Everywhere he went, he heard some sort of Christmas song playing. Everyone on the streets seemed restless in anticipation.
Matsuoka boarded a subway that connected directly to the underground level of a department store, dressed as a woman for the first time in ages. His fur-trimmed white coat flattered his entire figure, even in his own opinion. Already, two men had tried to strike up a conversation with him while he waited for the train.
It was not quite peak hour yet, but the train was still rather crowded. Apart from his purse, Matsuoka was also holding a paper bag, which contained a gift he’d just bought. After debating a great deal over what to get, he had ended up getting gloves. They were simple black leather gloves, thin but very warm. Ties and clothes were greatly subject to personal taste, but Matsuoka felt people tended to have less preferences with gloves. Black gloves, in particular, would be easy to co-ordinate with anything.
As he cast his gaze across the boring scenery out the subway window, Matsuoka sighed for another countless time. Since then―since approaching Hirosue at the station, he hadn’t seen the man at all. He had no luck staking out the station closest to Hirosue’s apartment, either, presumably because of the man’s erratic work hours. Matsuoka had his own work, so he wasn’t always able to stake out the station at the same time every day. Failed attempt after failed attempt aggravated him until his impatience reached its peak.
Before he knew it, it was Christmas Eve. Matsuoka wanted some way to give the man a gift; that was his only reason for crossdressing today. He simply wanted to make the man happy. He wasn’t thinking about what would follow afterwards.
He got off at the nearest station to Hirosue’s apartment and went through the ticket gates. It was seven in the evening, but there were no lights on in Room 306 on the third floor. Having made sure Hirosue wasn’t home, he headed back to the front of the station again and waited in front of the ticket gates for Hirosue to come through. He knew he could have waited at the man’s apartment, but he wouldn’t be able to explain himself if Hirosue asked how he knew the address. That was why Matsuoka was going to feign a chance meeting at the station. As for the gift, he would explain that he initially got it from someone else without realizing they were men’s gloves. Maybe it was rude to re-gift, but he didn’t want to give Hirosue false hopes by saying he bought them himself.
Even though Matsuoka had planned to get rid of Yoko Eto completely, when the need arose, he found himself using her existence to his advantage. He knew he was being contradictory, but he couldn’t help it.
He heard a joyful exclamation beside him. The people around him looked up at the sky. It was snowing. Though the air had been uncannily cold since this morning, he hadn’t expected it to snow.
He admired the coming of a white Christmas, but that feeling was brief. As the evening wore on and the bustle gradually died out, Matsuoka began to feel anxious. Hirosue was bound to come through the station, which was why he was waiting here. But even after two hours, there were no signs of him. He had already gone to the man’s apartment once and made sure he wasn’t home yet. Hirosue had to pass through the station to get home.
He has to be coming, Matsuoka told himself, but froze the next moment as realization dawned on him. Perhaps Hirosue was celebrating his birthday with someone. If not a girlfriend, maybe a friend. If so, he would probably not come home for some time, and if he did, there was a chance he would use some other mode of transportation.
Matsuoka hastily headed back towards Hirosue’s apartment, his legs stiff and weary from standing. The apartment window was lit, and Matsuoka’s shoulders sagged as he realized the man had come home without taking the train.
Now the option of feigning coincidence was out of the question. Matsuoka was at his wit’s end. If he visited Hirosue just to give him a gift, he would give the man false hope. But even if he didn’t, Hirosue might still get the wrong idea if he found out the gift was from him.
He could hang the gift on Hirosue’s doorknob and go home―but if he didn’t sign it with a name, the man would probably be more suspicious than happy. Matsuoka arrived in front of Hirosue’s door, still unable to come to a decision. There was a doorbell, but he couldn’t push it. Matsuoka quietly drew closer, and heard the sounds of the TV playing inside.
The minutes wore on without meaning. Five minutes. Ten minutes. After much internal debate, Matsuoka took out his notebook. On a blank page, he wrote, ‘A present for you. -Yoko’.
“Ms. Yoko?”
Matsuoka whipped around in surprise. Hirosue was standing there, wearing a black sweatshirt and sweatpants. A convenience-store bag dangled from his right hand. Matsuoka had heard footsteps, but had ignored them since he thought Hirosue was inside.
“It is you, Ms. Yoko.” His look of astonishment turned to joy. Just the sight of it made Matsuoka’s heart race.
“You knew where I live?”
There was no way he could say he had followed the man home once. Matsuoka hastily flipped the page over and thought of an excuse.
‘An acquaintance of mine lives nearby. That’s when I caught a glimpse of you.’
Hirosue read the note. “I see,” he murmured. Matsuoka held out the gift he was holding.
“What’s this?”
Matsuoka showed him the note he had written earlier, saying “a present for you”.
“But why?”
‘For your birthday,’ Matsuoka added. Hirosue stared at the note, then lifted his face.
“Thank you,” he said, but his hands did not move to accept the gift. “I guess I mentioned my birthday to you somewhere along the way, didn’t I? I’m really happy that you got this for me, but your thoughts are enough.”
Matsuoka bit his lip lightly. He thrust the gift out.
“I’m sorry to do this after you went through the trouble of getting it, but I don’t want any physical objects from you.”
Matsuoka hung the bag on the doorknob, then slipped past Hirosue. Just as he was about to go down the stairs, the man stopped him. Hirosue’s grip on his right arm was so strong it hurt.
“What’s going on in your mind?” the man asked, his face contorted in desperation. “You stopped answering my e-mails, so I thought you’d dumped me. I tried to forget you. I had to make myself forget you. But why are you showing up now? Why are you giving me hope again with a present? My mood hinges on your every whim. It’s like I’m on an emotional roller coaster, and I can’t stand it.”
Matsuoka struggled when he felt himself being drawn closer, but the man was several times stronger than him.
“I love you.”
Matsuoka felt faint as he was embraced.
“You know that, don’t you?” In words Hirosue reproached him, but with his arms he held him close. Matsuoka’s back hurt from the man’s grip. At the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, Hirosue snapped out of it abruptly straightened up. With a firm grip on Matsuoka’s right wrist, he picked up the convenience-store bag he had dropped in front of the door and fished out a key from the pocket of his sweats.
A young man emerged at the top of the stairs, and he gave a sidelong glance at Matsuoka and Hirosue in passing. Matsuoka was struck with fear as he realized he was going to be dragged inside. Things would get too risky if they were alone together.
The door opened. Matsuoka pulled his right hand away, trying to shake free, but he was drawn closer with twice as much force. His high-heels made him unsteady on his feet, and he teetered precariously. He was taken inside, still entrapped in the man’s arms.
He sensed the man trying to kiss him on the doorstep, and averted his face. The man didn’t try to kiss him forcefully this time, but instead stood there looking completely lost. He had let his tumultuous feelings get carried away enough to drag Matsuoka in, but now he seemed to be confused about what to do.
“Please come in. I hope you’ll excuse the mess…”
There wasn’t much point to the invitation, since Matsuoka had already been dragged in.
“I won’t do anything to you,” he added, as if sensing Matsuoka’s concern. His handcuff-like fingers fell away. Now, it was up to Matsuoka’s free will. If he wanted to go home, he just had to walk out the door. If he wanted to stay, he could do that, too.
He could hear the sounds of the TV further inside the room. The muted chatter of it made the tense situation seem ridiculous.
Matsuoka opened the door and stepped outside first. The gift was still hanging from the doorknob. He took it and offered it to Hirosue again. Hirosue
didn’t even try to smile out of politeness; he accepted it looking like he was about to cry.
In the cramped doorway, Matsuoka bent forward slightly and took off his shoes. When he entered the apartment, the roughly four-square-metre room had a futon still laid out in a corner and a kotatsu in the centre. It was certainly far from a fashionable apartment; there were signs of everyday life all over the place.
Matsuoka sat in front of the kotatsu. When he stuck his feet inside, the heat enveloped his extremities. Hirosue stood vacantly at the entrance for a while, but eventually came in. His stepped cautiously, even though this was his own apartment.
“I’m sorry it’s so messy. Really,” he mumbled, hastily scooping up tangerine peels from the table and throwing them in the garbage.
There was nothing eye-catching in the room. Matsuoka stared at his surroundings with immodest interest, making Hirosue duck his head in awkward nervousness.
“Um, would you like some coffee or something?” Hirosue busily went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Even though the water was far from boiling, he didn’t move a single step away from the propane range.
“I hope you don’t mind instant coffee.”
The coffee placed before him smelled the same as the instant coffee that was always served for afternoon break at his work. It was unremarkable in both smell and taste, but it still warmed him up.
“Are you hungry?” Hirosue asked from across the table, not even touching the coffee he had poured for himself.
‘A little,’ he replied truthfully on paper. As soon as he handed it over, the man began to panic.
“I have rice balls from the convenience store. Is that okay with you?”
From the frequently-dropped bag, he took out an assortment of side dishes such as packaged rice balls, salad, stewed vegetables, and boiled greens with dressing. Although Matsuoka was hungry, he was reluctant to eat what was clearly intended to be Hirosue’s dinner.
‘But this is your dinner, isn’t it?’ he wrote, but the man hastily shook his head.
“That’s alright,” he said. “I’m not that hungry.” His stomach growled plaintively as soon as the words were out of his mouth. The man flushed deeply. “My stomach hasn’t been doing that well,” he said lamely.
Since he couldn’t steal a hungry man’s dinner, Matsuoka wrote him a note.
‘I’ll go out and buy something.’
The man changed colour upon seeing the note. “You don’t need to go,” he blurted. “I really don’t want it. Please, eat this.”
Hirosue was reluctant to let him go outside, yet he showed no move to go out and buy something for Matsuoka himself. Matsuoka wondered why Hirosue didn’t want to leave his apartment. He then realized he was wrong: Hirosue wasn’t reluctant about leaving his apartment; he was reluctant about leaving Matsuoka alone.
‘Let’s each have half, then,’ Matsuoka suggested as a compromise. Hirosue still insisted he didn’t want any, but Matsuoka ignored him and briskly split the meal into two equal portions. He began to eat his portion, and Hirosue hesitated before starting on his own. Once they finished their meal, Hirosue cleaned off the table in a spirited bustle. The TV was showcasing a gorgeous display of Christmas lights.
‘Take a look at the present.’
Hirosue had sat back down across from him. After reading the note, he reached over to the paper bag and pulled it closer. He peeled each piece of tape off the package with great care. When the gloves appeared, a natural smile graced his lips. He stroked the gloves with his fingertips as if to savour the feel of the leather, and then put them on. He lightly flexed his long fingers.
“They’re so warm. Thank you. Are you sure I can have such a nice pair of gloves? I feel like they’re too good to wear.”
‘Nonsense. Please wear them often.’
The man smiled and put the gloves back in the box. Once the big presentation was over, silence fell again.
“Oh, would you like some tangerines? My parents sent them from the countryside.” Without waiting for an answer, the man took out a few tangerines from the cardboard box in a corner of the room and placed them on the table.
To be truthful, the meagre amount of dinner had been barely enough to fill Matsuoka up. He helped himself to the tangerines as if to make up for it. The TV was still robustly broadcasting Christmas-related segments. Matsuoka found himself wondering when would be the right time to go home.
It wasn’t like he wanted to go home, but he also did feel like he wasn’t allowed to be here for long. Halfway through his third tangerine, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Suddenly, he became so nervous that it was difficult to bring the food to his lips as easily as he had just moments ago.
He sensed the man across from him shifting, and put himself on guard. Hirosue came over beside Matsuoka, and sat with his knees together. Matsuoka thought he would say something, but Hirosue only stared at the floor and did not open his mouth.
“I feel like I have a pedigreed cat in my room that’s too good for the place.” The words, when they finally came, were abstract. “I feel like you shouldn’t be here after all.”
He was awfully weak-willed for someone who had dragged him into his apartment. The man slowly looked up at the wall.
“The last train leaves in thirty minutes.”
Matsuoka felt like he was being told to go home. He got up.
“What? What’s wrong? Are you going home?”
Now Matsuoka was confused at being held back. Isn’t that why you told me when the last train was leaving? Because you want me to go home? He was the one that wanted to ask.
“But if you want to go home, I can’t hold you back―” His pitiful face said he didn’t want Matsuoka to go. Matsuoka sat back down, unable to fathom Hirosue’s intentions.
Hirosue placed both hands on the floor and slowly crawled his way closer to Matsuoka. Even when they were nose-to-nose, Matsuoka didn’t try to get away; he had seen Hirosue’s face―and the man looked like he was about to cry. They bumped noses on their first kiss. It was unbelievably clumsy, but Matsuoka couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
They shared one chaste kiss, their lips merely brushing against each other’s. It was a childish kiss, but Matsuoka’s ears still burned. They kissed for a second time, then a third.
On the fourth, the man touched his hair, which made him scoot back hastily. Hirosue suddenly gave him a hurt look. Matsuoka went over to the notebook lying on top of thekotatsu.
‘I don’t like people touching my hair,’ he wrote. When he picked the book up to show Hirosue, he felt a presence behind him. Before he could turn around, he was embraced from behind.
He nearly let out a voice. He felt the man’s body heat right up against his back. His strong arms were crossed over Matsuoka’s abdomen. Matsuoka was completely trapped between the man’s legs.
He felt a wet sensation on his neck. He didn’t feel pain from the biting kiss, but it made his heart flutter. He felt the hand on his belly slowly creeping up his side, and he hastily wrote, ‘Don’t,’ on a note. This time, the man’s fingers descended along his hipbone and stroked his thigh. Matsuoka grabbed the man’s teasing hand.
Once he was refused, Hirosue didn’t try to touch him again. But since there was no restriction on kisses, he kissed Matsuoka many, many times.
Their gazes were interlocked like lovers. Hirosue certainly wasn’t a handsome man, but the more Matsuoka looked at him, the more attractive he seemed to become. He was overcome with dizziness as his own mind deceived him.
“It’s past twelve,” murmured the man. “The last train’s gone. You can’t go home now.”
If Matsuoka really wanted to go home, it didn’t have to be on the last train. He could still take a taxi. There were other ways. It didn’t matter whether the last train had left or not. But the man’s words made Matsuoka really feel like he couldn’t go home.
“I want you to stay with me until morning.” The man tightened his arms around Matsuoka. “I won’t do anything to you… please, just until morning…”
Matsuoka exhaled quietly. Maybe he wouldn’t stay for the whole night, but he felt like there would be no harm if he stayed until the man was satisfied.
When Matsuoka woke up, it was past six in the morning. The dawning sky was still dim, and he was in Hirosue’s arms. The blanket draped over him was heavy and smelled like Hirosue. He hadn’t felt cold, despite lying on tatami flooring, because he had been in the man’s embrace this whole time. Matsuoka moved, but Hirosue didn’t show signs of waking up.
Matsuoka lifted half of his body off the floor and stroked the man’s cheek. The gritty texture of his stubble made heat gather in his lower half. Overcome with yearning, Matsuoka kissed the man’s cheek. Hirosue had meant it when he said he wouldn’t do anything. A fully grown man past his thirties had actually gone no further than hold the woman he loved as they slept. His sincerity was endearing.
Matsuoka kissed the man again before getting to his feet and picking up his purse. He left a note, merely saying he was going home, and headed to the door. Suddenly, he heard a noisy shuffle from behind. The man was coming after him, his eyes still bleary.
“Ms. Yoko!”
His hair was a mess and his eyelids were swollen with sleep.
“A―Are you going home?”
Matsuoka nodded silently. When the man slumped in despair, Matsuoka took his right hand.
‘The trains have started to run now.’
“But…”
‘You have work, too, don’t you?’
“Yeah, but…”
Hirosue resisted being talked out of it, even though he understood well they both had work.
“When can I see you next?” he asked. “When will you let me see you?”
Matsuoka couldn’t give an immediate promise.
“Can I e-mail you again? Can I call you?”
Matsuoka nodded. Nodded―then sidled up to Hirosue, and put his arms around the man’s neck. After gently hugging him, he kissed him as if they were lovers.
Hirosue’s face was etched with disbelief. Right before Matsuoka’s eyes, the man’s expression turned from stunned to one more ecstatic than he had ever seen, and the sight sent a restless stir through Matsuoka’s heart.
He got an e-mail not even three minutes after leaving Hirosue’s apartment.
‘It was the best birthday ever,’ it said. Another one came while he was still reading it.
‘After you left, I’ve been trying to get ready to go to work, but I can’t seem to concentrate on anything,’ it said. ‘All I do is keep remembering you. Even though we just parted, I can’t stop thinking about when we’re going to be able to see each other again.’ After the three consecutive e-mails, there was a brief silence.
Once he arrived at the station, Matsuoka suddenly felt the urge to go to the bathroom. He entered the men’s room and shocked the middle-aged man inside. He remembered he was crossdressed, and hastily dove into the women’s room. He did his business, washed his hands, looked up and was horrified at his face in the mirror.
His foundation was melting and sticky, and his lipstick had smudged off. He looked as close to his real self as he could possibly get. He frantically touched his chin and felt a slight gritty sensation. He wasn’t hairy to begin with, but he was still susceptible to growing a little stubble. They had kissed so many times―didn’t Hirosue feel anything strange?
Matsuoka hastily reapplied his makeup and walked out of the restroom. Even though his makeup was fixed now, he felt like someone would notice and point out his chin, so he walked with his head down.
As he stood on a platform crowded with school uniforms, he received his fourth e-mail from Hirosue.
‘I was so glad that I could spend time with you. How about you? Were you just putting up with my selfishness?’
No, I wasn’t, he was about to write, but he got another e-mail.
‘I love you.’ The next one came again before he could think. ‘I love you so, so much.’
Matsuoka could guess the kind of expression the man had on his face as he wrote this.
‘I love you, too,’ he wrote and sent. He decided not to think of the past or the future. He just wanted to tell the man his honest feelings―that he loved him.
At this point he had already become the weaker player in love, but Matsuoka failed to realize it.
He received an invitation from Hirosue to go out for dinner three days after they had spent the night together. The end of the year was nigh, and they were extremely busy at work, but Matsuoka did not turn him down. He not only agreed, but even brushed off his boss’ irritation and took a three-hour leave to go home, get changed, and put his makeup on.
On the day of their dinner, Matsuoka was in high spirits since morning. Throughout the day, all he thought of was meeting up with Hirosue. They e-mailed each other every day and kept in touch, but Matsuoka was beginning to want more.
He was well aware it wasn’t right to start meeting Hirosue again in drag like this. He knew he would have to confess that he was a man someday. He knew―but he was still hesitant. He enjoyed meeting with Hirosue in a woman’s form. A little longer wouldn’t hurt, he couldn’t help but think.
Dinner was at a French restaurant, most likely Hirosue’s best attempt to impress him. When the wine list was handed to him, Hirosue creased his brow and pored over it helplessly. Even the sight of him like this was endearing to Matsuoka, and several times he had to hold back his laughter.
Their meal was delicious, and they enjoyed their time together. Even after they left the restaurant at nine, they were reluctant to part, and instead strolled along. Matsuoka tensed up when they came close to the hotel district, but Hirosue didn’t appear to be looking that way.
Before they parted, he was kissed right in front of the station, in an embarrassingly public place. Matsuoka had always wondered with incredulity how people could kiss in public, but when he was put into that position, he realized it was on a whole different level from social embarrassment. The impulses that bubbled up inside him were not things he could stop, even if he wanted to.
After they parted and while the sensation of the kiss still lingered on his lips, he got another e-mail.
‘I forgot to tell you – let’s go on a hatsumode together in the New Year.’
The word hatsumode made Matsuoka excited for future plans.
‘When should we go?’ he asked.
‘What about the third or the fourth? I’m going back to my parents’ for New Years. What are your plans for New Years, Ms. Yoko?’ was the reply.
Matsuoka was crestfallen at the e-mail. His own parents had mentioned going on a trip and ringing in the New Year at the hot springs. They were planning a relaxing getaway, being waited on hand and foot. They had invited Matsuoka as well, but he had turned them down because he wasn’t the age to be taking trips with his parents anymore.
If Hirosue was going to be around, he had figured they could spend the end of the year together. But that wasn’t going to happen anymore because he was going back to his hometown. Matsuoka couldn’t intrude on their family, and if he mentioned he would stay behind, he felt like Hirosue would follow suit and stay as well.
‘I’m going back to my parents’, too,’ he ended up writing.
‘Then, I guess the next time I’ll get to see you is in the New Year.’ The man’s carefree tone got on his nerves. Matsuoka wanted to be with him, but they always seemed to be on bad timing.
‘Right,’ he sent shortly, still irritated.
Hirosue seemed to sense some unrest, for he sent a reply: ‘Are you angry?’
Matsuoka ignored it and turned his cell phone off. When he turned it back on roughly an hour later, he had about ten e-mails in his inbox. All of them were from Hirosue. It began with, ‘Why are you angry?’ and went on and on to say, ‘Was I insensitive? Did I say something that got on your nerves?’ and ended with, ‘I’m sorry.’
If he left it like this, he figured Hirosue probably wouldn’t be able to sleep. Matsuoka wrote a reply.
‘No, I should be sorry. It’s nothing.’
The reply came as swiftly as if the man had been staring at his cell phone screen.
‘I’m glad to hear that.’
Their commonplace conversation drew to a close with Matsuoka’s good-night e-mail. He sank down on the couch absently without even taking off his makeup, still wearing female clothes.
Being an adult, he had an idea of how much Hirosue was restraining his urges. There was no way a full-grown man wouldn’t physically desire a woman whom he loved and who also had feelings for him. Matsuoka couldn’t deny that he felt Hirosue gaze at him in that way from time to time, but Hirosue never invited him to a hotel. Even if he had, Matsuoka would have naturally refused.
Kissing felt nice. He also didn’t mind being touched. But even with the same love, there was a world of difference between the bodies of a man and woman. He had to tell Hirosue some day. He had to tell him he was a man. He’d known that from the beginning; that was why he’d tried approaching the man as a male. He hadn’t even been able to get the man’s attention.
Matsuoka wished Hirosue would fall even more deeply in love with him. He wished the man would come to love him so much that it went beyond gender―and it didn’t matter anymore whether he was a man or a woman.
The New Year came, and Matsuoka met with Hirosue on the third. They agreed to meet in front of the station, where it was teeming with people. Matsuoka felt his heart race as soon as he spotted Hirosue running towards him from the ticket gates. It had only been about a week or so since they saw each other last, and even though they had exchanged e-mails almost every day, it was different seeing him in person like this. Completely different.
“Happy New Year,” Hirosue grinned. The tip of his nose and his cheeks were red, and Matsuoka could tell he’d come running so he wouldn’t be late for their meeting time. It was so adorable he wanted to throw his arms around the man.
They held hands as they walked from the station to the Shinto shrine. When it became crowded, they linked arms. Hirosue didn’t talk much, but this was enough. After they walked down the long path leading to the Shinto shrine, they gave their prayers and drew a fortune slip.
“What was yours?” Hirosue attempted to peek at his, and Matsuoka ran away to discreetly look at his fortune alone. It was “Future Good Luck.” Under “Love”, his fortune said, “Difficulties ahead. Wait for the right time.” He smiled wryly to himself and promptly tied it to the branch of a tree near the fortune-slip vendor. He got Hirosue to reveal his fortune. It was Great Fortune, and in terms of love, it said, “All will be well if you proceed.” Matsuoka wondered why their fortunes were so different when it was about the same love.
On the way back, Matsuoka’s feet starting aching partway down the path leading from the shrine. Hirosue caught his peculiar gait, and made Matsuoka sit down on one of the large rocks at the entrance of the shrine. A long stretch of walking in gravel with his best stilettos had made a blister form on the base of his big toes.
“You didn’t have to force yourself until it got this bad,” Hirosue said. But Matsuoka had wanted to wear stilettos today, no matter what.
At first, when he thought of hatsumode he knew he should naturally wear a kimono. But even if he rented one, he wouldn’t know how to wear it. And even if he’d practised enough to dress himself, a kimono would expose his neck. He considered wearing furs to cover his neck, but if he did, he wouldn’t be able to take it off for the whole day.
He figured Hirosue would want to see him in a kimono, but in the end, he gave up. Instead, he decided he would wear an outfit that was cute enough to compete with women in kimonos who would be around them that day. His deep green velour dress and his delicate stiletto heels made for a perfect balance between top and bottom. He thought momentarily about aching feet, but he didn’t want to destroy his perfect arrangement with a pair of frumpy loafers.
Hirosue stood before him looking worried. Matsuoka drew his hand close and wrote,‘It’s okay, I can walk.’
“But your feet hurt, don’t they?”
Matsuoka shook his head, but the dubious expression did not leave Hirosue’s face. Suddenly, he crouched down slightly and scooped Matsuoka up sideways
into his arms.
“Just put up with me until the end of the path. Once we get to the main street, I think we’ll be able to catch a taxi.”
Without even asking for Matsuoka’s permission, he proceeded to walk out in public. Matsuoka was so mortified, he put his arms around Hirosue’s neck and
buried his face in the man’s shoulder.
Once they reached the main street, they hailed a taxi.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t feel like going out to eat now with your feet aching like that,” Hirosue said, and they decided to go home. The back seat of the taxi was large enough to fit three grown adults, but they sat nestled right beside each other.
Hirosue took him to his apartment door. Matsuoka let him do it, then regretted it. It was so aloof just to send him home like this. The usual thing to do would be to invite the man in for tea.
But Matsuoka’s suit and briefcase were out in his room, and right at the entrance were a pair of men’s shoes. There was no way he could let the man in.
Hirosue faithfully waited like a dog for Matsuoka’s next words.
‘Thank you for today. I’m sorry,’ Matsuoka wrote on the man’s palm. He felt a hand gently pat his head.
“Don’t worry about that.” There was nothing but kindness on his face as he said it. Matsuoka gazed in admiration at him. If he were a woman, he would
probably have invited this man over. And he would have wanted to know what sex was like with this man.
“I want to see your house, Ms. Yoko,” the man said while they gazed into each other’s eyes.
‘I’m sorry. It’s a mess today.’
“Even just a little.”
‘I’m sorry.’ Matsuoka staunchly refused. Hirosue didn’t press him any further, but instead, hugged him tightly and kissed him. Matsuoka wanted the kiss, so he put his arms around the man, too. Even the rough sensation of his chapped lips was enough to make him aroused.
After they kissed, they still remained in an embrace. It was soothing to feel the man’s hand rub his back.
“You know, when I went back home,” Hirosue murmured. “They asked me if I was going to get married soon. They ask me that every year. This year, I told them I have someone I love. I told them I love her enough that I’m thinking of marrying her.”
Matsuoka’s whole body trembled.
“I bragged to them and said she’s someone who’s beautiful both on the inside and outside.”
His smile, which was even somewhat naive, aggravated the guilt residing in Matsuoka.
“That’s how serious I am about you.” The man refused to undo his embrace, and Matsuoka had to send him home by saying he was tired. Once he was alone in his apartment, Matsuoka sat down in shock. Hirosue was thirty-four; he wasn’t the age to date women for fun anymore. It was natural for the topic of marriage to come up if he was dating.
No matter if Hirosue wanted to marry him; it was simply impossible. Matsuoka was attracted to the man, kissed him, and was interested in sex with him, but he could never get married to him. If they couldn’t get married, if Hirosue’s wish was to have a normal family―was it better if they broke up?
Matsuoka loved Hirosue. It was fun to be with him, he made his heart race, and more than anything, the man was kind. It didn’t matter if Hirosue was a little bit of a fearful pushover. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t do his work. The man had told him he loved him, and Matsuoka loved him back, too. Did they really need to break up?
A ringtone went off, signalling a new e-mail. Matsuoka flinched exaggeratedly at the familiar sound.
‘How are your feet?’
Matsuoka’s heart ached at his kind words.
‘About what I said back there, it wasn’t a joke. I wanted you to know, Ms. Yoko, that that’s how seriously I’m thinking about you right now.’
It was like receiving a blow when he was already down.
‘I love you. I don’t know how many times I’ve written this already before, but…’
Matsuoka scrolled down and read the line that said ‘I love you’ over and over again.
“So what, can you still say you love me even if I’m a man?” he said out loud, asking a question to which he knew he would never receive an answer.
He began to notice that things were off on Thursday. Matsuoka usually had an e-mail waiting for him after he came home from work, but he had received none today. It was already past midnight.
He figured Hirosue was busy with work, and left it at that. But even when Friday rolled around the next day, and then Saturday, he still hadn’t received a phone call, or even a single e-mail. When the weekend drew near, Hirosue always asked him about his plans. Matsuoka always received some sort of invite―”How would you like to go out somewhere?” “Would you like to meet up for a meal?”―and because he saw it coming, Matsuoka was always careful to leave his plans open during the weekend. Even if he was a little tired from work, he still went out.
This was the first time since they had started dating that he hadn’t received any sort of contact. Matsuoka started feeling anxious, and sent an e-mail himself.
‘Are you busy?’
Hours passed without an answer from the man, making him even more anxious. He couldn’t imagine Hirosue ignoring his e-mails; perhaps he was hurt and couldn’t move? Foreboding thoughts swirled in his mind.
In the evening, Matsuoka did his makeup neatly and went out. It was snowing outside, and it was freezing cold. He always wore a skirt when meeting up with Hirosue, so his feet were always frozen stiff. But he endured it.
They had begun dating in the end of December, and it was the end of February now. It was almost two months. Matsuoka had ended up continuing their relationship, unable to muster the courage to confess that he was a man.
He constantly thought about when to say it and how, but he could never make the decision, and he could never find the right timing. While he dallied and dawdled, they had become so close that there was no going back.
Matsuoka knew Hirosue’s scent, how he kissed, and how he stroked his back. He knew Hirosue was the youngest amongst the three kids in his family, and his two older siblings were already married. He knew that people had called Hirosue calm and tranquil since he was young.
Hirosue was absolutely lacking in hobbies, and he wasn’t even interested in movies, music, or sports. When he said with a straight face that “Ms. Yoko” was what he was most into right now, it was believable coming from him. But Matsuoka found it so adorable that he wished he could eat him up. It was because he knew that Hirosue was completely into him, and only him.
Matsuoka got off at the station near Hirosue’s apartment and walked. He sent an e-mail on the train, but there was no reply.
As he stood in front of the apartment, he could hear the sounds of the TV inside. But it didn’t necessarily mean that Hirosue was home; Matsuoka knew that Hirosue often didn’t bother turning the lights and TV off if he was going somewhere nearby.
When Matsuoka pressed the doorbell, he heard shuffling from inside.
“Coming!”
The door opened. Hirosue wasn’t badly hurt, nor did he look ill. It was the same Hirosue he was used to seeing. The man grimaced as soon as he saw Matsuoka’s face. Usually, he would grin and ask, “What’s the occasion?” but this reaction was different.
‘You weren’t answering my e-mails, so,’ Matsuoka wrote on a note and showed him.
“Oh… yeah. I was busy. Sorry.” His mumbling sounded like an excuse.
‘I was worried because I thought you were sick or hurt.’
“I’m sorry. Really.” Hirosue bowed his head.
‘I’m glad you seem to be doing well.’ Even after Matsuoka showed him the note, Hirosue continued to look at the floor. It was quite cold outside. As Matsuoka continued to watch Hirosue’s bowed head, he wondered when the man would let him in.
“Sorry for making you come all this way, but would you please go home now?”
Matsuoka was shocked.
“I’m sorry.”
Hirosue wasn’t even going to let him in, and was telling him to go back home under this frigid winter sky. It was unbelievable.
“I’m really…”
The door was closed forcefully without even giving Matsuoka time to answer. Matsuoka stood in stunned silence before the door. He had visited Hirosue’s
apartment a number of times before, and Hirosue had always walked him to the station. Today, he didn’t even do that.
Anger rose within him. Matsuoka was so furious, he didn’t even feel the cold on the walk back. He turned off his cell phone. Even if Hirosue sent an apology e-mail, he planned not to answer. But even after Matsuoka reached his own apartment, he did not receive a single e-mail―nothing thanking him for coming, much less apologizing.
Matsuoka grew unsettled. He didn’t know what could be behind Hirosue’s change in attitude. He was normal the last time they had seen each other. They had parted with a kiss as always, and Hirosue had told him he loved him.
Matsuoka thought and thought and finally reached one conclusion which made him go pale.
Maybe he’s found out I’m a man. If this was true, he could understand why he had suddenly stopped getting e-mails. Hirosue was angry, and that was why he wasn’t contacting him anymore. But how had he found out? As far as Matsuoka knew, he hadn’t done anything foolish to give himself away.
They had kissed and embraced many times, but Matsuoka had never let Hirosue touch his chest. He was neurotically careful about his skin, particularly his face. He always wore turtlenecks or scarves to keep his Adam’s apple out of sight. But Hirosue had still caught on. Since they had been dating for a while now, perhaps Matsuoka had unwittingly let his guard down somewhere.
Hirosue didn’t love him anymore. Just the thought made the world fade to black before his eyes. He couldn’t even be bothered to take his makeup off or change, and instead sank to the floor in his room. This was why he should have obliterated Yoko Eto from this world before he got found out. He should have continued to build up a relationship with Hirosue as himself, no matter how much time it took.
But after becoming this close to romance, would he have been able to go back to the beginning? By this time, he had gotten used to being told he was loved, and being hugged and kissed had become something of a norm.
It didn’t matter if he was exhausted from consecutive days of backbreaking sales visits and felt like taking it easy over the weekend. If Hirosue invited him out, he went. It was fun going on outings, but Matsuoka liked holing up at home with the man, too. Once, when Matsuoka had sat in his lap as a joke, Hirosue had looked immensely happy. After that, whenever he wanted to make Hirosue smile, he would perch on his lap on purpose. On more than one occasion, he would be kissed and cuddled by the man, and rocked in his arms so comfortably he would fall right asleep in his lap. Matsuoka could only fall asleep in his arms because he knew for certain that Hirosue would never take advantage of him while he was asleep.
He loved that the man, who called himself a bad speaker, tried his best to talk to him. He talked about his childhood, and his student life. Matsuoka felt like he was taking a peek into Hirosue’s past with him, and he enjoyed it. A few times the man asked him, “Don’t you get bored because I have nothing interesting to say?” but Matsuoka didn’t mind.
He went out even though he was tired, not because he was invited out, but because he wanted to see Hirosue. Meeting up with him and being with him put him at ease. If he was in a bad mood from an unfortunate happening, he was able to forget about it when he was with Hirosue.
Maybe the man was simply busy, or Matsuoka had caught him in a bad moment. Maybe he hadn’t found out Matsuoka was a man, and he was just thinking too much. Everyone has moments when they’d rather be by themselves, when they’d want to be left alone.
Matsuoka could think of nothing else, as if this topic had become the only thing his mind was capable of handling. Had Hirosue found out he was a man, or had something unpleasant happened to him on an unrelated occasion?
Matsuoka picked up his cell phone. He tried sending another e-mail.
‘What are you angry about?’
He had thought for half an hour about what to write. After much thought, he had chosen to write in clear and simple language. He received a reply not even five minutes later.
‘Aren’t you hiding something from me, Ms. Yoko?’
Matsuoka began to tremble as soon as he read it. He was certain now. The man knew. Matsuoka had no idea how to explain that he was actually a man. Was this even something that could be explained away? If he said he was sorry over and over, would he be forgiven?
He turned off his cell phone and hid it where he couldn’t see. He was afraid of saying sorry. He figured Hirosue would probably be the last person to lash out at Matsuoka for tricking him, but his heart wasn’t ready to take the criticism that was sure to come his way.
If this was a game, if it was a joke, he would probably have been able to say “I’m sorry” easily. But now, he couldn’t. He simply could not.
Everywhere he went, he heard some sort of Christmas song playing. Everyone on the streets seemed restless in anticipation.
Matsuoka boarded a subway that connected directly to the underground level of a department store, dressed as a woman for the first time in ages. His fur-trimmed white coat flattered his entire figure, even in his own opinion. Already, two men had tried to strike up a conversation with him while he waited for the train.
It was not quite peak hour yet, but the train was still rather crowded. Apart from his purse, Matsuoka was also holding a paper bag, which contained a gift he’d just bought. After debating a great deal over what to get, he had ended up getting gloves. They were simple black leather gloves, thin but very warm. Ties and clothes were greatly subject to personal taste, but Matsuoka felt people tended to have less preferences with gloves. Black gloves, in particular, would be easy to co-ordinate with anything.
As he cast his gaze across the boring scenery out the subway window, Matsuoka sighed for another countless time. Since then―since approaching Hirosue at the station, he hadn’t seen the man at all. He had no luck staking out the station closest to Hirosue’s apartment, either, presumably because of the man’s erratic work hours. Matsuoka had his own work, so he wasn’t always able to stake out the station at the same time every day. Failed attempt after failed attempt aggravated him until his impatience reached its peak.
Before he knew it, it was Christmas Eve. Matsuoka wanted some way to give the man a gift; that was his only reason for crossdressing today. He simply wanted to make the man happy. He wasn’t thinking about what would follow afterwards.
He got off at the nearest station to Hirosue’s apartment and went through the ticket gates. It was seven in the evening, but there were no lights on in Room 306 on the third floor. Having made sure Hirosue wasn’t home, he headed back to the front of the station again and waited in front of the ticket gates for Hirosue to come through. He knew he could have waited at the man’s apartment, but he wouldn’t be able to explain himself if Hirosue asked how he knew the address. That was why Matsuoka was going to feign a chance meeting at the station. As for the gift, he would explain that he initially got it from someone else without realizing they were men’s gloves. Maybe it was rude to re-gift, but he didn’t want to give Hirosue false hopes by saying he bought them himself.
Even though Matsuoka had planned to get rid of Yoko Eto completely, when the need arose, he found himself using her existence to his advantage. He knew he was being contradictory, but he couldn’t help it.
He heard a joyful exclamation beside him. The people around him looked up at the sky. It was snowing. Though the air had been uncannily cold since this morning, he hadn’t expected it to snow.
He admired the coming of a white Christmas, but that feeling was brief. As the evening wore on and the bustle gradually died out, Matsuoka began to feel anxious. Hirosue was bound to come through the station, which was why he was waiting here. But even after two hours, there were no signs of him. He had already gone to the man’s apartment once and made sure he wasn’t home yet. Hirosue had to pass through the station to get home.
He has to be coming, Matsuoka told himself, but froze the next moment as realization dawned on him. Perhaps Hirosue was celebrating his birthday with someone. If not a girlfriend, maybe a friend. If so, he would probably not come home for some time, and if he did, there was a chance he would use some other mode of transportation.
Matsuoka hastily headed back towards Hirosue’s apartment, his legs stiff and weary from standing. The apartment window was lit, and Matsuoka’s shoulders sagged as he realized the man had come home without taking the train.
Now the option of feigning coincidence was out of the question. Matsuoka was at his wit’s end. If he visited Hirosue just to give him a gift, he would give the man false hope. But even if he didn’t, Hirosue might still get the wrong idea if he found out the gift was from him.
He could hang the gift on Hirosue’s doorknob and go home―but if he didn’t sign it with a name, the man would probably be more suspicious than happy. Matsuoka arrived in front of Hirosue’s door, still unable to come to a decision. There was a doorbell, but he couldn’t push it. Matsuoka quietly drew closer, and heard the sounds of the TV playing inside.
The minutes wore on without meaning. Five minutes. Ten minutes. After much internal debate, Matsuoka took out his notebook. On a blank page, he wrote, ‘A present for you. -Yoko’.
“Ms. Yoko?”
Matsuoka whipped around in surprise. Hirosue was standing there, wearing a black sweatshirt and sweatpants. A convenience-store bag dangled from his right hand. Matsuoka had heard footsteps, but had ignored them since he thought Hirosue was inside.
“It is you, Ms. Yoko.” His look of astonishment turned to joy. Just the sight of it made Matsuoka’s heart race.
“You knew where I live?”
There was no way he could say he had followed the man home once. Matsuoka hastily flipped the page over and thought of an excuse.
‘An acquaintance of mine lives nearby. That’s when I caught a glimpse of you.’
Hirosue read the note. “I see,” he murmured. Matsuoka held out the gift he was holding.
“What’s this?”
Matsuoka showed him the note he had written earlier, saying “a present for you”.
“But why?”
‘For your birthday,’ Matsuoka added. Hirosue stared at the note, then lifted his face.
“Thank you,” he said, but his hands did not move to accept the gift. “I guess I mentioned my birthday to you somewhere along the way, didn’t I? I’m really happy that you got this for me, but your thoughts are enough.”
Matsuoka bit his lip lightly. He thrust the gift out.
“I’m sorry to do this after you went through the trouble of getting it, but I don’t want any physical objects from you.”
Matsuoka hung the bag on the doorknob, then slipped past Hirosue. Just as he was about to go down the stairs, the man stopped him. Hirosue’s grip on his right arm was so strong it hurt.
“What’s going on in your mind?” the man asked, his face contorted in desperation. “You stopped answering my e-mails, so I thought you’d dumped me. I tried to forget you. I had to make myself forget you. But why are you showing up now? Why are you giving me hope again with a present? My mood hinges on your every whim. It’s like I’m on an emotional roller coaster, and I can’t stand it.”
Matsuoka struggled when he felt himself being drawn closer, but the man was several times stronger than him.
“I love you.”
Matsuoka felt faint as he was embraced.
“You know that, don’t you?” In words Hirosue reproached him, but with his arms he held him close. Matsuoka’s back hurt from the man’s grip. At the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, Hirosue snapped out of it abruptly straightened up. With a firm grip on Matsuoka’s right wrist, he picked up the convenience-store bag he had dropped in front of the door and fished out a key from the pocket of his sweats.
A young man emerged at the top of the stairs, and he gave a sidelong glance at Matsuoka and Hirosue in passing. Matsuoka was struck with fear as he realized he was going to be dragged inside. Things would get too risky if they were alone together.
The door opened. Matsuoka pulled his right hand away, trying to shake free, but he was drawn closer with twice as much force. His high-heels made him unsteady on his feet, and he teetered precariously. He was taken inside, still entrapped in the man’s arms.
He sensed the man trying to kiss him on the doorstep, and averted his face. The man didn’t try to kiss him forcefully this time, but instead stood there looking completely lost. He had let his tumultuous feelings get carried away enough to drag Matsuoka in, but now he seemed to be confused about what to do.
“Please come in. I hope you’ll excuse the mess…”
There wasn’t much point to the invitation, since Matsuoka had already been dragged in.
“I won’t do anything to you,” he added, as if sensing Matsuoka’s concern. His handcuff-like fingers fell away. Now, it was up to Matsuoka’s free will. If he wanted to go home, he just had to walk out the door. If he wanted to stay, he could do that, too.
He could hear the sounds of the TV further inside the room. The muted chatter of it made the tense situation seem ridiculous.
Matsuoka opened the door and stepped outside first. The gift was still hanging from the doorknob. He took it and offered it to Hirosue again. Hirosue
didn’t even try to smile out of politeness; he accepted it looking like he was about to cry.
In the cramped doorway, Matsuoka bent forward slightly and took off his shoes. When he entered the apartment, the roughly four-square-metre room had a futon still laid out in a corner and a kotatsu in the centre. It was certainly far from a fashionable apartment; there were signs of everyday life all over the place.
Matsuoka sat in front of the kotatsu. When he stuck his feet inside, the heat enveloped his extremities. Hirosue stood vacantly at the entrance for a while, but eventually came in. His stepped cautiously, even though this was his own apartment.
“I’m sorry it’s so messy. Really,” he mumbled, hastily scooping up tangerine peels from the table and throwing them in the garbage.
There was nothing eye-catching in the room. Matsuoka stared at his surroundings with immodest interest, making Hirosue duck his head in awkward nervousness.
“Um, would you like some coffee or something?” Hirosue busily went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Even though the water was far from boiling, he didn’t move a single step away from the propane range.
“I hope you don’t mind instant coffee.”
The coffee placed before him smelled the same as the instant coffee that was always served for afternoon break at his work. It was unremarkable in both smell and taste, but it still warmed him up.
“Are you hungry?” Hirosue asked from across the table, not even touching the coffee he had poured for himself.
‘A little,’ he replied truthfully on paper. As soon as he handed it over, the man began to panic.
“I have rice balls from the convenience store. Is that okay with you?”
From the frequently-dropped bag, he took out an assortment of side dishes such as packaged rice balls, salad, stewed vegetables, and boiled greens with dressing. Although Matsuoka was hungry, he was reluctant to eat what was clearly intended to be Hirosue’s dinner.
‘But this is your dinner, isn’t it?’ he wrote, but the man hastily shook his head.
“That’s alright,” he said. “I’m not that hungry.” His stomach growled plaintively as soon as the words were out of his mouth. The man flushed deeply. “My stomach hasn’t been doing that well,” he said lamely.
Since he couldn’t steal a hungry man’s dinner, Matsuoka wrote him a note.
‘I’ll go out and buy something.’
The man changed colour upon seeing the note. “You don’t need to go,” he blurted. “I really don’t want it. Please, eat this.”
Hirosue was reluctant to let him go outside, yet he showed no move to go out and buy something for Matsuoka himself. Matsuoka wondered why Hirosue didn’t want to leave his apartment. He then realized he was wrong: Hirosue wasn’t reluctant about leaving his apartment; he was reluctant about leaving Matsuoka alone.
‘Let’s each have half, then,’ Matsuoka suggested as a compromise. Hirosue still insisted he didn’t want any, but Matsuoka ignored him and briskly split the meal into two equal portions. He began to eat his portion, and Hirosue hesitated before starting on his own. Once they finished their meal, Hirosue cleaned off the table in a spirited bustle. The TV was showcasing a gorgeous display of Christmas lights.
‘Take a look at the present.’
Hirosue had sat back down across from him. After reading the note, he reached over to the paper bag and pulled it closer. He peeled each piece of tape off the package with great care. When the gloves appeared, a natural smile graced his lips. He stroked the gloves with his fingertips as if to savour the feel of the leather, and then put them on. He lightly flexed his long fingers.
“They’re so warm. Thank you. Are you sure I can have such a nice pair of gloves? I feel like they’re too good to wear.”
‘Nonsense. Please wear them often.’
The man smiled and put the gloves back in the box. Once the big presentation was over, silence fell again.
“Oh, would you like some tangerines? My parents sent them from the countryside.” Without waiting for an answer, the man took out a few tangerines from the cardboard box in a corner of the room and placed them on the table.
To be truthful, the meagre amount of dinner had been barely enough to fill Matsuoka up. He helped himself to the tangerines as if to make up for it. The TV was still robustly broadcasting Christmas-related segments. Matsuoka found himself wondering when would be the right time to go home.
It wasn’t like he wanted to go home, but he also did feel like he wasn’t allowed to be here for long. Halfway through his third tangerine, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Suddenly, he became so nervous that it was difficult to bring the food to his lips as easily as he had just moments ago.
He sensed the man across from him shifting, and put himself on guard. Hirosue came over beside Matsuoka, and sat with his knees together. Matsuoka thought he would say something, but Hirosue only stared at the floor and did not open his mouth.
“I feel like I have a pedigreed cat in my room that’s too good for the place.” The words, when they finally came, were abstract. “I feel like you shouldn’t be here after all.”
He was awfully weak-willed for someone who had dragged him into his apartment. The man slowly looked up at the wall.
“The last train leaves in thirty minutes.”
Matsuoka felt like he was being told to go home. He got up.
“What? What’s wrong? Are you going home?”
Now Matsuoka was confused at being held back. Isn’t that why you told me when the last train was leaving? Because you want me to go home? He was the one that wanted to ask.
“But if you want to go home, I can’t hold you back―” His pitiful face said he didn’t want Matsuoka to go. Matsuoka sat back down, unable to fathom Hirosue’s intentions.
Hirosue placed both hands on the floor and slowly crawled his way closer to Matsuoka. Even when they were nose-to-nose, Matsuoka didn’t try to get away; he had seen Hirosue’s face―and the man looked like he was about to cry. They bumped noses on their first kiss. It was unbelievably clumsy, but Matsuoka couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
They shared one chaste kiss, their lips merely brushing against each other’s. It was a childish kiss, but Matsuoka’s ears still burned. They kissed for a second time, then a third.
On the fourth, the man touched his hair, which made him scoot back hastily. Hirosue suddenly gave him a hurt look. Matsuoka went over to the notebook lying on top of thekotatsu.
‘I don’t like people touching my hair,’ he wrote. When he picked the book up to show Hirosue, he felt a presence behind him. Before he could turn around, he was embraced from behind.
He nearly let out a voice. He felt the man’s body heat right up against his back. His strong arms were crossed over Matsuoka’s abdomen. Matsuoka was completely trapped between the man’s legs.
He felt a wet sensation on his neck. He didn’t feel pain from the biting kiss, but it made his heart flutter. He felt the hand on his belly slowly creeping up his side, and he hastily wrote, ‘Don’t,’ on a note. This time, the man’s fingers descended along his hipbone and stroked his thigh. Matsuoka grabbed the man’s teasing hand.
Once he was refused, Hirosue didn’t try to touch him again. But since there was no restriction on kisses, he kissed Matsuoka many, many times.
Their gazes were interlocked like lovers. Hirosue certainly wasn’t a handsome man, but the more Matsuoka looked at him, the more attractive he seemed to become. He was overcome with dizziness as his own mind deceived him.
“It’s past twelve,” murmured the man. “The last train’s gone. You can’t go home now.”
If Matsuoka really wanted to go home, it didn’t have to be on the last train. He could still take a taxi. There were other ways. It didn’t matter whether the last train had left or not. But the man’s words made Matsuoka really feel like he couldn’t go home.
“I want you to stay with me until morning.” The man tightened his arms around Matsuoka. “I won’t do anything to you… please, just until morning…”
Matsuoka exhaled quietly. Maybe he wouldn’t stay for the whole night, but he felt like there would be no harm if he stayed until the man was satisfied.
When Matsuoka woke up, it was past six in the morning. The dawning sky was still dim, and he was in Hirosue’s arms. The blanket draped over him was heavy and smelled like Hirosue. He hadn’t felt cold, despite lying on tatami flooring, because he had been in the man’s embrace this whole time. Matsuoka moved, but Hirosue didn’t show signs of waking up.
Matsuoka lifted half of his body off the floor and stroked the man’s cheek. The gritty texture of his stubble made heat gather in his lower half. Overcome with yearning, Matsuoka kissed the man’s cheek. Hirosue had meant it when he said he wouldn’t do anything. A fully grown man past his thirties had actually gone no further than hold the woman he loved as they slept. His sincerity was endearing.
Matsuoka kissed the man again before getting to his feet and picking up his purse. He left a note, merely saying he was going home, and headed to the door. Suddenly, he heard a noisy shuffle from behind. The man was coming after him, his eyes still bleary.
“Ms. Yoko!”
His hair was a mess and his eyelids were swollen with sleep.
“A―Are you going home?”
Matsuoka nodded silently. When the man slumped in despair, Matsuoka took his right hand.
‘The trains have started to run now.’
“But…”
‘You have work, too, don’t you?’
“Yeah, but…”
Hirosue resisted being talked out of it, even though he understood well they both had work.
“When can I see you next?” he asked. “When will you let me see you?”
Matsuoka couldn’t give an immediate promise.
“Can I e-mail you again? Can I call you?”
Matsuoka nodded. Nodded―then sidled up to Hirosue, and put his arms around the man’s neck. After gently hugging him, he kissed him as if they were lovers.
Hirosue’s face was etched with disbelief. Right before Matsuoka’s eyes, the man’s expression turned from stunned to one more ecstatic than he had ever seen, and the sight sent a restless stir through Matsuoka’s heart.
He got an e-mail not even three minutes after leaving Hirosue’s apartment.
‘It was the best birthday ever,’ it said. Another one came while he was still reading it.
‘After you left, I’ve been trying to get ready to go to work, but I can’t seem to concentrate on anything,’ it said. ‘All I do is keep remembering you. Even though we just parted, I can’t stop thinking about when we’re going to be able to see each other again.’ After the three consecutive e-mails, there was a brief silence.
Once he arrived at the station, Matsuoka suddenly felt the urge to go to the bathroom. He entered the men’s room and shocked the middle-aged man inside. He remembered he was crossdressed, and hastily dove into the women’s room. He did his business, washed his hands, looked up and was horrified at his face in the mirror.
His foundation was melting and sticky, and his lipstick had smudged off. He looked as close to his real self as he could possibly get. He frantically touched his chin and felt a slight gritty sensation. He wasn’t hairy to begin with, but he was still susceptible to growing a little stubble. They had kissed so many times―didn’t Hirosue feel anything strange?
Matsuoka hastily reapplied his makeup and walked out of the restroom. Even though his makeup was fixed now, he felt like someone would notice and point out his chin, so he walked with his head down.
As he stood on a platform crowded with school uniforms, he received his fourth e-mail from Hirosue.
‘I was so glad that I could spend time with you. How about you? Were you just putting up with my selfishness?’
No, I wasn’t, he was about to write, but he got another e-mail.
‘I love you.’ The next one came again before he could think. ‘I love you so, so much.’
Matsuoka could guess the kind of expression the man had on his face as he wrote this.
‘I love you, too,’ he wrote and sent. He decided not to think of the past or the future. He just wanted to tell the man his honest feelings―that he loved him.
At this point he had already become the weaker player in love, but Matsuoka failed to realize it.
He received an invitation from Hirosue to go out for dinner three days after they had spent the night together. The end of the year was nigh, and they were extremely busy at work, but Matsuoka did not turn him down. He not only agreed, but even brushed off his boss’ irritation and took a three-hour leave to go home, get changed, and put his makeup on.
On the day of their dinner, Matsuoka was in high spirits since morning. Throughout the day, all he thought of was meeting up with Hirosue. They e-mailed each other every day and kept in touch, but Matsuoka was beginning to want more.
He was well aware it wasn’t right to start meeting Hirosue again in drag like this. He knew he would have to confess that he was a man someday. He knew―but he was still hesitant. He enjoyed meeting with Hirosue in a woman’s form. A little longer wouldn’t hurt, he couldn’t help but think.
Dinner was at a French restaurant, most likely Hirosue’s best attempt to impress him. When the wine list was handed to him, Hirosue creased his brow and pored over it helplessly. Even the sight of him like this was endearing to Matsuoka, and several times he had to hold back his laughter.
Their meal was delicious, and they enjoyed their time together. Even after they left the restaurant at nine, they were reluctant to part, and instead strolled along. Matsuoka tensed up when they came close to the hotel district, but Hirosue didn’t appear to be looking that way.
Before they parted, he was kissed right in front of the station, in an embarrassingly public place. Matsuoka had always wondered with incredulity how people could kiss in public, but when he was put into that position, he realized it was on a whole different level from social embarrassment. The impulses that bubbled up inside him were not things he could stop, even if he wanted to.
After they parted and while the sensation of the kiss still lingered on his lips, he got another e-mail.
‘I forgot to tell you – let’s go on a hatsumode together in the New Year.’
The word hatsumode made Matsuoka excited for future plans.
‘When should we go?’ he asked.
‘What about the third or the fourth? I’m going back to my parents’ for New Years. What are your plans for New Years, Ms. Yoko?’ was the reply.
Matsuoka was crestfallen at the e-mail. His own parents had mentioned going on a trip and ringing in the New Year at the hot springs. They were planning a relaxing getaway, being waited on hand and foot. They had invited Matsuoka as well, but he had turned them down because he wasn’t the age to be taking trips with his parents anymore.
If Hirosue was going to be around, he had figured they could spend the end of the year together. But that wasn’t going to happen anymore because he was going back to his hometown. Matsuoka couldn’t intrude on their family, and if he mentioned he would stay behind, he felt like Hirosue would follow suit and stay as well.
‘I’m going back to my parents’, too,’ he ended up writing.
‘Then, I guess the next time I’ll get to see you is in the New Year.’ The man’s carefree tone got on his nerves. Matsuoka wanted to be with him, but they always seemed to be on bad timing.
‘Right,’ he sent shortly, still irritated.
Hirosue seemed to sense some unrest, for he sent a reply: ‘Are you angry?’
Matsuoka ignored it and turned his cell phone off. When he turned it back on roughly an hour later, he had about ten e-mails in his inbox. All of them were from Hirosue. It began with, ‘Why are you angry?’ and went on and on to say, ‘Was I insensitive? Did I say something that got on your nerves?’ and ended with, ‘I’m sorry.’
If he left it like this, he figured Hirosue probably wouldn’t be able to sleep. Matsuoka wrote a reply.
‘No, I should be sorry. It’s nothing.’
The reply came as swiftly as if the man had been staring at his cell phone screen.
‘I’m glad to hear that.’
Their commonplace conversation drew to a close with Matsuoka’s good-night e-mail. He sank down on the couch absently without even taking off his makeup, still wearing female clothes.
Being an adult, he had an idea of how much Hirosue was restraining his urges. There was no way a full-grown man wouldn’t physically desire a woman whom he loved and who also had feelings for him. Matsuoka couldn’t deny that he felt Hirosue gaze at him in that way from time to time, but Hirosue never invited him to a hotel. Even if he had, Matsuoka would have naturally refused.
Kissing felt nice. He also didn’t mind being touched. But even with the same love, there was a world of difference between the bodies of a man and woman. He had to tell Hirosue some day. He had to tell him he was a man. He’d known that from the beginning; that was why he’d tried approaching the man as a male. He hadn’t even been able to get the man’s attention.
Matsuoka wished Hirosue would fall even more deeply in love with him. He wished the man would come to love him so much that it went beyond gender―and it didn’t matter anymore whether he was a man or a woman.
The New Year came, and Matsuoka met with Hirosue on the third. They agreed to meet in front of the station, where it was teeming with people. Matsuoka felt his heart race as soon as he spotted Hirosue running towards him from the ticket gates. It had only been about a week or so since they saw each other last, and even though they had exchanged e-mails almost every day, it was different seeing him in person like this. Completely different.
“Happy New Year,” Hirosue grinned. The tip of his nose and his cheeks were red, and Matsuoka could tell he’d come running so he wouldn’t be late for their meeting time. It was so adorable he wanted to throw his arms around the man.
They held hands as they walked from the station to the Shinto shrine. When it became crowded, they linked arms. Hirosue didn’t talk much, but this was enough. After they walked down the long path leading to the Shinto shrine, they gave their prayers and drew a fortune slip.
“What was yours?” Hirosue attempted to peek at his, and Matsuoka ran away to discreetly look at his fortune alone. It was “Future Good Luck.” Under “Love”, his fortune said, “Difficulties ahead. Wait for the right time.” He smiled wryly to himself and promptly tied it to the branch of a tree near the fortune-slip vendor. He got Hirosue to reveal his fortune. It was Great Fortune, and in terms of love, it said, “All will be well if you proceed.” Matsuoka wondered why their fortunes were so different when it was about the same love.
On the way back, Matsuoka’s feet starting aching partway down the path leading from the shrine. Hirosue caught his peculiar gait, and made Matsuoka sit down on one of the large rocks at the entrance of the shrine. A long stretch of walking in gravel with his best stilettos had made a blister form on the base of his big toes.
“You didn’t have to force yourself until it got this bad,” Hirosue said. But Matsuoka had wanted to wear stilettos today, no matter what.
At first, when he thought of hatsumode he knew he should naturally wear a kimono. But even if he rented one, he wouldn’t know how to wear it. And even if he’d practised enough to dress himself, a kimono would expose his neck. He considered wearing furs to cover his neck, but if he did, he wouldn’t be able to take it off for the whole day.
He figured Hirosue would want to see him in a kimono, but in the end, he gave up. Instead, he decided he would wear an outfit that was cute enough to compete with women in kimonos who would be around them that day. His deep green velour dress and his delicate stiletto heels made for a perfect balance between top and bottom. He thought momentarily about aching feet, but he didn’t want to destroy his perfect arrangement with a pair of frumpy loafers.
Hirosue stood before him looking worried. Matsuoka drew his hand close and wrote,‘It’s okay, I can walk.’
“But your feet hurt, don’t they?”
Matsuoka shook his head, but the dubious expression did not leave Hirosue’s face. Suddenly, he crouched down slightly and scooped Matsuoka up sideways
into his arms.
“Just put up with me until the end of the path. Once we get to the main street, I think we’ll be able to catch a taxi.”
Without even asking for Matsuoka’s permission, he proceeded to walk out in public. Matsuoka was so mortified, he put his arms around Hirosue’s neck and
buried his face in the man’s shoulder.
Once they reached the main street, they hailed a taxi.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t feel like going out to eat now with your feet aching like that,” Hirosue said, and they decided to go home. The back seat of the taxi was large enough to fit three grown adults, but they sat nestled right beside each other.
Hirosue took him to his apartment door. Matsuoka let him do it, then regretted it. It was so aloof just to send him home like this. The usual thing to do would be to invite the man in for tea.
But Matsuoka’s suit and briefcase were out in his room, and right at the entrance were a pair of men’s shoes. There was no way he could let the man in.
Hirosue faithfully waited like a dog for Matsuoka’s next words.
‘Thank you for today. I’m sorry,’ Matsuoka wrote on the man’s palm. He felt a hand gently pat his head.
“Don’t worry about that.” There was nothing but kindness on his face as he said it. Matsuoka gazed in admiration at him. If he were a woman, he would
probably have invited this man over. And he would have wanted to know what sex was like with this man.
“I want to see your house, Ms. Yoko,” the man said while they gazed into each other’s eyes.
‘I’m sorry. It’s a mess today.’
“Even just a little.”
‘I’m sorry.’ Matsuoka staunchly refused. Hirosue didn’t press him any further, but instead, hugged him tightly and kissed him. Matsuoka wanted the kiss, so he put his arms around the man, too. Even the rough sensation of his chapped lips was enough to make him aroused.
After they kissed, they still remained in an embrace. It was soothing to feel the man’s hand rub his back.
“You know, when I went back home,” Hirosue murmured. “They asked me if I was going to get married soon. They ask me that every year. This year, I told them I have someone I love. I told them I love her enough that I’m thinking of marrying her.”
Matsuoka’s whole body trembled.
“I bragged to them and said she’s someone who’s beautiful both on the inside and outside.”
His smile, which was even somewhat naive, aggravated the guilt residing in Matsuoka.
“That’s how serious I am about you.” The man refused to undo his embrace, and Matsuoka had to send him home by saying he was tired. Once he was alone in his apartment, Matsuoka sat down in shock. Hirosue was thirty-four; he wasn’t the age to date women for fun anymore. It was natural for the topic of marriage to come up if he was dating.
No matter if Hirosue wanted to marry him; it was simply impossible. Matsuoka was attracted to the man, kissed him, and was interested in sex with him, but he could never get married to him. If they couldn’t get married, if Hirosue’s wish was to have a normal family―was it better if they broke up?
Matsuoka loved Hirosue. It was fun to be with him, he made his heart race, and more than anything, the man was kind. It didn’t matter if Hirosue was a little bit of a fearful pushover. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t do his work. The man had told him he loved him, and Matsuoka loved him back, too. Did they really need to break up?
A ringtone went off, signalling a new e-mail. Matsuoka flinched exaggeratedly at the familiar sound.
‘How are your feet?’
Matsuoka’s heart ached at his kind words.
‘About what I said back there, it wasn’t a joke. I wanted you to know, Ms. Yoko, that that’s how seriously I’m thinking about you right now.’
It was like receiving a blow when he was already down.
‘I love you. I don’t know how many times I’ve written this already before, but…’
Matsuoka scrolled down and read the line that said ‘I love you’ over and over again.
“So what, can you still say you love me even if I’m a man?” he said out loud, asking a question to which he knew he would never receive an answer.
He began to notice that things were off on Thursday. Matsuoka usually had an e-mail waiting for him after he came home from work, but he had received none today. It was already past midnight.
He figured Hirosue was busy with work, and left it at that. But even when Friday rolled around the next day, and then Saturday, he still hadn’t received a phone call, or even a single e-mail. When the weekend drew near, Hirosue always asked him about his plans. Matsuoka always received some sort of invite―”How would you like to go out somewhere?” “Would you like to meet up for a meal?”―and because he saw it coming, Matsuoka was always careful to leave his plans open during the weekend. Even if he was a little tired from work, he still went out.
This was the first time since they had started dating that he hadn’t received any sort of contact. Matsuoka started feeling anxious, and sent an e-mail himself.
‘Are you busy?’
Hours passed without an answer from the man, making him even more anxious. He couldn’t imagine Hirosue ignoring his e-mails; perhaps he was hurt and couldn’t move? Foreboding thoughts swirled in his mind.
In the evening, Matsuoka did his makeup neatly and went out. It was snowing outside, and it was freezing cold. He always wore a skirt when meeting up with Hirosue, so his feet were always frozen stiff. But he endured it.
They had begun dating in the end of December, and it was the end of February now. It was almost two months. Matsuoka had ended up continuing their relationship, unable to muster the courage to confess that he was a man.
He constantly thought about when to say it and how, but he could never make the decision, and he could never find the right timing. While he dallied and dawdled, they had become so close that there was no going back.
Matsuoka knew Hirosue’s scent, how he kissed, and how he stroked his back. He knew Hirosue was the youngest amongst the three kids in his family, and his two older siblings were already married. He knew that people had called Hirosue calm and tranquil since he was young.
Hirosue was absolutely lacking in hobbies, and he wasn’t even interested in movies, music, or sports. When he said with a straight face that “Ms. Yoko” was what he was most into right now, it was believable coming from him. But Matsuoka found it so adorable that he wished he could eat him up. It was because he knew that Hirosue was completely into him, and only him.
Matsuoka got off at the station near Hirosue’s apartment and walked. He sent an e-mail on the train, but there was no reply.
As he stood in front of the apartment, he could hear the sounds of the TV inside. But it didn’t necessarily mean that Hirosue was home; Matsuoka knew that Hirosue often didn’t bother turning the lights and TV off if he was going somewhere nearby.
When Matsuoka pressed the doorbell, he heard shuffling from inside.
“Coming!”
The door opened. Hirosue wasn’t badly hurt, nor did he look ill. It was the same Hirosue he was used to seeing. The man grimaced as soon as he saw Matsuoka’s face. Usually, he would grin and ask, “What’s the occasion?” but this reaction was different.
‘You weren’t answering my e-mails, so,’ Matsuoka wrote on a note and showed him.
“Oh… yeah. I was busy. Sorry.” His mumbling sounded like an excuse.
‘I was worried because I thought you were sick or hurt.’
“I’m sorry. Really.” Hirosue bowed his head.
‘I’m glad you seem to be doing well.’ Even after Matsuoka showed him the note, Hirosue continued to look at the floor. It was quite cold outside. As Matsuoka continued to watch Hirosue’s bowed head, he wondered when the man would let him in.
“Sorry for making you come all this way, but would you please go home now?”
Matsuoka was shocked.
“I’m sorry.”
Hirosue wasn’t even going to let him in, and was telling him to go back home under this frigid winter sky. It was unbelievable.
“I’m really…”
The door was closed forcefully without even giving Matsuoka time to answer. Matsuoka stood in stunned silence before the door. He had visited Hirosue’s
apartment a number of times before, and Hirosue had always walked him to the station. Today, he didn’t even do that.
Anger rose within him. Matsuoka was so furious, he didn’t even feel the cold on the walk back. He turned off his cell phone. Even if Hirosue sent an apology e-mail, he planned not to answer. But even after Matsuoka reached his own apartment, he did not receive a single e-mail―nothing thanking him for coming, much less apologizing.
Matsuoka grew unsettled. He didn’t know what could be behind Hirosue’s change in attitude. He was normal the last time they had seen each other. They had parted with a kiss as always, and Hirosue had told him he loved him.
Matsuoka thought and thought and finally reached one conclusion which made him go pale.
Maybe he’s found out I’m a man. If this was true, he could understand why he had suddenly stopped getting e-mails. Hirosue was angry, and that was why he wasn’t contacting him anymore. But how had he found out? As far as Matsuoka knew, he hadn’t done anything foolish to give himself away.
They had kissed and embraced many times, but Matsuoka had never let Hirosue touch his chest. He was neurotically careful about his skin, particularly his face. He always wore turtlenecks or scarves to keep his Adam’s apple out of sight. But Hirosue had still caught on. Since they had been dating for a while now, perhaps Matsuoka had unwittingly let his guard down somewhere.
Hirosue didn’t love him anymore. Just the thought made the world fade to black before his eyes. He couldn’t even be bothered to take his makeup off or change, and instead sank to the floor in his room. This was why he should have obliterated Yoko Eto from this world before he got found out. He should have continued to build up a relationship with Hirosue as himself, no matter how much time it took.
But after becoming this close to romance, would he have been able to go back to the beginning? By this time, he had gotten used to being told he was loved, and being hugged and kissed had become something of a norm.
It didn’t matter if he was exhausted from consecutive days of backbreaking sales visits and felt like taking it easy over the weekend. If Hirosue invited him out, he went. It was fun going on outings, but Matsuoka liked holing up at home with the man, too. Once, when Matsuoka had sat in his lap as a joke, Hirosue had looked immensely happy. After that, whenever he wanted to make Hirosue smile, he would perch on his lap on purpose. On more than one occasion, he would be kissed and cuddled by the man, and rocked in his arms so comfortably he would fall right asleep in his lap. Matsuoka could only fall asleep in his arms because he knew for certain that Hirosue would never take advantage of him while he was asleep.
He loved that the man, who called himself a bad speaker, tried his best to talk to him. He talked about his childhood, and his student life. Matsuoka felt like he was taking a peek into Hirosue’s past with him, and he enjoyed it. A few times the man asked him, “Don’t you get bored because I have nothing interesting to say?” but Matsuoka didn’t mind.
He went out even though he was tired, not because he was invited out, but because he wanted to see Hirosue. Meeting up with him and being with him put him at ease. If he was in a bad mood from an unfortunate happening, he was able to forget about it when he was with Hirosue.
Maybe the man was simply busy, or Matsuoka had caught him in a bad moment. Maybe he hadn’t found out Matsuoka was a man, and he was just thinking too much. Everyone has moments when they’d rather be by themselves, when they’d want to be left alone.
Matsuoka could think of nothing else, as if this topic had become the only thing his mind was capable of handling. Had Hirosue found out he was a man, or had something unpleasant happened to him on an unrelated occasion?
Matsuoka picked up his cell phone. He tried sending another e-mail.
‘What are you angry about?’
He had thought for half an hour about what to write. After much thought, he had chosen to write in clear and simple language. He received a reply not even five minutes later.
‘Aren’t you hiding something from me, Ms. Yoko?’
Matsuoka began to tremble as soon as he read it. He was certain now. The man knew. Matsuoka had no idea how to explain that he was actually a man. Was this even something that could be explained away? If he said he was sorry over and over, would he be forgiven?
He turned off his cell phone and hid it where he couldn’t see. He was afraid of saying sorry. He figured Hirosue would probably be the last person to lash out at Matsuoka for tricking him, but his heart wasn’t ready to take the criticism that was sure to come his way.
If this was a game, if it was a joke, he would probably have been able to say “I’m sorry” easily. But now, he couldn’t. He simply could not.
