That Person: Chapter 2

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After the incident at the drinking party where Matsushita had touched his hair, Kadowaki hadn’t seen him on campus. Even during the weekly seminars, the professor continued holding classes without pause, but Matsushita stopped appearing as an assistant.

The absence wasn’t necessarily strange in itself, but Kadowaki couldn’t shake the lingering thought that Matsushita might be avoiding him.

One day, after oversleeping unusually late, Kadowaki rushed to make it to his afternoon seminar. Barely arriving on time, he found the seats near the blackboard already taken and settled for a spot near the entrance.

The professor hadn’t arrived yet. A rush of footsteps approached, and a group of latecomers entered through the back door, one of them taking the seat beside him.

"Oh, it’s you, Kadowaki," said Mashiba, letting out a small laugh. "Don’t you always sit up front near the blackboard?"

"I was late today," Kadowaki replied.

Mashiba nodded in understanding, removing his cap and placing it on an empty chair. Mashiba, two years older than Kadowaki, had switched universities, leaving an economics program to enroll in the science department. Known for his boisterous energy and slightly restless demeanor, he sometimes gave off a more youthful impression than Kadowaki, despite their age difference.

"By the way, about that drinking party the other day," Mashiba began, "you got pretty smashed. Are you okay? I asked Matsushita to take care of you when I said I was leaving after the first round, but I was still worried."

"Really? Weren’t you the one trying to get me drunk in the first place?" Kadowaki retorted.

Unfazed, Mashiba flashed a cheeky grin. "Some of the girls were saying, ‘I want to see Kadowaki-kun all disheveled for once!’ and I couldn’t help but get into the spirit. You’re strong with alcohol, but once it hits you, you just conk out. Too bad you didn’t start crying or stripping or something. That would’ve been hilarious."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Kadowaki said dryly.

"Still, even smashed, you stayed consistent—classic Kadowaki," Mashiba remarked. "By the way, your buddy Yoshimoto in the economics department is apparently really good with alcohol too."

"You seem to know a lot," Kadowaki said.

Mashiba grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "Yoshimoto’s one of those pretty-boy types, so he’s got a lot of admirers. But even though he’s friendly, his guard’s ironclad. Someone once tried to get him drunk to make a move, but no dice. Apparently, he downed two whole bottles of sake without even flinching."

Kadowaki recalled Yoshimoto’s side profile, calm as ever while drinking sake like water.

"Now that you mention it, I’ve never seen him drunk either," Kadowaki admitted.

"You two are like the sophisticated drinking duo," Mashiba teased.

"Don’t make it sound bad," Kadowaki muttered.

At the sound of the door opening, Mashiba fell silent. It wasn’t the professor in his usual gray suit but Matsushita who walked into the room. For some reason, Kadowaki instinctively lowered his gaze. Matsushita was wearing the same faded navy shirt he had at the drinking party, and Kadowaki didn’t want to look at it.

Matsushita informed the class that the professor had an urgent matter and he would be conducting the lecture in his place. Taking the report and handouts from the assigned presenter, Matsushita skimmed them before asking the student to start their presentation. Sitting down with his chin resting on his hand, Matsushita seemed like his usual self.

Yet something was off. After the presentation, Matsushita repeated the same explanation twice without realizing it until a nearby student pointed it out. Blushing, Matsushita apologized and tried to regain his composure. He began discussing Hopf bifurcations, connecting it to the topic of coupled oscillator networks, but his lecture soon started to unravel. The coherence of his points faltered until, eventually, he trailed off mid-sentence, falling completely silent.

"Please forget what I just said."

Matsushita abruptly ended his incoherent lecture and shifted his attention to questioning another presenter. However, his questions were completely off-point.

"Is it just me, or is Matsushita acting weird?" Mashiba muttered, tilting his head in confusion.

Soon, Matsushita’s face turned visibly pale, enough for the presenting student to ask, “Are you okay?” Despite this, Matsushita pressed on with the lecture until, unable to continue, he cut it short thirty minutes early.

"I’m not feeling well. I’m sorry, but I need to end the class here," Matsushita announced.

No one tried to stop him. He quickly gathered his books and handouts, but instead of leaving immediately, he paused in front of Kadowaki.

"I need to speak with you. Please come to the faculty office," he said, still looking down, before exiting without waiting for a response.

Mashiba looked puzzled. "What does he want with you?"

"…No idea," Kadowaki replied, though he suspected it had something to do with the incident at the drinking party.

Curious, Kadowaki asked Mashiba a question of his own. "How old is Matsushita, anyway?"

Without much expectation of a definitive answer, Mashiba mused aloud. "He looks younger because he’s single, but I think he’s 39 this year. When I was a freshman, there was a girl in the same department who had a thing for Matsushita. Back then, she said he was 37."

Kadowaki had estimated Matsushita to be in his mid-thirties, so the reality exceeded his assumptions. But more pressing was…

"That’s nearly a 20-year age gap. What kind of ‘thing’ are we talking about?" Kadowaki asked.

Mashiba let out a thoughtful hum as he pulled his cap down lower. "Women, man. Once they like someone, age doesn’t really matter to them. Personally, I just see him as some old guy."

Parting ways with Mashiba at the classroom door, Kadowaki made his way toward the faculty office, his steps heavy. A February baby, Kadowaki had turned 21 only in March. That meant there was a 17—perhaps even 18—year age difference between him and Matsushita. The thought of Matsushita being a high school sophomore when Kadowaki was born made him feel strangely disoriented.

Lost in these trivial musings, Kadowaki eventually arrived at the mathematics department’s faculty office. Before entering, he checked in with himself. No matter what Matsushita might say, Kadowaki’s answer was already decided.

He knocked. "Come in," a voice called from inside.

Opening the door, Kadowaki stepped in just as Matsushita, seeing him, sprang to his feet in apparent fluster, knocking a book from his desk to the floor. The room was lined with desks, but Matsushita was the only one present.

"You said you wanted to speak to me, so here I am," Kadowaki stated, halting just inside the room. Matsushita hastily picked up the dropped book, letting out a small sigh as he straightened.



"I'm sorry for summoning you so suddenly. I hope this didn’t clash with a fourth-period class? I didn’t consider that possibility..."

"I don’t have any classes," Kadowaki replied.

Matsushita let out a relieved sigh, his hand instinctively pressing to his chest. The man before Kadowaki was more than a decade his senior—too young to be mistaken for his father, yet close enough to make the comparison plausible. Matsushita adjusted the bridge of his rimless glasses with his fingers, the gesture adding to his aura of nervousness.

His lanky frame, devoid of any association with the word "athletic," and his pale, unhealthy complexion painted the image of a man consumed by academia. While Kadowaki wasn’t exactly one to speak, Matsushita’s unpolished appearance and frail demeanor seemed perfectly suited to the label of "impoverished scholar."

"About the incident at the drinking party two weeks ago, I must apologize for my behavior." Matsushita bowed deeply, his voice filled with gravity.

"It’s... fine," Kadowaki responded, though Matsushita seemed on the verge of saying more. Instead, Matsushita hesitated, leaving an awkward silence to grow between them. Kadowaki couldn’t bring himself to prod the conversation along, and the weight of the unspoken words lingered uncomfortably.

Analyzing Matsushita’s demeanor, Kadowaki attempted to connect the dots: the incident at the party, Matsushita’s current hesitation, and the possibility—however unlikely—that Matsushita harbored feelings for him.

If Matsushita indeed "liked" him, the chain of events might unfold as follows: Matsushita develops feelings for a younger man → Matsushita acts impulsively at a party → Matsushita feels guilty and apologizes → And now?

Would this moment lead to a confession? It seemed logical. If so, Kadowaki wished Matsushita would just say it. That would allow him to respond with a definitive, "I’m sorry, but I can’t reciprocate romantic feelings for someone of the same sex," and put an end to this awkwardness.

But Matsushita remained silent, caught in a web of his own making. Perhaps it was because Kadowaki was male, because of their age difference, because Kadowaki was one of his students, or even because of the potential rumors and societal judgment. The more Kadowaki thought about it, the more plausible reasons he could find for Matsushita’s hesitation.

Still, the unbearable awkwardness hung over them. If Matsushita couldn’t bring himself to speak, Kadowaki wondered if he could create an opening for both of them to emerge from this moment with minimal harm.

"I apologize if I’m mistaken," Kadowaki began, carefully selecting his words to avoid offending Matsushita. "But if you do harbor special feelings for me, I must let you know that I cannot reciprocate them."

Matsushita, who had been looking down, raised his face. He neither laughed it off nor angrily denied it. He didn’t dismiss Kadowaki’s statement as ridiculous, either. Any of those reactions would have been fine with Kadowaki, but instead:

"I’m sorry," Matsushita said simply, his words carrying the weight of admission.

There was no attempt to downplay the situation as a joke, no defensive outburst. Matsushita had acknowledged the truth. Kadowaki felt that he had said what he needed to, and Matsushita had received his answer.

Still, Kadowaki hesitated to excuse himself and leave. He turned his gaze out the window, seeking a reprieve from the tension. Beyond the glass, a spiderweb glistened, empty of its maker.

"Please forget the cowardly thing I did. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable."

Matsushita's voice was steeped in a somber tone. While the unsolicited touch had indeed been unpleasant, if Matsushita had been dwelling on it all this time, Kadowaki couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity.

"I have no prejudice against homosexuality. I even have friends who share that orientation. It’s just that I don’t see members of the same sex as romantic partners, that’s all."

Matsushita fixed his gaze on Kadowaki, then exhaled deeply as if trying to steady his trembling breaths.

"Once, the professor showed me one of your reports, commenting on how you had an exceptionally interesting perspective. Your approach, coming from angles we had never considered, felt so refreshing that I found myself curious—what kind of student were you?"

He paused, his words momentarily hanging in the air.

"I’d wanted to sit down and talk with you for a while, but I wasn’t sure how to start a conversation. No, perhaps that’s not entirely accurate..."

Matsushita shook his head lightly, as if to dismiss his own explanation.

"No, in this case, the details don’t really matter, do they?"

While Kadowaki could sense Matsushita’s hesitance, he still had no idea what the man was trying to say.

"In short," Matsushita continued, his tone steady, "I was rejected before I even got the chance to confess."

He didn’t look as though he was blaming anyone or anything. Instead, Matsushita’s expression carried a quiet resignation, his eyes filled with a profound sadness as they met Kadowaki’s.

:-::-:

When Kadowaki left the faculty room, he felt a strong sense of closure. He had heard Matsushita’s feelings and had clearly stated that he could not reciprocate. Matsushita seemed to accept this. The sense of clarity likely came from finally confronting and confirming what had only been speculative before.

He considered going straight home but on a whim stepped into the library. Perhaps because his exchange with Matsushita still lingered fresh in his mind, he found himself in the Japanese literature section, an area he rarely explored. He pulled out a book that seemed to be a romance novel, read the first few lines, and put it back.

Why had Matsushita come to feel attracted to him? Aside from the occasional interaction during class, there was little connection between them. Considering they were the same sex and separated by years in age, what were the odds of such emotions arising? Feelings couldn’t be quantified, and yet Kadowaki found himself marveling at the strangeness of his brush with romance.

During his sophomore year, Kadowaki had worked part-time at a bookstore and been asked out by a junior college girl who worked there. Though he hadn’t felt anything special for her, he agreed when she said they could start as friends.

Their conversations often didn’t align. Kadowaki, unversed in trending topics, would frequently lapse into silence, believing that meaningless conversation was worse than no conversation at all. Even when alone together, they often had little to say. Lacking the skill to entertain others, Kadowaki usually ended up being the listener during gatherings with friends. He didn’t mind; he enjoyed it in his way and didn’t feel dissatisfied.

About three months into their friendship, the girl told him she wanted to break things off. Though it seemed odd to end a friendship that was never really a relationship, Kadowaki didn’t argue and let her explain herself. She accused him of being insensitive, citing specific examples, before delivering the damning verdict:

"Kadowaki-kun, you’re just not interesting."

Her statement was her opinion, not an absolute truth. After all, majority consensus doesn’t guarantee correctness. Emotions are fluid and subjective, so definitive conclusions are impossible. Perhaps rationalizing it this way was Kadowaki’s way of evading the deeper issue. For two days, he remained preoccupied with her words, seriously contemplating what it meant to be "not interesting," rather than why she had left.

Words like "love" and "romance" are commonly used, but their definitions and the emotions they represent remain elusive to Kadowaki. When that girl distanced herself, he might have experienced the faintest traces of romantic feelings, but he couldn’t say for sure.

"I really love him. I adore him so much."

When talking about Yoshimoto, Mikasa often repeated phrases like "I love him" or "I’m in love with him."

"I just can’t help wanting to see him. Even in the middle of the night, I’ll suddenly want to see his face. Messages don’t cut it. I want to hear his voice. When I can’t reach him, I feel so lonely I could cry."

Kadowaki had never experienced such feelings for anyone.

"When we’re together, I feel happy. When I hold him, he’s warm, and it feels so nice. That’s why I want to treasure him, to protect him."

By Mikasa’s example, Kadowaki concluded that he had never clearly felt romantic emotions for anyone. He regretted not asking Matsushita directly what kind of feelings he had for him. It would have been helpful to hear it in detail.

The library was warm. Standing in a sunny spot near a window, Kadowaki found the sunlight soothing as it gently seeped into him. He noticed dust particles floating in the light, barely visible, and wondered what kind of formula might explain their patterns of movement.

:-::-:

A week had passed since Mikasa had performed his dramatic love scene outside his apartment after a huge fight, and three days since Matsushita had called Kadowaki in to talk. With the calendar now flipped to May, the evening chill had softened, something Kadowaki noticed as the cool air brushed against his cheeks during his nighttime walk.

When he ducked under the warm noren of the izakaya and sat across from Mikasa in the tatami seating, Mikasa apologized. “Sorry for barging in so late the other night,” he said, smiling. “Tonight’s on me.”

“It was good to apologize that night,” Mikasa continued, his mood buoyant. “Things have been great since then.”

Watching Mikasa’s cheerful drinking reminded Kadowaki of the unabashed kiss that night, a memory he couldn’t quite shake.

“Eat and drink as much as you want!” Mikasa encouraged.

Though Mikasa played the role of a carefree spender, Kadowaki couldn’t help but think about his friend’s thin wallet. Even in the budget izakaya, he avoided ordering anything pricey. Meanwhile, Mikasa devoured the dishes with such gusto that it seemed he might eat the plates themselves. Mikasa and Matsushita couldn’t be more different in demeanor and likely in nature. Still, they shared the commonality of being attracted to the same sex—a thought Kadowaki pushed aside, trying to switch off his tendency to classify everything.

“There’s something I want to ask you,” Kadowaki said.

Mikasa, engrossed in his plate of nikujaga, looked up. “What’s up?”

“Is there a difference between liking men and liking women?”

Mikasa chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand. “I don’t think gender matters when it comes to liking someone. But, well, I guess I’m not the best person to say that, being more into guys.”

“Does it happen in a flash? Like, you just know when you meet them?”

At this, Mikasa outright laughed. “You’ve fallen for someone before, haven’t you? For me, it’s often love at first sight. The moment our eyes meet, I just know. It’s like the world looks completely different after that. Everything changes.”

Kadowaki had never experienced a world-changing moment like Mikasa described.

“But, you know,” Mikasa added, “Satoshi was different. He was the first one to approach me. But the how doesn’t really matter. What’s important is what happens afterward.”

“I see…”

Mikasa tilted his head and peered at Kadowaki with curiosity. “Wait, do you have your eye on someone?”

Perhaps because he’d been asking about love, Mikasa jumped to conclusions, his expression lighting up as if he’d made a discovery.

“Come on, tell me! I’ve been leaning on you to hear me out all this time, so let me help you for a change. Who’s the lucky person?”

There was no guilt or awkwardness to hide, so Kadowaki answered plainly. “Someone had feelings for me, but they were the same sex. I turned them down because I couldn’t return those feelings.”

“Oh…” Mikasa’s face twisted into a mix of emotions as he fell silent.

“He wasn’t a bad person, but I just couldn’t imagine being in a relationship with him.”

“Got it.”

The two lapsed into silence, filling the gap with sips of alcohol. Eventually, they called it a night after 9 p.m. and parted ways outside the izakaya.

Returning to his apartment’s neighborhood via his usual station, Kadowaki noticed an unusual traffic jam. The quiet street was crowded with people, something he rarely saw. He wondered if there had been a car accident nearby.

“Did you see the photos? The fire’s insane,” a high schooler chatted on their phone by the roadside. “Looks like it’s almost out, though.”

The source of the commotion seemed to be a fire. As Kadowaki neared his apartment, the congestion grew worse. He squinted toward the direction of his building, a sinking feeling taking root.

…White smoke was rising faintly from the area where his apartment stood.

:-::-:

There were still a few fire trucks in front of the apartment building, but the flames had been mostly extinguished. The ground was soaked from the water used to douse the fire, and the acrid smell of burning lingered in the air. White smoke rose from the charred beams, a stark reminder of the fire’s violence. The two-story apartment building was completely destroyed. Kadowaki’s first-floor unit had its windows and door burned away, leaving a clear view straight through to the other side.

If there was anything salvageable left, Kadowaki wanted to retrieve it. However, the building was cordoned off with yellow tape, barring entry. As he stood there wondering what to do, his right hand was suddenly gripped firmly. Startled, he turned to see the pale face of his landlord.

“Oh, it really is you, Kadowaki,” said the landlord, an elderly man in his sixties, thin and balding. Relief washed over him as he patted his chest. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I was worried about what might have happened if you’d been trapped inside. We don’t know the full details yet, but it seems the fire started in Mr. Tao’s unit on the first floor.”

Before he could explain further, the landlord was approached by an upstairs tenant demanding answers about compensation and damages. Kadowaki leaned against a nearby wall, staring at the scorched remains of his home. The police had told him he couldn’t enter until the investigation was complete, but even then, he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

The sight of his destroyed belongings flashed through his mind: the laptop he’d saved up for through part-time work, his class notes, and the stamp collection passed down from his grandfather—carefully curated over many years. Even if the stamps miraculously survived the flames, they would lose much of their value if water-damaged. The loss felt overwhelming.

A hand patted his shoulder. It was Mikasa, who had rushed back after Kadowaki texted him, “My apartment caught fire.” Mikasa had been on his way home but turned around to come to his friend’s side.

“For now, come crash at my place,” Mikasa offered.

“…Yeah.” There was no point in staying here. The investigation could take who knows how long, and even after it was done, the police had warned that access to the building might not be allowed if it was deemed structurally unsafe.

As Kadowaki trudged away, still reluctant to leave the remnants of his home, he accidentally bumped shoulders with someone running toward him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kadowaki said, looking up—and froze. His surprise was mirrored in the wide eyes of Matsushita, who had also stopped in his tracks.

“You’re safe… That’s a relief,” Matsushita said, his tense soot-smudged expression softening as he exhaled, seemingly reassured upon seeing Kadowaki’s face.

Ahead, Mikasa noticed Kadowaki speaking with someone and turned back to join them. He gave Matsushita a polite nod before leaning in to whisper to Kadowaki, “Who’s this?”

“A professor from my university,” Kadowaki replied.

“Oh,” Mikasa said, nodding in acknowledgment. “Does he live nearby?”

The question made Kadowaki pause. He didn’t know where Matsushita lived, but clearly, Matsushita knew where he did.

“I saw the fire on the news,” Matsushita explained. “It looked like it was near your address, so I checked, and it was your apartment building. I was so shocked.”

It seemed Matsushita had come to ensure Kadowaki’s safety.

“Did you know my address, Professor?” Kadowaki asked, his tone unintentionally stiff.

Matsushita seemed to pick up on this and lowered his head apologetically. “The student roster for the seminar includes your address,” he explained.

A teacher concerned about his student’s safety had come rushing to check on him. Before Kadowaki had realized Matsushita’s feelings, he might have felt genuinely grateful. But now, it was hard to muster the words, “Thank you for worrying about me.”

“What will you do now?” Matsushita asked, wiping the soot off his face with his palm. Kadowaki wondered how long Matsushita had been there but chose not to ask.

“I’ll be staying at a friend’s place tonight,” Kadowaki replied. The beige coat Matsushita wore was speckled with gray ash stains, a testament to his presence near the scene.

“Then at least tonight, there’s no need to worry. The aftermath, though, might be quite challenging. If there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Yes, thank you…”

“Then I’ll be off. Goodnight,” Matsushita said, turning on his heel. But after taking only a few steps, he stopped and returned.

“Do you have enough money? Your bank book and other essentials may have burned.”

“I have some cash in my wallet and my cards with me.”

“Ah, that’s good,” Matsushita said, bowing slightly before finally disappearing into the crowd.

After Matsushita left, Kadowaki walked to the station alongside Mikasa. On the train, he began to contemplate the days ahead. He needed to find a cheap apartment, replace his belongings from scratch, and, most urgently, repurchase his textbooks. This disaster, so unforeseen just a day ago, now loomed heavily. The monthly allowance from his parents was still intact, enough for food, but he would have to rely on them for funds to secure a new place. With his younger brother set to start university next year, Kadowaki felt a deep reluctance to ask for money at such a financially strained time.

“He’s a good guy,” Mikasa said suddenly, breaking the silence that hung between them. Kadowaki, preoccupied with planning his future, turned to look at him.

“Your professor. He speaks so politely, doesn’t he? I work in construction, so I’m surrounded by people who are rough in both speech and temperament. But he didn’t act superior, even though he’s a teacher. He came all the way to check on you out of concern. That’s kind. I bet he was looking for you there for quite a while—his face was really covered in soot.”

Hearing Mikasa’s glowing assessment, Kadowaki couldn’t bring himself to admit that he had rejected Matsushita. He silently wished that Matsushita hadn’t harbored feelings for him. If he hadn’t, Kadowaki could have admired him as a straightforward and respectable lecturer. But knowing Matsushita’s emotions, Kadowaki found his opinion of the man subtly diminished—at least, within himself.

When they arrived at Mikasa’s apartment, the space was just as musty and dusty as it had been on Kadowaki’s last visit. After taking a shower, Kadowaki emerged from the bathroom, drying his hair, to find Mikasa seated formally on the floor, speaking on his phone.

“I’m telling you, Kadowaki was with me drinking, so he’s fine,” Mikasa said, glancing over his shoulder at Kadowaki with a knowing look. “It’s Satoshi. He’s asking if you’re okay.”

Mikasa handed the phone to Kadowaki.

“I’m fine,” Kadowaki assured Satoshi. “My apartment burned down, but luckily, I wasn’t home. I’ll be staying at Mikasa’s place tonight. Until I find a new apartment, I’ll—”

Satoshi cut him off mid-sentence.

“Kadowaki, listen to me. Don’t stay there. Come to my place right now. There’s no reason to stay in a filthy, unhygienic dump like that. If you do, you’re guaranteed to catch something.”

The exaggerated warning made Kadowaki chuckle. “Isn’t this what most bachelor pads are like?”

“No, Mikasa’s place is on another level. I’ve stayed there, so trust me—it’s bad. Just come to my place.”

Satoshi’s insistence left Kadowaki torn. “But I already told Mikasa I’d stay with him…”

At that moment, Mikasa tapped Kadowaki on the shoulder. Despite being unable to hear Satoshi’s words, Mikasa seemed to understand the situation. With a knowing smile, he extended his hand to take the phone back.

“It’s fine. There’s no way anything like what you’re worrying about will happen…”

Mikasa frowned midway through the conversation.

“…He hung up on me.”

Sighing, Mikasa set his phone on the table. His apartment might not be pristine, but it wasn’t so filthy as to justify Yoshimoto’s vehement objections. At the very least, it was tolerable.

The two turned off the lights and slid under their respective futons, laid side by side. Despite the exhaustion from the day’s events, Kadowaki couldn’t fall asleep. His mind raced with thoughts of what he needed to do starting tomorrow. Mikasa, seemingly unable to sleep either, kept tossing and turning. Noticing that Kadowaki was still awake, he apologized.

“Sorry for being noisy.”

“It’s fine; I don’t mind.”

Mikasa lay quietly on his stomach for a while before hugging his pillow and growling softly, like a dog.

“…It’s been a while since I slept at home, but this futon kind of stinks.”

“Have you been too busy with work to come home?”

Mikasa shook his head.

“I’ve been staying over at Satoshi’s place. I couldn’t make time to meet up because of all the overtime. But Satoshi refuses to come here.”

“Why?”

There was a brief silence.

“Last time he stayed over, he woke up the next morning freaking out about being itchy. He went to the doctor, and, well… it turns out he’d been bitten by mites. I didn’t feel a thing, even though we slept in the same bed, but Satoshi was furious—like he was about to breathe fire. Since then, he hasn’t come over.”

Hearing about the mites made Kadowaki feel itchy himself. Yoshimoto’s insistence earlier that Kadowaki stay at his place suddenly made a lot more sense. When Kadowaki discreetly sniffed the futon, Mikasa noticed.

“It’s fine, really,” Mikasa reassured him. “After the whole mite incident, I sent the futon to the cleaners. I told Satoshi that, but it didn’t help.”

Mikasa’s voice grew quieter, almost melancholy. Then, in a small voice, he asked, “Mind if I make a quick call?”

He offered an excuse as he dialed. “I just can’t sleep when we’ve fought like this.”

Despite his contrite tone, the call ended abruptly—Yoshimoto had hung up again. Mikasa, clearly annoyed, threw his phone across the room but sheepishly retrieved it three minutes later. He clutched it tightly in his hands, flipping it open and closed like he was willing it to hatch an answer.

“If it’s bothering you that much, why not call him again?” Kadowaki suggested.

Mikasa buried his face in his pillow. “He won’t answer. Last time we fought, he turned off his phone completely.”

Mikasa held his head in frustration. “It’s so frustrating. I won’t be able to sleep—just like before.”

He stared at his phone, the tension visible. Kadowaki realized that Mikasa probably wanted to go see Yoshimoto but was hesitating.

“Why don’t you apologize in person? The trains are still running.”

Mikasa shot up, his face lighting up with excitement, but he quickly looked down again. “No, it’s fine. You just lost your apartment; you’re probably feeling unsettled…”

He pulled the futon over his head, curling into a ball. Mikasa, outwardly brash, was surprisingly considerate in his own way.

Kadowaki pulled out his own phone and dialed Yoshimoto. It connected after three rings.

“Yoshimoto? It’s me. Mikasa’s coming over right now.”

Mikasa bolted upright.

“His snoring is too loud. I can’t sleep. Take care of him for me.”

Kadowaki ended the call without waiting for a reply and turned to Mikasa.

“Don’t worry about me—just go.”

Mikasa enveloped Kadowaki in a bear hug so tight it nearly squeezed the life out of him. After the embrace, Mikasa quickly changed into jeans and a hoodie, grabbed his phone and wallet, and dashed out the door.

Left behind in Kadowaki’s hand was a solitary key to Mikasa’s apartment, looking strangely forlorn in its absence of its owner.

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