Though she said she “just got greedy,” Sora knew their intention was to bring the food to him from the start. He didn’t know when it began, but the Kashiwagis had formed a habit of asking after him and checking whether he was eating properly as a single man. He didn’t exactly look thirty-one years old, as he’d said he was, so that was most likely where their worry came from. His house, too, was unsettlingly roomy.
“All the same, I won’t be assisting your divorce settlement.”
Sora could only smile back to thank them, but the ever-present coolness in his expression could be seen as icy by some.
“Your big brother doesn’t budge, does he, dear?” Tatsuko joked, stroking Fuuka.
“Coo, coo.”
“They say wolves and dogs used to be the same kind of animals,” said Tatsuko as Fuuka nestled up to her. “One lives together with humans; the other can tear them apart. Maybe that’s the only difference, and we humans give them different names for our own selfish reasons.”
“Fair point. However…” Sora agreed with Tatsuko about humans and their selfish reasons, but he paused to crouch down and look closely at Fuuka.
Fuuka’s jet-black eyes set a stark contrast to his white fur, and sometimes the lighting made his pupils shine a bright red—as if a passionate flame blazed within.
“What is it?” Rokurou asked instead of Tatsuko.
“The ritsuryo2 of the world, the codes of law, are created by humans, so whether an animal would live together with a man or butcher him makes quite a big difference.”
“Ritsuryo, eh? Another quaint word. You sure do love your history, don’t you, Mr. Lawyer?”
“Yes.”
Sora had quit the Public Prosecutors’ Office after serving there for two years. And now, it was two years since Sora had moved to the Shizukuishi area. The people in the neighborhood started calling him “Mr. Lawyer” because of the OUSHUU LAW FIRM sign in front of his house. Over time, he’d somehow become accustomed to this honorific title.
“But, y’know, don’t wear yourself out thinking over all that,” said Rokurou with concern. He knew Sora well by now.
Tatsuko petted Fuuka again and added, “It’s true.”
But Sora couldn’t help it. The distinction between good and evil, as well as what it led to—the exact sort of things the old couple had just advised him not to think about—were constantly on his mind both at work and in everyday life.
“Even if he is a Japanese wolf, Fuuka is adorable,” he said.
Still crouching, Sora looked into Fuuka’s eyes, no longer red, and rubbed his cheek against his companion’s fur. Fuuka was exceptionally cute, but there was much more to him than that. Sora pressed his ear against the fur and listened to his heartbeat.
“We better get going, Fuuka. It’s time for dinner.”
Sora wasn’t very good at sidling out of conversations with vague answers. He kept on stroking Fuuka, keeping his eyes on the same level.
“Coooo.” Fuuka gave a whine that was surprisingly soft and loving for such an enormous animal, and nodded. Even though he could hear and understand the conversations of the people around him, Fuuka never minded.
“See you later, sweet boy.”
The Kashiwagis waved at Fuuka, and Sora said good-bye with a slight bow. Sora and Fuuka set off in the opposite direction from the train station to get to the end of the park. They left behind Sanpouji Lake and emerged out of the park on its west side. A little way off from the main street where the buses ran, in its own corner, was the district of Shizukuishi.
“Our selfish reasons, huh. If people accepted that and said they didn’t mind getting torn open or killed, that’d be the end of any problems for Japanese wolves,” he muttered absentmindedly.
But people, including Sora, didn’t think so—couldn’t think so. Killing a human was a crime.
“Coo?”
Fuuka glanced back at Sora with a soft call. It seemed he didn’t have a care in the world and believed Sora shouldn’t, either.
“Never mind—it’s nothing. How about some somen for dinner? What should we make?”
Smiling at Fuuka, Sora quickened his pace to let Fuuka trot on as fast as he liked. He’d wanted to take him out on a walk first thing when he got back from work, but in the comfortable evening air, they ended up staying out much longer than he’d planned. Fuuka stared at the bag hanging from Sora’s hand as though he was mulling over how he wanted to eat the noodles. Sora had been aware for quite some time that Fuuka resembled a Japanese wolf.
“I suppose they didn’t know too much about dogs… Oh.” Just as Sora was murmuring to himself, a big drop of rain fell right in front of him.
“Rain’s coming!”
“Woof!”
They broke into a run in the sudden shower, which the forecast had surprisingly missed.
Sora kept Fuuka on a red leash as per the rules, but he could never get used to it.
The neighborhood around Shakujii Park was connected by bus lines. Right near the Shizukuishi bus stop, there was a house with an office that anyone would’ve thought was far too large for a young lawyer living by himself.
“We’re soaked already.”
The house was an old, traditional Japanese-style home, two stories high. Facing the road was a handsome row of light-green bamboo leaves, protecting the office from view. Sora and Fuuka passed through the small gateway next to it and ran up the little path across the lush garden to their front door.
“Totally drenched! Is the somen okay, Big Brother?!” The loud voice of a young man, bright and cheerful, rang in the entrance hall of the house.
“It survived. Safe in the bag.”
“Even though it’s the Shimabara kind?”
The young man laughed. He was bigger than Sora, with shining, silver-white hair down to his shoulders. He threw himself on Sora and hugged him around his waist like a little child.
“Hey, you’ve grown so big now. You used to be smaller than me back in the day. Not by much, but still.”
If he had been walking about around Asakusa, the young man might’ve been mistaken as a foreigner who’d fallen in love with Japan. His large figure was clad in a robe made of white silk, brought to Japan through a trading route with the continent. Different in design from a normal kimono, it was meant to be worn under formal attire with the sash tied around the stomach instead of just above the pelvis.
“Really? I’ve always been pretty much as tall as you.”
“As far as I remember, there was a time when you were smaller. You’re my little brother, after all, so why not? Come on—you go take a bath.” Sora spoke to him gently, stroking his silver hair.
“Wanna come with me?” asked Fuuka.
“Remember, anyone who sees us would think we’re adult brothers. The bath isn’t big enough for two; it’s silly to squeeze in together.”
“No one can see us inside anyway.” Fuuka sulked, but he still beamed at Sora.
“Go on. You go first, and I’ll take my bath after.”
There was a small garden around the front door and the living room beyond it, and the bamboo thicket, the trees, and the flowers were gleaming wet.
“Why don’t you go first, then, Sora?”
“When it’s pouring rain, the little one should warm up in a bath first.” Sora gently brushed Fuuka’s hair out of his face.
Fuuka looked like he could be in his midtwenties. “You’re always so sweet, Brother. I guess I should hurry up, or you’ll catch a cold.”
Like an obedient child, Fuuka leaped up on his long, sturdy legs.
“Ow!”
The red leash was still around his neck, so when he tried to dash off, he flipped back down to Sora’s lap.
“I’m sorry, Fuuka! I keep forgetting… Wish I didn’t have to put this thing on you,” said Sora, taking off the leash in a hurry.
“I’m the one who keeps forgetting. What else can we do? I’m a Japanese wolf once I step outside.” Fuuka looked up at Sora and gave a lighthearted laugh.
“Not even a Japanese wolf. A white dog.”
Sora buried his face in the chest of the man on his lap, then pressed his right ear against him. He was listening intently, holding his breath as if to make sure he heard every heartbeat.
“You like to do that once in a while. How come?” asked Fuuka.
“It makes me feel safe.”
Sora gazed into Fuuka’s eyes, which took on a reddish cast. He couldn’t laugh as freely as his precious little brother.
“I’ll take out a towel and fresh clothes for you. And make sure you dry your hair, all right?”
“All righty,” Fuuka chirped like a little boy, despite having the body of a grown man. He walked off toward the bathroom on the office side of the house.
Rain always leaked through the slightly old wooden hallway, so Sora reminded himself to wipe it up later as he watched Fuuka go.
“If he was a white dog all the time, I’d have to bathe him myself. It really helps that he turns back into a human at times like this.”
Sora listened to the bathroom doors opening and closing, and his face softened into a brotherly smile.
In front of the small office hung a modest sign—more like a doorplate—that read OUSHUU LAW FIRM. Because of that sign, the people of Shizukuishi were still convinced that Sora was an attorney, even after he’d lived there for two years. The house was too spacious for just one person; the kitchen at the back of the first floor alone spanned about a hundred square feet.