Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 6 - Part 4

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Yanagawa, who had come in place of Nukariya—who said he was too busy to pick Al up himself—looked disgruntled as he muttered, “I was told to come retrieve a bat.” When he contacted Nukariya, Yanagawa grumbled the whole time: “He said it doesn’t matter if it’s a bat or a person. That’s messed up, right?” Even so, he carried Al on his back without complaint. Since Al couldn’t very well go home stark naked, he was given some discarded costume clothes: a red T-shirt and green pants. Dressed in colors like a tomato, he was brought back home.

“This my room.”

Al spoke up before they passed it entirely. Yanagawa stopped with a quick “Whoop,” and let out a long breath.

“Key in mailbox.”

At that, Yanagawa gave a pointed comment: “Hiding your key in the mailbox? Not exactly secure,” and reached into the mail slot. He pulled out the key, unlocked the door, and carried Al inside.

“I’ll go ahead and lay out your futon.”

He set Al down on the floor, then pulled the futon from where it had been folded in the corner and spread it in the center of the room.

“Thank you.”

Setting the burlap sack he’d been clutching by his side, Al lay down on the futon. All the way from the studio, except for when they were in the car, Yanagawa had carried him the entire time. He was a big guy, and clearly confident in his strength—he hadn’t even been winded going up the stairs.

“Sorry… me heavy… very heavy… sorry.”

“This much is fine.”

After replying, Yanagawa muttered, “Man, it’s hot,” and took off his suit jacket. A dark triangle of sweat had soaked into the back of his shirt.

“You seem sick… okay not see doctor?”

“Me... just little tired. I’m okay,”

It wasn’t something that could be fixed by a hospital visit—it was hunger. Hunger that only blood could solve. He was so limp that Yanagawa had asked several times—before getting in the car and during the ride—“Want me to take you to a hospital?” Al hadn’t forgotten that Yanagawa once said his bat form wasn’t cute, but… he really was a good person.

“If I sleep, get better.”

“If you say so,” Yanagawa replied, picking up his suit jacket again and slinging it over his arm.

“Nukariya-san said he’ll be here soon, so I’ll hand things over to him. Take care.”

Just as he stepped toward the hallway, his phone started ringing. As he looked down and reached for it in his pocket, he slammed it hard into the edge of the sliding door separating the room and the hallway.

“Ahhh— damn that hurt,” he groaned, clutching his forehead. At the same time, his phone flew from his hand and landed with a thump right beside Al’s pillow.

“Shit…”

Still holding his head, Yanagawa looked around for the phone. In that moment, a staggeringly good smell hit Al’s nose. It was so overpoweringly delicious that despite barely being able to keep his eyes open a moment ago, his lids flew wide.

“My phone, my phone…”

The scent was making Al’s unbeating heart pound furiously.

“Where’d it go…”

It kept getting closer. Closer.

“Ah—found it!”

Even closer now. Yanagawa crouched beside the futon to pick up his phone, and when his eyes met Al’s, he blinked rapidly.

“Oh, Kane-san, you’re awake?”

There was a red mark on Yanagawa’s forehead from where he’d bumped it, and a bead of blood was starting to well up.

I want that. I want to drink it. I want it. I want it. I want it. I want it…

“Your face… kinda scary right now, you know?”

He wanted blood. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t supposed to drink directly from people. No—maybe he could, but… Since becoming a vampire, he’d never once used his own fangs to drink blood straight from someone.

But he wanted to. He wanted to so badly.

No. He couldn’t. But… he wanted to.

If he didn’t drink too much, it wouldn’t kill. Kyiv had sucked blood from lots of girls, but none of them had died. No matter how many times he told himself no, he couldn’t resist the thick, overwhelming scent of blood. Because he wanted it.

“Eh? Kane-san, are you able to stand?”

He heard Yanagawa’s voice, but his body wouldn’t stop. Al sprang at the man in front of him and tackled him to the floor.

“Wha—?” Yanagawa tilted his head in confusion. There was a faint scent of sweat from his lightly sun-tanned neck. Beneath that skin, Al could sense something warm and delicious pulsing. He sank his teeth into it.

“Whoa! H-hey, what are you doing?!”

He bit into Yanagawa’s neck, gnawing, but his teeth wouldn’t change. No fangs.

“Stop it! I—I’m not into that, okay?”

Why weren’t his fangs coming out? Was it like turning into a bat—did he need to imagine it first? The sensation of his fangs extending... He visualized them, and as if in response to his thoughts, he felt his teeth push out from deep in his gums and sink into Yanagawa’s neck with a slow, deliberate force.

“Huh?”

Blood burst forth, and Al drank eagerly. It was delicious—delicious beyond words. Wrapped in the smell of blood, his head felt light, like he was floating.

“Wha—ha—what the hell…?”

He’d been hungry for so long. He’d wanted blood. With every gulp, he felt strength rushing back into his body.

“Hah… ahh… ahh…”

The body in his arms suddenly trembled violently, snapping Al out of it. In a panic, he pulled his fangs out. The two small punctures in Yanagawa’s neck vanished almost instantly.

“Yanagawa?”

He called out, but there was no response. He gently laid Yanagawa down—his face was pale, his eyes rolled back in their sockets.

“Yanagawa, Yanagawa!”

He shook him, but there was no sign of consciousness.

“D-did he die?”

The words left his mouth and struck him like a punch. He’d drunk Yanagawa’s blood. And now… he might have killed him.

“No… no… don’t die…”

Tears welled up and overflowed. But maybe he wasn’t dead yet. He had to get him to a hospital. Call an ambulance…

Knock knock—there was a knock at the door.

He couldn’t answer. He just stared.

Knock knock—again.

“Yanagawa, are you in there? Did you bring… Kane-san with you?”

It was Nukariya’s voice. Al leapt up and ran to the door.

“So you made it back after all. I messaged Yanagawa, but he never replied,” Nukariya said as the door opened.

“Yanagawa… might be dead,” Al choked out.

As he spoke, tears streamed from both eyes.

“Maybe… I killed him.”

Nukariya gasped.

“I was hungry… drank lots of blood…”

“Excuse me a moment, Al,” Nukariya said.

Closing the door behind him, he gently pushed the crying Al aside and stepped into the room, crouching beside Yanagawa where he lay on the floor. He touched the man’s neck and let out a soft breath.

“He’s okay, Al. Yanagawa isn’t dead. He’s breathing, and I can feel a solid pulse.”

Hearing those words, Al finally relaxed and collapsed where he stood, his legs giving out beneath him. “His color wasn’t good, so I figure he passed out from anemia. I’ll take him to his regular clinic. There’s a lot I want to ask you, Al—but we’ll save that for later.”

With that, Nukariya effortlessly scooped up the limp Yanagawa in a bridal carry, and as he stepped out of the room, he left Al with a single line: “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine.”

Relieved that Yanagawa wasn’t dead, and yet, all Al could feel toward himself was disgust. He hadn’t killed him, sure—but he’d drunk enough blood that he might as well have. He’d become a vampire after being over-drunk from by a newly turned girl. What if he’d now done the same to Yanagawa?

His hunger was gone. His body brimmed with strength again. And yet, emotionally, he’d sunk somewhere deep and dark—Mariana Trench deep. With everything going on with Yonekura and Akira, Al found himself unable to think clearly about anything at all. Two hours passed in a fog, the room gradually dimming as dusk set in. Then came a knock at the door.

“Al, it’s me.”

He recognized the voice instantly and sprinted to the door. As soon as Nukariya stepped inside, he said right away, “Yanagawa’s fine.”

“They diagnosed him with a bit of dehydration and mild anemia. After a quick IV drip, he perked right up. He said he had this weird feeling like you came on to him, so I just laughed it off—told him it was probably a dream or something. The doctor said he’s fine, so I sent him back to work.”

Back to work? The words echoed inside Al’s mind. Nukariya said it like it was no big deal—but really? Wasn’t that a bit… intense? Still, if the doctor had cleared him, maybe it was okay.

Nukariya flipped on the light in the room and asked, “Mind if I sit?” before lowering himself to the floor. Al knelt down in front of him, sitting properly in seiza.

[Since things are getting a bit complicated, I’ll switch to English. I started getting worried yesterday around noon when your social media stopped showing as read and I couldn’t reach you at all. Then the inn called me, since I was the one who made the original reservation, saying “The guest who extended their stay left behind their luggage and phone,” and just as I was wondering what could’ve happened, I got a message from Sakairi saying Bat-Al was at a Tokyo studio. I was shocked.]

Unable to contact anyone, and having caused so much worry, Al bowed his head and said, "Sorry."

[I had already heard from the local police that there were no bones found under Yonekura’s grandmother’s house, but does that have something to do with all this?]

Al nodded firmly.

[Yonekura dug them up and took them away.]

[I see,] Nukariya sighed.

[As soon as I got your message, I reported it to the local police. There was only a window of a few hours, but I guess that was all it took for him to dig them up. If Yonekura had gone back to his hometown and realized someone had broken into his grandmother’s house, he must’ve panicked and acted fast to avoid the bones being discovered. It’s possible.]

Nukariya furrowed his brow, pressing his hand to his chin.

[I found Yonekura while he was driving. I wanted to tell you where he was, but he started burning the bones and throwing them into the river. I wanted to at least grab some kind of evidence, so I tried to recover the bag he tossed… and he attacked me.]

Nukariya’s expression turned sharp.

[He attacked you…? Al, are you hurt?]

Worried he’d be scolded if he told the truth, Al shook his head and said, "No," but Nukariya gave him a sharp, doubtful look and asked, [Are you sure?]

[Before you left, you said that even if you were hungry, you could go about two weeks without blood. And yet you drank a huge amount of Yanagawa’s. You lost blood, didn’t you? He did something to you, didn’t he?]

Pressed by the veteran detective’s pointed question, Al couldn’t dodge it any longer and confessed that he had been struck with a hammer—and also mentioned how he had escaped thanks to a friendly crew member passing by at the right moment. As Al spoke, Nukariya’s expression grew darker and darker with a quiet, dangerous intensity that was honestly terrifying.

[Th-this is the bag that had the crushed bone powder in it. There’s probably not much left, but I thought… maybe it can be used as evidence.]

Al held out the bag. Nukariya put on gloves and carefully placed the evidence Al had fought so hard to bring back into a sealed plastic bag.

[Thank you, Al. If we can connect him to other crimes, this may become the key to proving his involvement in this murder too. This could be a decisive piece of evidence. But… while I’m grateful you brought it back, you didn’t have to go through so much pain to do it. I didn’t send you to Yontate Village to suffer.]

Nukariya’s voice sounded pained, and Al found himself looking down without thinking.

[You promised me. Please, don’t ever push yourself like that again.]

[…Yeah]

If things had gone even slightly worse, he might’ve been torn to pieces and left to rot by the riverside. He’d lost so much blood that his body hadn’t even started to recover right away… It was only through sheer coincidence upon coincidence that he managed to escape. But then he’d been so hungry he’d lost control—and ended up putting Yanagawa in danger, too.

“Sorry. I… very careful, from now.”

Before he realized it, he was apologizing in Japanese. Nukariya gently reached out and patted his shoulder.

"Thanks to you, Al, we’ve made real progress. The thing about the remains under the floor, and the fact that Yonekura had returned to his hometown—those details are going to be crucial when the investigation reaches the point where he's brought in for questioning," Nukariya said.

Yonekura’s arrest was starting to feel more and more real.

"Me… look for Yonekura. I find where he is," Al said earnestly.

Nukariya nodded. "I’ll be looking too. So Al, please… don’t overdo it. You really pushed yourself hard this time, didn’t you?"

But if they didn’t move quickly, if he didn’t push himself even a little, then Akira would remain locked up in that holding cell forever.

"Forensics went through the entire facility, but outside the room where the murder happened, they didn’t find any blood traces. Not on the floor, the walls, nothing. If Yonekura stabbed her, he would’ve been splattered with blood. He must’ve changed clothes somewhere."

That triggered a memory in Al.

"Yonekura’s car… had smell. Ishimoto-san’s blood smell."

Nukariya’s eyes widened.

"If he changed in the car, that makes sense. If we can find blood traces from the victim in his personal vehicle, it would strongly suggest he was involved. He claims he was manning a bazaar booth at the time of the murder and technically has an alibi, but we already know he was going in and out frequently."

If they could find Yonekura and hand him and his car over to the police, the case might finally be solved. At the same time, the investigation into the bones at his grandmother’s house would move forward, and he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of it.

But Al didn’t want to leave it all up to the police. He wanted to go search for Yonekura himself—right now. But where was he? Was he still near his grandmother’s house? Had he come back this way? Or had he disappeared to some unknown place? Al didn’t even know where to start looking.

Even after Nukariya left, thoughts of Akira kept Al’s mind racing, and frustration bubbled inside his chest. Akira was human—he couldn’t live forever. Yet that precious time of his was being wasted, stuck behind bars, unable to see his loved ones, unable to work. And Al was the same. He’d come back from America thinking he’d finally get to spend time with Akira—and now this case had torn them apart again. The time they had together was limited. Yesterday’s Akira and today’s Akira weren’t the same. He wanted to be with both of them.

Irritation toward Yonekura surged up from the pit of his stomach, but Al had no idea where to direct that anger. How could they find him? Should he go back to Kyushu and fly around the house again? But Yonekura had a car. If he’d gone to some other prefecture, it might be a pointless trip. Still, if they didn’t act, they might never find him…

Al lay in bed, wrestling with the question: what could he do now, for Akira’s sake?

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