That Person: Chapter 5

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The next day, Matsushita didn’t come to the university. After his fourth-period class, Kadowaki stepped outside the lecture hall, noticing how unusually dim it was. The sky was cloaked in gray, heavy with the promise of rain. Without an umbrella, the thought of it starting to pour seemed a hassle. Quickening his pace, Kadowaki hurried across the campus.

“Kadowaki!” someone called. He turned to see Yoshimoto chasing after him.

“I called your name once already. Didn’t you hear me?” Yoshimoto asked, catching his breath and taking deep breaths to steady it.

“I called you yesterday too, but you didn’t pick up. Have you been busy?”

“Not exactly…” Kadowaki admitted. He’d put his phone on silent to avoid disturbing Matsushita’s rest and had forgotten to switch it back. He’d noticed the missed call but, seeing there were no voicemails or messages, had decided to reply later and forgotten entirely.

“We haven’t hung out the three of us in a while,” Yoshimoto said. “Mikasa’s been saying he wants to drink with you too. How about coming over now? Mikasa’s home early today.”

Matsushita’s face flashed in Kadowaki’s mind.

“I’ve got plans right now. Is tomorrow okay?”

Yoshimoto frowned. “Mikasa’s going to be late tomorrow. Just let me know when you’re free. Send me or Mikasa a message.”

Kadowaki glanced up at the sky. The humid gray expanse seemed on the verge of tears.

“Is this thing urgent?” Yoshimoto asked.

“Not really. It’s the lecturer from my seminar—he’s bedridden with a cold, and I’m just planning to check on him.”

“A lecturer? You’re close, huh?” Yoshimoto said, his expression puzzled.

Although Kadowaki had nothing to be ashamed of, the comment unsettled him.

“He’s helping me with my thesis,” Kadowaki explained. “And he’s been a great help in other ways too.”

“If it’s just a quick visit, stop by afterward. Let me know if you’re coming.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“Send me a text if you can make it,” Yoshimoto said.

They parted ways, and Kadowaki hurried toward Matsushita’s apartment. He stopped by a convenience store on the way, but by the time he stepped out, raindrops had begun to fall. Thinking the rain wouldn’t amount to much, he decided against buying an umbrella. Unfortunately, the drizzle turned into a downpour, as if deliberately tormenting him.

Soaking wet, Kadowaki shivered as he rode the elevator up to Matsushita’s apartment. He used the spare key to unlock the door, not wanting to ring the intercom and make Matsushita get up if he wasn’t well. He was pulling off his drenched sneakers when he noticed something that made him pause. Among Matsushita’s worn men’s shoes was a pair of pointed, elegant white heels neatly placed by the door.

They belonged to a woman, no doubt. A girlfriend, perhaps? The thought struck him that he might have intruded. He felt a sudden pang of betrayal, though he couldn’t explain why.

“Who are you?” a voice demanded.

Kadowaki looked up, startled. A pale-faced woman stood at the end of the hallway, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry,” Kadowaki said hastily, bowing his head. “I’m Kadowaki, one of the seminar students.”

The woman visibly relaxed, placing a hand on her chest. “Oh, you’re from the university,” she said, relieved. She seemed to be in her early thirties, though he couldn’t be sure. She had a sharp jawline and elegant features, though her slightly raised eyebrows gave her a somewhat stern appearance.

"I have the spare key from Matsushita. I was worried because he seemed unwell yesterday," Kadowaki explained.

"You came to check on him? Thank you," the woman said with a soft smile. "But next time, please press the intercom before coming in. I almost called the police just now. Come on in—but, wait, you’re soaked. You’ll make the whole place wet. Sorry, but could you change your clothes first?"

The woman handed Kadowaki some clothes and ushered him into the bathroom. The clothes—a shirt and jeans that Matsushita often wore—felt awkward to borrow, but staying in wet clothes wasn’t an option. After folding his wet clothes and leaving them near the washing machine, he returned to the kitchen, where Matsushita was sitting alone at the table, eating.

“Huh?” Matsushita blinked at Kadowaki, surprised, his gaze trailing over him as though processing what he saw. Matsushita was wearing relaxed loungewear: a T-shirt and knee-length shorts.

“It started raining on my way here. I’m sorry, I borrowed some clothes,” Kadowaki explained.

“I didn’t know you were here. Yoshiko didn’t mention anything. Please, have a seat,” Matsushita said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

Kadowaki sat down but couldn’t shake the awkwardness.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“The fever’s gone, and I feel much better. Thank you for your help yesterday,” Matsushita replied. His complexion was visibly better, suggesting he was indeed recovering.

“The fever’s gone, but I still feel a bit sluggish, so I decided to take one more day to rest,” Matsushita added.

“That’s good to hear. By the way, the woman earlier—is she your girlfriend?”

Matsushita’s expression darkened immediately, and Kadowaki realized how tactless his question had been.

“Yoshiko is my sister. I think I mentioned before that I have a sister. She’s an internist. She called last night, and when I told her I had a cold, she said she had a day off and offered to check on me.”

At that moment, the door opened, and Yoshiko entered the kitchen with brisk energy.

“How long are you planning to take with your meal? There’s cleaning to do, so finish it up quickly,” she said sharply.

Matsushita smiled wryly, setting his spoon down with half his meal still on the plate.

“I’ve changed the bedsheets,” Yoshiko added. “Eat, take your medicine, and go to bed. You’ll be over this cold in no time.”

As Matsushita stood and disappeared into the bathroom, Kadowaki decided it might be time to excuse himself. “I think I’ll head out now…” he said, bowing slightly to Yoshiko.

“Wait a moment,” she called, stopping him.

“The clothes on top of the washing machine—those are yours, right?”

“Yes,” Kadowaki replied.

“I tossed them into the dryer with the sheets. They’ll be done in about an hour, so don’t forget to take them with you.”

He would’ve been fine leaving the clothes behind, but Yoshiko’s insistence left him sitting back down. She served him a cup of coffee, which he sipped as she sat across from him, nursing her own mug. Yoshiko started complaining about how, once she got home, she’d have to prepare dinner for her husband and kids.

“So, you’re a math student in the seminar?” she asked after a while.

“Yes.”

“I’ve hated math ever since I was a kid,” she said, cradling the coffee mug in both hands. “I never understood why my brother found so much joy reading those math books.”

“Is that so? It’s fascinating.”

“What’s so fascinating about rows of numbers and equations? You can live just fine without them.”

“If we couldn’t calculate patterns and behaviors with numbers, I don’t think we’d be able to enjoy the cultural lifestyle we have today.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.”

Yoshiko sighed softly, her breath audible over the quiet clinking of mugs against the table.

"You speak similarly to my brother," Yoshiko said, her gaze steady. "Do mathematicians' brains work differently from the rest of us?"

"I think it's just that the professor and I both enjoy delving into laws and patterns," Kadowaki replied.

"Hmm," Yoshiko murmured, meeting Kadowaki's eyes with a sharp yet elegant smile.

"You seem intelligent, but if you keep talking like that, you won’t be popular with girls," she teased.

Her finger brushed his cheek, playful yet startling. "Such smooth skin. You're just barely twenty, aren’t you? So cute."

Her fingers pinched his cheek lightly—not painful, but enough to jolt him. She laughed. "What would you do if an older woman like me tempted you?"

"What are you doing?" Matsushita's stern voice interrupted. Yoshiko let go and stood up, nonchalant.

"I was just passing the time, having a chat. Anyway, I’m heading out. Brother, make sure you eat properly, sleep well, and don’t catch another cold. Mom’s worried about you, you know."

Matsushita didn’t reply, and Yoshiko left, seemingly unfazed by her brother’s silence. After she was gone, Matsushita walked to the sink, filled a glass with water, and drank it in one go. His back was turned, but Kadowaki could sense his displeasure. The air was heavy, and Kadowaki wasn’t sure why Matsushita seemed upset.

Should I leave? Kadowaki wondered. But the sound of the dryer still hummed from the other room. Matsushita let out a faint cough.

“You should still rest for a bit longer.”

“…I’m fine,” Matsushita replied, turning around sluggishly.

“Your sister doesn’t resemble you much,” Kadowaki remarked, recalling her charming and spirited face.

“I take after my father,” Matsushita said. “She’s the spitting image of our mother—selfish, pragmatic to a fault…” His tone was biting, as though he resented the comparison. But then, as if to temper his earlier words, he softened. “She’s busy, yet she came all the way out here. I’m grateful for that.”

He sighed deeply. “And I’m sorry for inconveniencing you as well.”

“Oh, it’s nothing…”

Matsushita sank into a chair, but even sitting face-to-face, neither of them spoke. The silence felt oppressive, so Kadowaki grasped for a conversation starter.

“Your sister seems like a dependable person.”

“She is,” Matsushita said after a pause. “She’s always been a bit of a tomboy. When we were younger, she had the upper hand in everything.”

“And she’s very beautiful.”

At this, Matsushita began rubbing his thumb nervously against his fingernail. “She’s married.”

It wasn’t a playful rebuke but a sharp, pointed correction, laced with an unexpected hostility.

“…I know. She mentioned it.”

Matsushita’s face grew pale. He raised a hand to his mouth as though to steady himself.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

He didn’t answer. Concerned, Kadowaki stood and moved closer. “You should lie down.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Kadowaki urged him gently. Matsushita slowly raised his face to meet Kadowaki’s gaze.

“How long do you plan on staying here?” Matsushita’s tone was flat.

“If there’s a book you’d like to borrow, feel free to take it.”

It felt like a dismissal, and Kadowaki couldn’t interpret it any other way. This detached, almost cruel attitude was a side of Matsushita he had never seen before. For the first time, Kadowaki found himself afraid of him. Somehow, he had upset Matsushita, though he couldn’t pinpoint what had triggered it.

I’ll come back for my clothes later, he decided, though he wasn’t sure if “later” would ever come.

“Sorry for intruding,” Kadowaki said, turning to leave.

But Matsushita shot to his feet with such force that his chair toppled backward, clattering loudly. Stumbling slightly, he caught up to Kadowaki and grabbed his arm with surprising strength.

“Don’t go.”

His voice was pleading, almost desperate. Matsushita dragged him back and pushed him into a chair. But after going to such lengths to stop him, Matsushita simply stared at Kadowaki, as if unsure what to say or do next. His face remained unnervingly pale, though Kadowaki couldn’t tell if it was the lighting or genuine illness.

“Why don’t you rest for a bit?” Kadowaki suggested. He reasoned that Matsushita’s erratic behavior stemmed from lingering physical weakness.

“If I sleep, you’ll leave.”

“Well…”

Matsushita shook his head slightly. “Just… stay with me until I fall asleep.”

There was no way Kadowaki could refuse.

Matsushita disappeared into the bedroom. Kadowaki grabbed a random book from the study and followed. Like the night before, he settled against the headboard of Matsushita’s bed and opened the book. But no matter how hard he tried, the words didn’t sink in. He switched to a different book but had no better luck.

After a while, Matsushita’s breathing grew steady. Thinking he had fallen asleep, Kadowaki leaned over to check, only to meet Matsushita’s wide-awake gaze. Those unwavering eyes betrayed no sign of rest.

Kadowaki returned to his spot by the bed. Another hour passed. When he checked again, Matsushita was staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Are you not sleepy?"

Matsushita let out a shallow breath.

"I slept during the day."

"I see."

Matsushita rolled onto his side, turning his back to Kadowaki as if avoiding his gaze.

"You can leave if you want."

"But..."

"Just go. It's fine."

The tone was dismissive. Kadowaki rose to his feet, and Matsushita hurriedly turned back, propping himself up halfway on the bed.

"Actually, could you stay a little longer?"

His pleading eyes betrayed desperation. The way Matsushita’s words and behavior shifted by the minute left Kadowaki confused—and increasingly irritated. Matsushita’s whims felt inconsistent, almost capricious. He wished Matsushita would make up his mind.

"If you truly find me a nuisance, then I’ll leave," Kadowaki said firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. Matsushita looked down, his face on the verge of tears, and covered it with both hands.

"I don’t understand you, Matsushita-sensei. If there’s something you want to say or something you want from me, just say it outright."

After a long silence, Matsushita's voice leaked out through his fingers, barely audible.

"…I want you to stay by my side. All day, if possible. But that would only inconvenience you. I know the reason you come to this apartment isn’t for me—it’s for the books. And I’ve tried to convince myself that’s enough. That just having you here for that reason is enough."

Kadowaki had demanded clarity, yet now that it had come, it left an irreversible weight in the air.

"I'm such an idiot," Matsushita muttered to himself, his voice heavy with self-loathing. "Jealous of my own sister..."

He slowly rose from the bed, his movements lethargic. Even as he approached, Kadowaki stayed rooted in place, partly because of how cautiously, almost fearfully, Matsushita advanced. A hand reached out tentatively, and the fingers that touched him burned with an unexpected heat.

"Please, don’t run away from me."

But what would happen if he didn’t run?

His arm was pulled in, and he found himself enveloped by a body radiating heat and the faint smell of sweat. He couldn’t pull away—partly because of the weight of Matsushita's words and partly because the arms that held him were trembling ever so slightly.

Their eyes met for only a few seconds before Matsushita’s lips pressed against his—warm, damp, and reminiscent of the sensation of a pet’s affectionate lick.

Kadowaki was pushed down onto the bed, Matsushita’s body pinning him. The kisses kept coming, one after another, leaving him wondering at what point he should—or even could—stop this. Even in the midst of this situation, a disconcerting calmness in his mind analyzed it all.

Matsushita’s hands touched him tentatively, as if handling something fragile. Kadowaki had the sense that even the smallest resistance on his part would cause Matsushita to crumble completely, and that thought terrified him.

Unable to find a moment to resist, the act continued slowly and cautiously. Even as his clothes were removed, leaving him completely naked, and his body was touched all over, Kadowaki felt not a trace of sexual arousal. In contrast, Matsushita's body grew progressively warmer, and the hardness pressing against Kadowaki's thigh made it obvious where Matsushita's desires lay.

When his legs were spread apart and Matsushita’s hips slid into the space between them, a feeling of resignation washed over Kadowaki. Sex itself was no big deal, he thought. If something like this could satisfy Matsushita, then so be it—he resolved to see it through.

The hydrangea by the bedside caught his eye. Kadowaki had picked up the flower, its petals gradually wilting. It had been plucked from the roadside, nearly crushed by someone’s hand. Rain-soaked and pale, its lifeless bloom had reminded him of Matsushita. Would it be cruel to admit he’d picked it up because of that resemblance?

There had been a semblance of preparation beforehand, but when Matsushita finally pressed deep inside him, the pain was far worse than Kadowaki had imagined. He clenched his teeth and endured it. Even when it was finally all the way in, it wasn’t over. Matsushita began to move, his hips rocking against Kadowaki's. Kadowaki understood that this was how it was supposed to go, but the pain was overwhelming. All he could think about was wishing for it to end as quickly as possible.

At last, Matsushita withdrew, and a wave of relief swept over Kadowaki, leaving him utterly drained. His waist throbbed with a dull, lingering ache, his entire body slick with sweat and uncomfortably sticky. Kadowaki, unfamiliar with the unspoken rules of sex, found himself at a loss—when was the right moment to leave the bed and get dressed?

But Matsushita wouldn’t let him go. His hands moved tenderly, stroking Kadowaki’s hair, face, back, even his still-flaccid penis. Matsushita’s lips pressed softly against Kadowaki’s chest, almost childlike in their gentle touch. Then, suddenly, Matsushita murmured, “Naofumi.”

His name—spoken aloud. A name he hadn’t heard recently, not even from his parents. Matsushita whispered it again, “Naofumi,” and buried his face against Kadowaki’s chest, clinging to him with a quiet desperation.

In that moment—his first time experiencing such physical intimacy with another person—the only moment that truly stirred his heart wasn’t the act itself, but when his name was spoken aloud.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

If he hadn’t gone to Matsushita’s house on that rainy day, if he had simply left when Matsushita told him to go, would he not be in this difficult situation now? Kadowaki mulled over the word "indecisive." He wasn’t someone who could let things remain ambiguous for so long, and yet here he was, unable to resolve anything.

"Kadowaki."

Hearing his name snapped him back to the present. Across the table, Mikasa was looking at him with a sad expression.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry, I was lost in thought."

Kadowaki picked up his coffee, trying to refocus. Mikasa had called him out, saying there was something he wanted to talk about, yet Kadowaki had been preoccupied with his own concerns, forgetting the friend sitting right in front of him. They were at a café near the station. From their seat by the window, the sky outside was gray and heavy with ominous clouds. It wasn’t even five in the afternoon, but it was already dim, thanks to the string of bad weather. This year had been particularly rainy.

It seemed that Mikasa and Yoshimoto were in a cold war. Over the past month, neither had reached out, so Kadowaki had assumed things were going well. But then, in early August, Mikasa called. He said Yoshimoto seemed to be in a slump but wasn’t talking about it, and it was hard for Mikasa to watch.

"If Yoshimoto doesn’t want to talk, maybe it’s better not to push him," Kadowaki suggested.

"Do you think so?"

"If he’s not saying anything, it probably means he wants to figure it out on his own. Whether he decides to talk or not, you just need to be there for him."

Mikasa fell silent for a moment, his fingers interlocked on the table. Then he nodded slowly. "Yeah, you’re right."

Mikasa’s hands were dark and thick-skinned, contrasting with Matsushita’s, which were knobbier and longer. Thinking about Mikasa and Yoshimoto, Kadowaki found himself wondering if their friendship also involved the kinds of acts he’d experienced with Matsushita. No matter how well he knew the two of them, he couldn’t imagine them in such specific, intimate moments.

There had been times Kadowaki considered confiding in Mikasa about his strange and inexplicable relationship with Matsushita. But before he could muster the courage, his connection with Matsushita deepened, becoming too deliberate and frequent to dismiss as a mistake or a fluke.

The first time they were together, as Matsushita held him, Kadowaki had thought to himself that he shouldn’t come back. He didn’t feel any revulsion toward being desired or toward Matsushita himself, but he also didn’t have romantic feelings for him. If love meant yearning for another person, Kadowaki realized he didn’t yearn for Matsushita. He respected Matsushita as a lecturer, as a mathematician—but that was all.

Afterward, exhausted and half-asleep, Kadowaki woke to find Matsushita looking at him with feverish, passionate eyes, whispering, "I love you." Matsushita was deeply concerned about Kadowaki’s physical discomfort, apologizing over and over, and repeating words of love, punctuated by embraces and kisses. Something felt off, Kadowaki thought distantly. Though he had passively accepted Matsushita’s physical affection, Matsushita seemed to believe he had also accepted his heart.

Matsushita was desperate to express how much he loved Kadowaki, through words, actions—everything. And yet, Kadowaki couldn’t bring himself to say the one thing that might put an end to it all: "I won’t come back here. I don’t feel that way about you." It was too cruel, too final to say out loud.

Four days had passed since they had sex, and Kadowaki hadn’t gone to Matsushita’s apartment. On the fifth day, there was a seminar. Kadowaki felt relieved to see the professor taking the podium, but that relief was short-lived. After class, as he stepped outside the lecture hall, he saw Matsushita standing there. The memories of their physical encounter resurfaced, and Kadowaki lowered his gaze in confusion. But he told himself this was a perfect opportunity—a chance to say the words he hadn’t been able to voice that day. He needed to tell Matsushita that he didn’t feel romantic feelings for him and that he wanted to remain nothing more than a student and teacher.

“Could I have your contact information?” Matsushita asked first, cutting off Kadowaki before he could begin.

“You already know my address, don’t you?” Kadowaki replied, referring to the updated address he had submitted to the class roster.

“Yes, but I meant your phone number and email address. I could look them up if I wanted, but it wouldn’t feel right knowing them without your consent. You wouldn’t appreciate that, would you?”

The request implied Matsushita intended to maintain contact going forward. Kadowaki didn’t want to share his information, but he couldn’t come up with a reason to refuse. Reluctantly, he exchanged contact details with Matsushita.

Over the past four days, Kadowaki had reflected deeply and regretted his lack of resistance during their encounter. He had gone along with it out of fear of hurting Matsushita, yet he realized now that no matter what he did, someone was bound to be hurt. Summoning his courage, he looked Matsushita in the eye.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you too,” Matsushita replied. “But I have a class right now. Could you come to my place after six?”

A private conversation seemed best, and Matsushita’s apartment was as good a place as any. However, the moment Kadowaki stepped inside the apartment, he realized his mistake. He hadn’t known Matsushita could be so overwhelming in his passion.

As soon as the door closed, Matsushita pulled him into an embrace and kissed him. He whispered “I missed you” what felt like a hundred times. He confessed that he had been tormented, wondering if Kadowaki had hated their intimacy. Not seeing him for four days had nearly driven him crazy. He had wanted to call but held back because he hadn’t yet asked for Kadowaki’s number. He had even wanted to hug him in the hallway earlier but refrained, fearing it would bother him. Matsushita’s words poured out in a torrent, leaving no room for Kadowaki to speak.

It became painfully clear that Matsushita had no idea Kadowaki intended to tell him they should stop seeing each other. Yet, even if he wanted to retreat, the moment for turning back had passed. Overwhelmed by Matsushita’s fervor, Kadowaki found himself stripped of his clothes and lying in the bed again.

One time, then another, the same thing happened repeatedly. Kadowaki never managed to say what he needed to, and their physical relationship continued unchecked.

After giving inadequate advice to Mikasa, Kadowaki parted ways with his friend outside the café. It wasn’t far—about two train stations away—so he decided to walk home along the riverside. Before long, heavy rain began to fall, forcing him to sprint toward the entrance of the riverside apartment complex. He had the key to the apartment. Perhaps he could just borrow an umbrella. He recalled the stand in Matsushita’s entryway, full of cheap plastic umbrellas purchased for emergencies.

Taking one seemed harmless—he would return it at the next opportunity. Quietly unlocking the door, he grabbed an umbrella. Just then, Matsushita happened to cross the hallway. His startled expression quickly turned into a warm smile. Caught red-handed, Kadowaki lowered his gaze, feeling the weight of the awkward situation.

"What’s the matter, suddenly?" Matsushita asked.

"It started raining..." Kadowaki replied.

"You’re soaking wet. Let me grab you a towel."

He handed Kadowaki a soft towel, and Kadowaki wiped his face with it.

"Could I borrow an umbrella?"

Matsushita’s expression turned somber. Avoiding his gaze, Kadowaki lowered his head.

"Are you in a hurry?"

"Not particularly..."

"Then why don’t you come in and take your time? You can even take a shower if you’d like."

The word "shower" sounded strangely suggestive. Matsushita reached out his hand, and though Kadowaki wondered what holding hands inside the house could possibly signify, he couldn’t ignore it and placed his right hand in Matsushita’s. Guiding him to the bathroom, Matsushita hugged Kadowaki tightly, not caring that Kadowaki’s wet clothes soaked his own. Beneath the cold, damp fabric, warmth radiated from Matsushita’s body. The kiss that began on his lips trailed to his neck, and through the thin fabric of Kadowaki’s shirt, Matsushita lightly bit his nipple.

By the time the ritual-like act of sex had run its course, it was past 7 p.m. Matsushita began to drift off to sleep, and Kadowaki gently untangled himself from the arms wrapped around him. Naked, he retreated to the study, pulling out a few books before returning to the bed. Just as he slipped under the covers, thinking Matsushita was asleep, he was startled to be embraced.

"I thought you’d left," Matsushita murmured, kissing his shoulder.

They entwined again, naked and close. Kadowaki’s mind wandered once more: what exactly was their relationship? It wasn’t love, not friendship, nor simply that of teacher and student. Unable to pin it down with precision, he gave up on solving this unanswerable question. Feeling Matsushita’s presence against his back, Kadowaki opened one of the books. Matsushita, meanwhile, was stroking his hair. Suddenly, Matsushita sat up.

"...Kepler argued that snowflakes were composed of small, identical units packed together. This suggested that matter..." Matsushita read aloud deliberately into Kadowaki’s ear. Kadowaki glared at him in mild reproach, but Matsushita didn’t stop. Finding amusement in Kadowaki’s irritation, Matsushita pressed their cheeks together with a playful grin.

"S. Alossa’s book is fascinating," Matsushita said.

"If you find it so interesting, please let me read it quietly," Kadowaki replied.

Matsushita had no intention of letting him read in peace, so Kadowaki gave up and closed the book. As if this were a cue, Matsushita embraced him tightly and kissed him.

"I’m planning to announce a groundbreaking theory," Matsushita said, his words brushing Kadowaki’s lips.

"What kind of theory?"

"The Naofumi Kadowaki Principle," Matsushita declared with an absurdly serious expression.

Kadowaki couldn’t help but burst out laughing. "How would you even prove that as a principle?"

"I’ve already thought it through," Matsushita said. "I’ll record every detail of your daily life, convert your actions into data, and collect samples over several days. By analyzing the patterns, I’ll identify the principle of Naofumi Kadowaki."

"What good would such a principle even be?"

"It doesn’t matter. As long as I understand it, as long as I can interpret it, and as long as it’s useful to me, that’s enough."

Kadowaki laughed, but Matsushita remained solemn. "I really wish it existed," he whispered.

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