Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 3 - Part 2

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By the time he arrived at the nearest station, it was 12:40 a.m. From there, it was a ten-minute walk back to the apartment building.

"I’m... home," Al murmured quietly as he slowly opened the front door, speaking softly enough to be barely audible. The living room was dim, and the bedroom beyond it was completely dark. Akira was asleep. Al switched on the entryway light and noticed a pair of shoes that didn’t belong to either him or Akira. The well-worn leather shoes belonged to Nukariya.

He tiptoed into the living room, where he saw Nukariya lying on the large sofa, still in his suit. Al often slept on that sofa when Akira kicked him out of bed. Lately, Nukariya had been conducting stakeouts in the area due to a recent case. During his breaks, he would come to Akira’s apartment to catch some sleep. He had complained before that the cigarette smell in his car made him nauseous.

Even though Al was quiet and hadn’t turned on the living room lights, Nukariya woke up at the sound of his footsteps, letting out a low groan as he opened his eyes.

"...Oh, Al. Welcome back."

"Wake up... Sorry."

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Nukariya slowly sat up.

"...No, it’s fine. I need to head back soon anyway, so it’s good timing," he said, letting out a big yawn.

"Work... Hard?"

Nukariya smiled warmly. "Well, I’m actually slacking off right now."

"Slacking off?"

"I told them I’d just be stepping out for a bit, but it’s already been almost three hours. If I don’t head back soon, Yanagawa might start crying from loneliness."

Yanagawa, Nukariya’s partner, was often treated like an extension of Nukariya’s limbs. Though he was a rather tough guy, it was hard to imagine him crying, even if he did mutter complaints under his breath like some kind of curse.

The floor creaked, and Akira appeared in the living room, dressed in sweats. His black, unruly hair looked like a bird's nest, his eyes narrowed with displeasure, and his mouth twisted in a sour frown. …To say he looked unhappy would be an understatement.

"…Do you know what time it is? Keep it down," Akira growled, his voice as low as if it were crawling along the floor.

"Sorry, Akira," Nukariya apologized, though Akira’s gaze was fixed straight on Al.

"I’m… sorry," Al said, apologizing as well. Akira snorted and turned on the living room light. He then opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of mineral water, and gulped it down.

"By the way, Al, where were you so late?" Nukariya asked.

"I saw a screening," Al answered.

"Oh? By yourself?"

"Mitani... together."

After tilting his head slightly, Nukariya clapped his hands lightly. "Ah, that actor who helped us catch the suspect before, right?"

"Yes."

"It’s good that you’ve made a friend you can go to the movies with."

"Just... night, play."

"Even so, it’s a good sign."

Nukariya, who had been listening with a smile, leaned in and glanced at Al’s back.

"That T-shirt you’re wearing is interesting."

"Really?"

Not only Sakeiri, but Nukariya also appreciated the design on his shirt.

Al twisted his body and reached behind him, pointing to the ‘song’¹ character of the phrase ‘Shimensoka’ printed on the back.

"The shop person... said it's 'song'. Singing... fun."

"...You’re probably the only person in the world who would happily wear a four-character idiom that describes being cornered on all sides without realizing it’s not a joke," Akira grumbled. Al, feeling a bit annoyed, turned back to him.

"I have... good taste... everyone praises it."

Akira exaggeratedly shrugged with the bottle still in hand. "Who’s everyone? It’s just Nukariya, and even he only said it was funny, not that it was stylish."

Al stiffened his jaw and pouted. "But... Sakeiri... said it's good."

Akira narrowed one eye and tilted his head slightly. "Sakeiri? You met him too?"

Oops, Al thought, but it was too late. He couldn’t take back what he’d said.

"You told me you were going out with Mitani, but you were actually with Sakeiri!"

"No... I watched the movie with Mitani... Sakeiri just... happened to be there." Al desperately explained.

"So that’s why you were so late. Let me guess, he asked you to be in that weird vampire drama sequel, didn’t he?"

He was absolutely right. Al couldn’t argue and instead looked down in silence.

"Don’t just sit there in silence! Answer me!" Akira’s angry voice echoed throughout the room.

"There’s no need to scold him just because he met with Sakeiri," Nukariya tried to soothe him, but Akira, already fired up, snapped, "You stay out of this!"

Having no other choice, Al confessed. "Sakeiri... wants me... to be in the vampire drama sequel."

"Absolutely not. Last time, I only allowed it because one of the actors had an accident right before filming, and they were in a tight spot. But this time is different. If you want to be in the drama so badly, then you’d better change that stupid face of yours that’s wanted for public indecency, trespassing, and escaping custody!"

Al knew Akira was worried about the police chasing him. That's why, even though he wanted to be in the show, he hadn’t said anything. Besides, it's not like he could change his face. The thought of it made Al feel a mix of anger and sadness, his chest tightening as he gritted his teeth.

"I get that you’re worried, Akira, but maybe you should listen to what Al has to say too," Nukariya, likely seeing how harsh Akira’s words were, came to Al’s defense.

"I'm not wrong!"

"But Al has his own hopes and dreams, right? Even if it’s risky to show his real face, like in the vampire role last time, the makeup was heavy, so it should be fine. Even I didn’t recognize him."

As Nukariya continued to reason with Akira, Al could feel the tension easing a little.

"To be honest, I was worried about Al too. When he first came to Japan, he didn’t have anyone to talk to besides me and Akira. I know he can’t help only being human at night, but I thought it would be nice if he could make a few more connections, even if he had to keep his true identity hidden. I understand that Mitani is an actor he met through the drama. Working in different fields has helped expand Al’s world. It’s still important to be careful since he’s a fugitive, but I think it’s okay not to be overly fixated on that."

And then Nukariya continued, "Or maybe…"

"Are you worried that Al might become famous? That he’ll go somewhere you can’t reach?" Nukariya teased with a smile, but Akira glared at him.

"Like hell I'm worried about that. He’s a terrible actor. Even if I were to give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s never going to make it. The reason I'm against it is that he's incredibly stupid. He keeps sticking his nose into things without asking for advice, getting into trouble every time, and somehow surviving what should have been fatal injuries. And the drama producer is Sakeiri! That guy is a reckless fool who bulldozes his way through problems. Just imagine those two teaming up —how could that not be a recipe for disaster?"

Nukariya rubbed his chin lightly.

"You might dislike him, but I don’t mind Sakeiri that much. Sure, he’s brash and pushy, but he’s an entertaining guy."

"You can say that because you’ve never had to deal with the fallout. Thanks to him, I almost got expelled from high school."

Nukariya’s eyes widened.

"But wasn’t that because you were doing a shady, not to mention illegal, part-time job? You can’t blame others for that."

Akira frowned and pouted.

"Sure, but it was your dad's publishing company!"

Nukariya shrugged nonchalantly. "I tried to stop you, but once you make up your mind, you never listen to anyone."

"Enough about my part-time job. The point is, Sakeiri and I are incompatible—past, present, and future. I’m going to bed. You should get back to work, too."

Akira tossed the empty plastic bottle into the sink and stormed off to bed, his footsteps so loud they could probably draw complaints from the neighbors below. After the angry landlord had disappeared, Al and Nukariya exchanged glances.

"…I meant to help, but I think I made things more complicated. Sorry about that," Nukariya said quietly.

"It’s okay. Thank you."

When Al thanked him, Nukariya gently patted his head, as if comforting a child. "If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you," Nukariya said before leaving the room. Al took a shower, changed into a new T-shirt and shorts, and then cautiously approached the bed.

Not long ago, Al had asked Akira to be his boyfriend. Although he was serious, Akira had suddenly yelled, "You idiot!" and hit him. For a while after that, Al wasn’t allowed in the bed.

During that period, instead of sleeping on the living room sofa, Al slept on the floor right next to the bed, pleading, "Wanna sleep... together in bed," as he waited patiently like a loyal dog for Akira's permission. It was only about two weeks ago that he was finally allowed back beside Akira. But it came with a scary warning: "If you say something stupid like that again or try anything funny, I'll kick you out that window."

Akira was lying on his side, facing the wall. Normally, he slept on his back, so it was clear that he didn’t want to look at Al, indicating he was still angry. Al could feel the tension in the air as he lifted the sheets to get into bed, only to hear a muffled voice say, "Go sleep on the sofa."

"I want... to sleep here." Al replied.

"…Just knowing you’re next to me makes me incredibly irritated."

"Lonely... alone."

"Stop saying such spoiled things! You were only supposed to stay here for two weeks. But you’ve taken advantage of your broken Japanese and have been here for nearly a year!"

Hearing Akira speak as if he were a nuisance made Al feel a pang of sadness. He wanted to act in the drama, but that desire paled in comparison to the thought of being hated by or losing Akira. If he had to choose, he’d choose Akira, of course. Al forcefully slipped into bed and wrapped his arms around Akira from behind. They went back and forth with "Get out!" and "No!" until, realizing that Al wasn’t going to let go even if it killed him, Akira finally gave up and let out a loud, frustrated sigh.

Al pressed his nose against the warm nape of Akira’s neck. He felt Akira shiver slightly.

"...Cold."

"Sorry."

"You're like dry ice."

"I'm... not alive."

Al muttered somewhat self-deprecatingly, to which Akira responded, "You’re right. For someone who’s not alive, you sure are annoyingly persistent and talkative."

"I'm... humble."

"Look up the word 'humble' in the dictionary, then try saying that again."

Al felt Akira's shoulders rise and fall gently. He was laughing. His mood seemed to have improved a little, and Al felt relieved.

"I... won’t be in the drama," Al whispered quietly.

"I don't want to... do anything Akira doesn’t like."

At that, Akira slapped the hand Al had wrapped around his stomach.

"It's not about what I like or don't like. If you show your face on TV, the risk of getting caught goes way up. That’s all I care about. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t care what you did, as long as you didn’t bother anyone."

Al knew that wanting to try acting was a selfish wish. But still, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts slip out.

"The drama... they film in America."

"America? So, an overseas shoot?"

"Yes. In Chicago, near Nebraska. I... wanted to see Papa and Mama."

Akira's body tensed up for a moment.

"I... can’t go back to America."

It was late, and the comfort of being close to Akira soon lulled Al to sleep. He vaguely remembered hearing Akira ask, "Do you want to go back there?" but by the time he woke up, he couldn’t recall whether it had been a dream or reality.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

In the staff lounge of the embalming facility where Akira worked, Al was taking a bath, submerged up to his neck in a plastic bowl filled with water. The bowl was placed by the window, and although the sunlight streaming through the glass was a bit warm, Muroi would occasionally pour a cup of water over his head, which felt absolutely divine.

Being a bat during the day, Al's entire body was covered in light brown fur, as if he were wearing a fur coat all year round. When summer arrived in full force, Al began to look so exhausted, slumped on Akira’s shoulder, that Tsuno, unable to stand it any longer, started letting him take baths. This was the beginning of what turned out to be an immensely pleasurable experience, one that made Al frequently beg, “Squeak, squeak (let me bathe),” from Tsuno.

It became such a regular occurrence that Tsuno began preparing a bowl of water for the bat’s bath every day, as long as the weather was good. A hand towel was even placed beside the bowl so Al could dry off whenever he pleased. It was pure luxury.

As Al relaxed in the bowl, he kept a close eye on Akira, who had been acting strangely lately. It wasn't that Akira was speaking nonsense or had become more harsh or rough than usual. It was the ice cream. Akira had started eating a lot of ice cream.

Even now, Akira was flipping through a foreign magazine while eating a cup of ice cream. The Akira Al knew would never eat ice cream while on duty. There were no bodies requiring treatment today, and with Koyanagi and Tsuno taking the afternoon off, only Akira and the apprentice embalmer Muroi were left, waiting for the end of the workday.

Since the argument Al and Akira had in the middle of the night, Akira had been eating ice cream frequently—one in the morning, another after lunch, and now a third for an afternoon snack. Al was starting to worry that some strange hormone had been triggered by the late-night argument, leading to this odd behavior. Akira was eating so much ice cream that the freezer in the apartment was stuffed full of it.

During the summer, despite feeding Al nutritious foods, Akira himself had become skinny and frail. While sweets might help him regain the lost weight, there had to be a limit.

Putting aside Akira's ice cream habit, what really bothered Al was the subtle change in the atmosphere of the staff room once Koyanagi and Tsuno had left, leaving only Akira, Muroi, and Al, the bat.

Muroi, who was a rival in his affection for Akira, was now openly showing his feelings. When other embalmers like Tsuno or Koyanagi were around, Muroi would keep it in check, but now, left alone, his gaze was so full of adoration for Akira that it was almost as if his eyes were speaking, "I like you, I like you."

Akira sat at his usual desk, while Muroi was on the sofa, which gave him an unobstructed view of Akira’s back. Pretending to read a magazine on his lap, Muroi’s eyes were glued to Akira's slightly hunched back.

Al climbed out of the bowl with a splash, rolled around on the hand towel to dry off, and then flew over to Muroi, squeaking "Squeak, squeak," trying to draw attention away from Akira. But all he got was a half-hearted pat on the head, “There, there, did you enjoy your bath?” The lovestruck gaze remained fixated on Akira.

Muroi tightened his half-open mouth and stood up from the sofa. Al sensed something was about to happen, a bad feeling creeping over him. Muroi had confessed to Akira several times before, each time being firmly rejected. Although Akira wasn’t one to easily let anyone in, Al knew better than anyone else that even the most stubborn heart could eventually be worn down by the relentless waves of affection.

"Takatsuka-san," Muroi called.

Akira’s slightly unruly black hair swayed a little to the right as he turned around, his chair creaking.

"I have a request... but please feel free to refuse if you don’t want to."

With a somewhat puzzled expression, Akira asked, "What is it?"

"Would you help me practice makeup? There are some things you can't fully grasp just from reading magazines about trends; I want to try it out on an actual person."

Akira rested his chin on his fingertips, thinking.

"There should be a practice head model in the storeroom. I’ll go get it."

As Akira stood up, Muroi’s face showed a flicker of anxiety.

"Um, I heard about the model from Tsuno-san, but the texture of the skin is different, so I thought it would be better to use the real thing..."

Akira looked into Muroi’s eyes, scrutinizing him deeply, as if searching for something hidden within. Muroi's cheeks twitched unnaturally, perhaps from nervousness.

"...Alright, fine. We have time today. I'll lend you my face, do whatever you want with it. I'll grade you afterward."

Al watched as a flood of relief and joy washed over Muroi’s face. Akira was about to head to the CDC room where the makeup and dressing for the deceased were usually done, but Muroi stopped him, saying, "It's just makeup, so we can do it here," and fetched his makeup kit from his desk.

Makeup was essential in embalming, not only for female bodies but also for male bodies, to give them a healthy complexion with blush and foundation. Watching Akira work with makeup sometimes made Al think he could be a professional makeup artist.

The center was well-stocked with makeup tools. Akira used the center’s foundation and blush but had his own set of brushes, which he said were easier to handle because they were well broken in. Muroi also seemed to have prepared his own brushes.

Akira sat down, and Muroi opened the page of the magazine with the makeup style he wanted to try and placed it on the desk. As the base was applied, Akira closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly back.

Akira had long eyelashes and a well-defined nose. Even with his eyes closed, his face was beautiful and symmetrical. Muroi's fingers moved slowly, almost caressingly, over Akira’s smooth skin, as if savoring the sensation. Watching this, Al grew anxious.

This face of Akira, asleep and serene, had been Al's alone to witness until now. Though Muroi avoided looking directly at Akira when his eyes were open, he stared intently at Akira’s closed face as if he wanted to carve the image into his memory. Muroi’s gaze was filled with desire, yearning, and a strange, inexplicable heat that made Al restless. Al flew onto Akira’s shoulder and let out a loud "Squeak!" in a bid to interrupt.

Startled, Muroi jumped back with a yelp. Akira's previously closed eyes snapped open, glaring sideways at Al on his shoulder. In the next moment, Al found himself grabbed and tossed aside. He spun once in the air, spread his wings, and landed flat against the back of the sofa.

"Quiet! Keep it down!" Akira snapped. Al shook his head and let out a protesting "Squeak, squeak," but Akira wasn’t listening. When Al flew back onto his shoulder, Akira flicked his fingers irritably at the bat's head. Though it was unpleasant, Al clung on, enduring the discomfort. Eventually, Akira seemed to tire of shooing him away and stopped bothering. It seemed he had decided to ignore the bat perched on his shoulder.

"Al is as loyal to you as a dog, Takatsuka-san," Muroi remarked with admiration, but Akira didn’t respond.

"I can understand why you’d want to keep a bat. They’re fascinating creatures when they’re this smart."

"This one’s a fool," Akira retorted.

"No, he’s definitely smart."

As their light conversation continued, the heavy, oppressive atmosphere Muroi had been exuding seemed to lighten a bit. Despite talking, Muroi's fingers moved smoothly. Although he was still an apprentice and had little experience with makeup for the deceased, his fingers moved skillfully. Everyone said he was naturally dexterous and quick to grasp things, no matter what task he was given.

"Takatsuka-san, your skin is really smooth," Muroi commented with a slight grin.

"Are you thinking it’s odd to compliment another man like that? But it's true," Muroi added, smiling.

As he began applying makeup around Akira's eyes, he asked, "By the way, has anyone ever told you that you look like Hanae Tamura?"

Akira's lips barely moved as he muttered, "…Never heard of her."

"She was a Japanese actress who worked overseas. I recorded one of her films when it aired recently. I could bring it to you next time."

"No need. I don’t watch movies. It’d be a waste of time," Akira replied coldly. Muroi’s smile faltered, but he still responded softly, "I see."

"Don’t you go to the movies with Kane-san?" Muroi asked after a brief pause.

There was a slight delay before Akira answered, "No. He often goes to the movies with his friends. I think he likes horror."

Al shook his head vigorously on Akira’s shoulder.

"Really… Horror, huh? That’s surprising," Muroi replied.

"He’s actually a bit of a coward," Akira muttered under his breath.

"Now I’m about to do the eyeliner, so please keep your eyes closed," Muroi instructed.

Akira’s lips curved ever so slightly into a smile. "I’ve had them closed this whole time," he replied.

"…Right. Sorry about that."

As Muroi applied a gradient along Akira’s eyelids, he leaned in unusually close, his eyes lingering on Akira’s slightly parted lips with a yearning gaze. Al glared at him from Akira’s shoulder, but Muroi didn’t notice the tiny bat’s efforts to ward him off.

Muroi’s face drew closer, close enough that their lips could almost touch. This was clearly not the angle for applying makeup. Al wanted to warn Akira about the situation, but if he made a noise, Muroi would likely act as if nothing happened, and only Al would be scolded for being noisy.

With no other choice, Al dug his claws into Akira's shoulder as hard as he could.

"Ow! That hurts!" Akira yelped, jerking his body back sharply. The sudden movement caused him to bump into Muroi, and their lips briefly brushed against each other.

"Oh," Muroi let out a small sound of surprise. Akira, realizing what had happened, furrowed his brow.

"Ah, sorry about that," Akira apologized.

"No, it's… I’m fine," Muroi stammered, his cheeks slightly flushed.

Shocked that he had accidentally facilitated their kiss, Al began to tremble. Akira, noticing this, grabbed the bat, shook him vigorously from side to side until he was dizzy, and then shoved him into a desk drawer.

"T-Takatsuka-san," Muroi said, startled. Akira, his voice low and stern, commanded, "Continue with the makeup."

From inside the dark drawer, Al stomped his feet in frustration, screeching, "Squeak, squeak, squeak!"

"Shut it! Don’t make a sound until I say so. If you do, you’re skipping dinner!" Akira’s harsh words left Al trembling, but he had no choice but to remain silent.

"Al really is… something else," Muroi’s voice sounded annoyingly cheerful, probably because he was still happy about the kiss.

"Forget about him. Just focus on your work," Akira replied sharply, and Muroi fell silent. The lounge stayed quiet for a while until Muroi finally said, "It’s done." Al strained his ears to listen from inside the drawer.

"…Not bad. Though I think the eye area might be a bit too intense overall. But this kind of look is popular among women in their twenties."

"Do you think I overdid it?" Muroi asked anxiously.

"It’s average for America, but Japanese people tend to wear lighter makeup. When in doubt, consult with the family to decide on the makeup style."

After a brief pause, Muroi muttered, "America, huh?"

"Was it tough studying at a mortuary school in America?" Muroi asked.

"The coursework was manageable, but the English was tough. I couldn’t keep up with the native speakers’ pronunciation, and English words even chased me into my dreams."

Though there are mortuary schools in Japan, Akira had studied at a mortuary school in America, worked as an intern, and eventually earned his license.

"You lived in California, right? What was it like?"

"Hot and dusty. And the food was unbelievably bad."

Muroi laughed out loud.

"I’ve heard Americans have a pretty rough sense of taste."

Akira often scolded Al, saying, "Your taste buds are broken," but now Muroi was saying something similar. Al had always thought Akira was just being dramatic, but now he was secretly stunned to realize that might not be the case.

"They practically live on pizza and hamburgers, and the sweets are just sugar drenched in artificial coloring. Growing up on that stuff, their sense of taste is bound to be dull. Even though Al cooks all the time, everything he makes is disastrously bad."

"...Al is a bat, right?"

"Oh! Ah, I misspoke. I meant Kane," Akira’s voice rose unnaturally.

"If you mix up your bat and your lover, he’s going to get mad." Muroi’s tone dropped slightly.

"Just to clarify, there’s nothing going on between us. He’s just a freeloader, not my lover."

A silence fell between them.

"You met Kane-san in America, right? Were you living together back then, too?" Muroi asked lightly, though there was a tense undercurrent in his voice.

"No. I was staying at a friend’s place," Akira replied.

"Must be nice to have friends over there," Muroi said.

"…At first, I was living alone, but I got caught up in a neighbor’s trouble, which led to me getting kicked out of my apartment. That’s how I ended up staying at my friend’s place. Even their housekeeper was a cheerful old woman who couldn’t cook anything decent…"

Just then, the sound of the internal phone rang, cutting Akira off mid-sentence.

"I'll get it," Muroi said, and the ringing stopped. Al heard him responding with a series of "Yes, yes," as he spoke to someone.

"It's Matsumura-san. She says someone named Sakeiri is here and wants to talk to you, Takatsuka-san."

"Tell him I'm busy with work and send him away," Akira immediately replied.

"Well... Matsumura-san said there's no embalming today, so she already showed him to the reception room."

"That persistent jerk! How many times do I have to say no?"

There was an audible sound of someone clicking their tongue—it was definitely Akira.

"What should I tell Matsumura-san?" Muroi asked, sounding a bit uncertain.

"Tell her I'm coming. How much does that guy need to irritate me before he's satisfied?" Akira snapped. There was a loud slam as the door closed. Akira must have stormed out. Sakeiri must have come all the way to the center to negotiate for a role in the sequel of BLOOD GIRL Mahiro.

There was a clatter, and suddenly the surrounding area brightened. A large hand reached in and grabbed Al, pulling him out of the drawer. Muroi had taken him out of the desk. Al was happy to be rescued, but the fact that it was his rival who had saved him left him with mixed feelings. Still holding onto the bat, Muroi plopped down on the sofa.

"You really love Takatsuka-san, don't you?" Muroi said, bringing Al closer to his face. Al replied honestly with a "Squeak" (That's right).

"You always get in the way whenever I try to get close to him... But thanks to you, I got to kiss him today."

Al grimaced as Muroi pointed out his biggest failure of the day and then rubbed his head with his fingers.

"What’s Takatsuka-san like at home? He keeps denying it, but Kane must be his boyfriend, right?" Muroi asked, tightening his grip on Al when the bat let out another "Squeak" (That's right).

"They’re, you know, doing it, aren’t they?" Muroi’s voice darkened with jealousy.

"Since you’re always around Takatsuka-san, you must see it too. He says he doesn't like living with other people, but it's unfair if he's okay with a foreigner," Muroi continued.

He then suddenly shouted, "Ah!" and let go of Al.

"Complaining to a bat... I've really lost it," Muroi muttered, burying his head in his hands on the sofa. Al watched him sideways, feeling a twinge of pity. He could tell that Muroi really liked Akira, but Al wasn’t going to give him up. Even if Akira yelled at him, flicked his head, or shoved him into the desk, Al wouldn’t back down.

Akira didn’t return to the break room for a long time. It was around five, when Muroi began packing up to leave, that he finally came back, but his face was so stormy that Muroi hesitated to say anything and just clammed up.

Akira washed his face roughly at the sink in the lounge, then took a cup of ice cream from the freezer and began eating it while standing. It was a strange sight. Halfway through the ice cream, Akira suddenly turned around, as if he had just noticed that the apprentice embalmer was still there. He glanced at the clock on the wall.

"...It's time. You should go home," Akira said.

"Y-Yes," Muroi mumbled. "Thank you for helping me practice makeup today."

Perhaps deciding it was best not to stay near such a grumpy man, Muroi quickly left. The break room was now occupied only by Akira and Al. Akira silently finished the rest of his ice cream. Though he was eating something sweet and delicious, his face showed no sign of happiness.

When the ice cream was gone, Akira flopped onto the sofa, crossed his legs, and seemed to be lost in thought. He stayed perfectly still, almost like a statue, with only his eyelids blinking occasionally. Al looked up at the clock, growing increasingly restless.

The sun was about to set, and he would soon transform into a human. After transforming, he’d be completely naked, and his clothes were in the locker room. Usually, Akira would have taken him there ahead of time, but today he showed no intention of doing so.

"Squeak, squeak," Al called out, but Akira either didn’t hear him or ignored him, with no reaction. When Al hopped onto Akira's knee, Akira finally looked at him.

"Squeak, squeak," Al repeated.

Just as Akira’s lips began to move, Al’s body suddenly heated up. The transformation had begun. His small, clawed hands and feet stretched out, and his monochrome vision filled with color.

His body temperature, which had risen so sharply it felt like he might burst into flames, dropped just as quickly as it had come. Once the transformation was complete, Al leaned on Akira’s knee, letting out a small "phew" of relief.

When he looked up, Akira was staring down at him. Their eyes met.

"You’re..."

Just as Akira began to say something, the phone rang. Akira stood up sluggishly and answered it. His responses were unusually slow.

"Oh, no. I don’t need you to bring it. I’ll pick it up on the way... No, I’ll come get it now."

After hanging up, Akira roughly ran his fingers through his hair, then turned back to Al, who was still crouching on the floor.

"I’m going to the reception desk. I’ll grab your clothes on the way back," Akira said.

It was the end of the workday, and only Akira and Al remained in the break room. The locker room was just next door, and Al could run there in no time, but since Akira offered to fetch his clothes, he decided to wait quietly in the break room.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Akira had been about to say. It hadn’t felt like the usual buildup to one of his explosive outbursts.

The door creaked open, and Al, lying on the sofa, turned his gaze toward it. He was sure it was Akira, but the silhouette was different. It was Tsuno.

Tsuno didn’t notice Al lying on the sofa and walked straight to his desk. He pulled out the USB stick that had been left in the computer, then turned around. Their eyes met.

"Whoa!" Tsuno yelped, stumbling backward. Al jumped up from the sofa, covering his groin with both hands as he blurted out, "I’m sorry!"

Clutching his chest, Tsuno muttered in a trembling voice, "K-Kane-san..."

"I saw Takatsuka-san at the reception desk, so I thought no one was here, even though the lights were on..." Tsuno said, looking away from Al’s naked body and gazing off into the upper right corner of the room with a troubled sigh.

"I’m starting to really not understand Takatsuka-san..." he murmured.

With that one statement, Al realized what Tsuno had misunderstood.

"I... me and Akira not... nyan-nyan!"

Tsuno shook his head.

"...You don't have to cover it up, Kane-san. I'm not a kid, you know. It's just that..."

He paused, clearing his throat with a loud cough.

"It's not that it's wrong to do it, but you should be more mindful of the location. I think I mentioned it before..."

Tsuno tilted his head slightly, then let out a small "Ah" as if something had just clicked.

"I always wondered why you guys would do it at work when you live together. Maybe... maybe this kind of situation turns you on?"

There was no way Al could answer that, especially when they hadn't even kissed properly, let alone had sex. Despite bringing it up himself, Tsuno suddenly blushed bright red.

"...Sorry for asking something weird. I'll be heading out now."

Tsuno hurriedly grabbed the doorknob and then turned back as if he just remembered something.

"Actually, could you please talk to Takatsuka-san for me? I mean, I really think it's better to separate work from personal life, but if you absolutely must, please at least lock the door."

With those words, Tsuno left the room. The sound of his footsteps faded away. Al and Akira weren’t dating; in fact, the reality was that Al was stuck in a one-sided crush, not even allowed a kiss. Yet, in Tsuno’s mind, they were a couple seeking thrills wherever they could. Al wanted to clear up the misunderstanding, but explaining this situation was difficult.

About five minutes after he was seen naked, Akira finally returned. As Al dressed, he regretted not just heading straight to the locker room naked, but it was too late now.

"Akira, while you were gone, Tsuno came," Al said.

Akira, sitting on the sofa, tilted his head.

"And so?"

It hadn’t even crossed Akira’s mind that he might have been seen naked. Al didn’t want to mention that they’d been mistaken for lovers in the break room because Akira would definitely blame him for not denying it.

After straightening his clothes, Al turned around only to be ordered, "Sit down there." Obediently, Al sat across from Akira. Akira crossed his arms and closed his eyes with a stern expression.

"Sakeiri came to the center."

Al nodded slightly.

"He’s insisting on getting you to star in the sequel to that vampire drama. Well, that's beside the point."

Was it really beside the point, when Akira had been so strongly opposed before? Al tilted his head in confusion.

"There's one thing I want to confirm. Do you want to go back to America?"

Al studied Akira's expression. It wasn’t exactly a good mood, but it wasn’t the storm-before-the-thunder kind of face either. It seemed like Akira might actually listen.

"I... want to go back."

Al fidgeted with his fingers on his lap.

"I want to see Papa and Mama’s faces."

After a brief silence, Akira muttered, "I see."

"Do as you like."

Al couldn’t believe his ears. Akira was actually allowing him to appear in the drama. It must have taken all of Sakeiri’s effort to convince him.

"Thank you, Akira!"

Al jumped over the table and hugged Akira. Though Akira’s body tensed up for a moment, he quickly grabbed Al’s head and pushed him away to the right.

"Don’t cling to me with that big body of yours. It’s annoying."

Chastised, Al knelt down by Akira’s feet. He placed his right hand on Akira’s knee and chuckled softly. He was so happy that he couldn’t stop smiling.

"I’ll make sure... my face has good makeup."

"Makeup?"

"So the police... won’t catch me. It’ll be okay."

"What the hell are you talking about? If you’re going back to America, you can’t be in a Japanese drama."

Looking into Akira's dark eyes, Al slowly questioned to confirm.

"I’ll go to America... just for the drama shoot."

"This makes no sense. You’re planning to be in the drama only for the parts filmed in America?"

The conversation wasn’t lining up. They were both looking at each other with faces that said, "You don’t get it." Al thought back to where the misunderstanding might have started. Returning to America... Returning to America... Return? As he reached the likely source of the misunderstanding, Al gasped.

"I’m going back to America, but... I’ll come back to Japan."

"You want to go back to America, so why bother coming back here?"

"I live... in Japan!"

Akira's eyebrows shot up in an angry slant.

"If you go back to America, you can see your parents as much as you want. Once you figure out how to get the blood for your meals, it’d be better for you to live there."

"But, but..."

Al clutched Akira’s knee tightly.

"Akira won’t be in America."

"Of course not!" Akira shouted. "I'm Japanese!"

Just because someone is Japanese doesn’t mean they have to live in Japan. They could live in America too. But Al didn’t press this point; it seemed like the conversation would only get more complicated.

"I like Akira... I want to stay by your side."

Like a child throwing a tantrum, Al shook Akira’s knee. Akira’s mouth opened slightly, then closed halfway.

"Then I'll tell you this: I really hate you. Just go back to America!"

"Liar!"

Al shouted.

"Akira doesn’t hate me!"

Even though Akira often yelled at him and even smacked his head, Al was sure of this. No one would let someone they hated sleep in the same bed with them every night.

"Lies are bad... my heart..."

At the crucial moment, Al couldn’t remember the Japanese words to say that his heart was breaking, that tears were about to fall. In English, it would be "crying," but he couldn’t recall it.

"My... my heart... wet!"

Akira’s expression wavered slightly, and he averted his gaze from Al.

"Wet? That doesn't make any sense."

Even as he grumbled, Akira finally muttered, "...Sorry."

For a while, neither of them said anything, both looking down. Even though Al knew Akira had been thinking of him when he tried to send him back to America, the idea of being sent away still hurt.

Then Akira's stomach growled loudly, and he hurriedly finished cleaning the treatment room before heading back to their apartment together. That night, Al made dinner as usual, but, unlike on any other day, Akira didn't complain once, even though he usually had five, six, or even seven criticisms to fire off.

Akira remained silent throughout, eating the dinner Al prepared with a sullen expression. After the meal, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Akira took some ice cream out of the freezer.

Footnotes

1. The 'song' character Al is referring to is likely the character "歌" (pronounced uta in Japanese), which means "song" or "to sing." It appears on his shirt as part of the four-character idiom 四面楚歌 (shimensoka), which literally translates to "surrounded by enemies on all sides." This misunderstanding reflects Al's language struggle, as he focuses on a familiar word ("song") without grasping the deeper meaning of the idiom.

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