Part One, Chapter One

The things of darkness hid, and the hunter hunted.
He sat atop a tall building, watching the streets of Tokyo. The things had become aware of him recently, and as a result the streets were void of ill-life.
Not to say that they were empty, the sidewalks teemed with the nightlife. Ravers and late graveyard shift businessmen walked side by side under the streetlamps, looking for the next big push (either in drugs or in money).
But what the hunter wanted, what he looked for, was no longer prowling the night. He knew they were not extinct, their stench could never be mistaken once it had been pointed out to you. But of all the self-important souls out tonight, none were minercuran.
The hunter himself had noticed their signs, unintelligible scribblings on the streets.
He is young, no older than twenty
He’s a native
His hair is blonde, spiked down around his face
The list goes on.
Now he sat on this rooftop, cigarette burning in one gloved hand while his spiky hair ruffled slightly with the wind. He wore sunglasses, even in the night, but balanced them on the end of his nose to avoid total darkness.
Almost directly beneath him a businessman strolled, carrying his briefcase in front of him, held to his chest like a sick pet. Behind him followed a character who would arouse suspicion even amongst commoners. He wore clothes over as much of him as possible, leaving only a blunted nose peaking out from under a baseball cap. His clothes were black, and he walked with a sort of scurrying shuffle one usually associates with rats.
But the hunter saw none of this. No, what he saw was that the man was surrounded by a brilliant red aura. Like his smell, it was only noticeable once it had been shown to you.
It was time to hunt.

Part Two, Chapter One

Mr. Hiroshi moved down the sidewalk in long strolls, the streetlamps illuminating his path. His mind was focused on getting home to his wife, who no doubt was already in bed asleep. His mind was elsewhere, and so he never got the feeling that he was being followed. Therefore, he never heard the footsteps behind him, and never turned to see who or what was trailing him. If he had of looked behind him, his life might have been spared.
Behind him was a minercuran, a being of darkness. His name was Shima Sorano, and he had lived countless years. He wore clothes that covered his entire body to hide his skin, which bore no pigment. His hat was pulled down over his ears to hide their points, and he was hoping that the bill of the cap would shadow his eyes, too.
Mr. Hiroshi turned around a building, leading him to his home. The street he came out on was deserted, its happenings hidden from the eyes of the public.
The hunter found them then, Shima standing above a carcass that looked only vaguely human. Ready for battle, he quickly pulled three silver stakes from his pouch and threw them at the minercuran. Shima fell back, one lodging itself in his shoulder while the others missed him. Until that moment he had not noticed the hunter, and now he turned, his eyes wide with anger.
The hunter wasted no time in throwing three more stakes, and while Shima was dodging them he landed a hard right fist into his jaw. The blow knocked off Shima’s hat, which fell to the ground without a noise.
It was now that the hunter realized that he had made a mistake. Now he could see Shima in his entirety, something to be feared.
First he noticed the white skin and pointed ears, both signs of a second class minercuran. A second class was a challenge, but nothing too difficult, he had killed one not three days ago. But what caught his attention was Shima’s eyes.
The iris of the eyes was a deep red, a color which pulsated, making his eye seem almost to breathe independently. Surround this throbbing thing was blackness, what would usually be called the whites of the eyes.
Shima registered the hunter’s fear and smiled, “I see that Arakawa hasn’t finished with you yet. You’ve never faced a first class before, have you?”

Part Three, Chapter One

Shima approached the hunter, any fear he had may have had washed away by his opponent’s expression. He opened and closed his hands, feeling the ancient tendons creak.
“You stuck silver in me, you bastard,” he said, his grin widening into a grimace. “You stuck silver into me . . .”
The hunter tried to back away but tripped over the businessman’s body. He fell on the concrete with a thud, sending a sharp pain up his back. He looked up, his sunglasses sliding off his face to shatter on the ground. Shima kicked the hunter in the face, sending him backwards and onto his back.
Shima but one work boot on the hunter’s groin, pressing down with his heel. The hunter screamed, thrashing around in intense agony.
On the other side of the street a door opened, and a woman wearing a robe leaned out of her house.
“Who’s out there? Quit al that racket!”
Shim looked towards her, his eyes widening as more houses began turning their lights on. He stepped off the would-be hunter and ran off into the shadows.
The woman, whose name was Izanami, looked out onto the street. On the sidewalk opposite her house lay two bodies. One of them stirred, crawling off and out of sight. The other was later identified as Taro Hiroshi.

Part Four, Chapter One

Mahiro Matsubara.
The hunter lay on his lumpy mattress, his body bandaged up. He lat in his pants only, with his arms crossed behind his head regarding the ceiling.
A first Class.
Mahiro sat up, placing both hands on his knees while his feet dangled off the side. He couldn’t recall ever having any problems with a minercuran before, not even the second classes. But this one was old, and very powerful.
But he refused to go to Arakawa. He could handle this on his own, it was just a matter of mental strength. Before he had been taken aback by the minercuran’s ranking, but it wouldn’t happen again. Next time, the hunter would hunt.