“And then I asked Mr. Hiraga, who was my father’s firm partner, if he could take over. But he said he couldn’t keep it up if he wasn’t a partner, so… We’re a corporation, you know, so we need two tax accountants to make it work. I used to do this work in-house for a company, so that’s how I came back to Shizukuishi.”
Natsuki praised Hiraga’s wisdom, and Sora had to agree in spite of himself. He had set up his own firm all by himself, and now he was beset with struggles.
“I don’t mind being back, though,” she went on. “I never cared much for those high-rise tower blocks. The only thing is, that shopping street is around half a century old, and my father’s clients are getting on in years. Some of them are even older than he was. Sooner or later, they’re gonna start kicking the bucket, too, you know?”
Sora was always calm, except when he was with Tamuramaro, but now he choked on his tea as she brought death into the conversation again.
“…!”
Evidently, his prospective client for this important occasion—his very first project here in Shizukuishi—was to be this Natsuki, who was sitting right in front of him. For Sora, it seemed like a test of his emotional endurance to prove that a harmonious life with the townspeople was even possible for him.
“You okay? Aren’t you too young to have things going down the wrong way? Take care. You know Keita, the grocer? Ugh, that kid. He has the gall to say he’ll manage his accounts on an app. If the tax office kicks down his door, he’ll deserve it. Anyway, to put it in a nutshell, we want to expand our clientele, you know? We’re trying to think of the future twenty years from now.”
This whole spiel was apparently Natsuki’s introduction of the company, and she positively beamed as she finished.
“That’s…very important,” Sora managed to say, though they were off on dubious footing.
“It really is! We’re putting to use whatever business acumen we’ve got, and we’re also a consultant for Odajima Construction.”
Sitting up straight and staying collected, Sora listened to Natsuki’s unstoppable talk.
“Ah, the one near Nerima Station.”
Sora had seen their large, impressive sign—just the kind of sign a major construction company would put up—every time he went somewhere by train. It was only one stop away from Shizukuishi on the express lines, and four stops away on the local ones.
“The sign’s hanging at Nerima, but the home office is at Takanodai Station. It’s faster on foot. They built their company back when there was a lot of land to spare around here, so it’s too big for them. Now they’re hemmed in by drugstores and home improvement stores. They might as well sell it off. But they’re the go-to company for major general contractors.”
Though Sora struggled to keep up with Natsuki’s flow of logic, at least he managed to grasp that Odajima Construction at Takanodai in Nerima was a fairly large company that functioned as a subcontractor for general contractors.
“When I came back and realized my father’s clients didn’t have much longer to live—”
“Um, you can skip that part. I’ve heard enough about that.”
“Really? But it’s important, you know. We’re all in the same boat—my father’s clients, me, and you, Mr. Oushuu—everyone dies eventually. And society lives on. So we have to prepare for the future,” said Natsuki simply, glancing at her younger employee, Miku.
“Everyone dies eventually,” she’d said. But even more than Natsuki’s constructive view on the matter, Sora wished he could die just like everyone else: to walk down the passage of time, as a normal human being, until it ended for him and Fuuka together.
“Who said you could die? To die is to pass into the Pure Land. You’re far from ready for that, very far. You better stay on your journey until you find an answer.”
When Miroku-bosatsu had told him just that, Sora had had no idea that such a journey would sever him so much from the lives of other people. Sora never wanted to part with this town—and especially not with Fuuka, who was growing and becoming more mature as they lived here.
“…I want to die properly.”
“What?! Not in here, please!”
“Oh, no, I was talking about resting in peace in the Pure Land. I’m sorry.”
“A young man like you, choking on tea and wanting to ‘rest in peace’—what’s going on here? By the way, I don’t want to be rude, but you do look young for this line of work. I expected someone a bit older. How old are you?”
Sora snapped his mouth shut. This question hit him square in his weakest spot.
“I…have a massive complex about that. I’m thirty-one.”
“Massive, huh. Sorry I mentioned it! Forget I ever asked. Let’s get back on track. We’ve been a consultant for a subsidiary company of Odajima Construction for eight years, but things have been odd these past two years.”
Sensing that the conversation was finally turning to the main reason for their meeting, Sora put down his tea on the table.
“What do you mean by ‘odd’?”
“Back when I started with them, there was a post-disaster special demand for the construction industry. It’s not a phrase you love to hear, but there we are. Mr. Odajima turned their old subcontractor into a subsidiary company after it collapsed in the disaster, and they were doing well.”
Sora listened silently, jotting down notes in a notepad.
“Ah, I should mention that the company I’m a consultant for is just that subsidiary company in the area affected by the disaster, that’s all. So, long story short, what’s odd is that their income and expenses don’t balance out. In the last two years, they paid fifty-five percent tax for unspecified expenditures. They say they’re fine with that. But that’s a big sum, you know?”