Off Air ~Yes, No, Or Maybe Half?~ Chapter 4 Part2

Part 2: All You Need

It was December 28th. Ushio had finished his year-end housecleaning the day before and wrapped up his work for the year. In previous years, he would laze around the house, find people to go out with, or spend a few days at a hotel. It was typically a slow and easy New Year's holiday for him, but this year would be a little different.

He was at a gourmet meat counter in the bas.e.m.e.nt marketplace of a department store, staring at all the bright red displayed behind a refrigerated gla.s.s case. If he was eating by himself, he would never fork out the cash for these revered, majestic cows…err, former cows now.

—Meat would be good.

New Year's was a holiday reserved for spending with close family, and as a show of appreciation for letting him stay over at this delicate time of year, Ushio had asked Kei what he should bring as a gift, and this was his response. When Ushio asked suspiciously, "Isn't that what you want?" Kei had pulled up his LINE chats to show him as proof. He had been chatting with a Masae…oh, so that was his mother's name. Ushio thought that it was a nice surprise to know the name of one of Kei's relatives as he looked through the messages.

"I'm bringing someone over for New Year's."

"A girlfriend?"

"No."

"Don't tell me you made a friend? Or is it someone from work? Whichever it is, I don't want to be forced to keep up your little charade in my own home."

"He's knows, so it's fine."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm serious."

"When you say he knows, does he know that you like to put worcestershire sauce on your rice?"

"Shut up, he knows."

"So it's okay if I treat him like he knows everything? Don't complain about it to me afterwards."

"Okay, enough. He's asking what he should bring."

"Hmmm, meat would be good. By the way, please tell him that at our house we don't make accommodations for anything other than allergies, and if he's okay with that, then he's welcome to stay. Oh, do you know if he can play mahjong?"

"He probably can."

"Then we should play, since we'll have 4 people. It would make your dad happy."

Kei had said that his parents were normal, but Ushio wondered if it was really true. There were lots of varieties of meat he could get, and when Ushio tried to get Kei to ask for more specifics, Kei flat out rejected him with a "Too much trouble."

Then why did you invite me to come?

Steak… probably wasn't what he was looking for. There was the feeling of I brought this so you can cook it for me. Then should he go for shabu shabu1 or sukiyaki?2 But he didn't know how they would feel about sharing the same pot with a stranger. Kei would probably say something like, If it really bothers them, we can make stir-fry with b.u.t.ter and soy sauce, knowing his B-grade tastebuds. With the arrival time of the Shinkansen fast approaching, Ushio ordered some high-quality beef suitable for sukiyaki and had the counter pack it securely with ice packs.

When he reached the departure platform at Tokyo Station, the Hikari3 train still hadn't arrived, and he headed for the location marked for his designated car number. As he approached, his gaze was drawn to the figure of someone with beautiful posture standing in the boarding line. Oh, wow, it was Kunieda Kei, in the flesh.

Kei was wearing a beautiful, expensive-looking coat with no sign of any pilling. The profile of his face as he looked straight ahead was a picture of elegant serenity, and it was a complete contradiction to the Kei whom Ushio saw on a daily basis. He didn't view either one of him as good or bad, but he was still astounded by the difference. Kei had a scarf wrapped high around his neck, and the delicate fabric, almost white and translucent under the lights, wavered back and forth almost touching his lips.

"Do you see that guy over there…?"

"I've seen him on TV, but I can't remember where."

"Oh, do you think he was on a TV drama?"

"Ahh, I can't remember. But I definitely recognize him."

Ushio had stepped back to watch Kei from afar because it was entertaining, and he inadvertently overheard a few people's conversations about him. Now that he had zoomed back from the picture, he noticed several pairs of eyes sneaking glances at Kei. The reactions ranged from Hey, it's Kunida Kei, recognizing him on sight, to others such as now, wondering, He's on TV, right? or Where have I seen him before? 

Celebrities who said that people never noticed them on public transportation were probably too oblivious (in a good way) about their surroundings. People who made a career out of standing in front of a camera for an audience were substantially different from the average person. Ushio thought so too when he had met Tatsuki, and so it wasn't just his personal bias talking. In contrast to Kunieda Kei who had kept himself at a distance from the public, Tatsuki was openly friendly to everyone, and so he was often approached for pictures and autographs, but he didn't feel particularly stressed over it, saying that he'd run away with a Sorry! whenever it got too much for him. Personalities really worked in mysterious ways.

In the meantime, there was an announcement of the train's arrival, and the Hikari pulled in next to the platform. Even in broad daylight, the headlights of the Shinkansen were near blindingly bright, and Ushio watched Kei turn to look around the platform.

Oh, he's looking for me. Don't worry, I'm here, I'm here.

Ushio didn't call out, didn't make eye contact, didn't raise his hand; he only responded inside of his heart. It seemed that Kei had caught sight of Ushio and relaxed, turning back to face the front of the line. It was a little ridiculous, acting like they were having an affair, but Ushio didn't want to draw any unwanted attention from the onlookers, who would probably a.s.sume that he was a shameless fan approaching a celebrity. But he really did want to talk to "Kuniedsan" again.

Yes, it was a little stupid, but it would cross his mind from time to time. He loved Kei, both sides of him, but he realized that he would probably never be able to see "Kuniedsan" alone again in private. Ushio didn't see "Kuniedsan" as a lie or a fake. They were both Kei to him, and it made him a little wistful. The thought that he could only see him on the television screen, like a fan watching an idol, brought out dark emotions inside of him, that maybe he should have let Kei stay in the dark about discovering his secret a little longer. He wondered for his Christmas present next year if Kei would let him do it with "Kuniedsan." Would he get angry? He probably would. Ushio didn't care if he got yelled at (it didn't bother him at all), but he knew that it was something that could hurt Kei deeply, and so he could only keep his thoughts to himself. He was this considerate about Kei's feelings, and yet Kei would always yell at how insensitive or how tactless he was. How unreasonable was that?

Ushio went to the back of the line to board the train, then found his a.s.signed seat as marked on his ticket. Kei was already sitting in the seat next to the window, his head buried inside a newspaper, not sparing a single glance in Ushio's direction. He only ventured out to grace a charming smile at the conductor who came to check their tickets, and like a flip of a coin, retreated back behind his paper barricade. It was fine, Ushio didn't mind. He would have Kei settle the check when they returned home (mainly with his body).

There were a number of folded newspapers tucked into Kei's leather tote bag, and each time he finished one, he would place it in the seatback pocket in front him, and like magic, another paper appeared for him to read. Ushio was honestly impressed that Kei could maintain his daily work routine even during vacation. Ushio was full after reading a single newspaper. He thought that maybe Kei really enjoyed reading the news, but then he remembered how happy Kei was when he could finally relax on days that there were no publications (but he would go around reading internet news sites instead).

Ushio was surprised at first to learn that there were writers who wrote the scripts that the TV announcers read, but sometimes when Kei watched a different news show, he would scowl at the TV screen and criticize, This guy doesn't have any idea what's coming out of his mouth. Apparently, reading the news wasn't as simple as reciting the j.a.panese off of a script as written. What the difference was, Ushio, and probably the great majority of viewers, couldn't say, but there was certainly something to be said about a presenter's reputation and rhetoric that built up over time—and it was probably related to which announcers stayed in the spotlight and which announcers faded into obscurity. Kei had instinctively understood the severity of this point without anyone ever telling him.

When Ushio glanced at the bag sitting on the retractable table, he caught sight of an ice pack bound together with silver packaging, and he couldn't help but to take it out. It was a round package of expensive-looking b.u.t.ter, probably imported, beautifully wrapped in silver foil and stamped with a round seal.

"Don't look through my things."

It was a very quiet protest from beyond the newsprint wall.

"…Is this for New Year's?"

"Yeah."

Kei explained that he had made a special version of his white rice mixed with b.u.t.ter, soy sauce, and bonito flakes. The rest he had packed up to give to his parents, because he was a good son like that. 

This face eating white rice mixed with b.u.t.ter, soy sauce, and bonito flakes. Seriously. It was so far beyond a mismatch, it ventured into the realm of the surreal. Ushio stifled back his laughter as he returned the package back into the bag.

After about an hour, Kei had fully digested the 5 major national newspapers that he had brought with him. Putting on his coat and scarf to transform back into Kuniedsan, they stepped out onto the platform.

"Where do we go from here?"

"We're getting picked up."

Ushio followed after Kei as he headed directly towards the traffic circle and stopped in front of a silver minivan. Kei opened the back pa.s.senger door and hurried inside, but Ushio couldn't necessarily do the same. 

He poked his head inside the minivan and said, "Excuse me…"

The woman in the driver's seat—most likely Kei's mother—asked, "Do you need me to open the trunk?"

"Oh, no, this is all I have with me, so there's no need to open it." Ushio lifted his large Boston bag and the paper bag from the meat counter.

"Alright," she nodded. "Then please get in. I'm sure you're cold."

"Yes, thank you."

Ushio sat next to Kei and closed the door. Kei's mother immediately started the car and asked, "What's your name?"

"It's Tsuzuki."

"Tsuzuki-kun then. Do you prefer to do your own laundry?"

"Huh?"

"Laundry. I can't imagine that you have 6 days worth of clothes in your bag. It's not too much trouble to put your clothes in with our laundry, but I'm asking if you have any objections to it."

"Oh… I can take care of my own laundry. I can go to a laundromat nearby."

"You can use the laundry room at our house. Just let me know when you want to use it. Oh, one more thing, I don't like people touching my kitchen, and so I really don't need any offers to help with the cooking or dishwashing."

"…Alright."

Ushio knew that he couldn't trust Kei's definition of "normal" when he had described his parents, but this conversation was already off to a peculiar start. Normally, people would start off with the set phrases, like Thank you for coming, I hope my son hasn't been an imposition on you. And then Ushio could respond with a Thank you for having me over. I'm sorry to impose over New Year's, but he wasn't able to offer a proper greeting. Ushio's responses weren't to the level that one would call curt or brusque, but his tone was dry and crisp, and after a period of silence, he could imagine being asked if he was angry, but it seemed that Kei's mother was used to dealing with such a tone of voice. She wore barely any makeup other than her eyebrows, and it made it easy to see her facial features. Kei didn't look strikingly similar to her, but there was certainly a family resemblance.

Kei's mother took a glance at Ushio from the rearview mirror and offered an apology.

"Sorry about that. This is the first time we've ever had guests at our house, so I wasn't too sure how to go about it. I thought I'd clear up any concerns that I could think of if I was in your position, but I wonder if I was too abrupt?"

"I was a little surprised, but it's really fine. In fact, I'm rather relieved that you let me know about these things up front."

Kei let out a loud yawn next to him, entirely uninvested in the conversation. This was always the way things went once he shutout the outside world.

Seriously you, do you not care if we can hold a conversation or not?

"Kei, a number of packages arrived for you from Amazon."

"Yeah, I ordered a bunch of manga that I wanted to read while I'm here."

"Tomorrow is the last day of the year for garbage pickup. Make sure you open your packages and sort out your trash before then."

"You could have opened them for me."

"Why should I sort out your manga for you?"

"You read them too."

"That's because you leave them all over the house after you finish reading them! It's like you half live in this fict.i.tious world of yours…"

"Leave me alone!"

The minivan stopped to wait for a traffic light, and this time Kei's mother turned around to stare hard at Ushio.

"You're really not surprised by this."

"Huh? Oh, you mean like the worcestershire sauce?"

"Exactly. It was hard enough to believe that Kei would bring anyone home in the first place, but then you also knew what he was like inside. Did you two have a fist fight down by a river or something?

"Um, no…"

But they certainly had a very physical relationship.

"Focus on driving, not your interrogation."

"Keep that att.i.tude up and I won't buy you any Lumonde biscuits.