A Signal to Escape

[5thofficial]

by thepianopoet


Makoto is about to step into the elevator of his building when he hears it.

A long, drawn-out groan, which tapers off into a bout of pained wheezing. Definitely human, Makoto thinks, so he walks around the corner of the building to investigate.

There is a man lying on ground, dressed in black and clutching his abdomen. Makoto can see the blood seeping through his fingers, red liquid washed quickly away by the pouring rain. He is nobody Makoto recognises but he takes a furtive look around, and makes up his mind quickly, slipping his shoulders beneath the man's arms to support him.

Once back in his apartment, Makoto shuffles slowly, dragging the man to his spare bedroom. Tired by his exertions, Makoto dumps him unceremoniously on the bed. He sighs at the idea of blood and water ruining his bedclothes, but grits his teeth and gets on with the business of cleaning the stranger up.

The man stays relatively quiet during the process, emitting only a few grunts in pain as Makoto attempts to clean the wound on his abdomen. With the blood wiped away, Makoto can now see that the wound is long, with clean edges, but deep, down to the muscle. He tries not to think about what else he would be seeing if the wound went any deeper.

"No doctors," the man says suddenly.

"What?" Makoto asks, surprised.

"No doctors," he wheezes again.

"Don't be ridiculous," Makoto snaps. "That wound's too deep to heal on its own."

The man laughs; it's a tired, cynical sound. "Sure it can. Look properly."

Makoto frowns, but obeys. True enough, the edges of the wound are slowly, but surely coming together.

He sucks in a breath. So much for the stranger being human then.

"You're a vampire," Makoto hisses, stepping back in involuntary fear. He pats his jeans frantically, looking for his cell phone but the stranger reaches out to grab his hand. It's a strong grip despite his weakened state.

"Don't tell anybody."

Makoto pauses to think, uncertainty written over his face. The stranger stares at him, never letting go of his hand.

"I just need a few days to rest."

Makoto continues to stare at the stranger.

"Please."

Only one word but the simple gesture of politeness undoes Makoto's misgivings.

"Fine."

The vampire releases Makoto's wrist finally, eyes closing as he slips into unconsciousness.

"Thank you."

"You didn't even give me your name," Makoto mutters when he turns to leave the room.

"Tulio," comes the sudden answer. "My name's Tulio."

Makoto putters around his apartment the next morning, careful not to make excessive noise. He runs through the things he knows about vampires, but much to his chagrin, he comes up short. He vaguely recalls a few lines on Blood Addiction Disorders from his elementary school health education textbook. Unfortunate English acronym aside, he recites the standard information to himself: the disorder affects less than three percent of the population and is genetically inherited, or on even rarer occasions, can arise spontaneously during adulthood.

He pops into the spare room, where Tulio is still sleeping, and drops a note on the bedside table.

Gone to work. Back in evening.

"Your apartment is appallingly clean," Tulio tells him when Makoto comes home later that day.

"What?"

"There are no rats, no animals," Tulio explains.

Makoto laughs. "I certainly hope not!" he says. "I can't have them going through my cupboard."

Tulio shrugs. "I could have used them," he replies.

"For what?" Makoto asks in a jocular tone. "No wait, don't tell me, you drink from them? You drink from animals?"

Tulio looks back at Makoto steadily. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Makoto's face falls, and he apologises quickly, contrite. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Tulio lets out a short, cynical bark. "Of course you didn't know. What else did they teach you in school? Let me guess, you actually believe that we'll die if we walk in sunlight and if you feed us garlic?"

Makoto turns red and he rubs the back of his neck in a self-conscious manner. "Of course not. That's just a bunch of ridiculous urban legends."

"But you don't know anything more beyond that, right?" Tulio asks, relentless.

Makoto's silence speaks volumes.

Tulio rolls his eyes and shuffles slowly back to Makoto's room, one arm gingerly wrapped around his abdomen.

"Humans," he says derisively.

"What are you doing here?" Shinji asks Makoto, his arms crossed across his chest, a smirk on his round face when Makoto comes in personally to request an autopsy report of the victim in the murder he was investigating. "I thought you usually send your rookies in to do the hard labour."

"Can't a person keep in touch?"

Shinji looks long and hard at Makoto, disbelief written all over his face.

"What's up with this guy?" Makoto asks quickly, wanting to pre-empt any potentially awkward questions from Shinji. He gestures to the body lying on the autopsy table in front of them.

"Oh. Him. Old-fashioned blunt trauma injury," Shinji replies, pointed to a sizeable dent in left temporal bone. "Whacked in the head with a golf club. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, indeed."

"Then what's that scar?"

"This? Old one. Probably due to a lycanthrope attack," Shinji muses.

Makoto raises his eyebrows. "How do you know that?"

"He's got suppressants in his system," Shinji says. "Would also explain why he wasn't strong enough to fight a woman. Those drugs wreak havoc on your body."

"Sounds like you know a lot about non-humans," Makoto remarks, trying to sound nonchalant.

Shinji shrugs. "All patients are equal to my eyes, Makoto." His expression turns wry. "They all deserve care, no matter what our government says."

There was never going to be a better opening, Makoto thinks and he takes the plunge.

"What about vampires then?"

Shinji tsk-tsk'ed. "Blood addiction disorder, Makoto. Blood addiction disorder. You youngsters, so politically incorrect."

"Fine," Makoto agrees impatiently. "What about them?"

"It's definitely different from lycanthropy. For one thing, suppressants don't work."

"Why not?"

Shinji takes on a lecturing posture. "Blood's a necessity for them. Like how we'll die if you starve us long enough. It's the same for them. They need blood like we need food. Extremely disadvantageous, seeing how blood's not easy to get."

"But there are benefits to being a vampire."

"True. Faster healing and an extended lifespan." Shinji raises an eyebrow. "Though that could easily be a curse too."

"Hmm?"

"I'm not too sure I want to continue living when everybody else around me has gone," Shinji explains. "That could get pretty depressing."

"You're right," Makoto agrees. "I just never saw it that way."

"Is there something going on that I need to know about, Makoto?"

"No, no," Makoto assures Shinji hastily. "Just curious, sempai."

Shinji gives up the line of questioning readily.

He'll be back soon, Shinji thinks to himself. Makoto had always been a poor liar.

"How can I help?" Makoto asks the next day.

"What?"

"You need blood to heal, don't you?"

"Tell me something I don't know," Tulio mutters ungraciously.

"But you can't get it, not with that wound of yours. How else can you get the blood? I'll help," Makoto offers.

Tulio looks at him distrustfully. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have let you stay here." Makoto challenges. "Tell me."

"Fine, since you're so eager. We buy it."

"You mean you can?" Makoto asks, astonished.

"Of course," Tulio remarks drily. "One of the advantages of capitalism. Everything has a price."

"Where?"

Tulio smiles, and Makoto swears he can see the hints of elongated canine teeth. "Shinjuku's got other kinds of nightlife, if you know where to look."

Makoto walks down the road, surreptitiously referring to the piece of paper where Tulio had scrawled his instructions.

"I told you not to come along, Hajime," Makoto says, exasperated. Despite his best efforts to shake him off, the rookie had insisted on tagging along.

"But I wanted to see this for myself," Hajime argues. "You never know, it might be useful for work."

"We have the non-human liaison unit for that," Makoto says, as he ducks behind a nondescript door located in a garage. They follow the stairs down, where it leads to a hitherto-unknown club. "You're just being a busybody."

They walk up to the bar counter together. Makoto keeps his gaze focused, but Hajime cannot help but stare the couple in the corner of the club. The vampire is openly drinking from his partner, who is clutching him close.

"You might want to take care of the youngster better," the bartender says to Makoto. "Fresh ones like him, they'll snap him up."

Makoto gawps in response, trying his hardest to disguise his horror. He tugs on Hajime's shirt. "Stop staring, you idiot."

"Just joking," the bartender says with a wide smile. "I take it that the two of you are new?"

"Yes. It's our first time here." Makoto wipes his hands on his jeans, hoping the other man would not notice his unease. "Are you Okano-san?"

The bartender nods. "That's me. Okano Masayuki at your service."

"Tulio-san sent me here," Makoto says abruptly.

"Ah, Tulio. It's been a while since we've seen him here. Where is he?"

"He's staying with me at the moment."

"Really?" Masayuki asks, a leer on his face and Makoto feels his face turning hot.

"It's not like that. He's injured."

"Injured?"

"Abdominal wound. He got knifed."

Masayuki shakes his head. "I warned him his job would get him killed one day."

"Tulio-san has a job?" Makoto asks, then curses himself for the stupid question.

"Even non-humans need money--" Masayuki raises his eyebrows in question and Makoto replies.

"Hasebe. Hasebe Makoto."

"Yes, even non-humans need money, Hasebe-san," Okano continues. "Tulio's a private investigator. You can imagine the scrapes he gets into."

"Oh."

"Anyway, what can I do to help Tulio?"

"He needs blood," Hajime chimes in helpfully.

Makoto glares at Hajime, who pouts and continues. "That's what he told sempai."

Masayuki nods in understanding. "Wait." He bends down behind the counter, where Makoto can hear the noise of bottles being shifted. Masayuki stands up again, holding a hip flask in his hand.

"I'm afraid this is all I have at the moment," Masayuki explains. "It's no longer fresh though, and we've had to add more than the usual anticoagulants. But it is human in origin, and given freely."

"Great," Makoto says, eager to leave. He reaches out to take the flask, but Masayuki pulls his hand away, wagging an admonishing finger.

"Not so fast. Nothing comes for free, Hasebe-san."

"Oh I'm sorry. I forgot I need to pay. How much is it then?" Makoto inquires, hand going into his jacket to get his wallet.

Quick as lightning, Masayuki leans forward to plant a kiss on Hajime's lips, hands cupping the back of the younger man's head to hold him in place. The bartender pulls back a long while later, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Hasebe-san, you'll find that here, in the Market, we also accept other forms of payment."

He pushes the flask over to Makoto, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "The price is paid."

"You can't do stuff like that!" Hajime cries out in an aggrieved tone, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. "That's not right!"

Masayuki ignores Hajime's protests to wink lasciviously at him. "Send Tulio my regards, Hasebe-san."

"That bartender of yours is a very bad man, Tulio-san," Makoto comments, tossing the flask to Tulio, where he is sitting on the couch watching television. "He gave Hajime quite the shock."

"Who's Hajime?"

Makoto watches quietly as Tulio unscrews the flask, taking a sniff of the fluid inside. Tulio quickly drinks from it, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand when he finishes, a satisfied look on his face.

"Hajime's the rookie in my unit." Makoto replies. "Does that help? Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," Tulio concurs. "Thank you for bringing this to me."

Makoto waves his hand, brushing off Tulio's words. "It's the least I could do. There's something I want to know, though."

"What?"

"Okano-san said something about the blood being given freely. Does it make a difference?"

Tulio leans his head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry I asked,"Makoto says hastily. "Forget it. It was rude of me."

Tulio shakes his head. "No, don't apologise. How do I explain?"

He drums his fingers. "Let's try this. Drinking from an unwilling human is like eating food that's gone bad. It's food all right, but it'll harm you."

"And drinking blood from a human that has given it voluntarily has the opposite effect?"

"Definitely. Especially if it's fresh," Tulio replies absently. "Or drunk straight from the source."

There's an awkward pause as Tulio realises his words and he quickly changes the subject.

"You still have not told me what Masayuki did."

"Okano-san? He kissed Hajime."

"Huh. Is that all he did?"

"What do you mean, is that all he did? Hajime's still pretty upset about it. He wouldn't stop complaining about it on the way home."

"Your rookie should thank his lucky stars. He got off easy."

"What do you mean by that?" Makoto asks, intrigued.

Tulio raises an eyebrow. "Masayuki's an incubus."

"...Oh." Makoto says after a long silence.

"Exactly."

"Something's wrong," Makoto remarks two days later. "You're not improving much."

Tulio shrugs his shoulders.

"I don't get it, you drank blood the other day. Why aren't you getting better?"

Tulio ignores Makoto's question and continues flipping through the magazine.

"Tulio-san." Annoyed, Makoto walks over to Tulio and grabs the magazine out of his hands. "I asked a question. Why aren't you getting better?"

Tulio leans forward to grab the magazine back and snaps. "Are you stupid or what? I was stabbed in the stomach. And I had only one measly flask of blood since then. How do you expect me to heal properly?"

"Oh. You mean you need even more blood?" Makoto's voice trails off and a hand creeps up involuntarily to his neck.

Tulio rolls his eyes. "Don't worry, your blood's safe with you. We don't drink from unwilling humans, remember?"

Makoto turns red. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply--"

"Sure you did," Tulio interrupts. "You humans. Always so eager to assume the worst."

Makoto falls silent, hating himself for feeling guilty as charged. He flops into the sofa next to Tulio and studies him. Tulio ignores Makoto and continues reading.

"Do you have a blood collection kit?" Makoto asks Shinji. "The kind blood banks use?"

Ah, now we come to it, the forensic pathologist thinks. Finally.

"It's not typical equipment for a morgue to have, Makoto," Shinji replies.

"Oh," Makoto says, sounding disappointed. "Well, thanks for your time, then."

"Hold on."

"What?"

"I said it wasn't standard equipment. I didn't say I didn't have it."

Shinji strips off his gloves and walks to his drawer. "I’ve been keeping this for experimental purposes," he tells Makoto, giving him a kit.

"Experimental purposes?" Makoto asks, flipping the packet back and forth in his hands.

"Strictly experimental," Shinji says in a deadpan manner. "You’ll need these too," he adds, handing out vials of anticoagulants and syringes.

"I do?" Makoto asks, confused. "What are these for?"

Shinji sighs and prods Makoto to sit down in the chair next to his desk. "Forget it. Let me handle this, Makoto."

"Handle what?"

Shinji ties a tourniquet around Makoto's arm. "Blood collection requires a large bore needle. You'll end up hurting yourself if you're not careful."

"Sempai?" Makoto says thirty minutes later when the bag is almost full with his blood.

"What, Makoto?" Shinji asks, not lifting his eyes from where he is carrying out his autopsy.

"Thank you."

"No problem," Shinji replies. He turns around and fixes Makoto with a gaze, "Though I hope whoever it is you're giving the blood to will be suitably grateful."

Tulio is sleeping on the couch in the living room when Makoto gets home late that night. Makoto leaves the cooler with the blood packet inside it next to him, a short note pasted on top.

DRINK ME.

The next morning, Makoto wakes up to find Tulio gone. The bedsheets are tucked neatly in order, and the spare bedroom spick and span, with no trace of its previous occupant.

"Fucker didn’t even say thank you," Makoto grumbles. "And you even took the bloody cooler, you cheap bastard!" he yells at the empty apartment, his words echoing off the walls. "That wasn't mine!"

But when he gets home later that day, the missing cooler is waiting for him on his doorstep. He opens it, only to find a bottle of iron supplements and a small card within it. He turns the card over to find a short note written on it.

Thank you for the meal.

Makoto drops the cooler, leans his forehead against the door and laughs.

Kitazawa Bookstore in Jinbocho. Next Friday. 10 PM.

Makoto jerks awake from where he had nearly fallen asleep at the wheel of his car. He glances around, feeling mildly guilty for having nearly dozed off whilst on a stakeout.

Who's this?

You humans are so stupid.

Tulio-san?

Makoto can feel the sarcasm dripping off the next text message that comes in.

Congratulations.

Makoto types furiously, feeling mildly indignant.

How did you get my number?

I don't reveal my sources.

And I didn't know Kitazawa opened till so late.

It doesn't. But there are many things you don't know. Will you come?

Why would I want to go to a bookstore after closing hours?

You ignorant humans. The bookstore is closed. Other levels are not.

What other levels?

Come next Friday, and you'll find out. And Masayuki says to bring "that delicious boy" along.

Makoto turns to look at Hajime, who is in the passenger seat next to him. The rookie is staring intently at all the people walking in and out of the building opposite them, a most earnest look on his face as he tries to look for their suspect.

I'm not sure that it would be safe for Hajime.

A little bit of sexual harassment never killed anybody.

But Okano-san is an incubus.

Don't worry, it's bad manners to kill your food. Masayuki will behave. He seems quite taken with him.

That's not very comforting at all.

I'll make sure nothing happens to the kid. I give you my word.

Makoto bites his lip and considers his options. He thinks of a sullen vampire with an acerbic wit, a murdered lycanthrope lying on an autopsy slab and a flirtatious incubus who may or may not have developed a crush on his junior.

We can only invite once. Something in the last message tells Makoto that Tulio is not joking. Makoto makes up his mind.

"Say, Hajime?"

"Hmm?" Hajime turns to face Makoto, a lollipop stuck in his mouth.

Makoto finds himself grinning for no good reason. "Did you know they hold parties at Kitazawa Bookstore?"

He was just some broken guy I picked up on a rainy day.
- The Demon Ororon

end