For several hours Takuma drifted in and out of either complete boredom or short naps, while in between he wondered about the second person who had a hand in his healing. Additionally he wondered why Izanami claimed to hate them so much. For that much hatred it had to be personal, but given the lack of social opportunities Izanami had had in the last few years, the idea seemed unlikely.

Still, it's impossible to hate someone that much unless you know them, Takuma mused as his head lolled back for the nth time that night. She's not that social though, so who could it be? More than once Takuma had found that while he knew Izanami quite well, he also knew remarkably little about her at the same time. She had never mentioned having friends before her relocation from the quiet suburbs to the middle of an isolated forest. Neither did she have any living relatives. Briefly he wondered what it must have felt like to be completely alone for three years, and pondered how the young woman hadn't gone completely crazy.

Then again, he was tied to a chair in the basement of house in the middle of the woods, staring at a rack on a wall holding numerous variations of hand-held's and shotguns. If he tacked on the association she had with him, and the semi-affection she had showed him pervious, he'd say the current situation was very Misery-esque. Hopefully she doesn't break my leg and force me to write a book, he joked to himself, chuckling softly in the grey darkness. He stopped immediately when above his head he heard a low creaking. Looking up he watched invisible feet pad softly and sluggishly along the ceiling, followed immediately by the metallic click of a door and a shot thud as it hit the adjacent wall.

The door to the basement flung open; mute light flooding around Izanami's gangly figure as she slowly tromped down the stairs. "Takuma, are you awake?" she whispered, her voice thick with sleep and her body bent as she peeked blearily over the railing.

"Yes, I'm awake," Takuma replied back, his voice an octave above her hushed tone.

"Well I'm not, so let's get this over with quickly so I can go back to sleep," she said as she walked down the rest of the steps. While she was no longer whispering her voice betrayed her exhaustion, and as she neared Takuma he noticed the slight hitch in her walk. "Have you thought long and hard about the error of your ways?" she asked him. He was sure she meant it to be playful, but the way it paired with her weary voice made it seem like a serious question. Either way he nodded in agreement, watching her carefully as she took a step closer to his person and extracted a slim switchblade from the pocket of her shorts. For a moment he wondered if the comment she had made several weeks ago about a knife being strapped to her thigh was actually true, as well as why she had such a thing on her in the first place. When she made to cut the rope strapping his left arm to the chair, he finally voiced his concern.

"Iz-Izanami, go get some more rest. You don't have to do this right now," he said quickly, watching with worry as her body jumped at the subtle demand—though he had spoken softly in order to avoid this reaction. She narrowed her eyes at him a glare—either that or she couldn't see him clearly in the near darkness—and replied back, almost defensively,

"I'm awake enough not to cut you by accident, Mr. Prince."

"I…I know, but—"

"Hold still," she commanded, falling to her knees beside him with a heavy thump. Takuma watched her, concerned, as she wedged her fingers in between his arm and the rope binding him, and inserted the blade. Silently she sawed away at the coarse rope, her eyes blinking rapidly in what seemed an effort to keep away sleep. Takuma's concern simmered down as he watched her work, noting in his mind that she had purposefully woken herself up—from an apparently deep sleep—in order to do this. He knew that she didn't want him to hate her for doing this in the first place—and in all honesty he didn't since he felt that this was the least amount of punishment he could receive for taking her blood without permission—but it was extensive, and a bit irresponsible, to do this half-asleep.

"Izanami…please go back to sleep," he pleaded with her, earning another incessant glare from under the cover of her brown bangs.

"That chair is uncomfortable," she told him, removing the knife from the rope as she sat back on her heels, "and you'd rather be tied to it so I can sleep for a few more hours."

"Yes, I would."

"You're either insane or you're a martyr," she replied deadpan.

Takuma shook his head in disagreement, his brows drawing down in a pleading gesture. "I just don't want you sacrificing your health for mine." She gave him a wry smile before dropping her eyes and snickering to herself. He was curious about her sudden change in temper, but before he could ask her why she asked him a question.

"You remember when you went for a walk and got lost in the woods?" she asked, a twitch of a smile evident on her lips while in her blue-green eyes he saw dark humor.

Suspicious of her he replied, "Yes, you fired off some gun shots and helped me get back."

"Your eyes were bright red when you got back," she said, somewhat distracted as she folded her knife back up and stowed it away in her shorts, "and you drugged me soon after for a blood fix. Why do you think that is?"

"I…I was hungry; I'm sorry."

The wry smile fell from her face as she balanced herself on her knees, her overall expression serious as she said, "If you were hungry enough you would have attacked me, but prior to that you were assumedly trying to get back here."

"I—I was, but…you fired the gun and I…I found out which way to go." Takuma wasn't sure why he was hesitating so much over something he was sure had happened. He went over the details of that night and morning in his mind to make sure; narrowing on every feeling and sense he could remember.

And found that what he remembered was fuzzy at best, and tinged with adrenaline and hunger.

Izanami sighed softly after noticing his frustration, seemingly sympathetic to the reason. "Did you figure it out before or after I fired the gun?" she asked as she slipped from her knees onto her rear, leaning back on her hands as she waited—skeptically—for his answer.

"Be…After."

"Are you sure?"

"…Maybe…before…?" he replied, still unsure of his answer, and unsure why he felt better about this answer than the one he gave prior. Izanami's expression softened as she watched the confusion and frustration flicker across his face.

"How would you know which way to go before the gun shots?" Takuma thought she was being whole-heartedly sincere in her query, but the soft, underlying tone of pressure led him into believing otherwise. And he was right when after a mere moment she asked, in a stronger, more coercive way, "Why would you be so desperate to drug me if you didn't have a trigger?"

Takuma stared at the young woman for a long time, his jaw ticking several times before he found the right set of words to say to her. "What…what did you do, Izanami?" Takuma's incredulous stare widened as his mind fought to understand why Izanami was giving him a "cat who ate the canary" sort of grin, a smile so sly and amused he was subtly aware of how much she resembled a sadistic feline.

"I'm surprised you never asked about the bandage on my arm. You're usually so perceptive," she crooned, her head tilting sleepily as she shifted the weight on her hands to rub at her eyes with the aforementioned limb. "You should have noticed it when you were drinking from it; I don't know how you didn't." Takuma's eyes narrowed on the pale pink line on the width of her forearm before she dropped the limb into her lap, wondering himself how he could have easily overlooked such a thing.

I thought it was an accident—the rest of her body's covered in them. "You…you did that on purpose…?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he looked at her in mixed horror and anger: horror at what she had done, and anger at himself for missing something so obvious. Izanami's arms and legs were marred with nicks and cuts, but none were as fine and clean as the line on her forearm.

"So you noticed, but you never asked. How very uncharacteristically rude of you, Mr. Prince," she replied playfully, her amusement mellowing out until it was but a shadow of a flicker in the light of building anger and desperation that now took over Takuma's usually light, soft features. Izanami's breath virtually stopped when he suddenly exclaimed,

"Stop evading the question! Why did you cut yourself?!"

Izanami caught herself before her silence turned into hesitation, and replied in the same airy tone as before, "Well it's not like I wanted to, but it didn't seem like you'd be coming back any time soon and I didn't think you'd have been able to find your way back anyway."

"You shouldn't have done that!" Takuma exclaimed again, anxiety and worry clouding his face, "You could have—"

"I could have what?" Izanami interrupted, annoyance taking over her will to keep the conversation civil and light. She pushed off her hand, and pulled her legs into a cross-legged position, regarding him seriously as she sneered at him and said pointedly "I could have been attacked by a blood-thirsty vampire? Gotten an infection? Sure I could have fired off a few more rounds, but the sound could have reverberated and caused more problems." She shook her head as if she couldn't believe the direction they had gone, looking away from him a moment to cool her head.

I'd have stayed in bed if I knew this would happen, Izanami thought sourly as she turned her head back to look at him. "You worry too much, Mr., Pr..." she trailed off in surprise as she took in the disapproving and angered expression on Takuma's face as he looked down at her. "I tie you to a chair…" she started slowly, quietly, "and you're mad at me about this?" she asked disbelievingly, unused to what Takuma was presenting her. As well as to the shame welling up inside her.

She evaded his gaze, unsure of what to say to him as she tried to erase the foreign feeling. Rather than talk, she crawled closer to him and rested her back against his leg, her head on his thigh as she stared at the wall. Takuma's expression softened before he followed suit; deciding that arguing with her now wouldn't change what happened days ago.

"…I disinfected it every day if that makes you feel better," Izanami spoke up after a long moment of silence, her voice lower than before and better evidence to Takuma that she was still tired.

"I just want you to be safe, Izanami," he said, trying to convey to her—since she could not see (or rather that her eyes were focused elsewhere)—that he cared about her wellbeing, much like how he knew she cared about his.

"…You're not like most people—human or vampire—Takuma," she replied, shifting her head to look up at him. To Takuma, her eyes seemed somehow vacant—Probably because she's tired, he thought—but at the same time they looked…sad. "You're really kind; ya know that, right?" Takuma nodded his head, wondering what Izanami was getting at. "People'll take advantage of that if you're not careful." Izanami shifted her body so the side of her head now rested comfortably against his leg, her cheek pressed flush against his clothed thigh, and her legs curled up beneath her as they shared another moment of semi-comfortable silence.

"You didn't tell me that you're unable to turn humans into vampires," Izanami spoke up again, this time genuinely confusing him. Takuma looked down at her to try and guess to what she was referring, and tried very little to suppress a smile when he found her eyes closed, her face relaxed.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, wondering if she was referring to the few times he had bitten her.

"When I drank your blood after you're psychotic grandfather tried to kill me; you didn't tell me it wouldn't turn me," she clarified bitterly, her somewhat-serene face crumpling into a grimace.

"I didn't think it was information worth sharing." Izanami pried open one eye and glowered at him, her mouth still twisted into a grimace.

""Worth sharing". I spent a week waiting for my fangs to grow, and trying to avoid mirrors and windows," she replied bitterly, "When my Dad threw me outside to get some exercise, I screamed bloody murder until I figured out I wasn't dying." With Izanami watching him, Takuma had to suppress whatever amusement he felt, but trying to suppress laughter was like trying to keep Aidou from womanizing—it was going to happen regardless of what anyone (even Kaname) did. "You ass, you think that's funny? 'Cause I sure didn't," Izanami said, both eyes open and a glare on her face as Takuma tried in vain to smother his smile.

"Hah…I-I'm sorry—ha ha!—It-It's just that…" he paused to swallow, his chest heaving as his laughter finally died down, "I didn't know you believed the myths."

Izanami's glare simmered down to an embarrassed pout—an expression, Takuma noted, was the softest and most sincere since his arrival. "Well my Dad destroyed every other belief I had in the paranormal, so why not believe that vampires are allergic to garlic?"

"I suppose you believe in silver stakes as well?" Takuma asked playfully, noticing the drooping of the young woman's eyes and the dull awareness they showed.

Izanami's mouth quirked in a funny half-smile, and snorted out a warbled no before her head bowed forward, and smothered snickers filled the room. Takuma beamed at the sound, mentally labeling this moment as another in which he had made Izanami laugh. Izanami, however, believed that her laughter was caused by the few hours of sleep she had gotten. And as her eyes grew hazier, and her body sluggish, she felt resigned to sleeping where she sat with her head lying against Takuma's leg.

"We moved a lot after it happened," Izanami murmured, her eyes sliding shut again as she shifted herself to lie more comfortably against him. "Really killed my social skills—if I had any to speak of…"

Takuma thought back to his earlier query of who she could have known—and hate so profusely even now—before she had moved into the isolated wilderness. From what he could tell, Izanami had made no long-lasting relationships with anyone in her life—the possible exception being her father and possibly even himself. To reinforce this belief was her constant inquiries about his school life, as well as his friends. If Izanami had had any friends growing up, then she would have mentioned them in passing at least. With her admittance to her alarmingly small social skills, he believed that she had never had any to begin with.

"Izanami…I just think you need practice. I'll help you if you wish. And if it matters…I'll be your friend, Izanami." When Takuma heard no reply, he craned his head to try to see past her bangs, gently moving the leg she was resting against to try and get her attention."...Izanami?" he asked quietly, watching silently as her head lolled to the side, her cheek flush against his thigh, her bangs fallen away from closed eyes.

Maybe I should have let her untie me, Takuma thought, fidgeting in his seat as he strained against the partially cut rope still binding his arm to the chair. It held stead-fast, and made no hint that it would break anytime soon, and so Takuma resigned himself to waiting for Izanami to wake up. In the back of his mind, he knew that with his power, he could easily—never mind his injury—disintegrate the rope, or even the chair he was tied to. Doing the latter would disturb Izanami however, and while doing the former would allow him to take her upstairs and put her to bed, he couldn't. He couldn't for the very simple and selfish reason that he didn't want to.

Izanami was—to him—like a wounded animal, in the way that she seemed to be suspicious and wary, overly aggressive, and above all: hurt. And so, for her to sleep so easily, and casually beside him—even using him to rest her head—gave him a light happiness that he had gotten so close to her. That she trusted him. It didn't even take much to disregard the idea that she may have only slept beside him easily because she was too tired to physically move up the stairs. Smiling softly down at her, Takuma lifted his hand, and swept Izanami's bangs away from her forehead before cupping her cheek in his palm, and stroking the upper curve with his thumb. Remarking how sweet she looked in her sleep as opposed to her venomous front.

While she slept, Izanami saw nothing. And then she had a dream. She didn't dream of impossible things, of nightmarish terror, or even things that made no sense in any part of the world. She dreamt of a memory, of a bargain, of her first meeting with one of the beings the vampires and the Association called "Pure-Bloods".

It been just as her father had described to her: a feeling of overwhelming superiority and power. Nevertheless, no matter how her limbs tingled with the instinct to run, and how much her heart thundered in her ears, she would not turn her back on the ethereal being clad in fine clothing befitting of the angel she appeared to be. Izanami lied to herself that the reason for this was that she didn't want to leave the boy who had saved her when she was a child, but the truth of the matter was…she couldn't move her feet, not even as she stood up from where she had been crouching next to Takuma, checking his pulse, and wondering what to do about his injury.

"…Who are you?" Izanami snidely spat out, the slight tremor in her voice making her bite her tongue in anger. The woman ignored her as she stepped closer, her movements as smooth as spring water, blond, gossamer hair virtually floating behind her.

"I rushed here to stop Kaname," the woman said, more to herself the unconscious young man than to Izanami, "but I helped in an unexpected way." The blond woman crouched down beside him, a small smirk on her lips as she stated, "If I hadn't stepped in, you'd have lost your life as well." Izanami narrowed her eyes at this, unaware of what entirely went on during the skirmish between the two Ichijo men. The only thing she was certain of was that Takuma had sustained serious injury, and that herself had witnessed the ashes that had once been Ichio Ichijo float away on the wind. Whether or not the strange woman was listening, Izanami broke her silence with a quick remark—only to be silenced with one from the woman. "He's dying you know."

Izanami's jaw ticked in irritation before she bit out a reply, "So then what do you suggest I do?" In all honesty, Izanami was not expecting the woman to glance back at her, a sly smirk on her pale pink lips as she straightened up, and turned to face Izanami with a bargain.

"Let's make an arrangement, shall we?" the woman said, stunning Izanami into curious silence as the woman explained her plan. "We both want Takuma—that much is a given—but only one of us can have him. So I'll make you a deal, I'll save his life, and I'll let you have him for ten days for an exchange of my choosing."

Izanami barely let the trade sink in before her shocked features flattened into a snarling grimace. "That seems little unfair, don't you think?" Izanami said between clenched teeth. She wasn't entirely sure what she was made about: the fact that the woman before her was using Takuma's life as a bargaining chip, or that Izanami was actually tempted to take the offer. "I know what you are; you're one of those pompous-ass Pure-Bloods Dad talks about. You're probably going to use him till either he dies or you get bored, and I'm likely to never see him again regardless. Why should I take you up on your offer?" she asked, her hands clenching into tight fists as the smirk slid slowly from the young woman's mouth, replaced instead with an arrogant glare that made Izanami want to submit.

"Because mountain trash like you doesn't have what he needs to survive. Choose now or he dies, Hunter."

Izanami went silent, her eyes narrowing even as they dropped from the deep blue of the vampire royal. True enough, Takuma didn't have time to wait on her decision, but considering the circumstances, it was best to think these things through. "…I owe him everything, so I'll take your offer. But give me thirty days at least; I've waited seven years to meet him again, and human lives are too short in comparison to yours."

A corner of the woman's lip twitched up in a small smile—like she had caught Izanami hook, line, and sinker. "In that case, perhaps we can make another deal when I come to collect him."

"Another? What else could you have to offer me? I want for nothing," Izanami shot back, wrapping her arms around her middle as she glanced down anxiously at the unconscious young man.

"You want more time."

Izanami's eyes shot back up to the stranger's, grimacing again as she replied hesitantly, "…I'll agree to the first deal, but let me think about the second." The young woman said nothing beyond giving Izanami another successful smile before she turned away and slowly sank to the ground, running her hands over Takuma's blood-smeared chest; long, pointed nails dragging against the marred hole over his heart.

"My name is Izanami Kusoichi, for future reference," Izanami piped up, watching curiously as the woman worked, her cream-colored coat blocking every move she made in healing Takuma. After a few minutes of silence the woman replied in turn.

"Sara Shirabuki-sama. Remember it well." With that Sara stood up, not even fixing another glance on Izanami before she walked away from her and Takuma. Izanami watched for a moment as the blond left before looking back over at Takuma, reacting with shock at what she found.

"Hey! What's the big idea?! His chest is still ripped open!" she shouted, dropping to her knees beside him, and pressing her hands to his neck and chest, checking to make she he was still alive.

"You want thirty days, right? Plenty of time to play nursemaid to someone injured. We'll talk later, Miss Kusoichi," Sara replied, her voice faint as she walked back to where her car sat waiting for her return from the battlefield. Scowling despite the feint heartbeat she found, Izanami unshouldered her small supply pack, routing around inside for her emergency first aid kit to find her needle and thread to stitch up the remaining wound. Behind her, she barely heard Sara Shirabuki say, most likely to herself, though it sounded to Izanami to be as much for her ears as it was for Sara's, "I'm so glad I have a good little soldier in my hands." Izanami was unsure if the Pure-Blood was speaking of Takuma or of herself, but at the moment, she was too concerned with Takuma to care about semantics.

Even so, both inside and outside her dream, Izanami was subtly aware that out of the thirty days Sara Shirabuki had allotted her with Takuma, she had three days left.