Cold Fever - Chapter 3 - Part 2

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Story 2

Nine months after they met, Taniguchi never imagined they would be holding a two-person exhibition. On the last day of the exhibition, Taniguchi left home early, intending to grab a quick bite before heading to the gallery. But when he arrived, he stopped in front of the entrance, unable to simply walk past. Despite knowing he’d be back to help clean up after the exhibition, he couldn’t resist going inside.

“Tohru Takahisa・Masayuki Taniguchi Two-Person Exhibition: Temperature”

Every time he looked at the large panel at the entrance of the exhibition room, he felt a mix of embarrassment, unworthiness, and guilt.

If it had been his own solo exhibition, he wouldn’t have been able to secure such a prestigious gallery so quickly or easily. It was all thanks to the power of the name “Tohru Takahisa.”

Tohru Takahisa had gained fame almost overnight with the CRUX poster photo, garnering attention in the industry. However, he rarely made public appearances. Apart from his work related to CRUX, he hardly took on commercial jobs, instead releasing a photo book once a year. The quality of these books was exceptionally high.

This was Takahisa’s first exhibition. Because Takahisa wasn’t good at negotiating, Taniguchi handled all the various tasks. Initially, the gallery wasn’t even willing to listen, but the moment they heard Tohru Takahisa’s name, their attitude shifted completely—a bitter yet nostalgic memory for Taniguchi.

The exhibition space was divided into two sections: the right half featured Takahisa’s work, and the left half showcased Taniguchi’s. Although the space was large enough to create a display area in the center, they opted instead to have a large floral arrangement by a friend of Taniguchi's, a renowned ikebana artist. Known for his avant-garde style, the artist’s work was often criticized by traditionalists for being too radical, but Taniguchi loved the vibrant, dynamic energy of his floral creations. The arrangement, which included tulips, seemed to match the exhibition's concept and the season of spring.

Starting from Takahisa’s section on the right, Taniguchi walked through the exhibit. No matter how many times he looked at Takahisa’s photos, they always captivated him. He found himself drawn in, unable to look away.

Even though he had seen them countless times before, each photo still left an impact. As he moved past the midway point, he entered his own section. His work didn’t carry the same shock value as Takahisa’s. For this exhibition, Taniguchi had not taken a single portrait, even though that was his specialty.

The concept for the photography exhibition had been fiercely debated. Tohru had casually said, "Just display whatever you like," but Taniguchi wasn't satisfied with that approach. Given how drastically different their styles were, Taniguchi knew that if they simply displayed whatever they liked, the exhibition would lack cohesion and end up disjointed. This was something he understood well from his past experiences with group exhibitions.

After a month of persistent persuasion, Taniguchi finally convinced the stubborn Tohru to settle on the basic concept of "temperature" and to use "flowers" as the central theme of their photographs. While Tohru could use some of his existing photos, Taniguchi had hardly any photos of flowers outside of work, so he had to shoot everything from scratch.

Between his work assignments, Taniguchi took photos for the exhibition. After developing them, he would show them to Tohru. He still vividly remembered Tohru’s reaction the first time he showed him a few of the photos. Tohru had flipped through the file briefly, then tossed it onto the table with a dismissive "It’s disgusting."

Taniguchi was well aware of the difference in their skills. Yet, it was because Tohru had said he liked his work that Taniguchi thought they could do this exhibition together. Despite having some confidence in those initial photos, being told they were "disgusting" without even receiving constructive criticism hit him hard.

"You just glanced at them once..." Taniguchi protested.

"If it's bad at first glance, it's not going to get any better on a second. This isn’t your photography," Tohru responded bluntly.

"Then tell me what's wrong with it!" Taniguchi demanded.

"It’s meaningless if you can’t figure it out yourself," Tohru replied.

Anger flared in Taniguchi. He was frustrated by how Tohru, who disliked handling negotiations and preparation, had left all the bothersome tasks to him, only to then act like a master critic and reject his work. The unspoken anger churned in his chest as he grabbed the file and stormed out of the café where they had been meeting.

For a moment, he even considered going straight to the gallery and canceling the exhibition reservation, but he restrained himself and took the train home. He was so agitated that he accidentally got off at the station closest to his old apartment, which only added to his irritation.

After getting back on the train and finally arriving at the 2-bedroom apartment he shared with Kurokawa, Taniguchi felt a wave of relief when he saw that Kurokawa wasn’t home yet, only to feel foolish for expecting him back at that hour—after all, it was just after four in the afternoon.

The next day, Taniguchi was scheduled to meet a writer at 5 a.m. for a magazine’s travel feature. Travel photography required shooting various subjects—landscapes, food, buildings—so he needed to be prepared with the right equipment. However, since they would be moving from place to place frequently, he also had to pack light. But at that moment, he felt too drained to do anything.

Grumbling internally about how he wasn’t in a position to just publish photo books and only do the work he liked, Taniguchi grabbed a beer from the fridge and downed three in quick succession. Feeling a bit hungry, he nibbled on some peppered cheese. He didn’t remember buying it, so it must have been Kurokawa’s, but he didn’t bother to ask for permission.

He fell asleep right there on the floor, only to be woken by a gentle shaking of his shoulder.

“Masayuki.”

Standing over him was Kurokawa, dressed in a navy suit, with his briefcase lying nearby.

“You scared me, sleeping like that. I thought you’d collapsed, but then I saw the empty beer cans…”

Taniguchi slowly sat up. Sleeping on the hard kitchen floor had left his shoulders and back stiff and uncomfortable.

“…Sorry. I ate your cheese,” he mumbled.

“It’s fine. If you liked it, I can buy more,” Kurokawa offered kindly. His gentle words seeped into Taniguchi like balm, and Taniguchi leaned his forehead against Kurokawa’s shoulder. Sensing that Taniguchi was feeling down, Kurokawa pulled him into a hug. As Taniguchi wrapped his arms around Kurokawa’s back, the hug tightened, and the kiss that followed carried a hint of desire rather than just comfort.

“…I want to, but,” Taniguchi said, pressing a hand to Kurokawa’s ear, “I’ve got work in the morning. Can you do it without going all the way?”

Kurokawa, looking a bit unsure, said, “I’ll try,” making Taniguchi chuckle softly.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

In the end, they did it once. Taniguchi couldn’t resist after all. By the time they finished, it was already past eleven. Famished, they ate some convenience store bento boxes that Kurokawa had bought.

While in his room, selecting the equipment he would need for the next day’s shoot, Kurokawa quietly slid open the door and entered.

“What’s up?” Taniguchi asked.

“I found this under the kitchen table,” Kurokawa said, handing over the photo file that Tohru had called "disgusting."

“Were you meeting with Takahisa-san today?”

It was an unusually sharp observation from someone usually so oblivious.

“…Yeah, sort of,” Taniguchi replied.

“Did something happen?”

Taniguchi stayed silent, knowing Kurokawa had hit the mark. Kurokawa sat down beside him.

“I think Takahisa-san’s photos are impressive, but I don’t really like them,” Kurokawa said bluntly.

“…Everyone has their preferences,” Taniguchi replied.

“I don’t really like the photos in that file either,” Kurokawa added, making Taniguchi turn to him in surprise.

“Wait, but those are my photos…”

Kurokawa’s eyes widened in shock. “What? Oh… sorry… I just thought they had a similar vibe to Takahisa-san’s work. I didn’t think I’d mistake one of your photos. I’m really sorry.”

“...It’s fine, just be quiet for a moment,” Taniguchi said, hastily opening the file. As he looked through the photos again, a wave of realization hit him like a tsunami. The composition, the color—this wasn’t his work. It wasn’t his style at all. Now, he finally understood what Tohru had meant by “disgusting.”

In his effort to avoid disrupting the atmosphere of the two-person exhibition, to ensure his work wouldn’t look out of place next to Tohru’s, he had unknowingly turned himself into a poor imitation of Tohru Takahisa. And he hadn’t realized it until now.

His fingertips grew cold. This is no good, he thought. Absolutely no good. Not like this. But what could he do? His mind raced desperately for answers, but the only one he could come up with was “keep shooting.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Taniguchi snapped back to reality from his reverie. A month after that argument and their brief separation, he had called Tohru to meet at the same café. He handed Tohru the file, saying only, “Here.”

Tohru took it without a word and began flipping through the pages. As Tohru looked at each photo, Taniguchi clenched his hands tightly and swallowed nervously. At first, Tohru flipped through the pages quickly, but gradually, his pace slowed, and he started to scrutinize each photo carefully.

As he watched Tohru’s bowed head, Taniguchi began to sweat. Even though it was mid-December and the café’s heating was barely adequate, sweat was beading on his forehead. Not even when he interviewed for a job at Shikayama’s agency had he been this nervous.

"Hey, where did you take this one?" Tohru spread the file out on the table.

"On my way back from work, out in Okutama. The scene just felt right," Taniguchi replied.

"Hmm."

The past month had been pure chaos. He had sacrificed sleep to go out and shoot photos. He was away from home so often that Kurokawa even suspected he was having an affair. That’s how desperate he had been.

"And this one?"

…Maybe this time it would be okay, Taniguchi thought. Maybe it was actually good enough this time. The fact that Tohru hadn’t tossed the photos aside meant that they were at least good enough for him to keep looking at. More than any criticism from others, the idea of disappointing Tohru terrified him, far more—by many magnitudes.

For the three months leading up to the joint exhibition, Taniguchi had thrown himself into taking photos. He knew that photography wasn’t something you could do just by thinking about it; it required timing and luck. Yet, despite knowing this, he couldn’t help but overthink things. He wandered through a mental fog, teetering on the brink of despair, until finally, he managed to prepare the photos for the exhibition.

After making a full circuit around the gallery, he was about to leave when someone called out to him. It was Ogawa, the owner of Comfort Gallery, where the joint exhibition was being held. She was always impeccably dressed in a black suit, with her hair neatly styled up, and she looked remarkably youthful for someone in her early fifties.

"Oh, hello," Taniguchi greeted her with a small nod.

"So, it’s finally the last day. This exhibition has been quite successful. It’s been rewarding for us as well," she said.

Even though most of the success was due to Tohru, Taniguchi was still grateful for her words.

"Oh, by the way, an editor from Kondo Publishing was looking to get in touch with you," Ogawa continued.

"With me? Not with Tohru?" Taniguchi asked, surprised.

Ogawa narrowed her eyes playfully. "It was definitely you, Taniguchi-kun. I even double-checked, just to be sure," she said with a hint of mischief.

She handed him the editor’s business card, which Taniguchi stared at intently. Could it be about a job? He had approached companies on his own before, but it was rare for a publisher to reach out to him first. If it was about work, he’d be genuinely excited.

"Wow, I can really feel the overflowing talent in Takahisa-san’s photos," a loud voice interrupted Taniguchi’s thoughts. He looked up to see a man in a navy suit and silver-framed glasses talking near the flower display in the center of the exhibition space. The man appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, with a fairly ordinary appearance, but there was something familiar about him. As Taniguchi rifled through his memory, he realized that the man was an editor from Meisei Publishing, a major company. Taniguchi had once approached him directly for work, only to be coldly dismissed.

"The photos have a certain edge to them, don’t you think?" the man continued.

Next to him stood Tohru, who looked visibly displeased even from a distance.

"Well, I’ll come back later," Taniguchi said to Ogawa, bowing slightly before turning his back on the exhibition space. He wanted to talk to Tohru, but the editor’s presence made it difficult. Since they’d have to take down the exhibition afterward anyway, there would be plenty of time to chat then.

"I’ve been curious—why did you decide to do a joint exhibition with Taniguchi-san?" the editor asked. Taniguchi’s name caught his attention, and he couldn’t help but turn back to listen. Both men had their backs to him, so he couldn’t see their expressions. Tohru remained silent.

"Well, I mean, your styles are quite different, aren’t they? And, pardon me if this sounds rude, but there’s also a difference in name recognition, isn’t there? Oh, and you’re both around the same age—were you friends from your student days?" the editor prattled on.

As he listened, Taniguchi felt a mix of frustration and guilt. Many people who came to the exhibition to see Tohru must have wondered, "Why is Taniguchi involved?" or "Who is Taniguchi, anyway?" The difference in skill and fame was something he had been well aware of even before planning the exhibition. While he genuinely wanted to work with Tohru, he couldn’t deny that he had also calculated that being associated with him would draw more attention to his work.

"Did you even look at Taniguchi’s photos?" Tohru finally spoke.

"Yes, I did. Well, to be honest, I’d say they’re rather… ordinary. Ah, pardon me," the editor replied, sounding unapologetic.

Taniguchi felt his face flush with anger. He needed to get out of there. Just as he was about to leave, Tohru’s voice stopped him.

"You’re boring," Tohru said bluntly.

"Uh… excuse me?" the editor stammered.

"I said you’re boring. If that’s all you got out of his photos, then you’re a boring person," Tohru repeated.

The editor fell silent.

"I’m a pretty boring guy myself, but you’re something else," Tohru added.

Taniguchi quickly turned on his heel and hurried out of the exhibition space, almost running. He didn’t stop until he was out of breath, his face damp with sweat.

The editor had called his work ordinary, and Taniguchi couldn’t help but agree. But Tohru had disagreed, and that difference in opinion only made Taniguchi more confused. Maybe, he thought, Tohru was simply mistaken—maybe he was the only one who saw something special in Taniguchi’s work.

Trying to calm his nerves, Taniguchi made his way to a mid-sized publishing house, where he had a meeting with the fashion magazine’s editorial team. He also needed to deliver the finished ROM for a job he had completed to the subculture magazine’s editorial office on the floor below.

"Thank you," the editor, a polite woman in her mid-twenties, said as she accepted the ROM. She was slender and petite, with shoulder-length hair that was charmingly curled—a real beauty.

"Oh, by the way, I heard you’re having a joint exhibition at Comfort Gallery. I went to see it," she added.

"Really? You did?" Taniguchi was surprised.

Though he had worked with the editorial department a few times before, most of their recent communication had been over the phone, and it had been a while since he had visited in person. While he had sent out direct mail invitations to the editorial offices, he knew such flyers often ended up in a pile. It was rare for someone to actually take the time to visit, especially someone he wasn’t particularly close with, so he was both surprised and pleased.

"My boyfriend is a photographer’s assistant, and he’s a huge fan of Takahisa-san. I went with him because he really wanted to see the exhibition. When I saw your name there, I was like, ‘Wow, Taniguchi-san is a pro!’ And when I looked at your photos, I thought, ‘These are really amazing,’" she said, smiling.

Although she had gone mainly because of Tohru, her words still brought Taniguchi some comfort.

"Well then, you should start calling me ‘Sensei’ from now on," Taniguchi joked.

She laughed and playfully said, "Sure thing, Sensei."

"My boyfriend said Takahisa-san’s photos were great, but I personally liked yours better. They have such a warm feeling to them," she added.

After thanking her, Taniguchi made his way down to the subculture magazine’s editorial office. He knew everyone had their own preferences, and while he understood that he might not appeal to the majority, hearing someone say they liked his work made him happy.

The meeting took about an hour. By the time it was over, Taniguchi realized he was starving, having skipped breakfast. He headed to a gyudon shop near the station to grab a bite.

On his way back to the apartment, Taniguchi thought about finishing up the photos he had taken the day before of some small items intended as reader giveaways. He needed to convert them to black and white since the request had come in last minute. As he passed by the gallery again, he noticed two girls in school uniforms walking out. He wondered if there was another event happening, but their exhibition was the only one running.

They looked like high school students, their fresh blazers reminding him of his age. He chuckled to himself.

"Tohru Takahisa is really handsome, isn’t he?" said the girl with long, curled hair, which didn’t quite match her blazer.

"Wait, you’ve seen his face?" asked the girl with short, straight bobbed hair, tilting her head in curiosity.

"No, but I saw an older woman in black talking to a tall guy inside. The guy looked nice, so I kept watching, and then the woman called him 'Takahisa-kun.' So I think that was him," the girl with the curls explained.

"Really? I wish I’d seen him too. But isn’t Tohru Takahisa in his thirties now? He’s kind of old," the bob-haired girl replied.

Taniguchi almost felt his knees buckle. To fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girls, a man more than twice their age was definitely "old."

"The photos were really nice though, with all those flowers," the girl with curls murmured. The bob-haired girl laughed and pulled out her phone.

"Yeah, big photos have a lot of impact. And, you know… when we went to the other guy’s section, didn’t you feel kind of warm inside?"

The girl with curls nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I did! It was chilly before, but then it just felt warm all of a sudden. Even though the other guy’s photos weren’t exactly warm or anything."

The two girls walked past Taniguchi, who stood there frozen. He wanted to chase after them, to grab their hands and thank them, but he held back, worried they’d call him a creepy old man if he did.

He and Tohru had discussed the theme of the exhibition, "Temperature," extensively. Tohru represented "cold," and Taniguchi "warm." He wanted to change the temperature of the exhibition space itself. The idea was to take flowers—objects that typically don’t convey warmth—and, through photography, imbue them with a sense of heat.

For those who understood, the message was clear. Despite his limited skills, he had succeeded in conveying his intent. That realization filled Taniguchi with such overwhelming joy that he nearly cried right there in the street.

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