Utsukushii Koto: Volume 2 - Part 5

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They’d been saying spring was late this year. And having seen snow at the hot springs just a week ago, Hiromatsu still felt like winter hadn’t quite ended. But once March passed the twentieth, the temperature rose quickly, and winter coats began to look clumsy and out of place.

With just two days left until the official termination notice, Hiromatsu received a phone call from Matsuoka in the middle of working overtime. “Can we meet today?” he asked. Since returning from the hot springs, both of them had been too busy—constantly tied up with overtime—and while they kept in touch over email, they hadn’t had a chance to eat together even once.

“I’m good to meet, but are you sure you’re okay?”

Just yesterday, Hayama had gone to the main office and come back saying, “Sales is a complete disaster right now.” With about a quarter of the sales department resigning, the chaos caused by disorganized handovers was massive.

Originally a clerical worker at headquarters, Hayama had been sent there twice this week to help sort out paperwork. Their team was so overwhelmed that the office manager had made a direct appeal to HR, asking that Hayama not be sent away any more. As a result, a new temp had been brought in this week. The woman was highly skilled—she worked strictly from nine to five with no overtime, but got the work of two people done. Thanks to her, Hiromatsu had recently been able to leave the office by around seven.

“I’m fine. More importantly, can we meet?”

His voice had a rare edge of urgency to it. Maybe the stress from work was piling up and he just wanted to blow off steam over a few drinks. Hiromatsu figured his own workload would be wrapped up soon enough and agreed to meet around eight before hanging up.

Usually when Matsuoka invited him to dinner, it was via text. Even if they were busy, calling during work hours was unheard of. The deviation from the norm didn’t strike Hiromatsu as anything serious, though. He simply thought, Well, everyone has days like that.

They met at the station and, per Matsuoka’s suggestion, went to a quiet izakaya with private rooms instead of their usual spot. “Just felt like a change of scenery,” Matsuoka had said, and Hiromatsu didn’t question it. The menu was varied and offered some unique dishes, but the food didn’t quite measure up to their regular izakaya.

Strangely, Matsuoka didn’t complain about work at all. When Hiromatsu asked, “Is your job keeping you busy?” he only said, “Same as usual,” and didn’t elaborate. Yet he kept glancing at the clock, shifting in his seat, fidgeting. He was clearly on edge.

“Hey, Hiromatsu-san… are you interested in law?”

Just as Hiromatsu was beginning to wonder what was going on, the question came out of nowhere.

“That’s kind of sudden. Why?”

Even when pressed, Matsuoka answered vaguely, “Well… uh…”

“Are you in some kind of legal trouble or something?”

“No, nothing like that.”

This was unusual for Matsuoka—he normally spoke plainly and directly. And yet now, even though he’d brought it up himself, he kept his gaze lowered and wouldn’t look Hiromatsu in the eye. Whatever it was, it must’ve been hard to talk about.

“I don’t really know any lawyers myself… but if you want, I could ask my relatives if they know someone. I can check around.”

“Oh—no, I’m not looking for a lawyer or anything.”

So that wasn’t it. Then what was he getting at? Before Hiromatsu could figure it out, the silence between them was broken by a ringtone. Matsuoka opened his phone, checked the screen, and clicked his tongue softly.

“Sorry—just a sec.”

He excused himself and stepped out of the private room. Left alone, Hiromatsu had nothing else to do but sip his drink and pick at the food. Matsuoka returned about five minutes later, but when he did, he looked even more unsettled than before.

“Who was that on the phone?”

Hiromatsu asked the question, half-wondering if he was prying too much.

“Ah, just a junior from work. He messed something up and now I’m helping deal with the aftermath. We’ve been having a lot of that lately. I actually need to go back to the office later tonight.”

“Then let’s wrap this up after we eat.”

“Sorry. I know I was the one who asked you out, and now I’m the one cutting it short. But… I really needed to see you today. My senpai told me I have to give him an answer by tomorrow…”

“An answer?” Hiromatsu asked.

Matsuoka mumbled a small “Ah…” and looked down. As Hiromatsu struggled to follow the conversation, Matsuoka suddenly lifted his face, as if bracing himself.

“My college senpai is a lawyer—and he’s about to open his own private practice.”

“Oh, that’s impressive. He must be pretty sharp.”

Maybe Matsuoka really was dealing with some kind of legal trouble. If he had a lawyer acquaintance, though, why come to him? Unless… maybe it was harder to talk to someone you knew too well.

“He’s looking for someone who can handle reception and administrative work. No certifications or legal knowledge required at this stage, but there are some things he’d want you to pick up on the job.”

A subtle discomfort rose in Hiromatsu’s chest like frayed static. What is this conversation actually about…?

“Hayama came back to HQ the other day,” Matsuoka continued, “and… when we were talking, your name came up. She said things seemed rough for you.”

He used the vague word “rough”, but there was no mistaking that Hayama must have told him about the layoff. In just two more days, his name would be posted on the resignation list at HQ—he knew people would find out. That part didn’t bother him. But…

“A guy a year younger than you in my department quit recently too. He got fed up with the company’s handling of things, threw in his resignation, and moved on to another firm.”

So that person—unlike him—had the skills to transfer into another company. Multiple interviews, and Hiromatsu still hadn’t landed anything. We’re nothing alike.

“After I heard you were job hunting, I wanted to do something to help… so I reached out to someone from college. My senpai offered to consider you for the position. He’s actually a really decent guy, laid-back. It’d be a full-time position. The salary might not be as high as our company, but the conditions are pretty good overall. He just needs an answer by tomorrow…”

Matsuoka’s concern for him was surely genuine. It was a kind offer. And yet, the more Hiromatsu listened, the colder he felt. Not just cold—something was stirring beneath that, slowly building into irritation.

Under the table, he clenched his hands into fists.

“I’ve been worried about you since last month. You just seemed… off. And then the other day you said out of nowhere, ‘Maybe I should just move back to the countryside.’ I didn’t know what was bothering you, but after talking to Hayama, I finally understood…”

Yes, he’d been down ever since the layoff was announced. He’d compared himself to Matsuoka, who was always competent, always admired—and it made him feel worthless. But that shame was his to carry. His to deal with. He didn’t want anyone else weighing in. He didn’t want anyone meddling. He hadn’t asked Matsuoka to help him find work. Not once.

He’d been rejected time after time, unable to find a new job. But here, thanks to Matsuoka, he was suddenly being handed a position with decent conditions. That one connection of Matsuoka’s was more powerful than all his own effort.

I can find my own damn job.

Just leave me alone. Don’t shove the difference in our worth right in my face.

Even if it takes time, I’ll do it myself. I’m not a child. I’ll manage.

It hurt. And the very fact that it hurt made him feel like he was being petty—and that sense of pettiness morphed into something even more painful.

…Why was Matsuoka so invested in taking care of him? Was it pity? Was it charity? A wave of nausea surged up from his gut, twisting with a sharp pang that stabbed through his stomach. He didn’t want to see Matsuoka’s face anymore. Didn’t want to hear his voice. Didn’t want to be near him.

Hiromatsu pulled out his wallet, took out a few thousand yen, and set it on the table.

“I’m not feeling well, so I’m going home.”

Without waiting for a reply, Hiromatsu stood up.

 

 

“Eh—are you okay?” Matsuoka scrambled up from his seat in alarm.

“You should stay and eat, Matsuoka-san. You’ve barely touched your food.”

“Ah… but… wait, hang on. I’ll go too—I’m coming with you.”

Hiromatsu didn’t wait for Matsuoka to settle the bill. He stepped outside and walked off at a brisk pace. I hope he doesn’t follow me, he thought—but of course, the sound of hurried footsteps came running after him.

“Hiromatsu-san!”

On a deserted stretch of sidewalk, Matsuoka grabbed his arm to stop him. Even that touch felt like too much—Hiromatsu yanked his arm away roughly. Matsuoka looked as if he might burst into tears at any second.

“S-sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

His voice came out far colder than even he expected.

“Because… I really overstepped, didn’t I…”

Matsuoka looked down, his body trembling slightly. So he knows, Hiromatsu thought. He wanted to say it—but didn’t. Saying it out loud would only make him feel even more miserable.

“You were just trying to help, right? I appreciate the offer about the job. But I’ve decided that if I leave the company, I’ll go back to my family home.”

It had only ever been one possibility—but he spoke as if it were already decided. Matsuoka’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I’m going to give up the apartment, so I’ll be busy getting ready for the move. I don’t think we’ll be able to see each other like we used to.”

“But… the other day, you said you still hadn’t…”

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

“Well then. See you.”

And with that, he got into a taxi. The last train was still running, but he didn’t want to risk walking to the station—if he did, Matsuoka might follow him all the way there. He wanted to avoid that at all costs.

He stared blankly out the window as the city flowed by. Soon enough, he couldn’t bear it anymore and buried his face in both hands. I hate this. I hate this. I hate it… I hate everything. He hated himself for being so pettily bitter, and he hated Matsuoka for being so needlessly kind.

“You okay there, buddy? Feeling sick?”

The driver’s voice wasn’t so much concerned for Hiromatsu’s well-being as it was wary that he might throw up and dirty the cab. Without answering, Hiromatsu lifted his face and turned back toward the window. But he wasn’t looking at the scenery anymore. His mind kept replaying the exchange at the restaurant. Over and over. And with each pass, the dark fog in his head thickened, covering everything, leaving no room for thought.

A message alert chimed. It was from Matsuoka.

“I’m really sorry about today. I was thoughtless. But…”

The message was long.

Hiromatsu didn’t read to the end. He turned off his phone.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Returning home had always been one of the options, but when he thought about finding another job, he’d hesitated. Yet once the words “I’ll go back” actually left his mouth, the idea became more and more real to him. Rather than staying here feeling bitter, maybe it was better to go home and start something new—something completely different from clerical work.

And once he’d decided to leave, a strange lightness filled his chest. That’s when he finally understood—what he’d been wishing for wasn’t life in the city, nor even another job.

Going back to the countryside was fine, but he still needed to decide whether to live in his parents’ house or rent a place on his own. Before that, he’d have to explain things to his family. After considering who to tell first, he settled on his older brother.

When Hiromatsu confessed that he’d been laid off and was exhausted from working, and that he wanted to return to the countryside, his brother fell silent for a moment—then answered firmly, “Got it.”

“Take a month or two and rest at home. But you don’t need to give up your apartment. You’re still looking for a job over there, right?”

“I’m thinking of job hunting back home.”

“There’s not much work out here, you know. At our factory, Mom and Dad are still working full time. My wife just gave birth, and the baby still needs a lot of attention, so honestly, I could use the help—but we don’t have the money to pay you a salary.”

Reality wasn’t going to go easy on him.

“You should look for something over there. As long as you’re not picky, there are way more options than back here.”

That’s what his brother said—but Hiromatsu was already sick to death of the endless string of failed interviews, of the colorless routine that had reduced his life to shuttling between office and apartment. Even if he came back to the city for work eventually, he wanted to wipe the slate clean and start over. So he convinced his reluctant brother to let him cancel the apartment lease.

“I’ll tell Mom and Dad it was just too much work, so you quit,” his brother offered. “No need to say you were laid off.” He was trying to save face for Hiromatsu, protect his dignity. That thought filled Hiromatsu with both guilt and a quiet ache.

Work aside, there were landlords to contact, a moving company to book, unwanted things to get rid of, and boxes to pack—Hiromatsu suddenly found himself very busy.

Every day, Matsuoka sent him a message. “If you have time, please let me know—whenever is fine. I really want to talk to you.” It was in every message. And every time, Hiromatsu would simply respond, “Sorry, I’m busy,” without offering a time to meet.

His feelings toward Matsuoka were tangled and difficult to put into words. He knew Matsuoka had acted for his sake, but it wasn’t what Hiromatsu had asked for. And even so, he knew how childish and ungrateful his reaction had been toward someone who’d only meant well.

To be clear, this hadn’t made him hate Matsuoka. Not at all. But he didn’t want to see him. He couldn’t stand the way he felt around him—the inferiority complex that flared up every time they were face to face. He’d been coping fine with the reality of his layoff, until Matsuoka had gone and offered him a job. That’s what had reopened the wound. He knew the feeling would fade in time, and until it did, he didn’t want to see him. He didn’t want to become the kind of bitter, self-loathing man he himself would despise—especially not in front of Matsuoka.

That year, March ended with a weekend, so Hiromatsu’s last day at work was Friday, March 29. The farewell party—ironically larger for those leaving than for those staying—had taken place three days earlier. Hayama was scheduled to work at headquarters on his final day, so he’d said goodbye to her the day before.

On the 29th, Hiromatsu worked until closing time, accepted a token bouquet, and returned to his apartment. Inside, only a few taped-up cardboard boxes remained. The room felt empty, hollow.

His things were scheduled to be picked up the next day. Once that was done, he would cancel the lease and head home on the last evening bus.

He ate a convenience store bento in the bare, lifeless room. The thought that as of tomorrow he would officially be unemployed left him feeling strangely unanchored. He couldn't help imagining the worst: What if I never find another job? What if I just fall apart like this?

With the beer he’d bought alongside the bento, he drank in small sips while staring blankly at the wall. It really was for the best that he’d decided to go home. Spending night after night alone in this state of uncertainty—he wouldn't have been able to bear it.

I probably won’t sleep tonight, he thought, just as his phone began to ring. It was Matsuoka.

He hesitated. The call kept ringing. He still didn’t want to see him. But once he moved back to the countryside, they wouldn’t be able to meet for a while. I should at least say goodbye. That was the only reason he answered.

“Hiromatsu-san.”

Matsuoka’s voice was trembling.

“I’m glad… I’m so glad you picked up. I want to see you. I really need to see you tonight.”

It wasn’t a request wrapped in politeness—he said it plainly: “I want to see you.” If it had just been over the phone, maybe he could’ve managed, but the thought of talking face-to-face made Hiromatsu recoil.

“I’m just… tired. Sorry.”

“Please. If you don’t want to go out, I’ll come to your place. Just five minutes.”

There was something so desperate in his voice, it made Hiromatsu feel bad for him. Still, if Matsuoka came to his apartment, it’d likely turn into a long conversation. So instead, he suggested they meet at the park near the apartment and agreed on a time.

When he arrived ten minutes early, someone stirred beneath the lamplight near the entrance bench. Matsuoka was there, wearing a dark gray suit with a pale, lightweight coat. Probably just off work—his leather bag was bulging with contents.

Hiromatsu hadn’t bothered changing; he just threw a track jacket over the shirt he’d been wearing.

“Sorry for calling you out when you said you were tired.”

Matsuoka’s nose was slightly red.

“I’ve got work this weekend, so I figured this would be my only chance.”

“You’ve got work over the end-of-year break?”

Matsuoka hesitated a moment, then mumbled, “There’s training prep for the new recruits…”

Maybe his promotion had saddled him with all kinds of extra duties beyond his own workload. It didn’t affect Hiromatsu anymore, and yet the knowledge cast a dull gray haze over his heart.

“Hayama told me… that you’re going back to the countryside before the end of March. Is that true?”

“…Yeah.”

His stiff lips twitched slightly as he answered.

“Then… you’re giving up the apartment too?”

“Looks like it.”

Matsuoka lowered his face and let out a long, narrow breath.

“Can you give me your home address?”

A pause. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

“What do you need it for?”

Under the dim light, his lips—tinged pale from the cold—pressed tightly together.

“So I can come visit, when I have the time.”

“But it’s far, you know.”

“Two hours on the Shinkansen, forty minutes on a local train, right? It’s not an impossible day trip.”

His tone was light, but to Hiromatsu, it felt like Matsuoka was deliberately pretending to be okay.

“You don’t have to go that far.”

“If I don’t, I won’t get to see you!”

Matsuoka suddenly raised his voice, then looked startled at himself and covered his mouth. His eyes narrowed in pain.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to shout. I’m not saying it’s impossible. It’s not. You’re not going overseas or anything—we can still meet if I take the train. That’s good enough.”

If he gave Matsuoka his address, he really would come. And that would defeat the purpose of going back—to forget what happened here, to move on. He might be able to see him again once his own emotions had settled, but right now, he couldn’t.

He didn’t respond. He didn’t want to say anything, so the silence stretched longer and longer.

“…So you won’t tell me.”

All Hiromatsu could manage was, “Sorry.”

“Where do I even stand in your life, Hiromatsu-san?”

Matsuoka’s voice trembled with a desperate seriousness as he stared at him, and Hiromatsu swallowed hard.

“You said it to me once, didn’t you? That I should wait until you were sure of your feelings. So I’ve been waiting, all this time. But how long am I supposed to wait? When will you finally give me a proper answer, Hiromatsu-san?”

The consequences of having left things vague had come back to him at last. He’d kept Matsuoka close because he couldn’t stop thinking about him, and he’d convinced himself those feelings must be romantic. He’d asked him to wait so he could figure it out. The truth had long since settled inside him, but he’d kept putting off actually telling Matsuoka. A part of him had hoped things could just continue in that lukewarm, friendship-like state. But if Matsuoka was asking for a real answer now, maybe it was time to give him one.

“Matsuoka-san, I…”

“It’s okay.”

His trembling voice cut him off.

“No… you don’t have to say it.”

It felt like Matsuoka already knew. Knew exactly what he was going to say. That was why he’d stopped him from saying it—he didn’t need to hear it out loud.

Hiromatsu thought about it. He wanted to stay friends with Matsuoka. But keeping things vague would only string him along, block him from meeting someone new.

“I told you I wasn’t sure about my feelings, and that I needed time… I’ve thought about it since then, but in the end… I still only see you as a friend…”

Matsuoka’s taut face twitched faintly. Hiromatsu went on, almost defensively.

“It’s not that I dislike you. I really enjoy being around you. But it’s not the kind of feeling you have for a romantic partner…”

“…Sorry,” Matsuoka murmured.

“I panicked. When I heard you were moving at the end of March, I freaked out. I thought—what if you change your number and I can’t even contact you anymore… and my mind just went blank. I… I’m used to waiting. I can wait as long as it takes—”

“I can’t be your boyfriend, Matsuoka-san. No matter how long you wait, it’s only going to waste your time.”

“What do you mean, waste?”

His voice suddenly sharpened, edged with tension.

“I mean…”

“So there’s no chance for me at all, is that it?!”

The way he demanded it left Hiromatsu speechless.

“Tell me what I did wrong—I'll fix it. If texting every day was too much, I’ll cut back. We don’t even have to meet—once a month is fine. I’d be okay with just phone calls. Whatever pace works for you, I’ll match it.”

He offered compromise after compromise, each one a painful cry that struck directly at Hiromatsu’s heart.

“It’s not about the texts or how often we meet. That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“It’s… something more fundamental…”

He hesitated. It was agonizing to cite something Matsuoka couldn’t change, no matter how hard he tried. The silence stretched on like torture, like standing barefoot on a floor covered in needles.

“…Is it because I’m…”

Matsuoka’s lips moved slowly.

“Because I’m a man?”

The words fell out in a whisper.

When Hiromatsu gave a shallow nod, Matsuoka’s face crumpled.

“You knew that from the start! When you told me to wait for your answer, I’d already stopped dressing like a woman!”

That was the part Hiromatsu hadn’t known how to face. Once, he had said to Matsuoka—dressed in women’s clothing—that he would love him no matter how he looked. He’d meant it. And yet, he couldn’t love him as a man. So now, with painful honesty, he said it plainly: he couldn’t love Matsuoka because he was a man.

When he’d asked Matsuoka to wait, he’d thought the feelings stirring in him might be love. He’d thought maybe he could love him, even as a man. But in the end… he couldn’t.

After all that build-up, after leading him on, he was rejecting Matsuoka for the exact same reason as before.

“I really thought I could handle you being a man. But when it came down to it… physically, I just—couldn’t.”

Matsuoka pressed his hand against his chest.

“If you can’t be with a man, then what—should I go back to dressing like a woman? Put on makeup, wear skirts, like before?”

“Even if you did, that wouldn’t change the fact that you’re a man.”

“Then what the hell can I do?!”

Hiromatsu turned his eyes away. He couldn’t meet Matsuoka’s gaze.

“I don’t think there is anything you can do. …Probably, there’s nothing.”

Matsuoka’s knees gave out, as if they were laughing at him, and he sank to a crouch on the spot. His expression went blank, his head hung low, and the droop of his shoulders sent pain stabbing through Hiromatsu just from looking at it.

“I really did think… maybe we could be together,” Hiromatsu said. “That wasn’t a lie. I can’t be your lover, but I do care about you. If I could, I’d like us to stay friends for a long time.”

The silence that followed stretched long and heavy beneath Matsuoka’s bowed head.

“…I can’t do that.”

The voice that finally came out was barely audible.

“You might have thought we were just hanging out like friends—eating, going places—but for me, it always felt like we were on a date. Even if we only saw each other briefly at night, I’d put on my nicest suits just in case. I wanted to see you every day, but I held back because I didn’t want to annoy you… You never said you liked me, or that we should go out, but… I let myself believe it anyway.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I kind of knew. I thought… maybe I’m not enough, maybe being a guy is the problem. But I kept thinking maybe someday it would work out…”

Matsuoka’s voice trembled into silence.

“I don’t want to be just friends. If we’re friends, then if you told me you found someone or that you’re getting married, I’d have to say, ‘Congratulations,’ wouldn’t I? I could never say that. I don’t want to see you belong to someone else.”

If they couldn’t be friends, then what would become of them?

Matsuoka stood up. His eyes were red, glistening.

“…You don’t have to give me your home address.”

His voice was drained, hollow.

“I won’t call or message you anymore.”

If friendship was off the table, then maybe there was no other path left.

“Hiromatsu-san…”

Matsuoka looked at him with those red-rimmed eyes.

“When you decided to go back home… did you think about me at all?”

The question left him speechless. He thought and thought about how to answer—but in the end, he could only say the truth.

“…No.”

Matsuoka lowered his gaze and whispered softly, “I see.” It was a lonely, desolate sound.

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