Mika made his way briskly along the dark stone pathways, his boots clicking against the stone floor, his white cape swaying behind him. The guard duty shift that he'd trapped himself into had finally ended.

It had been the usual day; he had watched human children clad in livestock uniforms emerge from their dwellings and run and play in the streets, and had tried and failed not to think of Yuu and their family, back when they had been in the same situation – not happy, but together.

He'd had a run-in with Ferid, who, as always, he tried and failed to avoid. As usual, the older vampire, with his sickly-sweet sing-song voice, had teased and taunted him, "Come now, Miika-kun, just one little sip. Aww, still thinking of your precious Yuu?", within an inch of the blue-eyed teen's sanity. Mika's glares and sharp retorts at him to stop, shut up, go away, and leave me alone, only seemed to encourage the annoying, sadistic jerk even more. Luckily and thankfully, when Ferid had found him, the shift had nearly been over.

Once the time ended, he had abruptly turned his heel and marched away, not minding in the least to cut off his tormentor mid-sentence. Ferid had called after Mika's quickly retreating form. "Oi, where are you going off to in such a hurry, Miiikaa? We just started our fun little chat!"

Of course, Mika had ignored him and continued his fast pace, and swiftly left the silver-haired vampire, who thankfully didn't follow him, behind. The sooner he could get to see the human, the better.

(She's a seraph like Yuu and me. If she was being experimented on and used by the humans, too, then maybe she knows something about Yuu. Maybe she could help me find him.) Mika thought. This could be his chance to be united with his family after all this time, – and maybe help another person who was in the same situation as they were, – and rescue Yuu from the awful humans who were manipulating him.

He knew it might not work; there was the possibility that human girl did not know anything about Yuu or where he could be found. Or, though Mika could not imagine why, she could be loyal to the Japanese Imperial Demon Army, and refuse to help him even after he explained everything. If that happened, then Mika would...

…well, Mika didn't know what he would do.

But there was still a chance, and he was going to take it.

He had to try.

Before that, though, he would have to make a quick stop, much to his annoyance. But for the sake of the girl, he shoved down his impatience. Krul had told Mika that the human was in a bad way, and that the blood she had been given to try to turn her had left her in a weak state. He would have to find out just how bad off she was, and then get the necessary things to care for her and help her recover.

It couldn't be helped.

Mika just hoped the human's condition wasn't too serious.

Everything was blurry. No matter how many times she blinked, Kyali's vision refused to come into focus, and instead appeared as if she was looking through a pixelated heat wave. Her throat was raw from dehydration, and it felt like it was on fire. The blood from earlier had done nothing to remedy the dryness; if anything, it had only made it worse, the liquid having burned at the lining of her esophagus as it went down, as well as – or so Kyali imagined – whatever little moisture had been left.

Her lips were dry and cracked; she had licked them countless times out of instinct, but of course that didn't help. It wouldn't surprise her if they were bleeding, though she couldn't tell with the metallic taste of the vampire's blood still on her tongue.

She didn't know how long she had been laying there on the cold cell floor. No dreams had come after the conversation with the demon – who, Kyali had noted before waking, had been unusually lively; had she been feeling better, she might have wondered about this more. Since she had woken up from it, Kyali had been drifting in and out of consciousness. Her limbs felt sluggish and heavy; she could barely move her head.

Shivers racked her body. Cold from stone beneath her, as well as from the metal shackles around her wrists, seeped into her skin, like icy tendrils belonging to some many-tentacled creature, adding to the already low temperature of the air in the room, which made it feel like a blanket of frost was covering her, wrapping around her body and smothering her, with no way to throw it off.

Despite the chill, Kyali's forehead was shiny with sweat, and a thin layer coated the back of her neck. Which was weird, considering; it was a wonder she had any moisture in her body to produce sweat, with how parched she was. She could feel heat beneath her skin, tracing burning paths through her veins, and yet she still trembled with uncontrollable shivers.

Nausea would bloom in her stomach and rise into her throat, and she would try to take slow, deep breaths, though this would sometimes aggravate her throat and cause her to cough. After a few minutes – or what Kyali assumed to be a few minutes; she couldn't calculate the passage of time very well right now – the feeling would pass, only to rear its ugly head again not long after.

The bruises on her body that she had gotten from the beating several hours ago still ached, and she was sore wherever the vampire's boots had kicked her. For a fleeting moment, she faintly wondered why she seemed to be healing slower than normal, but her foggy mind could not keep its grasp on the thought.

In short, Kyali was miserable. She felt both too hot and too cold at the same time, like a blistering fire at been lit inside her body and was battling a freezing wave of ice with neither one losing, parts of her wet and sticky with sweat, sick to her stomach though there was nothing to come up – when had she eaten last? –, and she was thirsty, so, so thirsty. She had never wanted water, or anything liquid as long as it wasn't blood, so desperately in her life.

The feeling of nausea returned again. She groaned weakly, the sound mostly air, and she scraped her fingernails against the hard tiles in discomfort, barely even managing that movement. Tears escaped from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks to drip onto the floor below.

(I'm so tired.) She thought as she began to drift back out of awareness. (So thirsty…so cold…too hot…please…I don't want to be here.)

Another thought came to the ill raven-haired girl, unbidden. A thought she had not had for years and years.

(I want to go home.)

The dungeon was even darker than the rest of the city's streets. Of course, that was to be expected; it was a dungeon, after all, which were dark and dreary by definition. It was not meant to be a pleasant place. There was no electricity sent to this area; light came from the flaming torches that were set in intervals along the walls.

Mika turned down the hallway, supplies in hand, and headed toward the cell he knew that the human was being kept in. He had learned from one who was involved with prisoner earlier that the girl was severely dehydrated and appeared to be ill; though what manner of sickness it was, the vampire he spoke with did not know. And of course, none of them could be bothered to find out. To them, she was just a livestock prisoner.

His curiosity in said livestock prisoner had not been questioned, although Mika had been able to see the confused looks in their eyes when he had come to ask, especially so with the male vampire he had talked to.

Whatever; it didn't matter. Mika knew he was considered a weird vampire, anyway; everyone he came in contact with knew he didn't drink human blood.

That alone was enough to grant him placement in the "strange" category, after which no one would really wonder too much about his actions; they just chalked it up to a dismissive, "Oh, that guy is just weird like that."

Which was just fine with Mika. He was finally getting to see the other seraph, and could do so without any hindering interference. Now, he just had to find out how ill she was, and get a doctor – there were those assigned to care for the livestock if they got too sick, though Mika was pretty sure those vampires had to have their arms twisted to do so, or maybe they were on standby just in case of an epidemic, because he couldn't remember being seen by a doctor even once when he had gotten sick as a livestock child – if need be.

At last, he came to the cell where the human was kept. A simple wooden door placed in the stone wall, unlocked and unguarded. He grasped the handle with his free hand and pushed the door open.

One look at the human in the room, and Mika knew he would need a doctor.

The interior of the room was fairly well lit compared to the halls. Four flame-lit lanterns were placed high on the wall opposite the girl, and their collective bright light shone down on the human, illuminating her prone form. After shutting it, Mika stood by the door, taking her in.

The girl was on the cell floor, unconscious, laying in a partially curled position, half on her side and half on her back. Her wrists were encircled with shackles attached to lengthy chains, which were in turn attached to the wall above her. She had tanned skin and disheveled, waist-length black hair. She was clothed in what Mika assumed to be a military uniform, colored black and green, the top of it long-sleeved with parallel gold buttons down the front, the pleated skirt stopping at her mid-thigh. Her legs and feet were bare, and on her ankles and legs he could see pinkish-red rashes.

But what worried Mika was the way the girl's breathing seemed shallow and labored. She was shivering from the chilly temperature of the room, yet her skin shone with sweat that made her hair stick to her forehead and neck. Her fingers unconsciously grasped at the tiles, as if she was trying to grab ahold of something, and her lips were cracked and bloody.

Mika came over and crouched by the girl, carefully setting down the supplies next to him. He peeled off his gloves, put them aside, and softly pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling the unnatural heat emanating from her skin. It was clear she had a fever.

From the supplies, he took a thermometer, and with gentle movements, moved the human's hair back with one hand and pressed the end of the thermometer behind her ear. After about a minute, the machine beeped.

It read 39 ° C.

Yes, a doctor's attention was definitely required.

But first, he had to get her out of this cell and to better accommodations.

Mika reached for the shackles that held the girl's wrists.

It was getting harder to breathe. Had it always been this hard to breathe?

That was the first thing Kyali noticed when she began to come to. It felt like her lungs couldn't get enough air, and she sucked in fast and desperately, though her inner muscles were loath to respond, and trying to do so was a struggle.

The second thing she noticed came in quick succession.

Kyali opened her eyes, the world still blurred. Someone was crouched beside her, and through the haze, she registered something touching her wrists. She whimpered softly in fear, which incited another whimper at the pain in her throat, the sounds barely audible, and weakly tried to pull away from the touch.

(No. Don't touch me. Go away.)

Then a male voice spoke, it's tone soft and hushed.

And more importantly, she could understand.

She could understand what he was saying.

After so long being surrounded by those who spoke a language that had become foreign to her, having to guess what was going on and only being able to pick out a word or two, this was a massive relief and comfort – so mentally refreshing – in and of itself.

"Shh. Don't be afraid," the voice soothed in English, albeit with a thick Japanese accent, "I won't harm you."

The words and the voice calmed her, and Kyali did not continue her protests, but simply watched the person's ministrations, her eyes heavy-lidded and barely focused. The blurry figure took ahold of one wrist and broke the shackle off with his bare hands, rubbing the wrist briefly before carefully setting her hand back on the floor, then repeat the procedure with her other wrist.

She faintly heard a sound like hard plastic against hard plastic. Then light pressure on her left shoulder rolled her fully on her back, and a hand cupped the back of her head and lifted it. Fear spiked when something pushed lightly against her lips, and Kyali pressed them together and tried to turn her face away, remembering the last time something was poured into her mouth.

(No more blood. No more.)

"It's alright," the soothing voice spoke again, reassuring, "It's only water."

Water!

Kyali let her lips part and didn't resist when the liquid was tipped into her mouth. Unlike before, when the blood had been forced down her throat so that she had to scramble to swallow as not to choke and had been deprived of air, the water could not come fast enough.

It came as a slow trickle past her lips, giving her plenty space between swallows and allowing her time to breathe. She accepted the refreshing liquid eagerly, the water a cooling relief to her parched throat. Some splashed onto the cracked skin of her lips, making them sting from the open wounds, but Kyali didn't mind. Now they weren't desert dry anymore.

All too soon, the water was pulled away. Kyali whimpered in protest as her head was gently lowered back to the tile. The person who had given her the water seemed to understand.

"You'll get more soon, I promise. You'll get sick if you drink too much at once."

Which was sound logic, but still.

At least her throat no longer burned, and she could make sounds without it potentially triggering a coughing fit. It was also slightly easier to breathe. Not much, but at least slightly.

The sound of hard plastic-on-hard plastic reached her ears again, and then something warm and soft was being placed on top and around her shivering body.

No, not warm. She didn't want warm; she couldn't stand it now. But she was also cold, so cold, and that part of her welcomed it.

The physical effort of trying to move and drinking the water exhausted her, coupled with the relaxing softness of the material that was draped over her.

She vaguely registered being lifted as her eyes fluttered closed.

The shackles were easy to break.

The girl had awoken as he was about to free her wrists, her dark brown eyes glassy from the fever, and fearful.

Now Mika was grateful to Krul for forcing him to learn all those languages, especially so for English being among them, and making him study and practice constantly. He had hated it at the time, but the knowledge proved to be crucial now, and Mika couldn't think of anything more important to use it for than this.

He'd had to reassure her again when he tried to give her water from the container he had brought. No doubt she was remembering being forced to drink Krul's blood and thought he was going to give her more.

He had given her the water slowly, making sure not to choke her, especially since her breathing came in shallow gasps. She had protested when he stopped, but he didn't know how long she had gone without eating or drinking anything besides vampire blood, and he didn't want her stomach to reject it.

It was when he wrapped her in the blanket that the human girl's eyes drifted closed. Her breathing was still shallow and labored, but less of the latter, and Mika was relieved by the slight improvement.

However, she was still dehydrated – she would need more than the small amount of water he had given her, and soon – and had a high fever that needed to be brought down.

Mika carefully slid his arms under her back and legs, fully wrapping her in the soft, red material, and picked her up. A small groan escaped the girl as she was moved, her muscles probably stiff and sore. Resting her legs on his knees for a moment, he gathered up the thermometer, plastic water container, and gloves. Then he stood up and left the cell, pushing the door closed with his foot.

The girl's head rested against his shoulder, and it occurred to him how small the girl was in his arms. Holding her close to his chest, Mika strode through the torch-lit halls of the dungeon toward the exit.

The blanket wrapped around the human not only protected her from the chill of the dungeon, but also served to hide the girl's military uniform and lack of livestock collar and bands. While no one would particularly question what he was doing with human livestock, breaking a prisoner of war out of their cell was something he technically wasn't supposed to do, even if the vampire queen herself did look the other way.

It wasn't something he wanted to be widely known – even if no one in Sanguinem would really care, rumors could get out and potentially reach the few that would –, and it would be if some random vampire were to happen to pass by him and see her clothing.

Which were filthy anyway, Mika thought as he made his way to his quarters with the human girl cradled tightly and securely in his arms. She trembled against him, and he could feel the heat from her skin more prominently now that he was holding her close. Her clothes needed to be changed, and she also needed a bath to clean her up and hopefully lower her fever.

And of course, it was just his luck, or rather the lack thereof, that the prisoner was a female, so it wasn't something he could do himself.

Fortunately, only one vampire passed him by on his trek down the streets, who didn't bother to even give him a glance, and he reached his destination without incident or hindrances.

Mika's living quarters consisted, among other things, several bedrooms of different sizes, all of which were finely furnished and had an adjoining bathroom. He passed by the room he used for himself and stopped at the door next to it. He adjusted his grip on his charge in order to grasp and turn the doorknob, pushing the door open.

The room wasn't large, but cozy. Inside was a queen-sized bed, positioned with the headboard against the far right wall and adorned with fluffy white pillows and a blanket with a dark blue-and-green pattern. To the left of it, against the same wall, was a nightstand with an electric lamp. A couple of chairs sat in the corners of the room opposite the door, to the right of the bed, and the entry to the attached bathroom was between them.

Mika walked over to the bed and, after setting the thermometer, water container, and gloves on the nightstand, carefully lowered the bundled human to rest on top of the blankets, her head resting on top of a soft pillow. He smoothed her limbs into a straight, more comfortable position.

The sick girl's breathing was still labored, but she took in air more deeply than she had been not ten minutes earlier. Her face looked more peaceful, too. Perhaps she was sleeping instead of simply unconscious. The water and changed environment made a difference, Mika was sure.

The blue-eyed half-vampire ran a hand across her feverish forehead and brushed off some of the sweat beads that had gathered there, lightly moving her hair from her forehead in the process.

It was time to call the doctors.

-Author's Note-

Hi all! Sorry for the wait. I did a lot of editing with this chapter. I might come back and do some more.

They finally meet! An actual conversation and proper introduction will have to wait, though, until Kyali isn't so out of it. Also, for those of us in America, 39 degrees Celsius is a little over 102 degrees Fahrenheit.

At the end with her wrapped up in the blanket, I couldn't help but think that she's been turned into a hot burrito. But not hot in a good way, and strictly ornamental; Kyali isn't food, so stay away, vampires.

Just my random thoughts on the matter.

I have also changed the name of Kyali's demon in the previous chapter.

As always, I don't own Seraph of the End in any way, shape, or form.

Comments are always welcome, and if you have questions, please feel free to ask them.

Til next time!

-Sky