Utsukushii Koto: Volume 1 - Part 10

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In the end, Matsuoka couldn’t bring himself to find out what Hiromatsu really thought, nor could he muster the courage to cancel the camping trip. He spent a sleepless night, and when morning came, he reluctantly got into his car. The sky outside was a piercingly clear blue, and the sunlight was so bright it hurt his eyes.

He headed to the station to pick up the others. When he arrived at the meeting spot, he saw Hayama and Hiromatsu standing together. Even though Fujimoto was there too, his eyes were drawn to the pair first. As Hayama sat in the back seat and greeted him with a cheerful "Good morning," Matsuoka couldn't help but wonder if she had spent the night with Hiromatsu. The thought made him feel sick.

Swallowing his jealousy and all the dark emotions churning inside him, Matsuoka drove. Hayama was in high spirits, chatting incessantly, almost annoyingly. To avoid thinking about the two in the back seat, Matsuoka focused on talking to Fujimoto in the front. It was their third time meeting, and she seemed more comfortable, less shy, which made the conversation flow more easily.

Time passed pleasantly in the car, despite Matsuoka’s inner turmoil. Even though he desperately wanted to turn back and go home, he found himself smiling and chatting, which he found oddly puzzling.

After about two hours, they arrived at the campsite. The men and women separated and went into their respective cottages. The room was simple, about eight tatami mats in size (around 13 square meters), with a handmade-looking table and chairs in the center, and two wooden beds placed along the side walls. Matsuoka placed his things on the bed on the right and handed the room key to Hiromatsu, who was standing by the table.

"I’ll head outside first," Matsuoka said, trying to be considerate, assuming Hiromatsu would feel awkward being alone with him. But just as he was about to leave, Hiromatsu called out, "Hey."

"I didn’t think you were going to come today," Hiromatsu admitted.

Even if Matsuoka hadn’t wanted to come, hearing that from Hiromatsu felt like a blow.

"Why not?" Matsuoka asked.

After a brief silence, Hiromatsu mumbled, "Just a feeling."

Matsuoka sighed softly. "I thought about backing out. But plans were already set, so I came. Honestly, I would’ve preferred a trip with just the two of us, but it seems like Fujimoto-san is still uncomfortable with me."

Hiromatsu looked like he wanted to say something, so Matsuoka waited, but no words came. The silence between them felt tense.

"Do you really like Fujimoto-san?" Hiromatsu asked, catching Matsuoka off guard.

Matsuoka swallowed hard. "Well, yeah. She’s pretty cute."

"I see… Yeah, she is," Hiromatsu replied.

Matsuoka walked toward the cottage door, speaking without turning back. "You might not like sharing a room with me, but it’s just for this trip. Try to bear with it."

With that, he left the cottage. As soon as he was outside, his hands began to tremble, his heart pounded, and an overwhelming surge of emotion rose in his chest, nearly bringing him to tears. Not wanting to dwell on it, he busied himself by unloading the barbecue equipment from the car and setting it up in the cottage’s yard.

After about ten minutes, Hayama and Fujimoto emerged from their cottage. They gathered in the shade under the trees, where the cicadas were singing loudly, and chatted for a while. But Hiromatsu didn’t come out. Growing impatient, Hayama went to check on him and returned with a slightly exasperated expression. "He fell asleep," she explained.

When Hiromatsu finally emerged, rubbing his messy hair and looking awkward, he noticed the equipment Matsuoka had already set up and apologized, "Sorry about that."

With all four of them finally together, they discussed what to do next. Hayama suggested a walk in the forest, while Matsuoka, pretending to be interested, said he wanted to try fishing by the river. They decided to split up, with Hayama and Hiromatsu going for a walk, and Matsuoka and Fujimoto heading to the riverbank.

As expected, fishing turned out to be boring. But Matsuoka forced himself to act like he was enjoying it, not wanting to disappoint Fujimoto, whom he had dragged along.

When he finally caught a fish, he thought about grilling it later for the barbecue. But as he watched the fish swim in the bucket, Fujimoto asked, "We’ll let it go back into the river in the end, right?"

Matsuoka, unable to say that he had planned to eat it, quickly nodded. "Of course."

Even though she was shy, Matsuoka found her to be kind-hearted. He could tell that her concern for the fish wasn’t an act to impress him. Part of him wished he could fall for someone like her, but another part of him wondered what Hiromatsu was doing at that moment.

The riverbank was cool and breezy, especially in the shade of the trees where they were fishing. Noticing some leaves tangled in Fujimoto’s hair, Matsuoka instinctively reached out to remove them. But the moment his hand touched her hair, Fujimoto flinched violently, and Matsuoka quickly pulled back.

"Sorry for startling you. There was something in your hair," he apologized, and Fujimoto covered her mouth with both hands, shaking her head slightly.

"Are you afraid of me?" Matsuoka asked.

She didn’t deny it. Instead, she looked down and curled up slightly.

"This is our third time meeting, right? I was hoping we could spend some time alone together soon," he said, trying to be gentle.

She didn’t respond.

"I just think it’s time to move past hanging out as a group," he added, but she remained silent, leaving Matsuoka at a loss.

After about fifteen minutes, Matsuoka started to think they should head back to the cottage when Fujimoto finally spoke up.

"When I was in high school, I used to take the bus to school. One day, a man sitting behind me started blowing on the back of my neck. He kept doing it until I got off the bus in front of the school. It was so disgusting that I almost threw up. After that, I became scared of men… Even when I tell myself it’s no big deal, that I’m fine, I just can’t deal with it."

“I see,” Matsuoka murmured. He felt that offering clumsy words of comfort or saying something half-hearted wouldn’t help, so he found himself at a loss for words.

They returned to the cottage mostly in silence. In the yard, Hiromatsu and Hayama, who had come back earlier, were preparing the meal. It was clear that Hiromatsu wasn’t much of a cook, as he was fumbling with the tasks. When Fujimoto arrived, she quickly took over, and Hiromatsu approached Matsuoka, who was tending the barbecue.

“Let me help,” Hiromatsu offered. Matsuoka handed over the job of watching the fire to Hiromatsu and started setting the table. By the time dusk settled in, everything was ready, and the barbecue meat was sizzling on the grill. They all sat down to eat together. Fujimoto, who had been quiet when alone with Matsuoka, was now chatting easily with Hayama. Matsuoka also made an effort to keep the conversation going.

Even though he couldn’t ignore Fujimoto’s trauma, or the way Hiromatsu’s smile still looked strained and unnatural, he knew that if he let himself show a serious face or fall silent, the whole mood would crash. So he pretended to have fun.

He drank beer to keep his spirits up. Although he was careful not to overdo it and had less than usual, the alcohol hit him hard. Not sleeping the night before probably didn’t help. Instead of just making him sleepy, the alcohol made him feel increasingly sick.

“Sorry, excuse me…”

He stood up to go to the restroom, but the moment he took a step, his knees buckled. He had no strength in his legs and collapsed right there. Since he had been sitting, he hadn’t realized the weakness had spread all the way down to his feet.

“Matsuoka-kun, are you okay?” Hayama asked, concerned. But the nausea hit Matsuoka so hard that he couldn’t answer. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would throw up right there.

“Can you stand?” Hiromatsu crouched down beside him, and Matsuoka grabbed onto his arm tightly. Sensing the situation, Hiromatsu helped Matsuoka to his feet and supported him as they headed to the bathroom inside the cottage. Matsuoka held on with all his strength until he was safely inside the stall, where he promptly began to vomit. The nausea was overwhelming, bringing tears to his eyes.

After about fifteen minutes of continuous retching, Matsuoka finally began to feel some relief. When he opened the stall door, he was surprised to find Hiromatsu standing right outside.

“Are you okay?” Hiromatsu asked, peering into his face. Matsuoka nodded, almost involuntarily.

“...I drank too much,” he said curtly, rinsing his mouth at the sink. As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, he spoke to Hiromatsu, who was still standing behind him.

“I’m fine now.”

“You still look pale.”

“The nausea has passed. I’d appreciate it if you could go back and let the others know I’m okay,” Matsuoka said, hoping to be left alone.

"Okay…" Hiromatsu replied softly, then left the room. Even though Matsuoka knew he should go back, he felt an irresistible pull toward the bed.

As he collapsed onto the soft mattress, the scent of Hiromatsu lingered there. He noticed a familiar bag on the opposite bed, realizing that his bed was supposed to be on the right. He knew he should move, but he couldn’t resist the temptation and rubbed his face against the sheets, just for a little while.

…When he opened his eyes again, the room was pitch dark. A sharp need to pee urged him up, but he couldn’t find the light switch. As he groped around blindly on what felt like the sideboard, his fingers brushed something—and at that exact moment, there was a clattering sound as something fell.

The bed creaked beside him. Suddenly, the room flooded with light, causing him to squint reflexively.

“Are you okay?” Hiromatsu asked.

Matsuoka, still half-risen from the bed, nodded. The air conditioner remote control had fallen to the floor.

“I checked on you a few times, but you seemed to be sleeping soundly, so I didn’t wake you,” Hiromatsu explained.

“Thanks…” Matsuoka murmured as he got up and glanced at his watch. It was twelve minutes past midnight. He could feel Hiromatsu’s gaze on him, making him uncomfortably self-conscious, so he quickly escaped to the bathroom. While relieving himself, it dawned on him that he had fallen asleep in Hiromatsu’s bed, and panic set in. He racked his brain for an excuse, but in the end, he could only say, “I made a mistake.”

“Sorry about that… I was drunk and ended up in the wrong bed,” he confessed when he returned to the room. Hiromatsu was sitting on the bed, watching him.

“It’s not like we had a set arrangement,” Hiromatsu replied calmly.

Matsuoka realized that fussing over it might indeed seem unnatural. He slowly took off his watch and placed it on the sideboard, then crawled into his bed. Once awake, he found it hard to fall asleep again. He couldn’t stop thinking about the man lying in the bed next to him. Even though they weren’t talking, Hiromatsu’s presence, the sound of his breathing, kept Matsuoka on edge.

“Aren’t you going to take a bath or change your clothes?” Hiromatsu asked, breaking the silence. Matsuoka suddenly realized he was still wearing the clothes from the barbecue. He had brought shorts and a T-shirt to sleep in, but the idea of changing seemed too much trouble.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” he said.

“Then, can I turn off the light?”

“Go ahead.”

Once the room was dark, the silence deepened. Matsuoka lay there, thinking about Hiromatsu, about the time when Hiromatsu had been so into Yoko, and about the rough sex they’d had.

No matter how hard he tried to think about something else, his thoughts always circled back to Hiromatsu. It was no wonder he couldn’t bring himself to like Fujimoto. Even now, his emotions were in turmoil, making it impossible to consider being with anyone else. He kept telling himself that Hiromatsu wasn’t anything special—he wasn’t particularly good at his job, he was oblivious, and he wasn’t particularly handsome. But even knowing all that, Matsuoka couldn’t forget him.

The bed beside him creaked softly with each of Hiromatsu’s movements. The frequent shifting made Matsuoka wonder if he was the reason Hiromatsu couldn’t sleep.

Quietly, Matsuoka slipped out of bed. He turned on the light and looked around. The room key was on the table in the center of the room. He picked it up and was putting on his shoes at the entrance when Hiromatsu’s voice came from behind him.

“Where are you going?”

“For a walk. I’ll leave the key here, so just go ahead and sleep,” Matsuoka said, then walked out. Even though the streetlights were off, the moon was bright enough that once his eyes adjusted, he had no trouble seeing.

He walked past the cottage garden where they’d had the barbecue and headed toward the river. The water, which had sparkled during the day, now only made a soft, clear sound.

Matsuoka sat on a flat stone by the riverbank. Without his watch, he had no idea what time it was, but he planned to wander around until he was sure Hiromatsu had fallen asleep.

Suddenly, he heard a rustling sound nearby and jumped to his feet. It was a white dog emerging from the bushes, without a collar. The dog glanced at him briefly before disappearing back into the undergrowth.

Suddenly feeling scared to be alone in the dark, Matsuoka headed back to the parking lot near the cottage. He pulled the key case from his jeans pocket and got into his car.

He reclined the driver’s seat and turned on the late-night radio, letting the volume be a little louder than usual as he closed his eyes. The late-hour chatter soon veered into crass territory, but the meaningless banter and laughter oddly comforted him.

As Matsuoka listened, he thought about how, when this camping trip was over, he would tell Fujimoto that he couldn’t see her anymore. He realized that starting a new relationship in his current state was impossible. He regretted not realizing it sooner, but there was nothing he could do now. Or maybe, deep down, he had always known, but had chosen to ignore it.

He let out a small laugh. Not because the radio host’s jokes were particularly funny, but because the sound of laughter prompted him to laugh along.

It was only after a while, when he noticed a faint knocking on the door, that he realized someone was outside. He turned down the radio’s volume and rolled down the side window. The sight of Hiromatsu’s shadowy figure reflected in the glass made Matsuoka’s briefly amused expression freeze into an awkward, tight-lipped smile. Hiromatsu was glaring at him, bent over to peer inside the car.

“What are you doing out here?” Hiromatsu asked, his brow furrowed with annoyance.

“Nothing.”

“You said you’d be out for just a bit, but you’ve been gone for ages.”

Matsuoka’s chest tightened with a sharp pang at the thought that Hiromatsu might have come looking for him out of concern.

“I just wanted to listen to the radio. That’s all,” Matsuoka lied. Hiromatsu sighed, his gaze dropping.

“I couldn’t stop worrying about what might have happened to you,” Hiromatsu admitted.

“What do you mean by ‘what might have happened’?”

Hiromatsu remained silent. Even though both of them knew nothing serious could happen in a remote campground like this, Hiromatsu didn’t even bother coming up with an excuse, like saying he was worried about a robbery. His lack of quick thinking only frustrated Matsuoka more.

“Did you think I’d do something stupid?” Matsuoka asked, laughing at the silent Hiromatsu.

“Like I’d do something like that. I wouldn’t, not without a good reason.”

For a brief moment, Matsuoka felt a sense of release, but it was quickly replaced by anger.

“It’s just that…,” Hiromatsu started, then hesitated. “I had a feeling that you… might still have feelings for me.”

Shame washed over Matsuoka, followed by a wave of anger so intense he wanted to punch something. Hiromatsu’s obliviousness was unbearable, like an insult. The anger and the humiliation of being so easily read twisted together inside him like a tightening spiral.

“You think I’d kill myself over a breakup? Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t care about you at all anymore,” Matsuoka snapped, his voice trembling despite his bravado. Hiromatsu probably knew it too. Matsuoka wished desperately that he would leave, that he would stop holding on to the window and just go away. If Hiromatsu knew how he felt, if he had any consideration for him, he would leave Matsuoka alone right now.

“When I talk to Hayama-san, your name comes up a lot,” Hiromatsu began speaking as if to himself. “She said that out of all the male colleagues in her cohort, you’re the one she’s closest to. She said you’re capable, kind, and reliable.”

To Matsuoka, Hayama was also one of his closest friends. If it hadn’t been for his relationship with Hiromatsu, there wouldn’t have been any tension between them.

“I don’t really understand you,” Hiromatsu continued.

Matsuoka remembered how often they had met, how many meals they had shared. They had communicated through written messages a lot. Even though he had been cross-dressing, Matsuoka had never hidden his true feelings. He hadn’t changed.

Matsuoka remembered the cold look in Hiromatsu’s eyes when they had parted ways. He had assumed they would never cross paths again, but maybe Hayama had influenced that. Maybe it was because Hayama had spoken highly of Matsuoka that Hiromatsu had come back into his life. When Matsuoka confessed he was a man, no matter how much he expressed his love for Hiromatsu, Hiromatsu’s doubt never faded. But if it was Hayama who said Matsuoka was kind, if it was Hayama who said Matsuoka was reliable, then Hiromatsu might have been willing to believe it. He had trusted Hayama’s words more than Matsuoka’s.

“But I understand you well, Hiromatsu-san,” Matsuoka said after a brief silence.

“No, you don’t,” Hiromatsu replied in a low voice.

“I do, but it doesn’t really matter anymore,” Matsuoka sighed.

“There’s no way you could understand me. Not after just…”

“What, just sleeping together once?” Matsuoka finished the sentence deliberately, watching as Hiromatsu looked down, embarrassed. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Matsuoka agreed with a sigh.

“I’m going to stay here for a while and listen to the radio. I’ll come back to the room if I feel like it.” As Matsuoka began to roll up the window, Hiromatsu quickly pulled his hand away. Once the window was closed, Matsuoka turned the radio volume back up and closed his eyes.

After a while, he opened them, figuring it was safe. As expected, there was no sign of anyone around the car. He peered into the darkness, and after confirming he was truly alone, he let himself cry for a bit. The tears came unrestrained, not because he wanted to cry, but because he couldn’t stop them from falling.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Matsuoka returned to the cottage after sunrise, just past six o’clock. As soon as he got back, he took a shower and changed his clothes. While he was doing this, Hiromatsu woke up. Even though their eyes met, they didn’t exchange a single "Good morning." They spent the time in a silence so unnatural it felt heavy. This awkward quiet continued until a little after seven-thirty when Hayama knocked on the cottage door to announce that breakfast was ready.

Once all four of them were together, the conversation flowed normally. Matsuoka didn’t ignore Hiromatsu, and Hiromatsu at least responded when spoken to. After they finished their breakfast of sandwiches and coffee, they began packing up to leave. Just as they were about to check out at the management office, Matsuoka realized he’d forgotten his car keys inside the cottage.

Hastily, he ran back alone to retrieve them. He grabbed the keys from the table and then noticed something else had being forgotten—a watch left sitting on the side table. It was Hiromatsu’s. The Japanese watch had a scratched glass face and a well-worn, amber-colored leather band that showed its age.

Matsuoka slipped the watch into his pocket and left the cottage. Until he dropped the others off at the station, Hiromatsu didn’t mention anything about the missing watch. It was as if he hadn’t even realized it was gone.

From the start, Matsuoka hadn’t intended to keep it. On the way back from the camping trip, he tried several times to return the watch but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He thought about going to return it, but that would mean facing Hiromatsu in person. Matsuoka didn’t want Hiromatsu, who already knew about his feelings, to think he was using the watch as an excuse to see him. He didn’t want it to seem like the goal was to meet, rather than to return the watch.

The day after returning from the trip, Matsuoka’s own watch stopped. The battery had died. Though he didn’t really need a watch, as his smartphone could do the job, he found it inconvenient to have to pull out his phone every time he wanted to check the time. So, he borrowed Hiromatsu’s watch.

The strap’s hole needed to be adjusted one notch tighter for Matsuoka’s wrist. The old watch, though certainly not stylish, had a large, easy-to-read face. It felt like wearing a piece of Hiromatsu. Matsuoka was surprised at his own audacity, at how easily he could treat someone else’s belongings as if they were his own. But even with that discomfort, he kept wearing it. From the moment he put it on, the watch felt like a part of him, and he grew attached to it.

A week after the camping trip, Matsuoka met Fujimoto alone for the first time. Just as she was starting to get comfortable with him, he felt terrible about having to tell her that he couldn’t be in a relationship with her. He couldn’t keep lying. He told her the truth: "I can’t forget about someone I still have feelings for." Fujimoto kept her eyes down the entire time, and finally asked, “Is that person Hayama?”

“No, it’s not. Why would you think that?” Matsuoka replied, startled.

“You always seemed to be looking at Hayama,” Fujimoto explained. Matsuoka didn’t have the courage to admit that it was the man next to her he’d been watching.

He didn’t tell Hayama about ending things with Fujimoto, but it must have reached her through Fujimoto because Hayama stopped talking about her. She also stopped suggesting they go out as a group of four. Matsuoka wondered if Hiromatsu knew what had happened between him and Fujimoto, but he had no way to find out.

He could see how things would play out from here. As opportunities to see each other dwindled, memories would fade, and by the time he had forgotten who the watch on his wrist originally belonged to, everything would be over. At least, that’s how it felt.

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