The Moon’s Ship That Crosses The Night: Chapter 21

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After the proposal for ‘(Temp) Crab-Flavored Cheese’ was approved, just as Arisawa had predicted, Kawase became even busier. Once a clear direction was set, things moved quickly, but until then, it was a cycle of meetings and trial runs.

After a joint meeting with the development team, Matsushita started talking about whether he should propose to his girlfriend or not. The conversation took an unexpected turn, igniting an entirely different kind of excitement. Riding that energy, the group decided to go out for dinner.

It was past seven in the evening. For a moment, a certain man’s face flickered in Kawase’s mind, but he was reluctant to let go of the fun he was having. After all, going straight home would only mean another dreary dinner alone with that man. That thought made him even more unwilling to leave.

If he just ate quickly and left early, it would be fine. Convincing himself with that excuse, he followed his teammates to dinner.

As alcohol started flowing, Matsushita began sharing explicit details about his sex life with his girlfriend. Since everyone present was male, the conversation quickly devolved into a crude exchange of dirty jokes. Kawase found himself unintentionally listening in, and before he knew it, time had passed. By the time they left the restaurant, it was already past nine.

After getting off the train, Kawase stopped by a convenience store. Using the man’s credit card, he bought dinner and tea for him—along with a fresh pair of underwear. Though he had insisted that any expenses directly related to the man should be paid with his own card, Kawase couldn’t help but wonder just how much money was left on it.

When he first started taking care of the man, Kawase had assumed that in ten days, his sight would return, and he could be sent on his way. He had been counting the days, waiting for that moment—but even after ten days had passed, the man’s vision did not return.

Maybe it wasn’t an exact science, not something that would resolve itself in precisely ten days, Kawase told himself. But now, nearly three weeks had gone by. August had ended.

Walking down the dimly lit street, he noticed the wind had grown cooler. He wondered how long this would go on. The burns had healed significantly—his left hand had only a faint reddish tint remaining—but his right hand was still wrapped in bandages.

Despite taking him to his uncle’s clinic every two or three days, the man’s vision had not improved in the slightest. If there was no progress, what was the point of continuing? The thought left Kawase feeling empty. But with no alternative treatment in mind, he had no choice but to keep going.

When he finally arrived back at the apartment, exhaustion suddenly crashed down on him. At the entrance, the man’s shoes sat in their usual place. And on the sofa, the same ghost-like figure as always.

Kawase set the convenience store bag down in front of him and picked up the sandwich and rice ball wrappers the man had likely eaten for lunch, tossing them into the trash.

"Dinner. Here."

At his words, the man rustled through the plastic bag and pulled out a bento. At first, when his right hand was still completely unusable, Kawase had to help him set up his meals. But now, he had learned to open the packaging skillfully with his left hand.

Despite the chopsticks being right in front of him, his fingers fumbled across the table, searching for them. Watching this, Kawase asked, "You’re not starting to see, even a little?"

The man lifted his face. A faint stubble covered his chin, and his gray hair was sticking out in odd directions. Since Kawase only fixed his appearance when they had to go outside, he usually looked like this.

After a brief pause, the man replied, "Still blind." His wandering fingers finally found the chopsticks.

"I already ate, so I’m going to rest for a bit."

Leaving those words behind, Kawase headed into the bedroom. He changed into a T-shirt and shorts to use as pajamas, then collapsed face-down on the bed.

His uncle’s words surfaced in his mind.

"If the symptoms improve in a week or so, that’s fine. But if this drags on… having him live in your apartment while I continue treating him—realistically, that’s not going to work."

That was exactly right. Sometime past the two-week mark, Kawase’s anxiety had started to grow—when would this man be able to see again, and how much longer would he have to take care of him? Six months, a year…? The thought sent a chill down his spine.

The man had no relatives, and even if he were sent back to Hokkaido, there would be no one there to look after a blind man. What if his sight never returned? Would he be accepted into a local welfare facility if his residency was still registered in Hokkaido? Who would take care of the paperwork? But if Kawase didn’t do it, who would? Thinking about what needed to be done, whom to contact, what procedures to follow—just considering it all made him feel exhausted.

He needed to take a bath. No, more accurately, he needed to bathe the man. His right hand was still wrapped in bandages, the burns covered a large area, and just as he’d been told at the start, the man's right hand was slow to heal. Since he couldn’t use it, he was also unable to wash his own hair, so every night, Kawase washed it for him. But tonight, he just didn’t feel like it. Maybe he could just pretend to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion…

As he teetered on the edge of real sleep, a loud crash jolted him awake. Pushing himself up on the bed, he listened, but the noise had come and gone, leaving only an unsettling silence. He slid open the partition door leading to the living room, but the man wasn’t on the sofa. He wasn’t in the hallway either. Strange. Just as he was about to call out, a dull, rattling sound came from inside the changing room.

Kawase opened the door. It was pitch dark, but the light spilling in from the hallway revealed the man, sitting completely naked on the floor. "What are you doing? In a place like this…" He was about to add in the dark but stopped himself. A blind man wouldn’t think to turn on the light. The light was something he needed. Now that the room was illuminated, the source of the noise became clear—the wooden shelf that had been placed near the sink, thin and wide, used to store detergent and shampoo, had been knocked over.

"I bumped into something."

Kawase silently returned the shelf to its original position and gathered the scattered bottles.

"I thought maybe I could bathe on my own by now…"

Hearing the man’s quiet apology, Kawase sighed. "You still can’t use your right hand, remember?" Without waiting for a response, he stripped off his clothes. At first, he had kept his boxer shorts on, but wet fabric felt unpleasant, and in the end, he figured—it’s not like the guy could see him anyway. So now, he just took everything off.

He covered the man’s right hand with a plastic bag and led him into the bathroom, washing his hair, his back, the places he couldn’t reach, then letting him handle the rest. Once he was rinsed off, Kawase sent him out of the bath; drying off and getting dressed were things the man could manage on his own.

Kawase quickly washed himself and stepped into the changing room, only to realize—he hadn’t brought any underwear. Too much effort. He walked across the living room, stark naked. The man was sitting on the sofa with a towel draped over his head, his back curled like a cat’s.

After putting on his underwear and sleepwear, Kawase grabbed the hairdryer from the changing room, plugged in an extension cord, and placed the device in the man’s hand. "Dry your hair properly." The man obediently did as he was told, the dryer’s warm air rustling through his gray hair.

Kawase headed to the kitchen, pulled a beer from the fridge, and downed it in a single gulp while standing. The empty can clattered as he tossed it into the sink. Even after Kawase had finished brushing his teeth, the man was still drying his hair.

Not like he can see anything anyway… Without a word, Kawase turned off the living room light and retreated to the bedroom.

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