Sleep finally comes, or what passes for it, at any rate, taking me deep into its oblivion, and I wake around eight in the morning on a Thursday. I usually consider eight o’clock to be a sinful time to be awake, but today it’s fine. I don’t feel tired.

Unfortunately, I am hungry. Sake is not exactly the best thing to stave off hunger, though I only need to feed every few days.

I have found that many legends about vampires are not true – if I were to be shot, I would have to get someone else to get rid of the bullet before I could heal; stabbing me with a stake would only kill me if it were thrust into my heart and not removed (I know because I’ve eavesdropped on enough Hunter conversations to pick up a fair amount of information. Odd that they knew more than I did.); I may walk in sunlight without any negative effects, though bright sunlight may make me squint; crosses do not bother me, in fact, I think they can be quite pretty and sometimes wear them – in silver; holy things wielded by Hunters-in-training are no barrier to me; I do not sleep in a coffin. I prefer either a Western bed or the kind that I grew up with in Japan. I have both in my room so that I can choose; sleeping sitting upright is uncomfortable.

I leave the house by way of the wall and walk to the mall, about a mile away. I enjoy the spring; everything is in bloom, the weather isn’t uncomfortably hot or cold, and everything seems perfect. I have a couple of cherry trees in my yard that I can marvel at during this season. Even the undead can love spring or enjoy feeling sunlight caressing their skin.

Inside the mall, I window-shop for a few hours, pretending to be a teen, and casually play with the minds of a couple of boys who would otherwise have tried to hit on me. Geiko tricks come in handy sometimes.

I become aware of a supernatural creature lurking in the shadows behind me as I drift out of Saks.

I buy myself a frozen custard at an ice cream outpost in the food court and eat it, hoping that it will get rid of my shadow, convincing it that I’m human. It doesn’t. Even so, I finish the frozen custard, enjoying the flavor, and then continue on my way. My shadow continues to drift behind me.

I stop at a jewelry store, gazing at the gems sparkling in the light, and manage to catch a glimpse of whomever is trailing me. A flash of red hair in my peripheral vision tells me nothing, but it does give me an idea of whom it might be. Then again, someone with flame-red hair might have crossed in front of my pursuer.

I enter a stationery shop, gazing slowly about and marveling at the paper, pens, and other various writing utensils the litter the space, then turn around, to find myself face-to-face with an old acquaintance.

"You dyed your hair again," I state neutrally to her. "It glows like a neon sign."

"Hm!" The woman flips her hair around, watching it as it does so, a cascade of crimson in the air, and utters a noncommittal noise.

Once her locks have succumbed to gravity once more and are hanging down her back, she faces me and says, "Funny that you should be telling me these things, Ankoku, since I’m your senior."

"And you’re a vain peahen. You should really quit dyeing your hair; it looks bad. It doesn’t fit your face, either."

"You still have a black mark against me for mimicking you at that party, don’t you?"

"Yes."

"Aww, does ickle Annykins have a temper?"

I suppress a nasty urge to do something rash and instead settle for giving her a look that says, ‘what is your problem?’

"‘Ickle Annykins’ doesn’t like being made fun of," I reply icily, turning around and walking away.

"I’m sorry," she apologizes, dashing after me and grabbing onto my sleeve. "Really, I am."

"Then we can have a civil conversation. Was there any reason you were following me, or was it just for the thrill?"

"Well…" she pursed her lips in thought, laying a finger vertically over them, as if to shush a small child, then brightened as she remembered. "Tamigorou! You were talking to him." Her tone turns dark, no longer childish, as she says quietly, "You’re going to be in trouble if you keep associating with him, Ankoku."

I think about it for a brief moment before asking, "As in, from vampires, or from Hunters?"

"Both."

"How powerful would these vampires be?"

"Ankoku, Ankoku, Ankoku," she sighs, shaking her head. "Have you learned no sense? Once the going gets tough, find another path! It’s as if you’re actually loyal to him! You’re risking your hide for his sake?"

"Well, I’d like to find out why he’s suddenly started hanging around me again, after nearly four hundred years. I can’t really do that if he’s not there, can I? ‘Sides, Aurore, you’re mistaking caution for loyalty."

She pauses for a moment, then replies to an earlier question. "Most of the vampires wouldn’t be very strong, but then there’d be the occasional one who’s powerful, but not enough so to actually defeat him. They have to be old enough to survive a fight with him, though, which is a pretty incredible feat in itself. Tamigorou kills just about everybody who challenges him."

"I challenged him without meaning to not long after I was changed."

"Without meaning to, Ankoku. It makes all the difference. He knew what you had become, and that you had no idea what sort of undertones your words could take on in the vampiric world. It is to that you owe your continued existence."

I know this. I have known it since he pointed the fact out to me that I had challenged him, but had declined it – in front of only me. Had we been in the company of other vampires, such actions on his part would have been inexcusable. I would be dead now, my blood running thinly through his veins. Vampires who engage in death-challenges, like that one had been, always drink the blood of the loser, should they come out champion. Drain the vanquished, destroying them. Our world is nothing if not ruthless. The only way it could get worse would be if vampires started mating with others of their kind for power. Though the fact that, technically, vampires are dead, is rather prohibitive to such behavior.

Aurore smiles angelically, then flounces off, a bounce in her step that sends her neon red hair flowing out behind her, as though she is running. Yet, I hear her voice in my mind, whispering, Let Tamigorou handle his own devils, Narae; you do not need his. You do not need to become his mistress in more than history.

And what do you know of geiko, European leech? I think in a rare moment of fury. Shizuma had never extended any overtures of romance towards me. Never. What made her assume he had? I hadn’t even been his geiko mistress; he hadn’t even been married. Just a friend, as close a friend as a geiko and her danna could have gotten, I suppose, without anything physical.

I’m not taking on his problems, I’m dealing with the ones he’s shed upon me, and I have no intention of becoming involved romantically with him. Please, creator-of-mine, give me more credit than that!

I set about going to a relatively deserted store, trying to find a place where I can feed without anyone finding me. If my prey happens to be male, so be it; I can spin mental coercions to make people who see it think it’s just a young teenage couple kissing. I can do that with a woman, too, but that tends to bother people more.

Still, even after I’ve fed, I can’t get Aurore’s words out of my mind. It is the same with her warning; that Shizuma’s enemies will become mine if I become too close to him. My life was already paid to them, because of my association with him; I do not wish to have to give them my existence as well.