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Megami Ryuuzaki

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Vampire Romance Story Thingie [Aug. 9th, 2007|08:29 pm]
Megami Ryuuzaki
[mood |anxiousanxious]

So I've come up with another crazy story idea. Sorry Hellsing fans, this doesn't have anything to do with fanfiction. T_T It's a story of my own that was inspired by the song "Time is running out" by Muse, and the book Twilight. I'm really hoping to actually finish this one and get it published, but, I want opinions. Yes yes I am an opinions nut. What can I say? I like feedback and critique. Soooo, what can I do better, are my descriptions clear enough, is any part confusing or difficult to read?

Also, my character Megami is not originally from this story, but I thought she'd fit in well, so I stuck her in. Do you like the characters? Are they believable? Likeable? Not interesting enough? I'd really appreciate your critique. Thanks so much in advance. ^^


THE ambulance screamed toward the hospital at a high speed. The passengers inside looked sorrowfully at a young girl, no older than thirteen with shoulder length deep blue hair. An older woman in her mid forties sighed and touched the girl’s hand gently. Her husband, about the same age, sitting next to her, wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. They had found the girl lying in the middle of the park near their vacation home in Chicago. She was unconscious so they quickly called an ambulance. Once the girl woke up they would ask who she was and try to contact her parents.

The girl in the stretcher woke, but didn’t open her eyes. Instead she closed them shut tighter against the sound of the sirens blaring in her ears. Her head ached and she wondered where she was. She opened her deep gray eyes slowly to look around, but quickly closed them again, hiding them from the lights in the ambulance. “Uhh” she winced. A voice gently hushed her.

“It’s all right dear. Just be still and relax. We’re getting you to a hospital.” The woman’s voice was unfamiliar. A hospital? She tried to recall what had happened to land her in the hospital, but her head throbbed more painfully when she did so. She couldn’t remember her past. In fact, she didn’t even remember herself. All she remembered was a name and age. Azarel, thirteen years old. Her name and age? She guessed so. Why would she remember someone else’s name and age and not her own? She tried to remember her past again, but the pain was excruciating and she passed out, just as the double doors of the ambulance opened up behind her.
The paramedics rushed the girl on the stretcher to the emergency room, the woman and her husband right next to the girl the entire way. When they reached the doctors, the older couple that had found the girl were questioned about the state they found her in, and then they were told to wait while they made sure there wasn’t too much brain damage.

No more than two hours passed before they wheeled the girl out of the emergency room and into a private patients room. The couple were told they could see the girl now, and they immediately went to her bedside. The girl opened her eyes and looked at the strange man and woman. The woman had wavy hair that reached her mid back. The color was a brilliant auburn, though flecks of gray were visible at the roots. Her eyes were kind, and calming in a light green. The girl looked at the man next, his hair was short and probably had once been black, though it looked almost gray now. He had deep chocolate eyes that were much harder than the womans, almost angry, though the girl was sure he wasn’t.

“Who are you?” she asked them, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember them, or anything. Her head throbbed painfully and she stopped immediately. The woman glanced at her husband. The girl had amnesia according to the doctors. They would never be able to find her family, and since they couldn’t have children of their own, she looked at her husband pleadingly, hoping he would understand her sudden wish to raise the girl as if she was theirs. Her husband obviously understood and frowned slightly, before sighing and nodding. The woman smiled lightly, relieved, and turned to the girl, her voice gentile and soothing.
“It’s all right dear, you were in a car accident and you hit your head pretty hard. You had a bad concussion, and you have a severe case of amnesia.” She paused, trying to find the right way to word the next question so it would sound like she was testing the girl to see how much she remembered, rather than trying to find out the information because she didn’t know herself. “Can you remember your name? Your age? Where you’re from?”

The girl closed her eyes. She didn’t want to try to remember anything at the moment. It hurt too much whenever she tried. Thankfully the woman asked her the only thing she actually could remember. “I think my name is Azarel. I’m thirteen. I don’t know where I’m from. I don’t know my last name.” She spoke in a voice so quiet and meek she wasn’t sure they would hear her. The woman nodded. Obviously she had heard.

“That’s all right. It’s a good start.” The woman replied. “Your last name is Brooks. You’re from San Juan Island in Washington state. I’m your mother, Sara, and this is your father William. We were on vacation here in Chicago and you got into a car wreak. As soon as you’re well enough we’ll take you home.” The woman sounded sincere and Azarel believed her. Sara sighed relieved that the girl didn't question anything. ‘She’ll be better off believing a lie, rather than living the rest of her life trying to remember a past no one knows.’ she thought , taking hold of Azarel’s hand. The lie was partly true. Sara and her husband had come to Chicago to visit family. That plan was out now, however, because of Azarel. They needed to get the young girl home after such a traumatic experience. Sara looked at her husband with hope in her eyes. With any luck, Azarel would continue to believe she was their daughter until they could find the right time to tell her the truth.

Chapter 1

SEVENTEEN year old Azarel Brooks stared out the large bay window in her second story bedroom. Her shoulder length deep blue, almost black hair was tousled as if she had just woken up from a long nap, and her gray eyes were fixed on nothing in particular. The window seat she sat upon creaked as she moved her legs so that her knees were pressed against her chest, and her arms wound themselves around her legs, hugging them closer to herself. Absentmindedly, she curled her bare toes into the red silk covered cushion underneath her then flexed them, repeating the motion every few seconds. Rain streamed down the glass her head rested upon like a waterfall. The teen obviously hadn’t gotten dressed yet, for she was still in her pale blue silk pajama top that reached slightly above her knees. One of the thin straps had slipped off her left shoulder, the one closest to the window, but she seemed to not care. Like anyone would be out in that kind of weather trying to peep into her room. She figured they would find her overly pale skin appalling anyway. She did after all.

A small sigh escaped her delicate red lips, which she licked lightly making the color more vibrant and glossy. So much for going fishing that weekend. Azarel's father had promised her a fishing trip on Saturday and Sunday, and there it was, one o'clock on Saturday afternoon, and it was still raining just as hard as it had been at five in the morning when she got up to get ready to go, only to find her father already in her room preparing to tell her the trip had to be postponed until the next weekend. She grumbled and turned away from the window and glanced about her room. The room really needed to be cleaned. The light coffee colored walls were dotted with posters and drawings, mostly hand drawn and painted by Azarel, of her favorite movies, comics, and books, as well as a few of her own ideas. The window seat where she sat was on the east side of the room. Next to the bay window and seat was a large mahogany desk with a black leather swivel chair. A computer adorned the center of the desk, but it was barely visible over the stacks of papers, drawing utensils, and text books strewn all over the work space. On the north side of her room was a queen sized bed. The black sheets were thrown haphazardly in a pile at the foot of it after she had woken up that morning, and her navy blue quilt, made by her mother, with wolves and full moons embroidered on it was mostly on the floor. Four plush pillows were leaning up against the wall, the only things on the bed that seemed to not have moved in the night. Anyone that looked at the bed would immediately suspect the person that used it was a restless sleeper, and they would have been dead on. A plethora of stuffed animals, mostly tigers and wolves, were in a large pile to the left of the bed, blocking the night stand on that side. On the west wall was a long horizontal dresser made of wood that matched the desk and night stands on either side of the bed. The top of that too was covered with books, papers, art supplies, and a few lingerie items. To the right of the dresser was a large cherry wood door, engraved with ornate symbols, that led to the hall outside the room. To the right of that door, was another, identical one, that led to her own personal bathroom. The southern wall held a third engraved door that led to a large walk-in closet, and a few feet away was a small sitting area with a fourteen inch television on top of a mahogany cabinet which held all of Azarel's movies. A bean bag chair that could easily fit two with a midnight blue color that, oddly enough, matched its owners' hair, was set in front of the television, and a black love seat and two matching plush arm chairs circled the bean bag and a small glass coffee table, which had a load of items piled on it like every other flat surface in the large room. A large stereo system, complete with surround sound speakers that hung on all four walls of the room by the ceiling, sat against the eastern wall, behind the love seat, and directly behind the window seat where Azarel still sat.

The teen girl grumbled and swung her legs over the side of the window seat. She jumped down onto the cream colored carpet and padded over to her bathroom. Flicking on the light switch she glanced at herself in the mirror. She looked like Hell. She frowned and grabbed her toothbrush, scrubbing at her pearly teeth before grabbing a brush and ridding her hair of the tangles and knots she had received during another restless night of sleep. After brushing it through, she took the top layer of hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, leaving the rest down. How she hated her hair. The odd deep midnight blue color was natural. She convinced everyone she had ever met that it was dyed so they wouldn't know she was abnormal, but the truth glared at her in the mirror every morning. She had tried dying it black before, but her hair didn't do well with color and it washed out sooner than it was supposed to. That had been a real let down.

Clearing her head of the thoughts of her unnaturally natural hair color, she walked out of the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door, and went to her dresser, pulling out some undergarments. She carried them to her closet where she pulled a random pale orange tank top and black jeans from hangers and threw the outfit on. She walked back out of the closet after getting dressed and, still barefoot, exited her room into the white walled hallway. The floors were a light wood with a long red and brown rug that spanned the entire length of the hall and continued down the stairs. Azarel walked along the rug to the main floor. The floors were just wood now, and had no rug to keep her bare feet warm, so she hurried across the room so her feet didn't have to touch the cool floor for too long. She made it to the kitchen and sighed, relieved to have her feet on the beige floral rug in the center of the large kitchen.

Reaching for one of the many oak cabinets, Azarel opened it and grabbed a small juice glass, walking to the fridge next and filling the glass with orange juice. She hadn't had anything to eat or drink that morning and guzzled the glass in a matter of seconds. Putting the glass into the dishwasher she reached to open another cabinet. She pulled out a bowl and filled it with cereal, then sat at the counter, wolfing the corn flakes down like a starving animal.

“Az, honey, are you finally up?” the gentile voice reached Azarel's ears, and she turned to find her mother walking into the kitchen.

“I've been up since dad came to my room and told me the change in our plans, actually.” Azarel replied. Sara Brooks nodded and rested a hand on Azarel's shoulder.

“I'm sure the weather will clear up by next weekend,” Sara said quietly, “I know how bad you wanted to go fishing with your father.”

Azarel shrugged and finished off the last of her cereal. “Yeah, but it's all right. Things don't always work out the way you want them to.” She got up and put her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, then turned back to her mother.

“That's my Azarel for you.” came a deep voice. Seconds later William Brooks walked into the room. He kissed his wife swiftly on the cheek as he passed her then continued walking until he got to Azarel. “Always the pessimist.”

Azarel frowned. “There's nothing wrong with that. I don't get my hopes up too high that way, so then when something actually goes right, I get to be overly happy.”

William chuckled at his daughter's logic. “We'll go next weekend, I promise.”

Azarel nodded and walked out of the kitchen. “I'll hold you to that.” she told her father, smiling, then went back up the stairs to start picking up her room. “I'll be in my room if you need me.” she called down before slipping into her room and shutting the door behind her.

Glancing around the room she couldn't decide where to begin. It was all such a disaster area. “Note to self: do not let your bedroom get this messy ever again.” She opted to make her bed first. Tearing the comforter and sheets off she tossed them to the floor before setting them back on the bed neatly. Once all the blankets were in place, the stuffed animals were put strategically all over in the spots they always went whenever the bed was actually made. She loved her stuffed animals. Every one of them had a memory to go along with it, and, though her father claimed she was too old for stuffed animals, she refused to let them go. She had a thing for keeping every memory alive since the first thirteen years of her life were a complete mystery to her, no matter how many times her parents tried to help her remember. The memories she had from the last four years were precious to her and she did all she could to keep them with her, even if that meant crowding her room with stuffed animals.

With the bed made, she turned to tackle the dresser next. She folded all the lingerie items lying around and placed them neatly in the proper drawer. Then she proceeded to weed through all the papers still on the dresser. Keeping only the things she deemed important, she tossed the rest into a trash bin under her desk. She repeated this process with her desk and coffee table before sitting on her window seat to glance around her now clean room. She breathed in deeply and smiled at her handiwork. Grabbing the remote for her stereo system she leaned back to get comfortable on her window seat and clicked the power button. Immediately soft jazz filled the room. Azarel crinkled her nose. The last time she had listened to music was two days ago. Her mother must have used her stereo again. With the click of a button, she turned off the radio and turned the CD portion of the system on. The room was then filled with hard rock, her kind of music. She smiled and glanced out the window again, relaxing. The rain had died to a drizzle now, but it was still very cloudy and it would most likely start to pour again whether it was in a few minutes or a few hours.

After a few minutes of gazing out the window as she had been earlier, she spotted someone walking on the trail leading into the forest. Azarel raised a brow. Someone was walking in weather like that? After thinking about it, she realized she would be out there too if it weren't for the fact that her parents hated it when she went out in the rain. Cloudy days were her favorite kind of days because it wasn't too bright outside, and thunder storms just simply awed her. She was brought out of her thoughts when she saw the person walk back out of the forest. She stared, trying to see if it was someone she knew. She saw the person had short, messy, deep red hair, the color of blood and was wearing a black leather jacket that made the pale skin of his face stand out. Yes, just by looking at the hair color she knew that person was a guy from her school. She couldn't quite remember his name, but he was a quiet guy, and good looking too. Azarel recalled several of her classmates trying to ask him out to no avail. He turned down every girl that ever confessed feelings for him. His excuse was that he was too busy for dating. He was a strange one, though he wasn't a loner like her. He had a couple of guys he hung around with and that made him way more normal then she could ever hope to be.
Wondering why he was wandering around alone on the paths out there in the rain, she squinted and continued to stare, shifting her position on the window seat to get a better look out the window. Why couldn't she remember his name. It was something odd. Then she remembered. 'That's his name, I remember now,' she thought, 'Caim Silverwind.' As soon as she thought his name, as if he had heard her, he looked up at her window quickly, their gazes locking. Azarel's eyes widened. His eyes were glowing a bright red. Her breath caught in her throat and she gasped for breath, almost like she was choking.

Suddenly she heard her mothers voice calling her. Everything went black and seconds later her eyes shot open. She turned and looked quickly out the window. No one was there. She must have fallen asleep. It had been a dream. She sighed. What a dream. She must have been reading too many occult novels and comics lately. The posters plastered on her walls and the overly large comic collection stashed in her closet was testament enough to the fact that she was obsessed. She grumbled and rubbed her eyes. Glancing at the digital clock on the night stand to the left of her bed, she noticed it was already late. She shut off her stereo and hopped off the window seat. Her mother's voice called up to her again. Dinner was ready. She sauntered toward the door, thinking about the red eyed man she had seen in her dream. She had known him in her dream, but in reality she had never seen the man in her life. What was the name she called him? Well, she would remember it eventually. It wasn't important now. It was just a dream after all.

The rest of the weekend went by uneventful, and Azarel was still somewhat mopey about not being able to go fishing. She shuffled into her room and glanced at her watch, which read eleven fifteen. She sighed at how late it already was and, after yelling a goodnight down the stairs to her parents, she shut the door to her room and changed into her pale blue silk night shirt. Climbing under the covers of her bed, she lay there in the dark, staring at the plain white ceiling, thinking she would have to paint something on it to make it more flashy sometime soon. She had no desire to go to school in the morning. Yawning, she debated on skipping. Maybe her dad would let her go with him on one of the whale watch cruises he was running. It was nice having a marine biologist for a father that owned his own whale watching business. It gave her an excuse to use the boat and go out onto the ocean, her favorite place besides her room to just relax and think. She would just claim she was going out to study the Orcas, which was partly true, though she was still surprised her parents hadn't realized she only did it to get away from people. Suddenly, a vision of her father's hard eyes on her when she asked to skip school flashed by her thoughts, and she quickly decided against that idea. Yawning a second time, she turned over and prepared herself for another night of restless, dreamless sleep. When sleep finally took her, it was past one in the morning and though it was indeed a restless sleep, it was anything but dreamless.

Her dreams pulled her to the forest surrounding her Victorian style home. It was raining and she was walking alone down the familiar paths. Her eye caught something move and she looked up to see the boy she had seen in her dream Saturday afternoon. He was walking a small distance from her and she wondered if she should call out to him. Her mind was screaming at her to run, but she ignored it and listened to the feeling in her heart. “Caim.” His name came out as a whisper and it was lost in the wind and rain to her ears, but the man stopped and turned slowly to meet Azarel's gaze. His eyes were a burnt orange color and faintly glowed in the dark forest. She smiled and began walking toward him. As she neared him, she could barely make out his features, but she could tell he was extraordinarily handsome. He wore a gray t-shirt and black jeans. The t-shirt was soaked through because of the rain and it clung to his toned chest making him look almost like a cement sculpture. His blood red hair was soaked and fell in front of his face. As Azarel neared he smiled. Azarel's smile faded into a look of shock and she held her breath. The man before her had fangs. He was a vampire.

Azarel bolted up in bed, sweat making her silk night shirt stick to her skin. Sun was pouring in through her window. It was already time to get ready for school. She sighed thinking about the dream she just woke up from. It was that guy again. She remembered his name this time. It really was such a strange name. And he was a vampire. Azarel smiled lightly. She definitely had been reading too many vampire novels lately. Was this maybe a sign she should write her own? Her smiled widened. The man in her dream would make a great male lead in a vampire romance. She would have to start writing his story as soon as she got home from school. With a new found enthusiasm she jumped out of bed and raced to get dressed. After throwing on a pair of black jeans and a hunter green t-shirt she ran downstairs where her mother was waiting with pancakes. Azarel sat and ate in silence. Throwing her mother an appreciative glance, she slipped into a pair of black gym shoes, and yelled goodbye to her mom as she headed to the garage. She opened the garage door and put on a black leather jacket that had been resting on her black and purple Harley Davidson FXSTC Softail custom motorcycle. Her sixteenth birthday had been good. Really good. Though it looked like the rain was going to start up again, she rode her motorcycle to school anyway. She put on her blue helmet and rode the bike off the driveway and onto the small street. Getting to School only took about ten minutes. She didn't even want to think about the poor kids that had to take the ferry to and from school everyday. Finding a spot in the parking lot, Azarel got off her bike and took her helmet off shaking out her shoulder length hair. Walking up to the front of Friday Harbor High School she paused. Did she really want to go today? The rebellious side of her told her to run off and have fun while the more logical part told her to get to her biology class. In the end the logical part of her won out and she walked into the school. Shoving her helmet and leather jacket into her locker she hoisted her backpack over her shoulder and headed to biology.

Noon finally rolled around after what seemed like all day to Azarel. She hated Mondays so terribly much. As usual, she was the last one out of the classroom and she hurried to lunch. She found that the lunch that day was cardboard pizza topped with edible plastic cheese. She sighed, really wishing the lunch food was better, and took a seat at the end of a table that was mostly vacant. She started to munch on her pizza when someone near her at the table started talking in whispers. She glanced over to see it was a group of cheerleaders gossiping about someone new. A new student to the school? Azarel strained her ears to listen to the conversation. Apparently the new girl was getting the attention of all the guys. Azarel smirked at the jealousy in the cheerleaders' voices. Then they said something about the new girl walking into the cafeteria at that moment. Azarel looked up at the cafeteria entrance and saw a girl with waist length blue hair, lighter than Azarel's which made her wonder why the girl would dye her hair like that, walk in with a tray of food. She wore baggy black cargo pants, black fingerless gloves that ended at her wrist, and a silver Chinese style sleeveless trench coat with a blue turtle neck beneath it. Unlike a normal trench, it ended at her waist in the front, but the back reached her ankles and made the deep purple lining of the coat's inside visible. Sure enough, all the heads of all the males in the room turned to stare. The girl was pretty, but she was very short. She almost looked like a child, like she should have still been in middle school. She looked very mean, her gaze glaring ahead of her, her bangs almost completely obscuring her eyes, as she ignored all the looks she received. Azarel shrugged the girl off and went back to eating her food until the cheerleaders at her table started squirming and mentioning that they hoped the girl sat somewhere far away from them. It made Azarel look up. The girl was looking for a table and her eyes fell at the empty space near the cheerleaders and then on Azarel herself. The girl smiled widely at the sight of Azarel, her demeanor going from cold and distant to warm and excited in the span of mere seconds. Azarel pretended not to notice and quickly took a bite of her pizza as the new girl sauntered over. “Is this seat taken?”

Azarel looked up from her pizza to the new girl smiling at her from across the table. She heard the cheerleaders next to her choke on their food and she suppressed a laugh. “No, it's not.”

The girl smiled and sat down then extended a hand to Azarel. “I'm Megami Ryuuzaki. I just moved here.” Azarel looked at the girl's face, which was twisted into a half smile, noticing that the girl's left eye was blue and her right was green. She caught herself staring and quickly took Megami's outstretched hand and shook it.

“Azarel Brooks.” Azarel introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you Azarel.”

Megami took a bite of her pizza, her eyes never leaving Azarel. Growing slightly nervous under the new girl's gaze, Azarel stared at her tray of food intently. What was up with this girl? She dressed oddly, her hair was obviously dyed, and she wouldn't look at anyone else. “You okay, Az?”

Azarel looked up at the girl again. She had just called her Az like they had been friends forever. Azarel hid her obvious annoyance and nodded her head. “I'm fine. Just tired.” Megami nodded at this, not pushing the subject. At least the girl had tact.

“What year are you?” Megami then asked, changing the subject. Azarel looked at her and swallowed a bite of pizza before replying.

“Junior.” Azarel said, trying to keep her answers as short and to the point as possible. She wasn't used to be talked to. She shied away from people while at school and focused on her studies and hobbies such as writing and drawing. Having this new girl show so much interest in her unnerved her to no end.

“So you're seventeen-ish then? Cool, so am I.” Megami answered, her smile growing larger. Azarel held back a groan, hoping this girl didn't have any classes with her. Then she realized what the girl had said. Megami was seventeen. She looked more like she should have been a freshman or younger even. Azarel took a quick swig of a soda to hide her surprise. She wasn't fast enough though, because Megami glared for a moment, obviously offended, but then pouted slightly.

“You're surprised I'm your age?” she said in mock indignation, “Just because I'm short?” The girl pretended to wipe a tear from her eye as she said this. “Why does everyone notice the things you're most sensitive about?” Azarel sighed. She hadn't realized the girl was self conscious about her height. She would remember that detail for later blackmail though.

“Sorry.” Azarel muttered. She was about to say something else, but glanced over Megami's shoulder and it was then that she noticed the pair of burnt orange eyes staring at her from across the room. A pair of eyes she had seen only twice before, in her dreams. Her eyes widened and she tried as best she could not to blink for fear she was still in her bed and this was all that same dream she had had that night. Her best wasn't good enough however, and she blinked. When her eyes focused again on where she had seen the boy from her dreams, he was gone. She was pulled from her thoughts by Megami's voice, slight concern and confusion laced in the sound.

“Az? Hey Az? Everything okay?” Azarel blinked twice and then looked to Megami again, though it was very difficult to tear her eyes away from where the boy had once been seated at the other end of the cafeteria. She stared at Megami, not really looking at the girl. Her thoughts were running too madly in her head to focus on anything. Had this boy been going to the same school all along? Had she just never noticed him? Or had she seen him before, but never thought anything of it until he starred in her dreams? She wanted to talk to him, until she remembered the one important detail she was always so sure of in her dreams. He was a vampire. Instead of making her nervous, though, her heart rate sped up because of excitement, not fear. After four years of wishing all the occult and horror novels and comics she read were real, this seemed to be the one occurrence she had been waiting for. Once again, Megami's voice brought her back to reality, still saying her name over and over like a broken record. As she focused on the blue haired girl, she realized her thoughts were foolish. Just because the guy was a vampire in her dreams, didn't mean he really was one. If he even existed. Maybe she just imagined seeing his piercing burnt orange gaze. He was, after all, gone the second she blinked. Sighing, she addressed Megami.

“Yeah, I'm good. Sorry.” She tried to keep her tone steady and neutral, but the words came out bored with a hint of disappointment.

“That's all right. So, tell me, have you always lived here? Since you were a kid?”
Azarel raised an eyebrow at Megami. She was quick to change subjects, but Azarel wasn't complaining. Why was this new girl suddenly so interested in her past, though? She grumbled.

“I guess so. I don't remember anything before I was thirteen. I'm just going on what my parents tell me. So yes, according to them, I've lived here my whole life, though I only remember the past four years of it.” She had been looking away while she said this, and she turned to face Megami again. She furrowed her brow as she noticed an odd expression cross Megami's features. Sympathy? No, it was more like a mixture of surprise and disappointment. This new girl really was strange.

“Ah.” Megami said, her face now looked sympathetic, “I'm sorry. I didn't know. I shouldn't have brought up a painful subject. Amnesia is tough.” Azarel just stared at the girl across from her.
“No no, it's okay. Really. I hate sympathy.” She really did hate sympathy. She hated people feeling sorry for her, treating her more carefully, watching what they said, instead of treating her like just another normal human being. She hoped this girl would have better sense than that. She got a good feeling from her, though they had just met ten minutes ago. The girl's smile was infectious and beautiful, almost ethereal. It made Azarel smile lightly back.

“I promise a won't give you any kind of sympathy whatsoever.” Megami said, still smiling. She put a hand over her heart and closed her eyes, her face contorting in mock seriousness. “I would rather die.” Azarel scoffed. This girl was so weird. Megami opened her eyes again and laughed with Azarel. “I hope to be good friends Ms. Brooks.” she said, standing up with her empty tray just as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Azarel stood with her tray and smiled at Megami as the girl sauntered toward the trash cans near the cafeteria exit. “I hope so too.” she muttered in a whisper and she grabbed her backpack and hurried toward the exit, suddenly hoping to have a class with the new girl.

Luck was on Azarel's side that day as she walked into her Algebra 2 class. There, standing in front next to the teacher was Megami, her infectious smile gracing her delicate lips, her pale face brightening as she saw Azarel walk in and take a seat in the back of the class near the window. Azarel smiled back as the teacher introduced Megami to the class and instructed her to take the last empty seat, which just happened to be in front of Azarel. Megami waltzed over and dumped her backpack on the ground next to her seat before turning to look at Azarel and winking. Azarel muffled a giggle as Megami turned to face forward again.
The class went by quickly and before Azarel knew it, it was 2:55 and the final bell rang. Immediately all the students rose from their chairs and raced out of the room, happy to be out of school for the day. Azarel took her time, however, and was in no hurry to pack up her bag. Megami sat on her desk waiting for Azarel. “You're slow. Sad that school's out for the day?” Azarel shook her head and shrugged.
“No, I just take my time getting out of class.”

“Well, I'll have to wait for you every day then I guess.” Megami replied.

“That's not necessary.” Azarel said quickly, looking up from her backpack. Megami laughed and hopped off the desk, patting Azarel on the back.

“You're right, it's not necessary, but I want to. Don't you have any other friends?” Megami had meant it as a joke, but noticed the serious look in Azarel's eyes, and realized how very true her joke had been. “Oh, well, that's okay. You don't need any other friends, you've got me now.” Megami pointed at her face and closed her eyes and smiled wide, showing off her pearly white teeth. Azarel couldn't help but laugh. This girl was so very strange, but it did feel nice to have someone to talk to for once. It had actually made school more bearable.

Hoisting her bag onto her back, Azarel, followed by Megami, walked out of the room into the small halls and stopped off at Azarel's locker. She pulled out her helmet and threw on her leather jacket before re-locking the door and walking out of the school with Megami. “You ride a motorcycle?” Megami asked, somewhat surprised. Azarel smirked and nodded. They reached her bike and Megami's eyes widened. “Sweet, that thing's gorgeous.”

“You're a motorcycle enthusiast too?” Azarel laughed. Megami nodded.

“Yeah, I don't actually own one yet, but I plan to. Can I touch it?” Azarel laughed again.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Megami smiled and stepped forward, stroking the bike like it was a dog.

“It's so nice, aren't you afraid someone might dent it at this school?” Azarel shrugged.

“I don't think anyone would do that. They know it's mine, and they know my dad. He kind of looks, um, really mean, so people try not to upset him.”

Megami laughed and stopped petting the bike. “I drive to school. My car's over there.” Megami gestured to a car five rows down. There sat a beautiful, prestine condition, Indigo Jaguar XK Convertible. Azarel's eyes almost bulged out of her sockets. She had thought her sixteenth birthday had been good to her. Megami's parents must have been loaded. “Yeah, my Jag's a beauty isn't she?” Megami said, chuckling at Azarel's expression. All Azarel could do was look at Megami and nod.