Distorted Fairy Tale

by Xagzan

Tsukune has been captured by Akuha, Moka's eldest sister and member of the ominous Fairy Tale. Waking in a quiet, dark room, what awaits Tsukune within the sinister vampiress' clutches? Just what are her intentions? TsukunexAkuha, rated M for a reason. Some graphic content.

15. For Want of Innocence, Pt 2

For Want of Innocence, Pt. 2

Tsukune was as good as his word. In the coming weeks, once every other day or so, he would bare his neck to the famished vampire, and let her take her fill. After what she had done for him, no complaint grumbled in his mind. Besides, though it was a tad embarrassing to admit, he had perhaps come to anticipate—enjoy, even—the bite of a vampire a bit overmuch. It was…erotic, to put it lightly, and though he never lost control of his loins as before, it took all of his willpower not to act upon the hot arousal that boiled to life whenever her teeth were embedded in his flesh, her mouth latched onto him like an eager scavenger. At least, not to act upon it with her: sometimes, the tension was too great for him ignore, and he would find himself alone in his room, rushing and fumbling to relieve himself, with a bit of shame, of the sweet agony.

Regarding her mealtime, fortunately, he was informed, the Shinso blood mixed with his own ensured that Akuha would be perfectly full and satisfied with a relatively light amount until it next came time to feed. Indeed, the blood's potency seemed to fill her with new life, reinvigorating her to such a degree that she actually agreed one day to accompany him to the community center, much to everyone's surprise. Her first visit was remarkably calm; he had made the assurance that no one would try to stab or execute her in any fashion, but that, though she was forbidden from "defending" herself, he was not so beholden, and would step in should anyone pick a fight with her. She did not relish the idea of Tsukune fighting her battles, but accepted his offer in the end. And so, she found she rather enjoyed the exercise, not to mention these new, bizarre training instruments she had never before encountered. From the pool area, naturally, she kept her distance: no need to risk lethal accident just to watch the boy splash back and forth like some wet, splashing ape. She instead kept close to the gym, experimenting with the machines and weights, the treadmills and benches, eventually settling into a kind of cautious comfort with them, so much that she would hardly pay any attention to the few people who occasionally shared the room with her. It felt good to use her muscles once more, to keep them in peak working shape, beating and drilling them in the absence of any fighting.

One thing Tsukune was less than thrilled about was what Akuha had told him the very next day, after she had called Gyokuro to demand an explanation for what had happened with Moka and her blood. This conversation Tsukune had not been present for, and Akuha would not reveal any specifics of what her commander said other than the heart-sinking warning that over the next month—longer, actually—he should expect repeat bouts of pain. When pushed, again she would not answer, but it was clear to him that she was patently unhappy with whatever it was they had to subject Moka to—particularly, though she remained silent about her suspicions, if Gyokuro had indeed moved prematurely, and not waited for her return to oversee the operation and stay at her sister's side. However, as one of the organization's captains, she remained firmly resolute about its necessity, and would confront Gyokuro if the time came. So, three more times that month, Tsukune was made to suffer—each time, at least, in the privacy of his own home. And it was during these times that he was most grateful for Akuha's presence, and for her soothing, fever-relieving bite that left him feeling exhausted, but whole.

His parents, when they were around, made special effort to interact with and chat up the brooding house guest; Tsukune wondered if this might have had a part to play in Akuha's newfound desire to join him on his daily excursions. Time passed in much this way, then, and by well into the third week going to the center had become a surprisingly familiar routine for the pair. The activity did keep his mind occupied against fear for Moka. And though he chided himself for it, given the unknowns of Moka's condition, Tsukune couldn't deny that it was almost kind of fun to have the eldest Shuzen around; the company reminded him of times spent here with Kyou-chan in the past, although, this one did not care about taking the role of ear-twistingly strict physical trainer. Occasionally, he would even forego his swim to stay in the fitness room with her, and build up his own muscles and stamina on dry ground. If either of them dwelled on the potential awkwardness of the situation, both training for a war on whose sides they stood vastly apart, they did not mention it. It was a thought that already bore him down heavily, like the stack of weights on the cable behind him: whatever Akuha had done, even if Moka were to regain her memories, it wouldn't be easy for her to fight her sister, to the death if necessary. The familiar wish returned, as he recalled the night shared on the park bench, her head on his lap, skin fine and delicate under his soothing touch. If only there was a way to draw upon Akuha's feelings for Moka, to make her see the dream they shared, and understand everything they were fighting for.

This gave him pause. Was it suddenly such an important issue to him, to alter Akuha from her path of carnage as Fairy Tale's merciless enforcer? Well, of course it was—the fate of mankind could depend on it. That much was obvious. No, it went further than this….That was how it felt, at least. What it was Tsukune remained helpless to identify. Not love; that was reserved for the one special girl (well, two, sort of) with the prison round her graceful neck. Friendship? It sounded only slightly less improbable. They had only known each other such a short time; then again, when it came to ayashi girls, he seemed to have a rather quick-acting gravitational field of friendship….But no! Quick or not, she had been his enemy from the moment they had met….But then, hadn't Kurumu and Ruby, too, started off as hostile? On top of that, if not for her, he would be dead now at the hands of the succubus slaver. Most peculiar of all, she had even agreed to stay with him at his house, despite all her enmity for humans – he made a mental note to inquire after the reason someday.

Or could the explanation for his sentiments be much simpler, much cruder, merely the fact that as a young man who had been amorously engaged by a devilish temptress, the sounds and images and sensations dropping anchor deep in his memory, he was but inadvertently crossing heart with horn? He groaned inwardly and with a thin mouth, letting his iron load back down with a loosening of his grip on the handlebar above him: he could not possibly be that shallow, could he? But the mystery remained. If none of these answers, then what spurred this desire?

As if in mockery, this latter option was currently being probed – a side effect of Akuha's rather limited wardrobe choices, the close-fitting white top she wore. Her back to the boy, the faint slopes and valleys of firm, taut muscle ran smoothly under the shoulders and arms glistening under a sheen of transparency as her chin rose over the bar, her breaths easy; finished, she dabbed a small towel at her forehead, brushing aside the matted tresses of obsidian that clung to the hot damp skin.

"Get a good look, perv?" Her voice came, a mix of irritation and cheer, to his ears, and he realized he had been staring. His eyes quickly darted to the other men nearby, who now paused to glance their way with raised brows.

"Jeez, not so loud," Tsukune hissed under his breath. "Again with the perv? We're in public, Akuha."

She sauntered over, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he loosed the overhead bar from his grip, exhaling deeply. She bent down, leaning in close; a soft lock of black tickled his shoulder as surely as her whispered breath against his neck. "Aiya, I wouldn't think that mattered to you."

He brushed her hand aside, frowning, trying to calm the excited tingle along his nape. "You've got us mixed up," he retorted, rising to get a much needed drink. When he turned back a moment later, he found her eyeing the machine curiously, running a hand along the felt on the handlebar, fiddling with the rod down in the weights….It was not the first time she had performed such examination. "You really never saw anything like this growing up?" he asked. Then, upon her denial: "But what about all your assassin training, and stuff? You had to have come across them before."

"Nothing like this contraption." She craned her head. "No, none of these were part of my training. No sleek, smooth metal, no easily accessible liquids. Certainly no air conditioning." She motioned upwards.

"What did you do, instead?"

She turned back to him, and blinked, eyes glossing over as her mind dove into the past, and she took a seat on the machine herself. "Well, I made us of nature's tools. In place of lifting weights like these, I had rocks. Logs. Boulders."

"B-Boulders?" The thought of such a small-framed young child beneath a colossal slab of stone was amazing.

"Yeah, when you're up in the mountains, you can find plenty of ways to get stronger. But they really wear on the skin, you know?" She rubbed her fingers together unconsciously. "Usually, though"—she paused for a moment, but continued almost before he could notice—"they would just pit me against other ayashi, and I'd damn well have to make sure I was strong enough to survive. Trial by fire, if you will."

Tsukune watched her. Her expression had hardly changed, but he knew his was one of surprise. It wasn't completely unexpected news: she was an assassin, a keen blade used for cruel business, and no doubt had been forged in an intense furnace. He had even seen her father command her to fight her sister to the death, although he had interceded before it got to that point. He could only guess what more she had been through in China; here, now, was confirmation. "You had to kill them," he murmured, not as a question.

She nodded calmly, testing the machine with a tug on the bar. "I was never the absolute best when it came to physical strength. Kahlua probably has me beat there. That's why I ended up learning the Jigen-tou—teaching myself, I should say. It gave me a better chance. No…More than that…To be able to cut down even the toughest colossus with no more than a knife…." She paused, and pulled it down vigorously, then slowly loosed it back up. "They started by sending them after me in the night, one by one, while I'd try to settle down in a cave or some other shelter I'd found for the night. And that was just in the beginning. Those were the harshest days, before Jigen-tou, before my body was even in proper fighting shape." Through this, Tsukune did not once interrupt, but she could see the disbelief swimming in his eyes. "You're wondering how I survived with such disadvantages? Eh. Different circumstances, different stories. Take Cyclopes: they're unbelievably stupid, and rather fond of drink. So, voila. Then you have Minotaurs, who just charge at you headlong with no thought but pulverizing you into thin beef. In those cases, let's just say, boulders can go down as well as up…." A twitch of her mouth, then, at some fond memory of cleverness. Still, the boy remained mute. Steeling her muscles, she gripped tightly on the bar and pulled down, speaking again on the return. "After I had the Jigen-tou, though, all bets were off. They sent small armies at me, beasts all shapes and sizes. And I'd flood the grass with their blood." Another smile.

It was now that Tsukune spoke again. "You keep saying 'they'. You mean the Miao family?"

"Mhm. It was for their service I was to be an assassin, after all. They had to make sure their weapon didn't fail like so many others. That I was an ultimate, unstoppable force, to fight against their enemies." A delicate note of roughness crept into her words at that, but Tsukune did not detect it.

"It's disgusting," he said, glowering at the floor. Then, when he met her eyes again, seeing her confusion: "Treating a child that way! Putting them through hell, throwing them to the wolves to see whether they'll live or die?"

"Oh, yeah. Werewolves. Those, too."

"You know what I mean," he growled. "It's the worst child abuse story I've ever heard. Every one of those Miao bastards should be…they should be locked up in the darkest prison till they rot. How can you talk about it so casually?"

She shrugged, the gesture only igniting his temper further. "It is what it is," she said as simply as she had told Kahlua. "That was what the Miao wanted for me. That was what our father and Gyokuro wanted for Kahlua. That was what—" Another pause, as she checked herself. Not out of reprimand for revealing some secret, but for simple inaccuracy. "Huh. Actually, I guess Akasha didn't want that for Moka. For any of us, really, but that wasn't her call to make. We weren't her daughters."

"She thought of you like one." The words were out of his mouth before even entering his mind. There was a bitterness to his tone that surprised him, but suddenly made sense as the flash of memories—Moka's memories—flew behind his eyes like an old film reel, ending with Akasha Bloodriver being pulled slowly into the darkness against a young girl's anguished cries. He shook his head to clear the troubled thoughts. This was not the time. Especially now, with Akuha morphing before his eyes into a child herself—younger, even—cowering in a cave over a first, hard-won kill. Yet this, too, was an improper thought to have, he told himself, taking another greedy swing of water, then placing the bottle down. The past was the past, and one couldn't so easily brush aside who Akuha was now.

At his words, she had turned sharply towards him. "What did you say?" He wasn't entirely sure if she had heard him, but he didn't care to find out. "Nothing," he replied, groaning inwardly, his brain looping in knots at the dueling voices nagging in his head.

He quickly assumed she had not heard him, for she suddenly seemed to arrive at some miffed realization, rubbing her brow and chuckling. "Ugh, why am I sharing all this with you? Quit being nosy, Tsukune. You're as bad as Kahlua. I didn't plan on giving you my life story. And I didn't know it would make you so unusually…aggressive." She smirked, reaching out with a foot to tap lightly on his shin. The gesture was more good-natured than flirtatious. "Still, I don't need some knight in shining armor. But I guess I should thank you for listening, or something."

"Yeah, well. You were only a kid back then. I'd say the same for anyone." He retracted his own foot and glanced around. The others had gone back to their own routines, turning attention from the oddly matched couple. Excusing himself, then, Tsukune made for the restroom. Dousing his face at the sink, he glimpsed himself in the mirror. These past weeks had done wonders for his rejuvenation. He no longer appeared half asleep, eyes churning with nerves and paranoia, but alive and vivacious, energized with a quickened restlessness that made him look eager to plow through any obstacle ahead, and devour any who stood in the way of his goal. The added exercise didn't hurt, either; already his arms and shoulders wore a tad extra bulk, something which Akuha had even complimented. Even so…It was not sufficient. Try as he might to prevent it, he knew the very real possibility remained that war was coming. A war that might overwhelm even the most battle-hardened soldiers. And he, a mere student. Stronger than many of his kind, yes, thanks to his vampiric enhancements, but small comfort that was in the face of Fairy Tale's power, and whatever demonic warriors they would send to obliterate humanity. He hadn't actually given it much consideration, how the organization would accomplish their goal, though the few times he had, he kept picturing an army of Kuyous, burning like blinding suns, flaring over the planet, disintegrating every mortal in their path.

A ridiculous notion, true; there was only one Kuyou, and wherever he had skulked off after his defeat, Tsukune cared not. In his mind, the nine-tailed beast simply embodied, even more than Akuha, all ayashi hatred for humanity. The last time they had fought, Tsukune could not have hoped for victory alone. How, then, even with his friends, was he to stand against an army of like-minded—and, presumably, like-powered—monsters?

He chewed his lip, mulling it over. Assuming Gyokuro kept to her word, once Moka was returned to him, they would escape together, and, per his promise, free Kurumu and the others from their incarceration. From there…Well, he hadn't thought that far yet. Truthfully, he had been winging things up until now, just soldiering forward, relying on luck and ability to survive, as well as his friends. Even the attempted deception in Yomotsu had been Moka's idea. He was an intelligent young man, but he was no schemer. Not like the Shuzens seemed to be. Not like Akuha. Despite the toll Moka's absence took on her, he knew hers was still a mind that was always spinning, scoping out the terrain a hundred steps ahead. Hell, if she had been on his side, he probably would've sought her advice on how to win the war. Again, the distant wish arose in him, that she could somehow be dissuaded from this path, see the good in his and Moka's goal. And again, he knew it to be a fool's hope. Still, he thought, in the remaining time they would have together, if he could shift her heart even a little, perhaps just make her doubt her dark ambitions, he would count it time well spent. There had to be a way. He knew humans were not perfect, but they weren't the festering hordes Akuha counted them. How to make her see, though? This would be so much easier if he were a schemer.

More than that, his mind worked as he walked back to the machine room, something didn't quite fit. It was her story, he quickly realized, in his distraction bumping into a tattooed man passing him in the hall who shot him a very peculiar look; Tsukune did not notice, but gave a word of half-attentive apology. It did not fit at all. It had been ayashi who had treated her so ruthlessly as a young girl…Yet it was humans she despised? If the example she had narrated constituted the majority of her childhood days, spent honing her skills as an assassin, then where did this hatred originate? There had been no humans in her tale, and he was simply assuming it had only been monsters the Miao pitted her against. Was that wrong? Had there been human adversaries at some point? Had she suffered at their hands time after time, losing every battle as a bloody, beaten pulp?

"Really, what sense does that make?" he chided himself, knowing that in the end such random speculation would get him nowhere. Dropping the subject, he returned to the room and his experimenting companion.

Next day, they were at it again, Akuha keeping to the machine room like a nesting bird while Tsukune opted for another invigorating swim. Several minutes of stretches, as he and Moka would always do before sparring, and he was in the heated water, shaking the spray from his eyes, tucking his body and then pushing off the wall into a dynamic backstroke. He went up and down the lane like a missile, his current strength overcoming the added weight of the shirt he had kept on, to hide his scars from public eyes. Still, it kept him from going unnaturally fast, and thus drawing too much attention to himself. Not that he would have minded, but, given who he was here with, he thought it best to keep to themselves as much as possible.

Today, he was soon to discover, this was unfortunately not to be. As it happened, he had just finished his last lap, and was resting with elbows atop the wall at his back, and so was able to watch as the door opened and Akuha came upon the pool area. He couldn't see her closely from this distance, but he was instantly struck by her entry. What was she doing? There was water all around! Her shoes would keep her feet safe on the flooded ground, but at any moment she could be collateral splash damage. She made her way down the steps to the cream-colored tiles, keeping close to the room's wall, obviously cautious of the few swimmers that loitered around the edge. She hadn't even put on her coat as a sort of shield, as he had imagined she would if she ever came to this place.

She approached, and he could see her clearly now. Her scowl was nothing to wonder at, but it was mixed with a kind of strained anxiety. The red eyes were narrowed, but every so often would swivel a bit to the side, as if trying to see backwards. Nevertheless, she made sure to keep her usual calm poise.

She curled a finger at him once at his lane, but she need not have bothered, for he was already paddling over to meet her.

"You do know there's water here," he quipped, amused, but quietly enough so the other swimmers wouldn't hear the echo of the odd statement.

"Don't remind me," she replied with a grimace, crinkling her nose as if the pool emanated a noxious odor. "I had no choice. We have a problem, and I'm calling your promise."

"Promise? What promise? What's going on?"

He had not actually noticed the newcomer nearing them as they spoke, but now both of their attentions were drawn as a man's voice called out: "Hey, look, I'm sorry! I just thought you were cute, is all."

Turning, Tsukune saw the source of the voice. It was a tall, lumbering fellow that now came up to them. He appeared in his late twenties, lean, a ruffled clump of chestnut atop his head. He was no giant, only a head above Tsukune, but Akuha was not a big person, and only reached his shoulders. Sweat ran down his face and bare arms, one of which sported a rather rich tattoo of a rather serpentine dragon with a tiger's nape clutched between its jaws. His eyes were focused on the dark-haired girl standing a few feet from the pool's edge.

And suddenly it made sense. Tsukune's stomach sank, and he groaned a weary "Ohhhh," pinching the bridge of his nose."

"You're damn right, 'Ohhhh'!" she spat, keeping her voice low. "Fix it! Get him out of here! He came up to me in there and started harassing me. Who knows what he'll attempt to do when I refuse? You said you would deal with crap like this so I wouldn't have to."

It was true, he had. And now that the man reached their location, he had to think quick on his feet. Even if it was something as innocuous as asking Akuha out on a date, Tsukune knew she would not stand for that.

"Come on, don't go running off like that. Gimme a chance," the guy was saying. He stood next to her now, seemingly not noticing the boy in the pool.

"I told you, not interested," Akuha grunted, not turning to look at him but keeping her gaze on the water's surface. The man's eyes followed, and this time noticed Tsukune, swaying on his heels in the shallow end.

"Excuse me," Tsukune now interjected.

"Yo," the man said flatly. "What do you want?"

"Um, sorry, who are you?"

"I'm Takashi. Why do you care? Never mind. Listen, buddy, could you give me a moment? I'm trying to have a conversation with this lovely flower here."

At that, Tsukune couldn't help but let out a loud bark of amusement. He imagined it was the first time in her adult life, at least, Akuha had ever been called that; she couldn't have cared for it. Takashi's eyes narrowed into a scowl that almost matched Akuha's own. "Something funny?" he asked.

"Yeah, no, 'flower'…It's nothing." Tsukune chuckled again, but it died in his throat at the dangerous flash he saw in the vampire's eyes, one that said plainly, Ten seconds until this guy is in every lane at once.

Takashi was already chatting her up again, leeringly attempting to extract a phone number from her. Unconsciously, perhaps, she had moved slightly forward, and now stood closer to Tsukune than before.

"And maybe"—his hand suddenly coming down to rest on her shoulder, the fingers subtly groping the skin; if he felt her muscles tense at the touch, he paid it no mind—"you and I could go out for drinks sometime, after I get off my shift tonight, get to know each other, see where things lead…"

Tsukune's eyes widened in disgust; maybe it wasn't so innocent: this guy couldn't even keep his hands to himself for a minute. "Excuse me," he repeated, louder and with more force this time. His thoughts raced even as his mouth moved, ideas shuffling like cards as he tried to pick the right one to get this creep to give up and leave. His mind, it seemed afterwards, chose one without consulting him. "Sorry to interrupt, but I would appreciate you not hitting on my girlfriend."

For the first time since she had entered Akuha's scowl vanished, giving way to a look of surprise as quick as a light being switched. And once more, Takashi's expression matched hers. "Huh? Girlfriend?" His eyes darted back and forth between the two. "You serious?"

"Yeah, I am. Isn't that right…dear?" He forced the word out, trying to smile widely.

Akuha was not well versed in situations like this, but even she could take a hint. "That's absolutely right," she put in sharply, wanting nothing more than to rid herself of this unwanted suitor. "So, as you can see, I am spoken for, and have no desire for your flirtations."

A bit formal, mused Tsukune, but hopefully he gets the message.

Takashi went silent for a moment, brow still raised in surprise, fixing one then the other with a curious, summing look. Then he loosed a great laugh. For such a skinny guy, thought Akuha, he could sure bellow. "Yeah, yeah, okay, I see what's going on here," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not dumb. I know what you're up to. You're her friend, pretending you guys are a thing so I'll back off, right? Cute, but I'm not buying."

"W-what are you talking about?" Tsukune stammered, his earlier bravado shaken; his only idea wasn't working! "It's not an act, we really are together."

"Uh huh, sure."

"Why don't you believe me?"

A deep exhale. His arms folded across his chest. "Don't get me wrong, you're not an unattractive dude or nothing, it's just…" His eyes went back appreciatively to Akuha, drinking in the sight. "This one's in a whole other league."

Akuha allowed herself a touch of mirth at that. "Well, he's not entirely wrong," she chimed in, examining her fingers proudly.

That earned a dangerous grin from Tsukune. "Oh? Maybe you'd like to go out with him, then?"

"What? N-no, that's not what I meant." She shook her head. "You know it's only…you…I want to…be with," she growled through gritted teeth.

"Very convincing," said Takashi wryly, watching them.

It was at that moment the three of them heard the pitter patter of small feet approaching them – two pairs of small feet, it turned out. Tsukune and Akuha had been so distracted by trying to shake Takashi that they had not noticed the door that gave on the area opening, and two young boys, clad only in their swim trunks, dashing down the carpeted ramp and onto the tiles, an old man who was presumably their grandfather trailing slowly, calling for them not to run by the pool.

One of the boys broke ahead of the other, and soon sped by the trio. It was then that Tsukune echoed the old man's admonishment. "Hey, you shouldn't run here!" It was a shout, in order to be heard, but his tone was friendly.

The boy skidded to a halt just past Akuha, and turned to face the stranger who had called him. His curious, dark eyes glinted with the water's reflection. "Sorry," he offered blankly, running a hand through the thick brown locks that curtained his brow. That was all he said, but Tsukune smiled at him nonetheless, and nodded. A sudden motion in the corner of his eye caught his interest. Turning, he looked at Akuha. It was barely perceptible—so slight he was surprised he had seen it at all—but she seemed to have tensed. Her arms were drawn close to her sides, and her shoulders were rigid. She didn't utter a sound. She was facing the boy, but as she absently took a half-step back, and then another, even smaller, Tsukune saw a shadow cross her smooth features, the pale darkening like snow under a passing cloud. Her eyes had widened, and her lips held parted as if in mid-breath. The boy glanced back at her, cocking his head like a young pup in confusion. As children do, he had the kind of cutting perception that instantly alerted him when something was not right. "You ok, ma'am?" he asked politely.

There was no time for Akuha to answer, as the second boy now reached them. He still came at a carefree run. Either he had not heard Tsukune's warning, or had thought himself, behind his brother, exempt from it. He was quick to discover, however, that he should have taken heed as well. A bare foot landing in a particularly slick puddle, he lost his balance and slipped, shouting in surprise as he careened headlong, flying forward with arms already flung out to break his fall. He skidded along the ground for a moment before both feet took to the air, and as he fell, an outstretched arm whacked Takashi on the back. Takashi, being a big man, was not so easily shifted by a child's desperate push; nevertheless, the force was just enough to make him stumble forward, knocking Akuha, too, off balance and toward the edge of the pool as he caught and steadied himself. For a flash of a second, the girl's world froze, everything around her going still and silent, the people and noises vanishing, as she hung suspended between life and death.

And then, the world slipped away under her feet.

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

Flashes of memory. Ephemeral. Distorted. Images ebbing like reflections in a pond, overlapping in ripples. Nothing specific. More like a distant sense than a clear picture. And though the water showed reflections, of mountains, of sky, of indistinct faces, none of it was clear. The pond fogged with an ugly rusted taint, whirling together with clouds of muddy brown. Through the murky swill, too, showed specks of gleaming obsidian, they alone on the surface catching and throwing the light from some unseen source. Birds that had been singing time out of mind abruptly ceased their warbling, and the smell of earth and burning charcoal fouled the still air. The specks of light faded completely from the surface of the water, and the dark patches slowly vanished, as if two stones sinking into the inky depths. The rust spilled over in their wake, and the whole pool was motionless, and quiet.

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

When her senses returned to her, Akuha looked around with a frantic start. Her vision was clouded, and in places black. Her lids were weighed down, and she felt like she was floating. Recollection of her current situation came flooding back, dispelling the brief, confused vision, and she realized that only a couple of seconds had passed since she—Wait, she had fallen in. Terror clutched coldly at her heart. Was this the end, then? Was she already dead, and at the gates of whatever afterlife awaited her?

"Akuha!"

Considering her hazy state, the voice came to her ears surprisingly clearly, as if right next to her. She quickly recognized it as Tsukune's. He was calling her name, asking with great alarm if she was alright. She was aware of the floating sensation again, only this time she felt the supports against her back, and here and there a warm tickle lap against her skin. She realized Tsukune must be holding her up. But, Tsukune was in the pool…and she had….

A hand brushed along her brow, and just like that, her wet tresses out of the way, she could see clearly again. Indeed, she had fallen in, and so little time had passed that Tsukune had only just now resurfaced with her after diving to make the catch.

She felt the water lap against her shoulder again, and was suddenly very much aware of her surroundings. Immediately she could feel the fire all around her body, roaring and searing every inch of her submerged flesh, melting her down right down to the-! Except, she realized, unclenching her eyes and muscles after a moment, there was no fire. No unbearable, burning pain, no skin sliding like wax off the bone. Just the wet, surprisingly pleasant warmth that enveloped her, from both water and boy. Even so, she was still too gripped with fear to make a sound, though she was sound enough of mind to loathe this fact. But this was a fear she could not so easily escape. Any second now, she still expected the water to turn to acid, and shivered, wide-eyed, in the dread.

For his part, Tsukune was equally shocked at Akuha's seeming lack of agony. He had expected bloodcurdling screams and writhing the instant she had toppled in with a splash. Instead, she merely huddled close against him, a hand having found its way to his shirt and clutching tightly. He did not know how it was possible that she was physically unharmed, but he did not dwell. A strap of her top had sagged wetly off her shoulder; he slipped it back into place before anyone could see. "Hey," he said gently, "I think it's fine. Nothing's happening."

"It…It doesn't make sense…." Her voice was small, and he was sure only he could hear. "I should be…."

"She alright?" Takashi's voice rang out. "What's the big deal? It's just the shallow end."

Tsukune turned to face him, and saw that, not surprisingly, all eyes in the area had turned to them. "What?"

Takashi pointed at the wire-tight woman in his arms. "She can't swim, yeah? That's why she's so freaked out, I assume? It's only the shallow end, though. Even a non-swimmer can't drown in there."

"Never mind that," Tsukune shot back, his heart pounding from the sudden ordeal. He knew that even if he released Akuha now, and she tried to stand, her legs might very well buckle from the shock. Still, he rolled with it. "It's very traumatic for a person who can't swim to fall right into a pool, you know!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, listen, I don't suppose this would be a good time to see if she's interested in letting me show her a good time? Say, tomorrow night?"

"No, it's not," said Tsukune icily, growing more frustrated by the whole situation by the second. He wanted this guy to vanish, now. "Neither is any time. I already told you, she is my girlfriend!"

An indifferent shrug. "I just don't buy it. It seems too obvious that you're messing with me, kid, and I don't like it."

Then, his temper flaring, his senses temporarily fleeing: "Well then, how do you like this?" And Tsukune's head shot down like a missile to its target, and, with an almost angry violence, sealed his lips against Akuha's.

He would never be entirely sure what drove him to such measures. Perhaps it was simply the excitement of the preceding events, stirring the boldness within him. Perhaps he was simply trying to put a stop, absolutely and at all costs, to this man's unwanted advances. Or maybe he just lost his head for a moment, and half-wanted an excuse, after weeks of being in such close quarters to the vampiress, letting her feed hotly from his flesh, watching her with notably guilty pleasure as she exercised, to steal a taste of those lips for the first time since they had met (this last option certainly did not appeal to him). Whatever it was, it stunned the surrounding group, surely enough. Though he could not see it, Tsukune could sense the stupid, dumbfounded look plastered on Takashi's face. He heard the conjoined "Eww!" from the two cringing boys, as well as the approaching footsteps and gentle chuckling of their old grandfather. To all these, however, he paid little mind, as his thoughts focused on more immediate occupation. The warmth of Akuha's body filled his arms; he could feel her slight curves flowing flush against him, the wet clothes and skin sticking together; from where his hand rested on the bare flesh of her arm, he could feel her go still, accepting the kiss without protest. They kept it chaste, mouths pressed on one another, and he felt her quickened breaths against his cheek, and smelled the sweat and water clinging to her skin.

And then, they parted, a wet string of saliva lingering in the kiss' wake like a rope, before severing and falling back onto the girl's lower lip. The two at last met each other's eyes. She had gone faintly scarlet, and her hair was matted messily across her brow, but her expression was unreadable. Like him, he guessed, she was too stunned by his impulsiveness to have much room for bright embarrassment. His tongue darted quickly across his lips, unconsciously savoring the taste, then he looked around.

Now was the time for embarrassment to come flooding back, bravado quenched under the startled, amused eyes of the onlookers. On the bright side, Takashi had no choice now but to believe Tsukune's claim, and, acknowledging defeat, he left. The old man and his two grandsons approached them, then, the pair still in the pool, Akuha still in Tsukune's clutches. Bowing, the man apologized for the accident, then forced the boys to do the same. Tsukune thanked them and, noticing Akuha's averted gaze, glanced back at the boy. Truth be told, now that he got a better look, there was something about the child that he couldn't quite place. Something almost familiar. The boys apologized again, then walked off and dove into a neighbouring lane, their grandfather sitting on the edge, letting his legs dip and kick. Moving to a different wall of the pool, Tsukune at last let Akuha clamber up onto the side, where she pulled her legs in and wrapped her arms around her knees. She sat there, silent, no longer tense or shivering, but with a distant look in her eyes, as if in the space of a second she had traveled to another world entirely, leaving only her body behind. Hesitating, then going for it, Tsukune placed a hand on her foot, and patted, comfortingly. "That was unexpected, huh?" he said. "Kids. I bet young vampires are just as energetic, aren't they?"

She didn't appear to hear him. When she spoke, it was so quiet that even in that echoing hall he had to lean in to hear. "I should be dead. There's no way I could've survived falling straight in like that." She looked up quickly, even more confused. "And that guy, he just left. He didn't try to attack either of us when he couldn't have me."

It was puzzling, Tsukune agreed. The first part, anyway. It wasn't like she had dumped a bunch of purifying herbs over her head before coming today, and he couldn't imagine that the pool staff would have any inkling that some of their guests might be burned alive without properly sanitizing the water.

Sanitizing. The word echoed in his head. Repeating it a few times over, the explanation suddenly slapped him in the face. He laughed abruptly. It was so simple. "Of course, how could I forget? Akuha, it's the chlorine!"

She looked up quickly. "Eh?"

He slapped a palm on his forehead. "Public swimming pools are chlorinated to kill bacteria, since lots of people swim in them. Maybe it works in the same way as your herbs, eliminating impurities—though not quite as well, it looks like." He said this while glancing at the scarlet flush that was beginning to spread all over her body, like a light sunburn or rash. Indeed, Akuha had already begun scratching the back of her neck.

"You might be right," she replied, with something that sounded like heartfelt relief. "I know one thing. I'll take an itch over incineration any day."

Then he, with an evil grin: "Hey, maybe you're not so crazy after all."

She stared at him flatly, folding her hands on her lap, then reached out with a foot and tipped him over into the water. As he capsized, laughing, he almost thought the last thing he heard before he went under was her own laugh joining his.

They arrived home a little bit later than usual that evening. Both had decided to remain at the center a while longer; Tsukune had tried to see, now that he knew it wasn't lethal, if he could convince Akuha to join him in the pool. When she refused, another streak of mischief took hold, and, sneaking up on her while she was distracted, he dragged her down from the pool's edge with a splash. Bursting through the surface with a gasp, Akuha flailed like a hooked fish back over to the side, practically hurling herself from the water back to solid ground. "I said I'd take the itch," she sputtered, shaking her hair wildly. "Not that I wanted more of it!" Tsukune apologized through peals of laughter. "Besides, you know I can't swim!"

"Oh, don't worry," he had said, smiling. "I'm right here. I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

She had opened her mouth to retort, and found herself without the words. Instead, she said merely, letting her head drop and her dripping tresses curtain her features: "W-well, then. As long as we're clear on that."

She had soon after gone back to her usual routine, and was later joined by Tsukune. Neither of them spoke of the kiss, but Tsukune wondered if the memory swirled similarly in her mind. By the time they left, they were both dead on their feet. Even as they arrived home, they could barely keep from yawning. Tsukune gave a tired greeting to Kyouko, who was visiting again for the weekend, and was nested firmly on the couch watching television, a coverlet cloaking everything but her head and a row of tiny toes that peeped out from the bottom. She nodded in return, too tired herself to rouse her guard at Akuha's presence. "Dinner is on the table, though it's probably cold by now," she called after the pair as they entered the kitchen. "Auntie left one for you too, Akuha." Sure enough, both plates sat there unattended. By now, Tsukune was so worn out he had barely even heard Kyouko's statement; Akuha looked much the same way. He went over to the fridge to get a drink, poured it, then turned around to a rather surprising sight.

Akuha must have been extraordinarily out of it, he thought, for her to have so casually trudged over to the table, and, as if on autopilot, absent realization, stolen a piece of fruit from her plate and began munching. He said nothing, but watched, letting her crunches fill the air. He knew if he alerted her to this now, she would instantly spit it all out. No, here was a chance. Let her see that his mother was not trying to poison her; maybe that would go a way towards convincing her other humans weren't plotting her death, as well.

It was a minute later, when Akuha had finished, that she suddenly became aware of the situation herself. Tsukune watched as her face went white as a ghost, veiling the rash-like burn that had remained from the pool. She dropped the apple core silently on the floor; though she had no food left in her mouth, she made a sound like choking, her neck twisting towards Tsukune; the fire in those crimson eyes was cold with fear. "W-what the hell? Why didn't you stop me!?" she whispered, aghast.

He walked over to her, and placed his hands squarely on her shoulders, looking her in the eye. "Akuha, calm down. You're fine, trust me. Look, nothing is happening. There's no poison, you're not gonna die." He shushed her, whispering urgently: "Don't make a scene! You don't want Kyou-chan to hear, do you?"

Slowly, then, without response, Akuha plodded over to a chair by the table and flopped down, clutching a fold of her coat at the chest, white knuckled, as if preparing for some sort of violent reaction. A few more minutes passed in silence, with her sitting, and Tsukune watching, but no reaction came. As before, Akuha shortly came to the discovery that she was perfectly alright. Surprisingly, with this realized, she allowed herself to relax, her shoulders lowering, the muscles going slack. She exhaled thankfully. "Still alive," she said.

"Of course you are. Now do you believe me? Nobody here wants you dead, Akuha. Even if they knew what you were, they wouldn't care."

She threw him a look. "You can't be sure of that."

"What? Sure I"—he hesitated—"Well, you're right, I can't. But I've known these people my whole life, and I think I have a pretty good idea of who they are. Once she has a guest in the house, Mom will treat them like her own flesh and blood, no matter who or what they are."

She hummed in reply, then leaned back again in the chair. Her words were slow and measured, as if laden with meaning. "At any rate, it seems you were right about this. I guess it was safe, after all. Surely, if she was trying to kill me, that would have done it. I let my guard down."

"Yes, and look what it's shown you. You've learned something, I hope?"

"I have," she said, nodding. Then, roundly: "I have learned that I do not enjoy swimming."

Tsukune stared for a moment, blankly, before bursting into cathartic laughter. "No, you don't really fit your name, do you!"

With a huff, Akuha shook her head. "Anyway…I suppose I should say thanks for what you did today," she mumbled, then, without waiting to hear his response, returned, gratefully, to her plate, clearing it within a few minutes. She hated to admit it, but Tsukune's mother was quite a talented chef. You've been missing out, a small voice whispered in her mind, but she dismissed it with voracious bites. The unusual events of the day, despite a near disaster, had buoyed her mind and spirit into a relatively beatific calm, the kind she had not experienced since her childhood days with Moka. Her eyes flickered every now and then to Tsukune, but she said nothing, and if he noticed, neither did he.

Once finished, both of them cleaned up and made ready for bed. That night, before drifting off to sleep, Tsukune's errant thoughts wandered back to the pool; the feel of the wet body pressed against him, the small, tender mouth, the dripping connection as they parted, summoning more distant memories of her atop him, grinding, pounding, the hoarse shouts and wet slaps and jerking spasms of completion….Again he wondered if the same thoughts at all occupied her head, not knowing that, while they did drift in and out, lying awake in her own bed, she was sleepily fighting to swat back the pesky images of a weak, stupid little child and ancient, dark dreams.

The weekend came, and for once Tsukune opted not to go with his now usual routine. It had occurred to him that he had not spent much time with his cousin, and soon after this, he thought grimly, who knew when he would get another opportunity? She was here now, however, and he wished to spend at least one full day together. Besides, he had overworked his muscles yesterday, and decided to give them a rest. Kyouko was certainly not averse to the idea, and in no time at all after his invitation, she was dressed and raring to go, and clung happily to Tsukune's arm as they walked—he with a slight hobble—out the door.

Akuha was not with them. Though Tsukune, and indeed, to her surprise, Kyouko, had asked her along, she had declined. After the unusual 'excitement' of the previous day, she figured some time lounging around relaxing would do her body good. On the plus side, she would only have to share company with one person rather than many: Tsukune's mother had remained home as well, taking care of the odd chore here and there.

Akuha had not seen much of Kasumi Aono, even after several weeks of living under the same roof. She had kept to herself for most of the month, and Kasumi, along with the rest of the family, had apparently respected her privacy. Now, reclining on the couch in front of the television, blankly staring at what seemed to be inane human programming, Akuha heard the woman coming down the stairs with a bin of dirty laundry. She didn't turn her head from its comfortable position.

Recognizing the tousle of black hanging over the arm of the couch, Kasumi, reaching the landing, hefted her load higher against her chest and sent a friendly greeting Akuha's way.

"Sure you don't want to go join them, dear? I could call Tsukune and ask him where they can meet you."

Stretching like a lazy cat, she swung about into a sitting position. "That's alright. They asked me before they left, but I'm still worn out from yesterday, and didn't feel like doing much sightseeing."

Kasumi paused, as if with a thought, then carefully set her basket down and leaned over the back of the adjacent chair. "You and Tsukune sure have been working hard," she hummed. "I never knew him to be such an exercise enthusiast."

"Yes, well." That was all she said. Couldn't very well tell the woman what she knew to be the reason behind Tsukune's regimen. Turning then, she noticed Kasumi was still looking at her curiously, as if expecting her to continue. Akuha blinked and opened her mouth awkwardly, unsure what to say. "I-I mean, he probably just wants to look good for Moka." The words, she found to her surprise, did not taste as sour as she had expected.

Neither sour was the look that suddenly brought light flashing into Kasumi's face, and her mouth dimpled into a friendly smile. Her next words dispelled Akuha's confusion. "Are you saying…Does that mean that the two of them are still like this?" She crossed her fingers, then, when Akuha did not respond, burst out laughing joyfully. "Oh, thank heavens! I didn't want to press the issue, but after Tsukune brought you home, despite what he said, I just assumed their relationship had ended. You mean that it hasn't?"

There was a loaded question if ever there was one, Akuha thought dryly. Not that she had given it much consideration, but Kasumi's questioning piqued her own curiosity on another matter. What would Tsukune attempt to do after they got Moka back? What would Moka try to do? Akuha herself, of course, had her own plans for her sister, as Gyokuro knew and approved; the next stage of Fairy Tale's plan would be hers to guide, and, though it might not be pretty, she took comfort in the fact that at least with her plan, Moka would ultimately live, and the world of the humans would become a distant memory.

Her musings were snuffed out as she glanced back at the earnest face of the woman before her. It had been a simple question, and warranted a simple answer. And yet, she suddenly found the words bracing themselves stubbornly behind her teeth. Once again, as before—in fact, even more so—what should have been a trivial topic was making her shrink and seek shelter like a frightened mouse. At last, with effort, she said: "No, it's not. They are still…together, I guess you could say." Her lips tingled strangely.

Another laugh of relief; another "Thank heavens" before, realizing what she had said, Kasumi attempted a clumsy withdrawal: "Oh, not that I didn't think you were—That is, I'm sure you would make an excellent girlfriend, Akuha, it's just…."

"I understand," Akuha replied honestly. "Moka has that affect on people. You can't help but love her."

"I'm glad you agree. And, well, not that it matters that much, but she is…you know, closer to his age." Her cheeks were tinted pink as she spoke, not sure if she was overstepping. "You said you were, what, twenty-one?"

Akuha nodded. But wait. A thought suddenly struck her, and her gaze flew to the staircase; more specifically, to the calendar she had seen hanging on the bordering wall. She didn't even need to squint at the tiny numbers, not with her perfect vision. Her eyes landed on the date. How about that? "Huh. Twenty-two."

Kasumi watched her with mild surprise. "Twenty-two? That's funny, I could have sworn you said twenty-one when you first came here."

Another nod. "I was. The anniversary of my birth was just the other day. It completely skipped my mind."

Then, Kasumi, ignoring Akuha's unusual phrasing: "My goodness. It was your birthday? And we missed it? I'm so sorry, I wish I had known! We could have done something special for you!"

Akuha waved a hand quickly. "Oh, no, don't worry about it, please. I wouldn't have expected anything even had I remembered."

But Kasumi did not seem to hear her. She looked lost in thought, then, with a force that almost made Akuha jump, brought her fist crashing down into her palm, and declared, as if celebrating a triumph: "Come with me. I'll cook you something right away. I hope we have at least a few candles lying around…." She scurried off into the kitchen, and Akuha, hopping up, followed. She arrived to see the woman already rummaging through cabinets and drawers, securing a box of candles, then wiping the table clean of breakfast stains. A radio warbled noisily in the background. "Found them!" Kasumi said proudly upon seeing the girl. The resemblance to her niece was uncanny at the moment, thought Akuha. "N-no, really, you don't have to trouble, Mrs. Aono," she insisted.

"Haven't I told you to call me Kasumi?"

"Sorry, Kasumi. But I'm used to not celebrating my…birthdays with such lavish considerations. Besides, you're busy right now, aren't you?"

Kasumi looked at her incredulously, then laughed. "Laundry over a birthday? Are you alright, sweetheart?"

The next few minutes were a very bizarre blur for Akuha. In all honesty, as the human woman hustled and bustled about the room, gathering what ingredients she could find for a nice meal (she apologized for the lack of cake), Akuha began to feel patently uncomfortable. It was disarming, to have this woman fussing over her so; why was she so intent on making a big event out of this? It had been about eight years now since Akuha had left her father's destroyed household to live with Gyokuro and begin her life with Fairy Tale, and, to be sure, not one year had passed when either her step-mother or her colleagues had offered her gifts, dinners, or festivities of any kind. Theirs was an organization dealing with business of monumental importance: there was no time for such childish affairs. As for Issa, wherever he had disappeared, no message or well wishes had ever come from him on her birthdays. This did not surprise her. During her year at the manor, there had been nothing made of the occasion. Of course, she had kept the date to herself, and Akasha, inquiring about it at times to both her and Issa, was met with indifferent dismissal. After all, that was the way Akuha had known, even back then; there hadn't even been the thought of birthdays in the Miao household.

Except one, she thought, recalling suddenly a distant childhood memory. Hayate, informed by another servant perhaps of her date of birth, had taken it upon himself to bake a small cupcake and bring it to a young and sleeping girl, then returned in the morning with a gift of a small, lovely pair of hair elastics. She fiddled absently with one of her subtle pigtails, and waited, while Kasumi finished her preparations, continuing to fret and fuss in a way that, to Akuha's discomfort, reminded her indeed of her long-time servant.

A while later, and Akuha's belly was fit to burst. She had hesitated initially when the food was brought to her, out of habit, but she then remembered the revelation from the previous night, and threw out her fears—the wafting odors were far too tempting, in any case. She had dug in voraciously, under Kasumi's festive gaze, until her plates were clean. And though she could have done without that odd candle blowing ceremony with her syrup-smothered waffle, her earlier reservations were gone. If Kasumi wanted to celebrate by feeding her all she could eat, now that she could appreciate it, why argue?

At last, once done, Tsukune's mother joined her at the table, taking a seat of her own and grinning across at her satisfied guest. "Again, I'm sorry we don't have much by way of dessert," she said.

Shaking her head, Akuha then wiped her mouth, folded her hands neatly on her lap, and said, levelly, with disciplined manners: "Do not worry about that. This was already too much. It was very generous of you. Thank you very much for the meal."

Kasumi chuckled scratched at her cheek. "No need to be so formal." She suddenly reached across and took one of Akuha's hands in her own. The vampire's eyes widened, but she found herself not recoiling. "I'm glad Tsukune is still making friends at school." Then, the grip loosening, she leaned back in her seat, and put her hands behind her head in a relaxed pose. "So, how is Moka these days? I've asked Tsukune, but…I don't know, it's like he's been elusive about the subject. Where is she staying now?"

Akuha caught herself just in time to say "Ah, at home," having almost forgotten Tsukune's story of their school break. The answer seemed to have a curious effect on Kasumi, however, who, with a light gasp, bit her lip, her face whitening.

"Is something wrong?"

"Oh, dear," she muttered, before catching Akuha's perplexed look and, trying to recover, said merely: "N-no, sorry. My mistake. I thought I saw a spider, is all."

Akuha, naturally, had no inkling of the story Tsukune had told his mother in private, the one that had convinced her and her husband to allow the strange, surly girl to remain as a guest. Akuha had not really thought about the why of it at all; she just figured his parents were those kind of people. But now, Kasumi had remembered, and was horrified by her staggeringly insensitive question. Of course! She should have suspected Moka would be at home for the vacation, the home with the family that now shunned their other daughter; for Moka could have no part in it, of that she was certain—which left the girls' parents as the culprits. Outrageous! she fumed with disgust. Treating a daughter so. They should be ashamed of themselves.

She could not have known of the story, any more than she could read the woman's mind, but Akuha was not biting. "I don't believe you," she said plainly; though grateful for the birthday treat, she couldn't just give the woman a pass on dishonesty.

Kasumi simply sighed, wishing she could see another way out of this. "I slipped up," she moaned, the sound mixing with the drone of the radio. "Tsukune won't be happy."

"Tsukune? What are you talking about?"

The woman smiled at her, but it was not the smile she had worn earlier while cooking; there was a tender sadness in her eyes, and her lips were sealed tightly. There was nothing for it now but to be honest with Akuha. After all, she thought, Akuha was an adult; maybe she could handle the difficult discussion. "I suppose I might as well confess. Tsukune told me…about your situation."

"My situation?"

"Your…home situation."

"What exactly did he say?"

Kasumi must have mistaken Akuha's imperious curiosity for anger over the topic, because she hesitated, chewing her lip nervously again. Akuha, seeing this, softened her tone, and asked once more.

So, she told her everything that she had heard from Tsukune. Akuha took it all in patiently, surprised but not particularly shocked by the concocted tale. Apparently Tsukune had felt he needed to convince them after all. It was no big deal. She was impressed, in fact, to learn the boy had what it took to deceive when necessary, even his own flesh and blood. Not that he hasn't already, she thought. As Kasumi wound down, Akuha took a long, steady breath, then, the other woman seemingly expecting her to reply, calmly kept up appearances: "I wish he hadn't told you that."

Kasumi nodded in sympathy. "I understand. It's probably a difficult thing for you to talk about. Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to make you! I just wanted to say that if you ever feel like confiding in someone, I'll be happy to lend you an ear."

Akuha was fiddling half-aware with the napkin between her fingers. "What do you know about it?" Despite being simply part of the charade, the words came loose with a surprising bitterness, and Akuha felt another quick pang of regret at the unintentional severity.

The other woman was not offended. She took it as she might, given the situation as it had been related to her. She smiled nicely. Though she had no daughter, she had had a great deal of experience with troubled young women thanks to her niece. Her parents, Kasumi's sister and her ex-husband, had weathered the temperamental storms as best they could—for which Kyouko, more recently, had apologized—asking on several occasions for the Aono's assistance. Grateful, at last, for the patience the experiences had bred in her, Kasumi now sought to aid her son's friend on her birthday.

"Probably not much," she admitted. "But I know what it's like for a family to erupt in anger, and the pain it can bring all involved. Don't tell her I told you this, but Kyouko had a bit of a behavior problem when she was younger. Puberty will do that, yes, but it went beyond that. My sister—her mother—was going through a divorce, you see, and you can imagine the effect that had on her."

"I guess," said Akuha. "Not personally, though. My own mother died when I was little. My father remarried the woman who is my stepmother today." She paused; she might as well spring that bit of truth free from the cage.

"Moka's mother?"

"No, she's gone, too."

"What? I had no idea…Then—"

"Moka and I have two sisters. It's their mother."

"I see."

Then, Akuha, perpetuating the story: "I doubt I'd even give it a second thought if they were to split up."

The radio crackled with signal interference; snatching up a nearby remote, Kasumi lowered the volume a tad. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother," she said, and Akuha heard the echo of Tsukune. Not wishing to ask unwelcome questions, she went on, shadows filling her eyes: "Back then, Kyouko wasn't doing so well in school, and had some bad so-called friends in her life, and when they first told her the news, she started taking a turn for the worse. Her parents even contemplated shipping her off somewhere. They were utterly furious, I remember—this, more than anything, was what almost tore Kyouko apart from her family. Even on visits, I could feel the rage and frustration boiling in that house; in private, I began to worry about how far the situation would escalate. I was genuinely afraid for Kyouko's future….Well, I've tried to hide this part from Tsukune, but I suspect she has told him everything by now. They are quite close, you know."

"I've noticed." Then, impassively: "Not that it bothers me, but I do not think she much cares for my presence here."

"Oh, you'll have to forgive her," she chuckled. "She's just protective of him, that's all it is. I doubt she actually dislikes you in any personal way; how could she, when she's known you so little time? But, she is the closest thing to an older sibling he has, and I guess she takes that role very seriously. I presume it's like that with you and Moka?"

That caught her off guard, and her cheeks felt hot; for some reason, she didn't quite feel like sharing with Kasumi just how "like that" it was. "Y-yes, you could say that." She coughed, and averted her gaze back to her crumb-laden dishes. "So, I take it you're trying to tell me they made up at some point afterwards?"

"In the end, but not in the way she would have wished it. As I said, she didn't take the divorce very well, though who can blame her….I won't tell you exactly what she did, but one day it landed her friend in the hospital, with critical injuries. She was there for a full—Has Tsukune mentioned any of this to you?"

But Akuha's lips had already launched their next question. "What were the injuries?"

"Oh, severe ones. Some broken ribs, limbs….I don't want to make you nauseous, though. It was a gruesome affair."

"Did she die?"

"Hm? Well, no, fortunately. It was a close call, but she managed to pull through. Frankly, the doctors called it a miracle that she did."

"…I bet Kyouko was glad the worst was avoided."

"Believe me, she is. But don't think everything just suddenly became okay. The whole incident shook her to the core, and snapped her clean out that funk she had carried for years—she apologized to her parents, even to us, for everything she had done—but now she had to live with the fact that she almost got her friend killed. She still does, I would guess." Her tone had grown solemn, her look haunted, and Akuha felt markedly uncomfortable.

"That sounds like it would be an arduous burden to overcome," she ventured; Kasumi nodded, then rose to begin cleaning up. She spoke as she moved.

"Yes, especially since her parents still went through with the separation. Even though they had their daughter back, they considered getting someone for her to talk to, like a counselor. You know, for everything she had been through. But, in the end, somehow, it just wasn't necessary."

"How so? She seems perfectly alright to me. How did she manage to get past that?"

"It's funny you should ask. You might think that getting her friend's forgiveness would go a long way towards healing the wounding guilt she felt in her heart, but that was not the case. I suppose it didn't help that the friend moved away soon after, but, in any case…Actually, she came to stay with us for a few weeks, while my sister finalized her divorce. During that time, she and Tsukune were inseparable." She smiled for the first time in telling the story. "Since they were young, she's always acted as a sister to him, and watched out for him, and no matter how much he complained about the trouble she would get them into, I know that deep down, he wouldn't have traded her for anything, even a real big sister. And it was clear, back then, that he had been desperately worried about her, so during those weeks he stuck to her like honey. She didn't voice one objection. Soon, it seemed like a change was coming over her. She was beginning to smile again, and laugh, and we could see the shine of her old self starting to return. I don't know how he did it, but I suspect Tsukune was a big part of that, though I've never had the courage to ask either of them specifically. By the time she left, she still missed her friend dearly, but it was clear to all of us that she'd be alright. Her bond with her cousin was undoubtedly strengthened by the stay, too. I'm sure that's why she was so excited to visit him at school last year, hoping maybe to spend more time together; also out of concern, yes, but there's that overprotectiveness I mentioned!"

Finishing, she came back round to the table, and settled back in her seat with a hefty groan. Akuha was silent; her stare was all at once present and yet worlds away. She didn't utter a word. Kasumi laughed lightly, as if the sound vanquished the ghosts around her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to depress you with such a story. I think I got off track with it; I really was just trying to show you that I do understand something about family tensions, and how they can explode before you know it. I wasn't trying to lecture or preach to you or anything."

Snapped back to the room by the woman's amicable tone, Akuha shook her head violently. "No, please," she insisted, "You didn't. It was helpful, really." It was a lie, and not a lie. "But…" She paused, and Kasumi could see a question straining to break free.

"What is it?"

"Why did you tell me? Tsukune told you that my family and I aren't on speaking terms, but that shouldn't give you any cause for concern, right? I mean, no one is forcing you to be so nice to me."

Kasumi looked utterly confused. Then, as if it made sense, she burst out laughing, and, leaning forward, held out her hands, motioning for Akuha to place her own in them again. She did so, awkwardly, her small mouth drawn close in perplexity. The woman's hands felt smooth and hot around her own cold skin. Kasumi spoke: "Don't be silly. I want to thank you for being Tsukune's friend, Akuha. A mother's heart is always soothed to know that her son is in the care of such good people. And anyone special to him is special to me, as well. As Tsukune's friend, you will always be welcome here, and you can always come to me no matter what trouble you might have. I promise to do what I can to help, even if it's just listening. Only if you're comfortable talking about it, of course, but know that you can trust me."

Not for the first time did Akuha find herself bewildered, and lacking words. This…None of this was what she….There was silence for a moment. Off to the side, the music on the radio dulled into chattering voices; outside, through an open window, a flock of birds chirped and squawked perched atop a bus that creaked to a halt some blocks away; and through it all, the girl sat still, motionless but for the fingernails sharply digging into her palms. What was this woman saying? Even if she didn't know what Akuha was, they were not even family. Why was she trying to comfort her, then? Oh, sure, Hayate was the same way, but that was different. It was wholly unnecessary for this woman to do the same, yet here she was, cooking for her, talking to her, smiling at her…Just like, during that ever so fleeting of moments that had been a year of her hard life, Akasha had done.

Then there was Tsukune: this woman's son had tried to give her comfort or aid on more than one occasion, from kind words to an outright kiss, time and again bringing her breast a warmth that was at once pleasant and all too scorching. She had told herself in the past that his kindness was born of his wish to see Moka again, and escape Akuha's own clutches. It had seemed to make sense this way, although, lately, another voice in her head had taken to whispering doubts on this conclusion, doubts she found she could no more control than the changing of seasons. After all, hadn't he gone above and beyond the call of what was necessary for Moka's sake? And after the tribulations she had put him through?

Regardless, whatever her confusion as to the boy, there was no ulterior motive for his mother's actions and words. This was clear to her. Obviously, Kasumi assumed her to be human, but, even so, this was not how one human treated a stranger, right?

She was abruptly shaken from her thoughts by Kasumi's grip loosening. Akuha withdrew her hands to her lap, folding her mouth in a thin line. Still, words failed her. Were it Tsukune sitting next to her now, offering the same benevolent words, with his big, dumb, charming smile, a sarcastic quip would have come to her as readily as breathing. No such retorts made themselves available with Kasumi. Nor, she discovered with patent confusion, did the desire for them. "I don't know what to say," she murmured, deeply honest.

Watching her blushing guest, Kasumi recalled her husband's words, ostensibly spoken in half-jest, but proving now to be no less than the truth. "She might be afraid of social interactions, and meeting new people." Not wishing to embarrass Akuha, she merely laughed and gestured casually. "You don't need to say anything, dear. Now, enough of that. That was a pretty heavy lunch you just had; maybe you want to walk it off outside? I have some things to finish anyway, if you want to be alone." This was true; she suddenly remembered the bloated bin in the other room.

"Maybe, in a few minutes," Akuha replied. Her voice sounded strange in her ears.

Kasumi rose to return to her tasks. Akuha remained quiet as the woman crossed under the mantle to retrieve her dirty laundry. Now that their conversation was over, she could take a minute to gather herself and still her frighteningly pounding heart – a task made difficult by the warbling, sullen voices on the radio. Akuha reached for the remote Kasumi had used; she probably wouldn't mind if she switched it off. There wasn't even anything interesting being discussed. Just some news about a murder victim's body found in a river.

"Terrible, isn't it?" Akuha turned her head at the sound. Kasumi was still within earshot, it seemed. She stepped into the kitchen again briefly, reaching for a note on the counter that contained a list of things she had yet to do. "What's the world coming to? Some people are such monsters, to do that to one another. Oh, could you throw me that dishtowel there? Thank you."

Monsters. "Y-yes, you're right," Akuha responded quietly, the report reminding her of one fact more than any other. In all her time here, she had not witnessed any such act of violence.

Some hours later, Tsukune and Kyouko finally returned, bursting through the front door with plastered grins and flushed cheeks, as well as, in Akuha's view, some very strange paraphernalia adorning their heads and hands. Both wore caps with unfamiliar symbols, and Kyouko was wearing a massive foam hand with the index finger sticking up.

"We're back!" she announced grandly.

Upon inquiry, Akuha and Kasumi learned that the pair had been out to lunch, and other places, before suddenly finding themselves accosted by a desperate man in search of his five year old daughter. Apparently she had vanished from his sight while his back was turned. After searching for several minutes, miraculously, they spotted her, just as she was stepping out into the middle of a street. With an awesome speed like a superhero (as Kyouko told it with glowing admiration), Tsukune had dashed forward and snatched the girl back before she had taken even a third step. The man, sweating with terror, but relieved, was beyond grateful, and in a show of generosity, as a season ticket holder had offered them on the spot his pair of tickets to the local baseball game. So they had gone, and had an absolute blast; the real reason being, though they did not say it aloud, that they spent the time together.

"Seems like you had quite an eventful day," Akuha said. Then, muttering: "Baseball…Why does that sound familiar?"

"We did." Tsukune was ebullient. "I haven't been to a game in years. Not that we were expecting any kind of reward for helping that girl, of course."

Kyouko glanced at Akuha, then nudged her cousin with her elbow. "Tsukki, remember? What we brought her?"

"Oh, right! I'd almost forgot." He swung his backpack off his shoulders, and, reaching in, fished out what at first looked like a sort of jeweled pistol. "We stopped off afterwards at this antique shop, and got you this. It's ceremonial, so you probably can't use it for real, but I thought you might like it anyway."

He placed it in Akuha's curious hands. It was not a pistol, she learned, but, tugging on the curved, skillfully worked obsidian hilt, a dagger. Her eyes ran over it, reflecting the shine of the metal and gemstones on the small silver sheath. This was equally bent to a slightly crescent shape, filigreed with beautiful branching and curving patterns; at three places along the metal, an embedded sapphire glimmered tranquilly, each surrounded by a ring of studded rubies that twinkled like stars around the moon. Towards the end, the scabbard sloped down into the carved head of a wolf baring sword-like teeth, and as she pulled a little more, the blade flashed brighter than the rest. Not a genuine relic, noticed Akuha's trained eye, a replication of a nineteenth century model, but still startlingly brilliant and lovely. She looked up in dazed confusion.

"Why did you get this for me?" came the genuine query.

Now it was Tsukune's turn to look puzzled. "What? Wasn't it your birthday the other day?"

"Well, yeah it—Wait, h-how did you know that?" She glanced at Kasumi. "Did you tell him?"

"Nope. When could I have?"

"Well," Tsukune cut in sheepishly, "I kind of just…remembered."

"Remembered from what? I don't believe I've ever told you."

"We were at the game, and…It's kind of embarrassing to say, but…."

Luckily for him, Kyouko found it much easier. "Tsukki saw the cotton candy guy coming around, and it made him think of—"

"I can tell it, Kyou-chan!" Tsukune insisted. "It was…you know, pink, so it…it reminded me a little of Moka."

If he had been expecting Akuha to laugh, or sneer (and he half had), he was pleasantly in error. Her expression was unreadable. What he was not to know was that she had indeed caught the faint hitch in his voice, unnoticed even by himself, when uttering Moka's name. She said nothing. It needed no words. On this, they could understand each other. But now was not the time for such thoughts.

He continued: "And as I was thinking about her, it turned out it was one of the player's birthdays, so it suddenly just clicked. I remembered she had mentioned it to me once, your birthday, and so I told Kyou-chan we should stop somewhere and see if we could find you a gift. I saw the store on the way back, thought it'd be something you would like. I could only afford the cheap knockoff, though," he confessed shyly.

It didn't matter. For the first time since before they had visited Gyokuro, Akuha felt she was at a complete loss about what to do next. The gleam of the scabbard threw specks of light across her face, and she could only stare down at the item in her hands; this also let her avoid meeting Tsukune's gaze. She was not used to facing somebody who had gone out of his way so unnecessarily to put her in the front of his mind, and was not entirely sure how to appropriately express the gratitude bubbling within her breast. Excluding Hayate, nobody else had ever given her something like this before today. She was hardly even conscious of the three pairs of curious eyes watching her. Over and over in her hands she turned the dagger, running her thumbs along the craftsmanship, the gems. Tsukune had been right in guessing her fondness for weapons—not just in battle, but simply to possess, and hold. She had never told him as much, which meant he had observed and deduced it on his own…just from their time spent together?

Her voice was hushed. "No, it's…I mean, you didn't have to…T-thank you. But, why?"

"Akuha, in spite of our differences"—more than this he would not elaborate in front of the others—"I don't know, it just wouldn't have felt right, to let your birthday skip by without getting you a present." And, though he could not say it in front of the others without blowing their cover story, he had wanted to thank her for other things: allowing him to remain home, even at her own expense; and saving his life from the Shinso blood.

"It's gorgeous," she said. Then, looking up at him, patently stunned, asked with strained awkwardness: "Am I supposed to…hug you now, or something?"

"You don't have to," he replied quickly. The question had caught him off guard, but he still imagined she would prefer not to be so obligated. But Kyouko, once again, had other ideas.

"Go on, hug the girl, you doof!" she chirped, patting Tsukune once on the back, then again, but this time with more force, enough to send him careening forward, hands suddenly thrown out in desperation, right into Akuha. Luckily, this time there was no clumsy toppling into a pile on the floor; Akuha had retained the presence of mind to call upon her skill and honed dexterity, dropped a foot back to brace herself, and kept the present in her grasp even as the stumbling boy's arms were flung around her. A quiet fell, and in a few moments, hers had found their way to his strong back as well.

On the surface, it was far from the most physically intimate act the two of them had shared. But, even so, though they were not yet to know it, in times to come it would prove to have left the deeper stamp.

With the next morning's light, to her surprise, Akuha woke taken by quite the pleasant mood. She stretched, feeling the sunlight warm her face, before rising and venturing hesitantly into the kitchen, her eyes still flitting about with their characteristically sharp alert, but a touch softer, to see if she could snag a breakfast. Tsukune could tell how visibly pleased his mother was at their guest's sudden willingness to join them. Neither of them were especially shocked; Kasumi had related to her son what she had done for Akuha yesterday, and the troubles Kyouko had been through, and it seemed that those events had sufficiently cracked the girl's shell of solitude to bring her down like this. Kyouko, however, unknowing, was bewildered; she knew that not once in all these weeks had Akuha sat with them for any occasion. And though she was still slightly suspicious of the girl in such close proximity to her cousin, she couldn't deny the agreeable shift in attitude, especially not after having helped to celebrate her birthday.

Nor could she deny her own hot-blooded eagerness when, Tsukune asking her if she wished to accompany them today, then suggesting that Akuha demonstrate to her some of her fighting style, Akuha actually agreed.

"If you think she can handle it," she said, not demeaningly. And, as both cousins were soon to discover, her words were not without justification. Finding the center's dojo unoccupied for the hour when they arrived, they decided to forego their usual workout and take advantage of the presented opportunity. Kyouko, throwing herself gung-ho into this "training," had adorned herself in full gi and black belt, which even now she fiddled with and tugged to make sure the double knot was secure. Akuha had opted for more casual dress, as had Tsukune, and the two of them now stood watching while Kyouko continued to make her final adjustments.

"She always like this?" Akuha threw the question his way.

"Kind of," he laughed, scratching the back of his head. "I don't think it's a bad thing, though. She's always been praised by her sensei for her dedication, and she was chosen as the top student multiple times."

"That's right, and I didn't get it by being sloppy," Kyouko huffed, straightening her lapels some more. "If you're going to learn technique from someone, it's important to show them respect, and how can you do that if you don't respect the symbol of your commitment and your art's integrity?"

"Yes, yes, don't worry, I won't be offended," Akuha drawled. In all honesty, she was still somewhat taken aback that she had signed up for this. The first voice in her head when Tsukune had made the suggestion had not been the instant refusal she had expected. The memory of the previous day was still fresh, and of course, then there was…Well, no matter of that. The agreement had been past her lips before she realized; she hadn't even felt the urge to retract it afterwards. In times past, the only person she would have so obliged would be Moka, but then….She paused on the thought of her sister, then hurriedly buried it, a habit born of necessity during these seemingly interminable weeks, after eventually discovering that constant fears about Moka, in this time when all she could do was wait, would only damage her abilities.

At last, the girl was ready and warmed up. For the most part, Tsukune let Kyouko hoard the lion's share of Akuha's instruction: learning a new martial art was like Christmas for his cousin, after all, and she gobbled it up like a famished beast, giving all her attention and effort to following Akuha's movements. Nothing less would have sufficed. Even without the Jigen-tou, it was clear that whatever style Akuha had had drilled into her as a child was intense and dynamic as a whirlwind.

The forms would start off simply enough. "Ok, they punch. Block, like this, and your other hand, too. Guide it away, then spin. Drop. Elbow. Right there in the solar plexus. Good." That much Kyouko took with ease. Then, more complicated demonstrations: "They swing. Duck, burst up, knee to gut, chop to neck, other hand, ridge hand to the other side, then somersault, hook your ankles behind the neck, then pull—Up! Check your balance, secure your position, then…!" With a sudden, violent twist of her body, she would tumble forward off the training dummy's shoulders, her feet hurling the poor thing into the air like a spinning top while she landed gracefully on the mat. When the dummy thudded down after her, its head was hanging off its shoulders by a fiber. Tsukune, watching, swallowed anxiously. And as she continued instructing Kyouko, any confidence he had possessed about fighting someone of her caliber, either herself or someone else in Fairy Tale, was somewhat shaken. All this, without the Jigen-tou, he thought with awe. She's amazing. Meanwhile, he hadn't sparred with anyone in what felt like ages, and no doubt what small training he had consumed was nowhere near enough.

Kyouko, however, seemed undaunted. "That…was…awesome!" she would exclaim after each form. "I have to admit, you're really damn good! Where did you learn all this?"

"My teachers in China. My…family had me taking lessons from the time I was very young."

"Aw, man! I wish my parents had signed me up for classes that early."

"Hm, is that so?"

"Of course! I could be at your level by now, if I'd been practicing as long as you."

"Yes, well…It wasn't all fun and games, you know." Tsukune noticed her voice grow distant, and her eyes fix on his cousin with an unusually pensive look. "There are expectations of you. Harsh pressures. And certain things you have to endure."

"Huh? Why are you getting all serious? What's wrong with an early start? Look how strong it's made you."

Tsukune knew what must be simmering in Akuha's thoughts. Her time with the Miao, no doubt. Kyou-chan didn't know, naturally, but all the same, no point in letting Akuha relive those memories right now, even if she was used to them.

When he spoke, his voice contained all the bravery of a small child getting his first shot at the doctor. "H-hey, how about showing me a trick or two, Akuha? Kyou-chan's been hogging all your time!"

"Yeah, yeah, I could use a break, anyway," Kyouko confessed, going over to the mirror and plopping down on the mat with an unopened water bottle.

Akuha, her eyes returning to the moment, glanced at him. She was breathing slightly faster than usual, but remained almost as calm and dry as if she had not just engaged in spectacular acrobatic feats. "Sure, if you insist. I hope you're ready," she said, then dragged the now headless training dummy over to the side of the room, to clear more space (it occurred to Tsukune that they would have to pay for it later).

Never in a million years had he imagined he would be in the position of Akuha's pupil. These were strange times indeed. She proceeded to show him more or less the same techniques she had demonstrated to his cousin, this time giving him the more hands on approached. He did not wonder at her willingness in this regard. It didn't matter what fancy strikes, leaps, or throws she showed to him; without a way to counter the Jigen-tou, if they ever did come to blows, he would be as a mouse before a tiger. Even so, as he quickly proved, he was at least able to match, if not outdo, Kyouko's efforts at absorbing Akuha's moves. Not so much in terms of technical expertise, as he lacked her formal training, but in sheer athleticism and power. Although this was aided by the Shinso blood, Kyouko was not to know this, and she gazed on stupefied and watched her little Tsukki pivot, leap, kick so high in the air he could have almost grazed the ceiling with his toe. She recalled how strong he had been during her visit to his school; apparently the time since had only made him more of a man, she thought, grateful her face was already flushed from the exercise.

Tsukune paid utmost attention to Akuha's lessons, trying to glean what he could about her fighting style that he might use to his advantage. He noticed, for instance, that but for the occasional knuckle strike, punches and closed fists were not part of her style; her hands remained open, with a focus on redirection, misdirection, flow and agility, her arms and legs blurring windmills until the opening presented itself for either a strike of snakelike precision or to launch her opponent headlong using his own momentum. Luckily, Tsukune was not subjected to quite that much, once Akuha initiated a sparring match, but he did more than once find his legs suddenly swept from under him, or find that his hold on the strap of her top wasn't as secure as he had thought, as she grabbed his arm, shifted back, pulling him stumbling after her and breaking his grip, then hurling him to the floor. He was thankful he had gone for pants instead of shorts as his knees skidded along the mat.

Then again, she would disrupt his stance, and, off balance, down like a felled tree he went. And again. It began to occur to him, as they clashed, that there was not much force behind her attacks; she would strike him, not lightly, but not with the disciplined power he might have expected. Was she taking it easy on him, he wondered? Did she think he couldn't handle a few cuts and bruises? Yet again, he found himself toppling over, only this time, he was able to catch her foot with his and bring her down with him. They fell with a thud, accompanied by a startled yelp from Kyouko.

"It seems," Akuha breathed against his ear, beginning to feel the exertion, "we keep ending up in this position." Sprawled atop him as she was, their bodies were pressed together, her palms splayed on the floor by his head, his where they had landed against the small of her back, fingers brushing against skin as her top rode up. Her hair tickled his cheek as she shifted, and their eyes briefly met. In hers Tsukune saw the smoldering vitality he had felt from her in times past, one that threatened to seize and dominate his soul as surely as she could his body.

And, as if her words had created the reality, he was suddenly very much aware of their situation. "Y-yeah." Only a couple of nights had passed since the most recent feeding session, which itself, coming as it did the day after their kiss, had been the most brimful with sensual tension. He could almost feel the faint traces of her pallid fangs against his neck and shoulder (for, half from needing another access point to draw forth his raging blood, half, he suspected, from gluttonous craving, she had punctured him more than once). His eyes dropped, and lingered on her lips, parted with small breaths, recalling again the touch of them against his own, as her wet, lissom body had clung to his there in the pool—

"Hey, hey! Knock it off, guys, don't be getting all physical on me!" Kyouko's voice pierced the air like a dart. She had shot up at the increasingly intimate scene before her, and now held indignant fists clenched at her sides. "I knew there had to be something going on between you two."

Gingerly, Tsukune dislodged Akuha from her mount with a grunt; with a dancer's grace she was off and on her feet again in one swift motion. He, not so much. "Come on, Kyou-chan, she just fell on me, that's all. I'm not that shameless that I'd do anything inappropriate in front of you."

"Mhm, I see. So you're saying you wait until you have some privacy."

"N-no, that's not what I meant!"

"Don't worry your little head about it, Kyouko," Akuha interjected then, striding over to the other girl and clapping a hand on her shoulder. "Really, he just makes a comfortable chair, that's all. Handsome as he is, I'm not going to steal him away from you," she assured teasingly. Tsukune went hot at the compliment.

"I-it's not about stealing him," Kyouko stammered. "Like I've said, I just don't think he is ready for an adult relationship."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Seems to me he might be an excellent lover. But then, maybe you would like some proof for yourself?"

Truth be told, before this moment, Tsukune had never seen Akuha toy with anyone else as much as she was accustomed to doing with him. And though her words were clearly intended to get a rise from his cousin, it wasn't like Kyou-chan was completely mistaken….Interrupting her vehement protests of denial, he spoke up, not untouched by embarrassment: "I-if you guys don't mind, I'm gonna take a break in the pool. Akuha's pretty much worn me out." The double meaning was not lost on him. "Kyou-chan, you look ready to go again, aren't you? If Akuha's still up for it, she can teach you some more."

"Very well," Akuha nodded, and Tsukune stared at her curiously. "You ready to go?"

The offer seemed to banish all the girl's concerns about Tsukune and Akuha's potential 'relationship,' and in short order, they were back at it, this time in a sparring match to mirror Tsukune's own, and he off to the locker room to change. He did not notice that it didn't strike him as odd that he had no qualms with leaving the two of them alone together. The trust he gave Akuha that she would not harm Kyou-chan seemed implicit by this point. Moreover, the ease and light-heartedness he had sipped from his homecoming had only grown stronger over the past weeks, and he could not bring himself to risk its disruption in any way imaginable. He had promised himself he would take what enjoyment would be offered from a rare visit home, no matter the circumstances, and by God, he planned to keep it!

The day, unfortunately, had other plans in store.

The locker room was nearly empty when he arrived, save for two older gentlemen overly comfortable with their naked bodies, but they vacated to the pool shortly after, leaving Tsukune alone. Picking a locker, he sat on the bench and began to strip.

A harsh, grating sound drew his attention. His head whipped to his side to find its source, and he rose, startled, at the sight that greeted him. What on earth was a bird doing in here, he wondered? How did it even get in? There were no windows in the room. It was perched on a nearby bench, watching him. Was it a pet to one of those old men who just left? All these questions swirled through his brain as he sat, caught in the searchlight of the animal's blazing red eyes. It was a familiar gaze, as were the grey wings, the snow white breast, the black crest arching along its head, the dark croak of the death knell that abraded his ears as he rose and stepped back, suddenly feeling the chill of spring air and the blue glow of the moon….The witch's bird, it struck him. At least, the one that had made its home on her roof, the black-crowned heron. Not just then, either; its grey wings spread, as if to take flight, and he knew it as the same creature he had glimpsed at his own house since, lurking on the fence, vanishing into the sky as soon as it was spotted.

This could be no coincidence. Something was afoot, and by the aura he felt ghost against his gooseflesh, it did not bode well.

Quickly, the wings spread again, and this time carried the bird upon the air, making Tsukune jump and prepare for some sort of attack. Instead, however, it flapped and streaked in the other direction, towards the shower area that preceded the pool. It disappeared behind the bend of the wall. Tsukune did not immediately move to follow; dire warning was warring against morbid curiosity, the latter eventually claiming victory. Shirtless, he went after it. It was only then he became aware of the sound of running water. A shower? He could not recall hearing it when he had entered. Was someone else still here?

"Hello?" He turned the corner, and saw him. Even with nothing but swim trunks on, that mess of wild black hair, wet with the shower's spray rather than whatever grease he usually used, was unmistakable. It had been some time, but not nearly enough to dull Tsukune's memory. "It's…it's you!" His voice came out empty at first, gradually filling with spite. "Miyabi something, wasn't it? From the Snow Village?"

Miyabi turned at the sound of his name, water striking and glinting off his broad shoulders like sparks on an anvil. He looked genuinely surprised, but then his mouth settled into a guilty smile. "How careless of me. Looks like I went and got myself caught. I guess I shouldn't have let this little guy fly around so freely." This regarding the heron that had settled on the shower head. Miyabi spread his arms wide in mock defeat. "Alright, you found me. It's good to see you again, Tsukune."

"So you remember my name, too," Tsukune replied darkly. "That's good, because I certainly remember you. You're the bastard that hurt Mizore!"

"I swear, that's the first thing everyone says to me," he sighed. Then, at Tsukune's look: "Never mind. Let's put the past behind us, what do you say? Get a fresh start?"

"Like hell."

"Well, that ruins my day."

"Cut the small talk. Tell me what you're doing here," Tsukune demanded. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't destroy you right here and now."

That earned a sly chuckle from the other man, who now thought it well to end his bathing, and turned the knob to his side. He pushed some loose strands back from his face. "Always so quick to fight. Is that a very common human trait? Come on, kid. I would advise against that. I really have no desire to fight you."

"I don't care if you're scared, what you did is unforgivable! Plus, you're one of Fairy Tale's people!"

"So is the young captain you've been cavorting with these past weeks." He said it without malice, as a man stating simple fact. Regardless, the blunt words, piercing to truth like an arrow, along with that infuriating smirk, made Tsukune's blood boil.

"That—Don't try to change the subject."

He laughed. "I'm sorry. You must admit it's true, though. Very curious. Well, no matter. Let me first disillusion you about whether I'm 'scared' of you or not."

In the blink of an eye, he moved. In the blink of an eye, his hand, now with very real, bestial claws protruding from the fingertips, was at the boy's throat. Frozen stiff, Tsukune could only stare, wondering what had just happened, and bracing for pain. But none came. Merely a light tap on his flesh from those pointy ends. He looked down into Miyabi's eyes: even now, they sparkled with playfulness and mirth. He backed away after a few seconds, and spoke again. "See, if I actually wanted it, you would've been a goner by now. I hate to break it to you, but you're not nearly at my level, kid."

"Stop calling me kid," Tsukune growled, finding his voice again.

"Touchy, aren't we? My point is, there won't be any combat here. And not only because it would be foolhardy of you to try. I really don't want to kill you, Tsukune. Seriously, what kind of brother would that make me?"

Tsukune fell silent at this. Brother? What in the world? "What!?" he finally burst out.

"Well, maybe I'm jumping the gun a little….Future brother, we'll say."

Tsukune's patience was growing thin. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." This, through clenched teeth.

Miyabi's brow went up. "Oh? No one's told you? Not even Akuha? Eh, I guess it makes sense. It's not quite a one hundred percent thing yet, but I'm not worried. I can see you're dying to know. Alright. You know my superior, Gyokuro."

"Of course."

"And I know you're also acquainted with her daughter, Kahlua, a valued member of my squad."

Tsukune nodded, remembering how she had joined them on the airship before vanishing with Moka. This was followed by his mind flashing back to the incident in Yomotsu, where, under the succubus' spell, they had engaged in rather illicit activities together, against their wills. The memory made him grateful he had not yet changed into his bathing suit.

"I've been serving Gyokuro in Fairy Tale for many years. She's a woman who appreciates loyalty, and rewards it where she finds it. Assuming no more fitting suitor miraculously appears, and I assure you, none will, we have a silent agreement regarding who should take Kahlua's hand, and become the newest addition to the Shuzen clan."

Tsukune's mouth pieced the words together simultaneously with his mind. "You're saying…Gyokuro is going to give you Kahlua in an arranged marriage?"

"Bingo. You know, after that whole affair with the snow people, I was pretty miffed about losing my bride. That girl, Shirayuki, she was my ticket to a bit of social status and leisure, even if it was among those frosty wenches. You all cost me that, of course. But don't get me wrong, I'm actually grateful to you for it! If you hadn't interfered…Well, after that happened, it suddenly struck me—and I couldn't believe I had never thought of this before—what about Kahlua? Young, single, the eldest legitimate daughter of the head of the Shuzen family and Fairy Tale, and thus, questions of Akuha aside, potentially her heir? You have to see how quickly the idea grew on me. And of course, speaking as one warm blooded man to another, she is a stunner, wouldn't you agree? The spitting image of her mother."

Hearing this, no rage mustered in Tsukune's heart, despite his hatred for the man. He wasn't wrong. Kahlua was beautiful—hardly surprising, all the sisters were—with looks clearly derived in her case from her equally entrancing, though terrifying, mother. Still, he felt a flicker of pity for the girl, if this was the slime Gyokuro was going to fix her up with. "An arranged marriage, huh?" he said. "You would be lucky. Her, not so much."

Another laugh. "I'm glad you agree! So, you see," he said, coming back to the point, "when the day comes for you and Moka Akashiya to tie the knot, you and me will be brothers-in-law!"

Of all the strange happenings and tidings to which he had been subjected ever since being kidnapped by Akuha, this piece of news was definitely a contender for the crown. How was he to react? It hardly concerned him directly, or even any of his friends, really. It was an ayashi wedding. Sure, he didn't hate Kahlua, enemy though she was, but they had hardly had enough interaction for him to fret terribly over this. Was it even something to fret over? Miyabi was a monster and a jackass, but Kahlua…Well, she was not one to be trifled with. What stuck in his mind more, rather, was the other point Miyabi had raised. "Me, marry Moka?" he echoed, feeling a hot flame lick along his cheeks. Not that the possibility had never crossed his mind, but still….

Miyabi was not offended at the boy overlooking his own union with Kahlua to focus on Moka. "Sure. Everyone knows you two are crazy about each other. If you both survive the war, I doubt there will be any issues. Not to speak out of place, but I think Gyokuro could really care less about that girl's future, or what she does with her life. Akuha, now there might be a hurdle you have to jump, but, well, I'd say you're doing a fine job of winning her over as it is!" He chuckled, clapping Tsukune on the shoulder with what looked like fondness. The touch was cool, and, Tsukune noticed curiously, silky smooth, almost like snake skin.

"If we both survive the war," Tsukune echoed again. Something didn't add up here. "What are you talking about? Even if she doesn't care about Moka, surely Miss Gyokuro's going to try to kill me if she's allowed to have her way?"

"And yet, you survived your last encounter with her, didn't you? With an assignment, no less!"

"That's just because we were-!" He stopped. His mind had raced ahead of his tongue, and there discovered the snag. He looked up slowly from his musings, meeting Miyabi's inquisitive stare. "But wait, Moka is missing."

Miyabi gave him a sympathetic look. "I know. Terribly sorry to hear."

"Not only her. Kahlua, too. So, how can you be so sure you'll find her?"

"What, you think Gyokuro doesn't tell me anything? I know she gave you your mission with the promise of retrieving them after you returned."

"Them? So they are together, Kahlua and Moka…."

"That's how I heard it."

One snag solved, then, but only for the door to open upon more doubts. With this information, Gyokuro's stipulations were making even less sense than before; where could both Moka and Kahlua be, together, that he and Akuha had been unable to locate, where they had not come forth to make themselves known again all month, where Gyokuro was so calm and sure about their safety….Something was missing, he was beginning to feel it in his bones, but whatever it was, it refused to click. He voiced his puzzlement aloud, half to himself, but Miyabi seized upon it.

"Wish I could help ya, but I don't know too much about it myself. I wouldn't worry, though. Gyokuro works in mysterious ways, but if she says those two will be fine, they'll be fine. It's almost like she's got a foresight about these things."

"S-she can't tell the future, right?" he stammered suspiciously. It was bad enough she could already sense presences, but such a skill as this would be an even bigger hindrance to his and Moka's dream.

"No, no, I didn't mean literally." Miyabi grinned. This boy really wasn't that perceptive. He seemed blissfully ignorant of the ruse that even now Miyabi continued to perpetuate. The part about Kahlua and his own intentions towards her were genuine enough, and so with his right hand he had blinded Tsukune to the lie he held in his left. Had it been Akuha with whom he was speaking, he knew she would at least have been suspicious of his story. Then again, that is why I sought him out, and not her.

"Anyway," Tsukune's voice cut through the damp, oppressive air, "I don't have time or patience for you today. Is that all you wanted to tell me, about your ambitions and your marriage?" Before the man could respond, he realized he had forgotten his initial question. "Wait. That bird, what is it? Your pet, or something?"

Miyabi craned his neck up; the heron still roosted on its perch, making no sound, ruffling its feathers every so often, preening its beak along its snowy breast. "You could say that. He accompanies me sometimes, like a loyal little follower. He's got some scary eyes, don't you think? Normal humans can't see him, but you…you're not exactly normal, are you?"

"Then, does that mean you were there, at the witch's house? And I saw him at my house, too. Have you been stalking me?" he demanded angrily.

"Stalking is such an ugly word. I was just keeping an eye on you, making sure nothing interfered with your task. Gyokuro has a lot riding on its success, after all. Too bad no one told me it was gonna become a month long observational study." He could, at least, tell half the truth.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me what she has riding on it?"

"Maybe someday, when we're family."

"Please don't say that. So, explain why you're here now."

He replied prosaically: "Guy can't go for a swim? Not like I'm a vampire."

Spending as much time as he had around vampires recently, the notion hadn't even occurred to Tsukune that Miyabi might be a different class of ayashi until he mentioned it himself. "What are you, then?"

A detached smile. "Maybe you'll see for yourself one day. But not today." He gestured over his shoulder. "Today is for me and that wide open baby blue out there." With a casual wave, then turned heel and made for the door, leaving a flummoxed Tsukune in his wake, all at once reconsidering his own desire for swimming. "Oh, just one more thing," Miyabi called, looking back at the boy. His lips curled with hollow cheer. "I've been meaning to ask, but which of the Mokas do you intend on marrying?"

"W-what?"

"Well, you can't do both, right? I can't imagine her true version, especially, would condone it."

True version. The words bit at Tsukune's heart. "There is no 'true' or 'false' Moka!" he shouted.

"Oh? How would you describe it? You already know that pinkette was just a false personality created by Akasha to help keep her daughter safe, don't you?"

It was something he had tried to forget. Such a heartbreaking revelation had best been confined to the deepest recesses of his consciousness, he had initially told himself. And it had proved unnervingly easy after a while; with his kidnapping, his time with Ura, her assurance that Omote was safe within her soul, then Ura's complete disappearance, he had had plenty of other matters seizing his mind with worry. However the three of them wanted to deal with the issue of Moka's two selves…Well, they would cross that bridge when they came to it, once Moka was safely back at his side. "She's not fake," he muttered. "It's…complicated."

"Call it what you like, I was just curious. Although, it may not be as complicated as you think."

"Huh?"

"I mean you might not have to concern yourself with choosing one and hurting the other. Rumor round Fairy Tale is that the Outer Moka probably won't last too much longer."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ohh, guess you haven't heard that, either. I don't know if I should be the one to tell you this, but yeah. You know that seal was designed to suppress the real Moka. But now they've reversed, haven't they? The real one rose to the surface, the other got trapped inside the seal. All the worse for her, because with the seal broken as it is, there's nothing keeping her soul from leaking out into the ether, like air from a tire, until it completely vanishes forever."

Silence wafted through the room like a cold draft as the two men stood facing each other, broken only by the occasional drip of water upon the tiled floor. Tsukune inhaled deeply, catching the faint scent of grubby mildew somewhere, fighting to stay as outwardly composed as his enemy, wondering wryly that Miyabi surely must hear the tumultuous storm swirling within his heart and mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was level enough, despite troubled heart. "Why should I believe that, huh? You expect me to just buy whatever someone like you tells me?"

Miyabi shrugged with indifference. "Hey, I'm just the messenger. I'm not really an expert on this subject myself, so I can't tell you more. But, I'd say I'm doing you a favor."

"Really. How do you figure?" This, icily.

"You have time, man!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms in gesture as if it were plainly obvious. "It doesn't happen instantaneously. It's a more gradual process. You'll be getting her back in just a few days, right? That's plenty of time to maneuver to get that seal fixed before she disappears completely."

"Oh, believe me, whether what you say is true or not, we will get it fixed. As soon as she's back, we'll go find Touhou Fuhai and—"

"Touhou Fuhai? Let's not get ahead of ourselves, here. Don't forget what I said about maneuvering. You still have to deal with Akuha, first. Are you sure she will just let you go?"

In the excited heat of the moment, Tsukune had almost forgotten about the eldest Shuzen, and their…unique situation. It came back to him now like a flick on the ridge. "What? T-that's a ridiculous question. You know how much she cares for Moka. Do you really think she'll risk something like that happening?"

"It's interesting you should say that. See, I was under the impression Akuha only concerned herself with her actual sister, not some creation of Akasha Bloodriver's. Honestly, I doubt it would trouble her all that much if the pinkette evaporated. She might even try to speed up the process herself. Am I wrong?"

Reactionary denial died upon Tsukune's tongue, and he swallowed the corpse. He glanced at Miyabi again. What was he trying to pull here? But, still…Was he wrong? the foreboding whisper came in his head. While he and Akuha had not broached the subject, he had always half suspected her intentions towards Omote were indifferent at best. But he could not be sure. Once they had Moka back, would she tolerate the other girl? Try to banish her from Moka's body? It was Ura she loved, but regarding her feelings about the spitting image of the woman she had tried to kill for a taste of power, these were unknown. And yet, the question unnerved him. "She wouldn't…"

Miyabi smiled, attempting to keep the expression genuine. This was too easy. Leading this boy was as simple as a horse and carrot. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. We both know how…passionate she is about her sister. She's not exactly the friendliest to anyone who might come between them." Man, he thought, could this kid sure look grim. "My point is, if I were you, I wouldn't expect her to let me go to Touhou Fuhai to save that damsel you seem to dig so much. Not without a fight."

Tsukune felt the bite of untrimmed nails against his palm. Although he was trying to battle it back down, the storm was rising in his gut, images of losing Omote mockingly imprinting themselves in his mind's eye like a seal on wax. That he had ignored the matter for so long probably exacerbated the effect of this sudden onslaught, though he did not realize this. "I'm not saying I believe you"—he was embarrassed at the crack in his voice—"But what would you recommend I do?"

Again the hand clapped on his shoulder, and Miyabi shook his head. "Wish I could help you! Really I do. But this is a battle you'll have to fight yourself. With her."

Tsukune replied, wryly: "Well, if I really am 'winning Akuha over' like you said, then it shouldn't be a problem to convince her to let us go to Touhou Fuhai, should it?"

"Ahh, yeah, about that…I mean, be realistic, Tsukune. Yeah, I know things must be pretty cozy for you now. You're back home, resting, building up your strength, keeping Akuha unusually subdued—remind me to ask you how you swung that, by the way. She's even getting along surprisingly well with you all, last I saw." At the reminder of his feathered spy, Tsukune frowned. So he really had been checking up on them. Miyabi let his hand fall back to his side, and gave the boy a frank stare. "You've gotten her guard down. It's an impressive feat, though something I would have advised her against. Consorting with humans so freely and at ease…But, you must already know, this cannot last."

The words trailed off into the dead air, where they hung, almost echoing, upon the mist of the recently ended showers, before being swallowed into nothingness. Tsukune felt moisture clinging to his bare arms and brow, but his lips were dry. He could feel his earlier promise slowly slipping through his fingers, to join Miyabi's words in the void. Ironically, he was not furious at the man: Miyabi was only pointing out what Tsukune already knew in his heart, but had been trying to suppress all month, a bit sooner than would have naturally happened. He didn't need Miyabi to explain it to him. These past weeks at home, with his family there, and his familiar life, and Akuha…What they had shared. She had even saved his life, for crying out loud. In a way, he had begun to feel a connection, to see in her a girl who, in another life, could have been a real friend. It had allowed him to forget, because, as much as he was ashamed to admit, he wanted to forget, at least for a time. And so, it was like a dream, like being in a warm bubble floating lazily over a lake's surface…Now here was this mischievous creature, with his point-pricking needle glinting in the sunlight, poking and popping and dumping Tsukune into cold reality.

Miyabi continued, seeing the boy's silence: "The mission will end. You will leave home, and have Moka returned to you. And Akuha will go back to being your sworn enemy. Not your house guest, certainly not your friend, if that's what you've come to think. Your enemy. You know this is all true."

But Tsukune would not give him the satisfaction of agreement. "That's none of your concern."

"You're right, just trying to be helpful. You seem like a smart kid. I'm sure you'll figure something out."

The boy grimaced. The truth of Miyabi's words, already kept hidden in the back of his own mind, now sank their grimy claws into him. What was he to say? That he was wrong, and that Akuha wasn't like that? That she had changed? A foolish notion. She may have seemed to have changed a bit as of late, to the point where one might actually have called her a normal girl, but this was fleeting. Once they were back aboard the airship, with black-suited ayashi wandering around the place, and plans for human eradication resumed, he feared she would return to her old self. As for what that would mean for them, and the amicable peace they now enjoyed….Suddenly sickened by Miyabi's presence, and decidedly out of the mood for swimming, Tsukune excused himself, returning to his locker to get dressed again.

"Sorry if I brought you down," Miyabi called after him, letting a grin tiptoe all the way to his ears the second the boy had his back turned. "I just didn't want it to come as a nasty shock when the other shoe drops! Hey, good talk! Let's do it again soon!" Tsukune uttered some less than polite response, and was gone around the corner.

That should do it. Satisfaction alighted his face as he made for the door to the pool. That much had not been part of his orders. Observe—as he had told Tsukune—and report, that was all. Fruitful opportunities, however, could not be ignored once presented. Indeed, the seeds of doubt and fear had been planted easily: fear for his beloved Moka, doubt of Akuha's mind for her sister's fake persona. Gyokuro would be pleasantly surprised. Miyabi had given Tsukune quite a few matters to stew over, and, as the boy discovered his sheer inability in the face of the great events that even now were in motion, they would fester like an infected wound. The best possible outcome would be that they drove him mad, rendering ineffectual someone who had proven a dangerous player in the game so far; but, barring this, at the very least his doubts over Akuha would keep his opposition focused on her; and even if he stood no chance for victory, he did have strength enough to be a nasty thorn in her side, keeping her own attention on fending him off, and distracted from all else that moved. Right hand shows, left hand moves. Miyabi smiled coolly. Even Akuha Shuzen could be outplayed, and he intended to prove it. Yes, Tsukune would do nicely, and, Miyabi had no doubt, keep her too busy to come after him once she learned the truth of what lay in store for Moka.

For Tsukune, trudging like a weary pack mule back to the dojo, none of this occurred to him. The seeds were still all that lay in his mind, horrible images of Omote being blown away like a ghost, his name trailing in her wake like the whistle of the wind. Ultimately, he told himself, Miyabi had changed nothing. The plan remained the same as before this homecoming had begun. Get Moka, get the others, get out. No matter how difficult it was to locate the old Dark Lord, they could not fail, even if Miyabi's warning was false. As for Akuha….Any regrets were interrupted as he arrived back in the dojo, where, he noticed with a perked brow, the two females seemed quite finished with their session. For the first time, Kyou-chan looked completely bushed, sprawled out on her back, sighing with heaving chest, her gi in wild disarray. Akuha stood over her, arms folded, looking down with amusement; calm as she was, Tsukune sensed a faint shortness of breath in the vampire. His mind stirred bitterly as he observed how well they were getting on: it seemed he was not the only one who had been seduced by this tranquil peacetime. It did not take much guesswork to know why he had fallen into it heart and soul, but why had she? Surely she realized that everything was about to revert to its original state? As much as he might have wished it otherwise.

The crimson eyes flickered over at his approach, and the pink lips curled in a pretty grin. Walking over, she met him with a soft fist to the shoulder.

"Back so soon?"

"Y-yeah. I decided not to go."

"Well, I think I finally wore down your cousin here," she laughed, gesturing to the prone girl. "She really has a marvelous store of energy, for a"—her voice lowered, and she leaned in close—"you know, one of you guys." She beamed at him, an expression he had rarely seen grace her beautiful features, and her hands went behind her head. "Got to admit, I'm impressed. There are others of my kind who don't last the first minute sparring with me."

Tsukune said something in agreement, only half listening. "And Akuha will go back to being your sworn enemy." The echo of the words would not dissipate. Nor would the persistent, troubling question about whether she intended for both Mokas to be rescued. He had no way of being certain; not only had they never discussed Omote before, to his knowledge, she had never even encountered that version of her sister. He watched her with what must have been patently visible unease, for her brows knotted gently and she asked: "Hey, is something wrong? You don't look so good. You feeling sick?"

Doing a double take, he forcibly snapped to attention. Kyou-chan was on her feet in an instant, bounding over to them, concern written on her face. "What, Tsukki is sick? It's 'cause you've been overexerting yourself, didn't I tell you that?"

Frowning, Akuha crooked a finger at him, then, as he leaned in, wondering, rose up on her toes, buried a hand in his hair, and pulled their foreheads together. His eyes found the floor as whatever heat was in his brow cascaded to his cheeks. He could not bring himself to face her.

"Hm, feels fine to me." Her breath washed over his lips as she spoke.

"No, I am, really," he protested earnestly, backing away hurriedly as her grip loosened. The question still burned on his tongue, but it could not erupt forth; certainly not in Kyou-chan's presence, but also because, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Akuha had no reason whatsoever to extend her concern to a girl she had never met, even if she was so closely related to her sister. He chewed nervously at a dry lip. In the end, there was no way to learn the truth except to ask, but…if her answer was not favorable, it could give away and endanger his plan to save Omote, whether from the broken seal, as had been the intention all along, or from complete annihilation, as Miyabi had warned. Akuha was now regarding him with a very pointed look, eyes narrowed in piercing skepticism as they roamed his face, her mouth flat and thin; now that was an expression he knew well, and he cursed himself for his lack of subtlety, for her stare robbed him of any courage he would need to ask such a thing of her. He was not to know that her suspicious gaze was searching for any hint of jagged, blackening flesh creeping out from under his shirt, or that her heart thumped nervously at the chance of such a torrid spell occurring now, of all times. It would not serve, after all, if she had to orally drain the boy's blood with Kyouko right there, or risk him succumbing to the torment.

"In that case," she was telling him now, brushing a stray strand or two out of her eye as it became clear there was no danger, "let me know if you want me to instruct you more." A pretty smirk. "I'm fairly confident I can go longer than either of you."

"Hey, don't be so cocky!" Kyouko protested weakly, though she knew she wasn't in much position to disagree. "Geez, it's like you're a trained ninja or something. Don't you ever get tired?" Akuha smiled pleasantly at that, and Tsukune felt his stomach turn, but kept his tongue behind his teeth.

"I would say yes, but I wouldn't want to lie," she said.

"Yeah, well, don't worry. I'm gonna keep practicing and get stronger, believe me, and someday, we can do this again!"

This time Akuha hesitated. There was an unsettling tightness in her throat, and she fought to suppress it. Her eyes flickered to the ground and back, her smile cool and distant, before at last responding: "Yes. Someday, perhaps."

They finished early that day, and took their rest back home. Kyouko went back to her mother's the next day, giving Tsukune a great bear hug and wishing Akuha well, challenging her again to another match next time they met. "So make sure you come visit again, ok?" she said. Tsukune could not help but read the same distant look in Akuha's countenance as she bid farewell herself.

A couple of more long days dragged by, and, having no further encounters with or even sightings of Miyabi or his familiar, Tsukune struggled to manage his swelling anxiety. Eventually, his lower lip began to ache from the sheer amount he had chewed it. He did not avoid Akuha afterwards, but his spirits were wounded, and there was greater silence between them, such as had never been even when she had first abducted him. In the silence, he grew even more restless, his spirit as tense as a tripwire, waiting to be triggered. All hopes of taking enjoyment from his remaining time at home had been dashed, as his mind revolved ever around Miyabi's taunts and Moka's fate. If Akuha noticed any change in her usually outgoing companion, she made no mention of it; and if, in turn, his reticence fed her own apprehensions, he did not notice. She could only suspect that he was becoming aware of the reality, as she was, that they would soon be at odds with each other once more, any halcyon days they shared a distant memory in the face of war and fate. And always, Tsukune kept his eyes and ears open for the news he longed to receive; any day, surely, the witch would contact them in her own way, and he would burst forth like a bird from a cage.

As it turned out, that day had come at last.

It occurred just after breakfast. Tsukune had gone to wash up and prepare for the day, when the door to his bathroom was suddenly under violent attack, quaking as someone pounded on it, mumbling unintelligibly from the other side, twisting the doorknob with their other hand until Tsukune feared it might break. Dropping his toothbrush on the sink and wiping his mouth on his towel, he stretched for the door; opening it revealed Akuha, not yet dressed, a ferocious scowl completing her ensemble. Her lips were pressed painfully tight, it appeared, and she was flapping a hand at them angrily, noises emanating from her throat but unable to fly as words into the open. It took Tsukune all of a few seconds to guess what was going on. With a wildly pounding heart, he inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and asked: "I-is that Strega's silencing spell?"

Her angry growl confirmed his suspicion.

"That must be it, right? Her signal? She's telling us it's ready!" There was no other explanation. Well, she does have a sense of humor, that Strega. Recasting the spell she knew we would recognize. "Alright, then, we should get going immediately!" he exclaimed, his brain suddenly on overload. In a way, it was cathartic, to have the long awaited end to this homecoming finally arrive, and somehow restored to him a morsel of tranquility; after the anguish of these past few days, now was the time to move to action, to spread his wings once more and take flight from the cage. I'm coming, Moka! Just hang on!

Another squeal from Akuha drew his attention. "Oh, wait, what are we going to do about that? I can't say I know how to break a witch's curse."

Fortunately for her, the spell was set to expire upon acknowledgement of the message; this achieved, her mouth opened mid-growl with a sudden pop. "—swear I'm going to kill that old cro—Oh, hey, it's gone!"

The next half hour was a blur for Tsukune, as he prepared himself to depart. He had not taken anything from the airship to begin with, so there was no risk of forgetting anything important; for a moment, he had a mind to bring a spare set of clothes, at least, so he wouldn't be trapped in the same dress day after day, but then he remembered Akuha, and how she had surrendered that luxury to allow him to stay at home, and decided against it. That kindness may be relegated to history, but it still should be repaid, he thought.

Nobody else was home by this point, nor would they be back for hours, and for this, Tsukune was half relieved. Instead, he found some paper and scribbled out a quick note for them when they returned. As he leaned over the kitchen table, writing, Akuha stood to his back, finally garbed again in her usual black cloak, leaning against the mantle, arms folded against her breast. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the scratching of the pencil, and the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the sounds of neighbors passing outside the open window. She spoke quietly. "You don't mind leaving like this? Not waiting for them?"

"It's alright," he said, not looking up. "Maybe it's better this way. Saying goodbye like this, it would just be too painful."

Her voice was solemn. "You realize you might not…You don't know when you will have another chance?"

"…I will." A pause in the scribbling, and he made as if he was going to glance back at her, but he did not, and went back to the note. "I will."

She hummed in reply, breathing deeply. Little did he know, and she was not about to inform him of it, but she had discovered, to her great apprehension, that the prospect of bidding farewell to her hosts was scarily displeasing to her. Particularly the woman. She cursed her own lack of strength and confidence as the memories of her treatment by Kasumi flowed teasingly behind her eyes; the taste of her birthday lunch flickered dangerously upon her tongue, and her hands were hot and moist. The future loomed on the horizon, heavy with danger and doom fulfilled, and to imagine what might befall those who were swept up in the momentous tides of change…Ugh! What was this twinge pulsing just above her eye? And why did her hand sting terribly? This latter, at least, became clear to her, and she unclenched her fist, removing her nails from the skin. She stared at the boy's back from under the thin, furrowed brows. No, no time for such "might-be's." It should not be a problem, forgetting; she had spent the past many years with her heart a wall of steel, it should not provide a challenge to solder any small cracks she had incurred during the stay. If only the images of Kasumi's smiling kindness would cease their haunting…."Well, maybe it is for the best."

Tsukune was suddenly at her side, and ready to depart. His expression, in extremely rare fashion, was completely unreadable to her, someone who could always tell what an open book like him was thinking, from the very beginning. She had the very brief urge, as they walked out the door, to say: "You know, once it's all over…we don't have to rid the world of all of them. We can keep some as servants, maybe, if you would like," but it quickly passed; she could not form the words.

Tsukune, rather, spoke. "Let's go get her."

Her eyes widened as she glanced at him, and she paused for a moment. The dark eyes were set below that chestnut hair with a clarity of purpose that could have easily been her own. "Yeah." Then, as they went outside, lightly: "Hey, what was up with that story you told your mother about me?"

Kasumi and Koji arrived home later that day, and in no time at all realized the house was empty. The shock was minimal: Tsukune had told them one month, and though they had refrained from discussing it since, it was obvious they would be leaving any day now. Still, it was not easy.

"Koji, in here," Kasumi called from the kitchen. Koji followed, and saw his wife standing over the table, holding a small piece of paper in her hand, reading it over solemnly, letting loose a sigh when she had finished and handed it to her husband. "I wish they had known earlier. It would've been nice to see them off. Oh, and I wanted to thank Akuha again, and ask her to look after him." Her words trailed into silence. Koji, behind her, leaned in and pressed his lips gently to a moistened cheek, and she cradled his head on her shoulder.

"He'll be alright," he said softly. "He's a young man now, don't forget. Say, I have an idea. Maybe we should visit that school of his sometime? We could take Kyouko with us and surprise him. A little family reunion. What do you say?"

"Yes, that sounds nice," she nodded, smiling. "Only, we'll have to rely on her to get us there; come to think of it, I have no idea where that place is!" She laughed, and looked down again at the letter on the table.

—School called. The break's ending, and they need us to go help set things up for when all the students come back. We're catching the bus there. Sorry I couldn't stay longer, it was great being back. I'll see you guys next time.

Love, Tsukune

Oh, and could you give my best to Kyou-chan?—

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

To be continued…