Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 4 - Part 8

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[“Akira must have a very beautiful face, like Lily,”] Richard said with a hint of pride, to which Henry replied, [“If Akira had become an actor, he probably would’ve done quite well.”] It was the same sentiment Stan had expressed earlier. Speaking of Stan, he hadn’t returned yet. As Al kept glancing toward the hallway, Henry, ever observant, asked, [“What’s the matter?”] 

[“It’s just that Stan hasn’t come back yet. I wonder if he’s resting in his room.”] 

Richard tilted his head thoughtfully. 

[“Come to think of it, he was here when we first arrived.”] 

[“Stan doesn’t like me, so he probably left to avoid me,”] Henry remarked bluntly. Richard snapped his fingers in realization. 

[“Ah, yes. You’ve mentioned before that you’re not too fond of Stan. What exactly bothers you about him? Is it the fact that he used to be an actor? This town is full of former actors, and Martha is quite fond of him.”] 

[“It’s not that I don’t appreciate him keeping her company, and the background check showed no issues, but there’s something unnatural about him. Most people who give up on acting either leave LA entirely or move into a related field, but he’s done neither. He just drifts here as your housekeeper. If he were trying to curry favor to get a role, that would make sense, but he doesn’t seem to be doing that. I can’t figure out what he wants or what he’s thinking.”] 

Richard crossed his arms with a small hum. 

[“I think being a housekeeper is a respectable job.”] 

[“I don’t mean to imply it isn’t. What unnerves me is how closely he watches you. Even when you’re not looking, he’s always staring at your profile or your back. It’s not the same gaze you get when facing someone directly, and that difference in his attention makes me uneasy.”] 

Richard chuckled, dismissing it with, [“You’re probably just imagining things.”] But Al had realized something. Stan didn’t discriminate based on gender in his affections—was it possible that Stan was in love with Richard? Henry might have been unable to interpret the passion behind Stan’s gaze, perceiving it only as something unsettling. 

[“One of the reasons I hired Stan was because Martha needed someone to talk to, but I also wanted to support him if he ever decided to return to acting. He’s quite talented. Being Asian limited the roles available to him in the past, but times are changing, and more importantly, his acting is truly impressive. It would be a shame to let him quit completely.”] 

Henry gave a nod of reluctant acceptance. Richard let out a theatrical sigh. 

[“Most of the actors I take under my wing end up quitting. Stan, and Akira, too. Akira even appeared as an extra in one of my movies once. He had such great presence that I thought he’d make a fantastic actor. While he was studying abroad here, I took him to a few sets and introduced him to industry people, hoping to spark his interest in acting. But all I got was a scowl.”] 

Al could easily imagine the scene—Akira’s perpetual frown, with Richard trying and failing to introduce him to people.

[“If Akira became an actor, I thought he would stay in America… that he’d stay by my side. And in this industry, I could support and protect him with everything I had.”] 

To anyone aspiring to be an actor, it would be the kind of dream Cinderella story they’d pay any price for.

Richard, saying, [“I’m thirsty,”] grabbed a bottle of beer from the coffee table and gulped it down. 

[“I just wanted Akira to be happy. I didn’t know if joining the film industry would make him happy, but I thought I could at least help him move in that direction… Yes, I wanted the satisfaction of being the one to make him happy. But for Akira, it must have seemed like nothing more than annoying meddling.”] 

And then… Richard continued. 

[“I was always worried that Akira was alone. He never introduced a partner to me while he was living here. Now that I know he has a wonderful partner in you, Al, I feel relieved.”] 

On the screen, Lily disappeared from view, and Richard’s eyes narrowed sadly. 

[“When I first heard the name Akira from you, I thought he was your lover,”] Henry murmured. 

[“That’s why I always wondered why you didn’t bring him to America. Then I thought, maybe your lover wasn’t as passionate about the relationship as you were.”] 

Richard clicked his tongue, [“That’s harsh,”] and reached for the beer again. 

[“Henry, why don’t you join me for a drink?”] 

[“No, I’m still on duty… well, I’d say that, but I don’t drink at all. I think I’ve mentioned that a few times before.”] 

Richard laughed, amused. 

[“Oh, this is payback for making me feel like I’m not popular, Henry. Let me tell you something else—I’m still quite popular, even now.”] 

[“I know. The people around you are always caught in a rush hour of affection, malice, envy, and jealousy. It’s why your security detail is so necessary.”] 

[“But my lover will always be Lily—forever.”] 

Richard stared intently at Lily, who had reappeared on the television screen. 

[“I did something terrible to her son. I still regret it, even now.”] 

Richard’s concern for Akira bordered on obsessive, likely stemming from small events that Akira himself had long forgotten, but Richard couldn’t let go of. 

[“Al, what has Akira told you about me?”] 

When asked that directly, Al hesitated. Most of what he knew about Richard—an actor who had once been his late mother’s lover, and someone who took care of him during his time studying abroad—came from Richard himself, not from Akira. 

[“Akira hasn’t really told me anything. All I know is that you’re acquaintances...”] 

Richard sniffled. 

[“He was never the type to talk much about himself...”] 

Lily smiled on the screen, and as Richard watched, a tear slipped down his cheek. Henry stood up from the sofa. 

[“It seems you’ve had a bit too much to drink. You should return to your room and rest now.”] 

But Richard shook his head. He sat up straight and clasped his hands together. 

[“I want Al to hear it. I want him to know just how foolish I was in my youth, a slave to love...”] 

Ignoring Henry’s attempt to stop him, Richard began his story. 

[“I met her when I was twenty-five. She was two years younger, a beautiful and talented Asian woman from Japan. I was captivated at first sight. At the start, she paid me no mind, but I kept telling her how much I loved her. After two years of persistence, I finally won her over, and we became lovers. It was a blissful time...”] 

Richard’s lips curled into a smile, trembling slightly before becoming fragile and uncertain. 

[“I can’t remember how many years into our relationship it was when Lily collapsed during a shoot. At the hospital, the doctor told us she only had three months to live. I broke down in tears right there. But I couldn’t let her see me like that. I told myself she was the one suffering, and I made sure to keep smiling whenever I was with her in the hospital. Then one day, she told me she wanted to return to Japan. I cried and begged her. I couldn’t marry her, and we didn’t have children, but I couldn’t let her go. I pleaded with her not to leave my side. I was desperate. I knew if I let her go, she’d never come back, and she wouldn’t be able to. She eventually agreed to stay... Lily passed away a month later.”] 

As Richard recalled those days, his pale blue eyes welled with tears, his shoulders trembling slightly. 

[“The world without Lily was unbearable. I thought about following her so many times. I couldn’t hear a word anyone said, and all I did was drink, every single day.”] 

Reliving those memories seemed to bring Richard pain, as he reached toward the table, saying, [“I need another drink.”] But Henry grabbed his wrist, gently placing it back on his knee. [“You’ve had enough. You should stop now.”] Richard gave a wry smile at Henry’s gentle reproach. 

[“Even two weeks after Lily died, I couldn’t hold the funeral. I stayed by her coffin the whole time. Then, my manager came and told me, “Her son is here. You should meet him.” I was shocked. I didn’t know she had a child. I heard that her ex-husband had taken him in, and in that moment, I felt completely betrayed. I was told that they had separated less than a year after the child was born, and officially divorced when he was three. I said something cruel like, “What’s the point of meeting a mother he barely remembers?” And my manager punched me. He told me I was a heartless bastard. That was the first time I’d ever heard him raise his voice. Reluctantly, I agreed to meet him.”] 

Al clenched his hands tightly, leaning forward as he listened to a story that Akira would likely never share with him.

[“Akira came to see Lily, accompanied by my manager and a young translator. When I first saw him, I was shocked. He looked so much like Lily that I thought she had come back as a child. Akira was fifteen, thin, and almost looked like a girl. Lily was always so expressive, but Akira had a face completely devoid of life, like a doll. He looked down at Lily in her coffin with an expression that made it seem like he was looking at an object. I found his gaze to be so cold.”] 

Richard pressed his thumb to his temple. 

[“I asked my manager, "Where’s his father?" And he told me, "His father’s already passed away. He came to America alone." I was furious, saying, "Isn’t it reckless to send a child alone to a country where he doesn’t even know the language?" My manager sighed and said, "Dick, he’s staying in a facility for children without parents. He has no family left. There was no one to accompany him." Even after hearing that, I still hadn’t realized the gravity of my own mistakes... I walked up to Akira, who was staring at Lily, and asked, "How do you feel, seeing your mother?" Akira tilted his head and said something. The translator interpreted it as, ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen her face, so I’m not sure.’”] 

At this point in his story, Richard couldn’t hold back anymore and covered his face with both hands. 

[“I’ve made countless mistakes in my life, and I’ve regretted many things. But never have I felt as low as I did at that moment. He had been separated from his mother since he was little and couldn’t even remember her face. And yet, there had been a chance for them to reunite while she was alive. I’m sure Lily would have wanted that too, but my selfishness crushed that opportunity. He never got to see his mother alive, never got to speak to her, never got to be held by her. That should never have happened. I cried and apologized to him, saying, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ Akira responded, ‘Please don’t apologize.’ He probably didn’t even understand why I was apologizing.”] 

The scene played vividly in Al’s mind, even though he hadn’t witnessed it—young Akira, emotionless, and Richard clinging to him in despair. The pain in Al’s chest was almost unbearable. 

[“I tried multiple times to take Akira in from the facility, but he didn’t want to come. I can’t blame him. Being asked to live in a country where he didn’t even know the language... that’s too much for anyone. Instead, I offered to support him financially, and that, at least, was accepted. I sent him gifts for Christmas and his birthday. I even went to visit him. When I heard that Akira was coming to America to study embalming, I was so shocked I nearly jumped out of my seat. I immediately offered to help him with anything he needed for his life here. When Akira came to live with me, I was so smitten with him, I couldn’t focus on work. He was just too precious, and I wanted to dote on him constantly. Living with him was such a joy. So, when he told me he was going back to Japan, I was heartbroken.”] 

Richard paused before continuing, [“My one wish is for Akira to be happy. I want him to laugh and enjoy life.”] 

When their eyes met, Richard gripped Al’s hands tightly. 

[“Al, please take care of Akira. I never want him to feel that kind of loneliness again—the kind where you don’t even understand what it means to not have a mother.”] 

Al nodded firmly, squeezing Richard’s hands in return. He knew he couldn’t do much—after all, he turned into a bat during the day and needed regular blood to survive. But when it came to loving Akira, he was confident no one could surpass him.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Al returned to the room a little after midnight. He quietly opened the door, careful not to make any noise, and tiptoed inside. As he slipped into the sheets, he heard a small sigh from Akira, who was lying on his side. He wasn’t asleep yet. Slowly, Al inched closer and hugged him tightly from behind. Akira’s body flinched as if startled. 

“Hey!” 

Akira yelled in an irritated voice. 

“Let go.” 

He squirmed in protest, but the more he struggled, the tighter Al held him. Realizing that his resistance was only making things worse, Akira finally relaxed with a huff. 

Al pressed his lips gently to Akira’s ear, where the faint scent of body soap still lingered. 

“Mom’s hug.” 

“…What are you even saying?” 

“I... I be Akira’s mama... papa... and lover.” 

Akira was silent for a while. Al rested his forehead against Akira’s back and closed his eyes, when Akira’s muttered. 

“Did Dick tell you about me?” 

“Yeah.” 

Akira let out a deep, sinking sigh. 

“Dick always exaggerates everything.” 

“Akira... never meet mom. Richard... regret forever.” 

Akira smacked the mattress with a thud. 

“I’ve told him over and over that I don’t care about that! I’m over thirty! I’m too old to be missing my mother.” 

“No matter... how old, no mama... is lonely.” 

Akira suddenly fell silent. He stopped complaining. Why? Was it because Al had cried when he visited his own parents in Nebraska? Akira, who usually said things that would crush someone’s spirit, could be strangely kind in moments like these… 

“Akira... not lonely?” Al whispered into his ear. 

“I’m here. Always here. You... not lonely.” 

Al stroked Akira’s messy black hair, kissing him again and again like a mother would. Over and over. Akira stayed still, accepting it all without saying a word. Of course, he must have felt lonely without his mother. 

Feeling the warmth of Akira’s body made Al sleepy. Just like when he was a bat, he rubbed his nose against Akira’s neck and closed his eyes.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Al woke up a little after 8 AM, thanks to Martha’s cleaning onslaught. After three knocks, the door opened without waiting for a reply. 

[“Good morning!”]

Martha was energetic as ever. Al wriggled out from under the sheets and hung upside down from the curtain rod. Even when spotting a bat, Martha wasn’t surprised anymore. 

[“Speaking of which, Akira had breakfast, but didn't you want any, Al?”] 

Mumbling to herself, Martha yanked the sheets off the bed. Silently, she folded Al’s underwear and clothes that had emerged from the pile, replaced the sheets with fresh ones, and neatly made the bed. Despite the mansion's vastness, Martha seemed to be the one taking care of the bed-making.

Al flew out through the open door, heading from the hallway toward the living room. There was no sign of Akira. With so many rooms, once someone shut themselves inside, it was hard to know where they were. Tired of flying around searching, Al returned to the living room and landed belly-down on a cushion on the sofa. The sofa was made of some vine-like natural material, making the cushion much softer and more comfortable to rest on. 

Last night, the living room's low table had been crowded with empty bottles, but now it was spotlessly clean. Perhaps because of the conversation with Lily yesterday, Al suddenly felt the urge to watch one of Lily’s movies. If the DVD was still in the player, it would just take pressing the power and play buttons to continue watching. Al flew down to the low table where the TV remote was, and with all his might, pressed a button with his nose. The TV powered on, and lively laughter filled the living room. 

Footsteps approached. It was Stan, dressed in jeans and a dark-colored shirt. He glanced around the living room and muttered, [“No one's here”] before abruptly turning off the TV that Al had just switched on. Al let out an involuntary squeak, “squeak!”

“Hm?”

Their eyes met. Stan froze in place. His gaze was intense, filled with malice, and Al panicked, quickly flying up to the curtain rod. Stan walked to the window, staring up at the bat hanging there. He seemed to be deep in thought, but after a moment, he walked back to the sofa, grabbed a cushion, and returned. Al thought there was no way Stan could reach him, even with his height and the cushion, but suddenly the cushion flew toward him. 

Caught off guard by the unexpected attack, Al fell to the floor with the cushion. Thankfully, it softened the blow, but then Stan grabbed him firmly. 

“Squeak!”

Al tried to chirp as pleasantly as possible, but Stan just clicked his tongue. There was no kindness in his eyes. Al was terrified that his neck might be snapped at any moment. He wouldn’t die from it, but it would hurt, and that was something he definitely wanted to avoid. 

The sound of footsteps echoed, and Al saw Martha descending the stairs. Desperate for help, Al let out a loud, “Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!”

Martha, passing by the living room, paused. 

[“Stan, what was that noise just now?”] 

[“Oh, a bat got into the house. I'll take care of it right away.”] 

[“Wait a minute!”] 

Martha hurried over, and Al chirped again, seeking her protection. 

[“Isn't this bat Akira's pet?”] 

[“Pet? This? You mean Akira brought this bat all the way from Japan?”] 

[“Yes, that's right. I knew Akira was a bit peculiar, but it turns out his pet is just as unusual. He seems very fond of it, so please let it go. Even when we were in Chicago, it didn’t damage any furniture or make a mess. Apparently, it's trained to go in a specific spot.”] 

With Martha's words, Stan finally let go. Al flew back to the curtain rod, though Stan still looked up at him with clear distaste, the murderous intent in his eyes slightly diminished. 

[“Akira really is an odd one,”] Stan muttered, arms crossed. 

[“He may seem grumpy and unapproachable, but he's a kind boy,”] Martha protested. 

[“I didn’t mean it as an insult,”] Stan shrugged before leaving the living room. 

Thanks to Martha, Stan now recognized Al as Akira’s pet bat. Still, Stan’s gaze had been frightening. It’s one thing to feel uneasy about having a bat inside the house, but that level of hostility was over the top. The stark contrast between Stan’s kindness, like preparing dinner for Akira the previous day, and his coldness was unnerving. 

As Al hung upside down, lost in thought, Martha returned to the living room with a bucket and cloth in hand, beginning to clean the windows. 

[“A house gets dirty even if no one does anything. Especially the living room, where people gather...”] 

Martha stretched as far as she could, but she couldn’t quite reach a smudge just above her. 

[“Maybe I need a stepladder...”] 

Seeing her struggle, Al flew over, hooked the cloth on his nose, and wiped the hard-to-reach spot for her. After cleaning it, he dropped the cloth back to her and hung upside down at a lower position on the curtain. Martha stared at him without blinking. 

[“Did you... just help me?”] 

Al responded with a “squeak.”

[“Incredible, you even reply!”] 

Martha approached and gently touched him. She stroked him slowly, and in return, Al rubbed his nose affectionately against the wrinkled tips of her fingers. 

[“Oh, you're so cute.”] 

It didn’t feel bad being called cute. In Al’s experience, women were more likely than men to call him that. To boost his likeability, he tilted his head slightly and let out a soft “squeak”. 

[“This bat really seems to understand what people are saying,”] Martha whispered, holding her cheek. Al, wanting to prove her right, gave a big nod. Martha peered into Al’s face and smiled warmly. 

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It was just past 3 PM when Al, lying flat on his stomach in the kitchen, was keeping Martha company for tea when he heard Akira’s voice calling, [“Martha, Martha.”] 

[“What is it, Akira?”] 

The master of the house, who had been away all morning, appeared in the kitchen. As usual, he wore black pants and a white shirt, with a jacket on top. 

[“Al... no, have you seen my bat? I can’t find him anywhere...”] 

In the middle of speaking, Akira noticed Al lying on his stomach on a towel, across from Martha. 

[“...Martha, what are you doing with my bat?”] 

[“We’re having tea. This little one is incredibly smart.”] 

Al flew from the towel and landed on Akira’s shoulder, dramatically letting out a sigh, “Huuuu.”

[“This bat is so friendly and well-behaved. I didn’t expect him to be so helpful, either.”] 

Akira tilted his head. 

[“Helpful, you say?”] 

[“Yes. He helped me with the cleaning.”] 

Still skeptical, Akira asked, “Really?” while eyeing Al. Al nodded enthusiastically, though the truth was he had been half-forced to help Martha.

At first, Al had gladly lent a hand, but he hadn’t expected Martha to be so demanding. Draped in a mop, Al was made to roll around on top of the windows—hundreds of times—cleaning areas Martha, being short, couldn’t reach. 

[“Amazing, amazing!”] 

It felt nice to be appreciated, but naturally, as time passed, Al grew tired. His small body turned window cleaning into full-body exercise. He occasionally cried out, “Squeak squeak (I’m exhausted!)” but his bat-speak went unheard. In the end, he was worked until every living room window was sparkling clean.

Even though Akira had just returned, he took Al and got into the BMW parked in the garage, giving off the impression that they were heading out again. Al chirped, “Squeak squeak? (Where are we going?)” but Akira didn’t say a word. 

After driving for about ten minutes, Akira stopped the car in front of a small house by the sea. The fence and garden were well-maintained, but the place had a desolate feel. Akira unlocked the door and walked inside. The living room had a set of sofas, and upstairs there were built-in closets and a bed in the bedroom, but there were no signs of anyone living there. Compared to his family’s home in Nebraska, the house was small, but it was bigger than Akira’s apartment in Japan and seemed like a perfect size for a couple with one child.

Since Akira had the key, it might have been a house owned by Richard. It was a proper home, yet when compared to the mansion, it felt more like a storage shed. Akira walked around the entire house, locked it up again, and then circled the yard. Tucked away from the main road, the surroundings were very quiet. The streets were neatly paved, and there wasn’t a speck of litter. It seemed like a safe area.

After inspecting the empty house, Akira drove them back to the mansion. Since no explanation was given, Al was left wondering why he had been brought there in the first place.

That evening, after finishing dinner, Al, now in his human form, went out with Akira again. 

“Where... we go now?” 

Even when asked, Akira didn’t answer, silently driving instead. The car, which had been cruising along a bright street, turned down a more secluded road and stopped in front of a gate. 

Akira rolled down the window and presented some sort of card to the man in the booth. After a brief check, the card was returned, and the gate opened.

As they entered, a massive building loomed ahead. The side of the building bore the large letters "R2." Sensing what it was, Al couldn’t help but ask, “What is this place?” 

“It’s a studio where Dick is producing his latest project.” 

As expected, it was a film studio! Al felt his breath catch in excitement. Akira had brought him to the legendary Hollywood—where stars gathered.

Before entering the studio, they had to pass another ID check. Akira exchanged a few words with the Middle Eastern receptionist, and they were allowed inside. The receptionist noticed Al and, when he greeted her with a friendly [“Hi,”] she returned the gesture with a smile and a [“Hi”] of her own. Just that brief moment made Al feel like a seasoned industry professional.

Inside the spacious studio, an office set had been built, with cameras and lighting already set up. Several staff members were bustling around, shouting orders. Al had experience on Japanese drama sets, but this was entirely different. It was vast and luxurious. 

As Al looked around, he realized the people in the studio weren’t looking at him—they were all staring at Akira. Some even stopped what they were doing to point him out to others. A buzz of whispers spread through the staff. A tall, imposing man and Richard entered the studio, and Akira, saying “Come with me,” led Al toward them. From a distance, Al couldn’t tell, but the imposing man was none other than Franz Lowe, the Academy Award-winning director. Al loved Franz’s film Sea Station.

Franz noticed Akira and spread his arms wide, shouting, [“Oh, if it isn’t Akira!”] Akira, his face stiff, accepted the director’s embrace. 

[“Franz, you look well.”] 

Franz pounded Akira’s back with such force it nearly made him choke. 

[“The last time we met, you were still a student. Have you finally decided to try acting? If so, I’ll have a script written with you as the lead.”] 

The kind of words that struggling actors dream of hearing, spoken by a famous director.

[“Franz, give up on Akira,”] Richard said with a wry smile, but Franz shook his head firmly. 

[“No way! Akira has talent! He was in one of my films once, and I knew it then—he’s even better than Lily.”] 

This was news to Al—he didn’t know Akira had appeared in one of Franz’s films. 

[“It was a non-speaking role,”] Akira replied, even with praise from an Academy Award-winning director, not even cracking a smile.

Franz, still beaming at Akira, finally noticed Al standing behind him. 

[“Akira, who’s this?”] 

[“This is my friend, Albert Irving.”] Akira introduced Al to Franz. 

[“Nice to meet you, Al,”] Franz said, offering a handshake. Al, trembling with nerves, shook the hand of the Academy Award-winning director. Franz studied Al’s face intently, then remarked, [“You’re quite handsome.”] 

Being complimented on his looks by Franz made Al’s heart soar. 

[“Al is an actor, too. He’s active in Japan,”] Richard said with a wink in Al’s direction. 

[“Japan! I love Japan, the food is delicious. But why are you acting in Japan instead of here in America?”] 

After a brief pause, Al answered with a half-truth, [“I have someone I care about there...”] 

Franz grinned knowingly.

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