That Person: Chapter 8

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The cicadas chirped relentlessly, their cries an unbroken, piercing hum. A soft, warm breeze brushed his cheek, and Yoshimasa Matsushita lay sprawled on the sofa, caught in a hazy state where he couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep. This was a riverside apartment, and on such a bright, sunny afternoon, he found himself listening intently for the intercom, hoping for the faint sound that would announce his arrival. He couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of him visiting.

Through his filtered vision, the curtains billowed and swayed like living creatures, inflated by the breeze. In the light, a shadow moved, passing in front of the curtains and casting a faint shade across Matsushita’s face. “Sensei,” a quiet voice called. “Sensei,” it repeated, before the shadow seemed to recede. Matsushita reached out hastily with his right hand. His floating hand was immediately clasped gently, and the figure returned to his side.

“Sensei?”

Matsushita loved the sound of that word when Kadowaki said it. Even after they became lovers and started living together, Matsushita had once suggested, “You can call me by my name if you’d like.” After some thought, he had asked, “Would you prefer that I do?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Matsushita had replied, “but if you’re holding back for some reason…”

Kadowaki had smiled softly, like a delicate flower. “May I keep calling you Sensei?”

“I thought you were asleep,” Kadowaki said, kneeling before the sofa. Matsushita pulled his cool hand closer and pressed it against his cheek.

“I was dozing off,” Matsushita replied. “I thought I was back in my old apartment, waiting for you to drop by like I used to.”

Though he no longer needed to wait, why did it still feel like that? He asked, though he knew the answer was beyond both of them.

“Why, I wonder,” came the response, equally uncertain.

“You’re probably just tired,” he said, gazing at Matsushita with concerned eyes.

“You’ve been so busy preparing for the conference lately. I’ve been worried you’d push yourself too hard and collapse.”

Last month, at the end of July, there had been a conference in Miyagi. Matsushita had struggled to finalize his paper, working on it right up until the submission deadline. Even afterward, the preparation of his presentation, slides, and other materials had kept him spinning in a whirlwind of activity. Matsushita had overexerted himself, but his partner had borne the brunt of it, managing countless small tasks both at home and in the university lab.

“I caused you trouble during that time. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t see it as trouble at all,” Kadowaki said with a laugh. “The only thing I worried about was how to get you to eat. I agonized over it every day. If I interrupted you while you were thinking, it’d be a nuisance. But if I left you alone, you’d never think to eat on your own.”

Once Matsushita began contemplating something, all else faded from view—eating, sleeping, everything. Thinking itself was both his bliss and his torment because more often than not, the answers he sought eluded him. Searching for solutions and deriving methods felt as endless as trying to find a single grain of sand in a vast desert. Yet, he couldn’t stop. He knew long ago that he wasn’t the kind of person anyone would call a genius, but he couldn’t resist engaging with the beautiful world that demanded his imagination.

"But I'm glad it all went well."

Soft fingers brushed away the damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. The tender gesture, reminiscent of a mother’s touch, felt comforting. Matsushita cherished the man who touched him so gently, the fingers that caressed him with such care. The overwhelming affection he felt for him surged anew. Through this relationship, Matsushita had come to understand what it was like to be someone’s priority, to be the recipient of kindness that sought no recompense.

Growing up in a family of strong-willed individuals and strict discipline, Matsushita had often craved the gentle affection he was now receiving. After realizing he could only love men, he had resigned himself to the idea that he might never experience such tenderness. And so, as he approached forty, it was as if he had been seized by a feverish dream—falling madly for this younger man, who was so precious that it felt as if nothing in the world could hurt him.

Driven by a simple desire to be with this man he loved, Matsushita pulled Kadowaki close, pressing his cool lips to his own. After the sweet kiss, his hand trailed suggestively around his waist. Kadowaki hesitated for just a moment, drawing back slightly, his lips glistening with the lingering moisture of their shared passion.

"Naofumi," Matsushita murmured, his voice heavy with the question of why he was resisting. Kadowaki’s troubled expression and the light tap he gave Matsushita’s chest were both endearing and frustrating.

“It’s already past noon, and you haven’t eaten anything since morning. Please, have something to eat first.”

“That can wait.”

“But…”

“I’d rather devour you than lunch.”

Matsushita thought his words carried a suave elegance, but when Kadowaki stared back at him, wide-eyed like a startled pigeon, Matsushita began to doubt himself. Had he said something strange? As Kadowaki’s face flushed a deep red, Matsushita couldn’t help but blush as well. Embarrassed by his own impulsive words, he felt a pang of regret for his youthful lack of restraint.

“Please, eat first,” came the softly spoken insistence.

“And afterward…”

The hesitant acquiescence from Kadowaki made Matsushita reflexively murmur, “I’m sorry,” as if by instinct.

Matsushita’s apartment, on the fifth floor of a hillside building, was secluded enough that privacy was almost guaranteed. Unless it rained, the windows were usually left open, allowing a constant, pleasant breeze to flow through. From the bedroom’s terrace, one could see the ocean. Save for the sweltering summer or the chill of winter, Matsushita loved spending sunny days there, reading until dusk. When the light grew too dim to read, the view below transformed into a glittering tapestry of nightscape jewels.

When deciding to move to Kobe for his new university position, Matsushita had prioritized finding a home with a beautiful view. He had a feeling his partner would appreciate such a place. The desire to live at a high elevation, however, was entirely his own. Strong winds seemed to blow away all the clutter of his thoughts, leaving him with a sense of peace.

Now, gazing at his sleeping lover curled beside him, Matsushita was overcome with a tender protectiveness. The bare shoulder peeking out from the sheets glowed faintly orange in the sunset. Kadowaki, seventeen years his junior, was everything to him. The depth of his love was such that Matsushita could imagine giving up his very body for him without hesitation. His life had changed since Kadowaki came to Kobe. It might sound dramatic, but it was simply the truth. Matsushita reveled in the incredible fortune of finding a partner like him. Even knowing that what people call God is merely a human construct, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming gratitude.

When Matsushita had been a lecturer at a university in Tokyo, he had fallen in love with one of his seminar students, Naofumi Kadowaki. While acknowledging his feelings for the much younger student had been one thing, grappling with those emotions was quite another. Matsushita had convinced himself that making Kadowaki his lover was an impossibility, a dream never meant to be realized.

The relationships Matsushita had previously been in were limited to people he met in places frequented by those with similar inclinations. Even then, none of those relationships ever lasted long. Matsushita had always struggled with personal connections; his perspective on the world was slightly askew, setting him apart from others. Making engaging conversation was something he found more difficult than sex itself. On more than one occasion, he’d found himself on the receiving end of an exasperated, “Can you give it a rest?” from a bed partner, whom he had unwittingly subjected to a lengthy lecture on mathematical theory in his usual professor-like tone.

Occasionally, he had experienced love outside those spaces—love that sprang from the fabric of everyday life. But these affections were never reciprocated. Matsushita had neither confessed his feelings to anyone nor had anyone confessed to him. For love that could never be, it was better not to hope in the first place; better to avoid the pain of shattered expectations. His feelings for Kadowaki were meant to be just one more fleeting affection that would dissolve over time.

But now, here he was, placing a tender kiss on the soft, fine hair of his lover, who was bundled up in the sheets like a sleeping cat. Matsushita couldn’t help but wonder what changes had occurred in Kadowaki’s mind during the six months they had been apart after their initial separation. What thoughts had led someone who wasn’t gay to tell Matsushita, “I love you”?

Matsushita longed to glimpse Kadowaki’s intricate thought processes, to map the evolution of his feelings. If he could only understand the steps Kadowaki had taken to reciprocate his love, Matsushita might be able to give a clear, definitive shape to the younger man’s otherwise vague and enigmatic presence. It had been nearly a year since Kadowaki had moved to Kobe, yet Matsushita was still no closer to understanding why his feelings had been reciprocated.

“Mm…”

Kadokaki stirred, his shoulder shifting slightly as his tightly shut eyelids fluttered faintly. His eyelashes quivered like the wings of a butterfly before his eyes opened slowly. The glistening black of his gaze was fixed entirely on Matsushita, who felt himself drawn in, compelled to meet his lips in a kiss. Kadowaki responded by tensing slightly and exhaling a shallow gasp, his arms winding around Matsushita’s back. They kissed again and again, adjusting angles, holding one another tightly.

Until now, Matsushita had never realized he could be so insatiable, so heedless, as to desire his lover in the middle of the day. It was a part of himself he had only come to know in this late stage of his life.

:-::-:

"Yoshiko, what's the matter?"

"It's been a while, brother. How are you?"

Back when Matsushita lived in Tokyo, his younger sister—three years his junior—often called and sometimes visited his apartment. But since Matsushita moved to Kobe for his new position, she had become preoccupied with her child’s middle school entrance exams and her own work. Phone calls from her had dwindled to a handful, and the last time they’d met in person was during New Year’s.

That meeting had been brief. Concerned about her unmarried brother, their mother had frequently pestered Matsushita with matchmaking proposals, so he used work as an excuse to limit his trip home to just two days. Meanwhile, Yoshiko’s return had been delayed by the sudden downturn of one of her patients, and their paths crossed only briefly at the front door. They hardly had a chance to talk.

"You weren’t picking up for a while, you know. Are you busy? Can you talk now?"

Matsushita fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table to read the clock. 6:30 PM. It was early enough that his sister couldn’t reasonably suspect he was with someone.

"It’s fine. I wasn’t doing anything in particular."

"Then you could’ve answered the phone sooner."

She wasn’t wrong—Matsushita had genuinely considered ignoring the call. He apologized honestly. "I’m sorry about that."

"What if it had been something serious—an accident, or bad news?"

"Is something wrong with Mom?"

"I said ‘what if,’ didn’t I? Are you even listening to me properly?"

Her irritated tone came through sharply, and Matsushita felt himself shrinking in response. Since turning sixty, their mother had become prone to illness. Though nothing life-threatening had happened, her hysterectomy two years ago had visibly aged her. A strong-willed woman, she avoided complaining in front of her children, but seeing her lying weakly in bed had been heart-wrenching. At her age, Matsushita knew anything could happen at any time, so even hypotheticals were difficult to dismiss outright. Yet, Yoshiko seemed oblivious to his concerns.

After the surgery, calls from their mother had increased, as had her insistence on arranging a marriage for Matsushita. It was clear she worried about her unmarried son and wanted to see him settle down while she was still in good health. But there was little Matsushita could do about it.

A brief silence passed, punctuated by a sigh from the other end of the line.

"At least answer your phone properly, will you? I know you’re introverted and more than a little lazy, but you’re not getting any younger. When you got your medical license, I thought, ‘Finally, he can rehabilitate his social skills.’ But then you went back to university, this time for mathematics. You’ve buried yourself so deeply in your own world that you’re bound to develop a skewed perspective on everything."

"I’m satisfied with the way I am."

Matsushita didn’t entirely disagree with her. He was aware of his tendencies to isolate himself. Yet his satisfaction with his current life was genuine.

"Of course you’re satisfied! You’re doing what you love, living in your ideal little world. But listen, brother, you don’t live in isolation. What would you do if math ceased to exist tomorrow?"

"That’s an impossible scenario. There’s no point speculating about something so unrealistic."

He intended his response to be straightforward, but the silence on the other end gave him a sinking feeling.

"You've always been so insensitive," Yoshiko's voice came through the line.

The remark hit a sore spot, as though a sharp jab had struck his chest.

"No matter how much your family worries about you, you probably just see it as a passing breeze," she continued.

"That's not true," Matsushita replied, his voice trembling slightly.

He felt a warm touch on his knee and turned to see him—his partner—gazing at him with concern. Matsushita covered the phone's mouthpiece and whispered, "It's my sister." Kadowaki nodded lightly and gently rested his head on Matsushita's lap. The warmth from the contact seemed to soothe the sting of Yoshiko's words. Unconsciously, Matsushita found himself threading his fingers through his partner's soft hair.

"I didn’t call just to give you grief," Yoshiko said. "It’s almost been two years since you moved to Kobe. Have you met anyone special?"

It didn’t take a genius to realize she meant a romantic partner. Someone special was right there, nestled on his lap—young, kind, and far more than Matsushita ever deserved. Yet, Yoshiko had no idea, and Matsushita couldn’t bring himself to talk about his relationship. He had no idea how his family would react to the news of his sexuality, and he feared causing irreparable rifts within the family.

So, he remained silent. He couldn’t say he had someone, nor could he lie and say he didn’t.

"I actually know someone I’d like to introduce you to," Yoshiko continued. "She’s a mutual friend of mine who lives in Kobe. Very intelligent. When I mentioned you, she was interested. Why don’t you meet her?"

Matsushita’s silence was apparently taken as confirmation that he was single.

"When I told Mom about it, she said, ‘By all means, set it up.’ If you’re okay with it, I can handle all the arrangements—pick a date, choose a restaurant. You’re not great at those kinds of things, right?"

A cold sweat ran down Matsushita’s back. If he stayed quiet, the introduction might actually happen.

"That’s... not really..."

"It won’t be formal, like an arranged marriage meeting. Just think of it as dinner with one of my friends. Just give it a try," she insisted.

"I’m not good with that sort of thing," Matsushita muttered.

"Don’t overthink it. Just meet her casually," Yoshiko pressed.

"But..."

From the background, Matsushita heard a young girl’s voice calling, "Mom!" It was his niece, Umika, calling Yoshiko because she had returned from cram school.

"I have to go," Yoshiko said abruptly. "I’ll check her availability and let you know."

Before Matsushita could respond, the call ended. He stared at the phone in his hand, utterly at a loss.

"Did she hang up?" his partner asked from his lap.

"Yes," Matsushita replied, placing the phone back on the side table.

His partner sat up, his eyes peering up into Matsushita’s face. The unwavering gaze filled Matsushita with an indescribable guilt. His partner had quit his job to come to Kobe, leaving everything behind. Though Matsushita had never asked what Kadowaki told his family, he suspected the truth had been laid bare. Unlike Matsushita’s reluctance to reveal his relationship, his partner’s candidness was both admirable and daunting.

In contrast, Matsushita couldn’t even refuse the suggestion of meeting another woman. He was paralyzed by the fear of his family’s judgment, unable to stand up for his true feelings.

"Did it sound like an argument? Is everything alright?"

Matsushita's guilty heart raced, pounding heavily in his chest. The closeness of his partner's presence was overwhelming. Had he overheard the conversation with Yoshiko? Was he silently disillusioned with Matsushita's inability to refuse the arranged meeting? Swallowing nervously, Matsushita suddenly felt something soft brush against his lips.

It took him a moment to register the sensation as a kiss and to realize that his partner, now perched on his lap, was seducing him. The memory of abandoning his lover mid-affectionate moment finally came rushing back.

"Aren’t you going to ask me what my sister and I were talking about?" Matsushita ventured.

He wasn’t sure if Kadowaki had overheard their conversation or not, but the gentle hand stroking his hair was disarming. Unable to bear the rising tide of insecurity within him, Matsushita pushed forward, as though deliberately stepping into deeper waters.

"I’m curious, but family matters aren’t something I should interfere with. And if you’re not ready to talk about it, I won’t pry," Kadowaki replied with a calm warmth.

"Then why are you stroking my head?" Matsushita pressed further.

The hand paused. Kadowaki, for some reason, blushed and averted his gaze.

"Does every action need a reason?" he murmured.

"It doesn’t, but..." Matsushita’s voice trailed off as Kadowaki leaned in, whispering softly into his ear.

The words caught Matsushita off guard, and embarrassment bloomed within him like a sudden flame. He already knew his partner wasn’t the type to dig for information out of suspicion, yet he had doubted him. That realization stung.

Matsushita wrapped his arms tightly around Kadowaki, holding him so closely that he felt a slight tremor in his embrace. Without letting go, Matsushita gently pressed him down against the sheets and kissed him with fervent intensity. In the haze of passion, Kadowaki’s earlier words echoed in his mind, sweet and tender, melting his doubts like a piece of candy dissolving on the tongue.

"Because even the troubled expression on your face... was so irresistibly endearing."

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