**Ren… Ren, the night is upon us.**

His eyes opened in the darkness. It was as Morgana said. He could feel it in his bones. The sun was in its final slide behind the world, and it was time for Ren, and those like him, to rise.

He stood- his dirt blanket shedding from him. He took up the horsehair brush and cleansed his skin of the remnants. Ren felt a returned vigor. An entire day's hibernation, and only the brief journey from the clinic to the cafe to weaken him. This was good. Not perfect. But much better than he was this morning.

**Coffee smell again. I suppose I'll just have to get used to it. It reminds me of a time...**

Ren dressed and let Morgana babble on about some past host of his. Ren had heard it all before, dozens of times. Once equipped, he dug his bag of blood concentrate out of his saddle, then he sat at the small table in the center of the floor. The water decanter and glass were awaiting him; Ren's only imposition on Sojirio's hospitality- save the shallow trench in the cellar floor.

Ren poured himself a glass of water as Morgana finished whatever he was talking about and went blessedly silent. Ren savored the solitude of the moment. The darkness. The small table and single chair upon which he sat. The clear liquid dull and quiet in the shadow. He dropped a capsule into the water glass and the smell hit him instantly. Ren salivated and his lips curled back of their own accord, as if to allow the scent in the air to reach his fangs.

He held himself back, though his hunger growled within him and his lips continuing to twitch. Ren wanted to drink, but he did not allow himself. The desire steadily grew, like an incoming tide. Ren fidgeted uncontrollably, but he clamped his thighs and held himself still. For agonizingly long moments, he held himself restrained.

**Fifteen minutes, eight seconds.**

A second more than when he'd last attempted this. It was enough. He decided he would allow himself to eat. His hand shot forward almost automatically, but then froze just before touching the glass. A goal met did not mean control was abandoned. He lifted the glass slowly, carefully, the pool of red liquid mostly still. Brought the rim to his lips, the smell intoxicating, just below his nose. And he sipped.

Delightful bliss flowed past his teeth and onto his tongue. Ren's desire shuddered, stopped fighting him, and concentrated on what he allowed. He swallowed, warmth entwining down his throat and into his core, where it expanded to fill his chest. Then Ren forced himself to ease the cup away from his lips, holding it before him. Tantalizing himself with the allure of the second sip. His desire slowly began to grow again, though it was far easier to resist. But one must practice resisting the small temptations, too.

And he was enjoying the solitude. Ever since he'd entered this city, he'd been surrounded by humans. Bombarded, even, like when the Takemi woman barged into this very cellar. Children, adults, people of seemingly every social stripe. It was too much like home. Did humans organize themselves this way because they watched his mother's people for thousands of years?… Or was it the other way around? A pointless thought, never to be answered.

But it was decidedly surreal to find the same social realities here that had made him forsake his own homeland. Class. Caste. Gender. Family status. It was something of a surprise, but perhaps only because he purposefully kept himself ignorant these last few years. He'd been to human cities plenty of times before, but not for long. Just in to get the contract, and out. Maybe a room in an inn here or there. Then later, back in to get the payment, and back out. Never dealing too long with the people. Nor too many people at once. Not like this morning in that clinic. God. What a circus. He was glad to escape that place.

Ren suddenly remembered Niijima Makoto's face as Mrs. Shiho went on her tirade. The confidence and self-assurance in those crimson eyes had abruptly shattered, and the vanishing mask had been like ripples traveling across her sharp features, revealing the unsure girl underneath.

**Beauty in distress, eh? You read too many of your mother's books.**

Ren's fangs bared themselves at no one in the darkness. Rage tightened up his expression until the bones of his skull were plain upon the surface of his skin.

STAY OUT!

**Gah! I wasn't! You're lighting the sky up in here! I can't not see it, Ren!**

Ren snarled and slammed his left palm onto the table. The surface splintered into wooden shards, the glass decanter hopped up from the kinetic violence, then fell amidst the collapsed ruins of the table and shattered, spilling water over broken wood. The cup of blood in his right hand sloshed chaotically.

But Morgana didn't cry out in pain. He'd already slinked away to wherever he went within. Leaving Ren alone, breathing heavily in the dark.

Fuck. So much for control.

Ren guzzled the rest of his meal.

Niijima Makoto dreamed of ferals, but it was not a nightmare, for she was not afraid. She was eager, excited, her teeth bared and grinning with bloodlust. They came at her from the dark and she pointed Father's gun:

KOOM! KOOM! Koom...

Endlessly...

It never ran out of shells, but she ran out of targets. Makoto looked eagerly into the dark around her, breathing heavily, smiling.

A footstep behind her.

She whirled. It was Amamiya standing before her, with his dark overcoat, his strange hat, and his grey eyes. He looked… sad.

Makoto pointed her gun at him and pulled the trigger.

THUMP!

Makoto awoke. The orangish light of late afternoon was filtering through the thin gossamer drapes of her bedroom. Her heart was beating fast, and she felt a strange sort of latent sorrow.

THUMP!

She bolted upright, her untied nightgown spreading to expose her breasts to cooler air. Shadows moved on the other side of the drapes. Murmuring male voices. Alarm thrummed through Makoto's mind and she wrapped her nightgown closed. Then she calmed when she realized it was just the groundskeepers installing storm shutters on her windows. Well, it was time to rise anyway.

Makoto bathed, dressed, equipped her gear, and left her room feeling refreshed and eager for tonight's adventure. It was most likely to be a slow, uneventful night; but just the possibility of encountering something new excited her. And it would be interesting to see how Amamiya carried himself. Surely, his reputation meant he was highly capable. Then again, not very many people in Tock-Yo had ever heard of him, but supposedly he was a big name in the south.

As Makoto descended the atrium stairs to the first level, Yoshida walked through on the first floor. He looked up at her and stopped in his tracks. He silently watched her descend, with an apparent mix of emotions on his face, perhaps a bit of pride, a bit of worry, and some sadness, too.

"So," he finally said when she reached the bottom. "You're going hunting?"

"Yes."

He gazed at her for a moment. "You have your father's cheekbones, but the rest of you is entirely your mother, you know."

Makoto didn't know what to say to that. "Oh- I see…"

"But when you were walking down the stairs… the way you carry yourself, and your expression. It was like I went back in time and was watching Him come down like always."

She also didn't know what to say to that, and while she was thinking of some response, Yoshida smiled fondly.

"Nevermind an old man. Be off. And be safe. Please."

"Shiho? The guests?"

"Shiho is sleeping, as far as I know. The physician and the mother are with her and have been for some time. The Sakamoto siblings went home about two hours ago. Oh, and Okumura replaced the men at the gate, though I expect Caroline and Justine will be here in the next hour or so to relieve them."

"Thanks, Yoshi. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I expect it."

She left him and went out the manor doors. Johanna was waiting at the bottom of the steps, and it appeared someone washed her. The sleek, gunmetal blue metal shined in the sinking sun. She stepped over and settled into the familiar feel of the seat, flipped the switch, and rose to steady herself on the kickstand. She kicked.

Johanna thrummed to life in an eager rumble that was music to Makoto's ears. She revved the throttle briefly in neutral, just out of habit, enjoying the increase of engine noise. Then she settled back down into the seat and gazed up at Niijima Manor. It was a beautiful house, even with storm shutters ready to be closed on every window. And a wonderful home. She was fortunate she would have this to come back to. Yoshida's words had Father on her mind, and she wondered if he felt things like this before he left.

Ah, well… no way of knowing. She popped Johanna into gear and rumbled down the drive. The gate guards hopped into activity and opened it before her. The man called Dojima gave a salute and smile as she rode past the gate and away from home.

She went through a mental checklist as she rode: Did she replace the spent cartridge cylinders on her shoulder pads? Yes. Did she check the spring blades in her gauntlets and boots? Yes. Flares and noisemakers restocked in her pouch? Yes. Matches? Yes. Electric lantern? Yes, on the small of her back. Spare battery? Yes. Johanna recharged? Yes. A few of Yoshida's super dense oatmeal bars? Yes.

It seemed she had everything she thought would be useful and would fit into the utility pouches around her waist. Plus spares of everything and a large canteen in Johanna's saddlebags. Not to mention some of those Barking Dog things Iwai wanted her to try out.

Her armor was intact, and though that feral two nights ago tore into the chainmail scarf around her neck, it was still sound. She was uninjured, rested, and eager. Whatever would happen tonight, there was nothing else she could do to prepare for it. That filled her with confidence and excitement.

Johanna rumbled through the early evening traffic- the roads were chewed and muddy from the day. Since there had been no rain, it was probably all of it a mix of dust and animal urine. The air was certainly filled with that urine smell, with barnyard and chamberpot mixed in. It was a concoction that Makoto still noticed, since Azabu had none of it. But the pedestrians all around her seemed nose-blind to the smell, and they stoically picked their way around puddles of urine mud while ox-carts, carriages, horses, and a few motorcycles splattered through as they passed.

The sun was just setting behind the buildings when Makoto reached Cafe Leblanc. True to his word, Amamiya was still there, though he was in the process of saddling his mechanical horse. His head turned as she approached on Johanna; his eyes hidden briefly by a reflection of light across the lens of his spectacles. So, he was careful to wear those while the sun was still bright in the sky. What was the intensity of his sun-aversion?

She parked Johanna next to the horse and switched her off. Amamiya was reaching under the belly of his own mount and uniting straps with buckles. He didn't offer a vocal greeting. So Makoto watched him in silence, and eyed her new partner's equipment as he went about his business with the horse tack.

Amamiya's overcoat was half-coat, half-cloak and it hid much of his figure. But she could catch glimpses through the front opening as he stooped, bent, and walked around his mount. He wore a longsword at the left hip, which sometimes poked in the back of his coat. And she could see a smaller bladed weapon on the other hip, as well as various pouches and bags around his waist- much like Makoto's own gear. Underneath the cloak... she saw form-fitting clothing of a utilitarian grey-black color. It looked something like canvas in this light, but surely he would wear something more sturdy than tent fabric.

"Are you wearing armor?" she asked.

Amamiya's head turned to her. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. "Armor? Of course."

"Then what is it? It looks like tent canvas."

Amamiya looked down and opened his own overcoat, revealing more of his form-fitting clothing. Now that Makoto could see all of him: his shirt and pants seemed to hug his flesh, revealing toned musculature, at least until the clothing tucked into the sleeves of his jacket and boots. "You are deceived. It is not made of plant fibre, but liquids from inside the earth- or so I understand."

Not fabric? "Can I feel it?"

Amamiya was quiet a moment, then stepped over to where she still sat on Johanna. "If you wish…"

Emboldened by candid permission and curiosity, Makoto eagerly shot out her hand to touch Amamiya's tunic. It was immediately obvious that it was no tunic, but a breastplate of some hard material. It was smooth to the touch, and if she pushed inward with her fingers, highly resistant. Then she blinked, realizing she was running her fingers over Amamiya's abdominals. She withdrew her hand as if stung and felt her cheeks heat up.

Her eyes flicked up at Amamiya and he was gazing at her with his neutral expression, but something about it made her own eyes retreat and examine the businesses on the other side of the street.

"H- how can it be both hard and so… tight?"

Amamiya let his overcoat fall closed. "It's molded to the shape of my body when it is crafted."

"Where is such a thing crafted?"

Amamiya regarded her quietly, then turned back to his horse. "Elsewhere."

Looking away again. That meant he didn't want to go further into that topic. To craft armor such as that… well, it didn't seem too different from boiled leather, which was another type of armor that could be molded to a body- but Makoto's fingers could tell Amamiya's breastplate was much more formidable than some processed ox hide. From liquids in the earth? Like oil? Liquid into solids? Makoto had never considered it… but the vampiric empire could make amazing things. Things like Amamiya's mechanical horse. Would turning earth liquids to hard solids be beyond them?

And there remained two imperial provinces just off-shore to the south. The island of Kyushu was rumored to still hold remnants of the old world order, yet the human city of Fuku-Ka seemed to be prosperous- though Father said the people hugged the northern coast and dared not venture much further south. And everyone knew the island of Shikoku was firmly Imperial. Boats had always vanished near it, so it became taboo, as did most southerly ocean traffic. But coastal communities across the straits flourished for decades... and then in the last fifty years, they began vanishing. Entire villages with buildings and animals and boats and crops- but no people. As if they just... faded away one night. People suspected the vampires of Shikoku were not only active, but regaining strength. That was worrisome, but more a distant boogeyman than anything. The Empire was dust and legend, surely. But then again… where did Amamiya mean when he said 'elsewhere'?

Amamiya finished a strap with a satisfied grunt. He turned back towards Makoto. "Are you ready?"

Thoughts about empires would need to wait. There were more immediate concerns. "Yes," said Makoto.

"Then let us return to the school."

Amamiya mounted his horse and Makoto kicked Johanna back to life. They headed out, Makoto allowed Amamiya the lead. His mount was slower, and frankly… she was eager for him to take the lead tonight. She'd never done this before- seeking an intelligent and elusive target. Ferals tended to come right at you, slobbering the entire way.

Shujin Girls Academy sat along a narrow dirt street, walled on both sides. The school wall on one side, and the back of the main-street-facing structures on the other. A line of unlit lanterns was spaced intermittently down school alleyway. The campus itself was directly bordered by buildings on all other sides, so this was the only thoroughfare past the school grounds. Amamiya brought them to a stop some distance from the school gate and considered the area.

Makoto stopped Johanna next to him and tried to see what he was seeing. Presumably, he was looking for the best stakeout spot. This street offered no cover, and a limited view of the school. Could they simply watch the street leading in? Makoto remembered Caroline's description of the "puddle of shadow" which had come over the Nijima Estate wall. So… a vampire didn't need to use the street, and probably would not. They would likely approach from a… less human route. Makoto's eyes went upward, scanning the surrounding rooftops.

Tock-Yo rooftops were an eclectic mix of decoration, utilitilty, and living space. There could be gardens, clotheslines, sleeping lofts for warmer months, water towers- anything really. So, there was plenty to hide behind, but few clear sight-lines. And speaking of sight… it was shortly to be night. How does one spot a shadow amongst shadows? Perhaps Amamiya could, with those grey eyes of his, but not her. Though even he couldn't see through solid objects, surely.

"What are you thinking?" asked Amamiya.

She came out of her train of thought to find Amamiya looking down at her from atop his horse. She answered confidently: "That the enemy is unlikely to use the street, but the roofs are not ideal vantage points. And that you can probably see in the dark better than I can."

Amamiya nodded slightly and then looked away. "...A fair evaluation."

Makoto waited for more, but Amamiya was not forthcoming. A bit of frustration oozed into her mind. "Well? What are you thinking?"

Amamiya glanced back at her, seemed to consider something, then said: "That we are not trying to stop a fox from getting at the hens. We are trying to find a wolf in sheep's clothing."

Oh! That's right. She had defenses on the brain. What from the intruder onto her estate, the need to guard Shiho, the storm shutters. But that wasn't what they were about now. They were looking for the disguised vampire, and they believed it would be in the school. Or if not in the school during no-men-allowed Sunday, then coming back to the school for classes tomorrow. And a noble vampire absolutely could not be outdoors in daylight, so they would return in the night before sunrise Monday morning. So… assuming the vampire was a male, then he would…

"So we watch the gate, and see if anyone comes to the school. If our target is looking to get back inside, then it will use its disguise to walk in like someone supposed to be there."

"Yes, and if no one shows up?"

"Then likely the creature remains inside the school, and we will move in with daylight to sniff them out."

"And so," Amamiya turned his horse around. "We can see the entire alley from that shop there, without being seen ourselves."

Makoto turned to look. By the shop's sign, it was a small stationery store, likely profiting from the students of the school. As with most street-side buildings, it had an outer porch- and that porch was tastefully secluded by bamboo screens to subtly declare the business closed for the day. It should not be difficult to remain there, unobserved, yet watchful through gaps in the screens.

After Makoto spun her motorcycle, they traveled back to the main street; found an inconspicuous spot amongst the main-street businesses to leave their mounts; and then returned to the stationary store on foot. It was already closed for the day, so no one was there to object to the two of them lifting the bamboo screen and stepping into the enshrouded porch. Makoto walked to the screen facing the length of the alley and peered through the bamboo slats. It was a perfect spot. And even more perfect, the lamplighter man was already trudging his way down the alleyway from the other side, lighting the street lights for the night. There would be pools of illumination up and down the alley they wanted to stakeout.

That was a relief. Otherwise, she'd be sitting in the dark waiting for Amamiya to say something was happening. Useless and blind. And all of this was about not being useless. Yes, it was a fantasy of Sae's, but Makoto realized suddenly she wanted to tear it down all the same. Tonight, she would do it. Well… tonight or tomorrow morning, she would do it!

A cloying scent caught her nose. It smelled like… roadside shrines and church mass. Incense from the smoldering stick or from the swinging thurible. She turned to find Amamiya carefully placing a few sticks of burning incense on the nearby banister.

"What is that for?"

"To mask your scent," said Amamiya.

"What?" Do I stink? Makoto turned sideways away from Amamiya and sniffed down her armored tunic. No, and I just bathed! Did I ride Johanna through some foul puddle and it got on my pants? Makoto looked down at her leather leggings and boots. They looked clean. She looked back at Amamiya.

"You're a virgin, Ms. Niijima."

Heat burned across Makoto's cheeks. "WHAT!"

"Why are you shrieking? Be quiet!"

"I'm not shrieking!'

"Yes, you are."

Well, maybe she was. But that's because of him! Her shocked embarrassment was rapidly transforming into indignation. She dropped her voice into a whisper, but it sounding more like a long, angry hiss. "What business of yours is my virginity?!"

Amamiya blinked and his mouth gaped open for a moment. "What? I-"

"None! None of your business, Mr. Amamiya! So! In the future! I'd rather you didn't-!"

"Vampires can smell virgin women, Ms. Niijima! Virgin women have a unique scent!"

Oh… Makoto's angry indignation deflated into embarrassment mixed with curiosity. The incense. The smell. Amamiya was accommodating for her presence on this stakeout, and she just attacked him for it "And the incense… is to keep us hidden from smell, as we are hiding from sight."

"Yes. This scent is used in all manner of shrines. I'm sure you recognize it. Anyone passing will think there is some personal shrine nearby."

"I… see."

The smell of a virgin woman? Well, that went right in line with the classic legends of vampires favoring young maidens as the targets of their… affections. It wasn't just barbarity then? Not just a display of power? But a… physiological attraction? A unique scent?

"What does a virgin woman smell like?"

Amamiya gave her a surprised glance and then immediately looked away, acting like he was now keeping watch on the alleyway (though sunlight was still reddening the underside of clouds). It would be some time yet before any creatures of the night could wander freely.

"They smell like what they smell like."

He was being deliberately evasive. Makoto thought she should just drop it, but… if he could smell virgin women… what else could he smell? What she ate? When- when she last used the bathroom?... Would he know when her monthly moon was rising? God!

She should just drop the chain of thought, but now she was worried about it. Amamiya didn't seem the type to pull punches, so Makoto thought she should just ask him and get it over with. Otherwise, she'll be worried forever.

"What do I smell like, Mr. Amamiya?"

Makoto saw Amamiya's jaw grind together, but he resolutely didn't look over. The silence stretched as she looked at the side of his face. And then, just as Makoto thought she would need to ask again, Amamiya said: "You smell very good, Ms. Niijima." Then he looked even further away, turning away from her. "Now, can we get to the business at hand, and silently wait for-"

"I heard it over here somewhere," said a familiar loud male voice.

Amamiya sighed with disgust. Makoto turned to peek out the street-facing side of their bamboo enshrouded porch. Sure enough, Ryuji was walking towards them with his gate polearm in hand. Ann was just to his rear, and she seemed to be holding a… bullwhip?

What are these two thinking?!