Demons, they are fiendish creatures that prey upon mankind. Their skins are tougher than any...
Tokyo Demon Hunters: Side-Story
- Thread starter Suzu
- Start date
- Original
- Created
- Status
- Ongoing
- Watchers
- 26
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 5
-
Statistics (3 threadmarks, 4.5k words)
User Total Suzu 3 -
Loading…
Chapter 001 - Sharp Claws, Glistening in the Dark
- Location
- secret base
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Demons, they are fiendish creatures that prey upon mankind. Their skins are tougher than any armor, their claws are sharper than any sword, and their hunger for human flesh is bottomless. They lurk in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to feed, and only the demon hunters, brave warriors born with special powers, can fight them on even ground.
However, to become a demon hunter, one needs something more than blood.
It started out as an ordinary day.
Jirou woke up early as always and went for a morning jog. After making three or four laps around the neighborhood and working up a good sweat, he took a quick shower and made a simple breakfast.
It wasn't as if Jirou was a sports freak, but something about running made him feel the kind of thrill he couldn't experience otherwise; he felt as if he was chasing something or someone.
Nonetheless, the figure he saw in the mirror remained as thin as ever, to his dismay. He hastily combed his unruly black hair and put on his school uniform.
He caught up with his buddies on their way to school, and they spent the rest of the road chatting about ordinary things. The boy's mundane life remained as static and uneventful as ever.
Jirou hazily passed through the monotony of school lessons, barely managing to refuse the temptation of taking a nap. The sound of his teachers indifferently reciting contents of their textbooks made it even harder to concentrate.
It was not like Jirou was a poor student - his grades ranged from average to above-average - but he often found it hard to focus all of his attention on a single object. His eyes would wander, picking up random things in the background, jumping from one classmate to another.
That day, Mr. Yamada was lecturing them about vampires. "They are a demon subspecies," he said, "that used to be regular humans. This makes them capable of thought, and therefore, more dangerous than their brethren."
"Thankfully," the teacher continued his lecture, "this also makes them weaker than ordinary demons. Even an average human can defeat a single vampire with proper training and equipment."
"That said, even if you happen to meet one of them, I would strongly advise against trying to capture them by yourself. Don't act like a hero; leave it to specialists," the teacher finished his lecture, and as of on cue, the bell rung.
For some reason, Jirou couldn't forget the look in Mr. Yamada's eyes for the rest of the day. There was something in the man's gray eyes that made his skin crawl. It disturbed him so much that the boy couldn't forget it even after the lessons were over.
Eventually, the boy realized something on the way to his part-time work: he knew this look from somewhere. He couldn't remember where or when that happened, but Jirou was convinced that it happened in the past.
The past he sadly had no recollection of. His earliest memories started when he was ten or so, and involved waking up on a hospital bed, knowing only his name. Then, he met Pops...
He spent the rest of the day waiting tables at a cafe with a French name he couldn't pronounce correctly, trying to make himself too busy to think about anything else. He wanted this to be an ordinary day, just like any other, but something felt off...
Jirou Takemichi was running, and unlike many times before, he wasn't running away from something. He looked over his shoulder and saw it - a demon.
It looked distorted, with sickly pale skin and a gaping oversized jaw. It looked distorted, with sickly pale skin, a gaping oversized jaw and an inhumanly long tongue. Its head was too small for its body, and its arms were almost skeletal, adorned by sharp, knife-like talons. Most frighteningly, it moved faster than its large frame suggested, crossing long distances with frog-like leaps.
There were no demons that looked the same, Jirou recalled, their form was partially shaped by their diet. They could mimic the qualities of the things they ate and amplify them.
He never knew what that meant until the demon leaped blocked the way forward with a single leap. The boy froze up in fear, unable to move a single muscle when the monster wrapped its massive hands around his body.
The demon was surprisingly gentle, trying to limit his discomfort as much as possible, but what surprised the boy the most was its eyes. They were wet as if the creature was about to cry.
And then, it spoke, trying to pronounce every syllable with utmost care. "Sorry," the demon said, its voice trembling. "Sorry, sorry," it repeated again and again, like a record.
"Sorry," it said as the tears surged from of its tiny, button-like eyes, and slowly put his head into its jaw.
Jirou closed his eyes and tried to convince himself this wasn't happening. It was supposed to be an ordinary day, he told himself, feeling the demon's breath with his face.
But something inside him, a part of him that seemingly remained half-asleep before this moment, said something different.
It told him to fight, to deny such a sad fate, to rip the enemy with his arms, to survive by any means necessary, and Jirou listened.
His body suddenly became feverish and lighter, much lighter than it used to be, and his hands - they didn't feel like his hands anymore. His fingers turned into claws, and for some reason, this felt right to him.
As for his teeth - he felt them up with his tongue - they became sharp. This felt wrong, and at the same time, just right.
He slowly grabbed the demon's little finger and squeezed it. Soon enough, he heard screams and felt something warm on his fingers.
Half an hour later, Jirou found himself pinned to a wall, with a sword in his stomach. The owner of the said sword - a demon hunter lady - was glaring at him. Soon enough, her gaze switched from him to a pile of flesh on the floor, and then - back at him.
For a moment, she seemed a bit unnerved, but then, without pulling her sword out, put her hand into an open palm and let out a muffled shriek.
"Listen up, fresh meat," the demon hunter said, giving him the dryest of looks, "if I understood everything right - and I am one-hundred-percent confident that I did - you just awakened your potential and instantly killed a Werewolf-class demon. This is very damn impressive, fresh meat."
Finally, she pulled the sword out, leaving him bleeding on the floor. "You have two options now," she said and showed him two fingers to make the point clear.
"You are going to receive proper training and guidance at Tokyo Metropolitan Demon Hunter High School - which is a pretty cool place, by the way," she beamed at him. "This is option one."
"The option two is..."
Suddenly, Jirou felt something sharp and cold press against his neck. "Sorry, fresh meat, but you're crazy strong. I need to eliminate folk like you before they become a problem," she said as her smile became sharper. "I'll just call you a demon in the report. Hell, the big wigs might even promote me for slaying two demons at once!"
"So," the demon hunter asked, "a promotion or a student? Which one are you gonna be, fresh meat?"
You knew this day was going to be awful from the moment you saw some stranger enter your classroom with a dumb look at his face. He had black, tangled-up hair that made look even dumber and round yellow eyes that roamed around the room, jumping from one person to another.
Finally, your eyes met, and you already knew this guy was no good, even before learning his name.
Character Generation: Step 1/2 - Origin.
You are a...
[] Demon hunter-in-training. You come from a family of demon hunters. Your father, mother, brothers, sisters, uncles, and aunts are either active, registered, or retired demon hunters. In turn, you were expected to follow their lead and use the powers you were born with to protect innocent people.
[] Vampire. You are a spy, sent to the Tokyo Metropolitan Demon Hunter High School to amass as much information as possible and share it with your clansmen. The only reason you haven't been found out is due to your unique physiology, masking your true nature.
[] Demon. You don't remember anything. You just found yourself wandering the streets of a small rural town one day, and when strange people in black suits found you, they said you're something called Judas-type demon and sent you to this strange place filled with humans.
However, to become a demon hunter, one needs something more than blood.
It started out as an ordinary day.
Jirou woke up early as always and went for a morning jog. After making three or four laps around the neighborhood and working up a good sweat, he took a quick shower and made a simple breakfast.
It wasn't as if Jirou was a sports freak, but something about running made him feel the kind of thrill he couldn't experience otherwise; he felt as if he was chasing something or someone.
Nonetheless, the figure he saw in the mirror remained as thin as ever, to his dismay. He hastily combed his unruly black hair and put on his school uniform.
He caught up with his buddies on their way to school, and they spent the rest of the road chatting about ordinary things. The boy's mundane life remained as static and uneventful as ever.
Jirou hazily passed through the monotony of school lessons, barely managing to refuse the temptation of taking a nap. The sound of his teachers indifferently reciting contents of their textbooks made it even harder to concentrate.
It was not like Jirou was a poor student - his grades ranged from average to above-average - but he often found it hard to focus all of his attention on a single object. His eyes would wander, picking up random things in the background, jumping from one classmate to another.
That day, Mr. Yamada was lecturing them about vampires. "They are a demon subspecies," he said, "that used to be regular humans. This makes them capable of thought, and therefore, more dangerous than their brethren."
"Thankfully," the teacher continued his lecture, "this also makes them weaker than ordinary demons. Even an average human can defeat a single vampire with proper training and equipment."
"That said, even if you happen to meet one of them, I would strongly advise against trying to capture them by yourself. Don't act like a hero; leave it to specialists," the teacher finished his lecture, and as of on cue, the bell rung.
For some reason, Jirou couldn't forget the look in Mr. Yamada's eyes for the rest of the day. There was something in the man's gray eyes that made his skin crawl. It disturbed him so much that the boy couldn't forget it even after the lessons were over.
Eventually, the boy realized something on the way to his part-time work: he knew this look from somewhere. He couldn't remember where or when that happened, but Jirou was convinced that it happened in the past.
The past he sadly had no recollection of. His earliest memories started when he was ten or so, and involved waking up on a hospital bed, knowing only his name. Then, he met Pops...
He spent the rest of the day waiting tables at a cafe with a French name he couldn't pronounce correctly, trying to make himself too busy to think about anything else. He wanted this to be an ordinary day, just like any other, but something felt off...
Jirou Takemichi was running, and unlike many times before, he wasn't running away from something. He looked over his shoulder and saw it - a demon.
It looked distorted, with sickly pale skin and a gaping oversized jaw. It looked distorted, with sickly pale skin, a gaping oversized jaw and an inhumanly long tongue. Its head was too small for its body, and its arms were almost skeletal, adorned by sharp, knife-like talons. Most frighteningly, it moved faster than its large frame suggested, crossing long distances with frog-like leaps.
There were no demons that looked the same, Jirou recalled, their form was partially shaped by their diet. They could mimic the qualities of the things they ate and amplify them.
He never knew what that meant until the demon leaped blocked the way forward with a single leap. The boy froze up in fear, unable to move a single muscle when the monster wrapped its massive hands around his body.
The demon was surprisingly gentle, trying to limit his discomfort as much as possible, but what surprised the boy the most was its eyes. They were wet as if the creature was about to cry.
And then, it spoke, trying to pronounce every syllable with utmost care. "Sorry," the demon said, its voice trembling. "Sorry, sorry," it repeated again and again, like a record.
"Sorry," it said as the tears surged from of its tiny, button-like eyes, and slowly put his head into its jaw.
Jirou closed his eyes and tried to convince himself this wasn't happening. It was supposed to be an ordinary day, he told himself, feeling the demon's breath with his face.
But something inside him, a part of him that seemingly remained half-asleep before this moment, said something different.
It told him to fight, to deny such a sad fate, to rip the enemy with his arms, to survive by any means necessary, and Jirou listened.
His body suddenly became feverish and lighter, much lighter than it used to be, and his hands - they didn't feel like his hands anymore. His fingers turned into claws, and for some reason, this felt right to him.
As for his teeth - he felt them up with his tongue - they became sharp. This felt wrong, and at the same time, just right.
He slowly grabbed the demon's little finger and squeezed it. Soon enough, he heard screams and felt something warm on his fingers.
Half an hour later, Jirou found himself pinned to a wall, with a sword in his stomach. The owner of the said sword - a demon hunter lady - was glaring at him. Soon enough, her gaze switched from him to a pile of flesh on the floor, and then - back at him.
For a moment, she seemed a bit unnerved, but then, without pulling her sword out, put her hand into an open palm and let out a muffled shriek.
"Listen up, fresh meat," the demon hunter said, giving him the dryest of looks, "if I understood everything right - and I am one-hundred-percent confident that I did - you just awakened your potential and instantly killed a Werewolf-class demon. This is very damn impressive, fresh meat."
Finally, she pulled the sword out, leaving him bleeding on the floor. "You have two options now," she said and showed him two fingers to make the point clear.
"You are going to receive proper training and guidance at Tokyo Metropolitan Demon Hunter High School - which is a pretty cool place, by the way," she beamed at him. "This is option one."
"The option two is..."
Suddenly, Jirou felt something sharp and cold press against his neck. "Sorry, fresh meat, but you're crazy strong. I need to eliminate folk like you before they become a problem," she said as her smile became sharper. "I'll just call you a demon in the report. Hell, the big wigs might even promote me for slaying two demons at once!"
"So," the demon hunter asked, "a promotion or a student? Which one are you gonna be, fresh meat?"
You knew this day was going to be awful from the moment you saw some stranger enter your classroom with a dumb look at his face. He had black, tangled-up hair that made look even dumber and round yellow eyes that roamed around the room, jumping from one person to another.
Finally, your eyes met, and you already knew this guy was no good, even before learning his name.
Character Generation: Step 1/2 - Origin.
You are a...
[] Demon hunter-in-training. You come from a family of demon hunters. Your father, mother, brothers, sisters, uncles, and aunts are either active, registered, or retired demon hunters. In turn, you were expected to follow their lead and use the powers you were born with to protect innocent people.
[] Vampire. You are a spy, sent to the Tokyo Metropolitan Demon Hunter High School to amass as much information as possible and share it with your clansmen. The only reason you haven't been found out is due to your unique physiology, masking your true nature.
[] Demon. You don't remember anything. You just found yourself wandering the streets of a small rural town one day, and when strange people in black suits found you, they said you're something called Judas-type demon and sent you to this strange place filled with humans.
Player Character
Characters
- Location
- secret base
- Pronouns
- She/Her
- Jirou Takemichi
-
Article: 
Name: Jirou Takemichi
Description: ???
Abilities: ???
Relationship: ??? - ???
-
Article:
Name: ???
Description: ???
Abilities: ???
Relationship: ??? - ???
-
Article:
Name: ???
Description: ???
Abilities: ???
Relationship: ???
Last edited:
- Location
- Somewhere
[X] Vampire.
I want to be a bad guy.
I want to be a bad guy.
[X] Demon. You don't remember anything. You just found yourself wandering the streets of a small rural town one day, and when strange people in black suits found you, they said you're something called Judas-type demon and sent you to this strange place filled with humans.
The real question is how he knows it's a rural town when he has no memory?
The real question is how he knows it's a rural town when he has no memory?
- Location
- Rapidly approaching your location.
- Pronouns
- Any/Morb
[X] Vampire.
Danger! Espionage! Love! Also makes sense for our teeth. Maybe they're like cat claws and are retractable, that's why we weren't found out? Catpire? Vampat? Vampirecat!
Danger! Espionage! Love! Also makes sense for our teeth. Maybe they're like cat claws and are retractable, that's why we weren't found out? Catpire? Vampat? Vampirecat!
- Location
- secret base
- Pronouns
- She/Her
You are a different character.
Imagine there is an anime out there called "Tokyo Demon Hunters." Jirou would be the main character of this anime.
However, the main character of this quest isn't Jirou. The main character for this quest will be generated by voting.
- Location
- Rapidly approaching your location.
- Pronouns
- Any/Morb
So, we're the guy with a dumb look on our face? Perfect disguise for a Vampire Infiltrator!
No, the guy with the dumb look on his face is Jirou. We're the guy/girl who saw Jirou in class.
It's kind of misleading, since I'm willing to bet most voters think they're deciding who Jirou is going to be.
- Location
- Rapidly approaching your location.
- Pronouns
- Any/Morb
Yeah my reading comprehension isn't up to date... still, vampire spy is the most interesting choice for me!
Crimson Flight
华裔机甲迷
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Demon hunter-in-training. You come from a family of demon hunters. Your father, mother, brothers, sisters, uncles, and aunts are either active, registered, or retired demon hunters. In turn, you were expected to follow their lead and use the powers you were born with to protect innocent people.
正義の味方！
正義の味方！
- Location
- Milky Way, Orion Arm, 3rd rock from the sun
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Demon hunter-in-training. You come from a family of demon hunters. Your father, mother, brothers, sisters, uncles, and aunts are either active, registered, or retired demon hunters. In turn, you were expected to follow their lead and use the powers you were born with to protect innocent people.
Crimson Flight
华裔机甲迷
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
CV: ???
- Location
- secret base
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Noriaki Sugiyama, dubbed by Bryce Papenbrook
[X] Vampire.
Chapter 002 - "Desperate Youth, Bloom"
- Location
- secret base
- Pronouns
- She/Her
"You must be wondering why I decided to summon you here."
The old man sitting before you was correct: there were no discernible reasons for the oyabun of the Kashima-gumi, one of the largest vampire clans in Japan, to show any interest in a simple grunt like you, even if the circumstances of your turning slightly diverged from the norm.
"Don't worry," he said with a calm, almost grandfatherly smile. "You're not in any trouble."
You were confident that none of your anxiety was showing on your face, but there was no fooling the man. Although he looked like an ordinary man in his early sixties, you knew for a fact he was positively ancient, and if the rumors you heard were true, old enough to witness the Taisho era.
It was abnormal for a vampire to reach such an advanced age: they would typically either die by the hand of a stray demon hunter or lose any will to live and fade away. However, it appeared that this man only grew stronger with age; like a mighty tree, he became sturdier and started growing more branches, so to speak.
"The opposite, in fact," he told you. "I am giving you a chance to prove your worth, young one."
He pulled out a folder out of his brown kimono and offered it to you; his outstretched arm looked thin, almost skeletal, with milky-white skin wrapped tightly around it. You accepted the folder, trying to act as dignifiedly as possible, and opened it.
Inside the folder, you found a neat stack of documents – certificates, test results and an acceptance letter with your face on it. The name on the documents, however, was not yours, but more importantly, you recognized the emblem on the letter – Tokyo Metropolitan Demon Hunter High School.
"You might not know this," the old man started talking again, "but our situation is becoming quite dire. The demon hunters are becoming more and more successful in eradicating demons that wander into the cities, and with this problem out of the way, they can focus their attention on something else – or rather, someone else."
The answer was fairly obvious, so you named it: "Us."
"Other vampire clans, too," he added. "Humans are ungrateful creatures, you see. Even though we make sure to protect the neighborhoods we live in by eliminating vermin in exchange for a small fee, they would gladly exterminate all of us as if we're nothing but beasts. Dreadful. Utterly dreadful."
You noticed that the way he referred to "humans" as if they were an entirely different species, but decided against pointing that out. It was quite a possibly a quirk all older vampires shared.
"You might not know this, but some of our men managed to infiltrate their ranks, and what they found was... quite alarming."
The old man procured a kiseru pipe and lit it up with one fluid motion.
"Speaking practically, the only advantage vampires have over normal demons is that we can blend in. We can live among humans without drawing any suspicion. This, however, can soon change.
The Demon Hunter Research Division is working on a way to distinguish whether one has demon blood inside them or not. On paper, it'd be used to find more demon hunter candidates."
It was a surprise for you to find out that the powers demon hunters used in battle came, contrary to the public version, from demonic ancestry. In a way, demon hunters and vampires were similar in that they both were humans who had demon blood surging through their veins.
"Unfortunately, the Demon Hunter Bureau doesn't trust outsiders much, and all the agents we have are outsiders.
"This is where you come in," he finished. "You alone can infiltrate their school and rise through the ranks from there. Demon hunter alumni are typically favored for promotions, especially if they want to become researchers."
The reason you were the only member of the clan suited for this mission went unsaid. As a rule, only high-ranking members of the Kashima-gumi become vampires, ensuring that only the most trustworthy people gain this power. Therefore, all the other members were far too old to pass as high school students.
You, on the other hand, still looked like an adolescent.
"This mission might take years to complete, but I believe you will eventually succeed."
"Of course," you bowed in a show of respect, "grandfather."
The transfer student was an enigma.
You made sure to familiarize yourself with the local demon hunter clans in preparation for this mission, and the boy didn't belong to any of them as far as you could tell, and at the same time, he didn't display the mannerisms associated with the kind of demons normally recruited by the government.
He was either a member of some remote clan, banished here for some reason, or one of the naturals – a person who managed to awaken his dormant heritage on his own, and the dumbfounded look on his face lent more credibility to the latter possibility.
This was, to put it plainly, an unexpected occurrence. Nonetheless, you could work with that. In fact, it would probably be much easier to fool him compared to your other classmates. Unlike them, he probably wasn't raised in an environment that encouraged constant vigilance.
"His name is Jirou Takemichi," the homeroom teacher, Mr. Kawamoto, said. "He came here all the way from Chiba, so make sure to treat him kindly and shower him with plenty of love."
"Speaking of which," he smiled, baring two rows of sharp, needle-like teeth, a trait he often called his charm point. Mr. Kawamoto, from what you could gather, was a former demon hunter of unspecified rank, and older demon hunters were known for their eccentrics, "how about we greet the new kid with some style?"
He patted the boy's shoulder with his right – and only – arm and cheerfully exclaimed: "Go change into something comfortable: we're having a PE lesson now."
The reactions of your classmates ranged from enthusiastic to mildly annoyed; you personally tried to stifle a tired groan. You weren't a big fan of physical exercises, much less the kind of exercise Mr. Kawamoto liked to inflict upon his students.
Obediently, all students of the class 1-C marched to the changing rooms. There, you swiftly removed the school-issued uniform – a brown blazer, a white shirt, and a pleated skirt – and put on a simple gym uniform with the school logo on it.
By the time you entered the gym, almost half of your classmates were already there, the transfer student included.
"Okay, okay!" the teacher shouted eagerly, "let's start with a simple warm-up, boys and girl! Grab your training swords and give them a few practice swings! There are thirteen of you, so thirteen swings should be enough!"
You finally let out a tired sigh and picked the training sword – a simple katana with a dulled edge. The weight in your hands felt familiar at this point, but by the time you were finished, your breathing started to come up in sharp pants.
There was no denying that you were slightly weaker than the rest of your classmates, but thankfully, you had an alibi of sorts: you were interested in becoming a demon researcher and therefore unlikely to actively participate in actual demon hunts. In reality, your nature as a vampire made you weaker than a demon hunter, even if you were more experienced than them.
Just as you were about to put the sword back on its rack, you noticed something curious. The transfer student desperately struggling to pick up his own sword, his face red from the strain and, judging from the laughs of your classmates, the embarrassment.
"Hey, hey, hey, kiddo," Mr. Kawamoto said with the same easy-going smile as ever. However, the look in his eyes made you shiver. His eyes reminded you too much of your grandfather; he looked like an animal sizing up its prey. "Let me teach you some stuff, Jirou-boy!"
He pulled the boy back and easily picked up the training sword with one hand, making it look almost weightless. "See, the thing about these boys here is that," he made a quick slash, kicking up a small cloud of dust, "the blades are made out of demon bones.
"Demons, they are very funky creatures. They tend to eat all kinds of stuff and mimic its properties... except they make everything they eat better. Their skin is dense, their muscles are strong, and their teeth can easily break a man in half.
"This means," he summed up as his smile disappeared, "if you can't even lift this sword, you're nothing more than dead meat, kiddo."
In an instant, moving so fast your brain could barely follow, Mr. Kawamoto stuck the sword in the ground and walked off. "If you don't show me thirteen swings by the end of this week, I will expel your ass out of my school," he said on his way to the exit. "What a freaking joke."
All the transfer student could do was to stare at the sword in the ground, his expression unreadable.
[] Help him.
[] Leave him be.
The old man sitting before you was correct: there were no discernible reasons for the oyabun of the Kashima-gumi, one of the largest vampire clans in Japan, to show any interest in a simple grunt like you, even if the circumstances of your turning slightly diverged from the norm.
"Don't worry," he said with a calm, almost grandfatherly smile. "You're not in any trouble."
You were confident that none of your anxiety was showing on your face, but there was no fooling the man. Although he looked like an ordinary man in his early sixties, you knew for a fact he was positively ancient, and if the rumors you heard were true, old enough to witness the Taisho era.
It was abnormal for a vampire to reach such an advanced age: they would typically either die by the hand of a stray demon hunter or lose any will to live and fade away. However, it appeared that this man only grew stronger with age; like a mighty tree, he became sturdier and started growing more branches, so to speak.
"The opposite, in fact," he told you. "I am giving you a chance to prove your worth, young one."
He pulled out a folder out of his brown kimono and offered it to you; his outstretched arm looked thin, almost skeletal, with milky-white skin wrapped tightly around it. You accepted the folder, trying to act as dignifiedly as possible, and opened it.
Inside the folder, you found a neat stack of documents – certificates, test results and an acceptance letter with your face on it. The name on the documents, however, was not yours, but more importantly, you recognized the emblem on the letter – Tokyo Metropolitan Demon Hunter High School.
"You might not know this," the old man started talking again, "but our situation is becoming quite dire. The demon hunters are becoming more and more successful in eradicating demons that wander into the cities, and with this problem out of the way, they can focus their attention on something else – or rather, someone else."
The answer was fairly obvious, so you named it: "Us."
"Other vampire clans, too," he added. "Humans are ungrateful creatures, you see. Even though we make sure to protect the neighborhoods we live in by eliminating vermin in exchange for a small fee, they would gladly exterminate all of us as if we're nothing but beasts. Dreadful. Utterly dreadful."
You noticed that the way he referred to "humans" as if they were an entirely different species, but decided against pointing that out. It was quite a possibly a quirk all older vampires shared.
"You might not know this, but some of our men managed to infiltrate their ranks, and what they found was... quite alarming."
The old man procured a kiseru pipe and lit it up with one fluid motion.
"Speaking practically, the only advantage vampires have over normal demons is that we can blend in. We can live among humans without drawing any suspicion. This, however, can soon change.
The Demon Hunter Research Division is working on a way to distinguish whether one has demon blood inside them or not. On paper, it'd be used to find more demon hunter candidates."
It was a surprise for you to find out that the powers demon hunters used in battle came, contrary to the public version, from demonic ancestry. In a way, demon hunters and vampires were similar in that they both were humans who had demon blood surging through their veins.
"Unfortunately, the Demon Hunter Bureau doesn't trust outsiders much, and all the agents we have are outsiders.
"This is where you come in," he finished. "You alone can infiltrate their school and rise through the ranks from there. Demon hunter alumni are typically favored for promotions, especially if they want to become researchers."
The reason you were the only member of the clan suited for this mission went unsaid. As a rule, only high-ranking members of the Kashima-gumi become vampires, ensuring that only the most trustworthy people gain this power. Therefore, all the other members were far too old to pass as high school students.
You, on the other hand, still looked like an adolescent.
"This mission might take years to complete, but I believe you will eventually succeed."
"Of course," you bowed in a show of respect, "grandfather."
The transfer student was an enigma.
You made sure to familiarize yourself with the local demon hunter clans in preparation for this mission, and the boy didn't belong to any of them as far as you could tell, and at the same time, he didn't display the mannerisms associated with the kind of demons normally recruited by the government.
He was either a member of some remote clan, banished here for some reason, or one of the naturals – a person who managed to awaken his dormant heritage on his own, and the dumbfounded look on his face lent more credibility to the latter possibility.
This was, to put it plainly, an unexpected occurrence. Nonetheless, you could work with that. In fact, it would probably be much easier to fool him compared to your other classmates. Unlike them, he probably wasn't raised in an environment that encouraged constant vigilance.
"His name is Jirou Takemichi," the homeroom teacher, Mr. Kawamoto, said. "He came here all the way from Chiba, so make sure to treat him kindly and shower him with plenty of love."
"Speaking of which," he smiled, baring two rows of sharp, needle-like teeth, a trait he often called his charm point. Mr. Kawamoto, from what you could gather, was a former demon hunter of unspecified rank, and older demon hunters were known for their eccentrics, "how about we greet the new kid with some style?"
He patted the boy's shoulder with his right – and only – arm and cheerfully exclaimed: "Go change into something comfortable: we're having a PE lesson now."
The reactions of your classmates ranged from enthusiastic to mildly annoyed; you personally tried to stifle a tired groan. You weren't a big fan of physical exercises, much less the kind of exercise Mr. Kawamoto liked to inflict upon his students.
Obediently, all students of the class 1-C marched to the changing rooms. There, you swiftly removed the school-issued uniform – a brown blazer, a white shirt, and a pleated skirt – and put on a simple gym uniform with the school logo on it.
By the time you entered the gym, almost half of your classmates were already there, the transfer student included.
"Okay, okay!" the teacher shouted eagerly, "let's start with a simple warm-up, boys and girl! Grab your training swords and give them a few practice swings! There are thirteen of you, so thirteen swings should be enough!"
You finally let out a tired sigh and picked the training sword – a simple katana with a dulled edge. The weight in your hands felt familiar at this point, but by the time you were finished, your breathing started to come up in sharp pants.
There was no denying that you were slightly weaker than the rest of your classmates, but thankfully, you had an alibi of sorts: you were interested in becoming a demon researcher and therefore unlikely to actively participate in actual demon hunts. In reality, your nature as a vampire made you weaker than a demon hunter, even if you were more experienced than them.
Just as you were about to put the sword back on its rack, you noticed something curious. The transfer student desperately struggling to pick up his own sword, his face red from the strain and, judging from the laughs of your classmates, the embarrassment.
"Hey, hey, hey, kiddo," Mr. Kawamoto said with the same easy-going smile as ever. However, the look in his eyes made you shiver. His eyes reminded you too much of your grandfather; he looked like an animal sizing up its prey. "Let me teach you some stuff, Jirou-boy!"
He pulled the boy back and easily picked up the training sword with one hand, making it look almost weightless. "See, the thing about these boys here is that," he made a quick slash, kicking up a small cloud of dust, "the blades are made out of demon bones.
"Demons, they are very funky creatures. They tend to eat all kinds of stuff and mimic its properties... except they make everything they eat better. Their skin is dense, their muscles are strong, and their teeth can easily break a man in half.
"This means," he summed up as his smile disappeared, "if you can't even lift this sword, you're nothing more than dead meat, kiddo."
In an instant, moving so fast your brain could barely follow, Mr. Kawamoto stuck the sword in the ground and walked off. "If you don't show me thirteen swings by the end of this week, I will expel your ass out of my school," he said on his way to the exit. "What a freaking joke."
All the transfer student could do was to stare at the sword in the ground, his expression unreadable.
[] Help him.
[] Leave him be.
Crimson Flight
华裔机甲迷
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Help him.
That's right, transfer student! We'll get all the screentime, not only in this OVA of ours, but in the main series too!
That's right, transfer student! We'll get all the screentime, not only in this OVA of ours, but in the main series too!
