The game I’m setting out to play with Sano and Megumi seemed complicated at first description, but turns out to be relatively fast-paced and simple enough that I’m not likely to need constant reminders of most of its procedures. And after a few rounds to get the hang of it, conversation unrelated to the game starts up again in and around our turns, and I’m able to resume the interesting topic where it was left off. “What do you hope to learn about vampires by drinking their blood?”
“I have a number of specific questions I’d like to find answers to,” Megumi answers, “but I’d settle for ‘everything.’ Sano, I’ll trade you two tens for that eight.”
Sano agrees, and as the trade takes place I ask, “What questions?”
“About special vampire powers, for example.” Takani studies her cards. “Why do we develop these special abilities as we get older? And why does the lineup of available powers seem to be changing? Does either of you want a five or a king?” Once she’s traded away her five and been forced to put up with the king since neither of us wants it, she goes on without prompting. “Sano has the ability to restore people’s memories from their past lives, and that’s an ability specifically useful to him. But did his need for a power like that have anything to do with gaining that power? And is that why certain other powers seem to have been phased out over the years — because vampires simply don’t find them useful anymore?”
“I dunno… being able to turn into a bat would be pretty badass.” Tone almost completely unaltered, Sano immediately goes on, “Saitou, I’ll take both of those off your hands, but all I got’s a jack.”
Suddenly I have multiple ideas to deal with at once. I find, for one thing, that I wish he wouldn’t call me ‘Saitou.’ I don’t say so right now, however, since I’m too much arrested by his tone in mentioning the concept of turning into a bat (which is a pretty cool idea, I have to admit) — the same tone he used to discuss an aspect of the game, which I’ve already noticed is something he seems to be specifically relishing. Obviously there are multiple sides of reality besides just me that interest him, things he can enjoy if he allows himself to… although perhaps only in my presence.
I also have the game to think about, and accept the proposed trade somewhat distractedly. Then I have to figure out what to do with the jack, and don’t end up asking anything about bats until halfway through Megumi’s turn and some further exchange. “Badass, yes,” she says, “but how useful, exactly?”
“It’d always be useful to be able to turn into some small flying thing to get into places. And if you could spend the day as a bat, that could solve all sorts of problems with the sun and worrying about people finding you and shit.” At a mutter Sano adds, “Think I’ll take both of these… and… your turn.”
“It might be a useful power, but do people think of it that way? In modern times, when you think, ‘I need a safe place to spend the day where people won’t find me,’ is your next thought, ‘If only I could turn into a bat?'”
I chuckle at the suggestion as I watch her somewhat elaborate turn, and finally ask, “So some vampires have been able to turn into bats?”
“Some of ’em still can,” Sano confirms when Megumi proves a little too distracted at the moment by her layout of cards to answer immediately. “Just older ones, though.”
“And what about wolves?” I ask after making an offer — eventually rejected — for Megumi’s two aces. Probably more appropriate for her to keep them anyway. “Can any of you turn into wolves?”
“You would think of that,” Sano says with a dark grin. For a second time I don’t remind him that I’m not exclusively Saitou, only acknowledge his point as he goes on to remind me of a rule I’d forgotten as I attempt to cash out some of my cards.
It’s Megumi who actually answers my question: “That’s another old power, and I have a theory about that one. Society has so separated the concepts of vampire and werewolf that vampires have lost the ability to turn into wolves because it’s perceived as belonging to a different species entirely.”
Somewhat drowned out by Sano’s sound of triumph as he trades in a ten-card stack for points, I ask, “Do werewolves exist, then? Separate from vampires, I mean?”
“They do. And how they’re connected to vampires, if at all, is another one of the things I’d like to figure out. Did modern vampires and werewolves evolve out of the same monster, and separate gradually into two categories over the years because of people’s perception, or were we two separate things from the start and just happened to have some similarities for a while?”
“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, then.” It’s really just a polite remark; though this is all very interesting, I don’t know what else to say.
“Your turn,” Sano tells her.
Megumi stares at her cards with a pensive frown, and eventually, laying down only sluggishly the ones she intends to play, remarks, “I know a lot of this seems frivolous…” Perhaps, though I didn’t intend it, my comment came across as somewhat critical. “But answering some of these seemingly less important questions may help me understand the bigger ones: why are we like this? What power causes us to become undead, and allows us to survive apparently against all the laws of nature? And is there any way for us to continue surviving without committing murder?” She looks up at me with serious glowing eyes from the cards she’s just turned over. “You’re working on fives; do you want this?”
Once again I make what may or may not be an advantageous trade without giving it much thought, dwelling as I am on the simultaneous conversation. What my mind is caught up with now is a comparison between the lives (if that word applies anymore) and purposes of Sano and Megumi. For each of them has a purpose, a goal or set of goals that drives them, but while Megumi’s has to do with truth and understanding and potentially helping others, Sano’s is and has always been small-scale and essentially selfish. I wonder what kind of strength it takes to keep hanging on decade after decade with only a personal desire and no prospect of doing any good in the world; I don’t wonder at Sano’s bitterness, nor at the apparent honing of his selfishness to the far sharper point I’ve felt from it lately than I was ever aware of in Japan.
And of course very little has changed besides that since I knew them before. Megumi was always determinedly humanitarian and purposeful, whereas Sano, though he performed the good of which he was capable when opportunities arose, was always fairly aimless. In fact I think it was in part his lazy approach to morality that drew me to him: it was nice to take a break, without actually letting go of any fundamental rightness, from the driving need to be changing the world, and Sano certainly represented that.
These days, it seems, the two of them have taken their natural propensities one step further: instead of merely saving and bettering the individual lives she comes into contact with through her medical practice, Megumi is bent on saving humanity from vampires and saving vampires from themselves through her research; and Sano, instead of merely freeloading alongside those he loves and enjoying their company (sometimes at the expense of their comfort and convenience), is continually seeking out the one person he loves most in an effort at promoting that old way of life he so misses at the expense of that person’s peace of mind or even happiness.
I can’t help thinking that perhaps Sano would be better adjusted now, abler to deal with the inevitable, if he had ever developed a sense of purpose beyond seeking me throughout endless lifetimes. His lack of large-scale drive seems another aspect of his original character, along with his inability to let go, that has made the situation particularly harrowing for him. I also can’t help admiring Megumi for her continued desire to work hard for humanity’s sake as best she can even under these difficult circumstances. And this time when I remark, “Those do seem like questions worth answering,” I’m careful to offer the comment in as sincere a tone as I can manage.
“She probably wouldn’t be a cannibal for anything less,” is Sano’s remark.
“Well, it is nice being the strongest vampire around most of the time.”
Sano grumbles, “You just mean it’s nice being stronger than me.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” she says complacently.
“Do either of you want these?” I ask. “And what’s wrong with being a cannibal?”
I make a trade with each of them, and Megumi explains. “You’ve heard of prion disease in human cannibals? Well, being a vampire cannibal has had strange effects on me that I don’t understand any better than a lot of these other aspects of vampirism. You can see, for one thing, how much less human I look than Sano even though we’re the same age. For another, though I am stronger and faster than most other vampires–”
“Vampire squared!” Sano puts in as he shuffles the discard pile into what I believe is our final draw pile of the game. He sounds almost annoyed, evidently seeking the reaction he didn’t get with the first instance of this joke.
Megumi allows a smile, at least, as she continues. “I have less and less specific control over standard vampire abilities such as the allure Sano mentioned that gets used for hunting, and I’ve never developed any extra special abilities at all.”
“That’s why she doesn’t think being able to turn into a bat would be a useful skill,” Sano says to me, and even in his conspiratorial tone there’s still some of the usual darkness. “It’s just sour grapes because she doesn’t even have the option.”
“At least I look like someone who might be able to turn into a bat,” she replies. “Are you going to use that four or just sit there staring at it?”
Sano grumbles something about ‘fucking Hollywood vampires,’ and throws the four at her without asking for anything in exchange. And as I watch her casually pluck the spinning card from the air and add it to one of her piles, then commence her own turn, I reflect that perhaps Sano is actually jealous to some extent of Megumi’s incredible beauty. Maybe he feels a supernatural boost in attractiveness would be enough to carry his point with me, to get me to give him the answer he wants, make him just desirable enough to provide the final convincing factor. It’s horrible to be thinking of him so exclusively in terms of how he relates to me, but this is the only explanation that comes to mind for his attitude in referring to ‘Hollywood vampires.’
Certainly having no desire to ask this outright, and therefore deciding to change the subject, as I take the next turn I ask, “Is cannibalism the reason other vampires don’t like you?”
Megumi glances and Sano, acknowledging that he was probably the one to give me at least the beginnings of that idea, and nods. “Vampires hate cannibals almost as much as Sano hates Twilight.”
My mouth quirks upward at the comparison, but it’s in a serious and somewhat reluctant tone I reply, “A stigma against cannibalism is understandable even among murderers.”
“I’ll trade you two fours for that queen,” Sano offers. This time, not nearly as distracted as in previous instances, I take a look at his piles and make a tactical decision to decline the exchange. Evidently still unable to be rude to me in reply, however facetiously, Sano resorts to saying something startlingly profane about Twilight under his breath to express his annoyance.
In response to Sano’s behavior, Megumi grins. They remind me of a close brother and sister, and I especially appreciate the way Megumi knows just how to draw out aspects of the old Sano that are clearly still in there despite the overlay of a century’s worth of bitterness. Her words are not exactly cheerful, though. “It doesn’t help that I’m also a vagabond-hunter. I track down and kill vampires who aren’t being careful enough, who are threatening to expose our existence to the world.”
This is something that, without any input from Sano, I had already guessed about her, and it’s pleasant to be confirmed in my theory even if I made it simply to distract myself on a bad day.
“That makes me the sort of garbageman of the vampire world,” she goes on: “it’s an absolutely essential job that nobody respects or is willing to pay much for. Vampires hate vagabond-hunters, especially successful ones like me, so it goes with being a cannibal extremely well: I’m largely hated for both of the things I do, but tracking down vagabonds provides me with vampires I can cannibalize for my research, which I consider just as important as executing the worst of the murderers.”
I nod my understanding, though the gesture doesn’t convey my admiration. I can see the need for better understanding of what these people are in order to improve their conditions. I can see the need for a vagabond-hunter, and the convenience of how she’s set up her situation. It seems she’s taking a dreadful risk on a regular basis when her continued cannibalism has effects she doesn’t yet understand, but if she believes the research she can accomplish this way and the potential good it may be able to do for humans and vampires alike is worth taking that chance, that’s a choice — a courageous, terrible choice — only she can make.
I understand, at least to some small degree, for I too have a subject of research whose pursuit may well involve a direct personal risk. As in the comparison I drew earlier between Megumi’s sense of purpose and Sano’s, my research probably seems much more selfish and limited in scope than hers, but I find I’m no less serious about it. Because I want to understand Sano: the way he is and why, how deep the changes run in him that have been taking place since our deaths in Japan, and most of all whether there’s the possibility of his being happy — remaining a relatively good person who can be satisfied with himself — in this impossible situation he’s created and with the answer I’m inevitably going to give him. I’m determined to find this information even if my continued proximity to him in seeking it is tempting fate — tempting him, rather, to forget about consent and take what he wants as he’s well capable of doing.
And why am I so determined?
Is it because I love him?
I still have no answer to this question, but I don’t shy away from the question itself quite so hard as I’ve done on previous days. In fact, as I watch him finish up the last turn of the game and cash in his remaining piles to add to his final score with a simple glee apparently born of a surety of having won that I can’t be certain is overconfidence — a glee that reminds me more than ever of those wonderful old emotions he used to display so readily — I concede to myself that the idea of being in love with him isn’t nearly so monumentally intimidating as it was the first time I asked myself about it.
“Twenty-six,” he announces, having counted his score pile and slammed a triumphant pale hand down onto it.
“Twenty-two,” is Megumi’s defeated acknowledgment.
“Twelve,” I admit.
“Damn, Saitou! I’d have thought you’d be better at this!” At this openly teasing expression of surprise — the first time Sano has broken the barrier and spoken to me in such an easy manner during this lifetime — even Megumi chuckles a little.
I’m not entirely without competitive instinct; I’m almost tempted to protest that, for my first time playing this particular game and as distracted as I was by various circumstances, it’s really not such a bad score. But I prefer not to make excuses — they only make you look pathetic — and therefore remain silent.
Sano has been gathering the cards, and now holds up the deck a second time with a glint in his eye beyond the actual literal glow. “You want to try again?”
I glance around, then briefly down at my watch. I do have chores to finish, and haven’t eaten dinner yet, and there’s work in the morning. But somehow none of that seems to matter. And it isn’t merely because Megumi has interesting information and Sano is a newly embarked-upon project; it’s because I enjoy their company. Whether I love him or not, I’m glad to have Sano around, and I’d rather he didn’t leave just yet.
“If you two are ready to lose this time,” I say.
Megumi grins. Sano grins — which was what I hoped for. The night progresses.