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CHAPTERFIVE: FIRE MET GASOLINE.
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The little pink-haired female vampire marched to the place she thought of as her own. Not exactly because it was, but because no one bothered her there. Her eyes were lost in the sky, her feet walking the path by heart, while her hands were clasped around a blue notebook along with a pencil. Once she reached the fountain, she jumped up to stand on the edge. She swung her legs up and, on top of them, rested her notebook.
Stroke after stroke, the pencil crossed the blank page from one side to the other. Its sole purpose, to reflect an idea that was not fully formed. The reality was that she didn't like to draw, had no idea how to express herself with that medium, and never managed to create something that would please her. Nevertheless, she kept trying. Because her father used to spend hours drawing and drawing, creating works of art that would then be hanged on the walls of their home.
Izumi wanted to believe that she too was capable of creating something as beautiful as that. She just lacked practice, or so her mother had told her every time she caught her trying to copy a portrait only to end up with tears of frustration streaming down her cheeks. Then she convinced herself that all she needed was practice, practice, practice.
A set of hurried footsteps crossed the place, and she noticed that they were the triplets: Laito, Kanato and Ayato. Among KarlHeinz's children, they were the ones she saw the most. Maybe it was because they were the loudest, or because they used to run around the place, getting into trouble. She barely moved, using the statue that stood in the middle of the fountain to keep herself hidden. She observed the group curiously, bringing her pencil to her mouth and biting it nervously.
She had been living there for a couple of months now, and yet she hadn't spoken to anyone other than the adults in the residence. The first thing KarlHeinz had done after her family passed away was to take her there. He was supposed to come back to talk to her, or so she had thought, but she was still waiting for that day. In the meantime, the wives treated her as a guest, and the children always watched her carefully since she was a stranger living with them. But her shyness always got in the way when any of them tried to strike up a conversation.
