メロウレイン / Futtara Doshaburi Mellow Rain
Midsummer
Hagiwara had been a salaryman long enough by now that he was used to the stiff, impractical uniform called a suit.
Even so, summer—especially these past few months—was brutal.
The inside of buildings and trains might be comfortable, but just a few minutes' walk to the station, or a few minutes standing on the platform before reaching the ticket gates, were enough to boil his whole body and trap damp heat inside his clothes.
You ignored me today.
The LINE message arrived from Sei while Hagiwara was on the train home.
No, I didn’t.
You did. We made eye contact at the entrance, you made this face, and you ran off.
He must mean when Hagiwara had returned to the office after finishing negotiations with a mass retailer about their sales display.
Sei had indeed been standing near the lift lobby.
Hagiwara had given him a quick “Good work” and a small bow before hurrying into the lift.
But Sei had been with the rental greenery company, supervising the replacement of some enormous potted plants.
Hagiwara had absolutely not ignored him.
I said hello.
You looked like, Oh shit. Like it was bad that I was there.
You’re weirdly sharp sometimes, Hagiwara thought.
Because I was sweaty, he typed.
The trains stopped because of an accident, so I had to walk two stations. I was drenched.
It was true that he had wanted to get away quickly because he knew he probably looked awful.
That’s it? Idiot.
Hagiwara felt faintly irritated by the reply and typed,
Easy for you.
You work indoors, so you can stay looking cool.
You trying to say my job’s easy?
No!
Hagiwara simply did not want Sei to see him looking hot, sweaty, and unpleasant if he could help it.
Working in Sales meant meeting people, so keeping himself presentable was the bare minimum.
In summer he kept two spare shirts and sets of underwear at the office.
He carried an extra handkerchief, deodorant wipes and antiperspirant.
Even when he was busy, at least four days a week he soaked in the bath rather than just taking a shower, deliberately working up a proper sweat.
Sei’s “idiot” had somehow felt like criticism of all those small efforts, and Hagiwara had snapped back with more edge than he intended.
Sei went quiet after that.
Hagiwara was unsure how to follow it up, so he put the whole thing aside.
He was tired, and today had been another ferociously hot day where merely walking outside made him feel as though he might merge with the heat haze.
Until he had washed the sweat off and cleared his head, he did not want to think about anything.
At home, he filled the bath with lukewarm water, washed his hair and body, then lowered himself slowly into the tub.
He usually stayed there for at least half an hour, drinking bottled water.
Sometimes he worked on a waterproofed tablet, sometimes he watched videos.
He never got bored.
Sweat trapped beneath a suit during the day felt revolting, yet the sweat running down his cheeks and temples in the bath felt strangely pleasant.
After one final shower, Hagiwara stepped into the changing area.
He could hear the television.
Apparently Sei had arrived while he was bathing.
Hagiwara reached for a towel, then realised the shelf was empty.
He had hung the clean towels indoors to cool after taking them out of the dryer.
“Nakarai-san.”
“What?”
Sei’s voice sounded completely normal.
It was a little irritating.
It was also a relief.
“Sorry. Can you grab me a bath towel? There should be some hanging around there. Any one’s fine.”
“Okay.”
The sliding door opened and Sei came in carrying a towel.
He was still in salaryman mode minus his jacket and tie.
Hagiwara, meanwhile, was wet and completely naked.
For some reason that suddenly felt embarrassingly intimate.
“Thanks.”
“Mm.”
Sei handed him the towel, then stepped closer to Hagiwara’s still-steaming skin and abruptly licked his upper arm.
It was oddly animal-like, like a dog or cat cautiously greeting another animal for the first time.
“Whoa. What are you doing?”
“Not salty.”
“What?”
“Did you rinse off with the shower before getting out?”
“Yeah.”
“Apparently once you’re sweating clean, watery sweat, you’re better off just letting it happen.”
“Even if you say that…”
Instinctively, Hagiwara still wanted to wash it off.
When he frowned, Sei laughed.
“What’s that face for?”
Then he grabbed the towel and scrubbed Hagiwara’s hair roughly with it.
“Some women in General Affairs were talking about you today.”
“What about me? Actually, no. Don’t tell me.”
“Why?”
“What if they were slagging me off? I’d be depressed.”
“If they were slagging you off, why would I repeat it word for word?”
Sei continued,
“They said, ‘Hagiwara-san never looks hot and sweaty, even in the middle of summer. He always looks so fresh and put-together.’ Happy?”
There was something in that last question that was not quite jealousy, but close enough to it that Hagiwara could hear the edge.
Maybe that was what had put Sei in a mood and led to the LINE conversation in the first place.
“Well…”
Being called fresh was obviously better than being called sweaty and unpleasant.
So why did praise for all his effort somehow make him think, You have no idea what it takes?
“I’m not fresh at all. I’m sweaty, sticky and disgusting.”
“That dramatic?”
Sei was definitely over his mood now.
He was laughing more and more.
“Maybe it’s because I’m a man. I can’t shake the assumption that men are basically smelly and dirty. The boys’ changing room at secondary school in summer was hell.”
“Apparently the girls’ changing room used to be permanently filled with a cloud of Sea Breeze body spray.”
“That sounds infinitely better. Why do you even know that?”
“Someone told me years ago. Can’t remember who.”
Sei said it with a perfectly calm face.
To Hagiwara, Sei himself barely seemed capable of looking sweaty or oppressive.
He was still damp.
Sei might complain if Hagiwara hugged him like this.
Oh well.
He’s cute.
Hagiwara wrapped both arms around him.
Sei did not push him away.
Hagiwara could feel his own damp skin slowly wetting Sei’s shirt.
When he combed his fingers through Sei’s hair, he caught a faint scent like sweet water.
“Hm. Was it raining?”
“No.”
“Oh. Then that’s your smell.”
Hagiwara pressed his lips to the hairline above Sei’s ear.
Sei suddenly braced both arms against him and tried to pull away.
“Hm?”
“I’m having a bath too.”
“You’re fine as you are.”
Hagiwara tightened his arms around him and backed Sei against the sink.
“No, I’m not. People who work indoors still sweat.”
“I know.”
“You literally just said men are dirty and smelly.”
“Forgot already.”
“Hey—ah…”
The moment Hagiwara sucked at his neck, Sei’s body went soft and unreliable in his arms.
“No fair. You’ve made yourself all clean.”
“Then let’s get dirty together.”
Hagiwara smiled against his skin.
“And afterwards, we’ll have a bath together.”
“Ah…”
Right.
He did not mind sweat during sex either.
Even when they ended up soaked as thoroughly as if they had been caught in a downpour.
Even Though It Keeps Raining
The station platform was packed so tightly that Hagiwara immediately knew something had happened.
Sure enough, some kind of track problem had caused major delays.
“Seriously? Just our luck.”
He could not help complaining.
Sei looked at him.
“Want to leave?”
It was a station they normally used only for changing trains.
With no idea of the area, they went through the ticket gates and chose an izakaya that caught their eye.
The food turned out to be surprisingly good.
Both of them were in a good mood by the time they left, so instead of returning to the station, they wandered farther away.
They reached an area packed with tiny factories.
The streets were so empty that the emptiness itself became entertaining, and they kept walking deeper into the maze.
Apart from regularly spaced streetlamps, there was almost no light.
Alone, Hagiwara would probably have hesitated.
Together, curiosity outweighed caution.
“Feels like getting lost in a dream,” Sei said.
“You dream about that?”
“Sometimes. Don’t you?”
“I dream about being late.”
“Corporate drone really is exhausted.”
“Exactly. Going on dates like this once in a while is my only comfort.”
“Listen to you.”
Sei laughed and brushed the tip of his nose lightly against Hagiwara’s.
Maybe because of the alcohol, it was slightly warm.
Hagiwara pulled him closer by the hand.
At that exact moment, something cool dropped onto the top of his head.
“Hm?”
“What?”
“No…”
For a second he thought he had imagined it.
Then he looked up.
The moon that had been bright when they left the station had disappeared behind thick cloud.
“Rain.”
Another drop hit his ear.
Then another.
Drop, drop.
Pat-pat.
Within seconds, the rain grew heavy.
“Oh, come on. We really have no luck tonight.”
They had cheerfully wandered far from the station.
There was no convenience store nearby.
The plain little factories had no useful awnings to shelter under.
They broke into a quick jog, searching for anything that might keep the rain off.
Then Hagiwara spotted a lone rectangular box.
Transparent.
Something you hardly saw anymore.
He pulled open the folding door, the old rubber seal peeling away with a sticky sound.
He pushed Sei in first and squeezed in after him.
The roar of the rain suddenly became distant.
“…Tiny.”
Sei laughed awkwardly, almost wrapping himself around the grey telephone.
“Were phone boxes always this cramped?”
Outside had been chilly, but inside the booth it was already getting stuffy.
There was nothing they could do about that.
“They’re meant for one person.”
“I can’t even remember the last time I went into one. I hardly ever use a public phone at all anymore.”
Hagiwara had used one fairly recently.
The person who had answered had not been Sei.
He decided not to mention it.
“Apparently kids now don’t know how to use them.”
“Seriously? Although, yeah. Some houses don’t even have landlines anymore. To them this must look like some mysterious machine.”
“Even more suspicious when it’s trapped inside a glass box.”
“True.”
Sei traced one finger along the transparent wall.
A torn advert for a telephone dating service still clung to the glass.
God knew how long it had been there.
Was the phone number on it even still active?
“…Oh. Maybe this counts as one of those weird old cards too.”
Sei picked up a telephone card that had been left on top of the phone.
“Wow, nostalgic. My parents had those. Kids now would probably think it was a QUO card.”
He looked closer.
“And this one says ‘Hole-in-One Commemorative Card’. Someone had it custom made.”
The print had faded badly, but there was still clearly a photograph of a man playing golf.
For some reason, Sei picked up the receiver.
It looked absurdly large and heavy now.
He pushed the telephone card into the slot.
With a faint mechanical sound, the machine swallowed it.
A red display lit up.
“03.”
“Oh. It still works.”
“What are you doing?”
“If we just stand here, I feel like it’s going to ring on its own. So I’m calling someone first.”
“Don’t say creepy things like that.”
Sei began pressing the buttons without hesitation.
Even the black numbers were almost worn off the silver keys.
Each press made a hard little click.
After eleven digits, Hagiwara’s mobile started ringing.
“Me?!”
“I remembered your number properly. Impressive, right?”
Sei grinned.
“Turn around when you answer. It’s a phone call.”
“Why?”
Still complaining, Hagiwara twisted awkwardly in the cramped booth until they were back-to-back, then answered on his mobile.
“At least warn me first.”
“Who else would I call?”
“I thought you might call the number on that advert.”
“And what exactly would I say if someone answered?”
Sei’s real voice, the slightly altered voice coming through Hagiwara’s phone and the reflections of both inside the glass booth overlapped until Hagiwara’s ears felt mildly confused.
“So what are you going to talk to me about?”
“Well, since we’re on the phone, tell me your problems.”
“I don’t understand how ‘since we’re on the phone’ leads to that.”
He thought for a moment.
“Going to work tomorrow is depressing.”
“Can’t be helped.”
“It’s raining and we can’t go anywhere.”
“Can’t be helped.”
“You’re not even trying to help.”
“That’s not a problem. That’s just complaining.”
Hagiwara wondered suddenly whether complaining and having a problem really were different things.
Those endless emails he had once sent, pouring everything out—
Had they simply been one enormous complaint?
“What’s the difference between a complaint and a problem?”
“A complaint is something you want to say so you feel better. A problem is something you want solved.”
“Oh.”
Then what he had carried back then really had been a problem.
The solution was not one he could ever have imagined, and Hagiwara was not even sure “solution” was the right word.
He did not wake every day weightless and newly reborn.
He still simply lived his ordinary life.
But his world had undoubtedly changed.
Because of the back pressed firmly against his now.
“So?” Sei asked through both the receiver and the air beside him. “What’s troubling you?”
“Nothing.”
Hagiwara answered without hesitation.
“I’m happy with you, Nakarai-san. So there’s nothing.”
Then, softer,
“Thank you. I love you.”
“That’s boring.”
Sei’s answer sounded dismissive.
But when Hagiwara forced himself around to look at him, he could somehow tell Sei was embarrassed even from the back of his head.
“Nakarai-san.”
“…The phone’s unfair.”
“What?”
“Your voice sounds just slightly different through it. It startled me.”
“You’re the one who called.”
They were already pressed together as tightly as two people could be in the booth, but Hagiwara still put one arm around Sei.
Beyond Sei’s reddened ear, raindrops seemed suspended against the glass.
When Hagiwara kissed the back of his neck, one of those drops finally grew too heavy and ran down in a thin line of water.
The telephone card, almost used up, began to beep.
Soon the call would be cut off.
The empty card would be spat back out.
Then they would have to leave the booth.
The rain still had not stopped.
But they both knew getting wet was no longer something to fear.