"Cycling through short-term stays at Internet cafes is a very inefficient way of living, and there's no escape from that vicious cycle. Outpost village* aren't available all-year round, either."
Nosaka, the NPO representative, looked at Morimoto suspiciously.
"You're not in the welfare business, are you?" he asked.
There had been an increase of businesses which provided living spaces to the homeless and applied for welfare payments on their behalf. This was because one could not receive welfare unless he had a resident's card at a registered address.
"Of course not," Morimoto said. "I only want to help young people who are willing to work. Just having a fixed address goes a long way toward finding a job. If only they would choose to stay at our facility, for an amount less than a month's stay at an Internet cafe..."
Song interrupted Morimoto quietly.
"Mr. Morimoto, I understand your aspiration. And I presume you've come here today to help with our volunteer work?"
Morimoto flashed an amiable smile in Song's direction.
"Of course I've come to help. But I'd also like to ask for permission to give my business card to those here who are willing to work. I'm sure you folks in the NPO mean good in what you do. But you must admit your help doesn't get to the root of the problem, does it?"
Nosaka looked offended.
"On the other hand," Morimoto continued, "I can help those people who want a way out of these horrendous conditions. Only people who have the will, of course. Without a will to work, there's no going anywhere."
Song smiled serenely.
"You're absolutely right, Mr. Morimoto. How wonderful it would be if you could help these young people stand on their own feet. We will help those who either don't have the will to work or cannot work even if they want to - like the elderly or the sick."
"Hey," Nosaka butted in, but Song pulled him back by the arm.
"Song..."
Song nodded to Morimoto in assent.
"I'm glad to have someone on the same wavelength," said Morimoto. "Take care, then."
Kuji watched as Morimoto turned his back and walked away. Meanwhile, Nosaka was busy attacking Song.
"These days, long-term care and welfare are all about business. I'll bet anything that a shady-looking guy like him is in it for the money."
"You can't survive in this country if you're going to shut business out, Mr. Nosaka. You have to give permission to people like Morimoto in order to see what he's truly like. If he was really 'shady', as you say, he would do it regardless of whether he had permission or not. We're better off letting him do what he wants under our watch."
"I guess that's one way to look at it," Nosaka mumbled in a disgruntled way as he caved in. He noticed Kuji, who had edged closer to listen.
"Perfect," he said. "Why don't you tail that guy and keep an eye on what he's doing?"
"Why me?" Kuji protested.
"You're closer to him in age - you'd probably get along. Try chatting him up and see what he's trying to get up to."
You kidding me? Are you telling me that I have to be Nosaka's spy, too?
"No," said Kuji flatly.
"What did you say?" Nosaka said sharply. Song stepped in again to intervene.
"Masatake, Mr. Nosaka is right. Do you think you can keep an eye on Mr. Morimoto, just for today? If something happens, we at the camp will have to take responsibility."
Kuji lowered his eyes slightly as he looked at Song, and nodded.
"I'll do it if you say so."
Nosaka gave an exaggerated shrug and walked back toward the cooking pots.
"I'm sorry, Masatake," Song said as he looked down at him. The man peered into his eyes. Kuji squirmed. He felt uncomfortable having Song in such close proximity outside of the church.
"It's nothing. I just have to talk to him, right?"
Kuji set off immediately after Morimoto and caught him conversing with a young backpacker. The weary young man had seated himself on the stainless-steel fencing around the hedges and was eating his bowl of soup. His clothing looked as worn as his face, but he wasn't as dirty as a homeless person.
Kuji reckoned that the man must be what they called an "Internet cafe refugee".
Morimoto apparently thought so, as well, as he began trying to convince the man to come to his shelter.
"You'll get unlimited use of a VoIP phone. What kind of phone do you use, anyway? Prepaid? You must pay quite a bit per month, huh? Disposable, like your button-down shirt and underwear?"
"Well, I can't enter a contract if I don't have a fixed address, so..."
"If you keep on wasting money like that, you'll never be able to accumulate any savings, and you'll never be able to afford a room to rent. You want to keep going down that spiral and become homeless? You might be managing now, while you still have the energy, but would you be able to continue that for fifteen years down the road?"
"I don't plan on doing this for that long, anyway."
"You know what they call that? Unfounded confidence."
Morimoto then handed a business card to the young man.
"You can blame looser regulations, or maybe it's the new global standard. But either way, disparity between the rich and the poor is only going to get wider in Japan. You have to protect yourself."
The young man nodded and took out his cell phone from his bag. The two of them exchanged phone numbers.
Morimoto eventually parted ways from the young man and set off into a walk. He noticed Kuji and raised his hand in greeting.
"Hey, there," he said. "What's up?"
"Um, I was wondering... can I go to see your place sometime?"
"Sure. But I thought you were friends with that group over there?"
Kuji caught up to Morimoto and stepped in line with him. "No. I'm more like... what would you call it... a NEET? I help out when I can, but mostly I just hang around."
"Uh-huh," said Morimoto as he stopped and looked at him. "You've never done any work before?"
"Part-time work at a convenience store, but that's about it."
"And do you have the will to do anything?"
"I dunno."
Morimoto burst into loud laughter. "I guess you wouldn't. You're a NEET." He appeared to have let his guard down completely as he gave Kuji a good-natured clap on the shoulder.
"All right," he said. "Come on over. You're free to take a look if you want."
Kuji finally knew why Nango had called him an ideal S.
The soup kitchen finished its distribution past three o'clock in the afternoon. The group then took up a table at a family restaurant for what they called a "wrap-up meeting", which was, in other words, just a coffee break. The dark-haired woman who had been driving the truck had planted herself firmly in a seat beside Song. Kuji chose a seat where he would see the least of them.
The members each got their drinks from the self-serve drink bar and quenched their thirst as they exchanged casual opinions. By the time everyone had finished their first drink, a look of ease had finally crossed their faces.
Nosaka brought his second cup of coffee back to the table and began rehashing the rude attitude that Morimoto had shown them earlier.