That Person: Chapter 9

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In the evening, Matsushita had gone out to the terrace with a book, only to inadvertently fall asleep. When Kadowaki returned from his part-time job, he hurriedly brought Matsushita back inside. The chill Matsushita had caught while dozing outdoors left him with two days of a runny nose and sneezing. Frustrated by how susceptible he was to catching colds, he found himself reluctantly enjoying the extra attention and care Kadowaki lavished on him during his illness.

Although Matsushita originally intended to support Kadowaki, it often felt like the reverse was true. When Kadowaki first moved in, he wasn’t particularly skilled at cooking. However, in less than a year, he made remarkable progress and now cooked nearly every day. The turning point came when Matsushita caught a severe cold shortly after Kadowaki arrived. After the doctor chastised Matsushita for his poor habits, their tendency to eat out frequently came to an abrupt halt, and Kadowaki began preparing meals.

At first, neither of them had much culinary expertise beyond cooking rice or simple boiling and grilling, so the results were initially disastrous. However, being diligent and resourceful, Kadowaki printed out numerous recipes from the internet and gradually learned, starting with simpler dishes. Despite also preparing for his entrance exams for graduate school, he brushed off Matsushita’s concerns about overextending himself, saying, “It’s a nice change of pace, and I enjoy it.”

Somewhere along the way, the living room became spotless, free of dust. Dirty clothes were promptly washed and stored neatly in the closet. Books that once sprawled across the floor were categorized and arranged on the bookshelves, eliminating the need for Matsushita to sift through piles to find what he needed.

Kadowaki did all of this without being asked. Matsushita never once requested meals or cleaning. Even when Matsushita protested, “You don’t have to go to all this trouble,” Kadowaki would simply smile and reply, “It’s just part of my routine.” Over time, Matsushita had grown entirely accustomed to the comfortable environment Kadowaki had created for him.

When Kadowaki entered graduate school, he began working part-time to cover tuition and living expenses. Despite Matsushita’s repeated offers to provide financial support, Kadowaki adamantly refused. This independence reflected his strong will, but Matsushita wished to contribute, not just to feel less like a burden but to ensure his presence as an older partner felt meaningful. It gave Matsushita peace of mind to help in some way.

However, Kadowaki continued to resist relying on him. During the university’s summer break, he took on another part-time job as a high school tutor. Although it was meant to be a temporary position for the summer vacation, he became highly favored by the student and their parents, leading to the arrangement being extended through September.

Matsushita watched Kadowaki juggle work and study with a mix of admiration and quiet concern, feeling that the balance between them was both comforting and frustratingly lopsided.

While he was home alone, Matsushita called his sister several times, intending to firmly decline the proposal to meet the woman she wanted to introduce. However, with her erratic work schedule and busy life, it was nearly impossible to catch her. On the rare occasion she did answer, he barely managed to say, “About that matter from before…” before she curtly cut him off with, “I’m busy right now. I’ll call you back tomorrow.” But the promised call never came.

The unresolved situation began to gnaw at him, compounded by his tendency to fixate on a single issue. The mounting stress took a physical toll, and soon a dull, persistent ache developed in his stomach. As the pain worsened, his appetite diminished proportionately.

Kadowaki, who always ate with him, couldn’t fail to notice. “Are you feeling unwell?” he asked repeatedly. Matsushita brushed it off with, “It’s nothing serious,” and while Kadowaki refrained from pressing further, the concern in his gaze never wavered.

This week marked the end of the university’s summer break and, with it, the conclusion of Kadowaki’s side job as a tutor. Before heading out for a farewell dinner with the family he had worked for, Kadowaki offered to prepare Matsushita’s dinner. Matsushita declined, deciding instead to eat out for the first time in a long while.

Sitting alone at the counter of a small izakaya, Matsushita found himself unable to shake the oppressive sense of loneliness. The meal, which once would have felt ordinary, now felt hollow. He returned to the apartment early, longing for the comfort of home.

As he stepped through the door, his cellphone rang. Without thinking, he hoped it might be Kadowaki calling. Hastily retrieving the phone, he felt a twinge of disappointment upon seeing his sister’s name on the screen.

“Are you free tomorrow, Sunday?” she asked, bypassing any pleasantries.

“No, nothing in particular,” Matsushita replied, eager to steer the conversation toward the topic he had been meaning to address. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about—”

But she interrupted, launching into her own plans. “Good, then listen up and either memorize this or write it down. Tomorrow at noon, meet at the lobby of the Harborland Hotel near JR Sannomiya Station. I’ve reserved a table for lunch on the fifteenth floor. Her name is Mitsukoshi Sayaka, and she said she’ll be wearing a blue dress.”

A foreboding sense of dread settled over him.

“Who is Mitsukoshi?” he asked cautiously.

“You know, the woman I told you about before, the one I thought you should meet,” she replied casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Matsushita felt a sharp throb in his head.

“I appreciate the effort, but I never agreed to meet anyone. I’ve been trying to tell you this for some time now.”

“I knew you weren’t keen on the idea,” she admitted, undeterred.

“But waiting for you to take initiative could take years. Don’t overthink it—just go and talk. If you don’t get along, you can politely decline and leave.”

“This isn’t about whether we get along,” Matsushita said, his voice rising with frustration. “I don’t want to meet her in the first place.”

“It’s just a meal! What’s so wrong about that?”

She wasn’t wrong—sharing a meal was trivial. A year ago, he might have conceded to her persistence out of sheer inertia, telling himself it wasn’t worth the hassle of arguing. But now, things were different.

"I'm sorry, but please cancel with her," Matsushita said firmly.

“If you’re going to be that adamant, then fine,” his sister replied, her tone briefly yielding—only to follow with: “But if you’re going to decline, then tell her yourself. Go to the hotel lobby and say, ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t even have a meal with you.’ Just don’t leave her waiting there like some fool.”

Her venomous words sent a rush of heat to Matsushita’s head.

"How am I supposed to say that to someone’s face? Don’t be so cruel; just give me her contact information."

"The reservation’s under your name, so if you want to cancel, handle it yourself. Bye."

The line abruptly cut off. He tried calling back frantically, but no matter how many times he let it ring, she didn’t pick up. Eventually, the calls went straight to voicemail. His sister’s vindictiveness was cruel. It infuriated him even more to think she probably knew he’d struggle to refuse directly. Without contact with her, he would have no choice but to meet the woman simply to turn her away. Could he really face a complete stranger and tell her, “Thank you for coming, but please go home”?

A knot of pain twisted deep in his stomach, tightening as he crouched down clutching his abdomen. He thought sitting still might make it subside, but it only worsened. Remembering the medication he’d once been prescribed for a stomach ulcer, he staggered to the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets until he found it. Clinging to a shred of hope, he swallowed the pills, but the relief didn’t come quickly. Feeling faint, he stumbled to the living room sofa and lay down. The persistent pain left a sheen of cold sweat on his forehead. As he lay there, eyes shut, he heard sounds from the entryway—it must be Kadowaki returning home. Feigning sleep, he waited.

Footsteps approached. The sensation of a gentle touch on his cheek startled him; he flinched involuntarily. Opening his eyes, he saw Kadowaki withdraw his hand, looking startled by the reaction.

"Sorry for waking you."

"It’s fine..." Matsushita said, sitting up on the sofa and brushing his forehead with trembling fingers. The pain in his stomach was now compounded by nausea. Kadowaki stood over him, studying his face intently.

"You don’t look well."

"It’s just because it’s nighttime," Matsushita deflected, trying to escape the living room. But his arm was caught, and he was pulled back onto the sofa.

"Is it your stomach?"

He tried to deny it, but Kadowaki wasn’t convinced.

"There was stomach medicine left out in the kitchen. You’ve been eating less lately, and I’ve been worried. Is something bothering you? I know I might not be able to help, but I can listen."

Kadowaki’s gaze was earnest, unrelenting. Matsushita’s guilt made him avert his eyes awkwardly, only for Kadowaki to clasp his hand tightly.

"Why can’t you look me in the eye?"

The two sat in silence, the oppressive atmosphere and the weight of Kadowaki’s concern making Matsushita’s stomach pain intensify despite the medication.

"I don’t want to talk to you about it," Matsushita finally said. Kadowaki’s face fell into an expression of sadness, and Matsushita hurried to add more.

"I want to avoid being hated by you, no matter the outcome of discussing this issue," Matsushita said, his voice low and laden with self-reproach.

Kadowaki shook his head firmly.

"I won’t hate you, no matter what."

Matsushita couldn’t bring himself to accept those words at face value. Instead, they plunged him into a spiral of self-deprecating thoughts.

"How can you say that so definitively? You might meet someone better—someone more thoughtful than me—and fall for them instead. I don’t believe I’m captivating enough to hold onto someone like you. That’s why I feel like I need to eliminate any potential flaws before they become problems..."

When he saw the angry, stern expression appear on Kadowaki’s face, Matsushita felt sweat gather in his palms. Anxiety coursed through his entire body.

"I love you because you are you. Your age, your job—none of that matters," came the resolute reply.

"But..." Matsushita began weakly.

"Do you really not trust me?" Kadowaki shot back.

Cornered, Matsushita lowered his gaze. It wasn’t a matter of trust. Kadowaki had done so much for him—he felt loved. Yet the lack of confidence within Matsushita’s own heart refused to let him rely on notions like permanence or certainty.

Even though Kadowaki had left his job and moved to Kobe to be with him, even though they had spent blissful days living together, Matsushita couldn’t shake the underlying fear. The sense of being loved could just be a figment of his own desperate imagination. He sometimes wondered if, should Kadowaki leave him one day, he would even understand the reasons why.

"We sleep together, eat together... I’ve never spent this much time with anyone before," Kadowaki murmured, as though reading Matsushita’s thoughts.

Matsushita felt the same.

"I cook for you, do the laundry, clean the apartment..."

"I told you, you don’t need to do all that," Matsushita interjected.

"I know. But when it’s for you, I want to do everything I can."

A rough hand tousled Matsushita’s hair, pulling him back to the present. He looked up, startled, to see Kadowaki gazing at him with an expression that was both tender and pained. His fingers played gently with Matsushita’s already messy hair. The loving motion caused something in Matsushita’s heart—something he had thought was sealed shut—to crack open.

"A little while ago," Matsushita began hesitantly, "my sister told me she wanted to introduce me to a woman who lives nearby."

He averted his eyes, unable to meet Kadowaki’s gaze.

"I couldn’t tell her about you. When she suggested introducing me to someone, I couldn’t even refuse outright. I’ve tried calling her several times since, but she wouldn’t listen to me."

The more he spoke, the more hollow he felt inside.

"Earlier, she called to say she’d arranged for me to meet this woman. I asked her to cancel it, but she wouldn’t agree."

He let the truth spill out and cautiously raised his eyes to meet Kadowaki’s. But instead of the contempt or disappointment he had expected, he saw only a puzzled expression as Kadowaki tilted his head slightly.

"That’s it?"

The understated response made Matsushita’s chest ache. Something he had agonized over felt trivial in comparison to Kadowaki’s reaction. To him, it was just “that’s it.” That realization left Matsushita feeling utterly defeated.

“Is it a matchmaking meeting?” he asked in an even tone.

“It’s nothing so formal, just a meal together,” Matsushita replied.

Kadowaki let out a quiet breath.

“You could have told me earlier.”

“How could I possibly bring it up, knowing it would upset you?”

“But you didn’t have to stress yourself out to the point of getting a stomachache over something like this,” he said, his voice laced with exasperation.

Frustration bubbled within Matsushita, and he bit his lip. Kadowaki reached out to stroke his ear, a touch Matsushita knew was meant to comfort him. That familiarity made it worse, stirring his unease further. He shook his head, rejecting the touch.

“I imagined something worse—an illness or that you’d fallen for someone else,” Kadowaki admitted. “I was bracing myself for that.”

He tilted Matsushita’s face upward. When Matsushita didn’t resist, Kadowaki leaned in, pressing his cheek gently to Matsushita’s. It wasn’t a kiss but a tender, affectionate caress, playful and soothing.

“Are you disappointed in me?” Matsushita asked.

Kadowaki gave a small, wry smile.

“No, but I do find it troubling how sensitive you are… When’s the meeting?”

“Tomorrow,” Matsushita mumbled.

“That’s quite sudden,” Kadowaki said, eyebrows lifting in surprise. He rested his hand on his chin, his expression thoughtful.

“If you really can’t get out of it, why not just go?”

The suggestion was unexpected.

“It’s only a meal, after all,” Kadowaki added.

“But...”

He narrowed his eyes mischievously.

“If the person she introduce you to is stunning, will you switch sides?”

“Of course not,” Matsushita replied immediately, and Kadowaki burst into laughter.

“Go enjoy some good food, then. Just make sure you come back here afterward.”

The kind words of his understanding partner lifted the weight from Matsushita’s chest and eased his stomach pain.

“Even if you told me not to, I’d still come back,” Matsushita said.

Kadowaki laughed again and buried his face in Matsushita’s neck.

Late in the night, Matsushita woke up with a dry throat. Beside him, his usually reserved lover, who had been unusually assertive that evening, was sound asleep. Matsushita carefully slipped out of bed, making his way to the kitchen for a drink of water. When he returned and slid back under the covers, Kadowaki remained undisturbed, breathing softly in deep slumber. His peaceful sleep was a testament to his health and vitality.

Unable to resist, Matsushita let his fingers wander through Kadowaki’s hair, careful not to wake him. If their roles were reversed, could he handle it as gracefully? Could he bear the thought of Kadowaki dining with someone else, even knowing it was only to refuse them?

No, Matsushita thought, he would never be so understanding.

As he watched Kadowaki sleep, he realized that this ability to laugh and forgive came from a place of confidence, a sense of security Matsushita himself lacked. With a faint sigh, Matsushita gazed at the man beside him, awash in quiet admiration and gratitude.

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