Author note: First chapter out of...well, that is a work in progress. The setting is entirely the Vampire Hunter D realm, but I have included a new, original character. No, there is not a mention of D in the first chapter, but don't kill me just yet...he is coming.

By the by, this beginning chapter is an attempt to recreate the sound of Kikuchi's novels, so if it is difficult to understand, please let me know.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of the Vampire Hunter D characters, nor the setting to which they belong, no matter how badly I wish I had thought of it first.

Blossoms and Blood

A faint breeze caressed the wild cherry trees huddled at entrance to town; their blossoms released a cloying scent riding into the night. Yet there was nothing to cover the smell, the odor wafting from the windows of neat houses and the slowly creaking hang-doors of the bar. There was nothing here. No sound, no movement, as if the life of the town had been removed, leaving a vacuous space to be vainly filled by the scent of wild cherries.

The elements did not care what had occurred here. The sky was clear. Warm summer winds, playing with the blossoms, danced through the streets. It was the absence of humanity, those who had raised the town from bare dust to self-sufficient community, which felt so odd, so incongruous with the surrounding wild.

Fading light produced an image steadily nearing the center of the village. Drawing near the crossroads, leaving wide space on all sides, the figure halted. Raising its head, a faint sigh escaped parted lips. Hood drawn and slightly hunched, the figure stood nearly 2 meters tall. Wrapped in a generous, off-white cloak, the form seemed almost a wraith, perfectly still, and statuesque in its patience.

What cue did it need to begin its march again?

The unblemished sky held millions of stars, shedding soft, pure light, complementing the waning crescent hovering in the east. Long shadows danced at the edge of the figure’s outline. Another sigh sounded, not from the lips of the form, but almost a collective whisper from the town itself. Subtle movement, shifts in the surrounding dim, provoked a tension to fill the air and drown out the sweet, sweet cherries.

Motionless, waiting, the figure appeared unconcerned, or perhaps even unaware, that the shapes morphing from one place to the next quietly stole their way closer. Tilting its head to the left, the figure seemed to be pondering some lost thought, oblivious to its surrounding. The fleeting creatures, hording around the edges of the buildings and waltzing across their roofs, silently descended on their prey.

The silence - the thick, cable-like tension - broke.

Rushing towards the ever unmoving figure, beings of flesh and bone materialized from the shadows. Faces warped into grotesque scowls, lips pulled into grimaces, the creatures exploded into the crossroad. Now the light hit them. Now the true appearance could be judged of these things. Keen fangs erupted from their mouths, while steely claws reached for the intruder. Massing into one twisted mob, the creatures could almost be heard laughing, chortling to themselves at the good fortune that had befallen them.

But it was not the mob’s united snarls that let out such a wondrous sound.

A sing-song voice rang out above the growling and gnashing of teeth, cutting as easily through the approaching rabble’s savage growls as a finely honed blade. Some creatures faltered for a moment only, and it was in this moment that the world exploded. Great cones of energy, ephemeral and bright, boiled through the crowd. Eroding away the skin, sinew and eventually bone, the energy then dissipated into the wind. Enraged, the mob now advanced with true killing lust, packs of glassy red eyes reflecting the urge to slake their wanton desire.

Through it all, the form seemed not to have moved. Then the song began again. Lilting, almost joyous, it swept through the horde, angering them to a fever pitch, dispelling any residual reluctance the attacking beings harbored in their approach. Launching into the air, a dozen creatures aimed their descent directly on the static figure…

…who suddenly detonated a handful of the brilliant energy that had moments before whipped through the crowd! The figure, never showing a sign of unease at the advancement of the beings, whirled about, throwing streaks of force at each front line creature. For that is what it appeared; the energy roiling from the stoic character was like a condensed mix of heavy gravity, whipping wind, and tiny needles. It was the same as the energy used when one coils, ready for a fight, ready for that first swinging fist, balled into a force hurled from the outstretched hands of the lone figure. Sweeping around in a wide arc, the form lashed about, taking the heads of several more creatures, their bodies scuffling along until momentum was lost and they toppled to the ground. To say that the amount of bodies piling up at the steady feet of the cloaked character was staggering would be doing an injustice to the figure. However, the snarling beings continued to pour from the inky shadows, hurling themselves toward the figure of death with total abandonment.

How long could the pace be kept? There was an obvious supernatural power at work, decimating the crowd with ease, but the numbers were too great. Eventually, the figure was washed in fine pink spray, a mist created when those nearby were hit by the force. The deft movements produced by the character began to rise in tempo, more and more energy spilling from its hands, and leaving sizeable gaps between the demons. With a large, curving gesture, the figure produced another line of force, growing larger as it approached its perceived target. Another sudden gesture followed the first, almost as if the figure had second guessed itself. As the force neared its mark, a corner building overlooking the main square, a wall of the same ephemeral energy sprang from the earth, high as two men and just as wide. When the torrid ray impacted the wall, it seemed as if the scorching winds of Notus himself had detonated against it. Howling around the wall, the ray finally scattered into nothingness, leaving behind the wall. It, too, soon fell to the earth, crumbling under the weight of gravity.

The one second of delay cost the figure. One of the beings wormed to within a meter of the figure, mouth gaping open in a continuous plea for satisfaction. In a clean move, the figure ducked, and then fluidly rose, right arm extended, until the character was less than a foot away. Its right hand darted across the creature’s neck, leaving a fine line, which suddenly spouted gouts of crimson blood. Head tumbling one direction, the body to the other, the creature collapsed front first into the dirt. Whirling about, the figure fought fiercely in the center of the crossroad. But swarmed upon, there was little room left for grand movement and sweeping gestures; the character made a swift sign in the form of a “t” across its front, and then pressed its hands, palm inward, together. Muttering some expression, the figure threw up its hands, shouted a phrase in a tongue long forgotten, and released a dome of force great enough to uproot the smaller trees and peel back the wooden siding of the surrounding buildings. When the dust cleared, the only thing left standing was the figure in fawn, dripping from head to foot under a torrent of bright blood.

Barely pausing to survey the carnage wrought by the tremendous power release, the figures strode to a corner building, steady strides swiftly bringing it to its destination. At the corner, a low brick wall protruded from the building, encasing small shrubs, a few decorative flowers and a wild cherry tree. Reaching behind the tree and shrubs, the figure hauled two young men from their hiding place. Studying each intently, the character released them, and then spoke,

“Are there more?”

The voice came out in a rasp, but had a melancholy femininity to it. Stunned, the two boys stammered out a quick simultaneous “no,” and turned to run. Grasping one of the boys, with no ceremony or announcement, the figure slammed a flattened hand into the boy’s back. Thrusting out of the young man’s chest, the hand retained the same glow as the energy it produced before. Ripping her hand back through, the figure gingerly held the boy’s heart. Gazing at the other man, she uttered a pair of brief lines.

“Tell him I will see him soon. I have much to do before we meet.”

Tossing the heart aside, the figure watched the countenance of the other young man morph into a grotesque image of itself. Twin fangs jutted from his mouth, and he smiled a devilish smile. Seemingly uncaring, the character stated, “So that I am confident you understand the gravity of the instructions I have given you, I will keep those”. With that, a lance of energy poured from the figure, and caught the boy directly across that same devilish smile. Reeling back, but not quite falling, the young man moaned, then screamed. Jerking his head up, his hands clawing at his lips, the young man saw his fangs, blood covering their pearly perfection, held casually in the figure’s left hand. Howling again in pain and fury, the creature that had once been a man raced off into the dark, harboring a message meant for one who truly understood how captivating wild cherries in the twilight can be.

A devilish smile graced his perfect lips. Before him was the same rabble that just hours ago came to destroy him. He had given the young man a gift, a precious gift, and told him to share it with the other hoi polloi of the town below. Now, the boy was leaving rivulets of blood across the grand hall, and each staggering step brought him nearer to his master.

“I see. I bestow such a wonderful thing upon you, something special, something I have not given to anyone in ages, and yet here you stand, mewling in your agony, not capable in the least to understand how truly blessed you are.” The voice rang out clear, although it appeared the dark master of the hall spoke only above a whisper. Again, that smile caressed his lovely face. The battered being before him began to protest, and fell to his knees, one hand still grasping at his ruined face, the other holding him upright on the marble floor. Smearing scarlet stains on the pristine white of the stone, the creature begged for forgiveness, choking down blood as it streamed from his lips, “They were all unworthy of your beauty! I…we…I gave them the gift, just as…as…as you instructed. Then she came…,” more blood dripping to the floor as he spat out “she”. Gagging with each sentence now, the young man fought to continue his plea.

“So…strong! We were afraid…for you! To fight…would have been death…we had to tell you…had to tell you… what happened…what…what else would you have us…me… do? I…we… have angered you…how… do I please you? What will…?”

Faltering in the end, the pitiful creature prostrated itself on the floor, ready for judgment. Silent as a wraith, the dark maker drifted to the cowering form. Halting a meter away, the form smiled again, as an aging father to an unruly teen. The smile, however, was accompanied by an aura far different from that of fatherly love. It flowed out to the weeping creature on the floor, causing him to abruptly silence, and stare up in abject terror of the man standing in front of him.

“You came back for me? To…save me?”

A short laugh followed this soft statement. Gesturing absentmindedly, the figure said, “And yet, from what I can see, there are ancient stones here, surrounding me and mine, protecting me from any intruder…supernatural or otherwise.” Glaring out at the creature retreating from him, the master’s voice suddenly became harsh, reverberating throughout the entire court.

“How dare you lie to me? She sent you back here. She gave you a message, did she not? You believe that I do not know what transpires in my territory? Are you such a dull child as to think I do not see what takes place in Doire?”

Throwing down the name of the devastated town upon the head of the once lovely, ruined creature before him, the dark father continued, his voice shaking the vaulted ceilings above, and causing the young man to cower even lower onto the stained marble.

“I knew of her coming! Do you not yet understand? Do you not see what I have given you, and why I bestowed it upon you?” Calming, the master sighed, and looked to the still trembling roof, as if to soothe its granite surface.

“Of course you cannot comprehend what was given to you…I had forgotten how far you had fallen. Such a waste…such a beautiful, terrible loss…” Gliding a step farther, the form raised its right arm, a gesture of dismissal. As the maker approached its creation, the creature repelled back, slipping in the shallow pool of crimson surrounding it. Stepping into the blood, the master again smiled, and the young man gazed on in alarm as the blood seeped into the leather clad feet of the lord, drawing nearer to him, as if longing for his touch. Wondrously pearlescent canines protruded from the master’s lips, and with a sudden, graceful movement, he reached down to his creation, and gripped him by the throat. Effortlessly pulling the boy to his feet, he daintily lapped at the blood still dripping from the whimpering creature’s mouth. Inhaling the heavy copper aroma of his creation’s lifeblood, Anselm gave a feral grin, and buried his beautiful canines into the young man’s neck.

The winds had picked up. Churning around the eaves of the buildings and low houses of the town below, they whipped small, young flames into spiraling infernos, licking at the dozens of bodies strewn about the crossroad. Faint, carried on the new wind, a melody danced across the carnage of the square, melancholy, yet pleased. Winding through the acrid smoke, the song’s origin appeared to be the heavens; not entirely incorrect, for it floated down from one of battered buildings still standing in the town.

Crouched on the roof of a west-facing corner house sat the lone cloaked figure. Pale petals, carried on the heated air, drifted by her, catching hold about her face. Ensnared by the same wind, the hood was swept away from her face, allowing the first glimpse of her ethereal beauty. Her features appeared to be exquisitely carved from the purest alabaster stone; she radiated an essence which could thaw even the coldest of hearts. A fiery red mane trailed behind her into the dark, caught in the growing wind. Bright scarlet, the locks were almost waist level, and many tipped in fine silver rings large enough to place an adult hand through.

But it was her eyes; they could drown any normal person, perhaps even the anomalous Noble. Brilliant grey-blue, they stood out of her pale visage, framed in thick lashes. However, her loveliness was far unlike that of the modern era. More square in the jaw, with a wilder, less refined face than those today so prized for their exquisite femininity, the woman existed almost as a phantom sent from the past.

Curled around her neck was a delicate, intricate gorget, twisting down her throat until it ended at the top of her pale, off-white vestments, now stained with the blood of the villagers burning in pyres at the crossroad. Her gaze wandered about the blaze before her, flicked across the tops of the buildings, and abruptly stopped, some distant sound catching the attention of her quick ears. Cutting off a hymn emanating from her pastel blush lips, she let out a weary sigh. Rising to her feet, the figure took one sure step, and vaulted off the stone-tiled roof.

How wonderful indeed her abilities must be! From a height of more than ten meters, the woman fell gracefully, then touched down to earth without a single sign of effort. Angling towards the outer edge of the town, the woman’s long, elegant strides brought her to the eastern gate, its looming iron bracketed doors ripped apart. One had been torn from its hinges, its bottom pins holding it upright for the moment. The other lay in an awkward position, propped against its mate, top swinging lazily as the wind whistled through the entrance. Cowering under the perilous position of the fallen behemoths, a group a people huddled from view. Approaching them without hesitation, woman swept back her cloak, and slid on her hood, hiding her angelic face from view.

When she reached the great doors, she halted. Warily, an older man stepped into the moonlight. Shirt rent in numerous places, and pants gaping with holes, he staggered to her holding a bag the size of a horse’s feedbag. As he approached, the crisp moonlight exposed numerous cuts and bruises, but the most shocking was the amount of blood covering the man. It all couldn’t possibly belong to him. Crusting over half of his beaten face, and running down both arms, the blood painted the man in a crimson blush. Clinging to his hair, fair petals of the wild cherry made the scene somehow poetic, yet equally grotesque. Planting his feet six feet from her, the delegate held out the bag. A metallic clink resounded from the makeshift purse.

“We…had no idea this was comin’. Those boys…they went up to kill him, they were strong lads, boys who would keep the town growin’. They…hated that someone else was to take care of what we couldn’t. They wanted…to keep this wealth for us.” Shaking the bag for emphasis, the man continued, “Here is what we owe you for him. There is only enough for that. There is…no more we can give…not with the town like this.” Hanging his head, the man hastily restated, “It is not that we don’t gladly accept what you’ve done…you’ve saved this town, our people. But there’s no more we can offer…” Fading off, the man’s voice cracked, and a sob escaped his lips. Looking up at the woman, he quickly covered the few remaining feet, and grasping the woman’s right hand, placed the heavy purse within it.

It was as if the combined breath of every living creature was being held at once. There was an almost tangible pressure in the air; so thick it could be cut with a blade. Had this man made a grave error by assuming he could touch such a being? Eyes wide, the man made to retreat…but not before a hand shot out, lightning fast, to snare his upper arm. Wheeling around, panic plain on his face, the man began to plead, “P-p-please…I didn’t…didn’t mean it! P-please, I am…so s-s-sorry…” Cutting him off was the sound of clanking coins. Glancing down, the man was struck dumb.

The woman was pouring out what was owed to her on the ground! These coins gleamed with a cold platinum sheen; they had given her not gold, but a far more valuable currency. Metals such as this were extremely rare, and to have paid the Hunter in such proved this town was more than it appeared. Leaving a small amount in the bottom of the bag, the woman turned to face the delegate. Seeing her eyes, he slumped, no longer caring that her vise-like grip was to only thing holding him up. The smell of cedar, rich and warm, enveloped him, ushering the man into an almost dream-like state.

Then the woman spoke, her voice still carrying the same sadness undercut by a current of steel, snapping the man to attention, “I do not want for this great of an amount. Take what is left.” Sighing again, she resumed, “I know you did not consider this would happen when you called me here. The Noble caused this, and it would eventually have befallen you whether or not I arrived.” Pausing slightly, she continued, "Doire is now clean.”

Releasing the man, she nodded to the moon. “There is only a short time before dawn. I will remain for a while within the city wall. There is no need to compensate me for the remaining employment.” Pulling a small pouch from her belt, the woman loaded it with the remnants of her payment. While filling the purse, she spoke once more, “Try to keep your youth away from the crossroad. They are now few. Keep them close.”

Tossing the now empty feedbag to the ground, she turned, and strode back into the heart of town, leaving the man in thrall of what he had just witnessed. Her eyes…they had something in them not from this world…almost like his…

And the sweet, sweet smell of the wild cherries perfumed the acrid air, vain in their attempt to compete with the caustic odor drifting from the crossroad.

Update: So, I realized after the second chapter that there were slight discrepancies in the size of Doire, but those are now remedied. Sorry for the confusion.