“Hirosue.”
He opened his eyes a crack. Motofumi Hirosue didn’t realize he had been asleep until he was woken up by someone calling his name. He felt like he had been in the middle of a good dream, though he couldn’t remember what it was.

He was gently stroked on the head. The sensation of those indulgent fingertips was more comforting than he could describe. He could see Yosuke Matsuoka leaning in to peer at him with a very gentle look on his face.

Matsuoka’s head was small, and he had shapely eyes and a high nose. Hirosue couldn’t help but notice the perfect shape of the man’s face every time he saw him. So different from his own nondescript and unfas.h.i.+onable self. Hirosue usually did not care much about men’s looks, but when someone was as finely-chiseled as Matsuoka was, it was hard not to stare. It took him a while to realize that the man was also staring back at him with such intensity it almost hurt. The gaze did not move away, and Hirosue gradually began to feel suffocated.

“Hirosue.”

Still unable to figure out why his name was being called, he simply answered, “Yes?” The other man crept closer and closer. Hirosue sensed that he was about to be kissed, but he did not try to get away, nor did it ever occur to him that he needed to.

Their lips overlapped. He could feel their softness. Matsuoka was gentle with his touch, just like when he stroked Hirosue’s head. Hirosue closed his eyes dreamily in the lull that felt like a continuation of his dream. Something scratched against his chin, which brought him violently back to reality―it was a sensation he was not supposed to feel. Every touch caused a crawling down his spine that made him shudder.

Repulsion overtook him, and Hirosue instinctively shoved away the body before him. A distance formed between him and the other man. Matsuoka’s gentle face turned tense, and he looked at Hirosue like he was about to cry. The thoughts behind Hirosue’s actions were simple: it was unpleasant, so he had simply pushed it away. He did not immediately realize the meaning of what he had done.

Matsuoka’s gaze, which had been almost painfully fixed on him until now, dropped away.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice.

Hirosue didn’t know how to respond, since he didn’t know what the apology was for.

“I think I’m kind of drunk. I’ll go home now.” Matsuoka grabbed his coat and bag, and briskly made his way to the doorway. Hirosue rushed to stand up, but felt the ground lurch under his feet. He leaned against the wall and called to the man from where he was.

“The last train is already gone.”

Matsuoka turned around. “If I get out to the main road, I’ll be able to hail a cab,” he said, draping his coat over his shoulders as he smiled at him. The tension still remained in his cheeks, which pained Hirosue somewhat.

“You should stay over.”

“Not today, thanks. Good night.” With that, Matsuoka left for home. Once left alone, Hirosue felt closed in by loneliness and guilt. Today was Christmas Eve, his birthday, and in celebration, Matsuoka had treated him to an expensive-looking j.a.panese full-course meal. After leaving the restaurant, they agreed they still felt like drinking a little more, and had gone in search of another restaurant or bar. Unfortunately, every shop they went to was full. They couldn’t bother to wait for seats, and it was much too cold outside. In the end, Hirosue and Matsuoka decided to kick back with drinks at home, and had come back to Hirosue’s apartment.

They drank over casual conversation, chatting about the meal that they had just enjoyed or the drunken office worker they had seen on the way back. It was a good time over drinks―or, it was supposed to have been.

He had pushed Matsuoka away, but it wasn’t because he didn’t want to kiss him. Besides, he had slept with Matsuoka once a long time ago, though he had been too drunk to remember any of it. Because of that previous experience, he had never expected to feel so repulsed at feeling Matsuoka’s spa.r.s.e stubble rub against his own chin.

All this time, Hirosue had been unable to stop thinking about the man who had deceived him in women’s clothes but claimed to love him in earnest. His mind was so full of Matsuoka that he had ended his relations.h.i.+p with his girlfriend. Now, he was seeing Matsuoka under the condition that he would “probably fall in love with him”.

He was more than aware that Matsuoka was a man; yet, his own att.i.tude moments ago was not the way someone acted towards the person he loved.

Hirosue had already been getting a sneaking suspicion. It was one month now since he started meeting up often with Matsuoka. It was fun being with him. Hirosue was bad at conversation, but he could talk smoothly when he was with Matsuoka. When they were together, the s.p.a.ce they shared became a comfortable one. But there was no driving impulse there. He didn’t feel the same feverish rush of emotions that kept him awake at night when he was crazy about Yoko Eto.

Matsuoka was waiting for him to arrive at an answer. The man never pressed him; he just stood by, patiently watching for Hirosue’s next move. Today, in a rare exception, he had slightly overstepped his boundaries. But Hirosue had rejected the man in the cruelest way possible, and had let him go home without even trying to patch things up.

Hirosue pulled out his cell phone. He wanted to send an e-mail, but he didn’t know what to write. There was no way he could say he had pushed Matsuoka away because he had been repulsed by his facial hair. I was just surprised because it was so sudden―something like that? He felt like any message he wrote would make Matsuoka apologize. He sank deep into his thoughts and eventually fell back asleep. When he woke up, it was morning.

He had received an e-mail from Matsuoka during the night.

‘Sorry. I went a bit too far back there. I was a bit drunk,’ it said, in a swift apology. Hirosue felt it would be strange to respond to an apology with another apology, so he only wrote, ‘Please don’t worry about it. I’m sorry as well.’

That was the night of Christmas Eve, his birthday.

The trees lining the streets were completely stripped of their leaves, their spindly burnt-brown branches swaying in the wind. As they walked down the sidewalk to the subway station, Matsuoka flipped his coat collar up and hunched his shoulders.

“I told you, it’s fine,” he said. “You must have said ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘Forgive me’ like, ten times already. I don’t mind waiting, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

Matsuoka’s breath was white when he exhaled. They were past the chaotically busy days of the year-end and new year, and were now into February, the year’s coldest season. It had snowed yesterday and day before, though not enough to acc.u.mulate. Even with gloves on, one’s fingers were still p.r.o.ne to freezing.

They had promised to meet at seven. Usually, that hour gave Hirosue more than enough time to get there, but today of all days, he was told to work overtime. Judging by the amount, he guessed an hour of overtime would be enough to finish it. He e-mailed Matsuoka, whom he had dinner plans with, and asked him if he minded pus.h.i.+ng back their dinner a little. ‘That’s better for me, too,’ Matsuoka had replied, and they settled on meeting an hour later than the original time. Things were still alright at that point.

Another clerk had been told to stay behind as well as Hirosue. They split up the work, and Hirosue finished his portion in about an hour. He felt reluctant to just pack up and go home because his portion was done, so he stayed behind to help the other clerk. Somewhere along the way, he noticed something wrong with the numbers coming up on the spreadsheet.

A recalculation made it clear that the clerk had made a simple calculation error. They would have faced serious consequences if they had submitted this without catching the mistake.

“I’m glad we caught it early,” said the clerk as he began to make the corrections. Suddenly, the computer froze. Hirosue’s mind went blank along with the screen.

When they restarted the computer, the portion of the data that they had not backed up was completely gone. Faced with no other choice, they began recreating the unsaved portion. Time ticked on, and by the time they finally finished, it was past nine.

Hirosue’s workplace at Kois.h.i.+kawa Laboratory was in the outskirts of town, and transportation was frustratingly lacking. The bus was their main mode of transportation, since there were no trains running nearby. But even the bus stopped running as early as seven in the evening. Hirosue knew a taxi was going to be inevitable the moment he was told to work overtime. Luckily today, his co-worker offered to drive him to the station, perhaps out of guilt.

When Hirosue finally got to see Matsuoka, it was almost ten. The izakaya they usually went to closed at eleven-thirty, and he didn’t know many other restaurants nearby. He had been at a complete loss when Matsuoka peered into his face and said, “I feel like eating ramen, don’t you?” There was a good ramen stall nearby, according to him, so Hirosue followed Matsuoka. He was alright with anything, and if Matsuoka wanted to go, he had no complaints about it.

The warmth of the ramen spread pleasantly throughout his frozen body. It was Hirosue’s first time eating at a food stall, but its unpretentious and informal atmosphere reminded him of his favourite izakaya, which was comforting. Ramen wasn’t enough to fill them up, so they drank beer while eating a few pieces of oden. Matsuoka seemed to like the boiled eggs, and he ended up finis.h.i.+ng all the boiled eggs that the stall had prepared for the day. When the stall owner told him they had run out, Matsuoka looked dismayed. “Already? That’s too bad,” he said, even after he had eaten so many. Hirosue discreetly smiled to himself.

So many things had happened today, with his overtime and its problems, but ramen, oden, and beer were enough to make them feel distant. With his chin in hand, Hirosue gazed at Matsuoka joking with the stall owner. Matsuoka’s smile made him smile, too.

They left the stall in high spirits. The station was close by, but since they were warmed up, they chatted while they walked to the next station over. Soon, Hirosue started to feel cold in the whipping wind. He felt guilty about making Matsuoka wait for close to two hours in this weather, and had apologized.

“Did I really say ‘sorry’ ten times? Were you counting?”

Matsuoka turned around at Hirosue’s question. His eyes narrowed as he grinned.

“I lied.”

“You can’t just throw around numbers like that.”

“That’s how much you were apologizing, though.”

Beside him, Matsuoka suddenly started humming something. It was a song about winter. As Hirosue wondered who used to sing it, the song eventually stopped. Matsuoka looked up at the sky.

“I wonder if it’ll snow today. The weather forecast made it sound like it was going to.”

Matsuoka brought his hands out of his pockets and blew on his fingertips.

“Aren’t you going to wear gloves?”

“I left them at work.”

Hirosue couldn’t help but notice how red his fingertips were. He took off his own gloves and offered them to the man.

“Here.” He had gotten them as a present from Matsuoka. They were warm and comfortable to wear, and had become his favourite pair. Matsuoka glanced at the gloves, but did not move to accept them.

“It’s fine. If I borrow them, you’ll be cold.”

“But it bothers me.”

They stood in their tracks, staring at each other’s hands. Neither would back down.

“Half and half, then,” Matsuoka said, taking one glove from him.

“Are you sure half is enough?”

Matsuoka laughed briefly, though Hirosue had no idea why, and wore one glove and stuck the other hand in his coat pocket. He broke into a brisk walk.

They spotted a middle-aged man in a suit lying on the ground in front of the crosswalk near the station. He looked past fifty, and the hair on his head was getting pitifully thin. A policeman was crouched next to him, asking questions like, “What’s your name?” and “Where do you live?”.

“Stop botherin’ me, G.o.dd.a.m.nit,” the man slurred, still lying on the ground. Their discussion was going nowhere. The man’s face was beet-red, and one could catch a strong whiff of alcohol just by walking past him. He clearly had had too much to drink. Perhaps he was lucky that the officer had found him; he would have put himself in danger by sleeping outside in this cold.

Matsuoka glanced backwards after they pa.s.sed the middle-aged man.

“I wonder if he had a rough day, or something.”

“Looked like it, huh,” Hirosue agreed. Matsuoka let out a thin sigh.

“Speaking of which, you know how our company hasn’t been doing well lately? They’re going to be doing some drastic cost-cutting, and I hear a few people are going to be laid off at the end of the fiscal year. Seems like they’re targeting people over fifty, though, so we probably have nothing to do with it.”

“I haven’t heard anything like that where I am.”

“Maybe things are different in the research field. Oh, on an unrelated note, Hayama is quitting in March.”

When Hirosue turned around in surprise, Matsuoka looked him straight in the eye.

“Why?” Hirosue couldn’t help but ask.

“Because she’s getting married.”

Hirosue stopped in his tracks.

“Apparently she had a marriage interview last November,” Matsuoka explained, “and since then, everything’s been decided like clockwork. I guess arranged marriages move forward pretty fast, huh? The wedding’s in July, but she says she’ll quit in March and take her time to train herself in her housewifely duties.”

Hirosue and Hayama had been dating until last October. Hayama’s confession was what started it. Back then, Hirosue had still been having trouble forgetting about Yoko Eto. Perhaps if he spent time with someone new, with someone who said she loved him, he would be able to forget about her―that was what he had thought.

In the end, he had ended up breaking up with her. Now, it was none of his business if Hayama got herself a new boyfriend or got married afterwards. But he still could not hide his surprise and bewilderment at hearing this news barely months after their breakup.

“―I suppose women are better at moving on, huh,” Hirosue said, partly to himself and partly as a question.

“Who knows,” Matsuoka dismissed coolly, and began to walk again. Hirosue followed after him, still in thought about the woman who had claimed to love him four months ago. Wasn’t it a tad flighty of her to tell him she loved him, then marry another man barely six months later? Hirosue tilted his head, wondering if she’d always been that kind of woman, and a sudden realization dawned on him.

People’s feelings change. Take himself, for instance―his feelings had swayed towards Matsuoka even while he was dating Hayama. He had been lulled into a feeling of superiority, a.s.suming that those feelings of love, those special feelings directed solely at him, would remain forever. He was embarra.s.sed at his own insolence.

“Ms. Hayama was good at cooking and really mindful around the household, so I think she’d make a good wife,” Hirosue said as he caught up to Matsuoka.

“Was Hayama really that good at cooking?”

“I think she was, at least. She used to make me curry and gratin often.”

There was a slight pause. “If it’s just curry we’re talking about, I’m pretty good at that, too,” Matsuoka mumbled. “I used to cook for myself a lot when I first started working full-time. Curry with lots of seafood, or curry with a focus on mushrooms. With cheese.”

“You put cheese in curry?”

“It’s actually pretty good,” Matsuoka said. “I made it for a couple people and they all liked it.”

“Uh-huh.” Cheese curry with mushrooms. It sounded quite rich.

“Want me to make it next time you come over?”

“Oh, sure! I’d love to try it,” Hirosue said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. Matsuoka chuckled. Hirosue ducked his head, embarra.s.sed for acting like a child.

“You’re funny, you know that, Hirosue?” Matsuoka hummed another tune, then quickly quit. They arrived at the station. Matsuoka returned Hirosue’s right glove. “See you,” he said, before walking towards the platform on the right. Hirosue was on the opposite platform to the left. Hirosue’s train came first. When he glanced over at the platform across, Matsuoka was waving.

Matsuoka’s figure disappeared quickly once the train rounded the bend. Hirosue sat down in an unoccupied seat and let out a short sigh.

He enjoyed going out to eat when it was with Yosuke Matsuoka. Back in school, it had been a whole different matter. But in his life as a working adult, he had never met a man he got along so well with. He and Matsuoka ate dinner together once or twice a week, and spent weekends together every other week or so. They would go for a casual drive or go to watch a movie, or sometimes spend the day vegging out in front of the TV watching DVDs at one another’s apartments. Hirosue was very fond of these peaceful, comfortable times they spent together.

Last Christmas, on his birthday, he had eaten dinner with Matsuoka and received a present from him. He had refused out of modesty, but Matsuoka brushed it off, saying it wasn’t that expensive. Hirosue had opened the box to find a beautiful watch with a blue face. It looked simple and comfortable to wear. Despite saying that he couldn’t accept such a gift, Hirosue found himself instantly in love with the watch.

“You know, since I heard before that you lost your watch,” Matsuoka had said in a small voice. The food was delicious, he had taken a great liking to his present, and their conversation had been vibrant; Hirosue had enjoyed his birthday very much. Perhaps that was why he wanted to spend a little more time with Matsuoka even after they had left the restaurant and it was time to go home. But since Christmas had overlapped with the weekend, all the restaurants and bars nearby were full.

“Want to have drinks at my place?” Hirosue had been the one to suggest it. On the way home, they bought cans of beer and chuhai at the convenience store and resumed drinking at his apartment. He couldn’t remember what they talked about, but it was funny and he remembered laughing often. He also recalled asking Matsuoka for his birthday so he could do something in return, and Matsuoka had not told him.

“Don’t worry about me,” he had said and shrugged it off.

They talked until it was almost time for the last train to leave. Matsuoka had been looking at his watch, wondering what to do. Hirosue had suggested that he sleep over. Afterwards, when Matsuoka kissed him, he had impulsively shoved him away.

That incident had been put behind them after they both apologized over e-mail, at least in Hirosue’s opinion. But he did notice one small change. He began to get visibly less e-mails every day from Matsuoka compared to before. He wondered if it was because of that incident, but Matsuoka’s e-mails had not stopped altogether. Besides, they were both busy as the year drew to a close―that was probably why, he convinced himself.

Hirosue went back to the countryside for the new year as he did every year, and did not return to the city until January 3. He met up with Matsuoka on the same day. They had not seen each other since Christmas, so it had been about ten days.

They agreed to meet in the afternoon at a park near the s.h.i.+nto shrine instead of in front of the station, where it would probably be crowded. When Hirosue arrived at the park ten minutes before their agreed time, Matsuoka was already waiting.

He still couldn’t forget the look on Matsuoka’s face. His mouth was curved up in a smile, but his eyes looked as if they had seen something frightening.

“Uh, long time no see.” Even his voice seemed to tremble a little.

“Yeah, um. Did you wait long?”

“Not at all. I just got here.”

“It’s cold outside. Want to drink something warm before heading over?” Hirosue suggested, and invited Matsuoka to go to a coffee shop nearby. Inside the coffee shop, they could spot the occasional girl in kimono.

“What did you do for new years, Matsuoka?”

Matsuoka, who had been sitting with his hands wrapped around his cup of coffee instead of drinking it, jerked and raised his face.

“Oh, um… just lazed at home…”

“Same with me. I thought you’d be the type to be out there playing sports, or something.”

“I’ve never invited you out to anything like that before, though, have I?”

“I thought maybe you were being considerate because I’m bad at sports.”

Matsuoka smiled briefly. “I’ve always liked being at home. I do enough running around outside for work, so…”

That made sense. Hirosue heard that people in sales were always madly busy, and often their health suffered because of it. His former boss, f.u.kuda, always said sales was an easy job, but Hirosue had always had the feeling that it wasn’t. Matsuoka said his shoes didn’t even last one year. In General Affairs, that was unthinkable.

“I like hot spring resorts. Just relaxing in the water, putting your feet up and being waited on hand and foot. That kind of stuff.”

“I like hot springs, too.”

Then why don’t we―Matsuoka began, then cut himself off awkwardly. Hirosue wondered what could be wrong, but continued to talk.

“Back in university, I used to go the public bath nearby all the time. My apartment came with a shower, but sometimes I just had the urge to soak in a huge bath.”

“Hot springs and public baths are kind of different, no?”

Hirosue didn’t notice until it was pointed out. “I guess so,” he said. “Big baths all seem the same to me.”

“Not one for details, are you,” laughed Matsuoka. The tension finally fell away from his cheeks. They left the coffee shop a little later to visit the shrine on their hatsumode. By the time they headed home, Matsuoka was his energetic self again.

From that day forward, the trickle of e-mails slowly increased to their usual pace, and Matsuoka began inviting him to dinner and outings at the same frequency as before. Although Matsuoka never said so himself, he seemed to have taken the incident with the kiss at Christmas quite to heart.

The train gave a big lurch as it pulled into the station close to his apartment. The moment Hirosue stepped onto the platform, the freezing air swooped down on him from all sides. Hirosue buried his nose in his scarf, hunched his shoulders, and walked swiftly. He did not pa.s.s many people on the street, perhaps because of the late hour.

He walked past the detached house near his apartment, whose yard was overgrown with bushes. A dog suddenly barked at him, making him flinch. He still couldn’t get used to it, though it happened every day, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Every day was the same, an almost wearying repet.i.tion. But Hirosue liked this feeling. He wasn’t looking for anything more. It was the same with his relations.h.i.+p with Matsuoka: things didn’t have to go anywhere. He was perfectly satisfied with the way things were.

Hirosue seldom talked back to people because he didn’t like getting into arguments. That inevitably led to people who would mistakenly think they could saying anything to him and get away with it. Those people would say things to him in an increasingly direct manner, whereas with other people, they would probably choose their words more carefully. And more often than not, Hirosue was hurt by these words. Once Hirosue was left with an impression of these people, it was hard to erase. At work, he always ended up as a target for people to release their frustrations on, and he knew the root of the problem lay in the fact that he always made the wrong choices about when to speak out and when to keep silent. He was the root of the problem―he knew that―but there was nothing he could do. Of those who didn’t bother to be polite to him, many of them were males. Women were a little more considerate.

Matsuoka also spoke in an upfront manner, but Hirosue could always understand his reasoning, and he had never found it unpleasant. He could tell the man was always looking out for him. Matsuoka was a kind man.

If Matsuoka were to tell him he was in trouble, Hirosue knew he would want to help. He would want to do everything in his power. Although he did cherish Matsuoka, the truth was that he did not feel the impulse to engage in physical acts like with Yoko Eto.

He had ended the relations.h.i.+p with his girlfriend to chase after a fleeing Matsuoka. He had told the man he might love him, then put off giving an answer, and ultimately arrived at this conclusion. Hirosue could not bring himself to say that he wanted to stay as friends. He could tell Matsuoka loved him just by watching him. He was always the nice friend around Hirosue, but in the occasional brief instance, he would feel a heat like smouldering embers in the way Matsuoka looked at him.

Was there any way Matsuoka’s feelings would subside? Couldn’t his romantic feelings fizzle by themselves so they could continue seeing each other as friends? Was there any way they could arrive at the kind of relations.h.i.+p where they would each get married, but still invite each other out and meet up for the occasional drink?

Hirosue heaved a sigh at the dark sky. His white breath vanished in wisps, and the night air was slightly painful in his lungs as he breathed it in.

That day, Hirosue was called to the head clerk’s desk right before the end of the work day. The head clerk looked more displeased than Hirosue had ever seen him, and he sensed instantly that it was bad news. He cast around his thoughts for what it could be, and he remembered the doc.u.ments he had worked overtime the other day to finish. He had done a final check, but perhaps he had overlooked something in his rush. He may have made typos, but he knew he had confirmed the numbers over and over.

“Could you come with me for a minute?” The head clerk took him to the small meeting room next door. Hirosue tilted his head in perplexity; the head clerk wasn’t the type to bother taking people aside when they were in trouble. The head clerk entered the meeting room ahead of him, and told Hirosue to close the door. Apparently it was something he didn’t want others to hear.

“It’s been a year since you came to Kois.h.i.+kawa, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

A short silence. Although they were standing face-to-face, the head clerk refused to meet Hirosue’s eyes. He was turning fifty this year. Hirosue had heard that this man had made a fatal mistake in the midst of a big project at headquarters and had been seconded to Kois.h.i.+kawa as a result. One of the senior clerks had told him.

“Last year, when you were transferred here,” the head clerk admitted, “I thought we were getting someone useless again. And it’s true, a lot of the time, headquarters sends us people who don’t take their work seriously, or have problems with their characters. But you’re―well, you’re not the fastest at your work, but you don’t make mistakes, and you take your work seriously. I was really happy that they sent someone good for once.”

“Th-thank you.”

The praise made him think that it wasn’t such bad news after all, and took the nervous tension out of his shoulders.

“Before you came, we got evaluation slips from your boss at headquarters and from HR. It was pretty atrocious, to tell you the truth. That was another reason why I was on guard. But contrary to what it said on your slip, you turned out to be a hard working, responsible man. I didn’t know what would have earned you such a bad evaluation. Did you have some personal disagreements with your boss over there?”

f.u.kuda’s face crossed his mind. “Oh, uh, not in particular,” Hirosue answered.

“I see,” said the head clerk, pressing his thumb to his chin. “You’re a slow worker, but you get your work done properly. And you don’t really seem like the type that would attract grudges. I submitted an evaluation for you, as well, and I stand by its credibility.”

Hirosue had no idea what this discussion was leading up to. The head clerk heaved a sigh.

“There’s been an unofficial announcement from HR.”

His heart stirred. It was clear that his evaluation had improved. Perhaps, then, he would be transferred back to General Affairs at headquarters.

“As of the end of March, we’ll be letting you go.”

“―What―?”

Hirosue’s mind went blank. His mouth trembled, and the words would not come out. Letting him go―did that mean he was getting laid off? The head clerk wore a difficult expression as he drew his eyebrows together.

“I heard rumours that headquarters was handing out dismissals to workers over fifty, but you’re still young and in your thirties. I don’t know what the higher-ups are thinking.” He sighed with folded arms. “I’m sorry. But that’s how it is.”

Hirosue balled his hands into hard fists. He felt an uncomfortable sweat breaking out in his armpits.

“I… but… you can’t just tell me to quit on such short notice…”

The head clerk looked at him with pity. “I understand it’s not the easiest thing to swallow. But this is what the company has decided. If you have objections, you can go directly to the higher-ups, but I doubt anything will change. You’ll just end up having an unpleasant experience. But, mind you, I personally think this decision is cruel. I’ll negotiate to see if they can at least give you good severance pay.”

It was not a joke. He was really being laid off. The truth crept up threateningly from his feet.

“But, well, compared to people in their fifties, you’re still young and you’re single. You’ve got plenty of chances to start over. I thought I’d let you know about this early, since you’ve probably got to think about finding other employment and such. The official announcement will be on March 25. Be sure not to tell anyone until then.”

As Hirosue stood dumbfounded, the head clerk gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“Just because you have to quit, it doesn’t mean your life is over. Don’t let it get to you too much.”

The head clerk left the meeting room, leaving Hirosue alone. He collapsed into a nearby chair. Both Matsuoka and the head clerk had said that only people over fifty were being laid off. Why had he been part of that group?

Hirosue knew that his transfer to Kois.h.i.+kawa Laboratory was, in effect, a relegation, since he wasn’t even a researcher. But he had believed that he would some day be transferred back to headquarters if he continued to do his best. But far from being transferred back, he was being laid off. He was being branded as an Unwanted Worker.

Hirosue knew he wasn’t amazing at his work. He was slow and clumsy. But still, in his own way, he believed he had worked hard and done the best he could. Was that still not enough? Did that mean he was incompetent? He probably was, if he wasn’t wanted anymore. His thirteen years of employment at this company had all come to naught.

There was also the news that his evaluation had been terrible at headquarters. It was true that he and his boss, f.u.kuda, had not gotten along. But Hirosue had worked for several bosses in the past who thrust the blame onto lower workers or made unreasonable demands. f.u.kuda was nothing special.

However, he did sense that f.u.kuda harboured a needless animosity towards him. Had f.u.kuda lowered Hirosue’s evaluation grades based on personal feelings? Would someone who stood above others do such a thing purely for personal reasons?Maybe―maybe―Just thinking about it made Hirosue’s chest feel tight and his thoughts turn black. He didn’t want to hate anyone for something that might not even be true. He wanted to believe it wasn’t.

So, why was he being laid off? It was because he wasn’t good enough. Because he couldn’t do his work. Because he was incompetent. Not needed by his company. Hirosue felt dashed to the ground by his own thoughts, and his spirits sank so low they seemed to know no bottom. It was a while before Hirosue could get out of his chair.

He didn’t remember much of what happened until he arrived at home. He returned once to the office, then sat down in front of the computer like the rest of his colleagues working overtime, but he didn’t remember thinking or moving his hands.

When he came to, he was sitting absently on the tatami floor of his apartment, still wearing his coat. The heat was turned off in his room, and it was freezing cold. He was hungry, but he didn’t have the energy to go out to buy something.

I’m going to get laid off.

Hirosue cradled his head, at a loss of how to cope with this harsh reality. He couldn’t bear to tell his parents that he was being made to quit his job. It would be too humiliating to say he had been laid off because he was incompetent. His family wasn’t wealthy, but when he told them he wanted to go to a university in Tokyo, they had let him go without a single complaint. Afterwards, when he managed to get a job at a decently well-known company, they had been happy for him. They forgave him for only being able to visit during the Obon holiday and the new year. “Things must be busy at big company like yours,” they’d say. And after coming this far, this is what it had come to. Hirosue didn’t want his parents to think that he was a failure.

When April rolled around and he was kicked out of his company, he wouldn’t be able to go back home. He didn’t want to. This meant he would have to search for a new job in the city. He hadn’t gone job-searching since university, so he had no idea where to start. Employment magazines? h.e.l.lo Work? His uncertainty did nothing but aggravate his anxiety.

An e-mail ringtone resounded in his cold room. Hirosue lazily dragged his cell phone out of his bag. It was from Matsuoka.

‘You done work? I’m just about to go home now. Are you good with 7pm tomorrow at the usual spot?’

He remembered now that he had made plans to have dinner tomorrow with Matsuoka. Matsuoka always e-mailed him with a confirmation the day before their plans, in case they had to change plans due to work.

Hirosue had gotten the same kind of e-mail many times in the past. It was his current predicament, perhaps, that made Matsuoka’s words seem overly giddy in his eyes. ―It irritated him to no end.

Matusoka had no idea about Hirosue’s situation. It wasn’t Matsuoka’s fault―he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to reply. He turned off his cell phone. Right now, he didn’t feel like interacting with anyone at all.