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Kaito’s impending death had been on Maki’s mind since the first time she kissed him. It was an unavoidable, looming obelisk that cast a shadow over her time spent by his side.
She lay in bed beside him, wide awake, while he lay on his side and slept. His body expanded and contracted with his breath, and she could smell him there, just a few centimeters away, all blood and musk and sweat and love, and she thought about it. She’d barely been a vampire for four years at that point; she’d hardly gotten a taste of immortality. But, even with that short timeframe, she could see it. She could see how Kaito was changing. How the skin under his eyes sagged just a tiny bit more now, how his torso was imperceptibly thicker than it had been when she’d met him. He was aging. She’d met him when he was twenty-four, and now at twenty-seven he was closer to thirty than twenty, and Maki was forever stuck in time at twenty-three.
One day he would be gone. As he breathed silently into his pillow, it was all Maki could think about.
It wasn’t like she’d never conceptualized death before. She’d been responsible for it countless times. She saw what loss did. She saw obituaries, mourners, funerals. She did her former work in service of death and in avoidance of it. The lives of her and the other children in the orphanage always came first, and everybody else’s came second. Death had always been a companion of hers, something to respect and fear. But now her priorities had shifted. Even without killing anyone for several years now, Maki could still smell death all over her. It was like she was drawing it to Kaito. She saw herself dressed in black. She dreamt of dirt on his face.
Love felt wonderful for minutes at a time. Dread enveloped the rest of it.
Maki turned over to face the far wall of the room. Kaito breathed behind her. She pressed her back to his, and his heartbeat ran through her inactive veins. She faded in and out of nightmares. The infinite future chased her through dark, cobwebbed corridors. When he awoke hours later, he kissed her, and she tried to forget her nausea.
~
“Would you ever turn me?”
The question was hoarsely choked out while Maki’s teeth were embedded in Kaito’s neck. She swallowed and pulled back, licking the blood that lingered on her lower lip while her red eyes creased at the corners. Her brow furrowed inward, and she gazed at Kaito, who made no indication of having asked something so incredibly stupid, just blinked up at her placidly, glassy-eyed. Her hands lingered at the hem of her shirt, pausing the process of removing it.
“What?” she asked.
Kaito tilted his head to the side. “Why’d you stop?”
“Why’d I—” Maki huffed. “Because you’re being stupid. That’s why I stopped.” She pulled her shirt over her head and let it fall into the small space between herself and Kaito. “Why would you ask me that? Why now?”
Kaito hummed. “It was on my mind,” he said. “Would you?”
Maki stared at him for a long couple of seconds. She then shook her head and looked away, newly-rosy cheeks puffed out with frustration.
“Are you asking me to?” she asked.
“Huh? No, not exactly,” Kaito replied. He scratched the back of his head and caught a little still-wet blood on his wrist in the action, which he held out to Maki. “I was just wondering if you’d ever thought about it.”
Maki frowned. She stared at him for a moment, then leaned forward to lick the blood from his wrist.
“Don’t be an idiot,” she said, and she returned her mouth to his neck, kissing now rather than biting. “Now shut up.”
~
Kaito was out for the day. Visiting his grandparents, doing on-the-ground astronaut things that Maki was never clear on the nature of; easy, mundane stuff. Maki had the day off. So she sat by the ocean under an umbrella, occasionally shifting to remain within its shadow.
The worst part about living in Miyazu was the distance from her only friends. Kaito had offered to move them closer to Tokyo many times, but Maki refused; she could visit the area, yes, but living there was out of the question after so many years of murdering its residents. They traveled there a couple of times each year, and usually that was enough. Often, though, Maki found herself missing Kirumi and Rantaro. She had a few work acquaintances in Miyazu, but they didn’t count as friends. Kaito’s friends didn’t feel like they counted either. She’d never been the type to go out of her way to make friends, anyway. Especially not now, with her immortality as a shroud that was draped over her.
She sat on the beach and watched the sun move across the waves. She watched the tide pull in and out. She lost herself in her head.
Soon, she found herself dialing a phone number. Two rings later, Kirumi picked up.
“Harukawa-san,” she said, and after a moment she corrected herself. “Maki.”
“Hey,” Maki murmured. “Can I ask you something?”
There was warm static on the other end of the line. When Kirumi spoke again, her voice was soft. “Certainly.”
“Is this a bad time?”
“No. Go ahead.”
Maki hesitated. “Is Rantaro there?”
“He’s in Bolivia.”
“Mm.” Maki nodded. “I thought so.”
The tide was pulling inward. Maki could see the tide pools forming in the sand.
“What did you want to ask me?” Kirumi asked softly.
Maki stared ahead. When she finally opened her mouth, it took a second for words to come out.
“Do you ever think about it?” she asked.
“Think about what?”
Maki was silent. She didn’t want to say more. It stuck like a clot in her throat. The meaning had come through, at least she hoped it had, so she didn’t say another word.
There was a sigh in the receiver. Kirumi’s voice was gentle when it came back through.
“I try to be present,” she said. “But the knowledge of what’s inevitable never leaves me.”
Maki’s mouth felt dry. Her body churned in rhythm with the waves.
“Does it have to be inevitable?” she asked.
Kirumi hummed. “What are you asking me?”
A seagull landed on the beach ahead. Maki felt herself picking at the nail beds on her left hand.
“Nothing,” Maki whispered. “Ignore me.”
Kirumi’s voice took a while to return. Maki counted the seconds until she spoke again, and got up to twelve.
“Rantaro’s life is his own,” she said. “I chose the existence I have. I do not want to take his choice away. Even if he asks me to.”
Maki nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her voice gravelly. “You’re right.”
She hung up before Kirumi could speak again. Texts began to come through, but Maki set her phone to silent mode.
There was nobody else on the beach. Maki stayed there until the sun began to set. As soon as it was safe, she folded the umbrella and walked back to the bus station to make her way home.
~
The television cast Kaito’s face in blue light. Maki couldn’t pay attention to the screen.
Since Maki and Kaito had gotten their own place, Kaito had begun hosting biweekly movie nights that Maki suspected were mostly for her benefit. He would invite his local friends over, people Maki sort of knew, and they’d vote on what to watch. The first few times, Maki tried to leave early so she wouldn’t feel like she was intruding. Kaito’s big puppy eyes always convinced her to stay, though.
Yonaga was the most consistent guest, which Maki supposed came with her being Kaito’s closest and longest-held friend. That night, it was Yonaga and a young couple that Kaito had met through her, Chabashira Tenko and Akamatsu Kaede. Maki liked them well enough, though Chabashira’s frequent jabs at Kaito for being a man could become tiring, and sometimes Akamatsu’s exuberance could be a bit much. But Maki liked them. They were nice.
It helped, of course, that they were both vampires.
Maki didn’t absorb much of the film that night. Her eyes were fixed on the others in the room. She leaned against Kaito in the same way Akamatsu leaned against Chabashira, and he kissed her head with his warm lips, an action which made her shiver. From what she could tell, the movie they were watching was a love story that ended with the death of its main character. She defended herself from openly weeping by looking away.
The film ended. The credits rolled. Maki’s were the only dry eyes in the room.
“Wow…” Akamatsu sniffed. “I didn’t realize it would end like that…”
“Me neither.” Kaito exhaled slowly through his mouth. “How’d you like it, Harumaki?”
Maki stared at the space between the television and the floor. “It was good,” she said, and she was sure it would have been.
Cleanup tasks weren’t delegated formally. Akamatsu went to the kitchen to clean up the dishes used by everyone except for Maki, and, after a moment of hesitation, Maki followed her.
A few minutes passed with little sound but the running of the faucet. Akamatsu was the one to speak first.
“So,” she said, “what a movie, huh? I was crying like a baby, haha…”
Maki hummed softly and focused on the bowl she was drying. “Yeah.”
“I mean, I didn’t realize he would die, you know?” Akamatsu set about washing out a cup. “But I guess that’s the only way it could have ended.”
“...Yeah.”
Akamatsu sighed. “Next time we should pick out something happier…”
There were soap bubbles accumulating on Maki’s fingertips. She could hear the blurry haze of conversation in the other room, where Kaito’s loud laugh would sometimes cut through the walls. Her stomach squeezed, and after a few long seconds, she put the bowl down and turned to Akamatsu.
“What’s it like?” she asked softly.
“Mm?” Akamatsu glanced at her. “What’s what like?”
“...Both of you being vampires.” Maki swallowed hard. “You and Chabashira.”
Akamatsu stared at her, lips slightly parted, and the shame of asking began to envelop Maki. She grabbed a lock of her hair and tugged, but didn’t look away. Akamatsu closed her mouth and turned back to the dishes. The water in the sink continued to run.
“...You know, Tenko actually turned me,” Akamatsu murmured. “I begged her to for months. And, well… She listened.”
Maki’s right fang worried her lower lip. “Why did you want that?”
“I wanted to be with her forever,” Akamatsu said. “I didn’t want her to ever have to be alone. We’d been together for three years at that point, so… It just felt natural.” She let out a quiet laugh. “I used to be her blood bag, so we both had to find new food sources… But overall it’s been a great change.”
Three years…
“...What about your humanity?” Maki asked after a few seconds.
Akamatsu shrugged. “What about it?” She looked over at Maki, and her pink eyes were gentle. “I… I don’t feel like anything was stolen from me, Harukawa-san. It’s more like… Tenko gave me this amazing gift. Now neither of us will ever be lonely.” A tiny smile appeared on her face. “She listened to me and what I wanted. We made the choice together.”
The conversation in the other room died down. Maki heard soft footsteps approaching the kitchen, and soon the scent of Kaito was right behind her.
“Hey,” Kaito said, “you two almost done? Angie’s about to head home.”
Akamatsu nodded. “Yeah, we’re just finishing up.” She handed the last cup over to Maki. “Tenko and I should probably leave soon too. Thanks for having us over.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Akamatsu left the kitchen, and Maki expected Kaito to follow her. But when his smell didn’t fade, she turned and looked at him. He was leaning in the doorframe, gazing at her, his face a mask of an emotion Maki couldn’t pinpoint.
“...What?” Maki asked.
“Just lookin’ at you,” Kaito said, and he began to smile. “You okay?”
Maki was quiet for a second. She then nodded and finished drying the cup.
“I’m okay,” she said. She set the cup on the counter. “Let’s go say goodbye to everyone.”
~
She lay in bed beside him, wide awake, while he lay on his side and slept, and she thought about it.
Kaito’s twenty-eighth birthday had technically already come, seeing as the clock showed it was just past midnight. They would celebrate with his grandparents once the morning sun came, then they’d go out together for a one-on-one date after the moon began its ascent. That was the plan, at least. That was what they had talked about.
Twenty-eight.
Maki curled in on herself as she listened to Kaito breathe. Her knees met her face. She wrapped her arms around her shins. She shuddered, and she realized when her face grew cool with wetness that she had begun to cry.
How could she ever be so terribly selfish?
There was a life stretching forth before Kaito. It was finite, small, perhaps pointless, but it was his, and all of Maki’s infinity seemed microscopic compared to what little Kaito had. Maki could protect him for that tiny period of time, and then she, her body, her mind, would no longer have meaning. What else could someone who only knows how to destroy things do?
The light of the moon creaked in through the windows and cast shadows over the room. Maki felt the pale shine on her skin.
Her desire to keep him around was all-encompassing. Its enormity was staggering, one of the strongest urges she had ever felt. She could only compare it to that primal, consuming need to protect the children in her care, back when she was at the orphanage. But Kaito wasn’t a child. He wasn’t small, or helpless, or innocent. He had a choice. Why would Maki ever take that from him?
There was a shift on the mattress. Maki was crying too hard to pay much mind to it. Her tears had become a hazy blur over her vision.
She didn’t deserve Kaito. She had never deserved Kaito. Why would she ever trap him with her?
“Harumaki…”
Kaito’s voice was gravelly with sleep. Maki couldn’t bring herself to raise her head.
“Hey, baby, it’s okay.” Kaito spoke in a whisper. “Come here.”
His warm arms wrapped around Maki, and as soon as she heard his heartbeat, the tears coalesced into wracking sobs.
What if she forgot him? What if she forgot what his voice sounded like?
“You’re okay. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
But he was going somewhere. One day, he would never come back.
“I love you.”
She loved him too. She loved him far too much to dream of cursing him with the existence she had been dealt, and she loved him far too much to even think of existing without him.
“It’s okay.” Kaito pressed a kiss to her head. “I love you. It’s okay.”
It took some time for the crying to die down. When Maki was finally all dried out, unable to cry more even if she wanted to, the clock told her it was one in the morning. She swallowed a final sob and uncurled herself, hooking her arms around Kaito and burying her face in the heat of his chest.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Shh.” Kaito held her close, and he didn’t ask about the apologies; Maki suspected that he’d known what was on her mind for some time. “I love you too. Get some sleep, Harumaki. I’m right here.”
He was. He was right there. Maki could feel his breath stirring the hair on her head.
The sun rose. The world turned. The tides went in. Kaito was there.
Maki fell into a dreamless sleep. When she awoke, the feather pillow pressed into her cheek, and Kaito’s arms were still around her, and his breath was steady, in and out, under the rising peach sunlight.