Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 6 - Extra

Previous TOC

Side story: My Beloved Dad and the Vampire

Ren boarded the shinkansen at Shinagawa Station. Since entering university, it was his first time riding the bullet train. He’d thought it would be less crowded if he avoided rush hour and went before summer break started—but contrary to expectations, the train was packed. Most of the passengers were men in suits—classic salarymen types.

It had taken a while just to board, and the aisles were jammed. By the time he finally reached his window seat, a overweight, suit-clad man overflowing with excess flesh was already settled in the aisle seat, souring Ren’s mood. He carefully climbed over the man’s raised knees and squeezed into his seat just as the train lurched forward and began to move. At least the middle seat of the three-seat row was unoccupied—no need to worry about bumping elbows or knees, which was a small blessing.

He hung his backpack on the wall hook, pulled out his phone, popped in his earbuds, and tapped the screen… Black. No response. Dead battery. He dug through his bag but couldn’t find his charging cable. He must’ve forgotten it. If there were a convenience store nearby, he might’ve been able to manage, but not inside a speeding train. He’d transfer to a local line in Nagoya—maybe he could pick up something there—but until then, he was stuck for an hour and a half with no distractions. His only option was to sleep. Game over. A child’s shriek echoed through the train. Across the aisle, in a two-seat row, a little girl was crying—probably a kindergartener. Her young-looking mother was desperately trying to calm her down with a gentle “Shhh, it’s okay,” and some snacks.

“Tch. So annoying,” grumbled the overweight man in the aisle seat, loudly enough for everyone to hear. The mother flinched as if struck.

“Just shut her up already.”

Instantly, the air around them turned heavy and unpleasant. Ren turned to the man and spoke.

[Excuse me.]

The man blinked in confusion, brow creasing into a frown, his mouth hanging half-open. He was clearly thrown off by being addressed in English by someone who looked fully Japanese.

[You’re a bit rude,] Ren said, smiling cheerfully, his pronunciation was thick—enough that even native speakers might do a double take—but that was part of the strategy. The man either didn’t understand English or didn’t want to try. His eyes darted away, avoiding contact. Taking full advantage, Ren continued:

[Children cry, don’t they? So did you. When you were a kid, you cried too, right?]

Then, with a smile even brighter than before, he added:

[Don’t you think so?]

[I… I can’t… speak English,] the man replied in elementary-school-level English.

Ren acted like he hadn’t heard, he clapped his hands in mock delight. [Oh, you can! I’m going to Nagoya,] he rattled off quickly, watching the man’s expression stiffen. The man waved his hands side to side, clearly panicking.

“No no! Eigo (English) no!”

Ren made a sad face and went quiet. The man turned forward again, visibly relieved, and closed his eyes.

Even when the little girl cried again later, the man kept pretending to be asleep. Apparently, being spoken to in English was more unpleasant to him than a child crying. It worked—Ren had effectively sealed him in.

Ren met the young mother’s gaze. When he gave her a quick smile, she whispered a quiet [Thank you.] Oh, so she understood him. Embarrassment swept over him all at once. She probably thought his accent was awful.

From a young age, Ren had been raised on English at home, thanks to his dad and Al. By the time he was in elementary school, he could watch American dramas without subtitles. His father spoke beautifully, but one of his friends from L.A. had a thick Southern accent, and Ren had picked that up too. When he went to the U.S., people would almost certainly assume he was a native-born Asian American.

The little girl eventually quieted down. She was curled up on her mother’s lap, motionless—she’d fallen asleep. Ren was reminded that when his father had taken him in, he’d been about that age too, just before starting elementary school. The memory filled him with a quiet nostalgia.

His memories from that time were vague. He remembered living near the ocean and occasionally going to the beach with his mother. One summer day, on a hot afternoon, she took him out and sat him on a bench under a big tree.

“Wait here,” she said.

He waited. And waited. But even as evening came, she never came back. She’d abandoned him.

Ren was taken to a children’s home, but he didn’t stay there long—less than two years—because his dad had taken him in.

There had been a few couples who’d expressed interest in fostering him while he was in the facility, but none of those placements had gone well. Ren had always been waiting for his mother to come back, and he had a hard time accepting a “new mom.” He couldn’t blend in. He remembered thinking seriously about what would happen if his real mother showed up while he was staying with a new family. If he ended up with two moms, what would he do? It was too confusing.

Then came his dad—single, no wife. If it was just a dad, then even if his mom returned, it’d still be okay. That made Ren think, maybe this time would be fine.

But when they first met, Ren had been scared. His dad was tall and thin, and he smelled faintly of a hospital. He didn’t smile like the staff at the facility or like the other adults who’d carried him before. He didn’t even try to look friendly.

Ren couldn’t go near him at first. But the more time they spent together, the more he grew accustomed. His dad listened—really listened. Instead of saying “Let’s do this,” he’d ask, “What do you want to do?” and respect Ren’s choices, playing with him until he got tired of it. And when he touched him, it was always gentle. A light pat on the head, never grabbing or hitting. Big hands, but kind ones.

By the time they parted ways after that first meeting, Ren already loved him.

On the first trial sleepover at his dad’s house, he met Al. A small black bat, just the size to perch on a palm, squawking with loud “Gya gya!” cries. If Ren talked to him, Al would nod; if he threw a ball, Al would chase it and bring it back; he’d land on Ren’s shoulder or head and rub against his face. Completely adorable. Ren was instantly obsessed.

Even after going back to the facility, he couldn’t stop talking about Al—the bat—to the teachers and other kids. He was so excited for the next sleepover he could hardly stand it.

After several more overnight stays and a successful trial period, Ren officially became a foster child in his dad’s home.

Near the house lived his grandmother—though technically, she was his dad’s aunt, his father’s younger sister. But Ren had always called her “Grandma,” and the name stuck. She’d often look after him when his dad came home late from work.

At Dad’s house, there was another Al—the same name as the bat. This Al was an American with black hair and black eyes, and the house was full of his clothes.

Al always played with Ren. They went to the park nearly every day, and he even took Ren to amusement parks and camping trips regularly. Dad would come along too, of course, but he wasn’t very good at playing with kids—he’d often sit quietly in the shade or doze off. Al, on the other hand, would run and swim with Ren until they were both exhausted and collapsed.

For Ren’s elementary school entrance ceremony, Dad came along. Even though he was just a foster parent, Ren thought of him as a real dad by then. And since Ren never told anyone, no one ever guessed he was a foster child. On visiting days, people would say things like, “Hey Ren, you really look like your dad,” and it made him so happy it tickled.

It was around that time that Ren realized both Dad and Al were actually really good-looking. He even started thinking they might be cooler than the people on TV. One of his friends confirmed it, saying, “My mom was going on and on about how hot your dad is,” and Ren became sure of it.

Dad was kind, Grandma was kind, and both the human Al and the bat Al were funny and interesting. School was fun too. Ren used to daydream about how great it would be if his real mom came back and married Dad. He’d been such an innocent kid back then, and it was Dad and Al who had given him that kind of childhood.

He found out Al was a vampire in the summer of second grade. The shock of that moment was still burned into his memory.

A while before, Ren had started to notice something odd: when human Al was around, the bat Al wasn’t, and when the bat was around, human Al was nowhere to be seen. When he mentioned it to Dad, he said, “They probably just don’t get along,” and Ren had accepted that explanation.

That day, there’d been a swimming lesson at school, and Ren’s body was tired and heavy. He was supposed to go straight to Grandma’s house, but before he realized it, he’d wandered back home. Then he couldn’t be bothered to go out again, so he called Grandma and said, “I’m home already, I’ll sleep here,” and crawled under the sheets of Dad and Al’s bed. It always smelled like Dad, and that made it a very comforting place.

He must’ve dozed off while squirming around in the bed, because the sound of something rattling woke him up. Peeking out from the sheets, he saw human Al, shirtless. He figured Al was changing clothes and about to go somewhere—but then Al’s body warped and twisted.

Huh?

Rubbing his eyes again and again, Ren watched human Al transform into the small bat Al.

“Woooow!”

The words burst out of him before he could stop them. The bat twitched and turned around in shock.

“Al… you can turn into a bat?”

The bat Al shook his head frantically. Ren hopped out of bed and squatted down in front of where Al now huddled on the floor.

“I saw you. I saw you turn into a bat. Isn’t the bat Al also the human Al?”

Al looked like he might try to fly away, so Ren quickly scooped him up. Not too tightly—he didn’t want to squish him—but firmly enough that he couldn’t escape. Al cried out in his usual “gya gya!” panic, but Ren leaned in close.

“It’s true, isn’t it? You can turn into a bat, right? Don’t lie to me.”

Al glanced left, then right, looking troubled, but in the end, he gave a tiny nod.

“Amazing! That’s amazing!”

Ren beamed, practically bouncing with excitement over the kind of transformation he’d only seen in manga or anime. But the bat Al drooped his ears and looked down at the floor, looking very downcast.

“How can you do that?” Ren asked.

No reply.

“Can you turn back into a human? Just once more—show me again?”

When he begged, Al transformed back into a human. It was just like magic, and Ren jumped up and down, overjoyed.

That night, right before bed, Dad called him into the living room with a “We need to talk.” He was sitting on the sofa, arms crossed. Al was sitting beside him, head bowed.

“Ren, I heard you saw Al turn into a bat.”

Dad’s eyes flicked toward Al. Ren had promised Al, “Don’t tell Akira I can turn into a bat,” so he’d kept his lips zipped tight since Dad got home.

“I don’t know anything.”

He played dumb, but Dad immediately replied, “You don’t have to lie. Al told me everything,” and Ren cracked. “Yeah, I saw,” he confessed right away. Dad pressed a hand to his forehead with a quiet groan, while Al, sitting next to him, hunched his shoulders and shrank down even smaller.

“I was planning to wait until you were a little older before telling you this, but… since you’ve seen it, there’s no helping it.”

It sounded like a line straight out of a manga. Ren’s heart was pounding.

“You might not believe this, but Al is a vampire.”

Dad said it with grave seriousness. Ren couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “I knew it!”

“If he can turn into a bat, then yeah—makes sense, right?”

Then he suddenly realized something. Vampires drink blood. Did Al drink human blood?

“Al, do you want my blood?”

Al gave a vague reply—“It’s okay”—but Dad snapped, “You keep your mouth shut!”

“You’re only eight, but I think you deserve a proper explanation. Al is a vampire. He can freely change between human and bat. However, because he’s not a full vampire, there’s a restriction—between 1:00 and 3:00 p.m., he can’t return to human form.”

Dad paused.

“He drinks blood, yes—but not from living humans.”

Ren thought back to meals together. Al always drank a red liquid from a thermos. When Ren had asked, “Don’t you want to eat with us?” Al had just said, “This is better.” He’d claimed it was a special tomato juice. But now… maybe it hadn’t been tomato juice at all.

“There’s no need to be afraid just because he’s a vampire.”

“I’m not scared of Al! And vampires are super cool!”

Al looked relieved, and Dad gave a small nod.

“There’s something I need to ask you,” Dad continued, his voice dropping even lower.

“Al’s a vampire, but no one else can know. The existence of vampires itself is a secret. If word got out, Al might have to return to America.”

If Al disappeared… if neither the bat nor the human Al were around… Just thinking about it made Ren’s chest squeeze painfully tight. He didn’t want to lose someone he loved ever again—like what happened with his mom.

“I don’t want that!”

“Neither do I. So, Ren, can you promise me? Don’t tell Grandma, your friends at school, or your teachers that Al is a vampire.”

Dad held a finger up to his lips—the secret pose. Ren nodded firmly. “I promise. I’ll never tell.” Dad relaxed, the tension in his face easing into a soft smile.

“Is that the end of the talk?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Ren got up from the couch and went over to Dad. He climbed onto his lap, and Dad asked, “You want to be held?” When Ren nodded, Dad picked him up with a warm “You’re getting heavier,” and gently patted his back. Ren loved that gentle patting. The scent of disinfectant from Dad’s hair—the usual smell of Dad—wrapped around him and made him feel safe.

 

Al was waiting with his arms wide open, like come here, and when Ren left Dad’s lap and walked over, Al scooped him up and spun him around in big circles. As Ren laughed—“Hyahaha!”—Al spun him even more until Ren got dizzy. It was the most fun ever.

The next day, even at school, Ren felt this constant, restless flutter in his chest. I live with a vampire, he kept thinking with a kind of smug superiority. But at the same time, he wondered—maybe the others just didn’t talk about it. Maybe there were other kids living with vampires, too.

After Ren found out about Al being a vampire, Al stopped hiding it. He’d change into a bat and back to a human right in front of him like it was nothing. He confessed that he’d been super careful until now so Ren wouldn’t find out.

That December, the year Ren learned Al’s secret, they were preparing for a Christmas party. While Dad was out picking up the cake, Ren had been fiddling with Dad’s phone when Detective Nukariya stopped by with a bucket of fried chicken as a gift.

The table was all set—glasses and plates lined up neatly. Ren was taking a cute video of bat-Al peeking his head out next to the bucket of chicken when his foot caught on a chair leg. He stumbled into the table and, in reflex, grabbed the Christmas-themed table runner.

The runner yanked forward, sending the glasses and plates tumbling with loud crash crash sounds as they shattered. Ren nearly fell with it—but then something rose up under his back like a cushion, catching him before he hit the shards.

“Ren, are you okay!?”

Detective Nukariya rushed over from the sofa. Beneath Ren was Al—his body human, but his head still in bat form. Shattered glass lay everywhere. Al had thrown himself under Ren, transforming mid-leap, to shield him from injury. Because his bat form was too small to protect him, he’d rushed to change—but didn’t make it in time, ending up half-transformed.

When Nukariya tried to help lift Ren off him, Ren pushed his hand away and held onto Al’s bat head tightly.

“Don’t look.”

He couldn’t let anyone see Al like this. No one could find out he was a vampire. That would be… a disaster.

“This is nothing. Please don’t look.”

Just then, the front door banged open. Dad was home. As soon as Ren saw his face walking into the living room, the tears came pouring out.

“Hey, what happened!?”

Dad’s heavy footsteps thundered toward them.

“Al, Al got seen by uncle Nukariya!”

Dad looked confused at first. But when he saw the bat head Ren was holding, he tilted his head. “What on earth are you two doing?”

“Oh—could it be…” Nukariya clapped his hands in realization.

“It’s okay, Ren. I already know Al’s a vampire.”

Shocked, Ren looked back and forth between Nukariya and Dad.

“That’s right. Nukariya knows about Al.”

Relief washed over him, and Ren’s legs went weak. As he stood, Al also got to his feet. That’s when Ren saw it—the shards of broken glass stuck in Al’s back, and the blood seeping out. His head spun, and he nearly collapsed. Nukariya quickly caught him.

Dad crouched beside Al and carefully removed the glass. “You really got skewered there.”

It was Ren’s fault. Al had gotten hurt—badly—all because of him.

“Al, Al, I’m so sorry!”

“Is okay. Heal soon,” Al said, voice gentle despite the pain.

Al opened his arms wide, like Come here, waiting for Ren. When Ren shifted from Dad to Al, he was scooped up and spun around and around. As Ren laughed—“Hyahaha!”—Al spun him even faster until the whole world blurred. It made him dizzy, but it was incredibly fun.

The day after learning Al’s secret, even at school, Ren’s chest felt jittery and restless. He basked in a sense of superiority—I live with a vampire—but at the same time, a little part of him wondered if maybe other kids were also living with vampires and just didn’t talk about it.

After the secret was out, Al stopped being cautious. He’d shift into a bat and back to human right in front of Ren like it was nothing. Later, he confessed he’d been super careful until now, so Ren wouldn’t find out.

That December, the same year Ren found out Al was a vampire, they were preparing for a Christmas party. While Dad was out picking up the cake, Ren had been fiddling with his phone. Detective Nukariya dropped by with a bucket of fried chicken as a gift.

The table was set with glasses and plates, all ready for the party. Ren was filming a cute video of bat-Al peeking out from next to the chicken bucket. But his foot caught on a chair, and he stumbled into the table. In reflex, he grabbed the Christmas-themed table runner.

It yanked forward, sending dishes and glasses crashing to the floor. He was about to fall into the mess of glass shards when something swelled beneath his back like a cushion.

“Ren, are you okay!?”

Detective Nukariya rushed over. Beneath Ren was Al—his body human, but his head still a bat. Shattered glass glittered around them. Al had thrown himself under Ren to protect him, transforming mid-leap. But in his rush, he hadn't finished changing and ended up stuck in a half-transformed state.

When Nukariya tried to help, Ren batted his hand away and cradled bat-Al’s head tightly.

“Don’t look.”

He couldn’t let anyone see Al like this. No one could know he was a vampire. That would be... terrible.

“This is nothing, so don’t look.”

The front door banged open. Dad was home. The moment Ren saw his face, the tears came spilling out.

“Hey! What happened!?”

Dad stomped over in heavy strides.

“Al… Al got seen by uncle Nukariya!”

Dad looked puzzled at first, but then he noticed the bat head Ren was holding and tilted his head. “What are you two doing?”

“Oh, I see now,” Nukariya clapped his hands in realization. “It’s okay, Ren. I already know Al’s a vampire.”

Ren’s eyes flicked from Nukariya to Dad in shock.

“That’s right,” Dad said. “Nukariya already knows about Al.”

Relief flooded Ren’s body. His legs gave out. He stood up shakily as Al also got up—only for Ren to spot shards of broken glass sticking from Al’s back. Blood oozed out.

The sight made Ren’s head swim. He nearly collapsed, but Nukariya caught him.

Dad crouched down and started carefully pulling glass from Al’s back. “That’s a deep one.”

It was Ren’s fault. Because of him, Al had gotten seriously hurt.

“Al, Al, I’m so sorry!”

“Is okay. Heal soon,” Al replied.

And sure enough, from where Dad had removed the glass, Al’s wounds began to fade, the bleeding slowing until it was barely noticeable. As Ren stared, dumbfounded, Dad gently ran a hand down Al’s now clean back.

“Vampires don’t die, and they heal from injuries,” he said.

“They don’t die, but getting hurt still hurts,” Dad added. “Better not to get injured at all.”

Al turned around and struck a muscle pose, flexing both arms like he was showing off. “Is okay! No worry!”

…It was like something out of a movie. Ren lived in a house with a vampire. It was just normal for him. The special had become ordinary. Looking back, he realized—that was kind of insane.

When Ren stayed out playing until evening, bat-Al would come find him and perch on his shoulder, squeaking “Gyah gyah (Come home already).” People would say, “Dude, your bat is super smart,” and it made him proud. Back home, they’d eat dinner, and Dad would help with homework. After that, it was game time with Al. Dad didn’t play, just watched—and if they went over the agreed two hours, he’d scold them, “Time to quit!”

Dad could be strict sometimes, but he was always kind. Al was endlessly fun and always put his all into playing. If Ren said he felt lonely, Al would sleep with him. In winter, it was Dad. In summer, it was cooler with Al.

Ren always had a small corner of his heart saved for his mom. He’d wonder when she’d come back for him, balancing hope with the sadness of being abandoned. But the time he’d spent with Dad, Al, and Grandma had long surpassed whatever time he’d had with her. Her face had faded—he could only remember her having long hair.

His homeroom teacher knew he was a foster child, but none of his friends did. Dad had said, “Say it or don’t—do whatever you like.” So when people asked, Ren would answer, “My mom’s far away, we don’t live together.” It wasn’t a lie. Most assumed divorced, and didn’t pry. Even in his class, there were other kids whose parents were divorced.

Every summer, the three of them took two weeks off and traveled to America. Thanks to Dad and Al, Ren could speak English just fine. Over there, Grandpa Dick—Dad’s old friend—would take them to movie studios, theme parks, and camping by the sea. Grandpa Dick bought him tons of stuff, so much that their suitcase could never hold it all, and Dad would often scold him: “You spoil him too much!”

But starting around middle school, Ren became more aware of being a foster kid again. One of his new classmates, Kunitomo, came from a child welfare facility. Ren only found out because someone who’d gone to elementary school with Kunitomo mentioned it.

Ren remembered—I was in a facility too. The thought unsettled him.

Many of his classmates had been with him since elementary, and everyone just thought he lived with his divorced dad. No one had ever said, You’re a foster kid, to him.

Kunitomo was smart, quiet, and plain. He didn’t talk to anyone much. He wasn’t bullied, but he was always alone. Occasionally, Ren saw him chatting with someone from another class in the hallway.

Around the middle of the first semester, Kunitomo started getting mixed up with one of the rowdier groups. Ren was surprised—He chose to hang out with those guys?—but he kept an eye on things. Before long, it became clear: they were smacking him on the head, kicking him lightly, pushing the limits of what they could still call a “joke.” It was that perfectly calibrated cruelty that just barely stopped short of being obvious bullying. But sure enough, the vibe was getting uglier. It was only a matter of time before things escalated.

“Hey, you’re smart, right? Can you help me with this?”

Around then, Ren started talking to Kunitomo more, asking him for help with schoolwork. After a few times, some of Ren’s own friends began talking to Kunitomo too. Naturally, Kunitomo started drifting away from the noisy group and spent more time with theirs instead.

Once they got closer, they started learning more about each other’s backgrounds. In Ren’s group, the only one whose parents were (supposedly) divorced was him.

“Ren, you’re kind of a rich kid, huh?”

They were sitting toward the back of the classroom during a self-study period—some teacher had called out sick—and chatting in a loose group of four or five when someone brought it up.

“My family’s normal,” Ren replied.

But one of them cut in, “No way, normal people don’t go to America every summer.”

Kunitomo turned to him, wide-eyed. “America?”

“We just stay with one of my dad’s friends over there,” Ren explained casually, trying to brush it off.

Still, someone muttered, “That’s still awesome.”

Back in elementary school, Ren used to go on and on about how much fun his trips to America were—until he overheard someone saying, Ugh, that guy’s always bragging, and he’d stopped bringing it up after that.

“And you’re totally fluent in English too,” someone said.

“You go to one of those English conversation schools?”

Ren really wanted the topic to move on, but it didn’t.

“My dad taught me. He speaks English,” he replied.

“What does your dad do?”

Ren answered vaguely, “He’s not a doctor, but he’s in that kind of field.”

His dad was an embalmer, someone who performed preservation treatments for the deceased. Most people didn’t know what that was, and explaining it always got annoying. The one time he did explain it, someone had said, Ew, dead bodies? Doesn’t that creep you out?, and it had stuck with him. Ever since, he just let people assume his dad worked in medicine. Technically, embalmers needed medical knowledge, so it wasn’t a lie.

“He got certified in the U.S., so he has connections there and speaks the language.”

The topic finally shifted to anime, and Ren sighed in relief. After school, most of the others headed to club activities. Ren and Kunitomo happened to be alone in the classroom when Kunitomo said, “I always thought your English pronunciation was really good,” Kunitomo said. “It’s cool that your dad taught you. I’m kinda jealous.”

He was smiling, but there was something real in his voice—like it wasn’t just a compliment.

“Going overseas for summer break and stuff… feels like a whole different world.”

Ren had lived in a children’s care facility too. He wasn’t all that different from Kunitomo. It was just that he’d been taken in by his father. They weren’t rich, not really, but from the outside, his life looked enviable. That thought made him feel a little guilty.

So without thinking, he blurted out, “I’ve only got one parent, you know.”

“Oh, right. You said your parents got divorced.”

Ren couldn’t bring himself to confess he was a foster kid. He just nodded vaguely.

“Well, lucky you. As long as your dad’s decent, who cares? My mom’s still around. She left me at the facility when I was in third grade, said things were tough and she’d be back soon. It’s been four years.”

Kunitomo let out a sigh—low and weary, like a grown-up.

Ren had a mother too. She hadn’t died—she’d just abandoned him and vanished. No one knew where she was now. Not once had she ever come to see him. If she had, the facility would have contacted his dad.

“When I was in elementary school, there were talks about foster parents or adoption,” he said. “But I figured my mom wouldn’t want that, so I didn’t go.”

“Huh,” Ren murmured.

“I thought that once life got easier, I’d go back to living with my mom.”

If his mother ever came to take him back, would he have to leave Dad and Al? Ren wanted to see her. But he didn’t want to be separated from Dad and Al. Ah—this is it, he thought. This must be why Kunitomo didn’t want to go into foster care.

That day, when he got home, he went straight to his room. Even when his dad called out, “Dinner’s ready,” Ren stayed buried in bed and said, “I’m not hungry.”

His head was crammed full of thoughts, pressing in so tightly it hurt. He wanted to see his mom—but thinking about leaving Dad and Al made the tears spill over.

The door clicked open. He shot up in a panic. Al came into the room, chirping, “Ren, let’s eat dinner.” But when he saw Ren’s tear-streaked face, his expression instantly changed.

“What’s wrong? Does your stomach hurt?”

Ren shook his head.

“Did someone at school bully you?”

Another no.

Al kept asking, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” again and again.

Soon, Dad appeared at the door too. “Is there anything you can eat?” he asked.

As soon as Ren saw Dad’s face, the tears came again, even harder. Dad rushed over in alarm.

“Is it your stomach?”

Why do they both say the same things? Ren thought. He used to get sick a lot as a kid, but that wasn’t it now.

“Did something bad happen?”

Dad gently stroked his head. The touch made the tears surge once more.

“M-m-my mom…”

His voice trembled.

“If m-my mom came to get me, I’d have to leave here… right?”

Dad’s eyes flew wide. He looked shocked.

“Did you see your mother?”

“No. I mean, if… if she came to get me…”

Dad gave a soft smile. “You can do what you want,” he said kindly.

“You can live with your mom if you want. Or stay here. It’s up to you.”

“But I’m a foster kid…”

“You might be a foster kid, sure, but how many years have we lived together now? You’re our kid already.”

Dad’s tone had a touch of exasperation, but those words dissolved the knot in Ren’s chest like sunlight melting fog.

“That’s right—Ren is our kid,” Al echoed.

Maybe being a foster kid wasn’t such a serious thing after all. That realization came as a relief. Both of them really cared for him. They doted on him. He could feel it clearly: he was loved.

Then suddenly, an old, blurry image of his mother floated through his mind. Come to think of it, he’d never really asked Dad about her.

“Do you know anything about my mom?”

Dad looked a little troubled. For a second, Ren worried—Maybe this is something he doesn’t want to talk about. But then Dad said, “I’ve never seen her face. Never met her.”

Well, that made sense. Ren had been abandoned. And Dad had taken in that abandoned kid and raised him.

“Did my mom ever come to see me?”

Dad took a breath.

“Do you want to know the truth?”

Ren was scared. But if it was Dad saying it, he knew it would be okay. He nodded.

“When you were in the facility, and even after you came here… no one who seemed like your mother ever came looking for you.”

Even though he had suspected it, hearing it confirmed—that his mother truly didn’t want to see him—felt like a hard slap. The tears welled up and spilled over. His dad’s warm fingers gently wiped them away.

“Are you feeling lonely?”

“I’m not lonely. Just… a little sad.”

That was the honest truth.

“I never met her myself,” his dad said, “but Al once spoke with your mother.”

Startled, Ren looked at Al, who gave a firm nod.

“What kind of person is my mom? I barely remember anymore.”

Al tilted his head, as if thinking.

“Pretty person.”

A pretty person… Somehow, it felt just as hazy and indistinct as Ren’s own faded memories. He wondered, maybe Al also knew his real father? He glanced at his dad. But this dad—the one he lived with now—might feel bad if Ren asked about his biological father. If it were reversed, Ren thought, he’d probably feel hurt.

“Why did you want to foster me?” he asked.

His dad’s cheek twitched. This somewhat unusual man who’d never married, who lived with a vampire named Al, opened his mouth slowly.

“There are a few reasons. One of them is… I spent time in a children’s home, too.”

That was such a surprise, the tears stopped. If his dad had lived in a facility, that probably meant he didn’t have parents or came from a poor household. But his American friend, Grandpa Dick, was some big-shot in the movie industry—Ren didn’t know the details, but the guy was loaded. His dad bought Ren whatever he needed and even took him overseas. There had never been a hint of money troubles in their home. Ren had kind of assumed they were just a little better off than most.

“I also knew your father.”

The shock of those unexpected words made Ren’s throat catch.

“You knew my real dad?”

“Yeah.”

“W-what kind of person was he?”

His dad looked away. “I can’t tell you yet.”

“Not yet?”

“Not yet. If your mother were to show up and wanted to tell you, I wouldn’t stop her. But I don’t intend to say anything—not now. I want to wait until you’re an adult.”

Hearing that, Ren found himself wondering if maybe his real father was dead. If he were alive, his dad would probably let him meet him. That’s the kind of person he was.

…Staring out the bullet train window, Ren let the memories flood. And the conclusion he’d come to was this: the father he’d thought might be dead… was alive. Alive, yes—but it might’ve been better if he’d stayed dead. Because the reality was beyond any expectation: his father had killed someone, and was now serving a life sentence in prison. A truth so far off the charts it made his head spin.

The soft chime rang through the train car. “We will soon arrive at Nagoya,” the announcement said. Ren picked up his backpack and stood. The mother and daughter across the aisle had apparently already headed for the exit. The overweight man in the next seat still had his arms crossed and eyes closed, his thick knees pressing right up against the seat in front of him.

“Excuse me, I need to get out,” Ren said politely.

The man drew his legs back with a grunt and tilted his head. Then opened his eyes.

“Wait… you speak Japanese?”

Oops. Ren had completely forgotten he was supposed to be a non-Japanese-speaking foreign tourist.

“Thank you veeeery much!” he said with a sweet, cheerful smile, slipping into the aisle. He heard a tch of annoyance behind him, but the kid and her mom were already gone, and he’d never see that guy again. So whatever.

As planned, he got off at Nagoya and headed for the platform to transfer. On the way, he stopped at the station convenience store and bought a phone charger. He’d debated renting one but figured returning it would be a pain. The next train was a rapid service, and in about twenty minutes, he arrived in Gifu.

He slipped into an empty seat and pulled out his phone to charge it. As he sipped from the bottle of cola he’d bought, he stared out the window. Despite how far he’d traveled from Tokyo, the sky remained stubbornly overcast all the way out here.

For all three years of junior high, he’d kept up the story that he was being raised by his father after a divorce. During that time, there hadn't been a single word from his mother. Around the time he was entering high school, he finally began to realize—his dad and Al, who he’d thought were just friends, might actually be lovers. It wasn’t like he’d walked in on them or anything, but the way they talked and carried themselves made it clear. Al didn’t even try to hide how much he loved his dad. And his dad, though often annoyed with Al, obviously cared for him deeply. The fact that his dad hadn’t married now made perfect sense if he was into men.

Once, he’d even asked, “Why don’t you marry Al?”

His dad had gone silent for a while before answering seriously, “You think you can marry a vampire?”

“He’s technically died once already. Sure, he has a passport and residency card, but they’re fake. He doesn’t have a bank account, so his wages from part-time work get deposited into mine first, then I give it to him. It’s a bureaucratic nightmare, but what can you do? He’s a vampire.”

That kind of grumbling—bizarrely realistic—had left quite an impression.

Not long after starting his second year of high school, his dad asked him, “What are you thinking about for your future?”

Ren wanted to go to college. Even though he was technically a foster child, he was treated as part of the family now. He knew his dad would support his goals, but even so, it took a moment of hesitation before he asked:

“Can I go to university?”

His dad responded with a surprising question: “Are you interested in studying abroad?”

“Study abroad?”

His dad gave a firm nod.

“Al and I are thinking of moving to L.A. when you graduate from high school.”

“Why?” Ren asked, leaning forward in surprise.

“It’s Al’s appearance. He keeps claiming he’s thirty-five, but it’s getting harder to convince people. And Dick’s getting older, his health’s starting to decline. I figured it’d be good to be close to him. We’re planning to live in the States for about twenty years, then come back to Japan.”

“But Al won’t change at all in twenty years.”

“Which is exactly why, after twenty years, we can just say he’s Al’s son or nephew.”

That actually made sense, and Ren nodded in understanding.

“Anyway,” his dad continued, “your English is good enough, and you’d do fine at a university overseas. If you study in L.A., I’ll be nearby. And Dick, who thinks of you like a grandson, will be thrilled. Of course, your wishes come first—you should go wherever you want. If the university’s in a state where Dick has a vacation home, you could even commute from there.”

Knowing there was a place for him in his dad’s future plans made Ren happy.

“Studying abroad, huh... But the food in America kinda sucks.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

They both laughed. His dad gave his shoulder a light pat and said, “Still, it’d help if you decide early—we’ve got preparations to make.”

What did he really want to become in the future? When he offhandedly told a friend, “My dad’s encouraging me to study abroad,” the response was immediate: “Whoa, I’m so jealous.”

He was interested in foreign universities, sure—but deep down, ever since he was little, he’d been drawn to becoming a police officer. He loved overseas crime dramas, and Detective Nukariya, who often visited their home, was like the real-life version of his dream. Hearing that Nukariya had worked on major cases reported on TV had sent his excitement through the roof. More and more, he found himself wanting to become a cop—someone like Detective Nukariya.

When it came time to decide his future, things started to take shape. To become a police officer, he would either need to enter police academy after high school or attend university first and go afterward. Either way, it meant separating from his father for sure.

They had always been together—he didn’t want to be apart. He struggled with the thought, even considered giving up on becoming a cop and just moving to America with his dad and Al. But in the end, he realized that wasn’t the right path for him.

“I want to be a police officer.”

When he finally worked up the resolve and confessed this, his father’s eyes widened.

“A police officer, huh…”

“I want to be a detective like Nukariya-san.”

He had imagined a few possible reactions—maybe, ‘I raised you and you still didn’t want to be an embalmer?’ or ‘If that’s what you’ve decided, I’ll support you. Do your best.’ But instead, his father looked down and fell silent.

A wave of anxiety rose in his chest. Was this… disapproval?

“Is it… not okay?”

“…It’s not that it’s not okay. I think you should follow the path you want, but let me talk to Nukariya first. Give me a little time.”

The answer was put on hold. About two weeks later, his father brought it up again and said, “If you’re not in a rush, why not go to the police academy after university?”

Ren had wanted to experience university life anyway, and he’d heard that Nukariya-san had also joined the academy after graduating college, so he agreed: “Okay, I’ll do that.”

Then his father asked, “Would you like to become my legal son before you graduate university?”

Ren had figured the adoption topic would come up someday, and he was already thinking it could happen now. Curious, he asked, “Why before I graduate?”

“We don’t know where your mother is right now, but there’s still a chance she might come back for you. If that happens, it’s better that you talk it over with her first. Once you’ve graduated, you’re no longer a student—you’ll be old enough to choose your own path.”

That’s when Ren realized his father had been giving his mother a sort of grace period—until Ren’s college graduation.

At the end of his third year in high school, Ren passed the entrance exam for the university he’d hoped to get into. Since their apartment was within commuting distance, he decided to live at home.

About a week after paying his tuition and getting everything settled, his father said, “There’s something important I need to talk to you about.” His tone made it clear—this was serious. Ren braced himself, wondering if his mother had been found, or if his father wanted to talk about formal adoption again. But what came next was something he never could’ve predicted.

“It’s about your real father.”

He suddenly remembered that his father had once said, Someday, I’ll tell you.

“I’m about to leave Japan. And you’re becoming a university student. I figured this is the right time.”

His biological father had always seemed even less real than the faint memory of his mother.

“Your father’s name is Yonekura Kaito.”

Yonekura. His mother’s name had been Hanada, so it was different. The word “affair” floated briefly through his mind. Maybe his father had another family, and his mother—having had an affair—gave birth to him, but couldn’t handle raising him and left him behind.

“Your mother apparently had promised to register the marriage with Kaito. But when you were born, he refused to acknowledge you and disappeared. She had a hard time raising you as a single parent. I don’t have a DNA test to confirm it, just their testimonies—but you resemble your father quite a bit. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re Kaito’s son.”

People always said he looked like his dad—his foster dad. So to have that same dad tell him he looked like his biological father… it was a strange feeling.

“Kaito is currently in prison.”

The word prison? echoed slowly in his mind.

“He’s in a prison in Gifu. He’s serving a life sentence, so unless something extraordinary happens, he’ll never be released.”

A chill crept down his spine.

“What… what did my father do?”

His voice trembled. After a brief pause, his father answered quietly, evenly, “He killed someone.”

A chill swept through him, draining the blood from his body.

“I know it’s just an excuse no matter how I say it,” his father continued, “but Kaito came from a very difficult home. I believe it deeply affected how he developed as a person.”

He watched Ren’s expression, then let out a small sigh.

“I visit Kaito a few times a year. Once I move to the U.S., it’ll become harder, but I’ll still write to him. You should do whatever feels right to you. If you want to meet him, that’s okay. If you don’t, that’s okay too.”

That’s when it hit him.

“I—I might not be able to! I heard that if you have a criminal relative, it’s really hard to become a cop…”

“You’ll be fine.”

His father’s voice was firm, absolute.

“He never acknowledged you. Once we finalize the adoption, there’s no issue. No one knows where your mother is either, so even if they do a background check, there’s nothing to find.”

His dream wasn’t shattered. Relief flooded through him, and he placed a hand gently on his chest, trying to calm his pounding heart.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” his father said. “But I wanted you to know. If anything ever happened to me or Al, I didn’t want you to go your whole life never knowing the truth about your real father. I couldn’t let that happen.”

It sounded like a warning, like something was going to happen. His throat tightened painfully.

“Are you… are you going to die?”

He barely managed to push the words out. His father laughed, actually laughed—a rare sound.

“Hey, don’t kill me off yet. I said if something happened.”

By the end of June, just as he was getting used to college life after the entrance ceremony, his father and Al left for the United States. They planned to come back during long breaks and had left most of their belongings behind. Al called every day on video chat, so it never really felt like they were gone. Nukariya-san also dropped by often.

During the first half of summer break, Ren worked part-time at Old Memorial Center. When he asked Kanezaki-san—who had an embalmer’s license but for some reason worked in admin—if they were hiring, he said, “We’ve got space. Since you’ve helped out on short shifts since high school, you already know the ropes. You’re more than welcome,” and added him to the schedule.

Kanezaki-san’s classmate, Hatono-san, worked there as an actual embalmer. And she—he—was Ren’s first love. When Ren had visited the facility with his father and met Hatono-san for the first time—tall, long-haired, elegant—he’d fallen head-over-heels. He’d been in love for almost a year. When he found out Hatono was a man, the shock was so great he couldn’t eat for days, which made his father and Al worry.

In the second half of summer break, Ren flew to L.A., where Al’s friend Kyiv—fluent in multiple languages and brilliantly well-read—took him on a trip through Europe. During the trip, Ren learned that Kyiv was also a vampire, which was shocking, but Kyiv reassured him with a smile: “Don’t worry, I won’t drink your blood.” That was somehow both comforting and weirdly complicated.

After they got back, Ren got a part-time job at a film studio thanks to Grandpa Dick’s connections. On set was a Japanese actor, Mitani, filming for a Hollywood production. Mitani lived in the U.S. and was very close with Al. During past visits to America, whenever there was a party at Grandpa Dick’s house, Mitani always came with his wife, Pat. Ren already knew Mitani was a talented actor, but he was also the kind of fun older brother who only ever told scary stories. Ren never imagined he’d go on to become a global movie star.

During breaks, he and Mitani chatted away in Japanese. Eventually, a staff member scolded Ren—“You’re being too loud.” Even though they were both talking, only Ren got told off.

After returning from his long summer break and settling back into the fall semester, the seasons quickly turned cold. Around New Year’s, his father and Al returned to Japan for about a week, and they spent that time together. By the end of January, in the peak of winter, Grandma fell ill and was hospitalized. Thankfully, she was discharged within two days, but it still worried him—she was getting old. So, on his way home from university, he started stopping by frequently to check in on her.

In mid-February, he dropped by her apartment as usual. “Young people get hungry, right? Here, eat this,” she said, handing him some snack chips. They chatted casually while he munched away, and before he knew it, the sun was beginning to set. Just as he was getting ready to leave, the sound of keys clattering in the front door signaled someone entering.

It was a man he’d never seen before—short hair, narrow eyes, probably in his late forties. The man glanced his way and asked, “Mom, who’s the kid?”

“I told you before, didn’t I? He’s Akira’s kid,” Grandma replied.

The man gave a slack-jawed “Ahh,” and then muttered, “Now that I look closely, I guess I can see the resemblance,” even though he and his father weren’t blood-related. He was clearly just saying something to say something. Ren instantly judged him as unpleasant, but he still made the effort to greet him politely. “Hello.”

“This man is my son,” his grandmother explained. “And Akira is my brother’s child, so…”

Now that she mentioned it, he vaguely remembered her once saying she had a son.

“Grandma, I’m heading home now. I’ll come by again soon.”

Leaving those words behind, he gave the man a slight nod and stepped outside the apartment. His father had never mentioned anything about Grandma having a child. Al, on the other hand, would talk freely—about the house in Nebraska, old friends, all kinds of things—without even being asked. But his father never spoke about his past. Ren had always known he’d spent time in a children’s home, and he was naturally quiet to begin with, so it had never really bothered him that he didn’t talk much about his history.

As he descended the apartment stairs, hurried footsteps echoed behind him.

“Hey, you there,” someone called out.

When he turned around, he saw that same man from earlier.

“You forgot this,” the man said, holding out Ren’s bike key.

He’d completely forgotten about it. The man had chased after him to return it. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. Feeling a little guilty for his earlier impression, Ren bowed slightly and said, “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”

The man let out a small scoff through his nose. “So, how’s he doing?”

The “he” in question was pretty obvious—someone they both had in common.

“You mean… my dad?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s doing well.”

“I see,” the man replied, glancing away.

“Ever since our old man died, Mom’s been all alone. I married into my wife’s family and live in Kansai, so I don’t make it out here much. She’s getting up there in age. If you’ve got the time, drop by and see her once in a while, would you?”

The man gave him a couple of pats on the shoulder and turned to go. Ren wanted to ask—what exactly was the relationship between this man and his father? But before he could think of the right words, the conversation ended.

That day, on a whim, he searched for his biological father’s name online.

He’d decided long ago never to meet the man serving a life sentence. A father who hadn’t acknowledged him and had run away—he’d written him off as someone who’d abandoned him, just like his mother. He thought he’d already made peace with that. But curiosity got the better of him.

And within seconds, the full details of the crime his real father had committed appeared on the screen.

Kaito Yonekura had murdered his own grandmother and a staff member from a children's welfare facility. The more Ren read about the case, the more his stomach turned. Yonekura had committed his first murder at the same age Ren was now. The killing of his grandmother went unnoticed at the time, but a few years later he killed again—and that second murder triggered the investigation that eventually unearthed the first. After trial, he was sentenced to life imprisonment.

What really made Ren flinch, though, was seeing his father’s name—Takatsuka Akira—mentioned in one of the articles. His father had been wrongly arrested, suspected of being the killer in that second case. And yet, despite all the trouble Yonekura had caused him, his father still went to visit him. Ren couldn’t understand it.

The article noted that the second victim had been “stabbed multiple times all over the body,” and just imagining that made him shiver. It hurt to see even animals in pain—how could anyone bear to kill a person? What kind of person crossed that line? He’d heard that Yonekura had come from a difficult home, but even after reading everything he could, the motive remained unclear.

Ren hadn’t intended to meet the man who had fathered him. No matter what anyone said, he couldn’t stomach the idea of facing a murderer. Maybe it wasn’t the right way to think for someone who aspired to become a police officer—someone who would have to confront people like that all the time—but he couldn’t lie to himself about how he felt.

What changed his heart was the reunion with his mother.

She reached out to him in June of his second year at university. The call came from a former staff member of the welfare facility—his mother wanted to meet. Though he was legally an adult now and no longer under the facility’s oversight, he’d been living at the same address since becoming a foster child, so they’d been able to reach him.

Back in elementary and middle school, Ren had desperately wanted to see his mother. Now… he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t just want to see her—he also wanted to ask why she’d abandoned him, why she hadn’t made contact for so many years. That absence, that neglect, had taken up more and more space in his heart. And yet, he did still want to see her face. He wanted to know what had made her leave him behind—was it poverty? Or something else?

For some reason, he found it hard to talk to his father or Al about it, so he didn’t tell them. He arranged to meet his mother at a café near the station. He’d picked the place himself, but once he stepped inside, he immediately regretted it—it was crowded and noisy, a terrible environment for serious conversation.

While waiting at the counter for his café au lait, he glanced around the shop. Near the back window, he spotted someone who might be her. The moment that thought crossed his mind, his nerves flared—he’d been feeling calm, even detached until then, but now he was suddenly boiling over with tension.

Café au lait in hand, he approached the table. A pink smartphone sat on it—his agreed-upon sign. Most likely her.

“Um…”

The woman raised her head and turned to face him. She was a clean-looking, pretty woman, maybe in her mid-thirties.

“…Are you Hanada-san?”

Calling her “Mom” felt wrong, and using her given name felt weird too, so after some hesitation, he went with her last name.

The woman gave a small nod.

“You’re Ren, right? Wow, it’s been so long.”

Her voice was casual, almost like she was talking to a friend. Even seeing her face, he didn’t recognize her at all. As he awkwardly sat down across from her, she suddenly began fidgeting, smoothing down her straight hair over and over.

“So, what are you doing these days?”

She asked vaguely.

“Uh… I’m in college.”

She looked at him.

“Really? That’s awesome—you must be smart.”

She narrowed her eyes and smiled. The laugh lines at the corners of her eyes suggested she was older than she looked. Her gaze slowly moved from the top of his head down to his feet.

“You’re all grown up now. The last memory I have of you, you were just this tiny little thing. If I saw you on the street, I probably wouldn’t even recognize you.”

His mother brought the straw to her lips and slurped noisily from her iced coffee. The ice rattled against the sides of the clear plastic cup.

What had this woman been doing after abandoning him? Was it even okay to ask that?

"Your foster parent—do they have money?"

The bluntness of the question made the café au lait in his mouth suddenly taste bitter. Rich or not, was that really the point?

"You look like you come from a good family. The way you talk is all soft, kind of refined. If your foster parent was a hit, then maybe it was the right decision for me to let you go."

What is she even saying? Yes, he was happy because his foster father was the one who raised him—but there had been no guarantee of that. His father had once told him that he’d taken Ren in because he knew Yonekura Kaito—the man who had fathered Ren—even knowing full well he was the son of a murderer...

"I'm glad to see you're doing well. I always wondered, but I had my own life, too, you know."

She took another sip of coffee. And now that he thought about it—she hadn’t apologized. Not once had she said: I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I couldn’t raise you. I’m sorry I never came to see you.

"Actually, I’m moving to Miyazaki soon with my boyfriend. It’ll be my second marriage, but he’s a really good guy, and I think I’ll finally be happy this time. He’s a bit older, and when I told him I had a son I hadn’t seen in years, he said I absolutely had to see you before we moved. He’s a really great guy."

So it was because that man advised her that she came. Not because she herself wanted to. Well—maybe part of her did. But still…

In the years they’d been apart, her son had grown up. He no longer needed a guardian. Her parenting days were over. And now she was going far away. It felt like she’d just wanted to tie up a loose end—tidy up the loose thread that had been nagging at her.

He was glad he met her. But maybe he would’ve been fine never meeting her at all.

“Can I go ahead and formally be adopted by my current foster parent?”

Her eyes widened.

“Yeah, of course. Go for it. I mean, it’ll be a little lonely, you not being my son anymore, but if it makes you happy, then...”

Her saying “my son” sounded hollow. She was the one who’d abandoned him at age three. The one who’d never visited. Never even called. Compared to this woman, his father and Al had loved him a hundred times more. The mother he had once longed to see—missed so terribly when he was little—was this kind of person. He hadn’t expected much, so it didn’t hurt that badly. All that remained now was to get closure on the one small question still lingering inside him.

"I’ve always wondered. Why didn’t you marry my real father?"

“Oh, you saw the family registry, huh? That guy didn’t even acknowledge you, right? We were supposed to get married once you were born. When I got pregnant, he begged me—literally on his knees—to have the baby. Said he wanted to marry me. But the day you were born, he ran off. Can you believe it? I was like, give me a break.”

"My dad… asked you to have me?"

"Yeah."

His real father had wanted a child—had wanted him. Why? If he’d really wanted him, then why not stay? Why not acknowledge him? Why disappear? He couldn’t understand it. Why had that man made her carry a child only to run away?

Their reunion, seventeen years in the making, lasted about thirty minutes. After that, there was nothing more to say. His mother, clearly uncomfortable, kept wiping at the condensation on her cup with her finger. When he lied and said, “I’ve got plans after this,” she quickly stood up and said, “Oh, then let’s head out,” as if relieved to be leaving.

At the end of their parting, his mother handed him a business card and said, “Just in case.” The name of a guesthouse was printed on it.

“My boyfriend is the eldest son of the family who runs it.”

He took it because she offered, but he had the distinct feeling that he would never see her again. Maybe after more time passed, he might feel differently. But right now, he didn’t want to see her ever again. He was grateful to her for giving birth to him—but just giving birth wasn’t enough to raise someone. That much, it seemed, she didn’t really understand.

A few days after the meeting, he told his father he’d seen his mother. On the other side of the video call, his father’s eyes widened. There was silence for a while before he asked, “Was she doing well?” Ren had wanted to complain—She was selfish, and kind of shallow—but that would’ve just sounded like badmouthing. So instead, he replied, “She was pretty, for her age,” and let it go. As soon as he said it, he remembered how Al had once described his mother the same way—“a pretty lady.” Now, at last, he understood just how much restraint must’ve been behind those carefully chosen words.

The image of “Mother” now felt even farther away than before they’d met—just another person, a stranger. Aside from disappointment, there was little he gained from her words. But one thing lingered—the story that his father had wanted him to be born. That truth stuck in his chest like a thorn. To want a child, and then abandon him. Why? Why make someone give birth to a child you had no intention of raising?

It shouldn’t matter, he told himself. But it wouldn’t stop bothering him.

Which was why he was now on a train headed toward Gifu Prison, where Yonekura Kaito was incarcerated.

After much deliberation, he’d finally told his father, “I want to meet Yonekura Kaito.” His father only replied, “I see.” Visitation at the prison was limited, and whether they’d actually allow a meeting was up to the warden’s discretion. There was a chance he would be turned away after traveling all this way, and the fare—paid from his part-time job—would be wasted.

In the end, he had been abandoned. Maybe the desire for him to be born had been nothing but a passing impulse. Maybe hearing it from the man himself would mean nothing.

While those thoughts swirled in his head, the train reached Gifu Station. He transferred to a bus and got off at the stop nearest the prison. The sky was overcast, a dull gray. Mountains loomed nearby. It was a typical countryside landscape. He wondered if prisons were always built in places like this as he walked, checking the map on his now-recharged phone.

After about ten minutes, a structure like a factory surrounded by white walls came into view. Sweat prickled across his body. When he saw the plate reading “Gifu Prison,” his legs froze.

He’d come all this way, spent money and time to get here—but was there really any need to meet him?

Yonekura Kaito, his biological father, was a criminal. Seeing him wouldn’t change Ren’s life. He already had his father, Al, Nukariya, and his grandma. What meaning was there in inserting this faceless monster into his life?

As he hesitated, a voice called out from behind him.

“Hello there.”

A short man in a blue pair of slacks and a pale blue uniform shirt gave him a polite nod.

Feeling like he had to say something, Ren blurted out, “Um, this is my first time visiting someone here. I’m not really sure where to go.”

“Ah, in that case, this way please.”

The older man walked ahead, leading the way. Following behind him, Ren regretted that he’d lost his chance to turn back—but it was far too late now.

To his surprise, the visitation was approved without any hassle. Before his eyes unfolded a scene right out of a crime drama. When he’d watched them on TV, it had never struck him as anything strange, but now that he was inside one himself, it felt oddly surreal. Though the room was brightly lit, the air was heavy. His throat tightened, and he found it hard to breathe.

Beyond the acrylic divider of this white room, the man who had murdered two people—his biological father—was about to appear. Ren’s legs trembled with tension. He wasn’t scared. But still, he shook. The metallic clunk of the door made him reflexively swallow.

The door to the room on the other side of the acrylic opened, and a man in prison garb entered. He looked to be in his forties, with a small head and a thin frame. Just an ordinary middle-aged guy. Nothing about him looked like someone capable of killing two people.

The man walked over and sat down. The metal chair creaked under his weight. He tilted slightly to the right and stared at Ren. Even his eyes weren’t that intimidating. But still, Ren was sweating into his palms from the nerves. In the silence, only the man’s eyes shifted, left and right.

“Hello, I’m Hanada Ren,” Ren said first.

The man gave a flat “Heh” and rubbed beneath his nose.

“So you’re the kid Ayane gave birth to. People grow up, huh? Well, I guess that’s obvious. Last time I saw you, you were just born.”

His tone was gentler than Ren had imagined.

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty,” Ren answered.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m a college student.”

“Got any plans for the future?”

Ren didn’t want to say “police officer,” so he answered, “I want to become a civil servant.” The man immediately burst out laughing.

“Man, you’re straight-laced.”

And then, like a dam breaking, he started firing off questions. How was elementary school? What was junior high like? How was high school? Ren answered them all honestly, just as asked. The man was asking more than his mother had. Was this his way of showing interest in his child?

“You’re just... normal,” the man said, after the flood of questions finally stopped. Ren wondered what he meant by normal, when the next question hit:

“Have you ever been hit?”

Not understanding the intent, Ren replied, “I’ve never gotten into a fistfight or anything.”

“What about meals? Ever had someone skip giving you food?”

“Why would anyone skip giving me food?”

The man sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“You were raised by Takatsuka-san, right?”

“Yes.”

So he knew about his father. Ren wondered if his father had ever told this man anything about him. My mother abandoned me. You’re in prison. So my dad—who had nothing to do with this—raised me. That bitter thought made him want to throw those words at this man. Why?

Ah, he realized. I want him to say ‘I’m sorry.’ That’s what he wanted.

“Takatsuka-san... he’s a kind guy, isn’t he?”

“Yes. He’s very kind.”

“He never yells or hits you, right?”

“No, never. I mean, sometimes he gets mad, but usually it’s because I’ve done something wrong.”

A wrinkle crept between the man’s brows. Did he just get annoyed? Did I say something that upset him? Ren replayed his own words in his head.

Then the man said from behind the acrylic, “Don’t you think that’s kinda unfair?”

“Huh?”

“You got abandoned by your mom, and your dad’s a criminal, right? And yet you didn’t get mistreated or anything. You got raised just fine. That’s totally unfair.”

Ren thought it might’ve been a joke, but the man’s face was dead serious.

“My parents and grandma were the worst, so how come you’re doing so well living with a total stranger? I wanted a normal life too, you know. A normal home. A normal youth.”

What is this man even talking about?

“If my stepmom and grandma hadn’t abused me, I wouldn’t have ended up like this. I could’ve lived a normal life. I just had the worst luck, that’s all.”

Then he added with a self-satisfied ah:

“Maybe all the happiness I was supposed to get just went to you instead? That’s pretty damn unfair, don’t you think?”

Ren stared, stunned by how self-centered this interpretation was. The way he shoved all responsibility onto others was staggering. Maybe his family really had been awful—but Ren wanted to shout, you’re a parent too. You’re the parent of the person sitting in front of you!

“Didn’t anyone ever bully you? I mean, for being a foster kid, or for having a criminal for a parent? Like in elementary school or whatever?”

“I never told my friends I was a foster kid.”

And he’d only learned about his biological father being a criminal after becoming an adult.

“Ah, so you tricked everyone and made it out untouched, huh? Smart move.”

Self-centered, petty, and filled with bitterness—his words made Ren more and more nauseated. Why had Dad continued to visit a man like this all these years?

“You know, you were destined to be the child of a murderer before you were even born. You were holding the worst cards from the start. So how the hell did you grow up so damn normal and well-adjusted? You should’ve had it worse than me. That’s what I wanted to see.”

Ren’s thoughts froze for a second, then kicked into overdrive, analyzing everything. Why had he come here in the first place? Why had he wanted to meet a murderer? Because his mother had told him that his father had wanted him. That his father had begged her—on his knees—to have the baby. Ren had hoped that maybe that meant there had been some love or responsibility behind it. But no. This man had wanted to create a child burdened with the title “child of a murderer.” That was it. He’d only hoped the kid would suffer more than he had. There hadn’t been a shred of love in it.

That’s why he fled right after the birth, once he’d seen Ren had been born. Everything aligned. Every action. Every motive.

...He felt like throwing up. This was beyond just being irresponsible.

“Man, I wish I’d been raised by someone decent like Takatsuka-san. Then I probably wouldn’t have done all this crap. Life might’ve turned out better.”

“I’m going now. I’ve got a train to catch.”

Ren stood up from the chair and gave a polite bow. “Thank you for your time today.” But he was never coming back. Not ever.

“Oh, right—tell Takatsuka-san to send me another book, yeah?”

“I understand,” Ren said aloud—but inwardly, he spat, as if I’d ever tell him.

Leaving the visitation room, he retrieved his belongings. By the time he stepped out through the prison gate, the sky had finally begun to clear—but his whole body felt heavy, like it had been dredged through sludge. The poison of that man’s presence still clung to him.

Why had his father been so kind to a man like that? And more than that—why had he been so kind to Ren, the child of such an awful man? Why had he raised him with such care? Loved him so fiercely?

Walking back down the now-shadowed country road to the bus stop, Ren suddenly realized something.

Dad must have known everything. He must have known exactly what kind of man Kaito Yonekura was—and even so, he’d chosen to take Ren in. He’d cherished him, protected him, and raised him into a kid who could still say, “I’m happy,” even without parents.

Even holding the worst card in the deck, Dad had wanted to show that man that you could still end up this happy. …Or maybe he hadn’t thought it through that much at all. The Dad Ren knew was just endlessly soft, endlessly kind when it came to kids.

Sweat clung to his skin, and tears spilled out. He didn’t even know why he was crying.

That man in the prison—he was awful. A terrible person. And… a sad one. Someone who only passed on misery, who never figured out how to find happiness.

On the bus ride back, Ren had thought, I’ll never come here again. But as the bus rattled along, the thought shifted—Maybe I’ll come again someday.

Because Dad hadn’t given up on him. He kept going to see him. If Dad ever disappeared, that man would be truly, utterly alone. Ren didn’t know what was in the man’s heart—but he could feel, just a little, that he was clinging to Dad.

Even if there was only one person in the world thinking about you, Dad kept showing him that someone still cared. Whether that man ever realized it or not, that message was still there.

Ren had a bit of time before his next train, so he impulsively called Al. The call was picked up right away.

“Ren, what happen?”

Al’s face filled the screen. That cool, unchanging vampire, no matter how many years passed.

“I just… suddenly wanted to hear your voice. Is Dad around?”

“Still working.”

“It’s past midnight over there, right? That’s pretty late.”

“Akira… used too much.”

“He’s not young anymore, you know. He should take it easy.”

“I worry too, his body… but he kinda strong.”

Al’s usual strange wording was somehow comforting. Just hearing his voice lifted Ren’s mood.

“Ren… you not okay?”

“I’m fine. When are you two coming back?”

“Around… New Year.”

“Okay. Oh, my train’s coming soon. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay… then… Ren. I love you.”

Ren ended the call with that warmth still echoing in his chest.

He was happy. So unbelievably happy.

He would charge forward like this, carrying his happiness, and erase all the negatives he'd been born with, as if they had never existed.

He would keep being happy, and treasure the people who made him happy. That, more than anything, would be his revenge against that man.

His stomach gave a little growl. He bought a rice ball from the convenience store in the station and ate it standing up. He hadn’t felt hungry at all that morning from all the tension, but now he realized just how starving he was.

Even after meeting his biological father, even after how horrible the man turned out to be, here he was, shoveling food into his mouth like nothing. What he’d learned had been the worst-case scenario. It made him furious. But the anger didn’t last. And he didn’t feel despair.

He had a place to return to. He had people who protected him. That man couldn’t shake anything in him.

Ren would look directly at the life in front of him. He’d keep checking what was around him. He was loved by so many people—that made him the strongest. And he was sure of it:

He was going to be happy, always.

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