Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 6 - Part 10

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From the very next day after his release, Akira returned to work. It was hard to believe he’d just gotten out of a detention center the day before—he slipped right back into his usual routine like nothing had happened.

Al pulled himself together and, while looking for part-time work, continued going to the center every day. He’d time his arrival so he could leap onto Akira’s shoulder just as he was about to enter the building, and go in with him. Akira would glare at him sharply, but never said things like “get off” or “go away.” In the evenings, when it was time to go home, he’d clearly say “go home” right in front of the center. Al wanted to follow him all the way back to his apartment, but that wasn’t allowed. One time, when he clung too tightly to Akira’s jacket, Akira simply took it off and left it at the center, leaving Al behind with it.

The only place Akira allowed him to be with him was inside the center. Still, that was progress—if slow and uneven. Every time it felt like their relationship had moved a step forward, it would subtly retreat again.

On the first day Akira returned to work, everyone had paid attention to him, but when he got straight to work like he’d always done, it quickly returned to the usual atmosphere. Or rather, with Hatono and Kanezaki, it felt like they were talking to Akira even more than before, and the distance between them had grown closer.

Even though Akira had been cleared of suspicion, he still seemed dispirited. He was never the type to be loud or showy, but now he spoke even less, and spent longer stretches of time with his head down, deep in thought.

Nukariya had visited Akira’s apartment the night he was released, relief showing clearly on his face as he said, “I’m really glad your innocence was proven.” He’d briefly mentioned that Yonekura, now under arrest, was claiming he was innocent—and then left. Since then, Al hadn’t seen him. Though Akira wasn’t told, Nukariya had run into his own troubles. Despite it being good news that he’d “arrested the true culprit in a case he wasn’t in charge of,” there were factions above that wanted to demote him for “interfering in an unrelated case while on duty,” and those who supported him, saying “he’s a capable detective and did nothing wrong.” The upper ranks were apparently in conflict.

Nukariya himself had worn a cool expression, saying, “I don’t mind going back to a beat cop post,” though he’d also grumbled, “they’ve started monitoring my conduct more closely, so I can’t slack off as easily anymore.”

That Monday, with no work scheduled, Akira took the day off. Al had known from the day before that Akira was planning to take the day off, so instead of heading to the center that morning, he went straight to Akira’s apartment.

The curtains were open, but the window remained shut. Peeking in from outside, he saw that even though it was past 10 a.m., Akira was still in bed. The shape of the comforter told him as much—it rose in a soft hill. Al tried chirping a few “Gyah gyah” from outside, but there was no response. Even at noon, Akira didn’t get up. It wasn’t until after 1 p.m. that the blanket finally began to rustle and Akira emerged from bed. When Al gave a loud “Gyah gyah,” Akira finally noticed him. He approached, and Al thought for sure he’d open the window—but instead, the curtain was suddenly pulled shut with a loud shhhk, and everything disappeared from view. Al was crushed.

So the curtain hadn’t been left open for his sake after all—it had just been forgotten the night before.

The steady drizzle only made him feel more miserable. Akira could be cold in moments like this, Al thought. But he wasn’t really cold, not truly.

Just the day before yesterday, Akira had handled an urgent body and ended up leaving work a bit later than everyone else. When he returned to the break room, he called to Al: “Come.” He’d invited him into the prep room. Inside, there was a bottle left—one full bottle of discarded blood from the body.

“If you need it, drink it.”

He left those words behind and walked out of the prep room.

It had been over two weeks since Al had accidentally drunk Yanagawa’s blood. He was starting to feel hungry again, craving blood. Drinking from a person still scared him—especially after what happened with Yanagawa—and he’d been debating whether to make a trip to a ranch to get some from a cow instead. But before he could decide, Akira had quietly gone ahead and prepared some for him.

That kind of thoughtfulness was just like Akira. He could be gentle like this, and even allowed Al to be close—but still, there was always a quiet sense of rejection in the air.

There was no chance Akira would let him into his home, so Al trudged back to his own apartment. He returned to human form and stared blankly at job listings on his phone. He made a few calls to places that caught his eye, but the moment they realized he was a foreigner with limited Japanese, they wouldn’t even grant him an interview. He wanted to go back to working part-time cleaning at the embalming center like before, but with Akira barely speaking to him, he couldn’t bring himself to ask. He wondered if he should just inquire on his own, but it felt wrong to go behind Akira’s back. Lost in thought, he was startled by a chime from his phone.

A message had arrived. It was from Ayane—the one who had blocked him. The message simply read: “Can we meet?”

The last time he spoke to her, he’d asked about Ren, and she’d gotten furious and blocked him. They hadn’t talked since. Not long ago, the news reported that Yonekura had been arrested on suspicion of murder. Maybe this was about that.

He replied, “When?” A read receipt appeared instantly, followed by: “Tomorrow.”

After thinking a bit, he replied, “Okay.” Then came: “Ten a.m. at the Ao convenience store.”

He knew which store that meant—the one in the blue building where he’d been mistaken for a flirt. He sent back, “Okay.”

The next morning—of all times—he overslept. If he’d been in bat form, he could have flown out the window right away, but since he needed to meet Ayane in human form, he had to get dressed, brush his teeth, and make himself at least minimally presentable. The train pulled into the station nearest the Ao convenience store five minutes before their meeting time. It had been raining every day, but by some miracle, today was sunny. He dashed full speed from the station.

When he entered the convenience store, it was two minutes past the agreed time. Ayane wasn’t there. Feeling bad about just loitering, he bought a bottle of soda and sat in the eat-in area, watching the street through the window.

The sky was blue. Now that he thought about it, it was already July. He’d returned to Japan at the end of May—over a month ago now. In that time, Akira had been falsely accused of murder, Al had traveled to Kyushu to search for evidence proving Yonekura’s guilt, gotten attacked, tracked Yonekura down with everyone’s help, and finally saw him captured. Akira had been released.

It was like living inside an action movie. Compared to that whirlwind, now felt calm. Or rather—only Akira still seemed wrapped in darkness.

Even after fifteen minutes, Ayane didn’t show. Al double-checked the message: “Ten a.m. at the Ao convenience store.” He started dictating a message to send: “I’m at the store,” but just as he was about to hit send, a pale blur passed in front of him.

Ayane stepped into the store wearing a white T-shirt and light blue shorts. Without a word, she walked straight over and dropped heavily into the seat next to him.

“Long time… no see,” Al said.

She didn’t respond. Just sat there in silence.

“This… for you.”

He held out the soda he’d bought.

“I don’t drink.”

Ayane silently took the bottle, twisted off the cap, and drank nearly half in one go. Then she let out a deep sigh, like a worn-out salaryman on a train.

“…The police came to my place,” she muttered quietly.

“I saw on the news that Kaito had been arrested, so I kind of figured it might happen. Wasn’t surprised when the cops came. They asked if I’d been hiding him, if I knew anything about a murder plan. I told them he disappeared on me three years ago and I haven’t seen him since. I even went to the local police about it. I yelled at them to tell him to pay child support, and they left pretty quick.”

“Hey,” Ayane tugged on the hem of Al’s T-shirt. Her face looked on the verge of tears.

“My taste in men is seriously the worst, isn’t it? I mean, how do you top ‘murderer’? Is there even anyone worse than that? I never thought I’d end up saying a missing piece-of-crap deadbeat is actually the better option.”

“You,” she said, staring straight at Al. Her eyes were sharp, almost frightening. “You knew Kaito was a murderer, didn’t you?”

Al couldn’t lie. He nodded. “Yeah.”

Ayane planted both elbows on the table and buried her fingers into her long hair, messing it up the same way Akira often did.

“I’ve had a pretty crap life, honestly. My dad wasn’t around from the start. My mom always told me, ‘He’s working overseas,’ but I always thought something was off. Then in third grade, I ended up in the same class as a girl who had the same dad as me. Turned out my mom had shown me a picture of ‘my dad’—and that same guy showed up at her class open house. I wanted to puke. He had a wife, and my mom was the affair. And he didn’t even know I existed. Still doesn’t. My mom had me on her own. She got cut off from the family for it, and then she just went and died when I was in eighth grade.”

Ayane tilted her head and sighed. “I just wanted a normal, happy life. But a murderer? He’s the scum of the earth. Worse than scum. I gave birth to that bastard’s kid. I wanted to abort, I tried to, but I ended up having him. And now to think he’s carrying the blood of a killer… I feel like dying.”

“Ren not bad,” Al said quietly.

“I know that. Of course I know that. But the world doesn’t care. The world will call him ‘the murderer’s kid’ for the rest of his life.”

“Definitely,” Ayane added, with such certainty it sent a chill down Al’s spine. Her conviction was terrifying. Just because someone was a killer’s child didn’t mean their life was doomed.

“Ren’s gonna end up more miserable than me or Kaito. Because his dad’s a murderer. Poor kid.”

Now that she mentioned it, the child at the center of this conversation wasn’t even present.

“Ren, today… not here?”

“Daycare. It’s easier not having to look at him.”

Then she turned to Al, her expression suddenly serious.

“Tell me—how am I supposed to live from now on, raising a murderer’s kid?”

Al couldn’t answer.

“Same as now…”

Ayane’s face hardened.

“That’s the whole problem! It’s not the same anymore! I’m not getting child support from a guy in prison! My income’s dropping, Ren needs more and more money, and I—I want to have some fun for once, go on a trip, have a boyfriend. But with a kid? Forget it. I was careful about guys, you know. I didn’t want to end up like my mom, stuck in an affair. I really thought I was picking a decent one this time. I thought Kaito was at least okay. So how the hell did it turn out like this?”

Her words were starting to spiral into chaos. Was the problem that she wouldn’t be getting child support? Or that she couldn’t date because she had a kid? Or that she couldn’t go out and have fun? Probably all of it was true.

“Yonekura… secret. No tell. Then… no one know.”

Ayane’s expression softened. That’s right—if she didn’t tell anyone, no one would ever know Ren was Yonekura’s child.

“…I’m tired,” Ayane muttered, barely above a whisper.

“I’m just… tired. I thought life would get easier if I made money, but why did I end up with something that feels like shackles? I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the victim here. Ever since before I was born, people have treated me like I was already on the wrong side of everything—why does it always end up like this?”

“I… here. Listen talk,” Al said.

Ayane lifted her head.

“Then marry me.”

Al’s eyes went wide. It was the first time anyone had proposed to him. But—this wasn’t the part to focus on.

“Me… can’t.”

“Ren likes you, and you’re not bad. Foreign, yeah, but you seem serious.”

“I… have person I like.”

Ayane clicked her tongue.

“And I… no like… marry just random.”

She gave a short, breathy laugh through her nose.

“‘Random,’ huh. Yeah. That’s fair. Honestly, I don’t even care who it is anymore—as long as they haven’t killed someone.”

She sighed, planted her elbows on the table, and rested her cheek in her palm.

“Why did I even have Ren? If I hadn’t, I would’ve cut ties with that guy ages ago. I wouldn’t be suffering like this. If I could turn back time, I’d go back to that moment. Even if he begged me to keep it, I would’ve said no.”

And then she added,

“If I had, I’d be free right now.”

Ayane was at the center of her own misfortune—and in that orbit of misfortune, she’d included Ren too.

“Ren… cute.”

“You can say that ‘cause you’re just watching from the outside.”

Come to think of it, Al remembered hearing that when Ayane got pregnant and wanted to terminate, it was Yonekura who’d begged her to keep the child. He had wanted it—and yet the moment Ren was born, he abandoned them both. If he’d truly wanted a family, wanted to live happily with everyone together… then why hadn’t he followed through on a single part of that?

“Yonekura… why he say… want child?”

When Al voiced the question, Ayane gave a bitter smile and looked down, fiddling with the ends of her long hair.

“I wish I knew that too.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Four days ago, Al was rehired as a part-time worker at the Embalming Center. Same job as before: cleaning after the procedures. He was planning to have Nukariya be his guarantor, and when he approached Matsumura to say, “I want part-time job again,” she had lit up with a cheerful “Really?! I’m so happy!”

“Same terms as before okay?”

“Okay.”

“Can I count on you five days a week starting tomorrow?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Then great, let’s start right away.”

That was it. She hadn’t asked anything else—no forms, no documents. Al wondered if that was really alright. Maybe they’d handle the paperwork the next day. But the next morning, when he was in the break room in his bat form, Akira came back from the bathroom, spotted him instantly, grabbed him in one hand, and marched him outside.

“You—you started working here again, didn’t you?!”

Al nodded up and down, vigorously.

“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with you having a part-time job. You’ve got the right to choose your own work. But why the hell is your address listed as my house, and your salary going into my bank account?!”

“Gyaah!” Al squeaked in surprise. It finally clicked—Matsumura, ever efficient, must’ve reused the same paperwork from before. That’s why there had been no need for any new forms. But at this rate, they weren’t going to get anywhere like this. Since no one else was around, Al changed just his face back to human. When Akira saw the human head on a bat’s body, he shouted, “What the hell is that head?!”—and then suddenly snapped into seriousness.

He clutched Al’s upper torso with one hand and shielded him from view, just in case anyone was watching. Then he brought his hand closer to his face, leaned in close, and with a quiet growl asked,

“Explain. Now.”

"I can talk like this now," Al said.

Once his head turned human, he could speak again, though his voice came out slightly higher-pitched than usual.

"Matsumura-san… did same like before."

"Why didn’t you correct her?!"

"That… I not know."

When Al drooped his head, Akira pieced the situation together. "So Matsumura-san just tried to be considerate and did it on her own, huh."

"You got your passport from Kyiv, right? You don’t have a bank account?"

Al replied, "No."

"Where are you living now?"

It was the first time since Al had returned to Japan that Akira had asked where he was staying.

"Nukariya… rent apartment for me."

Akira clenched his teeth with a faint grinding sound. The grip he had on Al tightened and loosened with unpredictable strength—honestly, it was a little scary.

"…Fine. I’ll let you use my bank account for a while. But just for now. You better sort this out on your own soon."

Al bowed his head. "I’m sorry."

"Now turn your head back into a bat. I’m done talking. Looking at your face is the most irritating thing in the world."

With the weight of the entire world laid upon his words, Al didn’t argue. He obediently let his head slip back into bat form with a quiet shuffling sound.

Somehow, he’d managed to return to the same workplace—but even now, things weren’t so different from when they’d been separated between America and Japan. Akira’s heart was still encased in armor. He pushed Al away, yet didn’t completely sever their connection. And even when he did explode in anger, there was still a dullness to him, a lack of energy. Since the day he’d been released, Akira’s face had been shrouded in rainclouds. He spoke only when necessary, and barely to anyone more than that.

That evening, after Al had finished cleaning the procedure room and the CDC room (where makeup, dressing, and encoffining were performed), he was changing in the locker room when he noticed a soft glow through the small window. Maybe the break room light was still on? Someone still here? With that thought, he peeked in.

Sure enough, Akira was inside. Elbow on the desk, brow furrowed in concentration as he read a book. Maybe there was an urgent incoming case. If he was waiting for him, Al would be so happy.

"Akira… more work now?"

When he called out, Akira flinched, startled, and raised his face. Maybe to hide his surprise, he replied with what sounded like irritation: "I was waiting for you."

"You got any plans after this?"

"No."

"Nukariya says he has something to talk about with the two of us. Said we shouldn’t meet in public, so we’ll do it at my apartment. You’re coming with me."

"Akira… it’s okay if I go… your place?"

"That’s what I just said. Don’t make me spell everything out."

Closing his book, Akira slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. He turned off the lights and walked down the dim hallway at a brisk pace. Afraid of being left behind, Al hurried after him.

In the passenger seat of Akira’s car, Al sat quietly as they drove. Akira’s mood was clearly bad, and it made it hard to speak.

When they arrived at the apartment—Al’s first time there in a while—Nukariya was already inside waiting. Seemed like he had a spare key.

"Al, I heard you got rehired to clean at the center," Nukariya said, smiling the moment he saw him.

"Yeah… I work."

"…Using my address and my bank account, which I’m absolutely not okay with," Akira grumbled.

"Still, earning your own living is important," Nukariya said lightly. "It’s not just about money—being around people is a lot more fun, too."

He was calm, constructive. But after that, both men went quiet. The air in the living room turned heavy and thick. Al sat between the two of them, glancing nervously from one to the other, watching their moods.

"So," Akira finally said, "what was it you wanted to talk about? Is it an update on Kaito?"

"Hmm…" Nukariya crossed his arms, considering.

"I'm technically considered a victim in the Yonekura case, and the original murder investigation is being handled by another unit, so I can’t access detailed information. But—well, that’s just the official line. I’ve been told the rough outline by someone I know," Nukariya said, his tone matter-of-fact.

"At first, Yonekura denied involvement in both his grandmother’s and the care facility worker’s deaths. But when they found the worker’s blood on the backseat and floor of his personal car and pushed hard on that, he finally confessed to the staff member’s murder. As for the grandmother, he’s still denying it, but word is he might come clean about that one too. During a second search under her house, they found what seems to be human bone fragments, and forensics is analyzing whether it matches the bone powder found in the burlap sack that was inside Yonekura’s car."

Apparently, that sack of crushed human bones had been secretly placed into Yonekura’s car by Nukariya himself in the chaos of the moment. Yonekura had pretended not to know anything about the sack—"I don’t know anything about that bag"—but the film crew’s Shimizu, who happened to run into Yonekura while returning from a shoot in Kyushu, testified that he’d seen Yonekura acting suspiciously and carrying that very bag. With that witness account, they were also able to dig into the car’s travel history, tightening the net around Yonekura’s escape.

Nukariya calmly explained Yonekura’s current situation. When there was a pause in the conversation, Akira suddenly said, "I want to see Kaito."

"Hmm. I don’t know if that’s a good idea," Nukariya’s tone dropped.

"I want to ask him why he killed Ishimoto-san. Why he tried to frame me for it."

"Even if you met with him, there’s no guarantee he’d tell you the truth. …Two murders, plus assault against me—if things go badly, he could get the death penalty. If not, at best it’s life in prison."

With the evidence stacking up, the odds were high that Yonekura would never walk free again.

"Personally, I think you shouldn’t see him," Nukariya said clearly.

"Even if you learn the reasons, it won’t change what happened. Meeting him might only hurt you more."

Akira’s face twisted with frustration.

"I’m not worried about myself. I was released, and I didn’t get a criminal record. My life didn’t change. But I can’t be satisfied until I hear from him directly what he was thinking when he did this."

"You weren’t released on your own. I helped, and so did Al. He did everything he could to find proof of Yonekura’s crimes. So did the younger staff at your workplace—they believed in your innocence and actively helped."

Akira fell silent at that. His lips pressed into a tight line.

"…I used to know him."

"That’s what it sounds like."

"That’s why I can’t believe he did something like this for no reason."

"That’s not normal," Nukariya cut in sharply. Akira looked up.

"Killing someone, and then pinning it on someone else—that’s not normal. When you’re accused of murder, you lose time, your life—everything. You lost time, Akira. Time you’ll never get back."

"Even so," Akira pushed back, "I want to talk to him. I want to hear it from him."

"Even if you do, I think it’d be better to wait a little longer," Nukariya insisted.

"Now or later—it won’t make much of a difference."

"It’s your mental state I’m worried about."

With pinpoint accuracy, Nukariya voiced exactly what Al had been feeling.

"Looking at you now, it’s hard not to worry. Al’s been worried too."

"He’s not involved!" Akira barked, jabbing a finger at Al before slamming his hand on the floor. "Anyway! I’m going to see him!"

Nukariya sighed and pressed his palm to his forehead.

"You’re an adult, Akira. I have no right to stop you but…"

Akira crossed his arms with a snort.

"I want see Yonekura," Al said quietly.

Both their gazes snapped to him.

"Want ask… talk."

Nukariya shook his head.

“It’s probably hard for Al to go,” Nukariya said. “Yonekura’s already seen him several times, and he wouldn’t be able to explain who he is.”

“I hide in Akira’s clothes,” Al offered.

“You mean you’ll turn into a bat and crawl into his pocket?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want that!” Akira cut in. “Why do I have to take you with me?”

“I have relation. Yonekura hit me many many times.”

“What?!” Akira’s eyes went wide. “He hit you?!”

“It’s okay. I healed.”

“He told me he got hit a few times,” Nukariya added. “I saw it happen once, too. It’s the classic pattern—committing more crimes to cover up the first one.”

Akira’s frown deepened. He didn’t say anything, but it was clear he was going to see Yonekura. And if he was going to force his way through even if Nukariya tried to stop him, then Al figured he’d better be there too.

“It hurt a lot. I’m mad. I want know why.”

“You’re a nuisance,” Akira snapped.

“I have right to know. I’m the victim.”

As they argued, Nukariya cut in gently, “Why not just take him?”

“He’s small enough to hide inside your clothes,” he added with a slight smile.

“Why are you siding with him?!”

Akira jabbed a finger between Al’s eyes, the tip close enough to make him flinch.

“Because he’s not wrong. If he hears it from Yonekura himself, maybe he’ll understand something—feel something. Besides, Al did everything he could to get you out of that cell. He risked his life for you. And now he wants to meet the man who hurt him. So why not let him? If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t work.”

Akira didn’t respond. He shut his mouth and glared off to the side. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either. Just kept his face twisted in irritation.

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