Makoto saw Ren's eyes shift from Ann to her, but with a mind still churning an emotional whirlpool, Ann's question was almost from another universe. A brief pause. Ren looked back at Ann, who was walking towards them.

"Weapons," said Ren. "We were talking about weapons."

"Oh!" Ann sounded surprised, and a little relieved. She stepped up close to the two of them.

Ren's face made a strange expression, his mouth twitched oddly, and he suddenly took two steps back from both Makoto and Ann. It was an odd action with no apparent cause. The two young women stared at him. Ren averted his eyes, seemed embarrassed, but stood silent.

The social strangeness of Ren's act was the final snap to get Makoto's mind out of its whirlpool. She set the confusion of her dissonance in a little pouch in her mind, a bag that looked like a black and white bear with a zipper on its back, and she zipped them right up. She could get it all back out later and examine it. For now, there were matters to attend.

Makoto turned her head to Ann, who was still looking at Ren, but her own movement attracted Ann's attention. The young woman's blue eyes met her gaze.

"How is your brother?"

"Fine," said Ann. "He's sleeping like he finished a double shift on the city wall." She hesitated, biting her lip. "Is it okay if we spend the night, Ms. Niijima?"

Makoto inwardly winced. She should have offered that hospitality already as The Lady of the house, but she'd been distracted with her own issues. Forcing a guest in need to awkwardly invite themselves to stay in the manor? And a close ally at that? 'A lapse,' Yoshida would call it, in a grave voice, as if it were one of the worst things on earth. But then: it was easily fixed.

"Of course, Ann," said Makoto, "You are both always welcome here. And I thought you were calling me Makoto now."

Ann looked relieved. "Right. Thank you, Makoto. Umm- but before that, I think I should go tell my mother."

That seemed a good idea. After the Kamoshida incident, Mrs. Sakamoto did not need a night not knowing where her children were. Makoto glanced out the atrium windows- a deep orange sunset was evident. It would be dark well before Ann could get to her home and back up to Azabu. It didn't seem prudent to allow her to go on her own. Wait- how did they get here in the first place?

"Um- we walked," said Ann to Makoto's question.

Walked! That would take over an hour! It would be dead dark before Ann was home.

"You're not walking home alone, Ann! Even if there wasn't a vampire out there, that would be a bad idea."

"I can take care of myself," said Ann, smiling, her body wiggling back and forth with happy confidence, blond pigtails swaying with the movement. "I can shoot fire now, right?"

Makoto was taken aback by the suddenly childish body language. If anything, it settled in her mind that Ann was not to go alone, despite what she said. And despite her supposed persona, which she had yet to exhibit any command of- much to the benefit of house furniture, Makoto was sure. But there was perhaps a diplomatic way to solve the issue.

"Let me have a man get out the carriage and take you," said Makoto. "You'll be there and back faster, and riding in high style the whole way."

Ann's face lit up. "Okay!"

As easy as Makoto expected. Now to arrange it. Normally, she would ring the nearby bell, staff would show up, and Makoto would request what needed to be done, and the servant would scurry to the stables and tell the groom to ready the carriage. But- with Yoshida marshaling staff in the library and for Ryuji's care, Makoto didn't want to add an additional burden. So she went to the front door herself and opened the door to the last vestiges of the day's sunlight, its orange blaze smacking her in the face, causing her to wince away from its intensity.

The sound of frantic footsteps drew her attention to the right. Ren was now standing in the corner of the atrium, the brim of his hat covering his eyes, but not the deep grimace of his mouth. Oops. Ren's… differences had slipped Makoto's mind. She should have warned him of what she was about to do.

But- Ren could walk around in sunlight. She'd seen him do it. Why was he hiding in the corner now? Well, it wasn't the time to ask. And he probably wouldn't answer the question, anyway.

"Sorry, Ren," said Makoto, then she stepped out onto the broad porch.

The green lawn and gardens of the estate front stretched out before her, with the gravel driveway snaking its way down the gently sinking landscape to the front gate. It stood open at the moment, and a blue carriage was parked before it on the street. The gold star and bold, blue 'O' of the Okumura Security emblem was emblazoned on the side of the carriage. Two diminutive women with rifles were in front of it, talking with one of the estate guards.

It was Caroline and Justine taking over from Dojima for the night shift. Perhaps this was perfect timing. Makoto could send Ann not just with a carriage, but with an escort. She started to move towards the porch steps, but stopped herself. The Lady did not walk down to the gate. The Lady sent a servant for that, but there were none that Makoto wanted to bother at the moment. So…

'Mr. Dojima!" yelled Makoto. She saw Caroline, Justine, Dojima, the two lesser guards leaving, the two lesser guards arriving, and the carriage driver all turn their heads to stare up at her. Makoto blushed. Perhaps The Lady did not yell across the front yard, either. But done was done. All she could do now was stand confidently.

Attention shifted away from her. Dojima stood for a moment more with the twins, saluted the women, and then turned towards Makoto, walking at a respectfully urgent march. Makoto could do nothing but wait, trying not to feel awkward as the man covered the distance to the porch, his rifle smartly against his back. The wind blew softly. A bird chirped somewhere. Ann came forward and stood next to her, also silently watching Dojima walk up the garden. Makoto sighed inwardly. There had to have been a more graceful way of doing this. Oh, well.

Dojima came to a stop at the foot of the porch step, bowed. "Yes, Ms. Niijima?"

"Would you please take the estate carriage and escort Ms. Sakamoto here to her home and back?"

"But Mako- er- Ms. Niijima," said Ann, immediately. "He's just getting off shift! I'll be fine, really!"

Makoto looked at Ann, unsure of what she was getting at. Ann's face was scrunched into a look of minor embarrassment. Getting off shift? It took Makoto a second, but then embarrassment ran through her as well. Dojima was not like the other live-in staff of the estate. This man did his job and went home, and he had been about to go home to his family. And technically, Dojima was not her employee at all- he worked for Okumura Security.

"Oh. Um-" Makoto turned back to Dojima, his face a bit stiff and embarrassed, too. Her mind began thinking of some way to gracefully reverse herself, but wasn't coming up with anything. She would just have to apologize and find someone else to-

"I would be happy to do it," said Dojima with a slight rise of his chin. "Your ladyship's good word with Okumura brought me a promotion," then his eyes shifted slightly and he looked embarrassed, "and it was greatly needed by my family."

Makoto tried to remember doing that. Oh, right. He was the man who challenged her return to the estate when all the other guards simply let them inside. She'd told Yoshida to ask Okumura to make Dojima the lead of the day guards. Makoto had not thought about what that would have done for Dojima. A promotion… since he was now leader. And likely, more money. Thus, the need of his family. He probably only brought in money from his job. Like most of the citizens of Tock-Yo, Dojima had no estate, no lands, no investments. Makoto thought that was a rather scary way to go about living. She'd known all of that, intellectually- but suddenly on the porch, in the glare of the oranging sunset, she understood it emotionally.

"I'm pleased to employ good people, Mr. Dojima," said Makoto, essentially quoting something she'd heard Yoshida say numerous times. "And your extra time will be paid for, by the estate directly."

Dojima bowed. "Thank you, but that's not necessary."

Makoto recognized the requisite polite refusal of society for what it was. "Nonsense, Mr. Dojima. I insist."

"Then I must accept," said Dojima, looking quite satisfied with the situation. "I'll go to the stables and help the grooms ready the team."

"Thank you," said Makoto as Dojima bowed and walked in that direction.

Well, that was one thing set into motion at-

"You're amazing, Makoto," said Ann.

"Eh?" said Makoto, turning her head to see Ann staring at her, blue eyes gleaming in the sunlight.

"You just help people because you can, and you can fix things with just a few words!"

Makoto felt a flush of heat in her cheeks. That had to be the most undeserved praise she-

She staggered as Ann abruptly hugged her. "I'm so glad I met you," said Ann.

"Well-," mumbled Makoto, "I-"

Then the hug was over and Ann was smiling. "I'm gonna go help them ready the carriage. My dad's a teamster, after all! I can probably do it faster!"

And she was off the porch and walking after Dojima, a visible skip in her step, pigtails bobbing up and down in the sunlight. Makoto watched her go, bemused by the sudden burst of affection from the girl. Praise was not common in Makoto's life- except from Yoshida, and he was so biased in her favor that Makoto wouldn't let herself believe his praise. But- but today, two of her own… allies were praising her actions. Ren and Ann. They were not biased in her favor like Yoshida was, so far as Makoto could tell. You disregard yourself. Ren said that, just a few minutes ago. Maybe there was something to that…

Thinking of Ren reminded Makoto that he was still inside the house. The issue of Ann's mission to Mrs. Sakamoto was handled, so there was no particular reason to remain on the porch, except to enjoy the sunset. It would be nice if Ren would stand out here in the soft breeze with her, enjoying the gradually dimming light of the day. But Ren could never do that, Makoto realized, feeling a dull ache of disappointment. He would never be able to enjoy a sunset with her, or a sunrise, or the light of noon sparkling off the distant ocean. He would perhaps be able to tolerate it- but enjoy? And how could Makoto take pleasure from the scenery with the knowledge that Ren was suffering quietly right next-

Where- where was her mind going!? Ren was her hunting partner. Hunting partners did not watch sunsets together, so what was the use of this sudden daydream?! If she let her mind wander for an instant, it went off to la-la-land and stopped being useful. And the useful thing to be doing right now was getting off this silly porch and attending to her remaining house-guest.

Makoto turned her back on the sun. She grabbed the knobs of both doors, pulled them both shut behind her, sealing out most of the remaining daylight- only indirect light entering the high windows above and reflecting off the tapestries of the upper walls. The atrium was deep in the gloom of early evening, that strange time when it was a bit too dark inside, but yet not dark enough to fully justify turning on the lights. She looked left, to the corner Ren had secluded himself in.

A black figure still stood there, stiff and still, wrapped in cloak, outline slightly indistinct, face obscured by the low brim of a wide hat. It raised its head, revealing Ren's face, his piercing eyes briefly gleaming red in the dimness, though no light struck them.

A shiver ran through Makoto's body. Goosebumps tickled down her upper arms. A touch of instinctual fear was immediately overwhelmed by curious excitement: she finally had him alone and to herself! No Yoshida. No servants. No Sakamotos. Just Ren, and he was as full of information as he was of reticence. But maybe not so much the latter, now they had some privacy.

"I presume you'd like to stay until after dusk?" said Makoto to the dhampir in her atrium. "How about a tour of the house?"

"Yes," said the dhampir.

"You've seen the ballroom, of course. And the library. So, let's begin this way..."

Makoto led Ren through the base level of the house, avoiding the general commotion surrounding the library and Yoshida's efforts there. There would be a reckoning of some sort for that, she was sure; explanations demanded. Yoshida mostly did not interfere with Makoto (or Sae) now that they were grown, but destroyed furniture? The old man will not be dissuaded for anything but truth, which meant Makoto would need to share what she'd learned of personas- and what she had planned for Ren and the Sakamotos. The brief era of Makoto's pure independence died alongside the library table; Yoshida would now need to be involved or Makoto could lose his whole-hearted support. And everything became much harder to do if the butler wasn't on your side.

So she took Ren through the main dining room, the kitchens (briefly), the ground-floor guestrooms; all the while, Ren making the socially appropriate small compliments and approving sounds. Makoto recognized that he was simply going through the social motions, which was both disappointing (he was offing her no information) and interesting (this obviously was not the first tour of an estate he'd experienced). But there was nothing to be done but finish the tour. Makoto led Ren into a moderately sized room across the hall from the dining room.

"This is the study;" she said, lifting her arm to reinforce the idea that she was, indeed, talking about the room they were in. A long couch faced a fireplace across a low, broad coffee table. Armchairs clustered around, creating a half circle. Elsewhere in the room: a card table, a mini-bar, and an easel (for party games).

"Father liked to bring guests here for after-dinner drinks and games." Makoto remembered dreading social visits to the house. Long, boring dinners where Father and Mother would talk and talk with boring people who were just no fun at all. But- finally- Father would say, So? in that tone of voice, and everyone would get up and go to the study!

Makoto walked towards the easel, remembering herself standing on tip-toes, drawing something, and looking behind her to find everyone- but especially Father! Looking at her. Trying to guess what she was drawing. Looking at what she was doing. Concentrating his attention solely on her!

And that, Makoto suddenly realized, had so rarely happened.

Oh! She'd forgotten about her guest! Makoto turned to find Ren standing behind the central couch, staring intently at the painting above the fireplace.

"Ah, I see you've noticed the official family portrait," said Makoto as she stepped to Ren's side.

He gasped and took a step away from her, seemingly surprised that she was next to him. She was surprised by his surprise, and opened her mouth, an apology on her lips; but the wretched look on Ren's face stole her breath away. What was wrong with him? He'd been acting strange all day!

"The man," said Ren, "In the center. Is your Father?"

Makoto glanced at the painting (not that she needed to reference it to be sure) but indeed, the dark-haired man in the center, with his imposing, foreboding gaze was an expertly rendered image of Father.

"Yes," said Makoto, eyes now on Ren again, "That's him."

Ren was silent a moment, staring at the painting. "I see," he said.

His voice sounded a bit tight to Makoto's ear. She'd never heard him sound like that, except when he'd been filled with barbs from Kamoshida's vile tail.

"Ren, what's wrong?"

Ren glanced at her, and Makoto was unsure if she was imagining it or not, but she thought she saw fear in his eyes. He looked away. He looked down. Makoto recognized the signs of Amamiya Ren preparing to refuse a question. Still! After all of what happened! After they saved each other's lives multiple times!

Makoto would not have it this time!

"Ren! Enough! Enough of your reticence! We're partners! And I'm your employer! And you're in my house! Tell me: what is wrong?"

Ren didn't look at her. Instead her leaned over the back of the couch, hands on the top rim, leaning as if catching his breath. For a time, he didn't speak. Long enough that Makoto felt anger starting to transform into indignant rage, but before it could fully percolate:

"I'm on short rations," said Ren, quietly.

Makoto's anger diffused as she processed his words. It took a few moments to decode the brief statement. Short rations. Meaning: small meals. Meaning: he was hungry, and she, a young woman, was alone in the darkened house with a hungry vampire. Half-vampire, anyway. It was a cliche` scene from a penny-dreadful, is what it was.

"You're low on supplies," said Makoto.

"Yes."

"What do you eat?" That was a question Ren would usually refuse to answer. Would he this time?

Ren hesitated again, still not looking at her. "It's a capsule. I drop it into water and it turns it to blood."

"Is it some sort of... vampire magic?" said Makoto. "Or is the capsule a form of preserved blood?"

Ren did look at her this time. He seemed impressed. "Preserved. Not magic."

"Human blood?"

"Yes."

"From which humans? Where."

Ren turned his head away from her, bowed his head, then looked back at her, grimacing. "Willing ones."

Makoto frowned. It was a vague answer, but she'd found the line. He still wouldn't talk about the place he came from. But she could leave that point, for now. She was rapidly learning new things about him, and she didn't want to press a sore point and have him clam up.

"Can you drink animal blood?"

Ren laughed tiredly. "No. World history would be a bit different, would it not?"

That was true enough. If vampires just needed to herd cows at night, there seemed less practicality in a world-spanning empire built upon the blood of humanity.

"Why does it have to be human blood?"

"I don't know. No one knows. It just is. What's the point of these questions?"

Makoto sighed in frustration. "I'm trying to figure out how to help you!"

"How to help me," said Ren, his voice suddenly deeper. Hoarser. He straightened up from the couch, turning to face her; his grey eyes suddenly intense and eager upon her. "How about giving me a bit of your blood? A little taste of that neck?"

Makoto took a step back in surprise, alarm bells clanging through her mind. Then she saw a tiny smirk on the side of Ren's face.

He was- he was pranking her!

"Don't tease me!" Makoto said sharply.

Ren deflated, all the false malice shedding away. But his smirk turned to a cock-eyed grin and he turned back to Niijima family painting. He looked at it a moment, then his smile faded and he looked deathly serious when he turned his head back towards her.

"It was only half a joke. You should know. You need to know. When I get hungry… control- becomes more difficult."

"Control?"

"Control over the hunger. The blood lust. Whatever you want to call it. The thing the makes my mother's people consume human blood. I have it, too."

Makoto thought on Ren's actions tonight. His weird steps backwards from herself and Ann. He was avoiding proximity, because he was hungry. Whatever Ren's mind might think, his body must be telling him that she, and Ann, and perhaps everyone… was food. That- that was an unnerving thought. But it brought back a memory of their first stake-out of Shujin Academy.

"Before- you said that I smelled… good. Is that the sense that gives you the most trouble?"

Ren nodded. "Yes. And Sakamoto Ann. Her scent is even more so. Than yours, I mean. And when the two of you are together…" Ren shook his head. "I'll just say: it's difficult."

Makoto felt a flash of unpleasant surprise. Ren thought Ann smelled better than her!?

Then Makoto's logical mind kicked back in: Wait? What? Was that really the point here, Makoto? The point was that Ren needed supplies, or he was going to become useless as a vampire hunter. If all his strange behavior today was because he was eating small meals, then Makoto did not want to see a starving Ren. Her mind went back to his teasing joke, and she examined its possibilities.

"Could I, though?" she asked.

Ren gave her a questioning look.

"Could I... donate some of my blood to you. How much do you-"

"No," said Ren, firmly.

"But I-"

"No!" said Ren, this time angrily. "You are not my serf, Makoto! No!"

That- that was an odd word choice. "Not your what? Your… serf?"

Ren grimaced and turned away from her yet again, then looked back, his face a bit calmer. "The truth is that you could not sustain me. My daily need is more than a single human body can sustain. The first would be fine. The second would weaken you. The third would put you to your bed. The fourth, to your grave. So, no, Makoto. But, the physician is working on something for me. Takemi. Ms. Takemi."

Makoto hadn't considered the volume of blood that might be needed. If what Ren was saying was true, and as far as she knew, he didn't lie (except by omission), then a multitude of humans would need to be available for any single vampire. How much blood was needed? How much blood did a human regenerate in a day? She'd never thought about it before. She made a mental note to research this, but information was so limited on the human body, it was unlikely she would find anything in regards to it. Perhaps the vampires knew more about human biology than humans did. Odd thought, that.

Meanwhile, Ren turned once more back to the Niijima family painting. "So, that is your father. Tell me of everyone else. I think I know which one you are."

Makoto allowed herself to be diverted. "Yes, that's me, the youngest one. I was four or five, then. And that's my older sister: Sae."

"Does she yet live?"

"Yes. She's just away on a hunt. She's a vampire hunter, too."

"I see."

"And that's my mother, obviously. She died not long after this painting was finished."

"Was she ill? She looks it."

"No. She just looked like that, I think. She was- not a happy woman, that I can remember."

"And the other man? The one behind your father's left shoulder. His brother?"

Makoto's eyes shifted to the man in question. It was a young Toranosuke Yoshida, as prim as he was now, in his butler's uniform. Though much younger, and many pounds lighter.

"No, I have no uncles. That's Mr. Yoshida. My butler."

"...Is it common to have staff in family portraits?"

Makoto frowned, staring at Yoshida's softly smiling portrait. She'd not really thought about it before. Her mind recalled the family portraits of other Tock-Yo homes she'd visited.

"No," she said, "I don't think it is, come to think of it. But he's a close family friend. He was with my father before he married my mother. And he's more like family than staff, to be honest."

Ren gave her a considerate look, but did not say anything. Meanwhile, Makoto realized she had Ren trapped. One thing that Ren always seemed to respect was reciprocity.

"So that's my family," said Makoto. "Tell me about yours."

The corners of Ren's mouth crashed into a deep frown. He straightened up, stiffened, looked intensely uncomfortable. But Makoto would not be dissuaded. She stepped closer to him, knowing now that it made him uneasy. "It's only fair."

Ren closed his eyes in obvious frustration, but they slowly reopened and he looked at Makoto with an unhappy expression. "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, if I have to lead you through it, that's fine. Let's start with your father."

"Human. Dead. When I was very young." Ren's voice was emotionless. Abrupt.

"And your mother."

Ren hesitated. "She lives."

"And she is the… vampire side of your lineage?"

"Yes."

"How did they meet?"

"What?"

"How did they meet? Your father and your mother."

"I-" stammered Ren, his eyes thoughtful. "I never thought to ask."

"Did she use some-"

Ren's eyes became a bit angry. "It was mutually consensual. I know that much!"

Makoto pursed her lips, somewhat surprised. How did a vampire woman come to love a human man? How did that occur? And their union created Ren, the hafu standing in her study. It just seemed utter fantasy compared to the stories and horrible histories of vampire-human relations. Yet a contrary example stood right here. Right next to her, somewhat unwillingly answering questions about his family.

"How old is she?"

Ren shifted his weight back and forth. "Uh- she says eighty-nine thousand, two-hundred, forty-two."

Makoto blinked. "Ye- years? 89,242 years old?"

Ren shrugged. "That's what she said, but it's a rather rude question to ask anyone. Even your mother."

"And you're 24, I believe you said."

"Yes."

Well, that was a slight difference, wasn't it?

"I see," said Makoto, her mind processing the apparent confirmation of vampire immortality. So, that's one factoid from the histories that is apparently no myth. "And do you have siblings?"

"Yes. Six. Four sisters, and two brothers. All elder."

"So you're the seventh child."

"Yes, but only if you do not count the ones who died before I was born."

"And if you do?"

"I believe I'm her 743rd child."

"What!? And all of them, your siblings, I mean. Both living and dead, were birthed by your mother?"

"Of course," said Ren. Then his eyes narrowed and he looked angrily offended. "What other kind of siblings could I have?"

Were any of them people that Ren's mother… took a bite out of? But Ren's offended return question seemed to answer it: transformed humans were not siblings. Apparently, they were something else. Something less.

"Are there other- um- dhampirs? Among your siblings?"

"No."

"You're the first?"

"As far as I know."

"But of all of them, those hundreds of other children, there are only seven of you, living? What happened to all the others?"

Ren shrugged again. "Politics."

"Politics?"

"Home is-" Ren froze mid-sentence. Seemed to consider his words carefully. "-not a... harmonious place."

Makoto knew she shouldn't try it. But it was right there, right in front of her. She couldn't resist.

"And where is it? Your home, I mean."

Ren's mouth shut and he turned from her. "We've more tour to complete, I trust?"

Damn.

"Yes," said Makoto, recognizing she'd just ended her learning opportunity. "Next is the training dojo."

She stepped ahead of Ren and opened the study door.