Jiro Minamoto's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Jiro Minamoto meant to forge an army so deadly no monster hunter would ever threaten vampire kind again. Tonight he had eighty soldiers and no proof his old blade still mattered. They stood in the training arena, pale recruits from every corner of Dracula's domain. Some were samurai reborn. Most were not. They watched him with the bored eyes of killers who had won plenty of fights without his help. Jiro was Prince of the Minamoto, the eastern clan of vampires. He had built his reputation on a promise: one blade taught the Minamoto way could bring down a nation. These soldiers did not believe him. He could smell their doubt. Words would not fix that. He turned to his second in command. Hanako Tepes walked onto the sand. She was his niece, the second wife of Dracula, and she moved like someone who had never once been told no. Her white gown trailed behind her. Her katana caught the orange light, gold and diamond along the edge. The bored recruits went still. A queen did not usually stand in the dirt with them. "Draw," she said. Nothing else. Jiro drew his own blade, gold and silver, older than her marriage. "You will not hold back," he said. It was not a question. "I never do." They circled. The recruits leaned forward. Jiro struck first, fast, a cut meant to end most opponents. Hanako slid past it and opened a line across his forearm. Black blood welled up. He heard the soldiers gasp. Good. He wanted them afraid. He pressed her hard. Their blades rang, again and again, faster than mortal eyes could follow. She was Minamoto-trained, same as him, and she gave no ground. He feinted low and cut high. His edge caught her shoulder. She did not flinch. Blood ran down her white sleeve and she smiled at it. "Better," she said. They did not stop. He bled from the arm, then the ribs. She bled from the shoulder, then the cheek. Neither of them slowed. The recruits stopped looking bored. They looked hungry. This was the thing Jiro had promised them, and now they were watching it cut two royals to ribbons in front of their eyes. He caught her blade with his own and held it, faces close. "Enough," he said quietly. Hanako stepped back. Both of them stood bleeding and unbeaten. The wounds already began to close. Jiro turned to the eighty soldiers. "That," he said, "is what I will teach you." No one spoke. Then, as one, they knelt. The doubt was gone. He had his army now, and Hanako beside him to build it. But as she wiped her cheek, she leaned close. "Uncle," she murmured, low enough that only he could hear. "The traitor in Dracula's court knows what we are building here. And he means to turn it against us."