“As you’re very well aware, if the accounts are this chaotic, there’s definitely something there. They’ve been doing something secretive for the last two years.”
“Of course. I knew that already, but I’m asking you to do something about it. It’s a request from your employer.”
“That contract is invalid. Besides, what do you mean by ‘do something’?”
Natsuki had taken the leap and suggested liquidation to Odajima in good faith, but he had refused. Even if Natsuki’s contract with Sora could be seen as valid, the only option left for her was to bring the charge against Odajima to the Public Prosecutors’ Office.
“I told you that already. Hunt down the evidence of the malpractice and make him stop.”
For the first time since they’d met, Natsuki was talking like a petulant child, complaining about not getting her way. He couldn’t tell what she was after, or whether she was simply grumpy, so he shifted the subject.
“There was one thing I found surprising. That was the first time a tax accountant’s office of this size had such a thorough understanding of what my work involves from the very beginning.”
At this point, she was already breaching her nondisclosure obligation as a consulting tax accountant. She had probably forced his thumbprint out of him so that she could use it to defend herself: If he was an employee, she couldn’t have kept the confidential information from him.
“Well, of course—I researched what kind of professional would do the job I wanted them to do.”
“…I would never murder anyone, just so you know.”
“I didn’t mean it like that! I told you—I like Mr. Odajima! He’s a sweet, generous old man who treats me to pricey sake! Come on—do something! Please help me out here!!”
She was saying it over and over again. Even though Odajima had declined her proposal, she still wanted to save him.
“His profit has actually been going down in recent years. You know what they say—ill-gotten, ill-spent. If we can use that point to persuade him, he’ll understand, too. I’m sure he’ll see that it’s better than getting taken in by the district prosecutors.”
“I understand what you’re saying. Except…”
Even if Natsuki wanted Sora to save Odajima, Sora was reluctant to acquiesce, considering the records of the last three years.
“You’re a competent tax accountant, Ms. Natsuki,” he said. “I looked at the accounts from three years ago, when you said things were still normal, but from a quick glance, his methods of lawful tax avoidance seem to have been right on the border. You really have been protecting him.”
“He saw what I was capable of, and that’s how we came to have a long working relationship.”
The accounts showed that she had been putting the ethics of her profession on the line to stretch the legal limits of tax evasion as much as possible.
“And now you’re asking a stranger for help,” said Sora. “You must know you’re asking for the impossible.”
“…What’s going to happen to him if things go on like this?”
“Since the unspecified numbers make a substantial sum, the National Tax Administration Agency will find him suspicious. I’m surprised he hasn’t been investigated already. He’s also involved in public construction projects in the disaster-struck regions, so he’s also harming the public interest.”
Sora regretted the last words as soon as they slipped out of his mouth. It was hard for him to change his own personality or habits.
“Harming the public interest, huh.” She sighed, mulling over the phrase as she gazed into the distance outside the second-floor window. “Hmmm… Rare, I think,” she murmured out of the blue.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, sorry, it’s nothing.” She waved her hands, clearly surprised by her own comment.
“Do you mean it’s a rare case?”
“I wish. If it was, I doubt they’d even notice. I’ve run into things like this all the time, more or less, both now and when I was a corporate tax accountant. It’s fine if they were just being sloppy or careless, but sometimes they try to pull you into their malpractice. It’s usually someone from that generation—the people who’ve outlived the economic miracle.”
So these cases were far from rare, she explained. “But you can’t lump them all together and blame them the same way. They’re the ones who didn’t look back and built the foundation of the society we have now, where a girl like me can get a decent education. Look at my father—he worked himself to death when he was still young. Still, it’s tough to deal with. I want to line everything up in black and white with clean numbers.”
Natsuki had been forced to accept all of it, both the good and bad—and that had been a source of stress for her over many years.
“That must have been hard,” Sora murmured without thinking. He wouldn’t have been able to bear such work.
“But they still have so much power, that generation. A lot of the time, I can’t go against them. So when someone gets on my nerves, I burn them at the stake.”
“What?!”
“In my head, in my head. Then I feel better. I pick different levels depending on how corrupt or dishonest they are. When I’m really pissed off, I slowly roast them over two weeks till they’re well-done. If they’re not too bad, I kill them before I burn them. When they’re exasperating, but I want them to stay alive, I just cook them rare.”
“The fact that you’ve constructed these levels like actual criminal punishments makes me shudder.”
This inadvertent peek into Natsuki’s mind really did send a chill down his spine.
“It’s just to get it out of my system, you know. They’re usually old men, so I call it the Grandpa Grill Bill. Cute name, right? Like a barbecue joint. If one of them has a devoted daughter who would rush out and plead with me not to burn her father, I’ll lock him up so that he doesn’t wreak havoc on society, and he doesn’t have to burn.”