She could tell anyone, quite proudly, that her instances of falling were almost nonexistent except for those that were inflicted by others. But she does wonder sometimes if she had fallen many times when she was still a wee child, which she dared not ask her grandmother to confirm lest she tarnishes her fabricated record. If she does not remember, then she could simply claim that nobody can prove the truth in these events she was told about, especially the one about her short-lived indecency of placing her skirt over the heads of her cousins. Pray tell, did she wear her diapers well at least? It was often a regular part of conversations during special dinners, because it was probably the only un-Kasa moment she ever had.
Inside the auditorium, she felt alarmed being surrounded by too many humans at once. She was beginning to see how this program of integration would only lead to more bloodshed between her kind and humans. How is a vampire supposed to act toward a human anyway when what makes a vampire is to be elusive and distant? What words and manners can they use to not seem threatening? She cannot blame the humans for being physically weak and for using special weapons to destroy vampires. The school should not allow anyone to carry those weapons if it wishes to fulfill its purpose. But what if the humans protest and ask her kind to extract their fangs? There are too many problems that have to be addressed here.
The mixture of unfamiliar scents in the air made her feel uncomfortable. Humans have such repulsive body odor. Her grandmother did say that those who lack exposure with humans are more sensitive to every kind of scent produced inside those weak bodies. Now that she finally experienced it, her respect for the ancestors lowered at the thought of how they could bite into those filthy necks. Her hand reached for her embroidered handkerchief in the right pocket of her white pleated skirt. She raised and covered her nose with it. The scent of roses permeated the unsettling fetor until it faded behind the strong perfume. It would be such an inconvenience to have to cover her nose constantly. She released a sigh before she closed her eyes and continued waiting for the event to begin, ignoring the sudden expressions of awe she could hear behind her.
His palms met and pushed the surface of the wall, transferring his weight into his feet. At first, a cloud of vertigo swirled in his head before he found his balance. His arms stretched apart almost automatically when he felt he was about to fall backward. He did not fall; however, this was the moment he was waiting for after the effort of physical damnation. The moment of feeling a lack of control. Success! He could never explain why the discomfort brought his stress levels down to stability. Perhaps it is the strain on the forehead and coils of his muscles that replaces his emotional imbalance.
He turned around, only to find that the vicinity was empty of any passing soul. “Am I late?” he quickly said under his breath, mumbling the words not as a question but as immediate confirmation. He realized he should have paid attention to the growing silence earlier, but the incessant noise brought by those crows swallowed every other sound. Looking at his palms before lowering them, he pushed air against the insides of his cheeks before releasing it slowly through his lips. But he lifted his hands again and patted the air out, recreating the sounds of his childhood hobby. Ah, but how random of him! He just knows a lot of ways to waste his time.
He returned to his present focus of finding the auditorium, and heard a voice not too far from where he was standing. Perhaps he should try to make a friend now and worry about the details of possible rejection after he has tried. He started toward the direction of the voice, and was about to call out when he was met with a collision. Unfortunately, he can never stand fixed on the ground – easily thrown off by external forces like wind – that he ended up flailing his arms to keep balance before he stabilized. He looked at the blonde girl who had fallen onto the ground, pressing his lips together in conflict of whether he should help her return to her feet. Or is it too assuming to do so? “Aw...not again...” said the girl. Oops, here it comes.
“I'm so sorry! Oh! Do you know where the auditorium is?” she said. Against his expectation of contempt, Rigen widened his eyes in surprise. He stretched them until they begin to water when the wind blew into them. But he would have seriously cried at how good-natured this girl seems to be compared to the other people he had met with unfortunate circumstances. This girl, whose blonde hair seemed to catch the sunlight and sparkle, has “dazzled, bedazzled” him with such simple words!
“Yeah! I think I know where it is!” he said, a smile growing on his lips. He extended his hand toward her. “Let’s get you on your feet first. Do you have a name? Ah, what a way to start. Of course you have a name.” A flat laugh escaped his throat. “I’m Asakawa Rigen. Come! We got to hurry, 'cause I think we're running late.”