メロウレイン / Futtara Doshaburi Mellow Rain

Love Goes On

 

Overall, Sei was satisfied with his work in General Affairs.

 

There was only one duty he absolutely hated.

 

Hated was not quite the right word.

 

It was closer to fear.

 

“…I have to go this afternoon.”

 

The gloomy way Sei murmured it in bed seemed to tell Hagiwara exactly what kind of duty he meant.

 

“Rough, especially on a Saturday.”

 

Hagiwara comforted him with the words and with a hand stroking his hair.

 

“Who is it?”

 

“The head of Media Strategy.”

 

“I see. Nobody I know, then… It’s supposed to rain, so don’t forget an umbrella.”

 

“Mm.”

 

When Sei returned to his own flat from Hagiwara’s, he pulled his funeral suit from the very back of the wardrobe, still covered in the dry cleaner’s plastic.

 

Fastening the black tie made him feel as though someone had put a rope around his neck.

 

Whenever an employee died, General Affairs staff had to help at the wake or funeral.

 

There was never anything particularly difficult to do, but Sei could not stand the atmosphere.

 

He remembered only fragments of how he had seen his own parents off.

 

Even now, the sound of Buddhist chanting made the blood drain from his body, the chill beginning at his feet.

 

When he had first joined the company, people had sometimes become worried about him instead.

 

“You’re completely white. Are you all right?”

 

Compared with those days, he had become much more accustomed to it.

 

He put prayer beads, a condolence envelope and the other necessary things into his black funeral bag and left home.

 

The department head who had died must have been over fifty. It was still far too young, but in one sense that made the duty slightly easier for Sei.

 

When the deceased was a man in his twenties or thirties and small children were sobbing beside the family seats, Sei genuinely could not bear to look.

 

At the funeral hall, he went over the arrangements with the funeral company staff, then calmly explained to the widow how to receive the company’s death-related payments and deal with the necessary tax procedures.

 

By the time mourners began arriving, the rain Hagiwara had predicted started to fall.

 

“Nakarai-kun, sorry. Are you free for a minute?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You know Deputy Manager Kurihara from Facilities Management? He’s apparently just arrived at the station, but he doesn’t have an umbrella.”

 

“Understood. I’ll go and meet him.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Sei was grateful for any excuse to breathe outside air.

 

Carrying an umbrella borrowed from the hall, he headed towards the station and passed numerous mourners on the way.

 

A few faces were familiar.

 

Because of the gloomy weather, the black funeral clothes almost acted as camouflage. Only heads and faces seemed to float beneath the umbrellas one after another.

 

The sight was a little unnerving.

 

“…was going out with her, right?”

 

“Seriously? I thought it was that other girl. The one who transferred in last year… They used to arrange their overtime together and everything.”

 

“Yeah, but it was so obvious that it almost made you think she wasn’t the real one.”

 

“Exactly. How many women was he messing around with?”

 

The conversation drifted into Sei’s ears.

 

At least lower your voices.

 

Surely they were not gossiping about today’s deceased—the ‘main character’ of the day, if that was even an appropriate phrase.

 

Sei wanted to believe they had enough sense to keep their mouths shut once they reached the hall.

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

 

“Oh, sorry, sorry.”

 

The deputy manager offered a token excuse about all the umbrellas at the station shop being sold out.

 

Cheapskate, Sei thought.

 

There was a convenience store directly across one pedestrian crossing from the station exit. The man had obviously decided buying a plastic umbrella for this one errand would be a waste of money.

 

“Still, what a shock. So sudden. He was still young.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“…Well, he was a man who worked hard in all sorts of directions. Sometimes having too much popularity is a mixed blessing.”

 

The implication in his tone made it clear that the women Sei had overheard really had been talking about the deceased.

 

It had nothing to do with Sei, though.

 

All he wanted was for none of it to reach the widow and for the funeral to finish quietly.

 

Back at the hall, a young woman appeared to be having trouble at the reception desk.

 

Sei caught words like, “But…” and “That’s inappropriate,” and already felt tired.

 

Seriously? A scene today of all days?

 

He moved closer as casually as he could.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Ah, Nakarai-kun.”

 

The older female employee handling the guest book looked both angry and exasperated.

 

“Look at this girl’s nails.”

 

The sulking young woman holding the brush pen had joined the company the year before.

 

She worked in another department, but Sei remembered processing her housing allowance paperwork.

 

She was wearing a slightly old-fashioned black outfit that looked as though she might have borrowed it from her mother, and she seemed deeply uncomfortable in it.

 

“…Ah.”

 

Her nails, however, were bright pink, covered in elaborate tips and stones.

 

They were so excessive that Sei wondered how she managed ordinary daily life with them.

 

“What were you thinking? You can’t come to a wake with nails like that.”

 

“What was I supposed to do?” the younger woman shot back. “It’s not as though anyone knows in advance when somebody’s going to die.”

 

“My best friend’s wedding is first thing tomorrow morning. I’d already been to the nail salon when the message about the wake went around. These cost me ten thousand yen. Are you saying I should pay to have all of them removed, then after the wake somehow get them done again? Is the company going to pay for that? And I can’t exactly get another appointment at no notice…”

 

Sei could sympathise with part of her argument.

 

Weddings were expensive enough already. Of course she did not want to destroy nails she had paid a great deal for just because of a supervisor she barely knew.

 

The real problem was the way she was saying it.

 

She was inexperienced at managing situations like this.

 

If she had at least acted apologetic and asked, “What should I do?” as though seeking guidance, people would probably have been far more forgiving.

 

Instead, she had begun by defiantly insisting she was not at fault, which only made everyone more irritated.

 

“What have we done in situations like this before?” Sei asked deliberately, keeping his tone gentle in an attempt to ease the tension.

 

“We’ve had people paint beige polish over them.”

 

“What? No, I don’t want to do that…”

 

“That’s enough. Don’t you understand what’s appropriate for the occasion? And you came here with makeup that flashy in the first place—”

 

“Now you’re complaining about my face too? Then I’d rather just go home.”

 

Oh, for God’s sake. What a nuisance.

 

Sei was frantically searching for something that might calm them both down when a quiet voice said,

 

“You can use these, if you like.”

 

Sei turned.

 

A pair of black gloves was being held out.

 

“Ah…”

 

She was from the Secretarial Department, if he remembered correctly. They had joined the company in the same year.

 

Her face was almost bare of makeup, and she wore a faint smile.

 

Yes, Sei remembered. She always seemed to have that same expression.

 

“You’ll need to take them off only when you offer incense, but they’re better than nothing, aren’t they?”

 

The young employee, who had been bristling like an angry cat moments earlier, immediately seemed to fold beneath the woman’s gentle tone.

 

“I might catch the stones on them,” she said hesitantly.

 

Why couldn’t she have spoken like that from the beginning?

 

Maybe women were actually more obedient to beautiful women than men were.

 

“It’s fine. They’re only a cheap spare pair. Look, these are the expensive ones.”

 

She held up her other hand, showing the delicate black lace glove fitted over her slim fingers.

 

“Then… I’ll borrow them.”

 

“Of course. Weddings and funerals often happen suddenly, and there are lots of little things to learn. They’re part of working life, so just pick them up one at a time.”

“Yes.”

 

The secretary had tamed the rebellion beautifully.

 

After signing the guest book in flowing handwriting, she gave a polite bow.

 

“Thanks for your hard work.”

 

Then she went into the hall.

 

“Honestly… you can tell the girls in the Secretarial Department have been properly trained. Everything about her is elegant.”

 

“She’s got presence.”

 

“Presence? That’s rude. Though I know what you mean. It’s like she was made to wear mourning clothes… Men go weak for that sort of thing, don’t they?”

 

“That’s incredibly inappropriate.”

 

Sei brushed off the joke and returned to his post.

 

Once the stream of arrivals finally settled, he went inside and watched the service. A long line of mourners waited to offer incense.

 

Maybe I should do mine now, he thought.

 

Then an elderly man in the family seating rose unsteadily with the help of a cane, so Sei hurried over to assist him.

 

“Do you need the toilet? This way.”

 

As he supported the man, Sei glanced casually towards the incense altar.

 

It was the secretary’s turn.

 

She looked at the portrait of the deceased and quietly removed her gloves.

 

Sei almost cried out.

 

Her nails were a wet, poisonous red.

 

The colour was violently out of place here—a deep crimson like a single drop of blood.

 

The real one…

 

Could she have been the woman they meant?

 

Sei forced the thought down and stared at her profile.

 

There was no emotion there that he could read.

 

The colour could not possibly be an accident.

 

But did that mean he should read it as malice?

 

A taunt?

 

Anger?

 

A declaration that she had existed in the man’s life?

 

Her restrained, graceful manner gave no hint at all of a raw relationship between a man and a woman.

 

That was precisely why the red on her fingertips struck Sei so powerfully.

 

With perfectly composed movements, she offered incense, put the gloves back on and bowed to the bereaved family.

 

The wife, who had been quietly sobbing the entire time, did not seem to notice the colour of the nails.

 

For a moment as the secretary stepped away from the line, Sei was almost certain their eyes met.

 

She did not so much as move an eyebrow.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

A member of the funeral staff approached, bending slightly towards them.

 

“We can take over and show him the way.”

 

“Ah. Thank you.”

 

Sei handed the elderly man over.

 

He hesitated for a moment, then took an umbrella from the stand in the hall and went outside.

 

“You’ll get soaked.”

 

He could not remember the woman’s name quickly enough, so he simply called out to her.

 

She turned.

 

“…Please, use this umbrella.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

She smiled serenely.

 

“But I’m all right. I forgot to take a claim tag, so now I don’t know which one is mine. That’s why I left it there.”

 

“They’re just plastic umbrellas. They all look the same. It doesn’t matter if yours gets swapped with somebody else’s.”

 

“That’s not true.”

 

Rain struck her black hair and ran over her pale cheeks.

 

For the first time, Sei felt as though he had caught a glimpse of something moving beneath the black mourning clothes.

 

He smiled faintly.

 

For a moment, her expression answered his.

 

“I’m glad,” Sei said.

 

“What about?”

 

“You’re right. There’s no such thing as them all being the same. I don’t want something that isn’t mine.”

 

“I see… Then take care.”

 

There was no point trying to stop her if all it would accomplish was getting both of them unnecessarily wet.

 

Sei turned away.

 

“Nakarai-kun.”

 

He stopped in surprise that she had known his name and looked back.

 

“Every time you came to help with a funeral, you looked as though you were the one about to die.”

 

The comment hit too directly for him to deny it.

 

“But lately you don’t look like that anymore, so I thought that was good. Take care.”

 

She bowed deeply and walked away.

 

The dull sound of her low heels disappeared into the rain.

 

At the end of the service, there was one paper bag containing purification salt and the farewell notice left over.

 

Sei knew exactly who it had been meant for, but he said nothing.

 

Once they had finished seeing everyone off and were dismissed, he checked his phone.

 

Hagiwara had sent a message.

 

Can I go and wait at Nakarai-san’s place?

 

Yeah, Sei replied.

 

He left the umbrella propped in the corridor outside his flat.

 

At the door, he tore open the packet of purification salt, sprinkled a little over both shoulders and brushed it away.

 

He pushed the key into the lock and opened the door.

 

Hagiwara was standing immediately on the other side.

 

“Welcome home.”

 

“I’m home.”

 

With the step giving him a little extra height, Sei stretched up and wrapped his arms around Hagiwara.

 

“You’re freezing,” Hagiwara murmured.

 

“I’ll run the bath.”

 

“Hagiwara.”

 

“Mm?”

 

“Crumple me up.”

 

“What?”

 

“No. Wrong phrase. Wreck me.”

 

“That’s still a pretty shocking thing to say… Did something happen?”

 

“I’ll tell you later.”

 

Sei tightened both arms around him, squeezing until there was no space left between their bodies.

 

“…Are you all right?”

 

“Yeah. It wasn’t something bad.”

 

That was right.

 

She had said she was glad.

 

When she said, “Lately you don’t look like that anymore,” Sei understood it to mean that he was glad Hagiwara was beside him now.

 

She knew nothing about them.

 

Even so, it felt as though, for the first time, somebody else had quietly acknowledged the change in him.

 

Sei was happy.

 

He did not know where that woman, now disappearing alone into the darkness, would go from here.

 

But he hoped that one day the rain would stop for her too.

 

Between Sei’s lips, one grain of salt melted and vanished almost instantly.