[Conceived 5/15/2013 :: Finished 12/31/2013]

Modern supernatural/vampire/hunter AU. M/R rating for adult content. Drama, romance, and way too much politics and social issues for a vampire/hunter AU. Born May 15, 2013, finished December 31, 2013, the story is at 57K words at this time (subject to revision). Chapter lengths and pace will vary, as the entire work was written undivided.

Bloodstone: a greenish variety of chalcedony with small blood-like spots of red jasper scattered through it. Also called heliotrope.

Bloodstone

by Shiraume

[5/15/2014 – Happy one-year anniversary, Bloodstone!]

Chapter 2

"The hunters' Head Council convened at the Sky Dome earlier today."

Oishi's grave announcement was met only with silence. The only sound to be heard was the soft scratch of pen on paper. "Exactly as expected," Inui remarked, his hand never pausing. "And their topic—just as data predicted, no doubt."

Tezuka, staring at the oversized fish tank with his back to them, said nothing.

"Not in details, not yet, but yes. We have spies in hunter orders just as hunters have in our clans. They must know that we have another fourth-generation at Seigaku. That puts our clan in a unique position." Oishi sighed. "So much for secrecy."

Inui shrugged. "It's Samurai Nanjirou. When has he ever been known for subtlety?"

"He'd understood the value of discretion before," Oishi countered. "He may very well be the last third-generation we have left. If he'd kept his consort and son a secret all this time, just as easily he could have kept them secret longer. He's thrust us in a very awkward position."

Inui looked up, an eyebrow lifted. "On the contrary. I expect he did all this very deliberately. Now that he made Echizen publicly known as his childe, Seigaku has no choice but to accept him. Ryuuzaki-sensei will demand nothing less."

Technically, Tezuka was the head of the Seigaku clan. However, Ryuuzaki Sumire, as the oldest vampire in the clan, had long been the mentor and caretaker of the whole clan, and held a near-absolute sway over its members. Despite her usual pragmatism, she was also intensely attached to her clan, and would never have thought twice about accepting Echizen Nanjirou's son.

"Have you seen him?" Oishi's question was directed to both Inui and Tezuka. Tezuka said nothing, but Inui shook his head.

"Only Momo has, to date. He reports Echizen Junior is certainly...something."

"And Momo is rarely wrong," Oishi concluded, a frown marring his smooth brow.

"If you're that worried, Oishi, you still have the option of contesting his joining at the presentation," Inui reminded him. By ancient laws going back to the very first generation of vampires, a newly-made vampire had to be presented to the rest of the clan for approval. Ideally, a childe would only be made with prior consent from the rest of the clan. But either case the new vampire fledgling had to be presented and accepted by the clan in a formal presentation ceremony. If anyone contested a fledgling's right to join the clan, at least three members of the clan aside from the sire had to speak on the fledgling's behalf. Once accepted, the fledgling would be given absolute protection by the entire clan until he or she came of age, in vampire-reckoning. No matter what the circumstances, save in self-defense, killing an accepted fledgling was an offense punishable by death. But if a fledgling's acceptance into the clan was successfully contested, then no protection would be granted, and no one would be held responsible if the fledgling were to be harmed, even murdered. Inui knew the gentle Oishi would not resort to such an extreme method. Luckily for the Echizen fledgling, too; from what Momoshiro said, the youngster had all of his sire's cockiness and penchant for annoying others, if not more. While greater purity of blood typically granted a vampire greater power, Echizen Ryoma was very young, and it would take decades, if not centuries, before his powers matured. In the meantime, fourth-generation or not, the fledgling was as vulnerable as a lion's cub living in a den of grown wolves.

Oishi pursed his lips as he frowned. "I couldn't. Samurai Nanjirou is one of Seigaku clan's founding members. His childe is one of our own." He sighed. "It's just...no other clan holds more than one fourth-generation, fledgling or no. Some hold only fifth-generation or lesser. This is an imbalance of power, as far as others are concerned. Not just hunters, but other clans as well. Why did the Samurai make this childe, anyway? And after all these years, too."

"According to my sources, because his consort asked." Inui picked up and flipped open another thick notebook, leafing through the pages. "Echizen Rinko, sire unknown. She had a mortal son she watched over even after she was turned. A few years after her turning, she became Samurai Nanjirou's consort. She requested that her son be made an immortal. He honored her request. That was four years ago."

Oishi's frown deepened. "Even if she didn't, he must have known the consequences of siring a childe directly. Why didn't he ask someone else? He has sired so few in his lifetime. Why this one?"

"Perhaps he was special even as mortal." Inui paused over a page. "The boy was an extraordinarily gifted athlete. A tennis player. While traveling he contracted a disease – unspecified – that nearly killed him. Presumably his mother requested that he be turned because he would have died otherwise."

Oishi's frown eased at the last. "That's understandable, I guess. I still don't see why Samurai Nanjirou felt the need to turn him personally, mind you. It's causing us a great deal of trouble, and..." Oishi hesitated, glancing over to Tezuka, who never once so much as turned his head. "There's the other...unexplained incident that we never could account for. And other clans are clamoring for young Echizen's relocation. They don't quite feel..."

Oishi trailed off, and Inui knew what he did not dare say before Tezuka.

Fuji Yoshiko, the Last Heir, and her family, despite having no actual clan ties, had chosen to stay with Seigaku clan after the fragile truce was forged with the hunters. Consequently, the Fuji family had been living under Seigaku protection when she and her family were murdered. Several vampire clans had accused Seigaku of negligence or worse in the aftermath. Grounded in fact or not, a charge of treason might have very easily become a death sentence for the entire clan. To harbor a newly-turned fourth-generation and then fail to protect him might finish their clan this time.

"Anyway, maybe it'll be better if Echizen stays with Hyoutei clan instead? They do have a lot more members, and I don't think Atobe would say no." Oishi's proposal was sound.

Inui tapped the notebook to his own shoulder. "Hyoutei can pull more clan members from the UK or Europe, sure. But another fourth-generation within the ranks may not be something Atobe would tolerate easily. Especially if what Momoshiro says is true."

Their discussion was interrupted by a series of quick raps on the door.

"Come in," Tezuka called, turning to face the door, and the door opened right away.

"Sorry about the intrusion," Momoshiro panted, looking like he'd been running. "I just thought – well, you might want to know – damn. Uh."

Before he could continue, someone else pushed past him unceremoniously, and stood at attention. "Echizen's gone," Kaidoh reported shortly.

"Gone?" Oishi echoed. "What do you mean, gone?"

"You two were supposed to be keeping an eye on him." Inui frowned at both of them. Momoshiro fidgeted, but gave him an uneasy grin. Kaidoh didn't meet his eyes. "How long?" Inui demanded.

Tezuka had turned and was now looking at them expressionlessly, neither anger nor disapproval on his face, but that only seemed to increase the pair's discomfort. "Erm...at least an hour," Momoshiro finally said, cringing a little.

Oishi's palm met his forehead. "An hour?! And you didn't even notice?"

Momoshiro had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry, Oishi-senpai. He keeps to himself a lot, so it took us a while to notice he'd snuck out and... Eiji-senpai and Taka-san already went after him. We wanted to let you know before we leave."

"Go." Tezuka's voice was calm but cold. "Find him and bring him back before dawn."

Momoshiro and Kaidoh both straightened out of sheer spinal reflex, then both bowed crisply and left.

"Well." Inui couldn't help an amused drawl. "Perhaps this will spare us the headache, should they fail to retrieve young Echizen before dawn."

"Inui!" Oishi's hand dropped from his forehead, which was now drawn together in a frown. "Echizen's only a fledgling! How can you say something like that? Even if he's not formally a part of our clan yet, his sire is! And Ryuuzaki-sensei will be furious to hear about this!"

Inui's smile was blatantly baiting now. "Oh, knowing her, I think she might be more amused than anything else." Inui knew it wasn't particularly nice to tease his friend like this, but sometimes he really couldn't help himself. Oishi never changed no matter how many years went by.

Oishi shook his head. "Come help me work out a grid. Maybe we can figure out the likeliest places and forward the info to Eiji."

With a short respectful nod to Tezuka, which Tezuka returned, Oishi left, trusting Inui to follow. Left behind, Inui studied Tezuka, whose expressionless face revealed nothing.

"Okinawa's Higa clan and Nagoya's Seitoku clan won't just sit by this time, you know. While you have Fudomine clan's support, that's only one. You might want to visit Atobe in the near future. Even if Hyoutei clan isn't willing to take on Echizen, we should at least cement their support."

"Ah."

Still no change. Inui contented himself planning for the next time, and withdrew. Maybe he could tag along when Tezuka visited Atobe. Visits to Atobe always proved interesting.

Nightclub was loud, full of people who couldn't dance to save their lives, and reeked of cheap booze, sweat, and God only knew what else. Ryoma scowled, stubbornly keeping his hands away from his sensitive ears, but it was such a temptation, to cover them. Better yet, he could just get out, of course, but it would mean admitting defeat. Or something. Never mind he hadn't needed to hunt for his own food since, well, ever. His mother and annoying old man always took care of that before. There was first time for everything. Or so the dirty old man said.

Ryoma wasn't even sure what made him come to a nightclub of all things. Leftover rebellion, perhaps. For the four years he'd spent with his mother and Nanjirou, he'd been forbidden to come near one because – and here was the part that made him snort – he was underage. Which was stupid, of course. Just because he'd been underage when he was turned, it didn't mean – well, physically it was true he still remained the same age as when he was first turned. But he'd already spent four years as a vampire. He'd have been twenty this year if he'd still been alive. Shouldn't that count?

To add insult to an injury, he'd been carded at the entrance by the bouncer. Good thing his perfectly fake ID was still valid.

Resisting the urge to put his hands over his aching ears, Ryoma scanned the crowd. At this point he just wanted to feed a little and go home. Being at Seigaku's mansion made him claustrophobic and oddly unsettled, and he was relishing the precious few hours of freedom. But being in such an obnoxiously loud place made him wince. Sometimes a vampire's heightened senses really sucked.

"HEY! ARE YOU GOING TO DANCE OR WHAT?"

Ryoma glared in the general direction of the loudmouthed idiot. As if he needed more noise here. And then he had to blink. Again.

The leopard print didn't disappear. Ryoma barely refrained from groaning. Was this kid for real? The boy – because Ryoma didn't know how the hell he got past the bouncer, but there was no way this one even had the word teen in his age, let alone be legal – was wearing awful leopard print tank top that clashed horribly with his red hair, and baggy shorts. Who even wore baggy shorts to a nightclub?

"Go away," Ryoma told him when the glare didn't seem to do the trick.

"IS THIS YOUR FIRST TIME? COME ON, DANCE ALREADY."

Ryoma's eyebrow twitched. Was this supposed to be a come-on? Or was the kid really that oblivious? "Go away," he repeated. Honestly, he should be commended for his amazing patience tonight.

"WHAT?"

Ryoma scowled, then grabbed a napkin and scribbled on it very quickly, then shoved it in the boy's face.

Go away. You're loud.

The boy, unfortunately for Ryoma, was completely unfazed. "OH COME ON, YOU SHOULD LEARN TO HAVE FUN!" The boy then grabbed the glass of water Ryoma had been nursing and drained it in one big gulp. "BLEARGH. WATER AT A NIGHTCLUB? HOW OLD ARE YOU?"

Ryoma had a hand over the boy's mouth before he could think better of it. The boy blinked, and Ryoma cursed under his breath; out of reflex he'd moved faster than human eyes. While the boy didn't seem like the most perceptive type, the unnatural coolness of his skin might still give him away.

Ryoma leaned forward and spoke just loudly enough to be heard. "Stop shouting. You're loud." He leaned back, taking his hand away quickly, hoping the contact was too brief for the redhead to notice anything amiss.

The boy blinked, then grinned. "Oh. Sorry. Hey, what's your name? Mine's Kintarou. Tooyama Kintarou."

More like Tarzan, what with the loud leopard print and all. Ignoring was not working, nor was being blunt. Perhaps he should consider a retreat, but he was here first, damn it, and Ryoma was determined to get himself fed before returning to Seigaku mansion. Besides which, there was something odd about this Tarzan boy. Something cold, brushing against his senses like water lapping at his heels.

"Hey! I said, what's your name?"

"Yamada Tarou," Ryoma muttered, deeply annoyed.

"Really? That's a stupid name. What kind of parents name their kid that?"

With a sigh, Ryoma gave it up as a lost cause and pulled out his wallet to leave tip. Although his mother assured him several times tips weren't necessary here, he'd done it for so long, the habit was automatic.

"Koshi...mae? Your name's Koshimae?"

Ryoma frowned, and belatedly remembered his mother had embroidered the Kanji characters for "Echizen" on his wallet in chunky block print. If he'd been the type to blush, his face would have been scarlet by now. Before the idiot could take another look and figure out the correct reading, he snatched away the wallet and stood.

"Hey Koshimae, stay and dance! You should man up and—"

"Kintarou!"

The second it took for Tooyama to look in the direction of the voice, Ryoma slipped out of sight, disappearing easily into the crowd, then making a beeline to the door. Even in the hubbub of the club he could easily pick out Tooyama's high-pitched voice, protesting.

"—And I gotta de-stress somehow! Besides you never gave Zaizen any grief about coming out to clubs and this is totally not fair!"

"For one, Zaizen was seventeen when he first went to a club and he went with an actual adult. Do I have to ground you or are you coming back right now?"

A horrified yelp. "Not the poison hand!"

Ryoma snickered, but left without looking back, stepping into the cool night air with an appreciative sigh. The oddly unsettled feeling had diminished once he put some distance between himself and Tooyama, but it wasn't gone. And there was still that prickle running down his spine, as if he were being watched, somehow...

"You should be more mindful of your surroundings, Koshimae-san," said an amused voice with a distinct Kansai accent. "Or should I say Echizen-kun?"

Ryoma whirled, startled. He narrowed his eyes at the speaker, then had to adjust his glare upward. Way up. By the time his eyes reached the speaker's face, the angle turned his glare more to an annoyed scowl. "And you are?"

"And a little prudence from you wouldn't hurt, either. So you're Seigaku's new prince."

Just then Ryoma realized what was bothering him about this intruder. "You're a vampire," he said flatly. And judging by the pull he felt, someone with a high pedigree of blood.

"Mm-hmm. Like I said, you ought to be a little more mindful. Other vampires aren't the only problems, especially around here."

One could have mistaken this vampire for a telephone pole, and as if that wasn't enough, he was wearing a pair of geta (seriously, who even wore those anymore? He was running into a lot of weird characters tonight) that made him even taller. Ryoma could feel the beginnings of a crick in his neck staring up at this tall busybody and was in no mood for a lecture. "Your point being?"

"I hear you're a fourth-gen." Remarked the telephone pole casually, bending down so they were on the same eye level. "But you feel...different." A strange expression crossed his eyes, then was gone. Straightening, he grinned at Ryoma. "You should watch where you step. 'Sides, isn't it getting close to your bedtime, little prince?"

"OCHIBIIIIIIIIII!"

For about the thousandth time in the same night, Ryoma winced. Kikumaru wasn't within sight just yet, but the voice was unmistakable.

"Saves me the trouble of having to find you an escort," the tall vampire said dryly. "Get home safely. No doubt I'll catch you again later."

"OCHIBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" Ryoma turned his scowl in the direction of the call for a split second, then blinked, startled to find himself alone in the darkened street. He'd never even seen the other vampire move. The next moment, Kikumaru slammed into him, arms tight enough to choke the breath out of him, if he had any. "What were you thinking? We were so worried about you, Ochibi! And you should have let us know if you wanted to go clubbing, this really isn't a good one and I know all the best ones around here and then some! And then I could have taken you to a karaoke place and—"

"Kikumaru-senpai. Let go."

Momoshiro was next to arrive, followed by Kaidoh and Kawamura.

"Echizen! There you are. We were so worried about you." Kawamura said with a relieved smile. Momoshiro, for his part, was much less ceremonious, and caught Ryoma in a headlock as soon as Kikumaru let go.

"Why you little— Do you have any idea how worried we were when we found you gone? Why didn't you say something? We could have arranged for someone to show you around."

Ryoma shoved at Momoshiro, without much hope of displacing him. "I'm not a little brat."

"Echizen, it's not really safe. Tokyo isn't...well, there are a lot of things we didn't really get to tell you, and I don't think Nanjirou-san or Rinko-san ever..." Kawamura looked around them nervously. "Why don't we go home and then we can talk about it?"

"Oh yeah, Tezuka's gonna be soooooo mad at you. He might make you run laps around the mansion grounds!" Kikumaru chortled, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Or make you clean the bathrooms. Or the windows! Or – or – weed the garden!"

"And you're gonna be what, timing me?" Ryoma retorted, finally released from Momoshiro's headlock. That kind of hurt, actually, and his hair was probably a lost cause. It was times like this he regretted leaving his cap behind. Still, he obediently fell in step with the others, still grumbling about Momoshiro and his ridiculous strength.

"You betcha! I even have a stopwatch and everything! Or at least Oishi does, I can borrow it for a night. Ooooh, this is gonna be fuuuuun~"

"Yeah, because for once you're not the one in trouble, Eiji-senpai." Momoshiro ducked, laughing as Kikumaru swiped at him. Ryoma rolled his eyes, but didn't shrug it off when Momoshiro threw a companionable arm around him. He didn't exactly enjoy all this physical contact thing they had going at Seigaku, but it wasn't worth fighting all of them. That was all. Honest.

Besides, maybe Tezuka would actually show an expression if he bothered to get angry about this. Which Ryoma rather doubted; he'd heard stories about just how often Kikumaru, Momoshiro, and Kaidoh (usually dragged out by the other two) snuck out to go clubbing or just wreak merry havoc around the city. Apparently Tezuka just shrugged and assigned them laps around the mansion grounds or something. Ryoma tried to picture Tezuka as a mortal child he must once had been, and failed. All he could conjure up was an image of a toddler with the adult Tezuka's completely deadpan face, and that was plain disturbing.

Ryoma shook his head and walked faster. Behind him, Ryoma could hear Momoshiro and Kaidoh arguing, something about the frequency of punishment assignments, which he tuned out. Kikumaru was still talking loudly to no one in particular, listing all the great hangout spots in no particular order. Kawamura still occasionally looked around, making sure they weren't being followed. Oddly, Ryoma was pretty sure they wouldn't be, tonight. Still...

You should watch where you step.

His foot slipped the next moment. Even without a vampire's preternatural grace he would never have stumbled, not with his inborn coordination. But his momentary distraction hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Echizen?" Momoshiro called.

"Slipped on a pebble," he replied absently. "I'm tired."

"And hungry, I bet." Kawamura gave him a friendly smile. "I'll call to arrange for something."

Part of him wanted to protest that he wasn't a child, he could take care of himself. But his stomach grumbled, and the words died in his throat. "Thanks," he mumbled instead.

"Alright! Let's go back already! I still gotta kick Momo's ass in Mario Kart 7!"

"Wanna bet, Eiji-senpai?"

"You're on, junior!"

Ryoma shook his head at the amazing display of childishness, but couldn't help the tug at the corner of his mouth. Earlier moment of unease forgotten, he followed the others home.