Nibiiro no Hana: Chapter 8

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“I’ve been waiting forever,” Carter said.

It had been seven days since Tokawa was first asked to consult on the matter of Tsurutani. Since it was a personal issue, he decided there was no need to contact Carter during work hours and placed a call to his private line at 8 p.m. New York time.

“My Japanese friend taught me a phrase for this: yubi-ori kazoeru. To count the days on your fingers,” Carter said with a lighthearted tone, clearly not expecting to be turned down.

His tone was cheerful, as though the thought of being turned down had never even crossed his mind. As Tokawa looked out the window of the president’s office, he braced himself, drawing strength into his core for what was about to come.

“My apologies for the delay. Regarding Tsurutani—I’ve spoken with him. I’m afraid he’s unable to return your feelings.”

He had considered a more delicate phrasing, but ultimately decided that stating the truth directly was best. It was a curveball thrown straight across the plate at a man who’d clearly been expecting a home run. Even through the phone, Tokawa could sense Carter’s sharp intake of breath—his shock at being dealt a game-ending strikeout.

“I can’t believe it. You’re saying Tsurutani said that? Why? What’s the reason?”

His voice bit down like a growl, launching a barrage of questions.

“Tsurutani is in a relationship with a woman here in Japan. They’re planning to marry soon, and he had already been considering stepping away from reception work.”

Outside the window, a plane glided through the distant sky. A long silence followed, taut with tension—as if even swallowing would be too loud. Then, from across the line came a burst of emotion:

“Oh my god.”

“I’m very sorry we couldn’t fulfill your wishes,” Tokawa said, maintaining the stance of a messenger, determined not to offer any information unless explicitly asked.

“That engagement is a lie,” Carter growled, his voice low and sharp.

“He’s a man who was born to take another man’s cock. There’s no way he’s sleeping with a woman.”

“You may already know,” Tokawa replied calmly, “but Tsurutani was previously married. His wife passed away.”

That fact couldn’t be erased—and as expected, silence fell on the other end.

“He’s a devoted and loyal man. He agreed to serve in a kind of sexual reception role that had no precedent in this company—attending to male clients. But outside of work, the company cannot control his life.”

“Tsurutani never once mentioned having a fiancée!” Carter roared.

“Perhaps he didn’t want to bring up something so personal in the middle of a professional engagement.”

“I don’t believe it. I refuse to believe it. Not unless I hear it directly from Tsurutani himself!”

He was emotional, and clearly not giving up easily—but Tokawa had anticipated that. The only option was to persist until Carter accepted the truth.

“Do you know who this woman is?”

Tokawa had hoped that question wouldn’t come—but now that it had, he couldn’t avoid it.

“His fiancée is my sister. They’ve known each other for many years, but I only learned how close they were after this matter came to light.”

Carter, who had been so forceful just a moment ago, fell silent. Then, from the other end of the call came a jarring, manic laugh—high-pitched and unnatural, like something had snapped loose.

“So that’s what it is. Tsurutani is more ambitious—and more cunning—than I gave him credit for. I was completely fooled. He led me on all this time, pretending to care, playing with my feelings. How infuriating.”

The call cut off with a blunt click. It was so sudden that Tokawa first thought it might have been a misdial—but no return call came. He wondered if Carter would contact Tsurutani directly now. Since Tsurutani had been told the call would happen around this time, he was likely bracing for it. They had gone over the story together, so there shouldn’t be any inconsistencies. And if Tsurutani truly found himself unable to handle Carter, he’d been instructed to contact Tokawa.

Regaining his composure, Tokawa returned to work. He kept one eye on his phone, but even three hours after the call to Carter, there was no message from Tsurutani. Just as his attention began to shift away—thinking perhaps the matter had ended—his phone rang.

Expecting it to be either Carter or Tsurutani, he glanced at the screen, only to see the name Tokawa Michiko, his older sister.

“This is Shun,” he answered.

“It hasn’t been that long since we last talked, has it?”

He had met with her four days ago to explain the situation: how, for the company’s sake, he had asked a male employee to perform sexual services, how a client had become infatuated, and how that same employee was now in trouble. He hadn’t hidden anything. Then he asked if she would pretend to be that employee’s fiancée in order to help fend off the client’s obsession.

She had listened quietly until the end—only to respond with a sigh and a blunt, “Are you stupid?”

“Even if the client demanded it, handing over an employee’s body like that is harassment, plain and simple.”

Her frankness hit hard. Hiding behind “for the good of the company” no longer held up. He had no counterargument.

“Dad prioritized work over family, sure, but he always cared about the employees. If you disrespect people, it will come back to haunt you. You need to think about your staff and about the future before you act.”

Getting lectured by his older sister at his age was humiliating. And yet, she agreed to go along with her foolish younger brother’s mess and pretend to be the fiancée. She had even met Tsurutani in person, to prepare in case Carter actually came to Japan. At their meeting, she bowed and apologized to Tsurutani, saying, “I’m terribly sorry that my reckless brother has caused you such trouble,” which made Tokawa want to disappear into the floor.

“Are you busy right now? I was wondering if you’d like to grab lunch.”

“Sorry. I’ve got a lunch meeting today.”

“Ah, that’s a shame.”

She’d never asked him out for lunch on a weekday before. Having just spoken with Carter, Tokawa felt a stab of unease—had something happened not only with Tsurutani, but with his sister too?

“Is there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Not really. I was just thinking—since I’m having lunch with Mr. Tsurutani, maybe you’d like to join us.”

“With Tsurutani…?” he repeated, surprised. It was an unexpected combination.

“I know it’s just pretend, but I thought I should get to know him better. Last time we only chatted for thirty minutes over tea. And who knows—there’s always a chance that American client might try to approach me directly, isn’t there?”

“I really don’t want to trouble you further…”

“It’s fine. I’ve got free time, and he seems like an interesting man.”

Tokawa had never once thought of the gray-haired man as “interesting,” so all he could manage was a noncommittal, “Is that so?”

“He has a unique presence—and there’s something sensual about him. I can understand why the client became so obsessed.”

“…Is that right,” Tokawa replied, unsure of what to say.

His sister’s laughter rang in his ear.

“You’ve always been smart, but you’re hopelessly dense about things like this. Ah, looks like it’s time to go. Let’s talk again soon.”

Before Tokawa could respond, the call was unilaterally cut off. He liked to think he observed people fairly well—calmly, rationally—but today he’d been called oblivious, insensitive, and clueless. All he could do was laugh dryly at himself.

He left for his lunch meeting. Upon returning, his secretary informed him that the evening dinner meeting had been canceled due to the client’s poor health.

“Shall I cancel the restaurant reservation?”

She asked for confirmation, and Tokawa was about to say yes—then changed his mind.

“Leave it as is.”

Without asking why, she simply nodded. “Understood.”

After the secretary left, Tokawa dialed the internal line for Tsurutani’s secretarial office.

“Yes, Third Secretary’s Office.”

Only one person would answer this phone.

“It’s me,” Tokawa said.

Immediately, Tsurutani responded with a flustered, “P-president, I’m terribly sorry.”

There was no need to apologize; there hadn’t been anything wrong with how he answered the phone.

“Do you have time tonight?”

“Ah, yes. I mean… of course.”

“I’d like to talk about Mr. Carter. Would seven o’clock in the first-floor lobby work for you?”

“Anywhere, anytime is fine with me.”

“Then, I’ll see you tonight.”

He kept it brief and ended the call.

Tokawa needed to tell Tsurutani how Carter had reacted to the news. He could have done so over the phone, but the restaurant he had reserved for that evening had private rooms—perfect for a conversation that shouldn’t be overheard.

His earlier conversation with his sister lingered faintly in his mind. Both she and Carter seemed to perceive a kind of charm in Tsurutani—something Tokawa had never recognized.

He had watched the very first time Tsurutani had entertained the foreign executives. But back then, the man seemed less charming and more like a weakened bird being toyed with by a cat. Since then, two years had passed, and while his appearance had become more polished, Tokawa couldn’t say his impression had changed much.

Had Tsurutani changed… or hadn’t he?

He decided that tonight—over drinks, once the tension had eased—he would try to find out for himself.

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