A/N: So... whoops. I had a major block with this, then school happened, and then another few fics happened after that. I'm not making any promises, but I'm feeling this fic again for the first time in a while. For now, enjoy a new (and super late) addition.

"You're a what?"

Shizuru only smiles, a flicker of upturned lips from behind her teacup, before taking a slow sip. The rip in her cheek that left her with a drooping red grin has disappeared into nothing but a rapidly fading line.

"A vampire, yes."

Natsuki grinds the heel of her palms into both eyes so hard she sees stars in the space between brain and bone. She's taken a shower, draped in clothes that smell of Shizuru, but she can't forget Takeda's death-stink or the blackness of his blood or how his body simply crumbled like old, decaying plaster. He's still in the treads of her shoes and every time she thinks about cleaning it up another round of nausea slams her like the right cross that put him down for good.

"This can't be happening," she tugs at her hair, the pressure doing little to alleviate the pounding in her temples. "I'm obviously dreaming. I have to be. This is just another scenario my brain made up. I'm going to count to three and I'll be in my bed. One… two…"

Natsuki presses the curl of her eye socket against her knuckles. Even without looking up, she feels that heavy stare spread out across her back like a cape.

"Ara, Natsuki-san has been dreaming of me?"

"That—" she whips her head up, wanting to take that smirk away with her palm or her lips in equal amounts, "that isn't the point! You just said you were a… a… a fucking vampire! I think that's a little more important!"

"Maybe to you. I find this new information quite thrilling, myself."

Shizuru crosses her legs and leans back, a long slice of pale thigh nearly translucent in the moonlight that streams in through the open curtains. Natsuki rakes her hands through her hair, wonders briefly if this is what having a mental break feels like.

"Shizuru, stop fucking around!"

Shizuru's smile abruptly falls into something more somber.

"I apologize, Natsuki-san. I sometimes forget how jarring this introduction can be."

"No shit." Natsuki sucks in a long, heavy breath, Shizuru's scent coiling in her lungs as thick as smoke. "Can we try this again?"

"Certainly."

"Okay. So. You're a-a… vampire."

"Yes."

"You aren't joking?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"You saw a man turn into dust. Is this so unbelievable?"

"What I saw was you literally rip out some man's heart and kill him in the back-alley of a club. He died."

Shizuru takes another sip of tea, hums low. "Technically speaking, he was already dead. I just, ah, made it permanent."

"He was a vampire too?"

"Yes. I have known Takeda-kun for many, many years. We were sire-siblings."

Natsuki blinks, takes a healthy swallow of the rum and coke Shizuru had been so kind as to make for her. It burns going down, but the pain is a welcome certainty in light of the absolute mess made of Natsuki's life in the past six hours.

"What's a sire-whatever?"

"It means we were both Returned—ah, my apologies. We were both raised by the same person. Our sire. Our vampire parent, so to speak."

"W-why did you kill him?"

"He had been rampaging around the streets for far too long without check. I meant only to speak with him and attempt to quell his appetite, but…" her nose wrinkles; the moonlight catches a flash of what Natsuki now knows to be fangs, "the second he laid hands on you, he sealed his own fate. I have no remorse for what I did."

Natsuki tries to ignore the way her words send a tingle down her spine, but the heat spreading through her fingers isn't just from the alcohol. The cold, cruel tilt of Shizuru's marble jaw doesn't help.

"Won't you get in trouble? I mean, you, uh, you murdered someone. Maybe the regular police can't do anything, but… what about his friends? Do you have, like, vampire jail?"

"Don't worry about that, Natsuki-san. I promise there will be no complications."

Shizuru finishes her tea and deposits the cup in the kitchen to Natsuki's left; it's a nice apartment, much better than the hovel Mai and her share. The hardwood floors are dark and varnished, the furniture sparse but tasteful, and various different paintings and artifacts adorn the walls. Across the small living space, Natsuki can see the dark yawn of Shizuru's room beyond her slightly-open door.

Maybe I'll get to see it before I leave.

She tamps down the thought as soon as it comes, but the collar of her borrowed shirt suddenly feels a little too tight.

A brush of fabric against her knee; Shizuru is kneeling – kneeling! – in front of her, the pads of her fingers hovering just over the bridge of her nose. "Are you sure you aren't hurt? I can smell the blood."

"I'm okay," Natsuki lies, part of her headache undoubtedly caused by the band of bruising that extends under both eyes and up between her brows. It's hard to breathe through it and is making her mouth disgustingly dry but hospitals are firmly and permanently on her shit-list, and she'd rather let it heal crooked than get it looked at.

"Well, I don't believe it's broken. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner." She presses gingerly on the side of her nose, murmuring soft apologies as Natsuki hisses. "I'm just glad you fought as hard as you did and stalled."

"I've been in a few fights in my years," she grunts, though she refrains from mentioning the cold, bottomless dread when her fingernails couldn't even make an imprint behind his ears. "Do you have any painkillers?"

She pauses, eyeing Shizuru critically. "That was a dumb question. I'm sure you don't get headaches."

"I can, but not for the same reasons."

Before Natsuki can stop herself, she drags her thumb over the thin red line that runs from mouth to ear.

"Are you sure that's okay? I could see your teeth a few hours ago."

"It will be gone by tomorrow." Shizuru catches her hand, presses it a little firmer against her cheek. The cool muscles shifting against Natsuki's hot fingers do nothing to quell the hunger that gnaws at the back of her head. "I usually heal faster, but, ah…"

She looks away, and though Natsuki knows that vampires shouldn't really blush, she swears a faint dusting of red appears across the fine slope of Shizuru's nose. "But what?"

"I… haven't fed recently. I was going to, but then you ran into Takeda-kun and that entire mess happened instead."

"Fed? Like… oh. Oh."

"Yes."

Natsuki squirms, remembers Takeda's cold breath racing down her neck like the northern winds.

"Is it always like… um… l-like what he…"

"No! Of course not!"

Shizuru leans forward, covers her hands from where they'd fallen back into her lap. "He took what he wanted without any regard for anyone else. I promise it isn't like that for me. Or even for most of us. Natsuki-san, look at me."

Natsuki can barely meet Shizuru's gaze, burning in the dark. "I try my best to make it a good experience. It can be very pleasurable for humans too."

Humans. Natsuki studies her for a moment, the sincerity etched into the corners of her eyes and the firm set of her mouth, marveling at the difference from the first time they met.

"You wanted to feed on me," Natsuki blurts out before her mouth can catch it, "at the club. You were hunting."

Shizuru opens her mouth but no sound comes out. All the blood rushing to Natsuki's face makes her nose throb and it's only because she's so intently watching every motion in Shizuru's expression that she notes the slight dilation of her eyes, the flicker of hunger quickly stamped out as Natsuki's cheeks fill with red. So close to each other, she must be able to smell the metallic tang on each exhale, even over the alcohol. She snatches up her glass and takes a lengthy sip to avoid eye-contact.

"I was."

Natsuki nearly chokes, and Shizuru gently takes the glass from her as she coughs. Each movement sends waves of pain through her face but she stubbornly wipes at her own reflexive tears before Shizuru can get any ideas.

"Please don't mistake me, Natsuki-san," Shizuru's lips curl into a familiar, lazy smile, "I wanted you for your body and your blood. They just tend to go hand in hand with me. In fact…"

She leans closer like she's imparting a great secret; the jasmine smell is back and now Natsuki can identify the other, heavier scent. Metal. Copper.

It's strangely sexy.

"I've been told that for humans, it's even better than sex."

"W-what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Is it that good for you?"

"Oh, yes," she purrs, leaning back. The sinewy strength of her muscles ripple along the exposed portions of her thigh, moonlight creating shadowy dips and valleys as she flexes. "The blood is everything. Some of us, especially the elders, only feed. It's that strong. But the new generation is much more, ah… liberal. Why have them separately when you can do both?"

"What's it like?"

There's a challenge hanging there, dangling on a string between them. Shizuru runs her eyes, now the colour of old blood, languidly across her body, and suddenly being hunted doesn't feel like such a bad thing; Natsuki would say almost anything if it meant she could feel the anchor of those fangs in her neck.

Or maybe the inside of my thigh.

"Like you're high," Shizuru murmurs, pressing one finger against the hollow of Natsuki's throat and dragging down. "It starts here, with the first drink, and spreads through your whole body." Goosebumps erupt where her nail drags until she presses at her sternum, between her breasts and so close to her heart that riots like an off-beat marching band. Shizuru smirks; she can feel it. "But it's the strongest here. Like someone is burning a fire. All you can hear is the buzzing in your head and the ache between your legs and the monster screaming for more."

Natsuki swallows as Shizuru leans in close, breathing the air Natsuki exhales like a gift.

"What makes the ache go away?"

A wicked smile. "More blood. Or a tongue. Here." She shamelessly cups between Natsuki's legs, sucks in the stifled whimper she still hears. She's greedy for it, letting it feed her instead of the blood. "Sometimes both. I can never decide which is my favourite taste."

Natsuki tilts her head to the side, watches with a convoluted satisfaction as Shizuru burns her gaze into the sharp jut of her collar. She leans forward until Natsuki feels the puff of her breath spread across her shoulder, behind her ear, a cold fire to purify before consumption. There's no doubt Shizuru can hear her pulse pounding under her jaw, feeding bone and brain and body, begging to be freed.

"I appreciate the offer, Natsuki-san," Shizuru rasps; Natsuki's nails bite down on the chair with just how hungry it sounds, low in her chest and so unlike her lilt, "but things have changed. I will wait."

All of a sudden she's gone, the space she once occupied now empty, and it takes a few slow blinks to reorient. Her whole body is pulsing, throbbing, and she can't think of a time when she was ever this desperate for someone's mouth.

"Why?" Natsuki asks, burning up to her ears, and Shizuru's knowing smirk turns into a smile.

"You've been through quite a lot today, Natsuki-san. I'm not going to rush into things so quickly."

"You were ready to take me home the first time we met."

Shizuru cocks an eyebrow. "You and I both know the situation has changed. Don't play coy with me."

Trying to take a breath through her nose reminds her of just how much that situation has spiralled. She winces, opening up the camera on her phone to get a better glimpse of the damage.

"Mai is going to freak," she groans, pulling at one eyebrow to see the deep purple shadow that runs underneath it. "The last time I came home looking like this, she almost beat me to death."

"Tokiha-san has the right idea."

"Don't encourage her."

"If it's the only way to get you out of trouble…" Shizuru rummages in her cupboards, one arm stretching out over her head to reach a higher shelf. Natsuki greedily drinks it in while she's distracted, the cascade of silk falling over her breasts like an ancient sculpture, how it catches and wrinkles at her breastbone.

Shizuru glances over her shoulder, her eyes more amused than anything. "You aren't very subtle, Natsuki-san."

"Neither are you."

A smile, warm and soft and something else that makes Natsuki's stomach do flips behind her ribs. "I suppose not." She pulls out another sachet of tea, plopping it in a travel mug. "One more? We should get you back home before daylight."

The numbers on the oven blink four o'clock.

"Is that why I always see you at night?" Natsuki asks, chin in her palm. "Because sunlight hurts you?"

Shizuru actively scoffs, waving a hand by her temple. "That's what the movies say. We can walk around just as easily in the daylight, though it can be uncomfortable. Sunlight is very bright for someone with our eyes."

"So… no sunlight weakness? No invitation? No allergy to running water?" Natsuki grins. "I'd ask about the holy symbols, but considering your sexual taste I'd say we're already past that."

"I agree."

"Is there anything that's true? What about—" Shizuru reaches over the counter and pops a cherry into her mouth as she pours the hot water over the teabag. "Ah. I guess you can eat, too."

Shizuru doesn't bother to spit out the pit, demolishing it with one deliberate crunch of her jaws. "We can. Some don't bother, because we can't process it."

"What, it just sits in your stomach? Doesn't it rot?"

"It can. It's why some who don't take care of themselves smell so foul."

"So, what?" Natsuki takes the mug with a small nod, gathering her things and slipping her worn sneakers back on. "You just throw it back up?"

"Essentially."

"That's shitty."

"It's not, actually."

Natsuki stops so abruptly Shizuru nearly knocks into her. "Did you just…" All she gets is a small, noncommittal smile, the picture of innocence for someone who doesn't know anything about the teeth behind it. That strange, flipping feeling comes again, and Natsuki almost hits herself in the chest to get rid of it.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Natsuki-san." She opens the door to a deserted hallway, the lighting bathing everything in a warm orange glow. It casts shadows in the hollows of her eyes, the faint red gleam of a star before it's ripped apart.

Her gravity is immense, tidal-locked and spinning ever closer. Years and years of matter being pulled from Natsuki's surface, walls sucked up and demolished like paper, crushed in those hands that have ripped a man's spine straight from his chest. Shizuru smiles and when she offers her arm, Natsuki holds it and wonders how long it takes for stars to merge together.

The ride home is easier than she expected it to be. When not consistently and constantly flirting, Shizuru is both charming and calm, tempering Natsuki's more volatile edge that shows itself more often than she'd like. There's an experience that bleeds into her words, a wisdom that sounds at home in the odd lilt of her letters – it comes as little surprise that she captured her so easily at Fuuka, and again at the coffee shop.

She's also so amazingly, unbelievably nonchalant.

"Someone shot you with a crossbow?"

Shizuru nods, tapping the hard ridge of her breastbone. "Right here. Tipped with silver. Hurt much more than I anticipated."

She leans forward to see, but knows there'll be no scar. Still... just to make sure. "But… how… who even carries one of those these days? Isn't that sort of obvious?"

"Some are still bent on tradition. Just like the silver projectiles. It doesn't hurt any more than normal, but they refuse to let it go. Most use modern weapons… though I'm glad this one didn't. A bullet from a rifle is much harder to heal. It blows you open, like this."

Shizuru unclenches her fist, fingers spreading in all directions. "We have higher resistance, yes, but we aren't gods. Modern weapons can still be very dangerous, especially ones used by hunters. We can just take a lot more pain before it becomes a problem."

"Vampire hunters exist? Like Van Helsing?"

"They work in secret, mostly under the cross. Religion and vampires have always had a very, ah… turbulent past. The experts either have ties to a religious organization or blood descending from one. It's a way of life for them."

"Are they successful?"

"They can be. The vampires who underestimate them, they're the ones who end up as dust."

Light from the road fractures in through the rain-spattered windshield. Shizuru looks tired here, and if Natsuki was any good at painting she'd put it to canvas but instead she just commits it to memory; the downturn of her mouth, the curl of her fingers, the striated light that cuts her up into millions of little pieces. A work of art built upon far too many redrafts.

Natsuki touches her thigh. It flexes under her fingers but the smile returns to Shizuru's lips. "You got away, right? You had to, you're still here."

"I… lost my temper. Sometimes, when you don't feed for a long period of time, the anger comes easier. He interrupted me with a bolt and I responded with a fist." Shizuru grimaces. "Hunters are still human. They break easily. I should have been more careful."

An image of a man, his head blooming like a red flower, flits into thought before being pushed away.

"Did they come after you?"

"No. I left the city soon after, and they know that grudges get people killed."

Natsuki nods, her nails tracing the weave of the car seat. "Just like Takeda?"

Shizuru sighs. "What happened between Takeda-kun and I was… complicated. It had been growing for many, many years. I don't blame him, but, perhaps another time I will tell you."

They pull into Natsuki's apartment complex and ascend the elevator in silence. Thoughts appear like smoke and vanish just as quickly, snatching bits and pieces of information to try and process them all. There's a migraine building behind her eyes, though that could just be her busted nose.

Standing at her door is the first time she's felt awkward all night.

"Don't worry, Natsuki-san," Shizuru smiles, "I'll make sure Tokiha-san doesn't question you too badly. You were with me most of the night, after all."

She ignores the obvious jab, folding her arms across her chest. "I saw you kill someone tonight. I think you can drop the honorific, Shizuru."

Two brows tick upwards before settling. "Very well, Natsuki."

They stare at each other for a moment – Shizuru chuckles to herself, taking great care to memorize her face, like she'll walk into the elevator and never see it again.

"What?"

"I don't know what to say for the first time in over seventy years, and it's because of a university student. I find the whole situation amazingly ridiculous."

Natsuki's jaw drops and Shizuru takes the opportunity to snake both hands up to her face, drawing her close and placing a soft, tender kiss to the bridge of her bruised nose. It tingles, a full-body shiver racing down her spine like little jolts of electricity, but before she can really assess the warmth spreading across her face Shizuru knocks on the door.

It flies open nearly instantly, a disheveled Mai in the doorway with ratty pyjamas and a furious glower.

"Kuga Natsuki! Do you have any idea what time it is?! Why in the world did you not—" she fumbles, taking in the magnificent bruise over her face "—what the hell happened to your nose?"

"I invited Natsuki for a drink before she left to come home, and she stepped in between me and a rather drunk individual. She got a black nose and a free beer for her troubles. I brought her to my home and patched her up before sending her on her way."

"Shizuru was very kind," Natsuki edges in, trying not to flinch at the intense stare directed towards her. Seconds tick by and a bead of sweat rolls down her hairline before Mai's face splits into a broad smile.

"That sounds very much like her," Mai agrees, "and I'll make sure to reprimand her for being a hero tomorrow. I'm sure you'd like to get some sleep, Fujino-san."

"I suppose it is rather late, isn't it? Don't let her get into any more bar fights."

"Count on it."

"Good night, Natsuki." Shizuru smiles, a hint of fang peeking out from under the curl of her top lip, and Natsuki finds herself giving a weak little wave.

"Night, Shizuru. Get home safe."

Her smile turns into a grin, soft and amused only for her. "Of course."

The second the door closes, Mai leans on it and stares her down. A smirk grows bigger and bigger until it takes up most of her face, her eyes flashing with mirth.

"Just Natsuki, huh?"

"Shut up!"

The night air outside Natsuki's apartment smells like gravel and rust. Shizuru breathes in deep and senses the morning sun on its trek into the sky, pinpointing its position with the impossibly accurate clock inside her head. People haven't yet begun to wake and she hears the drum of a thousand sleeping heartbeats echo into the night.

Despite all that, she can still hear Natsuki's. Or… her body can. The nerves in the tips of her fingers are attuned to it now, itching with the desire to touch, pulsing with its phantom rhythm. She's never felt anything quite so strange.

Saying something, coming from her.

She climbs into her car and eyes the empty passenger seat, taking a moment to adjust the mirror and turn down the radio. It still smells like her human companion, light and sweet, and her gums ache with a ferocity only felt when she was newly Returned and unable to control the bloodlust.

Shizuru smiles a little, glancing into the shadowy backseat with her mirror.

"Come now, Miyu-san. There's no need to hide like that."

Two eyes glisten in the reflection, pinpricks of light.

"I was simply waiting."

Shizuru pats the passenger seat. "Yes, I know. I appreciate leaving this until Natsuki left us."

A blur of motion has Miyu sitting beside her. Despite the speed, Shizuru doesn't flinch, turning on the engine and letting it roar to life before glancing over. "You aren't going to stake me while I'm driving, are you?"

A blue eyebrow lifts ever so slightly. "You've done nothing to deserve it."

"Ah, Miyu-san's approval. So rare."

The lights seem colder returning home. Miyu's dragon writhes under the staccato bursts from the streetlamps, its tail lashing the sharp bend of her elbow. It must have been a very special needle to deposit ink under such stubborn skin.

Miyu keeps her stare trained on Shizuru's temple for a few silent minutes. She lets her, the road a mere afterthought underneath them, the twitch of her fingers more of a flex on the steering wheel. The radio hums with songs of redemption.

"They'll be angry, you know."

"With what? I've done a few strange things recently."

"I can still smell Takeda's death-blood on you."

"Ah. You found out about that, did you?"

"Leaving him as a pile of ash on the street isn't very discreet."

"Mm, I suppose not. I had greater things to worry about."

Miyu fishes out a silver case and flicks open the top, pulling a cigarette from the inside with her teeth. She doesn't light it yet, just chews on the end, rolling it thoughtfully with her tongue.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to smoke? It causes cancer, you know."

"Mother didn't know what cancer was." A flash of fire, the tip glowing cherry-red. Shizuru remembers smoke on the collar of a leather jacket and sighs to herself. What a time to start acting her age.

"I know you haven't broken your self-imposed silence just to talk about Takeda-kun, Miyu-san. It's been, what… twenty years since we last spoke?"

"Eighteen."

"Exactly. Can I say that you've aged quite well?"

Miyu blows smoke out from her nose and in the haze her eyes glint like primed lasers. Shizuru wonders how many of her own kin were too captivated by her gaze to see the blade until it cut out their heart in a neat square.

"You can say it." Blue hair brushed back, tucked behind her ears. Not even a hint of a smile; it's taken fifty years to know the motion comes when she's amused.

"I just forget how long it's been, yes? Time passes so strangely when your body does not remind you of it."

"You are young by their standards, Fujino-san."

"Perhaps, but still older than you."

Another plume of smoke. If she were anyone else, it would be difficult to see the windshield and the road beyond, but Shizuru lets her memory of the path home and the sound of the traffic outside do the steering. A man honks as she passes him, the whip of air between their cars thin and turbulent. She ignores it.

"What do you intend to do with Kuga-san?"

Ah, there it is. "Perhaps dinner, sometime soon. Coffee? Even something as benign as skating, if she so wishes."

"Why?"

"You didn't smell my mark in her blood, did you? On her body?"

"No."

"I… things have changed. She intrigues me. I find myself unwilling to bind her through blood when her mind is just as satisfying."

Miyu watches her in that way she does, like she's peeling Shizuru's skin apart and peering into whatever soul she has left. Maybe she can. Who knows what those eyes can see through?

"You care for her." The observation is bland and careful, but it's as close to being surprised as Miyu ever gets.

"Don't sound so shocked, Miyu-san. I do have emotions."

Grey curls lazily from the other woman's parted lips. "I've never seen you get attached before."

"Natsuki reminds me that I used to be human, once. That not all of me disappeared when I Returned." Shizuru taps her fingers against the steering wheel, the red of the traffic light scattering over her knuckles. "I'd like for that feeling to stay as long as I can will it."

They pull into the underground parking of her apartment, but neither one moves. Miyu plays with the smothered end of her cigarette, rolling it around and around in her slender fingers, and Shizuru vividly remembers the first time they met - those fingers curled firmly around a blade that had met its mark in the chest of Shizuru's companion, a twist of her wrist turning him to ash. Both of them so young and wild, reckless in ways they can no longer afford.

"She's in danger when she's with you," Miyu says, facing ahead, "now that Takeda's dead. They'll come looking."

"They know better than to touch what is mine."

"But she isn't yours. Not yet."

Shizuru concedes this with a short incline of her head. Takeda's ash lines the bottom of her wheel-well, stamped into the carpet. An unlife of hatred reduced to dust in a night. Tragic, almost. A waste.

"He was a threat to their anonymity. There's a chance they won't take action."

"You don't believe that."

"No," she sighs, "I suppose I don't."

Silence stretches out like a road. Miyu's face flickers in the vaguest expression of discomfort before it relaxes again, and her door swings open. She has one foot on the concrete before Shizuru calls out to her.

"Miyu-san?"

Her face half-turns, one red eye watching her indecipherably.

"Why do you care so much about Natsuki?"

She won't receive an answer, she knows this. Miyu works on an agenda that Shizuru hasn't been able to understand in the years they've come together and drifted apart. The woman remains a ghost wrapped in smoke and black ink, consistently surprising Shizuru in ways no-one else can, and it's honestly a miracle she's revealed this much. Shizuru can't call her a friend, exactly, but they've known each other for so long it's fostered an odd familiarity that often defies what they're supposed to be to one another. It's why she doesn't fear the blade strapped to her thigh, or the gun tucked in her boot.

Not even those hands, strong and sturdy, that had once wrapped around her throat.

"Something that catches your attention like this is worth looking into. That is all."

She lights another cigarette, pausing at the garage door.

"You should feed soon, Fujino-san. I could smell your hunger inside the building. It will draw attention."

When she disappears into the rain-soaked night, Shizuru can't help the sigh and smile that plucks at the edges of her mouth. "Always so dramatic, Miyu-san," she murmurs, but nonetheless steps out of the car and takes a deep breath, her bones tingling with the anticipation of the hunt. The monster in the base of her throat rumbles its agreement as she catches the faintest traces of Natsuki's scent still in the leather.

It won't take long.