"You wanted answers?" the headmaster hums, face enveloped in the shadows of his priest hood. Mugen doesn't ask why a monster (presumedly) wears the robes of a priest and dangles a cross from his neck.

"No," Mugen replies, standing before his desk in the dark, near spartan-like office. Few knick-knacks adorn the shelves, and a crystal ball sits on a cushion on the desk, glimmering with different images of the school at several angles. "I want a cure."

"For your powers or for your permanence?"

"Aren't they one in the same thing?" Mugen asks, folding her arms in front of her. She anxiously taps her fingers against her biceps. Her eyes are veined with red; the headmaster surely notices, but he doesn't deign to ask what she's been crying over. The reasons were many, as they both were aware. "They're tied together. They're both symptoms of my curse."

"So you say," the headmaster comments. "I would have thought you'd give me more time before knocking on my door. It's only just the first day of school—wouldn't you like to enjoy the academy a bit more before we take such irreversible actions? You might find that you'll change your mind. You've only just entered our world and the academy has much to offer. With your upbringing and abilities—"

Mugen interrupts. "The first day has made up my mind, actually. So can we just get this over with?" Mugen would, before her curse, have treated authority figures with more respect, but misery has a way of making formalities seem pointless. "What do I have to do?"

The headmaster leans forward and steeples his fingers together, the disturbing grin beneath his cowl remaining visible. The cross on his chest swings against his robes while the beads of the cord clatter together. Mugen tries not to hyper-focus on the dangling cross as the sound repeats in her mind, like marbles running along the walls of her skull. Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink.

"Well, then. Seeing as I expected you later as opposed to now, I'll need some time to find the appropriate measures to take. I was going to study your condition during your stay but I suppose I can perform personal examinations with this opportunity. Are you aware of my title as the Exorcist?"

"No, but I can guess as to what that role entails. Are you going to exorcise me, then?"

Demon, demons, you think we're demons? You want us out? You want us to go? No. NO. We won't leave, you don't get.

"Possibly," the headmaster admits while inclining his head, grinning again at the notion. "If your condition proves amenable to that course of action, then that's what we'll do. Note that that route will cause a great deal of pain, though, but I'm not sure you care if you're already set on curing yourself. Do you even know what you are? Do you care to know?"

Mugen averts her eyes. Moka's face, shocked and uncomprehending, flashes before her face.

The voices whisper in her ears again. Shadows big and small that only she can see mock her. Human. Human. Are you human? Are you sure? Are you a monster? Does it matter? You're terrible either way! A witch! A demon! CURSED! Cursed, cursed, cursed.

Bitterly, she responds, "I'm a human. A cursed one, but still human either way. I won't pretend otherwise."

The Exorcist laughs. "Is that what you think?"

"I was born human so I'm pretty sure." Mugen says dryly. Born human, raised human, lived as a human. To be human was to suffer, she's learned, and Mugen is so tired of suffering when she doesn't see the point. She's tired of watching the march of others so like her, but not, get to end while she's forced to endure.

"That may be true," the headmaster agrees, amusement clear in his tone. "But will you die as one? That remains to be seen."

Mugen nose wrinkles in disgust. "Ugh. Why are you creepy old men types so vague? Just say what you mean and leave the drama to theatre kids."

The headmaster shakes his head. "I'm of the mind that everything happens for a reason. Telling you young ones is never enough. Plus, it's so much more enjoyable to see you stumble around for the truth on your own. The mayhem youth cause in their struggle to find themselves is a play worthy of applause, in my eyes."

"Great. Well, I already know what I am, you don't have to tell me, so just let me know what I have to do so we get this show over with."

The Exorcist sighs though his smile widens. "Very well. If you're set on this, return here in one hour. At that time, we will commence examining the nature of your condition and how to absolve you of it. Be prepared for a long night."

Mugen frowns. "What? Why can't we start now?"

The headmaster unfolds his hands, gesturing to the room. "This is hardly a room fit for the trials I see before us. Not to mention, I have none of the tools necessary to begin scratching at the surface. A case like yours is rare and I've personally never faced such a dilemma before."

"Wait, does that mean you're not even sure you can cure me?" Mugen suddenly realizes, frown deepening into a scowl as her brows slant.

The Exorcist nods. "Correct."

"Then why did you send that letter?" Mugen demands, stomping forward to slam her hands onto the desk. "In it, you promised—!"

"An answer, a solution perhaps," the Exorcist recites easily, unfazed. "But not a cure."

"Urghhh!" Mugen leans back, throwing her head to the ceiling. Her shadow stretches to swallow each slice of light filtering through the curtains. Her eyes glint like a blade in the light when she drops her head back down to fix a glare on the Exorcist. "You better hope you have a solution. I'm not afraid to become a pain in your ass if you don't fix me. Because if you can't fix me, you sure as hell can't stop me."

"Are you threatening me?" the headmaster muses, grin widening. "Adorable."

"One hour. One." Mugen hisses, and goes to leave the room.

"One more thing, Anzen-chan."

Mugen stops and the glow of her silver glare as she looks over her shoulder could drive wolves mad.

"If you don't show up, I'm going to assume you're reconsidering your stance on this. Should you come to me after that, I will require you to perform a task for me as recompense for wasting my time."

"I'll show up. You don't have to worry about that."

The headmaster watches with interest as takes the darkness with her. When the door shuts, he shakes his head to himself and closes his eyes. "The kids these days always make things more complicated than they have to be."

Outside, Mugen paces. She doesn't even know what to do for three hours, she realizes. The halls were practically barren, classrooms empty. She couldn't go back to the dorms. Mugen groans, closing her eyes to the afternoon sun as it burns through the hallways glass windows in hues of molten gold and orange. The shadow beneath her starts murmuring to her.

Moka, Moka, Moka, Moka. Why'd you have to do that to her? You didn't have to be alone anymore. But now you are. Of course you are. Moka. . .

"Shut up," she hisses at it but it only grows louder. She grits her teeth, pressing a hand to her head as it starts to sing in place of words. "Why are you doing this? Just leave me alone for once. Please."

The shadow denies her. It stretches, jagged and pulsing on the floor to make itself more apparent. Mugen doesn't understand why it's behaving more erratically lately. The darkness has been more active than ever before since she's stepped foot in this realm, and all the voices that reside in it. Why, oh, why is it so agitated?

She just doesn't know.

Before she can put more thought to it, her shadow erupts into a scream, painful like that split second where someone puts their earbuds in but doesn't realize they have the volume turned all the way up. Mugen stumbles, clutching at her head with a cry.

Why are you doing this?! she demands as her teeth grind from the pressure.

We want out. Outside, outside, outside, E, O U T, O U T!

It doesn't give her an option.

The hallway twists with shadows that reach for her as Mugen runs, slamming into the first double doors that have EXIT glowing in neon red above them. The noise chases her, her shadow staying in the hallway even as its snared at Mugen's pounding feet. The world blurs at the edges of her vision, clipping like cut up photographs left to the wind. The shadow is doing this. Torturing her again with its sick games. She slams her eyes shut to avoid seeing reality break before her, running blind.

But the shadows play with puppets behind her eyelids, and she sees herself, about to be crushed by a gigantic, shadowy hand. The shadows laugh, and whisper warnings.

Behind you, watch out, he's behind you, he's going to squash you like the bug you are, watch out, watch O U T!

Mugen screams in frustration, tripping and falling to her knees as she tries in vain to shout over the voices. "Shut up! I'm outside now just like you wanted, so leave me alone! Just leave me alone!"

"Are you talking to yourself?"

Mugen doesn't even hear him at first. Maybe she doesn't even realize he's real and not just another voice in her head. She only becomes aware of him when she's lifted up by the back of her jacket, dangling in the air. She flinches and opens her red-tinged eyes as her arms drop from her head.

"You have got to be kidding me," Mugen groans as she's spun around to see her captor.

Komiya Saizou leers back. The smirk on his face is enough to make Mugen want to rip her hair out.

"What the fuck do you want?" Mugen demands after several blinks that prove he's not an illusion. The voices hush her as Saizou's eye twitches, a muscle jumping in his face as his smirk drops a fraction. Bad word, bad word, you sai word. "No, really, what do you want? Because this—this is just, a really, really bad time for whatever pissing contest you want to have, and I'm already dealing with enough yelling in my head right now, so—do you mind letting me go? Pretty please?"

Saizou stares at her before he chuckles. It's slow at first but the shaking in his shoulders builds into a roar of laughter so loud it startles the crows. "Nah, I don't think I will," he manages to say, after his fit of cackling dies down. "See, if I had known you were a loon, I would have put you down ages ago. It's a good thing I decided to follow you. . ."

Mugen grimaces as Saizou shakes her around with one bulging arm, his sleeves tearing. Were the shadows playing more tricks on her, or was his body growing and becoming increasingly disfigured? "Why do I get the feeling you and I have a different definition of put down?"

Before she knows it, Saizou's doubled in height and tripled in muscle, and her world goes sideways. She's being thrown into a tree. She distantly hears her ribs snap and feels the jagged pieces of bone lacerating her insides. Her mouth opens wide, maybe to scream, but before so much as a pained exhale could escape Saizou, or the monster he has become, seizes her with his thick whip of a tongue. He swings her around again, up and then into the ground so fast and hard that her brain knocks around in her skull.

She can't breathe, and the pain wracking her body is equivalent to being in a car crash.

Car crash, car crash, stop light, red, red, red, screeeeee—

Now isn't the time, Mugen thinks in an effort to silence the voices. Not now, not now, not now, she tells them. The pain is disorienting but not unfamiliar. This isn't good, but it's fine, she can deal with it if the voices would just shut up!

You should have listened to us, the voices reply scornfully.

"Listen, I don't really care to do this, but you pissed me off." Muffled, she hears Saizou speak as the tongue retracts, rolling her onto her back. "Really, I was being kind earlier when I offered for you to join Moka-san and I, but you had to be such a bitch about it. Sometimes it's fun, but when you girls try too hard to play hard to get it's a real turn off."

The ground quakes with his heavy stomps. Each vibration sends a painful hum into her body, and she claws at her shadow. Why won't you help me? she wonders, even as unafraid as she is of the fate awaiting her. You hurt him earlier. Why won't you do it again?

A singular voice answers her. This time it sounds like her own.

You deserve it.

Fair enough, Mugen thinks.

"I like to think I'm a gentleman," Saizou drones on, looming over Mugen's broken form. "Mama told me to never hit a lady. But you're not a lady, are you? You're just a freak who was asking for it. 'Sides, I owe you for earlier."

Saizou's brutish hand, three times as large as Mugen's head, plucks at Mugen's arm. He raises her up carelessly and she hangs limply in his grip as his free hand pinches at her other arm with two fingers. When she is suspended by her arms in the air, Saizou lets his tongue slither out again, flicking at Mugen's face. She barely has the energy to cringe in disgust.

"Looking closely, you might have a pretty face," Saizou comments darkly, "But those scars of yours really ruin the whole thing. Nobody wants something broken."

Broken, broken, broken, broken, you're ruined, you're ruined, we always told you so. Why didn't you listen? You never listen.

Mugen just looks at Saizou from under her lashes, finding her vision blurry, one eye flooding with the blood—bleeding, she's bleeding, this is blood—running down the crown of her head. She shakes terribly but Saizou is surprised to find it from a rising cacophony of giggles. "Boy, you talk a lot," Mugen says thickly through the pain, head lolling.

"You little shit," Saizou's tongue whips out, and slaps her hard enough across the face that she flies from his grip and through the trees. Her body skims bark and Mugen blacks out, but she can't say for how long. When she comes to, Saizou's still talking. "You really don't know what you're dealing with do you? Or are you just that crazy? I honestly think I'm doing you a favor here, putting you out of your misery. You're not even fighting back, so you must know it too."

This is bad, Mugen finally acknowledges, watching the blurry image of Saizou returning for her again. At this rate, I'm going to be late.

Late, late, late, we're late, we're—wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. W A I T. What's that? What is that?

Listen, says a voice more soft than the rest.

A faint cry echoes. Mugen twitches violently at the familiarity of it and Saizou stops, tilting his head.

Only now does she feel fear.

No. No, no, no. You can't be here, Mugen begs. Please don't come here.

Saizou's lips stretch into a slow grin when the cry echoes again, and Mugen's heart drops.

"Ah, Moka-chan! We're over here! Come join the fun!"

"N-no," Mugen mutters into the dirt, fingers arcing into the ground like claws. The beating Saizou has done to her stubborn body made it refuse to move the way she commands it to. She glares with one eye at her shadow, demanding it to help. "S-s-sto—!"

Saizou stomps on her back just as Moka comes into view, and the scream that erupts from her echoes in several different voices within Mugen's mind.

"Mugen! No, stop, stop!"

Moka runs for her but Saizou has a new target now, one that he's wanted to play with the moment he saw her. "Ah, ah, Moka-chan!" he jeers, tongue hanging out. "If you want to join the fun, you have to say my name instead!"

And then he strikes, tongue flashing out like a frog and snaring Moka in its slimy grip. She yelps but even then she's only looking at Mugen. "Let me go! Mugen, Mugen! What did you do to her? Why are you doing this?!"

Saizou frowns. "What did I just say? Girls really don't know when to shut up and do what they're told!"

With a swish of his tongue he slams Moka into a tree. The pained cry she lets out resounds in Mugen's head to the point she can't hear anything else, and she shuts her eyes in misery at the sight of Moka falling victim to Saizou. Her cavalier attitude towards her situation has dropped now that Moka has joined her.

Mugen grits her teeth. Why did you come? Why are you here? Why, Moka? Why, why, why, why? Why do you care? Mugen laments. You shouldn't have come! Not for me!

Human. Freak.

Moka screams when Saizou's tongue coils around her again.

Cursed.

All your fault, all your fault. . .

"All I want is for you to be my girl, Moka-chan." Saizou says, "But this bitch here tried to get in the way of that. I had to get rid of her. She's still hanging on, though. Would you like to see?"

Mugen lays terribly still as she hears Moka near her, the vampire suspended in the air by Saizou. She's struggling, Mugen can hear her even if she can't see her. It doesn't make any sense to her. Mugen doesn't need help, doesn't deserve it, so why is Moka even here? Why is she even bothering? Doesn't she know it doesn't matter what happens to Mugen?

Mugen isn't worth it.

She's weak. Pathetic.

But for once Mugen doesn't want to stew in her weakness. She loathes it with a passion that chases away the chill of darkness clouding her mind, every thought and sense coming into sharp clarity. She hates this. She didn't want Moka to be hurt. She doesn't want Moka to suffer because of her.

This is my fault.

"Mugen-chan, please," Moka whispers. Her words are thick with tears. Why is she even bothering? Why was she here, suffering for Mugen's sake? "Please, you have to—you can't die, I haven't—I can't, this can't end like this, you don't know. . ."

Mugen hears chain links rattle in her head.

"Mugen, I'm sorry! What you are doesn't matter; you're still my friend! I still want to be your friend!"

Mugen opens her eyes, shocked.

Saizou shakes Moka harshly, throwing her down onto the ground beside Mugen. "So you know she's crazy too, Moka-chan? But you still want to be friends with this trash? Ridiculous. But it's okay. Once we're official, I'll set you straight!"

Mugen blearily sees Moka crawling for her. Saizou is closing in. Moka's alabaster face smudged with dirt turned to mud from tears. Her rosary swings, ruby gem glowing angrily.

Moka came for her, to apologize, to tell her . . . even now, as Saizou hurts her, that she wants to be Mugen's friend.

Unbelievable.

Ridiculous.

But for once, Mugen wants to believe in miracles.

Grab it, grab it, grab it, grab it, grab it, you have to grab it—

Mugen doesn't think. She doesn't ask why. Instead, she propels her broken body forward, shadows coalescing along her body in a frightening shroud that fuels its every movement. With eyes of white, she meets Moka's wide, wet gaze, her hand catching on Moka's rosary. In the few seconds of resistance as the chain resists her, Mugen's mind finally goes silent.

There are no voices. Only her breathing and Moka's are heard.

When a thought does reach Mugen, it is only one.

Protect her.

Mugen doesn't know whose voice it is. She doesn't know why she's smiling, weak as it is, either. She feels so stupid, but . . . how long has it been since she let her face be so honest? How long had it been since she felt this happy? The warmth and delight in her chest are somehow just as pure as the fleeting memories of her childhood, when she was small and so full of life.

Moka really was something, to make Mugen bother with such silly, sentimental things as happy memories.

"I'm . . . really glad you're my friend, Moka-san."

The rosary snaps free from the choker.

Moka looks at Mugen in awe, and then explodes into light.

The flare bursting from Moka is so bright and disorienting that Mugen thinks she's died, the shadows recoiling around her like frightened children. An oppressive force drops down upon the world, as though gravity has doubled. Mugen can barely hold herself up as it is. But then Mugen blinks, and gravity corrects itself while the world dims back into view. The pain of her broken body remains, reminding her that she is still, despite everything, alive.

Moka stands before her now, though Mugen can't see her face. Mugen struggles to push herself up again, until Moka drops down to her knees—

"M-Moka?" Mugen breathes.

Yes, Moka.

Moka, whose cotton candy pink hair is now the silver glow of the moon. Moka, whose emerald eyes are now as red as Mugen's blood had been against her lips, and as feline as the cat Mugen used to have. Her complexion is lighter, almost, and her fangs are vivid when she huffs, expression cold and full of disdain as she looks down on Mugen.

Everything about this red-eyed Moka sharply contrasts the sugary demeanor of her green-eyed counterpart; Mugen vaguely worries what that means for her attitude. She can't help but stare as Moka presses a firm, pale hand on her to keep her from rising. Moka's voice is lower than before when she speaks, thrumming with power. "Fool, do not exacerbate your injuries. I will not have my other self feeling anymore responsible for your condition than she already does."

Mugen twitches then. "She shouldn't be, I'll—be okay," she manages to get out, but Moka's hand is an iron-bound anchor, pinning her to the ground. "I've dealt with w-worse than him."

Moka arches a silver brow, threat entering her bloody gaze like a rust. "Oh? I find that hard to believe considering you're at death's door."

Mugen chokes out a laugh. "D-don't worry, that door isn't opening any—any time soon. This ain't gonna k-kill me."

Moka, this other Moka, shakes her head at the sorry sight of Mugen's crumpled body and her overconfident words. Before Moka can comment further, though, Saizou overcomes his awe of the vampire in front of him and steps forward with a loud thud. Moka stands at the reminder of his presence, stoic face abruptly dropping into a scowl.

"This. . . Moka-chan.. . . this is your true form?" Saizou gasps out.

Mugen leans up without Moka's hand to keep her down. Moka catches the motion and sends a glare her way but Mugen fixates on Saizou, who is trembling at the sight of her friend.

Wait. This is what Moka meant, when she mentioned her true form? This is her, unsealed?

In hindsight, it seems obvious. Mugen grasps tightly at the rosary in her hand. Moka unsealed is already vastly different in appearance and shows a complete one-eighty in personality—so what does such a drastic transformation mean in regards to her power?

"Even other monsters scorned me." Mugen recalls Moka saying, and finds herself studying this Moka. There's a thrill, looking at the silver-haired woman, like witnessing a tiger at work, raring to pounce as Moka stretches like she'd just woken from a deep slumber. She doesn't even seem to consider Saizou a threat.

Mugen finds it hard to fear such natural beauty when the force of that nature's attention isn't directed at her.

"You're even more beautiful than before," Saizou announces, hands clenching to try and contain the excited—fearful, fear, he's afraid, look at him, he's shaking!—tremors running through his arms. Mugen's mouth twists into a frown, because she thinks it's wrong to hold either version of more beautiful that the other when they both look stunning. "Ah, I can hardly contain myself looking at you!"

Moka scoffs, smirking. "Contain what, exactly? The urge to flee before an opponent greater than you?"

Saizou narrows his eyes at the taunt. "No, Moka-chan. It doesn't matter what you are, I know I can take you. You will be my woman."

"Then, if you think you can," Moka begins with a glance back at Mugen that screams stay where you are before sashaying towards Saizou, "just try and take me."

Stopping just feet away, Moka extends an ivory hand and gestures in a mocking 'come hither' motion.

Saizou, well. He needs nothing else.

He charges, and Mugen watches and knows, in the way prey knows a predator, that Saizou against Moka is like a brain-addled rodent against a haughty house cat. How she does is uncertain, but if she doubts it at all, she doesn't after seeing Moka easily sidestep him, letting him rush down the hill and take the dead woods down with him. The crackling of bark and branches snapping and splitting apart echo throughout the forest.

Saizou skids at the bottom of the hill, shakes himself and all the twigs clinging to him off with a frustrated yell. "You don't get to make a fool of me!"

Moka chuckles. The low, throaty sound is nearly seductive. Perhaps that is just the nature of vampires when their nature is unleashed—predatory, alluring, like a hungry shepherd guiding her lambs to the slaughter. "I don't have to, seeing as you're doing a fine job of it on your own."

Furious at the jeer, Saizou turns around for another go but Moka has already closed the distance with a leap. Midair, she spins herself like a pinwheel, heel colliding against his skull with a crack so fierce Mugen expects to see Saizou's brains spill out. He falls like a tree, and only Mugen and Moka are around to hear him hit the ground.

Just like that, it's over.

He doesn't move when Moka drops down to the ground. Admiring her handiwork, Moka cocks a hip, flipping her lengthy hair over her shoulder and yawning in a manner that made the brief exchange seem like a waste of her time. "Don't bare your tusks at me if you're not up to the task, pig."

Mugen raises a brow at the insult. Looking at Saizou's prone form, she has to ask, "Is he dead?"

If she sounds hopeful at the prospect, well, that's because she is. Though Mugen didn't care much about the beating, Saizou's general personality as witnessed within the span of a few hours was one the world could easily do without.

Moka looks over her shoulder at Mugen before turning and striding towards her. "Unfortunately not," Moka answers, and Mugen gets the idea that she's even taller than her sealed form when she stands over Mugen. Mugen can't be sure when she's laying like a stringless puppet on the ground; it could honestly just be that in this form Moka's very presence if magnified. "Disappointed?"

"Maybe a little," Mugen grunts out, sighing. "He's an asshole."

"I would be surprised if you weren't," Moka says, surveying the extent of Mugen's injuries. She doesn't look fit to be moved. Despite how Mugen had said she'd be okay, the truth of her statement seems debatable. She frowns at Mugen. "You're hurt badly. How did you let it come to this? I saw you handle him quite easily earlier so I assumed you held some strength to you. But looking at you now, perhaps I was wrong."

"You're aware of what goes on in your sealed form?" Mugen asks, somewhat surprised, before shaking her head and answering the question. "If so, you know I said I was cursed. I can't control these powers; they typically only react to my emotions."

Moka's eyes narrow. "And what did you feel when that pig was assaulting you? Fear?"

Mugen has the sense to look sheepish at Moka's scrutiny. "Nothing, actually."

"Nothing? What do you mean nothing?" Moka demands, obviously not happy with Mugen's answer. Her tone is icy. "Were you just sitting there, taking it?"

"Hey, you asked me what I felt," Mugen replies defensively, shrugging. She winces when she feels the fragments of her ribs shift. "I can't control what I feel and if my shadows don't help I'm no better than a regular person. So, when I didn't feel anything except—oh. Shit. Shit."

"What is it?" Moka reaches out, alarmed by Mugen's shift in tone. As irritated as she is by the human allowing herself to be brutalized, she doesn't want Mugen—her other, more sentimental side's first and only friend—to die for her foolishness.

"I'm late to meet the headmaster."

"You. . ." Moka curls her lip at Mugen, growling. She's already frustrated by the girl's lack of self-preservation. "I'm not sure what my other half sees in you besides your blood. If you drag her into more trouble, understand that I won't always bother to save you if you plan to allow yourself to be beaten."

Mugen grunts, looking away. "I didn't ask to be saved."

"Ungrateful child. . ." Moka raises a hand to her head. "Whether or not you wanted it, my other half demanded it of me. If you take offense to our intervention then explain that to her. But should you hurt her. . ."

"You talk about her like you're two separate people," Mugen notes. She lays back, losing the last vestiges of strength in her limbs. The pain is a dull throb in the back of her head superseded by the voices. She can't tell what they're saying now and that's probably because of all the thrashing her head took. She shuts her eyes.

"We are," Moka reveals, staring down at the aggravating human. "What we value and how we react, even our appearances are entirely different. We're two sides of the same coin. We may share the same name but we have different faces. And unlike my outer self I hold no attachment to you, so I will not hesitate to remove you should you prove to be a bad influence on her."

"Big sister, much?" Mugen comments lowly. She rocks her head on the ground, opening her eyes only to roll them and stare through the gaps in the trees. "You're saying all this but if you really don't care, why are you hanging around? Why not get rid of me now before I have the chance to hurt her?"

Moka furrows her brows. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Is it not obvious?"

Moka goes quiet when the human raises one hand, the other pulling back a torn sleeve. The scar revealed is long, jagged, and Moka can see its twin peaking out of Mugen's other sleeve. But on each wrist is a tattoo, semi colons that are separated by the blatantly self-inflicted marks. Moka doesn't look away even though the sight is personal and spawns an awkward stirring in her breastbone. She blames her other half for the ache she feels.

"If you want to kill me before I can do anything to Moka, I won't protest." Mugen says, too easy, dropping her arms and finding Moka's scarlet gaze when they pull away from Mugen's wrists at her words.

Moka, surprising Mugen, snarls. "Quiet. I will not stand for such a thing. My power is not meant for fulfilling others' wishes and my other half cares for you, so you need to take responsibility for allowing her to become attached to you. You yourself said she was your friend."

Mugen frowns. Her words are slurring when she speaks next. "You were just threatening me but now you're saying you won't kill me? What's with that?"

"Removing you doesn't necessarily mean I'll kill you. I'm not sure my outer half would forgive me for it."

Mugen pauses. The question on her mind since Moka showed up makes its way to the forefront, shouting over the garbled noise of her curse. "Why does she care so much?"

"You want reasons?" Moka asks dryly. "Well, live long enough to ask her and maybe she'll tell you, silly girl. You won't get them from me."

Pouting, Mugen throws her arm over her face. "This side of you . . . is a bully," she says.

"What?" The inner half of Moka scoffs. "No, I'm simply honest, and if you perceive my honesty as cruelty then you're a child."

"Hmph. Maybe I am." A wind blows through the woods, trying to whisk strands of silver away. Dead leaves crinkle and roll over each other along the forest floor as the two creatures, both cursed human and vampire unsealed, breathe in the breeze. "Especially since, for a second there . . . that other side of you reminded me of a dream I used to have. . ."

"Oh?"

Mugen doesn't answer her. The human's eyes have slip closed again. Moka's face twists first into annoyance, then concern when she hears Mugen's shallow breathing.

Before she can act to examine Mugen's unresponsiveness, the human's shadow slithers up from under her, seeping into her body and arranging her bones into their proper places with loud snaps. Moka pauses and observes this all happen. She witnesses the cut on Mugen's face seal up though the blood spilt from the wound stays drying on her skin. Before long the human's breathing deepens to the norm of sleep, not a single protesting whimper coming from her as the audibly painful process of mending comes to an end.

After a long period where she finds herself just staring at Mugen, Inner Moka shakes her head, finding that her prickly emotions have given way to a curiosity and the rising protectiveness that could only be from her outer self.

She sighs.

"You are strange," Inner Moka tells the sleeping girl. She bends down, slipping the rosary from Mugen's grasp. She considers the cross thoughtfully.

Disregarding her own feelings towards Mugen, the human proves special beyond even her curse. Despite her strangeness, Mugen has the capability of taking the Rosario off of her. In only one day . . . this girl has come to care deeply for the outer Moka, even though the extent isn't readily apparent. And despite Inner Moka threatening Mugen, she has a feeling that she'll never have to act on them.

The human cares for her outer half.

But what it means for Inner Moka, she doesn't know.

With one last glance down at the slumbering human, Moka returns the rosary to her choker.

"Be sure to take care of the other me."