FUTTARA DOSHABURI

part 3.

 

"See, you really can't sleep, can you? Should I warm up some milk for you?"

 

"I told you, that's not it."

 

Kazuaki never, ever squeezed Sei's hand tightly. It was always a gentle, faint touch, as if silently whispering that he could pull away whenever he liked. Sei squeezed back with force. Squeeze, squeeze—twice, like Morse code. The same movement was returned to him.

 

He smiled, feeling a surge of happiness. Yet somewhere inside Kazuaki, a hypersensitive antenna seemed built in. The very instant Sei wished for deeper skin-to-skin contact, Kazuaki would pull away.

 

"...Goodnight."

 

See? Just like that. The moment the thoughts crossed his mind, wanting to touch him more, wanting to be held by more than just his hands, it was as if Kazuaki sensed it immediately. Was Kazuaki just incredibly perceptive, or was Sei simply that easy to read? 

 

Wondering if he was making a pathetic, wanting face, Sei patted his own cheeks with both hands. He thought that if Kazuaki had to stay on high alert like this all the time, he would never truly be able to relax, yet Kazuaki always said, "I want to stay with Sei forever."

 

I want to keep living with you just like this, Sei. I can't be in the kind of relationship you want, but I don't want to date or marry anyone else either. Is that not enough?

 

He would never belong to Sei, but in exchange, he would never belong to anyone else. Sei clung to those words. Of course, it was just a verbal promise, and there was always the constant fear that things would spiral into a "Turns out I got a girlfriend" scenario. But so far, Kazuaki had never brought the presence of anyone else into the house outside of work. 

 

While nobody could predict when or what kind of encounter might happen, Sei was starting to feel like "forever" really might pass by like this. Five years, ten years, twenty years. A "forever" where he was gently desired, yet gently rejected without end.

 

It felt as though he were being forced to stand in a very high place, the sensation in his feet suddenly fading away into nothingness. Well, I suppose that makes sense, given how high up I am.

 

As if clutching a lifeline, Sei squeezed his phone tightly. He opened up the email screen.

 

"Then, I suppose for men, it would be 'men who can get laid' and 'men who can't'?"

 

"Well, isn't that pretty much how it goes? Personally, I'm quite fond of watching animal documentaries, and when it comes to mating episodes, the female almost always holds the absolute right to choose. The males have to flash their bright body colours to get attention and risk their lives fighting off other males just to finally be allowed to mate. I don't think humans are all that different."

 

Well, I have zero interest in females! Sei thought to himself. Or rather, he had zero interest in any living creature other than Kazuaki.

 

"In the case of humans, reproduction isn't the sole purpose, so I think it's a bit more complex than that," he typed back, softening his slightly prickly feelings to keep the tone mild.

 

He found it a bit questionable that someone who had already openly declared he didn't have a girlfriend would bring up such a primitive argument, essentially branding himself a "loser of the natural world who can't get laid." He's not a bad guy, just a bit simple-minded, Sei thought, putting together a casual amateur profile of his pen pal.

 

"No, I get that it's complex, but at the end of the day, it's like... Well, it's just my personal opinion, so I'm sorry if I offended you."

 

Oh, he followed up right away. Simple, but not stupid, Sei added to his mental notes about the guy.

 

"I'm not offended at all. It's just a bit surprising coming from someone who seems so fulfilled and has such an understanding girlfriend."

 

"By the way, how would you answer? If you had to divide men into two groups?"

 

This time, Sei really felt as if he were being tested.

 

"Men who eat the feast set before them, and men who don't."

 

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On Monday morning, Hagiwara was looking at that email inside the subway. He wondered how many times he had stared at it since it arrived on Saturday night. Since he was the one who asked, he knew he had to reply, but his fingers wouldn't move. 

 

Something chilling was drifting from the words, creating an atmosphere where he felt he couldn't just casually throw out his thoughts. Had this person experienced a time when they were invited into an intimate moment but couldn't go through with it? Or was it the opposite, where they carelessly gave in and ended up in a disaster?

 

On Sunday, Hagiwara had gone on a day trip for a camping event with Kaori and their mutual friends, so he hadn't had the physical time to text. When everyone kept pressuring them about when they were finally getting married, Kaori answered, "Once we save up a bit more money," while Hagiwara just laughed. 

 

Since they had already introduced themselves to each other's parents back when they moved in together, there weren't really any hurdles left. If Hagiwara brought it up, things would move forward practically in an instant. It was also entirely possible that Kaori would be the one to pitch it, just like her confession, saying, "Isn't it about time we registered our marriage?"

 

Hey, what are you going to do?

 

When I remained silent, they pressed me even further.

 

"Well, you know, I'm just looking for the right timing..."

 

"Bro, you're talking about timing like you've got all day. You're already living together, so the next thing you know, she’s gonna be pregnant. A shotgun wedding would be unfair to her. Think about Kaori-chan."

 

"It's fine, really."

 

Kaori casually stepped in to handle the friend, who was getting drunk and rowdy.

 

"We're thinking about it properly in our own way."

 

While part of me felt saved, another part wondered what would have happened if I had just spilt everything right there. If she got pregnant in our current situation, I thought it would be a miracle. 

 

There were about five or six couples there, including married ones around our age, and everyone except us looked like they were having regular sex. I felt like if I confessed my troubles, even privately, they would look at me with pity and disbelief. That paranoia pushed me to act even more cheerful. 

 

I served the meat and vegetables for Kaori, opened the wine, and took the lead in cleaning up. On the way home, Kaori said, "You looked like you were having so much fun today, Hagiwara."

 

"Maybe it's because drinking outside puts you in a good mood? You were smiling the whole time; it was cute."

 

She whispered this in my ear, prompting a tease from the passenger seat of the van we were sharing with a few other couples: "Hey, no flirting back there!"

 

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Thanks to all that, I am completely exhausted this morning. I entered the company through the underground passage directly connected to the station. When I sat at my desk, I noticed the business cards I ordered over the weekend were finished.

 

I picked up the box of a hundred cards and frowned. "Huh?"

 

"My name on the business cards is wrong," I said to general affairs over the phone. The person who came rushing over immediately was Nakarai. Dealing with this kind of trouble first thing on a Monday morning, when my mood was already low, and that previous incident naturally made my attitude sharp. 

 

Without even saying good morning, I thrust the box of cards at him. Nakarai took one look and said, "Ah."

 

"You're right, the character for 'Hagi' (萩) got turned into 'Uta' (歌). This is our mistake; I am deeply sorry." He bowed deeply without a single moment of hesitation. 

 

His unexpected, clean display of responsibility caught Hagiwara off guard. Hagiwara had fully expected him to casually shift the blame, making comments like, "Who on earth placed this order?" or "I'll complain to the printer." In reality, Nakarai had probably just happened to pick up the internal call. Hagiwara never expected him to come over in person right away and apologise so straightforwardly.

 

"You need to use them today, right? How many do you have left?"

 

"Uh... two or three cards."

 

Hagiwara figured he would finally get scolded for that. He expected Nakarai to say, "You should order them with a bit more time to spare." Instead, Nakarai just said, "I'll go make some emergency ones for the time being," and left with the incorrect cards. 

 

Wondering what an "emergency card" even meant, Hagiwara realised it was pointless to sit around waiting, so he got on with his own work. About thirty minutes later, Nakarai returned.

 

"I hope this helps you get by for now."

 

What he handed over was a stack of about ten business cards. Even after checking both the front and back, they looked identical to the ones Hagiwara was currently using. If he had to pick a difference, it might have been just the paper's texture. Of course, the name was correctly printed as "Hagiwara."

 

"How did you manage this?" Hagiwara asked in surprise, his morning irritation completely forgotten.

 

"Oh, we actually have a business card printer in the General Affairs department." He explained that people occasionally rush in because they suddenly run out of cards.

 

"Huh, I had no idea."

 

"I'll have the proper ones delivered by tomorrow. Sorry for the trouble."

 

Once again, Nakarai bowed politely. As a salesman on the front lines, Hagiwara practically handed out cheap apologies daily. Yet making someone else do it this way made him feel a wave of guilt. Had he been too arrogant over the phone to make Nakarai feel this small? 

 

He had always promised himself never to become the type of person who throws a tantrum as a customer, so he instantly felt thoroughly embarrassed.

 

"Nah, it’s totally fine. It’s no big deal. It's my fault too for not asking until the last minute, and honestly, I should apologise for having such a confusing surname."

 

"Does it really get mixed up that often?"

 

"All the time. When I go to the dentist, the receptionist calls out 'Ogiwara-san' like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I've gotten so tired of correcting people that I now answer it. ...Ah, that reminds me, Nakarai-san, about the classmate get-together this week."

 

"Ah," Nakarai nodded. "I'm going."

 

"Great, I'll mark you down as attending then. I’ll email you the venue and other details later."

 

"Okay."

 

Hagiwara was taken aback when Nakarai hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"Well... being the organiser seems like a lot of work to do all by yourself."

 

"Ah..."

 

While he appreciated the sentiment, a salesman wouldn't last long if he couldn't manage a simple party for a few dozen coworkers. Besides, it was easy enough since he didn't have to stress over the order of speeches or entertainment.

 

"Do you happen to know any good restaurants?" Hagiwara asked, mostly just to be polite.

 

"I almost never eat out," came the reply. Well, that was a dead end.

 

"I've got it covered, don't worry," Hagiwara said, putting on his best professional smile.

 

"I'm pretty used to setting things up and hosting clients. More importantly, you should brace yourself too, Nakarai-san. The organiser for these coworker get-togethers is chosen completely at random, so you never know when your turn might come."

 

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This spring, every employee currently at the Tokyo headquarters who hasn't organised a party yet becomes a candidate. The Human Resources department picks a name completely at random and sends out a casual "congratulations, it's your turn" email. 

 

You are free to ask for backup, but that depends entirely on your personal network. Hagiwara felt that having two or three organisers around would actually make things more of a hassle, so he hadn't asked anyone for help.

 

"You're right about that."

 

Nakarai's face clouded over instantly. He looked so visibly depressed that Hagiwara couldn't help but add, "When your turn comes around, I'll help you out."

 

"I don't really mind doing the behind-the-scenes work for these kinds of gatherings anyway."

 

In reality, there was no telling whether Nakarai would ever be picked, or whether Hagiwara would even still be at headquarters when it happened. It was just a casual verbal promise made with light intentions. Yet, Nakarai thanked him with a very polite "Thank you."

 

Then Hagiwara felt Nakarai's gaze suddenly freeze on his chest, and he panicked. It was that item—the one Nakarai had criticised just the other day. His company ID card was still sitting inside the case Kaori had given him. Shoot, I should have tucked it into my breast pocket.

 

"Uh..."

 

Trying to hide it now would look far too obvious. As Hagiwara stammered, Nakarai unexpectedly let out a soft smile. "I'll count on you when the time comes," he said, walking away without making a single comment about the card case.

 

Oh, what do you know, he might actually be a nice guy. Hagiwara thought, breathing a sigh of relief. He actually showed quite a bit of emotion on his face, making Hagiwara realise that his impression of Nakarai as completely cold and detached was probably just a preconceived notion.

 

"Well, I guess I was the one in the wrong last time."

 

He restocked his card case with the emergency business cards and started getting ready to head out for client visits. The sluggishness he had felt before coming to work had mysteriously faded away.

 

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"Do I really look that scary?"

 

When Sei asked this during dinner, Kazuaki looked at him as if he didn't understand the question.

 

"Did someone say something to you?"

 

"No, I was just talking to a coworker from my year this morning. He's the guy I chewed out once before about a different matter, and he seemed a bit freaked out by me."

 

Remembering Hagiwara’s utter panic the moment his eyes landed on that card case made a chuckle bubble up inside Sei.

 

"What are you smiling about all of a sudden?"

 

"It's just that he panicked exactly like an elementary school kid who just got caught hiding a mouldy piece of school lunch bread in his desk. Know what I mean?"

 

"Sort of, I guess."

 

Since it happened right after Sei's own department had messed up, he hadn't intended to complain to the guy at all. The more Sei replayed the scene of that big, well-built guy getting so spooked, the funnier it got. He had pegged Hagiwara as a completely unbearable jerk, but he turned out to be unexpectedly scatterbrained—or rather, almost cute.

 

"I’ve never once thought you were scary," 

 

Kazuaki replied earnestly to the original question. "But I suppose you might give off an unapproachable vibe to some people. You aren't exactly a man of many words, Sei."

 

"Hmm..."

 

Liar, Sei thought. You're always terrified of me. You're constantly on guard, stressing over what I'm going to say next, what I'm going to do, and how you're supposed to dodge it. Instead of saying any of that out loud, he asked, "Should I try to fix it?"

 

Kazuaki shook his head immediately. "Not at all. There’s no need to be well-liked in the workplace. I like you exactly the way you are, Sei."

 

It was a statement that carried absolutely no meaning beyond a platonic "like." It was healthy but completely tasteless—like a flimsy diet cracker. In his mind, Sei crunched it up viciously and swallowed it down. Even if it tasted awful, he didn't want anything else.

 

Inside his jeans pocket, his phone vibrated.

 

Ah.

 

I wanted to check it right away, but since I was in the middle of eating, I held back. That night, I left the cleanup to Kazuaki and opened the email in my bedroom. Late Saturday night, I sent something a bit risqué. 

 

Since there hadn't been a single sound from him all Sunday, I was a bit discouraged, thinking I had probably creeped him out. Sending another email to say "Sorry for writing something strange" seemed like it would only make me look more bizarre. I had half-given up, thinking our brief interaction was already over.

 

"Sorry for the late reply. No hidden meaning; I was just busy. I honestly find it a bit hard to believe that there are men who wouldn't eat a feast set before them."

 

"Maybe the feast tastes awful, or he just has a small appetite?"

 

"Wait, by any chance, are we actually talking about real food here?"

 

"No."

 

"I thought so. I think most guys would at least pick up their chopsticks for almost any feast."

 

Well, that's true enough, I thought, since the premise was that the "feast" on the table was a woman. Sei quickly typed, "Even if it's bizarre horror food?" and hit send.

 

"Calling it horror food is a bit harsh."

 

Then, he continued like this:

 

"But even if a delicious feast is right in front of them, there are some men who can't eat a single bite of it."

 

A man who can't eat the feast right in front of him?

 

The next morning, Sei replied, "What do you mean by that?" When night came, a long email arrived, starting with the words, "It's exactly what it sounds like."

 

"I've been living with the girlfriend I'm dating now for about two years. I'll probably marry her. But there's just one thing that bothers me, and it's that we aren't having sex. Well, rather than 'aren't doing it,' it's more like we stopped. No specific trigger caused it; the intervals just kept getting longer, and before I knew it, we hadn't done it for about a year. I want to, but she dislikes it. She doesn't explicitly say 'stop, don't touch me,' but she turns me down in a mild way, so I can't push it any further than that. I think, Ah, here we go again. So, I meant it exactly as it sounds."

 

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The classmate get-together was held at an Italian dining bar two stations away from the office. This was Sei's first time attending, so he had nothing to compare it to, but from the conversations filtering over, he could tell that Hagiwara was apparently quite excellent as an organiser.

 

"The food is delicious, isn't it?"

 

"Yeah. Last year was honestly awful—the fee was high, the food tasted bad, and there wasn't a single good thing about it."

 

"Exactly. Even the staff had a terrible attitude. Who organised it again? Was it Ohfuka-kun? It was practically at a level that made you question his humanity."

 

"And Shiro-kun was part of it too, right? He usually brags so much about knowing all these great spots, but then he goes and makes a choice like that."

 

"People who brag about themselves usually turn out to be a disappointment."

 

Do people really get their entire personalities rejected over something as simple as choosing a restaurant for a party? Leaving high prices and bad food aside, people complain if a place is too loud, too far from the station, too crowded for standing room, or requires them to take their shoes off for traditional seating. They even complain if the restaurant is in a commercial building where the restroom is outside the venue. 

 

The options narrow down so fast. Sei felt a faint sense of respect welling up for Hagiwara, who was handling this job all by himself. Even his opening remarks were brief and to the point. When he brought out a magnum bottle of champagne at the perfect moment, announcing, "We have received a gift from the Head of Human Resources," the room erupted in applause. 

 

Watching from the corner of the venue, Sei thought about how Hagiwara was the type of guy who could do just about anything. He had everything going for him, and likely lacked for nothing in life. But unlike before, this was an honest admiration free of any resentment.

 

As people began moving around to swap seats, the party grew lively enough that no one would notice a single person slipping away. Sei stood up and headed toward the bar counter at the back of the restaurant. The other guests were still focused on eating, so the area was empty and relaxing. 

 

He sat on a corner stool and ordered a gin and lime. The place offered an abundant selection of excellent alcohol, and he was truly impressed by the venue. That aside. While sipping his drink, he pulled out his phone. He thought about their text messages, which had completely dropped off over the past few days. What should I do?

 

His immediate reaction upon finishing that long email had just been, Huh. Huh, I see. A sexless relationship. It's quite common these days—not that I'd know firsthand, but you see it talked about a lot in newspapers, magazines, and on TV. They say Japanese people have the lowest frequency of sex in the world, or talk about the rise of "herbivore men" who lack interest in romance. But in this case, it was the girlfriend who didn't want it, so the herbivore label didn't really apply to him.

 

Huh, I see. A sexless relationship... so what exactly am I supposed to do about that? It might have sounded heartless, but he genuinely couldn't find the right words to say. 

 

They had just been faintly enjoying a meaningless, anonymous exchange without names or faces. Dropping such a heavy topic on him all of a sudden was just too much to handle. It felt like they had been happily rallying a ping-pong ball back and forth, only for the other guy to suddenly thud a heavy bowling ball onto his side of the table.

 

Perhaps the entire conversation over the past week about men and women was just a setup for this confession of trouble. The thought of it made me find the situation increasingly tedious, and I had been unable to reply until today. There was no follow-up message from the other person along the lines of "please forget about it", either.

 

However, reading through the latest email again now, the pity I felt outweighed the confusion of being treated like an emotional dumping ground. I had no way of knowing the actual circumstances without hearing her side of the story, but it must be painful to be rejected by a girl you like enough to live with. Is it possible to feel a sense of shared sympathy rather than shared aversion?

 

Misery loves company, as they say. Being right beside someone but unable to touch them. The only difference was between a desire that could never be fulfilled and one that was once granted but then taken away. Well, in my case, instead of being tragic, it feels more like I am just completely pathetic. Maybe I should send something.

 

An empty reply email with no text and no subject line still sits unfinished in my drafts folder. It isn't like he was looking for comfort or encouragement. But completely ignoring it and bringing up a different topic might be the correct choice for a polite adult, though in this case, it feels wrong. What should I do? If it were me, what would I want someone to say to me?

 

Before he knew it, Sei had begun to think about it quite seriously. Inside his suit pocket, his phone vibrated faintly.

 

"Excuse me for a second."

 

Kazuaki stepped away from the table, holding his glass while reaching into his jacket with his free hand.

 

"Thanks for your hard work! Are you enjoying being the organiser? If it gets really late or looks like it's going to turn into an all-night thing, send me an email. Don't drink too much!"

 

It was from Kaori. He let out a tiny, soft sigh, and then caught himself, surprised by his own reaction.

 

Wait a minute, why am I feeling a little disappointed? Who on earth was I hoping it would be? There was only one answer. It was that "certain someone" to whom he had unilaterally sent that long, embarrassing email.

 

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The night he sent that message, something a bit unpleasant had happened with Kaori. That said, it was just the usual pattern of him making a move and getting shot down. But combined with that day-trip camping incident, it had hit him strangely hard. In a frantic rush, Hagiwara had typed out an email explaining his entire current situation and sent it on pure impulse.

 

He had felt relieved in the moment, but the next morning, he read back over the contents and put his head in his hands. Ugh, I really did it now. This is bad—I look like a dangerous creep. He thought of a few ways to patch things over. He could say he was drunk, or ask them to pretend they never saw it. But it felt like wrapping it up in transparent excuses would only dig his own grave deeper, so in the end, he did nothing.

 

It wasn't actually that big of a deal. If he had sent that to Kaori herself, or to his friends and acquaintances, he would be turning pale with panic. But this was a total stranger whose identity he didn't even know. It really wasn't a blunder worth losing sleep over—yes, his brain understood that perfectly well, yet Hagiwara was growing deeply anxious over the silence.

 

Did I creep them out? Of course I did. I'd think it was creepy too if I were in their shoes. Even so, was it selfish of him to wish they would say so clearly? They might be bewildered and waiting to see what happens. In that case, should Hagiwara be the one to take action after all? But if their address has changed or if they've blocked his messages, it's going to hit him hard.

 

Even to himself, it was a mystery why he was agonising over this so much. If he had to describe it, their casual emails were supposed to be nothing more than the quick horoscope segment on a morning news show. You instantly forget the rankings and the lucky colours; it isn't something you'd actively wait around for in front of the TV, though you feel a tiny bit disappointed if you miss it. It was just that level of entertainment.

 

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Yet right now, he found himself genuinely worried that this fragile thread was about to snap. Am I really that lonely?

 

Instead of replying to Kaori, he stood there frozen with his phone tightly in his hand until someone called out, "Hagiwara!" and snapped him back to reality. The bustling voices and clattering dishes inside the restaurant suddenly rushed back into his senses.

 

"What are you doing over there? Come join us!"

 

"Yeah, coming."

 

A colleague who had just transferred back from the Sendai branch this spring topped up the remaining few centimetres of beer in Hagiwara's glass. This is ridiculous, he thought. His work was going well, the restaurant he had carefully scouted and chosen was getting great reviews so far, and things were going fine with his girlfriend too. Feeling lonely was just a trick of his mind. He gulped down his drink, as if scolding his recent, weak-willed self.

 

"Are you still with your girlfriend?"

 

"Don't say 'still' like that. What about you? I heard you got a new one."

 

"Word travels fast."

 

"She’s a girl from Sendai, right?"

 

"Yeah. The second we got together, it turned into long-distance."

 

"Man, that must be—"

 

He was about to say "lonely", but his recent thoughts flashed through his mind, making him stumble over his words.

 

"—terrible timing."

 

His colleague didn't look too deeply into the awkward pause.

 

"Well, it's just a bullet train ride away."

 

"Do you have a picture? Let me see a picture!" one of the girls chimed in, interrupting them.

 

"Not showing you."

 

"Cheapskate! Okay then, what made you fall for her?"

 

"Girls seriously love this kind of talk, don't they? What made me fall for her? Let's see... the fact that she has a high sex drive?"

 

A wave of exasperated laughter broke out at his completely blunt comment.

 

"I went to see her last week. We stayed for two days and one night, and even though I brought six condoms with me, we ran out."

 

"You are the absolute worst!"

 

The worst, huh? Was that reaction directed at "sexual drive" being used as a standard for a relationship? Or was it directed at his nerve for casually exposing that in front of a big group of people? Well, it was certain that the girlfriend in question wouldn't be very happy if she heard it.

 

Is "having a compatible stance on sex" not allowed to be ranked on the same level as things like liking someone's face, liking their style, or liking their personality? On the flip side, if the guy had said, "I like her because she doesn't have much of a sex drive," Kazuaki felt like nobody would have called him "the worst."

 

The conversation had already moved on to sightseeing spots in Sendai. Standing there completely left behind and lost in his own thoughts, the word "lonely" bubbled up inside him once again. There's no way.

 

He gave his head a light shake and was about to move to a different table when he spotted Nakarai sitting all by himself at the bar counter in the corner of the restaurant. Nakarai had actually shown up to the party for whatever reason, but as expected, he seemed completely out of place.

 

Hagiwara walked over to talk to him, but stopped when he noticed Nakarai staring intently at his phone. His face in profile looked deadly serious, as if his thoughts completely consumed him.

 

Oh, he has a girlfriend, Hagiwara thought naturally. It was that kind of expression, one that held an emotional depth unrelated to work or daily chores. Was it a fight? Were they breaking up? It certainly didn't look like he was planning a fun date. 

 

The melancholy in his expression probably came from the long lashes casting shadows over his eyes. He didn't look as though he were thinking about anything in particular. Combined with his large, dark eyes, he somehow reminded Hagiwara of the rabbits his primary school had kept.

 

Close up, their faces had never seemed particularly cute. Their eyes looked almost artificial. You could stare into them forever, yet never know what they were looking at. Even if all they reflected was your own face, it was hard to look away.

 

*What would happen if I just kept watching him like this?*

 

*What sort of expression would he make if he noticed me?*

 

"Mr Nakarai."

 

The carefree voice shattered his thoughts.

 

*Damn it...*

 

*I was just getting somewhere.*

 

If he'd had another minute, he might've thought of a clever comeback. Still, being interrupted also brought a strange sense of relief, like finally setting down luggage you'd been carrying for too long.

 

"Mind if I sit here?"

 

"And a Carlsberg, please."

 

Without waiting for an answer, Hagiwara slid into the seat beside him and ordered his own drink.

 

Being left alone with Nakarai for too long felt oddly uncomfortable. At least someone would probably call him away before long. Still...He quickly buried his curiosity and greeted him as though he'd only just arrived.

 

"Mr Nakarai."

 

Nakarai slowly turned towards him. His expression simply said, *Oh, it's someone I know.* Nothing more. Nothing less. After a moment, Nakarai spoke.

 

"Hagiwara."

 

"Hm?"

 

"Why do you use that... half-polite way of speaking to me?"

 

"My what?"

 

"That sort of... halfway polite language."

 

"You know..."

 

"'Really?'"

 

"'Is that so?'"

 

"It's not technically proper polite Japanese, but people use it as a kind of casual politeness."

 

"So why do you talk to me like that?"

 

"It's... sort of automatic."

 

"I see."

 

The Carlsberg arrived, still in its bottle.

 

The deep green glass caught the light.

 

*It really feels like spring,* Nakarai thought.

 

Then he asked,

 

"When did you start keeping track of everyone's birthdays?"

 

"What?"

 

"You seem to know exactly who's a few months older or younger than you."

 

"That's incredibly meticulous."

 

"It isn't anything like that."

 

"I just happened to remember."

 

"From looking at the employee directory."

 

"It has everyone's birthdays in it."

 

"So I'd see one and think..."

 

'*Oh... they're a little older than me.*'

 

"The employee directory?"

 

"The one they gave us when we first joined the company?"

 

"I've never opened mine."

 

"...Not once?"

 

"That's impressive."

 

"How little interest do you have in your colleagues?"

 

"...Well..."

 

Nakarai trailed off. There was no way he could admit the real reason.

 

*I hate looking at the employee photos.*

 

They always reminded him of memorial portraits. And if he said that out loud, Hagiwara would probably think he was insane.

 

"So?"

 

"Should I have explained it like that from the beginning?"

 

"No."

 

"Just leave it as it is."

 

"I don't mind whichever way you prefer, Hagiwara."

 

The conversation petered out. He didn't particularly want to talk about work, but at the same time he had no desire to pry into Hagiwara's private life.

 

*No point forcing the conversation,* he thought, absent-mindedly cracking another peanut shell.

 

Then Hagiwara spoke.

 

"Mr Nakarai."

 

"Hm?"

 

"You've got really long eyelashes."

 

"What?"

 

"They're the kind girls would be seriously jealous of."

 

Nakarai blinked.

 

*That came completely out of nowhere.*

 

"They'd probably curl really nicely."

 

"With one of ours."

 

"Oh... the 'Beautiful Lashes' one."

 

Televisions and home appliances had been struggling for years, but recently the company's beauty products and air purifiers had been selling well. It was oddly amusing to imagine Hagiwara demonstrating battery-powered heated eyelash curlers and facial steamers.

 

"What are you laughing at?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"...Have you actually tried curling your eyelashes?"

 

"Of course."

 

"They're our products."

 

Hagiwara answered without hesitation, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

 

"I thought everyone in the beauty division would be women."

 

"You've got to convince customers."

 

"If a man recommends one by saying, 'Why not buy this for your wife or girlfriend?' it's more persuasive."

 

"And besides..."

 

"'Even I could get perfectly curled lashes with it.'"

 

"That's part of the sales pitch."

 

"Was it easy?"

 

"Not really."

 

"I can imagine."

 

"It's just..."

 

"Bringing anything close to your eyes goes against instinct, doesn't it?"

 

"I've never even worn contact lenses."

 

"But when I watch my girlfriend putting on her makeup..."

 

"The eyeliner..."

 

"The mascara..."

 

"She goes at it so fearlessly that I can't help getting nervous."

 

"And if I hover around watching, she tells me to go away."

 

"I'm only trying to learn."

 

Nakarai smiled to himself.

 

*He just said, "making her face."*

 

The phrase reminded him of the email exchange from the other day.

 

*Do all young women really talk like that?*

 

It made him feel oddly old.

 

"I suppose women just get used to it."

 

"They probably do."

 

"It's something they do every day."

 

"It's not even the eye itself."

 

"It's the idea of putting something into an opening."

 

Hagiwara took another sip of beer before adding,

 

"That surprised me more."

 

Nakarai laughed.

 

"So was that sexual harassment?"

 

"Should I expect a call from Compliance?"

 

"No, nothing like that."

 

"I was just surprised..."

 

"...to hear dirty jokes coming from you, Mr Nakarai."

 

"Oh?"

 

"I mean, it's not that it's a problem."

 

"Not at all."

 

"It just didn't seem like something you'd say."

 

*Something like that...?*

 

Did he mean talking about sex?

 

Or simply thinking about it?

 

"Any man spends plenty of time thinking about that sort of thing," Nakarai said.

 

"What about women?"

 

"Ask your girlfriend."

 

"...Fair enough."

 

Hagiwara nodded, though he didn't sound as though he actually intended to. Even if they were close enough for her to let him watch her put on makeup, perhaps asking something like that was a different matter. Or maybe she simply wasn't the type who wanted to discuss it.

 

*I wonder what Hagiwara would've replied to that email.*

 

*Maybe I should ask him.*

 

*"A friend sent me something like this..."*

 

Showing him wouldn't really be breaking any rules. It wasn't as though he'd mind Hagiwara seeing an email he'd received. After all, Hagiwara had no way of knowing who had sent it.

 

*...No.*

 

*Better not.*

 

Without realising it, Nakarai's fingers drifted back to his eyelashes, absently stroking them once again.