For Want of Warmth

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"This place, I recognize it. It's just a few towns over from my own back home."

"Your home? You can't be serious. She's there, of all places?"

"Hey, small world, I guess. I've been there a few times before, with my parents."

"How special for you." Sighing in resignation, Akuha propped her boots up on the glass table, crossing one over the other. "Figures," she growled. More good fortune for the human. "Figures it would be a place you actually know and like. You just have all the luck, don't you?"

Tsukune frowned; pausing in his back and forth pacing before the door to Akuha's room, he looked up from the instructions Gyokuro had given them. "Yeah, I have all the luck. I've been kidnapped, abused, threatened with death on a regular basis, and best of all, my girlfriend's gone missing." He paused; he had partly thrown in that last bit just for the satisfaction of seeing Akuha's twitch. The fleeting enjoyment gone, he said, bitterly: "You got me, Akuha. That's every guy's dream."

A sound of dismissal was the vampire's reply. "Please." Fidgeting angrily in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position for her head—God, why didn't this damn chair have a headrest?!—she shortly gave up, shuffling over to her bed and plopping down on her back. "You don't have it so bad, you know," she was saying. "Believe me, it could've been a lot worse. Or have you forgotten that you're a human, and I'd be well within my rights to have you kept in a cell at all times? I'm allowing you access to my private chambers, I'm letting Hayate offer you his own room, I've even allowed you the pleasure of sharing my bed. Do you realize what a privilege that is?"

"Yes, it's such a great honor." Tsukune retorted, meaning to convey disdain, but blushing, regardless, at the reminder of their past intimacy. Rather than reprimand or attack him, however, Akuha just glared past tired lids at the boy, looking him over as if in an examination that ended in contempt.

"You know nothing of vampires, then. Our pride, our power. Nothing. You don't respect us at all. You don't even recognize what a great mercy it is that I show you in even allowing you to live. You're completely unfit for Moka."

Cramming the note back into his pocket, Tsukune shrugged his shoulders. He had grown used to her assertions regarding himself and Moka by now. "I think she would disagree."

"As if," she scoffed. "Whatever weird infatuation spell your blood's got her under, there's no way those are Moka's true desires. "

"Not this again…"

"Well, you've done a neat little job of pulling the wool over her eyes, somehow. But you can't fool me. Jeez, I don't know what she thinks she sees in you. You're arrogant, selfish, disrespectful—"

"I suppose you would know something about those traits."

He knew he probably shouldn't have said that. As they talked, he had been only half mindful of the warning fear that generally occupied his gut whenever he was around Akuha; although lately, that fear had become more distant and subdued, and he had felt emboldened in her presence, speaking more freely as if toeing a line, testing, wondering just how much push she would take before shoving back. He had stepped too far in the past, and here, clearly, was another such instance. Quick as she could, Akuha was off the bed, and face to face with the boy, fingertips pressing dangerously against his left temple. He swallowed nervously, but did not avert his gaze.

"Go on, keep talking," Akuha warned. "See how you like being a cyclops. Although, even one of them would be a more appropriate suitor for a vampire than you."

Before he could reply, the door behind them was suddenly flung open; the newcomer was already mid-sentence by the time he entered.

"—just curious if you had a sec, Tsuk—ah."

Hayate's head peeked through the door, his words dying in his throat at the menacing sight before him. Narrowing her eyes, Akuha looked past the object of her discontent to her long time attendant.

"Haven't I asked you before to knock, Hayate? What do you want?"

He stepped fully into the room, smiling guiltily, clasping his hands together. "Terribly sorry, ma'am. I thought you'd be up on the bridge."

An eyebrow rose. "So why look for me here?"

"I wasn't, I was actually looking for Tsukun—ah." Again his words died prematurely, though this time intentionally. Truthfully, he had been hoping to catch the human alone, to discuss some private matter with him, but Akuha's presence meant that course of action was no longer viable. "I was looking for Tsukune," he recovered, brainstorming, "I was, uh, just wanting to ask him about…about this game I heard humans enjoy. Baseball, I think it was called? It looks fascinating." He laughed, hoping the answer would satisfy her. Not that it was entirely untrue; he had just heard some of the crew discussing it the previous day, and it sounded like something he would enjoy immensely.

Looking at her subordinate oddly, Akuha at last sighed and shook her head; dark bangs swung across her face and were promptly puffed aside, and her arm lowered from Tsukune's head, removing his eyeball from danger's path. "You are so weird," she exhaled.

Hayate, however, merely smiled amicably at his young mistress, giving an innocent shrug. The girl stood quietly, as if in consideration, before saying, somewhat anxiously: "Fine. I have things to do, anyway." And without further word, she flung her coat around her shoulders, swept herself out into the hall, and the bath chamber beyond, leaving the two men alone.

A moment's silence passed between them. Then Tsukune said: "Huh. That seemed kind of easy. I'm surprised she was okay with it. She certainly left fast enough."

"Well, it's good I arrived when I did," the man replied calmly. "You looked like you were in a bit of dangerous spot there."

Tsukune could still feel the fingertips against his head. He gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I don't know. I think I'm getting used to it by now. God knows she's threatened me enough, but ever since that first little incident—" he gestured towards his gut, where the original scar she had given him still grimly smiled within his flesh, "—she hasn't really followed through. In fact…" he paused, a puzzling notion occurring to him. He had suddenly remembered the reunion with Kurumu, now several hours past, and how the succubus' heated exchange with his lethal captor had almost ended in bloodshed. Almost, until…"Even then, too," he muttered.

As he spoke, Hayate had been walking over to the other end of the room where Akuha had departed, throwing a quick, cautious glance in the same direction. "Good, good," he said absently, as if he'd only half heard the boy. Then, switching back his attention, said, genuinely: "It's nice to know Miss Akuha is starting to make friends again."

That's not even close to what I said…Tsukune chose not to voice this thought, however, unable to bring himself to wipe the earnest smile off Hayate's face. He cleared his throat. "So, anyway, I'm sorry but I don't think I'll be much help. I never really played baseball, so I—"

Hayate raised a hand to cut him short; his expression turning quickly somber. "Actually, Tsukune, that wasn't what I came to ask you."

A blink. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I honestly did think Miss Akuha had left you alone in here. I didn't want to mention this in front of her, you see, so I had to tell a little fib."

Circling around the table, Tsukune looked curiously at Akuha's man. "W-what did you want to ask me, then?"

Hayate approached him, laying a light hand on the boy's shoulder and meeting his eyes; Tsukune thought he saw what looked like worry in them, and lines creasing the man's normally youthful face. When he spoke, his words were heavy, the words of a troubled suppliant.

"A favor."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Weary, sickened crimson stared back at her in the glass stained with the specks of the herb-scented water she splashed against her face. Wiping the droplets clear from her skin with a towel, Akuha sighed in agitation. That damn kid had grown quite a mouth on him. He had actually had the gall to speak to her, a proud Shuzen assassin, like that. To insult her! And then he had barely even flinched at the prospect of her Jigentou carving into his flesh like dough. It's like he's just not afraid of me anymore, she thought irritably, scratching an itch on her small nose. It was like he had sensed she almost didn't want to cut him, although why this desire was lacking puzzled her.

She remembered, too, the look on Tsukune's face as she confronted him, leaping off her bed like a mad wolf, standing toe to toe with him, and a head shorter (indeed, she sometimes had to remind herself he was four years her junior). Truth be told, she was thankful Hayate arrived when he did, distracting her from her disturbingly increasing focus on the human's very…pleasant features, barely a hair's breadth away from her; perhaps it had not been the brightest move to make her threats so up close and personal.

Both of them had dressed down immediately after departing the Floating Gardens, leaving Tsukune with a flatteringly small undershirt that beckoned cruelly to her imagination: the way it tightly hugged a firmly built chest and arms built with rippling muscles, far too perfect for a human, was starting to affect her. And as they had stood close, she holding him under the knife's edge, the past scent of blood had flitted about mischievously in her mind. His blood. The memory of its assault upon her senses – the taste passing her lips and pouring over her tongue like a stream; the scent flooding her nose and swirling about her head as she inhaled, desperate for oxygen while she remained anchored by the fangs within his sweat-coated, pierced neck – these were not helping her powers of resistance.

Why are you so concerned? You've already tasted the fruit once, and I know you can't resist trying it again, no matter how much you deny it. You said as much in Yomotsu, remember?

Tightening her jaw, Akuha tried to ignore her nagging brain. She knew it was true, that she would suffer no real punishment for having her way with the remarkably fit human in whatever way she pleased. After all, with their race due for extinction in the near future, who among her kind would care if a survivor here and there was made into a vampire's plaything? At worst, trysts between a vampire of her ranking and a human, such as had already occurred, would be the subject of some slight scandal if made public, but little more. Even Gyokuro already knew, and hadn't so much as scolded her (although the teasing had sure felt like torture). And while Moka had seemed to object to her big sister's last romp with Tsukune, and Akuha certainly didn't want to upset her beloved sister, she was confident that she'd be able to break Moka free of whatever hold Tsukune had over her, thus returning her to her original state and ensuring she wouldn't give a flying kick at however the human might be used afterwards, if Akuha was so inclined.

None of these was the real snag. If she was honest with herself, which took a bit of effort, it all came back to the first night. In the aftermath of that wild storm of euphoria the three had experienced, she had watched as Moka and Tsukune had fallen asleep together, wrapped snugly in each other's bare embrace, warm bliss radiating from their interlaced bodies, joyous, peaceful expressions adorning their slumbering faces. She had lain there, until at last sleep came for her, too, mercifully quenching beneath its sands the newborn ache in her chest. She had not forgotten that ache. In casting about for its source, she had attributed it to a presumptive arrogance on Tsukune's part: the way he looked so satisfied, lying atop Moka's body, head nestled on rising breast, partially curtained by damp tresses bright as moonlight fractured across the sea, it was as though he were taunting Akuha, silently threatening even in sleep to steal the one good thing she had in her life, to keep Moka for himself, even unto her ruin. She had assumed the cure for this ache to be in reminding the human of his place, to treat him as any member of his apish species deserved to be treated. If he was not afforded special privileges, if he was kept at a distance, perhaps that dull ache, tenuous as a ghost yet still present, would fade with nary a whisper.

It had not gone as planned. Still feeble as before, the feeling had raised its alien head too many times for her comfort since then, and for the first time she was beginning to question the truth of that perceived origin. It had risen again as she had watched Moka and Tsukune together, the looks they shared with each other, the gentle words; in the aftermath of the few times since then that she had pleasured herself; and again, most recently, just prior to their trip to the Gardens: at her lowest point, days of fruitlessly searching passed, Tsukune had pierced through growing despair, offering hope and, if she was not mistaken, showing oddly real concern for her. This was not something she was used to. Oh, sure, Hayate sometimes seemed to take an interest in her well-being, but…well, it was Hayate, she thought. He had always done that. It was his job. She was used to the man's occasional fussing over her, especially when she'd been a young girl in China, but to be the target of concern for this boy, still largely a stranger and foe, had been unnerving. A low, brief throb had surfaced then, too, similar, yet different from the other times—almost warmer, and lighter—as he insisted she not worry and declared with confidence they would find her sisters, and she had felt a soft heat crawl up her neck.

And so, back in her room, alone with the little pest, the same sensation had given warning of its return; the reason being the rather…untimely memory that had casually floated its way back into her mind just minutes before. She had watched the boy pacing back and forth, brow set sternly atop eyes burning with resolve. As they had discussed their next course of action, part of her mind had been occupied with how serious he looked at that moment, how in control and self-assured. To one such as her, it was somewhat appealing. Not that she enjoyed taking notice of such things, which was why she had been grateful for the insult he had casually turned her way, giving anger a chance to distract from loose thoughts. Grateful, at least, until she was standing before him, suddenly and violently swarmed by memories of past delights, enhanced by his powerful physique and calling once more to mind the events of earlier that day. Of her pre-Gardens bath, desperately needed to cleanse both body and mind, wherein she had scrubbed clean all the filth that had accumulated the few days that had passed absent proper bathing.

It had been a heavenly feeling, one she was surprised to realize was sorely missed, to tenderly sink her fatigued form into the bubbling water, fresh with the smell of the purifying herbs. Down she plunged, submerging herself slowly up to the nose, both warmed and relaxed by the lapping water and hazy steam. All her worries were slowly washed away as she felt her mind soothed by the wet cradle of the bath. She sighed, a welcome release of the anxieties piled up since Moka's disappearance, like a deflating balloon. Soon they would arrive at the Floating Gardens, and though she wasn't expecting the trip to bear fruit, the faintest spark of anticipation lighted within her breast. In the meantime, she thought, she would merely enjoy the calming sensations and let more pleasant thoughts occupy her mind. A mind which quickly turned towards lost sister. "Moka, where are you?" she murmured, voice distorted under the water's surface.

Nothing had gone as she had hoped, back when she first brought Moka aboard. It had been such a simple notion: to spend time with her baby sister, taking every day to cherish and love her, all while overwriting the harmful influence with which her so called "friends" had brainwashed her. And what had this wonderful plan come to? Squat. It had been a complete failure so far. Well, she checked herself, apart from the festivities of that first night.

Her thoughts stilled. Raising her head an inch, she peeked around the bathroom, ever thickening with steam, just for safe measure. She was alone, of course, and nobody would dare enter without her permission. This being the case, she didn't see the harm in it – indulging in certain memories.

The amorous images returned quickly. She remembered the taste of Moka's silken lips molded against her claiming mouth; the quickened pace of the girl's heart under her soft fingertips, pulsing as Akuha palmed a firm breast through flimsy covering; her sweet moans and cries as her sister's head was buried between her legs, the snaking tongue surrounded on all sides by dripping, clenching muscles; and the blood and cum that flowed forth after she was penetrated, finding its way to Akuha's desperate mouth, as if satisfying parched throat.

Everything flowed back to her. The delicious tastes, the touches, the sounds, the sweet scents, all of it. It had been a near perfect night of ecstasy, and even now the mere memory kindled fire deep in Akuha's core. Her thin fingers slid between her thighs under the surface of the warm water, tracing a delicate line down her slit. A shiver ran up the back of her neck, making the soft hairs stand on end. Her eyes closed and she stifled a moan as more memories slipped in as easily as her finger past her lips.

She remembered Moka, sprawled out on her back, leg spread wide in sheer hunger as she was wildly fucked. She remembered still her own sudden desire to join with her sister as intimately as possible, mounting Moka's face, lowering her leaking snatch to the girl's pink lips. To her delight, Moka hadn't rejected her, instead letting her curious tongue shyly explore the gushing cunt above her, coating her perfect face and luscious silver locks with her sister's juices.

"Ah!" A moan that could not be suppressed this time, though still quiet enough. Another finger added, and another quickly again: the heat of the water was fast fading in comparison to the growing inferno in her loins. Her hand worked faster, plunging in and out of her pussy, her legs widening slightly to allow her fingers deeper access.

She slipped further into the water, her heart speeding up, her breaths coming in faster, shallower. Fucking Moka's face had felt soo good, gripping her head between her powerful thighs, cum flowing down over the increasingly bold tongue lashing at her nether regions. The image of her sister formed behind closed eyes; of Moka's face contorted in ecstatic release, smooth neck and toned stomach arched high in the air as she exploded with a scream. Akuha's free hand grasped a small breast, tiny rivulets of water clinging wetly to the pale flesh and hardened pink bud. A light pinch between her nails sent a shock down to her stuffed passage, forcing her eyes and mouth open in a sharp cry, her jet black hair matted against her sweat soaked brow, breast flushed red from the overload of heat. The intoxicating scent of her sex drifted through the herbs, quickly hanging heavy upon the steam-laden room. Three fingers pumped into her soaking depths, churning the water around her, a thumb finding its way to her clit. "Nng, fuck!" Her eyes shut, violently, and she once again set her mind's eye to conjure up the image of her sweetly convulsing sister as she neared her own limit.

Much to her surprise, though, it was Tsukune's image that greeted her. He had also been a participant that night, of course, and now again Akuha saw him. He was mounted atop her sister, as naked and sweaty as she was, propped up on his hands as his hips slammed forward with vigor, lips trailing along Moka's flushed throat as he nipped and chewed at the vampire's tender flesh, almost befitting someone of her own race. Akuha had watched, gaze blurred with lust as she drove her own hips over Moka's face, as Tsukune had ravished her.

So engrossed in the fantasy had Akuha become that she found herself raising no objection as her focus drifted towards the human boy, almost as if he had suddenly joined her in the bath. As if it were no longer Moka he loomed over, sheathed to the hilt inside, but Akuha herself. Her legs spread wider, allowing him easier access to roughly slam their hips together, letting her reel under each powerful thrust as he stabbed her deepest recesses, hammering against her cervix with a strength that startled even a vampire of her rank. The water roiled around them, splashing up and over onto the floor as Akuha locked her ankles behind the boy's back, clutching him close, growling when he pinned her arms above her by the wrists, but too far gone to protest. His mouth lowered, lavishing warm attention to her slickened cheeks and neck, leaving teeth marks on the flesh. Hungry moans escaped her throat, unbidden, her arms snaking around Tsukune's neck, jerking her hips up violently in the water to meet his own. Her senses were overwhelmed. The heat and steam of the room, the force of the boy's vicious fucking sending shockwaves through her body, his strong, masculine scent, heavy with sweat and lust, filling her head, the feel of his toned chest sliding against her breasts and stiff nipples. She swallowed, her throat growing hoarse from her cries, licking her dry lips and wetting her mouth with spit before settling back into a frantic rhythm of labored gasps.

She was close. The knot in her stomach was clenching tighter and tighter, the floodwaters threatening to burst through the dam at any second. Struggling for a grip on his firm arms, she yanked herself up and sank her fangs into his shoulder, screaming against his bloodied flesh as she came, exploding around his rigid cock, her release gushing out into the water. Her eyes rolled back in her head, body spasming in its pure rapture.

And then she was alone. Panting against her arm, she removed her mouth from the punctured limb. Blood leaked from the tiny twin holes into the tub, slowly darkening the water around her. Tsukune had vanished as quickly as he'd been conjured, and in his wake left an exhausted, still occasionally shuddering vampiress, heart pounding a mile a minute, naked flesh slick with sweat, surrounded in the tepid pool by her own swirling blood and cum.

A faint laugh escaped her lips, and she reached up to rub her eyes. "Well, that was unexpected. Not as good as the real thing, I suppose, but still…" She paused, as if expecting an answer. But there was no one in the room with her, no sound except the lapping of the water against her skin and the sound of her lungs and heart settling to a calm. Ignoring the dull ache in her arm, she craned her head about lazily; the mirror was completely fogged, and the mat encircling the tub was gorged with water. She stretched her limbs, groaning, and sank down indifferently in her own bodily fluids, awaiting what she knew must be imminent.

Sure enough, it came but a moment later: far more troublesome than the muted throbbing in her arm, hatching bitterly in her chest, like a cold blooded serpent stronger with each rebirth. Just as before, lying in a bed beside two sleeping figures, it now came upon her again: the tightening of her stomach, the bitter pinching in her chest. She had expected it—it seemed to sneak up on her in these moments as of late—but had been too taken with lust to let it dissuade her from her fantasy.

Another laugh, hollow, briefly echoed throughout the room – nothing to do but endure and wait for it to pass, as time would ensure.

And it had. Unsurprisingly, the meeting with Gyokuro had drawn Akuha's attention to more urgent matters: finally, she was on the hunt for Moka. Even if it was in a human land. She sighed in resignation. She couldn't dwell on it. There were things to do, preparations to make before they reached the destination, and she had to make sure she looked presentable. Well, that, and compose herself after getting a heady rush from the memories of the boy and his blood—a task not now aided by recalling past fantasies. She quashed the newborn heat building in her core, having no time for it, and gazed, hesitantly, into the mirror.

The glass was crystal clear, not a hint of the fog that had choked it earlier. She could see herself perfectly, her solitary reflection. A quiet exhale. Wearing a blank expression on her face, she gave herself a once over. She looked decent enough, although she would have to change into less casual clothes. Her eyes roamed over her face; still a bit haggard from lack of rest, but skin impeccably smooth and soft. The looks anybody would kill to have. At least, she would have liked to think that. As ever, pangs of embarrassment gnawed at her, the result of her enduring neoteny: the wide eyes, even when narrowed in a frown, the small mouth, cheeks that even now looked as if they still retained a hint of baby fat.

But now was not the time for sulking. Taking one last glance, Akuha lifted her chin up high and exited into the hall. No one there but for a pair of guards standing watch by her room. Giving them a casual nod, she departed, alone, past the deep blue walls, heading towards the bridge to preside over operations.

The rest of the flight passed quickly, without incident. A short message was radioed to Gyokuro upon their arrival a few hours later, but that was all. Tsukune, having joined Akuha on the bridge recently, accompanied by Hayate, stood nearby, trying to keep to himself and out of the other Fairy Talers' business. Something seemed to be on his mind, Akuha thought to herself; she had not missed the strange looks he had given her a couple of times as she stood by the map. What's up with him? Regardless, she said nothing, and for the most part the boy was silent. They hovered now over their destination, some several kilometers up, ready to disembark. Obviously, Akuha had stated, an ayashi airship wasn't quite compatible with human airports, so they were to be let down a healthy distance outside town, and make the trek on foot to the old witch.

It wasn't the most pleasant of walks. Akuha's feet began to ache before long, and an irritating migraine arose; both the result, she grudgingly acknowledged, of her lack of recent bed rest. The late hour certainly didn't help matters. The two of them—for indeed she had originally wished to go completely alone for expediency's sake, and had only caved on Tsukune tagging along after endless whining (as she saw it) from the human—entered town shortly after midnight, the stark moon illuminating the chilled air, catching with its light the faint blue streaks of early spring clouds. It was not much longer before, passing in silence down the mostly empty streets, they arrived at the address Gyokuro had given. It was a small house, with a rotting roof that still looked damp with recent rain. A night heron had made its perch there, like a fiery eyed watcher, croaking its chilling song to any who approached its ramshackle domain. Clearly, whoever lived here did not care too much about upkeep, thought Tsukune.

Despite the scene's foreboding atmosphere, things went rather smoothly. The witch had not been too pleased about being woken at "this damn, blasted hour!" but Akuha, despite Tsukune's insistence they wait somewhere until morning when their contact would be awake, had not been in a patient mood. She rapped loudly on the door, calling out sharply to the inhabitant inside, until at last they were met by the old woman, short and hobbled with unforgiving age, leaning on a walking stick with a hand as gnarled as the wood it clutched. Milky eyes peered at them, so white Tsukune initially assumed blindness, and once inside with introductions made, looked with sudden interest at the letter the boy handed her, still sealed as Gyokuro had ordered. As the witch, who gave her name as Strega, opened and read the message, Tsukune's gaze flitted nervously about the darkened room; the sleeping wolves huddled around the ashy fireplace, strange company for a witch, should really not have bothered one who had fought off monsters and survived this long with the most fearsome of them all, but they still set him on edge. Akuha, he noted without surprise, was perfectly undisturbed, sparing only a quick uninterested glance at the beasts.

Her calm was, unfortunately, shattered a few minutes later, once their host had explained the item Gyokuro had requested she concoct required extremely intricate preparation and would take several weeks to be ready; the wolves were instantly awakened at Akuha's enraged ranting, which might have lasted a good deal longer had not Strega, with a bored sigh and shake of her head, mumbled a few words upon which Akuha found herself muffled mid-shout, her lips snapping together like a sprung trap and sealing shut. Amid the indignant and furious noises of protest she made (now quieter) at having a spell cast on her, Tsukune raised his hand and quipped: "Can you teach me how to do that?" and was rewarded with a sharp elbow in the ribs. After explaining that they should come back later to retrieve the completed product, and securing a promise of "using your indoor voice" from a red-faced Akuha, Strega freed the young woman's mouth and bid them goodnight.

"What a rude, senile old crone!" Akuha growled once they had cleared the premises, licking at her lips absently as if trying to remove invisible traces of the seal.

"Ahah, well, you were kind of loud in there, Akuha…" Tsukune laughed nervously, rubbing his arms from the cold gust that suddenly broke against his flesh.

"Of course I was loud!" She whirled on him with vigor. "Didn't you hear what she said? Weeks! Who knows if my sisters have weeks? Damn it! Why wasn't this ready beforehand?"

His own expression turning sullen, Tsukune looked down. "Yeah, I hate it too, believe me. I want nothing more than to save Moka this very second. But, I mean, there's nothing else we can do, right? This was our only option all along. I don't think we have any choice but to go with it, no matter how much it sucks, and pray for the best."

She regarded him quietly, then made a small noise that sounded like a grunt of acknowledgement. "Anyway, I have to report this to Gyokuro." Taking out her comm unit, she flicked it on, and a moment later had Gyokuro on the miniature screen. The Fairy Tale commander, too busy for sleep at this hour, was slightly perturbed at the news of the delay, but soon resigned herself to it. And, as she assured them: "Moka remains completely unharmed."

The thought suddenly striking Tsukune, he yanked the screen from Akuha and, looking Gyokuro dead in the eye, demanded forcefully: "What about Kurumu and my friends? Are they okay? You better not have hurt them!" The woman laughed at that, airily, running a nail along her arm. "They, too, are safe. You have my word. Alright, then. You two act as you see fit until the appointed time." Then, before Tsukune could protest that her word was hardly sufficient for him, she suddenly disconnected on her end, and the screen went dark.

"She just hung up on me!" he protested to his companion as she plucked her comm back from his grip. She shrugged, seemingly picking a direction at random and beginning to walk. "Hey, that's what you get with her," she said. "Once she gives you orders, you're on your own. You're lucky she even answered your question."

Tsukune trailed her, a look of annoyance plastered on his face. "She didn't have to be so rude about it…" he grumbled.

"Hmm, what was it, again? 'Ahah, well, you were kind of loud there, Tsukune.'" This, in her best impersonation of his voice.

"Not funny." Ignoring the amused laugh she tossed his way, he followed her, thoughts swirling in his head. Something had been bothering him since his first encounter with the Fairy Tale leader, and now once more it nagged and ruffled his mind into bewilderment. He decided to share his confusion with Akuha. "But, doesn't it seem a little weird? About Moka, I mean."

"What about her?"

"I know Miss Gyokuro can sense that she's alive, or whatever that power of hers is, but she seems so…so confident, about Moka's safety. Even though it's been several days since she went missing, it's like she's not worried at all that she could be in danger. And now, we just told her it would be about a month! I—I'm terrified," he confessed, stuttering. "My heart is racing a mile a minute because of all the horrible things that could happen to Moka in such a long time." Akuha had stopped, turning to face him. The pair stood under a flickering street lamp; Akuha could see its ghostly light casting shadows across the boy's furrowed brow and drawn mouth, and could feel his expression mirrored in her own. She was afraid as well, had been from the second Strega had uttered the words. In fact, it was taking all her discipline and strength to not have a panic attack right then and there, not that she would tell Tsukune that. He continued: "But even so, just now, she didn't bat a eyelash. It's like she doesn't think there's any danger to Moka at all, or isn't worried about it, even though I know she needs her for Fairy Tale's plan." This piqued Akuha's interest. Perhaps it was a result of fatigue after all, she admitted silently, that she hadn't even taken notice of what should've been a natural concern for her. Gyokuro did seem fairly calm about the whole matter, all things considered. "Unless…" Tsukune paused, a dark, cruel thought occurring to him, one he was hesitant to even give voice, as if suggesting the fear could actualize it, "Unless she doesn't need Moka…alive."

The lethal chill of her tone in response bit at his skin more bitterly than the night air, strength surging back into her voice for a moment. "If Gyokuro were to let something happen to Moka, I would execute her myself."

A gulp. "T-that's pretty dangerous talk for you, isn't it?" No reply, just a dark glare the likes of which he had only seen a few times before. Then, slightly cowed and not wishing to provoke her in such a state: "Besides, and don't take this the wrong way, but…could you?"

"Could I what? Kill her?"

"Yeah. She is the commander of your entire organization, after all. She has to be extremely powerful, like off the chart strong, right?" he gestured, laughing uncomfortably. "Would someone even as strong as you be able to defeat her?"

She did not answer immediately; past her hard gaze Tsukune thought it looked like she was mulling the question over, uncertain despite her bold declaration. At last she said, almost to herself: "No, it doesn't matter. She wouldn't dare break her promise…"

"Her promise?"

She blinked, as if just reminded he was still there. "Never mind, it's nothing. It couldn't happen. I made sure she…agh, just forget it! Come on, we have a ways to go to get back to the ship."

"The ship?" He decided to press her more on the subject later. "That's got to be well over an hour away. We'll barely get any rest if we walk all the way back."

"Got any better ideas?"

"We should at least look for a place, shouldn't we? A motel, a bed and breakfast, something? Oh, wait…" He hesitated, remembering who he was talking to. Perhaps he shouldn't mention this, he thought, but hell, it was fairly obvious. He said, guardedly, "There would be other people there. Humans, that is. But come on, Akuha, even you have to admit, it's better than trudging all the way back at this time of night."

Truth be told, he expected an argument on that point. He expected her distaste for his species to be so consuming that she would eschew any location where they might be gathered en masse, even if it meant abusing her feet on a long hike to the airship. What he did not expect, however, was for the vampiress to blink once, twice, then, slowly, as if it strained her neck to do so, nod in acquiescence. "Yeah, fine. We can look around a little. Well, what are you staring at? You said you'd been here before, didn't you? Lead the way, then."

And so, they made their way down the quiet streets, the darkness around them broken by rows of solemn lamps and stark moonlight above. Tsukune was still half in shock at Akuha's willingness to stay in a place populated with humans. Then again, he considered, he had seen it plain as day, there in the glow of the lamp: the whites of her eyes were tinged red, bloodshot, evidence that she was fast approaching her limit of consciousness; he knew if they did not soon find lodgings for the night, she would collapse where she stood.

With this in mind, he searched. Some years had indeed passed since his last trip to this town, and the darkness complicated further recognition of his surroundings. They passed a few people out for a late night stroll—apparently there was a local festival beginning the next day, and visitors like these folk had already begun pouring in—but none proved helpful upon questioning.

So the search continued, with dismal results. They did happen upon an inn at one point, but it was fully booked for tomorrow. Tsukune glanced at his watch. Over half an hour had passed. He darted a furtive glance at the vampire to his side; for better or worse, she had remained mostly silent the whole time, though this did not surprise him. She looked more out of it by the minute, and at last it became clear she was at the end of her rope. Tsukune grimaced: what the heck were they supposed to do?

To her credit, Akuha, even in her current state, never lost her cool, confident demeanor. She was exhausted, but showed no hint of complaint or weakness, not even allowing herself to stumble or lag behind her human companion as they searched to no avail. At least, not until he glanced at his watch, the two of them now having walked quite some way: all of a sudden, beyond her control, her eyelids drooped, falling shut like heavy blinds, and before she realized it, her foot had caught the curb, and down to the pavement she tumbled with a shout.

"Akuha!" Tsukune called out. He had been several paces ahead, but now turned back sharply. Without hesitation, he offered his hand to the fallen assassin. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." Dusting herself off, she then brushed the hand aside and made to stand, wobbly, on her own. "I don't need it. I'm fine."

Tsukune was strongly unconvinced. Watching her, Hayate's words suddenly returned to him.

A favor.

Favor? What do you need?

I—well, it might sound silly to you, but, ah…watch her, will you?

Sorry?

Miss Akuha, I mean to say.

What do you mean, watch her?

We both know how hard her sister's disappearance has been on her. I think she's barely gotten a wink of sleep since then.

Yeah, I've kind of noticed…

Just…keep an eye on her for me, okay? Make sure she doesn't overdo it? And if possible, try to get her to catch some shuteye soon? She needs it, desperately.

But Hayate, don't you think you'd have better luck with that than me?

Heh, believe me, I've tried. But coming from me, she thinks it's just gratuitous fussing on my part. Always does.

I don't think I'll have much better luck. I'm not exactly her favorite person.

Hey now, take some credit. That may be true, but look how much you've already helped her.

…

I'm not asking you to be her babysitter, Tsukune, don't worry. Lord knows she doesn't need one. Just…ah, just keep an eye, would you? Please.

Tsukune had given his agreement then, although he hadn't given it much thought since departing the ship. Now, however, seeing her rise clumsily to her feet, it was not something he could ignore. He sighed, unsure what to do. Akuha needed rest – they both did, given the late hour, but her especially. But where could they feasibly go? They stood at an intersection, a solitary car driving by, a row of pine trees across from them, a quaint little park at their backs. Tsukune turned his head aside from the glare of the oncoming headlights; his gaze narrowed on the park, a pleasant sight to be sure, with a glassy pond that even from this distance he could see perfectly reflected the moonlight, an ethereal glow emblazoning the water's surface. Such picturesque scenes, however, did not currently garner his primary attention. This was instead given to a small stone bench sitting beside the park's boundary.

It was a silly idea that struck him, then, little more than a whim. Surely that could not be sufficient, he told himself. Uncomfortable, most likely, and potentially unwise to boot – although, he did remember this to be a safe neighborhood from previous visits. Besides, it wasn't like they had other options, right? He craned his neck, beginning to give actual consideration to the matter.

"Hey. Hey! You alive?"

Akuha's voice cut through the air. A moment later, Tsukune turned back her way, hesitation written in his expression. He struggled for his next words. "How about that bench there?"

"Huh? What about it?"

"We could spend the night there, I guess." He laughed nervously at her expression of disbelief. "I know, it's not ideal. But, otherwise we'll just be walking all night."

She eyed him curiously, and despite her misgivings, quietly agreed to the suggestion. Tsukune imagined under ordinary circumstances, there was no way in hell Akuha Shuzen would sleep on a park bench; thankfully, he had again received no argument.

Exhaling loudly as he plopped down, he stretched his legs, feeling the muscles groan with heavy use. Akuha joined him, taking a seat silently on the opposite end, her eyes already half closed, despite a visible struggle to keep them open.

"Akuha," Tsukune said softly, "you should really try to rest a little. You look like you're about to pass out. You haven't slept much at all lately, right?"

Reclining, she let her head dangle over the back of the bench. "Jeez, you sound like Hayate, you know that?"

"Well, he did say he was concerned about you…"

"Oh, that. Don't worry about it, he's always that way. He's a bit of a worrywart, I think."

"I don't think he's wrong." At this point, he was looking intently in her direction, a bit of urgency creeping into his voice. The words were out of his mouth before he could even realize. "Listen, if you're worried about sleeping out here, I'll keep watch for a bit while you rest. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you."

Both boy and girl, unbeknownst to the other, were suddenly very much aware of the revealing light of the lampposts overhead. Both quickly turned their gazes to their laps, keeping secret from the other the faint tint of embarrassment. Akuha cleared her throat assertively, forcing some amusement into her tone. "I must look real bad if you're fussing now, too. Fine, I suppose a few winks couldn't hurt. But you better not let anybody come up and try to attack me or something while I sleep! You know what could happen."

"Aha, right, I'm sure we won't be disturbed…" Tsukune made a mental note to avoid bloodshed.

Akuha paused, contemplating. "We still have some hours before morning. We'll head back then." With that, she tucked her chin to her chest and let her eyes finally close.

"Agreed," nodded Tsukune. "I'll wake you when it's time. Get some rest." A monosyllabic grunt was her reply, and then there was silence.

Minutes passed, and very soon Tsukune heard the quiet, steady breathing issuing from his companion's lips. He glanced at her. She was most definitely out. That was quick. Well, I'm not surprised. She probably couldn't stay awake any longer even if she tried. Good thing we were able to find this place when we did. As for himself, his own fatigue was palpable, but he had assured her he would stay on watch for a while. Sleep would have to wait. Although, he supposed, it should be fine to just shut his eyes a little. He leaned back on the bench, exhaling the pent up tension of the day. His mind wandered to Moka, content with believing Gyokuro regarding her safety for now, and despite opposite intent, such soothing thoughts opened the door for sleep to slip through and claim him as well. Before long, the boy was out like a light.

It was a gentle stirring that awoke him. He opened his eyes, still clouded with sleep: it was still quite dark. He couldn't have been asleep more than a few hours, he figured. Wondering what he had felt rustling, what had dragged him out of his dream, he made to check his watch. His attention was immediately pulled elsewhere. Blinking, he shook to his head lightly, as if it was just his imagination. But, sure enough, Akuha's head remained firmly nestled in his lap.

There had already been countless times throughout his life where a hundred fears shot through Tsukune's mind in an instant, and there would be many more to come. Times when he had feared for his life, times when he feared for the lives of those he loved, or simply times that had brought a nervous fluttering to his heart, and sweat to his palms. In this moment, it was some gut-churning combination of these that he experienced. Once he had assured himself he was not in fact having a heart attack, he took a deep breath and looked down again. I—I guess she must've slid over in her sleep…

He wondered what he should do. Did he dare wake her? Or even try to prop her back upright? He ventured a whisper, gently wiggling his knee: "Akuha…Akuha!" Her head shook lightly on his lap, but no response came. She was lying on her side, her cheek pressed against Tsukune's lap; from his vantage point, he could see her black hair messily flung across her features, her eyelids tightening, lines traced on her forehead, her mouth in voiceless motion; almost as if, he realized, she was having a nightmare. Never pictured her having a bad dream, he mused. Wonder what it's about. I hope she feels better in the morning. Pausing, he wondered at this sudden, burgeoning concern. By any stretch of the imagination, there was nothing about their relationship that should elicit care from him, nor merit it in her. And yet, indelibly he found himself with such sentiments. Indeed, he suddenly realized he had begun to absently run a lazy finger through the girl's hair, across her temple, soothingly stroking back and forth in an attempt to calm her troubled mind.

What was he doing, he wondered? When exactly had this recent regard for her well-being come about? He retracted his hand, letting it hover uncertainly just above the mess of black hair. If he thought about it, he supposed she had somewhat endeared herself to him this past day. From the time he had barged into her room and found her a despondent shell of her usual self, to the hope he had seen flood her eyes as they had worked out a plan of action, and actually taken the first step on the path to finding her sisters. He knew all too well this woman was still his enemy, that one day, he and Moka and all their friends would likely have to face her in battle. This was not a new realization, but it was the first time it had instilled in him the slightest twinge of regret. For even in the face of everything she had done, the effect was clear even to him, that Akuha, as twisted as her actions were and continued to be, possessed a fierce devotion to Moka – if, admittedly, one blatantly more intimate than was respectable for sisters, as improper memory reminded him.

He sighed. It was a shame, that Moka would have to fight her own sister—indeed, he wondered if she had been suffering under this knowledge all along—but it was unavoidable. She couldn't be allowed to butcher all humanity, both he and Moka agreed on that.

He glanced down again. Sleep had brought a rare, simple innocence to Akuha's face, a quality which completely obscured the darkness within. He marveled at how unlike a killer she looked in this state, draped along the bench, his thigh as a pillow. He couldn't help but laugh inside, faintheartedly. Often he had imagined being like this with Moka, only now it was her sister with whom he was in such a situation. Her misanthropic, crazy big sister, who he still suspected wanted to see him dead. For the two of them to now be in this peaceful, intimate pose, it was a bitter irony. Well, he supposed it wasn't the worst they had done…Agh, no, don't think of that now, of all times!

Luckily for the young man, distraction came as his lap's occupant twitched again, the disturbance of her dream creeping back upon her countenance. Tsukune couldn't help himself. The way she treated him, her hatred for him and his kind; he should have taken great pleasure in seeing her so troubled. Then again, he told himself, if he was the type of person to indulge in such schadenfreude, he wouldn't have tried his damnedest to find her a place to rest, or allowed her head to remain where it had now fallen. But, alas, he had, and once more he alighted his hand by her brow, trying with a gentle touch to brush away whatever it was that haunted her.

In truth, he felt awkward, caressing her head, merely picturing how he would try to help Moka in this instance and applying it to Akuha; he dragged a knuckle across a soft cheek, and her breath hitched quietly, before a murmur escaped her parted lips: "It wasn't…Where is…"

He strained his ear to catch her words, though he might as well not have bothered, for they were strange to him. Still, he did not stop his caresses, lacing fingers through her hair delicately, massaging. This continued for some time, until eventually he began to feel his own interrupted sleep weigh heavy on his eyes and mind. Akuha seemed to have calmed, the tension fleeing her body, her breathing returning to normal, and before he knew it, Tsukune had rejoined her in slumber.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Akuha's eyes were opened to a cool, grey morning. A light wind gusted through the air, and the sky was draped with a thin mist partially veiling a pale sun. The chattering of birds filled her ears, bringing her out of her stupor. Rising, she discovered she was alone on the bench, and had been lying on her side along its full length. She wondered when she had assumed that position; surely it had been recently, as her human companion had risen and was nowhere in sight. "Where the hell did he go…?" she mumbled, rubbing the back of her hand over her eyes. The nerve, she thought, leaving her alone while she slept, vulnerable in this world of mortals.

"Mommy, why's that lady sleeping on the bench?"

Akuha stiffened. That sound. That whiny, grating sound that chewed at her nerves. She watched through blurry vision the child and his mother passing by her makeshift bed, the little one pointing with high-pitched inquisitiveness.

"Don't point, honey, come," the woman said, a hushed tone indicating her desire to avoid what she thought was a destitute drifter.

Akuha's vision cleared as they passed. She shivered. It felt like a sack of cockroaches had just been emptied over her head. Ordinarily, she didn't completely hate children. They annoyed her, true, but for the most part whenever there were children in the area, she paid them no mind. But this…this was different. That child was human. Rotten, diseased, and with his mother, no less: an adult human whose hatred of ayashi like herself had fully matured. An adult human who—oh god, there were more of them. Now that she was awake, Akuha saw several other groups of people pass by, some glancing at her, but none stopping. I-Imagine if I hadn't woken up when I did, the Shuzen assassin thought with horror, licking her dry lips. I might've had a knife stuck in my throat, and I wouldn't even know! Her teeth ground together, and her nails dug into sweating palms. "That damn brat…! He left me here to be murdered, didn't he? Where is he!?"

Throwing an angry gaze about, she could not catch sight of the one human whose presence, surprisingly, she did not completely loathe. Even several minutes later, there was no sign of him returning. She did notice, however, with some unbidden curiosity, that all of the people walking by her bench appeared to be headed in the same direction. That seems odd. Despite every instinct she had suddenly screaming at her, she rose, stretching her limbs and smoothing her now dirt-stained coat, and began to follow the small crowds—though at a significant distance. Perhaps Tsukune had gone this way as well, she surmised. It was certainly clear he wasn't anywhere near the bench area.

She followed them down the long block, then around a bend in the road which led into the park outside of which she had slept. As she walked on, the sound of humans grew, their voices growing in number and volume. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, her prohibition on defending herself sharp in her mind. But she did not turn back, and soon enough, a vision greeted her which froze her to her very core.

This was where all those people had been going. That's right, she thought. Those people they had met last night had mentioned something about a festival, and now it looked as if she had found it. There were humans everywhere, lounging around the lake, scurrying about the occupied park; people of all ages dashing along the dirt paths from one stall to the next, seeking food, games to play, gifts for loved ones, laughter and mirth evident on the numerous faces.

Akuha wanted to throw up. Her stomach turned. A place full of these monsters, and she wasn't allowed to defend herself from any one of them. "Well, that's that," she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in resignation. "I don't care if he is here, I am not diving into this…this zoo!"

Fortunately, she would not have to. Hearing her name suddenly called through the hum of the crowd, she squinted until she spotted the target of her search jogging her way. He was wearing a broad grin as he reached her, and she had to resist the urge to stretch out a hand and try to wipe the stupid thing off.

"There you are," she said flatly.

"Yeah, sorry, " he chuckled in reply, "I didn't mean to disappear on you. But you were still asleep and I didn't want to wake you, and when I saw all these people heading towards the festival, I figured I'd check it out for a minute. Did you just get up?"

"Yes, I did." She stared him straight in the eye, frowning. "And not a moment too soon. Were you trying—"

Another cry cut her off. This time, however, it was Tsukune's name being shouted through the throng. A moment later, someone broke clear onto the path leading to the entrance where the pair stood. A young woman, around their age from the looks of her, huffing as she sprinted, sweating under an unseasonably thick red coat, strands of short black hair clinging to her forehead as she clomped towards them in oversized boots.

"Tsukkiii!" she hollered, waving.

The boy spun around, his face breaking into shock as he saw her. "K-Kyou-chan? Is that you?"

Seizing hold of his hands, the girl beamed. "Hi! Imagine seeing you here, Tsukki! It's been such a long time."

"I-I know. I haven't seen you since my visit home last year," he stammered, darting a gaze between the girl and his half astonished, half smirking companion (Tsukki, she was mouthing).

"Speaking of which, are you on a school trip, or something? I don't recognize any of your classmates—oh? Who's this?" She had finally noticed the bemused girl standing beside Tsukune, hands on her hips and staring at her curiously.

"Uh, right. This is my…" he hesitated, uncertain how to define their relationship. "My…uh, friend"—the word was strained—"Akuha. Akuha, this is my cousin, Kyouko Aono."

"Nice to meet you," Kyouko nodded, before matching Akuha's inquisitive look. "That's odd. Are you a new student at Youkai Academy? I don't remember you from the last time."

"The last time?" Akuha echoed, her interest suddenly piqued.

"Kyou-chan," Tsukune interjected, trying to change the subject, "A-are you here for the festival?"

At that, Kyouko lifted her head abruptly and pounded a fist into her palm. "Oh, that reminds me, I'd almost forgot!" Then, turning away from them, she scanned the ambling crowds silently, searching for a few moments until at last she made a noise of discovery. Raising her voice again, she called out: "Auntie, Uncle! Over here! Look who I've found!"

Out of the crowd, two figures emerged, dressed appropriately, unlike Kyouko, for the occasion, making their way over to the trio. As they spotted them, their faces lit up with joy, and as fast as their sandals would allow, they broke out into a light run. The shock returned to Tsukune's face once more; his mouth agape, he greeted the newcomers with an awkward stutter. "M-mom, Dad!?"

To be continued…