メロウレイン / Futtara Doshaburi Mellow Rain

After Rain

 

They really needed to start thinking about dinner soon, whether they ate out or stayed in; otherwise, they were going to get too hungry to move. The only substantial thing in the flat was the whole watermelon Hagiwara had brought over, and Sei would rather not make that the main course.

 

“What do you want to eat?” Hagiwara asked.

 

“More importantly, what kind of places are around here? I don’t know the area at all. I don’t mind getting on a train and going somewhere.”

 

“Give me a minute. Let me think.”

 

Sei held a surprisingly serious conversation with his stomach. Precisely because he was hungry, he didn’t want to settle. If they wandered outside without deciding anything, he knew he would end up pointing at the first thing he saw and saying, That’ll do. Whether it was people or things, properly recognising what you truly wanted was harder than it seemed.

 

About a minute later, he concluded.

 

“Temaki sushi. I want hand-rolled sushi.”

 

“…At a sushi restaurant?”

 

“At home. I want to go to the supermarket, buy whatever we fancy, and roll loads of it.”

 

“Loads?” Hagiwara laughed.

 

“Yeah. Slightly warm sushi rice, seafood, rolled omelette, all wrapped up in thick nori so it crunches when you bite into it.”

 

He was already talking about wasabi soy sauce and adding a bit of mayonnaise to make it properly junky when his stomach clenched hard enough to feel like it was ready to growl.

 

“Damn it.” Hagiwara looked faintly annoyed. “Now my mouth’s completely set on temaki sushi too. I want it.”

 

“My sales pitch isn’t half bad.”

 

There was only one problem: Sei didn’t actually know how to make it.

 

“So do we just cook rice first? How much water do we use?”

 

“If we’re using one of those shop-bought sushi-rice seasoning mixes, I think you just cook it normally…”

 

Neither of them sounded particularly confident, so they looked it up online, set the rice cooker going, then headed to the supermarket.

 

“Nakarai-san, do you have one of those tubs for cooling sushi rice? Or a really big plate?”

 

“No. But I think they sell them upstairs in the supermarket.”

 

“You’re buying something else?”

 

“What do you mean, something else?”

 

“You know… wash tubs, wooden buckets, all those things you don’t normally use in everyday life.”

 

“You’re right. But isn’t there something nice about a home that actually has proper tools for very specific jobs?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Like one of those bamboo mats for rolling sushi. Or a Christmas tree. New Year decorations.”

 

“I don’t think seasonal decorations are quite the same thing. Although, now that you mention it, my parents have a peeler specifically for thick-skinned citrus fruit.”

 

“What on earth is that?”

 

“It’s for things like iyokan and hassaku oranges, the ones with really tough peel. It’s genuinely handy when you have one. Mum bought it from one of those useful-gadget sections at Hands.”

 

“What’s your mum like, Hagiwara?”

 

“Er… that’s hard to answer when you ask me outright. Normal. Just a normal housewife. Dad’s a normal salaryman, and my older brother’s a normal salaryman too.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“Oh, do you want to come to my parents’ place sometime? There’s nothing particularly interesting there.”

 

“Apart from the peeler?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Sei hesitated over whether he ought to answer yes so readily. Of course, he would only be visiting under the perfectly ordinary label of ‘colleague’, but still.

 

As though he had seen straight through his hesitation, Hagiwara added, “You don’t have to make a big thing of it.”

 

“…Okay.”

 

“In return, if you can call it that, next time you go to visit a grave, take me with you.”

 

“…Okay. You can come without making a big thing of it.”

 

“That’s not something you’re supposed to take lightly.”

 

Hagiwara smiled as he contradicted him, and Sei found himself staring at his profile for a moment. It wasn’t only that he was handsome. He really was a good man, Sei thought, almost moved by it. Most people couldn’t say something like that so naturally.

 

The supermarket’s automatic doors opened, and a wash of cool air-conditioning swept over them. It felt wonderful after the slight sheen of sweat they had worked up from walking for little more than ten minutes, even at night.

 

“What fillings do you want?”

 

Hagiwara answered immediately.

 

“Tuna.”

 

“What else?”

 

“Tuna. Emotionally, that’s my only choice.”

 

“What? I didn’t realise you liked tuna that much.”

 

“I do.”

 

“But when we went for sushi before, you ate all sorts of things.”

 

“Because it feels childish and embarrassing. At conveyor-belt sushi I don’t mind quite as much… Although even then, I order tuna first and last. Start with tuna, finish with tuna.”

 

“Is that really childish?”

 

“Maybe not childish exactly. More like… it looks bad. You wouldn’t go to yakiniku and order nothing but kalbi over and over, would you? You think I should probably eat some vegetables too. Parents are always telling you to eat a balanced diet.”

 

“True. Like telling you to make lots of different friends.”

 

“Exactly. You know from nursery school onwards whether you click with someone or not, but if you make it too obvious, you get told off.”

 

“I think that’s because it’s the age when you’re building up your options,” Sei said. “You might think you don’t get on with someone and then unexpectedly become good friends. It’s about widening your world a bit.”

 

And from among all those possibilities, you gradually learnt how to choose something—which also meant learning what not to choose.

 

“I see.”

 

Hagiwara nodded, then smiled a little.

 

“Nakarai-san, you didn’t like me at first, did you?”

 

“You didn’t like me either.”

 

“I thought we weren’t suited to each other.”

 

“Same here.”

 

They shared the strange feeling of it in silence.

 

“…I’m glad we grew up.”

 

Basket in hand, they headed past the vegetable section towards the fresh food counters. Now and then, you could eat nothing but the things you loved, and nobody would scold you for it. You could spend all your time with the person you loved, too.

 

“What do you want, Nakarai-san?”

 

“Tuna as well.”

 

“Oh. Really?”

 

“Processed tuna, though. Tuna mayo.”

 

“You’re such a child…”

 

They picked out plain tuna, negitoro, tuna mixed with avocado, and another prepared yukhoe-style with egg yolk and sesame oil. Just as Hagiwara wanted, tuna made up most of the meal.

 

When they got home, the rice cooker was sending up soft clouds of white steam, filling the small kitchen with the warm, comforting smell of freshly cooked rice.

 

“God, I’m starving now!”

 

While Hagiwara seasoned the rice in the brand-new sushi tub, Sei made a rolled omelette and a simple tofu clear soup—although all he really did was add a little salt and soy sauce to shop-bought granulated dashi.

 

As they worked side by side in the narrow kitchen, Sei realised that it didn’t feel cramped at all. Their elbows brushed; they shuffled sideways past each other; somehow their movements fell naturally into rhythm without clashing.

 

They had never lived together, so why did it feel so easy? It surprised Sei a little, and reassured him a lot. That kind of rhythm mattered, he thought, just as much as being physically compatible in bed.

 

By the time the two of them finally sat down to their late dinner, the worst of their hunger had passed, and Sei almost couldn’t tell whether he still wanted to eat. But the moment he bit through crisp nori wrapped around warm sushi rice and fillings, his appetite came surging back. For a while, both of them ate in concentrated silence.

 

Once they had recovered enough to breathe again, Sei finally said, “Want a beer?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He took two cans from the fridge, and they clinked them together just as they were.

 

“It’s been ages since I had temaki sushi. This is really good.”

 

“Don’t forget the watermelon exists.”

 

“…What’s the quota?”

 

“A quarter of it between us, spread over tonight and tomorrow’s three meals.”

 

“That much I can probably manage.”

 

It sounded like such an ordinary conversation, and that was precisely what made Sei think about it. They would be together until tomorrow night. He hoped Hagiwara was thinking the same thing.

 

On Sei’s beer can were the faint marks of Hagiwara’s fingers, where the thin frost coating the aluminium had melted beneath his touch. Hagiwara was there too, in something as small as that. It made Sei happy.

 

Hagiwara said, “Temaki sushi isn’t really something you make by yourself, is it? You can go out to eat on your own, but…”

 

Sei hadn’t thought about it that deeply, but perhaps Hagiwara was right. They had eaten and drunk together plenty of times before, but this was the first time they had done it at home.

 

The first of what would surely become many more firsts they would build up together.

 

──── 📘📘 ────

 

By the middle of September, a large poster had appeared inside the company lift. In thick vertical brush lettering, it proclaimed, ‘STAFF CANTEEN MARKET!!’ with a huge illustration of a tuna overlapping the words.

 

‘In appreciation of all our employees’ hard work, we will be holding a small thank-you event.’

 

Apparently, they were bringing a whole tuna from Toyosu into the staff canteen, hiring a professional chef to demonstrate how to cut it, and then letting everyone eat as much tuna as they liked.

 

What on earth was this?

 

The lift arrived before Hagiwara could even finish reading the announcement.

 

“Ah. That was me.”

 

That evening, when he remembered the poster while talking to Sei on the phone and asked him about it, Sei admitted it without hesitation.

 

“Remember I told you I had to come up with some project? I was watching you eat tuna, and the idea just popped into my head. I threw together a proposal, and it got approved straight away. The president got ridiculously excited and said, ‘I’m in charge of grating the wasabi!’”

 

“…Right.”

 

“My manager praised me too. Said he never expected Nakarai to come up with something so playful. What am I going to do if I get promoted?”

 

Congratulations, I suppose.

 

“…You’re holding it during lunch, aren’t you?”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“I’m hardly ever in the office at lunchtime!”

 

“Just sneak back for lunch.”

 

“No chance. And isn’t it next Friday? I think I’ve got a day trip that day.”

 

“Oh. That’s a shame.”

 

“You don’t sound particularly disappointed.”

 

“I am. But if it’s work, there’s nothing you can do. I could at least send you photos. Really close-up ones of the fatty tuna. Want a video of them cutting it up?”

 

“What use is that if I can’t eat any of it?! Isn’t this basically me treating the entire company to tuna?”

 

“You’re not paying a single yen.”

 

“But the whole idea came from me! This is ridiculous…”

 

“What, Hagiwara? Are you seriously sulking?”

 

“Who knows.”

 

“Who knows?”

 

About a third of him really was frustrated. The rest of him wanted to keep this silly conversation going a little longer while waiting for Sei to say, "Then let’s go and eat tuna together somewhere."

 

‘I’m at Tokyo Station.’

 

A little after ten that night, a short message arrived from Hagiwara. Sei considered calling, but Hagiwara might not be alone, so he replied by message instead.

 

‘Are you on your own?’

 

‘Just split up from everyone. I’m alone now. Where are you, Nakarai-san?’

 

With that answer, Sei called him without hesitation.

 

“Good work. Welcome back.”

 

“Yeah. Are you home? Can I come over?”

 

“No. I’m at the office.”

 

“Working late?”

 

“Not really. Just come to the office anyway. Come up to General Affairs.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Just do it.”

 

Sei forced the matter through and ended the call. Less than thirty minutes later, Hagiwara arrived wearing a thoroughly unconvinced expression.

 

“…I thought you’d got yourself locked in again.”

 

“No.”

 

Sei tugged him towards a small visitor area separated off by partitions. Their department had chipped in to buy a refrigerator there. There was another one in the shared kitchenette for the whole floor, but it was so small that people were forever fighting over space.

 

“…A privilege of being the man who came up with the idea.”

 

Sei opened the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic container. He slid the lid aside just enough to let Hagiwara see inside.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“I had some of the tuna marinated for me and embezzled it.”

 

“Nakarai-san, you’re the best.”

 

“I know. Hungry?”

 

“Starving. I only had beer snacks on the Shinkansen.”

 

“Shall I go to the convenience store and buy some microwave rice?”

 

“No. Let’s eat it properly.”

 

“You know, demands like that are a real nuisance,” Adachi complained.

 

“Just so you know, the moment you let yourself be lured in by tuna, you became an accomplice.”

 

“The queue in the canteen was massive. I hate waiting in line.”

 

Adachi, Hagiwara and Sei were now in the Product Development Department. In front of the three of them, the latest rice cooker due to go on sale that autumn was busily cooking rice on its quick-cook setting.

 

“Do you lot always do things like this?” Hagiwara asked.

 

“Don’t make us sound dodgy. We’re simply holding a special tasting of the new rice at Hagiwara-kun’s request… Oh, it’s done. Make sure you appreciate the deliciousness of this triple-layered pot.”

 

Whether the credit belonged to the rice cooker or to Adachi’s skill with water measurement, the white rice that emerged from the steam was glossy, each grain standing beautifully on its own.

 

They spooned over slices of lean tuna that had been soaking in the special sauce and ate them together. Three different voices produced three variations of the same sound.

 

“Mm.”

 

“I’m glad I was born in Japan,” Hagiwara murmured with heartfelt sincerity.

 

“Yeah, yeah. This is the sort of thing that’d flash before your eyes when you’re dying.”

 

“What kind of comment is that?”

 

Sitting in the almost deserted office, chatting while secretly eating a late-night meal, gave Sei a strangely nostalgic feeling.

 

“…It’s like eating snacks in the classroom the day before the school festival.”

 

That feeling of being there with whoever happened to be around, no one quite wanting to go home yet, drifting in that unusually extended stretch of after-school time.

 

“Huh. Nakarai-kun, you were the type who actually worked seriously on school festival preparations? Doesn’t look like it.”

 

“For some reason, if I slacked off, it really stood out.”

 

“Ah, you do have that languid sort of atmosphere. Maybe you look less motivated than you really are.”

 

“You know those people who somehow make it look like they’re working at all the important moments while slipping away from everything else? I was never good at that.”

 

“Adachi is,” Hagiwara said.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean? And Hagiwara, you’re seriously ungrateful.”

 

“What did I do?”

 

“You were miserable after breaking up with your girlfriend, so I kept inviting you out to cheer you up, and you never wanted to do anything. Then you suddenly recovered on your own, and now you’re using me whenever it’s convenient.”

 

“What exactly did you invite me to?”

 

Hagiwara frowned.

 

“My options were a singles mixer, a hostess club or a brothel.”

 

“That’s the best cure for heartbreak.”

 

“Why would it be…?”

 

“Fine. Should I have invited you bowling or to the batting cages instead?”

 

“The thought of getting sweaty with Adachi makes me feel sick.”

 

“There you go saying things like that again.”

 

Oh. Sei realised it only now. He really had been miserable. Sei hadn’t known what Hagiwara had been like during the period when they weren’t speaking. Looking back on his own state at the time, it wasn’t difficult to imagine, but hearing it confirmed by someone else made it suddenly real.

 

He’d been miserable then. But he was all right now. Good. They made rice balls from the leftovers, divided them between themselves and cleaned everything up.

 

Sei assumed they were finally going home, but Hagiwara said, “Wait a second,” and headed back towards the General Affairs floor.

 

He hadn’t left anything there.

 

“What?”

 

“This way.”

 

Hagiwara took his hand and led him to the refreshment area.

 

“What do you want to drink?”

 

“Er… coffee.”

 

At Hagiwara’s prompting, Sei chose a hot coffee from the cup vending machine. Hagiwara pressed the same button for himself.

 

They stood side by side looking out of the window. At this hour, the lights of the office district had thinned considerably. The scattered lights in the building opposite blurred slightly behind the steam rising from the rim of Sei’s paper cup.

 

If all this warm air could reach the sky, would it eventually become part of a cloud and fall again as rain?

 

Hagiwara spoke. “I wanted to redo it.”

 

“What?”

 

“Last time we parted here, I was genuinely sad. And frustrated. So I thought I’d overwrite that memory with a good one. Don’t laugh.”

 

“I’m not laughing.”

 

“You are.”

 

“How can you tell?”

 

Yes.

 

It had hurt. He had been sad and frustrated. He had thought it was over, and regretted the foolish step he had taken when he couldn’t even see what lay ahead. But now they were here, beside each other in the same place, but as two people who were the same and yet no longer the same.

 

Hagiwara had said he wanted to redo it, even though he knew as painfully well as Sei did that there was no such thing as truly doing something over. Perhaps the very futility of wanting something you knew could never happen was what made the wish so precious.

 

“Shall we overwrite it a little more?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Sei leaned towards Hagiwara and pressed their lips together.

 

They stayed like that until the coffee in their hands cooled and no longer gave off steam.