MUNDANE HURT: Chapter 19
The wind howled through the city streets that
morning, bending tree branches and promising a bitterly cold day. At 9 a.m., as
Masayuki Nagano was going through his routine email check, his smartphone
buzzed with an incoming call.
The name on the screen read: Nishizaki. A
sudden, oppressive sense of unease spread through Nagano’s chest. For Nishizaki
to call at this hour on a weekday, when he knew Nagano would be working, was
unusual. And it wasn’t an e-mail or a text message—it was a direct call. Nagano
immediately grabbed his phone and tapped the screen.
“What’s wrong?”
On the other end of the line came the sound of
labored, shaky breathing, followed by, “I don’t know what to do.”
“The landlady… she’s not breathing. Do you
think she’s… dead?”
“Did you kill her?” The words shot out
instinctively. Nagano noticed some of his colleagues in the office turning to
look at him.
“Of course not! I noticed this morning she
hadn’t gotten up, so I went to check her room. She’s lying in bed, but her face
looks strange, and… I don’t think she’s breathing.”
“Did you call an ambulance?”
“Oh… no, I didn’t think of that yet.”
“Before calling me, you should have done that
first.” Nagano barked, his voice rising. His mind began running through the
steps for handling the situation.
“Wait, I’ll call the ambulance. If her heart
has stopped, you need to start CPR. If you don’t know how, ask a neighbor for
help and gather people. If there’s an AED nearby, have someone bring it—now!”
He ended the call and immediately searched for
Nishizaki’s address in his records. Dialing 119, the emergency line connected
quickly. Nagano calmly provided the address, described the condition of the
elderly woman living with Nishizaki, and requested an ambulance.
After hanging up, Nagano let out a small sigh.
Nishizaki’s home was a 20-minute drive from the office—farther than the
ambulance, which would arrive sooner. Once it did, the professionals could
handle the situation. There was nothing more a layperson like him could do.
“Uh… is everything okay?” a hesitant voice
asked.
“It will be,” Nagano replied curtly.
The question came from Akahori Yudai, seated at
the next desk. A new hire at Seishu Law Office this year, Akahori had a
lighthearted demeanor that still carried traces of student life. While Nagano
found him difficult to relate to, he maintained a professional, distant
relationship. Recently, however, he’d noticed that Akahori’s confident exterior
belied a surprisingly timid personality.
“But I heard you saying something about killing
or someone being dead…” Akahori pressed, his voice low but curious.
Nagano decided there was no point in deflecting
or covering up. “A friend of mine rents a room in a boarding house. The landlady,
an elderly woman, wasn’t breathing when he checked on her this morning.”
“Whoa… that’s intense,” Akahori murmured,
covering his mouth in shock.
“Even if she’s already passed, the body must be
taken to the hospital for a death certificate. Since she passed away at home,
my friend will likely be questioned, but if there’s no evidence of foul play,
there shouldn’t be any problems.”
“But didn’t you ask if he killed her?” Akahori
probed further.
Nagano felt a wave of irritation at how closely
Akahori had eavesdropped but realized he had, in fact, blurted out such a
phrase. “It was a fleeting thought,” he admitted. “But on reflection, there’s
no reason for him to commit murder. The landlord was a stranger to him, not a
wealthy individual, just someone kind enough to rent him a room at a low cost.”
“Wow, Nagano-san, you’re always so calm,”
Akahori remarked, leaning back with a laugh. It was hard to tell whether the
comment was a compliment or sarcasm, so Nagano chose not to respond.
Although Nagano had planned to head straight
home after work, it seemed better to visit Nishizaki’s place. If trouble or
follow-up discussions arose, having him—a lawyer—present would make things
proceed more smoothly. With a small sigh, he resigned himself to the unexpected
hassle.
"Distant relatives are practically
strangers, you know," Nishizaki muttered, dressed in mourning attire, as
he plucked a plate of amaebi (sweet shrimp sushi) from the conveyor belt.
"It’s all so impersonal, like it has
nothing to do with me. Well, I only met them once—ages ago—so I guess it makes
sense. Still, I can’t help but think it wouldn’t have hurt to show a little
more emotion. Even if it were fake."
Sakamoto, seated next to Nishizaki, seemed a
bit rounder than he had a month ago. "If it’s fake, doesn’t that make it
meaningless?" he commented.
Although they were the same age, Sakamoto’s
thinning hair made him look five years older.
"It would’ve made me feel better,"
Nishizaki replied decisively.
Across the table, Kitao let out a chuckle.
"Yeah, I suppose that’s true."
"And get this—they’re telling me to move
out by next week. I mean, sure, I’ll leave if they say so, but my grandmother
just passed away. I haven’t even had time to process it, and now everything’s
so chaotic."
Kitao gave Nishizaki a sympathetic glance
before taking a swig of beer.
"Your grandmother, did she think of you as
her grandson?"
"She wasn’t that senile," Nishizaki
replied with a faint smile. "She just treated me like one of her own. I
miss those sepia-toned dinners of hers—soy sauce everything. They tasted awful,
though."
"Awful, huh…" Sakamoto echoed,
popping a piece of fatty tuna sushi into his mouth.
"Well, cheer up and eat some sushi. It’s
on all of us today," Kitao said.
"Yeah, but it’s conveyor-belt sushi!"
Nishizaki shot back with a mock complaint as he grabbed another plate—again,
amaebi. The chime signaling an order’s arrival rang, and the karaage (fried
chicken) Sakamoto had requested arrived.
"You were slimming down nicely, but now
you’re starting to gain it back," Nishizaki teased while reaching for the
plate on Sakamoto's behalf.
"My wife’s cooking is just too good,"
Sakamoto replied with a sheepish smile, his eyes crinkling.
“Maybe ease up a bit, huh? You don’t want to
keel over before your kid’s grown up,” Nishizaki retorted, his tone
surprisingly earnest.
“You’ve got it easy, being skinny,” Sakamoto
grumbled, even as he pinched the soft flesh of his own belly, then glanced
enviously at Nishizaki’s flat stomach.
“The grandmother’s cooking might’ve been
terrible, but it was well-balanced,” Nishizaki replied with a smirk. “Besides,
I’m really strict about maintaining this physique. My ultimate goal is to
transition gracefully from a cool middle-aged man to a dashing old guy.”
“You’re always perfect on the outside,” Kitao
quipped.
“Shut up,” Nishizaki shot back, not angry but
clearly annoyed.
At some point, the monthly gatherings of these
four former classmates had become a routine. What had started as a way to check
in on Nishizaki had evolved into a habit, the original reason long forgotten.
Back in high school, Kitao and Sakamoto would never have bantered so easily
with Nishizaki. Initially, Nishizaki had seemed connected to them only through
Nagano, but now, it was clear he met up with them on his own.
“If your move is on my day off, I’ll help out,”
Kitao offered, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol.
“That’d be great! When’s your day off?”
Nishizaki asked, his tone bright. “I don’t have much stuff, but I’d need a car
to make it work.”
“You’re really counting on me, huh?” Kitao
said, shaking his head.
Watching Nishizaki interact so warmly with
their old classmates filled Nagano with a strange mix of satisfaction and
bitterness. This is what I wanted for him, wasn’t it? And yet, a heavy,
muddled emotion churned within him, a feeling he understood all too well. It
was born of something buried deep, something that refused to fade.
That evening, Nishizaki ate and drank heartily.
Despite being “just” conveyor belt sushi, the bill wasn’t cheap, and the other
three split it evenly without complaint. Outside, the December wind bit
sharply, stinging their cheeks as they stepped out of the restaurant.
“Where’s the man of the hour?” someone asked,
scanning the area. Nishizaki was nowhere to be seen. After a moment, they
spotted him sitting on the edge of the curb in front of the restaurant.
"Hey, let’s head out," Kitao called,
rousing Nishizaki from his slump. Slowly, he got to his feet and suggested,
“How about one more place? My treat this time.”
“Ah, sorry,” Sakamoto said apologetically, “I
already texted my wife that I’m heading home.”
“I’ve got work early tomorrow too,” Kitao
added, taking a swig from his beer.
Their gazes turned to Nagano. Alone, without a
family waiting or an early morning to deter him, Nagano lacked any reasonable
excuse to decline.
“You don’t even drink, do you?” Kitao said.
“We could just hit a café.”
Nishizaki wasn’t giving up easily, and
truthfully, Nagano didn’t want to go. Not because he minded cafés, but because
he didn’t want to be alone with Nishizaki. Still, he couldn’t ignore the shadow
of grief clinging to the man. Saying no wasn’t an option tonight.
Sakamoto, ever kind, stepped in. “How about I
go? I’ll let my wife know; I think she’ll understand.”
But before Nagano realized it, he’d already
spoken. “No, I’ll go. You two head home.”
“I don’t mind staying,” Sakamoto protested, but
Nagano waved him off. “It’s fine. I don’t have anything pressing tomorrow.”
Reluctantly, Sakamoto let it go, and he and
Kitao left together. That left Nagano and Nishizaki to find a nearby café, a
chain with a national presence. Nishizaki ordered hot milk.
“You know, ever since I started drinking the
coffee Sasaki roasts, I’ve gotten spoiled,” Nishizaki said as he cupped his
warm drink. “It’s not that the coffee here is bad—it’s just that it doesn’t
even taste like coffee to me anymore.”
Nagano nodded. The coffee at Nishizaki’s café
was exceptional, tailored to Nagano’s preferences after he’d once mentioned his
aversion to bitterness. Now, every visit meant a smooth, clean brew, perfect
even without sugar or marshmallows. It’s good, sure, Nagano thought, but
my palate isn’t nearly as refined as Nishizaki’s.
Across from him, Nishizaki sipped his hot milk
slowly, cat-like. The silence between them expanded with each passing moment.
Nishizaki wasn’t the type to fill the void with chatter, and Nagano certainly
wasn’t one to speak more than necessary. It was only when they were with Kitao
and Sakamoto that conversation flowed effortlessly.
“Moving is such a pain,” Nishizaki finally
muttered, breaking the stillness.
“You’ve got to find a new place, huh?” Nagano
prompted.
Nishizaki nodded, his eyes locking with
Nagano’s. There was something expectant in his gaze, though Nagano couldn’t
quite place it. Does he want advice? Or reassurance?
“Do you want me to recommend a real estate
agent?” Nagano offered.
Nishizaki had been living in a building that
was slated for demolition, rent-free thanks to Sakamoto’s relatives. When the
demolition began, Nishizaki had found a cheap boarding house near the café. Now
that he had a steady income, he didn’t really need Nagano’s help anymore—he
could find a new place on his own if he wanted to.
“Moving costs are expensive, with the security
deposit and all,” Nishizaki grumbled.
“You could look for another boarding house like
the one you’re in now,” Nagano suggested.
For a moment, Nishizaki said nothing. Then, as
if reluctantly revealing a secret, he added, “Actually, the old lady two houses
down told me, ‘If you don’t have anywhere to go, you can come stay with me.’”
Nagano blinked. After all that talk of moving
being a hassle and worrying about money, Nishizaki already had an offer lined
up. It didn’t make sense.
Again, Nishizaki looked at Nagano with that
same expectant gaze. What did he want? Approval? Nagano couldn’t tell.
“I’ve paid off the debts I owed you and the law
office,” Nishizaki began. “The salary’s low, sure, but I’m a full-time employee
now. I’ve got health insurance, and I’ve even managed to save a little.
Compared to others my age, my income’s pathetic, but I think I’ve finally
managed to stand on my own.”
He paused, and then, with more weight to his
words, continued.
"We're thirty-three now," Nishizaki
began.
There was no need to say it. Including the two
at the sushi restaurant earlier, all four of them were the same age. Yet
Nishizaki’s mouth worked silently as though he were searching for words,
hesitating. Nagano waited, but the silence stretched long.
"I’ve been thinking about this for a while
now, but don’t you think it’s time to forgive me?" Nishizaki finally said,
his voice low.
Forgive him? The concept seemed out of place.
Forgiveness wasn’t the framework Nagano had been using to think about Nishizaki
at all.
"I haven’t dated anyone or... been with
anyone since I left your apartment," Nishizaki continued.
Nagano felt a strange, unsettling sensation, as
though something were brushing the inside of his chest. He didn’t want to dwell
on it, but Nishizaki’s demeanor and words demanded consideration. He tried to
piece it together, but it still didn’t make sense.
"What exactly are you trying to convey to
me by sharing that information?" Nagano asked, his tone cool.
With a frustrated sigh, Nishizaki buried his
head in his hands. "What I’m saying," he began, exhaling heavily,
"is that maybe it’s time for us to try again. To date properly this
time."
The casual certainty of Nishizaki’s words left
Nagano stunned, his eyes wide. Nishizaki ruffled his neatly styled hair into a
chaotic mess, visibly agitated.
"You like me. I know you do,"
Nishizaki said bluntly. "I’ve been aware of it all this time."
Nagano felt a bead of sweat form under his
arms, despite the café being far from warm.
"I thought once I paid off the debt, you
might say something, but you didn’t. And I’ve had this guilty feeling about
everything, so I waited. But nothing changed, and I kept wondering if it would
stay like this forever. Then, bam, my landlady just dies out of nowhere. She
was fine the day before, even asking me what I wanted for dinner. And now she’s
gone. It made me realize—we don’t know when accidents or tragedies might
happen. Our lives are getting shorter every second. Wasting time like this just
doesn’t make sense."
Nagano fixed his gaze on the cooled tea in
front of him, now half-drunk and a murky brown.
"Your place is small, sure, but I don’t
have a lot of stuff. If it doesn’t fit, I can just throw it out,"
Nishizaki added.
He wanted to live with me? Was that what this
was about? But why?
"I don’t want to live with you,"
Nagano said before he had time to think it through. The words emerged as an
instinctive rejection.
"Why not? I’ll cover half the rent and
utilities this time," Nishizaki said, irritation creeping into his tone.
A disquieting sensation crawled up from
Nagano’s feet, like a cold, creeping tide. Why was he rejecting Nishizaki? It
seemed so obvious to him—of course he would refuse.
"I don’t trust you," Nagano finally
said.
That struck a nerve. Nishizaki’s face twisted,
his irritation now blatant.
"Then I’ll pay the rent and utilities a
year in advance. Will that satisfy you?" Nishizaki asked sharply.
"It’s not about the money," Nagano
shot back, his tone growing firmer. "I don’t trust you as a
person."
For a brief moment, Nishizaki’s expression
cracked, pained and raw. Then anger flared.
"I paid off my debt, I got my life
together, I haven’t slept with anyone since leaving your place! What more do
you want from me?" Nishizaki shouted.
The café grew tense. Heads turned toward them,
only to quickly avert, as if hoping to avoid any involvement in the scene.
"I haven’t lied to you, and I won’t. I’m
not using drugs, and I never will again. I promise. And… you’ll be the last
person I ever date."
Nagano’s head spun, as if he were seasick. Even
now, despite everything, part of him wanted to believe Nishizaki. But he
couldn’t. He mustn’t. The last time I trusted him, it ended in disaster.
He could still feel the sting of laying all his cards on the table, gambling
everything on Nishizaki, thinking this time will be different. And when
that trust was shattered, it was like falling from heaven straight into hell. I
can never go through that again. Never.
No matter how much Nishizaki professed his
love, no matter how many promises he made, it couldn’t erase the scars of
betrayal.
“I think the way things are now—the distance
between us—is what works best,” Nagano finally said.
Nishizaki lowered his head, running his hands
through his hair until it was a disheveled mess. “I see. That’s how it is,” he
muttered, more to himself than to Nagano.
Nagano had always doubted Nishizaki. Trusting
him had never come easily. And yet, there had always been a faint whisper in
the back of his mind: What if I was wrong? What if this time really could be
different?
“So that’s your final answer, huh?” Nishizaki
said, lifting his gaze. His tone was cool, but his words carried an edge.
“Fine. I wanted it to be you. But if you can’t trust me—if you’re saying you’ll
never want to be with me—then I’ll find someone else.”
Those words struck Nagano like a slap. He
growled low, almost a snarl. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means if you don’t choose me, I’ll choose
someone else, you idiot.”
“Idiot? If that’s all your feelings for me
amount to, then they were never worth much to begin with.”
Nishizaki’s face flushed crimson, his anger
almost comical. “How long am I supposed to wait for you, huh? How long am I
supposed to stay single, bare my soul to you, beg you to take me, only for you
to ignore me? I’m lonely! Just because you won’t be with me doesn’t mean I have
to stay alone!”
Nagano hated the idea of Nishizaki being with
someone else. But he couldn’t bring himself to choose him, either. Being forced
to make such an ultimate decision here and now filled him with fury.
“Are you trying to threaten me?” he spat.
“Do I look stupid enough to think I could
threaten a lawyer like you?” Nishizaki shot back, his voice dripping with
mockery.
Nagano knew Nishizaki could easily find someone
else. With his looks and charm, there would be no shortage of willing partners.
Women at the café had made their interest clear, and Nagano was painfully aware
that Nishizaki wouldn’t lack options if he tried.
Despite himself, Nagano was aware of his
lingering attachment to Nishizaki. Whether it was a remnant of the past or
something else entirely, he couldn’t tell. But he also couldn’t imagine what
their future might look like if they moved forward. Their lives seemed destined
to run parallel, indefinitely aware of each other but never truly connected.
Still, the thought of Nishizaki with someone
else was unbearable—so revolting that it made Nagano’s stomach churn. If
only he’d vanish from my sight entirely. But that was impossible. Their
lives were too entangled—through work, mutual friends like Sakamoto and Kitao.
Cutting him out completely wasn’t an option.
Should I be the one to leave? Quit my job,
abandon everything?
That wasn’t realistic either.
No matter what he chose—staying or walking
away—Nagano knew he would regret it. And the fact that Nishizaki kept forcing
these choices on him filled him with resentment.
He’s always like this, Nagano thought bitterly. Always
stirring up chaos in my heart like some uncontrollable storm.
“…State your wish concisely,” Nagano said
finally, his tone steady.
“What does ‘concisely’ even mean,” Nishizaki
muttered, rolling his eyes before declaring, “I want to live with you.”
It was a simple request. Nagano could just say,
Fine, come live with me, and Nishizaki would move in. If Nagano wanted,
Nishizaki would even sleep with him. And that terrified him. Why? What
exactly do I hate? It wasn’t Nishizaki himself—that much was clear.
From the start, every time he got close to
Nishizaki, the same thought haunted him: He’ll betray me. Nagano didn’t
want to be hurt again. He didn’t want to be led on, made to fall for him, only
to hear, Just kidding. I’m bored now. I was just using you. The fear of
being discarded, as he had been before, was paralyzing. The despair, the
humiliation—it had left him with nothing but scars.
But what if I could control the terms of the
relationship? The thought appeared unexpectedly in his mind. If he could shift
the dynamic, it would change everything. That would require a contract—his area
of expertise. It would mean binding Nishizaki to responsibilities he couldn’t
walk away from so easily.
“I understand your request,” Nagano said
evenly. “However, I have one condition.”
Nishizaki scowled, clearly annoyed. “What now?
What are you gonna make me do this time?”
“We make it legally binding.”
Nishizaki’s expression froze, then twisted into
confusion. “Legally binding?” he repeated slowly, as though tasting the words.
“You mean… like marriage?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second—” Nishizaki
exclaimed, pressing both hands to his forehead. “You’re skipping dating,
skipping just living together, and jumping straight to marriage? And two guys
can’t even get married in this country—”
“A same-sex marriage equivalent can be
established through an adoption process,” Nagano clarified, his voice calm and
factual.
Nishizaki fell silent, his face a mixture of
bewilderment and disbelief. He stared at Nagano as though trying to parse the
logic. Legal marriage was a binding agreement. It wouldn’t allow for an easy
exit. That reality seemed to rattle him, and Nagano found himself quietly
relieved. If the thought of this commitment scared Nishizaki enough, maybe he
would never bring up the idea of “dating” or “living together” again.
“Whatever,” Nishizaki finally muttered, his
tone dismissive. His nonchalance scraped against Nagano’s nerves. “Fine. I’ll
marry you if that’s what it takes.”
“What does ‘whatever’ mean?” Nagano snapped,
slamming his hand against the table.
“I said I’ll do it!” Nishizaki retorted,
raising his voice. “If that’s your condition, then so be it. It’s not like I
have a choice.”
Nagano clenched his fists at the flippant
reply, irritation flaring in his chest. Why am I so angry? He couldn’t
retract his offer now; he was the one who had proposed the idea, after all.
“If you don’t like the condition, don’t agree
to it,” Nagano said coldly.
“Stop twisting my words! Fine, fine! I’m
thrilled to marry you. Let’s make it official, okay? And you’d better keep your
end of the deal. I’m moving in next week.”
This wasn’t the reaction Nagano had
anticipated. It felt… off, though he couldn’t quite articulate why. The
unsettling disconnect lingered as Nagano raised his cup and drained the now
entirely cold tea in one gulp.
* * *
On the Shinkansen, Nishizaki sat beside Nagano
with his cheeks tense, his eyes closed. The palpable tension radiating from
Nishizaki reached Nagano, pricking at him like static electricity.
Last week, Nishizaki had moved into Nagano’s
apartment. His belongings fit into just two cardboard boxes, all of it
clothing.
Kitao, who had come to help with the move, was
visibly shocked when he learned Nishizaki was returning to Nagano’s place. “Why
go back there?” he asked. Nagano avoided mentioning anything about marriage and
instead explained it was “just until he finds a new apartment.” At any moment,
Nishizaki could still back out. There was always the possibility that he might
flee at the last second.
Given how badly their earlier conversation at
the café had gone, Nagano had worried that living together would lead to
endless conflicts. Yet, to his surprise, Nishizaki slipped into Nagano’s life
as seamlessly as a cat returning to a familiar home. It was almost
anticlimactic.
However, Nagano had declared that there would
be no physical contact until they were officially married, making their dynamic
feel more like roommates than lovers. Nishizaki rose later than Nagano in the
mornings, and Nagano often went to bed earlier at night. Some days passed
without a single word exchanged between them, only fleeting glimpses of each
other’s sleeping faces.
Two weeks into their cohabitation, as the
year-end holidays began, Nagano decided to make a day trip back to Nagoya,
where his mother lived with her new husband. His stepfather had four children,
all older than Nagano. They were warm, good-natured people, but the gatherings
with them and extended family always felt a little awkward. For years, Nagano
had followed the same routine: heading to Nagoya for one night, either on the
29th or 30th of December, before returning to spend New Year’s Eve and New Year’s
Day alone.
This year, he decided to ask Nishizaki to come
along, framing it as an opportunity to introduce him to his mother as a life
partner. When Nagano broached the subject, Nishizaki said nothing at first.
Perhaps he had grown complacent, assuming that Nagano wouldn’t push the matter
after agreeing to the condition of marriage.
“I’m not going to force you,” Nagano added,
leaving room for doubt. If Nishizaki wasn’t ready for that level of commitment,
Nagano wouldn’t insist.
After a long silence, Nishizaki finally spoke.
“Are you sure about this?”
“What do you mean?”
Nagano had just returned from work, still
wearing his coat.
“I don’t have any family, so it’s fine for me.
But your mother doesn’t know her son’s partner is a guy, does she? Won’t my
being there make things awkward between you two?”
“I think it will be fine, but I can’t guarantee
it.”
“In that case…” Nishizaki spread his arms in
exasperation. “Why not take it slower? You could drop hints, gauge her
reaction.”
“However I approach it, she’ll have to know the
truth eventually.”
“Yeah, but people need time to process stuff,
right? To prepare mentally.”
To Nagano, this sounded more like hesitation or
excuses than genuine concern. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.”
“That’s not it,” Nishizaki muttered, looking
down. His voice trailed off.
In the end, they decided on the trip, aligning
it with one of Nishizaki’s days off. It would be a day trip, nothing more.
Nagano braced himself for the possibility that Nishizaki might back out at the
last minute, saying, “I changed my mind” or “I don’t want to go.” Even in the
days leading up to their departure, Nishizaki seemed uneasy, but the night
before their trip, he returned home carrying a large shopping bag.
“What’s that?” Nagano asked.
“A suit,” Nishizaki replied. “I mean, it’s not
a great one. My salary is what it is.”
“Is there some formal occasion you’re
attending?”
At Nagano’s question, Nishizaki shot him an
irritated look.
“We’re going to your family’s place, aren’t
we?”
“It’s a long trip. You could just wear casual
clothes. That’s what I was planning.”
Nishizaki’s expression soured further, and he
retorted, “Fine. You go in your lame casual clothes then,” practically spitting
the words.
“I’m wearing a suit. I want to make a good
impression.”
There was a resoluteness in Nishizaki’s tone
that made it impossible to argue. He pulled the suit out of its bag and hung it
on a hook by the doorframe. Watching him from the side, Nagano realized for the
first time that Nishizaki might actually go through with the trip to Nagoya.
In the end, Nagano decided to match Nishizaki
and wear a suit as well. The outfit felt constricting on the nearly two-hour
journey by train and Shinkansen, but he couldn’t bring himself to dismiss the
effort Nishizaki had made, especially since he’d gone out of his way to buy a
suit for the occasion.
Before boarding the Shinkansen, Nishizaki had
asked, “What does your mom like? I want to bring her something.”
“She eats everything.”
While true, this answer earned Nagano an
annoyed glare. “That’s the most unhelpful answer. Seriously.”
Nagano recalled a famous brand of manju his
mother once mentioned liking and suggested it. Nishizaki bought the largest box
available. “My mom lives only with my stepdad. That’s way too much for just the
two of them,” Nagano commented, but Nishizaki snapped back, “Shut up,”
effectively ending the discussion.
Onboard the Shinkansen, Nishizaki fidgeted
incessantly, his unease apparent even in his pallor. Somewhere past Shizuoka,
Nagano turned to him. “Hey.”
“What?” came Nishizaki’s irritated reply.
“Are you planning to just turn around and head
back once we arrive in Nagoya?”
“What the hell does that mean?” Nishizaki
scowled, his voice rising. “I don’t even understand the question.”
“You didn’t really want to come, did you? If
that’s the case, you don’t have to force yourself.”
Nishizaki’s expression froze, his features
stiffening into an unreadable mask. His glassy eyes locked onto Nagano’s, and
he exhaled heavily. “The one who doesn’t want me there is you, isn’t it?”
Nagano blinked, caught off guard. “That’s not
true. You’re the one who doesn’t want to go.”
“Why the hell would you think that?”
Nishizaki’s voice was loud enough that passengers nearby turned to look.
Normally, he had better control of his emotions, but whenever the two of them
spoke, he seemed to forget his surroundings.
“Lower your voice,” Nagano urged.
“You’re the one pissing me off!” Nishizaki
retorted, his voice climbing even higher.
Nagano sighed and grabbed Nishizaki by the
wrist, pulling him toward the washroom in the connecting area between train
cars. “You’re disturbing everyone,” he muttered.
“I don’t care,” Nishizaki shot back stomping
lightly on Nagano’s shoe. It wasn’t painful, but it irritated him.
“I have no idea what’s going through your
head,” Nagano admitted.
“And I know exactly what’s going through yours.
That’s what pisses me off,” Nishizaki snapped.
When Nishizaki tried to stomp on his foot
again, Nagano stepped back just in time. The missed strike seemed to enrage
Nishizaki further, and he slapped Nagano’s arm hard. Nagano’s patience was near
its limit, and he opened his mouth to retaliate—but then he saw Nishizaki’s
eyes. They were red and glistening with unshed tears.
The sight extinguished Nagano’s anger
instantly. There was no way those tears were fake. He lowered his gaze, the
fire of his words snuffed out.
“I feel like I’ve been sent into battle alone,”
Nishizaki muttered, hiding his face behind the sleeve of his new suit.
“You’re just meeting my mom,” Nagano replied,
trying to downplay the situation.
“I don’t have a single ally.”
“Neither my mom nor I am your enemy.”
“You’re her son. I’m just a stranger… Forget
it. Just go back to your seat. I don’t want to look at your crappy face right
now.”
Nagano felt a pang of hurt at being dismissed
so bluntly. He returned to his seat, but Nishizaki didn’t follow. There were no
more stops before Nagoya, so he knew Nishizaki hadn’t left the train, but as
the minutes ticked by, Nagano grew increasingly worried. Several times, he
considered going to check on him, but Nishizaki’s parting words—I don’t want
to look at you—kept him rooted in place.
Finally, the announcement for Nagoya echoed
through the train. Nagano began gathering their belongings, wondering if
Nishizaki would ever return. Just before they arrived, Nishizaki reappeared.
Nagano wanted to ask where he’d been, but the awkward tension between them made
it impossible to bring it up.
In silence, they gathered their things and left
the train together, stepping into Nagoya after what had felt like the worst trip
of Nagano’s life.
* * *
Nishizaki clutched the box of souvenirs for
Nagano’s mother tightly on his lap as the taxi wound its way to her apartment.
The town was about a 20-minute train ride inland from the Shinkansen station,
but they opted for a cab to avoid the hassle of transferring. Throughout the
ride, Nishizaki kept his head down, visibly tense. When they were about five
minutes away, he finally broke his silence.
“Hey,” he said. “Did you really not tell your
mom about me?”
“I didn’t.”
Nagano had been uncertain whether Nishizaki
would actually join him. He hadn’t told his mother either, not wanting to deal
with any awkwardness if Nishizaki bailed at the last minute. As far as she
knew, her son was coming home alone.
“You didn’t even tell her you were bringing
someone?”
“I didn’t.”
Nishizaki sighed softly, gripping the box
tighter. “You should just go by yourself.”
Caught off guard, Nagano blurted, “You’ve got
to be kidding me.”
“Meet with her first,” Nishizaki said, his tone
firm. “Tell her about me. If she says she’s okay with her son’s partner being a
man, if she says she’d like to meet me, then I’ll come to see her.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Nagano’s reassurance seemed to calm him, though
not entirely.
“Don’t you think this is kind of a hassle?”
“It might be a hassle for you!” Nishizaki
snapped, his hands clenching into fists.
“Think about it from her perspective. This
isn’t a simple thing to process. She might not be able to accept it right away.
If I suddenly show up, she might panic. Even if you’re her beloved son, someone
she’s proud of, that doesn’t mean she’d want to meet me. She doesn’t know me
well enough.”
Nishizaki’s reasoning wasn’t without merit, but
Nagano knew his mother better than anyone. She wasn’t the type to harbor
prejudice.
“Even if you think it’s fine, you can’t be sure
how she’ll feel!”
The argument carried on until the taxi pulled
up in front of the apartment building. Eventually, Nishizaki headed into a
nearby café and declared, “If your mom’s okay with it, let me know. Then I’ll
come.”
“Do whatever you want,” Nagano muttered,
frustrated, as he left for the apartment. At the entrance, he punched in the
code and took the elevator to the seventh floor. He rang the doorbell, and
moments later, his mother called out, “Coming, coming,” without even checking
who it was.
When she opened the door, her face lit up with
a familiar, warm smile. “Masayuki! So good to see you.”
Her appearance hadn’t changed much, though she
looked smaller, frailer than before. Still, her cheerful demeanor remained
intact.
“Come in, come in,” she urged.
Inside, the apartment was cluttered but clean.
The shoe rack by the door was adorned with handmade trinkets and tropical
souvenirs—an eclectic mix that perfectly reflected his mother’s personality.
The space exuded her presence.
Nagano sat on the sofa as she brought him a cup
of his favorite Kombu tea.
“You’re looking sharp in that suit. But it’s
just a day trip this time, right? Is work keeping you busy?”
“Work’s the same as always. You seem to be
doing well.”
“Very well! I’ve started yoga recently. It’s
surprisingly fun. I’ve been going with Masako.”
Masako was the wife of one of his stepfather’s
children. His mother often spoke fondly of her. “I always wanted a daughter, so
I’m thrilled to have her,” she’d say with a smile.
Nagano sipped his tea, listening to her
chatter. He hadn’t yet brought up Nishizaki. For now, he let her enjoy the
visit uninterrupted.
“By the way, Masayuki, don’t you have a
girlfriend?”
The question from his mother came unexpectedly.
“You’re serious, which is good, but you take
after your grandfather—too rigid sometimes.”
“About that…”
“Well, well,” his mother interrupted, her face
lighting up with excitement.
“There’s someone I want as my life partner.”
His mother clasped her hands together in front
of her chest, her expression brimming with anticipation.
“You’ve met them before. Do you remember
Nishizaki? He was a classmate I brought home during high school.”
“Oh, yes. That sharp-looking boy, right?”
“That’s my partner.”
His mother blinked several times, her mouth
forming a small “oh.”
“But… isn’t he a boy?”
“My partner is of the same gender as me,”
Nagano said evenly.
His mother sat with her mouth slightly ajar
before murmuring, “He’s… a man?” The sight of her reaction stirred a rare sense
of nervousness within Nagano.
“There are places in Tokyo where same-sex
partnerships are legally recognized. It’s uncommon, but not unheard of.”
“I see…” she said quietly.
“You like men?” she asked, almost to herself.
“I never realized.”
“No, it’s not like that. Nishizaki is the only
man I’ve ever fallen for. I don’t think gender matters to me when it comes to
love.”
For a while, his mother remained silent.
Nagano’s throat felt unbearably dry, like he was awaiting a verdict in court.
“I don’t really understand homosexuality,” she
began, intertwining her fingers on her lap. “But if it’s someone you chose,
Nishizaki must be a good person. To be honest, I had hoped to see you have
children, but that’s just my selfish desire. What’s more important is your
happiness. And no matter what, I’m glad you’ve found someone. Being alone can
be so lonely, you know.”
Lonely? Nagano hadn’t thought of it that way
before, but hearing it made him wonder if she might be right. Based on her
reaction so far, he felt reassured.
“Actually, I brought Nishizaki with me today to
introduce him to you.”
“What? Really? Where is he?”
“He’s waiting downstairs. I told him he could
come with me, but he was worried you might not want to meet him or be too
shocked.”
“Oh…” His mother’s eyes softened. “He was
concerned for me? What a thoughtful young man Nishizaki is.”
Nagano hesitated. At first, he thought
Nishizaki had avoided coming along as a way to put off meeting his mother, but
perhaps he truly had been considerate of her feelings. Unsure, he pulled out
his phone and called Nishizaki.
“What did she say?” Nishizaki’s voice was
tense, more so than usual.
“I told her about you. It’s fine. You can come
up now.”
“‘Fine’ isn’t clear enough. Are you sure it’s
okay?”
“It’s fine. I’m coming to get you now.”
Nagano told his mother he was stepping out to
fetch Nishizaki and took the elevator down. Outside the building, Nishizaki
stood with a nervous expression, the souvenir box still in hand.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Nagano said.
“Not really,” Nishizaki mumbled.
“Let’s go.”
Nishizaki nodded, and they waited in silence
for the elevator, which seemed to take forever to descend.
“To be honest,” Nagano admitted, breaking the
silence, “I thought you might disappear while I was upstairs talking to her.”
“I wanted to,” Nishizaki muttered.
Nagano turned to look at him, unsurprised, but
was met with a sharp glare.
“But I couldn’t. It’s exhausting.”
A surge of irritation churned in Nagano’s
chest, but he held back. If he said, “Then go home,” it would only reignite the
argument from the Shinkansen. He bit his tongue and stayed quiet.
When they reached the seventh floor and stepped
out of the elevator, Nishizaki suddenly stumbled forward. Without thinking,
Nagano reached out and grabbed his arm to steady him.
“What are you doing?”
Nagano helped Nishizaki to his feet.
“Nothing,” Nishizaki muttered, trying to shake
off Nagano’s hand, but the palm he touched was surprisingly clammy with sweat.
When they reached the apartment’s entrance,
Nagano opened the door.
“Hey!” Nishizaki barked in a low voice.
“What is it?”
“You don’t get it.”
His tense expression carried a hint of anger.
“I need time to prepare myself. Couldn’t you
ask me a bit more about how I feel before barging ahead?”
Why would Nagano need Nishizaki’s permission to
enter his mother’s home?
“Oh, you’re early,” a voice called from further
inside the hallway.
At the sound of Nagano’s mother’s voice,
Nishizaki froze in place, standing stiffly by the entrance as if paralyzed.
Nagano’s mother appeared from the back of the
apartment, her gaze moving to the young man standing behind her son. She
inclined her head slightly.
“Hello,” she said.
Nagano could hear the sharp intake of
Nishizaki’s breath beside him.
“I’m sorry for intruding without prior notice,”
Nishizaki said, his tone rigid, his posture stiff. “We met once before when I
was in high school. I’m Tatsuya Nishizaki, Masayuki’s classmate.”
His overly formal introduction made Nagano
stifle a sigh.
“I remember you. You came over to visit once.
You were such a sharp-looking boy back then, and you’re still a handsome young
man now.”
“Oh, no, not at all…” Nishizaki’s expression
remained tense, but he handed over the box of sweets he had been carrying.
“This is just a little something, but please
accept it.”
“Oh, thank you. I love these,” Nagano’s mother
said with a warm smile.
At that, Nishizaki’s stiff expression softened,
if only for a moment.
“Please, come in,” she said, ushering them inside.
The two sat on the living room sofa, Nagano on
one end, and Nishizaki next to him. When Nagano’s mother brought out kombu tea,
Nishizaki bowed deeply.
“Thank you very much,” he said, almost
excessively polite.
“Nishizaki works at a café now,” Nagano
offered.
For a moment, Nishizaki turned to him with what
felt like a glare, but his gaze quickly shifted back to Nagano’s mother.
“It’s primarily a coffee specialty shop,” he
explained. “Though we also serve meals, the focus is on coffee. The owner
selects beans directly from overseas and roasts them in-house. It’s been
featured in magazines a few times.”
“Really? That sounds lovely,” Nagano’s mother
said with interest.
“My husband sometimes buys beans and grinds
them at home, but I’m not much of a connoisseur. I do enjoy it, though.”
“If you’d like, I could send you a selection of
beans. Coffee pairs wonderfully with desserts.”
“Oh, I’d love that!”
From there, the conversation shifted to yoga, a
hobby of Nagano’s mother. Nishizaki mentioned that one of the regulars at his
café was a yoga instructor, and the two discussed poses Nagano couldn’t follow.
As Nagano watched them chat so effortlessly, he
was reminded of how social Nishizaki had always been. Even in high school, he
was surrounded by people. At work, too, he had a way of engaging customers with
ease. It wasn’t just his looks—there was a natural charm that drew people in.
Though he felt somewhat out of place while his
mother and Nishizaki spoke, Nagano wasn’t uncomfortable. Watching them get
along so well didn’t bother him. If anything… maybe I’m happy?
For lunch, Nagano’s mother had ordered sushi.
As they picked at the assorted pieces, she and Nishizaki continued talking
without pause. Nagano was impressed by how they seemed to have an endless
supply of topics. His mother laughed often but suddenly declared, “I feel like
having a beer.”
“Drinking in the middle of the day?” Nagano
chided.
“Why not?” his mother replied with a smile.
“It’s an early New Year’s celebration with my son. But we’re out of beer.
Masayuki, could you run out and get some?”
“I can go,” Nishizaki offered, standing up. “Is
there a convenience store nearby?” he asked Nagano.
“It’s fine, Tatsuya-kun. Let him go; he knows
where the store is,” Nagano’s mother said, smiling warmly.
“But…” Nishizaki hesitated, “I mean, it’s a
chance for you two to have some quality time together as mother and son.”
Nagano’s mother chuckled.
“My son is a good, serious boy, but he’s
terrible at conversation. You must have noticed he’s not much of a talker.”
Pushed by his mother’s laughter, Nagano stepped
outside the apartment. The convenience store was less than a five-minute walk
away. He realized he’d forgotten to ask what brand of beer she preferred, and
his phone was still in the apartment, so he couldn’t check. He bought a variety
of beers just to be safe.
When he returned, Nishizaki and his mother were
still chatting away. With a drink in her hand, Nagano’s mother grew even more
talkative, bringing up embarrassing childhood stories like how long it took
Nagano to stop wetting the bed, much to his dismay.
By the time they left the apartment just after
five in the evening, Nagano’s mother had extracted a promise that the two of
them would visit again next year. As soon as they climbed into the taxi,
Nishizaki slumped into the seat, covering his face with both hands. The air
between them was heavy, making it hard to start a conversation. Nishizaki, who
had spoken so much with Nagano’s mother, remained silent all the way to the
station.
At the station, Nagano asked, “Want to grab
dinner before we head back?”
“I’m not hungry yet,” Nishizaki replied. Nagano
wasn’t particularly hungry either, having had sushi late in the afternoon, so
he bought drinks, and they boarded the Shinkansen.
“You and my mother had a lot to talk about,”
Nagano remarked.
“Yeah, well,” Nishizaki sighed heavily. “Your
mom’s pretty laid-back.”
“When I first told her about you, she was
surprised at first, but she came around quickly.”
“Well, you’re her son. It’s different for me.”
“I don’t think she held any prejudice against
you.”
“Maybe not, but you can’t know for sure until
you talk to someone. Your mom’s a good person… I didn’t realize it back in high
school.”
“I’m tired,” Nishizaki muttered in a low voice,
loosening his tie. He reclined his seat and closed his eyes. Despite the lively
conversation earlier, he did seem genuinely exhausted. His face looked pale.
Nishizaki had come with him to greet his
mother. There were plenty of chances to back out, yet he stayed until the end.
But… this was only the beginning. He’d just introduced himself. Nothing is
set in stone between us. It could all end with a single word from either of us.
When the Shinkansen arrived at their station,
Nagano woke Nishizaki, who had been dozing. They took a taxi back to the
apartment. Once home, Nishizaki immediately shed his suit and shirt, skipped a
shower, and dove under the futon laid out under Nagano’s bed.
* * *
Nearby the café where Nishizaki worked was a
large shrine, which brought in a steady stream of visitors during the New Year
holiday. The café stayed open for business, and Nishizaki worked all three
days. Nagano stopped by for coffee after his first shrine visit of the year.
The law office reopened on January 5th, and
Nagano returned to work. Nishizaki had taken the 4th through the 6th off in
exchange for working through the holiday. On the morning of the 6th, while
Nagano was getting ready to leave, Nishizaki was still lazing in bed, enjoying
his extended break.
During his lunch break, Nagano ate the curry
Nishizaki had made. Even though it was his day off, Nishizaki had stopped by
his workplace, sneaked into the kitchen, and had a cup of coffee.
Then, Nagano went to the city office and picked
up a form for registering an adoption. When he returned home that evening,
Nishizaki wasn’t there. Dinner had been prepared but left untouched.
While Nagano was changing out of his suit into
more comfortable clothes, Nishizaki came back carrying a convenience store bag.
“Welcome back,” Nagano said.
“Yeah,” Nishizaki nodded vaguely.
“Where were you?”
“Convenience store. I suddenly wanted a steamed
pork bun,” Nishizaki replied flatly. “But I didn’t get you one.”
Despite his words, Nishizaki tore off a quarter
of his bun and offered it to Nagano. The steaming hot filling was almost
scalding, but the flavor was so good that Nagano savored it, partly because he
was hungrier than he thought.
After the meal, once the dishes were cleared,
Nagano placed the adoption papers on the table. Fresh from the bath, Nishizaki
saw them and muttered a nonchalant “Hmm,” showing neither excitement nor
disappointment.
“Can you fill this out?” Nagano asked.
“Sure,” was the indifferent reply. The forms
had numerous fields to fill out. Retrieving his health insurance card to note
his permanent address, digging for his personal seal—it all took nearly an
hour, but Nishizaki’s fingers didn’t falter as he held the pen.
When he finished, Nagano started his part.
Nishizaki, seated across from him, watched intently as he wrote.
“We need witnesses for the form. Do you have
someone in mind? I was thinking one from each of us,” Nagano suggested.
“Hmmm,” Nishizaki tilted his head. “I could ask
Sasaki, my boss. Or maybe Sakamoto or Kitao. What about you?”
“My mother.”
It was decided then that Nishizaki would ask
his boss Sasaki the next day. Once Sasaki signed, Nagano’s mother would provide
the second signature, and the papers would be submitted.
When Nishizaki tried to fold the adoption form
into quarters to tuck it into his work bag, Nagano hastily handed him a clear
file, warning him not to crease it.
“Geez, you’re so fussy,” Nishizaki teased,
grinning as he slipped the paper into the file. But then he took it out again
and stared at it.
“The words ‘legal relationship’ sound heavy,
but in reality, it’s just a flimsy piece of paper,” he said.
“That’s how the law works,” Nagano replied.
“Spoken like a true professional,” Nishizaki
retorted, placing the form back in the file and sprawling flat on the floor.
“Once your witness signs, you can submit it
whenever you want. You can do it during your lunch break, right?”
“Yeah.”
Submitting that paper would bind them legally.
But, as Nishizaki pointed out, undoing it would only take another piece of
paper.
Tomorrow night, Nishizaki will probably come
back with the signed form from Sasaki. From there, it’s all
up to me.
Yet, as the process neared its conclusion,
Nagano began to feel a vague sense of unease. This arrangement had been his
condition, and Nishizaki had met it faithfully. Everything was proceeding as
Nagano had wished. And yet…
Something feels off. This doesn’t seem right.
But it’s not wrong either, is it? He couldn’t find an answer to the questions that kept surfacing in his
mind.
The next evening, as promised, Nishizaki handed
Nagano the completed form, signed and sealed by Sasaki, his café’s owner.
* * *
In mid-January, Nagano took a day off work and
traveled to his mother’s apartment in Nagoya. When he explained that he and
Nishizaki were entering an adoption arrangement, his mother wasn’t surprised.
On the contrary, she smiled and said, “It’s good to make things official,
especially when thinking about finances and the future.” She gladly signed the
witness section.
As Nagano looked at the completed form, his
mother asked, “Do men who get married have weddings too?”
“I… haven’t really thought about it,” Nagano
admitted honestly.
“You should talk to Tatsuya-kun about it,” his
mother scolded gently. “Adoption is like marriage, isn’t it? You need to
discuss things thoroughly.”
Nagano had no rebuttal. When his mother asked
if he’d be staying the night, he declined, explaining that he had work the next
day. She looked disappointed.
“Next time, you’d better bring Tatsuya-kun and
stay overnight,” she said.
Nagano couldn’t help but think of Nishizaki’s
exhausted face the last time they visited. He deflected with a noncommittal
“Someday.”
“Tatsuya-kun is so handsome. And he really
loves you, doesn’t he?”
Nagano had only overheard snippets of their
lighthearted conversation, yet his mother seemed so certain. How does she
know that Nishizaki truly loves me?
“When did the two of you talk about me?”
“That time you came over, and you went out
shopping alone. We talked about all sorts of things then.”
Nagano’s mother chuckled, a teasing smile on
her lips.
“He told me he’s a full-time employee, though
the pay isn’t great. He also talked about his parents. I thought he came from a
wealthy family, but it seems like he’s been through a lot.”
“All of that?”
“He said he wanted to get it out in the open
first, so I wouldn’t be surprised later. And then, he kept apologizing. He
said, ‘I’m sorry someone like me is your son’s partner.’ It’s not like either
of you have done anything wrong, but hearing him talk like that made me feel
sorry for him.”
As Nagano left, his mother gave him a final
piece of advice: “You’re always holding back with your words. Make sure you
tell him properly.”
* * *
The next day, during his lunch break, Nagano
held the completed adoption papers and headed to the city hall. At the
entrance, he hesitated, his steps faltering. Am I hesitating? The
thought annoyed him, and he pushed past the reluctance, walking inside.
The papers were accepted without issue, and
just like that, Nagano and Nishizaki were legally bound to each other. Yet from
the moment the papers were stamped, Nagano regretted it. He wanted to snatch
them back.
Still, there was no retrieving the paperwork.
Nagano returned to the office, carried out his usual work, and went home. There
was no joy, no sense of accomplishment. That night, he climbed into bed,
frustrated and wide awake.
At some point, Nishizaki returned home. Nagano
could sense him approaching the bed but pretended to be asleep. Nishizaki
changed quietly and stepped into the shower. The sounds of the
apartment—footsteps, the shower running—echoed faintly. Afterward, Nishizaki
lay down on the futon beneath the bed, scrolling on his phone. The dim light
from the screen illuminated his face in the darkness.
“I filed the papers today,” Nagano said
suddenly.
“Whoa!” Nishizaki exclaimed, startled. “You
were awake this whole time?” He turned to look at him.
“Filed what? The adoption papers?”
Nagano nodded and then rolled over, turning his
back on Nishizaki. The room grew silent. Then, the bed creaked as Nishizaki
climbed up, startling Nagano.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, we’re officially registered now,”
Nishizaki said, slipping one knee onto the mattress. “That means your
no-touching rule is over, right?”
Nagano sat up, instinctively backing away until
his back hit the wall. Bowing his head, he muttered something under his breath.
“What are you doing?” Nishizaki asked,
confused.
“This… this isn’t right,” Nagano muttered.
“What do you mean it’s not right?”
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. This isn’t
what I wanted.”
Sighing, Nishizaki pressed, “You’re not making
any sense.”
“This whole thing... the way we went about the
adoption—it feels wrong. Like this isn’t how it should be done.”
To his surprise, Nishizaki didn’t argue. “Well,
you were the one who said we should do it.”
Nagano couldn’t refute that. Nishizaki sighed,
climbed down from the bed, and slipped into his futon. “Fine, whatever.”
“Adopting someone,” Nishizaki began, his voice
muffled by the blanket. “Normally, people talk it over, make sure they’re both
on the same page, before doing something this big.”
Nagano pressed his lips together, the guilt
weighing heavily on him. “If you knew that, why didn’t you stop me?”
Nishizaki’s expression turned pained. “You’re
the one who said it had to be this way,” he replied, his voice tinged with
hurt. “Do you really think I had the option to say no? You made it clear—if we
didn’t do this, you wouldn’t stay with me. And I wanted to be with you, so I
went along with it.”
"Ridiculous," Nishizaki spat, pulling
the blanket over his head. "Go to sleep, you idiot. If you’re going to
regret it, just go and cancel the adoption already."
Nagano stared at the mound of blankets shaped
like Nishizaki’s curled-up body, a bitter sense of self-loathing clawing at
him. He hadn’t grown at all. He was still scratching at his old wounds, even
though they’d long since scabbed over.
Nagano climbed out of bed, grabbing the
apartment keys. He slipped on sneakers and stepped outside. The cold night wind
cut mercilessly through his sweats, worn as pajamas.
After a few light stretches, Nagano pushed off
from the ground. He ran past the station, over the bridge, and along the
riverbank. His breath puffed white in the air, and his heart thundered like it
might burst. He ran as if trying to shake off the oppressive weight of his own
foolishness.
When he couldn’t endure it anymore, he slowed
to a walk. Once his breathing evened out, he ran again. For an hour, he pushed
himself until his mind went blank. Sweat-soaked, he finally returned to the
apartment.
From outside, he could see the lights were
still on in his unit. Inside, Nishizaki was sitting alone at the low table.
Seeing Nagano, drenched in sweat, Nishizaki asked, “Did you go and annul the
adoption?”
“...It’s not a marriage certificate,” Nagano
said between gasps. “You can’t... do that at night.”
“Oh,” Nishizaki murmured, lowering his gaze.
“Doesn’t matter anyway.”
The indifference in his voice felt like a
knife. But was it indifference—or resignation?
“Usually,” Nagano began, “people want to take
on legal responsibility for each other because they love each other. Because
they want to share their lives.”
“What the hell are you talking about now?”
Nishizaki scoffed.
Nagano’s body still burned with heat from the
run. “I think... I was wrong.”
“It’s not a ‘think.’ You didn’t trust me for
even a second, tested me with everything you did. Everything about what you’ve
done is wrong! And yeah, I was stupid enough to agree to your conditions, but
I’ve done plenty of terrible things to you too. I’ve been keeping quiet because
I figured it was my own damn fault.”
“The problem is...” Nagano paused, still
struggling for breath. “...The problem is, I don’t dislike you.”
“Yeah, no kidding!” Nishizaki shouted. “Thanks
to that stupid piece of paper, I’m officially yours now! Unless you’re the one
to throw me away, I’ll still be yours! If I cheat or run off, you’d be totally
justified in suing me and blowing up my life! So just…” His voice cracked.
Nagano could feel the anger and frustration
bubbling under the surface. He moved closer to Nishizaki and knelt in front of
him. Nishizaki reached out, touching Nagano’s damp neck.
“You’re drenched,” Nishizaki said, brushing his
fingers along Nagano’s neck as if wiping the sweat away. "You reek of
sweat. It’s disgusting," he added, even as he leaned in to hug him
tightly.
“...I’m sorry,” Nagano said softly.
Nishizaki’s shoulders trembled, and he let out
a loud sob. “Say, ‘I’m sorry, I was an idiot,’ a hundred more times,” he
demanded.
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