And With That...The Stage Is Set.

Was Himiko's story emotional? Probably not, right? Whatever, she's just being used to give you a deeper look into my MC.

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Himiko leaned against the cold infirmary wall, her thoughts racing. She knew she couldn't go back to the party—not now, not after what had just happened. But she also couldn't go home yet. Her parents expected her to be at the school event for a while longer, mingling with her peers, and putting on the perfect façade they demanded of her.

But in truth, it wasn't just the party she didn't want to return to. It was the house. Her family. The unspoken expectations, the forced smiles, the ever-present disappointment. No, she wasn't ready for that. Not tonight.

So here she was, hiding in the empty infirmary. The room was dim, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the windows. It was eerily quiet, the distant noise of the party muffled by the thick walls. Most of the teachers had already gone home or joined the celebrations, leaving the school eerily still.

It was peaceful here, in a way. Dark, quiet, lonely. Just how Himiko liked it.

She rolled up the sleeve of her right arm, exposing a series of tiny scars—bite marks, faint but unmistakable. Her golden eyes traced the familiar patterns, the remnants of her secret, twisted urges. It was a compulsion she couldn't control, a hunger that never truly went away. She bit down on herself often, trying to satisfy the craving without harming others. But tonight... it was stronger than usual.

Suddenly, a noise echoed through the infirmary, startling her. Her heart leaped into her throat as she quickly yanked down her sleeve, her eyes darting around the room in a panic. Had someone seen her?

The thought alone made her stomach churn with fear. In her rush, she knocked over a vase sitting on the windowsill. It teetered dangerously but mercifully didn't shatter, instead landing with a soft thud on the floor.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she crouched down, trying to calm her racing heart. But after a moment, she realized... it was just snoring.

Himiko crept across the room, her movements silent and deliberate. She reached the bed and peeked over it, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight.

It was 'Kuro'—the soccer player from earlier. Though his friends called him by his first name, Himiko knew it would be more respectful to use his last name: Tenshin. He lay sprawled out on the bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, completely at ease. His dark hair fell messily across his forehead, and his face was relaxed, almost peaceful.

He was sleeping soundly, completely oblivious to the world around him. Himiko couldn't help but stare, a strange mix of envy and fascination bubbling up inside her. Was this what it was like to be carefree? To just lie down and rest, without a care in the world? Or was he simply a fool for being so vulnerable, even at school?

Her eyes drifted downward, landing on his neck. The pale skin stretched over his carotid arteries, pulsing faintly with the rhythm of his heartbeat. Two arteries—one on each side of the neck. Himiko knew that. She had studied it. Her parents had once thought her interest in human anatomy was academic, but they didn't understand. They never did.

Her gaze lingered on the arteries, her mind swirling with dark thoughts. It would be so easy... just one quick bite and no one would notice. Tenshin wouldn't even wake up—he'd never know what happened.

It was his fault, really, for falling asleep in such a vulnerable position. She wouldn't take much, just a taste. Enough to satisfy the gnawing hunger that had been building inside her all night.

Her fangs itched, the sharp points pressing against her bottom lip as her mouth inched closer. Closer to his neck, to the warmth radiating from his skin. The scent of his blood filled her senses, drowning out any rational thought. She could feel it—his pulse, his life force, just beneath the surface. And she wanted it.

No—she needed it.

Without another conscious thought, Himiko leaned in, her fangs brushing against Tenshin's skin. Normally, she only bit lightly, careful to leave behind small, unnoticeable marks. But tonight, her control slipped, the hunger too strong to resist.

Her fangs sank into his flesh.

The sensation was overwhelming. The taste of his blood flooded her mouth, rich and metallic, sending a shudder down her spine. She had never bitten this deeply before—her fangs were completely in.

A soft gasp escaped her lips, and for a brief moment, everything else fell away. The party, the fear, the disappointment. All of it was gone, replaced by the intoxicating rush of life flowing into her.

But as the blood pooled on her tongue, a wave of guilt surged through her, crashing over the haze of pleasure. What was she doing? Tenshin hadn't done anything to deserve this. He was just sleeping, completely unaware of the danger that had been lurking so close.

And yet… she couldn't stop.

...

It was like nothing she had ever felt before. The rush, the intensity, the sheer ecstasy of it overwhelmed her senses. Himiko had tasted blood before, but it had always been her own—bland, ordinary, lacking the spark she craved. But this... this was different. This was something special. Something she hadn't even known she needed.

As the warm, rich liquid flowed into her mouth, Himiko's thoughts spun in a dizzying whirl. Tenshin, she thought, but the name didn't feel right. No, he wasn't just Tenshin anymore. He was Kuro—her Kuro. They were connected now, closer than anyone else could ever be. Friends? No, best friends. Closer than best friends. Closer than anyone.

A soft moan escaped her lips, the sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. This was what she had been searching for, the feeling of being normal that had always eluded her. But it wasn't normal, was it? It was better. So much better.

As she sank deeper into her euphoria, Himiko's mind fixated on the taste. It wasn't like any blood she had tasted before. It wasn't metallic or coppery; instead, it was sweet—unbelievably sweet. The rich, velvety taste of chocolate filled her mouth, smooth and decadent, with a subtle undertone of mango that added a surprising twist.

Chocolate? Himiko's thoughts were fuzzy, drifting in and out of focus. How could blood taste like chocolate? It didn't make any sense. Blood was blood—it was supposed to taste like iron, like life itself. But Kuro's was different. Maybe it was his quirk, something unique to him that made his blood special, just like he was.

Himiko was too lost in the sensation to think clearly, her mind clouded with bliss. The taste, the warmth, the connection—everything about this moment was perfect, so much more than she could have ever imagined. The more she drank, the more she felt a deep, powerful bond forming between them, something that transcended the ordinary, something that made her feel alive in a way she never had before.

It felt too good to stop.

In her euphoric state, she didn't notice the world around her. The dark infirmary, the cool night air, the distant sounds of the party—all of it faded into the background. There was only the taste, the warmth, and the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through her veins, filling her with a sense of belonging she had never known.

This is it, Himiko thought, her fangs still embedded in Kuro's neck. This is what I've been missing. This is what it feels like to be truly connected to someone.

She didn't realize how deeply she had sunk her fangs into his flesh, didn't notice how much blood she was drawing. All she could focus on was the taste—the perfect, intoxicating taste of Kuro's blood, unlike anything she had ever experienced.

It was as if every nerve in her body was alight with pleasure, every sense heightened to the point of delirium. The world had melted away, leaving only the two of them in a shared moment of blissful, twisted intimacy.

We're so close now, she thought, her mind adrift in the euphoria. Kuro and I... we're meant to be like this. We're meant to be together.

But even as she indulged in the sensation, somewhere deep in the back of her mind, a small voice whispered that this wasn't right, that she was crossing a line she could never uncross. That was morality, I think...I dunno, don't have it.

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[Auther; Yo. If you're thinking this is the start of some copy paste, vampire love novel, please leave. This is a crime, and I'm showing it from the perspective of the victim.]