Interlude 1: And So, Hiratsuka Shizuka Endures


The evening sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and violet as Hiratsuka Shizuka guided her car through the narrow roads of Chiba.

The city, bathed in the golden light of dusk, appeared deceptively tranquil. A perfect mask for the shadows lurking beneath the surface. The hum of the engine was the only sound accompanying her thoughts, a welcome distraction from the unsettling calm that had settled over Japan in the recent months.

Despite the rising presence of blood-suckers—creatures of the night, forever cursed with an insatiable thirst for blood, or also known as Vampires—life remained relatively normal. On the surface, at least.

People went about their lives, blissfully unaware of the nocturnal predators that had learned to blend in so well with society. The more advanced types, the ones who were lucky enough to not grow 'mad' upon being turned, had perfected the art of hiding in plain sight.

They walked among humans by day, their predatory nature only surfacing under the cover of darkness. They were smart about it, too. They targeted transient people, of which Japan had plenty off, blending in with urban legends and shady rumors that was rife within the Japanese online space.

Every now and then you'd see the news reporting about a dead body being found in an apartment, only to be dismissed because the victim happened to be a known loner, had no living relatives, or even suicidal.

But she knew better; her people knew better. This had been their Modus Operandi for decades now, the only exceptions could be counted alone in one hand, and the most recent one happening not too long ago.

She could not shake the feeling that something was amiss. The reports had been too clean, too devoid of the usual chaos that accompanied Sanguophages sightings. The essays Hachiman wrote tend to be drivel, but she'd never question the quality of his after action reports.

He tended to be meticulous, detailing his nightly patrols and the lack of encounters with the creatures. But it was this lack of… anything that gnawed at her, an absence that felt more like a presence in disguise. As she guided her car into the small parking lot beside a nondescript bar, a sense of unease settled deep in her chest.

The establishment was a place that catered to the discreet, a refuge for those who wished to remain unseen. The exterior was unremarkable, blending into the surrounding buildings with a kind of deliberate anonymity.

Hiratsuka killed the engine, the sudden silence amplifying the distant hum of the city. She stepped out of the car, her heels of her shoes clicking against the pavement as she surveyed her surroundings. The night air was cool, carrying with it the faint of salt from the nearby bay.

Pushing open the door, she was greeted by the familiar scent of aged wood and stale cigarette smoke. The interior of the bar was dimly lit, the heavy shadows concealing more than they revealed.

It was the kind of place where conversations were kept low and eyes averted, a haven for those who thrived in the twilight between worlds. Hiratsuka's gaze swept the room, quickly locating the figure seated on a stool at the bar.

The woman's hat was tilted just enough to obscure her features, but her presence was unmistakable. Hiratsuka made her way to the bar, her footsteps barely making a sound against the worn floorboards. She slid into the seat left of the woman, her movements smooth and deliberate, as if a part of a well-rehearsed ritual.

The bartender, a man of few words and fewer expressions, placed a glass of whiskey in front of Hiratsuka without so much as a nod. She took a sip, savoring the warmth that spread through her chest.

Lord knows she's going to need it.

"I've been going over my operator's reports," Hiratsuka began, her voice low and steady. "Not a single encounter. No sightings, no strange activity. Nothing." She paused, studying the woman's reaction—or rather, the lack thereof. "It doesn't sit right with me."

The woman tilted her head slightly, the brim of her hat casting a shadow over her eyes. A faint smile played at the corners of her lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You think there's something more to it?"

"I don't think. I know." Hiratsuka said, clenching the glass of whiskey in her grip. "It's too clean, too perfect. Either someone's covering their tracks, or there's a leak."

The smile on the woman's lips widened, though there was no warmth to it. "A leak? That's a bold accusation, Shizuka-chan."

She didn't flinch at the implicit challenge. "Bold, maybe. But not unfounded. You know as well as I do that even the best of us slip up every now and then."

"And blood is the slipperiest of all liquids, especially in our world," the woman sighed airily. "But I can say with certainty that there have been no leaks whatsoever."

"Then what?" Hiratsuka pressed, her voice tinged with frustration. "We're talking about my Hunter here, one of the best Hunters I know. He's been patrolling night after night, and yet there's been nothing. No signs, no encounters. It doesn't add up."

A soft chuckle escaped the woman's lips, the sound almost too light for the weight of their conversation. "Perhaps it's the calm before the storm. Remember the wide-scale operation that your people carried out less than a year ago? Maybe it was… too effective?"

Hiratsuka's mind flashed back to that time, the memories sharp and clear. The rumors had spread like wildfire, whispers of a massacre that had sent ripples through the underworld, and had persisted till this day.

It also resulted in the reputation of a certain dead fish-eyed loner getting dragged through the mud, having been absent from school for extended periods, and only to appear every now and then covered in bruises and bandages.

No one knew the truth of his absence and attributed it to apathy, while it had always — instead — been all about duty to him.

"You're saying that's why they have gone quiet?" Hiratsuka asked, though the answer was already forming in her mind.

The woman's expression softened, the playful mask slipping back into place. "It's a possibility, isn't it? The survivors are likely in hiding, licking their wounds. It's only natural that they'd avoid confrontation for a while."

"And yet," Hiratsuka countered, "we're still putting her under constant watch. If things are so peaceful, why the need for a bodyguard?"

The shift in the woman's demeanor was almost imperceptible, but Hiratsuka caught it—the slight tightening of her grip on the glass, the way her gaze seemed to darken. "Because she has awakened."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, the weight of their meaning pressing down on Hiratsuka's chest. She felt lightheaded and weighed down at the same time.

"So it's true," Hiratsuka murmured, more to herself than to the woman.

A nod followed, the woman's expression unreadable. "It is. And that's why we need someone we—I can trust watching over Yukino. Your Hunter may be young, but he's proven himself capable. More than capable, really."

Hiratsuka couldn't argue with that. Hachiman's skills were undeniable, his instincts sharp and his resolve unyielding. But the knowledge that he was, potentially, up against something far more dangerous than a mere blood-sucker made her uneasy. "And if something happens?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The woman's smile returned, though it was laced with something akin to resignation. "Then we'll deal with it, as we always have. But for now, we trust in his abilities. He's handled worse before, I'm sure."

Hiratsuka nodded, though her heart was heavy with doubt. She watched as the woman stood, adjusting her hat before slipping a few bills onto the table. "I have other matters to attend to," the woman said, her tone light once more. "But remember, Shizuka-chan—there's more at play here than what you can see. Keep your eyes open."

And with that, the woman was gone, leaving Hiratsuka alone with her thoughts.

The noise of the bar, once distant, now seemed to close in on her, the voices and laughter a sharp contrast to the grim reality of her situation. She took another sip of her whiskey, the bitterness a welcome distraction from the turmoil brewing within her.

Was she making the right decision by letting Hachiman take on this role? There was no doubt about his skill—he was one of the best hunters she had ever seen, despite his age. But this? This was different. This was a responsibility that could break even the strongest of them.

As she stared into the amber liquid, the shadows in the bar seemed to stretch and twist, a reflection of the growing darkness in Chiba. The calm before the storm, she thought grimly.

And Hiratsuka Shizuka could only hope that when the storm finally hit, they would be ready to face it.

Chapter End


If you want to help support me and read future chapters earlier, you can check out my Pat re on or ko-fi if you just want to drop a tip. Every dollar helps a lot, you will be making a difference. Especially at this moment in time.