A/N: I just wanted to say, in this fic Tsukune is left handed. I know it's a strange and maybe an unnecessary detail, but believe me as a left handed guitarist myself, your handedness comes to define you in many ways. While I personally have had no qualms in the past to just get a guitar flipped or to do so myself, these guitars were often quick fixes to a problem. A gig or a show that I had the next day, and I just needed something to play. All of my most treasured guitars are true left handed or ambidextrous (same no matter how its been flipped). As for Tsukune's guitar I've decided to give him a 1915 Gibson L-4, also known as the first left handed guitar ever. The reason behind this eclectic decision is a mixture of story and practical reasoning. The history behind Tsukune's acquisition of the instrument will be explained later on, but the practical side of this choice is the nature of the guitar. Based on pictures I've seen the guitar seems incredibly rugged and durable, necessary for someone like Tsukune, who, as you will see, values practicality and durability over popularity or convenience. As for why the back of such an incredibly important guitar has that Long Live scratching, Tsukune doesn't care. To him history is important, but not as much as its affect on him. He values that guitar due to his personal connection to it, not due to its historical importance.

Anyway, thank you for listening to this incredibly long note, especially if you have no interest in guitars. On with the story.

Disclaimer

I Kaien Crosszeria, do not, in any way, shape, or form, own any rights, properties or royalties of Bob Dylan, Rosario + Vampire, or any other artist, musical or otherwise. All rights, properties, or royalties belong to their respective owners. This Fanfiction may also contain typographical errors.

Chapter 2; The Oddest Things

Tsukune was sat on his futon, a copy of Trainspotting in his hands. His cassette player, a tough little thing made from metal, was currently blaring The Stooges' Funhouse from its external speaker. The shoebox full of cassettes lay next to his futon, along with his boots and a small stack of novels.

Tsukune's eyes roamed the page hungrily before he turned it. The novel, once seemingly impossible to read due to the transcription of the character's often thick Scottish accent, had almost become second nature, and he did so with incredible ease.

Gin had not been lying when he had said that the dorms where raucous more often than not. His cassette player was almost at max volume and he could just about hear the whole mix over the din.

He was three weeks into the school year, and it was a whole lot more ordinary than he had first anticipated. Classes were regular topics taught in human schools, so he wasn't lost academically speaking, and other than the initial shock of seeing his dorm mates unconscious overnight transformations and the occasionally disgusting dietary requirement, the fact that the people around him weren't human rarely ever crossed his mind.

His head suddenly snapped up when a note was slipped under his door. He bookmarked the page and got up to retrieve the note. It was written on what looked like standard notebook paper, if a little thicker maybe. Tsukune Aono was neatly written in cursive. He opened the note and read…

Mr. Aono,

Based on a mixture of your musical taste and prowess, along with your behaviour and demeanour in your day to day activities, myself and my associates have deigned it fit to inform you of a particular location on the school campus, located near the old rail station. Access is only available from 21:00 until 4:30. We hope to see you tonight. Bring your guitar.

The note was unsigned. Tsukune let the note fall to the floor as he turned and headed towards his window, pulling the curtains closed. He locked his door and took the dorm phone of the hook before turning to his duffel bag. He pulled out its contents, and reached deep down into the bottom the bag. There was an incredibly soft click and Tsukune quickly pulled out the false bottom. He looked down at the two large leather cases, Sheathed knife, and smaller blade, along with a bag and a beaten up cardboard box. He retrieved the smaller leather case, along with the shorter blade and the cardboard box. A week after learning the school's true nature, he had contacted a friend back in the human world to send a particular set of his belongings across two packages in order to arouse less suspicion. The nature of at least half of these belonging became apparent once Tsukune opened the leather case. A Navy Colt, sharply shined along with six quick loaders greeted his eye. He swiftly began to fill the quick loaders with the .44 magnum bullets that filled the box. He then loaded the gun itself, leaving a slot in the revolving chamber empty as a safety. He then moved onto the blade. It looked like a standard military survival knife, if a little smaller than the regular model. He checked it for damage before sheathing and hiding the knife in his jacket's large inside pockets. The gun and a single quick loader followed suit. He then put the ammo box and the leather case back in his duffel bag.

Although he had no wish to hurt anyone, the fact that he was surrounded by monsters made him seek out protection. Although he doubted even the bigger piece, still untouched in the hidden compartment of his bag, would do much to any monster stronger than a B-Class, he would probably be able to take them down with him, or at least severely damage them. The fact that he now seemed to have a group watching him had just pushed to carrying. Oh, well. No point dwelling on it now. He put the phone back on the hook and pulled the curtains back, but left the door locked. Friday was a half-day, so classes would start at 12:30. He changed into the dreaded uniform, leaving the ugly green blazer out before shrugging on his jacket, picking up his book bag and leaving the room, with nothing but the click of the door being locked from the outside, and light footsteps down the hall signalling his departure.

-We Hope To See You Tonight-

It was now homeroom, and after Nekonome's standard fumbling she then revealed the afternoon's purpose.

"After homeroom, I shall be taking you down to the sports field so you can pick a recreational club to join! This is madatory, as it is meant to encourage easier integration into human society. No exceptions!"

'Damn it,' thought Tsukune angrily, 'I was going to scope out the old rail station with my binoculars, see what kind of an environment it is. Guess that idea's out the window.'

"Come along now class!" chirped Ms. Nekonome, "to the field!"

-The Afternoon's Purpose-

The field, usually empty, was now filled with all kinds of stalls. However, as he looked down the list he had been handed, one club caught his eye. 'The Newspaper Club… Would be useful to have the press by my side, and it would be a good way to establish a view of the political landscape in the Academy. That'll do nicely.' With his mind made up, he headed out towards the newspaper's HQ.

-That'll do nicely-

The Youkai Gazette was founded by Gin Morioka and a now deceased friend of his back in his freshman year. They had once been the main newspaper until the introduction of the Board-run "Academy Telegraph" who had more support from the student body. Barely anyone joined the club any more due to its smeared reputation and odd status in the school power dynamic. So imagine Gin's surprise when that oddball guitarist, Tsukune Aono, came to join.

"You know, no offence intended, but I thought you would have been more at home in the music club." Gin joked. Tsukune smiled and replied "I gave it some thought, but the newspaper club and the political landscape in general matter to me far more than discussing the finer works of Beethoven. Beethoven is good, but not my favourite." Gin chuckled, "Agreed. Anyway, the club starts after school on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays, but the room and its facilities are always open." Tsukune stuck out his hand. "I can see this as the start of a beautiful relationship." "Agreed, bud," Gin replied, "Agreed."

-The Start of A Beautiful Relationship-

Tsukune arrived back in his room, his mail in his hand, freshly collected from his box in the lobby. He kicked his shoes off, closed the door and put his jacket on the back of the chair before he sat down and looked at the apartment offers. In the small metropolis that was Youkai Academy, a student could look for accommodation outside the dorms, which was Tsukune's intention. He threw the ads on the desk. He changed into combat jeans, a flannel shirt and his leather boots. He pulled the large Bowie knife out the false compartment along with the large leather case and the felt case. He opened the case and retrieved the contents.

The Little Big Gun. Baby Bertha. The Shorty. The worn sawed-off shotgun was soon loaded with 12-gauge shells from the felt bag. The holster, fashioned from a patch of leather and a belt, was soon strapped to his hip, along with the Bowie knife on his leg. He checked his watch. 19:00. Enough time to scope out the station. He left and soon locked the door. 'No more surprises,' he thought, 'time to get to the bottom of this.'