Shido told me once that even the cold-blooded snake – despite all his cunning – dies without warmth. And, even though the bastard was trying to insult me, he was right. What he said makes sense. I feel like I will die without Ginji's radiant smile. But, it hasn't always been that way.

Recently Ginji told me that when he first saw me he knew I was trouble. He told me that he knew because when our eyes met I did not flinch. My gaze did not waver. So, he could tell that I am the kind that can kill with one strike. He told me that he was afraid for the first time in a long time because I did not blink and I did not make a sound. He was right to decide that I was very dangerous. He was right to want to eliminate me.

I slithered into his backyard looking for the heat of a fight. We met with tight throats and sweaty palms. The struggle was quick. When it was over the air was hot and we were locked together. My fangs were buried deeply enough in him that they grazed his naked, virgin bone. But, I was attached in such a way that I could not free myself. So, if I killed him I would die too. Usually I would have been prepared to end both of our lives in the same blow. But, somehow, I couldn't bring myself to tighten my grip. Now, I realize that in the intimacy of that skirmish that I saw Ginji's pure heart. It drew from me all the filthy, burning venom of my lonely bloodlust.

I could not kill a creature with such a caring soul. The stain of that blood would have followed me into whatever state of existence might come after this life. He thinks that he will be forever in my dept for allowing us to live. I'll allow him to believe that if he likes. But, I am the one indebted to him. His charm saved me from myself. I ventured into Mugenjou looking for the closeness of a battle to warm my chilled self but, found, instead, the warmth of a companion.

And that was what I was thinking as I drove Ginji to the hospital. How could I have been so calm and reflective in a situation like that? My companion's warmth was slowly spilling out onto the passenger seat of Miss Ladybug. The smell uncleanly hit the roof of my mouth. I had seen a lot of death – but, never so much blood. It dribbled in red rivets down his arms and down the passenger side window. I remember this particular detail because I have no idea when or how his blood hit the glass.

Akabane was right about one thing. Blood is a very interesting substance. The right word for it is viscous. Shed just a few drops in the right pattern and it looks as if a man has exploded. But, Ginji had shed much more than a few drops of blood. He was very hurt.

I'll never forget that scene. His blonde hair was cold and matted with sweat. His voice didn't seem to too well work anymore – maybe because he was making awful rasping sounds with every breath. His face was ashen. It was almost the same off-white color of the leather seat his pale cheek was resting upon. I risked crashing the car so I could drive with one hand and comfort him with the other.

His fingers were cold against mine. They trembled almost imperceptibly. But, still, the idiot smiled. He complained bravely and I could barely hear him, "I'm so tired. This really sucks. Doesn't it?"

All I could think to say was, "Shut up, lamebrain. We're almost there. Try to stay awake." And it was more to calm myself than him. I had never seen so much blood. The steering wheel was slick with it.

At almost the exact same moment we pulled into the hospital parking lot Ginji's beautiful brown eyes slid apologetically closed. There was a hush when I entered the emergency room with limp Ginji in my arms. He was very heavy. I waited dumbly then doctors and nurses rushed over in a panic. I was uncharacteristically and mutely surprised. I don't know what I was expecting – a little more order maybe. I guess they were also impressed with the amount of blood Ginji had lost. We looked like hell.

I remember he looked worse in the incandescent light. His thick eyelashes were very black and very wet against his frighteningly translucent skin. I always thought it odd that he should have blonde hair and dark eyelashes. When they took him away from me I was told that I could not follow. Somehow, I did not know what to do then when all of the violent alarm was over. The room seemed too quiet and too calm. But, I didn't feel so well. I quietly found the bathroom and emptied the contents of my nervous stomach as discreetly as possible into the toilet.

And, while sitting on the cold tile floor I repeated a blessing for the first time since I was a child. It ended, "Lieber Gott wir danken Dir" and didn't help me any. I just felt stupid afterwards. So, I cleaned myself up as well as I could, adjusted my glasses so they would cover my eyes then sat out in the waiting room to fill out paperwork and worry.