Blood Moon

Chapter 1 - A Thorn Among Roses

"Demon slayers," your friend - by which you mean, your drinking mate - says with scorn. Her face is flushed with red and she shakes her head. "In Tokyo? They think too much of themselves." It takes you a few seconds to translate this into everyday language, and the beer she has been drinking has left her voice in an unintelligible slur. In fact, it's a wonder she's even sitting without bowing her head on the table. You turn to follow her gaze. Two men - one with a headband covered in gems, white hair and a sleeveless top shamelessly revealing rippling muscles, and the other with predominantly yellow hair with red highlights and a long white cloak - sit down closest to the bartender. Sheathed in leather are blades that send your blood tingling. Nichirn blades.

"Well then, there must be a demon nearby," you shrug, taking a swig of your drink and hoping that it isn't the reason that they've arrived. Assumingly not - their smiling faces reveal no tension as they order from the bartender, who stares at the white-haired man in obvious envy. "Bah!" your friend dismisses. "They just want to show off. Don't you see the white-haired man? Muscles for days. And his friend - even his eyebrows have jagged edges."

You shrug again, draining your drink. The men are making you feel uncomfortable, even if you look like any other person in the bar. "I'm going to the bathroom," you declare, standing up steadily - alcohol doesn't do the same things to you as it does to other people. Your friend nods and dismisses you with a wave and vague smile, eyes following the duo as they sit down and engage in friendly conversation with the awestruck bystanders.

Shaking your head, you make your way to the bathrooms. Thankfully, it's empty, as it is most of the time, so you're free to wash your face with handfuls of cold water, taking in deep breaths to calm yourself. They aren't looking for me. Nobody knows I exist. With a shuddery sigh, you turn off the tap and step back out of the bathroom.

"My, my, wha' a lovely specimen you, a', ma friend," a voice slurs, not your friend, but a stranger, taking you by surprise. This isn't your friend, but nor is this any of the demon slayers sitting at the bar - just an overly drunk man in a brown suit. "Excuse me," you nod with a bow.

The man reaches an arm out to block your path; your breath constricts in your throat. "Please," you whisper in a strangled voice, "let me through."

"Nah, is gonna be ra'er fun with a li'l thing like you in ma room," the man leers - his voice is incomprehensible but his evil tone as he stares at you with bloodshot eyes is enough to send shudders running through your body. "Now come wi' me, we're gonna 'ave such a good time." He reaches out a hand towards your wrist and clasps it.

The action instantly sends a memory through your mind, of your father grabbing you by the wrist in order to punish you. You lash out on instinct, not seeing anything past the layer of red that covers your eyes. "Stop!" you cry out, but stop dead as a particular smell rises, hot and humid, into the air.

Blood.

You open your eyes slowly. The bar has fallen silent, and the musical clinking of glasses completely ceased. The bartender looks at you with an ashen face, but more than that, the demon slayers look at you with disgusted frowns of rage. You look down slowly at your hands. Black claws extend dangerously from your fingernails and when you run your tongue across your teeth, tapering points of fangs greet the tip.

Damn.

The man's blood cakes your wrist as he whimpers pathetically, couching by your feet, cradling the left side of his face. Splatters of it have landed on your haori and the smell drives your instincts crazy. You look around desperately for an escape; the door has been cleared of the crowd that normally lingers around it - those people have slowly edged back behind the counter as though that could protect them. You swivel on your heel and run.

As you reach your fingers towards the doorknob, a heavy pressure hits straight down in the nape of your neck as the white-haired man brings his elbow down on you. You release a pained choke, eyes rolling up into the back of your head as you fall unconscious in his arms. The man's friend shakes his head almost sympathetically.

"I wonder when the demons will learn that they just can't win?" he sighs, folding his arms across his chest. "What are we going to do with them, Tengen?"

Tengen snorts at his companion. "I still have a drink to finish, Kyojuro - you think I'd let that go to waste?"

Kyojuro sighs and shakes his head once more. "Take it with you. There's something strange about this one, something different. It might be good to take them to Master, Tengen."

Tengen looks longingly at the half-empty stein of beer on the abandoned bar, and then back at your lifeless form hung carelessly over his shoulder. Then he sighs. "You're paying me back!"

Kyojuro smiles. "I wonder how long this demon has been hiding? Hidden amongst the humans."

"Like a thorn among roses," Tengen nods sagely, turning around and taking you out of the bar.

"Exactly," Kyojuro agrees, following suit. "Like a thorn among roses."