Red. The color invaded her sight, drained her thoughts and left her numb.

Obscure was the scene in front of her and her eyes were glued to the red stains on the bare chest of her best friend, from which droplets of blood sipped. The shirt hung around in tatters, tainted with dark blood stains.

Red. Mayura's gaze rushed from his chest, over his scrunched face, to the girl with flaming red hair standing next to the chair he was tied to. A child not much older than ten or eleven years old based on the chubby cheeks and big eyes which many of the children of the orphanage this age shared. The little girl giggled gruesomely before she licked blood from the dagger she held in one of her hands.

Mayura shivered at this monstrosity. Her mouth went dry and her feet were planted to her spot as she stared at the moved picture, mouth agape. Her muscles quivered in shock.

This child was no child at all.

The girl's tongue slid over the dagger. Humming, she smacked her lips before her eyes skipped over to Shimon and her. Eyes clear and blue. Almost as icy as Shimon's.

Mayura choked on a breath. Her mind tripped over words faraway from understanding.

"I really like this one, my dear brother. I think I want to make him one of us so we can be together forever," the girl suddenly said with a grin drowning out the crackling noise of the flames in the fireplace, which Mayura had not noticed until now.

But wait... Brother?

She gasped.

She didn't underst –

"Mayura!"

Startled, she jumped at the yell. Her eyes jerked to Rokuro.

Gnashing his teeth, he looked fiercely into their direction. Wild stands of brown hair fell around his face. Hate glowed in his eyes while leaning forward, squeezing fresh blood out of his cuts. Why?

He snarled, "Mayura, stand back from him. He is the monster!"

What?

Sucking in a trembling breath, Mayura's eyes swept, once again, from the cuts to the ropes holding Rokuro to the young girl, grinning into their direction. Pointed teeth glinted in the light of the fire.

Pointed teeth like a bloodgorger.

The girl spoke up again. Words which Mayura dully noted. "Have you brought another playmate?"

The monster was...

Her nostrils quivered inhaling sharply while tearing off her eyes from Rokuro and the horrifying girl, positioned not far from a large bed.

Turning her head, she released a sound caught between a sob and a gasp as her eyes found Shimon. Half of his face was darkened by the long shadows cast by the fireplace. He still stood next to her, looking all – irritated? Frustrated? Sorrowful? She could not place it.

"She's not a playmate, Sayo," he said in a low voice.

She could not place it and she did not understand what was happening. Rokuro had called him the monster. The girl resembling a gorger had addressed him as brother. Yet, Mayura saw Shimon, a man she had danced with, a man who displayed emotions right now based on his faltered eyebrows and clouded eyes. Far from the monster he was accused to be and closer to the brother he was claimed to be.

"What is she then?" The girl asked.

Mayura swallowed harshly. Her formerly dry throat burned in pain. Slow as a snail realization dawned in on her.

How was it possible she had not seen this sooner?

The truth had been right in front of her. It had been in the way he had radiated with power from the beginning, in the way he had moved freely through the mansion and the village, in the way he had talked about his siblings and in the way he had lead her directly to Rokuro without getting lost or taking a wrong turn once. She had confused inwardness with outwardness.

Her naivety had bested her. It was the one character trait her father had scolded her for the most. He always had told her how she must have inherited from her late mother.

"I'm not sure yet," he said next to her.

She had been blinded. Though she had a hard time to accept what she now was able to see, she knew she had to shake out of this blurred version of reality.

Now, she had to act.

She gathered up the cloth of her skirt at two sides of her hip and pulled firmly on both corners. She dully noted Rokuro yelling her name again but stayed focused on the task at hand.

As she ripped on the silky but thin material of her skirt she wiped off her false imagination of the monster next to her.

The cloth hissed while being torn apart.

"What are you doing?" The monster asked. The question was directed at her this time.

She clenched her teeth together when anger and hurt replaced the shock and grief. Surprisingly, tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

Not only had he tricked her into believing him to be someone else, he had played with her, feeding her with emotions, she would love to lay down, together with the wrong notion she had of him. Sadly they were not connected anymore. Like an imprint the emotions where left inside of her.

Furiously she grabbed on the hilt of her sword now lying free for the taking.

How had he tricked her?

Had he used evil magic on her to make her like him, to nourish her fascination, only to taunt her sanity and strain her morals?

Without batting an eyelid she walked over to her tied up friend and the other gorger. The sword was pointed to the ground but her hold on the hilt was tight, squeezing out a creak from the leather.

Mayura had been wrong. This was no girl resembling a gorger. It was the other way around. Upon meeting the ugly, two-faced gorger earlier today, she had thought all of them looked like it. She had been mistaken. They were able to look like humans, too. A nasty disguise. This very misunderstanding had given the monster the opportunity to fool her, to lure her into his trap. He was like a snake taking a human form.

Now, the gorger-girl looked surprised, staring at Mayura with risen eyebrows and round eyes. The next moment she bared her teeth and twisted the dagger around for defense. "You won't take him from me," she growled.

"Stay aside and nothing will happen to you," Mayura told her calmly while approaching her with solid steps, steeling herself with every feet she crossed.

Truth be told, she was hesitant about killing a being which looked like a little and innocent girl, even if she knew that she was nothing like that, even if the extent of her atrociousness was evident on Rokuro's chest. Strains that shouldn't be on a chest of someone who shouldn't have gotten involved in the first place. He should be at the orphanage teasing the smaller ones and challenging the children. Children which were truly children.

"I won't let you take him away from me!" The gorger-girl yelled and ran towards her with a pointed dagger, leaving a lot of openings for Mayura to attack.

Lifting her sword into defense, she awaited the advance, pressing her lips together.

"No, Sayo!" Behind her Shimon gasped.

In the blink of an eye Mayura blocked the dagger directed towards her chest. The sword bend towards her direction, quivering against the dagger. The gorger was certainly stronger than an usual girl. However, she obviously had no experience fighting. Turning the gorger's strength to her own advantage, Mayura let the weapons' blades slide against each other, towards the hilt of the sword. With one hard push she jabbed the guard of her sword against the dagger. It jumped out of the gorgers hand and flew a few feet before landing with a clatter next to the windows. Mayura used the irritation of the moment and hurried past her opponent.

With quick slices she cut through the ropes binding Rokuro's arms and legs to the chair.

She finished freeing him in time to turn around and see the gorger-girl jumping towards her.

Gritting her teeth, Mayura knew this time there was nothing to block. She would need to go for the kill.

"Sayo, STOP!" Shimon yelled and surprisingly the gorger's steps faltered and she came to a halt.

With a pout and angry eyes, she turned around and whined, "Why?"

Mayura gazed at him as well. Shimon – no, the monster stood there, a hand stemmed into his hips. He clicked his tongue seemingly unnerved. In a low voice he explained, "Because I am her opponent."

Confused Mayura blinked at him. Why was he doing this? He could have escaped. He could have joined the fight to overpower her. Yet, he had done neither. Was he this assured of victory? Or did he perhaps want to protect the gorger-girl. For a moment the picture of his sad smile during their dance overlay the scowl on his face. Frustrated she shook her head. It had been a lie, a trick, a game.

Concentrating on him again, she watched him take the poker from next to the fireplace.

How was it possible that a monster was able to look as human as he did?

The fire poker bobbed up and down in his hand as he shifted it in his grasp.

This was it. The fight against the monster of the legend became reality. Holding the poker like a sword, he shifted his legs into a fighting position. Mayura approached him.

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

The smell of ash and smoke invaded his senses, when he bend down to take the fire poker.

It weighed more than it should.

He had known it ought to happen. This fight. He had known it from the start and had wished for it since forever. Somehow deep down he knew – he felt – that she was the one and not the boy. He hadn't had his confirmation yet but the way he in a way was drawn to her like he was never drawn to any other Amawaka before.

The last one he met had been a few years ago. It felt like yesterday, when his henchmen brought this Amawaka to him. An incident which convinced him to search for the last Amawaka in person for it had been too late to pour his blood.

At this very moment two candidates for being the last of them were gathered in this very chamber. His chances never had been higher and yet he felt no happiness about what was to come. The irony of his fate. The foul play of a god would finally see to its end but Shimon could not relish in victory like he had thought he would.

Things had changed upon meeting her, Mayura Otomi.

Rolling the cool iron in his hand he prepared his weapon. He knew she was skilled. Had seen it in the way she'd dealt with Sayo so quickly with one push of her sword.

It had made him wonder why she was not going for the kill. When Sayo attacked he had feared the worst. His chest had felt heavy all of a sudden as he watched his little sister advance towards the blonde. Gasping, he had warned her, already picturing a cloud of ash replacing Sayo's body.

Instead of killing her, Miss Otomi had simply unarmed her.

Unlike with Higano, she did not assassinate Sayo. Perhaps it was because of Sayo looking like a child, perhaps it was an expression of the older girl's compassion.

It had added another piece of the mosaic that she was.

Shimon was not sure if he wanted to see the whole picture. In the last few hours this woman had made him feel, doubt and brood more than anything had in a century.

She faced him now.

Only once had she looked at him since they entered this room. He had sensed the tremble of her skin when she bestowed her gaze onto what lay in front of her. Had heard the sharp intake of breath. Had seen the look of disbelief and doubt brightening the blue of her eyes.

Now she looked nothing alike. Having steeled herself, her eyes were the only thing sharp now, besides her blade. They were darkened with anger and determination.

Both stared at each other, their respective weapons pointed towards the other.

Behind her Sayo fought to bound the boy back to the chair, who pried the hand covering his mouth off.

The boy barked, "Mayura, what are you doing?! Let us flee! NOW!"

Her gaze faltered for the split of a second. Then she recovered the cloak of icy iron and lowly uttered, "I am sorry, Rokuro. There is something I need to take care off first."

Shimon huffed at her sudden resolve. He would test the measures of it.

Finally she approached him with careful steps. Her feet slipped over the extravagant carpet in the middle of the floor rotating around him. Delicate movements proofed yet again her body control. He had to give it to her. While dancing he would never have guessed, she had brought her sword with her.

When she was a few feet away, she asked, "Where are the other prisoners?"

"In the basement."

Her eyes searched him, they were glued to his mouth when he talked, obviously searching for signs she had missed before.

"What are you planning to do to them?"

"They will be released at midnight," he said. His eyes dropped to her feet. They leaped up again when he added, "for the feast."

"You monster," she seethed and swung her sword into his direction.

He evaded the blow, quickly backing away. "That's what they call me."

She huffed and inquired, "Do you deny it?"

Shimon stopped, startled at the question. Nobody had ever asked, if there was any doubt he was a monster. In another life he would have claimed himself to be a monster for what he did. In a past life he would never have attempted the things he now frequently did. There had been a time he was no monster. He would have considered himself to be the victim back then. But now all of this seemed to be gone and only the memory of this past self was left.

He could not deny it, even if he wanted to. It had not been his intention to become like this at all. But upon adopting his fate, he had accepted the title.

Blinking his eyes, he saw her watching him. Curiosity made her bows bow. She waited for him to answer, fighting like a man of honor would.

He swallowed and replied, "No, I don't."

With that she dashed forward again. With one severe strike she forced him to raise his weapon for a block. The here and now was what counted.

Pushing her back with one mighty shove he made her stumble. Crossing the space between them he joined her in dealing blows.

Their fight turned grave and hard.

Easily Shimon forgot about his earlier sentiments as he savored the motions of speed and power exchanged between them.

In a blink of an eye she thrust her sword and he was quick enough to swing the poker in a powerful blow to fend off the imminent danger. Their weapons clashed with a deafening clang.

Shifting her feet she retrieved to shield herself.

The way she moved made it obvious, that she knew one hit could mean her end, while she could hit him a hundred times not wounding him unless she plunged her sword into his heart. Therefore, her defenses were more refined than her skills at attacking right now.

Above their crossed weapons his eyes met hers. They burned.

Releasing the strength to hold her sword away, he aimed to make her stumble. Yet, that seemed not to go right as well and so he was forced too evade another attack of her.

A sound of surprise was released between them and he was surprised to notice it was himself.

They continued to deal strikes.

With every dodge and every trust Shimon felt something burn in his veins. His mouth watered. Corners of his lips rose. He was excited.

She was brilliant, replying his advances with clever blocks and shifts to attack on her own. While he did have centuries to learn the swordsmanship, she had accumulated similar skills in a tiny fraction of time.

Yet, the longer their fought, the more reluctance colored her moves.

He enjoyed their battle – thoroughly – and he was disappointing to see it end, when her sword clattered over the floor, having knocked it out of her hand.

Miss Otomi – Mayura – yelped in surprise. Shocked she wiped her head into his direction presenting him furrowed eyebrows and clenched teeth, through which she squeezed heavy breaths.

He watched her but other than her erratic breaths she did not move at all.

He did not say anything either feeling enclosed from reality due to the excitement crawling through his body. His eyes moved to her neck when she gulped. Fascinated he watched her throat stretch and bend.

Releasing an agonized pant, Mayura startled him out of his stare. When his gaze shifted to her face again, he saw how she shook her head. With a croaky voice and contrite expression she asked him, "Why did you bring me here? Is it one sick game of yours? Did you want to play me?"

"No, I did not," he said for a matter of fact and his hand holding the poker dropped to his side.

"Then what do you want?" Her eyes floated over his face. Something swam in them.

He walked towards her; drawn to her like he was before. On the path and on the dance floor. His feet moved on their own. His eyes jumped to her throat again and he thought about making her his.

In this moment his thoughts started to tumble and he froze being paralyzed.

He was not supposed to change her. He was supposed to draw her blood.

Pressing his lips together, he tried to contemplate what was going on. After centuries of numbness this emotional upheaval was quite disturbing.

He did not know what he wanted. Not anymore.

He looked at her again being more mindful and sensible. She stood there, calm and severe, with her head held high but with eyes betraying her superficial composure, tearing through the image like the hole in her skirt revealing a glimpse of the trousers beneath.

What did he want indeed?

Two feet were dividing them. He took a cautious step towards her and murmured, "I am confused about that. There is something at work in my mind, which I do not understand."

Lifting a hand, he reached out for her.

All of a sudden he noticed a movement to his right. A yell thundered through the room.

Shimon swung the poker in defense and upon whipping to his right he saw the boy rushing towards him with a candlestick.

"Rokuro!" Mayura shrieked.

Both improvised weapons crashed into each other.

Shimon's eyes darted over to where Sayo had been wrestling with the boy. His sister lay on the ground, holding her head in pain. Like a bubble rage burst within Shimon and he pushed his opponent's weapon away, before hitting him into the side with the tip of the fire poker.

The boy screamed in pain.

The candlestick fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Walking towards him, Shimon intended to end this. He was held back in his tracks, though, when Mayura jumped in front of the boy.

Somewhere a bell started ringing. Automatically his eyes flitted towards the direction of the bell. It was midnight. Downstairs the feast began while he was in a state of stupor, unable to comprehend his own hesitation.

The second bell was accompanied with a loud shatter of glass. Shimon jerked his head in time to see two silhouettes barely touched by the fire's light sitting on the window's sill.

He dashed forward but was too far away when they fell.