First things first. Hello readers and welcome to the edited and finalfinal version of my first Definition of Love: A Ray of Something, featuring Senri Shiki and Takuma Ichijo.

THIS STORY TAKES PLACE ABOUT EIGHT MONTHS AFTER CHAPTER 40 (which I've read through scanlations). ALTHOUGH I HAVEN'T READ TECHINICAL CANON UP TO THIS POINT, I ALSO DIDN'T RELY HEAVILY ON ANYTHING SMALL AND TRIVIAL THAT COULD HAVE BEEN MESSED UP BY TRANSLATORS. ANYWAY, THAT MEANS SPOILERS FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE ONLY READING THE ACTUAL MANGA THAT HAS BEEN RELEASED IN PRINT IN ENGLISH. I TRIED TO FOLLOW THE CANON.

DISCLAIMER: I'm no genius. Leave that to Matsuri Hino. I might add that the people who do the anime aren't geniuses either, and none of this story is based on the anime at all. Because, face it people, the anime version is shaat. :D Anyway, I still didn't create the characters and stuff. Matsuri Hino. -insertapplausehere-

Yes, this has been edited. I first posted it in MARCH of this year. But now that it's summertime, I've decided to update it. I wanted to make it current with the latest chapter, mostly because of something to do with one character. I also wanted to change the citrus scene. It is now a lime, but you can skip that chapter if you want (chapter 10).

Right, there is a little violence, and, as I said, a citrus. The entire chapter of which you can skip, though it really IS non-explicit. And, without further ado, I give you the prologue. Reviews are lovely, by the way.

--(my name is) Inconsequential.

Scarred

The scar on my thumb was carved into me on my eighteenth birthday with a cake knife, innocently inflicted by Senri Shiki. It didn't heal, I don't know why. The mark is often hidden by these strange gauntlets, part chain, part cloth. It was Kaname's idea to dress me differently, when Rima complained about my lack of fashion knowledge. She is all model, but for her it is different. She is a vampire obsessed with her natural beauty; and that of the vampires around her. I am apparently too human to care about my appearance, so Kaname dresses me up like a bondage slave instead. It's not that I don't dress well, it's more that my clothes don't suit me and clash with the beauty of a vampire. Not that darkness quite meshes either, but they think it applies to something about me. What that is I can't be sure. Perhaps the president hopes it will hide my happy humanity—my non-threatening air. But it does not. My endless cheeriness shines through, a ray of sun in the ever darkening sky. I am Takuma Ichijo, vice president of the Night Class.

xox