Chapter 33

The One Left Behind

The final morning, Tsukune's bedroom was considerably more crowded that it had been during most of his stay at the Resting Place. Despite this, he slept undisturbed, ignorant of the four girls that had taken up positions across the room. For all that mattered, they were each alone with their thoughts, unable to do anything to influence their fates.

Moka was the most openly emotional of the four, still kneeling beside Tsukune's bed. She could feel the emptiness creeping up around her, but maintained the strength to keep it at bay. She was determined to make Tsukune realize her presence, even though she had been unable to touch him. Surely he would realize something was wrong when he woke up, and would start searching for her. She just had to have faith.

Beside her, Inner Moka watched herself with a mixture of sympathy and frustrated ire. Just like her other self, she had proven unable to do anything to wake Tsukune. Even though she had resisted the powers of the monster that had taken her other self, her body had been erased, leaving her disembodied and invisible, as a quick glance at a mirror had proven. She didn't know what it was that had done this to her, but she knew that it would be coming for Tsukune, and only her fury kept her anxious fear at bay.

The second shade watched the two vampires impassively. She had been in the room for a day and a half now, and had lapsed into silent observation, no longer able to muster the ability to care about anything that happened. The world around her had begun to fade into grey, but even that failed to matter to her. She could only feel a vague certainty that she would not remain there much longer, though she could not say where that certainty came from.

The other watched them all, though it knew not why. Its form had already faded away, but still it remained in this room; it had no reason to leave. Instead, it lingered about the bed, registering the events happening around it with all of the interest of the empty sky beyond the balcony door. Nothing else remained for it.

"Ah…"

Tsukune woke up, stretching and sitting up in his bed. He rubbed at his face, feeling the constant dull ache of the headache that had been plaguing him for the past few days; it seemed that not even sleep provided much of a reprieve any more. He would have to get that checked out, he scolded himself… in a few days, perhaps. It could wait till then.

With a smile, Tsukune stood from his bed and prepared to face his day, blissfully ignorant of the fact that it might be his last.

"Oh, I forgot to get groceries yesterday!" Tsukune stared mournfully into the nearly-empty cabinets. He didn't understand how he had run out of supplies so quickly; it hadn't been that long ago that he had gone shopping, and he had bought enough supplies to feed… "Ah," Tsukune grunted, rubbing at his throbbing head. "Oh, well." He shrugged; he could take a cab to town later and pick up some groceries. At the least, it would be a good way to fend off boredom.

Once more, Tsukune wondered what he had done to get exiled to this house, so distant from the school he attended. There had been some trouble with a bully, or something like that… Tsukune reached out to grip the table as a wave of dizziness gripped him, but he managed to ignore the sensation. Of course, bullies were a pretty common problem at Yokai Academy. Funny, that, Tsukune mused. It used different characters, but the name of his school had a lot in common with the word for 'monster.' Just as he had the day that he had first gone to the school, Tsukune wondered at that with a smile.

Yokai Academy did feel like the setting for a horror movie at times, but his classmates certainly weren't that monstrous. Well, except perhaps for upperclassman Gin, the pervert. There was nothing that unusual about Yukari, though she was a tad young for her grade. Her prodigal skill at classwork, however, proved that she deserved her place among them despite her age. And then there was the energetic Kokoa, an underclassman that had joined the newspaper club along with him and Gin and Yukari and… "Ugh." Kokoa wasn't that unusual either, save for her obsession with her sister-

"Sister?" Tsukune asked himself. "Who is her sister?"

"So… my little sister hates me." Despite the size of the enormous mace that Kokoa had swung at them, the silver-haired girl effortlessly shifted it out of the way to smile menacingly at the young vampire. Her crimson eyes alight with bloodthirsty humor, she tensed to unleash her fury on Kokoa, ready to answer the younger girl's demands. "Well, I don't care who you are… If you want to fight me, you'd better… learn your place!" She used the mace to swing herself forward, her leg arcing towards Kokoa, sending her younger sister flying back through the air-

Tsukune blinked, rubbing at the side of his head. "Must've been a dream or something," he mumbled, pushing away from the table. Kokoa had sisters, but they didn't attend the academy. There were… two other sisters, right? Shrugging, Tsukune made his way towards the stairs, his mind set on the bottle of headache medication, making a mental note to purchase more of it.

Something told him these headaches wouldn't be going away any time soon.

"If that is all, sir…"

"Ah, yes, thank you, Ruby. You may leave." The Headmaster of Yokai Academy kept the tense smile upon his lips as he watched the witch walk out of his office, nodding to her as she gave him one final concerned glance before closing the door. As soon as the room was sealed once more, he allowed the smile to fall, gazing down at the open folder he held. Its contents were far more limited than before: only a single bound stack of papers, the one on top bearing the name 'Tsukune Aono.' So, it had come to the end, then.

The Headmaster leaned back in his seat, once more questioning the course he had taken. It was regrettable that he had not thought of another means of handling the situation, but it was far too late to modify his plans. He would have to trust in the bonds between Tsukune and his friends, and in the knowledge that he had offered to Tsukune. If that failed… nothing could save them.

Still, he felt compelled to do something… anything. No amount of silent self-chiding could relieve that urge; he already owed Tsukune Aono and his friends more than he cared to admit, and he had forced this issue onto them without even giving them open warning. Still, acting hastily would only place more at risk-

No. At this point, it was fair to say that everything was already at risk, whether or not he acted. The Headmaster nodded to himself, deciding to act upon his instincts. He could, at the least, take care of one potential distraction. Now that he could be certain that the traitor would be, for the moment, away from the Resting Place, he could ensure that he would be unable to interfere with what would happen there, even though the Headmaster suspected that 'Sam's' interests were more likely to favor Tsukune in the coming conflict. Plus, it would keep another interested party occupied and away from the danger…

A moment later, answering the Headmaster's summons, the slim form of Zachariel stepped into the office, bowing deeply to his master as he approached the desk. "Sir, is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes," the Hell-King spoke, his dark smile the only indication of the relief he was feeling as he succumbed to his impulsive desires. "I have a mission for the others. I would like for you to send Michael, Gabriel, Uriel… and Raphael, just in case, out towards the Resting Place."

"Sir?" Zachariel's shock was apparent, but the Headmaster merely chuckled.

"They are to keep the traitor occupied and away from the house, but under no circumstances are they to approach it until the battle there has ended." Zack nodded, understanding gradually coming to him. If the others had been deployed earlier, they would have been far more likely to confront Thanatos. Now, they would be occupied solely with their former comrade, and would be unable to get involved with Tsukune's dilemma.

"I shall convey your orders to them immediately, sir." Zachariel bowed once more, but hesitated, doubt painted on his expression. "And, sir, if you would like, I could personally-"

"That won't be necessary," the Headmaster interrupted, shaking his head. "I need you here… just in case."

"As you command." Zachariel straightened, his face wiped blank of any emotion. "Anything else, sir?"

The Headmaster paused, bending forward over templed fingers. "Yes, there is one other thing." His smile grew in time with his fears. "Send Ms. Toujo back, will you? I believe I have another matter for her to attend to."

As the door closed once more, the Hell-King sat back in his seat, feeling cold fear trickle through his system as the exhilaration prodded his heart to race. It all came down to this final moment, he knew, and his actions only raised the stakes. Still, in the end, it would all be worth it, he hoped…

Or it would all be over.

"Let's see… I needed to pick up medicine, soy sauce, ramen…" Tsukune narrowed his eyes as he tried to concentrate on reciting the list of groceries that he had compiled earlier, the piece of paper bearing the full list waiting for him dutifully on the table where he had absent-mindedly left it. He excused himself for that negligence, however; the pain in his head had flared up when he had noticed the cookies and, strangely, lollipops stored in the freezer. At the least, he consoled himself, rubbing a temple, he wouldn't have to buy sweets for a while.

Striving to distract himself from his headache, Tsukune glanced around at the storefronts nearby. He hadn't spent much time in the town since he had arrived, but had made enough trips that this area of town was familiar. He had passed the public pool some time ago, where the chlorine scent had no doubt contributed to his malaise, and had made his way through a shopping district choked with couples. Now, however, he was beginning to feel better; this area was considerably more open. For example, he noted, just beyond a movie theater was a public park… Gritting his teeth against the flare of pain, Tsukune staggered to a stop. Catching his breath, he continued on, struggling to ignore the pain. He knew where he was now, even though he hadn't come through here since he and…

"I don't know if I'm going to make it if this keeps up," Tsukune muttered to himself, rubbing his skull roughly. Straightening with effort, he forced himself to keep on walking. It wasn't much further, he knew. Once he got to the store and bought the supplies he needed, he could catch a cab back to the Resting Place, and then he could rest. He could make it that far, he assured himself.

Everything would be alright.

"Hey, Hideki… do we know him?"

Blinking blearily as he lowered the beer can he had been tipping skyward, the thin man followed the path of his leader's pointing finger. He squinted for a moment, his eyes having trouble focusing, before he sharply elbowed the thick-set man slumped against the wall beside. "I don't know 'im, boss. Hey, Mitsugu, wake up! You know that guy?"

"Hunh? What?" The other man narrowed his eyes, scratching at the edge of his closely-trimmed hair. "No, I don't recognize him," he finally blurted as the boy that Hideki had indicated walked out of sight, closing his eyes with the full intention of dozing back off.

"Sorry, boss," Hideki apologized, shrugging. "Hey, maybe he looked different the last time we saw him; most people look different after we pound their faces in. Well, except for people like flatface here," he muttered, nudging the nearly-dozing Mitsugu, who responded with an offended "Hey!" "That could be the reason we don't recognize him!" Hideki chuckled, pleased with the notion.

"I don't know," Yoshiharu muttered, staring in the direction the young man had gone. Something about him had felt familiar… too familiar. Just seeing the guy had made his knuckles itch, and that annoyed him. Better to take care of things directly, rather than risk the image of the guy's face nagging at his memory for the rest of the day.

"Y'know, you're right, Hideki," the leader of the trio of thugs commented, smiling down at his beaming subordinate. "Maybe I would recognize him better after we pounded his face in. What do you say we give it a try?"

Hideki giggled, nudging the slumbering mass beside him. "Come on, Mitsugu," he ordered the blocky man, who slowly stirred back to life. "Let's go have some fun."

A moment later, the three thugs emerged from the alleyway, stalking their prey. At their head, Yoshiharu grinned as he flexed his fists. 'Sometimes, simple, familiar solutions are the best way to handle matters,' he reminded himself. 'And, anyways, there is nothing wrong with a little friendly conversation.'

"Punch him again!"

Tsukune coughed as another kick found his ribs, pressing him deeper into the alley. He curled tighter around himself as the voice called for another kick, and a fist slammed his head against the pavement; were he not getting beaten, he might have wondered if they were purposefully doing that to confuse him. It seemed more likely that the brick-wall-turned-human that was currently thrashing him didn't take instructions well. Either way, the last few minutes had been entirely too painful for his tastes, and he didn't even know why they had decided to do this to him. He had just been walking to the store, minding his own business, when he had felt hands grip his shoulders and force him into the alley. The violence had commenced immediately thereafter, and the shouted taunts had done little in the way of explanation since.

"Enough, Mitsugu, give me a turn!" shouted the wiry thug, who glanced at his leader for confirmation. At Yoshiharu's nod, the thin ruffian stepped up to Tsukune and pulled his foot back for a vicious kick.

"Hideki," came the quiet voice from nearby, and the thug's hesitation offered Tsukune a brief moment of reprieve. Hideki turned to face his leader, curious about the calm, dangerous smile on the other man's face. "You're forgetting something."

"What's that, boss?"

"The reason we're doing this." Tsukune tensed, straining his ears to hear the next words in the hopes of finding an explanation for what he was suffering. "Remember? I wanted to see what his face looked like after we beat him." Yoshiharu smiled serenely, pointing towards Tsukune's head. "How can I do that if you don't hit him there?"

"Oooh, you're right!" Hideki chuckled in self-deprecation, kneeling down beside Tsukune as the bulkier man reached down to hold their victim in place. "Sorry, pal. This might hurt a little." He pulled back his fist with an eager grin, and then unleashed the first of many punches to come.

Tsukune felt himself slipping away, closer and closer to unconsciousness, but something wouldn't let him sink into oblivion. There was something that kept him awake, kept his heart racing… something that hungered. He wanted… blood, pain, to hear their screams and their bones breaking and to see the light fading in their eyes-

"The truth is… he's already dead." The silver-haired girl walked towards him, cold resolution on her face. "I'm only sorry that he wasn't blessed with the better fate – true death. Instead of the undead life of a ghoul. He has nothing like a life now. No soul, no will. He lives only to serve his instinctive lust for blood and flesh." Her eyes closed as she resigned herself to what she must do. "If we leave him be, he'll be killing humans soon. You know that Tsukune would never have wanted that. And the one to blame for making him into this… is me."

Tsukune blinked as he came back to himself. Everything hurt… his stomach, his ribs, his face, his fists… He glanced down at his hands, surprised at the blood he found there. Had they cut his hands open? And when did he stand up? And why were they…

His eyes shot open wide as he stared at the three bodies draped across the ground. He immediately knelt beside one of them, checking at his neck for a pulse. To his relief, and slight surprise considering the battered condition of the thug's face, he found one. The same was true for the other two; they were all still alive, though they had been beaten beyond recognition.

Had… had he done this? Tsukune shivered, glancing around to see if he could find anyone to ask, anyone that could tell him what had happened. There was no one… he was alone. Added panic rushed in as he realized what would happen if someone found him like this. No, he had to get away; go somewhere to clean himself up, get what he needed and get back to the Resting Place. Then, maybe he could figure out what had happened…

Tsukune cast one final glance over the still bodies of the three thugs, and raced out of the alleyway, running away from questions he had no answers to.

"He started it."

"What the…! You lying sack of-"

"Chill, Sparky, no smoking in the car."

Michael sighed deeply as he fought not to listen to the bickering that had started the moment they had entered the car and had continued without pause ever since, his eyes focused on the road before them. At the least, he consoled himself, the squabbling pair were not sitting beside each other, even if that was what had led to this particular argument. If it hadn't been that, it would have been something else; he could not imagine what it must have been like when Gabriel and Uriel were partners, though it did raise the question of which he would have pitied more… if, back then, he could stand the company of either of them for more than just a few moments.

"Gentlemen, if you please, should we not be focusing on our surroundings? If our task is to seek out our lost brother before he interferes with the coming battle, we need to concentrate our efforts on detecting his presence. He could be anywhere in this forest, and it will be difficult to locate him before he reaches young Mr. Aono." The aged guardian sat with his fingers templed and his eyes staring blankly out the window, having considerably more luck than Michael at ignoring the fight between the other two guardians.

"Hey, Raphael, it ain't my fault Gabby stole shotgun," Uriel complained, the bald protector motioning towards the seat in front of him. "I called it, but that pompous lip-flapper hopped in pretty as you please!"

"My partner is driving, and the glint off your skull might distract him from the road," Gabriel pointed out haughtily. "I did it for the good of us all."

"I could have driven, y'know. I've just had one accident in the past… little bit, and I got my license back after-"

Uriel's words were interrupted by the screeching of tires, and the four guardians lurched around the car as the vehicle swung sideways, shuddering to a stop perpendicular to the direction it had been facing and half off of the pavement. For a silent moment the four sat in shocked silence, save for the driver, who was staring out into the wilderness just beyond the car. Gabriel was the first to speak, rubbing gingerly at his arched back.

"I think you dislocated my spine, Sparky," he moaned, wincing. "Ever heard of a seatbelt?"

"Imagine what it did to my face." Uriel groaned loudly from the backseat, rubbing his wounded nose with one hand as he straightened his sunglasses with the other. "Y'know, Mike, if you didn't already drive like a grandma I would offer you congratulations on finding the brake pedal. What gives, pal?" He glanced towards the driver's seat, noticing the way the dark-haired guardian was staring intently into the forest just beyond where they had stopped.

"He's here." With those words, Michael stabbed a finger into his safety belt's release button and threw open his door. The other three guardians exchanged glances before fumbling with their own doors and belts, hastily departing the car and searching the nearby area for any sign of the traitorous guardian. Uriel glanced over at Raphael, who shrugged helplessly, similarly unable to locate the impression that had alerted Michael. Gabriel, on the other hand, stepped beside his partner and glowered up at a nearby tree-covered hill, waiting for their opponent to emerge.

"My my, isn't this some reunion?" The voice from atop the rise drew the attention of other two guardians, and they joined Michael and Gabriel in watching as their enemy stepped to the edge of the rise and gazed down at them with a broad grin. "I hope you didn't come all this way for my sake. Wait, I know better; you came because you were ordered to. It's been so long, I've almost forgotten what it was like to live and breathe at the command of that batty old priest!" Sam laughed uproarishly, shaking his head in self-appreciative mirth. "You should try thinking for yourselves for once, it isn't that scary when you get used to it."

"'Specially when you only think about one thing," Gabriel snapped back. "Murder, killing, death; you never were the best conversationalist, but have you ever thought about taking up a hobby or something? I recommend tennis."

"We're here to stop you," Michael declared, reaching for his waist. "We know what you're planning, and we won't let you succeed." The guardian grasped the hilt of the sword that materialized at his side, and drew it forth, holding the blade out before him. "The Judgment," he spoke calmly, and the golden flames that erupted across its surface were reflected in the lenses of his sunglasses.

"You think you know what I'm planning? You don't have the slightest idea, you're too scared to look out from under your master's robes!" Sam shook his head bitterly, reaching up to pluck the sunglasses from his face. Tucking them carefully into one of his pockets, he lowered his hands to his belt, a smile seeping across his face as his anger dissolving into manic humor. "But, I'll humor you for a little while, at least. It's been too long since I've had a good fight, and the three of you should at least be a decent warm-up." He chuckled as Uriel shrugged apologetically at Raphael, who bowed and stepped back towards the car, waiting for his services to be needed. "But, there is just one problem…" He motioned, and a massive scabbard materialized at his left side, his hand resting just above the thorned crossguard. "Which sword should I use? Shall I go with the usual, or…" He motioned again, and another sheath appeared at his right side. Unlike its predecessor, this one did not hold a European sword; instead, the black-lacquered sheath was curved and thin, and the hilt and pommel immediately suggested a blade of oriental origin, likely a katana. "How about this one?"

"Son of a bitch." The cold snarl startled even the other protectors, save Michael, who nodded to his partner, understanding the naked fury on Gabriel's face. "You have no right to touch her sword."

"Why not? I killed her." Sam shrugged casually, but mock concern quickly appeared on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot about the twisted little love triangle you two and she had going on. Funny that I was the one that had to take care of her; seems the Hell-King didn't trust you two to do what he decided was needed."

"The Voice." These words gave Sam pause, and he watched as Gabriel drew the sword from his waist in a fluid motion. Gabriel held the short blade upright before him, the indented oval at the heart of its crossguard facing his opponent. The blond guardian smiled mirthlessly up at the traitor. "I'll be taking that sword back from you, then. After I kill you, that is."

"Well, what do you know, even Gabriel can get serious sometimes," Sam chuckled. He dismissed the katana with a wave, and reached over to take the hilt of the other sword. "I've never gotten the hang of her little gimmick anyways, so I guess I'll go with my own sword… shall we then, gentlemen?" He laughed eagerly, showing his teeth to the trio awaiting him at the base of the hill. "See if you can avenge her!"

And without giving them a chance to attack, he lunged down the hill, drawing his blade with a vicious howl.

"Ouch…"

Tsukune winced as he gingerly sat back on his bed, feeling the dull ache of the bruises the three thugs had left him. He hadn't expected to get into a fight, and couldn't even figure out why they had attacked him like that. It was probably just a random bout of aggression, he surrendered, shaking his head in disgust. Shame it didn't end well for them, he thought darkly, banishing the surge of fear he felt as he wondered what had happened to them while he had been unconscious.

He laid back, letting the softness of the bed comfort him as he closed his eyes. He had only grabbed a few necessities in the grocery store, deciding not to stay overlong after noticing how many people had been staring at him. Considering how roughed-up he had looked, he couldn't blame them, really. Still, that meant he would have to go back in a day or so; one more thing to take care of, though it wasn't like he really had all that much to worry about. Only keeping the house somewhat clean, and homework…

He opened one eye and glanced over at the stack of books and papers on his nightstand. Homework. It was getting late, and he hadn't even started. He was beginning to miss the days that he had tried to get all of his homework done every other day, back when he… A while back. He forced himself to sit up, reaching over for the folder on top of the stack. What should he work on first? He scanned the list of assignments. Ms. Nekonome's wouldn't take any time, but Ms. Ririko's math homework would be a pain-

"Sorry, Teach. I'm not your student." The silver-haired girl stood with leg raised vertically, the body of the snake-like woman flying away from the vicious kick. There was a cold haughtiness in the girl's crimson eyes, certainty stealing away even the slightest thrill of her victory. "But I could be your teacher, if you want… There's a lot I could teach you." She lowered her leg back to the ground, turning away as the lamia's limp form slammed into the opposite wall. "Learn your place!"

"Ah." Tsukune rubbed his forehead, the pain overcoming the quick flash of memory. Where had he seen that girl, anyways? In some sort of monster movie? And why had that snake monster looked like…

Maybe math could wait. He looked over at the stack of books, and he noticed the thin pamphlet sticking out from their midst. 'Oh, the Headmaster's assignment,' he mused, reaching out to pull it from the stack. 'Might as well read the poem he told me to finish, since I didn't do it yesterday.'

A moment later, after searching his memory for the title of the specific poem he had been pointed towards, he found the selection in question. He frowned as he scanned over the first stanza; just like the few he had skimmed over the previous day, it didn't look to be particularly well-written. Still, he admitted with a shrug, the Headmaster expected him to read it… better to go along with the old man's wishes.

The Death of Death

It is a bitter irony,

That pride comes before a fall.

So rise the mighty, even as they forget

The same fate comes to all.

.

So brought the four to the glade

All their glory brought to waste.

In their wounded suffering

Savoring defeat's unfamiliar taste.

.

"For this, they will bleed,"

Snarled the first, screaming out his burning rage.

"I will have their heads on pikes,

Their pain writ in blood on history's page."

.

He was the thought the mightiest,

The wrathful champion, the Warlord in Red.

Once, though not on this day,

His mere sight sent mortals scurrying in dread.

.

"Let them have their shallow victory,

'Twill make our return all the grander.

Then we shall claim all they have,

And make them suffer for their slander."

.

So spoke the Hungering Queen,

She of the withering touch.

Mistress of consuming ambition,

Self-important right to claim too much.

.

"But how? We are defeated, our armies lost,"

Muttered the third, the Coward under his crown.

"We are alone, our powers weakened,

A prize for the army resting in the town."

.

"Let them come," declared their lord,

Silencing their words with his imperious smile.

"They are all but broken, deprived of resolve

And we will regain our forces in a short while."

.

The three quickly bowed their head to him,

Irrecoverably bound to his dark will

For he was the Shadow Lord, the Black Prince,

Timelord's son, He of the Eternal Kill.

.

"We are only slowed, not defeated,"

Smirking, yet still clutching his bloody gash

The Prince, still holding his invincible arrogance

Fully intended to turn the 'victors' to the lash.

.

"Come, my generals, rise to my side.

There is one thing left to be done to ensure our win.

Aid me in this ritual, overcome our flaw,

And we shall bring them to task for their sin."

.

But it was not to be, for treachery awaited

And so, when in the ritual the Prince's attention wandered

The two sprang their trap, severed his bonds

They would not allow the opportunity to be squandered.

.

The ritual was undone, their accord shattered

The Prince lay still, soul forever lost.

The Coward fled, the others cheered

They had gained their freedom, whatever the cost.

.

Heed well this grim lesson, betrayal's recording

Though these deeds be lost in history's fog.

Learn well, all you who would seek above your life

The price that awaits those who would be a god.

.

He was thought to be invincible,

For the Prince is Death.

And so none could have seen,

The prince's death.

"Well, that was… interesting," Tsukune mumbled, casually tossing the thin book aside. One assignment down, at least; he just hoped there wouldn't be a test over that. Poetry wasn't so much his thing anyways; he preferred manga, or short stories, like the ones that… Tsukune grunted, another spike of pain penetrating his skull. Well, maybe homework could wait. Where had he left that headache medicine? How much had he taken today?

Tsukune stood up, reaching over to the nightstand for the pill bottle – empty. Where had he left the new bottle? Fighting to gather his thoughts, Tsukune stood and made his way into the hallway. It was probably downstairs, he assured himself.

As he walked towards the stairs, he marveled once more at the size of the house he had been assigned to live in. It was huge, with several unused bedrooms; he had taken the largest simply because there was no one else to claim it. He felt a sudden curiosity as to what the other rooms looked like; he had not glanced inside, as far as he could remember. With that in mind, he walked past the stairs and opened up the first door he came to.

To his surprise, he found that it was decorated, as if someone had been staying there. Judging from the decorations, the last person to use the room had been a girl; she had even left the closet open, and he could see clothes hanging inside. It was all rather strange… especially the studded leather whip that was coiled upon the floor. He blushed at that, not allowing himself to think about what that might have been intended for-

"I see… You used this so you could train your youkai power. But didn't you want to avoid becoming a monster, Tsukune?" The silver-haired girl inspected the whip in her hand closely, her eyes flicking up to watch him.

"Th… That's, I'm…"

"I don't feel that you need to become stronger. Whatever you do, it's because my blood is flowing through you."

"Eh?"

"More importantly, since you got results so quickly… this should be fine." She whirled the whip around herself as she stared into his eyes, measuring his reaction. "Would you like to practice against me directly?"

Tsukune grunted, reaching out to press his hand against the wall to steady himself. Who was that girl he kept seeing? Were those memories? Why did he feel that he knew that silver-haired girl, even though he couldn't conjure up a name no matter how hard he tried. Why did it feel like she was someone very, very important to him?

What was wrong with him?

Tsukune noticed a mirror nearby, and pushed over to it to look at himself. He winced as he noticed how pale he looked, the sweat that was beaded on his forehead. It was rather disappointing to find that he looked pretty close to how he felt, considering his condition; if anyone saw him, they'd either call for an ambulance or a coroner. He leaned closer to the mirror to inspect his wounds from the fight earlier, squinting against the room's dim light- had it gotten dimmer, or was he just that tired?

He froze in place as his reflection disappeared, replaced by that of the silver-haired girl that had been appearing to him all throughout the day. He stared into her crimson eyes, the pain in his head beyond description, grasping at the single word that had been evading him all day and refusing to let go. He tugged at the buried memory, pulling it out despite the anguish he felt… "Moka?"

The face in the mirror changed expressions, her face twisting in terror. Her lips mouthed something as the chill settled over him, but what was she saying? It looked like… "LOOK OUT!" Tsukune blinked as the reflection vanished, revealing the darkness behind him. And, amidst the shadows, a skull-mask with empty eyes…

"Tsukune Aono."

Author's Note: The end. Heh heh heh, I never get tired of that joke. Of course, I suppose it says something about my writing style… I like pushing things to the very edge before things get really interesting. So it was, in my opinion, with Out of Nightmares; for example, the last time I claimed "The end" like that was just before the, again in my not-always-humble opinion, action-packed heroic rescue sequences. So, does this mean that the next chapter will be the beginning of the real action? I shall leave that to your deductions, eh?

….And, with that said, please forgive me if said chapter runs late, largely because of the massive-amounts of action/fight scenes that I'm not supposed to admit to yet. Also, I have company coming, and that usually puts a cramp on my writing, as we end up watching an anime series or two during the time he is staying with us, which is bad for my focus (I put extra commas in that sentence just for him, just in case he is reading; Comma King, indeed!). So, yes, I shall aim for Wednesday, but claim Thursday in order to avoid disappointing anyone.

Like, ah, this week. Mea culpa; as I noted in my delay notice, Memorial Day weekend is a bad one for me. I have never been overly fond of the practice of grave decorating/cleaning, especially since, in one case, it involves me putting my life at risk (Let me put it this way: a family feud involving high-powered rifles, an old graveyard off the backroad in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, and a road that runs next to it and likely leads to pot fields. 'nuf said?). I view it as a responsibility, but it never fails to leave me in a grim mood, which I gather is considerably different from the solemn-yet-comforting family gatherings that many of my fellows in the area enjoy. So, yes, I apologize for the lack of warning; should I still be doing this next year, and you still reading, expect lateness around Memorial Day.

Of course, I won't be writing this story then. No, I think I am safe from the ~50 chapter pinnacle I was dreading; 40 is more likely, or even less. It just depends on how much I cram into the next chapter (as noted previously, it will likely be quite large). Personally, I'm guessing 36/37 with epilogue, but don't hold me to that. So, yes, no chapters of Into Dreams next year. The sequels, on the other hand… Heh, soon I'll release the title, at least, for the next story in the sequence. The story blurb will have to wait until the final chapter.

On that subject, I will go ahead and get some bad news out of the way. I will probably take a week off, or maybe two or three, after the epilogue of this tale is released. I'll need a bit of a cooldown, especially since I've been averaging over a chapter a week since October, and I will need to focus on outlining the smaller events that will be taking place in this story's successor. I doubt I will stop writing, however; part of this whole grand endeavor is my intention to get myself accustomed to writing constantly. So, yes, this tale should be finished in July, and For Better or Worse should begin in August. (Heh, I said soon, didn't I? I guess now I won't have to spoil the titles of the rest of my stories, since it should be pretty easy to deduce.)

Wow… I'm getting a tad rambly in this note. Hrm, perhaps it comes from the fact that I just wrote an entire chapter in a period of four or five hours… yes, that must be it. There can be only one cure… first, to thank you all for reading and reviewing, and then to the editing, then posting…

And then sleep.

~Wynn Pendragon

P.S.: On that topic, The Layman noted in a review last time that I "sure do like sleep." I respond by saying that yes, I am quite fond of it. Of course, to elaborate, a fisherman likes water. So does the dehydrated victim of a desert's heat. Guess which category I shoehorn myself into? ^_^;

P.P.S.: Hasty stanza break fix in the poem; will work on getting FFN's bloody stubborn line break function to cooperate when I regain consciousness.