Prologue

      The streets had never been so different. Each step Okabe took, everything was different; this city always changed. Change was inevitable for Okabe. In his long life, he had seen more change, then he ever wanted to. And this made him alienate himself from the others of his kind, made him different, lonely, and cynical. It made him want to die. Every person he saw, his heart wanted him to plead with them to take his life. Death is a natural cycle for a vampire, but when you watch someone grow up, have a family, die, then watch their bloodline die as well, it makes you wonder what was the purpose of their life. More importantly, what was the purpose of yours? Many many times had Okabe pondered this over and over in his head. These thoughts were starting to drive him mad. His euphorium was his pain, and his pain was his euphoria.
       Turning a corner in the old labyrinth of alleyways, he began to hear crying. He lifted up his head, his tangled mass of hair, falling across his eyes. He looked for the sound and walked toward it. Behind a grimey piece of lattace-work patched with tattered bits of cloth and cardboard, under in an alcove weatherd by time in the side of an old building, was a girl. Okabe kneeled down and looked past the lattace work at the soot covered face. Her features were slightly sunken and the streams of tears could be easilly seen. Suddenly, the girl noticed Okabe, and sat bolt-upright.
       "Who are you!? What are you doing here?" She asked quickly. English, a language Okabe was familiar with, though not his native tounge, and from the looks of it, not this one's either. He moved the lattace-work out of the way and watched the girl squirm away from him. Setting the piece down, he looked at her. On closer inspection, she was not such a little girl. Okabe breathed in deeply. The cuts and scraps on her fragile body let off the distinct blood smell, and Oakbe could tell, her blood was roughly 14 years old. Okabe blinked. This is exactly what happened before. He rescued someone, and they lived, he watched, and they died. Their bloodline died too. Okabe reached out his hand.
       "I'm Okabe...I want to save your life, and mine...What's your name?" He said, a smile lingering on his lips, which hadn't felt one in so long. It was like a kiss of life, but a smile is merely the kiss of the beginning. The girl looked to him, her distrust melting. She reached out her small hand to Okabe's. When Okabe closed his fingers around hers, all the fear seemed to leave her.
      "My name is Satoru, it's nice to meet you...Okabe..." She faltered. The two finally locked eyes. Both, relieved, laughed. Neither was alone anymore. Satoru crawled out of the alcove and stood upright. In the light, Okabe could examin her features. Her hair was a light blonde, platinum. Snow would have jealously of how deliacate her skin was. And set deeply in her face were two ice-blue eyes, eyes that mirrored Okabe's own. She looked frail, but Okabe could tell, under her delicate and simple frame was a complex system of muscles. Like a cat, she was lithe and had a force that could burst at any moment. Satoru put her hand to Okabe's rust brown hair. Okabe, allthough powerful, and a full head taller, drew back from the curious hand. Satoru stopped for a moment then smiled. Suddenly, a burst of red filled the sky and all was quiet. Okabe could hear Satoru's breathing, even over the deafening blast of the firework. Satoru turned to Okabe and her blue eyes seemed brighter then they had ever been. Color and light played with her features and she sighed.
       "Happy new year, friend..."