Urie violently stabbed at the piece of meat, skewering it on his chopstick. What the hell was Arima doing here? He still debated about her connection to the man. She said they were not lovers. He believed her when she said it. However, those two were bonded by together by a connection deeper and far more intimate than a mere physical act. Besides, emotional connectivity and sex were not mutually inclusive. There was something more between them she would not admit to, and that fact bothered him immensely. Did she have the same connection to Haise since he seemed to recognize her name?

Dammit. Damn Haise Sasaki. He was always standing in the way for one reason or another.

Suddenly the food he was chewing tasted revolting. Urie gagged, spitting the mouthful back into the container. As of late, food had lost its flavor more and more, sometimes tasting like absolute shit.

After dumping the half full container in the trash, he opened the cabinet to the right of sink where he had watched her retrieve a glass. Filling the glass from the faucet, he proceeded to rinse his mouth out several times to rid himself of the awful, nausea inducing aftertaste of the food.

"Are you all right?" Miyu inquired from disturbingly close behind him.

Urie recoiled from her, releasing the glass. She had snuck up on him. No one could get that close to him without being detected. He had not sensed her presence or even heard her footsteps. How could she be so quiet and stealthy?

"Shit," he grumbled, glancing down at the shards of glass on the floor.

"No, don't," she said when he bent down to pick them up with his gloved hands. "It will poke through the leather and cut you. I'll get a broom."

Urie watched her cross the kitchen to the corner where the broom and mop were propped against the wall. Her hair was wet and unfettered, hanging down her back to her waist. He had not expected it to be that long. Soaked with water, the color appeared to be black. Tonight she was wearing jeans and a jade green top with sleeves that reminded him of the wings of a butterfly. At least she was dressed appropriately, modestly.

He stayed still while she swept up the sharp fragments scattered on the floor all around him. Her scent wafted up to his sensitive nose. She smelled like fresh pears picked directly from the tree. His mouth watered. Would her flesh taste as sweet as she smelled? Would biting into her be like eating a dessert, her soft skin and taut muscles sweet and tempting, melting on his tongue?

"Oh, my god," he murmured, feeling lightheaded.

Urie sank back against the counter when his knees buckled. What was happening to him? Why the hell was he thinking about eating her?

"What's wrong? Did you get hurt?" she asked, worry making her voice raise. Her eyes surveyed his hands and feet for injuries, but she did not touch him.

He did not understand why she was acting so standoffish all of a sudden. Perhaps she had changed her mind about him after all but did not know how to ask him to leave.

"I-I'm f-fine," he stuttered, feeling annoyingly out of sorts.

"The cafe is closed tonight," she announced for no apparent reason, emptying the glass into the trash can. Her neutral expression collapsed into a grimace. "Are you sick?"

"No. Of course not. Why?"

"Well, your food is in the trash. It didn't taste good? I've never known of Mr. Oshiba to make a bad dish," she muttered, sounding irritated.

"I just kind of lost my appetite," he returned, shrugging off her apparent disbelief of his half-hearted, half truth answer.

"Yeah. I know the feeling," she muttered instead.

Urie knew she closed the cafe two nights of every week. That was the reason he had come here to tonight. Everyone needed a chance to rest and relax. However, she appeared to be neither rested nor relaxed at the moment. Her face was pale and drawn, a mask of worry and exhaustion. The purple bruise-like marks under her eyes from lack of sleep made her face appear even more white and almost sickly.

As anxious as he was to know her situation with Arima, he knew she was not telling him everything about herself in a more general sense. There was a secret she had wanted to share with him. She had tried to tell him, but he had cut her off. He was not sure he wanted to know the whole truth about her after all.

"Would you still like to go for a walk in the park?" she asked. "I think we could both use the fresh air."

"Yes. Let's go," he suggested.

Urie studied her as she slid her feet into a pair of plain thong sandals by the door. Always elegant and dainty, at the moment she looked fragile. Gazing at her tired, wan face, the desire to protect her, to keep her safe, swelled in his chest.

"You're not afraid of walking in the park at night?" he inquired as she locked the door behind them.

"No. Of course not. I go for walks through the park all the time. No matter what time it is."

Urie had thought to himself he could take care of her should any rogue ghouls decide to attack them in the darkness. He believed that she could protect herself quite easily without his assistance. He was beginning to think the both of them had made far too many false assumptions about each other. They both should have looked more carefully before they leapt.

"Mr. Urie, I want to finish what I was trying to tell you earlier," she said as they entered the deserted park.

Her speaking to him so formally made his heart sink. He sighed in exasperation, irritated that he cared how she spoke to him. Dealing with feelings was difficult and annoying. He hated it.

"I'm an empath. I can feel what other people are feeling."

"Well, isn't empathy an important trait in psychologists? You need to understand how your patients are feeling to help them right?" He found her confession to be shockingly mundane and uninteresting. "But there's more to it than that. Isn't there?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, if you will allow me," she rejoined. "I can draw feelings out of people, feeling exactly what they feel. Like an emotional vampire."

"Isn't that what empathy is? Taking the emotions of others upon yourself? I'm assuming that's why you became a psychologist."

"I became a psychologist to understand myself as much as I wanted to understand others. I needed a way to cope with my ability."

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me."

"I know," she sighed breathily.

Urie could tell she was infuriated with herself for not being able to express her thoughts. He wanted to understand but did not know if he could. His gut tightened with anxiety.

"What can I say to make you understand? How do I explain?" she questioned herself, shoving her hands deep into her pockets.

Urie watched in silence as she raised her face to the full moon as if to pray for guidance. The silvery blue light lent a brilliance to her white face giving her an ethereal appearance, transforming her into a beautiful fairy queen or a goddess of mythological proportions.

"What are you?" he asked, momentarily startled he had spoken the words aloud instead of only thinking them.

"Hmph," she snorted, lowering her chin to her chest. "Now that's an odd question."

"Yes, it is. But obviously there's something about you I really need to know."

"You're a half ghoul and a member of the Quinx Squad so you are well acquainted with seeing things people believed only existed in fictional stories. Right?"

"Yes, but - " The ability to speak fled from him when she opened her eyes. They glowed yellow, like twin molten gold orbs shining through the darkness. He gulped audibly. "I can honestly say I've never seen anything like you before."

Urie had seen many pairs of red eyes gleaming in the night at him so this should not be as off putting as he found it to be. But this was Miyu. She was the woman who owned his favorite coffee shop. She served him politely and efficiently. The woman with kind hazel eyes and a gentle smile. She wasn't supposed to be some creature reserved for nightmares and horror stories.

"Have you ever heard of a succubus?" She took a step toward him.

Urie took a two steps back. He found her phosphorescent yellow eyes unsettling. He immediately took a fighting stance, knees bent and hands raised, fingers curled slightly into loose fists. His instincts kicked in because he felt threatened, both physically and emotionally.

"Hmmm," she hummed, making his ears ring from the sound vibrating through the thick air between them. "So that's how it is."

"Now I understand your reference to yourself as an emotional vampire," he said, his voice low. His body trembled in response from the surge of adrenaline he had received from engaging the fight or flight response. He would fight if he had to, kill her if it became necessary.

"There's no need to activate your kakugan. I mean you no harm," she told him sounding exactly like a movie villain who does in fact intend to inflict serious bodily damage. When he stayed in his current position ready to defend himself or attack her, she continued speaking. "Unlike folklore and movies, I don't kill men by having sex with them and draining them of their life force."

"I don't know. You have to admit it does explain my overzealous reaction to touching you," he said, lowering his hands when the jaundiced glow receded from her eyes. "Why are you telling me your deepest, darkest secret?"

"I'm confessing to you because I can tell you have a major issue with trusting people. You don't trust anyone. Not even yourself to be bluntly honest," she added, moving closer to him. "If I didn't tell you now, waiting until later, possibly showing you my secret by accident, you would see it as a betrayal of trust. Wouldn't you?"

"You're right," he admitted grudgingly. "Aren't you afraid of me rejecting you?"

"Yes," Miyu answered, standing tall and proud in front of him.

Urie looked into her hazel eyes that were shiny with tears in the brilliant moonlight.

"It was a chance I had to take so you would not turn away from me later, believing I had betrayed you. I thought you would be a little more understanding, sympathetic, being a hybrid yourself. You're rejected by humans and ghouls alike, being both and neither at the same time. You don't belong to either due to being two halves that make a whole monster. There's only one thing that separates us in what we are. You chose to be a monster, but I was born one," she stated with painful accuracy. Her words stabbed him like a knife, slicing cleanly into his heart to allow all sorts of negative feelings to come flooding out.

Although he acted frigid and emotionless, Urie felt a lot. Too much actually. The difference between him and other people was that he suppressed his feelings under layers of indifference and hatred, hiding his genuine emotions so far down even he had trouble reaching them. But this woman, damn her, brought all of those feelings bubbling to the surface making him feel everything. She cut open the multiple layers of scar tissue he had spent years creating to cover up his emotional wounds. Unleashing the sadness of his loneliness, the rage of his abandonment, and the shame of his mediocrity in a soul crushing flood, he feared he might drown.

"Don't lie to yourself," he growled through his gritted teeth, coming almost nose to nose with her. "You are a soul sucking man killer."

"Since we're being so horribly truthful, you're nothing more than an intelligent weaponized zombie," she snarled back, her top lip sliding back to reveal her teeth.

Urie actually felt a bit disappointed to see her incisors had not lengthened, growing into canine like fangs. Succubi of myth were the female counterpart to Incubi, the equivalent of a vampire. According to her, she was nothing like the fabled creature featured in books and movies for centuries. He was not convinced.

"If you never want to see me again in a personal, romantic capacity, this is the time to say so," she said, taking a step back from him. Her eyes remained on his, holding his gaze with the unwavering, relentless determination he admired and abhorred simultaneously. She had given him this ultimatum before. He had refused then, and he would refuse now.

Miyu had been completely truthful with him. Urie would return the favor. After their stinging assessments of each other, his repugnance melted away into a fascination reminiscent of the interest she had first stirred inside of him but stronger. He should have known there was more to her than the facade of a meek, servile coffee shop owner. Knowing she had another side, a darker nature akin to his, intrigued him.

"No. I don't want to walk away," he said, placing his hand on her upper arm. She tried to wrench free of him, but he his fingers curled into her arm. The heat of her skin sank through the supple leather of his glove warming his palm. "I want to know more."

"You really shouldn't touch me," she warned him, streaks of yellow bleeding into her eyes.

"I'll take my chances," he said, faltering slightly when a wave of dizziness washed over him.

When her hands grasped his arms to steady him, his knees dissolved into jelly reducing him to limp doll in her arms. Instantly tired and drowsy, he helplessly leaned against her.

"What are you doing? Stop it," he panted. Attempting to pull air into his lungs was like trying to breathe under water.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she whispered, stroking his head as if he were a child. "I just want to make you forget. You're going to go to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, you won't remember this night or my secret. I will erase my memory entirely from your head."

"Don't do this. Don't make me forget," he begged, weakly clutching at her shoulders. He felt something warm and wet fall onto his cheek. Rain? No. The night was clear. She was crying. "I don't want to forget you."

"Are you sure?" she sniffled, embracing him.

"Yes. I'm sure," he replied with certainty.

Just as quickly as the weakness had inundated him, his strength came rushing back. He inhaled sharply like a dying man rising above the water about to drown him. His arms encircled her body, holding her close to him when he felt her pulling away.

"Promise me one thing," he whispered into her ear, pressing his cheek to hers. He adored her skin that shared the velvety texture of a rose petal.

"What?"

Urie held her, staying silent until her stiff body relaxed in his arms.

"Don't ever do that to me again. Don't drain my energy, and whatever you do, above all else, do not try to make me forget," he said, a menacing tone to his voice.

"I won't. I swear," she promised. Her body shook from the sob she held at bay. "You're not the only one terrified of allowing someone to get close, to know the real you, to love and to be loved."

"I know." He had the distinct impression he should apologize.

However, he had no idea what he should be apologizing for. He did not know if he could humble himself to say the two small words. Expressing regret for a wrongdoing whether intentional or accidental brought with it a certain degree of shame and humiliation. Asking forgiveness for doing absolutely nothing wrong was preposterous. Yet he had the overwhelming feeling he should do just that.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

Urie hugged her, allowing himself to experience the fullness of the warm, tranquil sensation settling over him like a soothing blanket. Then a question occurred to him.

"Can you make people feel emotions?"

"I can't alter or fabricate people's emotions. I can take what someone is feeling, amplify it, and push it back into them. You're only feeling what you already feel," she explained. "Without me, you would have kept it buried, choosing not to feel it at all."

"You scare me," he confessed, releasing her.

"That's okay," she giggled, giving him a bashful grin. Her cheeks were rosy with a blush under the light of the moon. He had never seen her look prettier. "You scare me too."