A Disgusting Guy: Chapter 4

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The Sound of Cold Rain

Love stories have always been abundant in every era, likely because everyone experiences the intense emotions of love at least once. A mere acquaintance turns into someone you start to notice. You suddenly become aware of that moment. It slips into your heart with a subtlety that cuts deep.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

She brushed a lock of hair off her cheek. Her slender fingers moved slowly.

“I understand how hard it can be when people gather together. Even children have different ways of thinking, and you can’t say any of those perspectives are completely wrong.”

She wore a simple white T-shirt and navy pants that clung to her slim figure. Normally, her semi-long hair was casually tied back, but today she left it down. Despite the understated makeup, her lips seemed unusually red, contrasting with the overall plainness. Although she wasn’t the type to draw attention, Kazuya Sugimoto suddenly became aware of his female colleague, who was three years older than him.

It was early September, during the welcome party for the newly hired teachers. In a familiar but not particularly spacious izakaya, she happened to sit next to him in the small tatami room. Her name was Morimoto Atsuko, and she had started working at the high school a year before Kazuya. She wasn’t a striking beauty, and she had always been a quiet, modest presence, with a reserved smile.

She was so quiet that sometimes her presence was almost imperceptible, but many students were fond of her. She rarely voiced her opinions or contradicted others, so she had no enemies, and she was diligent and meticulous in her work.

Because they were seated next to each other, they began to chat, mostly about their colleagues and students. During the conversation, she suddenly looked away and seemed lost in thought, then unexpectedly let out a soft laugh.

“Sorry, I just didn’t expect you, Sugimoto, to be so concerned about the students. After all, the students like you.”

“They’re only less guarded because I’m close in age to them. There are quite a few who actually find me annoying.”

“You’re so greedy, Sugimoto.”

Because she kept laughing, Kazuya didn’t realize at first that her comment wasn’t sarcastic.

“It’s greedy to want every student to like you.”

He only realized the intentation behind her words when he saw her childlike profile as she covered her mouth with both hands to stifle a big yawn. Her fingers moved languidly as she reached for her beer glass, took a sip, and her red lips puckered slightly.

“Sugimoto?”

Realizing he had been staring blankly at her, Kazuya’s cheeks flushed with heat. She laughed softly, amused by his reaction.

“You’re funny.”

He had never really noticed her before, this older woman. But in that moment, something quietly shifted inside him.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It was as if he were living with a stranger. Even when they met in the bathroom in the morning, they didn’t say a word to each other—not even a token “Good morning.” Their relationship had been stripped of all formalities and pretenses. Miura, who used to insist on eating dinner together, now didn’t bother. He rarely went out, but lately, he’d often leave and not return until morning.

It had been this way for a while. Kazuya had begun to notice signs of a woman’s presence. Even though Miura had supposedly just returned from outside, the scent of perfume lingered in the air as they passed each other. If Miura had found a lover and was beginning to shift his attention away from Kazuya, that was all for the best. When Kazuya realized Miura had a girlfriend, he felt a strange sense of relief, and it gave him the courage to start a conversation. If Miura had someone special, he might listen calmly to what Kazuya had to say.

In early March, on a day when the spring wind was shockingly cold, and the gray clouds hung so low in the sky that it seemed like it might snow, Kazuya finally told his roommate, Keiichi Miura, that he was getting married. Despite it being the afternoon, the living room was heated so warmly that it made one sweat, thanks to Miura, who hated the cold. Miura was lounging on the sofa, dressed comfortably in a black hoodie and sweatpants, absentmindedly watching TV.

A rerun of a drama that was popular a few seasons ago was playing on TV. The overly loud sound effects were grating on Kazuya's ears. As he graded tests, he occasionally looked up at the TV when a line of dialogue he recognized was spoken. When he looked up for the umpteenth time, his eyes met Miura’s. Miura quickly averted his gaze, but Kazuya felt a voice whispering in his mind that it was about time. Gathering his resolve, he placed the red pen and the test papers on the coffee table.

"I'm thinking of getting married in June," Kazuya said.

Miura’s eyebrows drew together as he sat up on the sofa with a puzzled expression. He rubbed his nose with his thumb... Kazuya felt his hands and feet tense up in frustration at his own reaction to Miura’s every move and clenched his molars tightly.

"Who’s getting married?" Miura asked.

"I am. Who else would it be?"

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Miura replied, realizing how foolish his question was. He lowered his head and let out a small laugh.

"Well, that’s a surprise," he muttered, though he hadn’t shown any sign of surprise at all. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through his overly long hair.

"I figured there was a woman, but I didn’t think things had progressed that far. So, you’re getting married. What’s she like?"

"She’s just a normal person."

Miura shrugged at the vague response.

"If you’re thinking of marrying her, there must be something special about her, right? Like, she’s kind, cheerful, or beautiful... Come on, don’t hold back."

Kazuya had secretly feared that Miura would react with a fiery outburst, so he was caught off guard by Miura’s almost "ordinary friend" reaction. Maybe he had been overthinking things because of everything that had happened between them.

"She’s quiet and kind. She’s also a teacher at the same high school and is three years older than me."

"Interesting. So, what did you say when you proposed?"

"What?"

Miura grinned, folding his arms, and leaned in closer to Kazuya’s face.

"I’m asking how you proposed to her."

"I can’t tell you that. It’s embarrassing. And why should I have to tell you anyway?"

Kazuya turned his gaze away, embarrassed, as he recalled the moment he proposed to her. After the welcome party, he had openly expressed his interest in her, inviting her out to dinner and movies multiple times. She rarely declined unless she had a prior commitment. After several outings, when Kazuya was sure she was aware of his feelings, he clearly expressed that he liked her and wanted to date her with the intention of marriage.

In the middle of last month, he took her to a restaurant on the top floor of a hotel with a view of the harbor. As they dined by the window, Kazuya could see the lights of ships crossing the dark sea as they returned to the harbor. Her delicate profile, with her side hair pinned back, looked even more fragile. From the day after he complimented her on her beautiful hair, she stopped tying it up whenever they met. That gesture was so endearing and adorable. She wore a black sweater, and the necklace he had given her for her birthday in January glowed softly at her neckline. After dinner, he called her name as she gazed out at the view, and handed her a small package.

"Open it," he said.

She looked between the package and Kazuya, her hands trembling as she untied the ribbon. When she cautiously opened the lid and saw what was inside, her expression was more confused than surprised or happy, just as Kazuya had imagined.

"Let me think about it," she had said in a small voice, looking down when Kazuya asked her to marry him.

"I'm really surprised and my mind is in a whirl."

Kazuya had expected an immediate answer, so her hesitation made him worry that perhaps he was the only one deeply invested in the relationship. But his worries only lasted a night—she called the next day, smiling as she accepted his proposal. The following Sunday, Kazuya introduced her to his parents. Together with her parents, they set a wedding date and completed the engagement ceremony just last week.

"So, you’ve already done it, right? How was it?"

Kazuya tilted his head, not understanding the question.

"Sex, man. She’s older, so she’s probably got more experience. I bet she’s been treating you well."

Miura’s crass and deliberately vulgar tone annoyed Kazuya.

"She’s not that type of person."

When Kazuya glared at him, Miura found his reaction amusing and burst out laughing.

"Don’t tell me you’re thinking that premarital sex is impure, like some uptight virgin. Sex is an important part of married life."

Everything about Miura—his gestures, his attitude, his words—was unbearably irritating.

"It’s not about whether it’s pure or not. That’s not something you brag about in front of others. And it’s disrespectful to her."

"I like that kind of talk."

"Well, I don’t."

"Yeah, I figured. That’s why I asked."

Miura leaned back on the sofa, grinning as he watched Kazuya’s face. Kazuya couldn’t understand why Miura would deliberately ask about something he knew Kazuya would hate. Kazuya had never understood Keiichi Miura, not from the moment they first met, nor did he ever want to. Even after they started living together, that never changed, but their relationship became decisively awkward after a trip they took together last August.

Kazuya had been so angry at Miura for playing a prank on him that he decided to leave the cottage they were staying in, abandoning Miura there without a word. Kazuya knew how much damage that would do to Miura, but he hadn’t fully grasped it. In the end, Kazuya returned to pick him up, and they went home together, but from that point on, Miura stopped talking to him.

Something had broken between them, and now it felt like walking on broken pieces. The pretense couldn’t be maintained any longer. Kazuya couldn’t deceive Miura anymore, and Miura wasn’t fooled either. If they had fought fiercely, they might have been able to separate because of the backlash, but instead, they continued to live together, keeping their distance while consciously ignoring each other. There was nothing left, so they continued living together out of inertia.

"Sometimes…"

Miura reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table. He flicked one out of the pack and placed it between his lips. Though Miura appeared healthy, he harbored a chronic illness that lurked beneath the surface. Smoking and drinking were strictly forbidden because they could exacerbate his condition at any time, but he had long since forgotten such warnings and lit the cigarette without hesitation. Kazuya had stopped scolding him about smoking and drinking; Miura wasn’t a child, so he should know right from wrong. That was the conclusion Kazuya had reached.

"Sometimes I wonder...what am I doing here?"

Miura sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"It feels like time is just passing by while I do nothing."

"Then you should find a hobby or get a job. The doctor said you’d be fine with a light desk job."

Kazuya had even offered to help Miura find a job, but Miura had stubbornly refused. Now that Miura was complaining, Kazuya couldn’t help but think it was his own fault.

"Who would hire a guy with no high school diploma and a chronic illness?"

Miura’s sharp gaze made Kazuya hesitate and swallow his words, and Miura, sensing this, averted his eyes. At some point, it had started raining outside, and the window glass was fogged with droplets of water.

The TV had been turned off at some point, leaving the room filled with nothing but an indescribable awkwardness and the sound of the rain. Miura stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, then sank deeply into the sofa, toying with the drawstring of his hoodie with his fingertips.

"It was two years after my divorce. When I got sick and was told it was incurable, I stopped caring about what happened to me. I figured my life was already worthless."

Miura suddenly laughed, as if remembering something amusing.

"Come to think of it, why did you come to see me back then?"

Kazuya remained silent, unable to admit that he had visited because Onodera had asked him to, or because he didn’t want Onodera to think he was heartless. He looked up at Miura’s murmured comment that maybe it was time to end things, only to find Miura’s gaze locked onto him.

"It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper conversation."

Even this level of conversation was something they hadn’t exchanged in months.

"Did you really not want to talk?"

Kazuya felt a chill run through him as if Miura could see right through his thoughts. Miura stood up from the sofa.

"You’ve been feeling trapped, haven’t you? You’ve decided to get married, but you’ve still got this inconvenient roommate. You know you have to talk to him, but you don’t want to deal with it. You kept putting it off, and now here we are."

Miura’s tone was calm, not at all resentful.

"So that’s why we’re finally in the same room together," Miura muttered as his tall, lanky silhouette left the room. The sound of rain echoed through the house, followed by the sound of the front door closing. He must have gone out. Left alone in the quiet room, Kazuya sat there, feeling utterly defeated.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

“I don’t like you, Teacher.”

A pair of strong-willed eyes stared directly at the homeroom teacher. It was the first thing the boy, who had been silent until then, had said.

April had come, and among the third-year students, there was one who hadn’t submitted his plans for the future. The boy’s name was Minekura. He hadn’t even informed his parents about the upcoming three-way meeting between the student, parent, and teacher, causing quite a stir in the staff room. Minekura had been the captain of the track and field team until March of his second year, admired by his juniors. His grades were always among the top, and from a teacher’s perspective, he was a “model student with no issues.” But suddenly, at the start of the new school year, he declared that he wasn’t going to pursue further education. Kazuya had asked if he had any other goals, like becoming a craftsman, but Minekura wouldn’t say anything. Still, his determination to avoid further education was unwavering, leaving both his parents and teachers at a loss.

On a Friday afternoon near the end of April, Kazuya called Minekura to the career counseling room. His goal was to persuade the boy to continue his education or, if that was impossible, at least to understand why he had decided to forgo it. Kazuya had taught Minekura in his first year as well, but back then, he had left the impression of a serious student, not someone who would cause such a disturbance.

Kazuya waited for Minekura in the dimly lit career counseling room. A reference book for tomorrow’s lesson sat on the long table. This was the third time he had called Minekura, and the third time Minekura had ignored the summons. Kazuya didn’t expect much today either, but he needed to show that he was making an effort. The room had grown too dark to read the text in the book, so Kazuya switched on the fluorescent light and checked his watch. It was already past six. He decided to wait five more minutes, and if Minekura didn’t show up, he would go home. Just as he sat back down, the door suddenly slid open with a clatter, and Minekura appeared in the doorway. Without a word, he walked in and stood in front of Kazuya. The boy was over 180 centimeters (5’11) tall, and being looked down upon by a student was an unsettling feeling.

“Sorry to call you after school. Please, have a seat.”

Minekura noisily dragged a steel chair across the floor and sat down.

“I wanted to talk to you about your plans for the future.”

Minekura had short hair, characteristic of a student who played sports, and his skin was tanned a dark brown. His masculine face had thick eyebrows and thin lips. With his hands shoved into his pants pockets, Minekura clicked his tongue loudly enough for Kazuya to hear. His gaze was intense. Children don’t hide their emotions in their eyes. Minekura’s piercing stare made Kazuya feel unusually unsettled.

“You say you’re not going to continue your education, and that’s fine if that’s what you want. If you have another goal and want to focus on it, I’ll support you. But if you don’t have any specific plans, then, and I hope this doesn’t offend you, I think it would be better for you to continue your education. It will give you time to think, and you might find what you want to do during that time.”

There was no response. Minekura simply stared back with naked hostility. Kazuya couldn’t shake the feeling that Minekura’s eyes reminded him of someone.

“What do you think?”

Only Kazuya’s voice echoed in the room.

“Can you give me an answer?”

Suddenly, Minekura broke eye contact and looked down. He spoke loudly and clearly.

“I don’t like you, Teacher.”

Kazuya was stunned. Shock quickly gave way to anger, and he forced himself to respond calmly.

“So, you’re saying you don’t want to continue your education just to make things difficult for me because you don’t like me?”

“That has nothing to do with it. I just don’t want to talk to you because I don’t like you. Please don’t call me again.”

Minekura stood up abruptly, knocking over the steel chair with a loud crash.

“I don’t know what I did to upset you, but if I’ve hurt you with my careless actions or words, I apologize.”

Despite the anger coursing through him, Kazuya maintained a humble stance toward the student, driven by his pride as a teacher.

“It’s not about what you said. I just can't stand your nauseating hypocrisy.”

With that, Minekura left the career counseling room. His footsteps faded into the distance. Even after the student had left, Kazuya remained slumped over the desk, unable to move for a long time.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Kazuya had returned home to his apartment from school, but he had no memory of the journey. When he came to, he was sitting on the bed, staring blankly at his feet.

“Hypocrite.”

The word the student had hurled at him had struck him down so easily. He couldn’t understand why he felt so confused. He tried to think, but the thoughts that would lead to any clarity eluded him. He was afraid to dig any deeper into the matter. The sound of knocking on the door repeated a few times before the door creaked open hesitantly.

“If you’re here, you could at least answer. It’s a call from that woman, Morimoto. She tried your cell phone, but when you didn’t pick up, she called the landline because she was worried.”

“Tell her I’m tired...and that I’m already resting.”

The door was left open as the visitor left. Kazuya staggered to his feet and closed the door, then sat back down on the bed, cradling his head in his hands. His thoughts raced in circles, unable to grasp any formula to solve the problem. The footsteps that had left returned, and the door opened again. A shadow approached him, making him tremble violently.

“...Are you cold?”

“No.”

Kazuya hugged his shoulders tightly with both hands.

"You look exhausted. You had a terrible expression on your face when you came back," Miura said.

"Just sleeping it off will help. I want to lie down, so could you leave?" Kazuya replied.

"You haven't eaten, have you? No appetite? I can go get you something if there's anything you think you could eat."

"I don’t want to see your face right now. Just get out," Kazuya snapped, crawling into bed with his clothes still on. He could feel Miura's presence lingering for a while before he finally left the room.

Hypocrite. The word echoed in Kazuya's mind. How did that student see right through him? He had always tried to treat every student fairly, without favoritism. So why had Minekura, of all people, been able to see through to his true nature?

It was the guilt he had harbored deep inside, ever since he left Miura behind. Kazuya had been so concerned with maintaining his own image that he had lied to Miura, deceiving him again and again. And now, the result was this—a life spent living with the very person he once despised. If it weren’t for the excuse of marriage, Miura would have continued to cling to him.

He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched—Minekura’s gaze, Miura’s gaze. Minekura’s piercing eyes, full of accusation, reminded him so much of Miura.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

At the top of a steep, one-way road was an empty observation deck. Perched alone on a small hilltop, it had two small telescopes, one facing south and the other north. During the day, you could enjoy the flowers of spirea and azaleas that lined the walking paths, but Kazuya had deliberately chosen to take her there at night, using the drive as an excuse for a date.

The observation deck was open 24 hours a day, but the cliffside parking lot where they parked was empty except for their car. The area was bathed in the dim light of a nearly full moon, casting a soft glow. Holding her small hand, Kazuya guided her up the stairs leading to the observation deck, where she hesitated in the darkness.

"Isn't the night view beautiful?" he asked.

The top of the deck was oval-shaped, offering a view of the harbor to the south and the lights of their town spreading out from the base of the low, dark hills to the north. The deck was surrounded by a chest-high concrete railing. She walked over to the northern telescope and pointed into the darkness.

"My apartment is near that building over there," she said.

Kazuya squinted into the darkness where she pointed, struggling to find the faint light that marked her apartment amidst the soft yellow lights decorating the nightscape.

"And where’s the apartment where teacher Sugimoto lives?" she asked playfully, leaning against the concrete railing as she gazed at the view.

"If it’s in Isecho, it should be near that large building over there."

A gentle night breeze blew, and she pulled the cardigan draped over her shoulders tighter around her chest with her fingers. In the pale moonlight, her hair swayed softly behind her, carrying a faint scent of flowers. When Kazuya embraced her from behind, she didn’t move for a moment. But when he tried to kiss her, she slipped out of his arms like a fish and walked over to the southern railing. He followed her, chasing the escaped fish, and they looked out over the harbor's colorful lights and the dark sea beyond.

"Have you been here with someone before?" he asked.

She turned around, startled, like a child caught in a prank. Sometimes she had that guilty look in her eyes. Had he asked something he shouldn't have? She clammed up like a shell. She never spoke about her previous boyfriends, but Kazuya knew. She had probably come here with them too. At her age, it was normal to have had a boyfriend or two in the past. Kazuya didn’t want to seem overly jealous by dwelling on past events, so he had never asked about them. He figured he could make better memories than her previous relationships. Standing next to her in silence, he felt the warmth of her shoulder against his, and that alone softened his heart.

"What will you do?" she asked suddenly, without any subject or context, as they looked out at the dark sea together.

"What do you mean, what will I do?"

She tilted her head and looked up at him.

"The man you’re living with now... When you move out, he’ll be all alone, even though he’s not in good health, right?"

Kazuya pressed his thumb to her lips, and she closed her small mouth in surprise.

"Even when we’re alone, you still call me ' teacher Sugimoto.' When are you going to start calling me by my name?"

"Sorry," she murmured. A red lipstick mark was left on his thumb.

"Miura will be fine. He’s not a child."

"I thought since you said you were living with a sick friend, that he must be really unwell, and that’s why you had to stay with him."

That’s what any normal person would think, of course. Someone wouldn’t keep living with a person they claimed to dislike. Nothing was the same as when they were kids. The violent child had grown into a bitter adult. While the physical threats had lessened, they were replaced by the gnawing guilt that plagued Kazuya. He had played the role of the kind friend, only to abandon and hurt Miura in the end. He didn’t want to use words like "regret." If he had cut ties sooner, if he had clearly said no, it wouldn’t have turned into such a complicated mess.

"Teacher Sugimoto, you’re kind and always taking care of others. And you’re good at picking up strays."

She chuckled softly.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you picked me up."

"I didn’t pick you up. I chose you."

The silent moonlight fell gently around them. She looked like she was about to cry.

"...I’m not someone worth choosing," she whispered.

Was she being modest? He crouched down and wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she started to cry. Her slender back shook with small tremors, and she didn’t stop crying for a long time. Perhaps the looming wedding had made her emotionally unstable. After a while, she finally lifted her face. Pressing a handkerchief to her tear-streaked face, her eyes remained swollen and red.

"I’ve been meaning to ask you... Have your students ever teased you?" he asked.

"No, nothing like that," she replied, tilting her head.

"I was planning to keep it a secret from the students until the wedding, but somehow one of them found out and asked me, 'Are you really marrying teacher Morimoto?' So, I was wondering if anything like that had happened to you."

"No one’s asked me."

"Good. Oh, what time is it?"

She glanced at her watch.

"A little after eleven."

"We both have work tomorrow. We should head back. Ugh, I’m dreading it. I’m dealing with a problem student right now. Since becoming a third-year, he suddenly decided he doesn’t want to go to college, but he won’t tell me why. It’s a real headache. Do you know him? Minekura?"

She said nothing, looking down at her fingers.

"Minekura Motoharu... right?" she finally responded after a pause. Kazuya was surprised that she recognized the name of the problem student so easily.

"Yes, that’s him. How do you know him?"

"He’s in the track team, right? I’m the assistant advisor for the girls' track team. When I mentioned I used to do pole vaulting in school, they asked me to occasionally help with the pole vaulters. Minekura-kun is one of them, so that’s how I know him."

She spoke more quickly than usual.

"Oh, I see. So, do you know much about Minekura? He doesn’t really talk to me, so I’m at a bit of a loss," Kazuya asked.

"Sorry, I haven’t talked much with the boys on the team either," she replied.

She turned her gaze back to the night view, and as they continued talking about Minekura, unpleasant memories surfaced, causing her to fall silent, and the conversation faded out. The next day, the problem student who had bluntly told Kazuya that he disliked him, Minekura, informed his parents that he planned to get a job at a local company. He hadn’t consulted with his homeroom teacher at all.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It was a little past ten o’clock at night when Kazuya heard laughter. At first, he thought it was just the TV, but that wasn’t it. After finishing organizing the materials for tomorrow’s class, he wondered if someone had come over and peeked into the living room. Miura was lying on the sofa, talking on the phone. Miura didn’t have a smartphone, so the only way to contact him was through the house phone, which rarely rang, making this unusual. Kazuya hadn’t seen Miura laugh like that in a long time.

Noticing Kazuya peeking in, Miura glanced up but quickly became engrossed in his conversation again. Kazuya sighed, not wanting to confront him about being too loud, and went into the kitchen to drink some cold water. Suddenly feeling hungry, he rummaged through the fridge and found a single apple left. He took it out and washed it, then began to peel it. The dull knife slipped as he pressed too hard, and the blade nicked the tip of his thumb. Before he could react, a small bead of red blood welled up.

"Kazuya, you’ve got a call," Miura called out, still holding the receiver.

"A call for me? I thought it was for you," Kazuya said, taking the receiver while sucking on his bleeding thumb. As soon as he put the phone to his ear, a cheerful voice rang out.

"Hey, Kazuya! It’s me!"

It was Onodera. They hadn’t been in much contact since they had reconnected in the countryside two summers ago.

"I tried calling your cell, but I couldn’t get through, so I called Miura’s landline."

"Sorry about that. I sometimes put it on silent when I need to focus, so I miss calls."

"Thanks for the wedding invitation. I thought it was pretty cold of you not to consult me first, but I’ll let it slide. Congrats, man. I’ll be there, no question."

"Thanks."

Miura was standing right behind Kazuya, listening in. Feeling uncomfortable, Kazuya moved away under the pretense of closing the half-open window curtain.

"By the way, I’m coming into town next Saturday for a cousin’s wedding. The ceremony’s in the afternoon, so could I crash at your place the night before?"

"That’s fine, but Miura..."

Kazuya glanced back, but Miura was already gone, having left the living room unnoticed.

"I already asked Miura. He said it was okay if you were. It’s been a while, so he even suggested we have a drink together. He shouldn’t be drinking, but let’s have some fun and make him watch while we enjoy ourselves. Maybe we’ll let him sniff the bottle!"

Kazuya chuckled at the joke.

"I’ll be there Friday night. You’ll be at work, right? So I asked Miura to pick me up."

"Yeah, that’s probably best."

"I’ve got more to talk about, but I’ll save it for when we meet. See you soon."

"Alright, see you."

After the call, Kazuya couldn’t help but wonder what Miura had been talking about for so long. He noticed that the blood on his thumb had begun to clot and took out a bandage from the drawer to cover it. When he turned around, Miura, who had left earlier, was back, sprawled out on the sofa as before. A plate with neatly peeled apple slices sat on the coffee table. Kazuya felt a surge of anger at having his food taken but decided it wasn’t worth the confrontation and walked past Miura without a word.

"If you’re going to your room, take this plate with you," Miura called after him, holding out the plate of apple slices.

Kazuya hesitated, then turned back and took the plate.

"Aren’t you going to eat it?" Kazuya asked.

"No, I’m not hungry."

Miura turned his face away, as if the sight of the apple disgusted him. Kazuya couldn’t force him to eat and walked back to his room with the plate. He wondered if Miura had peeled the apple as a gesture to make up for the injury or if it was just a sarcastic act. The thought of eating something Miura had prepared drained his appetite, so he left the plate on the side table by his bed.

Later, before going to bed, Kazuya threw away the apple slices, which had turned brown. That night, the sweet scent of apples lingered in his room until morning.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

As soon as Kazuya opened the door, a voice called out from deep inside the room. There were unfamiliar shoes in the entryway. He checked his watch—6:05 p.m. Onodera had mentioned he might not arrive until after 8:00 p.m. because he was taking a train after finishing work in the morning, but it seemed he had managed to finish his work earlier than expected. Kazuya removed his shoes and peered into the noisy living room.

"I’m back," he called out.

Onodera, sitting on the three-seater sofa, raised a hand in greeting. He was still wearing his drab gray suit, probably having come straight from work. Kazuya intentionally avoided looking at Miura, who was sitting in the single armchair across from Onodera.

"It’s been a while. You got here pretty early. Are you hungry?"

Onodera shook his head.

"I arrived just before five. I skipped lunch and hopped on the train, so I was starving when I got here. Miura and I grabbed a bite to eat right after I arrived."

"I see."

Miura got up from the sofa.

"Kazuya, do you want some coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Two cups of coffee were already on the table. Miura must have felt it would be rude not to offer Kazuya one as well. As Kazuya watched Miura disappear into the kitchen, Onodera leaned in closer, seizing the moment when Miura was out of earshot.

"Is it just me, or is there something off about him?" Onodera whispered seriously.

"What do you mean? You’re talking about Miura?"

Onodera frowned.

"He looks pale, seems exhausted, and he was out of breath after just a short walk. There’s definitely something wrong. Even at the restaurant today, he ordered food but hardly touched it, just kept drinking water like he was really thirsty. I asked him if he was okay, but he insisted he was fine. Has he been going to the hospital regularly since he moved here?"

Even if Onodera asked, Kazuya wouldn’t know. He had never inquired about Miura’s health or whether he was seeing a doctor, and Miura hadn’t volunteered any information. Kazuya had deliberately avoided paying attention to such matters, so he hadn’t noticed if Miura was unwell. As Kazuya remained silent, Onodera clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

“When I heard Miura started living with you, I was surprised, but honestly, I was relieved. I thought the tension between you two had finally eased. Please, just keep an eye on him until you get married and move out—it’s only for a little while longer.”

Onodera suddenly fell silent. Miura had returned to the living room, placed the coffee on the table, and collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh. It was only then, after Onodera’s words, that Kazuya realized how sick Miura looked. Had his face always been this pale?

“Are you feeling unwell?” Kazuya asked.

Miura lifted his head and gave a faint, dismissive smile, shaking his head weakly. He rested his chin on his hand and stared blankly at a spot on the wall before suddenly bursting into laughter.

“I’m just... maybe a little tired,” Miura said, his words tinged with lingering laughter as if he found the whole situation amusing.

“Why don’t you rest in your room? If you weren’t feeling well, I could’ve picked up Onodera,” Kazuya suggested.

“It’s nothing new,” Miura replied casually as he reached for a cigarette on the table.

“Hey, you’re seriously going to smoke right now? You told me yourself that the doctor said you should quit!” Onodera said, standing up and snatching the cigarette away from Miura.

“If you keep this up, you’re really going to die young. Seriously...”

Onodera began lecturing him, giving Miura a pat on the shoulder.

“Weren’t you saying something about getting married the other day? Was that a lie?” Onodera asked.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Miura said, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Getting married... Who is?” Kazuya asked, feeling a pang of suspicion as the realization slowly dawned on him. Onodera quickly turned around.

“Who else? Miura, obviously. You’re getting married, and Miura said he might be too. I thought it was great news when he told me on the phone... Wait a minute...”

Seeing Kazuya’s shocked expression and Miura staring off into space, Onodera put his hand to his forehead.

“Wait... Kazuya, did you not know?”

“I hadn’t heard.”

“Miura! You didn’t tell Kazuya?” Onodera exclaimed.

“Well, no,” Miura replied nonchalantly.

Onodera sighed deeply.

“What’s going on with you two? Miura, how could you keep something that important from Kazuya, who’s living right next to you? It’s not like you two are secretive types.”

Miura muttered in a weary voice, “I just wanted to tell someone who’d actually be happy for me first.”

Kazuya felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him.

“I’m going to bed,” Miura said with a faint laugh as he left the room. Onodera looked stunned, while Kazuya, left out of the loop, could only lower his head in embarrassment.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Kazuya decided to let Onodera sleep in his room. He spread out a guest futon on the carpet, covering it with brand-new sheets. As he busied himself making the bed, Onodera sat straddling a chair, silently watching him.

“Miura’s girlfriend is pregnant,” Onodera said suddenly, sitting down on the freshly made bed.

“He told me over the phone that his girlfriend is pregnant, so he’ll probably get married.”

“Is that so,” Kazuya replied.

Onodera scratched his neck awkwardly.

“How much do you know about Miura’s girlfriend?”

“I just had a feeling someone was there. He didn’t tell me anything.”

“You two don’t talk at all, do you? Even though you live together,” Onodera said, his words casual yet cutting.

“He told me she was a university student he met when you two went on that trip together. Apparently, she’s working now.”

Kazuya’s mind drifted back to last summer. If it was the university student they met while camping, it must have been that girl. He vaguely recalled her last name being Kunimoto, but he couldn’t quite remember her face.

“So, he’s getting married because she’s pregnant, huh,” Kazuya muttered, thinking Miura seemed like the epitome of irresponsibility—a man who couldn’t take responsibility for his actions.

“Miura’s always been like that. Even before...”

Onodera trailed off, realizing he had said too much and hurriedly covered his mouth.

“Even before... Was the first marriage also because she got pregnant?” Kazuya asked, watching as Onodera bit his lip.

“Well, yeah...”

Miura had gotten married at twenty-one, which meant his first child would be six or seven years old now, in elementary school. The thought sent a shiver down Kazuya’s spine, imagining Miura’s offspring being the same age as he had been when they first met.

“Kazuya, listen,” Onodera began hesitantly, “I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t think it was necessary... and I don’t think it’s something someone else should say.”

“What are you getting at?”

Onodera scratched his head, looking troubled.

“I think you should hear this directly from Miura, but it doesn’t seem like you two are talking, and it’d be worse if someone else told you first.”

Onodera gave a rueful smile. “Miura’s first child... died. The baby was born with a lung defect. They tried surgery, but it didn’t work, and the baby didn’t survive more than six months. Miura was devastated, started drinking heavily, and stopped working. Eventually, his wife found another man and left him.”

“I see,” Kazuya said flatly, trying to distance himself emotionally. Whatever had happened to Miura wasn’t his fault—it was the result of Miura’s own actions.

“He quit drinking and was trying to get his life back together when he got sick. It’s tragic.”

“I’m starting to get tired,” Kazuya said, not wanting to continue the conversation. He reached for the remote to turn off the lights.

“You’re really cold when it comes to Miura,” Onodera commented.

“I’m turning off the lights now,” Kazuya replied.

The room went dark with a click. The conversation about Miura was over. Kazuya climbed into bed and adjusted himself for sleep.

“Do you know the name of his child?”

“Name...?”

Kazuya frowned, not knowing and wondering why Onodera continued to bring it up when he could clearly see Kazuya’s discomfort.

“It was a boy, so Miura named him after you. He often said himself how the two of you really had no connection.”

“Good night,” Kazuya said curtly.

If only the human mind had a switch that could turn off thoughts just as easily. Even with his eyes closed, the voice of a child he had never met echoed in his mind. A child with the same name as him... Kazuya felt he was in for a night of bad dreams.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Kazuya found himself standing in a dimly lit room, unsure why he was there. In front of him, a woman sat on a bench, crying uncontrollably. It was close to midnight. There were four shadows in the hospital waiting room—the crying woman, the man comforting her, and two men standing over them, watching in stunned silence. Onodera, still in his black suit and white tie from the wedding, scratched his neck as he addressed the woman.

“Miss Kunimoto, right? We’re still not entirely clear on the situation. Could you please explain it to us again?”

“I’ve told you already,” the woman sobbed.

It wasn’t Kunimoto, who was sobbing uncontrollably, who answered. It was the man sitting next to her, holding her protectively, like a knight shielding his princess from harm. Kazuya recognized the man—his name was Saito, one of the university students they had met during the camping trip last summer. He remembered thinking Saito looked rather nervous and uptight, always wearing glasses. Now, Saito's eyes were sharp and predatory, and he spoke with an aggressive edge.

"When I stopped by her apartment for a visit, I found him assaulting her. He was grabbing her hair, slapping her face... So, I stepped in to stop him. I only punched him in the stomach once, but he collapsed dramatically and didn’t move, so I had no choice but to call an ambulance."

"We've already heard that part," Onodera said, pressing his right hand against his forehead. "What I want to know is what led to the fight. Sure, he’s quick to use his fists, but I don’t think he would attack someone without a reason."

Saito glared at Onodera, his arm still around Kunimoto’s shoulders. "You expect her to talk about it when she’s in this state? She’s terrified and shaking. Have some consideration."

Ignoring Saito, Onodera knelt down to Kunimoto’s level and spoke gently. "It would be best to hear it from the person who hit you, but the nurse told me he’s finally asleep after they gave him some medication."

His kind tone seemed to reach Kunimoto, Miura’s girlfriend, who raised her tear-streaked face. Her delicate features were marred by a swollen, red right cheek.

"Can you tell us what caused the fight?" Onodera asked.

Kunimoto covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head in refusal.

"Excuse me, is there a family member of Keiichi Miura here?" a young nurse called from the entrance to the waiting room. Saito frowned and muttered, "Keiichi Miura? Isn’t his name Sugimoto?"

"The doctor would like to speak with you," the nurse said.

Onodera and Kazuya exchanged glances before deciding to go together to meet the doctor. Inside the narrow examination room labeled "Internal Medicine," a doctor who appeared to be in his mid-thirties was peering at a computer monitor, his head tilted to one side. When he noticed them entering, he offered them seats.

"I understand he was brought in after being punched in the abdomen during a fight, but you don’t need to worry about that. There are no external injuries, and the ultrasound didn’t show any signs of internal bleeding. The real concern is his kidneys. He’s aware of his condition, right?"

The doctor emphasized the last point, as if seeking confirmation.

"We ran some tests, and his urine showed elevated protein levels. He’s also suffering from severe edema, or swelling, and his kidney function is declining. Has he mentioned a loss of appetite or feeling fatigued lately?"

"A little… yes, maybe," Kazuya responded, his voice growing quieter as he spoke.

"If he’s been following a proper diet and taking his medication, but his condition is still worsening, we may need to consider a different treatment plan. However, if he’s not managing his condition properly, then he needs to be educated about the importance of daily discipline. This illness requires a strict, regular lifestyle. If he’s not committed to his recovery, then worsening symptoms are his own fault."

"Is it really that serious?" Onodera asked cautiously. The doctor sighed softly.

"Well... he’s young, so with two or three weeks of hospitalization and treatment, his condition should stabilize, and he’ll be able to recover at home."

They left the examination room in silence. Once outside, Onodera ruffled his carefully styled hair in frustration.

"Why would he let it get this bad? He must have known something was wrong," Onodera muttered.

"I don’t understand Miura’s thinking," Kazuya replied flatly.

Onodera repeatedly snapped his fingers in a nervous habit. "Sometimes you won’t understand something unless you try to."

Why did Onodera have to blame him for not understanding Miura? Frustrated, Kazuya clenched his teeth and walked beside Onodera without saying a word. When they returned to the waiting room, it was empty. Onodera ran down the hallway in a panic, and Kazuya followed close behind. They found Saito at the main entrance, with his arm around Kunimoto’s shoulders. Onodera rushed over and grabbed Kunimoto by the arm.

"You haven’t finished telling us what happened," Onodera insisted.

Saito pulled Kunimoto away from Onodera. "Please, let her go home for now," Saito pleaded.

Kunimoto gently pushed Saito’s arm away, wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, and raised her head.

"I lied to him," she said, her voice echoing in the dim, silent staircase. "He was always so cold, barely acknowledging me, never listening to what I had to say. So, I lied and told him I was pregnant, just to mess with him. But instead of getting mad, he was thrilled, so much that it scared me. He started talking about getting married...”

Her voice trembled as she continued. “Then he changed. He became so kind, and I was happy. I thought maybe it would be nice if I really did get pregnant, but when I tried, he refused, saying it wasn’t good for the baby during the early stages... Eventually, the lies became too much to bear, so I confessed everything. I told him it was all a lie and that I was sorry. That’s when he got furious and asked if I was mocking him.”

Kunimoto hadn’t known. If she had, she never would have joked about something like that to Miura. Onodera shook his head in disbelief, his expression saying it was the worst-case scenario.

"It was wrong of me to lie, I know that. I deserved to be scolded. But did I really do something so terrible that I deserved to be beaten like that?" she cried out, her voice filled with anguish.

In that moment, Kazuya realized that Miura hadn’t shared anything important with her, not even the most crucial things.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

During Miura’s hospitalization, Kazuya frequently visited him. Not because he wanted to, but because he felt obligated—Onodera, who had become aware of the strained relationship between Kazuya and Miura, called every other day to ask about Miura’s condition, so Kazuya couldn’t ignore it.

Kunimoto also visited a few times, but Miura refused to see her, saying he didn’t even want to look at her. Kazuya assumed Kunimoto didn’t press charges because she wanted to reconcile, but Miura ignored her whenever she tried to speak to him. His clear, unmistakable rejection made her visits less frequent, until eventually, she stopped coming altogether.

After school, visiting the hospital became part of Kazuya’s routine. Miura rarely spoke during Kazuya’s visits, and the heavy atmosphere made it impossible for Kazuya to stay long. He would leave after about ten minutes, always watching the clock.

One day, while at school, Kazuya’s fiancée stopped him in the hallway. "You’ve been leaving quickly lately. Is something wrong?" she asked. When he admitted that his roommate was in the hospital, she immediately asked, "Can I visit him?"

"You don’t have to trouble yourself," Kazuya replied. He had deliberately kept silent about Miura’s condition because he didn’t want her to meet him. It would have felt insensitive to bring her, with her happiness, to visit someone currently mired in misery. Besides, Kazuya didn’t know how Miura truly felt about his fiancée. The complexity of his emotions was something his fiancée couldn’t understand, and eventually, she insisted on visiting the hospital. It was now the fourth week of Miura’s hospitalization, and the wedding was less than a month away.

Kazuya hadn't informed Miura in advance that he was bringing her. He had a feeling Miura would tell him not to. So, Kazuya left her waiting outside the door and entered the hospital room alone. As usual, Miura was reading a book in bed, but he looked up when he heard footsteps. Thanks to the treatment and a strict regimen, his complexion had improved considerably over the past few weeks. However, his legs were still swollen, and he mentioned that walking made him tired.

"I’ve brought someone who wants to visit you today," Kazuya said.

Miura looked puzzled. "Who?"

Without waiting for Miura's approval, Kazuya invited her into the room. "It’s my fiancée, Morimoto Atsuko."

When she peeked in through the doorway, Miura was visibly surprised and glared at Kazuya for a moment.

"Hello, nice to meet you, Miura-san. I’m Morimoto. We spoke once on the phone, remember?" she said, walking up to Miura and handing him a bouquet of flowers. It was a bunch of light pink tulips she had chosen herself before coming. Miura accepted the flowers with a resigned expression and placed them on his lap.

"Thanks. But there’s no vase here," he said.

"I’m sorry. That makes a bouquet a bit troublesome, doesn’t it? I’ll go buy one," she said, and before Kazuya could stop her, she was out the door. Miura tossed the flowers onto the bedside table with a careless flick of his wrist.

"She looks older than she is," Miura muttered, tilting his head. "I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere before."

"Maybe you have. She lives nearby," Kazuya replied.

Miura placed the book he had been reading on the pillow next to him. "By the way, the wedding is next month, right? Have you decided where you’re going to live?"

That was a question Kazuya hadn’t wanted to answer. "Whereabouts?" Miura pressed.

"I’ll be moving to Komuro," Kazuya said reluctantly.

"That’s pretty far," Miura remarked.

Kazuya had deliberately chosen a location far from Miura's apartment, hoping the distance would reduce the likelihood of ongoing interactions between them. Just then, she returned with a vase in hand. It was a transparent cylindrical vase already filled with water. She unwrapped the flowers and arranged them in the vase. The spot where the flowers were placed brightened up instantly, but the sweet-colored flowers seemed out of place next to Miura.

"I wasn’t sure if flowers were the right thing for a man," she said, explaining her choice, as food wasn't a suitable gift.

"They're pretty. They brighten up the room. Thanks for going out to get the vase," Miura said, smiling. She smiled back, encouraged by his reaction.

"You’ve known Kazuya since elementary school, right?" she asked.

Miura gave a perfunctory smile. "Yeah, he was the smart one, always helping me with my studies. When I heard he became a teacher, I thought, ‘Of course, he did.’ He was always good at teaching others."

Even as Miura responded politely, he continued to observe her from head to toe. Suddenly, his smile froze.

"Kazuya, could you go to the hospital shop and get me a book by this author?" Miura asked, holding out the book he had been reading. It was a bestselling paperback mystery by a foreign author.

"Anything by this author will do. If they don’t have it, could you check the bookstore nearby?" Miura added.

Though it felt a bit inconvenient, Kazuya agreed. "Sure, I’ll be right back."

As he was leaving, she turned to him with concern. "You don’t have to hurry back. I’ll stay here."

Kazuya quickly left the room. His plan was simple: buy the book, give it to Miura, and let him occupy himself with it. The hospital shop didn’t have any books by that author, so Kazuya went across the street to a bookstore, where he found a single copy. It took less than ten minutes, but when he returned to the room, she was sitting across from Miura, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

Seeing her cry like that for the first time made Kazuya's mind heat up with anger. "What did you do to her?" he demanded harshly, turning on Miura. She quickly shook her head, trying to dismiss his accusation.

"Wait, Miura-san didn’t do anything wrong," she said, her voice trembling as Miura shrugged with a faint smile still lingering on his lips.

"See? She says I didn’t do anything," Miura replied coolly.

"You must have said something. Why do you always—" Kazuya started, but she interrupted, still struggling to find her words.

"No, it’s me... I...," she stammered.

Miura sighed and scratched his forehead. "Maybe she’s just a bit emotionally unstable before the wedding. Women are delicate, so you need to be careful with them, especially since you can be pretty insensitive."

Kazuya bristled at being called insensitive by Miura of all people. Miura seemed to notice and smiled in amusement.

"You should take her home. Thanks for visiting today, Morimoto-san," Miura said, dismissing them.

Kazuya helped her up, supporting her as they left. She remained silent the entire drive home.

"What did Miura say to you?" Kazuya asked repeatedly, but she only shook her head. Given how much she had cried, he couldn’t believe nothing had happened. Anger toward Miura simmered in Kazuya’s chest, and after that day, he stopped visiting Miura. Miura didn’t contact him either, and Kazuya told Onodera he had caught a cold to avoid the visits. A week later, when the cold excuse wore thin, Kazuya finally visited Miura again, but he wasn’t in the room—he had gone for some tests.

On the bedside table, the once-vibrant tulips had wilted and drooped. They should have been thrown away long ago. Seeing them like that only darkened Kazuya's mood. He threw the dead flowers into the trash and, intending to put the empty vase away, opened the bedside table’s cabinet. Inside, he found several paperback books stacked up. The book he had bought for Miura last time was there—two copies of the same title. Miura had made him buy a book he already owned, just to get him out of the room and leave her alone. Miura had likely intended to insult her and wound her emotionally while Kazuya was gone. That was the only conclusion Kazuya could come to, and with that realization, the anger he had tried to suppress began to resurface. He no longer felt like seeing Miura and quickly left the room. On his way out, he angrily tossed the paperback he had bought, still in its bookstore bag, into the trash bin by the elevator.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Miura was discharged from the hospital a week before the wedding. By the time he returned to the apartment, Kazuya had already moved all his belongings to the new place, leaving only Miura’s possessions behind. Kazuya picked Miura up from the hospital and drove him back to the apartment. Stepping into the apartment for the first time in a while, Kazuya noticed the stale, stagnant smell in the air. Even though Miura’s room was now empty and Kazuya was leaving for his new home that night, Miura didn’t say a word.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

About thirty minutes before the ceremony was set to begin, the groom, having finished dressing, stepped out into the hallway to escape the small talk among family and relatives in the waiting room. At the end of the corridor, he saw Miura and Onodera. Miura was leaning against the wall, while Onodera sat on a bench, glancing at a small piece of paper in his hand and muttering to himself.

“Thanks for coming today, both of you,” Kazuya said as he approached them. Onodera grimaced slightly.

“I’m so nervous, man. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been to the bathroom,” Onodera admitted with a tense laugh.

“He’s sweating buckets, and the ceremony hasn’t even started yet,” Miura added, smiling. The black Mandarin-collared suit Miura wore, a memento from his father, suited his slim frame well.

"I never thought the role of the best man would be this much pressure. I wish Miura could take over for me," Onodera said, exhaling deeply.

"I wouldn't want that either," Miura replied, sticking out his tongue playfully. Onodera sighed again. Kazuya had been concerned about asking Onodera to be the best man instead of Miura, but Miura didn't seem bothered at all.

"Well, I’ll see you later. Onodera, I'm counting on you," Kazuya said, before heading to the bride's waiting room.

"Excuse me, it's Sugimoto," Kazuya announced as he knocked on the door. The door opened, and the bride’s mother, a petite woman, smiled warmly when she saw the groom.

"Atsuko, are you ready? I couldn’t wait any longer…" Kazuya said as he peeked inside. Atsuko was sitting in a chair with her back to the door. Her younger sister, who was about the same age as Kazuya, waved him in with a big gesture.

"Come in! My sister looks beautiful," she said.

Atsuko turned around, and she was indeed stunning, like a doll. The tight-fitting white wedding dress suited her perfectly. Kazuya could hardly believe that this beautiful woman was about to become his wife.

"You look amazing," Kazuya muttered, unable to hold back the genuine admiration in his voice. Atsuko blushed deeply.

"Stop it, you’re making me really embarrassed," she said.

"No, really, I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you," Kazuya insisted.

"Stop it," she repeated, turning even redder as her sister and mother quietly left the room, leaving the two of them alone. The intimacy of the moment made Kazuya feel a bit shy.

"I’m sorry if I interrupted your family time," Kazuya said.

"It’s fine, don’t worry about it," she replied.

Kazuya touched her hand, admiring her glossy lips and perfectly curved eyelashes. "I want to kiss you, but I guess now’s not the time," he said.

She giggled and closed her eyes. "It’s okay," she whispered. Just as their lips were about to meet, the door banged open. Startled, they quickly stepped away from each other. Atsuko’s face froze in a grimace as she looked at the doorway. Standing there was Minekura, one of Kazuya’s problem students. He entered the room boldly, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans—hardly appropriate attire for attending a wedding.

"Are you two related or something?" Kazuya asked, but there was no reply. Minekura suddenly bowed deeply toward them.

"I’ve come to apologize to you, Teacher," Minekura said.

"To me?" Kazuya asked, confused. If Minekura wanted to apologize for causing trouble, now wasn’t the time. Kazuya thought it was inappropriate, but he couldn’t ignore a student finally opening up to him, especially after being so distant.

"It’s normal to worry about your future, so don’t worry about it," Kazuya reassured him.

Minekura, however, continued with a strange request. "I have a favor to ask you, Teacher."

"What is it?" Kazuya asked, glancing at the clock as time was running out before the ceremony.

"Please give up on teacher Morimoto," Minekura said. He then approached Atsuko and abruptly tore off her wedding veil.

"What are you doing?!" Kazuya shouted as he rushed forward, but Minekura roughly shoved him aside. Kazuya lost his balance, grabbed onto a chair, but couldn’t stop himself from falling backward.

"You should have waited," Minekura muttered in a low voice.

"No!" Atsuko cried, stepping back. Her dress snagged, and the sound of fabric tearing filled the room. Kazuya could neither stand up nor comprehend the situation unfolding before him.

"We never made any promises. Go away. I’m getting married, I’ve already decided," Atsuko said, her voice trembling. Kazuya struggled to his feet, pushing the high school student aside and shielding her with his body.

"You need to leave now," Kazuya commanded. No matter what had happened, he couldn’t let Minekura take her away.

"There's no way I would seriously be involved with a high school student!" Atsuko shouted from behind him. Her words caused the large teenager to lunge forward, shoving Kazuya to the floor. The shield meant to protect Atsuko was thrown down in a humiliating defeat. Minekura slapped Atsuko across the face, hard.

"Do you think I can’t tell whether you’re serious or not?" he growled.

Atsuko began to cry as Minekura held her tightly. "No, let me go! I hate you, I hate you!" she sobbed, her carefully applied makeup smudging beyond recognition.

"It’s impossible, absolutely impossible. We’re a decade apart in age. And besides, I’m a teacher…" Atsuko said through her tears. Minekura pressed his shirt against her tear-stained face.

"Let’s go," he said, pulling her by the hand. Atsuko stumbled as she was dragged along.

"W-Where…?" she asked, her eyes meeting Kazuya's. Guilt was evident in her gaze before she turned it back to Minekura.

"Somewhere," Minekura replied, leading her away. Kazuya, the hapless groom who couldn’t stop his bride from being taken, could only stare blankly at the door they had exited through.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Without the bride, there was no way the wedding could proceed. When people asked where she was, Kazuya couldn’t bring himself to say she had run off with a high school student. He could only respond with, "She disappeared suddenly." In the end, they made the guests wait for over an hour before the wedding planner informed Kazuya that the ceremony couldn’t be delayed any longer, and the wedding was canceled. The official excuse given was that the bride was unwell, and the guests were sent home.

In the reception room, the families of both the bride and groom sat in silence, puzzled by Atsuko's disappearance. There were tense discussions about whether it was an abduction and whether the police should be called. However, these agonizing moments ended when a single phone call from Atsuko brought clarity. All she could say was "I’m sorry," and the blame shifted onto her. Her parents repeatedly apologized to the groom.

After sending his family and relatives home, Kazuya changed out of his now useless wedding tuxedo and left the venue alone. He had planned to stay at the hotel where the wedding was held and leave for his honeymoon the next day. He had taken a week off for the trip, but now it would need to be canceled. Or maybe… maybe she would come back. The desperate hope grew in his mind. He needed to return to the new home they were supposed to share as quickly as possible. Perhaps she would come to her senses, reach out, and they could start over.

"Kazuya."

He was so lost in thoughts of her that he didn’t notice Miura standing on the sidewalk just outside the venue. Miura had his jacket slung over one shoulder and was smoking a cigarette. He crushed the cigarette under his foot and slowly approached.

"Onodera left. He said he has work tomorrow," Miura said.

"Yeah, I see," Kazuya responded. He didn’t want to think about anything else, but he had to respond. Why is he stopping me now? Kazuya thought, growing irritated.

"It’s a shame the wedding was canceled," Miura said, feigning sympathy.

"Yeah, but it couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t feeling well," Kazuya replied, trying to maintain the pretense. He couldn’t let anyone know that his bride had run off with a student.

"I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing. Take care on your way home," Kazuya said, bowing slightly before trying to walk past.

"I saw your woman and that young guy leaving through the back stairs. Running off together, huh? Guess she was more serious than you thought... or maybe she’s not yours anymore," Miura called out, his words cutting into Kazuya like a knife. His legs froze. Slowly, Kazuya turned to face him.

A crazy thought crossed his mind—that Miura had somehow orchestrated the whole thing, pushing Minekura to steal her away. But that was absurd. Miura couldn’t possibly know Minekura. Yet, Miura's face, slightly downcast, seemed to be smirking. Kazuya stormed up to him, forgetting they were in public, and slapped Miura hard across the face. A passerby glanced back in shock as Miura, his face stinging red, rubbed his cheek with his right hand.

"I saw her a few times before you brought her to see me," Miura said.

Kazuya felt his blood run cold.

"At a love hotel. I remembered because she was with some young guy with a shaved head. They looked like an odd pair."

"Why didn’t you..." Kazuya started to ask, but Miura cut him off.

"When you brought her to visit, I asked her about it while I had you out buying a book. Told her I’d seen her with a young guy at a hotel. She started crying, begged me not to tell you. She said she’d chosen you and cut ties with him, so I figured it’d only confuse things if I brought it up."

"How considerate... keeping quiet like that."

Miura laid out the truth Kazuya had been blind to, like a painful exhibit. He could feel Miura pitying him, mocking him as the fool who knew nothing. Paranoia crept over him. Miura, in his leisurely manner, took out a cigarette.

"Who would’ve thought she’d run off with him at the last minute? Poor you," Miura added, his words dripping with false sympathy.

Kazuya couldn’t stand the pity coming from someone like Miura. He yelled back, "Don’t patronize me!"

"I’m not. I genuinely think it’s sad," Miura replied calmly.

"Just shut up. Don’t say another word. Everything you say just makes me angrier. Yeah, she ran away with him, and I’m sure you’re enjoying every second of it. Get out of here!"

His pride, already shattered by the realization that his fiancée had loved a high schooler more than him, was now being further ground down as Miura rubbed salt into the wound.

"If Onodera had told you the same thing instead of me, you’d probably take it to heart. You wouldn’t think he was mocking you or being sarcastic. It’s only because it’s me that you’re so mad," Miura said, narrowing his eyes as he peered at Kazuya’s face.

"Neither of us has grown up at all, have we? We keep doing the same stupid things over and over. No sense of empathy, just like kids."

Night had fallen, and the two men, standing in the middle of the street, drew annoyed looks from the people hurrying home.

"If I’d just disappeared without saying anything, it would’ve been the smart move. But I’m still a stupid kid, so I’ll say it anyway," Miura continued, flashing a grin as he gripped Kazuya’s trembling shoulder.

"Serves you right."

Kazuya punched Miura hard, sending him crashing to the ground. Miura laughed—a hollow, bitter laugh. Then he stood up, turned his back on Kazuya, and vanished into the night.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Kazuya spent the entire week of his wedding leave holed up in the apartment he was supposed to share with her. The new furniture, dishes, and appliances, all still wrapped up, were a constant reminder of the life that should have started there, casting a shadow over his mood. He couldn’t bring himself to leave the apartment, holding onto the faint hope that she might reconsider and come back. What if she came back and he wasn’t there? She’d have nowhere to turn. After all, he was just a teenager—things were bound to go wrong.

He hated Minekura, the cocky high schooler who had taken her away so easily. Minekura had disliked his teacher simply because he was her man—nothing more. Kazuya hated Minekura, but oddly, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her. Pathetically, he still wished she would come back. If she did, he was ready to forgive everything unconditionally and hold her in his arms.

A week passed with no word from her, and on the eighth day, Kazuya went back to the high school. The story of her running off with a student had spread among the staff, despite efforts to keep it quiet. Rumors had reached the students, too. Officially, she had resigned due to illness, but no one believed it. The brunt of the criticism fell on her. Once seen as plain and reserved, she was now branded as a shameless woman who had seduced a student. Kazuya was left as both a tragic figure and a pitiful man.

The looks and whispers of sympathy, pity, and mockery followed him everywhere. People avoided mentioning her in front of him, but behind his back, they were merciless.

"Imagine losing her to a high school kid," a colleague muttered, unaware that Kazuya was right behind them.

"Hey, Teach, you should’ve held onto her tighter," one of the boys said, half-joking, slapping him on the shoulder. As if Kazuya could have done anything—he hadn’t even known about the other man until it was too late.

Two months passed in a fog of depression. By mid-August, as summer was winding down, rumors surfaced that Minekura had been spotted. He was said to be working at a restaurant in a small town in the northeast. Minekura’s parents tracked him down, but by the time they arrived, he had already quit his job. The apartment he had shared with her was empty, completely abandoned. Neighbors said they’d seemed like a happy, if unusual, couple.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Even in September, Kazuya still lived alone in the apartment that was supposed to be their home. He no longer held out hope that she might come back. Even if Minekura’s parents found him and dragged him home, she would never return here. Kazuya considered selling the new, unused furniture and moving to a smaller place. The rent was too high for one person anyway. Three months after she’d left him, Kazuya was finally beginning to see reality.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The phone ringing in the middle of the night felt almost like an assault. Kazuya frowned as he groped for the phone on the bedside table, pulling it into the warmth of the sheets.

"Hello, Sugimoto here..." he answered, his voice groggy and rough with sleep.

"Kazuya, is that you?" came an urgent voice.

"...Onodera? What’s going on? Why are you calling so late?"

Kazuya fumbled for the remote to turn on the light. The bright glare made him squint, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw the clock reading 3 a.m. on September 12th.

"It’s an emergency, a really big one... Can you come back here right now?"

"What are you talking about? It’s the middle of the night. Calm down and explain it slowly."

There was a lot of noise in the background, making it hard for Kazuya to hear Onodera clearly. The clamor of voices and sounds drowned out Onodera’s words.

"There's a fire right now..."

"A fire? Where's the fire?"

"It’s already out... but..."

Onodera’s voice was shaky, stumbling over his words. The urgency of the situation wasn’t coming across, and Kazuya, frustrated, pressed for answers.

"Where was the fire? Was it your house? Is your family okay?"

"It wasn’t my house."

"Then where was it?"

"It seems Miura... he might be dead."

Onodera’s trembling voice delivered the news.

"There was a fire at an apartment... Miura came back to town, but he didn’t have anywhere to stay, so he rented an apartment. That place caught fire... The flames were just put out, but the whole building was destroyed..."

Kazuya could hear a piercing cry in the background. He didn’t even bother asking if it was true.

He hadn’t seen Miura in a while, not at the apartment or anywhere else. He hadn’t needed to, after all. He hadn’t even known that Miura had returned to the countryside. So Miura had gone back, and now he’d died in a fire. It felt as distant as if he were hearing about a friend’s distant relative—nothing more.

"...When’s the funeral?"

"They haven’t confirmed he’s dead yet!" Onodera’s voice suddenly rose in a shout.

"Oh, sorry... for yelling," he quickly added.

"They found a body in the burned apartment... It’s too charred to identify. They’re matching the number of survivors and the dead, and it seems like that body might be Miura... They brought me to the charred body since I said I was his friend, and they asked me to confirm if it was him."

Kazuya wondered if Miura’s body had turned as black as charcoal.

"I looked... but I couldn’t tell. You can’t even distinguish if it was a man or a woman. Miura’s relatives came, but they hadn’t seen him since he was a kid, so they couldn’t say either... But you were with him for so long, you might recognize something, maybe not his face, but some other feature. So please, come over here. It’s Saturday, and you don’t have work, right?"

"No. And do you even know what time it is? You called me in the middle of the night for this?"

"This? You’re calling it 'this'?"

Kazuya was wide awake now, and the equation in his head, "Miura is dead," had already been solved.

"Even if I left now, I wouldn’t get there until the afternoon. And why should I go back to see Miura’s body? If you can’t identify him, I doubt I can."

His voice was cold and detached, out of place for the situation. Onodera fell silent. A long, heavy silence.

"I’m at the hospital... If you can confirm it’s him, fine, but if not, they’ll send him for an autopsy. He died horribly, and now he’ll be cut up... It’s pitiful."

Onodera’s voice was low and resigned.

"It can’t be helped."

"I never thought you could be so cold," Onodera whispered before abruptly hanging up. Kazuya sighed as he put the phone down. Cold? Maybe, but he couldn’t lie anymore. He crawled back under the covers. Miura was gone. Gone, gone, gone... The thought kept spinning in his head. Miura would never come around again, never bother him again. He wasn’t here now, and he wouldn’t be here tomorrow. Miura’s death wouldn’t change anything in Kazuya’s life. Nothing would be different.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

"Kazuya."

The voice came from the shadows as he walked through the rain. It was already getting dark, even though it was only just past five, the sky overcast with gray clouds that had been hanging there since noon. He’d brought an umbrella, trusting the weather forecast, and now, stepping out of the school gate, he heard his name.

"Long time no see."

The voice came from beneath a black umbrella, tilted low, revealing only the speaker’s mouth. A ghost who had supposedly died two weeks ago slowly approached, and as he came closer, Kazuya could see his face. A smile curled on the man’s lips, the ghost’s lips, as he watched Kazuya with an amused expression.

"It was boring out there," the ghost chuckled.

"Onodera offered to help me find a job, but... he’s a good guy. Why do you look so shocked?"

"Goodbye, Mr. Sugimoto," a female student said as she passed by, puzzled by Kazuya’s silence when he didn’t respond. She glanced at him curiously, then walked away.

"Did you think I was dead?"

The ghostly man grinned as he asked the question, as if enjoying the disbelief on Kazuya’s face. He was supposed to be dead, a man who should no longer be able to come near. Was this a trick of the mind, or could only Kazuya see him?

"Would it have been better if I were?"

Rain pattered down, splashing on the ground and soaking their feet. Both of them stood there, drenched.

"Onodera... he told me to stop seeing you. Said I should stop being with you... He said you’re cold-hearted, that I’d only suffer if I stayed with you. I already knew that, though."

Miura repeated the words as if convincing himself.

"What did you say to Onodera? He was furious, saying he never thought you were like that," Miura mused, and then, as if remembering something, he let out a small laugh.

"I was shocked by the fire too. Came back in the morning to find the apartment burned to the ground. Just a few blackened beams left. I was standing there like an idiot when Onodera came running, yelling and crying, 'Thank God you’re okay!'"

"Mr. Sugimoto?"

Another voice interrupted, this time from a colleague, a math teacher.

"What are you doing out here? Oh, you’re with a friend? See you tomorrow, then."

Everyone passed by, not noticing anything unusual. Miura glanced briefly at the math teacher’s back.

"My bankbook, my seal, everything got burned up in that fire. I’m broke until I can get new documents issued. I lost my apartment keys too. I had to borrow money from Onodera just to come here. He didn’t want to lend it when I told him I was coming to see you, but I only borrowed enough for a one-way trip. I can’t even afford to get back."

Water seeped into Kazuya’s shoes, cold and heavy, sticking to his skin like a leech.

"You should’ve just died," a voice echoed in his head. Miura laughed. He laughed as he grabbed Kazuya’s umbrella and threw it against the school fence. The rain poured down on him, soaking his hair, dripping down his neck, and clinging to his clothes. Miura offered his black umbrella, but Kazuya was already drenched, beyond caring.

"I’ll die someday. Definitely before you. But I’m not hurt by your words anymore. No matter what you do, no matter what you say, I’m fine with it."

Miura grabbed Kazuya’s arm.

"Understand? I don’t care how you feel about me anymore. Your feelings don’t matter to me now."

The final words sounded as if Miura was trying to convince himself. The heavy rain chilled them to the bone, making them shiver. Miura grimaced and let out a small sneeze.

"It’s cold, isn’t it? You too, right? Let’s go back to your place. We’ll catch a cold if we don’t get changed."

Miura nudged Kazuya’s shoulder, urging him to walk. Kazuya started moving slowly, Miura sticking close to his side. He was back. Miura was back. The invisible chains wrapped around Kazuya’s wrists and ankles clinked with a heavy, burdensome sound that he could almost hear.

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