Utsukushii Koto: Volume 1 - Part 11

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Before he knew it, August had passed, and now it was September. Even though he was aware of the changing month, the relentless sun still made it feel like summer, causing Matsuoka to momentarily lose track of time. When he occasionally went out for business in the busy downtown area, the noticeable absence of young people wandering around reminded him that summer vacation had ended.

On the second Wednesday of September, after finishing his rounds, Matsuoka called the office to say he would be heading straight home. However, his manager told him to come back to the office because there was something to discuss. Annoyed at the extra commute, he grudgingly returned.

It was past six o’clock in the evening by the time he arrived. The lobby was dimly lit as the evening set in, and Matsuoka impatiently waited for the elevator. When it finally arrived, he was surprised to see it packed with seven or eight people.

“Hey, Matsuoka!” Hayama was among the group and quickly came over to him.

“Done with your rounds? Finished for the day?” she asked cheerfully. Despite it being after hours, her makeup was still flawless, and her outfit was cute. It crossed his mind that she might be going on a date, but he forced himself not to think about who it might be with.

“Yeah, almost. Is the manager still around?”

“He is, but he was getting ready to leave,” Hayama replied.

Matsuoka clicked his tongue in irritation and, without thinking, glanced at his watch.

“Then I better hurry,” he muttered.

“Hey, did you change your watch?” Hayama asked, noticing his wrist.

“Oh, yeah,” he mumbled, lowering his arm and tugging at his sleeve with his right hand.

“Weren’t you wearing a TAG Heuer before?”

“The battery died. I haven’t gotten it replaced yet. This is an old one I used back in college,” he replied, fumbling over his words. Hayama didn’t seem to mind his hesitation and simply said, “I see,” before continuing.

“Oh, that reminds me—when we went camping last month, it seems Hiromatsu lost his watch,” she said.

Matsuoka’s already uneasy heart began to pound as if it might explode.

“He called the cottage where we stayed, but they said they couldn’t find it. He has no idea where he lost it, and if it was somewhere at the campsite or by the river, it’s probably gone for good. But could you check your car just in case? He doesn’t think it’s there, but you never know,” Hayama asked.

“Sure,” Matsuoka mumbled in a small voice.

“Was it really that important of a watch?” he asked.

Hayama shrugged. “It wasn’t expensive, but his parents gave it to him as a graduation gift.”

Matsuoka’s right hand began to tremble.

“The watch had a gold rim and a brown leather band… Kind of like the one you are wearing,” she added.

Matsuoka barely remembered the rest of their conversation. He hadn’t been able to respond properly and ended up practically running away from her. The watch on his right wrist suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

As soon as he parted ways with Hayama, Matsuoka took off the watch and slipped it into his suit pocket. Once he got home, he placed it on the table and sat there, feeling lost.

He hadn’t realized how important the watch was to Hiromatsu. He knew he had to return it, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit that he had taken it and even worn it. He thought about telling Hayama that he had found it in his car, but she had already seen him wearing it. She would know that he had been using it for himself.

As Matsuoka wrestled with how to return the watch, his mind grew exhausted. He realized, to his dismay, that he didn’t want to give it back. Knowing it was something Hiromatsu had treasured, something he had used for years, made it even harder.

He clenched the watch tightly in his hand and closed his eyes. In his mind, he begged, “I’ll take good care of it, so please let me have it. Please,” to the person who couldn’t hear him and who hadn’t even been asked.

Just then, his phone rang. The sound startled him—it was a ringtone he hadn’t heard in months. Trembling, Matsuoka looked at the caller ID. It was Hiromatsu.

He stared at the phone, holding it far away, then bringing it closer, repeating the meaningless actions until the ringing finally stopped.

Why was he calling now? Hiromatsu hadn’t contacted him once since they broke up. As Matsuoka pondered the reason, a new email notification appeared on his screen. The sender was Motofumi Hiromatsu. Matsuoka’s hands shook as he opened the message.

“I’d like to talk to you. If you’re available, please let me know a time that works for you.”

It couldn’t be true. There was no way Hiromatsu would send such a happy email without a reason. There had to be something behind it. And as Matsuoka thought about it, he realized what it was.

Hiromatsu must have heard from Hayama. He must have found out that Matsuoka had taken the watch and been using it.

It all made sense now. Hayama had recognized the watch and brought it up with Hiromatsu. She had probably tested the waters with Matsuoka, but when his response wasn’t what she expected, she must have told Hiromatsu. And now, Hiromatsu was trying to get the watch back himself.

Matsuoka was aware that he had done something wrong, but still...

He set Hiromatsu’s phone number to be blocked and did the same for his email. He couldn’t help it if they couldn’t see each other anymore or if Hiromatsu fell for someone else. But at the very least, he wanted to be allowed to keep the watch.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

As September drew to a close, the thick humidity of midsummer began to fade, and the sky felt higher and clearer. That day, Matsuoka returned to the office at 7 PM to finish up some desk work. Though he had finished his rounds before 5 PM, he deliberately chose this time to go back. Lately, he’d been intentionally returning to the office late. The reason was simple: he wanted to avoid running into Hayama. The longer they spent together, the more opportunities there were for conversation. He had decided to keep his distance until the issue with the watch blew over.

Looking up at the office building from outside, Matsuoka noticed the lights were still on in his department’s floor. Most of the admin staff usually left by six, so if anyone was still there, it had to be someone from the Sales team.

When Matsuoka walked in, there were three people inside, and one of them was Hayama. The moment their eyes met, he knew he was in trouble. He tried to avoid her gaze but ended up giving her an awkward smile. He could feel her eyes following him as he sat down, and sure enough, she approached him almost immediately.

“Good work today,” she said.

“Yeah, you too,” Matsuoka replied.

“You’ve been really busy lately. You’re hardly ever in the office,” she noted.

“Yeah, lots of new clients. There’s a lot of follow-up work, and sometimes it’s just easier to handle things in person than over the phone,” he said, shrugging and sighing for effect, though his fingers trembled slightly.

“What about you? Why are you still here?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation casual.

“My work’s done. I stayed because I wanted to talk to you, Matsuoka.”

He swallowed hard. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“About Hiromatsu, actually,” she said.

A cold sweat broke out on his back. After that incident, Matsuoka had quickly replaced the battery in his own watch. He hadn’t used Hiromatsu’s watch since then; it was tucked away, hidden safely in his room.

“What about Hiromatsu?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant as he booted up his computer.

“Oh, is this about the watch?” Matsuoka asked, feigning ignorance.

“No, it’s not that,” Hayama shook her head. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

His fingers moved, but his mind wasn’t functioning properly. Hayama asked if he could stay after work to talk, and despite his repeated excuses about being tired and unsure how long he’d be, she wouldn’t back down. Eventually, he had no choice but to agree.

He barely worked for thirty minutes before shutting down his computer. Though his tasks were unfinished, he couldn’t focus. Anxiety gnawed at him, making it impossible to concentrate.

Hayama took him to a café that stayed open late. It was popular with young women, probably because of the handsome waiters. Despite being across from her, Matsuoka couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze, keeping his eyes downcast instead. Even though it was after 8 PM, a time when he would usually be hungry, he didn’t have an appetite and ordered only coffee.

Hayama had said it wasn’t about the watch, but if she wanted to talk about Hiromatsu, the only thing that came to mind was that she had somehow found out about his cross-dressing relationship with him. That was the only possibility that made sense.

However, Hayama didn’t speak right away, and Matsuoka, bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation, didn’t immediately notice her pained expression.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Okabayashi—remember her? She was dating our colleague Fukuda, and they broke up but got back together recently.”

Matsuoka tilted his head, confused about where this was going.

“Okabayashi told Fukuda that I’m dating Hiromatsu,” she continued, her voice faltering.

Matsuoka couldn’t quite grasp the direction of the conversation.

“Fukuda knew about someone Hiromatsu liked before. He said she was like a model—tall and incredibly beautiful,” Hayama said, swallowing hard.

Matsuoka’s throat tightened, and he had to force down the lump that formed there.

“I keep telling myself that his past doesn’t matter, that I’m the one he’s with now. But… it’s hard,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “I think Hiromatsu is still in love with that woman. I don’t think he cares about me at all.”

Tears streamed down her face, and Matsuoka instinctively responded, “You don’t know that for sure.”

“He never initiates anything. I’m always the one asking to meet, saying I love him. Last week, I didn’t contact him for an entire week, waiting to see if he’d notice. He didn’t. I finally caved and called him, and he hadn’t even realized we hadn’t spoken,” Hayama said, pressing her fingers to her eyes.

“If he doesn’t love me, I wish he’d just say it. If he can’t see me as his girlfriend, I wish he’d make that clear so I could move on. But whenever I ask to meet, he agrees. And after we do, he says he had a good time. It’s all so confusing… I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

Matsuoka’s feelings were a tangled mess. Part of him was relieved to hear Hayama say that Hiromatsu didn’t love her, but another part felt sorry for her as she cried in front of him.

“Have you ever seen Hiromatsu’s ex-girlfriend?” she asked, her tear-filled eyes locking onto his.

He fell silent, unable to answer her simple yes-or-no question. Hayama gave a bitter smile.

“Was she really that beautiful?” she asked.

Matsuoka looked down. “She was… yeah, she was beautiful.”

“I see,” Hayama murmured, nodding slightly. Her tears fell onto her clasped hands on the table. Matsuoka bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

“She was beautiful, but that’s all there was to her. She had a bad personality. She was the type to date multiple guys at once without a second thought. She was selfish, thoughtless… She probably used Hiromatsu for her own gain. I think it’s good that he broke up with her.”

“Really?” Hayama whispered.

“Yeah. I think you’re much better than she ever was. Being infatuated with someone like her is like being sick with a fever—it’s intense, but it fades with time. I think he’ll get over it eventually,” Matsuoka said.

Hayama seemed to calm down, her sobs subsiding into sniffles.

“I’m sorry for unloading all this on you,” she said, forcing a smile despite her tear-streaked face. “I’ve been so consumed with doubt and pain every day, and I really needed someone to talk to. I’m glad it was you, Matsuoka.”

They talked for another thirty minutes before parting ways. Matsuoka walked Hayama to the station, and by the time they said goodbye, she no longer showed any signs of tears. Matsuoka also took the train home, pondering the fragile state of Hiromatsu and Hayama’s relationship.

It was clear that Hiromatsu still hadn’t forgotten Yoko Eto—the fake version of himself that he had created while cross-dressing.

An overwhelming urge to drink came over him. He didn’t want to think about anything anymore. At a convenience store near the station, he bought a few cans of beer. As he walked, the rustling sound of the plastic bag in his hand felt strangely hollow. He just wanted to get home, drink, get drunk, and fall asleep without thinking.

He was too impatient to wait for the elevator, so he took the stairs instead. But he regretted the decision before he’d climbed even five steps. His legs felt like they were weighed down by chains, tired from his rounds. Because he was staring at the floor, he didn’t notice the person standing in front of his door until he was almost there.

The figure’s shadow stretched down to his feet. Slowly, he lifted his head. He didn’t make a sound, but the surprise caused him to lose his grip on the bag, which fell to the ground, sending cans rolling across the concrete. One of them rolled farther away, and Hiromatsu bent down to pick it up.

“Hey,” Hiromatsu said, handing him the can.

Matsuoka tried to steady his trembling hands as he took it, but they wouldn’t stop shaking, so he snatched it away quickly. He kept his head down as he fumbled for his keys, but his fingers were trembling so badly that it took him three tries to get the key into the lock.

“Um…”

Hiromatsu was still waiting by the door. He had come here to see Matsuoka. Even though Matsuoka knew this, he wasn’t about to do him the courtesy of asking why.

“I need to talk to you,” Hiromatsu said.

The door was unlocked now. With an escape route ready, Matsuoka finally turned to face him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I tried calling you, but I couldn’t get through.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s because I blocked your number.”

Hiromatsu looked down, and Matsuoka clenched his hands so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.

“I have nothing to say to you, and I figured you didn’t have anything to say to me either,” Matsuoka said.

Silence hung between them. Hiromatsu’s awkward right hand ruffled his hair, which was prone to bedhead.

“If I had nothing to say, I wouldn’t have called. There’s no need to block me if I don’t have a reason to contact you,” Hiromatsu replied, his reasoning sound. If there was no reason, the phone would remain silent.

“I called you several times,” Hiromatsu murmured, the tone of his voice making Matsuoka feel accused.

“If you need something, you could just tell Hayama,” Matsuoka retorted.

Hiromatsu fell silent again, and the conversation stalled, going nowhere.

“I want to return what you gave me.”

“Return?” Matsuoka echoed.

“Yes, like the gloves,” Hiromatsu said.

The gloves Matsuoka had picked out for Hiromatsu last year as a birthday gift. Matsuoka laughed bitterly at the irony of it all. He had wanted something that Hiromatsu cherished so badly that he had practically stolen it, and now Hiromatsu was trying to return the gifts he had received.

“If you don’t want them, just throw them away,” Matsuoka spat.

“I thought about that, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Returning them to you seemed like the best option,” Hiromatsu explained.

“Getting them back would be just as much of a hassle for me,” Matsuoka snapped.

“It’s a hassle for me too,” Hiromatsu said softly.

Matsuoka remembered how happy Hiromatsu had been, thanking him repeatedly with a smile that seemed to light up his face. Now, all of that felt like a lie. Matsuoka couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore.

“Just give them back,” he growled.

“If you can’t throw them away yourself and they’re just a burden, then give them to me. I’ll get rid of them,” Matsuoka insisted, thrusting out his right hand.

Hiromatsu stared at the outstretched hand.

“You have them with you, right? Hurry up and give them to me!” Matsuoka demanded.

Hurried by Matsuoka’s sharp tone, Hiromatsu fumbled with his briefcase, searching for the gloves. But in his haste, the briefcase slipped from his hands and fell to the floor. He crouched down, rummaging through it, before finally muttering in a strained voice, “They’re not here. I must have left them at the office. I’ll bring them next time.”

Matsuoka took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his molars still quivered slightly with frustration.

“I don’t want there to be a next time,” he said, staring Hiromatsu down.

“Just get rid of them on your own. Maybe returning them would make you feel better, but it doesn’t do anything for me,” he continued.

Hiromatsu started to say something softly, but Matsuoka cut him off.

“I don’t want to see you again, Hiromatsu. If possible, I don’t even want to look at your face.”

When Hiromatsu asked why, Matsuoka couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the question.

“I liked you, but you turned me down. Now you’re dating someone I work with. Do you really need another reason?”

When things got awkward, Hiromatsu always fell silent. Matsuoka knew that meant Hiromatsu had no counterargument, and that only made him angrier.

“You probably think I tricked you with my cross-dressing, and you’ve been angry about it this whole time. I get it. It was wrong, and I regret it,” Matsuoka said, but still got no response.

“So just forget about me. Move on,” he said, bowing his head.

“Instead of bothering with me, pay more attention to Hayama. If you’re going to be in a relationship, at least give her enough attention so she doesn’t have to worry all the time.”

Matsuoka forced himself to speak in a brighter tone, trying to muster some enthusiasm.

“She’s a good person, you know? Responsible, kind,” he added.

There was no lie in his praise, but it left him feeling hollow.

“It’s late. You should go home too, Hiromatsu. See you,” Matsuoka said, turning to open the door.

But as soon as he did, Hiromatsu grabbed his right arm, making him flinch.

“What is it?” Matsuoka snapped.

“Um…”

“Let go!”

Matsuoka yanked his arm away, breaking free from Hiromatsu’s grip. He quickly slipped into his apartment and locked the door behind him.

From the other side, he could hear Hiromatsu banging on the door. Even though he covered his ears, the vibrations traveled through his back.

The knocking persisted for a while, but gradually, the intervals grew longer until they finally stopped. Matsuoka sank down by the entrance, his head bowed. His body wouldn’t stop trembling, and the spot where Hiromatsu had grabbed him remained hot, the warmth refusing to dissipate.

He wondered what Hiromatsu had wanted to say, whether there was something else he needed to tell him, or if it was something else entirely.

A fleeting, dreamlike hope flickered and died. The hope that maybe, just maybe, Hiromatsu was thinking about him. At first, Hiromatsu had been angry, feeling deceived by the cross-dressing. Even when Matsuoka confessed his feelings, he was met with outright rejection. He couldn’t imagine things suddenly taking a turn for the better.

But why? Hiromatsu said he came to return what he’d received, but it felt like an excuse to see him. There shouldn’t have been any reason for Hiromatsu to want to see him.

He clung to the memory of Hiromatsu’s grip, to the way he’d tried to stop him, to the words Hiromatsu had almost said. Sweet hopes intertwined with bitter memories of rejection. He told himself it was foolish to expect anything, but still…

Even if Hiromatsu’s feelings had changed, Matsuoka couldn’t be sure. They hadn’t had any constructive conversations, only tense exchanges, and on top of that, Matsuoka had been trying to get close to a girl who was Hayama’s friend.

He told himself not to get his hopes up. He tried to remind himself that he was just seeing what he wanted to see because he still had feelings for Hiromatsu. He remembered the time he had confessed, confident in his chances, only to be rejected. That memory was so bitter it made him wince.

Sitting by the entrance, Matsuoka cracked open a beer. He drank can after can, but the alcohol did nothing to dull the edge of his thoughts. He remained sober, frustrated, and aching with unfulfilled longing.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

There were no more phone calls. Matsuoka had blocked the number, so there was no way to Hiromatsu reach him. The last time, he had turned Hiromatsu away, telling him there was nothing left to say.

And yet, every time Matsuoka returned to his apartment, he felt tense. He had to summon courage to take that first step out of the elevator, half-expecting Hiromatsu to be waiting outside his door. But that expectation always ended in disappointment; no one was ever there.

A week had passed since Hiromatsu’s visit when Matsuoka had lunch with Hayama. He had just returned from his rounds at about noon, and he ran into her as she was about to head out for lunch. She invited him to join her, saying she wanted to talk, so they went to a nearby café and ordered lunch. The café was cute, with an open terrace, but the tables were small, and the chairs were hard and uncomfortable.

“So, how’s everything going?” Matsuoka asked.

Hayama tilted her head in response.

“You know, with Hiromatsu,” he clarified.

“Oh, that,” Hayama said with a bright smile. “Ever since I talked to you, Hiromatsu has been reaching out regularly. It’s nothing major, but we exchange messages almost every day.”

Matsuoka didn’t want to acknowledge the disappointment he felt.

“Even if we can’t meet often, it’s nice to hear his voice every day, so I don’t feel too lonely,” she added.

“Hmm,” Matsuoka replied absentmindedly, barely paying attention.

“Hiromatsu and I talk about you a lot, actually,” Hayama continued.

“What?” Matsuoka asked, startled.

“Well, you know, you’re a mutual friend, after all. And it seems like Hiromatsu is very aware of you,” Hayama explained.

The word "aware" made Matsuoka panic for a moment, thinking that Hayama might know about his feelings.

“A-aware of me? How?” he stammered.

“As in, he’s conscious of you as a man,” she said.

As a man… as a romantic interest… aware of him? Matsuoka had been so caught up in his thoughts about Hiromatsu that he didn’t realize what Hayama was implying.

“You’re a handsome guy, Matsuoka. You’re good at your job, and you’re kind. I know it might sound like I’m just flattering you since we’re coworkers, but when I mentioned these things to Hiromatsu, he said, ‘Why didn’t you fall for Matsuoka instead?’ It was pretty funny.”

Hayama chuckled.

“He was all like, ‘Why me and not the cool Matsuoka?’ It was kind of cute, almost like he was jealous. So I told him, ‘At first, I thought Matsuoka was great, but back then, he was living with a girlfriend, and before I knew it, my feelings turned into friendship instead of love.’”

“You even told him about my ex?” Matsuoka blurted out.

“Oh, was that bad?” Hayama asked, suddenly unsure.

Matsuoka couldn’t think of a good reason to say it was, so he vaguely replied, “No, it’s fine.”

It was true that he had lived with a girlfriend before, but he hadn’t wanted Hayama to be the one to tell Hiromatsu.

“And when I mentioned that you had been in a relationship, Hiromatsu seemed really curious about what she was like. I thought he was overthinking it,” Hayama added with a laugh. “I guess I’m not really your type, right, Matsuoka?”

The café’s lunch looked beautiful but wasn’t very filling. It might have been the right amount for Hayama, but Matsuoka found it lacking. Still, he didn’t have much of an appetite. It wasn’t about the taste—good or bad didn’t matter.

“The other day, I went to Hiromatsu’s apartment. We cooked dinner together, and it was fun,” Hayama said with a sigh.

“Is that so?” Matsuoka replied, his voice trembling.

“He hasn’t proposed or anything, but I think it would be nice if he did. I really like him, and he’s so kind,” she said with a smile.

“Yeah, I see,” Matsuoka said, forcing a smile. He couldn’t bring himself to say, “Good luck.”

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