Nibiiro no Hana: Chapter 1

While you may already be familiar with these terms, I’ve provided their English definitions for those who may not be.

さん (san): This is a general, respectful suffix used to address or refer to someone. It's similar to "Mr.," "Mrs.," or "Ms." in English. It's commonly used for people of all ages and social statuses in both formal and informal contexts.

君 (kun): This suffix is often used for addressing younger males, or in a more familiar or casual setting. It can be used with people of the same or lower status, and it's commonly used among friends, students, or in professional settings where there is a clear hierarchy (like between a superior and a subordinate). 

Content warning: This novel contains descriptions of explicit sexual content. I will not be adding a trigger warning to each chapter with graphic content, so please consider this a general warning.

Translator’s Note: Some illustrations are available only in the EPUB version.

Title: 鈍色の華 - Nibiiro no Hana (lit. “Dull-Colored Flower” — a muted, grayish bloom symbolizing faded beauty or repressed emotion).

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It was a clear and pleasant afternoon in early May. Tsurutani Fumio was pushing a cart loaded with business cards, going from floor to floor distributing them to each department. After finishing with the General Affairs Department, he returned to the cart he’d left in the hallway and peeked inside the box. Among the cards he had just handed out, he found one for the Personnel Department mixed in with the General Affairs ones. Good thing he caught it early—since it was just around the corner, he figured he’d go hand it over now, and had just turned on his heel when he heard voices coming from an open door.

“That skinny old guy with all the white hair who brought the cards earlier—he’s the manager of Supplies, right? Why would a manager be doing something like card delivery?”

“Maybe he didn’t have anything better to do.”

His feet stopped. Both voices belonged to young men.

“Must be nice, huh? Supply Management’s pretty easygoing. So how old is that guy anyway? Nearing retirement?”

“I think he’s only in his late forties.”

“No way, seriously? He was really gray.”

“He looks old, but he started the same year as our department head, you know.”

It was too uncomfortable to stay where he was, but it didn’t feel right to walk in on them either. Tsurutani decided to save that misdelivered card for last and resumed pushing the cart. As the rattle of its wheels echoed across the floor, a sudden wave of emptiness washed over him. But he told himself not to dwell on what that emptiness meant. He wasn’t especially talented, yet had still managed to secure a spot in a first-rate company—just being allowed to remain in a quiet corner of it was something he ought to be grateful for.

While waiting for the elevator to go to an upper floor, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror at the end of the corridor. It was no wonder those young men had mistaken him for someone nearing retirement. His hair, though neatly groomed, was mostly gray now. He’d always had premature graying, but as forty loomed closer, white had begun to dominate. He had tried dyeing it once, but the chemicals had reacted badly with his skin, leaving his scalp red and inflamed. His doctor had advised against using any more hair dye.

He’d finished delivering to most departments, and all that remained was the twenty-fifth floor, where the president’s office and the secretary section were located. The former president had special cards made with embossed designs to set them apart from regular employees'. But two years ago, when Togawa Shun took over as president of Rabbit Food at the young age of thirty-eight, he chose to embody his cost-cutting management philosophy by using the exact same business card format as the rest of the staff.

Three years ago, pressured by the momentum of rival companies, Rabbit Food had lost the fourth-place spot in the industry it had guarded for years. The following year, the previous president stepped down, and his son Togawa Shun was appointed in his place. Upon taking office, the son immediately implemented large-scale restructuring and reform, slimming down the organization and revamping the once-stale instant food division with a slew of new products. One of them became a hit, and before long, the company had shot up to third place in the industry.

Having finished the last of his deliveries, Tsurutani now pushed the empty, light cart down the hall. Just ahead, the door to one room opened and three men stepped out: the president, accompanied by two Westerners—one blond, the other with light brown hair. Both were tall and appeared older than the president.

Tsurutani, just an ordinary employee, had no way of knowing who they were, but he instinctively picked up on the aura they radiated—an aura of strength, something completely unlike his own. He felt himself shrink under it. If he stayed on this course, he’d end up sharing an elevator with them. His large cart would only get in the way of these foreign guests. Tsurutani stopped in front of the elevator. As the three men approached, he waited until their conversation came to a natural pause before speaking.

“Are you headed up or down?”

“Down.”

The president replied, and Tsurutani pressed the button for the lower floors. He couldn’t shake the feeling that all three men—the two foreigners and the president—were looking at him, and it made him uneasy. The presence of the cart by his side only added to the embarrassment. He knew he was simply doing his job and there was nothing odd about having the cart with him, but still, he couldn’t help feeling self-conscious.

Something rolled to a stop at Tsurutani’s feet with a soft clatter. Almost absentmindedly, he picked it up—a silver cufflink. The blond man stepped forward. Tsurutani placed the cufflink into the large, pale hand held out to him.

“Thank you very much.”

Though the man’s Japanese still carried a trace of a foreign accent, his speech was fluent and smooth. His blue eyes crinkled with gentle laugh lines at the corners, and without realizing it, Tsurutani found himself smiling in return.

“Your Japanese is excellent.”

“Really? I’m glad to hear that. Thank you.”

The blond man extended his right hand for a handshake. Tsurutani hesitated for a moment, then reached out as well, only to find his hand gripped firmly and with surprising strength. Though it lasted only a second, he felt a slight twinge of pain.

The three men boarded the elevator ahead of him and rode it down. When the blond man asked, “What about you?” Tsurutani politely declined, replying, “I’ll come down afterward.”

Even after they’d left, the strong sensation of that handshake lingered in his right hand.

 

The following afternoon, Tsurutani received a summons from the president. When he asked what it was about, the secretary who called only said, “The president will explain the matter directly.” With a rising sense of unease, Tsurutani headed for the twenty-fifth floor, where the president’s office was located. After announcing himself to the secretarial section, he was promptly shown to the inner office.

The president appeared to be on a phone call, and the secretary told him, “He said you may have a seat while you wait.” It would’ve felt foolish to just stand there like some wooden statue, so Tsurutani sat down on the sofa. It was a deep brown, plush piece of furniture, and he felt almost guilty sinking into its luxurious comfort.

It was his first time in the president’s office, and a mix of curiosity and nervousness had him glancing all around. The Rabbit Food company building was now fifty years old and showing its age, but the president’s office had clearly been renovated—it was impressively clean and modern. The room was about 25 square meters in size. The wall on the right as one entered was entirely made of glass from floor to ceiling, letting in plenty of light from the south-facing windows. About three meters from the window stood the president’s desk, and beside it, a smaller desk for the computer. The wall opposite the windows was lined with bookshelves. The sofa Tsurutani was sitting on was positioned diagonally in front of the president’s desk. Aside from these furnishings, the only decorations were a few paintings hung on the wall—giving the room a modern but overall rather bare impression.

The most likely reason for being called in was being fired, but if that were the case, a notice from the Personnel Department would have sufficed. For the president himself to summon an ordinary employee was odd. The only other possibility that came to mind was the incident the other day—when he’d run into the president and the foreigners in front of the elevator. A shabby-looking middle-aged man pushing an old cart through the dignified executive floor may well have left a poor impression. Perhaps he’d been seen as an image liability to the company. And if that were the case… being laid off wouldn’t be a surprise. Either way, there wasn’t much hope of good news. If he lost his job, he might not be able to keep up with his mortgage payments and would have to sell the house. The only saving grace, he supposed, was that he didn’t have a wife or children to worry about.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

The call must have ended, as the president now approached the sofa from the opposite side. Tsurutani hurried to his feet, but the president, expressionless, told him, “You may remain seated.” He had a face like a classic film actor—handsome and refined, with a well-proportioned build that even another man might find himself admiring.

“Sorry to summon you so suddenly.”

“No, not at all,” Tsurutani replied, his voice unnaturally quiet with nervous tension.

“Manager Tsurutani, I’ve asked you here today because I have a request.”

This is it—restructuring. Tsurutani clenched his hands together on his lap and braced himself.

“I’d like you to entertain some guests this evening.”

The unexpected turn of events left him blinking in confusion. “Me… entertaining them?” he repeated, tilting his head.

The president nodded slowly.

“Do you remember the American gentlemen you met the other day in front of the elevator?”

“The blond one whose cufflink I picked up? I think there was another person with him as well…”

“Yes. Those two. They specifically requested that you, Manager Tsurutani, be the one to entertain them.”

Sweat began to bead slowly under his arms and along his forehead.

“I-I’m not capable of handling business negotiations. I don’t have that kind of skill. I did work in sales about twenty years ago, but I’ve been in Supply Management ever since…”

“I’m aware that you’ve spent many years in clerical work and are no longer on the front lines. You won’t need to talk business at all. I only ask that you entertain them, in the way they desire, and keep them happy.”

If it wasn’t a business meeting, then what on earth was this about?

“But I’m not the entertaining type. I can’t perform magic tricks, and I’m a terrible singer.”

The president pressed his fingers to his temple, then shifted in his seat and crossed one leg over the other dramatically.

“Let me be blunt. Those two American men are gay. They were taken with you. They said they want to spend time with you.”

“Spend time…?”

“To be specific—they want to enjoy sex with you.”

It felt so surreal, he was left completely dumbfounded. For a moment, he wondered if this was some kind of tasteless joke, and he was being made fun of—but the president’s expression was serious.

“By the way, Manager Tsurutani, do you have any experience with sex involving another man?”

“N-no, I don’t.”

“I assumed as much…” the president said with a strained smile.

“I told them you were likely not gay, but they insisted. Said they didn’t care. They demanded you be invited. Now they’re saying that unless you are the one who entertains them, they’ll walk away from the partnership—even though we were ninety percent of the way there. I’m at my wit’s end.”

He furrowed his brow in frustration and looked at Tsurutani.

“I realize this is an outrageous thing to ask, but could you indulge them? If they get offended and back out of the deal, all our investment and effort will go to waste. Worse yet, they might end up partnering with a rival company instead.”

The president delivered all of this in one breath, then exhaled.

“I apologize if this seems intrusive, but we did a bit of research into your background. Your wife passed away in an accident seventeen years ago, you have no children, and you’ve been living alone ever since. Are you currently seeing anyone?”

“No… no, I’m not.”

“I see. Then emotionally, there should be no complication. I know it’s a big ask to entertain men in that way, but would you consider accepting this request?”

He couldn’t answer. The thought of himself being involved in something like sex work—it sounded like a joke. More than disgust or revulsion, it was simply unimaginable. He couldn’t picture himself having sex with another man. There was no way he could do something like that. And yet, this was the company that had kept him on despite his lack of standout abilities. He owed them deeply. That made it all the harder to say no.

“I… I don’t know…”

Unable to give an answer, Tsurutani let the truth slip from his lips as the president continued waiting.

“I’m middle-aged, not particularly handsome. I mean, it’s not like I have an attractive physique either. My hair’s like this, and people often think I’m older than I actually am. I don’t even know the proper etiquette between men. Do you really think I could please those gentlemen?”

The president’s gaze drifted slightly, then returned to Tsurutani.

“They know you’re not gay and likely have no experience. To be honest, I don’t understand why they’re so fixated on you either. I even offered to take your place—figured if sex was all it took to secure the deal, I could handle the arrangment myself—but they flat-out refused. Said it had to be you.”

Tsurutani was stunned to learn the president had offered himself in his stead. When he thought about it, it was just sex. There was no one he had to answer to. Having slept with a man wouldn’t dramatically change the course of his life.

“This company has taken care of me for a very long time. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’d like to. But I… I’m not confident I can satisfy them.”

More than the act itself, that was what began to weigh on him.

“May I speak frankly?”

“Ah, yes… please do.”

“They aren’t interested in your personality. They’re simply looking to pass a dull evening by toying with some man they happened to find. Or maybe they just want to amuse themselves by putting me in a difficult position. Either way, if they end up canceling the deal over something so frivolous, we’re the ones left holding the bag. …If you ask me, all you need to do is take off your clothes in front of them, show them your genitals, get them aroused, and let them do as they please with your body.”

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