"Karin, Yuzu, I'm heading out."
"Be careful, Ichi-nii," said Yuzu, emerging from the kitchen to watch him slide on his shoes. Karin didn't say anything, but she wore the same concerned expression Yuzu did. They could pretend all they wanted, but they all knew what the red circles on the calendar were for.
"I'm always careful," Ichigo answered truthfully. He never went to the sketchier clubs, where no one batted an eye if someone got drained completely. The only one he went to was owned by an old friend of their father's, because he never demanded a cut of the money.
After their parents died, Urahara had tried to take them in, but the State hadn't allowed it because of his line of work. Instead they'd been bounced around in foster homes until Ichigo aged out and took his sisters with him. They lived almost hand-to-mouth, squirreling away what they could whenever they could, but sometimes they needed a little extra to get by.
Hence, the red circles on the calendar, and Ichigo's third job.
The bouncer recognized him at the door and let him in with a "Hey, Ichigo." He returned the greeting with a nod and slipped inside. A quick glance showed that Urahara was in the middle of entertaining Yoruichi and Byakuya, the latter eyeing Renji at the bar, the redhead eyeing him right back. The bartender, Tessai, was watching them and shaking his head. "Welcome back, Ichigo. It's been a while."
"Sorry, Tessai," Ichigo replied, genuinely contrite, "It's been a tough quarter. But by some miracle, I'm off this Saturday. I can bring Karin and Yuzu around."
"I'm sure Jinta and Ururu will be glad to see them. Are you ready for me to put you on the menu?"
"Go for it. Let's get this over with." Ichigo handed over his ID for Tessai to swipe, then let him do a quick prick test to one of his fingers.
"All right, you're in." The bartender returned his ID and gave him a tall glass of their supplemented water. It would help his body recover faster after the vampire drank from him.
Vampires. Now that was something he'd never seen coming. They'd been exposed with the advent of DNA testing, resulting in several ugly wars that the vampires won because folklore was exactly that – folklore. The only thing that really hurt them was the sun, and it wasn't always shining.
The vampires won all the wars, but by the will of the Nightlord – the Vampire King, the infamous Vlad Dracula himself – they didn't enslave humanity. Most of the vampires were pretty chill, and bowed to his command. Those that didn't found out the hard way why he earned the title "the Impaler." And so the world continued on as it had before, just… now with vampires.
Ichigo strapped on one of the alert-slash-heart-rate monitors, took his drink, and started circulating. Some of the vampires were locals; they greeted him by name and asked him about his sisters, and he greeted them in return. He was always a bit wary around the foreign vampires, though; they were unknown quantities.
But then he stopped. And stared.
The Impaler was here.
The Impaler was here.
And talking quietly with him and the local vampire governor was a vampire who could have passed for Ichigo's albino twin.
The human didn't wait around to check if they'd seen him, booking it back to the bar and quietly flipping out. He'd heard the stories about how Vlad became the Nightlord while still a newborn vampire, killing his predecessor who had been a vampire one hundred times as long as him. He had only gotten stronger since then, prompting some to call him "the Last Nightlord," because only the incredibly brave or foolish dared to challenge him.
And he was here, in Karakura! What the fuck?!
"I see you spotted our guest," said Tessai, noting Ichigo's expression, and took his wordless flailing as an affirmative. "He's here on business."
The way he said it made the other mortal glance back at the group of vampires, just in time to see the Impaler perk up and look toward the main entrance, eyes starting to glow red in the semidarkness of the blood club. A few other foreign vampires reacted the same way, including a Middle-eastern woman he recognized as Sahar Dracula, the Nightlord's niece and heir.
All the mortals in the club stayed where they were, but notably, Vlad's vampires positioned themselves between the mortals and the main door. Ichigo's albino doppelganger moved to cover him, shooting him a glance, then doing a double take, eyes wide. The mortal could only offer a shrug, which seemed to amuse the immortal. He returned to watching the door without seeming like he was doing so. Ichigo briefly wondered what they were waiting for before realizing he was probably about to find out. He hunched down close to the bar.
A group of vampires entered, led by one Ichigo recognized: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. He'd been in the news, kicking up a fuss over the Nightlord's laws and killing humans indiscriminately. Apparently, he'd graduated to more sever crimes, because the Nightlord had come personally.
"Urahara!" Grimmjow called, shamelessly displaying his fangs, "Urahara, where-"
"No need to shout, Jaegerjaquez-san. How may I be of assistance?" The dhampir appeared close by, shikomizue in hand.
"I'm looking for-" He spotted the albino vampire by the bar. "Hey, whitey! Finally decided to get away from King Stabby?!"
"Whitey" responded with a slow, vicious smirk.
Behind Grimmjow, Vlad got to his feet, his menacing aura making the air grow thick with the promise of violence. More than one human fainted. Ichigo's breath started coming in pants as he fought against the oppressive power.
And then it all happened too fast for him to see, black and white blurs colliding. In an instant, the Impaler was on Grimmjow, shoving a hand through his chest to crush his heart. The renegade turned to dust a beat later, quickly followed by the rest of his gang.
"Sorry for the mess," Vlad said to the dhampir, even as his subordinates started cleaning up the blood and ash, "Anyone injured? Anything broken?"
Both answers were negative, but that didn't stop "Whitey" from coming back over to check on Ichigo. "Are you all right?" he asked with surprising gentleness, given that he had just decapitated another vampire with his bare hands, "It can be tough to stand in His Majesty's presence when he's getting ready to fight."
"I-I'm okay, thanks." Ichigo stood, but almost immediately lost his balance.
The albino vampire caught him before he could fall or hit his head. "Take a minute, give your inner ear time to sort itself out." He took a breath to say more, then stopped and stared, pupils dilating. "What's your name?"
"Kurosaki Ichigo."
The vampire laughed. "I'm Shirosaki Juugo."
That made Ichigo laugh, too.
Shiro bought his blood, something for which Ichigo was grateful. Many of the natives left after the fight was over, and the foreigners (not with the Impaler) didn't like the look of him. The Impaler's group stayed away, except for the man himself and his niece, because Shiro was talking to him. Ichigo didn't know what his relationship was to the Nightlord, but everyone else except Vlad and Sahar deferred to him.
The vampire followed him to one of the rooms in the back. The room the human picked had a futon and some chairs around a low table in the center of the room. "How do you want to do this?"
"Probably best if you lie down. Are you okay with that?"
Ichigo nodded, shrugged off his jacket, and laid down on the futon, turning his head to bare his throat. Shiro leaned over him and slipped a hand under him to cradle his head. The human remembered to exhale before he bit down, but after that his mind blanked.
Ordinarily, being fed on hurt. Someone was sticking sharp objects into a sensitive area and draining away blood and vitality, life force. It hurt, and no matter what kind of retrograde amnesia a vampire induced, the memory of that agony remained. But this time…
Ichigo's mouth dropped open, and he groaned in bliss. Shiro moaned against his throat and took a long draught, and it sent lightning bolts of pleasure down their spines. Though he felt more lightheaded with every pull, the human also felt stronger, more alive, as opposed to tired and stretched thin like usual. So when Shiro threw a leg over his hips to straddle him and grind down, he gripped the vampire's hips and pulled him in tighter, groaning when the friction wound him tighter.
Shiro tore himself away (though not literally, thank the gods). He looked wild, frenzied, eyes glowing red and lips and fangs stained with blood. He licked his lips clean, then growled and ground down against the human. Ichigo arched with a breathless cry and thrust back, panting against Shiro's lips when the vampire leaned down to kiss him, then nip at his lips. "Fuck," he gasped.
"Mmm, yes," the vampire rumbled in agreement, grinding faster and encouraging the human to match his pace.
Ichigo came embarrassingly fast in his opinion, but Shiro was right behind him, biting his neck one last time and coming with a muffled groan. Both of them sagged on the futon, the vampire lapping at the twin puncture wounds. Then he sighed, "Come with me."
"I… have sisters," the human panted out, making a face at the feeling of the cooling seed in his boxers.
"They can come, too."
Ichigo shifted enough to meet the vampire's gaze. He knew what the immortal was offering – in exchange for his blood, he and his sisters would never want for anything again. And someday, maybe, he might acquire some fangs of his own.
"…okay."
AN: "Juugo" means fifteen, just like "Ichigo".