The Moon’s Ship That Crosses The Night: Chapter 29

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It was already past eleven, and as Kawase glanced at the clock, restless, debating when to wrap up work, he knew that, if he were honest, he wanted to stay the night, because otherwise, with the weekend ahead, all his unfinished work would be pushed to Monday, but there was someone waiting at home, expecting the dinner he always brought back, so he had no choice but to go, while Matsushita, on the other hand, had already abandoned any plans of heading home, setting up a makeshift bed in the conference room next door—just four folding chairs lined up in a row, a pitiful excuse for a sleeping arrangement.

Setting a strict deadline of 11:40 to catch the last train, Kawase was about to dive back into his laptop when his phone rang, derailing his momentum, and seeing his uncle’s name on the screen, his first thought was so it’s finally come.

“Hey, work keeping you busy?”

Kawase stood up, phone in hand.

“Mm, yeah, more or less.”

He stepped out of the Planning Department, already knowing what his uncle was going to say and not wanting to have this conversation in a place where others could hear.

“How’s Shibaoka-san doing?”

As expected. His uncle had asked the same thing last week, and the week before, and since they hadn’t gone to his clinic in a while, at first, Kawase had used work as an excuse, then later lied that the man had caught a cold to postpone the next appointment.

“Not much change. He still can’t see. But… the burns are healing, I guess.”

Reaching the end of the hall, Kawase pushed open a door and stepped out onto the emergency stairwell, the night air cold against his skin.

“I see. So, when do you want to schedule the next appointment? You haven’t set one yet, right?”

“Ah… um…”

He hesitated, buying time, but his uncle quickly caught on.

“Could it be… does Shibaoka-san not want to come to the clinic?”

Lowering his gaze, feeling guilty, Kawase murmured another lie.

“…Yeah.”

“I figured as much. No matter how many times we talked, I never got the sense he was really opening up. I’m interested in his case and would like to keep working with him, but if he’s unwilling, I can’t force it.”

“…Sorry.”

He could hear his uncle’s quiet chuckle through the phone.

“It’s not your fault, so don’t apologize. The relationship between a doctor and a patient is just as important as the treatment itself, and sometimes, changing doctors can lead to a breakthrough, though of course, the opposite is also true.”

His uncle paused before continuing.

“If Shibaoka-san is open to it, I could refer him to a colleague of mine.”

Kawase toyed absently with a 100-yen coin in his pocket.

“I don’t know… I feel like it’s best if he doesn’t meet too many people right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“He says he doesn’t want to see anyone. But… with me, at least, he’s started talking a little. Just bit by bit. So I thought I’d wait and see for now.”

His uncle fell silent for a moment, then responded thoughtfully,

“I see. If he’s willing to talk to you, even just a little, that might be a good sign. But won’t that put more pressure on you?”

“It’s fine. I’m just listening, that’s all.”

“Still, if it ever gets too much, don’t hesitate to reach out to me.”

“…Thanks.”

As Kawase moved to hang up, his uncle suddenly spoke again.

“You...”

“What?”

“I just… I think you’re doing a good job. But don’t push yourself too hard.”

Kawase muttered another quiet “thanks” and ended the call, but almost immediately, he sneezed, his whole body shivering from the cold, and he rushed back inside, the difference in warmth noticeable the moment he stepped in.

He was lying to his uncle, even after all the care he had shown, after treating the man so patiently, after everything, Kawase was being deceitful, and he knew it, he understood it, and yet, the truth was something he could never bring himself to say, because if he did, he would be despised.

Even after returning to his desk, Kawase couldn't bring himself to focus on work, so he gathered his things and left the office. Rocked by the train, he found himself reconsidering his current situation—having sex every night.

It felt like something was wrong with him. If it were with a woman, it would be fine. But instead, he was doing it day after day with a man he didn’t even love, a man nearly fifty. A body that opened up with just a word, that begged for affection with every fiber of its being, that belonged only to him within the secrecy of a locked room. This had to be abnormal.

Getting off the train, he stopped by a convenience store, bought only a single bento, and headed back to his apartment. At the entrance stood the man, completely naked. Yesterday, the sight had excited him, but today, it just seemed ridiculous. His head was finally clear.

When the man clung to him, Kawase pushed him away more harshly than usual, and when the man still wouldn't back off, irritation flared, and he forcefully swatted his arm away.

The man lost his balance, stumbling backward in a dramatic fall, his head smacking hard against the sliding door. Kawase dropped the bento and rushed to him in a panic.

“Shit—sorry!”

The man sat dazed, cradling his head, as if he didn’t understand what had just happened. Kawase lifted him up and pulled him into an embrace.

“Does it hurt?”

The man shook his head.

“I was too rough. I’m just tired from work… I was irritated, and tonight, I just wasn’t in the mood.”

As if to say it didn’t matter, the man nuzzled against his cheek. Kawase led him to the sofa and made sure he ate dinner. Even when sitting beside him, the man didn’t climb onto his lap or press against him like he usually did. He must have picked up on the fact that Kawase was tired and was holding himself back in his own way.

Even when they bathed together, he didn’t try anything indecent, and even when they got into bed, he remained still, curled up beside Kawase like a stuffed animal.

Despite being exhausted, Kawase couldn’t sleep. He reached out and touched the man’s cheek.

His unseeing eyes slowly opened.

“Say something.”

The man narrowed his eyes.

“…A fairy tale, perhaps?”

“I’m not a kid. Just talk to me normally. Tell me about your day or something.”

“There’s nothing special. You were in a bad mood and pushed me away—that’s about it.”

Kawase scowled and shut his mouth.

“I apologized properly, didn’t I?”

The man’s gaze drifted, distant.

“Come to think of it, an ambulance passed by twice today. Not sure what time, though.”

It was a meaningless conversation.

“What do you even do during the day?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t you get bored?”

“I think about you. About what kind of sex we’ll have tonight.”

Kawase couldn’t even bring himself to call that a lie. A lewd, insatiable man like him probably really did spend his time fantasizing.

“You know, you’re much better off keeping your mouth shut.”

For some reason, the man laughed, his smile soft. Kawase’s body moved on its own and he kissed him.

“How long is this going to last?”

The words slipped from his lips without thinking.

“It’ll end the moment you decide to end it.”

“For example?”

The man smiled again.

“You could just tell me to leave.”

“But if I told you to leave, you’d die, wouldn’t you?”

“I want to die.”

Kawase had the feeling they’d had this conversation before.

“Then what if I told you I wanted you to live?”

For once, the man seemed genuinely lost in thought.

“…I hadn’t considered that.”

“Then go somewhere else and live. Away from here.”

The man let out a faint chuckle.

“Give me a break already. Stop taking away my right to die.”

He had tried to end his life in many places, but the one that stuck with him most was that summer day when he had said his final goodbyes at work. He seemed particularly fixated on that day.

“Just tell me to shut up already. It’s easier when I don’t have to talk.”

“You like me, don’t you?”

“I thought I answered that question before.”

The man looked at him with mild irritation.

“If you love me, don’t you want to make me yours?”

At that, the man let out a quiet, amused snort.

"You could never love someone like me. You just found sex with a man surprisingly enjoyable and novel, but eventually, you'll get bored."

"You like me, don’t you? Doesn’t it feel empty, saying I won’t love you?"

"It does."

"Then—"

"But that’s just the truth, isn’t it?"

The man’s words, spoken without a flicker of emotion, cut deep.

Kawase had asked him many times, “Do you love me?” He had known the answer wouldn't change, yet he still asked. What had the man thought of that? It felt like what he was doing was... cruel.

"You don’t have to feel guilty just because you can’t love me. Having your body is more than enough for me."

"...Forget it. Just shut up."

The man fell silent, burying his face into the pillow and closing his eyes. Kawase curled up in bed. It suddenly felt like he shouldn’t touch him. Ridiculous, after everything they’d done.

Either way, he couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking, over and over, about what he should do with a man who wanted to die, but since neither accepting him nor letting him go were options, there was never an answer to be found.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The next morning, Kawase woke up to mischief. Feeling damp between his legs, he jolted upright in a panic, only to find the man’s face buried in his crotch. It wasn’t the first time he had woken up to this, so it didn’t particularly shock him, but given everything that had happened the night before, it felt strangely awkward.

He finished a simple breakfast with the bread and milk he had bought in advance. The man, as usual, only drank milk in the morning, but whenever Kawase ate bread, he would lean in and take small bites from the side. His usual way of seeking affection. Kawase had always let him do as he pleased, but maybe it was time to put some distance between them. Still, waking up to a blowjob made it hard to suddenly push him away.

Besides, last weekend and the one before that, they had spent their entire days off having sex. Today, too, the man was probably expecting the same. But if Kawase really thought about it, maybe it was time to put an end to their physical relationship.

Then, maybe he should go out alone. If they weren’t together, there would be no chance of being pulled into anything. But wouldn’t that make it obvious that he was trying to create distance?

The man spent all his time inside the apartment, probably bored out of his mind. He might have been looking forward to the weekend, the only time they could be together.

Being by his side wasn’t the problem—just as long as that didn’t happen.

As Kawase mulled things over, he suddenly remembered something he had bought. That would work. They could be together without anything strange happening. Wasting no time, Kawase pulled the man into the changing area.

He found a folding chair and had him sit down. "Don’t move," he ordered, and the man obediently stayed still. Kawase took out the box of hair dye he had bought the other day and read the instructions. As he mixed the chemicals, the man scrunched his nose, covering it with his palm, clearly displeased with the smell.

Ignoring him, Kawase applied the dye to his white hair. It wasn’t until then that the man finally seemed to realize what was happening. His brows knitted together in clear disapproval.

"It won’t take long, so just sit still."

The gray hair gradually turned black under the dye. It was fascinating. Carefully, he worked from the roots to the nape of the neck, making sure the dye coated every strand. Once he was done, they had to wait thirty minutes. To pass the time, he shaved the man’s beard. Looking closer, even his beard had strands of white. Yet, for some reason, his pubic hair remained stark black. It was strangely erotic, and Kawase quickly averted his gaze.

When the time was up, he rinsed out the dye. He had never dyed someone else’s hair before, so he had no idea how it would turn out, but the once gray-wolf-like hair had transformed into a sleek black, like the wet feathers of a bird. After washing it out with shampoo, the distinct chemical smell disappeared.

Running his fingers through the freshly dried hair, he let the silky strands slip between them. Just by dyeing his hair, the man who had looked to be in his sixties now seemed his actual age. No—since his bangs were down, he looked even younger.

"It turned out nice."

Pleased with his own handiwork, Kawase ruffled the man’s hair repeatedly, enjoying the results. But the man looked far from amused.

"Did you not want to dye it?"

His lips pouted slightly, and his chin dipped downward. He looked like he was sulking.

"You can talk now."

At that, the man finally opened his mouth.

"...I can’t see it, so it just feels weird."

"Dyeing it is definitely better. It’s good for you to look better in other people’s eyes too."

The man's hands quietly reached forward, touching Kawase’s shoulders, tracing along his neck, and finally cupping his cheeks. Even if the man couldn’t see, the way they were positioned made it feel like they were looking into each other’s eyes. Maybe it was because of his newly black hair, but Kawase was suddenly reminded of how well-defined the man’s features were. Right, back then—he was good-looking, good at his job, and incredibly popular with the female employees.

The man's nose brushed against his forehead. Kawase tried to pull back, but the other leaned in with even more force. Like a dog, he rubbed his nose against him, then licked his upper lip. It tickled, so Kawase licked him back. Their playful teasing soon turned into a deep kiss.

He pulled away. When the man was excited, his pupils became glossy, making him look seductive. Maybe it was because he looked younger now, but there was something even more alluring about him than before. Kawase couldn’t look away. The man narrowed his eyes slightly and smiled. For a moment, Kawase was captivated by how beautiful that smile was.

Realizing things were about to escalate into sex, he hurriedly pushed the man’s shoulders. But instead, he was pulled closer. He pushed again, this time more forcefully.

"Uh—just, back off a little."

The man tilted his head. Kawase struggled to come up with an excuse and ended up waving his index finger in front of the man’s face.

"Hey, do you know what I’m doing right now?"

"No."

"I’m waving my hand. You really can’t see anything?"

The man nodded.

"Your eyes aren’t damaged or anything, so I feel like you should be able to see again by now."

"I don’t want to see. I don’t need to."

"Not even my face?"

The man fell silent. Seemed like he did want to see. His fingers tightened slightly around Kawase’s arm.

"I feel like if I could see, the dream would end."

"This isn’t a dream, though. It’s real..."

The man didn’t respond.

"You said before that when you lost your sight, it came back after ten days, right? Did you do anything special during that time?"

"Nothing."

"But the fact that it came back means something must have changed inside you, right?"

"I just felt bad for causing trouble for Arisawa all the time. And... I really wanted to see again. I’ve always hated the dark."

Kawase thought of the man's feet, frozen in place in the middle of a dark park. Of his messy bed, always illuminated even at night.

"Are you still scared?"

"Of what?"

"The dark. Since you can’t see, it must feel like being in the dark all the time."

"I am scared."

The man said it so plainly. Kawase studied his expressionless face.

"You don’t look scared."

"But I am. It’s dark all the time."

"Then why don’t you just say it?"

"Because saying it won’t change anything. It’s not like someone’s going to light up my eyes for me."

But still… The man nuzzled against him.

"When I’m touching you, I’m not scared."

Until now, Kawase had always assumed that when the man clung to him, it was either because he wanted to have sex or just wanted affection. He never considered it might be to fend off the fear of being trapped in darkness.

"What do you do when I’m not around?"

"At first, I just endured it. But now, I go to bed."

"Bed?"

"Because your scent is still there."

The man tugged on Kawase’s arm, toppling him onto the couch before he could react. Then, without hesitation, he climbed onto his lap.

"…I breathe in your scent while I do it alone."

Like a predator that had just found its prey, the man licked his lips.

"What do you mean by do?"

He played dumb, despite knowing exactly what the man meant. In response, the man spread his legs wide, reached down to his lower abdomen, grabbed his own limp length, and started stroking it with exaggerated motions.

"Can you see what I’m doing?"

From the tip, a lewd nectar slowly oozed out, making a wet, obscene sound between his fingers. Kawase couldn't look away from the masturbation being put on display so shamelessly. The man chuckled and reached even lower.

"I’d always touch myself here too."

He started rubbing himself between his own legs, making a slick, squelching noise. Kawase swallowed hard. His body burned with heat. If he was being honest—he wanted to put his inside.

"I'm thinking about you."

The man whispered sweetly.

"Huh?"

"I'm always thinking about you when I do this."

The deep, honeyed voice sent a shiver down his spine. But when he looked at the man's face, he was smiling—innocent, almost childlike.

"I want yours."

The man reached for Kawase’s pants. Sensing he was about to be pulled out, Kawase panicked and clamped his hands protectively over his crotch.

"Wait—stop."

The man flicked his tongue, glancing up at him.

"...J-just wait until tonight. I’m still a little tired…"

The man let go of his jeans with a quiet "Alright." And yet, unwilling to fully back down, he let his fingers creep slowly toward Kawase’s knees. Annoyed, Kawase grabbed his hands, restraining him. This should keep him from groping any further.

"Has anyone ever called you insatiable?"

"...Who?"

For a moment, Kawase thought he was playing dumb again, but the man’s expression was serious.

"Who else but you?"

"I’ve never compared myself to others. Besides, I only know you and my mother, so if you say I’m insatiable, I suppose that must be true. I have thought the frequency was high, though…"

Somehow, their conversation had taken a ridiculous turn. And yet, as he listened, Kawase found himself circling back to the fundamental question—did this man really want to die? Sure, he’d had a painful past. But now… things were different.

"What does dying mean to you?"

Even though the man’s face didn’t change, the hands Kawase was still holding gave the slightest tremble.

"Maybe… relief."

"Relief from what, exactly?"

No answer.

"Tell me."

Silence. No matter how much he opened his body, this man would never reveal what truly mattered.

"...After my mother died, I found a letter."

The man murmured quietly.

"A letter?"

"It was addressed to my father."

Kawase tilted his head.

"Your father… he died a long time ago, didn’t he? Normally, people don’t write letters to someone who’s already dead."

"Yeah."

That made no sense. And it didn’t seem like the man had any intention of explaining further.

"I'm hungry."

The man muttered abruptly, wiping his forehead.

"Ice cream. I want ice cream."

A man who had never once complained about eating convenience store meals every night was, for the first time, expressing a craving.

"I’ll grab some when I go out for lunch."

Kawase moved to stand, but the man wouldn’t let go of his hand. His upset face… it almost looked like he was asking Kawase not to leave.

"...I have to go out to buy it. There’s none at home."

"Then I don’t want anything."

The man said that, but Kawase was hungry too. More than anything, he just really wanted to see the man eat ice cream. After some thought, he ordered a pizza for delivery—this way, he could get ice cream along with it.

When the food arrived, the man reached for the ice cream first. Isn't that supposed to be dessert? Kawase thought, but he handed it over anyway. The moment the man started eating, he looked utterly blissful. Watching from beside him, Kawase couldn't tear his gaze away from his lips. He’d always thought the man had a sensual way of eating, but ice cream was on a whole different level—it was downright dangerous.

The white ice cream was scooped up with a plastic spoon and brought to his mouth. As his wet lips parted slowly, the tip of his red tongue flicked into view. Kawase found himself imagining how that tongue moved inside his mouth, how it melted the ice cream before swallowing. When a bit of ice cream stuck to his lips, he licked it away—once, twice, three times. The man was so engrossed in eating that he barely noticed Kawase staring, until suddenly, he lifted his face.

"Want some?"

He scooped up another spoonful and offered it, missing Kawase’s mouth by a little. Kawase grabbed his wrist and guided it closer. The frozen treat was sweet and delicious. He wanted to touch those wet lips—wanted to kiss him.

"Another bite?"

Since it was offered again, he took it.

"Ah…"

The man fumbled and dropped the ice cream cup. It flipped over onto his stomach. Kawase picked it up for him, but it seemed like there wasn’t much left—just a single two-centimeter chunk had fallen onto his abdomen.

"It’s cold," the man murmured, shifting slightly.

The small piece rolled down, slipping into the thicket between his legs. Just as the man reached to pick it up, Kawase caught his hand and pinned it down. Then, he lowered his face.

He pressed against the man’s groin, drinking in the sweet nectar that had dampened the coarse hairs there. That wasn’t enough. He traced the path of the ice cream upwards, licking all the way up to his navel. The pale stomach twitched, trembling beneath his tongue. When Kawase finally lifted his face, the man was already spreading his legs, bending his knees—welcoming him.

"Did the ice cream taste good?"

Kawase’s self-restraint snapped. He pressed down, covering the man with his body. As their lips met, he realized—the man’s mouth was meltingly sweet.

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