FUTTARA DOSHABURI

If It Rains, You’ll Be Soaked Through

 

Hagiwara had always thought that breaking up meant losing something. But perhaps that wasn’t really true.

 

The time spent with the person you had broken up with. The music and books they had introduced you to. The things you had eaten together. All those things that would never be updated again—you simply carried them with you as invisible luggage.

 

Like taking everything you had once shared in the cloud, downloading it onto a USB drive, and then each of you carrying your own copy of the data.

 

…No. Maybe that wasn’t quite right.

 

Whether he was conscious of its existence or not, whether it felt unbearably heavy or meant absolutely nothing at a particular moment, he was still carrying it.

 

After breaking up with yet another person in his life, and the person he had dated longer than anyone else, Hagiwara had started thinking about things that way.

 

“Has your place improved at all?”

 

They were at a restaurant specialising in horumon, picking at a stew made from some internal organ Hagiwara had never seen before, let alone heard the name of, when Hiraiwa asked Sei the question.

 

“Same as ever.”

 

Sei answered somewhat absently, his attention fixed on a piece of small intestine writhing as it cooked over the charcoal brazier occupying the middle of the table.

 

“Still?”

 

“What do you mean by ‘improved’?”

 

Presumably he meant things like whether Sei had finally unpacked after moving.

 

“Wait, Hagiwara-san, you’ve never been to this guy’s place?”

 

“No.”

 

“He lives in this run-down apartment building that’s about forty years old.”

 

“Thirty-seven.” Sei corrected him dutifully.

 

“Same difference. Apparently because it’s old, he’s allowed to renovate it more or less however he likes. But when I went round, it was ridiculous. Half the wallpaper had been put up and then abandoned. Shelves half-built and abandoned…”

 

“I got bored halfway through.”

 

“Even so, most people finish at a sensible stopping point. DIY doesn’t suit you in the first place. That’s what happens when you start doing things that aren’t like you.”

 

“But you do get moods like that, don’t you?”

 

Perhaps it was some kind of moving-house high, a period when the unfamiliarity of everything made you burn with enthusiasm to try things you normally wouldn’t.

 

“When I first started living alone, I went through a phase where I tried really hard with cooking and things. I even made a point of using proper chopstick rests.”

 

Of course, part of that had probably been because being alone in an empty home with nothing to occupy himself had been difficult.

 

So perhaps the fact that Sei could now get bored and simply leave things unfinished was actually a good sign.

 

The thought made Hagiwara feel strangely relieved.

 

Sei placed a perfectly cooked piece of offal onto Hagiwara's plate.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Nakarai, give me some too. Hey, Hagiwara-san—are you any good at DIY?”

 

“I wouldn’t say I’m particularly good at it, but I’m probably average.”

 

“Then could you sort his place out for him? You can charge him if you want.”

Hagiwara looked uncertain at Hiraiwa’s suggestion, while Sei immediately panicked.

 

“Don’t decide that for me.”

 

“Knowing you, you’ll just carry on living there exactly as it is.”

 

“What’s wrong with that?”

 

“If your home’s a mess, your mind ends up a mess too.”

 

After drinking together several times, Hagiwara had realised that Hiraiwa was actually an extremely considerate person. 

 

He was joking about it, but he was probably genuinely worried about Sei.

 

Calling it taking advantage sounded wrong, but Hagiwara decided to accept the opening Hiraiwa had given him.

 

“I don’t mind.”

 

“If you’re okay with me doing it, I’ll help. I’m only an amateur, though.”

 

“See? Worked out nicely.”

 

“…Then maybe I’ll take you up on it.”

 

“Shall we sort out the date by email later?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Thanks,” Sei said quietly.

 

Fat dripping from the grill suddenly sent a spectacular burst of flame rising from the charcoal brazier, and with the table between them, Hagiwara couldn’t see Sei’s expression at that moment.

 

When he got home, Hagiwara muttered to himself, “Yes. Right. Email.”

 

He pulled out his phone, but then reconsidered. Sei might still be on his way home, and messaging him immediately seemed a little much.

 

That was the whole reason Hagiwara hadn’t pushed things there and then by asking, So, when shall we do it? He had deliberately left some breathing room in case Sei found it off-putting.

 

But waiting too long would be inconsiderate too…

 

In the end, Hagiwara took a slower shower than usual, prepared the shirt and tie he would wear the following day like an excited child, and only then started composing the message.

 

About what we discussed earlier—how does that sound?

 

The instant he pressed send, he thought, 

 

Ah.

 

A sudden wave of anxiety swept over him, as though he had just made some irreversible mistake.

 

Wait, wait.

 

If he could have stretched out his hand and snatched the email back out of the air, he probably would have.

 

There was absolutely nothing wrong with the message, yet he reopened the sent mail and read it again, thinking perhaps he should have given it a little more thought.

 

Had it sounded too curt?

 

But adding unnecessary things probably wasn’t wise either. And if he spent too long agonising over it, Sei might go to sleep…

 

While Hagiwara was still holding a long, pointless conference with himself, the reply arrived.

 

Any Saturday or Sunday is fine.

Would the afternoon this Saturday work? I’m planning to go to my parents’ place from Sunday morning.

Okay.

 

After that brief exchange, another message arrived.

 

Forgot. My address.

 

It was about thirty minutes by train from Hagiwara's home. There was also a photo attached.

 

Wondering what it was, he opened it and found a hand-drawn map.

 

The conscientiousness of it was adorable. It had obviously been scribbled down in a hurry; the north wasn’t even at the top.

 

There was no chance he would forget, yet Hagiwara entered Saturday’s appointment into his diary anyway, then lay in bed rereading their short exchange over and over.

 

This is bad. I might not sleep.

 

If he scrolled far enough back through the folder, there were countless much longer emails they had exchanged in the past.

 

And yet these few lines alone were enough to make him restless, his heart refusing to settle.

 

Summer had arrived, and now it was already beginning to end.

 

It was late August.

 

Things had not progressed smoothly to: "Well, we’re both single now, so shall we date?"

 

Hagiwara had listened to Sei’s story, and then told him his own. Neither of them had said much beyond “Mm” or “I see”. 

 

It had felt less like a discussion and more as though they had simply reached a mutual understanding.

 

There had been absolutely no atmosphere in which Hagiwara could casually say, So, does that mean we should start dating?

 

Although, looking back now, perhaps he should simply have forced things forward.

 

It wasn’t exactly awkward between them. Rather, they were both being too considerate of one another, and while they stood there waiting, the ball labelled confession seemed to bounce uselessly back and forth between them.

 

The easy rhythm they used to have, simply saying whatever they wanted, had disappeared.

 

Whenever they went drinking, Hiraiwa came along, and they used him as a cushion between them while they talked.

 

Hagiwara didn’t believe Sei was the reason he had broken up with Kaori. But he did believe he bore some responsibility for Sei ending things with Fujisawa Kazuaki. Sei was probably thinking exactly the same thing.

 

The weight of the people who were no longer behind them made them both hesitate.

 

If they stayed beside one another while continuing to feel responsible, wouldn’t something become distorted again somewhere along the way?

 

What if Sei stayed with him and eventually thought, I shouldn’t have broken up with him after all?

 

Hagiwara didn’t want to fail again.

 

That cowardly fear kept raising its head, even though intellectually he understood that the now they had reached wasn’t simply the result of failure.

 

He hesitated.

 

Nakarai-san hadn’t become single because he wanted to be with Hagiwara. So was it really all right for him to keep pushing forward like this?

 

And even if it was, was this really the right time?

 

Nakarai-san probably needed time to think too.

 

Besides…

 

Hagiwara didn’t actually know how much the man even liked him.

 

He had spent so long thinking about how he felt about Sei that he had never properly considered the other question.

 

He didn’t think he had absolutely no chance. But liking someone and wanting to be their boyfriend weren’t necessarily the same thing.

 

Maybe Sei simply wanted them to go back to the easy relationship they had shared before, when they understood each other without needing anything more.

 

The reason Hagiwara had gone out of his way to invent plans for Sunday was that he had been anticipating Sei becoming wary and thinking, This guy isn’t planning to stay the night, is he?

 

He was being cautious about Sei being cautious.

 

…Christ, that was complicated.

 

They had already slept together, and yet Hagiwara still found himself getting ridiculously excited over emails and plans, only to worry about them afterwards.

 

Physically, they had already reached what was generally considered the goal of an ordinary romantic relationship. And yet their hearts were still properly working their way through all these frustrating little stages.

 

It was strange.

 

Sometimes, late at night, Hagiwara would suddenly feel lonely and wonder whether Sei ever felt like this too.

 

As soon as he left the station, he found himself connected directly to a slightly old-fashioned covered shopping arcade.

 

He was going to arrive a little early, so he wandered slowly through it, looking at shops that weren’t particularly remarkable in themselves.

 

A tofu shop. A hardware shop. A bakery. A butcher…

 

Hagiwara's feet stopped dead outside the greengrocer’s.

 

Perhaps it was because the arcade roof happened to end right there, leaving that particular spot flooded with dazzling sunlight.

 

Whatever the reason, his eyes were drawn to a huge watermelon displayed outside the shop.

 

Its irregular black-and-green stripes gleamed beneath the light, and for some reason it looked extraordinarily appealing.

 

The shopkeeper noticed Hagiwara staring at it.

 

“It’s sweet.”

 

“I can cut it into half or quarters for you too.”

 

“No,” Hagiwara said.

 

“I’ll take it whole.”

 

It was the first time in his life he had impulse-bought a watermelon.

 

And not even part of one.

 

The entire thing.

 

As he walked for nearly twenty minutes through a residential neighbourhood in temperatures above thirty degrees, feeling the considerable weight dragging down one arm, he began to wonder what the hell he was doing.

 

But the moment he wiped the sweat from his face, looked up at his destination and spotted Sei leaning out of a window, every bit of regret vanished.

 

“What are you carrying?”

 

The question floated down from the fourth floor.

 

“A watermelon.”

 

“Why?”

 

“No idea.”

 

“What kind of answer is that?”

 

Sei laughed.

 

“Come on up.”

 

Then he added, “There’s no lift, though. Good luck.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

Hagiwara stuck his tongue out like a panting dog, which only made Sei laugh even harder.

 

The moment he stepped inside the building, it felt slightly cooler. The cramped staircase was barely wide enough for two adults to pass each other, and both the depth of the steps and the height between them were small. It had the unmistakable feel of an old Shōwa-era apartment building.

 

Before Hagiwara even had the chance to ring the bell, the door opened. Cool air from the air conditioner escaped through the gap, instantly cooling his sweat-dampened face.

 

“Come in. You walked quite a way, didn’t you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

There was a combined living and dining room, along with two Japanese-style rooms separated only by shōji screens. The bottom quarter of the screens contained glass engraved with a pattern of pampas grass.

 

“Look at this.”

 

Sei pointed towards one of the wooden pillars. Several horizontal lines had been marked into it at around waist height.

 

“Marks from measuring someone’s height?”

 

“Yeah. There are nail holes everywhere too, and places where stickers have been peeled off. But the moment I saw it, I liked it, so I decided almost straight away. The estate agent was surprised. There aren’t any tall buildings around here either, so there’s loads of sky.”

 

Sei took the watermelon from Hagiwara and temporarily deposited it in the sink before opening the fridge.

 

“What do you want to drink? Barley tea, iced coffee or beer?”

 

“Barley tea. And then?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“You said, ‘There’s loads of sky, and…’”

 

Higawara had the feeling there had been something else Sei had meant to say.

 

Sei answered while noisily tipping ice into a glass.

 

“…Being far from the station suited me too. I wanted to have a proper way home.”

 

“I see.”

 

Somehow, Sei looked perfectly at home in the old apartment.

 

Perhaps the traces left behind by strangers who had once lived there actually helped ease the loneliness. Even the unfinished wallpaper and shelves didn’t seem nearly as bleak as Hiraiwa had made them sound. Relieved, Hagiwara drained his barley tea.

 

“By the way, Hagiwara, do you actually like watermelon that much?”

 

Sei tapped the enormous melon sitting ceremoniously in the sink.

 

“Normal amount. I haven’t even eaten it once this year.”

 

“Then you don’t particularly like it, do you? What are we supposed to do with this enormous thing? It won’t even fit in my fridge.”

 

“Sorry. I’ll take it home.”

 

Thinking about it sensibly, bringing an entire watermelon as a gift to someone who lived alone was obviously a nuisance.  At absolute best, you might generously call it a well-meant nuisance. 

 

He probably should have taken the shopkeeper up on the offer to cut it into pieces. But for some reason, Hagiwara had desperately wanted Sei to see it exactly like this—whole and unblemished.

 

If someone asked him why, he wouldn’t have been able to answer. That was the nature of an impulse purchase.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“It’s in the way, isn’t it?”

 

“If there’s nowhere to put it, then we just go and buy somewhere to put it.”

 

“…A fridge?”

 

Even Hagiwara thought that would be going rather far, but Sei burst out laughing.

 

“Of course not.”

 

“I think a washbasin would be good.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Let’s go and buy one big enough for this. A metal one—the sort that drops onto someone’s head in an old comedy sketch. It’ll have character.”

 

“What?”

 

“There was that shop in the arcade, wasn’t there? The one selling scrubbing brushes and all sorts of things. They’d probably have one.”

 

“Even if you buy something like that, you’ll never use it.”

 

“I will.”

 

“For what?”

 

“The water heater might suddenly break, and I’ll have to wash myself out on the balcony. Or the washing machine might break, and I’ll have to wash clothes by hand.”

 

“You’re really forcing this.”

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

Sei said it decisively.

 

It was such an unmistakably Sei answer.

 

“The fact that I need it now is enough. I don’t care what use it might have beyond tomorrow.”

 

Hagiwara could only answer, “All right.”

 

It seemed to him that Sei had moved past the pain of their respective break-ups far more firmly than he had. He really has got himself together. Although… Maybe this means he doesn’t need me at all.

 

It wasn’t as though Hagiwara had ever intended to take advantage of his loneliness. And if that was the case, then fine.

 

“Shall we go?”

 

“Yeah.”