Location: A nightclub in Roppongi, Tokyo. Day 6, 9.30 P.M.
Summary: Miura visits one of Tokyo's most active nightclub scenes.
Miura stepped onto the packed dance floor, full of gyrating bodies, every one of them searing hot and pumped up with energy. He felt the excitement, the stimulation... the fresh blood coursing through their veins. He scowled inwardly and retreated back to the bar. Calling for a White Russian, he perched himself atop a bar stool and silently contemplated finding a meal before the clock hit eleven. He felt unusually indulgent: it was his first night back in Japan and vow or no vow, his blood lust demanded a human instead of the usual dinner of microwave-heated pig’s blood.
He looked around; he had wandered from his hotel situated in the heart of Minato and stumbled upon this particular nightclub, one of the newer and trendier ones, it seemed.
There were plenty of drunken young girls around. Twice the number of drunken middle-aged lechers, half of whom, no doubt, would not give up on the opportunity to land a good, inebriated lay in the middle of some dark alley somewhere with the victim hardly conscious and definitely not a compliant party, would she have been sober. All Miura had to do was chance upon one and the lucky girl would be spared the confusion – and distress – come next morning. Of course, that was saying she managed to get back home safely in the first place. Miura knew he wasn’t the only vampire in Japan who wouldn’t mind a fresh bite if it (drunkenly) bumped their way.