A/N: I think my vampires are mostly based off of LJ Smith's types. (Thanks a bunch, influential preteen years!) Deal with it.

Pairings: Thrill Pair (FujiRyo), Golden Pair, Imperial Pair (AtoTezu), Endurance Pair (InuKai), and mentions of others.

Warnings: Vampirism, BL

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis.

Chapter 2

"Till at length the burden seems

Greater than our strength can bear,

Heavy as the weight of dreams

Pressing on us everywhere."

-"Something Left Undone" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Ryoma honestly felt this was an experience he could learn from. Not that it was an experience that he absolutely needed to survive (well, in his case, it just might be), but it was valuable information he could have used immediately to make his world a better place. Not quite able to stifle the glare he directed at the culprit, a small scowl turned his lips.

He would never, never go to see a movie with Fuji, ever again.

"It was just as interesting as I thought it would be," Fuji smiled. Ryoma growled low in his throat; that comment could be taken many different ways and in the freshman's mind, it was certainly not in the positive sense. Golden eyes glared back at the theatre, as if accusing the structure for the traumatic experience. In some ways, it was the structure's fault... for the theatre was known for showing... movies of dubious content.

"Do you not like zombie movies, Ryoma-kun?" Fuji asked, and if Ryoma didn't know the tensai so well, he might have actually bought the concern in the inquiry. As it was, he merely turned his accusing stare to the other boy; Ryoma did not really care for movies in general, but it was not that he didn't like zombie movies in particular - it was more to the fact that the movie had starred zombie canines and pretty human girls, compiling them together with enough innuendo to choke a porn star with necrophiliac tendencies.

Ryoma shuddered. Right, it was time to start blocking out the memory. He was only relieved they had dinner before the movie; Ryoma definitely didn't think he could choke anything down right now.

A hand slipped into his own, startling the freshman out of the rather morbid turn of his thoughts. He looked down at the entwined appendages, somewhat shocked at the smooth, firm skin texture of the paler hand. Ryoma followed the limb up to the body it attached to, landing on the smiling face near his own. Ryoma jerked back in surprise but was not able to go far, his back hitting the wall behind him. Fuji's smile widened as he leaned in, breath ghosting over Ryoma's lips.

"Fuji-senpai! We're in public!" Ryoma snapped quietly. Weren't the Japanese supposed to be more discreet about public displays of affection? Fuji certainly didn't seem to mind the public setting! Then again, no one was really paying them any mind, many people just walking on by without a care in the word while others appeared to be attempting to have sex while still clothed. Ryoma turned back to look into sapphire eyes; he didn't care if he was raised in America for most of his life, one wrong move and he would employ the Rinko Fist of Pain (tm).

Fuji chuckled lowly, giving Ryoma a swift peck on the lips before backing up, though he still refused to let go of the other boy's hand. Ryoma scowled but allowed it, merely pulling the brim of his hat down with a small "Che!"

The tensai lead them down the street, a path Ryoma vaguely recognized as to the park. Fuji's hand was cold to the touch, sending small shivers up his arm, making goosebumps appear along his skin. The grip itself was lax enough not to crush his hand but Ryoma had the undeniable feeling it was as unyielding as steel.

Japanese parks were spacious places - so unlike the parks in New York and Los Angeles. Whereas New York's parks were choked by a combination of bushes, ferns, trees, and pathways, the ones in Tokyo were sprinkled graciously with sakura tree after sakura tree, with only green grass stretching underneath the blossoming flora. There would be bushes around the sidewalks that briefed the spaces between nature and street, with a few decorated benches and vending machines lining the way.

Fuji lead him - there was no doubt Fuji was the one leading, despite how they walked shoulder to shoulder - past the benches and bushes, unconcerned with the empty and darkened streets, only lit by streetlights and the numerous stars above. Ryoma had never gone to the park at night, some part of him naturally fearing the darkness as the rational side of him pointed out that a young boy traipsing around outside after hours was just asking for it. The more romantic side of him (which he often beat down and ignored) was pointing out how pretty Fuji looked under the night sky.

"Are you afraid of the dark, Ryoma-kun?" Fuji suddenly asked, and it came to Ryoma that the deeper they went into the park, the less light managed to reach them. Not that Ryoma was frightened; he was hardly a child anymore and the towering skyscrapers provided enough light themselves that even if all the streetlights went out, the darkness would not be overwhelming. In reply, Ryoma merely snorted - a clear enough indication as to what he thought of Fuji's question.

He couldn't see it, but he was sure that Fuji was smiling. (Not that he doesn't always smile, but Ryoma was sure this one was different. Somehow.)

The sakura tree they stopped at was nothing special; it stood about the same height as all the others, the blossoms close to blooming but not quite there. The silence in the air was nearly oppressive, however; whatever creatures that lurked about at night were quiet with the two in their midst, or had otherwise fled from their general vicinity. It was a strange sort of quiet, a sort of thing Ryoma was never really used to - school life was never quiet thanks to classmates and team members, and neither was his home.

The only time Ryoma had been placed in this type of silence was when he had decided to leave Japan for the U.S. Open, staring up at the ceiling of his hotel room with a morbid detachment. Though he would never admit it, he had felt lonely then; with Karupin fast asleep, Ryoma's only entertainment were his thoughts, which almost always circled around his home in Tokyo.

He wasn't alone at the moment, however, a fact that was sufficiently proven when Fuji dragged him down to the ground as the senior took a seat against the trunk of the tree. Ryoma was pulled against a firm chest, set between the senior's legs, much to the freshman's discomfort, and arms were wrapped around his shoulders with a distinctly uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu.

Fuji's breath ghosted over the back of his neck and Ryoma cringed in response, tilting his head up to better conceal the small expanse of skin. Fuji chuckled and Ryoma could feel the rumble in the other boy's chest along his back - he was made even more aware of just how close they were. Fuji reclined more, forcing Ryoma to lean back in response so that his head was pillowed against the tensai's collarbone.

Ryoma supposed, on the bright side, Fuji made a comfortable pillow. One pale hand trailed down his arm before slender fingers threaded through his own. Goosebumps spread like wildfire on his skin at the contact, and a feeling of unease grew in his stomach at just how intimate they sat. He could feel the rise and fall of Fuji's chest as he took in air as Fuji's thumb traced light circles on his palm.

"Isn't the sky beautiful tonight, Ryoma-kun?" the tensai murmured, and Ryoma's attention was forced to focus on the sky above. Stars sprinkled the blanket of night, luminescent and sparkling, and the moon cast an eerie, full glow across the landscape. If the freshman were to be honest, it seemed more like the backdrop of a murder mystery than any ideal of romance or beauty.

Then again, Fuji was weird; if he thought a murdering background was pretty, Ryoma would let him be.

Let sleeping dogs lie, his mother had once advised him. Of course, that was after he had asked why his father was crying like a little girl over three garbage bags filled with shredded paper. He had been four then, duly naive, and he would have been sincerely happy to have stayed that way.

Ryoma shuddered involuntarily. Damn oyaji! the freshman thought viciously. It would come to no surprise to the boy if he was completely turned off by near-nude pretty women; really, it was all his father's fault he had ended up gay. Screw biology, this was completely psychological.

Ryoma started at the feel of something warm and moist trailing up his neck. One tan hand flashed up to smack down on the portion of flesh in reaction and the freshman turned his head to stare incredulously at the youth smiling back at him.

"Did you just...lick me?"

The question was choked out and most likely rhetorical; they both already knew the answer, obviously, though Fuji could probably come up with something witty and subtly offensive to say in response, but he seemed rather enthralled by the other boy's flesh.

"Gomen ne, Ryoma-kun; you just looked so tasty that I couldn't control myself."

The tensai was rewarded with a deadpan look.

Fuji's smile widened before he nuzzled the back of the teen's neck. Ryoma squeaked in surprise but Fuji's arms held him securely in place as the older teen's moist breath sent delectable little shivers down his spine.

When the breath turned into butterfly kisses along his skin, Ryoma closed his eyes, blocking the starry night from view of his gold, gold eyes.

"O-CHI-BIII!"

A flying tackle hug knocked the freshman off his feet, much to the younger boy's misfortune. With a glare that would have shut Tomoka up during her "time of the month" and send her running for the nearest airplane out of Japan, Ryoma inwardly hoped his overly-affectionate senpai would find someone shorter to molest-err, glomp. While Ryoma usually tolerated the acrobat's antics - reluctantly, but at least he hadn't skewered the redhead - this particular attack had landed him in the dirt outside the clubroom, dressed in his school uniform.

Kikumaru grinned at him unrepentantly, even after being dragged off by Oishi and chided. Momo had helped Ryoma up though the junior wore a smarmy enough grin that Ryoma was tempted to punch him and knock all of his teeth out. Where was Kaidoh when you needed him? The tenacious junior was the only one Ryoma knew that could turn Momo's cheerful disposition into anger with just his mere presence. (Well, that 'rhythm' guy from Fudoumine could probably do it too, but since he wasn't around Momo as much as the bandana-wearing boy was, Ryoma decided he didn't count.)

"Just for that, Kikumaru-senpai, you have to pay for burgers today," Ryoma commented. He utterly ignored the acrobat's shrieking protests, allowing Momo to throw a friendly arm around his shoulders as he laughed at their senpai's plight. As long as he wasn't paying, Momo was all for it.

The tall junior took a last gulp from his beverage before crushing the can with one hand and throwing it away. Ryoma could only make out the black, blocky katakana at the bottom before the can's departure, a familiarity that tugged at the back of his mind before being ignored.

Kikumaru huffed, following his departing kouhai with a pout. Oishi had cited student council duties and had left the trio, promising to meet Kikumaru later for a date. Momo had jeered rather excitedly at the two, eliciting a blush from the vice-captain before he could flee. Kikumaru smirked at Momo triumphantly.

"I bet you're just jealous, since Ochibi and I have boyfriends while you're left in the cold!"

This prompted a furious denial from the junior- "I am not! And I'm straight, you know; straight guys play tennis too!"- but this merely earned raucous laughter from the redhead.

Ryoma ignored the bantering pair, silently inputting that he did not have a boyfriend; Fuji-senpai had not asked (or demanded) to be his boyfriend, which is what people were supposed to do, Ryoma had assumed. It was more of a "senpai-molest-kouhai" relationship. Just to be sure, though, he should probably ask Kaidoh on how relationships between senpai-and-kouhai boyfriends work; the older teen was bound to know, having been Inui's official boyfriend for three years.

Turning the corner to tread across the area between the tennis courts and the school, all three stopped at the sight of a poised, hissing Kaidoh glaring possible death at a calmly smiling Fuji.

While the junior boy was known to be sometimes hotheaded, he was better known for his respectable manners, especially regarding those older than him. To see him looking ready to lash out at a senpai - Fuji, no less - was enough to shut Momo and Kikumaru up and stop all three dead. The two seemed aware of their recent audience, as Kaidoh sent a glare their way, but the look stopped on Ryoma before snapping back to the lithe teen in front of him with even more irritation.

With a low, furious hiss, Kaidoh turned and stalked away with the eyes of the trio following him, though Fuji's gaze had traveled and landed on Ryoma. Kikumaru laughed nervously, bouncing over to Fuji with bright, inquisitive eyes.

Ryoma stayed where he was, Momo by his side, though the junior had mostly withdrew his arm from around the freshman's shoulders; now only his hand was on Ryoma's shoulder, the grip almost steely. Ryoma knew he could not move, even if he had wanted to; the scene must have frozen Momo up. He turned his eyes to stare at his best friend from beneath his Fila cap and nearly started from the solemn look on the usually jovial face.

Momo was a friendly guy, naturally humble and very reliable. He was like an open book, and while he could sometimes grate on Ryoma's nerves, the freshman found the other teen's openness a refreshing thing. There were few times when Ryoma had seen Momo become serious, usually events involving a serious occurrence or in the midst of a heated match with an opponent that had somehow hurt someone close to the cheerful boy.

However, Kaidoh and Momo were hardly close in the traditional sense; as rivals, they knew each other as well as they knew themselves. While spats between members sometimes erupted, Momo had never let them get him down; he either tried to help reconcile or lighten the tension. A spat between his most challenging rival and the team's resident sadist should have amused Momo, at the very least; this cool, serious demeanor had no place here.

So why was Momo looking like someone close to him had passed away?

Ryoma's eyes turned to Fuji, briefly meeting sapphire orbs before they were once again closed.

And why did Ryoma feel tendrils of fear curl around his heart?

Sunday morning light filtered in through the windows of the Echizen household, some rays alighting upon the teenage boy stumbling down the staircase, barely avoiding his affectionate feline that may have sent him tripping to his untimely demise. Echizen Ryoma, somewhat out of it due to the lack of sleep, yawned loudly as he landed on the bottom step. The dreams had been particularly vicious last night; he had woken damp with sweat and half off is bed with only a fading image of some yellow flower in his memory.

Resigning himself to an early morning and inwardly disgusted he had woken so early - 8 o'clock! - Ryoma trailed into the dining room, expecting to see his oyaji giggling over his latest dirty magazine, with breakfast laid out on the table and possibly his mom and Nanako chatting like only women can.

The sight which did greet him shocked the sleepiness out of his system so abruptly that he could only stare.

"Good morning, Ryoma-kun," Fuji greeted brightly, the usual smile plastered on his face. Sitting across from him were Ryoma's parents, his mother wearing a rather enamored smile and his father looking like he had just seen his favorite magazine burnt to ashes right in front of him.

"Your boyfriend decided to drop by to introduce himself," Rinko explained, looking eerily smug. "Very thoughtful boyfriend you have, Ryoma; I can't imagine why you neglected to mention him." Nanjirou had twitched ominously every time Rinko stressed Fuji's current occupation and Ryoma couldn't help but glare at the sadistic teen.

"What are you doing here?" the younger boy growled. Fuji's smile brightened instantly, even as Rinko's gaze gained a disapproving edge.

Fuji's reply was, fortunately or not, cut off by Nanjirou, who had jumped up to point wildly in Ryoma's general direction. "I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! YOU NEVER LOOKED AT GIRLS, YOU ONLY TALK ABOUT TENNIS AND THOSE SENPAI OF YOUR'S-"

"I do not talk about the senpai-tachi," Ryoma interjected sulkily.

"-MY OWN SON! MY ONLY CHILD! I WANTED GRANDCHILDREN, BRAT!" Nanjirou sobbed wildly. Pulling one of his infamous magazines out from his monk robes, he opened it up to some random page, launching over the table to shove it in Ryoma's face. Unprepared, Ryoma fell backwards before one hand firmly locked on his bicep, pulling him swiftly out of harm's way from the oncoming ex-pro.

Dazed, Ryoma could only blink as he found himself nestled in Fuji's arms. Rinko growled, expertly rolling up the newspaper and bashing her husband over the head with it. Repeatedly. Fuji's smile seemed utterly serene, despite the visage of a grown man crying pathetically in front of him as he was attacked by a madly raving woman.

"We'll adopt," Fuji said, comfort written all over his face as he the dumbfounded tennis prodigy.

Nanjirou howled.

Ryoma glowered at nothing in particular, his tennis bag slung over one shoulder, keeping his eyes to the ground as he pretended not to hear the one-sided argument taking place in front of him. Next to him stood Fuji Yuuta, face red from both embarrassment and suppressed anger as his purple-clad boyfriend hissed insults at his calmly-smiling brother, who didn't even so much as glance at the furious Mizuki Hajime.

Fuji had lured Ryoma out with the promise of tennis and the morning had been spent finding a suitable tennis court, rallying a bit, before finally getting down to the match. Right when things started getting heated, they were once again interrupted: Mizuki apparently thought the weather was "lovely, so why not take my darling Yuuta-kun out for a romantic walk through the park!"

Needless to say, Fuji's brother-complex reared its ugly head and not even Ryoma's stifling glare could settle it. Now the tensai was following Yuuta around, sometimes casting Mizuki dirty glances when he wasn't looking, all the while dragging an indifferent Ryoma behind him. Mizuki seemed about as thrilled as Yuuta did about his date being interrupted by the nosy older brother and even his one-sided rivalry could not lighten the fact that Fuji was present.

The anti-companionable quartet presently found themselves taking a break from their attempts to escape the older Fuji, with Fuji purchasing a sulking Ryoma some ice cream, Mizuki doing likewise for Yuuta. The two teenagers were standing in line, the tensai ignoring the other boy's glare, as Yuuta and Ryoma waited nearby, both looking annoyed.

Yuuta gave the freshman a curious glance, mildly thankful for the short reprieve from the tense situation. "So...you and aniki," he started lamely. Ryoma glanced at him, before snorting and returning his deadpan look to the marginally populated sidewalk in front of him. Yuuta scowled but reigned in his temper; he knew Echizen Ryoma was not one for idle conversation, but dammit, would it kill the boy to be more sociable?

"When did you two start...you know?"

Ryoma tugged the brim of his hat lower, partly concealing the small smirk that had turned his lips. "Start what?"

Yuuta's scowl increased. "You know..." he tried, annoyance growing at the pronounced smirk on the other boy's face, "...seeing each other?"

"I see Fuji-senpai almost everyday," Ryoma replied boredly. "We're in the same club."

Yuuta was about to strangle him.

Ryoma's smirk had broadened. Mada mada dane.

"Yuuta-kun!" Mizuki crowed, partially draping himself over the other boy, miraculously not getting a single drop of ice cream on either of them. Fuji, behind the purple-clad manager, opened his eyes to drill terror into the back of Mizuki's head before closing them again to approach Ryoma with a sunny smile.

"For my Ryo-chan!" Fuji announced gleefully, ignoring the scathing glare shot to him by golden eyes. He handed the capped boy a cone with three scoops of ice cream of various colors on top, keeping his own cone, which was an exact replica.

"Don't call me that," Ryoma hissed, taking the ice cream cone with much hesitation. He gave the cold sweet a criticizing look; he had seen Fuji buy it, and thankfully there were only normal flavors at the ice cream vendor, but that didn't mean he trusted it right away. Tentatively, he licked each different scoop, tasting it out on his tongue with a quizzical expression, trying to place the flavor.

Fuji inwardly laughed; Ryoma looked so much like a cat at the moment! The tensai cast his ice cream a thoughtful look. He could think of plenty alternative uses for the icy goodness, mostly involving Ryoma and alone time; Fuji unconsciously licked his lips. Ryoma shifted away from the other youth, clearly uncomfortable with the strange smile now adorning the angelic features.

"MI-MIZUKI-SAN!" Yuuta cried, reeling back with the brightest blush Ryoma had ever witnessed.

Apparently, Mizuki had used Fuji's distraction to get a little closer to Yuuta, if the arm around the scarred boy's waist was any indication. A saucy smirk slid on to the manager's face, unfazed by the icy glare he was now receiving from Seigaku's sadistic tensai.

"You just had some ice cream at the corner of your mouth, Yuuta-kun," Mizuki leered cheerfully, twirling a piece of his hair innocently. "I just licked it off for you. You're such a messy eater, Yuu-chan. Nfu fu fu!"

Yuuta twitched. It seemed he wasn't too fond of nicknames either. Though if the ones bestowed on both himself and Ryoma were any proof, their boyfriends had an atrocious sense in nicknaming.

Yuuta must have sensed the approaching Armageddon, as he grabbed his foolish boyfriend by the wrist, taking off with an abrupt farewell. Fuji stared after the two, sapphire eyes wide open, his ice cream cone crushed in his hand, the melting sugary delight weaving through his fingers and dripping down his hand like the blood of some mangled creature.

Ryoma sighed, wishing for the umpteenth time that he could be doing something more productive at the moment, like playing tennis or cuddling Karupin. He gave his ice cream a vaguely accusatory look; he would have preferred a ponta. Who would want ice cream anyway? It melts too quickly in this stupid humidity and then it gets all sticky so he'd have to find someplace to wash it off, because the damn napkins the ice cream vendor provided were useless and all that mess was just too much to deal with.

His free hand, which had been dangling quite innocently by his side, was grabbed in a vice grip that it was sadly becoming accustomed to. Ryoma turned to give Fuji a look bordering on petulant, flexing his fingers in mild disgust.

"...Fuji-senpai, your hand is sticky," Ryoma complained, realizing that the other boy would do nothing but smile at him until he said something.

Fuji cocked his head to the side, as if considering Ryoma's comment something that required deep thought. The freshman's irritation grew when he realized his hand was starting to stick to the other boy's, and they were now garnering quite a bit of attention from passersby. (Not that they weren't before, what with the way Fuji and Mizuki were acting, but at least then Ryoma had a companion to share the humiliation with - i.e. Yuuta.)

"Saa...I suppose it is. Maybe we'll be stuck together," Fuji replied, sounding happy about the prospect. Ryoma fought the shudder of horror that attempted to climb up his spine, settling for an irritated frown, turning his head to look away from his ever-smiling senpai.

Fuji tugged at the boy's hand, prompting Ryoma into walking forward, lest he be dragged. It was a sedate pace at which they tread, maybe even leisurely had it not been for the chill that seemed to concentrate at the point where their fingers intertwined. "It's unfortunate I neglected to bring my camera," Fuji sighed wistfully. "But I suppose I can bring it next time."

Ryoma's eyes practically screamed 'What next time?'

Fuji hummed thoughtfully to himself, gently swinging their grasped hands. Ryoma inwardly sighed, eyes scanning their surroundings in hopes of spotting a trash can to throw his half-melted ice cream away.

"I know," Fuji started, his customary smile on, though Ryoma noticed a certain edge to it, "Let's do a double-date with Eiji and Oishi next time. We can go ice skating," he proposed cheerfully. Ryoma couldn't help it - he stared at Fuji, eyes wide in complete bafflement.

He really wanted to reject the idea - ever since he had started to supposedly 'date' his sadistic senpai, his life had went all out of sorts - but his throat had closed up, likely from such tremendous horror at the very idea of spending his time on a date with not only the sadist, but the hyperactive lunatic who attempted to strangle him daily.

Oishi-senpai can't control them both! Ryoma's 'Voice of Reason' piped up nervously. The tennis prodigy quite liked the idea of remaining sane, no matter how much his mind had been tested ever since he came to Japan three years ago; just because the senpai-tachi were clearly irredeemable (besides Tezuka-buchou, but that was up for debate, considering he was dating the Monkey King) didn't mean Ryoma wanted to join them.

"No? Then how about Inui and Kaidoh?" Fuji suggested. "Or maybe even Tezuka and Atobe? He could get us into fancy restaurants."

At the cost of what, the last shreds of my sanity? Inner Ryoma screamed, though the freshman's face had disguised his horror behind the usual indifference.

Fuji leaned in close, as if to share some conspiratorial secret with him. "Or perhaps you would like it just to be you and me?" This suggestion was heavily accented with a sultry enough tone that Ryoma almost thought he was being raped through words.

"Yadda," Ryoma stubbornly refused, pitching his oozing ice cream cone into the nearing dumpster with a relieved glint in his eye. Now he had one hand free to tug the brim of his hat down; he knew his cheeks were flaring with heat but he would have rather died than let Fuji know he was getting to him.

One pale hand crept out to snatch the cap right off. Ryoma started, before his head swiveled to glare heatedly at the other teen. Fuji merely smiled back, before leaning forward to peck his lips.

"I wouldn't mind being alone with you, Ryoma-kun."

Ryoma had managed to get home safely, only having to deal with Fuji briefly molesting him by the gate to the shrine before his father came tearing out the front door, brandishing his tennis racket much like one would a sword. For a moment, Fuji looked sincerely put-out before he bid Ryoma farewell, dodging the numerous tennis balls aimed his way by a raving Nanjirou.

Now lying on his bed, Karupin curled at his side, Ryoma felt the tenseness in his shoulders ebb away, having been on his guard the entire day. It didn't help that as soon as he stepped into the house, Nanjirou had appeared by his side instantly, dragging him into some forsaken room in the house to forcibly watch porn. Escape had seemed futile until Nanako caught on - and now they had one less TV in the house.

Ryoma groaned to himself, shutting his eyes tightly as he heard another of his father's pitiful screams echo throughout the household. Nanako must have found another secret stash of magazines, if the faint smell of fire was anything to go by.

Therefore, it was almost a miracle that Ryoma had actually fallen asleep.

"Well, it's a bit complicated," Takashi explained, looking vaguely amused at the other boy. The golden-eyed youth tilted his head thoughtfully, eyes scanning the others as if looking for something. Momoshirou chuckled, mussing up his hair with a grin. Syuusuke was still smiling while the others tried to think of a simpler way to explain.

Eiji jumped up, grinning ear to ear, pointing at Kunimitsu smugly. "Kunimitsu was one the longest so he can explain it better than anyone else!" he said triumphantly. Said youth looked slightly awkward at being put on the spot, especially since the others immediately agreed and golden eyes turned to him curiously. The tall boy scowled, arms crossed over his chest, and if he had been any other, he would have looked petulant.

"Only by a few days," Kunimitsu muttered. "And it's not like he explained anything."

Momoshirou waved the admission away, uncaring. "It's not our fault you got the short stick. Need I remind you who you attacked once you got hungry?"

The golden-eyed boy started, shock evident on his features. "A-Attacked?"

Syuuichirou rolled his eyes, casting Momoshirou a reproachful look. "Ignore Momoshirou. Kunimitsu didn't really attack anyone...he just lost control and the next thing we know, Momoshirou is one too. Then Fuji, who got Eiji, who got me." He paused to give Sadaharu a thoughtful look. "Sorry about that," he nodded to the taller boy.

Sadaharu easily dismissed his concerns. "Nothing for it, I suppose. It all worked out in the end; I did get Takashi." Said tall brunette smiled and laughed good-naturedly, gifting Kaoru with a wide grin.

"Then I got Kaoru; who put up a valiant fight, by the way." The dark-haired teen blushed, turning his head away to hiss quietly.

"You still haven't explained what you guys...are," the golden-eyed boy reminded, sounding almost exasperated. Syuusuke chuckled warmly, draping his arms over the small boy's shoulders, smile growing at the following blush.

"Kunimitsu explains!" Momoshirou stated hurriedly.

Kunimitsu gave him a sullen glare before turning his attention to the boy nestled in Syuusuke's arms. He struggled with himself for a moment before starting. "First off, I am not aware of any name for our kind; no elders from our village have ever mentioned anything of demons that drink the blood of the living. We have not even significantly changed from our- human selves, you could say. The only differences we have noticed are that of increased speed and strength, and a faster healing ability."

"Sun's a bit brighter than normal, too," Eiji threw in off-handedly.

Takashi shrugged indifferently. "As far as we can tell, there's no preference for any specific kind of blood; we survive mostly off the animals in the forest. It's like living regular lives; just no meat or water necessary." The others nodded.

Syuusuke laughed quietly to himself. "Except when we're attacked by bandits and their knives fashioned from animal bones cause us little damage, unlike their wooden spears." Momoshirou winced, receiving a condescending pat to the head from a grinning Eiji.

"You could have dodged," Kaoru pointed out.

Momoshirou huffed, frowning. "How was I supposed to know it would stab me?" The golden-eyed boy gave him a strange look. "I mean, stab me and stay bleeding! The other ones healed instantly!" he hurriedly corrected.

"That's because they were from the bone-knives. It seems we aren't impervious to wood," Sadaharu said for the younger boy's benefit.

Eiji nodded with a mock-solemn face. "Hear that, Kin? If we're ever attacked by a horde, we leave you in charge of the ones with the wooden weapons."

Golden eyes wide, Kin stared at the redhead in fright. "W-Wait! I can't fight at all, Eiji-san!"

There was a round of laughter, much to the boy's embarrassment. Momoshirou mussed up his hair again.

"We're just kidding, Ochibi! If there's ever a fight, stay clear, got it?"

Syuusuke smiled, leaning close to Kin's ear.

"Don't worry, Kin; we'll protect you from anyone who dares wish you harm."

END...Chapter 2.

Drop a review please!