FUTTARA DOSHABURI - WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS.

When it Rains, It Pours. part 2.

"I'm going to be doing some filming next week," Kazuaki said after dinner.

 

"When?"

 

"Friday. I am only available from the evening to the night, so I may not be able to organise it. It might not be over when I get back."

 

"Then he must have taken a detour somewhere."

 

Kazuaki works in product design, and as his reputation spread, he began to produce, attracting attention not just to the items he created but also to the person himself.

 

Although he doesn't particularly enjoy the interviews about his creations or the plans to showcase his favourite items at home, he accepts them as part of his sales pitch. Sei likes seeing Kazuaki's facial expressions in professional photos and getting a glimpse of him in work mode. However, whenever it arrives, it's a hassle. Kazuaki says, "Don't worry about it."

 

He's just living with a friend from his school days, and that's all. This is also Sei's house. But I don't think that's the case. If they were two men, and Sei was at least a business associate, it would make sense, but they're just an office worker at an electronics manufacturer.

 

It would be impossible to ask them not to look at it negatively. Of the 2LDK, the only areas visible to others are the living room and Kazuaki's study/workroom, and, of course, they don't let anyone into the bedroom. Even so, Sei hides the cups and toothbrushes in the bathroom, stores his shoes in the closet, and does his best to eliminate the smell of his everyday life. And every time he does this, Kazuaki feels a bit uneasy. That's where he got upset.

 

"Why? There's no need to spend time on this. I'll introduce you to the editor. He's a fascinating guy, so I think we'll get along well."

 

"Okay." Sei shook his head.

Isourou: "It would be a hassle for the editors if they had to introduce me to a freeloader every single time."

 

(Isourou means freeloader)

 

"You're not a freeloader."

 

Kazuaki's words could only be answered with an ambiguous smile. It was true. It had been more than five years since Sei had rolled into the apartment Kazuaki had inherited from his parents. He had talked about moving out many times, but each time he had been scolded, remonstrated, or soothed, and he had never even gotten around to packing. He had few personal possessions to begin with, and if he had really wanted to, he could have run out with just the clothes on his back, but in the end, he didn't. Perhaps he just wanted someone to stop him.

 

Although Sei transferred a certain amount from his salary every month, it was clear that Kazuaki hadn't touched it. I often wonder what on earth I am. I live comfortably in an expensive, high-altitude apartment in the city centre. I have a job, but I don't think anyone would complain if I quit tomorrow.

 

I am fulfilled. Both materially and spiritually. I'm sure that anyone I tell would be envious. I'm one of the lucky ones. He just wanted to be surrounded and properly cared for. That was all Sei wanted, not a place to live or money. If he were told not to step outside, he would do so, and he wouldn't be dissatisfied with a life where he could only see Kazuaki and never speak to him. But Kazuaki doesn't want that. He is more than just a close friend and family member. There is nothing shady about it, so it's fine to say "I'll introduce you to someone."

 

"There's a reunion on Friday," Sei said as he carried the plate he had finished to the sink.

 

"It's a good time to go. I've been slacking off, so I'm going to go. I was just about to be stabbed by Tsukasa as well."

 

Kazuaki: "There's no need to force yourself to go to a gathering you don't want to attend." It was a very unsalaried way of speaking.

 

"Well, it's not impossible, I just kind of ignored it."

 

Simply put, I wanted to go home early and spend time with Kazuaki rather than drinking with my colleagues. Even when Kazuaki was holed up in his workroom, I wanted to feel his presence under the same roof.

 

"Really?"

"Yeah"

 

He stood next to me, our sleeves lightly touching. That alone made my heart lurch. It rises and becomes a bit painful.

 

" ... It's okay, I'll do the dishes."

"Why"

 

"Looks like you want to get to work quickly. Was your mind really that distracted?"

 

Kazuaki lowered the corners of his eyebrows in embarrassment. His calm, gentle features gave way to an animal-like charm that made Sei smile, thinking how Cute he was.

 

"What?"

 

"I'm not distracted. There's a kind of tingly atmosphere. I guess that's why."

 

"It's not long at all," Kazuaki said.

 

"Not yet."

 

I slip," he nods. It's not a lie. He hopes it will continue like this. A quiet life where the noise of the world below doesn't reach him. Because Sei loves Kazuaki. A dish falls from his hand, slipping on the soap bubbles. It's in a silicon washtub, so nothing serious happens. He feels relieved when he confirms that there are no cracks or chips, and then he remembers the incident at the office.

 

That rough sales colleague. I don't understand how he could be so careless as to damage a card provided by the company that isn't his personal property. He sent me two emails about it, and above all, he was so brazen in his attitude.

 

What do you mean, "I got it from her"? Are you stupid? His voice is unnecessarily loud, and I don't like that confident feeling. His liveliness and fulfilment are coming closer and closer, along with the whistle. If he were just a delusional man, I could be kind to him, but his good looks make things even more difficult. I'm sure he's a beautiful man. He must be enjoying Christmas and Valentine's Day—a man with a smooth sailing life.

 

I raised the lever to increase the water's force. The apartment was designed so that the doors, drawers, and everything else in it would not make any unnecessary noise, so the sink also collected water quietly. I was impressed every time I used it by how well it was designed.

 

The house I lived in with my parents was an old wooden building. The kitchen faucet was difficult to adjust and could only drip or gurgle, but either way it made a loud thumping noise around the sink, a sound not unlike rain. My vision blurred.

 

The apartment I was in and my parents' house were superimposed, and scenes I hadn't even noticed back then came back to me. The oily newspaper under the gas stove. The whiteboard hanging on the refrigerator door. Even the words "Neighbourhood Association Fee 1,000 yen" were written by my mother.

 

I put my hands on the sink and suppress the urge to crouch down, shaking my 

head. Nostalgia can be a violent emotion at times. I intended to open a little bit. I slid the screen for a moment and peeked into my memories, but I was suddenly struck. Oh, it immobilises me. I can't control it. That house is no longer there. My parents are no longer there, but I have Kazuaki.

 

After I finished cleaning up and took a bath, I knocked discreetly on Kazuaki's door.

 

"Would you like to make some coffee?"

 

"No, it's fine. Thank you."

 

"Well, I'll go to bed first."

 

"Yeah, good night."

 

But Sei was unable to leave the place. As he stood there in silence, Kazuaki sensed something and called out, "What's wrong?"

 

Sorry ... I just wanted to see your face for a bit." I'm embarrassed, even if I say so myself. But Kazuaki never makes fun of Sei. He opened the sliding door and smiled at me.

 

"Thank you"

 

"Should I look funnier?"

 

"It's enough as it is now."

 

"Don't hurt me."

 

"That's not what I meant ... What are you making now?"

 

"A pass case. I think I can get some rare leather. If I can, can you use it?"

 

"Of course. Sorry for interrupting. I'm going to bed now."

 

"You're not bothering me. Call me immediately if you need anything."

 

"Yeah"

 

It appears that Sei's image inspires Kazuaki's creations. Nothing there. A sofa with a gentle Z-shaped curved acrylic frame, a coat hanger that attaches to the wall like the horns of an imaginary creature, and a paperweight made of bubble glass. Unlike a model for a painting or a subject for a photograph, they don't feel real at all. But strangely enough, Sei's presence seems to contribute to Kazuaki's creativity to a certain extent, and it wasn't uncommon for him to suddenly mutter, "Oh, I've got an idea," while we were just talking or eating, and get to work.

 

What do you call this kind of thing? A muse? A woman. I think about it in bed.  The nightstand and the alarm clock on it were both designed by Kazuaki. It has an elegant form with rounded corners. It's on the verge of being ordinary, but its size, weight and construction have all been carefully considered to ensure its ease of use. It fits in well, regardless of where or who uses it, and doesn't get in the way. 

 

It's pretty, which doesn't make a loud statement, and is more in line with Kazuaki himself. It's supposed to be the most relaxing place on earth. But why?

 

I curl up like a caterpillar and put my hands inside my underwear. I close my eyes tightly, and Kazuaki comes to mind—his face, hair, shoulders, hands, voice. I just can't stand this. Kazuaki is working right there, and yet it's dirty. I feel that way in my heart, but I've never been able to stop in the middle of it.

 

Kazuaki is kind and needs Sei. Kazuaki supported him during his most difficult times. Kazuaki never wants Sei's body. In the world of delusion, a man who bears no resemblance to Kazuaki lives. The fake Kazuaki calls out his name, Sei, in a lewd voice that fills Sei's ears with desire. Sei trembles with joy that is close to terror.

 

Sei ... Sei, can you feel it? I haven't touched you anywhere yet. The teasing makes me feel cornered and embarrassed. I say no. Stop.

 

"Please," he said. I resisted despite my lack of feeling.

 

-- Liar. You want me to do it, don't you? Like this. just like this. Slowly, with a frustrating touch like playing with an egg, he impatiently caressed his genitals, which were building up with anticipation, with a never-ending stimulation.

 

Yes, a small voice comes out. In my head, Kazuaki is biting his lip and saying, "Don't hold back."

 

--It feels so good, but it gets so hard so quickly.

--- What's the difference?

 

I might suddenly squeeze you tightly, and you might flinch and resist the pressure. He also traces the blood vessels as if tickling them.

 

-- If you're too stubborn, I won't be kind to you.

"Please, please," Sei begged, shamelessly spreading his legs.

 

– I love you, Kazuaki, I love you.

-- Yeah.

 

It sounds close to the real Kazuaki and is affirmed.

— Me too, Sei. I love you.

 

He thoroughly soothes the arousal that awaits Kazuaki. Kazuaki enjoys Sei's moans and every lewd act, asking him to reveal more and more, and defiling him.

 

Sei taints Kazuaki in his delusions.

 

A quiet, peaceful life, close to the sky. I hope it continues forever. Until the carnal desires from within me are worn away and reduced to ash. My face is hot, entirely covered by the sheets. I just keep rubbing my hardened body. How many more times will I have to do this before I'm satisfied?

 

His tongue was moving around on its own in his mouth and unconsciously searching for something to entwine with. Even though there was no one around, his excitement faithfully responded to the shockingly rough, simple up-and-down movements.

 

--- Is it going to happen? Phantom Kazuaki asks.

--- Yeah, I want to go.

--- Okay, let it all out, right in front of me. And call me by name.

 

I groped around, pulled out the wet tissue from the table, and plugged the small hole. For a moment, I felt a deep hollow, then it popped out with force. 

 

He calmly wiped his genitals, which had shrivelled up as if the swelling from a moment ago was a lie, then wrapped the semen-covered wet tissue in a new one and threw it in the trash. 

 

It was a smooth process, as if he had perfected a specific ritual. Kazuaki also designed the ceramic container for the wet tissues. Although I should have felt at ease surrounded by the comfortable things Kazuaki had made, sometimes I felt short of breath, as if I was lacking oxygen. It was always at night.

 

I hunched my back again. My cell phone rang on the pillow. It was an email. When I saw the subject line "Sorry for the late-night email," I knew it was probably spam, but I decided to open it anyway.

 

"I didn't receive an email from Gourmet Map this morning. That was something I accidentally sent to my cell phone. I'm sorry for the strange behaviour. Please accept my apologies.

 

Sure enough, I had received an email that I had no recollection of. I deleted it right away. So I can't check, but I'm not sure whether it included the word "gourmet". The sender's address had the same characters as Sei's but in a different domain, and I realised it must have been a mistake. It wasn't anything fancy, so it wouldn't be surprising if someone had the same name and it was torn apart. Still, he was very conscientious, and I couldn't help but laugh, feeling a little more relaxed. Weirdly, this happened with just this. My finger naturally tapped the "Reply" button.

"If you were to divide women into 'women who do' and 'women who don't. What words would you use?" I received a similar email. It seemed to be some kind of psychological test. When I asked my question, I got a quick reply: "It's just a question out of curiosity." Maybe the other person was bored too.

 

Sei thought for a moment and typed in "Women who wear makeup on the train and women who don't." However, after sending it, he began to regret his answer, thinking it was boring. There was no right or wrong answer, and it wasn't a topic that required careful consideration, but he should have put in a bit more effort. But if he had taken the time, he might not have answered.

 

As soon as the backlight of my cell phone goes out, I come back to my senses. If you think it's boring, because you don't know the person's face or name. I'm not the type of person who makes people laugh with jokes in the first place, so I wonder what this vanity thing, or the desire to "do well", is. It could be a feeling that's unique to digital. It's fine communication, even when handwriting can't be conveyed.

 

I received a reply shortly after. It was Saturday night, and I had time to send emails leisurely. I wonder if he has two days off per week, just like the regular employees. All I know about him is that he is a man and a working professional. He didn't introduce himself to me, but I thought so because the word "company" appeared in the email. It may just be a lie.

 

"There are women who put on a full course of makeup. My girlfriend says she "puts on her face," but I realised she's not exaggerating and that she's serious. Her eyes get twice as big as they were during the whole process, which is scary."

 

It's a long message. And the data that "he has a girlfriend" was added. Although it's only been about a week since we started exchanging emails, he usually sends short, inoffensive updates, such as "The coffee at the coffee shop I went to today was ridiculously lukewarm" or "I lost an hour because the train was stopped due to a fatality accident." It's apparent that he's just trying to kill time, but since we're in the same boat, it doesn't bother me.

 

Should I send a reply? Is this long-winded exchange annoying? While I was wondering, Kazuaki came out of his room. He went straight to the kitchen and started preparing to make coffee. I knew it was part of my mood change. So, Sei doesn't intervene.

 

"Would you like some too?"

"Yes, I'll take it."

 

I asked Kazuaki, who was standing at the counter, from the sofa in the living room. "If you had to classify women into two categories, where would you rank,  Kazuaki?" Kazuaki tilted his head at the abruptness of the question and answered, "Married or unmarried?" and "Whether or not they have children." 

 

"No, it's not about the profile; it's more about the inner self. Or rather, in terms of nature. "

 

"For example?"

"I can't really explain it either."

 

"What the hell kind of survey is this?"

"Because I was asked via email."

 

"That pen pal?"

"Yeah'

 

After nodding, he adds, "We're not exactly pen pals." Kazuaki is not about interacting with people whose backgrounds and feelings he doesn't know, even if Happy, it's only superficial.

 

- I received a strange email, and then I got a follow-up message saying, "Sorry, I sent it by mistake." I thought that the person was polite and diligent, so I replied, but it arrived again. When I showed him the first few letters, he raised his eyebrows and said, "Isn't that all part of the plan?"

 

- They pretend it was a mistake and naturally engage in an email exchange.

-- There's no reason to do that.

 

If you miss someone, there are plenty of dating sites. There's no point in randomly sending emails to someone whose gender and age you don't know. Even after I explained that to him, Kazuaki's concerns were not cleared, and he repeatedly emphasised, "If he shows any strange behaviour, block his messages immediately and don't even think about meeting him."

 

If he was going to say that, I wish he'd just firmly commanded me to stop. I'd be so happy if he'd just cut me off and tell me to stop doing that; I'd cut off all contact with him right away.

 

But Kazuaki steps back with an attitude of "respect." He says, "If Sei is having fun, that's the most important thing," or, "Sei should do what he likes." He's a grown-up and doesn't want to leave the decisions and responsibilities up to Kazuaki. But sometimes I feel hopelessly lonely—would that make him understand? When he was silent, the only sound that spoke volumes was the boiling water.

 

Sei was lost in his own thoughts and didn't really care about the question he had asked, but Kazuaki seemed to have been thinking about it, as he suddenly muttered, "It's surprisingly difficult." "Eh, is it really that difficult?" he said, laughing. "Woman, that's a pretty gender-based answer. I think it would make sense to replace it with 'man.' I just feel like that."

 

"But aren't men and women completely different?"

 

"Physically, yes, but when it comes to personality, well ... There are effeminate men and manly women. I think it's all a matter of personal preference. I'm effeminate."

 

"I guess so."

"That's right."

 

Then I thought that would be me too. I'm also the latter, fantasising about being held by you like a woman. Should I tell him? He'll probably be in trouble and say, "I didn't mean it that way."  My imagination runs wild.

 

-- What do you mean by that? Sei goes on to dig even deeper. Even if I don't mean to, it comes out unconsciously. It must be stressful. Being in a situation where a man living under the same roof likes me one-sidedly. Because, no matter how feminine I may be, my body is still a man's. I'm completely different from a woman.

 

Sei stood up and went next to Kazuaki.

”What's up?”

 

He was slightly nervous. He was ready for what Sei was going to say. Sei wanted to carry out the exact simulation from earlier and make the atmosphere here as suffocating as possible. Kazuaki may reject Sei's actions and feelings, but he doesn't deny his existence. He didn't like talking to strangers by email. Even if he responds or cannot reciprocate, Sei never looks down on him or hates him. Sei is happy about that. He is grateful. He doesn't want to cause trouble for Kazuaki.

 

I also have an equally strong desire to cause trouble for Kazuaki. There are times when I am clearly aware of the urge to hurt him. I want to destroy all the days we've spent together and the room that's been furnished with comfort, slamming him and lashing out, peeling off the skin of his kindness and patience like unwanted wallpaper, and dragging out the words "I'm tired, I don't want to be with you anymore" from him. But then, he clung miserably to his legs. Covered in tears of regret, he lay headfirst on the floor.

 

--- I'm sorry, I won't do it again. Please don't throw it away.

 

Torn curtains, broken sofas with springs popping out, Broken crockery. Imagine the final scene in such detail that Sei even shed tears alone. And when he indulges in the catastrophe in his mind to his heart's content, he feels strangely cold. It's not a question of being a man or a woman, but I can't accept being loved by such a crazy person.

 

Kazuaki silently places the filter in the dripper and pours in the coffee powder. Hot pours from a silver kettle with a long, thin spout, reminiscent of a flamingo's neck. Soft, chocolate-coloured bubbles rise to the brim. Drops fall into the pot with a pitter-patter sound.

 

" ... smells good"

Sei laughed.

"Yeah"

 

Kazuaki's gaze softened as if he was relieved. A thin layer of steam obscured the view from the living room. In his fantasy, he couldn't imagine what kind of sky was spreading out beyond the tattered curtains. I'll email you again after I've had some coffee.