Ren watched Makoto ascend the stairs to the cafe above, her lithe form glowing red with vitality. The beat of her heart thudded against his eardrums, the scent of her pheromones congested his nose... He'd gotten too close to her. Much too close. He'd tasted her upon the air like a puff of powdered sugar. Delicious. Saliva was thick in his mouth. A raging erection strained against the confines of his pants. Delicious. Too delicious. He desperately wanted- Needed more. Ren's leg lifted to follow Makoto up the steps.

NO.

Ren gripped the bottom banister of the stairs, feeling the metal rail bend and distort, but it held. And it held him as his eyes traced the red rivers running through Makoto's body, beautiful lines from neck to heart to thigh to foot and back again. The sight captivated him, filling him with the urge to surge up the stairs after her. Bite into one of those red lines and drink away ten years of desperate thirst.

He could take her. It would be so easy. Take her. Pull her back down into the dark. Use her body to sate every desire and instinct boiling through him. So easy. So, so good.

NO!

The cafe door opened, the light of day flooded the stairwell, silhouetting Makoto's retreating form in radiance, taking her into its brightness. Ren winced away and withdrew into deeper dark.

The door closed, the spell broken. Ren's frenzy slowly abating, he sank to his knees, rapid breaths frantically catching up with his racing pulse. He heard muffled voices above, and after a delay, a motorcycle engine start up, rev up, then fade away.

Ren fell to his side on the dirt floor, a relieved sigh gushing from his mouth. Curling up in the darkness, Ren's body felt light, sore, and tingly all over- muscles spasming in the abatement of intense strain. His groin ached. For a long, long time he lay there, recovering.

Ren let out a ragged sigh. He'd felt hunger. He'd trained himself. But that: whatever that just was… he'd never felt anything like it before. Is that what his mother's people felt? Is that what Kamoshida had felt toward Suzui Shiho and Sakamoto Ann? If so, Ren could understand his cousin's sins a bit better now. Not forgive them, but understand the motivations, the temptations.

Lesson learned: he couldn't afford to be hungry around Makoto. And tonight he would be inside the Niijima house again- a place with twenty years of her scent. And Sakamoto Ann would be there, too. Her smell was even more intoxicating than Niijima Makoto's… He'd noticed it the first time he'd met the girl- though the smell of vampiric enchantment had been slightly upon the wind, as well.

One virgin young woman was challenging enough, but two? If Makoto was a cultured brandy to be sipped and savored, Ann was a sweet cocktail that one found impossible to drink slowly.

Hell! What the fuck kind of metaphor was that? These girls- these women were people. People, damnit!

Ren groaned and rolled onto his back. Regret and worry filled his mind. He was a fool to be here. A fool to run low on capsules. A fool, fool, fool, fool! He couldn't afford to be hungry tonight, that was now clear. He would drink a full meal before leaving the cellar. So after today, he would be another capsule closer to starvation. And what if Takemi Tae could not make capsules, in the end? What was he going to do?

Fool, fool, fool, fool.

For Niijima Makoto, the sun seemed brighter and the air sweeter. The morning's depression had vanished with the sunlight like a dawn fog. She laughed in relief and joy as Johanna rumbled her out of the Yongen district. He'd agreed! Ren's experience and strength were now hers. Makoto could continue her hunting and have a real chance at success.

She felt the urge to celebrate. She could go home, but Yoshida and the staff were busy cleaning up after the gala last night- and all of them were short on sleep. The last thing Makoto wanted to do was barge back into the estate and force people to cater to her desires. She had gold in her pockets. She was in the middle of Tock-Yo. She would treat herself to something. She'd missed breakfast and lunch, after all.

Makoto realized she was actually quite hungry, and a few seconds later, she spied a local pub's chalkboard: Pork Cutlet! The bold lettering did not elaborate, but it didn't need to. The thought of a tonkatsu set... steaming rice, crispy breading on tender pork, a savory-sweet sauce... Makoto's mouth began watering. Pork cutlet and an ale. Unrefined. Common. Utterly delicious. They'd been her favorite whenever she'd gone into the central city on shopping expeditions with Yoshida. How long had it been?

Too long, Makoto decided. She stopped Johanna near the pub's hitching post, keeping a respectful distance from a raggedy-looking jackass, the only animal currently there. The beast bared its square-ish teeth at her, but she paid the ornery animal no mind as she stepped up onto the boardwalk and into the dim establishment.

It was basic. Wooden booths along the narrow walls, kitchen in the back. But many of the booths were occupied. A good sign of good food. And the smell of fried meat was an even better sign.

There seemed to be a single waitress, but she was busy collecting an order from the kitchen window. Makoto stood by the door for a moment, then remembered that in these sorts of informal places, one simply seated themselves. Wanting a peaceful meal to herself, Makoto headed for a booth in the far back corner, farthest from the other diners. Some people looked up from their food and tablemates to glance at her as she passed, but while some eyes lingered, there seemed no spark of recognition.

Makoto wasn't in her combat gear, nor in glaring fancy clothing, so she hopefully appeared as nothing more than a well-to-do citizen. But motorcycles were general indicators of wealth, and Johanna was a distinctive vehicle. Some members of the general population might recognize her if they put two and two together. Best to sit in the back and avoid the connection. She'd been on display once at Cafe Leblanc, so she hoped to avoid a similar experience.

She sat down in the final booth, back to door. The waitress spotted her, smiled, then walked elsewhere with two dishes of fried meat. Pork cutlets. The tonkatsu looked just as good as she'd hoped. This was a good idea.

Makoto's eyes turned to the back wall of the restaurant, roving the wood planking aimlessly as her mind began to plan out the rest of the day. Eat here. Afterward, she may as well visit Iwai's shop, since she was in the general area. Then home for the meeting this evening. And thinking of the meeting: how was she going to tell the Sakamoto kids they were not going to join the next hunt? They were going to argue, certainly. They were going to be disappointed. And mad. But they were too young. What if they were hurt? Again?! What if they died this time!? But how to convince them? Should she just tell their mother?...

Makoto felt her booth bench bounce. Someone was sliding into the booth behind her. A big someone, judging by how notable the bounce was.

"You read tha` paper today?" said a deep male voice.

"Yeah," responded another male. "The vampire at the ball? Crazy stuff. And right after Niijima got that other one, too."

"Not just that article. What about tha` other one, in tha` corner of tha` front page."

"Naw, I just read the first few lines of the big one."

"You missed out! Apparently, tha` young Niijima danced with a vampire. She's his lover."

(Makoto felt icy dread shoot through her, but she remained silent, listening to the conversation behind her.)

"What?! That's bullshit."

"Akechi Goro said so. In tha` paper, I tells ya! Sure as I'm in this seat."

"You have to be wrong. Vampires don't dance with women. They eat them."

"Not this one. It was that one vampire-hunter vampire. Tha` one who is allowed in tha` city."

"He's half vampire, you moron. He's half human."

"So?! That gives him tha` right to tha` first blood of Niijima's daughter?! He's probably lapping up her moon juice like a fucking dog! Just tha` idea of that half-breed monster juicing his seed in all tha` orgies they have up there in rich town. Pisses me off!"

"What-? What the hell are you talking about, Anai? What orgies?!"

"That's all Azabu is, I tell ya. Orgies."

Laughter. "You're so full of shit."

"Not as much as Hinata. You hear how he loaded tha` wrong load on tha` wrong wagon? And said someone else did it?"

"Hear about it? The foreman made me fix it!"

The rest of the men's conversation was lost to Makoto. Her mind was still recoiling from the gossip she'd just overheard. Lovers? Ren and her? Absurd! And in the paper?!

Another voice said something nearby. Makoto looked up from her table to see the waitress looking at her.

"Eh?" said Makoto, "Sorry. What?"

"What do you want, hun?" said the waitress.

Makoto wasn't hungry anymore. "Sorry, nothing. I- um- actually have something to do."

She stood up from the booth. The waitress stepped back with a surprised look on her face. Makoto bowed her head slightly in apology and walked towards the exit. One of the two men in the booth behind her made eye contact. They were both big men, laborers, surely. And while the man's eyes traveled the length of her body, they then drifted back to his companion at the table. He didn't recognize her as anything more than a young woman. A small mercy.

Makoto stepped back out into the sunlight, dread thick on her chest once more. She glanced up and down the muddy road. There was a small fruit and vegetable stand, a dressmaker, and some other indoor shops without readily apparent themes. A stray dog was sniffing at something under a boardwalk across the street, periodically eyeing passing pedestrians. Down the street, beyond the dog, a ramshackle newsstand stood on the roadside. A newsie boy was asleep on the cobblestones nearby, a tiny pile of unsold papers at his side.

Makoto strode down the street at a hurried pace. The bored shopkeeper in the newsstand took her coin for the paper without remark. Makoto took a few steps away from the stand and began reading the front page.

GALA OF DEATH!

Disguised vampire discovered, slain at Niijima party!

By Murakami Kayo

The Niijima Estate's victory gala ended abruptly last night when the dhampir known as 'Vampire Hunter Jay' stopped mid-dance to slay a disguised vampire. Eyewitnesses report that the target of Mr. Jay's assault appeared as a normal man until stabbed in the chest, whereupon he transformed into a bestial creature. "It was like a bat. And a lizard. But also a man" said Ms. Kanato Momoka, an attendee who witnessed the slaying: "It was like a man-lizard-bat. Like- really gross..."

Makoto's eyes skim-read the rest of the article. It seemed a relatively standard report of an event, keeping to known facts and only tentative in speculation. What had the man in the diner said? The other article in the corner of the front page? Makoto flipped the folder paper over to look at the bottom half of the front page. The other article was easy to spot.

For the Love of the Hunt

By Ohya Ichiko

Amidst the bloody climax of her inaugural gala, second-daughter Ms. Niijima Makoto stunned the ballroom by taking a dance with the darkly mysterious dhampir known as "Jay." Under her father's roof, Ms. Niijima twirled in half-steps with a half-vampire. Needless to say, eyebrows were raised amongst the partygoers.

But a dance amongst high-society is simply that: a dance. More a handshake than anything else. But perhaps not in this case, says Guard Captain Akechi Goro, a witness to the events of the evening.

"The look in Ms. Niijima Makoto's eyes was unmistakable," said Mr. Akechi Goro, "Being who I am, I've seen the look myself from many, many young women. It was romantic desire. There's simply no mistaking it."

A shocking claim, if true, that could-

Makoto crumpled the newspaper between her hands. Romantic desire? That petty bastard was getting revenge for his private embarrassments- in the fucking city newspaper! She'd known that dancing with Amamiya was a risk. She'd been able to see the optics just as well as anyone: the daughter of a famous vampire hunter and a half-vampire. Dancing. And all the sexual connotations of social dancing lying underneath. The idea was juicy like an overripe fruit.

Makoto had expected gossip, whispers and laughs behind teacups as word of mouth spread amongst high-society. But the fucking paper!? The idea hadn't crossed Makoto's mind. And now probably every tavern in the city was a place to swap lewd jokes about her over flagons of ale.

Shame and rage warred in Makoto's mind. Was she truly disgracing her father's name? No! We killed Kamoshida! We got a vampire. The city is safer! Don't pay any mind to gossiping fools!... But… was her relationship with Amamiya wrong, after all?

If she was honest with herself… what did she feel about Amamiya Ren? She remembered the iron-like hardness of his upper body. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Feel his closeness in the darkness of the cafe cellar. A thrilling shiver passed through her body.

Shame won the day. Makoto returned to Johanna and turned her towards Azabu. Makoto was eager to be home and amongst people who would not believe Akechi's lies.

But… was it a lie?