Freedom of Self

Chapter 12

Ever since they left the city, Arata couldn't help but be taken in by the cozy, peaceful atmosphere of the small villages they passed through and welcomed the memory of many nostalgic moments he had spent in his home town as a child. Much like the Hakone region, Akita's dense woodlands were peppered with outlying tourist resorts and various food stalls and trinket shops by the main road, which cut a winding path through the coniferous trees.

"You've been glued to the window for the last thirty minutes." Matsushita-san chucked suddenly, breaking Arata's focus. "Is this really your first time in Hakone?"

"Ah... yes, sorry I dazed out." Arata gave a shy smile, shifting in his seat yet continuing to look outside. An endless number of tall cedar and cypress trees surrounded both sides of the road, their rich emerald crown towering high above them, casting them in their shadow.

"It really took an hour and a half, exactly as you said, Matsushita-san." the young man noted a moment later, as he glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "It really didn't feel that long."

"Are you sure you can say that?" Matsushita-san huffed. "Before I knew it, I had started complaining about my clients and kept ranting on about this and that because you were too polite to stop me."

"I don't mind." Arata gave a small laugh and a flash of surprise appeared on the older man's face at the delicate sound.

"Matsushita-san, anyone can tell that despite the inconveniences that crop up along the way, you really love your job. So... how should I say it... even though you were griping a bit, it was quite endearing." Arata hesitated in his wording. In truth, he found the other man's grumbling innocently cute, every objection that he had voiced seeming to underline the passion for his work even more.

Stunned, Matsushita-san could only look at Arata out of the corner of his eye as he was still at the wheel, yet he glimpsed the faint blush covering the young man's cheeks.

He calls me endearing then starts blushing? the man thought to himself.

It was not his first time seeing Arata embarrassed, as the young man was naturally rather demure in his eyes. Whereas others would think him glum or prudish, he had seen for himself how that aloof façade could melt away so beautifully.

Over the years, Matsushita-san had become adept at noticing and putting together the small gestures, quirks and behaviors of others in order to get a sense of their temperament and character. He had met many people in his adult life, especially while on the job – some, he could read like an open book, while others kept their cards close to their chest, developing a professional persona that was probably totally unlike their real personality. Matsushita-san himself fell somewhere on that spectrum.

In that respect, however, Arata was somewhat of a paradox. He seemed reserved or even withdrawn at first glance, yet Matsushita-san had come to know that that was merely a front the young man was adamant on maintaining, whilst unthought emotions and concerns brewed inside him. While the older man had yet to discover what they were, the moments that he had witnessed Arata lowering his guard had been somewhat bewildering.

Remembering how he had cared for the young man when he was sick, Matsushita-san's hands tightened on the steering wheel. How fraught with worry he had been until he saw with his own eyes that Arata recovered from his fever. The moments he had spent frantically knocking on his door, his heart pounding in his ears as he waited for a reply or a sound of movement to confirm that Arata was alright – he wished never to have to go through something like that again. How boney he had felt in his arms as he carried him to his bed, his sunken cheeks burning with fever. How the most trivial, impromptu signs of kindness had caused his thin body to be wracked by one of the most wretched sobs the man had heard in his life. At that moment, there had been nothing else to do but hold him quietly as he abandoned the fight to keep himself in perfect control.