Cold Sleep - Chapter 2

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Class Reunion

As Masayuki Taniguchi walked along the bustling city sidewalk, a cold wind occasionally whipped against his cheeks. It was mid-February, and the night air had reached its peak chill. The TV had been repeating the phrase, "Temperatures have dropped below freezing…" over the past few days.

His breath came out in white puffs, and even though his fingertips were numb, he didn’t feel particularly cold. Walking with a group of people and already having a few drinks in him contributed to that.

Masayuki was dressed casually in a thick black sweater, a nylon khaki jacket, and jeans, yet he didn’t stand out at the first venue of the reunion. Many of the women wore suits or dresses, but the men were evenly split between casual wear like his and suits.

The only thing that bothered him was his shoes. His muddy Nikes, fresh from yesterday’s reporting assignment, weren’t exactly appropriate. He had no choice, though. His brown leather shoes didn’t match his outfit, and since he had left his apartment immediately after work, he hadn’t had time to search for his black shoes in the closet.

The organizer, leading the group, pointed ahead and said, "Here it is," as they passed through the door of a small bar. When Masayuki counted the people sitting down, he noticed that their number had shrunk to about a quarter of the original group.

Caught up in the fun atmosphere, Masayuki had stayed with the reunion through to the third venue. He had no work the next day, and there was no wife or children waiting at home to hurry him back. It was the luxury of bachelorhood. He glanced around at his former classmates. Approaching thirty, at twenty-nine, more than half were already married. To Masayuki, who was used to drinking alone before bed, old friends, who talked with a slightly weary yet fond smile about their three children, seemed like strangers.

Excusing himself from the small group of a dozen or so, he headed to the restroom. After finishing, he stepped back and looked at the round table where he had been sitting. In the otherwise calm bar, that area was conspicuously rowdy. Some were passionately singing, while others had caught a neighbor and continued to talk endlessly. They might look older, but their hearts hadn’t changed much since high school, Masayuki thought.

Feeling he had drunk a bit too much and wanting to sober up, he took a seat at the counter. The bartender, a man who looked to be in his fifties and had the rugged charm of a foreign movie star, asked, "What will you have?" Masayuki, exercising some restraint, ordered an oolong tea.

Despite one member of the group leaving, the lively atmosphere continued unabated. Someone caught Masayuki’s eye—it was Yuichi Kurokawa. He had been standing by the wall at the first venue. Masayuki had thought, “Who’s that tall guy I’ve never seen before?” and realized it was Kurokawa. Dressed in a black suit and white shirt, he would have looked like he was coming back from a funeral if it weren’t for the patterned tie.

Taking a sip of his oolong tea, Masayuki glanced up and caught Kurokawa’s gaze again. The man stepped out from his seat and walked down the aisle toward the back of the bar, brushing past Masayuki with a slight nod as if to acknowledge him. Masayuki figured, "Ah, just going to the restroom."

When his glass was half-empty, Kurokawa passed by again. This time, he stopped suddenly, turned around, and asked, "You’re not going back there?"

Masayuki replied, "I’ve had a bit too much. I have a bad habit when I drink, so I figured I’d bail before I embarrass myself."

He grinned, and Kurokawa mirrored his smile. "That place is a bit noisy, I suppose," Kurokawa said, awkwardly climbing onto one of the high stools at the counter. Now that someone was sitting beside him, Masayuki couldn’t see the group anymore.

Even though he felt like being alone, Masayuki couldn’t very well tell the man to go back. Luckily, Kurokawa didn’t seem inclined to start a conversation. Relieved, Masayuki sipped his tea, thinking that Kurokawa was quiet and pleasant to sit next to. Staring idly at the bottles behind the counter, Masayuki suddenly felt an urge to go somewhere far away, maybe overseas. If he could, he wanted to go to Alaska, at the end of summer during the brief autumn. He sighed, thinking how unlikely it was that a publisher would cover the travel expenses for an assignment like that.

The bartender noticed that Masayuki’s glass was empty and asked what he would like next. The alcohol had worn off, leaving him feeling deflated, so he ordered a beer. He glanced at Kurokawa again and met his gaze. It felt like he should at least make some small talk.

“What’s that you’re drinking?” Masayuki pointed at Kurokawa’s drink.

“A martini,” Kurokawa replied. Sure enough, an olive sat at the bottom of his empty cocktail glass.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Where do you live now, Taniguchi?”

“In Ichida.”

“Ichida, huh.”

Kurokawa ordered a Salty Dog from the bartender, and they fell into silence. When the cocktail was ready, Kurokawa took the glass in both hands, gently lifted it, and licked the rim’s salt, much like a cat sipping water. Masayuki couldn’t help but think he’d seen this exact scene before, back in their student days. He had thought it looked miserly then, and seeing that nothing had changed in nearly ten years made him chuckle.

Masayuki didn’t particularly want to know, but he asked out of formality, “Kurokawa, you stayed local in Kinejo, right? You’re a civil servant, aren’t you?”

He had overheard it at some point during the reunion, either during the first or second gathering, and it had stuck with him. The job suited the image Kurokawa had in high school.

Kurokawa had always been the model student—maybe not a genius, but someone who gained solid knowledge through hard work. Yet, if he had been just a diligent, earnest student, he wouldn’t have been so disliked.

In middle school, Kurokawa was shy, constantly looking around to gauge others' reactions and always appeared anxious. Because of this, rumors had it that he was heavily bullied back then. By the time they reached high school, the classmates had outgrown their most sensitive years, and no one paid much attention to the gloomy student, so he didn’t stand out as a target for bullying. But Kurokawa, having learned from his middle school experiences, continued to practice the defense mechanisms he had developed to protect himself.

Whenever he spotted anyone who might pose a threat, he would keenly observe and report even the slightest infractions to the teachers. Some classmates referred to him as the teachers’ 'pet'. Kurokawa might have argued that he was merely upholding justice, but to those around him, he was a nuisance. Even a simple insult would earn a vengeful glare from him, and the tiniest rule-breaking was promptly reported.

"Not messing with trouble is the best way to avoid it." Everyone kept their distance from Kurokawa. As a result, he wasn’t hurt, but he was ignored and disliked by his classmates. Making friends was out of the question for him.

Despite his tall height, Kurokawa always walked with a hunched back, making him look frail. His face was fairly attractive, so there were even a few girls who took a liking to him and confessed. Masayuki had seen him walking home with a girl a few times, but those relationships never lasted. Once, Masayuki overheard one of Kurokawa’s ex-girlfriends talking to her friends.

“All he ever talks about is audio equipment. He goes on and on about how this brand’s amp isn’t great or something. At first, I just kept saying ‘Yeah, yeah,’ but eventually, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I made a really annoyed face, and he looked like he was about to cry. When I told him to cut it out, he actually started crying. It gave me the creeps. I got goosebumps.”

Masayuki had secretly liked that girl. When he found out she had been dating Kurokawa, he felt disappointed and jealous at the same time. He still remembered how frustrated he was, not wanting to feel jealous of someone like Kurokawa.

“Being a public servant in your hometown is tough; everyone knows you.” Kurokawa said as he downed the Salty Dog, licking the rim one last time.

The grown-up version of the once-despised boy still bore traces of his old self. Though his expressions, voice, and demeanor had matured, the essence remained the same.

“Well, that’s just how it is,” Masayuki shrugged with a slight laugh.

“I envy you, Taniguchi. You’re a photographer, right?”

Hearing the word “photographer” directed at him, Masayuki hastily waved his hands.

“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. I’m barely making ends meet, and a photo book is still a distant dream.”

“I’ve seen your work,” Kurokawa said, narrowing his eyes with a pleased look.

“I haven’t done anything recently that would get my name out there...” Masayuki replied, somewhat skeptical.

“No, really. It was a couple of years ago, wasn’t it? You took the cover photo for a women’s magazine.”

Masayuki thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess I did. But how did you know it was mine?”

“The photographer’s name was listed in the credits. When I saw it was a high school classmate, I was really happy and proud. I envy you, Taniguchi. You’re making a living doing what you love.”

“Well... yeah...” Masayuki responded, feeling a familiar twinge. Whenever he told people that photography was his job, they often reacted similarly to Kurokawa.

“You’re lucky to have found work you enjoy.”

“You’ve achieved your dream.”

“When’s your photo book coming out?”

Sure, he was doing what he loved, and in a sense, he had achieved his dream. But imagination and reality were different. Even if photography was his job, only a handful of photographers ever got to publish a photo book. It was like becoming an actor—only a few ever made it into the spotlight.

His work wasn’t steady, and there had been months with no income at all. He had no solid ground to stand on. At first, he had liked the idea of not being tied down, but seeing his former classmates leading stable lives made him anxious. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t worried about the future, but he also knew he wasn’t cut out for a nine-to-five job.

The bar’s door opened, and a couple left. Besides their reunion group, the dimly lit bar was now empty. A man had been sitting at the end of the counter earlier, but he had left at some point.

The noise from the group grew louder, and one of them broke away—a guy who had been talking about his three kids earlier. He waved lightly at Masayuki from across the room before stumbling out of the bar. The person who had seen him off returned, noticed Masayuki and Kurokawa at the counter, and gestured for them to join the group.

“I’ll be over as soon as I finish this,” Masayuki said, raising his beer glass slightly.

“Don’t you need to get home soon?” Kurokawa asked hesitantly.

“I’m fine, why do you ask?”

Kurokawa quickly averted his gaze, looking down.

“I just thought... maybe someone was waiting for you at home.”

“I live alone. I don’t even have a girlfriend right now, so all I see every day is my messy apartment and the pile of laundry stacking up. It’s pretty lonely, to be honest.”

“I live with my parents...”

“Oh, right. You’re still in your hometown,” Masayuki said, and the conversation died off. He finished his beer and sighed deeply.

“I guess we should head back,” he said, almost to himself, but loud enough for Kurokawa to hear, as he stood up. Just then, Kurokawa, who had been silent, suddenly spoke.

“I’ve always wanted to tell you something, Taniguchi.”

Masayuki had already started to move toward the group but quickly turned back.

“What is it?”

“...It’s about the Iron Walk. Do you remember it?”

“Oh, that was the event where we had to walk thirty kilometers (18 mi), right? We were in the same group, weren’t we?”

At Masayuki’s high school, there was a dreaded annual event in the fall called the Iron Walk, where the entire school participated. Students had to walk a grueling thirty-kilometer route through steep hills and valleys in groups of five, taking nearly the entire day to complete.

In their third year, Masayuki ended up in the same group as Kurokawa. The boys and girls were separated, and with twenty-one boys in the class, one would inevitably be left out. It was almost inevitable that Kurokawa would be the odd one out. No group offered to take him in, and Kurokawa couldn’t bring himself to ask. Seeing him hunched over, staring at the ground, Masayuki had felt sorry for him and had invited him to join his group.

“That was tough. There’s no way I’d want to do it again,” Masayuki said.

“Yeah,” Kurokawa replied, staring intently at Masayuki, making it difficult for him to leave. Reluctantly, Masayuki sat back down, and as if waiting for that moment, Kurokawa ordered his third drink, a gimlet.

“Are you sure you should be drinking that much?”

The quick pace of Kurokawa’s drinking concerned Masayuki. Kurokawa tilted his head lazily.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve never had cocktails before, but they’re sweet and taste good.”

“That’s the kind of thing that hits you hard later.”

“This one... Philip Marlowe liked it. I’ve always wondered what it tasted like. I never had the chance to drink with someone at a bar before...”

Kurokawa murmured, smiling absently.

“You drink quite a bit too, Taniguchi.”

“I can hold my own, but I prefer beer.”

“Then I’ll have beer next,” Kurokawa said, downing his cocktail in one gulp. The bartender at the counter looked surprised, his eyes widening.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to drink that. There’s no appreciation in that.”

“It’s fine,” Kurokawa said, narrowing his eyes, which were already glossy from the alcohol.

“I was really happy when you invited me to join your group for the Iron Walk.”

Masayuki swallowed hard. Even after more than ten years, he still felt a twinge of guilt. Kurokawa didn’t know that Masayuki had invited him on a whim and deeply regretted it afterward.

Back in those days, Kurokawa was all lanky height but clumsy in movement, completely useless in gym class no matter what the activity. His frail appearance matched his lack of stamina; after just a kilometer, he was already panting heavily. Walking beside him, Masayuki had a bad feeling.

Because of the "tortoise" Kurokawa, their group was in last place by the five-kilometer mark. The Iron Walk required all group members to finish together. If one person lagged behind, it affected the group’s overall ranking. Masayuki was the one who had invited Kurokawa into the group, so the icy glares from the others, as if to say, "Why did you bring this guy?" were unbearable.

Every time Kurokawa fell behind, Masayuki would stop, suppress his frustration, and gently encourage him. Even though he kept thinking it was no use, part of him secretly hoped Kurokawa would just collapse so they could get it over with—and eventually, that’s exactly what happened.

Kurokawa, who had been gradually falling behind, finally crumbled and collapsed. It was Masayuki who dragged his fallen body into the shade of a tree. While the others ran off to fetch the medic, Masayuki stood over Kurokawa’s pale, breathless form lying in the cool shade, and to be honest, he felt a sense of relief.

“I collapsed on the way, didn’t I? I remember you fanning my face in the shade—it felt so good,” Kurokawa said, his eyes closed as he spoke. “I’ve always wanted to thank you, but I never got the chance.”

After handing the collapsed Kurokawa over to the teacher, Masayuki and the others continued the walk. They talked about Kurokawa. One of them said, “If he was going to collapse, he should’ve just skipped the walk from the start,” and there wasn’t a hint of sympathy on anyone’s face. It wasn’t a memory that haunted Masayuki with guilt, but it wasn’t something he was eager to recall either.

“I actually wanted to thank you during the graduation ceremony, but you disappeared right after it ended. I searched the whole school for you…”

After the graduation ceremony, Masayuki had climbed to the rooftop, where no one would find him, and cried a little. The thought of no longer being a high school student, of never again entering that school as a student, made him feel unbearably lonely and sentimental. But he couldn’t let himself cry in front of his friends—it would’ve been too embarrassing, and his pride wouldn’t allow it.

In the early March air, still a bit chilly, he lay on the cold concrete of the rooftop, staring up at the clear blue sky, and closed his eyes. At some point, he must have fallen asleep.

He was awakened by the sensation of someone touching him—on his lips. Slowly opening his eyes, he found nothing but the sky above. He heard a small voice calling his name and sat up. Next to him, Kurokawa was sitting with his knees hugged to his chest. Masayuki was angry at having his moment of solitude interrupted. He glared at Kurokawa, who looked slightly frightened but still managed a faint smile.

“What were you doing up here?” Kurokawa asked.

“Nothing,” Masayuki replied curtly and stood up. Without looking back, he ran down the stairs. Later, at home, he wondered if that touch on his lips had been a kiss. But no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t be sure. There was no way he could ask Kurokawa. If it hadn’t been a kiss, Kurokawa might look at him strangely.

There had been two reunions since they graduated, and Masayuki had attended both. He liked these gatherings and always made time for them, even if it meant rearranging his work schedule. But this was the first time he had seen Kurokawa at one.

“This is your first time coming to a reunion, isn’t it?” Masayuki asked.

“Yeah,” Kurokawa replied with a smile.

“You’ve skipped all the others. Why did you decide to come this time?”

Kurokawa didn’t answer. Instead, he ordered another beer. The bartender glanced at Masayuki before asking Kurokawa, “Are you sure you’re okay, sir?”

“You should stop drinking,” Masayuki advised. Kurokawa insisted, “Just one more beer,” and Masayuki had no choice but to say, “Okay, but let that be your last.”

With a flushed face, Kurokawa rested his cheek on the dark, glossy table and closed his eyes. Just as Masayuki thought he had fallen asleep, Kurokawa let out a troubled sigh.

“It was sometime in early November when the reunion invitation arrived. It said it was the eleventh year since graduation, and I was shocked that so much time had passed. I didn’t have many good memories of high school, so I wasn’t planning on attending this year either, but... I changed my mind.”

“Really?” Masayuki said as the bartender placed a beer in front of Kurokawa. Kurokawa’s thin but still rough fingers gripped the glass, and he slowly swirled it, as if savoring the feel of the foam.

“I’m going on an arranged date in a couple of weeks.”

“An arranged date?” Masayuki repeated.

“My parents told me I should get married before I turn thirty. They think I’m too shy to find someone on my own, so they arranged a meeting for me.”

“So, if it goes well, you’ll be off the market by the end of the year,” Masayuki said, finding the idea of an arranged marriage very fitting for Kurokawa.

“I’ve turned down other arranged meetings before, but this time it’s tied to my father’s business, so I was pressured to at least meet her.”

Kurokawa stared intently at his glass with a blank expression. Masayuki wondered if Kurokawa was unhappy about the arrangement.

“You don’t have to marry her just because you meet her. Just take it easy and see how it goes.”

Kurokawa rested his forehead on his clasped hands, elbows on the table.

“I’ve seen her photo—she’s cute, and her background is fine. If she likes me and I don’t have any issues with her, there’s no reason to say no.”

“Don’t overthink it. If it doesn’t feel right, just come up with a reason and call it off. If you like her, then go for it. But I think marriage is more about going with the flow.”

“I…”

Kurokawa trailed off, then suddenly lifted his head. He grabbed his beer glass with a desperate grip and downed it all at once, then slammed the empty glass onto the counter. The atmosphere grew tense, like that of a belligerent drunk.

“I’ve never made important decisions on my own, like about school or work. I’ve always left it to my parents or others... I lack independence. It’s embarrassing at my age. That’s why I think if I just follow others’ advice and get married, I’ll end up regretting it.”

“Then you’ll have to find someone on your own if you don’t want to have regrets.”

“I’m not getting married.”

“But…”

“I’m not getting married. That’s my decision.”

Masayuki was surprised to learn that Kurokawa was against marriage. There are all kinds of people in the world, but he hadn’t expected Kurokawa to be someone who chose to remain single. Masayuki thought that living with his parents probably meant Kurokawa didn’t have many inconveniences in his daily life, but he couldn’t help but wonder how he handled certain other needs. Was Kurokawa going to stay loyal to his right hand for life? That seemed rather bleak.

When Kurokawa tried to order another drink, Masayuki quickly stopped him.

"That was supposed to be the last one, remember? You're already pretty drunk," Masayuki said.

Kurokawa shook his head. "I'm not drunk. I'm still talking fine."

"Every drunk person says that. You might be okay now, but tomorrow you won't even remember half of what we talked about."

"But if I don't drink, I can't talk to you."

"You're talking now, aren't you?"

"I'm bad at talking. Even in high school, I never talked to you like this. If I didn’t have a drink to get in the mood, I’d be too nervous to say a single word!"

Surprised by the anger in the voice of the man he had always thought of as quiet, Masayuki instinctively pulled back. Seeing his reaction, Kurokawa lowered his head with a sad expression.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just... got a bit worked up."

"Oh, I get it," Masayuki said, avoiding eye contact and looking straight ahead. The silence stretched on, and when Masayuki glanced over after a signal from the bartender, he saw that Kurokawa had slumped over the counter. He didn’t respond when Masayuki called his name, but when Masayuki shook his shoulder, he finally opened his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Kurokawa rubbed his eyes like a sleepy child and let out a soft laugh. "I'm glad I came today. I never thought I’d get to talk to you like this. It’s nice to be an adult."

"Stop saying weird things and pull yourself together."

Still lying on the counter, Kurokawa chuckled. "When I listen to everyone, they all say they want to go back to high school. They say those were the good old days. But not me. I don’t want to go back... People are kinder now."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Masayuki replied, giving a half-hearted response without much thought.

"Do you really think so?" Kurokawa suddenly grabbed the front of Masayuki’s sweater. To an outsider, it might have looked like they were about to fight. Struggling to speak with his throat constricted, Masayuki managed to say, "Yeah, I do."

"For the first time, we’re on the same page," Kurokawa said, then collapsed back onto the counter. He was completely drunk. It seemed like the best idea was to get him into a taxi and send him home.

"Hey, Kurokawa, you should go home now. You’re way too drunk..."

"I’m fine," Kurokawa replied, though his eyes were bloodshot and watery.

"I’ll walk you part of the way, okay?" Masayuki coaxed, helping the drunk man off the stool. Kurokawa, staggering on unsteady legs, received an enthusiastic but meaningless round of applause from their former classmates as Masayuki led him out of the bar.

Though there was no snow, the air outside was bitterly cold. It was already past 1:00 AM, yet the bustling street showed no signs of quieting down, with cars and taxis constantly passing by.

Supported by Masayuki, Kurokawa kept laughing softly, his breath reeking of alcohol and occasionally brushing against Masayuki’s cheek.

"It’s so nice. I’m really glad I came. Am I heavy? Sorry about that," Kurokawa said.

Though Masayuki thought it would be nice if Kurokawa could try standing on his own, he kept that thought to himself.

"This night will be a memory I’ll cherish forever," Kurokawa said with exaggerated emotion, making Masayuki smile wryly.

"You mean getting so drunk at a reunion that you couldn’t even stand?"

"No, talking with you like this. And feeling like we’re... friends."

"You're a strange guy."

Kurokawa found a lamp post and leaned against it for support. "Maybe so, but it’s not strange to me. Imagine if you admired someone—let’s say, a famous actress—and then one day, she suddenly appeared in front of you and asked if you’d like to have a drink with her. Wouldn’t you be over the moon?"

"But I’m no actress. I’m just a self-proclaimed photographer."

"Yeah, but I’ve always looked up to you. Always wanted to be like you, to be able to casually talk and joke with friends like you do, and to make people laugh. I wanted to be part of your circle."

"Why didn’t you just say so?"

"I couldn’t. I could never say something like that."

Kurokawa let out a quiet laugh, his head hanging low. "I’ve always been gloomy, and I’m not good at talking. I wanted to talk, but I never knew what to say. I was afraid that if I did talk, people would think I was weird, or worse, they’d reject me entirely."

"You were worried about that?"

Masayuki’s tone was incredulous, but Kurokawa responded with a bitter smile. "You’ve never been bullied, have you? You’ll never understand how I felt."

Masayuki suddenly felt at a loss for words, as if Kurokawa was blaming him for not understanding. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"It’s not too late, you know."

Kurokawa’s eyes widened.

"If you ever have a problem, or if something’s bothering you, just give me a call. Whether it’s about work, your family, anything. I’ll listen to your complaints. Or even if it’s not a complaint, just something funny that happened... we can start fresh, even now."

Kurokawa’s face twisted into an expression that was hard to read—somewhere between crying and laughing. "I’m really happy you said that, but it’s okay."

He slowly shook his head from side to side. "Just talking to you tonight is enough."

A taxi approached them slowly, and its door opened. Kurokawa bent forward and got in. Masayuki felt a brief sense of relief, but then Kurokawa suddenly stumbled out of the taxi again, rushing back to Masayuki.

"What’s wrong? Did you forget something?" Masayuki asked, hurrying over. Kurokawa kept his head down as he muttered softly, "I’ve always loved you. I’ve been in love with you for so long, ever since high school. Even after all these years, I still love you."

Masayuki was caught completely off guard, unable to find the words to respond.

"I can’t believe I just said that. Alcohol really is something else," Kurokawa said, laughing helplessly. Tears fell from his eyes, dropping onto the pavement.

"This is so embarrassing. I’m so embarrassed I could die. I hope we both forget everything by tomorrow."

Backing away slowly, Kurokawa got back into the taxi. Even after the black cab disappeared from sight, Masayuki stood there for a long while, staring blankly into the night.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

When Masayuki returned to the bar, the group of drunk classmates was even louder than before, causing a ruckus in the now-empty venue. He rejoined the noisy circle and turned to the guy next to him.

"Did Kurokawa give you his business card?"

The man tilted his head, thinking. "Kurokawa? Now that you mention it, I don’t think he did. Hey, anyone here get Kurokawa’s card?"

Everyone shook their heads vaguely.

"No, but doesn’t he work at the prefectural office? He said he still lives at home, so his address is probably the same as it was in high school."

The conversation quickly shifted to a different classmate who had recently gone through a divorce. Masayuki’s thoughts drifted to the storage shed at his parents’ house. After he graduated from high school, his mother had packed away all his belongings in that shed. The idea of having to dig through it to find the old class directory felt overwhelmingly exhausting.

"Did something happen with Kurokawa? Come to think of it, you two were talking at the counter for quite a while," the guy next to Masayuki asked.

"Yeah, we were," Masayuki replied with a grin. "He forgot something."

Even after eleven years, Kurokawa was still the timid, anxious guy he had always been. Masayuki felt like Kurokawa needed to change.

"Forgot something? That guy’s always been a bit scatterbrained," the other man commented.

Masayuki took a sip of the amber-colored liquor that had been pushed into his hands. He decided that he would call Kurokawa soon. Kurokawa would probably be surprised by an unexpected call from an old classmate. Masayuki wondered if he would remember what had happened today, or if he would have forgotten. Either way, when Kurokawa fumbled through the conversation trying to figure out why Masayuki had called, Masayuki already knew how he would start.

"Hey, the reunion was fun the other day. So, are you free tonight? If you are, how about grabbing a drink after work? I know a nice place."

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