“At the moment, I can’t predict where this will lead,” he said. “If you’re willing to accept that, we can draw up a proper contract this time.”
It was also the first time he had no idea what the end result would be. He actually felt frightened to think back on the man he used to be, who had so adamantly pursued a single answer and nothing else.
“Thank you.”
For someone who seemed to be brimming with energy most of the time, Natsuki sounded strangely lonely in her earnestness. Sora hadn’t meant to come into contact with such deep emotions from someone else. Perhaps he’d done it before, but only now was he capable of feeling it.
“I need the work, too. And this case would actually require more than a million yen in fees.”
“What?!”
In reality, this case involved a large-scale malpractice at a major company linked to general contractors, even if the specific company under scrutiny was only a subsidiary. The fee that Natsuki was presenting to him now would be nowhere near enough, even for an initial investigation.
“But this is a learning experience for me, so I’ll give you a discount.”
“What do you have to learn? You can do so much already… I’ll pay you in full, though.”
She looked determined to pay him the amount he’d suggested, but he didn’t think it was realistic to charge so much.
“I’m learning a lot already.”
At first, he was simply being tossed around by this incomprehensible woman, but now he could feel a profound emotion in another person. He’d learned that there were multiple answers that didn’t fit neatly into an idea of punctilious, perfectly consistent justice.
The moment he touched on the boundary between himself and others, he could see the distinction more clearly. Without touching it, he would never have realized there was a difference at all.
Perhaps it was his confusion about being “different” from Fuuka—how he and Fuuka were no longer two in one—that had shown him this distinction.
Maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to walk a new path on his own two feet.
Shakujii Park stretched east to west over a wide area, enveloping masses of green and water.
“This park has so much nice shade even when it’s sunny.”
It was a bright, cloudless weekend in the latter half of September, and Sora was walking with Fuuka in dog form from the west side of Shakujii Park closest to Shizukuishi, making their way across the crowded, midday park.
“Woof!” Fuuka wagged his tail, excited to be outdoors.
“Though I’m dead tired after two full days of desk work… Slow down, Fuuka. I’m a little wobbly.”
He had been looking over from scratch all the suspicious details in the papers he’d taken home from Natsuki’s office, and before doing any investigations in person, he’d researched everything he could online, examining relevant projects and public constructions. Even governmental institutions made the information public in data form, which almost made him suspect they were trying to avoid probing searches on purpose. By the time he had gone through every single one of them, the long autumn night had passed into dawn.
“Woof…”
Sora could see that Fuuka was itching to run around the park, delighted by the lush trees all around them and the refreshingly misty lake.
“I wish I had a big piece of land…”
If only he could let Fuuka off his leash—but he knew the sight of such a large dog running around untethered would cause a terrific hullabaloo in no time.
“Woof?” Fuuka looked up at his brother with a quizzical look.
“No, that’s not the way to go, is it, Fuuka?” Sora laughed, stroking Fuuka’s head. They didn’t need land. Once Fuuka was a human being on his own, he could run free wherever he liked.
“It’s hard to find your way on a new path. Okay, let’s walk… Phew, all-nighters at the computer can really get to you.”
Though he had slept a little toward the morning, his whole body felt stiff. He managed to loosen up as they walked, and when they were finally trotting past Sanpouji Lake, they saw a familiar face slouching on a bench and looking as drained as Sora.
“Hey. Sunlight makes your eyes hurt, doesn’t it?”
Tamuramaro, wearing cotton pants and a pair of setta sandals, had seen them first and raised his right hand in greeting.
“You’re the picture of a dad on a lazy Sunday. I guess even a sturdy man like you is no match for modern inventions.”
He knew Tamuramaro had been locked up in his room on the second floor, wandering the rabbit holes of the internet just like him. He shuddered at the hazards of the digital world.
“I miss the days when I was working on my feet,” Tamuramaro muttered, though he was always easygoing and rarely complained. “But at least it’s sunny out. That’s some comfort for a day like this.”
Sora was puzzled for a moment. Tamuramaro was unusually tired, and what’s more, he was dispirited. But of course, he could never forget what day it was. It was the day Aterui had been executed.
“You saw it happen?”
Odajima’s gentle question echoed in Sora’s ears. The question brought home to him the fact that his determined belief in his own justice had left him blind to so many things around him.
Sora sensed that Tamuramaro was seeing Aterui’s execution in his mind’s eye—the death of a man he had begged to be saved.
“…So the sky wasn’t clear—”
—that day. Sora left the rest of the sentence unsaid and looked up at the shining rays of light filtering through the leaves. Both the zelkovas and the maples were still a deep green.
“Why don’t you walk a little, too?” said Sora.
He couldn’t bring himself to ask Tamuramaro about the memories that might be on his mind just then. Sora had seethed with hatred fiercely enough without having witnessed the execution. It worried him, even now, to think what would have happened if he had.