Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 2 - Part 5

Previous TOC Next

A week after the whole supervision discussion was brought up, Akira received the script for episode three of BLOOD GIRL Mahiro. Even Al, just watching from the sidelines, could tell how desperate Sakeiri's request was—so desperate that the kneeling plea actually made sense.

Akira read through the script, holding his head in his hands and muttering that it was "childish nonsense," but he still took several photos of the prep room and CDC room and sent them to Sakeiri. Apparently, these were needed to create simple sets on location. Akira also agreed to lend some old equipment from the facility, along with a few of his personal items.

On the day of the shoot, Akira was scheduled to arrive at the studio in the afternoon. The funeral home’s PR team was pleased that, even though the show was in a late-night slot, embalming would be featured and their company’s name would be credited. They were kind enough to treat the day as a workday for Akira, even though he would technically be off.

Two weeks after the initial meeting and with mid-July already past, the day before the big shoot finally came. Akira was pulling instruments out of the closet—ones he usually used in the procedure room, and a particularly realistic mannequin head—and packing them into a bag. From behind him, Al mustered his courage and said, “Wanna… watch the shoot.”

“No.”

Without even looking at him, Akira replied instantly. Al had somewhat expected to be denied, so he steadied himself and asked again.

“Why… no? Just watch.”

“If you come to the studio, you’ll stand out.”

“Me bat… small… no stand out.”

Akira let out a small “Ah,” realizing he’d forgotten that Al would be in bat form during the daytime shoot.

“Won’t get in the way… just watch.”

Akira’s response was slow. Growing impatient, Al tugged at the hem of Akira’s shirt.

“I wanted be… actor. Can’t… now. But… want see studio.”

After persistent pleading, Akira reluctantly gave in. However, the condition was that Al could only visit the studio as a bat, and he had to return home before turning back into a human. Although it was conditional, Al was thrilled to experience the studio atmosphere. That night, he was so excited, it felt like the night before a picnic, and he had trouble falling asleep.

On the day of the shoot, at 2:30 PM, Akira drove into the parking lot of the Ishikawa Studio, where the filming was to take place. The meeting time was set for 3:00, but Akira, ever punctual, arrived early. Al clung tightly to Akira’s shoulder, curiously looking around.

The studio was a boxy gray building standing right in the middle of the city, resembling a large factory. There were parking areas both underground and above ground, and Akira was directed to the above-ground lot. The lot was located on the north side of the studio, within a concrete enclosure about three yards high. While the setting was stark and prison-like, the low trees planted at regular intervals along the wall provided a slight sense of relief. This seemed to be the back of the studio, as an emergency staircase was visible along the building’s side.

As Akira approached what seemed to be the first-floor entrance, the young security guard who saw him made a puzzled face.

“Weren’t you directed to the underground parking?”

“They told me to come here.”

“That’s strange…” The guard mumbled to himself, but when he looked at the pass Akira handed him, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Wait, are you part of the technical staff?”

“I suppose so. Is there a problem?”

“Uh, no… It’s just, you look so cool, I thought you were an actor. Sorry. Actors are usually directed to the underground parking to prevent issues like unauthorized photos or vandalism to their cars.”

Al listened with interest, then suddenly made eye contact with the guard.

“Um… Is that a bat on your shoulder?”

Akira, looking slightly exasperated, answered, “Yes, it is.”

“Well, bringing in animals is generally not allowed.”

Akira sighed in annoyance and lied, “It’s a prop for today’s shoot.” Al let out a cute, slightly high-pitched squeak to charm the guard, but the young man only looked more unsettled.

After passing through the entrance, Akira checked the directory in the lobby and headed toward the studio where the filming would take place. It was still fifteen minutes before the meeting time, so Sakeiri hadn’t arrived yet. Only staff members in T-shirts were bustling around.

Finding everything fascinating, Al continued to look around curiously. The studio was about seventeen yards (about 15,5m) on each side, with white walls. The ceiling was extremely high, and numerous lights were hanging down. While Al was watching, large sliding doors across from them opened, and set pieces began to be carried in one after another, quickly assembling into an interior that looked like a toy being put together.

“Hey, filming hasn’t started yet.”

A voice called out from behind, and Akira turned around. A man in his late forties or early fifties approached, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel. He was thin, had short hair, wore glasses, and the front of his T-shirt was damp with sweat.

“You’ll just get in the way standing around here. You’d be better off waiting in the dressing room. They’ll call you when it’s your turn.”

“Is the props supervisor around?”

“Supervisor? That’s me.”

The man looked puzzled.

“I’m Takatsuka, the one asked to supervise today’s set. The producer hasn’t arrived yet, but I thought I’d introduce myself.”

“Wait, you’re not an actor?”

Akira firmly replied, “I’m the supervisor.”

“Wow, with a face like yours, I just assumed you were an actor. I heard from Sakeiri-san that a supervisor would be here today. You’re from a funeral home, right?”

“I’m friendly with the funeral home staff, but that’s not exactly what I do.”

Following the props supervisor, Obayashi, Akira moved behind the sliding doors to the back of the studio. The area was a massive storage space filled with set walls, sofas, carpets, bookshelves—anything and everything was piled up haphazardly. While the studio was divided, the back area was one large floor.

As Akira was being bombarded with questions by Obayashi and getting bored, Al flew off his shoulder to explore. There were washing machines, refrigerators, bicycles, and even potted plants. It seemed like you could practically live in that storage space alone.

Flying close to the ceiling to avoid being seen, Al noticed that the adjacent studio was in the middle of filming. He slipped through the gap in the sliding door and hung from a metal pipe near the ceiling. Some staff members noticed Al and glanced up at him, but since he stayed quietly up high, they didn’t bother to chase him away.

Multiple cameras were capturing the same scene from different angles, with calls of “Cut!” echoing repeatedly. At first, Al was fascinated, but after thirty minutes, he started to get bored. Since the scenes weren’t filmed in sequence, it was hard to follow the story, and watching women scream insults at each other in the drama was a bit scary.

Al slipped out of the storage room when the sliding door opened and returned to the studio where Akira was supervising the drama. The set was still under construction, and since the sliding doors and entrance were left open, he could freely come and go. During his time exploring the neighboring set, a smaller, split-in-half version of the prep room, where Al usually did his cleaning, had been constructed. They even brought in a real embalming machine.

“Whoa, there’s something up there! Is it a bird?”

He was spotted by the staff here too. “What is it, what is it?” they gathered, causing a bit of a commotion. Akira looked up at the ceiling, clicked his tongue in annoyance, and beckoned Al down with quick hand gestures. Al flew straight to Akira, landing securely on his shoulder. The staff around them murmured in admiration.

“Sorry, he’s my pet. I won’t let him bother anyone,” Akira said, moving to a corner of the studio with Al still on his shoulder.

“...You should go home now,” Akira muttered.

Al shook his head firmly. The studio was too interesting. He wanted to see more of it.

“Not only do you attract attention as a human, but as a bat too. And you’re distracting everyone.”

In the end, Al was unceremoniously tossed out of a hallway window just outside the studio. He had only been in the studio for about an hour, with nearly three hours left until sunset. Wishing he could explore more, he flew aimlessly around the studio’s exterior until he spotted an open window on the third floor.

Curious about what kind of room it was, he flew closer and peeked inside. The room had about ten tatami mats covering half of the floor. The western wall was lined with large mirrors surrounded by lights, and the front had a shallow, wide table. On the tatami, there was a low, large table with an oversized bag on it—big enough for a grade-schooler to fit inside. Clothes were hanging from hangers along the eastern wall.

This must be an actor’s dressing room, Al thought, and since no one was around, he flew inside. The room smelled sweet, likely used by a woman. It even had a toilet and shower, making it quite comfortable. Al rolled around on the tatami, enjoying the soft surface. The floors at Akira’s house were all hardwood, so they were hard. There was a tatami-floored lounge at the funeral hall, where Al occasionally snuck in to lounge around. He loved the smell of the tatami.

“Disgusting!”

A voice suddenly exclaimed as the door banged open. Startled, Al hurriedly hid under the table, behind one of the legs. A beautiful girl in a breezy dress entered the room. She looked to be about fifteen or sixteen, not very tall, with long, slender limbs. Her straight hair reached halfway down her back. Her large, dark eyes were like those of a squirrel, and her long lashes framed them beautifully.

“I don’t care who used this room before, it’s gross! I don’t want to use a vanity with hair all over it!”

The very cute girl had been yelling since the moment she entered the room.

“And this studio always smells damp. I hate it!”

Following her into the room was a woman in a white shirt and black pants, who had a serious, almost news-anchor-like air about her. Her hair was twisted up and secured, and she wore rimless glasses. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, slim and neat, but she couldn’t help but appear plain next to the girl.

“It’s okay, Yuuka. We’ve changed dressing rooms now. This one is clean, and there’s no strange smell.”

The beautiful girl, apparently named Yuuka, looked around the room and then frowned, complaining, "It's hot."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was airing out the room just in case," the plain-looking woman replied.

From the context, Al guessed that Yuuka was the actress and the plain woman was her manager. Just then, the window was closed. Al realized too late that he had missed his chance to escape and was now trapped in the room.

The air conditioning kicked in, filling the room with a loud whoosh.

"We have about an hour until filming starts. The makeup artist will be here soon, so why don’t you change into your costume first?" the manager suggested.

Yuuka, sitting with her knees up on the tatami, glanced at the clothes hanging on the rack.

"That outfit is so ugly."

"Really? It’s a unique uniform design, but I think it’s cute. It’s just like in the original story."

"It’s tacky."

Yuuka sighed heavily.

"Ando-san, you have no taste. You have bad taste in men, too."

Caught off guard, Ando, the plain woman, looked shocked. "You’re dating Iwahara from the agency, aren’t you? That guy’s almost forty. What do you see in an old man like him?"

Ando smiled wryly and said, "He’s a kind person."

"How stupid," Yuuka muttered, shrugging her shoulders. Then, as if remembering something, she stood up and went to the bathroom.

After Yuuka left, Ando sighed deeply. It seemed like she was burdened with the task of managing a demanding, spoiled actress. She glanced once more at the bathroom door, then pulled out her smartphone from her bag. As she opened it, she accidentally dropped it onto the tatami with a thud. The screen showed a photo of a slightly chubby man with a kind face. This must be Ando’s boyfriend, Al thought.

Ando picked up the phone with her slender fingers and muttered, "What’s this dark thing...?" as she peeked under the table. Their eyes met.

“Eek! Aahhh!”

At Ando’s high-pitched scream, Al scrambled out from under the table. Ando backed into a corner, staring at Al with frightened eyes.

There was a loud knock on the door.

"It’s Inohara from makeup. Is everything okay? Are you alright?" a voice called out from behind the door.

"A... A weird animal..."

"I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m coming in, okay?"

As the door opened, Al seized the chance and darted out into the hallway at top speed. The woman holding a large makeup box let out a startled yelp as Al flew over her head like a bullet.

Feeling a little guilty for startling everyone, Al flew around the hall, looking for an exit—a door or window that led outside. He decided it was time to go home before he scared anyone else. If Akira found out, he’d definitely get scolded.

Luckily, the hallway was empty. He flew to the end but found that it only led to an emergency exit, and the door was shut. He flew from one end of the hallway to the other but couldn’t find any way out. Left with no choice, he flew up the stairs to the second floor. There, a few people were moving about. Al waited until the coast was clear and checked the long hallway, but there was still no exit in sight. He wanted to escape from this floor if possible to avoid running into Akira on the first floor.

The door suddenly swung open with a bang, and Al saw a man hurrying down the hallway, his back turned so he didn’t notice the bat. The door to the room the man had exited was left half-open. Hoping to find an open window, Al quietly slipped inside.

The room was about twice the size of the one where the actress Yuuka had been. Along the wall, there were five sets of mirrors and chairs, with a space covered by eight tatami mats behind them. It seemed to be a larger dressing room. Unfortunately, none of the windows were open. Al sniffed the air—was it just his imagination, or did the room smell like men?

Just as he was about to leave, the door opened, and someone walked in, closing the door behind them. A car can’t stop suddenly, and neither can a bat. Al crashed into the door with a thud and fell to the floor. The impact left his entire body tingling, and his vision spinning.

“What the heck is this?” a voice exclaimed as Al was picked up by the tips of his wings, which now dangled limply on either side like a rag. His head was still ringing from the crash, and he couldn’t make a sound. The person peering down at him was a young man, probably in his early twenties, wearing a T-shirt and knee-length pants. He had short hair, sharp eyes, and a high nose. His features weren’t deeply defined, but he had a clean-cut face. The kind of Japanese person who would look good in a kimono.

“Hey, are you alive?” The man poked Al’s head with his finger, causing a sharp pain that reverberated through his skull. Al let out a weak “Squeak” to signal his discomfort, which startled the man.

The man examined Al’s face and body with curiosity. The tingling and dizziness were finally subsiding, but with his wings held awkwardly, Al couldn’t fly.

“Squeak, squeak,” Al protested, twisting his body left and right in an attempt to express his displeasure. In response, the man grabbed him more firmly, holding him by the back and sides, making it impossible for him to move his wings at all.

There was a light knock on the door, followed by a voice saying, “Good work today!” as the door opened. It was the perfect chance to escape, so Al struggled and flapped his wings.

“Hey, stop squirming. Stay still,” the man said, using both hands to completely restrain Al’s wings.

“Mitani-kun, what’s that?” asked another man with a puzzled expression as he peered at Al’s face. This man was taller, with a faint beard on his chin, and looked four or five years older than the one holding Al. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but his simple outfit of a hat, T-shirt, and jeans looked oddly stylish. He had an aluminum briefcase slung over his left shoulder and a black bag in his right hand.

“It flew into the dressing room door. I wonder where it came from,” said the man holding Al, apparently named Mitani.

“That’s a bat, isn’t it?”

“Probably. Isn’t it kind of interesting?”

“Interesting? I’m not a fan of those kinds of creatures,” the bearded man replied, stepping back and crossing his arms in front of his chest when Mitani held Al up to his face. “Ack!” he yelped, making Mitani laugh. Embarrassed, the man blushed and said, “Don’t mess with me,” tensing his shoulders.

“Let’s stop playing around and get your makeup done. Wait, is that today’s costume?” Mitani asked.

“No, this is my own. I haven’t gotten the costume from the wardrobe yet. Did they forget?”

There was a loud knock at the door.

“Excuse me, I’m from wardrobe. May I come in?” A young girl with no makeup rushed in, carrying clothes in her arms.

“Sorry for the delay. There were a lot of alterations to be made… Please take care of this,” she said, placing the clothes on the table before hurrying out.

“Wardrobe seems pretty busy,” the bearded man said sympathetically, watching the door close. Al glanced at the outfit—just a regular shirt and pants. He had expected something more glamorous from a “costume” and felt a bit disappointed.

“I’ll change right away, Machida-san. Can you hold this bat for just a moment?” Mitani said.

Machida, the bearded man, let out a pitiful whine. “I really can’t handle creatures like this. I absolutely can’t touch it. Why don’t you just let it go out the window?”

Al nodded vigorously in agreement.

“I’m thinking of keeping this bat as a pet.”

“What are you going to do with it? Are you planning to raise it?”

“Wouldn’t it be interesting to have a pet bat? The producer showed me a photo of a friend’s bat the other day. Apparently, they’re really smart.”

“You’re such an enthusiast, Mitani-kun,” Machida said, scratching his head. “I mean, you’re into horror and splatter movies and all that.”

“Come on, just hold it for a bit while I change,” Mitani insisted.

Machida groaned, “I really can’t hold it with my bare hands…” and after a moment of contemplation, he said, “Oh, wait, I’ve got an idea.” He reached into a bag he had left by the mirror and pulled out a cloth bag.

"Since I’m not using this, you can have it. Just put it inside," Machida said, handing over the cloth bag.

"Thanks, Machida-san."

Wait, wait! Despite Al’s desperate squeaks of protest, "Squeak, Squeak!" he was shoved into the small cloth bag, and the drawstring was pulled tight.

"Squeak, Squeak!!"

No matter how much he squeaked or struggled, the bag wouldn’t open. Realizing it was useless, Al slumped inside the bag in defeat. In less than two hours, the sun would set, and he would turn back into a human. If someone saw that happen, it would cause a huge commotion. He could already imagine Akira, who hated drawing attention, getting angry with a vein bulging on his forehead. But getting scolded by Akira would be the least of his worries. If the police were called...

Feeling dejected, Al listened to the conversation outside the bag between Mitani and Machida.

"You have such nice hair, Mitani-kun."

"Really?"

"It’s easy to style, which is a big help. Oh… just tilt your head up a bit… By the way, do you know if a new actor is joining the shoot today?"

"Hmm, I’m not sure."

"On my way here, I passed by the first studio and saw a really handsome actor in a simple outfit—just a shirt and black pants. He had a striking presence."

"Really?"

Machida’s voice sounded a bit excited.

"He looked to be around twenty-five or so, with a very distinctive vibe. He had the kind of face you don’t forget after seeing it once, but I don’t recognize him. Could he be a newcomer?"

"He might be the actor playing the vampire. That’s the only new character I know of."

"He would be perfect for the vampire role. He had slightly wavy black hair and a cold, aloof look."

A handsome man with wavy black hair… Al had a feeling they were talking about Akira.

"The vampire role doesn’t have many lines. His scenes are scheduled after mine, but it seems like he’s really dedicated if he’s already at the studio," Machida laughed.

"I’m a fan of old Western movies. I find the makeup and fashion really interesting. I’ve been trying to figure out who this actor reminds me of, and I just remembered. Mitani-kun, do you know the actress Hanae Tamura?"

Inside the bag, Al let out a small "Squeak." When he first met Akira, he thought Akira looked familiar too. That’s right—he resembled Hanae Tamura. She was an actress with an exotic, Asian charm, known more for her supporting roles than leading ones, but she was beloved by famous directors.

"Sorry, I’ve never heard of her. I guess I’m not as well-studied as I thought," Mitani replied.

"Oh, it’s understandable if you don’t know her. She didn’t appear in any Japanese films, mostly worked in the U.S. But she had such a strong presence. This actor really reminds me of her."

"Interesting," Mitani responded, nodding.

"Could you tell me the name of the actor playing the vampire later?"

"Let’s check the script," Mitani suggested, and Al heard the sound of pages being flipped.

"Jack Valero."

"What? He’s not Japanese?" Machida sounded surprised.

"I think he’s a foreigner. He doesn’t have many lines. I assumed we were talking about a foreigner all along. It seemed odd when you said he resembled a Japanese actress."

"So, he’s a foreigner? He did have a somewhat chiseled face…"

"Machida-san, maybe the person you saw was actually a staff member? It’s a bit early for the actor to have arrived by 3 PM."

"But he was so strikingly handsome."

The two continued chatting non-stop, clearly enjoying each other’s company. After the sound of a hairdryer and some clattering noises, Machida’s voice said, "See you at the studio," followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. It seemed Machida had left, and Mitani had finished getting ready.

Despite this, Mitani didn’t let Al out of the bag. He might have forgotten about the bat altogether, as he was now mumbling to himself, possibly reading the script.

As much as Al didn’t want to interrupt Mitani’s practice, he was in a desperate situation. If he stayed in the bag any longer, he might break out of it by turning back into a human. As Al continued to chirp "Squeak, Squeak" repeatedly, the bag started to sway. It was set down somewhere with a thump, followed by the sound of a door closing.

"Squeak, Squeak, Squeak!" Al cried out, his voice echoing slightly. Was he in a shower room? Had he been shut away in a small space because of his noisy protests? Even if he managed to escape the bag, he wouldn’t be able to get out of the shower room. Al let out a small, forlorn "Squeak…" from inside the cloth bag.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

As the sun set and Al’s body began to change, he was still trapped inside the cloth bag. He tore through the bag with a rip and transformed back into human form, then looked around. It was indeed a shower room. He quietly pulled the handle and stepped out into the changing area. Finding a towel, he wrapped it around his waist as a minimum courtesy and pressed his ear against the door to listen to what was happening in the dressing room. It seemed Mitani had left the room a while ago, but Al wanted to be sure.

There were no sounds—not even breathing. Confident that it was safe, Al stepped into the dressing room. He was lucky that no one had seen him during the transformation, and now that he was human again, he could move around freely. The problem was his clothes. Walking around with just a towel wrapped around his waist would definitely get him reported to the police, just like what happened at the food factory.

In the corner of the room, Mitani’s T-shirt and pants were lying there. Al wanted to borrow them, but taking them without permission would be stealing. Still, he couldn’t go anywhere without clothes. That’s it—he could borrow them and return them later. He could go home, change, and then return the borrowed clothes. But… how would he get home? He didn’t even have money for the train. Walking was an option, but who knew how long that would take?

For now, he decided to borrow the clothes and head to the studio to explain the situation to Akira. Akira had mentioned being tied up until the end of the shoot, so he was likely still downstairs. Even if Akira got really mad, he would probably help somehow. Just as Al steeled himself for the inevitable scolding, he heard noisy footsteps approaching from the hallway.

Someone was coming. If they saw him naked in this room, they’d definitely think he was some kind of weirdo. But he had no clothes. In a panic, Al grabbed Mitani’s clothes and dashed back into the changing room.

The door opened, and he heard it slam shut.

“This is ridiculous!” a man’s irritated voice echoed. It was slightly hoarse. Al, trying to stay quiet, put on Mitani’s clothes.

“I can’t believe the shoot is delayed because the new actor hasn’t shown up. What kind of agency do they come from?” the man grumbled.

“Sakurai-san, calm down. The agency said they couldn’t reach him, so it could be an accident or something. Besides, I don’t have any other work today, so I don’t mind waiting,” another voice responded, trying to soothe him. It was Mitani. Apparently, the hoarse voice belonged to someone named Sakurai. Al had grabbed Mitani’s clothes and had no way of leaving without being caught. He couldn’t let them see him.

“I feel worse for Jinbou-san. She has another job after this, and both she and her manager were getting pretty frustrated,” Mitani added.

“So she’s on a tight schedule, huh? If the actor isn’t coming, the producer should just get a replacement quickly.”

“It might be tough to find a replacement, even if the role doesn’t have many lines, especially since it’s for a foreigner,” Mitani reasoned.

“Why are you so laid-back about this? You’re the one being inconvenienced. You should be angrier than me, and I’m just the manager!”

“Even if you say I should be angry, I just don’t feel that upset. Sakurai-san, you’re the one who’s too on edge.”

Mitani muttered something about playing a game, then suddenly noticed, “Huh? My clothes are gone.”

Al’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest at the quiet remark.

“The ones I left here are missing. That’s strange.”

“Didn’t you change in the locker room?”

“No, the costume arrived late, and the makeup artist was already here. I didn’t bother going to the locker… I’ll look around for them.”

Al could hear the bathroom door next door slam shut. The next place Mitani would check was the changing room. The dressing room had no other doors besides those to the toilet and changing room. In a panic, Al clung to the doorknob.

“Hey, this door feels heavy,” Mitani remarked as he tried to open the door.

Al used all his strength to pull it back.

“There’s someone in the bathroom!” Mitani shouted.

“What?!” Sakurai’s voice boomed as he joined in pulling the door. With both of them pulling, Al couldn’t hold on any longer. The door yanked open, and Al, still clinging to the doorknob, stumbled out into the dressing room.

There he was, crouched on the floor in Mitani’s clothes, caught red-handed. Both Mitani and Sakurai, a tough-looking man in his forties, looked down at him in shock.

“...A foreigner?” the intimidating man muttered under his breath. Al clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture.

“Sorry! No clothes… borrowed this.” he stammered in broken Japanese.

Mitani’s expression shifted from surprise to a smile.

“Did you maybe mistake those clothes for a costume? You’re Jack Valero, right?” he asked.

“No, I’m not…” Al began, but before he could finish, Sakurai grabbed his arm.

The man forcefully dragged Al into the hallway, shouting, “We found the foreign actor!”

Previous TOC Next