Deep Breath: Chapter 2 - Part 1

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The sky was a dull, oppressive gray all day, as if setting the stage for the arrival of a villain.

"The bad weather just keeps coming," he muttered to himself, though a man with a thick, working-class accent responded, "It’s always like this in winter." The blond man, who claimed to be of Irish descent, lay sprawled on the bed, propped up on one elbow. His light blue eyes crinkled as he gave a friendly smile, saying, "Let’s meet again."

"If the opportunity arises," Yoshihisa Haruno replied dismissively, slipping his arms into his cashmere coat. He’d seen the man a few times at the club, but this was the first time they had slept together. Although they weren’t incompatible, Haruno had been irritated by how much the man talked during sex. …He wasn’t into noisy men, whether it was sweet talk or anything else. He just wanted them to be quiet and move as he wished.

Deciding he had had enough of the man’s dawdling, Haruno left the hotel first. As he walked down the street, a shiver ran through him. The room hadn’t been particularly warm, but it was even colder outside. His breath fogged up his glasses slightly. Although it was November—early winter in Japan—the cold in London was incomparable. His footsteps quickened instinctively as he walked on the dark cobblestones.

When he descended into the subway station, the train arrived almost immediately. There were plenty of empty seats, but he didn’t feel like sitting, fearing the jolt it might give his body. As he brooded over the weariness that clung to him, he pondered the stark difference between how he felt before and after sex. Beforehand, he would feel a mix of anticipation and desire for his partner, but as soon as it was over, the body lying next to him became an annoyance. He always wondered why he had been so excited in the first place.

Perhaps to him, a stranger was nothing more than a substitute for a vibrator.

While mulling over these trivial thoughts, he arrived at the nearest station. Few people were getting off, and even on the surface, there were only a handful of people around.

In the darkness and cold, a small light spilled out from a pub with a reddish-brown sign. It was close to the flat where Haruno lived, and he had eaten there once. However, even though he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about food, the meal had been so terrible that he had sworn never to return. The mashed potatoes, in particular, were the worst—tasteless and gritty like sand, he had given up after just one bite.

At the flat’s entrance, Haruno opened the mailbox. He froze for a moment when he saw the red and blue airmail pattern. Immediately, he grabbed it and checked the sender. It was Kenji Yachi’s name, written in the familiar handwriting. A smile slowly spread across his face. He turned the thin airmail over and over in his hands, regretting that he hadn’t just gone home right away instead of wasting time.

He entered his room and headed straight to the bedroom, tossing his briefcase onto the bed. Carefully, he opened the airmail with a paper knife.

The thin letter inside contained the usual content—comments about the weather, news about the cat, and the books Yachi had been reading. As Haruno’s eyes followed the lines of Yachi’s handwriting, he could almost smell the tatami mats of Yachi’s old Japanese house and picture the garden visible from the living room.

Although Yachi wrote about his work and expressed concern for Haruno’s health, there were no sweet, affectionate words. Haruno knew that while he had romantic feelings for Yachi, the sentiment wasn’t mutual.

Even though he wasn’t being loved in a romantic sense, Haruno couldn’t sever his connection to Yachi, not even after moving abroad. He remained fixated on someone who likely brought him no tangible benefit.

The letter ended with, "I’ve decided to travel to London." Haruno brought his right hand to his mouth and reread that sentence at least seven times. He placed the letter on the desk to calm himself down. But unable to resist, he picked it up again after only removing his coat.

There was no mention of when Yachi would be arriving. Feeling restless, Haruno retrieved his cell phone from his discarded briefcase and pressed the call button. It was 10:30 PM on his end, so with the nine-hour time difference, it would be 7:30 AM in Japan. Yachi had mentioned in a previous letter that he had switched to a day shift at the bento shop, so Haruno hoped he might catch him before work.

But the phone rang with no answer. Yachi’s landline didn’t have voicemail, so Haruno couldn’t leave a message. With a sigh, he hung up.

Yachi didn’t own a computer or even a cell phone. Their only means of communication were international calls or airmail, as if time had stopped twenty years ago.

He wondered why Yachi had decided to visit London now of all times—cold, gloomy, with no flowers blooming—not the best season for tourism.

"I’ve invited him to London a few times in my letters, and I did want to see him, but I never insisted."

…No, thinking that Yachi was coming to England because of his invitation was probably just arrogance.

"I’ve decided to travel to London."

Haruno couldn’t focus on anything after reading those words, written as if Yachi had decided on a whim. Would Yachi let him know once the travel dates were set? Would it be mentioned in the next letter?

He realized it was already past midnight as he continued to think about Yachi. Eventually, he headed to the bathroom to wash away the aftermath of the night. He sank into the shallowly filled clawfoot bathtub. …Would Yachi agree to meet him when he came? Even if it was a package tour, there might be some time at night. Would he join him for a meal at least once?

…He splashed cold water on his face, but there wasn’t the slightest sign of his excitement calming down.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Even in bed, with his eyes closed, Haruno couldn’t stop thinking about Yachi. Unable to help himself, he decided to write the reply he had planned to do the next day. Ever since he started writing airmails weekly, he had begun paying more attention to his surroundings—the color of the street trees’ leaves, the types of vegetables displayed at the market stalls. Yachi had once written back saying, "When I read your letters, it feels like I’m walking through the streets of London," which had made Haruno happy.

He took his time, filling two sheets of paper with words. Not wanting to seem overly eager, he added at the end, "When do you think you’ll come to the UK?"

By the time he finished the airmail, it was past 4 AM. He tried to sleep again but only managed to rest for about two hours.

Even though he thought he was holding it together, he must have been more distracted than he realized. For the first time since moving to England, he missed his subway stop and had to walk back.

It had been six months since Haruno was headhunted by Sekudir, a rare metal import company, and started living in London. Their twelve-story office building was modern, surrounded by similar buildings, making it indistinguishable from an office district in New York.

Despite being a foreign company, the Japanese branch had been heavily customized to fit the local culture, adhering to the principle "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." While diligence and sincerity weren’t bad traits, they felt stifling, as if trapped in a square on a Go board. In that regard, Sekudir offered far more freedom, which suited Haruno much better.

When the work wrapped up, it was already noon. Haruno lightly pushed up the bridge of his glasses and called out to Sherry, the secretary sitting diagonally across from him.

"Any word from Imran?"

Sherry slowly shook her head, her loosely tied blonde hair swaying from side to side. She shrugged as if to say, "Who knows?" Her indifferent tone and the mocking glint in her green eyes were unmistakable. Despite her title as secretary, she often forgot to relay messages or made mistakes. Once, due to one of her errors, a major order almost fell through, and after Haruno reprimanded her harshly, her attitude had changed, becoming more aloof. It seemed she hadn’t liked having a Japanese boss from the start.

Haruno had decided that it was only a matter of time before she would be fired. He stood up, grabbing his laptop and cell phone.

"I’m going out for lunch."

Sherry glanced sideways at him with a look that said, "Suit yourself." Everything about her demeanor irritated him.

Stepping outside the office building, a dusty, cold wind whipped across his face. After walking for about five minutes on a poorly paved sidewalk that showed no signs of being repaired anytime soon, he turned into a backstreet where a row of old stone houses formed a marketplace. He entered one of the shops, a sandwich place.

Since it was lunchtime, the line at the register was terribly long. After securing a salmon sandwich and coffee, Haruno scanned the shop and was fortunate to find a window seat available. The place had mobile access, so this sandwich shop had become his usual lunch spot. On busy days, he’d have someone bring food back to the office, but more often than not, he would step out himself for a change of pace.

He remembered a French exchange student during his university days in America, who used to complain, "British food is the worst, but American food isn’t much better." Those words had stuck with him, and he hadn’t expected much from the food in this country, but the sandwiches here were decent.

Come to think of it, that French exchange student had been his first lover. The guy already had a boyfriend, so it felt like he was just sampling an Asian guy on a whim, and there was no second time. After that, Haruno himself had casual relationships with several men.

Opening his laptop, he checked his emails again. Imran, who was on a business trip in Chile, was scheduled to return the day after tomorrow, but there hadn’t been any interim updates on the negotiations. Since mines are usually in remote areas where mobile phones often don’t work, there wasn’t much Haruno could do about it.

Sekudir collected information on rare metals from sources around the world and bought them up to sell to companies. Their main market was in Europe, with occasional dealings in Japan as needed.

Since rare metals were mostly sourced from Southeast Asia and Russia, the company was a melting pot of different nationalities, including Indian and Russian staff. With all the different languages flying around the office, it was easy to forget which country they were in.

Haruno, who spoke four languages, oversaw employees who traveled to negotiate deals in various countries. Competition between companies from different countries was fierce, so employees were given significant authority over contracts. Although speed was crucial, it still made Haruno sweat when deals worth billions were decided on the spot without a word to him.

The sound of his phone ringing caught his attention. He quickly checked the caller, hoping it was Yachi, and then exhaled when he saw who it was.

"It’s me, Imran."

Speaking in heavily accented British English, Imran informed Haruno that he wanted to sign an exclusive contract for tungsten with a mining company in northern India. Haruno had thought Imran was in Chile negotiating molybdenum, but as he listened, it seemed that they could sign the deal with the factory manager on their terms. Imran’s Indian-British background seemed to be helping the negotiations. Haruno had never heard of tungsten being in India, but when Imran mentioned it was near the Chinese border, the story seemed more credible. Imran confidently asserted that he had verified it personally, and Haruno gave the go-ahead. If they hesitated, Chinese or Russian companies might snatch the deal away.

Imran didn’t mention molybdenum, so it was possible that another company had beaten them to it. But securing tungsten was a significant win, as it was just as highly sought after by other companies.

Feeling relieved that one of the concerns had been resolved, Haruno finished his lunch and left the shop. He then entered a general store two doors down. At the back of the store was a small post office. Since Haruno mailed airmail letters here every week, the elderly woman who ran the place had started to recognize him. Today, she smiled warmly as she accepted the letter.

Maintaining this highly inefficient method of communication was just a small percentage practical, but mostly… because it made Kenji Yachi happy. That was the real reason.

Haruno had met Yachi at his previous company. Haruno had been headhunted and brought in with a management position right from the start, and Yachi had already been working in the department. Haruno’s previous company was also foreign-owned, where it was taken for granted that those with high abilities would rise to the top, so he had never given much thought to the fact that some of his subordinates at the new company were older.

The first thing Haruno did as a manager was to assess his subordinates. He mentally categorized them into those who could do their jobs, those who couldn’t, those who were easy to work with, and those who weren’t.

Yachi wasn’t an incompetent worker, nor was he particularly difficult to manage. He was like a robot that did exactly what was asked of him, no more, no less. If someone was bad, they could be cut loose without hesitation. If they were good, they could be retained. But those who didn’t fall into either category, the mediocre ones, were more troublesome because there was no clear reason to get rid of them.

About a month after Haruno took his post, a long-standing contract with a mining company was abruptly terminated. Rumors spread within the department that the new manager—Haruno—hadn’t been well received by the client.

Contracts aren’t based on personal likes or dislikes, so Haruno suspected there was more to the story. After digging deeper, he discovered that a Russian company had offered slightly higher contract terms and had stolen the client away. By the time Haruno figured it out, it was too late to act.

Given the timing of his arrival and the contract’s termination, Haruno suspected there might be a mole in the company and hired a private investigator to look into his subordinates. Since it wasn’t feasible to investigate everyone, he narrowed it down to a few suspicious individuals, including Yachi.

Yachi wasn’t incompetent, but he also didn’t seem to have any ambition to climb higher. Haruno speculated that Yachi might have decided to leave the company and sold off information about the mining company as a bargaining chip to gain acceptance elsewhere.

There was indeed a mole, and Haruno reported it to his superiors, resulting in an immediate dismissal, but the mole wasn’t Yachi. Haruno had read through all the private investigator’s reports. Compared to the other employees, Yachi’s report was extremely thin, with nothing noteworthy. He had no relationships with women, didn’t socialize, and seemed to have nothing to look forward to in life, which Haruno found perplexing.

About half a month after the mole was fired, Haruno happened to run into two of his subordinates while eating lunch at a nearby restaurant.

The seats were separated by a bamboo screen, so he couldn’t see their faces, but he recognized the voices of Mihara and Fukuyama.

"About Kumaki, who quit recently, I heard that Manager Haruno used a private investigator."

"Seriously?"

Hearing their conversation from behind the screen, Haruno internally clicked his tongue. Only Haruno and his direct superior were supposed to know about the private investigator, so he wondered how the information had leaked.

"But wasn’t it unavoidable this time? Kumaki leaked internal information, didn’t he?"

"Sure, Kumaki was in the wrong, but I heard they investigated a few other people as well, since they didn’t know who did it."

Haruno paused with his chopsticks in mid-air.

"…Who else?"

"I’m not sure about that."

"How do you even know all this?"

"One of the investigators hired by the manager is a friend of mine. He mentioned it briefly. He didn’t tell me any names, though…"

Leaking information to outsiders was absolutely unacceptable. Haruno knew he would have to file a complaint with the investigation agency. Depending on the circumstances, this could even lead to a compensation issue.

"Does that mean the manager might know private details about us, too?"

"Well, it’s possible."

There was a moment of silence from the neighboring table. Haruno had tried to handle the situation discreetly to avoid any complications regarding personal rights, but this was turning into a disaster.

"Yachi-san, what would you think if you found out you were being investigated?"

Haruno was surprised to realize there was a third person with them; he had only heard the voices of the other two.

"It wouldn’t really bother me…"

"Doesn’t it creep you out that the foreign-obsessed manager might be holding onto your personal information?"

Mihara, who usually praised Haruno with comments like "Manager Haruno is so fluent in foreign languages" and "He’s got such a global mindset," was now revealing his true feelings.

"It’s just a background check, right? That’s not a big deal."

Fukuyama echoed Yachi’s sentiment with an "I guess so."

"But what if one day, out of the blue, he says, ‘You’ve got a wife, so why are you frequenting hostess clubs?’"

"Is that your usual spot?"

"Come on, I was just speaking hypothetically."

Mihara and Fukuyama continued their chatter, but Yachi remained silent. The conversation gradually shifted from discussing the investigation to criticizing their boss.

"That guy might be good at his job, but I don’t feel like following him."

"I know what you mean. He’s smart, but he lacks depth. He’s just… shallow."

As he continued eating, Haruno internally responded, "And are you good at your job? Do you have depth? Are you a person of substance?"

"And the way he talks, always asking, ‘Any objections?’—what’s with that attitude?"

A small burst of laughter followed. Haruno imagined what their reaction would be if he suddenly showed up at their table. Would they force a smile, or would they look embarrassed and quickly leave the restaurant?

"Yachi-san, what do you honestly think of the manager?"

Mihara directed the question at the man who hadn’t said much.

"Not much, really."

"I always thought you seemed to have a hard time working with him."

The small chuckle that followed was probably Yachi’s.

"I don’t really have any thoughts about Manager Haruno. Work is work, and people are people."

Haruno’s chopsticks stopped mid-air.

"Besides, I don’t think he’ll be with this company for long."

"What do you mean?"

"He’s talented enough to have been headhunted, so our company is just a stepping stone for him. If something better comes along, he’ll probably move on. That’s where I think the coldness in his approach comes from."

…The conversation drifted to other topics, and after about fifteen minutes, the three men stood up and left the restaurant.

Yachi had said he didn’t really think much of Haruno and hadn’t voiced any complaints. The man who seemed indifferent to him understood him the best—it was an odd realization. Or maybe because Yachi was indifferent, free from any strong feelings of like or dislike, he could observe Haruno calmly and objectively.

Yachi wasn’t a foolish man. But having his thoughts laid out so clearly made Haruno feel more uncomfortable than if he had been bad-mouthed with malice. He could say it outright—he hadn’t liked Yachi at all at first.

Leaving the general store, Haruno retraced his steps. The sandwich shop where he had eaten lunch earlier was still bustling. He saw a young blonde woman, holding a cell phone, sitting in the spot he had occupied earlier.

One seat over, a man was reading a book. Haruno’s steps halted. The man, wearing a heavy wool coat, was reading a guidebook while eating a sandwich.

Could this be a dream? Or someone who just looked like him? Haruno slowly approached the glass window. The man, oblivious to Haruno’s presence, was engrossed in the guidebook. The blonde woman glanced curiously at Haruno, who was standing outside the window, as if wondering what he was up to.

The man slowly raised his head. When he saw Haruno, his mouth opened slightly in surprise. He stared at Haruno for a moment before breaking into a smile.

As if that were a signal, Haruno rushed into the shop. Standing before the man’s table by the window, he was greeted with a simple "Hello."

"W-When did you arrive in London?" His voice trembled.

"Late last night, I think. It’s been a while… Have you lost some weight?"

Yachi spoke with the same casualness as if they had just seen each other yesterday, despite the six-month gap.

"I received your letter last night. I tried calling, but couldn’t get through…"

"I was probably on the plane by then."

Yachi’s eyes crinkled in a joyful smile.

"I was wondering which would arrive first, the letter or me. Looks like the letter won."

Was the way Yachi had written that letter all part of some calculated plan? If so, it was a bit unfair. Because of that letter, Haruno had lost sleep and even missed his stop on the train…

"Haruno-san, if you have time, why don’t you sit down?"

Haruno quickly bought a coffee and sat next to Yachi. There were so many things he wanted to ask.

"Was your presence here just a coincidence?"

"Precognition."

Haruno was taken aback by the deadpan response, but Yachi propped an elbow on the table and chuckled.

"Just kidding. You wouldn’t make a good detective, Haruno-san."

Yachi snapped his fingers.

"The secret is in your letters. You mentioned that you usually have lunch at a sandwich shop near your office."

"You actually went looking for this place?"

Yachi’s smile was all the confirmation Haruno needed.

"It was already a bit past lunchtime, so I thought I might not find you. Are you out on an errand?"

The clock showed it was already past 1:30 PM.

"No, it’s my lunch break… But that doesn’t matter. How long are you staying here, Yachi-san?"

"Until the fifteenth. I’m planning to take it easy and explore the area."

So he would be in England for another six days. If Haruno could manage his schedule, he might be able to take some time off. If he could get the time off, he could find some excuse to spend time with Yachi, whether it was showing him around or something else.

"Where are you staying?"

Yachi shrugged nonchalantly.

"I’m on a budget trip, so I’m staying at a youth hostel."

…Haruno fell silent. Though he had traveled abroad a few times, he had never stayed in a youth hostel, whether in Japan or elsewhere. The thought of sharing a room with strangers was unbearable, and the facilities and services were questionable. So he didn’t hesitate to offer.

"If you don’t mind, Yachi-san, would you consider staying at my flat?"

Yachi smiled lazily and shook his head.

"I wouldn’t want to be a bother."

"To be frank, while youth hostels are cheap, they’re just that—cheap. They might be fine for sleeping, but they’re not ideal for recovering from the fatigue of travel. I’ve heard they’re prone to problems, too."

Yachi gave a wry smile, as if he already knew all of this.

"Staying at my flat would save you the cost of accommodation, so it would help you save even more, wouldn’t it?"

"…But still…"

"There are two bedrooms, so you wouldn’t have to worry about privacy. The living room is spacious, and you can use the bath and kitchen freely."

Yachi’s initially cheerful expression gradually turned into one of discomfort. He began rubbing the guidebook on the table absently.

"I just feel it would be imposing…"

"Have you traveled abroad before?"

"Only once, fourteen years ago, on a business trip to Singapore."

"That’s practically no experience at all. This time, please consider accepting my offer, for your sake and, more importantly, for my peace of mind."

Yachi fell silent, seemingly lost in thought.

"I do have feelings for you, but…"

Their eyes met.

"But you don’t have to worry—I won’t suddenly attack you just because we’re in the same room."

Yachi’s face turned a deep shade of red.

"…I’m sorry," he said, covering his face with his right hand as if to hide his embarrassment.

"It’s not that… I just worry that staying with you might interfere with your work. That’s what I’m truly concerned about."

Haruno clasped his hands around his coffee cup.

"There’s no need to worry. While I was in Japan, I had the audacity to visit your house every week. If you stayed at my flat for a month, I don’t think anyone would have the right to complain."

Yachi remained undecided. It was true that staying at a youth hostel could be uncomfortable, especially for someone in his forties—it would be physically taxing.

"I finish work at six, so I can come pick you up at the youth hostel then."

Even though Haruno felt he might be coming on too strong, he continued as if Yachi had already agreed to stay with him. Yachi, still looking down, thought for a moment before finally raising his head.

"Will you be home by seven?"

"Yes."

"Then could I visit around that time? I have a general idea of your address. I’m planning to explore the city, so I might be a bit late."

"That’s fine."

"Then, I’ll take you up on your offer."

Yachi bowed his head politely. Haruno had been thinking of taking Yachi to a restaurant after picking him up, but with no set time for Yachi’s arrival, making a reservation would be impossible. It couldn’t be helped for tonight. Inviting Yachi to stay at his flat had already been a bit forceful; pushing him further would only add to his stress.

"Where are you headed now, Yachi-san?"

Yachi picked up his guidebook and flipped through it, opening to a page with a folded corner.

"I’m thinking of visiting here."

…It was Baker Street, the setting of Sherlock Holmes. Haruno knew it was a popular tourist spot but wasn’t quite sure where it was located.

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