Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 1 - Part 8

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Al began working as a janitor at the embalming facility attached to Akira's workplace, the Old Memorial Center. The embalmers' work hours typically ran from 9 AM to 6 PM, but things rarely went as scheduled. Still, unless there was an emergency, they usually finished by 7 PM.

The stainless-steel embalming tables were wiped down by the embalmers after each procedure, but at the end of the day, the floors and tables were thoroughly cleaned and disinfected. Previously, the cleaning staff from the memorial center would also clean the embalming facility, but as the memorial center had become busier over the past year and the staff was already short-handed, they couldn’t manage the additional cleaning duties.

There had been talk of hiring a part-time cleaner for a while, and despite several attempts to recruit someone, they hadn’t been able to attract any candidates, even with the promise of good hourly pay. Al’s condition of working "from 6:30 PM onwards" was readily accepted, and he secured the job.

Though it was only about two hours of work each day, Al was thrilled to have a job where he could contribute. Moreover, since it was at Akira’s workplace, he felt reassured that Akira would be there to help if anything went wrong.

Al had come to realize that a gallon of human blood could sustain him for about a week without needing to consume anything else. After that, his strength would gradually start to wane. Since Akira often took on urgent jobs after 6 PM, Al began working as a janitor in the embalming room, assisting Akira with the embalming process and receiving blood in return. This arrangement ensured that Al could secure the blood he needed to survive as a vampire.

For the part-time job, Al registered under the name "Kane Roberts," his maternal grandfather's name. According to Nukariya, Al's escape had been put on hold since only his name was known, and even that wasn’t confirmed to be his real name. Additionally, his foreign nationality made the situation too complicated to pursue. "The higher-ups seem like they’d rather the whole arrest and interrogation thing just disappeared," Nukariya had said with a wry smile, adding, "I think you’ll be fine living normally, Al." Still, Akira had advised him to use a different name just in case something happened, given that he was technically still a fugitive.

"Good morning, Takatsuka-kun. It’s cold again today," Matsumura greeted as they entered the facility and passed the reception desk. The first time Al had met Matsumura was at night when he had forcibly accompanied Akira, who had been called in for an emergency embalming. Initially, Al had guessed Matsumura to be in her thirties, but he was shocked when Akira later told him she was turning 45 that year. "You can never tell the age of Asian people, really can’t," he thought, feeling like he had encountered a witch in a different sense.

"Good morning," Akira replied in his usual curt manner. When Matsumura caught Al’s eye, she smiled warmly.

"Good morning, Al."

Even in the facility, Al was known by his bat name, "Al."

"Squeak," Al responded, poking his head out from between Akira’s scarf and shoulder. Lately, he had been commuting with Akira. Initially, Al had waited until he transformed into human form and then spent thirty minutes biking to the center. Since he couldn’t use a car, this was his only option. His arrival time depended on the weather and sunset, sometimes delaying the start of his cleaning duties. However, there was nothing to do during the day at Akira’s apartment, so it made sense to go to work together in the morning.

In fact, it was much better to go out with Akira in the morning. If there was no work, Akira would stay in the lounge, so they could be together all day. And even if Akira wasn’t around, the other employees would keep him company.

"This bat is really smart," Matsumura said, praising him. Al, pleased with the compliment, chirped twice in excitement.

"Don’t make noise so close to my ear. It’s annoying," Akira muttered, prompting Al to shut his mouth immediately.

"It’s like he understands human speech," Matsumura mused, impressed.

"Bats are supposed to be intelligent," Akira responded dismissively as he turned left at the end of the hall and entered the lounge. This was the room where Al had first come when he fainted and needed to rest. The room was spacious, with a desk, four chairs, a bookshelf, and a sofa set arranged comfortably around a low table.

"Good morning, Takatsuka-san," Koyanagi Hirotaka greeted. The facility had two embalmers—Akira and Koyanagi. Koyanagi was two years younger than Akira, making him 28. Both had graduated from a mortuary school in America before returning to Japan. When Al learned Koyanagi's age, he discovered for the first time that Akira was 30 years old. He had thought Akira was in his twenties, so he felt a bit deceived and confirmed that Asian people really do look younger than they are.

Koyanagi was tall and well-built, more suited to being a football player than an embalmer. Despite his imposing figure, he had small eyes, a gentle voice, and mild-mannered gestures. He was also kind to Al in his bat form, which made Al like him even more.

"Good morning," Akira responded, greeting Koyanagi. The two got along well, like partners in a detective drama—Koyanagi, who talked a lot, and the taciturn Akira.

"Good morning, Al."

"Squeak," Al replied, jumping from Akira’s shoulder to the back of the sofa, where he had a good view of the TV. But today, the TV wasn’t on. When Al chirped in protest, Akira grumbled, "You’re such a noisy little thing," and turned on the TV with the remote. However, the channel wasn’t set to the one Al usually watched.

"Squeak, squeak, squeak," Al complained.

Akira, realizing the mistake as he was about to set down the remote, sighed and muttered, "You’re such a nag," before changing the channel. As Al had been immersed in Japanese language lessons, he had learned to understand most Japanese—though there were still some words he didn’t know. He could even catch most of what was being said unless it was spoken too quickly. The properly enunciated speech of the TV news was perfect for learning, and his favorite news anchor spoke slowly with a pleasant voice.

As Al clung to the back of the sofa, watching TV, Koyanagi approached and gently patted his back and head. It felt so good that Al chirped softly in response, then nuzzled his nose against Koyanagi’s hand to show his affection.

"Al is so cute. Takatsuka-san, how did you manage to tame a bat this well?" Koyanagi asked.

"Just winging it," Akira replied curtly.

"Can you really tame a bat this well just by winging it? It's amazing, really. He actually goes where you tell him to," Koyanagi continued, clearly impressed.

Since starting at the facility, Al had noticed something: Akira was not very talkative. He wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but he seemed to have little interest in engaging in conversation. Al, who was used to Akira’s frequent outbursts at home, was surprised by how quiet he was at work. He couldn’t help but think that Akira should try to communicate more with his coworkers.

Generally, the two embalmers waited in the lounge when there were no bodies to embalm, but they rarely had much downtime. They were often called upon to touch up makeup or set the deceased, and they also attended the funerals. Akira looked particularly handsome when he dressed up for funerals. His naturally striking features, combined with neatly combed hair and a black suit, gave him a stoic and exotic air that was captivating, even to another man like Al.

Each embalmer had an assistant—Tsuno for Akira and Maruyama for Koyanagi. The two assistants were currently associate embalmers, still in training after studying embalming in Japan. They got along well with Koyanagi, leaving Akira somewhat isolated. It wasn’t that they excluded him; rather, Akira simply didn’t engage in conversations that would prolong any interaction.

The phone in the lounge rang, and Akira, being the closest, picked up the receiver.

"Koyanagi, I’m heading over to the funeral hall now," Akira said.

"Oh, is it for that woman in her twenties who was embalmed yesterday?" Koyanagi asked.

"Yeah, they’re concerned about her makeup," Akira replied as he left the lounge.

Next to the lounge was a staff locker room, where they changed into either mourning clothes or the scrubs used for embalming. Al also had a locker there. Before cleaning, he would change into the same scrubs as Akira to enter the preparation room, as strict infection control measures were in place, even for the cleaning staff.

About ten minutes after Akira left, the associate embalmers, Tsuno and Maruyama, came into the lounge. Maruyama spotted Al and rushed over, rubbing his back vigorously. It felt nice, but it was a bit rough.

"Aww, so cute," Maruyama said as she picked up Al and gazed into his face. The only female in the embalming team, Maruyama was petite and had a charming rather than traditionally beautiful face. When Al first saw her, he mistook her for a middle schooler visiting the funeral hall. He was shocked to learn she was actually 22 years old.

"If he's this tame and cute, I’d like to keep a bat too," Maruyama mused.

"…It might be difficult. This one seems special, according to Takatsuka-san," Tsuno muttered, his words tinged with an odd undertone that made Al a bit uneasy. Tsuno was tall and thin, wore frameless glasses, and had a somewhat nervous demeanor. He was the same age as Maruyama, and they attended the same school. He was also the son of a funeral home owner and was expected to take over the business eventually.

From what Al observed, Tsuno and Akira didn’t seem to get along well. It wasn’t anything as dramatic as a conflict, but they rarely spoke to each other. There was no small talk between them. While Akira wasn’t one for idle chatter, even at work, Tsuno’s demeanor was noticeably colder towards him compared to how he interacted with Koyanagi and Maruyama.

"But I really think this bat is smart. The other day, when I lost my keys, he showed me where they were," Koyanagi chimed in.

"Oh, come on, that’s a bit much," Maruyama said, shrugging her shoulders.

"No, I’m serious," Koyanagi insisted, his expression earnest. "I couldn’t find my keys, and I was thinking, ‘Great, now I can’t drive home.’ While I was searching, Al started squeaking under the sofa. When I looked there, I found the keys."

Maruyama hugged Al tightly against her chest.

"Are you sure he didn’t just take them there as a prank?"

"…Maybe. But he’s really well-trained. He doesn’t make a mess in the room, and when Takatsuka-san tells him to stop squeaking, he listens."

"Takatsuka-san is a perfectionist, so he’s probably strict with his pet too," Tsuno murmured, to which Koyanagi nodded slightly.

"Al might be a bat, but don’t you think he’s kind of like a dog? I was so surprised when Takatsuka-san first brought him here," Maruyama remarked.

"Oh, me too," Koyanagi agreed.

"That Takatsuka-san actually brought a pet to work, and not a cat or a dog, but a bat! I couldn’t believe it. And his reason? ‘If I leave it alone in the room, it’ll get mentally unstable.’ I mean, I can understand that for a dog or a cat, but I couldn’t help wondering what part of a bat looks mentally unstable," Koyanagi said, shaking his head.

"But I kind of get it," Maruyama chimed in. "This little guy is such a cuddle bug," she added, rubbing her cheek against Al. Al licked her cheek in return.

"At first, I was worried it might be noisy and disruptive at work, but it’s quiet and friendly—much friendlier than its owner. Now it’s like the mascot around here," Tsuno said, and Koyanagi nodded in agreement, arms crossed.

"Don’t you think Takatsuka-san has become more approachable since he started bringing Al around? He might act annoyed, but he seems happy when people ask about the bat," Koyanagi said, laughing as Maruyama giggled and hunched her shoulders.

"Did you know Takatsuka-san sometimes talks to Al?" Maruyama asked.

"Yeah, and then Al nods like he understands. It’s hilarious," Koyanagi replied.

"It’s funny, but they’re both really cute together," Maruyama said, clearly enjoying the thought.

As Maruyama and Koyanagi continued chatting, Tsuno quietly asked, "By the way, where did Takatsuka-san go? If Al’s here, that means he came in today, right?"

"He was here, but he got called over to the funeral hall to touch up a deceased’s makeup," Koyanagi explained.

Tsuno’s expression darkened. "…Left behind again."

"Well, you know how impatient Takatsuka-san is—he hates waiting. Besides, it’s not even the start of the workday yet. He’ll probably be back soon," Koyanagi said, trying to reassure him.

"Yeah," Tsuno replied in a subdued tone as he sat down and opened a book. While Koyanagi and Maruyama spent most of their day together, Akira and Tsuno didn’t. Tsuno was always there to assist with embalming, but for other tasks, like attending funerals or touching up the deceased’s makeup, he was often left behind. Plus, Tsuno was never involved in any work that came up after 6 PM, which seemed to frustrate him.

Al flapped his wings and moved to the corner of the bookshelf near Tsuno. The book Tsuno was reading was about embalming science. After some hesitation, Al decided to jump onto Tsuno’s desk.

Tsuno noticed Al and looked surprised, but he didn’t shoo him away. Instead, he simply returned his gaze to the book. Al peered at it as well, but sadly, it was in Japanese. Ever since assisting Akira with massaging the deceased, Al had become very interested in this field. Seeing how a corpse, ravaged by illness or injury, could be transformed into something beautiful in just a few hours was astonishing. It felt like restoring the dignity of the deceased, even though he knew that true dignity wasn’t just about appearances. Still, a peaceful expression on a deceased person brought comfort to those left behind.

While he could easily read the English embalming books Akira had, Japanese ones were beyond him. Even so, he strained his eyes to focus. He knew he couldn’t keep avoiding the language forever. If he didn’t force himself to get used to the mix of hiragana, katakana, and kanji, he’d never be able to read Japanese.

"Speaking of which, isn’t the person cleaning the preparation room and CDC room (where makeup, dressing, and casketing are done) a foreigner?" Maruyama suddenly remarked, as if recalling something. Al raised his head from the book and perked up, listening closely.

"I think I saw him once. Takatsuka-san usually takes care of any late-night embalming cases since I have a family. Since the cleaning happens afterward, I never run into him," Koyanagi said, rubbing his chin.

"That foreigner is really handsome," Maruyama’s voice sparkled with excitement. "He’s got that classic good looks—tall, slender, with dusty brown hair and gray eyes. When I first saw him, I was like, ‘What’s a model doing here?’ I was so excited!"

Tsuno turned in his chair with a squeak. "I haven’t met him either, but apparently, Takatsuka-san introduced him."

"Really?" Maruyama said, surprised.

"Yeah, Matsumura-san at the reception told me. Supposedly, he’s aspiring to be an embalmer. You’d think, since embalming is more established in the States, there’d be no need to come to Japan," Tsuno said.

Just then, the internal phone rang, and Koyanagi picked it up.

"They said a body has arrived. Maruyama-san, get changed and go to the preparation room to get ready. I’ll bring the paperwork to the CDC room later," Koyanagi said.

Maruyama, who had been all smiles moments before, quickly pulled herself together and responded with a sharp "Yes." As the two left the lounge in a hurry, Al and Tsuno were left alone.

Tsuno sighed and stared at Al. His eyes were hard to read—somewhere between disappointment and anger. Al, worried he might be swatted away, felt a chill but instead, Tsuno gently stroked his back. There was no malice in his touch. Al let out a soft "squeak squeak" and looked up to see Tsuno gazing down at him with softened eyes. He petted Al under the chin, the way one would a cat, and it felt so good that Al relaxed into his touch. As he did, Tsuno quietly murmured, "Your owner doesn’t like me, does he?"

◇:-:◆:-:◇

By the time Al and Akira returned to their apartment, it was already past 8:30 PM. Akira always waited for Al to finish work, passing the time in the waiting room by doing research, organizing documents, or dozing off on the sofa. Since they commuted together by car, if Al were left behind, he'd have to walk home. If he were a bat, the trip would take only a few minutes, but as a human, it would take over an hour.

They usually started preparing dinner after returning home, so Akira wouldn't eat until after 9 PM. About two weeks ago, Akira declared, "I’m only eating one oily dish per meal!" After much thought, Al came up with the idea of using the microwave to steam vegetables. Lately, they often chopped up potatoes, carrots, bell peppers, and pumpkins, covered them with plastic wrap, and microwaved them. The first time Akira saw this, he was silent for a while.

“No oil, lots of vegetables... lots of nutrients.”

Though it seemed like he had something to say, Akira furrowed his brow but ate all the vegetables without complaint. Today, he was eating with the same displeased expression. Watching him, Al always wished Akira would eat with a happier face.

Al had received about a gallon of blood yesterday, so he wasn’t hungry yet. The blood had come from a man in his mid-forties, a white male who reminded Al a bit of his own father. While helping massage the man's limbs, Al had shed a few tears. The blood he received afterward had a faint mix of tobacco and alcohol scents.

As Akira finished his meal and started clearing the dishes, the doorbell rang. It was Nukariya, the only person who ever visited Akira’s place. About three days ago, a 25-year-old woman had been stabbed in the back with a knife and died nearby. The incident matched the modus operandi of a recent string of random killings, leading to rumors that it was the work of the same perpetrator. With the third victim now, public outrage was focused on the police. People were demanding, “Why haven’t you caught the killer? What are the police doing?” Akira had mentioned that Nukariya would likely get busy since the incident occurred in his jurisdiction.

“Al, I have something to ask you.”

When Nukariya entered the room, he addressed Al, not Akira.

“What?”

“Do you know about the incident three days ago?”

“Yeah, saw on TV.”

Nukariya pulled out a color copy from the notebook in his suit pocket.

“These three people are our current suspects. They don’t really match the sketch you helped with, but is the guy who stabbed you among them?”

Al stared intently at the three copies.

“No.”

“Damn, another miss!”

Nukariya spat out his frustration. Al sniffed the air, catching a scent that had bothered him since Nukariya entered the room.

“Even when you know they’re not the culprit, you still have to confirm their alibis. What a waste of time. It’s the worst.”

“Good smell, you like?”

Nukariya tilted his head.

“Good smell? Oh, you mean the perfume?”

“Little perfume smell.”

Nukariya murmured, “Ah,” and brushed off his coat, which he hadn’t removed since entering the room.

“Come to think of it, I was wearing this coat when I went to the crime scene. The victim apparently had a hobby of collecting fragrances... but that was three days ago.”

“I have a good nose.”

“Really?”

Al responded with a nod.

“Bats can smell more.”

Nukariya lightly rubbed his stubbly chin.

“Do you think you could track blood traces at the scene, like a police dog?”

Al tilted his head.

“Do that? Don’t know.”

Nukariya leaned forward, getting closer to Al.

“Sorry if this sounds offensive, but could you try it once... when you’re in your bat form?”

“Find criminal?”

“We don’t have any witnesses again, and the scene’s a mess. If we’ve falsely identified suspects again, it’ll just waste more time on a pointless investigation. I don’t want to see any more victims. So if there’s anything we can do to find the culprit, I want to try it.”

Nukariya’s eyes were desperate. Remembering the pain of being stabbed in the back, Al’s anger toward the perpetrator flared up again. Did that guy laugh while stabbing that nice-smelling woman? Did he kill her? Unlike me, these people can’t heal their wounds. They’ll die. They won’t come back to life.

“I’ll do it. I’ll catch the criminal.”

The discussion was settled, and it was decided that Al would go to the scene with Nukariya the next morning. Since Al’s sense of smell as a bat was sharpest during the day, they figured they could finish by midday if they left in the morning. Afterward, Al could still make it to his evening part-time job.

Apparently still in the middle of his work, Nukariya hurriedly left after saying, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

“Can I really do this?”

Al sat down on the floor beside Akira. Although he had agreed to help, he was starting to worry that he might be useless, that he might not be able to smell the blood, and that he would just end up disappointing Nukariya.

“Well, Nukariya is probably desperate, grasping at straws.”

“Grasping at straws?”

“It means trying anything, even if there’s a 90% chance it won’t work, because there’s still a sliver of hope. Even if you can’t track the blood, it’s not your fault, so don’t worry about it. Just do your best to play the part of the dog.”

That last comment annoyed Al, but he took the first part as reassurance that it wouldn’t be a big deal if he failed. He sighed. If he got upset over every little comment like this, he wouldn’t be able to get along with Akira. He told himself that he needed to be the mature one.

Akira made himself a cup of coffee and started drinking it alone. Al didn’t eat or drink anything other than blood since it didn’t fill him up or provide any nutrition. But he did like the smell of coffee, so he sniffed the air.

When Al first started living in Japan, he had a hard time getting used to the Japanese custom of taking off shoes and sitting on the floor. However, once he got used to it, he found it much more comfortable and relaxing.

Akira, sipping his coffee, began reading a book. He often read books, mostly medical texts related to embalming, but sometimes he also read romance novels. The image didn’t quite match Akira’s persona, creating a sense of imbalance, but Al couldn’t bring himself to tell him it didn’t suit him. He could already picture Akira getting angry and saying, “Mind your own business.”

Resting his upper body on the table, Al looked up at Akira, who was engrossed in his book. After living together for nearly two months, Al had noticed something: there was no sign of a romantic partner in Akira’s life. Other than messages from Nukariya and work, Akira never received any other contact, and he was always home at night. He didn’t go out drinking, and he didn’t drink at home either. Al couldn’t help but think how tough it must be for a girl to date such a stubborn and dull guy. Even though he was handsome, he lacked charm, and although he was kind, he occasionally said things he shouldn't. If Akira were to get a girlfriend... As Al thought about this, a prickling sensation filled his chest. If Akira got a girlfriend and ended up getting married, would Al have to leave? But then again, considering Akira was single at his age, always grumpy and difficult, maybe he would never find a partner and stay alone forever... This optimistic thought flashed through Al’s mind.

“Are you going to bed already?” Akira asked, since the sofa was where Al slept.

“Not sleep yet.”

“Then why are you staring at me like that?”

There wasn’t any special reason for watching him. Al turned his gaze away and suddenly remembered something Tsuno had said earlier that day.

“Akira, do you dislike Tsuno?”

Akira’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Tsuno? You mean Tsuno, the assistant?”

Al nodded.

“Why are you asking that?”

“Tsuno thinks you dislike him.”

“Who said I hate Tsuno?”

“Tsuno.”

Akira furrowed his brow and fell silent, clearly annoyed.

“Tsuno thinks you don’t ask him for help because of that.”

“I thought he’d been acting strangely recently, and that’s why.”

“Akira needs to talk to Tsuno. No talking is bad,” Al suggested. Akira slammed his book shut with a loud bang.

“This is a workplace! It’s not a playground. I can’t just chat away unnecessarily.”

“Talking is important. Can’t see feelings,” Al pointed out. Akira stood up without saying anything, and despite Al saying he wasn’t going to bed yet, Akira angrily switched off the room light and climbed into bed.

Al was taken aback by Akira's childish sulking, but instead of turning the light back on, he changed into his sweats in the dark.

“Akira,” he called out. The sulking man was curled up, facing the wall with his back turned. Al was sure he wasn’t asleep yet, but there was no response.

“I don’t apologize. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The moonlight softly filtered through the curtains, faintly illuminating Akira’s jet-black hair.

“But don’t hate me, okay,” Al said quietly.

When Al touched his head, he felt Akira flinch. In the dim light, just as he had done when he was a bat, like a child seeking comfort from their mother, Al gently nuzzled his nose against Akira’s cheek.

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