"She was supposed to . . ." 

                       What?

                       Mai's eyes finally narrow on me.

                       Sharp realization.

                       "Wait," she breathes, scanning my face. "You didn't know."

                       "She was supposed to assassinate me?" I say, my voice rising.

                       Ren's mouth opens. "You didn't know?" 

                       Mai glances hurriedly at Veah, who is still standing in the doorway with no clue that I'm about to commit murder. 

                       "I mean, really, we shouldn't be saying anything, it's not a big deal."

                      "She was supposed to assassinate me?"

                      "But she didn't," Mai assures me quickly. "She didn't, so―you see, it's all fine―"

                      Veah's eyes slide from Maiko and Ren to me.

                      She sets down the cinnamon bun. Recognition ignites in her grey eyes. She holds out her hands like I'm some kind of squirrel that needs to be calmed.

                     "I can explain," she says.

                     "I don't know what laws Tokyo has against murder, but I'm willing to break every single one of them right now."

                      "I promise, I was going to tell you everything."

                      "You were going to assassinate me, but you don't think that was something you might just happen to mention maybe once or twice or ever?"

                       "Kaya," she says quietly.

                       I resist the urge to soften at that tone. At the way she is looking at me.

                       "Give me your gun," I snap.

                       "Why?"

                       "So I can shoot you! Obviously."

                       The fraction of a smile twitches on her lips. "You want me to give you my gun, so you can shoot me?"

                        "That's what I just said, isn't it?"

                        "Kaya, I'll tell you everything. But you must be hungry―come on. Let's eat."

                        "I am not going anywhere with you."

                        "Even if I got you a cinnamon bun?"

                        "I'll suffocate you with it."

                         From the corner of the room, I hear Maiko mutter to Ren, "That's a new one. Bet?"

                        "Twenty says they both end up killing each other," Ren whispers.

                        "Fifty says they both end up making out," Mai responds.

                        I give them both scorching glares. I announce, "One hundred says I murder everyone in this room."

                        "She's so cute," Mai whispers. "Like a squirrel."

                        "No, like a little panda."

                         Veah is close to laughing now as she holds out her hands to me. "Let's eat. Sushi, alright? I'll take you to the best restaurants in the city."

                        "What if I stab you with a fork?"

                        There is a glint in her eye. "I think I'll just have to take that chance."

                         How―and I mean how―did she just make that sound sexual?

                         Maybe it's time to have an existential crisis.

                         Philosophical question #1: Did she actually make that sound sexual, or do you just really want to fuck her?

                         I guess we'll never know.

                         But my stomach is growling, and, well―food. 

                         "Fine," I snarl. "But it has to be makizushi." 

                         Makizushi―her favourite.

                         When her eyes flicker, I know she remembers.

                         A quiet grin laces her soft lips. "Okay. Ren and Mai, you two take a cab to Kiyota Hinare. Kaya and I will be close behind."

                         As they leave, I hear Mai say, "Give me the fifty. I was right."

                         Am I blushing? 

                         I might be.

                        "Do you still want your cinnamon bun?" she asks, letting me see the warm, flaky, sticky goodness.

                        I mean, it was a gift from the enemy―her―but also . . .

                        It's a cinnamon bun.

                        And I really, really love cinnamon buns.

                        She grins as she hands it to me, but threateningly, I say, "Don't think this means I like you."

                        "Oh, don't worry," Veah says. "I wouldn't dream of it."

                        "Also . . . are we allowed to just leave? I haven't seen any doctors since I got here."

                        "Once they said you were okay, I ordered them not to come near you," she says casually. "It was the best way to make sure you were safe."

                         I am definitely not blushing again. Why would I be blushing?

                         As I follow Veah past the sleek white hallways and the silvery hospital, I see doctors in flowing coats, holding clipboards and murmuring in Japanese. But once they see Veah, they part for her like the red sea.

                       "Why are they ignoring you?" I whisper, trying to catch up.

                        Veah pushes open the door to the city outside.

                       "Because I'm the most feared assassin the city," she whispers back.

                        Somehow, I don't think she's joking.

                        But I don't have time to think about it, because―

                        Sound―brilliant, glorious sound and colour.

                        I forgot it was the middle of the night.

                        The black sky hovers above us, but the streets are bathed in neon colour, with bikes flying past and elegant cars surging forward. Giant ad screens are plastered to the sides of the buildings, and the conversation and song of the night rises up around me. People swarm past us on the sidewalk, speaking in a language I can't understand, but Veah smiles―so softly I know she must have missed it here. 

                      And this place . . . this city . . . with the sound of traffic, and music, and the combination of the glittering lights . . . well, there's no other way to describe it. It's New York City on steroids.

                      "Wow," I breathe, and I feel giddy.

                      The same contagious light is in Veah's eyes. "Let me hail a cab," she says, and she―I kid you not―steps out into the middle of the street.

                      "What are you doing?" I shriek. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

                      She only laughs, and I watch as a car slams forward towards her―stopping just in time that the front grazes her.

                      "Kiyota Hinare," she orders the driver, and he responds in Japanese.

                      She glances up, her silver eyes meeting mine. 

                      I hesitate. "Are you sure―is this really―"

                      But there is something in her face that says, Are you coming or not? 

                      And fuck it, I'm coming.

                      When we get to the restaurant, they are already there.

                      Mai tucks back the white streaks of her hair behind her ears. My mother never approved of nose rings, but the septum piercing she has looks so badass that I can't help feeling a bit of awe.

                     "Over here!" she says, knocking over two cups of water and a plate of buns as she stands up. There is an outdoor platform, so the table she chose is right beneath the night sky, swirling with the sound of traffic and music.

                     Veah's fingers lace through mine, and she leads me towards the table.

                    Enemy, enemy, enemy, I remind myself, and yank my hand away.

                    "We are not friends," I tell her.

                    Ren lets out a wolf whistle. "That's rough. I don't think any girl has ever turned you down before, Vee."

                    "I already like her better than you,"  Mai informs Ren, and she gestures to the seat beside her, motioning for me to sit.

                    "I'm your favourite person in the world," Ren argues.

                    "When did you become so self-important?"

                    "Since you told me so yourself, last night―"

                    Mai's arm sweeps out over the table, interrupting Ren as a glass of water is thrown off the table. Right onto his pants.

                    "You were saying?" she says sweetly.

                    Ren splutters and stands up. "These are my favourite pants!"

                    They are silk, with each leg a different colour: bronze and black. And fine, I'll admit it―they are cute.

                    "You better go clean that up," Mai says evenly.

                    As Ren scowls, Veah and I exchange a glance from across the table.

                    She smiles at me, and I smile back, and for a moment I forget that I am furious with her. 

                   Shit. Why does she make it so easy to forget?

                   Ren makes his way to the bathroom, and only the three of us are left.

                   I take a sip of my water. Mai says, "I fucked him last night."

                   "What?"  Veah demands, at the same time I choke.

                   "I fucked him last―"

                   Unfortunately, I still can't breathe. 

                   Philosophical question #2: If you choke on water and die, does your tombstone say "Lived a great life" or "Fucking moron who couldn't drink her water"? 

                   I don't particularly want to find out.

                   "Are you okay?" Mai asks me, as I choke and turn red.

                   Veah stands up to help me, but I just fling my hand out forcefully. 

                   "Really," she says coolly. "You would rather die than let me help you."

                  The choking subsides, and I give her a scathing look.

                  "I'm so glad you finally get it," I manage to say.

                  Mai begins, "Are you―"

                  "Please don't ask me if I'm okay," I tell Mai. "If you do, I'll have to remember the past thirty seconds and then I'll probably cry."

                  "Crying is good for you," Mai says, not unkindly. "Anyways, I finally gave in. After years, and years, and years―"

                  "You're twenty, not two hundred," Veah says.

                  "And years of his little lovesick eyes, I finally gave in. We fucked. Made love. Whatever. I think he has some kind of inferiority complex. I really don't know why he did it."

                  Veah's eyes blaze as she leans over the table. "Because you're both in love with eachz other?" 

                  "I don't deserve him," Mai says simply. "He's―too good. So last night was a mistake, and now, I . . . I'm really terrified of losing him as a friend."

                  "You deserve each other," Veah says softly, fiercely. 

                  Mai bites her lip, tearing her eyes away. "It's fine. I'm pretending it never happened. I'm just going to keep my calm, I won't lose it and―oh, look. Shrimp Dick is back anyway. Hey, did you clean yourself up?" Loud enough that everyone can hear, she says, "It's okay to have little accidents."

                  "You're five feet tall," Ren says, sitting back down with ease. "Do you think it would be considered a little accident if I happened to stab you with this knife?"

                  "Just because you're six feet―"

                  "Six feet and four inches," Ren reminds her.

                  "―doesn't mean it gives you the right to be rude about height."

                  "Sure it does, if you're as tall as a kindergartener."

                  "I am not―" Mai is spitting fire by now. "I'm going to suffocate you in your sleep."

                  "I think that would involve being in my bed," Ren says. "Would you be able to keep your hands off me?"

                  "Would I be able to―" Mai jumps up. "I'll show you right now what it'll look like with my hands around your throat!"

                  Ren makes a humming sound. "Then choke me, daddy."

                 Mai makes a sound a lot like a screech. "You insufferable, intolerable, cocksure prick! I wish I never fucked you!"

                 I wonder what happened to "I'm going to stay calm." 

                 "You didn't seem to mind when I proved you wrong," Ren says.

                 Mai stalks away from the table, just as the waiter arrives. He holds his notepad in front of him, saying something in Japanese to Veah. 

                 Dimly, I wonder if I should try and go after Mai. I barely know her, but―

                 Veah glances at me. "Is it okay if I order something for you?"

                 I . . . hadn't expected her to ask.

                 With a wry grin, I say, "Go ahead."

                 Her eyes flicker to mine as she speaks in Japanese, and a slow smile forms on my lips at that secret look.

                 As soon as her and Ren have ordered, the waiter disappears, winding back through the crowded outdoor tables. 

                The night sky is brilliant above us. Cars honk in the distance―voices overlap each other―and soft violin music echoes from somewhere inside the restaurant.

                Finally, once the waiter is gone, I ask, "Is she going to . . . uh, come back?"

                I can tell Ren's smile is forced. "She likes making a scene," he says, almost wistfully. "I think I pushed her too hard."

               Veah tilts her head. "What were you saying before, about proving her wrong?"

               At this, Ren's grin becomes purely devilish.

              "Well, she always said I had a little―"

              My eyes widen, and Veah cuts him off. "Actually, never mind."

              Ren looks down. Swallowing. "You know, last night, we―uh―"

              "Fucked?" Veah says calmly.

              "Yeah," he says, relieved. "How'd you guess?"

              Veah's eyes slide to mine, and I fight to keep back a grin.

             Ren groans, tipping his head back, so the column of his throat is exposed to the night air. I can see the appeal―he is handsome, in an elegant, sharp way. "Uzai,"  he mutters. "She told you, didn't she? What did she say?"

             He looks at both of us so hopefully I wince.

             But he detects that slight movement, and his face falls. "It was bad, wasn't it?"

            "No," I say quickly. "She―"

            "I knew it," Ren says listlessly. "I don't deserve her. I was stupid to think―"

            "No!" I protest again. "That's not at all―"

            He stands up, his head bowed so that his curly black hair falls over his eyes. "I'm going to try and find her. We can just pretend it never even happened. I'd rather have her as a best friend than not at all."

               "No, wait!" I say, but it's too late―he is already striding off the restaurant's patio. I blink, and he has already disappeared into the streets of Tokyo. 

               Flushed, I sit back down.

               "Don't worry too much about that," Veah says, though she looks more worried than I've ever seen her. "They've always done this. Back and forth. Neither of them thinks they deserve the other, so they just bicker, and argue, and bicker some more." 

                "It's different this time, though, isn't it? Because they . . ."

                "Fucked?" 

                Veah seems to enjoy the way I recoil when she says that. 

                "Yeah," I say, "because they―fucked."  

                A smile curves her soft lips.

                I think cherries might be my favourite fruit.

                "It might," Veah admits. "They've been in love since we were teenagers. But Mai doesn't think she deserves Ren, and Ren . . . . he doesn't think she deserves her, either."

                "Couldn't there be . . . is there anything we can do?" 

                Veah shakes her head softly. "They both have to realize it for themselves, and until then―God, they're so stupid."

                 I smile a little. "I like them."

                 Veah grins. "Good."

                Whatever this is―if this is some kind of moment, it is broken when the waiter returns with a tray of sushi. But the food looks so good that I moan at the scent of it, wafting through the air. 

                "How do you say thank you in Japanese?" I whisper to Veah, once we're alone. The next time he comes to our table, I want to be able to say it.

               "Arigato gozaimasu,"  Veah says.

               Clumsily, I repeat it, and she gives me a nod of approval. Then she gestures to the food, and somehow, I manage to forget the fact that I'm mad at her.

                She was right. The makizushi might be the best meal I've ever had.

               Veah takes me to an apartment high above the city, with glass walls and glossy furniture. It feels almost empty, like no one has ever truly lived here.

               "It's a safehouse," Veah explains. "Now that . . ."

               "Half the city wants me kidnapped, and the other half wants me dead?"

               She looks down, setting the keys onto the marble countertop. "Kaya . . ."

               I am remembering to be furious again. "So when were you going to tell me?" I press. "It wasn't just a coincidence that you ended up at that party, right in the middle of Santa Monica, Florida on Halloween?"

               "It was the only way."

               "This whole time, I was blaming you."  I begin to pace back and forth from one end of the window to the other. The entire outside wall is made of glass, and any other time, I might admire the city lights again, but now―

               I round on Veah again.

               "I thought the only reason I was in this mess, to fake my death, make a new identity . . . I thought it was all because of you! I thought this was some crazy, random coincidence! Some unlucky twist! I didn't think it was because . . . because . . . you were supposed to kill me!" 

               "It was better that way," Veah says quietly.

               "And when I woke up, and I couldn't remember being handcuffed . . . that was all you? What about the night we had? All the crazy things we did? Was that―"

               Veah closes her eyes. "I read about you. My target. Kaya Lee Rivers." 

              I cross my arms, pacing again.

              "On the outside, you were unexciting," Veah continues, leaning back, eyes still closed. "Good grades. Safe job. A little rule-follower. But then I looked a little deeper, and I found . . . I found someone who hacked into the police database to get some idiot boys arrested. I found someone who transferred money into an offshore account every week, under her sister's name. I found someone who was . . ."

               Her eyes open. Startling grey.

               "I found you,"  Veah says.

               "Me? I'm . . ."

               "You follow rules." Veah's eyes are piercing. I can't look away. "You lecture me on the speed limit while we're trying to escape from the Yakuza. And yes, you're cautious. Yes, you're organized, and yeah―you follow the rules. But I . . ." 

               Veah runs her fingers through her hair. Her tan skin looks smooth, a contrast against her deep brown hair, her striking eyes.

               "I like that about you. I like you, everything about you. You keep me grounded. You keep me a little saner."

                But I'm not willing to accept that from an assassin from the Japanese Mafia. Not yet. 

                "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me blame you? I thought this was all your fault, but you were saving me. You were . . ." I slump back against the glass wall, sliding to the ground. "I don't get it."

                Veah looks away. "Let's play the game. The truth game."

                "A question for a question?"

                "And an answer for an answer."

                I nod, slowly. "Fine."

               "Why didn't you go to the police?" she asks. 

               Honestly, I answer, "I haven't trusted the police since I hacked into their database―since I saw for myself how corrupt they are. And I . . . I felt safe with you. At least, I knew you'd protect me."

                "Why did you follow me here, to Tokyo? Even knowing how dangerous it would be, and what you'd have to do."

                I lift a shoulder. "There's no way to explain it. You . . . I guess I've trusted you, since you've saved my life so many times. But maybe it's deeper than that. There's something about you―and God, it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? That I could trust someone I've only just met? But my instincts don't push me away from you, they push me towards you. That time I tried to escape . . . I had to go against my own gut feeling."

                 My head tips back against the window. I take a deep breath.

                 "You're crazy, and chaotic, and you take a lot of risks, but . . . but I think I needed that, too. I think I needed to step outside of my comfort zone―even if it was because of murderous, gun-toting hooligans. Because even in this mess, even when I know I'm supposed to be mad at you, it's so hard. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, you know?"

                And I can't believe I just said that.

               Her eyes flicker. Indistinguishable. 

               At last, she asks, "Why did you kiss me?"

               "Pass," I say immediately.

               "But―"

               "I get three questions now. Firstly . . . were you the one that handcuffed us together?"

                Because I can't remember how that happened. It must have been in an alcoholic daze, but the mystery has been driving me crazy.

                "No," Veah says.

                My head snaps up. Wait― "It wasn't you?"

                "No, I don't remember how that happened either."

                My head spins with that―I had been so certain. It made sense, it aligned with everything she's told me, but . . . I know she wouldn't lie.

                And hell, I trust her.

                "Second question," I say. "What is the Wyvern?"

                Her eyes darken, and I know she doesn't want to answer, but―

                "It's a drug," she says, and it finally clicks into place. "A powerful one. A new one. There's a loophole in the narcotic market every few years. If you mix together raw chemical elements, then you make a substance that can't be illegal, because there are no laws against it yet. So the gangs sell it, as fast as they can, and they make new variants of it. Only this time . . . Kogu-Ryu made a trade deal. With Europe. When you picture the Wyvern, think of it as the biggest, baddest thing on the market. It is highly addictive, and one dose is enough to get you hooked."

                "What do I have to do with this?"

                "The raw chemical elements . . . there's a recipe for it. The Wyvern is so addictive it will be revolutionary to the black market. The So-Cais, our rival gang, they want that recipe bad. It's encoded, protected by a firewall made by the three best hackers in the world. And because you, you, Kaya, might be one of the only people who can get that recipe, the Cais want you kidnapped―and Kogu-Ryu wants you dead. Which is why they sent me, and why we were chased by Imai."

                 "Why do they think I can hack into the firewall? And why I am one of the only people who can? Surely there are others―"

                 "You're the only one left," Veah cuts in. 

                 And I can suddenly guess what happened to anyone else who was a threat to the Wyvern.

                 "But why do they think I can do it? What did I do?"

                 Veah glances away. "I . . . can't answer that."

                 "What do you mean you can't answer that?" I snap.

                 "I don't know," Veah whispers. "That's the truth. I don't know. I know you have an IQ of 162. I know you passed every single standardized test with flying colours. But there are rumours―the reason they found you. You did something, something big―something that got their attention."

                  "But . . . I don't even know what I did. It has to be a mistake―"

                  Veah shakes her head once. "It wasn't a mistake. You have to remember, Kaya." She searches my eyes. "Is there anything you did, anything, that could have alerted them?"

                 "No!" I say, frustrated. "It's a mistake. It has to be. I can't remember doing anything that would have gotten the attention of the freaking Yakuza."

                 Veah lets out a breath, almost . . . disappointed.

                I realize, then, that she is close enough to me that our sides almost touch. My knees are curled up. Her legs are spread out in front of her. 

               And later, I won't remember how it happened, but eventually my head slips onto her shoulder.

              "Tomorrow, we're going to see Skullcrusher," she tells me. "The one who's going to forge a fake identity for you."

              "Skullcrusher?" I mumble, my eyes already closing. "Sounds like a nice guy . . ."

               Sleep comes easily. And for the first time in a week, I don't have any nightmares.

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So I just started watching The Vampire Diaries, and it's ... surprisingly good? Why have I never watched this before? And why are vampires kind of hot? 

Just letting you know, one day, far into the future, I will probably write a vampire book. Why? Because lesbian vampires. Need I say more?

From the moon and back,
Sarai