13 Pain in the Morning

Morning came abruptly, but Megura had been sleeping soundly till the rays poked through his curtains. Her head tossed back with her arm hanging over her head as she took in quiet sharp breaths, sound asleep. Luckily her hangover had mostly subsided, especially after drinking Shouji's blood. It was like being rehydrated from a dry summer heat. She felt warm, uncomfortably so, and had tossed back and forth in bed before she felt her skin radiate to a burning heat. It was so hot it made her jerk away, her eyes alert as the smell of burnt flesh rose filled her nose. She gasped and flung herself from the bed in a flash, seeing small flames erupt over her arm and hissed, scrambling to the furthest corner. "Shouji. Shouji. Shouji!" she hissed, her voice a muffle through her tired voice. She'd been calling him a few more times before finally she screamed his name once more. "SHOUJI!" she cried in a panic, trapped in the tiny corner of the room behind the bed. The morning rays burned her eyes, it hurt, and she could barely see through it. It was like having a big fat LED light shined in her eyes and she squinted against it.

Shouji jumped up and looked at her. "Shit!" he gasped. He acted quickly and threw his thick comforter around her to get the sun off her. He left quickly then to grab another blanket. He pinned it over his window, making his room pitch black.

When the room leveled off, she sighed, slumping down into the comforter as she drew her fingers over her skin lightly, watching the burns recover. A little faster than usual, but not fast enough. Great, trapped in his room all day. Naturally, no one had lens flare and UV resistant window panes. She kind of slumped down where she was. "I think you should invest in blackout curtains," she grumbled, closing her eyes as she sighed. She'd never had such a close encounter with death like this.

He knelt done by her side. "I will. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" he asked, worried.

"I'm fine!" she told him, her voice high before it lowered an octave. "It just startled me," she breathed, closing her eyes.

He lifted the blanket off her a little to examine the damage. She had mostly healed already. He felt like he'd kidnapped her now. "Did you have plans today?" he asked sheepishly.

"No," she said coolly. "I didn't, or least, I don't anymore," she said matter-of-fact. She pushed her hair back and looked down at her knees. "But even if I wanted to do anything, I don't have my stuff. Again," she muttered, reminding herself about her wallet and phone. Maybe she'd be a little less dramatic next time, but then again she knew Shu's number. She didn't want to call Daichi, she'd never hear the end of it, unless Asami was willing to keep hush hush. She shook her head.

"Is there something I can do?" he asked. Surely she didn't want to stay here all day.

"What's the deepest, darkest place in your house?" she asked, looking up. Honestly, she wanted to go back to bed.

"Um... the basement. The door is in the kitchen." That would be the brightest room in the house right now. "You'll have to keep covered and I'll lead you down there."

She nodded quickly. "I'll take that," she told him, getting up. "You're not going anywhere today, right?" she asked. It'd be awkward holing up in the basement all day by herself.

"Not without you," he told her as he helped her through the house. "I doubt Sora will be home today, but we never go down in the basement," he told her. He opened the door. "There are stairs." Once she was a little ways down she could lose the blanket; it was dark enough. He closed the door behind her and pulled the cord for the light.

Megura walked with him. When they got through the kitchen, it suddenly felt miles cooler than before and she sighed, her shoulders slumping when unveiled to the dark depths of the basement. It seemed neglected. "Dusty," she commented slowly.

"Very," he said, continuing down. He looked around and moved some things out of the way to open it up more. He hadn't been in the basement in years.

Megura just pursued the area slowly before finding an old chair upside down. She lifted it up and set it down, sitting on it as she dusted off a box next to her. "I'm assuming you don't come down here often," she remarked.

"No," he said as he observes the towers of boxes. "After dad died, we moved all of his books and research down here. Mom didn't want to see it, and we had no use for it."

"Oh," she drawled. "I'm sorry about that." She looked away, not sure what to do at his house. It wasn't boring, but she felt intrusive.

Shouji shook his head and pulled his hair back to put it up. He opened a box and pulled out a book. "He was a history professor at the University. He taught world history but specialized in Asian history," he said, looking through the book. The dust on the cover was thick, but the pages inside looked brand new. He hadn't thought about his dad in a long time. It didn't make him sad. He'd never really appreciated his father's work. He looked at the book in his hand. 'Japanese Shogun: Ways of the Samurai', it read. He flipped through the pages. A lot of ancient Japanese art work of samurai warriors, swords, leaders and customs. He saw a picture of a daughter of a Shogun. The art was very traditional and showed a tall, slender woman with long black hair over her shoulder. She dressed in many robes that had many patterns. He flipped past to see a brief passage on Mongols. "Dad was obsessed with Mongolian history," he said, setting the book down to continue through the box. The rest were language studies. His father had been fluent in Japanese, Chinese, Mongolian, and Korean. He was conversational in several others, including Russian and French. Shouji smiled a little, remembering when his father would speak in different tongues and teach him and Sora certain words.

She watched him flip through the book, and she leaned forward to look at the pages. She'd seen someone who looked like the girl on the page, but otherwise didn't mind it. "He sounds like a great Dad," she smiled.

Shouji nodded and looked at her. She was quite cute in the dim light of the basement, still wearing his t-shirt. He turned to move through and look in different boxes. "I guess. When he had time." He pulled out a notebook then, but set it aside. "I honestly don't know why we kept all of this. Mom didn't want to get rid of it. I don't think she fully understood that he was dead." He remembered Sora getting so frustrated with her when mom would go into one of her fits about how their dad needed to finish his thesis. 'He's not done yet! He's not finished!' she'd scream. He didn't enjoy remembering his mother like that. She used to be all smiles and gentle. The car accident really changed everything.

"It's difficult being a parent," Megura responded. "All throughout time, every age and century. They do their best, you know." She placed her hand over his arm. "At least there are good memories to fall back on."

"Yeah." He somewhat agreed. It had taken him a long time to get over it. Even after his mom died and it left him and Sora with a peaceful, empty home. "Do you have any ideas on what to do?" he asked. The only thing he could think of was to read. There were at least a hundred books to choose from. Not all of them textbooks.

"Sleep," she yawned. "It's bedtime for me," she laughed.

He nodded and moved some more boxes before finding an old futon and covered it with his blanket. "At least you won't have to sleep on the floor."

Megura stood up and followed him over to it. She stood behind him as he tossed his comforter over it and smirked to herself. "I've slept on worse," she shrugged, jumping on top of it. His shirt flying up as she fell on her back and kicked her legs out, stretching. "It's better than the hull of the ship or the creaky floorboards of some hospital," she sighed, rolling on it. Even if it was dusty, it didn't bother her much. She rolled over on her stomach, her blue and white striped ass peeking out from beneath his shirt. "You still going to stay down here with me, even if I fall asleep?" she asked, yawning again.

He watched her and had to clear his throat a little. "I might go upstairs and get something to eat." He didn't really want to though. She was quite a sight. He refrained from reaching down to grab her ass. "I want to go through these books though." He couldn't bring himself to look away from her.

"Lend me a pair of headphones. And a mp3 player or laptop if you have one," she told him. "I'll wait for you, but I don't want to get bored." She patted her mouth, yawning again. "And I'll try to stay up later for you." She kicked her legs, looking down at the comforter, and traced the lines of the pattern and stitching.

He looked away. "Okay. I'll be right back." He started up the stairs to grab his mp3 player and extra headphones she could have. He closed the door behind him and let out a heavy breath. Damn. He made a small breakfast of toast and went to grab his music player and headphones. He was about to head back down when he heard the front door lock click. He sat at the table and ate his toast as Sora walked down the hall.

"Shou?" she asked, stepping into the kitchen to see him. "You are awake. Sorry I had to work late." She sighed and set her bag down on the floor and sat across from him.

"You look tired. Have you slept at all?" he asked her.

"So do you," she said, letting her hair down. "No, I'm so close! I just need to find one more bonding- Sorry you're not interested," she laughed.

"No, I'm not," he told her honestly, taking another bite.

She looked up again, seeing he was just as exhausted and a bit frazzled. "Nightmares again?" she asked.

If Sora found out, he'd had a girl over for the night who was now in their basement hiding from the sun because she was a vampire. He didn't think that would go over well. "Yeah," he said, looking down.

"I'm sorry." She yawned a bit and stood back up. "I'm going to bed. I'm going to sleep for two days and then head back to work." She waved as she started to her room.

Shouji sighed and waited to hear the click of her door before getting up and quietly walking down into the basement.

Megura awaited him at the bottom of the stairs then, still laying on the future, kicking her legs in the air as her hair bobbed over her shoulders. She lowered her head to the bed then, taking the chance to breathe in before breathing out in a loud sigh. "You took your sweet time," she told him, closing her eyes.

He smiled at her. She was kind of child like for being six-hundred years old. "Sorry. Sora came home." He sat down and handed her his mp3 player.

"Who?" she asked. She shook her head. "Oh, the- Your sister. From the photo." She sat up. "I was thinking about an old movie. Ah, it was by far one of my favorites. Bonnie and Clyde. 1967, I remember going out with a couple of friends to watch it at one of the drive-in theaters," she laughed.

He looked at her and yawned a little. He was still tired him self. "Weren't they criminals?" he asked. He'd never seen the movie.

"Yes!" she started, leaning back as she reached out a hand for the headphones. "It was quite interesting, really. Watching the movie, I remember we'd all been chatting and laughing about how romantic it was when they played the most beautiful song. I remember it was so well orchestrated. I wanted to listen to it again."

Romantic? He handed her the headphones and leaned back against a box, yawning again. "What was it called? The song," he asked her.

"It was- Deep night. I remember," she hummed, closing her eyes. "Had that old noise to it, sounded eerie, but it was about the dreamiest thing I remember," she laughed. "Charles Henderson couldn't have been outplayed by anyone." She nodded her head, rolling onto her back, humming a bit more.

Shouji was falling asleep as he listened to her hum. He was a little sore from the biting and his ribs ached, but he didn't regret what happened. He wondered if Sora noticed the hickeys on his neck and shoulder. He had grabbed a shirt when he grabbed his mp3 player, but it didn't hide his neck. His wrist somewhat closed. It would bruise pretty good. He continued listening to her. He figured her humming sounded better, anyway. It lulled him right to sleep.

Megura listened to his heartbeat slow through the headphones. After a moment, her eyes closed, and she too fell asleep. It was easy, drifting into the unknown. Remembering the moment when she heard the words flow out of her mouth. Watching the body fling from the balcony... The flames... The burning ebony night.

After a while, about midafternoon, Shouji woke up. He winced as he tried to get up. He was extremely sore now and grabbed his ribs, looking to see Megura still asleep, listening to his music. He smiled a little and tried not to wake her up. He needed to go take a shower and hopefully she wouldn't wake up. Sora was still asleep, thankfully. He grabbed a change of clothes and went to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror after taking his shirt off. The hickeys looked worse now, but they didn't hurt. The blood had just settled and now looked like dark bruises. He looked at his wrist. Maybe not that one. She bit him harder there, but it was so exhilarating. He stepped in the shower and let the warm water hit his face and soak his hair. What was he going to do? What were they going to do? She was from a family of vampires and from what she said; they did not know where she was. This didn't particularly look good for him. He wanted to enjoy every moment he had with her, though, not knowing how long it was going to last. He thought about what happened last night. Maybe they had both gotten carried away, but damn, it was worth it. He sighed and quickly washed up. He stepped out after getting dressed and looked at the photos of his family. They all stopped after the crash. He shook his head. Some family. He started back down to the basement, making sure to not wake Megura. He found it sexy, her sleeping in his shirt.

Everything was going bright with the light, it was the only thing casting in her eyes in the utter darkness. No stars marked the sky, the castle walls were a shadow. The balcony disappeared and there she was, falling from the tower. Not her mother, but her. Falling at the pitch of night. The city lights swallowing her up from below. She wasn't on fire, but her body burned. Everything hurt and the feeling of crushing agony was washing from her as the wind parted beneath her weight with less force till it all stopped. She opened her eyes, lying on her back, staring up into nothing. Her entire face turned down in a frown. She was- alive? Her facial expression regarded the thought with a twinge. A light wince at the idea of it, and she suddenly felt very fake. Very much unreal and not alive at all. A tear escaped her eye, and another followed as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Why was she crying? She could hear shuffling as cardboard moved against the floor, paper sifting. "Shouji?" she asked.

Shouji looked up then, startled by her voice. He got up and looked around a stack of books at her. "Good... Morning? I guess it would be for you," he said, smiling sheepishly. He saw her crying and frowned. "What's wrong?"

Megura touched her face and looked at the tears on her fingertips. "They're nothing," she sighed, "anyway, what did I miss?" she asked, getting up.

He looked at her, not believing it, but he didn't push it. "Not much, actually. I was just reading through some stuff. Do you need a shower or anything?" he asked her.

Megura's mind wondered, and she looked around before her eyes came back to rest on his eyes and she nodded. "It'd be nice, but I don't have a change of clothes."

He sighed. "Well, do you want to where something of mine and we can go buy you something?" he asked her. "Or I can grab something of my mothers. You're about her size."

She opted for his clothes instead. The latter sounded awful in idea, "I'll take another shirt. I can wear my pants again," she commented, not smiling. The idea of wearing his mom's clothes still bewildered her. Too picturesque. Especially if she matched one of the photos. Oh, hell no.

He breathed a laugh to himself. "Alright. Let's go upstairs. I'll get you another shirt," he said. He might have one a bit smaller for her.

She nodded, heading upstairs with him, expecting him to rummage through a drawer of shirts while she walked to the bathroom. "Are there towels already in here?" she asked.

"Yeah, in the cabinet above the sink," he told her. He grabbed a shirt quickly. It was an old one. It was white with black splattered paint across it which the word 'Selfless' written across it. "Here," he said, handing her a shirt. "Do you need anything else?"

Megura took the shirt in and glanced at the front, unfolding it as she picked up her jeans. "Black hair dye, I suppose," she joked, rolling her eyes as she walked over to the door and to the bathroom. "I'll be out in a cinch," she told him, shutting the door behind her as she tossed the new clothes on the sink, stripping. The long curve of her back stretching as she lifted her arms over her head and tossed the shirt aside. Megura undid her bra, casting off a glance in the mirror as her underwear line cut just below that faint mark of a stab. She touched the stake wound and cringed. It never healed right. Even still, and she couldn't help but notice the faint splinter marks. She remembered tearing at it obsessively at home, feeling the splinters still inside. God, she wished the doctor had just cut out all the meat. Maybe it would've healed right. Maybe it'd be different. Unless she was just defective. Another quick breath passed her, and she didn't want to think about it anymore before she dropped her underwear and stepped in the shower. The cold water came first, hitting her face, and before she knew it, steam was rolling down and rising from the scalding water.

He smirked at her before turning to walk to the living room to wait.

It was probably about twenty minutes later when she stepped out. She toweled off easily, slipping her bra and underwear on before tossing the shirt and pants on. She felt the heat of the shower pulsing off her and she could almost curl up in the tub, but she was more excited for what was next on the nightly adventure as she stepped out of the steaming bathroom. "Ready," she called.

He bit his lip ring, noticing the shirt fit her nicely. It was a little big, but it looked good. "Where to?" he asked as he went for the front door.

"What?" she commented, looking at him, noticing him staring at her. She looked down, "Is my print showing through?" she asked, pulling the shirt taught against her chest to check. She swore it looked fine in the mirror. She stepped over beside him and grabbed the door handle, "I was thinking a light trip out. Maybe a coffee shop. Somewhere lightly more fashionable. Lighter drinking throughout the night. Yadda yadda."

"Nothing," he said, raising his hand to his head. He followed her out. "There's a coffee shop not to far from here, actually." He stepped up to show her the way.

She nodded, taking a few steps behind him before catching up. It was nicer to walk by him. "That's fine. You lead the way then."

He noticed that she'd rather stand beside him, and he held his hand out to her. It'd be easier for them to keep the same pace that way.

She didn't notice it at first, but after a second brush of their hands she looked ahead, her fingers creeping over to grab his hand. It'd be okay, right?

He smiled a little to himself and led her to the Cafe. He let go of her hand to open the door for her. "After you."

Arial looked up and smiled at them. "Welcome!" she said brightly.

Shouji looked at Arial and nodded to her. He remembered her from high school.

Megura nodded shortly, passing in front of him to find a quick seat in a booth by the window.

He followed her and sat across from her. "Do you have an idea of what you want?" he asked her.

"Mmm, I was thinking more or less about a cappuccino," she remarked, "And a croissant."

Arial walked over to them. "What can I get you two." She smiled.

"A croissant and two cappuccinos. One with two extra shots," he told her.

"Alright. I'll have it right up."

"So you can eat regular food and it won't mess with you?" he asked once Ariel had walked away.

"Oh my god, I'm not a total monster." Megura narrowed her eyes at him after she left, whispering hastily. "I can eat food too. Yeah, sure. It doesn't do me any good, but I don't have to be a complete freak," she muttered, looking away. She eyed Arial quietly, kind of admiring her tiny human cuteness.

He laughed a little. "That's not what I meant. It's not like I'm an expert on it," he said, running his hand through his hair a little.

Arial was making their drinks quickly. The little toaster oven buzzed as the croissant finished. She buttered it and finished their coffees.

She slumped down in her chair when Arial finished making her croissant. "Besides," she muttered. "I can't go walking around, putting vials of blood in my coffee. People would freak out," she moaned, covering her face, embarrassed. "Do you really have to ask this right now?"

He frowned. "I'm sorry."

Arial finished and started walking over to them. "Extra shots for you." She smiled. "How are you, Shouji? It's been a while," she asked as she handed Megura her croissant and coffee.

He looked up and faintly smiled. "It has. I've been okay. How's school?" he asked her, taking a drink of his scolding coffee.

She smiled. She was quiet with her pink spiked hair and septum piercing. She had a couple tattoos of her own too. Seemingly more of Shouji's type. "Good. Exhausting with semester finals," she sighed.

Megura looked at the coffee and wasn't even sure if she wanted it now, but she took a drink. It was hot, but the burn wouldn't last on her tongue and she drank it easily. It was about half empty as she looked down at the table, examining it as Shouji and Arial talked. They seemed fond of each other. She just let them talk, sitting quietly.

"Well, it was nice talking with you. I've got to get back to work," she said, and started off to another table.

"Yeah," Shouji got out before she left.

Megura looked down at the coffee and took another long drink before regarding the empty cup. She just shoved the croissant down, passively pushing the plate to the side. It was weird now that she thought of it, but she'd never been able to taste food. Never really tried eating it till she left her castle in Scotland. She liked to eat it, try to taste something. Try for some semblance of being human. Maybe a part of her wanted to try being human since she'd never been one. She opened her mouth, then closed it. There wasn't much she could really say at the moment. She couldn't think on what to say after that. Maybe she made him feel bad. Maybe the conversation ended. It tempted her to leave out of a brief, awkward bout. He always made her feel oddly insecure about her firm beliefs. Maybe she should've taken care to tread more lightly.

He took another drink of his coffee and looked at her. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said, noticing the awkwardness now.

"No," she sighed, dropping her head back to the top of the table. She seemed to do that a lot when she was upset. Looking to the coffee machines on the far wall. "You didn't. Not much. It just- made me think. Maybe I'm being too rash," she breathed. "Honestly, I've been alive for this long and I still feel like a teenage girl," she murmured.

He refrained from saying that maybe she was in vampire years. "Is that so bad?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," she responded slowly. "Technically, I'm not even sure what teenage or adult years are really considered for my time. I was born like this, not really changed." She shook her head.

"If my mom was here, she could've told me. She was born as one too, and so was my aunt. And uncle. And just-" She closed her eyes. "I dunno. You ask a lot. I get kind of upset. It's not your fault. Like, I haven't met any other people like me except my dad. Unless we change someone." She shrugged. "He knows about as much as me. Maybe a bit more, but still." She sat up, leaning back. "It bothers me not knowing. I didn't really think about it much but, it's just an itch you can't quite scratch. It's dumb. It's really fucking dumb. I should know this without asking someone else," she huffed, crossing her arms. But another wave passed over her and her will to fight dropped. Her arms loosely fell back to her lap, and she looked away from the coffee, rubbing her face. "I dunno, Shouji. I'm not upset, really. I just I woke up. I had this terrible dream. I'm just not feeling myself right now. The questions are a little intrusive at the moment. Not that you meant to be." She closed her eyes, and leaned against the window in frustration, her body an itch, tingling, ready to scream.

"I didn't mean to wake up like this. I've just- I've been having a lot of bad dreams recently. It's not something I can control either. If I could hypnotize myself, I would. Perform a Houdini, whisk them away, flick a wand. Something!" She scrubbed at her eyes again, sniffing lightly before regarding the coffee smell in the air. It made her stomach sour. It smelled awful, and she imagined Shouji's blood again and how willing he was to give it to her before she slammed her fist on the table lightly.

With a sigh she blinked, looking up at the ceiling, feeling small and powerless, but she grabbed the cup of coffee and looked at it. Her stomach yearning for blood, before she turned the cup over on the table to help blot the smell from beneath her nose. She felt her stomach ache; she wanted blood. Shouji's more specifically. It was like her comfort food. The way he coaxed her in, the feel of him, the touch. The light rebellious attitude that went against everything they had taught her. And somehow, it was the best thing she ever felt. His skin was a story, in a way, a reality to the tragedy of years of pain that no longer existed. The isolation. But his tattoos were more open of his experiences and less buried beneath the skin. He didn't need words. His skin did all the talking and she kind of admired it in a way that she couldn't reciprocate even if the idea of marking her skin destroyed her inside. She couldn't really imagine him without it. Everything about him just screamed a perfect contradiction of her life. Even though she'd hurt him, here he still was. Yet there was this comfort she never really got from anyone else. Not before. Not in a long time that made her really itch, fidget. It just threw her into a mood, and she couldn't quite explain it. Suddenly she was closing her eyes, imaging the moment he held her. Her face turned pink, and she lowered her head to the table again, remembering last night. Her brightly pink tinted strawberry blond hair rolled over her shoulder and covered her face as she reminisced. Remembering sleeping with him, his touch, that warmth. She felt herself melt and when she opened her eyes she was staring down at the table softly, "I'm okay," she said, quietly. "Really." She motioned, putting her arms up on the table as she sprawled out before tucking them beneath her chin. Her face a mixture of emotions. "Just a little confused."

He frowned. He knew how she felt. Imagine him going through puberty with no one to help him but his sister. It was rough. "I understand. To a point anyway." He took another drink.

She nodded slowly, shuffling her feet as she crossed her legs to stop her agitation. "Um, I was thinking. Maybe after this we could go somewhere a little quieter," she mumbled. She wanted somewhere open where she could breathe. If he didn't mind.

He finished his coffee and set the cup down. "Yeah," he said. "Are you finished?" he asked, grabbing some money from his pockets to set on the table. It was enough for their coffee and her croissant.

"Yeah, I'm done," she said sluggishly, dragging her head on the table. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and rolled back in her seat, contemplating her actions before looking up at the ceiling.

He took her hand and led her out. "There's a park nearby," he told her as he opened the door.

She tucked her head down, walking out beneath his arm as she stepped out into the street. "Yeah?" she asked slowly, taking a sharp breath. He was significantly taller than her.

"Yeah just around the corner up here."