メロウレイン / Futtara Doshaburi Mellow Rain

Yellow Star

 

While the three of them were drinking, Adachi suddenly said,

 

“Oh, by the way, I’m getting married.”

 

“What?”

 

The announcement had less of a sense of occasion than if he had said, I’m off to Hawaii next month. Sei stared at him in disbelief, and Hagiwara, sitting beside him, seemed equally taken aback.

 

“To who?” Sei asked.

 

“To who? Obviously the person I’m seeing now. Come on.”

 

“I don’t know. Somehow, it feels more like you are marrying some woman you met three days ago.”

 

“Don’t say that. You make me sound unhinged.”

 

“No, I get what he means. But marriage? Why? Weren’t you the one saying you were going to mess around until you were at least thirty?”

 

“Well, yeah. That was the plan,” Adachi replied, still as breezy as ever.

 

“There’s only one reason I’d suddenly need to get married. Take a guess.”

 

The answer was obvious enough, but was this really the appropriate tone for it?

 

“…She’s pregnant?”

 

Sei had deliberately chosen the gentlest possible phrasing rather than saying they had got pregnant by accident, yet Adachi slapped a hand to his forehead and announced, without the slightest trace of tragedy,

 

“Yep. We went and did it!”

 

He did not seem to be forcing the cheerfulness either.

 

“Well, then…”

 

“Congratulations.”

 

Somehow Sei and Hagiwara were the ones who became solemn, offering their congratulations awkwardly.

 

“Thanks, thanks. But it’s weird. I swear I’ve never once done it without a condom.”

 

Hagiwara stared at him, speechless.

 

“You idiot.”

 

“I don’t remember one slipping off or tearing either. Think I got set up? Put it in and got stitched up, maybe? Ha-ha.”

 

That was not remotely funny.

 

“If someone poked a hole in the condom, that would already be bad. I mean, not good at all, obviously. But what if… what if…”

 

Since they were talking about someone else’s girlfriend, Hagiwara clearly found it difficult to voice the uglier possibility.

 

Adachi, however, picked it up without hesitation, almost as though they were discussing somebody else entirely.

 

“Ah, worst-case scenario, it isn’t mine? Then I suppose it’s just better luck next time!”

 

“We’re the ones who get to say that.”

 

“I honestly don’t have time to sit around overthinking it. Tomorrow I’ve got to go to her parents’ house and let her dad punch me. I haven’t even told my own parents yet. She says she still wants a wedding even if she’s showing a bit by then. Ah, but first we need to register the marriage. Apparently there are things like the surname on the maternity handbook and all that.”

 

He counted the tasks off on his fingers. Every single one was life-changing, and each one would have been enough to make a normal person hesitate.

 

What could anyone possibly say in the face of all that?

 

And yet Sei suddenly understood exactly why Adachi was popular with women. He was absurdly open, with no lid or filter to be found. There were probably plenty of women who became stubbornly determined to make a man like this look their way. It was almost like trying to beat a game.

 

“Um… if you get stuck with any of the paperwork for work, ask me anything.”

 

“Knew I could count on General Affairs. I’m hopeless at all that stuff, so I’ll seriously be relying on you.”

 

“Right. Well, shall we order another round? Our glasses are empty. Whatever else it is, this is still something to celebrate. Let’s toast. Beer all right?”

 

Hagiwara demonstrated his usual talent for smoothing things over and ordered three draught beers.

 

“So that’s the end of Adachi’s womanising?”

 

“Nah, I’ll still have a bit of fun. In moderation. Quitting all at once would probably be bad for my health.”

 

“You really don’t feel guilty about anything, do you…”

 

“Then again, guys like this are exactly the ones who turn into complete softies once the baby’s born and lose interest in messing around.”

 

Sei said it with a laugh, then suddenly startled himself.

 

Whose future had he just been talking about?

 

He realised he had not thought about marriage in years. In fact, saying he had never really thought about it at all would be more accurate. Just before entering adult working life, the course of his life had veered so far off the expected route that the subject had disappeared.

 

Hagiwara was different.

 

By the time he had been living with Kaori, he must have been looking at marriage as a realistic possibility. And beyond that, surely there had been a vision of having children.

 

Even without Sei, things might still have fallen apart between Hagiwara and Kaori. But whether the next person was a man or a woman would make a completely different life possible.

 

They were at an age when life could change dramatically in any direction. Every road ahead was equally opaque, like trying to see through beer in a mug, thickly fogged with condensation.

 

“Nakarai-san, the beer’s here.”

 

“Mm.”

 

This kind of hesitation was pointless when he had no intention of leaving Hagiwara anyway. Sei told himself he was only playing with worries for the sake of worrying.

 

What happened from here was Hagiwara’s decision to make.

 

In a way, Sei was glad Hagiwara was a man. The time limit on having children was not as unforgiving for him as it would have been for a woman.

 

“All right, then. Once again—to Adachi’s new beginning.”

 

They had just raised their glasses when a loud voice barged into the moment.

 

“Hagiwara!”

 

“Ah, good evening.”

 

“What the hell, you were drinking here?”

 

“Looks like a coincidence.”

 

“I’m the one who told you about this place!”

 

“Did you?”

 

“When did you get so full of yourself?”

 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. Ah, Nakarai-san, he’s a senior from Sales.”

 

Hagiwara directed the last part towards Sei, while the man ruffled his hair as if he were a child.

 

Judging from Adachi’s expression, the two of them had met before. Apparently, Sei was the only person who had been caught completely off guard.

 

He briefly considered introducing himself, since they all worked for the same company, but the senior showed such refreshingly complete disinterest in Sei that he decided not to bother either.

 

“What are you drinking? Beer? Fine, I’ll have one too.”

 

The man dropped into the empty seat and ordered for himself without waiting to be invited.

 

Seriously?

 

Adachi looked resigned, almost as though he had expected something like this. Hagiwara wore a helpless expression, but did not complain openly.

 

It was hardly a formal occasion; they were all colleagues, and the hierarchy inside Sales was probably far more firmly fixed than someone in an administrative department like Sei realised.

 

“Remember when you used to read Hakushu as Shirasu?”

 

“Oh, come on. Forget that. I was brand new. I’d never drunk whisky before.”

 

“Was it just whisky? You read Kannoko literally as Kami no Kawa too. But the clients remembered you after that and took a liking to you, so even now I wonder if you did it on purpose.”

 

“Why would I deliberately embarrass myself like that…”

 

Since the man appeared to have forgotten that the other two people at the table existed, Sei took advantage of it and looked him over without restraint.

 

He had the build of someone who had spent his student years playing sport, short-cropped hair that looked stiff to the touch, and a solid wedding ring on his left hand.

 

Yes. Exactly the sort of man who seemed to have entered a thoroughly sensible, practical marriage. His wife would probably start working part-time once their children were older. They would buy a house and own annual passes to a theme park.

 

There was absolutely no chance he harboured sexual interest in his junior colleague.

 

So why did he insist on leaning so bloody close whenever he spoke to Hagiwara?

 

Maybe it only felt unpleasantly clingy because Sei’s own mind was clouded by jealousy.

 

“Excuse me, I need to make a call.”

 

Pretending to search his inside pocket, Sei got up and, once he was near the toilets, sent Adachi a message.

 

Gross.

 

Adachi appeared almost immediately, trying desperately not to laugh.

 

“I know how you feel, but Nakarai-kun, it’s all over your face. Well, he hasn’t noticed, so I suppose it’s fine.”

 

“His sense of personal space is ridiculous. And the timing when he barged over here was awful. Read the room a little.”

 

“Maybe once he spots Hagiwara, that’s all he can see. He seriously loves the guy. Not in a weird way, probably. He’s married with kids.”

 

So Sei had guessed correctly.

 

“He’s always been like that. I suppose it means he rates Hagiwara highly. When Hagiwara had a girlfriend, he kept demanding to meet her. Hagiwara isn’t stupid, so apparently he kept dodging it.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Because once he met her, he’d either drag his own wife into some full-on couples friendship or start sizing the girlfriend up with that sort of look. It’s heavy. If Hagiwara ever got married and had a kid, that bloke would absolutely try to get involved in naming it. He’s that classic clingy old-school sports-club type. The kind of man who gets emotionally attached to other men. A girlfriend or wife doesn’t fill whatever that need is.”

 

“…Adachi-kun, you really say what you think.”

 

“Why would I need to look at another man through kind eyes?”

 

He said it with a perfectly straight face.

 

“And it’s not like I hate him. I don’t like him either, but I hardly deal with him, and he isn’t a bad person. He looks like the kind of bloke who’d enthusiastically volunteer for the PTA or neighbourhood association. People like him are probably why society keeps functioning. Anyway, I’ll go back first. Give it a minute before you come back.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Adachi’s rapid-fire rant had gone a long way towards clearing Sei’s irritation. If he had deliberately let loose like that to give Sei somewhere to vent, then he really was remarkably sharp and considerate.

 

Unfortunately, when Sei returned to the table, the senior had shamelessly taken Sei’s seat—which meant he was now sitting directly beside Hagiwara.

 

Sei felt something crack at his temple.

 

And now the man was smoking too.

 

Every subject somehow ended with either how much he had looked after Hagiwara or how well he knew Hagiwara.

 

Who exactly was this territorial display aimed at?

 

Me?

 

Me, right?

 

Frankly, actual romantic interest would have been easier to understand.

 

Thankfully, the uninvited guest was eventually called back to the group he had originally been with, leaving them alone.

 

The final thing that irritated Sei was the ten-thousand-yen note he dropped on the table with a casual, “Put this towards the bill.”

 

That was not the kind of consideration Sei wanted.

 

This sort of not-a-bad-guy behaviour only made the whole thing more aggravating.

 

“Oh, right.”

 

Perhaps trying to clear the awkward atmosphere, Hagiwara suddenly spoke in an unusually bright voice.

 

“I saw this on a business trip the other day.”

 

He opened the photo folder on his phone. On the screen was a yellow train, its body as bright as a sunflower with a blue stripe running along it.

 

“Oh.”

 

Adachi immediately leaned closer, but Sei had no idea what he was looking at.

 

“That’s Doctor Yellow. Where did you take it?”

 

“Nagoya. I’ve passed one before, but that was the first time I’d seen one stopped at a station. I got a bit excited.”

 

“Is that why the photo’s slightly blurred?”

 

“I was panicking because I thought the families with kids would steal the best spot.”

 

“What’s Doctor Yellow?”

 

Both Hagiwara and Adachi looked at Sei with identical expressions of surprise.

 

Was this really supposed to be common knowledge? Somehow that annoyed him too.

 

“You don’t know it, Nakarai-san?”

 

“I’m not a train nerd.”

 

He answered flatly.

 

“I’m not either.”

 

“It runs on the Shinkansen lines now and then,” Adachi cut in, apparently trying to smooth things over. “It checks the rails and stuff. Ordinary people don’t know when or where it’ll appear, so seeing one is rare. I’ve never seen one in person.”

 

“They say something good happens if you spot it, right?”

 

“Huh. So, Hagiwara, did something good happen to you?”

 

“What?”

 

His face clearly said, You’re actually asking that?

 

Sei knew perfectly well it was not like finding a four-leaf clover or a star-shaped Pino, something that came with a specific promised reward. Seeing it was itself meant to be the tiny piece of good luck.

 

Yes, yes. He understood.

 

Apparently he was in a worse mood than he had realised.

 

“Oh, was the good thing getting ten thousand yen from your ‘senior’ earlier?”

 

“He didn’t give it to me.”

 

“If you hadn’t been there, he definitely wouldn’t have left it. He wouldn’t even have noticed I existed.”

 

“Come on…”

 

“All right, enough with the tension, please! Yeah? Yeah? I’ve got an early start tomorrow, and I can’t turn up to meet her parents hungover, so I’m going home. See you!”

 

Was this how Adachi always escaped anything troublesome?

 

Once he forcibly called the evening to an end and stood up, there was obviously no atmosphere left for Sei and Hagiwara to remain behind drinking as a pair.

 

After they left the bar and parted from Adachi, Sei held out a five-thousand-yen note to Hagiwara.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“Give it back to that senior of yours for me. There’s no reason for him to pay for my share. I didn’t even say a single word to him.”

 

“No chance.”

 

Of course not.

 

A man the senior had effectively treated as invisible could hardly be allowed to damage his pride by sending money back. Sei knew that. He was taking his irritation out on Hagiwara.

 

“And I know this goes without saying, but I absolutely hate men like that. Seriously. I can’t stand him. He’s so bloody annoying.”

 

Hagiwara reluctantly tucked the note into his wallet.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“I’m not angry at you.”

 

Which was precisely why Sei knew Hagiwara felt trapped in the middle.

 

And saying this was hardly making him feel any better.

 

“He is a pretty intense person, but he taught me the job from scratch, so to me he was a good senior. The person assigned to train you when you first start is special, isn’t it? Didn’t you have someone like that, Nakarai-san?”

 

“My senior was a woman, so it was different.”

 

“Well, if I’d had a choice, obviously I’d have preferred a woman too.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s normal.”

 

“Wait, hold on. That isn’t what we were talking about.”

 

“What isn’t?”

 

“Nakarai-san…”

 

Sei stopped and mentally retraced the conversation.

 

How had they even ended up here?

 

Hagiwara had done absolutely nothing wrong. Sei would never have fallen for a man who eagerly joined in whenever Sei bad-mouthed someone.

 

So was Sei the problem?

 

He had thrown out a few little barbs and somehow managed to turn the atmosphere genuinely hostile. But he was not mature enough to smile sweetly and say, Well, people are complicated, aren’t they?

 

Right. He was difficult. Hagiwara had told him as much before. And Hagiwara knew that already, didn’t he? Sei thought too long and went quiet. That was the mistake. Hagiwara clamped his mouth shut too.

 

It felt as though a whole boiled egg had lodged in Sei’s throat, blocking every word that might have broken the silence. And in situations like this, apologising just to smooth things over somehow made the tension worse.

 

So they went silently through the station gates, Hagiwara following beside him. At least Hagiwara still seemed to intend to stay over as they had originally planned. Sei was relieved by that, but the thought of dragging this atmosphere all the way home was unbearable.

 

What do I do?

 

If that pushy idiot hadn’t appeared, none of this would have happened. The irritation must have shown on Sei’s face again because Hagiwara let out a long sigh.

 

Great. Now he thinks I’m still angry. Sei had only got irritated remembering it. And what was with the dramatic sigh?

 

In a calmer frame of mind, he might have realised Hagiwara had not meant anything by it. At the moment, however, Sei could only take everything in the worst possible way. A dark filter had settled over his thoughts.

 

When they boarded the train, a seat became free.

 

“Go on,” Hagiwara said curtly.

 

Sei knew perfectly well that sitting down with a simple thanks would probably change the direction of the whole evening. Instead, he shook his head.

 

“I’m fine. I sit at a desk all day. I’m not tired. You sit.”

 

“I’m not tired either.”

 

The empty seat was quickly taken by another passenger, but the unnatural distance of two hanging straps between them remained. Sei glanced at Hagiwara’s stubborn reflection in the window, faintly superimposed over the night outside. Lights streamed across both of them. Another elevated line appeared between gaps in the buildings.

 

The train near the end of the day was unnaturally quiet, as though everyone’s mouths had been stitched shut. Music leaking from earphones, the carriage shifting along the rails, notification sounds from phones. Hardly a human sound among them.

 

“Ah.”

 

Sei’s own voice slipped unexpectedly into the silence. The line beside them was a Shinkansen route. A yellow train, unmistakable even in the dark, swept past their window in only a few seconds.

 

A shooting star.

 

Doctor Yellow.

 

Sei looked sharply at Hagiwara and their eyes met.

 

Did you see it?

 

Sei nodded several times.

 

The exhausted, wilted-vegetable atmosphere inside the carriage shifted, just a little.

 

“Did something just go past?”

 

“Wasn’t it a Shinkansen?”

 

“No, something different.”

 

“Doctor Yellow?”

 

“No way. You should’ve told me!”

 

“It was there for one second!”

 

“It might pass my friend’s place. I’m sending them a LINE.”

 

A tiny ripple of the extraordinary spread through the carriage, and everyone began peering through the windows. Something had happened. Something good, apparently.

 

When people realised it was already over, they obediently settled back into silence. But the sense that something had happened remained, and it washed away the small friction between Sei and Hagiwara.

 

“It’s much shorter than a normal Shinkansen.”

 

“Yeah. About seven carriages, I think.”

 

“Show me that photo again. Actually, send it to me.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

Each of them shifted one hanging strap closer. Their shoulders touched. Sei felt relieved—not merely because the awkwardness was gone, but because they could have stupid little arguments like this.

 

After everything strange and complicated that had brought them together, they could still trip over something completely trivial and correct their course again without some dramatic reconciliation.

 

This was daily life.

 

Ordinary days.

 

And that was fine.

 

Better than tying an eternal knot that could never loosen was noticing when it slackened, saying, Oops, and each pulling their own side tight again. Better to repeat that over and over, even while thinking, Not this again.

 

By the time they had settled into that quiet agreement, their station was approaching. They would not always happen to encounter a yellow star at exactly the same moment. But that was all right.