Crescent Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Sublunary ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: the characters and concepts of Crescent Moon/Mikan no Tsuki belong to Haruko Iida, Takamura Matsuda, TokyoPop, Kadokawa Ruby Teens Publishing, and probably many others who aren't me. I'm just a fan, writing for the entertainment of myself and other fans. No challenge to copyright is intended, and no profit has been made from this story.

Unofficial soundtrack: Kojo-No-Tsuki (Yo-Yo Ma), Heart of Mine (Tempest), Iris (Goo-Goo Dolls) Sublunary
by Cerise Tennyo

Mahiru swallowed a yawn as she set the last of the chairs on the table. Master Oboro let her work part-time during the week, but Saturdays saw her waiting tables and doing full-time clean-up the moment she came back from Saturday classes. She didn't really mind--it felt more normal to work a regular job for her room and board than...well, being a reluctant
part-time member of the Moonlight Bandits.

She could hear the scuff of the broom as Akira began sweeping up. Glass chimed and rang softly as Misoka cleaned the bar area. Mahiru spotted a high-ball glass left on one of the tables and hurried to take it back into the kitchen. Mitsuru had dishes tonight, and she could just imagine his sneer when she walked in, as if she'd planned to hold back one tiny
glass and give him more work. Though sneering might be better than the perpetual silence. He still won't even look at me, she thought, crossing into the kitchen, never mind speak to me.

She found both Mitsuru and Nozomu in the kitchen. The tengu stood with his back to her, loading the dishwasher. Nozomu sat on one of the cleared countertops, drinking a bottled soft drink. His elaborate stage gear looked limp as a wilting flower after a long night under the stage lights. He raised a hand to her in greeting, but seemed more intent on his thirst than speaking.

"Excuse me," she said, holding up the glass, "this was left out front."

Mitsuru barely glanced at her, just reached back for the glass. She let go a fraction too soon, and the glass crashed to the floor.

"Oh! Oh, darn it!" Mahiru cried, crouching down to pick up the pieces.

"Don't do that," Mitsuru snapped, "Get a broom, will you?"

He gestured, as if to wave her back. Mahiru drew back, knowing he hated to make any contact with her, overbalanced, and flung out a hand to catch herself. Her palm landed flat on one of the larger shards. She recoiled, crying out, landing smartly on her rear.

"My rotten luck," she moaned, turning her hand over. The shard had pricked her right in the center of her hand, bright smears of blood welling up around it. Where I'm sure to break it open at least five times a day, she thought morosely. Wincing, she pinched the shard between her thumb and forefinger and drew it out like a splinter. I don't even want to think
how much it'll hurt going into the pool with this.

Distracted, she didn't hear anyone approach until a pair of strong hands closed around hers. She looked up, startled. "Nozomu!"

The vampire didn't reply. A tiny pool of blood had settled in the center of her palm. Mahiru felt her cheeks heat with an embarrassed flush. She hated having anyone worry over her. With luck as bad as hers, bruises and small nicks were the order of the day. She could wear people into threads worrying over her if she let them know every time she was injured. She tried to pull her hand away, fumbling for words that would avert his concern.

At once, Nozomu's grip tightened. She knew he was strong--hadn't he held her with just one hand that night Mitsuru's winds had knocked her off the roof? But she wasn't in any danger now, why was he-- Nozomu bowed his head over her hand, like something she'd seen in a TV drama. She felt something warm and wet press against the tiny wound.

He's licking my hand! she thought, rigid with shock. She kept her hand stiff, not daring to pull away from the vampire. It should hurt, she thought, a gentle haze beginning to sweep her mind. The ends of his blond hair brushed against her hand, silky soft, an unspoken invitation for her to touch, to cradle his head against her. His tongue felt a little like a cat's, only not so rough.

She felt a strange humming in her bones, almost like what she felt when a Teardrop of the Moon was nearby. I hope I'm not going to start glowing again. The thought seemed a distant worry. She felt much more inclined to relax, let the vampire do as he willed...he wasn't hurting her, it didn't hurt at all, in fact--

"NOZOMU!"

Someone pulled the vampire away from her, and Mahiru gasped, feeling the abrupt snap of some unseen thread. Misoka had his hand curled in the collar of Nozomu's shirt, holding him back as if the vampire were a misbehaving dog. Nozomu's eyes gleamed night-hunter gold, though
the rest of his body remained unchanged. Mahiru stared. In the past, when she'd seen the beginning of Nozomu's transformation, his eyes had always seemed distant, focused inward. Now, they remained fixed directly on her.

"I hope," Misoka said in the tone of voice he usually used with Mitsuru, "that you have a very good explanation for this."

"I'm sorry!" Mahiru apologized instantly. "I dropped a glass, and--"

"I apologize, Princess." Misoka somehow managed to give the impression of bowing without ever once slackening his grip on Nozomu's collar. "My words were not meant for you." The glare the fox-demon turned on Nozomu could have singed concrete.

"It was an accident--" Mahiru continued.

It was then Mahiru realized how crowded the kitchen had become: Akira stood in the doorway beside the pianist, staring wide-eyed. Mitsuru stood nearby, looking past them all, his jaw set
and arms folded. The noise must have called them all in, Mahiru thought. It took a long moment for the concept to crystallize in her mind. Her gaze kept drifting back to Nozomu, but Misoka had put himself between Mahiru and the vampire. Somehow, the smaller fox-demon managed to block Mahiru's view entirely.

Sion squeezed past Akira, and moved into the kitchen. Mahiru blinked. Sion's image kept blurring in her sight. First, she saw Katsura, the curvy woman who played the piano and waited tables, then she saw the harder, leaner lines of the man she'd passed in the hallway. Strange, she thought, but it didn't seem worth getting worked up over. In fact, doing anything at all seemed far more trouble than it was worth.

"Princess," the pianist said, "please come with me, we need to take care of that wound."

Protesting seemed to require too much energy. Mahiru took the hand Sion offered her, managing to get to her feet. The others made way in silence, unusually solemn. Mahiru felt Nozomu's eyes on her back until the kitchen door swung closed, putting a physical barrier between them.

Time went soft and fuzzy on Mahiru then, as if a soothing warm mist had settled around her. As if from a great distance, she heard a series of muffled coughs, and wondered vaguely where they were coming from. It didn't seem important, and the though slipped away from her almost as soon as it had formed. Letting her mind drift in this way seemed harmless. She could feel Katsura's grip on her arm, so she let the other steer her along. Her body knew how to move, when to step up or down. After a measureless time, Mahiru felt the mist lifting from her mind. Blinking, she looked around.

She recognized the small sitting room that Master Oboro kept just off of his private rooms. It was dark, except for a single lamp on a nearby table. She could feel the presence of the recovered Teardrops, almost see their light from the corner of her eye. Katsura stood before her, holding a first-aid kit in her hands. Mahiru fixed her gaze on Katsura, not wanting to become lost in the draw of the Teardrops. The odd double-vision wouldn't leave her. At last, she closed her eyes to ward off a headache.

The pianist took Mahiru's hand, examining the wound. "It doesn't look serious," she said at last. "I'll clean it out, then bandage it. It should heal up in no time."

It certainly sounded like Katsura, but Mahiru didn't quite feel up to testing her vision again. Something icy cold swept over her palm, and Mahiru shivered. The edges of the small wound began first to tingle, then to burn. She fought the urge to curl her fingers closed. She opened her eyes in time to see capable fingers taping a thick pad of gauze over the small wound.

"Are you feeling all right, Princess?" Katsura asked, winding a narrow strip of bandaging over Mahiru's palm.

Mahiru took a closer look. It certainly looked like Katsura, though she wasn't wearing her usual snug clothing. But hadn't the other one...? She shook her head.

"I feel confused!" Mahiru burst out. "What happened?"

Katsura finished bandaging Mahiru's hand, clipping the strip into place. "Nozomu is a bit of a flirt. I think...he may have over-reacted."

Mahiru flexed her hand, testing the bandage. "Yeah. That sounds like my luck: a little good that goes bad," she said bitterly.

"Princess!" Katsura touched her arm, dark eyes soft with concern. "It's not your fault. Nozomu should have had better control."

"It's not what he did," Mahiru tried to explain. "I just don't know why he did it. Like that, I mean."

Katsura hesitated, then said, "Nozomu will have some explaining to do, I think. And at the very least, he owes you an apology for drinking from you without your free consent. This may cause some trouble, but it's not your fault."

"I don't understand," Mahiru repeated. Her head began to whirl again, this time with a slow, throbbing ache beginning at her temples. Why was it that whenever one of the Lunar Race tried to 'explain' something to her, she ended up feeling either confused or guilty?

"There are rules," Katsura began. "Rules that govern how Nozomu's people may act with humans, and--well, you are the Descendant of the Princess, Mahiru. Those rules are even stricter when it comes to asking such a favor of you."

Katsura sighed, shaking her head. "You should try and rest," she said. "In the morning, when things are calmer, perhaps then things will seem clearer. If not..." The pianist crouched down before her, resting a hand on Mahiru's arm. "I am here to help you, Princess, in what every way you require. If you still have questions, either Master Oboro or myself will do our best to answer them."

Mahiru managed a faint, tired smile. "Thank you for your kindness...I'd really just like to go to bed, now."

"Of course."

Mahiru refused any other offer of help, making her way down the hall under her own power. Halfway to her own room, her vision began blurring again. The seascapes on the wall gained texture and depth, seeming more like the world she saw underwater. She could almost feel the water sliding across her skin. It felt warm, like fine silk molding to her body. Shadows of fish and underwater plants played against the walls. Mahiru shut her eyes and bolted the last few feet into her room and shut the door.

Leaning against it, she drew several deep, ragged breaths, her eyes squeezed closed against what she might see. Gradually, her heartrate slowed, resuming its normal pace. Mahiru opened her eyes a crack. All she saw were the familiar pastel blue walls, the single accent lamp she'd left on. Her arm of her desk lamp still swung over her desk, and Koumori-san already hung from it, wrapped in his leathery wings. Her bed stood nearby, neatly made, her pajamas laid out on the blankets, just as she'd left them. The posters on her walls remained only paint and pixel. It's the human world again, she thought in relief, stepping away from the door.

Within moments, she'd stripped out of her waitress's uniform and hung it up. She changed into her pajamas, stifling a yawn with her uninjured hand. She'd meant to do some studying, make up for the tutorials she'd missed while helping the Moonlight Bandits, but she literally could not keep her eyes open. She crawled under the blankets, already half asleep.

As she closed her eyes, a fragment of the song played through her mind. 'He shall hide me and protect me, just like the clouds sheltering the moon in a hazy sky...' Nozomu's face swam in her inner vision, his eyes first a brilliant blue, then searing gold.

The wound in her hand tingled, as if ice water were splashed against overheated skin. She closed her fingers over the wound, ignoring the spike of pain. She tucked her closed hand against her lips. A watchtower...a distant rainbow...desire that never ends...

Sleep swept her away to a distant sea, where dreams danced and shimmered, but refused to take solid form.

[tbc]

******
Author's notes and minutiae:
Koumori-san: literally, Mr. Bat. I thought the English name given for the bat Nozomu gave Mahiru was rather stupid, so I ransacked my Japanese dictionary for a more suitable name. (I mean, Mahiru's a lot of things, stupid isn't one of them.)

Mahiru's weird double-vision around Katsura: this story takes place just before Oboro tells Mahiru about the background of the others living with her, so at this writing, Mahiru has no idea that Katsura is a hermaphrodite. Since members of the Lunar Race gain access to their powers and ability to physically transform from physical contact with Mahiru, it seemed reasonable to me that Katsura-the-male could change back into Katsura-the-woman after touching Mahiru. (I would like to stress this is fanon, I have very little support in canon that such a thing is possible for Katsura.)

And yes, there will be another chapter. :) It's already half-written.