Pulling the skirt of the dress once more upwards, as it slipped through her fingers a bit, Mayura walked towards the center of the dead silent village. It was true, all the villagers had disappeared. So they were held captive and Mayura knew where to find them. The conditions of this rescue operation were making her quite nervous. But what else could she do? If the villagers were in the mansion, she needed to get in there.

The voluminous skirt threatened to fall off again and she griped more of the cloth into her hand, just above the spot where her sword was dangling off from her hips.

She had been lucky that the girl whom she had saved was able to procure a dress for her before Mayura sent her off to the orphanage. The dress wasn't excessively fancy but it would do. A laced up corsage fastened the dress tightly around her torso to her waist. From there the skirt began, a huge thing thanks to the underskirt. Lots and lots of stitches made it fall in folds.

The boots she was wearing beneath kicked the earth. She was on her way to save Rokuro. But the closer she was to reaching the destination, the more nervous she became. What if an army of bloodsuckers was waiting for her? What if she couldn't just slip into the mayor's mansion like the stranger said?

Mayura huffed when she pictured him. The stranger named Shimon Ikaruga – He had taken her by surprise. In many ways.

After she'd defeated the demon and come back to her senses, she had taken care of the girl lying on the cold floor. Luckily, she had been alive, even if weak from the loss of blood.

And then almost as if she was called out, her gaze turned into the direction of him: A man cloaked in black and covered by shadows.

Her feet had worked on their own and soon she was standing in front of him, trying to make sense of his icy blue eyes, heavy and glued to the floor, and red hair that was so unlike the dull colors of his clothing.

She both startled them out of their trances, when she asked him who he was and it was only him telling her about the prisoners that she remembered common sense. He did not look anything like the bloodsucker. Far from it. Yet, she was wary of him – caught between wonder and caution about this man – until he told her about the ball.

For a split of a second she wondered, where the stranger had gone off to and if she would see him ever again.

Mayura shook her head. She had a mission to concentrate on. She wasn't allowed to think about a stranger, no matter how handsome and interesting he was.

She'd never seen such a man though. In Narukami, only farmers and craftsmen lived. The only other people who'd ever visited were tax gatherers or merchants buying food supplies and selling their goods from the cities. This man had not been a man from Narukami either, yet he seemed different from the people of the cities, she had met before. His eyes they had harbored strength, something superior and intellectual and then there was something that felt more familiar about him than strange.

Turning around the corner of a house, the mayor's mansion filled her sight, towering over the courtyard in front. It was bigger than any other house, filling up more space with its surrounding gardens, the high pillars holding a pediment above a broad stone staircase. It almost looked as it usually did, with the exception of the two guards in front of it and a fire glinting in every room.

Mayura took in a deep breath. Would they just let her in like the stranger said? Even if there were humans who worked for the monster, would they let her in just like that?

Nibbling on her lips, she tried to fight down the tension in her legs. It made her steps more clumsy. Nervously she fingered the handle of her sword through the cloth of the skirt. If they attacked, she needed to swiftly take care of them.

There was a melodic tune of violins coming from the house. The nearer she walked, the louder it was.

She swallowed the anxiety welling in her throat. Two heads snapped to her direction. At least they both looked human, but them staring at her while holding onto their swords did nothing to make her feel less self-conscious. Her gaze fell to her feet as she followed the flight of stairs up to the front door. She planned to ignore the guards and reached out for the handle of one of the massive oak doors.

The razing of metal against metal made her jump back. Two swords crossed in front of her, blocking the door. She felt the solid hilt of her sword in her hand as her pulse quickened.

Not yet. She would attack, if they gave her a reason. But not yet. They were humans after all. Even if they served the monster, she refused to kill a human being. Or rather could not – even earlier, after she had executed the demon, the weight of ending an existence had made her stop in her tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" The guard on the right asked.

Her eyes skipped to him. Dark bags hung low beneath his eyes in a pale face. Dull pupils mustered her. While her hand cramped into the cloth and the handle beneath, she tried to remain calm on the outside and told him, "To the ball of course."

"Mayura Otomi?"

"Um, yes," she mumbled while her mind stumbled on so many questions at once. Had one of the villagers betrayed her identity? Who of them? Only few knew that she was the daughter of Seigen Amawaka. Was it because of the stranger? Did he belong to the group controlled by the monster?

The dull eyes left hers and he looked over to his companion before he nodded. The swords were retrieved.

Mayura had to stop herself from making any noise, it would betray her surprise. This was way too easy. Almost like an invitation. Yet, she was not sure why she would be... invited like this. Did they know the last of the Amawaka lineage was about to enter the lion's den?

With uncertainty, she nodded, but kept her hand on the hilt while entering. There was no going back now. And what other opportunities did she have exactly?

She released a shaky breath when the door fell into the hinges behind her. Mayura let her eyes roam over the room.

The mayor had lived high above the standard of the others and the sight of luxury, from the bleached wooden paneling to the black leather furnishings, as well as the smell of perfumed candles and oil made her feel sick. Mayor Arima had always been known to have an extraordinary and expensive taste – unfortunately built on others' expenses.

She followed the sound of music down the hallway and entered the ballroom to her left. It was huge and, surprisingly, filled with many people – none of whom she recognized. She shuddered. Goosebumps blossomed on her skin.

There was no sign of terror. No sign of fear. No blood-thirsty monsters. Nevertheless, or even more so, her instincts ran havoc. Her heart was pound in her chest.

Where were the evil creatures? Who were these people? Where were the prisoners? Where was Rokuro?

She would have loved to draw her sword to make herself feel less vulnerable. Her only comfort was the knowledge that she could enarmor herself and fight in a matter of seconds. Admittedly, other than that she lacked knowledge. Having no idea how to grasp this situation, Mayura scowled. Tension glued her to her spot, the entrance, beneath the carved arch leading into the ballroom.

Her eyes ran over the figures, conversing in groups or pairs in a corner or dancing in the middle of the room. None of them looked like bloodgorgers, not like the one she had met. Neither did anyone behave like the gorgers. They were said to be animalistic, jumping their prey, sucking them dry of their blood and howling like wolves on a stormy night afterwards.

What was going on here? Where were the gorgers? Where was the monster of the legend?

Captured in a state of apprehension, Mayura swallowed heavily. Her sight fluttered to the row of large, arched windows framed with thick curtains, heavy with the color of onyx. She wanted to run. She wanted to leave this burden of fate behind.

In this moment she took notice of her own reflection. Eyes, widened in fear, stared back at her.

Her fingers clenched around the skirt. She did not want to be overwhelmed by her fears. She refused to give up before knowing what was going on and where Rokuro and the other prisoners where. She hadn't stormed into this house without any form of security or guarantee just to flee.

Tearing her eyes from the windows and taking a step forward, her move met the rhythm of the melancholic song the violins were playing.

Then her gaze found him. He stood in the middle of the ballroom and she came to a stop again as the tune of music changed while her eyes drank on the sight of him.

Mr. Ikaruga looked as handsome as he did earlier, only now had he discarded his woolen coat and revealed a black jacket reaching over his hips, which reminded her of a general, with its epaulets and high collar. Puffy hems were sticking out beneath the cuffs, a gray vest hid his dress shirt and swallowed the end of a silky scarf which was wound around his neck.

As her gaze ran over his figure, he turned around. Their eyes met. Her heart clenched and her surroundings blurred. What was happening?

Everything else dulled, as their eyes held each other. He walked towards her and

without thinking about it, Mayura crossed the white tiled floor decorated with black ornaments, which resembled branches entwined.

Excitement filled her, banishing the anxiety and fear she had felt earlier. Her heart fluttered in her chest not because of panic but anticipation as they came to a stop in front of each other. The voice of reason in her head grew quiet and she did not question this unnatural pull towards the stranger, when he reached out a hand for her and asked, "May I have this dance?"

Agape Mayura stretched her hand towards him. Her fingers sank onto his cold palm.

---------------------------------------------

Shimon looked around. There was no sign of Mayura Otomi yet. He wondered if she would come. Knowing that the place was filled with enemies must have made her nervous, no matter how courageous she was. He hoped she would come.

Sipping on a glass filled with warm blood he'd poured himself earlier from the cask, he stood at the side of the ballroom and watched his men amuse themselves.

Celebration were one of those things that kept them motivated. They needed it now since the news of Higano's departing had shocked them all.

It did not come as a surprise that the musicians let their violins ring with a tune of grief now.

Nevertheless Shimon had not expected, that it weren't his human fellow travelers who reacted the most. No, it had been Higano's kin which replied the announcement with wide opened eyes and gritted teeth that cried for revenge. He had not known them to harbor this kind of emotions. Not only because they were undead. Their kind was a blood-thirsty and unsentimental one. That was why he had chosen them to follow him after all, when his quest had brought him to their realm.

The realm they came from, Magano, was one filled with trash, forgotten emotions and memories. The creatures there lived on human waste. And after Shimon had been tired of his immortality and his caged-in ability to feel, he was lucky to find them. They weren't loyal like his siblings but they weren't egocentric as humans. Their bloodlust made them easier to handle.

So it had been unexpected that he had to appease their anger at the loss of their ally, reassuring that they wouldn't get in his way, when Miss Otomi appeared. Vengeance would be wreaked for certain.

He raised his glass for his passed away subordinate before placing it onto a tray on a white clothed table beneath a row of polished candle sconces. With a tint of resentment he thought that the current mayor had an expensive taste. It appeared, nothing had changed concerning this; people got rich on the backs of the poor. It was only a small form of compensation that the mayor was now imprisoned in the cellar like everyone else. And like everyone else he would be released for the big meal at midnight.

Walking to the center of the luxurious ballroom, Shimon felt impatience rise. It was an ornate stage on which the last act would take place. This time he would make sure that he found the last of the Amawaka lineage.

He looked outside the windows and only saw his own reflection, torn by the window mullions: The picture of a young man – a lie.

The weeping of violins tuned out and was replaced with a sound of merriment. The transition was odd. With a frown he turned around towards the musicians, playing in a corner of the room. His turn, however, came to a stop when he saw her.

Refusing to acknowledge, how he felt something stir within and tingles rise to his skin, he allowed his eyes to consume the impression of her.

The dress she wore did nothing to hide her feminine figure. That was not was caught his eyes though. With irritation he took in her unique fashion, when he spotted a glimpse of boots beneath the dress almost touching the floor. The corner of his lips slightly rose while he wondered, if she was a lady or a slayer – or both – in this very moment.

When his gaze skipped upwards to her eyes, they caught his own in a trance.

His feet moved on their own, crossing the few steps between them and meeting her halfway. Soon he stood in front of her, taking notice of how she was a head smaller than him. Thoughtlessly he reached out a hand for her and asked, "May I have this dance?"

She placed her hand into his. Warmth poured from her skin into his, making his blood soar.

Their gazes were locked and he forgot himself.

Placing his hand on the small of her back, he began to lead her in a simple dance. She answered his steps in powerful, yet graceful strides and they found themselves even in a steady rhythm.

Swaying and turning, neither of them broke the rhythm until the piece of music tuned out. They stopped moving. Yet, her right hand remained rested on his shoulder and the other within his.

It was only when she cleared her throat, that he remembered why they were here.

Low and slightly coarse, she mumbled, "I thought the music was too sad to dance to before."

"It was. Luckily the musicians have swallowed down the clump of black bile they were biting on," Shimon replied despite the insignificance of the subject.

It was not important. Important was if she was the last of Amawaka. Yet, he could not bring himself to raise the topic, while he was warmed by her proximity and the tingle of her breath. Instead of asking himself for the reason of this or investigating her origin, he started to lead her anew when the instruments played another tune.

This time she did not answer in kind. Their movements were off. Rising his eyes to look into her eyes again, he saw something flicker within them.

Before he could address her obvious reserve, she inquired, "What are you doing here, Mr. Ikaruga?"

Ah, there was the rub. Granted, she was right to question his presence within enemy terrain. Like he himself, she had been careless earlier as they both forgot their roles.

"Observing," he answered truthfully while making her spin.

They rejoined for the basic dance step but he read only more suspicion in her gaze.

"Observing what?"

His eyes left her, while searching for a reply. For the first time since they started dancing he noticed how they were the attraction of the room, only a few danced beside them, while others watched. It was understandable. Within his hands was the one who had killed Higano. Close to their reach was a slayer and he was just dancing with her.

Shimon licked his lips. After half a turn, he caught glimpse of Keiji. His brother stood among the spectators, watching him with uncovered surprise, reminding Shimon of his original goal.

Twisting Miss Otomi around and into his arms at the next beat, he leaned his head forward and whispered into her ear, "Our surroundings."

He ignored how she shuddered against him and swung her out of their close embrace.

Her eyes turned bright. With a raised eyebrow, she uttered, "Do you think they know?"

"Stay calm and act normal," he told her.

She nodded and they continued to dance. Nevertheless he took in the scent of her nervousness. It wasn't as pungent as fear but not less conspicuous. A change of subject was long overdue.

"May I ask how old you are, Miss Otomi?"

Surprise crossed her eyes and she missed a step. The hem of her dress wobbled. But like in her fight against Higano she recovered quickly and said, "You may and it's 18."

So she was actually the same age, he was forever bound to. He shortly wondered, if it was another trick of the gods. It did not matter though. All he could do was continue with his investigations.

After leading her into another swing, he rose her left hand and bestowed a kiss to her knuckles, instead of pulling her back. There was no ring. No husband most likely meant no child. "Already 18, yet unmarried," he commented and resumed their dance.

"I did not come here to let you make fun of me, Mr. Ikaruga," she retorted with a deep frown.

"You can call me Shimon and I am sorry for intruding in your privacy. I just felt that there is a story behind this."

"Getting married is the least of my concerns," she responded firmly.

"So you have family to watch over? Siblings?"

"I have," she replied to his surprise.

He couldn't stop his voice from wavering, when he exclaimed, "You do?"

He had seen himself so close at his goal to have found the last of the Amawaka lineage and now there was a chance this person was not the last.

However, she was silencing the alarm ringing in his head, when she explained with a gentle smile, "Yes, a lot of brothers and sisters of the orphanage."

Shimon huffed a breath and immediately sympathized with her. There was irony in how similar they were. "I can relate to this. My brother and sister had always been the reason for my happiness and my biggest worries."

Her voice sounded soft and kind, when she asked, "What happened to them?"

"Hn?" He blinked his eyes at her. This time it was he who made a misstep. Neither had he expected compassion from her nor to direct the path of their conversation.

"You speak of them as if they aren't with us anymore." Her hand on his shoulder tightened its grip slightly. His steps were slightly off and he noticed how easily she slipped into charge, taking the lead.

"They are," he murmured, telling her only one half of the truth. They were and weren't and all was of it had been his fault. Gritting his teeth, he tried to stay calm. His biggest misery was that he had failed his siblings and somehow these feelings lay bare, dug up from their eternal sleep.

There was no point for regret though. He could not undo what had happened.

Her voice called him out of his inner monologue, when she mumbled, "I don't understand –"

"So you see, I can relate," he quickly interrupted. Reclaiming his composure, he turned her again.

She nodded with a small cease between her eyebrows. They took a few turns and after a while she replied, "They aren't my biggest concern right now though."

Shimon was grateful for her accepting the change of topic. "Then what is?"

"Saving my friend," she replied while the piece of music reached its climax. Her eyes were like a blue form of iron and fire, solid and fierce.

Now he remembered, how she had approached him only a few hours ago. She had said, she was searching for someone. One of the prisoners Shimon and his people had taken captive. He had bad taste in his mouth, when he asked. "Can you describe your friend to me?"

"Of course I can," she said. "He is my age. He has messy, brown hair and his eyes are hazelnut colored with a tint of red."

He stopped dancing, forcing her to stop as well.

The boy.

She just had described the boy whom he believed to be a possible candidate for his counterpart of the legend as well. The one who Sayo played with upstairs at the moment.

"What is it?"

"I can take you to him, if you want. I know where he is."

"What?"

"Follow me and stay close behind." He pulled her after him. Out of the ballroom and upstairs to the chamber his sister had taken residence in during their stay, not baiting an eye at anyone. Yet, he had no idea what he was doing in bringing both of them together. Or why he was doing it.

After all these centuries he was the one falling out of his role by straightforwardly disregarding the stage directions.

-----------------------------------

Why?

She asked herself, why she was feeling this way and why did he have such power over her.

Mr. Ikaruga – Shimon – walked up the stairs with her following suit, not minding anybody who looked at them. And everyone, they passed, did. She feared they were about to get into serious trouble and wondered, if he was able to fight.

She eyed his back. He looked strong and in spite of them dancing for a while, he did not appear to be out of breath.

Something was odd about him. She could not place her confusion, though, and she did not want to be ungrateful, because he was leading her to Rokuro. Something she might not have accomplished without him.

Also –

Mayura licked her lips.

Also there was something else about him. Something that had pulled her to him and made her forget about their surroundings altogether during their dance. Something that made her feel for him, when a mask of grief had occupied his face while talking about his siblings. Something that made her feel secure despite knowing everyone was watching them.

But now as they walked through the hallway of the top floor, framed by portraits of the mayor's ancestors, reality clutched her heart in a grasp of fear.

It was dangerous. What would have happened if a gorger had attacked them right then and there? Would she have been able to defend herself? Would she have been quick enough to unfasten the sword?

So why? Why was she dropping her guard so easily around him?

They rounded a corner. In the shadows ahead stood a small, hooded figure.

Evil foreboding washed over her. She shivered. Her grip tightened around Shimon's fingers. Yet, he did not stop. There was no sign of him bothering at all and she wondered if he was mad man, coming to the mansion and challenging danger. Maybe he liked to live on the edge.

They closed in on the person standing in the hallway. Mayura almost yelped when she recognized the split face of a gorger. Her muscles tensed, pulled tight like the string of a bow. In a hurry she reached out for the hilt of the sword and missed it once.

Shimon was almost on the same height and Mayura was about to scream out, when he walked past and – and the thing did not attack.

Shocked she looked at the thing as it let them walk past, looking eye to eye.

Dread filled her. What was going on? Why was he able to walk so freely through the mansion? Was this a trap?

A quiver ran over her skin.

He couldn't be –?

All of a sudden he stopped. She bumped into him.

Looking over her shoulder at her with a raised eyebrow, he made her thoughts trip over each other. There was no way he was a footman of the monster, right?

She now became aware that they stopped in front of door. Black oak almost swallowed in the shadows of the hallway.

The moment Shimon pressed down the handle, a mad giggles rose out of the room. One that made Mayura's blood freeze. It was not as gruesome as the sight that followed, when Shimon pushed the door open.

All Mayura saw was red.