Crescent Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Sublunary ❯ Midnight Confession ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: see part one

More mood music: Gessaki (Buck-Tick), Wrong to Love You (Chris Isaak)

A/N Forgot the AU label...but you've probably figured that out by now, eh? ;)

Once the door swung shut behind Katsura and Mahiru, all hell broke loose in the Moonshine's kitchen.

"What happened?" Akira asked in honest confusion.

"Nozomu did something stupid," Mitsuru said, hitching himself up on the counter. "Though what's so appetizing about traitor's blood--"

"Mitsuru, that's enough!" Misoka cut in sharply. "You'll remember what you owe her--and that we remember it as well."

Mitsuru flushed and looked away. The drained Teardrop...the girl who'd pulled him back to life...the same girl who descended from that faithless-- It made no sense! That damn girl did stuff to mess with his head. She wasn't strong enough to take him on, so she used tricks; pretty words and gestures. They fooled everyone else, but not him. He'd grown up learning the rules of those human games--and how to break them. Just because he knew what he was now didn't mean he'd forgotten how it used to be. Hidden from Misoka's sight, his hand curled into a fist.

He owed the damn girl his life. When he'd opened his eyes that night, he could see she'd been crying. A trick, he reminded himself. A human trick, and one that would lead the rest of his kind blaming him for the loss of a precious Teardrop. They should hate her as much I do! he thought. A descendant of the false princess, a human girl who made pretty promises and paid them with betrayal. Why were they being so nice to her?

Unless it was a trick from the demons' side, a way to use the girl's power--wasted on a damn human--and get what they wanted. After all, Oboro had only rescued him because they needed more help in getting back the Teardrops. If it was a lie they were telling the girl, it was a pretty convincing one. He almost believed it himself. He imagined they'd get rid of the girl after. What would they do to him?

'Attack your enemies without prejudice.' That was the only way a ward of the state--a pretty-faced boy with no family or protectors at all--could survive. He'd find a way to pay off what he owed that girl--and then she'd better be on her guard again. And if the other demons abandoned him...well. He wasn't a lost child anymore. Once they had the Teardrops, he'd be strong, so strong it wouldn't matter what anyone else did. He'd never be at someone's mercy, in someone else's debt, ever again.

"Excuse us," Misoka said, his voice breaking into Mitsuru's dark thoughts.

The fox-demon dragged an unprotesting Nozomu behind him, disappearing up the back stairs that led to the roof.

"Hey."

Mitsuru glanced at Akira, relaxing his clenched fist, wondering if he'd seen.

"Get off the counter, okay?" Akira waved a sponge at him. "I gotta clean it."

Nozomu let Misoka haul him up to the roof. He stumbled a little on the stairs, the price of an arrested transformation. Mahiru's power still shimmered inside him, a glissome silvering of his soul. Megumi no tsuki. She could bestow that bounty with a touch. With even a little of her blood inside him...

He broke away from Misoka, stumbling to the safety rail. He rested his folded arms on the cold metal and pressed his forehead to his crossed arm. The cold felt more natural than daylight to him.

"Explain yourself," Misoka ordered.

His tongue felt too big for his mouth, still tingling with the taste of Mahiru's blood. "Can't," he said at last, forcing the word out.

"You fed on the Descendant of the Princess!" Misoka hissed. "Without her permission!"

"Tasted," Nozomu corrected with the careful enunciation of the tipsy. "Didn't bite."

"Close enough. Do you realize what you've done?"

"Nozomu turned his face up to the light of the waning moon. "Better than you do."

"Really." If he'd been in his alter-form, all of Misoka's tails would be swishing with temper, bristled to twice their size.

"I'm a vampire, Misoka," Nozomu snapped, losing patience. "A strong one, but still a vampire. All of us, all of our Race, need more than clean air, healthy land, and water to thrive."

He thought of Akira, a sardonic smile quirking at his mouth. The werewolf had become a chef for a reason. They all had their needs, stirred to life by the waxing and waning of the moon. To survive in the human world, they'd learned to weave those needs into more acceptable activities, be it Katsura's piano playing or the Master's drive to protect.

"We subsume them, but like moon to sea-tide, they still pull at us."

"Preach to the choir a little louder, Nozomu," Misoka retorted, his eyes gleaming like sickle moons behind his glasses. "So what pulled you to her tonight, aside from the obvious?"

Nozomu closed his eyes. "You know how it is during the waning moon, to feel your strength fading.

In the past, Mahiru had been safely tucked away with her human guardian, her wariness of demon-kind serving as a shield. They needed her help, her co-operation, not terrified denial. Then, it had been easier to keep up a friendly banter, to come close, but not too close. Until that night she'd called to him, and he'd seen her surrounded by the reclaimed Teardrops, bathed in their light. Until all the lines became so blurred, he no longer knew where to step.

"You didn't see her at the museum," Nozomu said abruptly. "When she held the Teardrop, its light became her light, became... I told that cop that the Goddess of the Moon was returning to her proper place, with us." His voice dropped to a near-whisper. "And in that moment,I meant Mahiru."

She'd moved then with a grace he'd only seen from her in the water. The light followed her, chased after her like moonlight on waves. He turned, faced Misoka. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"If I wanted to hear only my own wishes given voice, I'd talk to Katsura," Misoka snapped back. "You all but threw yourself at her that night in the park. You're always finding an excuse to touch her--and it's not for the power."

Nozomu winced, remembering that night they'd all sung the Princess from her sleep. 'I'd never, ever, bit the Descendant of the Princess. Well, that is, unless you want me to. Because that would be a totally different story!' As for touch...if he were less strong, he could argue it away as a simple craving for human warmth. The truth...the truth was that it simply felt good to touch Mahiru, even without the blessing. Her hair and skin felt soft, and she fit well beside him.

Misoka sighed. "What's done is done. You've started something here, Nozomu. I need to know what you intend to do about it."

The cool air had cleared his head, driving away all but the last muzzy traces of the transformation high. He waved a hand in irritation.

"It was a taste, not a bite. That's hardly 'starting something.'"

Misoka regarded him in silence for a long moment. "Three threads," he said at last.

Nozomu stared. "What?"

"Three threads form the bond between a vampire and another," Misoka said, as if he were announcing the weather. "'Feed once for hunger, once for need, once by choice.' Three threads that form a braided cord between spirits."

"Okay, one more time: a taste isn't the same as feeding." Maybe Misoka would hear him better if he made a recording. He scowled. "And how the hell do you know this anyway?"

"The fox-demon smirked, much the same way he had when they'd all left Mitsuru's room. "Never you mind. But I think there's something you've forgotten, Nozomu."

"Oh, enlighten me, kanrisha, [1]" he drawled.

Misoka began to walk back towards the door leading to the stairs. One hand on the latch, he added over his shoulder, "Wasn't it you who told me her receptivity was 'top-notch'?"

Nozomu stared as the door closed behind the fox-demon with a soft *click*. Alone on the roof, he slumped down into a crouch. He had forgotten all about that. A girl with first-rate receptivity...exposed to a vampire's endless hunger. And she was only fifteen.

He covered his face with his hands and groaned.

Sunday morning, everyone seemed determined to pretend the incident had never happened. Mahiru came down once for breakfast. She didn't speak to anyone, the bandage on her hand a silent reminder. Afterwards, she disappeared back up to her room, ostensibly to study until her work-shift began. She didn't even come out for another meal.

Nozomu had sat up the rest of the night, wondering if that one taste had indeed been the Blood of Opportunity. He knew it hadn't been Need or Hunger, those required a full bite. By the time the sun passed over the horizon, he felt more like one of his weaker kin, wanting only a cool, dark place to sleep the day away. Instead, he covered himself up more than usual, wore his sunglasses even inside, and pitched in with the chores.

Misoka, thank the waning Moon that hid secrets, didn't know everything. In addition to Need, Hunger, and Opportunity, there had to be the Blood of Choice and the Blood of Trust. Some things, vampires didn't discuss much even amongst themselves. Still, even the first three made for a potent combination, strong enough that most vampires stopped with that.

The question was, could he?

******

[1] At the risk of being accused of using 'fan-girl Japanese,' I chose to use this word instead of the English word 'leader' Nozomu sometimes uses with Misoka. Like "Mr. Bat," it grated on me, not quite a good fit. According to my dictionary, 'kanrisha' means 'one who directs', which I think sums up Misoka's role in the Bandits rather well. Apologies if my word choice was incorrect. Oh, and megumi no tsuki, using the same dictionary, means 'blessing of the moon.' Even though I'm erratic in its use, I felt in that particular scene, using the Japanese would have a bit more impact.

[2] A note for the Mitsuru fans...he comes off as something of a jerk in this story...but then, at this point in the manga, he's still being a jerk to Mahiru. And yes, there's still more to come. ;)