I can almost hear the relief in his voice when he responds. “I’d like that a lot. It sounds fantastic. Sundays are my days off.”

“What do you usually do on Sundays?” I ask.

“Hm, I mostly catch up on household chores. I also play shōgi at the local temple for fun.”

I pause, my eyebrow raised. “You play Japanese chess with old men for fun on your only day off?”

He laughs. “Well, they’re a kind lot. Very welcoming, and they like to bring me snacks and souvenirs any time they return after a holiday.”

“Alright, well, if you’ve got your eye on any of them, tell me now and I won’t intrude.”

Jae snorts. “I don’t!”

“If you’re into older men, I’m probably twice the age of anyone in there. I’ll bring you better snacks, too.”

Jae keeps laughing, and it’s a happy, open sound from his chest. It’s nice. I can feel the walls coming down just a little bit more.

October

Eleven

Jae

[I’m not walking. That’s not what I do.]

I smile. I’ve been smiling so much this past week that my cheeks are numb. I can’t remember the last time I felt this excited about something in my personal life. It’s like there are stars floating around inside me. Wonder. A child on Christmas Eve.

My fingers move swiftly across the screen before I hit send.

[You could model. Of course they want you to walk. Legs for days.]

The bubbles immediately pop up in our chat, and Junichi’s response soon follows.

[If you keep this up, I’ll get the wrong idea about your intentions.]

I laugh, feeling wicked as I type.

[Please get the wrong idea. Terrible, very bad, no-good ideas.]

[You’re a tease, Doctor Davies. Will you be shy when I get back home?]

[You’ll just have to see, won’t you? Good luck with your negotiation today.]

“Five minutes,” the elderly man at the front of the room calls out. Before I put my phone away, it buzzes once more.

[Thank you. Shall we talk later tonight?]

[Yes, absolutely.]

[Perfect. Enjoy the old men… but not too much.]

I shake my head and tuck my phone underneath my folded legs against the tatami and sit up straight. God. I cannot wait until Junichi gets back.

We’ve talked and texted every day for the past week. I’m learning so much about him: how he really likes classic jazz and it’s what he and Haruka instantly connected over. How he played kendo in high school and won a championship (at a prominent high school for vampires only, no less), and how he loves to travel but hates flying, because he says it’s like being trapped inside a human-stuffed can for hours and he can smell everything, like, humans past and present… I know I’m human, but I wasn’t even offended by that because it honestly sounds like a nightmare. Just thinking about that perpetual fart smell mixed with dead skin cells and stale armpits is enough to make me gag with my meager senses.

Fart smells aside, Jun’s smooth, cool voice is becoming like an aphrodisiac. We talk late, and I’m such a slag because I keep wanting to say dirty things to him about my cock, or his cock and what I’d like to do with it.

If I go down that path, though, I’m not sure he’ll follow me, so I keep it light and flirty and he doesn’t dissuade me. When he comes back next weekend, it’ll be all I can do to not wrap myself around him and lick him the moment I see him.

“Three minutes.”

It’s Sunday, and I’m at the local temple where I play shōgi with the old men. The temple is tucked in the back of a woodsy park here in Himeji, and the players are nice. Harmless. I haven’t been in two Sundays because of the gala and then dinner at Sora’s house.

Hiroyuki—he runs the matches—told me someone new is vying for the top spot. A young vampire has started coming each week, and he’s already beaten the two best players beneath me. I have to play him today to potentially reclaim my spot. Just as I’m beginning to wonder where the hell he is, I realize someone is standing over me. I look up. My jaw drops.

“Haruka?”

He blinks his owly, burgundy eyes. I swear they’re always glowing. “Hello, Doctor Davies. What a nice surprise.”

“I didn’t know you played shōgi?” He sits on the cushion across from me, with the shōgi board in between us.

“Of course, I have played privately, in the past,” he says, neatly folding his long legs. “Never competitively, like this. I am here at your recommendation. Remember?”

I think back to our last conversation. It was only a few weeks ago, but it feels like forever. “Right. Getting out and doing something you enjoy…” I frown, because I’m an idiot and realize we’re speaking English. I have never spoken to Haruka in English before this moment. “How did you know I spoke English?”

Haruka casually pushes the sleeves to his black jumper up his forearms, examining the board. “Your last name is Davies. And Sora told me that you transferred here from England. You always initiate conversation in Japanese. Is that your preferred language?”

“I—No. It’s fine—”

“Ready—start!” Hiroyuki calls out. There’s a hush of concentration over the room.

“Shall we begin?” Haruka smiles coolly. The confidence radiating from him is thick.

I nod. Confident myself. “Yes, let’s.”

I’m exhausted by the end of the tournament. I literally have a headache. But I ask Haruka if he’s willing to have a cup of tea with me at a nearby café. It’s built into the temple grounds, and a lot of the tourney players go there afterward. There’s a garden, a bamboo grove and a lovely rock waterfall outside the open patio. It’s a very peaceful, Zen atmosphere.

Once we’re sitting and we both have our tea, I share the good news. “I plan to submit the proposal to Junichi this week. My goal is Wednesday. I still have a lot of finite details to work through, but if he approves, we could launch the test program as early as December.”

He smiles, and it reaches his mesmerizing eyes. “That is wonderful news. You were able to complete the proposal in an impressive amount of time.”

I shrug. I’ve been making the most of all these sleepless nights. “I know it’s important to you and Nino, and I’ve been thinking about doing this for so long. Junichi helped me a lot, too.”

“Junichi is an impressive vampire,” Haruka says, bringing his teacup to his mouth. I nod. He really is. After our first phone conversation, I searched him on the Internet. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought to do that before. Junichi is a private designer with notable clients all across the world. There were pictures of him with politicians and celebrities I actually recognize—historical figures as well. He made an outfit for David Bowie, for God’s sake.

He also owns and manages the hospital solely out of his own pocket. The hospital, Gianna Gracia Medical, is named after his mother, like he told me. But there’s also a picture of her at the main entrance. I’ve been walking past it almost every day for the past four months without even knowing the connection.