Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 6 - Part 9

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The next opportunity came two days after that conversation with Nukariya. It was Friday afternoon when Yonekura’s account unlocked again—and a new post appeared on the timeline:

“Male, twenties. Slim build. Average looks. Based in Shonan. Looking for a thirty-something big bro—want to do it right now.”

The wording was the same as before. Yonekura hadn’t moved from Shonan.

Al quickly replied using the text Kanezaki had prepped in advance: "Male, thirties. Handsome. Can come right away." He then contacted Hatono and Kanezaki, who also followed Yonekura’s account and submitted similar responses through their own dummy profiles.

The account stayed unlocked for about thirty minutes, but there was no reply. The post disappeared, and the lock returned. It seemed someone else—someone other than them—had been chosen.

It was disappointing, but all they could do was wait for the next chance.

As Al let out a long sigh, his phone rang. It was Ayane. Since they’d exchanged contact info, she’d been sending him messages multiple times a day, and occasionally called. At first, she’d ask, “Did you find Kaito?” but before long, it became nothing but gripes about her job—“Ugh, I don’t wanna work” or “There was this shitty customer.” Al hadn’t told her that Yonekura seemed to be in Shonan now. It was hard to bring up the part about him looking for sex partners online.

He answered the call, and Ayane immediately launched into a storm: “Listen to this!” she snapped, fury spilling from her voice. At the cabaret club where she worked, she’d gone to change after a dinner date, only to find that the dress she was supposed to wear had been thrown into the trash, soaked in what looked like soy sauce.

“I can’t believe this shit! It was definitely Mirei! She’s jealous ‘cause I beat her sales last month. That trashy bitch!”

Enduring the brunt of her emotional storm was exhausting. Al tried to gently deflect: “I have something I need do now,” but she shot back coldly, “You’re unemployed,” and resumed her machine-gun barrage of complaints.

“Mirei only got those numbers ‘cause she’s sleeping with clients. I don’t do that crap. Girls who can’t keep customers with their own skills gotta use their bodies.”

Her rant was an endless loop of the same bitter lines. It was dragging on again, and when Al glanced at the time, he realized his two-hour bat time was approaching.

“I really can’t. Soon,” he told her—not as an excuse, but because his body was about to transform, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Can’t you at least listen?” she snapped. “Ren hasn’t been listening to me lately either, it’s pissing me off. There’s this guy at the club who’s kinda nice and I thought maybe I could date him, but if I tell him I have a kid, he’s definitely gonna bolt. Why the hell did things turn out like this for me? If I were alone, I’d be way more free.”

The image of Ren’s face, the little boy who’d called him “Papa,” came to Al’s mind.

“Is Ren okay?” he asked.

Ayane suddenly went silent.

She’d been talking nonstop until now, and the sudden quiet struck him as odd. But it was calm for once, and he figured maybe it was fine to end the call. He reached to tap the end button—but it was too late. A wave of heat surged through him.

He was turning into a bat.

And before he could disconnect, her voice came through:

“Why do you care about Ren?”

Ayane’s voice had turned low and dark.

“I’m the one who’s exhausted, so why do you only care about Ren? I’m the one saying I’m tired! Why don’t you say anything to me?!”

Al knew he had to say something—but he had already transformed into a bat. He could no longer speak human words.

“Don’t just stay quiet! Say something!”

Al ended the call. Then, using his nose, he opened the message app and typed out “Sorry” before sending it to Ayane. But the message was never marked as read. Maybe she’d blocked him.

After returning to human form, he tried calling her again, but she didn’t answer. It wasn’t like he absolutely needed to contact her—but it lingered on his mind. As he sat staring at his phone, sighing, a message came in from Kanezaki:

“Kane-san! Yonekura just posted another ad!”

Al scrambled to open Yonekura’s account. It was the usual phrasing, though a few words were slightly different. He hadn’t expected a second post in the same day. Hatono and Kanezaki’s accounts had already applied. Hatono speculated, “He changed ‘Shonan’ to ‘Tokyo’ this time, so maybe the first guy canceled on him.” Kanezaki added, “If we send the same message as before, we might not get picked. Maybe I’ll go with something more forward, like ‘Wanna go at it hard’? Make it sound real eager.”

Soon after, the post disappeared again. Another miss. Al was starting to feel deflated—until a message popped up in the group social media from Kanezaki:

“Yonekura just DM’d me! He bit the hook!”

“He said he’s at Aoi Campground and asked what time I can be there.”

Hatono immediately followed with a message: “Can we leave the rest of the operation to the detective?”

Al used voice input to reply: “I’ll contact Nukariya, but maybe he busy can you wait little?”

The system auto-converted his words to kanji, which might’ve introduced a few mistakes, but it couldn’t be helped.

Kanezaki responded, “I told him to wait a bit and he replied, ‘You said you were ready now.’”

Al quickly typed, “Wait a bit adjusting will message soon,” and called Nukariya.

He explained that one of their team had been selected from Yonekura’s social media post, and that the meetup was at Aoi Campground. Nukariya said, “I can be there in under an hour.”

Al gave him the email and password to Kanezaki’s dummy account so Nukariya could take over communications directly. From there, all they could do was watch the account and wait.

Nukariya messaged, “I can be there in an hour,” and Yonekura replied: “Fine, an hour’s okay. Message me again when you get to Aoi Campground.”

Even if Nukariya, the pro, would handle what came next, Al couldn’t help wanting to be there himself. Maybe he could sneak over and watch from a distance. As he was thinking that, a new message came in from Yonekura to the account:

“I’m bored. Send me a pic.”

While Al ran the message through a translation tool to be sure, a message popped up in the group chat—this time from Hatono:

“Shall we talk for a bit?”

Maybe it was because Al was slow reading these messages. As soon as the three of them joined a group call, Hatono opened with:

“I believe Yonekura is asking for a sexy photo.”

Al flinched in shock. Nukariya hadn’t responded yet, so maybe ignoring it was fine?

But Hatono continued:

“It would be problematic for the detective to send anything, so perhaps we could try sending a nude of Zacky?”

“We can blur the face so no one will know it’s him.”

Hatono spoke with calm detachment, as if suggesting a perfectly logical course of action. But Kanezaki, the one being volunteered, flat-out refused:

“Hell no!” he shouted. “What if my nudes go viral around the world?!”

“They’ll degrade with time, so eventually no one will know who it was,” Hatono replied coolly. “I could do it, too, but I doubt I’d live up to his expectations. It’s a rare opportunity, and if we play it too cold, we might be turned down. I’d like to avoid that.”

Yup, Al thought. Hatono really is a man. Kanezaki, on the other hand, gave his silent protest by spamming the group chat with a stream of crying-face emojis, as if possessed.

They decided to get professional input, just in case. When they checked with Nukariya, his reply came back quickly: “Thanks for the offer. But you don’t need to do anything.” Kanezaki responded with a relieved smile emoji.

Nukariya then sent a safe, noncommittal reply to Yonekura: “Talk later.” There was no response, and after about five minutes, Al received a message: “On the move now.”

If he’s in a car, Al figured, it’s probably Yanagawa driving. He took a chance and called—and got through.

“I’ll probably make contact in about thirty minutes,” Nukariya said.

“I want go… camp place,” Al pleaded.

Nukariya let out a small, thoughtful “Hmm…” He was clearly weighing it.

“You said Yonekura has seen you both as a human and a bat, right?”

“Nu…kar… Nukariya hide me… suit inside go,” Al said, struggling for words but determined.

After a pause, Nukariya agreed on the condition that Al escape immediately if it became dangerous. They’d swing by the apartment before heading to the campsite.

Just after 5:00 p.m., five minutes after the last message, Al hung from a streetlamp in front of his apartment, waiting. A black car pulled up, hazard lights blinking, and the passenger-side window lowered to reveal Nukariya’s face. Al flitted into the car and perched lightly on his shoulder.

“AAAAHH! Something just flew in!” Yanagawa shouted from the driver’s seat, panicked with both hands still on the wheel.

“Just go,” Nukariya said calmly.

“That bat… is it the one from Takatsuka’s case?” Yanagawa asked.

“Yes.”

Al let out a “Gyap!” of greeting in tandem, and though Yanagawa was terse, he responded with a dismissive “Hah…” before starting the car again.

“So it’s true you made contact with Yonekura?” Yanagawa asked, eyes fixed ahead.

“Takatsuka’s friend found his ex-girlfriend, who then told us about Yonekura’s account. I mentioned that before.”

“I remember. But… there’s always the chance it’s a mistake or a setup. Otherwise we’re just chasing ghosts. We ditched the field investigation for this.”

“We chase ghosts all the time,” Nukariya replied sharply.

With nothing to say to that, Yanagawa slumped slightly in his seat. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”

Nukariya checked the social media account he’d been using to message Yonekura. No new messages—until ping, one came through.

A photo.

It was a nude shot from the neck to the thighs of a man—completely naked.

Al’s heart leapt. Was this Yonekura himself? He gulped hard.

But Nukariya’s expression didn’t change.

At a red light, the car came to a stop. Yanagawa glanced over—and his eyes widened like saucers. He was clearly staring at the nude photo. His gaze flicked between Nukariya’s face and the image about three times before his mouth slowly dropped open, his expression unreadable.

“Signal,” Nukariya said calmly.

Snapping out of it, Yanagawa faced forward and hastily got the car moving again.

“Keep your eyes on the road.”

Yanagawa mumbled a faint “Ah, okay,” his gaze dropping slightly. The car continued on in silence. As they drove through the crowded city streets, the sun began to sink in the west. Then, quite suddenly, the view ahead opened up. A large sign reading Aoi Campground came into sight.

When Al thought of campgrounds, he pictured something in the mountains, beside a lake. But this was a strange space—a vast field like a sports stadium with sparse tents pitched here and there, and buildings visible in the distance.

Nukariya had Yanagawa pull the car over just before entering the campground. Then he sent a message to Yonekura: I’m here. Where are you?

Black car in the parking lot, came the reply.

Nukariya looked out at the lot from inside the car.

There are a bunch of black cars. I can’t tell which one.

Boxy black one, license plate 3471.

“That one, maybe,” Nukariya murmured, seemingly having identified the car.

“All right, I’m heading over. Stick to the plan from here,” he said.

Yanagawa nodded. Nukariya unfastened the front of his coat. “Al, inside pocket,” he instructed.

Al squirmed his way into the coat’s inner pocket. Watching this, Yanagawa muttered, “That bat is disturbingly smart. Gives me the creeps.”

“Smart is good, isn’t it?” Nukariya replied casually, then stepped out of the car. The door shut with a clunk. Al could feel the motion as Nukariya walked, though tucked inside the pocket, he couldn’t see the scenery—he could only guess.

Nukariya came to a stop.

“Hello,” he said to someone.

“Whoa, seriously? You’re hot. Didn’t expect this type to show up. Lucky me,” came Yonekura’s voice.

The memory of Yonekura trying to beat him to death with a hammer by the river surged back. Al’s body trembled uncontrollably. From above, a gentle pressure descended. Through the coat fabric, Nukariya gave his body a reassuring pat, as if to say It’s okay.

“What kind of guy were you expecting?”

“Someone who says they’re in their thirties but looks like a fat, gross, fifty-something perv.”

Yonekura’s tone was biting.

“I had one of those earlier today. I’m not usually picky about looks, but that one was way too much of a catfish. I bolted.”

So that’s why he’d posted another ad so quickly—he’d ditched the earlier guy.

“By the way, why would someone like you go for someone like me? I bet you’ve got better options.”

“So you’re aware you’re the sketchy one,” Nukariya said, voice light and relaxed—he sounded like a seasoned flirt, a pro at this game.

“I’ve been in the mood so bad today. But that first guy was a bust, and I’ve been waiting around forever. Hurry up and get in.”

Yonekura’s voice was tinged with impatience.

“Sure, but were you planning to do it in the car? I figured that when you said ‘campground.’ But come on, there’s no shower. I’ll cover it—how about a hotel? There’s one about fifteen minutes from here.”

“You’re so demanding,” Yonekura grumbled, but in the end, he said, “Fine.”

Once Nukariya climbed into the passenger seat, the engine gave a heavy rumble and the car began to move.

“The car you came in is still parked back there,” Yonekura noted.

Al tensed. Yonekura had spotted Yanagawa, who was supposed to be on standby.

“He hasn’t left yet?”

Nukariya answered lazily, without a hint of alarm.

“A friend of yours?”

“Younger hookup. He’s got a car, so I had him drive me out here. If you’re into threesomes, I could call him over.”

It was Nukariya’s suggestion, but it was Al who nearly choked in shock.

“Ah—sorry. I’m not into group stuff.”

“Then let’s just leave him be,” Nukariya chuckled softly.

There was something… impressive about him. Effortless charm was radiating off him like heat from the pavement—he really did feel like a wildly popular, smooth-talking playboy.

“How old are you, onii-san?”

“Thirty-two.”

“I like guys in their early thirties.”

As he murmured Hmm, Nukariya’s body shifted slightly.

“…Don’t touch me while I’m driving.”

Even as he complained, Yonekura’s voice had a sugary tone.

“I can’t help teasing cute ones.”

“Onii-san, I was kinda put off when you brought up the threesome, but you seem nice.”

“I generally prefer being kind.”

Their exchange was so sickeningly sweet, it made Al feel like he’d eaten way too much chocolate—nauseating. To shake off the cloying feeling, he reminded himself Yonekura is the killer! and his head quickly cooled. He started wondering if Nukariya always flirted this way during undercover work when the car came to a stop. There was a bigger movement—Nukariya getting out. The sound of shoes changed; he must’ve entered a building. After a brief exchange—“Which room should we take?”—the sound of walking resumed, then a door closed.

“Alright then, go ahead and take a shower first.”

Nukariya gave the instruction.

“We could go together, you know.”

“I’m a solo-shower type.”

“Hmph,” came Yonekura’s reply. The door slammed shut. At the same time, Nukariya’s soft voice spoke through the coat fabric, “Al, you can stay inside the jacket or come out, whichever you prefer. Just hide somewhere out of sight.”

With that, Al slipped out of the inner pocket. Nukariya had already texted, Room number is 302, likely to inform Yanagawa.

Nukariya picked up Yonekura’s car keys from the table and headed to the entrance. When he opened the door, Yanagawa was waiting outside. Without a word, Nukariya handed him the keys and closed the door.

Al glanced around the room. He’d heard from Sakairi that love hotels were meant for nyan-nyan and usually had flashy interiors, but this one wasn’t much different from a normal hotel. The bed was unusually large, and a giant mirror hung directly opposite it—that stood out. The room was spacious for a Japanese hotel, and a potted plant stood near the window. Yonekura would be back any second, so Al slipped behind the base of the plant pot.

The bathroom door opened, and Yonekura stepped out with damp hair—completely naked. He looked at Nukariya with eyes glistening with heat.

“Thanks for letting me go first,” he said, seating himself next to Nukariya, who was sitting on the bed. Like a child, Yonekura swung his legs. The bed creaked under the motion. Nukariya placed his phone on the table and gave Yonekura a side glance.

“Sexy,” he murmured.

“Let’s get started already.”

Yonekura’s voice was sultry to the extreme. Nukariya reached out gently, brushing a hand through Yonekura’s wet hair. The mood was getting too good—Al was starting to worry things might really go that way.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time,” Nukariya said tenderly.

“Your name is Yonekura Kaito, isn’t it?”

At once, Yonekura furrowed his brow.

“How do you know my name? Oh—did you see something in the car?”

“I’m a friend of Takatsuka Akira.”

After a brief silence, Yonekura’s expression vanished into blankness. “Huh?” he said, his tone flat and hollow.

“Takatsuka? Don’t know anyone like that.”

He lied, blatantly. Ignoring it, Nukariya fixed his gaze on him and said, “I came here to urge you to turn yourself in.”

“That makes no damn sense,” Yonekura muttered, narrowing his eyes.

“We already know you murdered the staff member at the facility, and pinned the blame on Akira.”

Yonekura laughed, carefree.

“What is this, a fantasy novel? Got any proof?”

He was still playing it cool.

“…We do. In your car.”

That was when Yonekura finally flinched. His cheek twitched, and his eyes darted to the table.

“My car keys are gone!”

He whipped around, panic in his voice.

“What happened to my keys?!”

“Beats me. Maybe you dropped them somewhere?” Nukariya replied smoothly.

Yonekura feigned innocence with a cool expression, but when he lunged in silence, Nukariya smoothly sidestepped and seized his arm. Twisting it behind Yonekura's back, he brought him down, pressing him chest-down against the floor in one swift, practiced motion.

“If you behave yourself, I won’t have to get rough,” Nukariya said calmly.

From the floor, Yonekura tilted his head upward, gritting out, “You’re a cop, aren’t you?!”

“Tell the police the truth about what you did.”

Despite Yonekura tensing his body and trying to wriggle free from the hold, Nukariya didn’t budge an inch. Like a caterpillar squirming on the ground, Yonekura kept shifting under him—until he suddenly went still and began to sob, “Ugh… ugh…”

Why was he crying? Was it frustration over being caught?

“Why did you frame Akira?” Nukariya asked.

“Did you have some grudge against him? He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to be hated.”

Yonekura’s sobs quieted.

“You really are Takatsuka-san’s friend,” he murmured.

“When did you become friends with him?”

“High school.”

Nukariya answered honestly. Yonekura let out a long breath.

“They say people flock to others on the same level. Takatsuka-san’s a good guy. So of course his friends are good people too… and help him out when he’s in trouble.”

“If you think so highly of him, why did you do what you did?”

Al wanted to know that too. How could he say Akira was a good person, then throw him into hell?

Yonekura suddenly burst into laughter. Ha ha ha, ha ha ha,—it didn’t stop, and the more he laughed, the more it felt like his mind was unraveling.

“You know,” Yonekura said, his voice eerily detached, “people don’t expect anything from assholes. You already know they’re no good, so it doesn’t hurt. What really cuts deep is when kind people lie.”

He spoke like he was talking about someone else entirely.

“Did Akira lie to you?”

“It wasn’t a big lie. No malice, either. I know he said it for my sake. I get that. But understanding something and accepting it—those are two different things.”

Yonekura opened his mouth wide and made a gagging noise. “Guh—guuh,” he retched, then vomited.

“I—can’t… breathe—” he gasped, writhing in pain.

Had he choked on his own vomit? Nukariya released him and began pounding on his back.

“Ughhh!”

Yonekura grabbed his own throat and flailed. When Nukariya tried to open his mouth, he resisted. Something was wrong. Sensing it, Nukariya backed away and pulled out his phone.

“Call an ambulance,” he said.

That moment, Yonekura sprang to his feet. Still naked, he bolted down the hallway into the bathroom. Al thought he was barricading himself in—but no. In moments, he came back out, fully dressed, head slightly bowed, no longer looking like he was in pain.

“…I’m sorry.”

Yonekura apologized.

“I’m really sorry.”

Clenching both fists, he raised his hands forward in a please cuff me gesture. Nukariya stared at them for a second—then, without warning, slapped the back of Yonekura’s left hand.

At the same instant, Yonekura’s right hand shot out—gripping a small knife.

When had he…? Maybe when he’d gone into the bathroom? Had it been hidden in the clothes he took off?

Nukariya stepped back and twisted his body left to avoid the blade, but it threw off his balance, and he fell backward. Now on his back, he looked up as Yonekura raised the knife again and lunged to strike.

Al burst from behind the potted plant and launched himself at full speed. He knew better than anyone how ruthless Yonekura could be. But a bat was too small to shield Nukariya.

Al flew straight into the descending knife, thinking only one thing:

Become human.

His body halfway through transforming, something warm and wet sank into his side.

A sickening squelch.

It burned—seared with pain.

It hurts! It hurts!

“Ugh—uwaaaah!” Yonekura screamed.

The transformation continued through the pain.

“You—monster! It’s you again!”

Yonekura threw himself at Al just as he was nearly fully human. The knife stabbed straight into his chest—and then came a dull crack from just above his head.

“Hii—!”

Al saw Yonekura tumble sideways. Nukariya, now upright, forced him to the floor, pinning him down with one hand while binding his legs with his jacket and tying his hands with a belt. Blood streamed from Yonekura’s nose—he’d probably been punched in the face. Nukariya spat, “This is self-defense,” and dragged him by the collar to the bathroom before rushing over to Al.

Al could tell. He’d been stabbed mid-transformation, so he hadn’t managed to turn completely human. His body had frozen in an unstable form: a human torso with a bat’s head, just like the early days when he’d struggled with shapeshifting.

“You freak, you monster!”

Yonekura’s crazed screams echoed from the bathroom, but Nukariya ignored him completely. He pulled the knife out of Al with a steady hand and pressed a handkerchief to the wound. It was probably a shallow cut. The pain dulled little by little as Al endured it.

“Gyah gyah,” Al squeaked. He meant to say thank you, but all that came out was a bat’s cry.

In this monstrous half-state, it would be better to just revert to full bat form. It used less energy. Once the pain had settled, he could do that. But… wait. If he could become a human body with a bat’s head, maybe he could do the reverse—bat’s body, human head?

That would save energy and let him talk. Once the pain had dulled completely, Al focused hard and imagined it: a bat-sized body, but with a human head. Transform, he willed.

His body shrank rapidly. His claws became batlike. His limbs followed. But his vision stayed in color. He looked down—yes. His body was a bat, but his head was human.

“Nukariya… thank you,” he said.

He was a bat, but he could speak. This was good. Nukariya blinked at him several times, stunned.

“I… body okay. All better.”

“Ah, good. I’m glad. So you can turn into that kind of form too, huh…”

Nukariya gave a soft smile and gently patted Al’s head. Then he scooped the bat-like creature into his palm and placed him on the table. Picking up the knife, he wiped the small trace of Al’s blood from the blade using a tissue.

Al’s blood had barely left a mark—probably because his physiology was becoming more like a real vampire’s. Most of the blood had turned to ash and vanished, like Kyiv’s.

Nukariya then pressed the side of the blade to his own shoulder, where it had grazed him. The knife had gone through Al’s half-human torso and nicked Nukariya in the process. The wound was small—but imagining if it had struck directly was enough to make one shiver. Nukariya casually tossed the knife to the floor.

It was blatant evidence tampering—but not dishonest. After all, Yonekura had wounded him with that knife.

He picked up his phone.

“I’m arresting Yonekura,” he told Yanagawa. “Come to the room. Caught him in the act of assault.”

Four days after Yonekura’s arrest, Akira was released. In the end, he had been detained for twenty-three days for a crime he didn’t commit.

Nukariya had told Al, “He’ll probably be released soon,” but no one knew exactly when. So every day, Al went to the police station where Akira was being held and waited at the bus stop across from the entrance. Since changing clothes during his bat time was a hassle in human form, Al stayed in bat form the whole time he waited.

The Tuesday sky was cloudy from morning, and it looked like the rain might fall at any moment. A little after 10 a.m., Akira stepped out of the police station with the same tote bag he’d had on that day, casually slung in one hand. He wore his usual white shirt and slacks. Al flew straight to him and landed on his shoulder.

“Gyah gyah gyah gyah!”

He wanted to shout: You’re finally out! Everything’s okay now! There’s nothing to worry about anymore!—but all that spilled out were the shrill cries of a bat. If they were alone, he could’ve turned into that “bat with a human face” form he’d recently mastered, but doing that in public would just be monstrous. It’d cause a scene.

“…You’re loud. Quiet down.”

The scolding tone was unusually weak. Normally it would come thundering down like a crash of lightning, but not today. Akira quickly hailed a taxi and told the driver, “To Old Memorial Center.” It took about twenty minutes from the police station to the center. During the ride, Akira sat with his arms folded and eyes closed. The driver kept glancing back at them in the rearview mirror. Al thought it might be because Akira was handsome—but no. The driver was eyeing him, the bat perched on the passenger’s shoulder. Still, the man said nothing. If he made a fuss, they might get kicked out, so Al decided to behave and didn’t make another peep.

Once they arrived at the center, Akira headed straight to the office reception.

“Excuse me, it’s Takatsuka.”

Matsumura, who’d been in the back of the office, jumped out of her chair and rushed into the hallway.

“Takatsuka-kun!”

Her voice was louder than usual.

“I was released this morning. I’m very sorry for the trouble I caused the center.”

Akira gave a deep bow.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Don’t worry about that,” Matsumura said. “You were innocent, and yet you were detained for so long. It must have been awful. Are you all right?”

“I’m just a little out of shape from lack of exercise.”

A look of relief crossed Matsumura’s face.

“The real culprit… I’m just so furious about it,” she said, placing a hand on her hip with a scowl. “But he’s been caught, right? That’s a relief.”

Akira gave a sheepish smile.

“I haven’t been in contact with anyone outside, so I don’t know what my status at work is. I assume there was a fair amount of damage done to my reputation. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d been fired…”

“You’re fine!”

Matsumura thrust her thumb upward with confidence.

“At first, the company did talk about letting you go. But we all insisted it wasn’t right to fire someone who hadn’t been proven guilty, so we got them to put you on indefinite leave instead. Until you came back. Koyanagi-san and the two trainees worked through their days off to fill in, and Tsuno-kun and Muroi-kun even came to help occasionally. So you can return to work anytime. No—please start right away.”

Akira bowed deeply again.

“I truly didn’t expect to be allowed back. I’m grateful.”

Matsumura narrowed her eyes and gave a gentle smile.

“You should thank Kane-san. I also believed there was no way you could’ve committed a crime, but it was Kane-san who said, ‘There’s absolutely no way Akira would ever do something like that.’ Thanks to him, I could wait with confidence. He’s… a wonderful friend, isn’t he?”

Akira fell silent for a moment before bowing his head again.

“Thank you.”

He said he could join the work shift immediately, but Matsumura stopped him.

“Take it easy today. You’ve probably got a bunch of stuff to sort out—cleaning your place, contacting friends, all that.”

So his return to work was set for tomorrow.

After leaving the reception, Akira walked to the break room. Everyone else was apparently busy with a case—no one was around. He approached his desk, placed a hand on the surface, and exhaled slowly, his gaze still lowered.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway, several pairs drawing closer. Akira flinched, as if startled by a sudden jolt. The door burst open with a bang.

“Ah, isn’t that Takatsuka-san?” Hatono was the first one to enter.

“Wait, did you say Takatsuka-san?” Koyanagi peeked from behind and then trotted into the room.

“Takatsuka-san, welcome back,” he said, placing a hand on Akira’s shoulder.

“This must’ve been really—really—tough,” Koyanagi said, his voice full of heartfelt relief.

“I’m glad you made it out of the cage,” Hatono added. “I’ll still be under your care during training, but just for today, please be grateful to me.”

Akira tilted his head. “Huh?”

“Didn’t Kane-san tell you? Zacky and I helped him track down Yonekura’s social media account. That led directly to the arrest.”

Akira glanced at Al. When he nodded, Hatono quipped, “That bat is very clever, but I do question the accuracy of his fact-checking.”

“Takatsuka-san has always talked to Al like this,” Koyanagi tried to cover, only for Hatono to say, “So you’ve been kindly watching over this situation for a long time, then.”

As they spoke, more energetic footsteps echoed down the hallway, and soon Tsuno, Muroi, and Kanezaki entered the break room, one after another.

“Takatsuka-san!”

Tsuno, whose hair was slightly shorter than before, rushed over.

“Today was your release day, right? Good job surviving it!”

“Correction,” Akira replied sharply to the overly enthusiastic Tsuno. “I didn’t commit a crime. It’s not release, it’s dismissal of charges.”

“Still, seeing you come out safe really puts me at ease. I believed in you the whole time,” Tsuno said, getting teary-eyed.

“I appreciated the care package you sent,” Akira added.

When Koyanagi asked, “What did you send him?” Tsuno replied proudly, “A collection of embalming papers.”

Muroi immediately chimed in, “That was my suggestion, by the way.” The mere mention of academic papers made Al's brain recoil, but Akira apparently appreciated them.

“You’ve been through a lot, Takatsuka-san,” A slightly pale-faced Kanezaki wobbled his way toward Akira. “I really worked hard—for your sake.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hunted down Yonekura’s ex-girlfriend’s account by comparing her Instagram photos and tracking her friends’ posts. I managed to identify her apartment. It took forever.”

Like Hatono, Kanezaki could be a bit pushy, but it was true he had done it for Akira’s sake.

“Then Kane-san got the actual social media account from the ex, and through that, the detective, Nukariya, made contact and captured the culprit. It was a total team effort!”

“Ex-girlfriend?” Akira tilted his head. Maybe he hadn’t been told much about the investigation while he was the suspect. Still, he seemed to understand everyone had acted for his sake and said, “Ah… thank you. I appreciate it.”

“After our shift, Hatono, Kane-san and I got together and started scheming all over the place. When I realized I could help catch the suspect, I got really fired up!”

The color finally started to return to Kanesaki’s face.

“Come to think of it, Takatsuka-san, you really looked after this guy,” Muroi said, pointing at Kanezaki. “He’s got zero tolerance for blood.”

“I helped out a few times with Kanezaki’s training,” Muroi continued. “But to be honest, he was beyond the point of instruction. I laid into him pretty hard, so I think he’s a little better now.”

It became clear just how much everyone had come together to cover for Akira while he was gone.

“When are you coming back to work, Takatsuka-san?” Tsuno asked.

“Starting tomorrow.”

“Already? Are you sure you don’t need more rest?”

“I had plenty of rest in the cage. I’m more comfortable when I’m working.”

“You’re a total workaholic,” Hatono said, cutting straight to the point.

“Working here’s been fun too, but I guess today’s my last day,” Muroi said, folding his arms behind his head and sounding a little disappointed.

“Now that Takatsuka-san’s safely back, how about we have a barbecue with this group next week?” Koyanagi suggested.

“I’m in!” Tsuno chimed in eagerly.

“Agreed. You’re in charge of planning and prepping,” Muroi said, pointing straight at Kanezaki.

“Understood!” Kanezaki snapped back with the cheerful energy of a pub waiter, spine straight and eyes gleaming.

As the five of them buzzed and joked, Akira sat there quietly, watching them with a dazed sort of expression, like the tension had drained out of him all at once.

“Takatsuka-san, are you all right?” Hatono leaned in to check on him.

“Ah… yeah,” Akira said, twisting his mouth slightly.

“For the last three weeks, I barely talked to anyone who wasn’t a cop. The sound of normal conversation is a bit… overwhelming.”

“Even someone like you, who doesn’t talk much to begin with, finds a detention cell tough, huh,” Hatono murmured.

“Well, duh. Takatsuka-san’s still human, y’know,” Kanezaki said, which earned him a snake-like glare from Hatono.

When noon rolled around, the group started getting ready for lunch. At that moment, Akira stood up and said, “I’m a little tired, so I’ll head home,” and left the break room.

He took a taxi from the embalming center, getting off a bit before his apartment building. On the way, he stopped by a convenience store and bought a rice ball bento.

Akira’s car was parked in the apartment lot. It had been left at the facility, so Nukariya must have moved it for him.

The air inside Akira’s apartment, which had been unoccupied for nearly a month, was heavy and faintly tinged with rot. It looked like the place had been searched too—his living room was a mess.

The first thing he did was open the windows. He gathered the rotting kitchen scraps and expired food from the fridge into a garbage bag and took it down to the building’s trash area, then vacuumed the room. He also started charging his phone, which had been completely dead, its screen pitch black.

With the smell gone and the dust cleared, Akira began eating his rice ball bento in silence. The atmosphere made it hard to start any kind of conversation, so Al remained in his bat form, quiet. Even as he perched on Akira’s shoulder, Akira didn’t tell him to move.

Halfway through the meal, the phone—now charged to about twenty percent—buzzed with an incoming call. Akira pulled it over to the table and tapped the speaker icon.

[Akira! Akira!]

It was Richard's voice.

[You’ve been released from the detention center, right? Are you alright?]

[Yeah... Who told you about it?]

[I asked my agent in Japan to keep me informed. I was in the middle of making arrangements to head over when he contacted me, saying it looked like you’d been freed. You went through something awful, didn’t you?]

Akira ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it up, and replied in a calm voice, [I’m alright.]

[Is Al with you?]

Akira was silent for a moment, then answered, [Yeah.]

[That’s good. Then I’m relieved. You must be hurting after being imprisoned for something you didn’t do. But if Al is with you, then I know you’re safe.]

[Is that you, Akira?]

It was Martha’s voice now.

[When I heard you’d been arrested for murder, I thought my heart would stop. But I never believed for a second that it could be true. I prayed every day for the truth to come out and for you to be set free.]

[Thank you, Martha.]

Richard’s voice returned.

[You must be exhausted, so I’ll call again later. I’m just so glad. I wish I could hug you right now, but please take your time and rest, and heal your heart and body. I love you, Akira.]

The call ended. Akira let out a long sigh and slowly stood up. He trudged over to the bed and collapsed onto it. Al, startled by the impact, leapt into the air and plopped back down onto the sheets.

Maybe now’s a good time, he thought, and transformed back into his human form by the bedside, sitting down next to Akira’s face as he lay face-down. Akira, with his eyes closed, cracked one open just slightly. His gaze flared wide for a moment, then narrowed again, slowly, gently.

"...Your hair and eyes are black."

Even though Akira had seen him like this in the detention center, he still said it out loud again.

"Kyiv blood, I suck... I vampire. About eighty percent. This is... full power now."

"You’re not fully turned yet?"

"Daytime... two hour... I become bat."

"So this time it’s just two hours of bat form? That’s kind of half-vampire."

Grumbling, Akira shut his eyes again.

"Akira, you tired?"

Al leaned in close to ask.

"I’m not tired. I just haven’t adjusted to life outside the cell yet."

Akira said nothing more after that. His eyes were closed, but it didn’t seem like he was asleep.

"Akira, detention... was hard?"

No reply.

"You alone... did good. Proud."

Still no response.

"Everyone... kind to Akira."

Akira’s eyelids clenched tightly.

"Everyone... loves Akira."

From between his tightly shut lids, tears began to slowly well up. Maybe he didn’t want them to be seen, because Akira turned his face into the pillow, hiding his crying expression.

"I love Akira."

A soft breeze stirred the air. Al turned his head—shhhraaa—the sound of rain came rushing in. The sky, which had looked like it might break all morning, had finally opened up. The rain came in strong, threatening to blow inside, and Al quickly stood and rushed to close the window.

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