Tsukune stepped off of the bus, and with a sigh ran a hand through his black hair. It was a strange feeling, to have his hair shorter than it had been in years. He also doubted he'd be used to having black hair again anytime soon. To him, the colour and cut of it was emblematic of those halcyon days before he was turned into a vampire. Nevertheless, he had been told that he needed to hide his vampiric form at Yokai Academy, and his usual ensemble of relatively long silver hair and blood-red cat's eyes was kind of a dead giveaway. He adjusted the school uniform for about the eighth time since he had donned it that morning; he was more used to clothing in which he could move around with little difficulty, but the rules were the rules.

He was about to move towards the school until he detected a yoki signature coming right at him. With deft timing, he stepped away as the girl on the bicycle rode past. She had long pink hair, and he thought he had caught green eyes. On the bright side, he avoided beginning his day with misfortune; on the other hand, however, he didn't know how long he could take it if this whole mission consisted of him dodging one instance of misfortune after another. He took solace in the fact that Mizore was attending the school as well-although she had gotten here the previous day, a day on which Tsukune was to have his last mission with his master, and so he and his only friend couldn't exactly walk up to the school hand-in-hand, as much as Tsukune might have wanted to. He picked up his briefcase-which was a parting gift from his master-sighed, and began the walk to Yokai Academy's main building.

As soon as he walked in for the commencement speech by the Chairman, Tsukune felt eyes upon him-there was someone trying to read his yoki, and he would have bet his life on the offender being the Chairman. Granted, that was mostly because his master had warned him about the Chairman-Mikogami Tenmei, his master had said the Chairman's name was, and that he was one of the Three Dark Lords-but he knew to be wary of the bound kishin on a purely instinctual level. He scanned the room to find where Mizore was, but when his third eye turned up nothing, he guessed that she was either concealing her yoki-which was a trick his master had taught both of them-or just wasn't amongst the students. He didn't worry, though, because he knew that Mizore could handle herself.

Besides being watched with an inhuman intensity by the Exorcist, the beginning of the day was relatively boring. Had he been back in the yuki-onna village, he would already be in the forests practising at this hour, but such was the occupational hazard inherent to infiltration: one's own schedule was suborned by the need to follow the routine presented by the target. He felt a strange itching sensation on his right forearm-which, if he wasn't mistaken, meant that Nemo hungered to taste the dying kishin's blood and devour his soul-but that was about it. There was a lot of tension in the chamber where he and the other first-year students listened to the Exorcist go on and on, but little else.

Relieved, but somewhat disappointed that his first solo mission was theretofore boring and uneventful, Tsukune carried his briefcase over his shoulder as he walked to his homeroom, and just as he was beginning to wonder where Mizore actually was, she appeared at his side, grasping his arm and staying close by his side. Had this been but a few years ago, this would have made Tsukune flush, but as it stood, by this point, Tsukune and Mizore had lived together for four years, and for two of those years, it had been as lovers. Mizore's grasp on Tsukune's arm wasn't a gesture of fear or shyness, then, but possessiveness.

"And what were you up to?" Tsukune asked with amusement in his tone.

"Taking a tour around campus," she replied.

"But no-one was there to show you around. All the other students were in the gymnasium listening to the Chairman's speech," Tsukune returned.

"It was a…self-guided tour," she amended. Tsukune chuckled a bit at his lover's antics.

Interestingly, Tsukune and Mizore were in the same homeroom, and so, knowing that Mizore would want the window seat, he pulled out a chair for her at the back of the room, and sat himself down beside her. In a few moments, Tsukune sensed the approaching yoki of someone who could only be the homeroom teacher.

Tsukune watched as several seconds later, the door opened and a nekomusume in human form walked in. He only half-listened as she introduced herself as Nekonome Shizuka and then proceeded to talk about the purpose of the school.

"Why don't we just eat all the humans?" asked a male Ayashi near the front of the room. Tsukune could tell from the fact that his aura seemed baser, more animalistic than a purebred yokai, which was a common trait amongst Ayashi-though the level of that kind of primitive yoki often determined what kind and generation of Ayashi they were. This one Tsukune could already tell was far more brawny than he was intelligent. "And in the case of the pretty girls amongst them, molest them?"

"Sextus Tarquinius," Tsukune muttered, but not quietly enough.

"What'd you say?!" the Ayashi bellowed.

"Sextus Tarquinius was the name of the last yokai who thought that way," Tsukune said, but he didn't bother to elaborate further, because at that moment, something else drew his attention after a bit-an approaching source of yoki that seemed somehow quite familiar. Within minutes, the door opened again to admit the pink-haired girl from before, who had nearly crashed into him with her bike.

There was something off about her-she gave off yoki in the approximate range of a vampire, and yet had no demonic aura. He looked closer and saw what was around her neck-a rosario. "Sorry I'm late," she said breathlessly. "I had to talk to the Chairman."

"Oh, that's fine. Just take any open seat," Nekonome-sensei said, before getting back to her 'welcome to school' speech.

Upon getting to his dorm, he looked around and sighed to himself. "Well, I've seen-and lived in-worse," he said to no-one in particular, and just got down to business, opening the briefcase he carried with him. The briefcase that his master gave him was special, in that it was bigger on the inside than its profile would suggest. Not willing to risk discovery in case the rooms were bugged-his master had made clear that where the Exorcist was involved, it was better to be paranoid than dead, after all-he simply took his clothes and put them in their proper place. He took his favourite books and put them on the room's shelf, and organised what he'd need. But he didn't remove the false bottom to the briefcase-the compartment that held his 'work clothes'-and instead set about organising the room to his satisfaction.

Once he was done with the room, he returned himself to his vampire form-the humanoid one, at least-and then walked to the far wall, up it, and into the centre of the ceiling. There, he sat, closed his eyes, controlled his breathing, and began slipping into a meditative state.

That meditative state escaped him, however, as he sensed two yoki signatures outside the window of his dorm, and both heard and sensed the distress coming off of one of the two. He could even tell who they were-it was that brunet brute from Homeroom and that pink-haired ditz from earlier. Tsukune sighed in irritation and decided that if he wanted to be able to meditate anytime soon, he would have to deal with the attempted rape in progress. To that end, he dropped to the ground and went over to his window to peer out at the situation.

Luckily, the tree that the pinkette had her back against cast a sufficiently dark shadow for him to shadow-walk there. Picking one of the deeper shadows in his room at random, he walked into it-

-and out at the other side of the tree, which just so happened to put him directly behind the brunet brute.

"So, I see you've taken my side-note about Sextus Tarquinius a bit…literally," Tsukune said drily. "Unfortunately for you, you have interrupted my meditations, and so I would like you to leave."

The brute ignored him, but when Tsukune grabbed the arm with which he was about to continue his violation of the pinkette, the brute looked over his shoulder and tried to fix him with an intimidating glare. It was unfortunate for him, though, that the one attempting to stop him had seen far deadlier glares, and so was largely unaffected by the brute's attempt. "I really must insist that you cease," Tsukune said politely.

"Fuck off!" the brute said, trying to tear his arm out of the grip that held it there, but the grip was like iron, and the brunet began to wonder if taunting him was a good idea.

To put it concisely, it wasn't.

The brunet shouted in pain as he clutched the bloody stump that had been where his arm had been connected to his body. "I did warn you. Incidentally, what's your name?"

"S…Saizo…" the brute spat. "Komiya Saizo."

"Saizo," Tsukune repeated. He kept his face calm, burying his irritation in an imitation of his master's often disinterested looks that terrified and intimidated the people around him. "It fits you. Listen, Saizo-bo. I really don't want to have to kill you over this, if for no other reason than the fact that I could be doing literally anything else instead of wasting the time necessary to beat you into a pulp. So why don't you just run along and find a knife to castrate yourself with, or whatever you third-rate Ayashi do in your spare time."

"You won't get away with this…" Saizo hissed. "You're dead! Do you hear me?! Dead!"

"Okay, so I'm going to do the both of us a favour and skip over the whole 'better men have tried' bit in favour of saying that I look forward to your failure, Saizo-bo," Tsukune said conversationally. Saizo turned to walk away, and was in fact several metres away from them when Tsukune once again noticed the weight in his hand. Oh, right! He had ripped that off, hadn't he? "Here. Let me give you a hand!" he cried out, throwing the detached arm at Saizo, the momentum of which threw Saizo off-balance and faceplanting into the dirt. Tsukune then turned his attention to the pinkette, who was looking at him with an expression of absolute gratitude. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced," he said politely, holding out his hand in greeting. "Aono Tsukune."

"A-Akashiya Moka…" she stuttered. She looked up into his eyes when his entire body tensed up.

"Akashiya…Moka?" asked Tsukune, as if he had just been informed that Zimbabwe had started a nuclear war with Spain. "As in the only daughter of the Akasha Bloodriver-sama?"

She blushed. "Yeah… But how did you know…?"

"I spent more than five seconds in a room with Akua-nee," Tsukune deadpanned.

"A-Akua?" Moka asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes. Shuzen Akua. The one and only." Tsukune sighed. "And I just let someone who tried to molest you walk away alive. I'm going to be hearing about that one later…"

"That was a very kind thing you did regardless," Moka said. "I…thank you."

"You're very welcome," said Tsukune, bowing. "If you ever find yourself in need of allies or friends, just ask. I'm sure Mizore will be happy to help out as well."

Moka's cheeks flushed anew, and she began to stutter, but Tsukune took it all in stride and walked back to his room, hoping that he could get a good, solid hour of meditation in before anything else interrupted him.

Dinner took place in Mizore's room, with Tsukune preparing the food. It had been one of the things that Akua, of all people, thought it important that he learned-the ability to cook. After half an hour of playful banter between the two of them, dinner was ready and served. Mizore, as unfortunately perceptive as ever, asked him point-blank, "How was your day?"

Tsukune grimaced. "Tumultuous. My meditation was interrupted because I had to deal with an attempted rape right outside my window, and then found out that the victim was actually Akashiya Moka."

"Akasha Bloodriver's daughter?"

"The same," Tsukune replied. "Itadakimasu!"

"Itadakimasu," Mizore said as well before continuing. "Is she okay?"

"Would I be here eating with you if she wasn't?" Tsukune rejoined. "I don't care where Akua-nee is or what she was doing. If I let Moka get hurt, she will look for me, she will find me, and she will kill me."

Mizore giggled a bit.

"How is it?" asked Tsukune. "The food, I mean."

"Delicious, as always," Mizore said. Then she suddenly looked down.

Tsukune paused. "Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"N-no… It's just…" Mizore cleared her throat before she continued. "It's been a week…"

Tsukune's eyes widened. "O-oh, you mean, since we…"

"Yes," said Mizore.

"You know, Mizore, if you don't want to do it while we're at school, I can just go get a blood bag from the school nurse's office…" Tsukune trailed off as Mizore looked at him with steel in her eyes.

"No," she said. "I'm the only one you're allowed to take blood from." With that, she tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck.

"I-if you're certain," said Tsukune carefully, slowly coming over to her side of the table.

Impatience seized Mizore, and she took Tsukune's head in her hands and pressed it into the crook of her neck. Tsukune resisted for a moment, but she was right in that it had been a week since last he fed on her, and she did seem to enjoy it, and so he simply gave into his baser instincts, letting his fangs elongate and puncture her neck.

As Tsukune drank from her and Mizore felt her life-blood leave her, she also felt the familiar euphoric sensation radiate throughout her body as she simply enjoyed the thought of being so close to her only friend-the man she loved. When Tsukune pulled away, blood dripping from his fangs and the corner of his mouth, she took two fingers and wiped away some of the blood, and then stuck her blood-soaked fingers into her mouth to taste herself.

The taste was salty and metallic, but she watched as Tsukune's eyes went wide and began to turn red at the sight, and that gave her all the satisfaction she needed from the incredibly intimate act. She pulled Tsukune's head closer to her own, and their lips met in a kiss.

Hours later, Mizore woke in the dead of night to Tsukune leaving her bed. She knew that he would have to do that while they were at school-he needed to get back to his own dorm, of course-but she hadn't anticipated how much it hurt to have happen. She knew she would miss awakening to him in her arms in the early hours of the morning, his usually stiff and masklike expression of neutrality softened into that of a young boy who had had a great deal of power shoved into him very quickly-who had never before her known the tender touch of one who loved him even nearly as much as she did. She loved watching him sleep, as it was the only time he seemed to be truly at peace. As far as she saw it, she had two options. Luckily, the mail order form said 'three to five business days', and so with any luck, she wouldn't have to resort to Plan B. She didn't like Plan B very much.

Tsukune barely paid attention as Nekonome-sensei droned on and on about the human world-his master had taught him all he needed to know about the world of humans and the world that yokai inhabited, every disagreement and every bloody, senseless war that ensued. Even so, he was absorbing the information-just not paying active attention. He wondered at Moka, sitting in front of him and to his right, and wondered at how much the pink-haired girl reminded him of the paintings his master didn't know he had seen. He supposed that if she was Akasha Bloodriver's daughter, then that explained who was in the paintings, but by the same token, even as family resemblance went, Akashiya Moka looked unnaturally similar to the many depictions he had seen of her mother.

Saizo was absent, which at least made Tsukune exhale and relax into thinking that the second day would at least be nowhere near the first day in terms of the level and number of little annoyances that would build up until he just needed to get away and meditate for a few hours. When the work began, he had no problem completing it-his master made sure to keep him a few years' curriculum ahead of where he would have been were he still human-which allowed him to make short work of it and still have enough attention to other things that he was not immediately pulled out of his reverie.

For Moka's part, she could not resist sneaking glances at her saviour from the previous day. His black hair was done in a fashionable style, and every so often some of the sable locks would come down to cover up one of his brown eyes. Their gaze was ceaseless and direct, and more than a little cold at times, but Moka still felt herself being drawn in by them, almost against her will. There was a certain…power in his gaze, and his every step was sure, confident, indicative of a violent past. Her inner self characterised it as the gaze and step of a trained soldier in her analysis of his carriage. Sitting next to him was a rather attractive girl with purple hair and what looked like a lollipop in her mouth, and every time his gaze slipped to her, all the coldness and the formality in his eyes melted away into an expression of warmth, fondness-maybe even love.

I am assuming the girl is the 'Mizore' we were told to ask for help if we needed allies, her inner self said. Yuki-onna by the feel of her yoki.

Then what is Tsukune? Outer Moka asked Inner Moka.

Vampire of some sort, clearly… More than that, I cannot say. It is like there is a veil that is confusing my abilities around him. My advice would be to tread carefully.

But he saved us…!

One good deed does not make him any less potentially dangerous. Caution is the wisest course.

Outer Moka sighed; her inner self could be so very paranoid sometimes…

As for Mizore, she was jubilant to have Tsukune with her, but was for once happy that his attention was directed elsewhere; it would be awkward to explain why she was finalising the plans for the placement of hidden cameras in a floor plan that looked remarkably similar to Tsukune's own.

"...And as practise for coexisting with humans, you are all going to be required to join a club for club activities!" Nekonome-sensei announced.

All three of the distracted teenagers whipped their heads around in a unified "What?!"

"Yes! There's a club fair later today!" the nekomusume said joyously.

It should be mentioned that as of a few months prior, Tsukune had shown himself to be prone to developing migraines when caught in high-stress, low-danger scenarios. This was one such scenario.

A few hours later, the part of the day that Tsukune had come to dread the most was upon them. He had planned on meditating on the ceiling for a few hours, doing the pittance of paperwork that had been assigned as homework, then going over to Mizore's room and having dinner with her in the surprisingly intimate space that was her dormitory. Having to pick a club not only resurrected his headache problem but also disrupted those plans, which, in turn, vexed him to a great degree.

Tsukune was a vampire, and so the swimming club was not an option-even though he half-remembered that he had been quite the little swimmer during his human days. Not to mention, he was not the kind of person to be taken in by scantily-clad high-school girls in swimsuits, especially since his third eye alerted him to the fact that they were mermaids in disguise, and Tsukune was in no hurry to be devoured by the famously-carnivorous yokai.

The next was represented by someone who was hitting on Moka; his self-preservation instinct flared up, and he went forth to disengage the pink-haired vampire from the rather amorous man's-werewolf's, he corrected himself-attentions. "Aono Tsukune," he said by way of rather abrupt introduction, holding out his hand.

"Morioka Ginei, though most of my friends call me Gin," he said, shaking hands.

"Oh! I see you already met Gin!" called Nekonome-sensei. "Gin here is a sophomore, and the president of the Newspaper Club, for which I am the advisor."

"Ah, a journalist?" asked Tsukune, cocking a brow. "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes, and all that?"

"I have to confess, I'm more of a Voltaire sort of guy than I am a fan of Iuvenal," Gin countered. Tsukune felt his respect for the werewolf grow-now if only he weren't so forward with his…actually, what was Moka to him? Half-sister? Probably, yeah…half-sister, then.

"You know what? Sure. Sign us up," Tsukune said. Then, to Mizore, he said, "Only if you want to, of course."

"Well, I did always kind of want to be an investigative journalist," Mizore confessed. "So if you want to join the Newspaper Club, I will, too."

"Okay," said Tsukune. "Moka, do you want to join, too?" Akua-nee would probably appreciate him looking after her other sibling-and, if the relationship that had existed between his master and Moka's mother was anything like it seemed to be, probably his stepsister as well.

"...If you want to, sure," said Moka quite cautiously. Tsukune sensed tension radiating off of her.

"Only if your inner self approves, of course," Tsukune assured her.

Moka looked at him with wide eyes. "How did you…?"

"The rosario," Tsukune said. He then held up his left arm and rolled up his sleeve, showing the chain of the Holy Lock he wore at all times. "I'm quite familiar with different bindings-what they are and what they can do-so you can call it a very educated guess."

"Oh…well…" she said, looking down at the rosario. "She says yes, too."
"Excellent," Tsukune replied. "Put all three of us down for the Newspaper Club, then."

Gin nodded, his once-lecherous eyes now filled with and exuding nothing but the utmost in professionalism. "Welcome aboard," he said.

It was at that moment that Tsukune knew things were about to get very complicated.

It wasn't that Tsukune hadn't known she was there, but rather that there was only one girl who drew his honest and most heartfelt attention, and she wasn't her. But now he sensed her yoki signature coming directly, purposefully down the corridor. Tsukune looked up reluctantly.

Kurono Kurumu wasn't the sort of person who made herself easy to ignore. From the way she flaunted her rather large breasts and well-proportioned physique, it seemed as though she knew and took for granted that she looked like a horny, hormonal teenaged boy's wet dream. But even though Tsukune had to acknowledge her physical beauty, she did not even cause him to look twice at her-in part because his third eye immediately set off his mental klaxons when he realised she was a succubus, and in part because his feelings towards the yuki-onna who wrapped herself around his marked right arm were so intense that he felt no inclination to look elsewhere. But now he couldn't ignore her, because she was stalking down the hallway looking very much like she was on a warpath, her harem of useless males following her and worshipping the ground she walked upon-the sad part was that Tsukune sensed she was only using her allure to ensnare anywhere between a quarter and a third of them; the rest were just naturally willing to be her slaves. Tsukune, who agreed with his master that there was no sight more sickening than a creature that allowed itself to be utterly consumed by its appetites, found their almost canine subservience nothing less than absolutely revolting-and that was knowing what he did about succubi, which allowed him to see that this was simply naivete on Kurumu's part, not motivated by a will to dominate or control, the presence of which would have heated his Holy Lock to the point where it scalded and branded his skin.

All the same, when he felt her begin to use her allure on him, he used his third eye to neutralise it and its enslaving effects. One of the benefits of his Holy Lock was that it allowed him to violently sunder any time of mind control used on him-but that was for emergencies only. One did not call upon the power of the Knight of Swords lightly. That, and to unveil such an ability this early on would defeat the purpose of having such a trump card secreted away, quite literally up his sleeve. Kurumu scowled. "Which club is this?" she asked, stopping before Gin.

The werewolf gave her a lecherous grin, but whatever had gotten her this irate had to have been quite intense, for she didn't seem to even notice, her usually bubbly voice-an affectation, most likely-curt and clipped and cold. Before he could begin to tell her, though, she looked at the register and added her name. Tsukune sincerely hoped that it wasn't anything he did that had vexed her so, if only because he absolutely hated tangling with illusionists. True, his third eye allowed him to see through the lower-level illusions that the average practitioner of the Mesmeric Arts had at their disposal, but natural-born illusionists like succubi who held any degree of proficiency in the art could render the ability of a vampire to use their third eye to ascertain the truth of the situation entirely inert, and that was a coin he really, really didn't feel like flipping.

Gin, however, was the only person who seemed to be in a good mood despite the cold war raging right in front of him, and he was in this good mood for two reasons: the first being that the Newspaper Club had received such an influx of new blood, and the second being that at least the group dynamic was going to make the new school year interesting, if nothing else. Hell, Gin was already debating the merits and demerits of starting a betting pool, winner-take-all, on the subject of how long it would take for the new tensions in the Newspaper Club to erupt into an all-out bloodbath.

Akashiya Moka slipped from behind the building to in the bushes, and then from the bushes between the trees, which was the best vantage point she could find that would not be instantaneously compromised by either participant looking up. She held her rosario in the palm of her hand for luck; she knew she couldn't remove it by herself, but holding it reminded her that no matter how alone, or in this case, out of her depth she was, her inner self would be right there with her. Of course, her inner self was of the opinion that her current course of action could in no way be interpreted as her 'treading carefully,' but aside from that, she felt justified in her choice to spy-no, no, conduct reconnaissance-on the couple that had offered her their help the day before.

The pair were attired in loose-fitting clothes-clothes easy to manoeuvre in, her inner self remarked-as they stretched in the forest clearing. Tsukune wore a pair of hakama, but nothing else. There were strange markings on his right forearm, but what immediately caught her gaze was the musculature of his back. Truly, his school uniform did not do justice to how lean and compact with muscle fibres his body was. The mark of a warrior, her inner self noted. Moka turned her gaze from Tsukune to his opponent, whose choice in attire was baggy and inexpensive on the whole, and Moka could not shake the feeling that she dressed like that when not in school.

No sooner did Moka take this all in than did Mizore's hair become made of ice, her hands enlarging to great claws of ice. Her true form, Inner Moka whispered. In contrast, Tsukune remained precisely as he was. Could it be that he's…human? Inner Moka asked for a second. No, it can't be. Normal humans don't go around wearing Holy Locks. They're hardly a fashion statement. And not to mention, look at his forearm. A human wouldn't be able to get a mark like that and be likely to survive the experience…

The area's temperature plummeted, and there came from the trees a number icy figures that moved in a fashion rather disturbingly similar to that of a marionnette. Tsukune, however, took a ready stance that Moka had never seen before. It looked as though he was readying himself to leap into the trees-his centre of mass was low, his legs coiled, and he seemed ready to ascend. In a moment, he was no longer on the ground, and a line of bright blue fire cut off the ice puppets' advance. The flame springing to life almost made Moka jump. Don't get any closer. That fire could be anywhere between 1,995 and 3,000 degrees Celsius-that's enough to melt steel to a liquid.

Outer Moka nodded, glad that at least one of them had gleaned something useful from the many chemistry classes she had had over the years, and continued watching. As soon as she did, a great fork of lightning descended from the heavens and destroyed the ice puppets. Trying a different tactic, Mizore began throwing knives made from ice, but that seemed to halt at a certain point in the sky. Moka followed their path, and surely, there Tsukune was, standing perfectly balanced upon the end of a tree branch. His hand was held out to the knives of ice, and once they had stilled, they shattered and were fired back at their sender. Mizore leapt backwards to avoid them, and instead sent a much larger ice knife into the base of the tree Tsukune was fighting from. The great, centuries-old tree's trunk was cracked in the centre, and Mizore seemed to use it to rip the tree right down the centre, but there was suddenly no sign of Tsukune. Mizore began throwing disks of ice in every direction, but soon enough, Tsukune appeared right behind her and embraced her.

After her initial start, Mizore relaxed into Tsukune's arms and began laughing with him, almost breathlessly. She spun to face him, grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him while she leapt up and coiled her legs along his waist. They went falling back into the grass of the clearing, their lips still locked together passionately, and suddenly all Moka felt was a profound sense of awkwardness watching such an intimate moment play out. She backed away slowly and as stealthily as she could, but one line out of Tsukune gave her mind pause, if not her body-for the tone, if not for the words. "I guess this is my win," he said, playful and suave-almost cocky.

As for her mission in following the pair into the woods in the first place, the evidence was, in a word-much to the frustration of both Mokas-inconclusive.