Returning his helmet and the other equipment, Mitsuhiro headed for the gate on the soundproof wall, surrounded by the noise of the night crew. No one stopped him along the way, but as soon as he stepped outside, he noticed that his clothes were covered in grayish dirt. He sighed. This dirt was normal within these walls, but it looked out of place at the station’s ticket gates, with so many people coming and going.
But he didn’t have time to go to a restroom and clean himself up. It was almost time for the last train of the night.
Mitsuhiro hurriedly got into the company car he had parked there…and then groaned to himself. The smell of Yoshikazu Hara still lingered in the car.
Mitsuhiro started the engine and opened all the windows. When he looked in the rearview mirror to check behind him, he was shocked by the sight of his own face. Not only were gray dirt and white ash caked on his hair and cheeks, but he also had cuts and bruises from being hit repeatedly with Yoshikazu Hara’s helmet.
He had never seen himself in such a sorry state before, but there was nothing to be done about it. He wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, but that only rubbed the ash deeper into his skin. Quickly giving up on the idea, he drove off in the company car.
On the way back to the lot, he kept wrinkling his nose because of that lingering smell—the smell of Yoshikazu Hara. Tomorrow, he’d need to put some deodorizer and wet wipes in his briefcase before going to work. For now, though, the most important thing was to get home.
After returning the car to the company lot, he hurried into the station. He walked onto a platform with a large crowd of people rushing to catch the last trains, arriving just as one pulled in.
It was actually the train before the very last one of the night. He sat down in a seat, relieved that he didn’t have to hail a taxi home. If he was going to buy a two-hundred-thousand-yen amulet, he’d have to avoid unnecessary expenses for a bit.
Wait. Two hundred thousand yen for one? Well, that was the kind of money you needed to bring a small god into your life. A necessary expense to get rid of that smell.
With these thoughts in mind, he took a phone out of his pants pocket, the one that belonged to the man on the ground in the basement. He turned it on, opened Twitter, and deleted all the tweets about the East Wing. He also made sure to delete the messages the man had exchanged with him directly. As soon as the deed was done, he threw the phone into his bag with a deep sigh of relief.
The sense of ease and fulfillment at finally completing the task gave a pleasant patina to his fatigue. Looking back now, it was clearly his job to retrieve Mole Unit-01’s phone and delete any and all posts that could’ve impacted the project and his company’s stock price.
You need to thank Yoshikazu Hara for leading you to this solution, don’t you? He could feel his father there again, talking to him. That man talked too much about the hole. He told his pals that the hole was too big—that we should fill it in. He even put dirt in the hole to keep it from getting bigger. That’s how he wound up covered in ash. Listen, Mitsuhiro. You must never do anything to anger that hole.
“Right. I hear you, Dad,” muttered Mitsuhiro, just as the train stopped and a handful of people got on. Two of them—a woman in a suit and an elderly man—made a move to sit next to Mitsuhiro but then passed on by, as if they had reconsidered, and sat down elsewhere.
Mitsuhiro thought at first that this was because his father was sitting next to him, but that wasn’t the case. The seats around him were empty. No, they’d avoided him because he was dirty, and his face was covered in cuts and bruises. Realizing this, Mitsuhiro frowned, feeling a tad uncomfortable. Maybe Yoshikazu Hara’s body odor had rubbed off on him. The company car still stank to high heaven. The smell might even make people think he was homeless or something.
Something about being blatantly avoided, like a mud puddle on the road, was humiliating. Anger, frustration, and sadness stole into his mind.
How was this his fault? Didn’t they ever think about how he wound up like this? Didn’t they realize how hard he’d been working, no thought given to his own needs? Why couldn’t they show a little sympathy?
As he muttered to himself, he was overcome by the urge to stand up, march over to the people avoiding him, and sit his ass down right next to them, but he managed to reel it back. He’d avoid someone in this state, too. He lowered his head, fighting back all the unpleasant feelings, and got off the train as soon as it arrived at his stop, almost fleeing the people inside.
Caught between the repulsive idea of people seeing him in this state and the desire to retain his pride, he took the stairs instead of the escalator to avoid strangers’ eyes. He hurried into his condo building and inserted his key into the door of his home, ready to finally relax. No one would see him now, and he could finally take his time in the shower.
But something odd caught his attention. The door was already unlocked.
—Did I forget to lock it?
Frowning, he opened the door and saw a pair of men’s shoes that shouldn’t have been there. They were old-fashioned dark-brown leather shoes, the kind Mitsuhiro would never wear.
As he closed the door, wondering who they belonged to, the person in question tromped into the hallway. It was his father-in-law.
“Where the hell have you been?”
The stern, reproachful expression on his face was replaced by a blank stare as soon as he saw Mitsuhiro.
“Whoa, what happened to you?”
“I had to go to the office for an emergency,” Mitsuhiro said, his tone just as threatening, throwing his house keys into his bag.
“An emergency? What would you need to do at this hour?”
“Plenty. I had to cover all the bases.”
He deliberately kept his answer vague to keep Choji Umehara, his father-in-law, at bay. It did nothing to improve Choji’s bad mood.
“Well, why didn’t you answer your phone? Sae called Miyoko crying because you weren’t home. She said she called you, but you didn’t answer.”
“I was underground the whole time,” he replied, mentally chastising himself for not checking his phone when he came back up. He didn’t expect Sae to be awake and calling people; still, he should have at least asked his father about her. But how? He didn’t have any time to think about that anyway.
“So Miyoko asked you to come and watch her?”
His tone was meant to imply that he didn’t think that was necessary. He could see that it took Choji by surprise.
Calm down, he told himself. You’re losing control. He was tired and parched, and he couldn’t stand the way his father-in-law was staring at him with pity. Choji had made his fortune with an industrial-leasing start-up he founded, and he had a bad habit of constantly imposing his authority on others. He had close ties with Shimaoka, and he was also the kind of man to grumble about the “cheap” hotel restaurant Mitsuhiro had booked so he could discuss marrying Miyoko with them all.
“It’s only natural to worry about Sae being alone, isn’t it? I know you didn’t think you’d be running around at this time of night, but still…”
Instead of refuting Mitsuhiro, Choji spoke in a conciliatory tone, which was unusual for him.
I must look really miserable right now, Mitsuhiro thought, and that just made him angrier. His father-in-law must think of him as this horrid, miserable, dirty man whose words didn’t matter at all.
And Mitsuhiro wasn’t alone in thinking so. Behind Choji, his father was nodding vigorously.
“This guy doesn’t understand anything. I was watching over Sae. If anything happened, I would have told you right away.”
Mitsuhiro nodded.
Choji frowned, glanced behind him, then quickly turned back to his son-in-law. “What? Is there something behind me?”
“My father was watching over Sae,” Mitsuhiro said, ignoring him. “I’ll call Miyoko tomorrow—”
“Wait. Wait a minute. What do you mean? Your father? Not your mother?”
Mitsuhiro frowned, not understanding why Choji was so surprised.
“Your father died years ago, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. So what?”
He was finding it difficult to control his irritation. He wanted to take off his shoes, drink a glass or two of water, and get his body under a hot shower. Why did he have to stand here by the doorway, like he was nailed to it? He could feel his innards boiling.
Miyoko’s father was always like this. It made him sick. Mitsuhiro tilted his head slightly toward his father standing behind Choji. His father smiled.
“Oh, I get it, trust me. I went through something similar.”
He and his father had Choji on the ropes now. That made Mitsuhiro feel much more confident.
Choji looked behind him again. When he saw nothing there, he held both hands out toward Mitsuhiro, slowly raising them up and down. He was acting like he had encountered some kind of attacker in this narrow passageway, with nowhere to escape. His only choice was to try to calm his opponent.
His father-in-law was acting more submissive toward him now than ever before—Mitsuhiro could even see the fear on his face. Meanwhile, his own anger was slowly subsiding.
He’d thought this whole thing would leave a bad taste in his mouth, but it wasn’t so. All he felt was reassured. He even wanted to scare Choji some more now.
“Well, here, Mitsuhiro, you’ve had a long day. Why don’t you get some rest for now? I’ll be leaving soon, so… Oh, that’s right. Miyoko’s worried about you, so can you give her a call?”
I want to, but you’re too busy getting in my damn way, aren’t you?
He thought about yelling at him, but he no longer wanted to expend the effort. All he wanted was to shower and relax as soon as possible—and, really, he was glad his father-in-law had rushed over, which meant he didn’t have to face Sae all crying and lonely.
“Right. I’ll be sure to do that,” he said confidently. “Sorry for all the trouble.”