Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 5 - Part 11

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The next morning, it was raining again. Al stared out the window, grumbling that it was damp enough for mold to grow—until he remembered. Right. This was about the time Tokyo entered its rainy season.

Al turned into his bat form at 7:30 a.m. and left the apartment by 7:45, heading toward the Center’s break room. Last night, the thrill of having seen Akira again had left him so exhilarated, he was wide awake for hours. The frustration of being in Japan but unable to meet Akira face-to-face had been gnawing at him—but now, even if only from a distance, even if it was one-sided, just being able to see Akira through a bit of sneaky window-watching filled him with overwhelming joy.

Surely Akira had noticed him yesterday. But what did it matter? Until they could talk properly, he’d keep hiding like a ninja and watching in secret.

Brimming with excitement, Al arrived at the window of the break room, only to find—to his dismay—that the curtains were still closed. It seemed no one had arrived yet. Al clung to the trunk of a nearby tree and waited. Before long, the curtain swept aside with a swish. A young girl wearing glasses appeared in the window, dressed in a loose T-shirt and dark pants.

Al flew to the window’s awning and peeked in with just his head. The girl sat down on the couch and began munching on a hot dog. When she was finished, she bit into a donut—then a second one. For someone so slender, she sure had an appetite first thing in the morning.

Unlike most Japanese people, whose facial features were generally soft and subtle, this girl had beautifully defined eyes, nose, and mouth—her whole face had a sleek, balanced look. She gave off a distinctly Eastern vibe, and her long, straight black hair stood out. From the way she lounged in the break room, Al guessed she must be an associate embalmer.

After finishing both donuts, she slurped down a carton of milk and then began putting on makeup.

“Morning~”

Koyanagi came in. The girl replied politely with “Good morning,” not stopping her mascara application.

“Hatono-kun, you’re early again today.”

“Around eight, traffic gets really bad around here. Watching cars crawl along just irritates me.”

“Haha, you said the same thing before, didn’t you?”

Apparently the girl’s name was Hatono. As Koyanagi set his bag on the desk and checked the schedule board, the wrestler guy came in too… and his outfit was something else. A shirt with a bow tie, plaid pants held up by suspenders, and a matching flat cap. It actually suited him—but looked more like something for a European noble’s picnic than for work at an embalming center.

Yesterday he’d worn a raincoat home, so Al hadn’t been able to assess his fashion sense.

“Good morniiiing!”

The wrestler greeted Koyanagi with a bright smile.

“Good morning, Zacky.”

As soon as Hatono greeted him, the wrestler’s friendly expression dimmed slightly.

“Hatono-san, I’ve told you before—please stop calling me that. My last name is Kanezaki.”

So his name was Kanezaki. Kane… as in money. It had a wealthy ring to it. Nice.

“Since your name is Kanezaki, I thought ‘Zacky’ was fair.”

“That name makes me sound like some washed-up underground idol. I hate it.”

Unable to watch the back-and-forth any longer, Koyanagi cut in. “Let’s just use last names at work,” he gently scolded Hatono.

“For something as trivial as a nickname, Mr. Kane-Zacky sure is particular. And his reasons for disliking it are kinda petty, too.”

Kanezaki’s lips twisted into a pout, and he looked like he might cry. Clearly Hatono was in the wrong for not respecting his wishes—but even Al had to admit, it was just a nickname. No big deal, right?

"Enough chit-chat in the doorway. Get inside already."

It was Akira’s voice!

Startled, Kanezaki blurted out, “Sorry!” and hurried into the room. Al stretched his little bat body tall, trying to lean out even further. Akira entered the break room, walking straight to his desk. As Koyanagi was about to power up his computer, he turned toward Akira and said, “Oh, by the way, Takatsuka-san, on my way out yesterday, I saw a bat flying near the center’s entrance.”

Akira’s hand, halfway through unpacking his bag onto the desk, paused—just for a second. Then, uninterested, he replied with a flat “Hmm,” and resumed what he was doing.

“I really think it was Al,” Koyanagi added.

“Impossible,” Akira cut him off cold.

“It even made that same 'gyak, gyak' sound. Maybe it came all the way from America, flying over the ocean to get back to its owner.”

“Bats aren’t migratory,” Akira said, shooting down the theory without hesitation.

“What are you guys talking about?” Kanezaki cut in, intrigued.

“Takatsuka-san used to keep a bat as a pet. It went missing in America and hasn’t been seen since.”

“A bat? As a pet?” Kanezaki’s voice was unnecessarily loud—maybe proportional to his frame.

“Yeah, it was a lonely, clingy little guy. Takatsuka-san used to bring it into the break room all the time. It could understand a fair amount of human language too. Really clever little thing,” Koyanagi explained fondly.

Pffft! Hatono suddenly burst out laughing.

“Sorry, but I just couldn’t help it. A bat as a pet? That’s absolutely hilarious.”

“Hatono-san, that’s rude!” Kanezaki snapped, his face turning crimson.

“W-What’s wrong with having a pet bat!” he blurted out, balling his fists like a loyal little soldier defending Akira’s honor. Hatono narrowed her already almond-shaped eyes even further and smirked.

“I didn’t say bats were bad. I’m just telling you it’s funny. I mean, Takatsuka-san already gives off a gloomy vibe—and now a bat? That’s just too perfect.”

Al couldn’t help but feel a jolt of familiarity at Hatono’s bluntness. That sharp tongue… yes, she reminded him of Pat, Akira’s embalmer friend. Cooler, more polished in tone—but just as ruthless.

“You’re calling him gloomy? That’s too far!” Kanezaki barked.

“I didn’t say he was gloomy,” Hatono replied, her voice cool. “Please don’t distort my words. What I said was, ‘his overall tone is on the darker side.’”

“Then, then I’ll say something too! I think putting on makeup at work is... is totally inappropriate!”

Hatono’s expression shifted in a blink—deadpan, like a fish floating belly-up.

“There’s no rule stating that associate embalmers can’t put on makeup in the break room during off-hours.”

“T-That’s what we call twisting logic! Hairsplitting!”

“Then let me say something as well,” Hatono continued, her voice perfectly polite yet razor-sharp. “The makeup you apply to the deceased is ugly, and your outfit is horrendous. I don’t care how bad your fashion is—mock yourself all you like—but your bad makeup is a menace. Please study harder. You are a living embodiment of ‘all bark and no bite,’ you pathetic little coward.”

Bombarded by her barrage of refined insults, Kanezaki trembled, mouth hanging slightly open. Koyanagi, panicking, tried to step between them. “Guys, calm down...”

Last year’s team had been all guys, but everyone had gotten along. This year’s batch of trainees, though... a whole different breed. Too intense, too sharp-edged.

“Quit the racket first thing in the morning!” Akira suddenly snapped, voice just loud enough to slice through the tension. Hatono and Kanezaki stopped their bickering immediately.

“Hatono, stop calling Kanezaki by that nickname. And associate embalmers putting on makeup in the break room is fine—as long as it’s within reason. Learning to apply makeup to yourself helps when doing it for others. Also, if you want to fight, do it after hours. Outside.”

Akira’s words wrapped things up decisively, but the atmosphere in the break room was still awful. Al sighed internally. He knew it wasn’t his business to worry, but... couldn’t things be a little less terrible?

Something was placed with a thunk by the window—an empty cardboard box, now blocking Al’s view of Akira. He leaned out farther to try to see—and slide, the window snapped open.

It was Koyanagi. Their eyes met, up close and unmissable. Al froze. Koyanagi blinked, once, twice, then gazed directly at him—and offered the gentlest of smiles.

“Al.”

His name was called.

“Are you Al?”

Koyanagi extended his right hand toward him. “Come here. You’ll get wet if you stay there.”

If he landed on that hand, there would be no denying it—he would be proving that he was Al. The smart thing to do was to fly away right now. But… but…

Al looked down at Koyanagi. Maybe this was a chance. If Akira saw him like this—saw the bat, saw him—what kind of reaction would he have? Would he still deny him, pretend he didn’t recognize him, even in front of everyone? Even in front of Koyanagi?

He didn’t know. He had no idea. But… he wanted to try. Even if he was ignored, even if Akira said “I don’t know that bat,” Al still wanted to go to him.

Resolved, he flitted down and landed lightly on the outstretched palm.

Koyanagi carried him into the break room. The sharp sting of chemicals clinging to hair and clothing—the familiar scent of the room hit him and made his nose twitch, but it was nostalgic, comforting. Hatono and Kanezaki stepped closer to Koyanagi, six eyes locking on Al at once. Even though it wasn’t like they’d figure out he was a vampire just by looking, Al stiffened with nervous tension.

“Look, he perched right in my palm. This has to be Al,” Koyanagi said brightly, gently stroking Al’s back.

Al lifted his head, bracing himself, and let out a quiet “Gyak!”

“It must’ve been a long trip from America to Japan. I’m impressed you made it all the way home without getting lost. Good boy.”

The warmth in Koyanagi’s words seeped straight into Al’s chest. He had been left behind by Akira, nearly killed, seriously wounded… it had been a hard, painful journey—but he had finally made it back. Al nuzzled his nose against Koyanagi’s fingertips, rubbing affectionately.

“So cute!” Kanezaki exclaimed, shoving his big face closer to Al.

Al wanted this new associate embalmer to accept him too. He tilted his head—his cutest, most charming pose—and chirped a soft “gyak.” Kanezaki’s expression melted; his eyes crinkled kindly as he reached out to gently pat Al’s head with surprisingly soft fingers for someone so large.

“Here you go, Al. Your beloved master,” Koyanagi said cheerfully, holding him out toward Akira.

Al wanted nothing more than to leap onto that familiar shoulder. But he couldn’t—not with Akira’s gaze stabbing through him like barbed wire. That “Don’t you dare come near me” look paralyzed him. He hesitated.

“That’s not the bat I used to keep,” Akira said flatly, his tone heavy with finality.

“C’mon now, that’s definitely Al,” Koyanagi replied with comedic timing, trying to cut the tension.

“Al didn’t have black fur. That bat is a total stranger.”

Laughter rang through the break room. Hatono, standing behind Koyanagi, covered her mouth with a hand. “Sorry,” she chuckled, “but calling a bat a total stranger just hit my funny bone…”

She was the only one laughing. Akira, Kanezaki, and even Koyanagi looked painfully awkward. Meanwhile, Koyanagi brought Al closer to his face, tilting his hand left and right to study him carefully.

“Now that you mention it, the fur does look darker than before. But hey, food’s different in America, right? Maybe that’s why the color changed. I heard even sibling dogs have different coat densities depending on whether they live in tropical or cold climates.”

“Really? That’s the first I’ve heard of that,” Kanezaki said with genuine interest.

It was true—his fur was darker now. But that wasn’t the point. No matter what excuse anyone offered, Akira had already decided he wouldn’t acknowledge him.

It was so cruel. Al suddenly sprang from Koyanagi’s hand and, with a flutter, dropped onto his master’s right shoulder—the place he had always belonged.

Akira flinched. Al almost wet himself in fear from being glared at at such close range by that beautiful, icy face. Still, he managed a soft “gyak” that meant I’m home, and gently rubbed his nose against Akira’s neck.

"See? It really is Al! I’m so glad, Takatsuka-san. You were really down after he went missing."

Koyanagi clapped softly, and even Kanezaki—who probably had no idea what was going on—started clapping too, caught up in the moment.

After leaving him behind in America, had Akira felt even a little lonely? Had he regretted not bringing Al back with him?

The warm thrill of Akira’s touch barely had time to rise in Al’s chest before he was suddenly grabbed in a grip tight with tension and force, and shoved into a small cardboard box sitting in the corner of the room. He tried to push up the lid and get out, but someone was holding it down—no matter how much he pushed, it wouldn't budge.

The box jolted as if it had been moved, and then a series of thunks hit the lid—like someone was stacking books on top of it. A bad feeling crawled up Al’s spine. He pushed against the lid again. As expected, it didn’t move at all.

He’d come all this way, finally made it home… so why was he being shut away in such a tiny space? Couldn’t Akira at least look at him? Let him be seen? He had come back because he wanted to see him so badly.

Al cried out at the top of his little lungs. "Gyak gyak! (Let me out of here!)"

"Shut up! Be quiet!"

The thunderous roar of Akira's voice startled him so badly he sank down in the dark box, shoulders drooping.

"I’ll make this clear to everyone," Akira continued. "This bat might be the one I used to keep, or it might not. If it’s wild, there’s a risk it could carry infectious disease. Until I take it to a clinic and get it tested, no one is to touch it. No matter how much noise it makes, don’t open that box."

Back when they’d first met—when Al had been caught by the police and brought to Akira’s home for the first time—Akira had touched him all over without hesitation, practically committing bat-based harassment. And now he was acting like this? What the hell?

Koyanagi let out a confused, faltering "Uh, well…" against Akira’s unyielding tone.

"Takatsuka-san, you used to bring Al here to work because he got lonely, right? He flew across the whole ocean to come home—shoving him into a box the moment he gets here is just cruel."

"Bats live in caves and attics. Dark places are their natural habitat."

"That may be true, but…"

Koyanagi’s gentle objection was ignored. Al was being forced to spend his time boxed up. For how long? Until work ended? All he’d wanted was to catch a glimpse of Akira. That small, simple wish was now crushed. Honestly, he would’ve been better off sticking to spying from the window.

"Gyak gyak! (This is awful! Look at me!)" Al cried in a piercing voice.

"Shut up! I’ll roast you over charcoal and eat you like yakitori!"

That horrifying threat was enough to silence Al in pure shock.

"Wait, can you even make yakitori out of bats?" Hatono asked, entirely too intrigued.

"In some parts of Africa, they eat bat meat," Akira replied dryly. Why the hell did he even know that?

"Really? But with a tiny bat like this, there’s probably not much to eat." Hatono chuckled. No one else laughed with her.

And just like that, everyone seemed to forget the bat in the cardboard box even existed. For a while, Al could hear the four of them talking at random intervals. Then the sound of the door opening and closing—and after that, only Hatono and Koyanagi’s voices remained. It seemed Akira and Kanezaki had gone ahead to start working on the bodies.

Lying on his stomach inside the dark cardboard box, Al mulled over his predicament. What if Akira froze him and shipped him back to America in a refrigerated box? He absolutely had to avoid that outcome. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down. If worst came to worst and Akira tried to put him in a freezer, he could transform back into human form—so long as it wasn’t between 1:00 and 3:00 p.m., the hours when his forced bat-time kicked in. As long as he timed it right, he could avoid being cryogenically sealed.

Even if he was sent back, he’d just find a way to return again. Okay, maybe there was a slim chance he’d get frozen and forgotten somewhere, never restored—but that seemed unlikely. Akira wasn’t that heartless. He understood that the threat about roasting him like yakitori had just been to scare him. He hoped.

The box swayed with a sudden jolt, and without warning, the lid popped open. Startled, Al looked up—narrow, almond-shaped eyes were staring straight down at him.

"Hatono-san, Takatsuka-san did say not to open the box until the tests are done," came Koyanagi’s voice.

"Wasn’t that just an excuse, though?" Hatono said nonchalantly.

Her hand slipped into the box, palm up, cupped like a tiny pool of water. The message was clear: Come here. Al couldn’t resist. He slowly stepped onto her hand. It was larger and softer than he’d expected. He curled his claws tightly to avoid scratching her.

As soon as she lifted him out of the cardboard prison, the view opened up.

"You poor little bat," Hatono murmured as she gently stroked his head. She had no sense of timing, strong opinions, and a sharp tongue—spoken oh-so-politely—but maybe she wasn’t such a bad person after all.

"I heard he got lost in America, but what if he was actually abandoned because taking care of him was too much trouble?"

No way. Akira wasn’t that irresponsible. Al shook his head quickly, but Hatono wasn’t looking—she was facing Koyanagi.

"He probably feels awkward that his abandoned pet came back, so now he’s treating him roughly."

Akira was being painted as more and more of a villain. The situation was complicated—very complicated—but Al had no way of explaining it right now.

"Takatsuka-san would never abandon Al. He really doted on him," Koyanagi said, standing firm.

Of course—Koyanagi understood. Al lifted a claw in what he meant as a thumbs-up. Hatono still looked skeptical.

"I mean, it is strange that he’s acting so cold now, even though his beloved pet came back."

Koyanagi touched his chin, looking thoughtful. Al gave a firm "Gyak! (Exactly!)" in agreement. Hatono gave him another gentle stroke down his back.

"This bat’s timing is kind of amazing. It really sounds like he’s responding to what we say."

"Right? Al understands human language. He used to watch the news every day and even helped us find lost things."

Even talking about a bat, Koyanagi somehow managed to sound proud.

"A news-watching bat… you're joking, right?"

Hatono’s voice could’ve frozen a summer breeze.

"No, really. He had a favorite station. I kept the TV on that channel during the day," Koyanagi said earnestly.

"...I really don’t want to say this, but Koyanagi-san, are you feeling okay?" Hatono asked flatly.

Ignoring Koyanagi, Hatono continued petting the tiny bat gently. Koyanagi gave a hollow laugh. "Well, it looked like he was watching the news to me..."

As they spoke, someone notified the break room that a body had arrived. Koyanagi and Hatono left to begin their work.

No one put Al back in the box.

So he took advantage of the moment—and soared freely around the break room.

Al first checked Akira’s desk, but aside from a few new magazines, nothing seemed to have changed significantly. It wasn’t exactly tidy, but not quite messy enough to be called dirty either. He took a deep inhale—suu haa—soaking in the lingering scent of Akira. The familiar trace of it made his chest tighten with a strange, warm longing.

But then his nose began to itch, and with a sharp “Kachun!” he let out a loud sneeze. Apparently the desk hadn’t been cleaned in a while—it was dusty. So Al wrapped himself in a tissue and began rolling across the surface, scrubbing away the dust with his small bat body like a living lint roller.

When he’d finished, he suddenly felt bored. On the table in front of the sofa, he spotted the TV remote. Curious, he pressed the power button with his nose. Nothing happened. His strength must not be enough. Flushing with effort, he planted his snout and gave it a hard push. Finally, with a click, the TV powered on.

Immediately, raucous laughter burst from the speakers. Two men stood on a stage, speaking rapidly. It seemed to be a comedy show. Japanese comedy programs often featured thick regional accents, making them hard to follow—and Al wasn’t particularly fond of them.

He tried switching the channel with the tip of his nose, but it was slow to respond. Irritated, he mashed his nose against the remote with extra force, which soon started to sting. Being a bat was inconvenient after all.

Wait… I don’t have to stay like this, he realized. Except for those two hours during the day, he could transform into his human form again now.

So Al crept toward Koyanagi’s desk—hidden from the window—and returned to human form.

Naked, he crawled along the floor and reached the window. He carefully closed the curtain and locked the inner door to the break room, just in case. The cool touch of the floor against the soles of his bare feet made him shiver a little.

He sat cross-legged on the sofa and picked up the remote. As a bat, his vision had been dull and monochrome, but now in human form, the television was bright and full of color. Watching TV is definitely better like this, he thought as he flipped through channels—when suddenly he heard the door handle rattle violently.

“Huh? It’s locked from the inside.”

It was Kanezaki’s voice. Panicked, Al transformed back into a bat.

He was just starting to relax when he realized with a jolt—he’d forgotten to unlock the door.

“Excuse me, is someone in there? Please open the door!”

Al clung to the small turn-knob beneath the doorknob. If he could just turn it upright, the door would open. He hung onto the knob and pulled, straining to twist it. But every time Kanezaki rattled the door again, the vibrations nearly shook him off.

Just as Al managed to twist the knob vertical, the door slammed open. The sudden impact flung him into the wall. He bounced off it, hit the sofa, ricocheted again, and finally landed flat on his back on the remote control sitting on the table.

Apparently, his impact hit the channel button, because the TV changed stations. Groaning, Al rolled over and scurried under the sofa.

“Is… is anyone here? There has to be, right?”

Kanezaki’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

“There’s no way it’s empty… right? Ha… ha…”

No answer came.

"The door wouldn't open, like it was locked or something, and then the TV turned on by itself and started switching channels—I totally freaked out..."

Kanezaki’s voice drifted into the room, though Al couldn’t tell who he was talking to. From beneath the sofa, he could see the trembling of Kanezaki’s two feet as he stood. He was clearly terrified. Maybe he thought the locked door and the mysteriously changing channels were the work of something... not of this world. If so, that was unfortunate. Al wanted to explain that it was all a misunderstanding, but that wasn’t possible right now.

As Kanezaki began to retreat, his right arm bumped into the cardboard box Al had been locked in earlier. The box, along with some books stacked nearby, tipped over and fell to the floor with a loud rattle.

"—Hiiiiiieeeee!!"

With a shriek like a rusty nail on glass, Kanezaki bolted out of the break room in a noisy panic. Al felt guilty—he’d only wanted to watch some TV, and now he’d frightened someone half to death. Poor guy.

With the door left wide open, Al flew out into the hallway. Kanezaki had returned, but Akira was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was still changing in the locker room?

"Excuse me—"

A voice called out from the far end of the corridor. It wasn’t Kanezaki. Probably because no one had answered the first time, the man called out again, louder, and closer now. He was coming this way.

Past the break room lay the locker rooms, the CDC room—where the dressing, cosmetic treatment, and casketing of bodies took place—and the embalming room. It was rare for anyone outside staff to venture beyond the break room. Even Matsumura at the reception desk hardly ever came back here.

"Nobody here?"

The man approaching was young—early twenties, maybe? With Japanese people, it was hard to tell exact age. He wore a plain shirt and slacks, looking rather serious, maybe even like a schoolteacher. Al suspected he was a guest at the funeral hall who had mistakenly wandered into a staff-only area. If that were the case, someone needed to send him back.

With a flap, Al darted above the man’s head.

"Uwah—bird?"

Startled, the man spun around, but Al flew straight for the front desk. Peeking through the reception window, he spotted Matsumura working at her computer in the back of the office.

"Gyah!"

He called out. Matsumura spun in her chair, eyes scanning around to locate the source of the cry, her neck swiveling in wide, rapid sweeps.

"Gyah!"

He called again. This time, she spotted the bat near the reception window. With a squeak, she hurried over, letting out a small, surprised "Kyaa!" as she pressed her hands to her cheeks.

"Al! It's Al, isn't it?"

Al bobbed his head in an eager nod. Matsumura’s eyes welled faintly with tears as she gently patted his back.

"I heard you'd gotten lost, but you made it back safely. Thank goodness."

"Good boy, good boy. Al’s such a clever one."

Even though he was a bat, there was someone who had worried about him and waited. Not just Matsumura—everyone at the center had been kind to him. That alone was enough to bring a tear to his own eye.

In the joy of their reunion, Al completely forgot about the man who’d wandered into the back of the embalming facility. He had to tell someone. Immediately, Al pointed toward the break room with a claw and cried out, "Gyah! Gyah!"

"What is it? If you're looking for Takatsuka-kun, he's still working."

No, Al tried to convey by shaking his head and once more pointing his claw down the hall. Matsumura leaned out from the window. When she noticed the employee-only door had been left wide open, she tilted her head with a curious "Hmm?"

"That door being left open... that’s odd."

Matsumura stepped out from the office and closed the staff-only door behind her. She spotted a figure standing at the far end of the hallway. “Who’s that? Doesn’t look like staff…” she murmured, the soft clack of her low heels echoing as she walked after the man’s retreating back. Hearing her footsteps, the man turned around.

“Hello. Do you have some business with Old Memorial Center?”

Matsumura’s voice was polite, inquisitive.

The man gave her a bright, oddly cheerful smile—one that didn’t quite suit a place of mourning.

“I came in from a different entrance than last time, so I got a little lost trying to find the reception…”

“In that case, it’s this way,” Matsumura said, gesturing toward the front desk, but her eyes remained fixed on the man’s face. Then, after a pause, she spoke again.

“Weren’t you the one who made arrangements with us last month?”

“Yes. I'm Yonekura, the one who requested the embalming and funeral for Isahaya Takaichi. Thank you again for your help at the time.”

Yonekura bowed deeply. Matsumura bowed in return. “Oh, not at all. We were happy to help.”

Scratching his head a little awkwardly, Yonekura added, “I’ve known Takatsuka-san for a long time. I was hoping I might be able to talk with him if I dropped by his workplace…”

“Ah, I see,” Matsumura nodded gently. “Did you arrange a meeting with him?”

“Ah—no, I just happened to be in the area and thought I’d stop by. I really should’ve checked his schedule ahead of time. He might be busy, and I know it’s rude. I’ll come back another time.”

“Please wait just a moment,” Matsumura said, guiding him to a sofa near the reception. She then stepped back into the office and returned shortly. “Takatsuka-san should be finishing up a procedure shortly. After that, he might have a little time. I’ll go check. Would you be able to wait?”

Yonekura’s uncertain expression lit up with relief.

“No problem at all—I have the day off today.”

From the reception window, Al had been watching the exchange. What kind of relationship did Yonekura have with Akira? Matsumura had mentioned “a request,” so he was definitely a client. Could they have reunited because Yonekura had asked for embalming services? He looked younger than Akira—definitely not a school friend. Curious.

About ten minutes later, the clacking of brisk footsteps echoed down the hallway. Akira appeared in his lab coat, a file in hand.

“Matsumura-san, have you seen Kanezaki? He’s not in the locker room or the break room.”

Akira sounded a little irritated, speaking quickly.

“I haven’t,” Matsumura replied, her tone as relaxed as ever.

“Where the hell did he go? He’s on the clock,” Akira muttered, flicking the file with his fingers. Knowing it was his own fake haunting that had scared Kanezaki off, Al was flooded with guilt.

“There’s a guest waiting who wants to speak with you. He’s on the sofa over there,” Matsumura said, gesturing.

Lifting his eyes slightly, Akira called out to the guest. “Kaito? What’s going on?”

“It hasn’t been that long, huh? We saw each other just last month,” Yonekura replied with a smile.

Last month… Al realized he’d still been in LA at that time.

“Sorry for barging in on your workplace. I came because I have a favor to ask. Do you have a little time?”

Akira checked with Matsumura about his afternoon schedule and nodded. “About thirty minutes, if that’s alright.”

“Then I’ll keep an eye on Al while you two talk,” Matsumura chimed brightly.

“Al?” Akira repeated, looking puzzled.

“He’s at the reception window! I was so surprised to see him. I’d heard he was missing, but he turned up after all. You should’ve told us—everyone was worried.”

From the counter near the reception window, Al sat with sweat trickling down his back. Matsumura gently stroked him between the wings.

"A moment ago, I was surprised to see something flying inside the building—I thought it was a bird, but it was a bat, huh."

Yonekura’s attention now turned toward the bat.

"This little one is Takatsuka-san’s pet. He’s friendly, smart, and just so adorable," Matsumura said brightly.

At her introduction, Yonekura burst out laughing. His voice echoed loudly through the usually quiet hallway.

"Ah, sorry. It’s just, Takatsuka-san’s really the same as ever—so unchanging, I mean. I always thought he was a man who never wavers, and for some reason that struck me as hilariously fitting. He’s always loved bats, hasn’t he?"

So Yonekura knew about Akira’s past. That meant whatever conversation they were about to have might be worth hearing. Seizing the moment, Al took off with a flap and landed with practiced ease on his familiar perch—Akira’s shoulder.

"Oi, hey!"

Akira tried to pull him off, but Al hunkered down low and dug his little claws deep into the lab coat, determined not to be tossed aside.

"Guess Al really does prefer his master’s side over mine," Matsumura said with a hand wistfully on her cheek.

"That bat’s really tame," Yonekura commented, crossing his arms and nodding with what seemed like genuine admiration.

Perhaps giving in to the bat’s persistence, Akira let out a gruff, warning growl that hardly suited a loving pet owner: "Stay quiet and still."

And with that, the odd trio—Akira, Yonekura, and one very attached bat—entered one of the consultation rooms at the funeral center. The rooms were usually used for family meetings but were both empty today. Yonekura looked around curiously. The large windows allowed plenty of light, but with the weather so gloomy, the room remained dim. Akira turned on the lights.

"This is the same room where I made the arrangements for Isahaya’s embalming, I think," Yonekura murmured.

That name—Isahaya—had also come up earlier in Matsumura’s conversation.

"You showing up out of the blue really surprised me," Akira said coolly, his tone unreadable.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I should’ve called first, but once I thought of it, I just couldn’t sit still. There’s going to be a bazaar at the home this weekend, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to give a lecture."

"A lecture?" Akira echoed.

“It’s labeled as a lecture, but it’s really not that formal—more like a casual talk session,” Yonekura explained. “At the facility, we occasionally invite alumni to speak to the children about their jobs and what life is like outside. Your work is quite unique, and I thought it’d be a great opportunity to help the kids understand different perspectives on life and death.”

Alumni of the facility? Was he talking about kindergarten? …No, that wasn’t it. It must be the kind of place where children without parents were raised. Akira had once said he’d lived in such a facility when he was younger.

"I refuse."

The sharp, immediate rejection made Al’s breath catch. Even Yonekura could only smile awkwardly in response.

"Even just thirty minutes is fine. Are you busy with work? Or do you have something scheduled?"

"It’s not about work or time. I’ve never once spoken publicly about my job."

"It doesn’t have to be stiff or formal. Just a casual explanation of what you do day to day would be more than enough."

Even Al found himself thinking, If he’s free, maybe he should just go ahead and do it…

"There’ll be preschoolers there too, right? Then it’s not suitable. My work isn’t something to share with children that age. And death isn’t something you can teach—everyone has to come to their own understanding."

Yonekura gave a helpless shrug. "Well, that’s a tough one..."

"Then the theme can be anything."

"That's awfully casual."

"Well, to be honest, the lecture’s just an excuse. I figured if there was some reason, maybe you'd show up at the facility. Do you remember staff member Ishimoto-san? She's still working there and really wants to see you. I heard you've never once visited since you left. Even at Isahaya’s funeral, someone else came for the makeup retouch. It's not far from here—could you at least stop by for her sake?"

Akira’s eyes flicked left and right, clearly unsettled.

"The event’s labeled a ‘lecture,’ but we’re running tight on funds, so we can't offer a payment. Sorry. But we will provide lunch. Same meal the kids get, though."

Al could understand the desire to have Akira visit. But thinking it over, showing up at his workplace out of the blue to ask for a lecture—that was pretty pushy. Maybe sensing Akira’s hesitation, Yonekura added, "I’d be happy to get an answer by the end of the day. Also, I forgot to give this to you last time," and placed a business card on the table. It was covered in dense kanji—Al couldn’t read a single character.

"Would it be okay if I got your contact information too?"

Akira shared his phone number and LINE account. After exchanging contact info, Yonekura stood up and said, "Looks like my time’s up." When Al checked the clock, it had been exactly thirty minutes. Though their conversation had been friendly and relaxed, Yonekura cut it off like a timer had gone off. It felt strangely mechanical, clashing with the warmth of his earlier tone—but maybe he was just being considerate about not overstaying his welcome after dropping by unannounced.

Akira escorted Yonekura to the exit. Al had noticed Yonekura glancing back at them multiple times and wondered what was up—until, just before leaving, he turned and asked Akira, "Would it be okay if I touched the bat for just a second?"

"...Do what you want. You can take him home if you like."

Akira’s voice sounded serious, but Yonekura just laughed, assuming it was a joke. His fingers, as they gently stroked Al’s back, were a bit stronger than expected.

"He's really calm, huh. The receptionist called him Al—does that name mean something?"

"Abbreviation. His full name's Albert Irving. Too long otherwise."

"He has a full name? And it's, like, some foreign name too? I don’t get it."

Akira, apparently feeling obliged to respond to the jab, muttered, "He’s an exotic species," which made Yonekura double over with laughter.

As soon as Yonekura disappeared from view, Al swore he heard the metaphorical gong of war ring out between him and Akira. Seized from his perch in a split-second lapse, Al was yanked off and stuffed back into the palm of Akira’s furious grip, being carted back to the break room like a shoplifter caught red-handed.

"…Who let this thing out of the box?"

Held aloft above Akira’s head, Al could see Koyanagi gulp nervously. But before the tension could thicken, Hatono raised her hand without an ounce of hesitation.

"I did. It was dark and cramped, and I thought he looked pitiful. I let him out. I’m sorry."

She said the words, but her expression—and the lack of any remorse in her tone—made it clear she wasn’t sorry at all.

"I told you not to open it until we’d tested for infectious diseases!"

Maybe trying not to cross into workplace harassment territory, Akira dialed down the volume of his scolding. Still, Hatono rose from her seat, planted her hands on her hips, and prefaced her retort with: "If I may."

"That infectious disease excuse was clearly just a pretext. You’re holding the bat with your bare hands."

Caught red-handed, Akira hurriedly let go. Al, nearly falling, spun once in midair before landing neatly—right back on his usual perch, Akira’s shoulder. Hatono observed the scene with a chill sharper than frost.

"When you take in a living creature, you’re responsible for it until the day it dies."

She spoke like she was delivering a moral lesson. "I know that!" Akira shot back, nearly snarling.

"Don't throw him away."

"I'm not throwing him away! He got lost!"

Hatono sighed heavily, an exhale that could only be translated as exasperation. Then, opening her eyes just slightly wider, she added, "Oh, I forgot to report something."

"Zacky went home. He said the break room TV started changing channels on its own, even though no one was there. He called me in tears, saying it must be a haunting and that he was going to get the place purified."

Akira tilted his head a few times. "The TV... channels?" And then, as though it finally clicked, he gasped and glared at Al with the intensity of a prosecutor shouting, "So you were the culprit!"

Al shrank in place, head bowed, wondering miserably why he always got found out.

"...Al. Just looking at you makes me unbelievably irritated. You're terrible for my mental health. Get in the box. Now."

The command came soft but seething with anger. Though Al remained perched on Akira’s shoulder at first, the pressure was unbearable—like a fist crushing his heart. Defeated, he leapt down and shuffled into the cardboard box on his own.

The embalming job scheduled for the afternoon took about two hours. When Akira finally returned to the break room, he started drafting paperwork. Even after Koyanagi and Hatono had left, he stayed, working under the steadily darkening sky. Eventually, he flipped on the room’s lights. Night had fallen completely.

Under that dull fluorescent glow, Akira looked down into the box where Al was curled up.

"...Why haven’t you turned human?"

Because he was scared of being yelled at. Based on experience, Akira’s anger always increased by about 1.5 times when Al was in human form compared to when he was a bat. Akira pressed his chin with his hand, murmuring, “Now that I think about it, Nukariya said you’re getting closer to being a full vampire. Can you control your form freely now, like Kyiv? Switch between human and bat regardless of day or night?”

Al nodded.

"I see. Then turn human. Right now."

Al shook his head. He wasn’t about to walk into a fastball of rage.

"Is there some other reason you can’t change?"

Al gave a half-hearted nod, trying to avoid the pressure of a cross-examination.

A smartphone appeared in front of him with a text app open.

"Use this. Type it out."

Using the tip of his nose, Al flicked out the word: Sorry.

"'Sorry' doesn’t explain anything."

You mad?

"Don’t waste my time writing things we both already know! It’s annoying."

Each new word invited more scolding, like a verbal hellstorm. Al, emotionally battered, chose an emoji of a crying face that reflected his exact feelings.

"Don’t send me emojis!"

He tried a little pouty-faced one instead. When Akira didn’t say anything, Al looked up—only to see several veins bulging on Akira’s forehead.

Akira grabbed him in a firm grip and stuffed him back into the cardboard box, slamming the lid shut. Something heavy—several somethings—thumped down on top of it. A soft click as the lights went off, then the distant bang of a door closing. Akira had left. Left him behind in the break room.

After the footsteps faded completely, Al shifted back to human form. The box he’d been in crumpled under the weight of his body, now flattened beneath him.

He’d been happy to see Akira again. Even if Akira had been furious, he’d still faced Al head-on. That was enough. He hadn’t taken him home to the apartment—but that’s okay. Al whispered to himself not to be greedy. Wanting everything to go back to how it used to be, all at once, was too much.

Even if it was in bat form, even if only briefly, he got to be near Akira again. He got to talk to him. The situation was definitely moving forward.

That night, Al fell asleep naked on the break room sofa. When morning came, he repaired the crushed cardboard box with the cellophane tape from Akira’s desk, transformed back into a bat, and climbed into it all on his own.

That morning, once again, Hatono was the first to arrive in the break room. She peeled back the lid of the cardboard box and, upon meeting eyes with the bat inside, murmured, “So you’re in there,” before leaving the lid wide open. Whether she forgot to close it, didn’t care, or had done it deliberately, Al couldn’t tell—it was careless, either way. Since the lid was already open, staying still felt silly, so Al poked his head out from the edge of the box.

Hatono sat down on the sofa, munching on a rice ball with a dazed expression, as if she were still half under the spell of sleep. When she reached for her third onigiri, the door to the break room opened. As if a switch had flipped, her eyes snapped open, and she turned toward Koyanagi, who had just arrived.

“Good morning. Listen to this. Takatsuka-san is acting weird.”

Koyanagi barely had time to greet her before asking, “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Yesterday, I stayed late chatting with Matsumura-san and ended up in the office until almost seven. The front entrance was already locked, so I went out the back through the garden. As I passed the break room window, I saw Takatsuka-san through the glass. He was placing a smartphone in front of the bat and saying, ‘Use this to type.’”

Koyanagi stammered, “W-Well, that’s…”

“He was getting mad, telling the bat not to use emojis. It was beyond surreal—it was terrifying.”

“Al’s really smart, though. He seems to understand human speech.”

Hatono narrowed her eyes and shot Koyanagi a look of disbelief.

“He was even pressuring the bat with this ‘transform into a human’ kind of vibe. It was so bizarre, it crossed into straight-up horror. I always knew he had a unique worldview, but yesterday confirmed it.”

Koyanagi fell silent for a moment, then offered a timid suggestion. “Maybe he’s just excited. You know, because Al came back.”

“If something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Compared to Takatsuka-san, Zacky’s story about the TV turning on by itself is nothing. Takatsuka-san is the real horror story.”

Listening to their exchange from the side, Al sank into deep regret. He’d caught a whiff of Hatono’s scent that day but had assumed it was just lingering from earlier. He’d have to be more careful next time. He didn’t want Akira to be branded a lunatic. But how could he clear up the misunderstanding? First, he needed to explain everything to Akira. That’s it—he could write a letter while in human form and leave it on Akira’s desk.

Akira had strong emotional walls, and maybe being in bat form was less threatening. Al curled up in the corner of the cardboard box, wondering miserably when he’d finally be able to hug Akira again—openly, as himself.

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