That Person: Chapter 4

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The last time Kadowaki visited, Matsushita’s apartment had been neat, but in just a month, it now looked like the aftermath of a robbery. While the kitchen was relatively untouched, the study was a disaster zone: books carpeted the floor like a chaotic mosaic, and half-written, discarded scraps of paper were scattered in every gap between them.

"Sorry about the mess," Matsushita apologized. "I’ve been preoccupied with my paper until yesterday and haven’t had time to clean. But I should be able to find the manual quickly…”

Matsushita waded into the sea of books, muttering excuses.

“I’m sure I set it aside here, thinking I’d need to give it to you…”

He rummaged around while muttering to himself, but even after ten minutes, the manual failed to surface. Growing impatient, Kadowaki offered to help search.

“Would it be okay if I helped look?”

“I’m sorry… I’m not very organized.”

As he searched, Kadowaki found himself increasingly unable to tolerate the mess. Using the opportunity, he began shelving books. He assumed there might be some system to their arrangement but noticed whole sections of the shelves were empty. He figured Matsushita would eventually reorganize them to his liking, so he just ensured the titles were visible and lined them up neatly.

Loose papers littering the floor were fair game, as Matsushita had said they were disposable. Kadowaki quickly began tossing them into the trash. Somewhere along the way, he forgot that he was there to pick up the manual. Once he started cleaning, he couldn’t stop until he’d finished the job, and soon all the books on the floor were returned to their rightful place on the shelves. Still, there was no sign of the manual, leaving Matsushita clutching his head.

"I don’t think I threw it out," Matsushita said repeatedly, tilting his head as if trying to jog his memory. "I haven’t cleaned recently, so it should still be here somewhere…”

Then, as if struck by a revelation, Matsushita exclaimed, “Ah!” and rushed over to his desk—the one spot Kadowaki had avoided because Matsushita had asked him not to touch it.

“…Here it is.”

Apparently, Matsushita had set the manual aside in an obvious spot so it wouldn’t get lost—only for that to backfire. Kadowaki let out a long sigh of relief. He had arrived at six o’clock, and now it was past eight. He’d spent almost two hours cleaning.

"I’m so sorry. You must be starving. Let me order some delivery."

“It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it.”

“Please, let me treat you. I feel terrible—as if I only invited you here to clean. I insist.”

Matsushita’s pleading tone made it hard to refuse. Faced with the awkward choice of accepting hospitality or rejecting it and creating more discomfort, Kadowaki gave in. In the end, Matsushita treated him to dinner, though it was just ramen—hardly extravagant enough to warrant strong protest.

The simple, desolate kitchen felt eerily lonely. Seated across from Matsushita at a small dining table, Kadowaki quietly slurped his noodles. At one point, Matsushita removed his glasses, perhaps fogged up by the steam. Without them, he looked just a little younger.

"Earlier, I glanced through the materials and notes for your thesis," Matsushita said.

Kadowaki paused mid-bite.

"I believe Laplace's theorem is indispensable, don't you?"

"Do you think so?"

"It's perfect for comparison. The theorem is only accurate for measurements that are infinitely precise to the smallest decimal point."

"That's true, but…"

"The more sensitive the initial system, the more susceptible it is to errors. It all boils down to the butterfly effect, in the end."

As Kadowaki fell into thought, his hands stilled. Matsushita hurriedly added, "Ah, I shouldn’t have brought this up during dinner."

The table returned to silence. After the meal, Kadowaki found himself back in Matsushita's study, looking through books. Matsushita eagerly suggested, "How about this one?" or "This might be useful," stacking books beside Kadowaki. The neatly organized bookshelves reverted to the disarray they were in when Kadowaki arrived.

For Kadowaki, Matsushita’s library was a dream. Every book he wanted to read was within reach, ready to be devoured. It was far more efficient than scouring bookstores or libraries. What began as a light skim often turned into reading twenty or thirty pages, unable to stop.

"How about a break?" Matsushita suggested, the scent of coffee wafting over. "Thanks," Kadowaki muttered absentmindedly, not even looking up. Hours later, he realized the coffee had gone cold and hastily drank it. By then, it was nearly 11 p.m. Though he had overstayed, Matsushita didn’t seem to mind, focused on his computer monitor.

"Sorry for staying so late," Kadowaki finally said. Matsushita paused and turned from the screen.

"Did you find what you needed?"

"I haven’t gone through everything, but it’s late, so I should leave for today."

"Take your time and search until you’re satisfied. I don’t mind; you’re quiet, so it doesn’t bother me."

After saying this, Matsushita chuckled. "You’re very polite. Three years ago, a student brought a sleeping bag and camped out in my study a week before their thesis deadline."

A breeze blew in through the open window, cool against the night air. Matsushita rose to close the balcony door as the curtains flapped wildly.

"It’s warm during the day, but cool at night. Were you cold?"

"I’m fine. It feels nice here with the breeze. My apartment is small, and the window faces a wall, so it doesn’t get much ventilation."

Kadowaki’s own apartment was cheap and perpetually damp no matter how much he aired it out. Compared to that, Matsushita’s apartment felt almost luxurious.

"Being by the river and up high, the airflow here is great. Plus, the view is refreshing—it’s nice to look outside when you need a change of pace."

Kadowaki had heard the professors lived in university housing. There was no way a lecturer earned enough to afford such a place. Living in a condominium at 39 felt like a luxury and was slightly puzzling.

"Is this a rental?" he asked.

"No, it’s a condominium. Given the location, it was a bit pricey. Normally, I wouldn’t have been able to afford it, but when my father passed away last year, I received an inheritance. A significant portion went to taxes, but I still had enough left to buy this place."

Kadowaki couldn’t imagine inheriting enough to buy a condo if his own father passed. Matsushita’s family must have been well-off. Seeing him in this light, Kadowaki began to notice a certain elegance that came from never having experienced financial struggle.

"My father was a doctor and ran a hospital. I also hold a medical license, though I'm just a paper doctor with a qualification," Matsushita said, revealing an unexpected truth.

Kadowaki was surprised.

"I always wanted to study mathematics, but as the eldest son, I was told to become a doctor and take over the hospital. So, I enrolled in medical school. However, I couldn’t give up my interest in mathematics. Halfway through my first year as a doctor, I quit and transferred to a university with a mathematics department. Looking back, I took a very roundabout route and made my parents spend a lot of unnecessary money. I still feel sorry for that."

Matsushita sat on the floor a little apart from Kadowaki but close enough for a comfortable conversation.

"I should have said from the start that I wanted to become a mathematician, but it never even occurred to me to defy my father. It wasn’t until I was twenty-five that I realized I could decide my own life. In retrospect, it was a very late rebellious phase."

Matsushita ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it roughly.

"My parents didn’t cover my tuition after the transfer, so I did all kinds of part-time jobs. Even after I became a lecturer, my father kept telling me to come back to the hospital. But when my younger brother became a doctor, my father finally gave up on me."

"You have siblings, then?" Kadowaki asked.

"I have a younger brother and sister. My parents, brother, and sister are all doctors. I’m the only one who strayed from the flock," Matsushita said with a self-deprecating laugh.

Kadowaki couldn’t imagine Matsushita as a doctor, nor could he picture him as anything other than a mathematician.

"If you had stayed a doctor, you probably would have regretted it. So, I think this is the best outcome," Kadowaki said.

Matsushita smiled warmly at his words. When he smiled, numerous laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes.

"You're right. I find it much easier to be eloquent with equations than with people."

A mathematician with a medical license. In a family full of doctors, Matsushita must have been an outcast. Kadowaki couldn’t help but wonder: why did this person come to like him?

"I’m not good with people," Matsushita murmured, lowering his gaze to the floor.

"But you mentioned how students often spend time in your study. Doesn’t that mean they respect and admire you?"

"What would be the best way to explain this?" Matsushita said, pressing slightly bent fingers to his cheek with a wry smile.

"With mathematics students, their expectations of me are clear. They want to learn mathematics, to have their questions answered. So, I can respond appropriately to that. But when it’s not about mathematics—when the students become individuals beyond their academic needs—I don’t know what to say to them. You see, my interests are extremely narrow. To put it bluntly, I can’t talk about anything besides mathematics when I’m with people."

Kadowaki understood Matsushita’s feelings all too well. He himself wasn’t someone who had an abundance of topics or could speak eloquently.

"I’ve been told my overly polite way of speaking is unsettling," Matsushita began. "It stems from a time during my internship as a medical doctor. I once chose my words so carelessly and insensitively that I deeply hurt a patient. Since then, I’ve become aware that I’m not good at gauging other people’s feelings, so I started thinking about how I could at least soften my words to avoid causing discomfort. Even if I chose the wrong words, I hoped politeness could mask the mistake. This is the result: my way of speaking."

"I don’t think you’re an insensitive person," Kadowaki replied.

"Then perhaps you, too, have been successfully deceived," Matsushita said with a wry smile.

"I think you’re someone who is considerate of others."

"I try to be," Matsushita admitted. "I know how coarse I can be."

"You say you’re not good with people, but here we are, having this conversation," Kadowaki pointed out.

Matsushita’s eyes widened as if realizing this for the first time. "Now that you mention it, I suppose that’s true. It’s rather pathetic to be sharing such a sob story, though."

Their eyes met, and they exchanged a small, mutual laugh. Despite their differences, Kadowaki felt they were similar in some ways.

"I’ve never really talked about myself like this before," Matsushita admitted, gazing at the floor. He seemed like the type to resolve and process his struggles internally, understanding that solutions ultimately had to come from within.

"Why did you like me?" Kadowaki suddenly asked.

Matsushita’s startled face turned a deep shade of red, and Kadowaki felt guilty for having caused it.

"Sorry, that was a strange question," Kadowaki said quickly. "I just don’t understand these things very well, so I was curious."

The red flush faded, replaced by a fleeting look of sadness. It lasted only a moment before Matsushita’s face returned to its usual calm, unreadable demeanor—like when he was giving a lecture.

"Perhaps it was because I couldn’t stop thinking about you," Matsushita said softly. "I don’t know more than that."

Though Kadowaki had felt a growing sense of connection with Matsushita, his response created an invisible distance between them again. He realized he had asked something he probably shouldn’t have and cast about for a different topic to change the mood. For some reason, the image of Mikasa came to mind.

"I have two close friends, people I’d call my best friends. One of them confessed to me in high school that he’s gay," Kadowaki said.

"That must have taken courage," Matsushita murmured, blinking in surprise.

Mikasa’s confession had indeed been preceded by an acknowledgment of his inner turmoil, but it had been surprisingly matter-of-fact. Kadowaki had mentioned his friend but hadn’t thought about how to steer the conversation further.

"What did you think when your friend confessed his sexuality?" Matsushita asked, gently urging the conversation forward.

"I was surprised. But being gay didn’t change who he was, so I just thought, ‘Oh, that’s how it is.’ It didn’t feel like a big deal," Kadowaki said honestly.

Matsushita exhaled softly. "I’d fall under the category of someone with unmistakably homosexual inclinations," he said quietly.

"Is that something you’ve always known?" Kadowaki asked.

"I can’t say for sure, as I’ve never discussed it with others who share the same inclination. I became aware of it during university. Perhaps that’s considered late."

The clock behind Matsushita struck midnight, the sound filling the pause in their conversation.

"Your calm and resolute reaction to my inappropriate behavior surprised me," Matsushita said. "I assumed you were someone who doesn’t waver easily. Hearing about your friend, I understand better now. However, whether you’ll forgive me as you did your friend is another matter entirely."

"The way you carry yourself now seems resolute," Kadowaki said.

Matsushita chuckled wryly, a self-aware smile lighting his face.

"That’s not true at all," Matsushita said softly. "Every time I meet you, my fingers tremble. I try my hardest to act and speak as though I’m unaffected, to ensure my pathetic feelings don’t show. If I appear resolute to you, it’s likely thanks to the facade I’ve cultivated over the years."

The words were spoken plainly, almost as if recounting the emotions of someone else. Kadowaki couldn’t tell if the face Matsushita showed now was his unguarded self or the result of concerted effort.

"The friend of mine who once confided in me about being gay recently started dating another of my close friends," Kadowaki said abruptly.

Matsushita blinked, caught off guard. "Your two close friends are dating each other?"

Kadowaki realized how disconnected his statement was and felt flustered. "No, never mind," he mumbled.

"If it’s not a bother, I’d like to hear more," Matsushita urged gently.

"It’s really not that interesting."

"Whether it’s interesting or not is for me to decide after hearing it."

This was personal—something Kadowaki typically wouldn’t share lightly. Yet he wanted to tell Matsushita. He trusted that this man wouldn’t trivialize the story but would listen earnestly.

"When I found out the two of them were dating, I didn’t feel disgusted or uncomfortable. I thought it would be wrong to feel that way. Having such prejudices would betray the trust they’ve placed in me. At least, that’s how it felt," Kadowaki admitted.

"You must be an ideal friend to them," Matsushita said slowly.

He continued, "And you’re an ideal student to me. Embarrassingly, I don’t have any friends with whom I can share my innermost thoughts. I never managed to form such bonds. It’s less a matter of sociability and more a fundamental flaw as a person, I suppose."

Matsushita’s lonely expression stirred something in Kadowaki—a sudden, unrestrained impulse.

"If you’re willing, I’d like to hear your thoughts," Kadowaki said without thinking, his words tumbling out.

Matsushita’s eyes widened in surprise. Then, after a moment, he smiled faintly, the sadness lingering at its edges. "Thank you," he murmured.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Kadowaki stayed overnight at Matsushita’s apartment. By the time their conversation had stretched past 3 a.m., Matsushita offered the guest room, and Kadowaki accepted the bed there. Though his own apartment was close enough to return to, he chose not to leave.

Perhaps it was because he had glimpsed an unexpectedly vulnerable side of Matsushita. Even though the man was older, Kadowaki felt that his presence might somehow help. It wasn’t the first time he had felt drawn to support someone who seemed fragile—though “fragile” might not be the right word. For as long as he could remember, Kadowaki had been unable to simply ignore such people.

From then on, borrowing books became a convenient excuse for Kadowaki to frequent Matsushita’s apartment. Matsushita welcomed him warmly, granting him free access to the study. They often spent hours in the same room without exchanging a single word. Neither was tactless enough to demand conversation when the other was focused. This unspoken understanding deepened Kadowaki’s attachment to Matsushita’s home.

He wondered if he had always been this bold. Yet Matsushita’s genuine hospitality, the treasure trove of books, and the ability to engage in spontaneous, in-depth discussions about their shared field made visiting the apartment irresistible.

Explaining to others what it meant to study mathematics was often met with blank stares. Most people couldn’t grasp the specifics of what mathematicians do. Even when Kadowaki tried to explain that mathematical advancements underpinned modern life, from computers to everyday conveniences, few people could truly connect the dots.

For mathematicians, numbers and their patterns are like mountains to climbers—impossible to resist. The beauty of ordered sequences, like flowers in bloom, held an allure that was difficult to articulate to those outside the field. Only someone with a similar passion, someone like Matsushita, could fully understand.

"I believe mathematics holds dreams," Matsushita said one day, his voice tinged with delight. He delicately pinched a petal of the hydrangea he had placed in a glass.

On his way to Matsushita’s apartment, Kadowaki had noticed the flower drooping over a fence. Perhaps a child’s mischievous hands had snapped its stem, leaving it to dangle forlornly in the rain. Feeling sorry for it, he had taken it with him. Once at the apartment, he wasn’t sure what to do with it, but Matsushita had clipped the stem and placed it in a glass.

"Even this flower’s petals," Matsushita continued, "follow a pattern. Its genes, at their essence, are collections of atoms—each bound by precise rules. Understanding why such order exists, why it must exist this way, is endlessly fascinating. While people rely on machines, few seek to understand the principles behind them. It’s not necessary for everyone to understand, but the presence of those who do is essential."

Matsushita stared at the petals intently, as if contemplating something profound, then murmured as though struck by a sudden thought.

"What color will it turn next?" Matsushita asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Kadowaki replied. "Maybe purple or pink? Though I think hydrangea colors change based on the composition of the soil, right?"

"Then it might stay blue," Matsushita said wistfully. "That’s a little disappointing."

As Matsushita lightly touched the glass, the hydrangea bobbed as if nodding in agreement.

"I'm heading to a conference with the professor tomorrow," Matsushita said. "I’ll be away for two days, but if you’d like to use this place while I’m gone, I can leave you a key."

"Could I borrow it?" Kadowaki asked.

It wasn’t the first time he’d borrowed the spare key, and he accepted it without hesitation. True, his friend Mashiba had once teased him, saying, "You’re really in Matsushita’s good graces, aren’t you?"

Matsushita often called on Kadowaki for help during lectures, especially when extra assistance was needed. It might have been because Kadowaki always sat in the front row, but it was likely also because Matsushita found him more familiar and reliable than the other students.

This sense of closeness was something Kadowaki didn’t mind at all.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

When Matsushita returned from the conference, he was coughing persistently, a damp and rasping sound. When Kadowaki asked if he was okay, Matsushita replied, "It's just a cough; I’m fine," though his pallor said otherwise. Two days later, the seminar was unexpectedly canceled. Normally, when the professor was away, Matsushita handled the lectures, and cancellations were rare outside of conferences. Concerned, Kadowaki went to visit Matsushita's apartment after his third class.

When he rang the intercom, there was no response. Using the spare key, he let himself in and found Matsushita crouched in the hallway, still in his pajamas.

"Are you okay?" Kadowaki rushed over, his voice urgent.

Matsushita slowly raised his head, his expression blank, and gazed at Kadowaki.

"…Yeah, I’m fine," he mumbled.

"The seminar was canceled, so I thought I’d check in. Are you sick?"

Hunched over, Matsushita coughed deeply, his breath rattling. "I woke up like this this morning… The fever is too high, and I couldn’t walk, so I had to call out. I feel terrible for inconveniencing everyone."

He punctuated his speech with more coughs, each one hacking and forceful.

"You should lie down. Have you been eating?"

"I have no appetite. And you shouldn’t be near me—you might catch this."

"I hardly ever catch colds. Don’t worry about me."

His fever-flushed face softened into a faint smile. "That’s enviable. I’m the first to catch anything going around…"

Another round of coughing overtook him.

"I’ll make something for you to eat," Kadowaki said firmly.

"You really don’t need to. A cold goes away if you just take medicine and rest."

"But you can’t take medicine on an empty stomach. You should at least eat a little."

"Still—"

Ignoring his weak protests, Kadowaki guided Matsushita to the bed, gently but firmly pushing him to lie down. During the three days Kadowaki hadn’t visited, the kitchen and study had accumulated a depressing collection of takeout containers and empty instant meal packets.

Opening the fridge, Kadowaki found nothing remotely edible. Matsushita clearly wasn’t one to cook; the absence of fresh food was almost impressive in its starkness.

When Kadowaki returned to the bedroom, Matsushita had shifted slightly, turning his head toward the door.

"I’ll go shopping. Is there anything you’d like?"

"Please, don’t trouble yourself over me."

Kadowaki pointed decisively at Matsushita, who had begun to sit up in protest. "Lie down. That’s an order."

Matsushita seemed struck by the sternness of the words and obediently settled back down. Watching him for a moment to ensure he stayed put, Kadowaki then quietly closed the door to the bedroom.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Vegetables, fruit, and instant porridge were what Kadowaki purchased. The porridge required only warming up, to which he added some scallions and egg for a slight twist. He also made a simple vegetable soup.

Matsushita seemed to have been sleeping, but the sound of the door stirred him awake, and he sluggishly sat up.

"You may not have much of an appetite, but if you think you can eat..."

Matsushita smiled at the sight of the steaming bowl of porridge.

"It looks delicious."

He took a spoonful, then another, and another. Slowly but steadily, Matsushita finished every last bit. The same went for the vegetable soup—he didn’t leave a drop.

"That was very tasty," he said, placing the spoon down with a note of gratitude. His gaze fell on the tray next to the bed.

"And what’s that?"

"A dessert, of sorts. Peaches. I hope you don’t dislike them?"

"No, it’s just... quite a rare treat."

"I thought something like this might be refreshing when you’re under the weather. Sorry, it’s only from a can."

Matsushita seemed delighted as he ate the peaches, following them with his medicine. After clearing the dishes, Kadowaki placed a cold towel on Matsushita’s forehead to help with the lingering fever. While adhesive cooling patches were an option, Kadowaki remembered his younger siblings disliking the sensation, so his family had always used chilled towels for fevers.

"This feels very nice," Matsushita murmured, his eyes closing peacefully.

"In my family, when we were sick, we were usually just told to take medicine and rest in bed," Matsushita said softly, his voice distant as if recalling a memory. "My parents were busy people. I suppose they couldn’t afford to fuss over a child’s cold."

Before long, Matsushita grew quiet, his eyes still closed. Thinking he might be trying to sleep, Kadowaki stood up carefully.

"Would it be okay if I read in the next room?" he asked.

"Go ahead," Matsushita replied.

"Let me know if you’re feeling worse."

"I will." Matsushita paused briefly before adding in a small voice, "Actually…"

Kadowaki turned back. "Yes?"

"Would you mind reading in here instead?"

"Here?"

"Never mind. If you catch my cold, it would be troublesome."

Matsushita closed his eyes again, ending the conversation. Kadowaki selected a few books from the study and returned to the bedroom. Propping himself against the frame of Matsushita’s bed, he quietly began reading by his side.

About thirty minutes later, Kadowaki reached over to check Matsushita’s forehead, thinking it might be time to replace the towel. As he touched it, Matsushita’s eyelids fluttered open.

"You don’t need to change it anymore," Matsushita said softly. "I’m feeling much better now."

"That’s good to hear."

"Having you here… is very reassuring."

"Anyone would feel vulnerable when they’re unwell."

"…That’s true," Matsushita replied, his voice fading as he closed his eyes again and drifted back to sleep.

The calm rhythm of Matsushita’s breathing made Kadowaki drowsy, and before he knew it, he dozed off, leaning against the bed. He woke to a faint click. The small bedside lamp cast a soft glow in the otherwise dark room. At some point, night had fallen. Squinting at the wall clock, he realized it was already past 7 p.m.

"I feel like I slept soundly, but it was only two or three hours," came Matsushita's slightly hoarse voice in the dim light.

"How are you feeling?" Kadowaki asked.

"The fog in my head earlier has cleared up quite a bit," Matsushita replied. The redness in his face had subsided, and his previously clouded eyes now seemed sharper. Perhaps his fever had gone down, but his persistent cough still seemed to cause him discomfort.

"Should I stay the night here?" Kadowaki offered.

"No, that's not necessary," Matsushita said with a warm smile. "If you could lock up with the spare key when you leave, that would be enough."

"Understood."

"I think I’ll sleep a little more. Thank you for everything today."

Though Kadowaki still felt concerned about Matsushita's condition, there wasn’t much more he could do. He decided to head home for the night and planned to check back in on him tomorrow. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Kadowaki stood up.

"Well, goodnight."

Even as Matsushita assured him he was fine, his gaze carried a faint loneliness that made Kadowaki hesitate, unable to move.

"You’re kind," Matsushita murmured softly. "So very kind."

Kadowaki considered responding, but before he could speak, Matsushita pulled the sheets over himself as if to hide.

"Please be careful on your way home," Matsushita said. The words, like a spell of release, removed the weight from Kadowaki's feet. Yet as he made his way home, he found himself glancing back at the apartment building multiple times, unable to completely shake off the lingering feeling.

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