In high school one of the guys would occasionally come into the classroom with skin looking like this. Never did Nishioka expect to see a colleague pushing thirty come into the office with the same telltale luster.
“Nothing special, huh?” Yeah, right, Nishioka thought. Oh, you pulled a fast one, all right, Majime. He removed his suit coat and slung it over the back of his chair to keep it from wrinkling.
He’d seen it coming a mile off. Women were mysterious creatures, apt to choose someone so unlikely you could bash your head in trying to figure it out. Good looks, a hefty bank account, a social personality—the seemingly obvious reasons rarely counted for much. No, experience had taught Nishioka that a woman attached supreme importance to whether or not a man put her first. Most men, if told by a woman, “You’re really sincere,” would suspect she was having a bit of fun at their expense. But apparently women actually did consider “sincerity” to be high praise—and by “sincerity” a woman meant someone who would never lie to her and who would save all his tenderness for her alone.
No way. Sure, he’d like to be that way, but really, no way.
No woman had ever praised Nishioka for his sincerity. He lied when the occasion called for it, and he was tender, or not, depending on his mood. Wasn’t that being truly sincere, goddamn it? Take it or leave it. Inevitably, his relationships suffered. In the end, guys like Majime were the ones women went for. Ho-hum guys with only their seriousness to recommend them, but with a touch of charm for all that, and a passion, whether for their work or hobby.
With a sigh, Nishioka got to work and began churning out e-mails to potential contributors. This was no time to be sitting around in a daze. The branches of the cherry trees were still bare, even now preparing for the coming spring. He needed to get as much done as possible before his pending transfer. He owed it to Majime, who was by no means a skilled negotiator. When Majime had first come, Nishioka had taken one look at him and thought, Here’s a fellow who’s never going to go far in the world. He’d also thought he’d be a good fit for the department. Before that he’d been pretty worried, even though he himself had tipped off Araki to Majime’s existence.
He’d first heard about Majime from Yoko Yokkaichi, a friend of his in sales. She and Nishioka were from the same batch of hires, and they got along pretty well. They’d once worked together organizing a company party, and every few months or so they went out for a drink. That day they’d been sitting in the basement cafeteria at lunchtime.
“Our new guy is creepy.” She’d paused as she was eating curry and frowned. “We heard such good things about him, too. A graduate degree in linguistics, supposed to be brilliant.”
“Creepy? Like what?”
“Like his hair’s always a total mess, for one thing.”
“Might be another Einstein.”
“He’s always straightening up his desk, and the office shelves, too.”
“Sounds like a handy fellow.”
“Yeah, but he’s more like a squirrel hiding nuts or something. I mean, he scurries around like some furtive little animal. And making the rounds of bookstores to push new titles is tiring, right? But he always comes back loaded down with books he picked up at secondhand shops. I mean, you start to wonder, does he go to all the places he’s supposed to or not? Before payday, he eats instant ramen out of the package, doesn’t even bother to cook it. I’ll bet all those used books are the reason he runs out of money. Don’t you think?”
“How would I know?”
“Doesn’t he sound creepy?”
“Different, I’ll grant you that.”
“First you, now this new guy . . . Makes you wonder about our company’s hiring policies!”
After this lament, Yoko finished her curry, then rinsed off her spoon by stirring it in her glass of water. She was a cheerful, bright young woman, attractive except for this annoying quirk.
“Oh, my god.” She set her spoon on the tray, looked behind Nishioka, and lowered her eyes. “He’s right behind you. What if he heard me?”
Nishioka turned casually and looked behind him. At a table a slight distance away, a lanky fellow had just gotten to his feet. Sure enough, his hair was jumping every which way. One hand held an empty plate, the other a yellowed paperback. Eyes glued to the page, he started off toward the tray return counter. And proceeded to bump into a potted plant. Dust from the leaves swirled in the air as all eyes turned to him. Without adjusting the glasses that had slipped down his nose, he bowed apologetically to the plant.
“I bet he wasn’t listening,” Nishioka said, turning back to face Yoko.
The guy was lost in his own world. Exactly the type Nishioka had the most trouble dealing with.
“So what am I doing, getting involved like this?” Nishioka murmured, looking at Majime, who was sitting across from him slurping soba noodles. After finishing the morning’s work, he had invited the perennially broke Majime out to lunch at a noodle joint near the office. “My treat,” he’d said. Majime modestly ordered a platter of morisoba, plain cold noodles with a dipping sauce. He seemed to be enjoying them.
“Involved in what?” Majime asked.
He couldn’t very well say, “You.” Instead he brushed the question aside. “Nothing.”
Having devoured his noodles, Majime was now pouring sobayu, the hot water the noodles were cooked in, from a little teapot into the rest of his dipping sauce to make a tasty drink. Nishioka had had a bowl of oyako domburi, rice topped with a chicken-and-egg mixture simmered with onions. He looked on restlessly as Majime finished his meal.
“Hey, Shiny.”
“Who, me?” Majime put a hand to his head. “I’ve still got plenty of hair, I think.”
“How’s it going with Kaguya?”
“Fine, thanks.” Majime was noncommittal at first, but under Nishioka’s steady, piercing gaze he realized the futility of evasion. He set the teapot back on the table and answered formally. “It’s hard to believe, but apparently she’s had feelings for me, too. She didn’t want to interfere in my dictionary work or let anything get in the way of her training as a chef, so she felt torn, she says, and let things slide.”
“Oh, yeah? How about that. Well, congratulations on losing your cherry.”
The noodle shop was a favorite lunch spot of Gembu employees, so he had the grace to say this last bit in a lowered voice, but Majime nodded without embarrassment.
“We talked it over and decided one reason we get on so well is we both have something we don’t want anyone interfering with.”
“How about that,” Nishioka said again, thinking, Good god. No doubt about it, Majime is the right man for both the department and Kaguya.
Nishioka had never been that absorbed in anything. And probably never would be.