In the depths of the sewers, Tatsu and I rest. We are far from the slain bodies of Sasori, Mamushi, and the hunter. We have evaded Okāsan and the remaining kyūketsuki. For the moment, we are safe. There is little comfort for me in this respite, though, as I search for reason in the hunter’s confession. I can find none, and for the first time in decades, my confidence falters.

For the first time in decades, I feel vulnerable.

If there had been one constant in my life since my transformation—one unbreakable law—it had been that kyūketsuki and men were mortal enemies. We were their monsters, their demons. We were the embodiment of the evil they refuse to see in themselves, and being evil, we could be killed without remorse.

There is little in this world that is more dangerous than men who kill without the intrusion of conscience. No kyūketsuki would be spared the wrath of man, and therefore, no man would find mercy from a kyūketsuki blade. Yet, there was no doubt or confusion in the hunter’s speech or manner. The hunters had been aided by one of the kyūketsuki. That same kyūketsuki had proffered the photograph of Tomo.

I drag my gloved hand across the damp, grimy stone of the sewer floor. Here, in the dark, cold places man will not inhabit, I had once felt at ease. Here, we were sheltered from the ever seeking eyes of men. Here, we could drift from their consciousness and be left alone. I no longer feel sheltered, though. My security lies among Koumori, Sasori, Mamushi, and the other murdered kyūketsuki, another casualty of this betrayal.

I turn to look at Tatsu. She sits leaning against the sewer wall. She appears unaffected by our plight. I cannot tell if her lack of concern is genuine, but I find it unsettling. I turn away again.

“This is the end of us, Tatsu.”

A few moments of silence, then Tatsu speaks. “You fear Okāsan?”

“No. I meant the Kuroiwa clan. We are finished.”

“Okāsan has rebuilt the clan several times. She will do so again, even without us.”

I weigh the consequences of informing Tatsu of the traitor. Such a thing is unthinkable, and I cannot guess whether she would believe me or balk at such an assertion. She is the only ally I have now, and I cannot risk her abandoning me. If I am to find Tomo, I may need her help. It is all too much to repress, though. There are answers I must know.

“Have you ever seen any like us who are not kyūketsuki?”

“Yes,” Tatsu responds. “Several times.”

I turn toward Tatsu, surprised.

“When? Where?”

Tatsu closes her eyes. She still sits leaning against the wall, her hands behind her head.

“They are not like us,” she says. “Not really.”

I wait for her to continue. She opens her eyes and stares at me.

“They are disorganized,” she continues. “Lost. They feed recklessly, aimlessly. They have no pride. They curse their existence. They are not kyūketsuki.”

“But when have you seen them?”

Tatsu smiles at me. It seems like the warm smile of a friend. That is how I want to accept it.

“I have kept secrets from you, Mukade. Things you did not need to know.”

“And what secret have you kept from me about these others?”

Tatsu glances down at the dark sewer floor in front of her.

“When I scout new territory for Okāsan, I am not only searching for threat from men. I also seek out any competition for our survival.”

“And when you find it?”

Tatsu looks at me again. Even in the scant light, her eyes seem to glimmer.

“When we were last forced to move from our home, Okāsan had forseen the impending danger and made preparations. Weeks before, I was sent to find a safe den. When I found our new home, there was only one obstacle to overcome. It was inhabited by the others. The vampires.”

I peer at Tatsu. There is no need to ask the question, but I want the answer.

“And what did you do?”

“I acted as I was ordered. I eliminated our rivals.”

I think of Sasori and Mumashi. I see them falling under the strokes of Tatsu’s katana.

“They are like us, Tatsu. How could you destroy them?”

“They are not like us, Mukade. They draw too much attention to themselves. They would have compromised the safety of the clan. Okāsan ordered their deaths. I cannot defy her.”

“Not even when it means the death of others like us?”

Tatsu stands. Her eyes close, and I can read nothing from them.

“Not even when it means the death of kyūketsuki.”

I stand as well. Tatsu is motionless, her eyes hidden from me. My first instinct is to react, to render judgment, and my fangs grow.

“The death of kyūketsuki?”

“When we left Japan, it was because of Okāsan’s arrogance. She was not content to live outside the world of men. She wanted to conquer it, and so, I was made to lead the Kuroiwa clan into a small village as a demonstration of our might. The villagers were either assimilated into the Kuroiwa clan or destroyed. None were spared.

“Okāsan had underestimated the repercussions we would face. Men from surrounding villages rose against us. They were relentless. As we had left none untouched in the village, they showed no mercy to us. Our numbers dwindled, and to avoid our end, we fled to America. Since, Okāsan always worries about our strength. It is not beyond her to risk those in the Kuroiwa clan to test their worth. She has placed us in peril before to rid herself of the weak.”

I scrutinize Tatsu. Her words. Her expressions. Her gestures. Her stance. I can perceive no falsehood. If this is the truth, then Okāsan is suspect. She might be the link to Tomo.

“I have to return.”

Tatsu shakes her head.

“In Okāsan’s mind, your flight is a confession. You are a traitor.”

“But if this was her doing—”

“Then you will take all suspicion from her.”

The hope for answers surges within me. My longing for Tomo is undeniable.

“I am going.”

Tatsu reaches out and places her hand on my shoulder. It is unexpected, but welcome.

“If you go, you will go alone. I cannot act against Okāsan.”

“I know.”

I say nothing more. Tatsu’s hand slips from my shoulder, and she fades into shadow as I retrace my steps back to Okāsan.

* * * * *

 My journey back has been uneventful.

Tatsu instructed me on the ways of the kyūketsuki assassin. She taught me to move silently. The easiest kill comes when the victim is unaware. To be unseen and unheard are the assassin’s greatest skills, and among the Kuroiwa clan, I was second only to Tatsu.

I draw near to Okāsan. Within me, the love of Ai intermingles with the ire of Mukade. The two unite in one objective. I will uncover the truth. I will discover the traitor. I will find the path to Tomo.

Okāsan stands alone as I approach. None other shall intervene. My hand flexes, yearning for wield my nodachi. Okāsan glances over her shoulder at me. Nothing in her demeanor reveals any surprise at my return.

“Welcome home, Mukade.”

She turns away from me again, showing no concern at my return.  Suddenly, I feel more vulnerable than I have ever been.

Click “Read more” for credits.

Credits:

My voice is nepenthe to the hunter, drowning his fear, his grief. Worries drift beyond the horizon, carried by my dulcet words, compelled by the oni spirit’s guile. My pleas cannot be resisted, though there is no coercion. The hunter divulges all that is asked without contrition nor the regrettable intrusion of conscience. Everything that is offered is offered freely.

And this hunter has much to offer.

He relates his story as an emancipator, freeing the world of a demonic threat; freeing the vampires from their own corruption. His crusade is against evil in its most obscene form, and therefore, the integrity of his methods is unequivocal. There exists no unjust punishment for the perverse. There can be no mercy for the damned.

He tells me of his first hunt. His bared teeth offend as he smiles widely, each tooth tinged a pale yellow.

His age at the time of the hunt is indeterminate, insignificant. He is old enough to consider himself a man yet far too young to accept the responsibility. To him, independent thought is but a restatement of his elders’ beliefs in his own words. Independent action is merely choosing when to enact their will.

Their will for his first hunt was the destruction of two vampires seeking sanctuary in an abandoned building. He was one of a group of five hunters who set upon the vampires during the early morning hours, a time when the first rays of the sun intrude upon the world, eclipsing the cool void of the night. The hunt progressed smoothly, routinely. They caught the two unaware, and they exploited the vampires’ surprise. The young hunter was not even given a chance to engage the enemy. The affair transpired too quickly. Before he could act, their hearts had been pierced, their heads severed.

The disappointment in the hunter’s voice as he laments his impotence during the hunt is undeniable, and appalling. His tone changes, though, as he proceeds to chronicle his evolution as a hunter.

He progressed rapidly from the untested youth to the seasoned killer. Soon, he hunted alone, seeking out the vampires where they hid, unleashing his justice in a reckless fury, attacking the vampires before they could react. At first, he kept track of each kill, noting the where, the how, and the when. Eventually, after years of battling the demon plague, there were too many to be easily counted. His methods became refined, perfected. His success for each new hunt was guaranteed.

For a moment, I see myself in him, but only briefly. My revulsion resumes. I do not seek the destruction of his kind, as he does mine. I am not an indiscriminate murderer.

The hunter admits that his success did not come without ramifications. He and his kind posed such a threat to his enemies that they began to unite, to rally. They began to organize and prepare themselves to battle. The hunters had begun a war. The vampires were determined to see it to its end.

If only they had unified earlier, perhaps many of them could have been spared. These vampires of which the hunter spoke did not seem to be kyūketsuki. The oni spirit within us seems always to draw us together, even bringing me to the Kuroiwa clan, though I was not one of their own. Those of which the hunter spoke seemed scattered and aimless until the common threat of the hunters forced union, synergy. The way he described them—so foreign, so Westernized—these were not my kin.

Never before had I considered there to be vampires who were not kyūketsuki. From where would originate if not from Onikokuou and Nozomi? Perhaps they were an offshoot long forgotten, transformed and abandoned long ago by our ancestors. I consider the riddle of their existence only briefly before the consequence of this other breed of vampire settles in my mind. This hunter has not previously encountered the kyūketsuki. This hunter would have no information on Tomo.

As my hope fades, the hunter offers something I had not anticipated—something I could never have expected to hear. Having given me his history, the hunter proceeds to relate the events prior to the most recent hunt. The hunter tells how he was invited to the hunt by an old acquaintance who promised a great cleansing of our kind. This had been the hunter I assassinated last night. He shared that, inexplicably, one of my own had contacted him. One of the kyūketsuki had shared with him the location of our lair. That same kyūketsuki had provided the photograph of Tomo.

Were I not confident in the influence of the oni spirit over the hunter, I would deny his words, condemn him as a liar. But I know what he says to be true. As Koumori had suspected of me, one of our own has betrayed us to our enemy. I suddenly feel very weak. The fatigue of the last day is augmented by the horror of my discovery. I sense that my control of the oni spirit begins to slip. I have expended so much energy. Before I release my hold, though, I call upon the strength, the discipline, the anger of Mukade. I feed on her fury. I yield to her nature. I maintain dominance over the oni spirit.

It is then that Tatsu’s voice cries out, though she sounds so distant to me that I can scarcely hear her. At first, her words are indistinct, but they soon coalesce in my mind. Flee, Mukade! Okāsan comes! I heed the warning. I must leave. But I am so tired, so weak. I realize there is only one way I can procure the strength to escape.

Before I drain the hunter, I let the illusion disappear. My face no longer speaks of peace. I reveal to the hunter the face of vengeance. The face of justice. The face of Mukade.

In moments, the hunter lies pale, bloodless . . . and alone.

Click “Read more” for credits.

Credits:

Image 1
Taken in my skybox

male vampire
Hair: Uncleweb Studio Free-Hair3! men’s size-L coffee
Skin: Film Noir Skin Male (freebie from The New Champagne Rooms)
Eyes: DarkSkye Designs Skye Free GreenBlue
Pants: Black frock coat pants from Men’s black Brocade Frock Coat by Gaslights Emporium
Fangs: The Thirst by Blood

female vampire
Hair: Analog Dog pim brunette
Skin: Frick Goth – Minimalist Makeup
Eyes: SINdecade Orange Eyes
Clothes: MACkinis Gift Bra and Undies

Image 2
Taken in Urbania

vampire hunter
Hair: ETD Virile – Black Bronzed
Skin: Imagen (JS) Adan Preview
Outift: various freebies
Boots: Darkstar Designs Ashwalker Boots
Sword: Mitzy’s Simple Sword by Mitzy Shino
Hanguns: Impact Weapons 9mm Glock

Image 3
Taken at the Renegade – Warehouse Shopping District

female vampire
Hair: * 0 Style * You *(Chocolate Copper)_M
Skin: Another Skin (modified)
Eyes: D!FF => Rose Sky*d Eyes
Outift: (PixelLounge) Caviar Mix
Boots: C-Shoes “Fetish platform” Boots

male vampire 1
Hair: Philotic Energy Faris Dark Ash Black Tipped
Skin: Another Skin (modified)
Eyes: Free Speerit New Eye Multicolor (vampire)
Trenchcoat: BELSTAFF Black Prince Closed Jacket
Pants: /rockerwear/ mens lace pants
Gloves: PUNK STORE MOLLER – Free Mitts
Boots: Darkstar Designs Kafka Boots
Fangs: The Thirst by Blood
Guns: M/S Dual Uzi Black Semi-Auto V2.2

male vampire 2
Hair: Deviant Kitties Rayde – Fire
Skin: Film Noir Skin Male (freebie from The New Champagne Rooms)
Eyes: D!FF => Juice Sky*d Eyes
Outfit: Reaction Guys – Anti Vday Hood and Jeans
Piercings: Dark Eden Eyebrow Piercings and Earrings Galore
Fangs: The Thirst by Blood
Handguns: M/S Colt-45 Black Semi-Auto V2.2

Image 4
Taken at The Block

vampire hunter
Hair: MAU’s & MEJ’s :: Su medium bangs
Skin: Asian Male Skin for Evian by RealSKIN
Eyes: Celestial Studios Eyes – Light Brown
Outfit: various freebies
Boots: AFantasy Engineer Boots

Image 5
Taken at the Renegade – Warehouse Shopping District

Ai Ōnishi/Mukade
Hair: Deviant Kitties Alienor-Red
Skin: Deviant Kitties Runny – China
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Amber
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Gloves: Musashi Leather Gloves
Boots: Beckenbauer Productions Revolver Darklord Boots
Sword: Musashi Tek Yakiba

After I joined the Kuroiwa clan, they shared with me the story of the origin of my powers and the birth of the very first kyūketsuki. It is a story that traces its beginnings back to a time of war and destruction, when a mighty warlord sought to realize his ambition of conquering all of feudal Japan. He was known for the strength of his army. He was known for his brutality and lack of mercy. Above all, he was known for being undefeatable, as he won conquest after conquest and his rule began to spread across Japan.

The name of this warlord had been lost in history, but the kyūketsuki have granted him their own name—Onikokuou. It is a name uttered with respect and with awe. It is the name of the great creator of the kyūketsuki—a name they continue to praise for their damned state.

What the soldiers trampled under the feet of the great Onikokuou never realized was that they faced not a man, but an oni, a demon spirit. The oni had taken on human form to spread its malice and ruin the lives of people of Japan. Many villages fell and many men were slaughtered before Onikokuou would arrive in a small secluded village that would change the course of his plans.

In this village lived a fisherman and his daughter, Nozomi. Nozomi was well known for her beauty, and many had approached her father in hopes of securing her as a wife. Time and again, though, her suitors were spurned, and the young woman remained without a husband, spending her days tending to her father’s home. It seemed that fate continued to intervene, holding out for what was to come.

Every evening, Nozomi would go out to the docks to meet her father and welcome him home. On the days when the sea was generous, she would celebrate her father’s fortune with him as he walked proudly down the path from the boat, singing to her. On the days when the nets were drawn back almost bare of fish, she would console him and tell him that even the greatest fisherman was subject to the whim of the sea. There would always be another day when the sea’s temper was more agreeable, and he would fill his nets once again.

On the evening when Onikokuou entered her village, she stood waiting for her father as usual. The great Onikokuou had traversed much of Japan and had seen many women, yet there was something of this fisherman’s daughter that forced him to pause. She was, perhaps, not the most beautiful woman he had seen, but he sensed something from her, something that caused the rage of the oni spirit to wane and the desires of his human form to surface.

As many men had before him, Onikokuou approached the fisherman and expressed his intentions. Instead of claiming what he wanted, as he had always done before, Onikokuou ingratiated himself to the fisherman, who assented, knowing it was this for which he had waited. Nozomi was dutiful and worried about leaving her father alone, but he demanded that she leave. He was convinced that this was her destiny and she could not refuse it.

Whether it was genuine or a trick of the oni, Nozomi loved Onikokuou. She would adoringly attend to him and sought to make him happy. Her influence on him became increasingly apparent. There were fewer and fewer conquests, and Onikokuou’s legendary brutality became a thing of memory. It seemed the human in Onikokuou grew, and the fiery oni spirit hibernated.

As she had with her father, Nozomi always watched for the return of Onikokuou, waiting patiently to greet him. In spring, she would wait underneath the Kanzan trees, the wind blowing the pink blossoms around her. It was on an evening such as this that an assassin slipped past her guards and found Nozomi seated alone.

Who the assassin was, the kyūketsuki do not know. Onikokuou had made countless enemies, and as most considered him invincible, the assassin struck at the one weakness they discerned. Nozomi was never aware of the assassin as the stroke landed, cutting her open, her blood flooding over the stone path. Her eyes remained trained on the gate ahead, her thoughts on the return of her Onikokuou.

When Onikokuou returned, the palace was empty. His servants, fearful of his wrath at the death of Nozomi, had all fled. Before they left, they had cleaned her body and placed her in her finest clothes. They truly loved Nozomi and the changes she had brought with her. Now they were terrified of the aftermath of her demise. They had seen the wrath of Onikokuou against his enemies and did not want that fury directed at them.

It is said that when Onikokuou found Nozomi, his voice boomed like a great crash of thunder and all who heard it fled their homes in a mindless panic. Wracked by sorrow, Onikokuou tore off his armor and dispelled the illusion of his humanity. In his true oni form, he picked up the body of Nozomi and left, taking her far into the mountains above the palace. When he reached the highest point, he laid her down against the cold stone. Her skin was nearly as white as the dress she wore, her body devoid of blood. Onikokuou stroked her cheek, staring down at her with his monstrous visage. He had experienced what it was to love, and if he could help it, he would not let it go.

Onikokuou placed his thumb on Nozomi’s chin, pressing down, opening her mouth. In his other hand, he held a tanto. His arm hovering above Nozomi, he cut into his forearm, creating a deep gash. Blood began to seep out and stream down to his wrist, finally falling, drop by drop, into Nozomi’s waiting mouth. To replace the blood she had lost, he gave her his own. To replace the life that had been taken from her, he gave her his oni spirit.

After Onikokuou went into the mountains with Nozomi, legends began to arise about the palace he had abandoned. The people claimed that it had been cursed and that anyone daring to venture near would never return. Some even claimed sightings of Nozomi, saying that she now came forth at night, her skin a gleaming white and her eyes the color of blood. They said she would come, beckoning, and regardless of their fear, those who looked into her crimson eyes were lost to her enchantment. She would drain them of their blood, always seeking to replenish that which the assassin had spilled. Always seeking to slake her constant thirst.

Whatever became of Nozomi, none of the kyūketsuki claim to to know. We continue to feel her, though. She is our Eve—the one to whom each of us can trace our origin. She is the first of our kind. The first to feel the curse of the blood thirst. The first to contend with an existence between life and death. The first to live in symbiosis with the oni spirit and the first to learn to harness that spirit’s power.

And with that power, I draw in the hunter further. His will falters and his senses deceive him. I beckon him as Nozomi beckoned the unfortunate travellers who crossed her path. Very soon, he will keep no secrets from me. Very soon, I will be aware of all he knows of Tomo.

Click “Read more” for credits.

Credits:
Oni (human form)
Hair: Diversity Hair Stephanie – Black (heavily modified)
Skin: freebie from unknown source
Eyes: DarkSkye Designs Skye Free Bronze
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Samurai of Darkness
Weapon: HW Oriental Bazaar Iron Rod A

Oni (true form)
Avatar: Asian Inspiration Oni: Silver Tongued, Green Skinned Demon (modified shape)
Hair: Diversity Hair Stephanie – Black (heavily modified)
Eyes: DarkSkye Designs Skye Free Bronze
Horns: Bare Rose Tokyo Deamon Horns
Weapon: Controllable Seppuku by FighterNinja Shan

Oni victim
Hair: light_mohawk by DMAT Allen
Skin: Image (JS) Adan Preview
Outift: The House of Yiyuan Arch Kimono

Nozomi (by sea)
Hair: Cake Sleek – Midnight
Skin: Tuli S5 asian – natural 1
Eyes: Celestial Studios Light Green
Outift: Gion Yukata Female

Nozomi (under trees)
Hair: Cake Sleek – Midnight
Skin: Tuli S5 asian – natural 1
Eyes: Celestial Studios Light Green
Outift: Nah! 7

assassin
Skin: La Sylphide Liliana – Almond – Nude
Eyes: Celestial Studios Dark Green Green
Outift: Giorno Brando [Zensyo] Ninja Cloth Set

Nozomi (kyūketsuki form)
Hair: Cake Sleek – Midnight
Skin: Tuli S5 goth – natural 1
Eyes: Curious Kitties Crystal Red
Outfit: Bare Rose Tokyo Hakutsuru

All pictures taken at Angel Dorei, Orchid Dreams, Gion Project, and Hosoi Ichiba.
Thanks to Wolf Hartnell for his assistance in preparing the poseballs for this chapter.

In the sewers below the city, Sasori and Mamushi guard the hunter. I approach them silently while maintaining awareness of everything around me. I am not convinced that they are ignorant of my arrival. It could be that this is all a ploy—a way to lure me in. They must know that as a member of the Kuroiwa clan, I was informed of this place. This was to be our rendevous point after a disaster. Many of the newer members of the clan thought the day would not arrive when we would be forced to retreat here. Those of us who had been displaced time and again knew better.

I feel the cold, grimy wetness of the stone wall as I lean against it. I try to think of some way to avoid the inevitable scene before me, but every contingency I conjure leads to the same end. I do not want to be responsible for further bloodshed, but Sasori and Mamushi stand between me and the hunter. They will forfeit their lives before they will permit the traitor to speak with her accomplice. My desire to talk to him will only cement my guilt in their minds. If there were any other way, I would leave the clan behind to whatever fate lies in store for it and cause no more harm. My path to Tomo starts with the hunter, though, and the longing inside me will not be denied. It may be that I do not survive the night. It may be that as soon as I confront Sasori and Mamushi, the other kyūketsuki will swarm and overpower me. I close my eyes for a moment as I lean against the wall. My fatigue is growing. My strength is failing. If I must confront two warriors of the Kuroiwa clan, I must do it now. I move slowly to the corner and peer around it, choosing my moment to move.

As soon as I am at the corner, I see Tatsu descending the stairs to my left. As always, she moves with absolute silence. When she reaches the first landing, she addresses Sasori and Mamushi.

“Does the hunter still live?”

Both kyūketsuki turn quickly to her. They know that Tatsu demands respect, and they will project nothing else.

“Hai,” responds Sasori, his head bowed.

“It is possible Mukade will return for him.” I can see Tatsu’s eyes dart over each kyūketsuki as she speaks. “You must be prepared.”

Though I could never be certain that I could consider Tatsu an ally, her apparent betrayal hurts me deeply. Of all the kyūketsuki, I felt some kinship with her, but I should have realized I was unlike any of them, just as they had often reminded me. As Tatsu descends the final few steps to join Sasori and Mamushi, my hope fades. Even if I were at my best, I could not expect victory over Tatsu. With two other kyūketsuki to assist her and in my current state, I have no chance of reaching the hunter.

When Tatsu reaches the final step, she glances quickly over her shoulder and offers a quick nod that freezes me where I stand. Now, fleeing is not even an option. She knows I am here. Sasori and Mamushi approach Tatsu. My body tenses, and I reach back for my nodachi. Before I can curl my fingers around the handle, the hard metal beneath my gloved hand, Tatsu’s katana flashes in the dim light.

I can only imagine what Sasori must feel as the blade slices across his abdomen, trailing stolen blood. Mamushi staggers back, but she hesitates to reach for her own weapon. She is in the presence of Tatsu, favored assassin of Okāsan. It must be difficult for her to make sense of what is happening. I see the confusion in her eyes as Tatsu’s katana slides into her heart. The look remains for a moment as she collapses to the ground, but Tatsu doesn’t see, as she has already turned back to finish Sasori. I watch Mamushi’s continued puzzlement before she begins to fade and her body is wracked with the torment of the departing oni spirit. After seeing Koumori pass, it is too much for me, and I look away. When I finally look back, I see Tatsu stumble away from the lifeless kyūketsuki, her normally graceful body moving clumsily as she nearly falls to the ground. I move out of hiding toward her, but she addresses me before I can reach her side.

“Be thankful, Mukade.” She is breathing heavily, and her eyes are closed tightly. “Be thankful that you will never know the pain of killing a brother or a sister.

“Why have you done this, Tatsu? Why did you kill them?”

Tatsu will not turn to me. Her body sways slightly, and I begin to think she will collapse. She soon steadies herself, though, but her eyes remain closed and she will not face me.

“We are both fugitives now, Mukade. Okāsan will see us destroyed. She will be relentless.”

“Why damn yourself, then? How could you kill two of your own clan?” My tone is accusatory, but I cannot help it. When I killed Koumori, I had no other choice. I cannot understand how she could kill Sasori and Mamushi so easily . . . willingly.

Tatsu turns her head slightly, just enough to see me from the corner of her eye.

“I did this for you, Mukade. You were too exhausted to fight them.”

I step toward her, but she looks away from me to the hunter.

“You cannot waste time, now.”

I pause only a moment more, then I walk past Tatsu to the hunter. I have not seen him move since arriving, and at first, I fear that he is dead. On his neck are puncture wounds, and I know they have fed on him to keep him weak. I crouch down before him and reach out to touch him. I can feel that there is still life in his body.

The oni spirit that resides in each of the kyūketsuki grants us powers beyond our unnatural lives. As I reach out to the hunter, gently removing his blindfold, I begin to call upon my power, though I know it will weaken me further. I have no other choice, though. If I am to draw any information about Tomo from him, I must chance it.

Tomo. Merely the thought of him seems to call forth renewed strength. Excitement grows within me. I may be mere moments from discovering something of my Tomo. My hand slides to the hunter’s cheek, which I rub lightly. I close my eyes and concentrate on the oni spirit. I beckon it, plead for its help. I must have the power to deceive this hunter. When he awakens, he must not see Mukade.

I feel the spirit spreading through me, reaching into my veins, siphoning some of my borrowed blood. I welcome it, knowing that the spirit will not fail me.

The hunter’s eyes finally open to meet mine. He blinks at first, and then his eyes become transfixed on my own. I smile at him and begin to impose my will. I impress on him that he is safe. He no longer needs to worry about the the rope that binds his wrists or the destruction of his fellow hunters. Everything dissipates into shadow but my face before him. It is a face of kindness. It is a face of peace. It is a face he wants to trust.

To him, all traces of the kyūketsuki are gone. All that lingers is the young woman before him and the promise of salvation that accompanies her.

Click “Read more” for credits.

Credits:
Ai Ōnishi/Mukade
Hair: Deviant Kitties Alienor-Red
Skin: Deviant Kitties Runny – China; Celestial Studios Vogue Skin – Pure (Brown – Mid)
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Amber
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Gloves: Musashi Leather Gloves
Boots: Beckenbauer Productions Revolver Darklord Boots
Sword: Musashi Tek Yakiba

Sasori
Skin: Another Skin lf0y (modified by me)
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Gray
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Samurai of Darkness
Sword: Japanese Goods Shop Katana (black grip)

Mamushi
Hair: Amorepacific M_FREEBIEHAIR_PerlShiningShampoo_+ACC
Skin: Another Skin re (modified by me)
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Gray
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Sword: Japanese Goods Shop Katana (black grip)

Tatsu
Hair: ETD Loopy – Black
Skin: Whispers of the Night Deathly [Blood Gloom Stalker]
Tattoo: Bare Rose Tokyo Kokuryu Tattoo
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Green
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Sword: Hanzo Blades Imperial Fury Katana

vampire hunter
Hair: ETD Virile – Black Bronzed
Skin: Imagen (JS) Adan Preview
Boots: Darkstar Designs Ashwalker boots
Rest of outfit: various freebies

All pictures taken in the Renegade-Warehouse Shopping District.
Thanks to October Hush for her assistance in completing this chapter.

Koumori is defeated, though he will not yet yield.

He glares at me as he kneels, blood trickling from numerous small cuts and a few larger gashes. I have only harmed him enough to slow him—to weaken him so that he may cease his attack and retreat to safety. I can see that he refuses to even consider such an outcome. His eyes project a hatred beyond reason. A fury consumes his mind. It is a fury bred of loathing for one he deems a traitor. It is a fury that is continually stoked by his pride, which has suffered a far worse injury from this defeat than his body. He is young, he is arrogant, and he is wrathful.

“It is over, Koumori. You have to accept that you are wrong. I am no traitor.  This will be proven.”

Koumori is unmoving. He is as a statue, frozen in a pose of subjugation, his dead, stone eyes fixed on me. I forsee the inevitable end of this struggle, no matter how much I yearn for it to be otherwise. Koumori perceives this fight too narrowly. In his mind, it must either be him or me. There is no draw. There are no concessions. Only one of us may remain at the conclusion. Sadly, I believe even Koumori realizes which of us that will be.

Koumori’s katana lies but a few feet from him on the pavement. I know his mind is trained on it, ready to retrieve it for one final assault. He is now too weakened for strategy and swordplay. His next attack will be a mad flurry driven by the hopes of catching me off guard.

“You must cease, Koumori. I do not want to harm you further.”

No response. Not even the faintest change in expression. He is too focused on me and my movements. He waits for an opening. I grow impatient, knowing the more time that passes, the more chance there is of being found out by other kyūketsuki. My concentration slips for an instant, and in that moment, Koumori once again has his katana in hand and springs toward me.

I step back, dip my body, and thrust upward with my nodachi. The sharp blade skewers Koumori, sliding easily through his chest and out of his back. His katana falls to the street as his strength fails him, its metal clang reverberating off the tall buildings that line the alley. I hold Koumori impaled for a few seconds before I allow him to slide to the ground. He gurgles and coughs as he attempts to speak, to curse me—the traitor—one final time. I sheathe my nodachi and kneel next to him. I touch his forehead with my gloved hand and look into his eyes. I offer what comfort I can, and I witness confusion in his gaze where there had only been hate.

The passing of one of the kyūketsuki comes with terrific agony. The oni spirit which grants our existence forfeits its hold on the body with extreme reluctance. When the spirit senses the body is failing, it clings savagely to the life that remains, long after the individual has ceased to struggle. It is like being ripped asunder from the inside until the spirit finally fades into oblivion. As I kneel by Koumori, I sense the torment, the pain. Though I am sure it is no great solace to him, I stay by his side until it is over.

I place Koumori’s katana atop him and cross his arms over it. Leaning forward, I whisper into his ear.

“Farewell, Koumori, cherished servant of Okāsan and brave warrior of the Kuroiwa clan. I hope you have found peace.”

Though the idea of leaving Koumori in the street does not please me, too much is pressing to do otherwise. I must see what I can discover of the vampire hunters quickly, before anyone else finds me. I stand, my mind on the hotel and what clues it may contain, but a voice from above stops me before I can move further.

“Koumori was destined to reach an early end. Okāsan knew it. I think Koumori may have even known.”

I glance up to see Tatsu sitting on the edge of a fire escape. She appears casual and unmoved by what has transpired.

“He could have been a great assassin, had he any control over his rage.”

Tatsu slides off the fire escape and lands lightly on the street. I step back instinctively, putting space between us. I do not know yet what her motivations might be, and I can allow her no advantage. If she were to attack now, while I am fatigued from my lack of rest and my duel with Koumori, I fear that she would vanquish me easily. She seems to take no notice of me, though, but instead stares at Koumori’s body.

“I warned Okāsan against changing him. She thirsted for his passion, though. She did not seem concerned with what might eventually come of him, as long as she could have him for a time. And so she changed him, adding a fierce warrior doomed to bring about his own ruin.”

Tatsu turns her attention to me and smiles. Her white teeth shine in the dim light.

“I do not blame you for Koumori’s death, Mukade. It was his decision to end his journey tonight, not yours.”

My fatigue seems to increase under Tatsu’s gaze, and I long to escape from it. She perceives my discomfort.

“You have nothing to worry from me, Mukade. Not at the moment. Look—I do not even wear my katana.”

I notice that her side is bare. For whatever reason, she is not armed.

“Unfortunately, I cannot say the same of the other kyūketsuki,” she continues. “Okāsan holds you responsible for what has happened tonight.”

“But . . . I did not know about any of it. I would never turn against the Kuroiwa clan.”

Tatsu regards me for a few moments. Her weight of her eyes on me becomes nearly unbearable.

“No, I do not think that you would. But it does not matter. Okāsan has passed judgment on you, and she will never forgive such betrayal. She will rebuild the clan, and then you can be assured that she will seek you out. The world has become a very dangerous place for you tonight, Mukade.”

“Will Okāsan not listen to reason?”

Tatsu laughs. “Okāsan listens to her own counsel. Nothing more.”

“Then I must leave.”

“She will continue to hunt you. One day, she will find you.”

I shake my head. “I am not concerned about that now.”

“She will make us enemies. I cannot deny her will, Mukade.”

I nod. “Then I hope to not see you again after tonight.”

I turn to walk away. I have wasted too much time. I know I must uncover what information I can and escape.

“At least you need not worry about the vampire hunters anymore, Mukade. Only one remains, and he is in Okāsan’s hands.”

I pause and look back at Tatsu.

“You have captured one of them?”

Tatsu nods. “Yes, we killed all but one. Okāsan wanted to interrogate him.”

“So, he could vindicate me?”

Tatsu shrugs. “It is possible. So far, he has told us little. Some information about other kyūketsuki the hunters have attacked.”

“Other kyūketsuki?”

Tomo’s picture flashes in my mind. Before Tatsu can respond, I am moving, running. I am racing back to the Kuroiwa clan. No concerns remain other than to speak to this hunter. Hope and longing for Tomo supersede any worries about returning to the clan.  I must know if Tomo is out there. I must reach this hunter while he still lives.

Click “Read more” for credits.

Credits:
Ai Ōnishi/Mukade
Hair: Deviant Kitties Alienor-Red
Skin: Deviant Kitties Runny – China
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Amber
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Gloves: Musashi Leather Gloves
Boots: Beckenbauer Productions Revolver Darklord Boots
Sword: Musashi Tek Yakiba

Kourmori
Skin: SYD – Male Goth Skin
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Gray
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Ninjya
Sword: Japanese Goods Shop Katana (black grip)

Tatsu
Hair: ETD Loopy – Black
Skin: Whispers of the Night Deathly [Blood Gloom Stalker]
Tattoo: Bare Rose Tokyo Kokuryu Tattoo
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Green
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Sword: Hanzo Blades Imperial Fury Katana

All pictures taken in the City of Lost Angels.
Thanks to October Hush for her assistance in completing this chapter.

It is twilight, and I have not rested.

My thoughts throughout the day have been troubling, refusing to slow, to fade. The kyūketsuki long for sleep, perhaps more than mankind. For us, waking life is the nightmare. Each night, we are haunted by the demonic urge to drink the blood of humans. Each life taken separates us further and further from what we once were. At least in dreams, we may discover a trace of the humanity we once took for granted. There, we may feel the peace the night denies us.

But if I find Tomo . . . if I can find love again . . . .

To find Tomo, though, I realize I must go back. I must face the threat of the vampire hunters and the kyūketsuki. If I do not, I am afraid I will not be able to uncover the mystery around Tomo. I have to learn what the vampire hunters know of him. I have to learn why they have his picture from the winter carnival.

The thought that it may be too late continues to lurk in the periphery of my mind, and I battle to keep it at bay. I cannot accept that Tomo may have fallen victim to the vampire hunters, though it explains so easily why they would have his picture. I know that cannot have happened. I know that I would have felt the loss. But if they did not find him and destroy him . . . how and where did they take possession of the photograph?

It is what I have to know. It is why I have to return, possibly to my peril.

When the sun finally disappears, I dress once again in Mukade’s clothing. I take all of Ai’s possessions and stow them carefully away in the house. They must remain until I return. This will be a safe haven for Ai while Mukade completes her mission.

I exit the house and make my way back into the city. My eyes seek out dark windows and rooftops for danger. My sense for blood will warn me when a vampire hunter is close, but the kyūketsuki could be anywhere, waiting for me. They will not have me. I repeat it over and over in my mind. They will not have me.

I am now deep into the city, close to the hotel where I killed the hunter. Only a day has passed, yet I have relived a lifetime within it. I tell myself that it has been but a short time and I may still find a clue I missed earlier—some seemingly insignificant hint of where to seek next for Tomo.

I turn to enter the alley behind the hotel. Koumori stands there, as if he has expected me for some time. I had dared to hope I might complete this mission unseen, undetected, as if I had never returned. I know that is not to be, now. This night will not pass without bloodshed.

Koumori is among the youngest of the kyūketsuki. He was one Okāsan chose to turn the last time we rebuilt the clan. She was attracted to his quick temper and lithe body. She was certain he would acclimate quickly to the ways of the kyūketsuki. She knew that he could become a skilled assassin. And, as always, Okāsan was correct.

Seconds pass before either Koumori or I act. We both realize the severity of this meeting. I can only attempt to convince him that I was not leaving the clan. I know that I will fail.

“Have you returned to us, Mukade?”

The words are not inviting. They are a judgment. I am already convicted of desertion. All that awaits is my sentence.

“I have returned, Koumori. I have spent the day worried over what the hunters might know. I thought it best to see if I might find any clue of how this one discovered us.”

Koumori smiles and shakes his head.

“No need to wonder, Mukade. Okāsan now knows how the hunter found us. She has uncovered everything.”

I sense a threat in his words. A promise of violence.

“What is it that she has uncovered?”

Koumori’s brows draw together. His face is crevassed by hatred.

“This day, Mukade, while we rested, the hunters invaded our home. Before we were alerted, five of us were killed. Two more died before we fled. If it were not for Okāsan and Tatsu waking us, there would be no more Kuroiwa clan.”

 Koumori pauses, his eyes fixed on mine, before he continues.

“You should have seen how we fought the hunters. They believed they could come and destroy us so easily. They did not realize the fury they would unleash. Okāsan . . . .”  He pauses again, looking down and smiling.  “She flashed about them, teeth bared, her blade streaming blood.  It was . . . beautiful.”

Koumori meets my eyes again.

“But you did not see any of this, did you, Mukade? You were not there.”

I feel my hand involutarily flex, begging to unsheathe my nodachi from my back.

“Be very careful with your words, Koumori. You risk an accusation.”

“No, I make that accusation!” Koumori bares his fangs. His eyes shine. “As she cut down hunter after hunter, the same words were repeated by Okāsan—’Where is Mukade? Why is she not here?’”

Koumori places his hand on the tsuka of his katana, but before he can begin to draw it, I have my nodachi in my hand. I rest it against my shoulder. I do not want this. Mukade has killed other kyūketsuki when commanded to do so by Okāsan. It was her duty as an assassin. She never dared do so against one of the Kuroiwa clan, though. She thought she would never have reason to.

“I should have been there, Koumori, but my absence does not make me a traitor. I have always been faithful to the Kuroiwa clan.”

“But you have never been of the Kuroiwa clan! You should have never been allowed among us!”

Koumori draws his katana. I raise my head, eyes open wide. Mukade rages inside of me. There is nothing left to reason. I run to meet my foe, teeth bared.

This night will not pass without bloodshed.

Click “Read more” for credits.

Credits:
Ai Ōnishi/Mukade
Hair: Deviant Kitties Alienor-Red
Skin: Deviant Kitties Runny – China
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Amber
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Gloves: Musashi Leather Gloves
Boots: Beckenbauer Productions Revolver Darklord Boots
Sword: Musashi Tek Yakiba

Kourmori
Skin: SYD – Male Goth Skin
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Gray
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Ninjya
Sword: Japanese Goods Shop Katana (black grip)

All pictures taken in the City of Lost Angels and the Fashion Victim sim.
Thanks to October Hush for her assistance in completing this chapter.

It has been several hours since I left the cemetery. Several hours of running with no real direction. Several hours of panic and confusion. I try to focus on Tomo and the hope that I will find him again, but Tatsu’s words continue to interfere. I will not always be able to protect you. I wonder if she has returned to report to Okāsan. If so, I am certain Okāsan will have sent the other kyūketsuki to retrieve me. I cannot allow them to capture me. Even if they did not destroy me, I would be a prisoner among them. A servant. A slave. I would never be free again to seek out Tomo.

I finally decide I must stop. The fatigue of my escape is compounded by the coming morning. I must find a place to rest. Somewhere safe that will shelter me from the sun.

I find an old house with few windows. It appears to be abandoned. Though I can never be certain I will not be disturbed, I believe that I will be able to pass the day here. When night falls again, I will resume my flight.

Once inside the house, I unpack Ai’s possessions. I carefully lay out her dress from the winter carnival. That night was very special to Ai. It was on that night that Tomo finally asked her for her hand. I begin to disrobe, removing the garb of a kyūketsuki assassin. I replace it with the stained dress of Ai Ōnishi.

On the house’s second floor, I find a fogged, cracked mirror. I stand before it in Ai’s dress. I remember the joy she felt when her mother presented the dress to her. That was following the war. That was after they had been released from the internment camps to find their previous lives were lost. They were poor and struggling during that time, yet her mother had managed to procure a new dress for her daughter. A dress to wear to the winter carnival. A dress to wear for Tomo.

I search the mirror for a trace of Ai. It had seemed that her name was all that remained in my memory. She was like a passing acquaintance from years past. Someone I knew only superficially. Mukade had become preeminent after I became one of the Kuroiwa clan, and Ai found herself exiled to fleeting thoughts and occasional dreams.

But I can see her now. The traces are faint, but she stares back at me, young and hopeful. She has waited so long to return. So long to reunite with her Tomo.

I retrieve the picture of Ai and Tomo from my pack. As I look at it, blank spots in my memory seem to be rewritten. Lost feelings return. The fading black-and-white image begins to fill with color as I recall the night of the carnival.

Ai Ōnishi was a shy girl who wanted nothing more than to love and have that love returned. She was a girl who had been taken from her home and placed in Manzanar. She was a girl who found herself in an uncertain situation, scared and alone. But there, in Manzanar, she also found Tomo, and with him came the happiness she had sought during her young life.

Tomo was eight years her elder. He had worked at a university before being moved to Manzanar, and he believed he would return there one day. Ai wanted very much to return there with him, but instead, he followed her family back to Stockton. He told her that he had lost everything when they sent him to Manzanar, but there he had found the only thing he would cherish the rest of his life. He had found Ai, and he had found love.

On the night of the winter carnival, fake snow was sifted from above the dance floor onto the dancers below. All the trees had been strung with lights, and lanterns were hung around the floor. Numerous couples, thrilled that the war was finally at an end, enjoyed the peace of a slow dance in their lovers’ arms. To Ai, though, there was no one else there but Tomo.

I hold the picture close to my breast as I think of him. He was so handsome. So loving. He was all that Ai had ever hoped for.

As dawn comes, I remove Ai’s dress and carefully pack it away. I do not dress in my assassin’s clothes, though. Those are the clothes of Mukade, and this moment belongs to Ai. I walk to the window holding the picture. The sun is rising, its first rays staining the sky red. I stand naked and let the weak light fall upon me, enjoying my first sunrise since joining the kyūketsuki.

Click “Read more” for credits.

Credits:
Ai Ōnishi/Mukade (kyūketsuki)
Hair: Deviant Kitties Alienor-Red
Skin: Deviant Kitties Runny – China
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Amber
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Gloves: Musashi Leather Gloves
Boots: Beckenbauer Productions Revolver Darklord Boots
Sword: Musashi Tek Yakiba

Ai Ōnishi/Mukade (human)
Hair: Old Gravy Bliss – Black
Skin: Celestial Studios Vogue Skin – Pure (Brown – Mid)
Eyes: Celestial Studios Light Brown
Outift: Ingenue Sweetheart Darlin’ – Midnight Lace

Tomo
Hair: Wig Out Bryce Hairdizzal
Skin: RealSKIN Asian Male Skin for Evian
Outift: Musashi-Do Fashon Nottingham Winter

All pictures taken at the Ingenue main store and the Fashion Victim sim.
Thanks to Wolf Hartnell for his assistance in completing this chapter.

As a young girl, I loved to visit cemeteries. They always seemed beautiful, filled with flowers and trees. The grass was always trimmed and kept free of weeds. There were angels on pedestals, their pebbly wings spread out behind them. There were babies and lambs carved into thick granite markers. And there was peace. No one approached me in a cemetery. People walked about slowly, talking softly, perhaps offering a quick glance or a smile as they passed by.

My fascination with cemeteries did not wane as I aged. Each grave marked a lifetime of memories that were lost to the world. Underneath a few feet of dark soil, the bodies and experiences of countless generations were reabsorbed by the earth.

After I awakened from my brief death, when I transcended the boundaries of mortality and became one of the kyūketsuki, a longing for the grave began to grow in me. Ai Ōnishi belonged to sunlit days dreaming of her life with Tomo. She could not exist dwelling in the shadows, her memories of love slowly diminishing. I had to put Ai to rest, so I placed all that remained of her among the deceased. There was not much left at that time. A dress. Some jewelry. A few mementos. I buried them in a cemetery to decay alongside the others whose time had passed. Ai Ōnishi, daughter of Nobu and Megumi Ōnishi. Rest in peace.

But no matter how tried, I could not bear to leave her behind.

As I moved with the Kuroiwa clan, so did what remained of Ai. I always placed her belongings in a serene part of each cemetery—a place where she might finally rediscover the peace she once knew.  Most of the time, I would find a newly dug grave and sneak her into it, only to unearth her again when we were forced to relocate. When we moved last, I found her a small mausoleum of her own.  A mausoleum known only to me.  A mausoleum I visit tonight for the last time.

I pause briefly at the door to check the area. It is rare that I can come to pay my respects to Ai Ōnishi. Tonight will be the last night doing so, though. Tonight, I plan to exhume her one final time and return her to the world. Tonight, she becomes as Lazarus.

The feelings inside me—excitement, joy, love—are all mortal and hard to contain. I thrust open the doors. I have come to free Ai from her burial chamber. I have come to let her experience fresh air and open skies.  I have come so that she may love again.

Thoughts of regaining Tomo ravage my mind, and I find it hard to concentrate. My only concern is to slide back the lid of the vault and look upon Ai’s belongings once again. If I can touch them . . . see them . . . I think I can recapture what it was to truly be her . . . .

I catch myself as I begin to take my first step into the mausoleum. I am suddenly aware of someone close behind me. My racing thoughts cease and my mind becomes focused. The person has come much too close. I allowed myself to be careless for a moment, and in that moment, someone managed to evade my senses.

“Stop where you’re at!”

My first instinct is to alter myself to appear human. It is within my abilities. I am still strong from the feeding.  But it is too late now.  If I had sensed him sooner, I could have hidden that I am one of the kyūketsuki. I could have charmed him, convinced him I pose no danger. But I allowed him to get too close. I can hear Ai beckoning me, pleading with me. She wants me to ignore him, to let him live, and I want so much to give in. I know that I cannot, though. Traces of Mukade linger, and she abides no risks. I turn, ready to pounce.

But Tatsu is already upon him.

If he could scream, I am certain his voice would carry with it maddening fear and pain. Instead, the confusion, sorrow, and insanity can only be read in his face, his body paralyzed by Tatsu’s bite. I avert my eyes. Only hours before I had done the same, taking away the life of the vampire hunter. As I watch Tatsu drain the officer, the act seems abhorrent. Monstrous.

When Tatsu finishes, she lets the body slump to the ground. The sound of the dead flesh collapsing to the walk breaks the silence of the attack. Tatsu drags the back of her gloved hand across her mouth, wiping away any excess blood.

“You have to be more careful from now on, Mukade. I will not always be able to protect you.”

Tatsu smiles, and once again I know not whether it bespeaks of friendship or malice.

“I think you are safe, for now,” she continues. “I must leave you with the task of cleaning, though. Okāsan will inquire after me if I am absent for long.”

Saying nothing more, Tatsu turns and walks away.

I do not move until she is out of sight. Then, I drag the officer’s body into the mausoleum. If I had not planned on releasing Ai previously, I would have to now. This place is no longer safe. I empty the vault of Ai’s possessions and replace them with the officer’s body, all the while thinking of Tatsu. The refrain of “I will not always be able to protect you” pervades my mind as I secure Ai’s possessions in my pack. The image of the officer being drained flashes in my mind. This time, I can hear him scream.

Click “Read more” for credits.

Credits:
Ai Ōnishi/Mukade
Hair: Deviant Kitties Alienor-Red
Skin: Deviant Kitties Runny – China
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Amber
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Gloves: Musashi Leather Gloves
Boots: Beckenbauer Productions Revolver Darklord Boots
Sword: Musashi Tek Yakiba

Tatsu
Hair: ETD Loopy – Black
Skin: Whispers of the Night Deathly [Blood Gloom Stalker]
Tattoo: Bare Rose Tokyo Kokuryu Tattoo
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Green
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Sword: Hanzo Blades Imperial Fury Katana

Officer
Outfit: K.O. Designs Police Uniform

All pictures taken at Zelmanov’s Funeral Home.
Thanks to October Hush for her assistance in completing this chapter.

In the presence of Okāsan, I kneel and present my sword. It is the custom of Kuroiwa warriors when returning from a mission. If Okāsan believes my efforts to be adequate, I will be told to rise and secure my weapon. If she deems I was unsuccessful, the sword that failed to defeat our enemy will slay me instead.

I have been waiting for several minutes to be acknowledged by Okāsan. I know this delay in addressing me is intended to be a lesson. She is aware that I did not return promptly from my task, so she is prolonging my judgment. Behind me, Tatsu leans against the wall, appearing relaxed and ignorant of the severity of this ceremony. As a Kuroiwa warrior, though, she realizes its importance all too well.

Okāsan watches over our territory, seeking out invaders; precursors to danger. Those eyes have seen the beauty and tranquility of the Japanese countryside. They have observed the sun set over Mount Fuji, the sky red like the lava churning in its belly. They have witnessed the extravagant beauty of the Kinkaku-ji. Those eyes have also looked upon the comfort women and their disgrace. They have surveyed the devastation of a global war. They have beheld numerous battles, the story of which are told in the scars of her body.

But I know the eyes of Okāsan do more than perceive the world around her. When becoming one of the kyūketsuki, the previous life is lost. All the cares of the living are said to be drained from us when we are first bitten, and we replace those cares with the power of the kyūketsuki as we drink the blood of the one who transforms us. When I gaze into Okāsan’s eyes, though, they tell the story of all she has seen, and I know that she continues to claim the joy and the pain of her human life as her own. I long to tell her that I continue to feel, too. I feel the hope of finding a love and a life long lost. I know the way of the kyūketsuki too well, though. I have seen the consequences of expressing human sentiment.

“So, you have finally returned to report, Mukade.”

I continue to kneel, eyes cast downward.

“Yes, Okāsan.”

“And what is your report?”

I am certain she already knows I have been successful in my task. Her demeanor—calm, casual—informs me of that.

“The hunter has been taken care of.”

Okāsan does not respond for a moment. I feel her eyes on me, though I continue to bow my head.

“Rise, Mukade.”

I do as she demands, slinging my sword across my back once again. I stand, unmoving.

“Is that all you have to report?”

“Yes, Okāsan.”

“Did you search him?”

The fire inside me grows stronger, like the flickering flames in the barrel. Like the bubbling lava of Mount Fuji. I can feel the heat beneath my skin, spreading up my neck, through my ears.

“Yes, Okāsan.”

“What did you find?”

I wonder if I can cheat those eyes. If I attempt to mask the truth—to stow away the image of Tomo and my continued love—will I succeed? Does she perceive the fire that threatens to consume me as I stand before her? If I were one of her own, a kyūketsuki of her own making, her dominion over me would not allow such deceit. I am not one of her own, though. I am not a true member of the Kuroiwa clan. I am a guest intent on excusing herself before she overstays her welcome.

“He had nothing, Okāsan. No clues to tell if there are more like him or why he is here.”

Okāsan approaches me. If I dared look into those eyes now, what story would I read in them? I am too frightened of what it might be to risk a glance.

“So, you found nothing on him? Nothing at all?”

“No, Okāsan.”

I don’t know how much longer I can stand under that gaze. My muscles are turning to ash. Soon, I must collapse.

“You are dismissed, Mukade.”

I thank Okāsan, then turn to leave. I tell myself that I have enough strength left to walk out of the room without stumbling, without giving any indication of my lie. I know now that I must leave soon. I cannot trust my strength to endure more of Okāsan’s questioning if she becomes suspicious of me.

Tatsu’s eyes on me as I leave are nearly as palpable as Okāsan’s. I do not betray that I am aware of her scrutiny. I continue on and out the door, shutting it securely behind me.

Click “Read more” for credits.

Credits:
Ai Ōnishi/Mukade
Hair: Deviant Kitties Alienor-Red
Skin: Deviant Kitties Runny – China
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Amber
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Gloves: Musashi Leather Gloves
Boots: Beckenbauer Productions Revolver Darklord Boots
Sword: Musashi Tek Yakiba

All pictures taken in The Back Alley.

In Japan, the Kuroiwa clan numbered nearly one-hundred, all of them changed by Okāsan. Those were the days in which the clan felt strong, invincible. Those were the days before the war, and the aftermath. And those were the days before mankind realized his fear and sought to destroy the kyūketsuki. By the time they arrived on American shores—after fleeing hastily from their homeland, desperate to survive—only eleven of the Kuroiwa clan remained.

Now, so many decades later, the clan has grown only twofold, still but a tiny tribe compared to what it once was. Okāsan states that we must remain small, mobile. We must not attract attention to ourselves. We must not face extinction.

Currently, we are hidden in an abandoned part of the city. We only exist in legend and the stories of drunken vagrants. And in the will of the hunters.

But for now, we are safe.

Okāsan expects prompt action. She will be standing alone, high above the streets, her eyes scanning the city, anticipating any danger. She expects to soon know whether our safety has been comprimised. She anxiously awaits Mukade’s return.

But I am now not Mukade. I am Ai Ōnishi, and I am feeling the pain of a lost love.

There are occasions when I separate myself from the other kyūketsuki, when I climb above the streets to sit alone. To reflect. They do not understand my need for isolation, but in many ways, they do not understand me. They attribute it to my being the only one among them not to be turned by Okāsan. In their eyes, I am but a guest of the Kuroiwa clan, and one day, I will overstay my welcome.

When I reach my sanctuary, the small piece of this disintegrating neighborhood I claim as my own, I pause. More than ever before, I yearn to be left with my thoughts. To have the wind and the stars be my only companions. To have the solace of quiet introspection. But my sanctuary has been invaded. I am not alone.

“I think I am beginning to understand why you spend so much time here, Mukade. It is peaceful, isn’t it?”

Tatsu speaks without turning, without regarding me. She continues to stare out at the ruined city that surrounds us.

“You know, Mukade, you would be a much more effective assassin if you did not insist on wearing those boots of yours. They are not made for stealth.”

Tatsu stands and approaches me. She is the favored of Okāsan and the deadliest assassin of the Kuroiwa clan. She fought alongside Okāsan during the genocide in Japan, when man sought to annihilate the kyūketsuki. She watched dozens of our kind dismembered, burned, and tortured. She fled her homeland and all traces of her human past. She helped rebuild the clan in America.

She found me, frightened and newly transformed, and offered me a home.

I bow my head to her. “If such a small impediment prevents me from slaying a lone hunter undetected, then I am unworthy of your training.”

“So you have taken care of the hunter?”

“Yes.”

Tatsu smiles. Occasionally, I read approval—even alliance—in that smile. Other times, I fear it presages my destruction.

“You are aware that Okāsan is waiting for your report.” She smiles again. “But I know you, Mukade, better than you are aware. Take your time alone. Just be careful you do not keep her waiting too long.”

Tatsu’s arm grazes mine as she walks past. Then she is gone, and I kneel on the metal grating and attempt to resume my earlier thoughts.

Above me looms a building with large, dark windows. Behind one of those panes of fogged, cracked glass stands Okāsan. Her eyes are on the city, seeking out danger. My thoughts are on Tomo, and the danger of my continued love for him.

Click “Read more” for credits.

Credits:
Ai Ōnishi/Mukade
Hair: Deviant Kitties Alienor-Red
Skin: Deviant Kitties Runny – China
Eyes: Celestial Studios Mirror Amber
Outift: Bare Rose Tokyo Carmilla
Gloves: Musashi Leather Gloves
Boots: Beckenbauer Productions Revolver Darklord Boots
Sword: Musashi Tek Yakiba

All pictures taken in The Back Alley.