The Moon’s Ship That Crosses The Night: Chapter 19

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Fifteen minutes on the train from the nearest station, a transfer to another line, and two stops later, they disembarked. Though it hadn’t seemed like it when they left the house, the sky had clouded over at some point, and as they exited the station, it looked as if it might start raining at any moment. His uncle’s clinic was less than fifty meters from the station. Not wanting to get caught in the rain, Kawase quickened his pace, but the man couldn’t keep up and lagged behind. Even though he understood, it still irritated him.

The clinic was on the third floor of a building. When he opened the door and stepped inside, the waiting room was empty. That was to be expected—it was already thirty minutes past closing time at seven in the evening.

“Oh, Kawase-kun.”

The receptionist, Saitō-san, greeted him with a warm smile on her square-jawed face. When this clinic first opened, the office had been run by an older woman named Fujioka-san, who had been in her late sixties. She retired last year, and in her place came Saitō-san, who was in her early thirties. Among Kawase’s uncle, who was in his late forties, and the clinic’s veteran nurse, Kobayashi-san, who was in her late fifties, Saitō-san was the hopeful newcomer.

“Sorry for coming after hours.”

When he apologized, she smiled kindly—she had a cute smile.

“It’s fine. The doctor told me about it. He’s with the last patient right now, so just wait a little longer.”

After checking in, Kawase sat down at a slight distance from the man. The man was now wearing Kawase’s shirt and pants, looking much more presentable. His gray hair was neatly combed, and his stubble was gone. Before coming here, Kawase had made him take a bath. Since the man’s right hand was bandaged and couldn’t be wet, he had wrapped it in plastic and washed his hair for him. He had also lent him an electric shaver, so his scruffy beard was now gone. There was no point in worrying about appearances after a suicide attempt, but Kawase hadn’t wanted his uncle to see his former boss in such a disheveled state.

He wasn’t sure how his uncle would approach the conversation with the man, but one concern weighed on his mind—what if the man ended up talking about his relationship with Kawase? Before coming here, he had asked him not to say anything, and the man had replied, “There’s no need to talk about it.” But still... Even if his uncle found out, it was just one time, six years ago. A moment of youthful indiscretion. His uncle would probably just be exasperated, but as someone who had been like a parent to him, the thought of being found out made him uneasy.

As he was lost in thought, the door to the examination room opened, and what seemed to be the last patient, a slightly overweight woman in her forties, stepped out. Then, the man’s name was called. Kawase took hold of his arm and led him into the room.

Inside, only his uncle was there. The nurse, Kobayashi-san, was nowhere to be seen—probably already gone since office hours had ended. Kawase seated the man in the patient’s chair and perched himself on the examination table.

“Nice to meet you, Shibaoka-san. My name is Motohashi.”

The man bowed politely. “Hello.”

Before coming, Kawase had already explained the man’s condition over the phone.

“I’ve heard from Fumito. You suddenly lost your sight yesterday, and both ophthalmology and neurology found no abnormalities, correct?”

“So it seems.”

His tone was indifferent, as if it were someone else’s problem.

“You must be anxious.”

His uncle offered a few words of sympathy before getting straight to the point.

“There are times when the body experiences dysfunction without an identifiable cause. Even when the person clearly feels unwell, medical tests show nothing wrong. In some rare cases like this, psychological factors can manifest as physical symptoms.”

The man appeared to be listening seriously.

“Think of it as the heart crying out. But the heart can’t voice its pain out loud, so instead, it signals through the body. I’d like to talk with you and see if perhaps your heart is exhausted.”

The man didn’t reply. When prompted with, “Would that be alright?” he finally nodded.

“I suppose so.”

“Do you dislike talking about things?”

“It’s not that. I just don’t have anything worth talking about.”

The man smiled, but his expression was disturbingly serene—so perfectly composed it seemed almost unnatural, like a doll.

“There are many kinds of stress that people don’t even realize they have… Ah, Fumi.”

Kawase’s uncle turned toward him.

“I’d like to speak with Shibaoka-san alone for a while. Could you step out? I’ll call you when we’re done.”

Anxiety crept into Kawase’s chest. What if, in his absence, the man decided to talk about their past relationship? But he couldn’t exactly insist on staying, so he left the examination room quietly and waited in the lobby.

At some point, Saitō-san, the receptionist, said, “Well then, I’ll be heading out,” and went home.

Now that he was alone, Kawase sprawled out on a chair and checked his phone messages. Still no reply from Arisawa to the call and email he’d sent on Friday. Not that it mattered anymore… He couldn’t help but feel like response time was proportional to age. The older someone was, the slower they were to reply. Sometimes, he wondered if they mistook emails for handwritten letters.

Growing restless, he turned on the waiting room television.

About thirty minutes later, the examination room door opened, and his uncle called for him.

When Kawase entered, his uncle was still typing something on his computer. After a moment, he turned to the man, showing a thoughtful expression before giving a small shake of his head.

“As I mentioned earlier, there may not be any direct psychological burden causing these symptoms. And even if there were, it wouldn’t be something we could simply cut away like in a surgical procedure. That’s where we’ll leave things for today.”

The man bowed slightly. “Thank you for your time.” Then, slowly, he stood up.

As he turned, his foot caught on the chair he had been sitting in, and he stumbled forward. Kawase quickly grabbed his arm. The man managed to regain his balance by stepping forward with his right foot and planting himself firmly on both feet.

“Ah, that’s right—Shibaoka-san.”

At his uncle’s voice, the man turned back.

“I forgot to ask. When you realized you couldn’t see, what went through your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that. What were you thinking?”

The man tilted his head slightly, pressing a thumb against the corner of his mouth. Then, after a moment, his lips parted.

“I thought I had died.”

“Died?”

His uncle blinked in surprise.

“When I woke up, everything around me was pitch black. I always sleep with a light on, so there was no way my room should have been dark. I couldn’t see a thing, but I could still feel my body, so I figured… this must be what death is like.”

Then, after a short pause, he continued.

“But then… I started to hear things. The sound of cars passing outside, hurried footsteps… And the smells—everything felt strangely vivid. That’s when I realized I might still be alive. I tried sitting up, and I could hear the rustle of fabric—either my clothes or the bedsheets. And then, a nurse spoke to me.”

“I see… And once you understood that you weren’t dead, that you simply couldn’t see—what were your thoughts then?”

His uncle repeated the question in a slightly different way.

“…That it was a hassle.”

The man’s voice was quiet.

“A hassle?”

“Not being able to see is inconvenient, isn’t it? I can’t even walk outside on my own.”

His uncle narrowed his eyes.

“That’s true… I understand. Ah, sorry for keeping you so long.”

“Not at all.”

Kawase led the man out of the examination room.

As he wondered how they were supposed to handle the payment now that Saitō-san had gone home, a shadow appeared at the reception desk. It was Nurse Kobayashi.

“Fumi-kun, the payment,” she called out.

He hurried over.

Kobayashi, dressed in casual clothes, had likely been just about to leave. She was a short, stocky woman, easily twice his age, and to be honest, Kawase had always felt a little uncomfortable around her.

“…Sensei said that once you’re done with the payment, he wants to see you alone for a bit.”

She whispered this discreetly into his ear. Kawase gave a small nod.

When he stepped back into the examination room, his uncle was still staring at the open patient records on his computer, his thumb pressed thoughtfully against his chin.

“So, that’s your former boss… Quite the character.”

Kawase let out a wry smile and sank into the patient’s chair across from his uncle.

“What do you think of that guy, Uncle?”

Kawase asked bluntly.

“He seems normal enough. Nothing he says contradicts itself, he’s polite, sarcastic, and composed.”

Just as Kawase was about to protest—that guy isn’t normal, you’re being fooled—his uncle added,

“If he were someone with sight, I’d probably think so.”

His uncle rested his cheek on his hand.

“But he’s too normal. Too calm. Losing one’s sight—it’s a huge deal. Even if this is his second time, can someone really stay that composed? There’s no guarantee he’ll ever regain his vision.”

He shrugged.

“And calling it ‘a hassle’? I’d understand if he talked about what he should do next or expressed anxiety, but ‘a hassle’… It almost sounded like whether he could see or not didn’t really matter to him.”

Then, as if remembering something, his uncle lightly smacked his knee.

“So, what exactly is your relationship with him?”

Kawase swallowed hard.

“Well… He was just my boss at my old position.”

“But you were close enough to keep in touch even after changing workplaces?”

Had the man confessed their past mistakes? Kawase lowered his gaze.

“…Just normal. We weren’t that close. Two days ago, his old colleague dragged me into meeting him—I didn’t have much choice.”

“So, despite not being particularly close, you’re letting him stay at your apartment?”

Kawase gave a small nod.

“In that case, why not leave him with his relatives? There’s a chance he’ll need long-term care. Cases where emotional distress leads to blindness do exist, though they’re rare. I’d be interested in following up, but looking ahead…”

“I thought about that at first too, but he said he’s never met any of his relatives. Apparently, his mother was a mistress, so there’s some complicated family situation…”

His uncle muttered, “What a mess,” intertwining his fingers in front of his chest.

“If he showed emotions, it’d be easier to understand, but people like him are tricky. He’s sharp, too. His answers are always on point—flawless, even. Unlike what he told you, he never once mentioned wanting to die to me. No complaints about anxiety or insomnia either. There’s nothing I can advise him on, no prescription I can give. I’m at a loss. The only thing to do is take it slow and give it time.”

“How long would that take?”

His uncle gave a wry smile.

“There’s no standard when it comes to people’s minds. He could open up tomorrow, or it might take six months… or he might never say a word about it for the rest of his life. If his symptoms improve in a week or so, that’d be ideal. But if this drags on, him staying at your apartment while I monitor him—it’s just not realistic.”

“But he said it only took ten days to recover last time. That’s why I thought if you treated him, he’d get better even faster…”

“You have too much faith in doctors,” his uncle muttered.

“There’s something… something about him, I’m sure of it. But I just can’t figure it out. If he showed even the smallest sign of wanting to be saved, of not wanting to die, then doctors like us would have a place to intervene. But that part of him is still hidden. It’s hard to express something as intangible as anxiety.”

Then his uncle glanced at Kawase.

“But the fact that he told you, and only you, that he wanted to die—that might mean something. At the very least, it let you see what’s inside him.”

“…Also,” his uncle scratched his head.

“I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before. Since we’re the same age, I thought maybe we were classmates, but we went to different high schools. I never forget my patients, so maybe he was a patient’s family member… or a lover, something like that. But no matter how much I think about it, I just can’t remember. Maybe I’m getting old—this kind of thing has been happening more often lately.”

At the mention of family, something flashed through Kawase’s mind.

“I think his mother committed suicide.”

His uncle’s brow twitched slightly.

"I only heard that she died from an illness..."

"I went to the funeral once. Someone among the attendees was whispering about it. I don’t know if it was true or not."

"Do you know her name?"

"I think her last name was Shibaoka, but her first name... I don’t know."

"At his age, his mother would be in her seventies if she were alive. Either he just didn’t mention the specific illness, or he didn’t want to. It’s probably the latter."

From behind his uncle, Kobayashi suddenly appeared, her face popping out without a sound. Startled, Kawase let out an involuntary "Whoa!" and received an annoyed glare in return.

"Sensei, I’ll be heading out now."

"Ah, thanks. Sorry for keeping you so late."

Just as she was about to leave, his uncle called after her.

"Hey, wait a minute."

He gestured for her to stop.

"Do you remember a female patient named Shibaoka? She’d be in her seventies by now."

Kobayashi put her hands on her well-rounded hips and scoffed, "There are as many Shibaokas as stars in the sky, you know."

"The patient I was just treating—I think they were related to someone I used to take care of, but I just can’t remember."

"If you can’t remember, then there’s no way I can either."

With such a blunt response, his uncle could only back down.

"Well then, I’ll be off."

Kobayashi left swiftly. They scheduled the man’s next appointment for Tuesday, two days later. Since his vision had supposedly recovered in ten days last time, they planned to monitor him closely. Kawase had work, so his uncle agreed to see the man at the unusually late hour of 8 p.m.

Just as Kawase was about to thank his uncle and leave, the clinic door suddenly swung open with a bang. Kobayashi had returned.

"I remember now!"

She pointed at his uncle.

"I saw him in the waiting room and it clicked. The Shibaoka woman you were talking about—wasn’t she Shibaoka Sumiko? You treated her back when you worked at the university hospital."

When his uncle started his own practice, he had recruited Kobayashi from the same university hospital. Something must have jogged his memory, because he clapped his hands together.

"That’s it! Shibaoka Sumiko! She was beautiful, with a youthful face."

"The man in the waiting room—he’s her husband, isn’t he? His hair’s white now, but I remember him. He was strikingly handsome."

His uncle frowned. "Not her husband—he’s her son."

Kobayashi shook her head firmly. "No, he was definitely her husband."

"I remember him well. Every time he came in, he would politely say, 'Thank you for taking care of my wife.' Shibaoka-san looked much younger than her age, but her husband was at least ten years younger than her. The nurses used to gossip about it, wondering how she managed to land such a young and good-looking man."

"But I attended his mother’s funeral," Kawase interjected.

Kobayashi shot him a sharp glare.

"Are you sure it was really Shibaoka Sumiko’s funeral?"

Now that she put it that way, his certainty wavered.

"B-but I worked at the same company as him, and I never once heard that he was married. Our colleagues always said he was single…"

"That’s strange," Kobayashi murmured, tilting her head.

"Maybe they were in a common-law relationship? But if that were the case, why would they share the same last name?"

She glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Ah, it’s already this late. Since you seemed concerned, I just wanted to let you know. Well then, I’ll be going for real this time."

Kobayashi left, and Kawase and his uncle fell into silence. The situation didn’t make sense. The name Sumiko floated between them—was she his mother or his common-law wife? No matter how much they dwelled on it, they weren’t going to find an answer.

"I’ll ask him myself later," Kawase said.

His uncle, still looking unconvinced, simply replied, "Yeah."

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