Blueeyeddevil06, thank you for being my beta and being willing to edit yet another story. LOVE YOU!

Back on August 28th, I wrote 1k words about Usagi as a vampire and quickly became stuck and left what I wrote to sit. Then I got a request for a story from Just_A_TM_Fan (Ao3) and we messaged back and forth, they were a huge help in fleshing out where the abandoned start of a story could go.

I liked the idea of Usagi as the vampire since she is from the moon and associated with the night. It seemed like a fun juxtaposition of her personality too.

So here is the first chapter of my story, I hope you enjoy it. And if you could drop a review that would be helpful to me and figuring out if this is as interesting as I hope it is.

Thank you to all of my readers new and old for reading this. You have no idea how much I appreciate you!


Usagi laughed to herself, everyone thought she was all sunshine and light, but really she was made for the night. She was happiest when the moon was full and shining down on her. And at moments like this, when the moon was full overhead, she felt really alive. Alive, that word made her laugh too. She hadn't been alive for a very long time.

She lifted her hand and traced out the different constellations she could find that evening. She found comfort in them like they were old friends. After all, they were at their best at night, just like her.

She turned from the sky and walked along the path in the park. She was new to Tokyo, well, sort of. The last time she lived there was over fifty years earlier. She enjoyed spending her evening reacquainting herself with the city.

When you look perpetually twenty and never age, it forces you to move around - a whole lot. Especially once photography was invented, and people could start wondering why all your supposed ancestors looked just like you. She'd gone by many names over the years.

She was growing hungry. She made her way to one of the clubs she'd scouted earlier in the evening. It was three in the morning, so people should be well into drinking and having a good time. She loved the nightlife in the cities, people showed up around one-thirty in the morning, and the clubs closed at six. It was exciting and the night pulsed with life. She could smell the youthful vitality in the air.

She made her way past the bouncer. She never had trouble getting into any club. She had an ID that lied about her age. She smirked that she was actually older than it said, she lied, but she was plenty old enough to drink. She was four hundred and seventy-two after all, even though she looked twenty.

She had died at twenty years of age. A vampire's obsession with her in her home country of Sweden led to her being turned. Her blond hair and her cornflower blue eyes entranced him, and he stalked her like he would his prey. After all, he knew how to hunt humans.

As the innocent Astrid, her original name, she ran from him both literally and metaphorically. Nothing she did or tried mattered. At the time, she didn't know what he was. She was sheltered and had never even heard of the word vampire. She wondered why girls were kept so sheltered back then and not told anything. Her lack of knowledge didn't save her. It made her more vulnerable to attack.

He, Duncan, had been her first kill. He was a young and relatively inexperienced vampire when he'd turned her. Since she strongly objected to his belief that she was to become his eternal sexual plaything, she quickly figured out how to kill one of her kind. She told him she needed to know how so she could avoid that fate. He ended up staked by her hand two days later.

When he came to a seemingly willing woman that night, she had a stake hidden under her pillow. Before he could even fully get his pants down, she had plunged it through his heart and drank the blood that was left in him.

He had explained how to get power from another vampire. By drinking the blood running through its veins, you absorb their power. She didn't know how much to drink. She didn't want to make him suspicious by asking too many questions, so she drank it all.

She traveled the world and loved it and all the different languages. The various foods and spices made the blood taste different in each person, and that fascinated her. Then she made it to Japan and fell head over heels in love. The country fascinated her, and she loved the scenery and the language. She still spent time in other countries, but she always came back to Japan.

Now she was in the heart of Tokyo in a club, and the beat thrummed through her body. She inhaled the sweet smell of blood that ran through everyone there. Well, everyone but her.

She danced, with whom, she didn't care and didn't know. She loved the feeling of warm bodies pressed up against her. It warmed her blood and made her feel. She let them caress her and touch her. They returned the favor, and when their guard was down, she would suck on their neck and take a sip. Then she licked their necks, sealing the wound with a caress of her tongue.

Someone brought her a drink, and she took a large sip from it–it was bitter. She smiled at the creep and beckoned him close to her. He would be her main meal tonight. She liked finding the vile and reprehensible to fully slake her thirst. It made her feel like she was doing a public service. She hated men that slipped date rape drugs into drinks. She believed the world was better off without them.

He came to her and rubbed his hard cock against her thigh and inhaled her scent, he then smiled. "Would you like to get some air with me?"

She knew he wanted her out of the club before she started stumbling and drawing attention. She downed the rest of her drink and locked eyes with him. "I'm getting hot. I'd like that." He wasn't the only one who wanted something. She needed privacy too, for her desires.

He pulled her out of the club into an alley. She wanted to roll her eyes at him, really? An alley? Did he plan to rape her there?

He pressed her roughly against the building and pinned her hips with his own. She could feel his erection. She was seriously unimpressed.

He waited, and she pretended to look woozy. He then leaned in and whispered into her ear, "I laced your drink with Special K. You're mine tonight. I can't wait to fuck you. Are you a virgin? I really hope you are."

She surged forward and bit his neck, drawing blood as he tried to scream out. She'd covered his mouth. She sucked on his neck, draining him of blood, and he eventually passed out. She kept drinking until he was bone dry. She loved that expression.

When he was dead, she tossed him in the trash bin and walked away. She felt it was fitting for him to be found there.

She pulled out her cell phone and made a call, "He's in the bin behind the club, Inferno. Check his prints and DNA. He'll show up in the system." She then hung up and tucked her phone back in her pants—another monster, dead.


Chiba Mamoru brushed his hair out of his eyes with his arm, careful to not use his hands, as he leaned over the dead body. The coroner, who stood across from him, pointed at the dead man's fingernails. "See that?"

"Yes, his one fingernail is longer than the others."

"We'll check him for drugs. It might be what killed him."

"How did you get that from a fingernail? Most of him is unrecognizable."

"Well, the rats were dead that feasted on our poor friend here, and he might have sniffed cocaine. He would have dipped his finger in the drugs and taken a dose that would fit on that finger."

"His fingernail would be the size of the dose?"

"Sadly, yes, which wasn't enough to kill him from my experience. It was probably laced with fentanyl. That's all assuming I'm right about his fingernail."

"And the dead rats."

"Those also, yes."

"Is there another reason for long nails?"

"Well, if all the fingernails, just on his right hand, were long, I'd say acoustic guitar."

Mamoru looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Plucking. On an electric guitar, they just use a pick."

Yamato let out a long sigh; due to the surgical mask he was wearing, it fogged up his glasses, and Mamoru's mouth twitched into a small smile. He pulled off his gloves, tossed them towards the trash, missing the trash bin entirely, and pulled off his glasses to clean them so he could see. "Draw some blood, and send it to the lab. You know how to do that."

"You don't want to check my work?"

Yamato laughed and shook his head. "No, you're the best intern I've ever had. If I could convince you to become a Medical Examiner rather than a doctor, I would be thrilled. I've had interns for…." he trailed off, trying to come up with a number. "Ah, fifteen years, and I've been doing this job for thirty-six years."

Mamoru flushed pink under his praise. "Thank you, really. I've learned so much from you already. When I do my residency, I'll have visual clues and insights into people I wouldn't have had without you."

"Just remember to draw hypotheses, not conclusions. Always back up everything with facts. Also, I'm saying this out loud to teach you, but I never would've said that in front of an investigator or anyone else. If this guy ends up being a Shinto priest who got knocked on the head, I would've ended up looking like a fool. Hypothesis and then verify."

He wasn't a fool. When the blood work came back from the lab, Mamoru read the report. Cocaine, not enough to kill; fentanyl, enough to kill eight men. The epidemic finally reached home for him. The rat-gnawed dead body was grizzly proof of the news articles he'd read.

He held up the report and said to Yamato, "Well, he's not a Shinto priest."

"Do you have an identification on him?"

"Yes, and a missing person's report to match it. He got tossed out of rehab three times, Detective Ito said."

"It's a shame. There isn't any pride in being right on this one. Another life, thrown away."

He took the report from Mamoru and sighed, "This was murder. You don't have that high a dose of fentanyl in cocaine if you want repeat customers. And to make money, you need repeat customers."

"Murder?"

"Yes, but Officer Ito would already know that from the report."

He walked over and pulled the man's body from cold storage. He pulled the sheet back, looked down, and said, "Too bad the rats ate his right shoulder. I wonder if he had a tattoo there."

"Why? Why would you look for one?"

"Yakuza. There has been a territory battle starting, and the encroaching group deals in a lot of kinds of drugs. It would be horrendously stupid, though, to buy drugs from a rival. But… addicts are never expected to be smart."

Mamoru looked down at the man; he then looked at the report and added the name in his head, Ishii Kanashii; what a fitting name.

"Does it mention affiliation?"

He looked back down at the paperwork and nodded, "Yes, Chikyu Yakuza."

"Unfortunately, I was right. He'd have a compass rose tattoo, signaling the earth's four corners on his arm." He shook his head sadly and put his hand out for the file. Once it was in his hand, he opened it up and read. "I can feel a bit better about his death now. He has murder and a death threat to three judges on his list of accusations. Still, he might have a family. His choices weren't theirs, so there would be sorrow."

Mamoru frowned; he couldn't imagine throwing the love of a family away when that was all he ever wanted. Well–he remembered wanting it since he was six and woke up in the hospital with no prior memory.

And then it struck him with frightening clarity. That family didn't deserve the news coming, and he didn't when he was six, either. He hoped they coped better than he did.

And that was the problem. Everything came back to the fact that he had no one on his side. No one loved him, and no one would mourn him if he died. The yakuza member that had O. might have more people to cry over his death than Mamoru would.

Everything in him wished for love to come his way.