Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 4 - Part 1
The distant sound of a car's exhaust rumbled. The noise gradually grew louder, and through the gaps in the trees, a dark-colored Cherokee screeched to a stop. On the unpaved road, bathed in the morning sunlight, dust swirled up around the tires.
Akira stepped out of the driver's seat. He approached the pickup truck where the man had stopped earlier, peering inside through the side window.
[“Hey, over here!”]
Hearing Kyiv's voice, Akira turned around. Unable to see well through the trees, he leaned left and right to get a better view before threading his way through the undergrowth. The dry leaves crunched beneath his feet.
Akira scanned the area, clearly searching for something. Thinking he was looking for him, Al poked his head out from the gap in his tuxedo and squeaked, [“Here I am!”] Akira, now looking down, gasped sharply, his lips slightly parted.
“What the hell! What’s with those tattered clothes?!”
The bat flinched at Akira's fierce shout, so loud it seemed to shake the surrounding trees.
“You're covered in blood! You didn’t get hurt, did you?!”
Although Al's surface wounds had healed, blood was still matted in his fur. He tried to retreat into the depths of the tuxedo, but Akira wasn't having it and yanked the clothes open, leaving Al fully exposed with nowhere to hide. Realizing it was pointless to resist, Al nervously looked up and squeaked apologetically, [“Sorry!”].
Akira clicked his tongue in a way that made Al's chest tighten with guilt, then turned to glare at Kyiv.
[“What the hell happened?! You didn't say anything about him being hurt when we spoke on the phone!”]
Kyiv, caught in the crossfire, spread his hands and shrugged.
[“Well…”] Kyiv pointed to the pickup truck.
[“The man in the truck shot Al to pieces while he was stuffed in a sack.”]
[“If you saw it happen, why didn't you stop it?!”] Akira snapped.
[“By the time I got here, he was already full of holes. Even I can't undo something like that. But I gave Al some of the guy's blood, so the wounds should be healing.”]
Akira groaned, “Damn it,” stomping his foot in frustration.
[“So, the guy who attacked Dick is the one slumped in the pickup truck? Al tracked him down and ended up getting shot?”]
Akira spat the words out, glaring down at Al. Seeing the displeasure on his face, Al instinctively averted his gaze.
“You idiot!”
As expected, Akira's angry roar came crashing down like thunder. Al reflexively covered his head.
“You got hurt because you went too far! Why didn’t you think and act more carefully?!”
There was nothing Al could say in his defense. Despite the short distance, Akira asked, “Hey! Are you even listening?!” Al quickly nodded his head, panicked.
“You're not a cop. You didn't need to catch the guy who attacked Dick. You should've known what was dangerous and what wasn't!”
In a near-whisper, Al squeaked, [“I'm sorry...”]. Perhaps sensing Al's regret, Akira finally closed his mouth. It seemed like the scolding was over, and Al breathed a sigh of relief.
Akira let out another sign, this one cutting deep into Al's ears. He then asked Kyiv, [“Does the guy in the truck have a gun?”]
[“Yeah, his gun's over there.”] Kyiv pointed to a shiny black gun lying at the base of a tree. Akira frowned.
[“It's out of bullets. And that guy isn't asleep—he's passed out of blood loss after Al drank so much of his blood.”]
Akira's shoulder twitched.
[“You didn’t let him drink enough to kill him, did you?”]
[“I told Al he could drink him dry if he wanted to.”] Kyiv smiled cheekily, raising his arms in a mock surrender when Akira glared at him.
[“Are you going to read me too?”]
Kyiv's tone softened. [“No matter how bad a person is, you're going to tell me they deserve a trial, right? That man tried to kill Al. If Al weren't a vampire, he'd be dead. But because Al's identity as a vampire must remain hidden, we can't report the injuries publicly. No one will ever hold that man accountable for his crime.”]
Kyiv spoke gently.
[“If Al's status as a vampire keeps that man from being judged, don't you think it's fair for us to punish him by our rules?”]
[“There's no point in hearing your opinion,”] Akira growled.
Kyiv blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
[“You don’t have the authority to punish him. If anyone does, it’s Al.”]
Kyiv's eyes sparkled with amusement. Akira jabbed his finger at Al and declared, “We're handing that man over to the police. Got it?” Al shook his head frantically in refusal.
“What, you don’t want to? You’re not satisfied unless you rip him apart yourself?”
Al feels a desperate look to Kyiv, hoping for help. Understanding the situation, Kyiv stepped in.
[“What’s going on here? When you two start talking in Japanese, I can't understand a word.”]
Akira raked his fingers through his hair, messing it up.
[“Al doesn’t want to turn the man over to the police.”]
[“Taking him to the police is pointless. The man doesn't remember why he hated Richard or why he attacked him.”]
Akira whirled around.
[“He attacked Richard because his sister, an actress, wasn't chosen for a movie and committed suicide. He blamed Richard out of spite. To make sure he never tries something like this again, I erased his memories of his sister entirely.”]
Still frowning, Akira muttered, [“What the hell...”]
[“Movies are entertainment. They're not for people who can't distinguish dreams from reality. When you hit your limit, you should just give up and find something else to do.”]
Kyiv's eyes narrowed as he smiled.
[“Even if the nectar of dreams is especially sweet.”]
[“I can't understand people who waste their lives.”]
Kyiv signed in agreement. [“I feel the same.”]
[“That guy's not a threat anymore. He's no longer a wolf baring its fangs, just a harmless little lamb. In two or three hours, he'll wake up, tilt his head, and wonder why he's here before heading home.”]
Akira crouched down, picking Al up from inside his tattered tuxedo. His movements were a bit rough, causing the fractured bones in Al's head to rattle. All let out a low groan of pain, and Akira, realizing it, trembled slightly.
“Ah... sorry.”
“Squeak,” Al chirped, trying to reassure him, pressing his belly tightly against Akira's palm. It was warm, and the faint scent of blood gave him comfort.
As Akira started to walk away, Kyiv called out, [“Wait.”]
[“Don’t you two ever think about cleaning up after yourselves?”]
[“Cleaning up?”]
Akira clearly had no idea what Kyiv meant. Sighing in exasperation, Kyiv threw the bullet-riddled sack, the tuxedo, and the empty gun into the hole.
[“What’s with this big hole?”]
[“It was supposed to be a grave for your dear Al.”]
His sarcasm left Akira speechless. Kyiv then grabbed a shovel that had been lying in the grass and started covering the hole with dirt. Once the evidence of the carnage was hidden under the dark soil, he tossed the shovel aside and dusted off his dirty hands. [“That’s better.”]
◇ :-: ◆ :-: ◇
Before returning to Richard's house, Akira decided to drop Kyiv off at his hotel. While Akira drove, Al was left in Kyiv's care in the passenger seat. Kyiv had offered, [“Shall I drive?”] but it felt more like a provocation than a genuine offer. Akira, with a sullen expression, didn't bother responding.
As they drove from the suburbs into the city and headed north on Canal Street, the car suddenly slowed down. It was moving at a crawl, barely faster than walking speed. Traffic seemed to be gridlocked heading toward Union Station. It wasn't rush hour yet, and it was barely dawn, so it seemed odd. Perhaps there had been an accident nearby.
Akira made a right turn onto State Street. The road there was clear, and the car moved smoothly again.
[“The whole city feels oddly restless… people and cars are all jittery, like they can't settle down,”] Kyiv museum lazily, resting his elbow on the window frame and gasing outside. After a short while, they arrived at the hotel where Kyiv and the cast of the drama were staying. Akira pulled the Cherokee into the hotel's driveway and negotiated with the bellhop to leave the car there for about fifteen minutes. The bellhop agreed and directed the car to the edge of the driveway.
[“By the way, I haven't thanked you yet,”] Akira said suddenly, still facing forward. Kyiv, who had been about to open the door, turned around.
[“Thanks for finding Al. There's no way we could've done it without you.”]
Kyiv blinked in surprise before smiling. [“You’re welcome.”]
[“...There's something else I need to talk to you about. Do you have a moment?”] Akira continued.
Kyiv tilted his head curiously. They'd had plenty of time to talk during the drive, so why bring it up now, just as he was about to enter the hotel?
[“I don’t mind. I have no plans for the rest of the day. Do you want to come up to my room?”]
[“No, the lobby's fine,”] Akira replied.
He placed Al on the seat, got out of the car, and told him, "Wait here for a bit." Despite a dull ache in his head, Al forced himself to fly to the dashboard. He watched as the two of them entered the hotel together.
Being left behind made Al wonder if this was a conversation he wasn't supposed to hear. He wanted to know what they were talking about, but without being able to leave the car, he couldn't eavesdrop. Restless, he stared at the hotel entrance.
Since it was early in the morning, there weren't many people coming and going from the hotel. Amidst the quiet, a familiar white location bus pulled up to the driveway. Painted on the side was “Rental Vehicle.” As Al observed it more closely, a group of people who appeared to be of East Asian descent emerged from the hotel entrance.
It was the cast and crew of the drama BLOOD GIRL Mahiro . Mitani, one of cast, stopped and stared at the Cherokee before suddenly dashing toward the car. He peeked inside, and when his eyes met Al's, he blinked rapidly, like a camera taking rapid-fire shots.
Though they had worked together before and gone to the movies a few times in private, this was only the second time Mitani had seen Al in his bat form. Out of a sense of familiarity, Al gave a small nod, squeaking, as a greeting.
“What's going on? The location bus is leaving soon,” a voice asked from behind Mitani. It was Sakeiri, leaning over to take a look.
“Oh, sorry. I heard Takatsuka borrowed a Cherokee from a friend, so I thought this might be it. It looks like it, but no one's inside. I wanted to ask about Kane, but... if the car's here, maybe he's in the hotel?”
“Kane got lost while chasing the suspect, right? We got word he's been found, and from the way Takatsuka talked, it doesn't sound like there's any problem.”
“Yeah, but still…”
“He's such a troublemaker, causing all this fuss.”
Sakeiri placed his hands on his hips and sighed. Then, noticing the bat lying on the dashboard, he exclaimed, “Whoa! What’s a bat doing in the car?!”
It wasn't like anyone was going to eat him, but Sakeiri dramatically stepped back in fear.
“Didn’t you show me a picture of Takatsuka’s pet bat before? This must be that same beat,” Mitani said.
Sakeiri leaned in closer to the side window, squinting suspiciously at Al. Feeling intimidated by his intense stare, Al backed away slightly.
“…It's a bit scruffy, but yeah, it's definitely him. So, Takatsuka even brought his bat with him overseas? That's some serious attachment,” Sakeiri remarked.
“I thought Takatsuka was more of a detached person,” Mitani replied.
Sakeiri shook his head, “No way. Think about it. He hated Kane being on TV so much—that's pure jealousy. And now, with the overseas shoot, not only does he come along, but he also brings his pet bat? That’s some serious possessiveness.”
Although Sakeiri's interpretation was wildly off, Mitani seemed to accept it, nodding in agreement.
Wanting to defend Akira, Al chirped in protest, “ Squeak , squeak ! (That's not true!). But Sakeiri took it as confirmation, saying, “See? Even the bat agrees.”
“Guys like him who play it cool on the outside often turn out to be surprisingly jealous,” Sakeiri mused.
“…Jealous, huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” A low, irritated voice interrupted, causing Sakeiri to whirl around in a panic.
Distracted by their conversation, neither Al nor the others had noticed Akira returning.
“Ah! Ta-Ta-Takatsuka! H-How’s Kane doing?” Sakeiri stammered.
Akira glanced at Al before answering curtly, “He’s fine.”
“Is Kane hurt at all?” Mitani asked worriedly.
“He's fine,” Akira lied. Even though Kane had recovered, there was no way he could admit that he'd been shot to the point of nearly being turned into a sieve.
“Sorry to interrupt,” came a voice from behind Akira. It was one of the staff members, a young man who had worked as the lighting tech the previous day. He was also acting as Richard's interpreter since he spoke fluent English, having lived abroad.
“Producer, we're ready to head out soon. Is that okay?” the lighting technician asked.
Mitani glanced at his watch before responding, “Today's shoot got moved up, didn't it? Is there a particular reason we need to hurry?”
“Well, actually…” The lighting technician grimaced as if he had swallowed something bitter. “There's a rumor going around that there might be a protest. If that happens, traffic’s going to be a nightmare, so we want to get to the location before things get worse.”
“Come to think of it, Canal Street was unusually crowded this morning,” Akira muttered, recalling the earlier traffic. The lighting technician threw up his hands, exclaiming, “I knew it! Yesterday, the leader of some cult religious group was sentenced to death, and it's causing an uproar. The media's been all over it, and now there are calls for protests from anti-death penalty groups and the cult's followers. I’d rather not get caught up in that mess.”
“A cult leader, huh? It’s always some kind of scam, isn’t it?” Sakeiri said with a mock-serious shrug.
“I'm telling you, it's serious. The protests here can get really out of hand,” the lighting technician warned as he urged Sakeiri and Mitani to board the location bus. Meanwhile, Akira took off his jacket and placed it on the passenger seat as a cushion, setting Al gently on top of it. The sound of a car passing by caught Al's attention, and when he looked up, he saw Mitani waving at them from the window of the rental bus.
Akira's Cherokee followed behind the bus as it slowly started moving. Just as the lighting technician had feared, the previously clear State Street was now filling up with cars.
“Looks like everyone's starting to detour around the station road, and now this one's getting jammed up too,” Akira grumbled, grabbing the steering wheel. The car was barely going 20 miles per hour (around 32 kilometers per hour). Curious, Al chirped, “ Squeak , squeak ? (What were you talking about with Kyiv?)”, but Akira, misunderstanding, asked, “Are you hurt somewhere?” It wasn't the time to discuss it. Al would have to wait until he could ask Akira in human form later. For now, he curled up on the soft jacket.
The car came to a stop at a traffic light. From the sidewalk, a chorus of voices chanting “Angel Redeem World, Angel Redeem World” echoed like ripples.
◇ :-: ◆ :-: ◇
They returned to Richard's house a little after 8 am As Akira parked the car in the garage, he noticed a figure silhouetted in the entranceway by the backlight. It was Richard. Gone was the country-bumpkin disguise; he was back to looking like the sleek industry professional he was, dressed in a dark turtleneck sweater and well-fitted pants. Behind him stood his bodyguard, Henry, like a shadow.
[“Sorry for making you worry, Dick,”] Akira said as he got out of the car and lightly patted Richard's tired-looking shoulder. Richard murmured, [“No worries,”] while scanning the area, his gaze quickly landing on the bat wrapped in Akira's jacket.
[“...What happened to that bat?”]
[“Oh, he's not feeling too well,”] Akira replied.
Richard's glance lingered on the bat for only a moment before he started looking around again, clearly restless.
[“Where’s Al? Didn’t he come back with you?”]
[“He's staying at a friend's house for a little longer,”] Akira said.
Richard grabbed Akira's shoulders and shook him vigorously. [“Is that true? He didn't get seriously hurt while chasing the guilt and end up in the hospital, did he?”] His eyes were filled with worry, close to tears.
[“Dick,”] Akira said firmly, calling his name.
[“Al got lost while chasing the suspect, but by chance, he ran into an old friend and went to his house. That's all. There’s nothing to worry about.”]
Richard's anxious gaze dropped, and he let out a shaky sigh, placing a hand on his forehead.
[“I've regretted it so many times. If I hadn't gone to watch the shoot yesterday, Al wouldn't have chased after the suspect. Then he wouldn't have been in danger...”]
[“It's not your fault, Dick. If Al saw you blaming yourself, he'd be the one who's sad,”] Akira said, holding Richard's shoulder. Even Al, nestled in Akira's arms, chirped in agreement.
[“No, it's my fault. I can't help but feel like you're going to lose another important person because of me...”]
Still holding onto Richard, Akira led him into the house. In the kitchen, Martha had prepared a simple breakfast: scrambled eggs with a heap of cheese, salad, and toast for five people. Akira and Henry hesitated to sit, but Martha lectured them, [“Young men need to eat properly,”] and made them sit down.
[“Dick, you were in disguise, right? So, the attacker must have been striking randomly?”] Martha, after hearing about the events of the previous day's shoot, sipped her tea and added, [“That's terrifying. What do you think, Henry?”] she asked the bodyguard.
[“I believe some people just can't function within the norms of society,”] Henry replied, his expression unchanging. Though Henry probably knew the attacker had recognized Richard, he agreed with Martha's "random" theory to avoid worrying her.
Al, lying in a small basket that Martha had prepared for him at the edge of the table, passively listened to their conversation. He recalled Akira's harsh words: "Why don't you act more carefully and think before you move!" He had chased after the culprit recklessly, only to fail to capture him and end up seriously injured. He had caused Richard great worry. If he had been human, he could have died, and Richard would have deeply blamed himself.
Chasing the suspect had been one thing, but jumping onto the truck had been reckless. There were other ways, like noting the truck's license plate and reporting it to the police, that wouldn't have put him in harm's way.
[“Oh, right. Angel Sachs got the death penalty, didn't she? Every news station is talking about it. Imagine, so young, yet the leader of a cult, and no one even knows how many people she killed. The world's gone mad. Their religion claims that only the followers of 'Peaceful House' will survive Armageddon under the protection of Jesus. Isn't that absurd? Don’t the followers realize how ridiculous it all sounds?”] Martha said, shaking her head and pursing her wrinkled lips.
Henry chimed in, [“Those kinds of religions are almost like brainwashing. Angel used to be an actress and was quite beautiful. I heard a man even proposed to her through a letter after seeing her on TV, saying he wanted to marry her.”]
Martha scoffed and leaned toward Henry. [“So, for men, as long as the woman is beautiful, nothing else matters?”] Poor Henry, now representing all men, fumbled with an awkward response: [“Not all men are like that...”].
Richard, who had been listening with a smile, confessed, [“Actually, I put her back when she was an actress.”]
Martha gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. [“Really? That's the first I've heard of it. What was she like back then? Was she already talking about weird things like Armageddon?”]
Richard let out a small groan and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. [“She auditioned a few times for films I was producing. She wasn't saying anything strange back then. She was beautiful, charming, and a great conversationalist, but her acting wasn't up to par, so I never cast her. A producer named Hester liked her, though, and gave her a few small roles. Then, both of them disappeared, and the next thing I knew, she'd become the leader of a cult and was arrested for murder. I was shocked when I saw the news.”]
[“By the way...”] Akira's voice broke the conversation, and the three of them turned toward him.
[“There's been a protest related to her sentencing, right? The streets were jammed early this morning near the station,”] he said.
Martha gasped in concern and looked at the clock on the wall. [“It's already 9 am I thought we'd leave around 11 to catch our flight, but maybe we should leave earlier?”]
[“As long as we avoid the station and the main square, we should be fine,”] Akira replied, but Martha insisted, [“Let's leave by 10:30 just to be safe.”] It seemed that Richard and the others were planning to return to their main house today.
[“What about you, Akira? Will you stay here and come later with Al?”] Richard asked, sipping his tea.
[“No, I'll go with the three of you as originally planned.”]
[“So, you're leaving Al here by himself?”]
[“He's reluctant to leave since he hasn't been back here in a while. It seems like he has a lot of friends in Chicago. He said he'd head to LA either tonight or tomorrow… on a different flight.”]
It was the first time Al had heard anything about going to Los Angeles. Confused, he let out a small squeak , " Squeak ? (What's going on?)", only to be met with a stern glare from Akira, as if telling him to stay quiet.
Akira went back to the room first, saying he needed to finish packing. He placed Al's basket in a sunny spot by the window.
"I heard from Kyiv that the amount of blood needed for healing is the same, whether you're in bat form or human. It'd be troublesome if you couldn't move during the trip back, so I'll give you some blood once we arrive. Just hang in there a little longer."
When Akira was injured, he was always about three times gentler than usual. Al responded by sniffing affectionately.
"I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to travel while you're injured, but we're short on time, so we have no choice. We're leaving on the noon flight to Los Angeles today. …The return flight to Japan is arranged from LA"
There were flights to Japan from Chicago, so why go to Los Angeles first? Al tilted his head in confusion.
"I have a friend I want to see in LA"
Akira had studied in Los Angeles for a few years to get his embalmer's license. Maybe he was a friend from that time. Since coming back to the US, Al had been busy visiting his parents and dealing with the drama shoot, and Akira always following Al around. Now, it was Al's turn to accompany Akira. When Al agreed, Akira gently patted his back, saying, "You should just sleep during the trip."
Al watched Akira as he packed from his sunny spot. Even though his head and body ached, his heart felt very calm. The criminal targeting Richard was no longer a concern, and he had met the family he wanted to see. There was nothing left to worry about.
And LA… Los Angeles meant Hollywood. It was the dream destination for actors all over America. Al had visited once before, just as a tourist.
If they had some free time, maybe he could visit the set of a film Richard was producing. Perhaps a casting director might spot him and say, "Hey, you're pretty good-looking. Why don't you try out for a role in the project we're shooting? It's a small part, but…"
As Al was lost in these pleasant fantasies, Akira finished packing all his belongings into the trunk. There was a knock on the door, followed by Martha's voice, ["Akira."]
When Akira opened the door, Martha handed him a small basket with a lid, saying, ["What do you think of this?"]
[“I thought it might be better to carry the bat in something with a lid. This one even has a lock. He's a smart little guy, so I doubt he'll fly around, but just in case.”]
[“Thank you, Martha.”]
Akira accepted the basket. It was rectangular with a sturdy oval handle in the middle, and the lid opened from both sides. It looked like this would be Al's bed until they arrived in LA If he were human, he'd need a seat, but as a bat, he could travel without one. It was more comfortable and cheaper too. Traveling as a bat was actually quite economical.
[“You know, I don't remember buying this, so it might have been Lily's basket. She loved taking walks and going on picnics.”]
Akira stared intently at the basket. If it really was Lily's, it would be a keepsake from his mother.
After Martha left, Al was promptly placed in the basket with the lid. Martha had thoughtfully lined it with soft fabric, making it incredibly comfortable to lie in. As Al rubbed his nose against the fabric, savoring the texture, he suddenly noticed Akira's hand moving slowly. His fingers were gently tracing the handle of the basket, as if reminiscing.
◇ :-: ◆ :-: ◇
The road was a bit congested, but once they passed the city center, traffic flowed smoothly, and they arrived at the airport in about forty minutes. The departure time was 12:30 PM, so they had about an hour to spare before boarding. During that time, the four of them waited in the airline's exclusive lounge.
Although both Martha and Akira had said they were fine with economy seats, Richard had insisted, [“It'd be lonely if we sat apart,”] and upgraded their seats to first class without asking. Thanks to that, all of them were able to use the VIP lounge.
Richard had told Henry, [“You'll stand out if you keep standing,”] so even the bodyguard sat down on the sofa. With fewer people in the VIP lounge than in the busy airport lobby, it probably felt safer for someone in Henry's line of work. Al, sitting in his basket, was placed at Akira's feet. When they left the house, the basket's lid had been closed, and now only light filtered through the gaps in the woven rattan, leaving Al unable to see anything around him. Bored, he instinctively began eavesdropping.
A sudden thud sounded as something was placed on the table.
[“Martha, what’s that?”] Richard asked.
[“Collagen capsules. I forgot to take them this morning. Ever since I started taking these, my skin's been firmer, and my wrinkles have smoothed out. It’s been wonderful.”]
Martha was nearing her mid-seventies, but she hadn't forgotten the importance of self-care.
[“By the way, Dick, when you were handling the tickets, did you notice the person next to you had trouble walking?”]
[“Oh, yes, I did.”]
[“The wheelchair they were using looked so large and sturdy, quite different from the ones you usually see.”]
Richard gave a vague nod, [“Now that you mention it, I guess it did look different.”] He probably hadn't paid much attention.
[“I wonder if it was a wheelchair for athletes?”] Henry chimed in.
[“I've seen that type of wheelchair on cable TV before. Three people wearing jackets with the same logo as the man in the wheelchair were right behind him. I assume they were his companions.”]
[“I wonder if such a large wheelchair can be brought onto a plane?”]
[“I'm not sure about that,”] Henry replied with a slight smile.
[“Are you interested in the people or the wheelchair?”]
[“The wheelchair, of course. I've been talking to Val about a trip to Florida. Val has trouble walking and needs a wheelchair for longer distances.”]
[“I don’t know who Val is…”]
Martha's voice rose at Henry's response, [“I told you about her once while she was helping me clean. Vanessa Rond from kindergarten, remember? My blonde friend.”]
Henry fell silent, seemingly chastised, while Richard chuckled quietly. It was likely that, from Henry's perspective, Martha's casual conversations often went in one ear and out the other, leaving no lasting impression.
[“If you've forgotten, let me tell you again. Val and I were friends when I was five...”]
As the boarding announcement began, Henry, looking relieved, quickly stood up and said, [“Alright, let’s go.”]
Boarding started with passengers in the higher-class seats, so the four of them boarded the plane ahead of the economy passengers. Martha took the window seat on the left, with Akira next to her on the aisle. Richard sat in front of them by the window, with Henry in the aisle seat beside him.
Soon after the four were seated, the economy passengers began boarding. Al's basket, placed on the floor, bounced slightly with each footstep passing by, sending little jolts through his already sore body.
As more people crammed into the confined space, the mixed smells of sweaty shoes and overpowering perfumes filled the air. Al's nose suddenly caught a whiff of gunpowder. It wasn't possible for someone to have brought a gun or explosives aboard, given the strict security, so the scent quickly faded, perhaps lingering from someone who had recently fired a gun, the residue clinging to their clothes.
[“They brought that wheelchair onto the plane, didn’t they?”]
Martha's voice cuts through the noise.
[“Yes, they did,”] Henry responded from the seat in front.
[“It's so big, they must've put it at the very back of the cabin. You can't navigate a wheelchair down the aisle, so it's just an extra hassle. The flight attendants should have stored it in one of the empty spaces up front. How inconsiderate...”]
Martha seemed to have a lot on her mind.
[“The space up front is probably too cramped. There's more room in the back,”] Henry replied, then added, for some reason, [“Don't you think so, Akira?”]
Perhaps he was trying to steer the conversation towards Akira, who was sitting next to Martha, suggesting he should take over as her conversation partner. Akira, however, only gave a half-hearted, [“Maybe.”]
[“The last time I was on a plane, it was awful. There was a flight attendant with a terrible hangover...”]
Martha's stories expanded endlessly, with Henry's disinterested responses— [“Yes... Uh-huh...”] — peppered in between.
As the last passengers took their seats, the loud shuffle of feet quieted. A flight attendant began explaining the use of life vests as the plane slowly started moving. Let's go out to a little yawn. Perhaps from the exhaustion of last night's chaos, he was starting to feel drowsy. With nothing to do for the next four hours until they landed in LA, he yawned again and again. Before he knew it, in the short time before takeoff, he had slipped into a quiet sleep.
T.N: For some unknown reason, when I copy the translated and edited text into Blogger, it's messing up the formatting of volume 4, and some words are being replaced randomly when I save the post. If you notice anything unusual, please let me know in the comments, and I'll fix it. Thank you! 😉
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