When people described someone as “a beauty,” they were almost always talking about a woman. But that phrase was the only accurate way of describing Toshihiko Katayama. He wasn’t just beautiful; he was beauty itself. Words like handsome or attractive failed to do full justice to the sublime arrangement of features that made up his face.
Toshihiko wasn’t ignorant of his gift. For as long as he could remember, he had gotten more compliments from people than everyday greetings. Cute might just as well have been his own special nickname, something that applied exclusively to him.
Even so, he never tried to build a career based on his appearance. It was plain for all to see that he was more beautiful than any celebrity. But he could never imagine being part of that world. The reason for that was also plain to see. Whenever he was in any kind of group, Toshihiko felt like an outsider. His looks may have garnered him envy and admiration, but they never did him any good. People tended to see him as an oddball, and in all honesty, that wasn’t a bad assessment.
Toshihiko found it hard to hold down a steady job. Not because he lacked social or communication skills. On the contrary, he had been hired by a major brokerage firm immediately after graduating from college, and there, people had widely regarded him as one of the most capable new hires. But he didn’t even last a year before resigning. None of his coworkers had been surprised. However proficient he might have been at his job, there was something absurd about him having to work; it was as though he were a fish that had been dragged out of the water and forced to live on land.
By that point in his life, he’d already had a decent idea of the kind of person he was, so he wasn’t too disappointed by his failure. He’d only taken the job to reaffirm just how pointless it was for him to try living a “normal” life anyway.
At present, Toshihiko worked as a teacher at Matsuno Juku, a small cram school focused on helping students prepare for high school entrance exams. He wasn’t a full-time employee. This wasn’t a job he needed to support himself. Thanks to some shrewd investments he’d made in the past, he had enough money to live comfortably on his own for the rest of his life. The only reason he was there was to hold on to some small sense of normality.
In Toshihiko’s mind, working for a corporation or a hospital or any place that was part of a large organization meant working like a “normal” person. Being “normal” was something he was unable to do, and that really bothered him. No matter how financially stable a person might be, if they weren’t normal, they were abnormal. He put on a show of being happy and content with his life, but deep down, he found it hard to live with the inherent strangeness dwelling within him.
Working as a teacher had done little to ease his worries. He’d made a real effort not to drift to the periphery like he usually did. He kept his passionate interest in the occult—not to mention his second, even less socially acceptable hobby—a secret from his coworkers. As a result, though he was still considered a little eccentric, he never crossed over into “abnormal” territory.
“Mr. Katayama, what are you doing for the rest of the day?”
Toshihiko’s coworker Yuuki Sayama called out to him. Sayama taught modern literature and had started working at the cram school directly after graduation. He had a pleasant smile and an easygoing manner that seemed to endear him to everyone he met.
Standing next to him was Midori Harukawa, another member of the teaching staff. She was a tall, slender lady who taught English. Her face had the demure beauty of a Japanese doll, and at first glance, she came off as a little hard to approach. Once you got to know her, though, she was a very considerate person, and she had helped Toshihiko out of a jam on several occasions.
Although he was grateful he’d become sufficiently integrated into the group for the other teachers to invite him out after work, he had other things he needed to deal with.
“Sorry, I’m not feeling very well today…”
“Are you going to be all right?” Sayama furrowed his well-defined eyebrows. “We noticed you seemed a little off. That’s why we called out to you.”
He turned to Midori for confirmation. She nodded.
“Your skin has always been very bright and lustrous, but Sayama noticed it’s started to look a little too pale lately, unhealthily so.”
“I’m fine.”
Fearing he might have cut them off too quickly, Toshihiko hastened to come up with an excuse.
“The AC in my room is broken, so I haven’t been sleeping well these last few nights. You know how humid it’s been these days.”
“Can’t you get it fixed?” Midori asked.
“I could, but that kind of work costs a lot…”
Even he knew that was a poor excuse. Considering the upscale neighborhood Toshihiko lived in, no one would believe he didn’t have the money for some home-appliance repairs. Still, it was better than letting these two find out the real reason he hadn’t been at his best lately.
“Oh, really? Well, at least you know what’s causing it. Just be careful—lack of sleep can be a more serious problem than you might think.”
Sayama seemed to pick up on the fact that he didn’t want them prying any further; that was good. Putting Midori off the scent wasn’t so easy, though. Refusing to take the hint, she stepped closer to him.
“Are you hiding something from us?”
“Of course not.”
“Really, now?”