, hearing the nervous hushing of students too slow to react comfortably to Saizou's approach.
Mugen turns her head just as Saizou's large hand tries to come down on Moka's shoulder from behind her. Mugen's not really thinking when she bats it away. She snarls at him. The delinquent blinks slowly at her, lip curling in a sneer as his hand drops to his side and Moka gasps at the suddenness of Mugen's defense. "Personal space, much?" Mugen scowls.
Saizou harrumphs, raising the offending hand to sweep back his hair. "Apologies, but I couldn't help but notice you're going the wrong way, ladies."
"What do you mean?" Moka asks. "The girls' dorms are right there."
Saizou smirks, directing all his attention onto Moka as Mugen folds her arms. "They are, but I don't think that's where you want to go." Cocking a brow and throwing a thumb over his shoulder, he almost oozes with innuendo in his next words. "Because I've got a nice, secluded little place back there where we could have some fun. What do you say?"
"No." Mugen answers for Moka who grimaces at the suggestion.
"I wasn't asking you, lady." Saizou looks Mugen up and down, slow and leering. His dark eyes stop on her wrists, just barely peeking out from her sleeves. "But if it makes you wanna live a little more, you're free to join?"
Mugen's blood runs hot. Body shaking and muscles, she takes a step forward.
Moka grabs her arm.
"No, thank you. I don't appreciate you being rude to me or Mugen-chan, so please leave us alone." Moka frowns at him. Her anger turns the green of her eyes into glass, sharp and cutting despite her soft personality.
Saizou tries to close the distance even as Moka backsteps, dragging Mugen along with her, who's distantly surprised she isn't shaking Moka off in her rage to get at him. "Aw, come on," he tries, hand outstretched to grab them. "Don't be like that!"
When Saizou leaps forward, Mugen lashes out with her free arm. It's too fast for Saizou or Moka to see exactly what happens but the result is Saizou sailing away from them, gritty grains of black trailing from his face as he clutches at his eyes and howls.
Moka looks at Mugen, mouth agape. "What did you do?"
It's then that Moka sees the darkness that hangs over Mugen like a physical thing, building with Mugen's deadly intent draping over her like a shroud. Mugen's eyes are white, pupil graying out to blend in with the bleached iris.
"Mugen-chan. . ." Suddenly Moka knows she needs to get Mugen away from here before she does something she can't take back. Moka sucks in a breath as Mugen strains to continue her assault, the girl too incensed to speak, but she pulls Mugen along regardless as Saizou's pained curses and threats are thrown in the air after them. "We need to go; come on, hurry!"
They bolt.
They get to the dorm rooms before Saizou can recover. Moka thuds up the stairs with Mugen in tow who has since stopped resisting with Saizou out of sight. She passes up Mugen's door and struggles with getting the door unlocked as nerves promote tremors in her hands. Eventually, the key slots into place and Moka pushes the door open, grasping for Mugen again to pull her inside.
She finds the light switch, sees a glimpse of the shadow that crawls back into Mugen's shape on the floor, having been something else entirely whilst no one was looking. Moka can't concern herself with that question just yet.
Even if boys aren't allowed into the girls' dorms, Moka shuts and locks the door as a precaution, leaning against it with a whoosh of air and letting her eyes fall shut. Her heart is pounding in her chest. She's all too aware of how vulnerable she is in this form, and how useless she'd be if the conflict Saizou erupted into a full-on fight.
After taking a moment to breathe, she looks to find Mugen staring off into space. There's a muscle twitching in her friend's jaw.
"That was scary. Are you okay?" Moka asks, reaching for Mugen's hand. Mugen offers no resistance as Moka takes it. Moka turns the smaller hand over in her own to see sooty black grains falling from it. It feels like grit under Moka's fingers but startlingly cold at the same time, like black frost.
"No," Mugen admits after a minute, looking down at the hand Moka holds, palm upturned. "I didn't mean to do that."
"That's okay," Moka says, thought she has to wonder what that was.
"I just got so angry," Mugen's eyes fall with the sand-like particles' descent onto Moka's floors. "I'm sorry about your floor. It's the first time I'm in your room and I'm already making a mess. I can clean it up if you want?"
"That's alright," Moka soothes, feeling the straining tendons in Mugen's hand. "You can't even really tell so it's okay. I just want to make sure you're okay." Absently, her thumb rubs at the long scar that stretches past Mugen's wrist, and she stops when she feels Mugen flinch. She lets go. "I-I'm sorry, that was—"
Mugen grabs her hand.
"Please," Mugen says. She doesn't look up from the floor, slowly entwining their fingers. Moka holds her breath as their fingers slot together. Has Moka ever held another's hand before in this form? "It . . . helps. If you weren't hanging on to me, I might have done worse. If you let go I can't promise not to go back and find him right now. It's—it's hard to control it, when I'm angry."
Moka steps closer, peering down at the smaller girl, who looks so jagged at the edges in this moment compared to the way she was put together this morning. "To control what?" she asks, unable to contain the question anymore. She's never seen anything like the black matter falling onto her floor before, and she can't deny the curiosity she has about her friend and just who she is. "What are you?"
Mugen looks up sharply. "Aren't we supposed to keep our true forms secret?"
Mugen's trying to deflect and Moka knows it. Part of her is screaming at her to let it go, but this is her first friend, the first person to accept her as a vampire. The least she can do is accept her friend for whatever she is and help her with whatever she's struggling with—but first she has to know what Mugen is to do that. "You already know I'm a vampire," Moka argues matter-of-factly.
"Why does what I am matter to you?" Mugen asks lowly. "Will it change anything? Are you scared of me now?"
Moka takes a step back at the jump in logic, but squeezes Mugen's hand despite her confusion. "Why would I be scared?"
Mugen gives a bark of laughter, voice dry. "You saw it didn't you?"
"Saw what?" Moka asks, befuddled.
"The shadow."
Moka pauses. Thinks, for a second, about Mugen's deceptively unassuming silhouette on the floor, and then the darkness hanging over Mugen. The draping shadow that only grew in size as Mugen struggled to get to Saizou. "I'm not scared of it," she says, because she isn't.
"You should be." Mugen replies. "I am."
Moka isn't sure how to respond to that, and raises her hand to finger her rosary in contemplation. She thinks the shadow must be a part of Mugen, except maybe it's kept separate from her, like Moka's true self. Moka wouldn't say she's afraid of her true self but she is wary of her. But maybe that isn't the case for Mugen at all, not if she reacts to that strange shadow like this.
"What is it?" Moka tries again.
Mugen slowly pulls her hand away from Moka. Moka lets her, if only to let Mugen have the space she needs for whatever she's about to say. Mugen folds her arms against herself, glaring at her shadow like it had personally spited her. "A curse," Mugen spits.
The shadow on the floor distorts.
Mugen lifts her steel eyes to Moka's. "I'm not a good person, Moka-san." Mugen says, and Moka wants to interject but Mugen forges on without stopping. "I'm not nice. I hurt people and didn't care what happened to them, didn't care about anything. And because of that, I was cursed. This shadow is just a reminder of that and what happens when I lose control of myself."
"But you are a nice person," Moka contests strongly when Mugen pauses. She doesn't care for her Mugen putting herself down, not when she's already embedded herself in Moka's heart as her first friend. Years of loneliness, heavy and cold, made lighter only with a day by Mugen's side, are vivid behind Moka's eyes, fueling the passion in her argument. "If you weren't, you would have just left me this morning. And if you weren't nice, you wouldn't have forgiven me."
Mugen shakes her head. "There's a difference between being decent and being nice, Moka-san."
"You're nice enough to step in between Saizou and I when you didn't have to. You're nice enough to be my friend. And you don't have to be nice to be my friend, if that's not what that is. Because I like you as you are." Moka says testily. "You're the only friend I've ever had, but I like to think I have good taste in choosing them."
Mugen mouth twitches. "Would you be my friend if you knew what I was, though?" she asks, turning to face Moka fully.
Moka's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"
"I haven't told you what I am," Mugen reminds her. "There's a reason for that."
"Then tell me. I'll still tell you the same thing. You're my friend."
Mugen smiles, then, at Moka's heartfelt words. It lacks warmth. "Then let me ask you this, how do you really feel about humans?"
Moka stops. A chill rolls down her spine and there's a niggling in the back of her head. She can't mean. . . But, no. There's a barrier surrounding the school. No humans can get in, not without help. Mugen couldn't be. And humans don't have powers like that, even if Mugen says it's a curse. "What does that have to do with what you are?"
"Just answer the question and I'll tell you," is Mugen's swift rebuttal.
Moka rolls the question over in her mind, looking it over for hints. But the most obvious thought can't be true. If it is, Moka doesn't know what it means. Hesitantly, she decides to answer honestly. "Humans are . . . they're scary. And I can't pretend I don't resent them for how they've treated me. They haven't hurt me physically, but the pain they've caused me—I don't think I'll ever forget how they made me feel."
Mugen closes her eyes. "I understand. That's what I thought."
Mugen takes a step forward, past Moka who moves aside as Mugen approaches the door. Then Mugen stops. "But even expecting that, why does it hurt?"
Moka's heart drops. "Mugen-chan?"
Mugen shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Moka-san. . . I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have gotten attached. I should have just told you earlier, when you told me how you felt. I think I made this worse on both of us."
"What do you mean?" Moka asks—no, there's something in her voice, something strong—she's demanding, not asking. Fear drives her desire for answers, now. Something's she's always wanted and only just found is slipping away from Moka, and she knows this deep in her gut. "What do you mean, Mugen-chan?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Mugen grabs the doorknob. "I'm a human."
Moka watches with wide eyes as Mugen twists the knob and pulls the door open. Moka moves, maybe to stop her, maybe to—she doesn't know. She can't think. This doesn't make sense. Is she losing a friend? Is a human going to expose them to the horrors of humanity's great, merciless fear? Is Mugen, the human, leaving Moka, the monster, behind?
She doesn't know what to do.
But Mugen is leaving.
No. Please. Not like this. Not when I finally had. . .!
Moka is inches away from pulling Mugen back. What was she going to do when she made contact? She didn't know.
But—
Mugen's shadow moves up, takes shape—a fog of black that repels Moka. She gasps in shock as her hand refuses to push through the grainy black cloud of pressure. Mugen's back, wavering through the fog, looks so small and lonely.
"Mugen-chan!" Moka yells, but the black sand is travelling down her arm now. The shadowy bust of a head takes shape in the cloud, and Moka can almost see its dark lips laugh at her cruelly. Does Mugen mean for this? Is she controlling it now? Or is it her curse? "What are you doing?!"
Don't leave me! Moka wants to say instead. It's okay that you're a human, is something else, but she's not sure entirely sure it's the truth. I want you to stay! is another, the last, the part of her that is small, and just as lonely as Mugen's retreating back in the growing darkness. But this darkness is draining the thoughts from her, though, the will to struggle. She realizes it's sucking the energy out of her when Mugen glances back at her.
"Humans are cruel, aren't they, Moka-san?" Mugen quotes, stepping outside as the shadows reach Moka's neck. "It's true. It's why I was cursed. But even with this curse . . . it doesn't change what I am."
Mugen stops just outside the door, hand on the doorknob. "I was stupid, because I think for a minute there I thought I could be something else. Do something other than hurt people. Pretend I could have friends and be good, for a day, at least. But I'm starting to think it's just my nature."
Mugen looks down at the grains of black that begin to coat the floorboards. "But it's okay, Moka-san. I'll do what I need to, and I won't darken your doorstep a second longer. Just know there's other people out there. Nice people. You can make better friends. It's better this way, anyways—I was never any good at it."
Mugen turns to see Moka, who's since slumped onto the floor in a daze, hand still outstretched but eyes drooping closed. "It's actually a good thing," Mugen says gently, but part of it sounds like she's trying to reassure herself.
Moka wants her to stop. To stop sounding so sad.
"You'll see. You'll be happier without me. I'm no good."
Mugen turns off the lights and shuts the door as Moka's consciousness slips away from her.
"Goodbye, Moka-san."