“There were real plans to build the roadside station. Once that was built, it would generate work for maintaining the place and other facilities nearby, so my plan was to cut ties with the subsidiary company at that point and let them go. Ah, by the way, I’ve made the arrangements to cut them off already. Sorry I didn’t talk to you first, Natsuki.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“No, no, we can’t have that. I don’t want anything rolling downhill. Everyone’s doing their best to survive, so we should try not to let anyone get hurt. You’re going to keep up this business your father left behind, aren’t you? I’ll ask you to be a consultant for another branch, so don’t you worry,” Odajima assured her with a smile.
“I know things are off to a good start even in the preopen stage, and the future is bright,” he went on. “I can’t be happier about that. It wasn’t me who thought of the whole thing—a roadside station that wouldn’t rely on exaggerated reviews but stay true to the neighborhood and showcase local products. We invited a specialized consultant to come in, and our top priority was making use of what was available in the local community.” Of course, Odajima was well-informed on the project, and he looked very pleased with how it was turning out.
“What happened to the initial plans for the construction? Why did it disappear?” asked Sora.
Retrospectively, the project seemed to be destined for success, but Sora realized again that it had only become what it was through the hard work of the professionals and the locals, and Odajima had held the key to it.
“Unfortunately, it came up as a topic of discussion in a parliamentary meeting, and they argued that no one would come to a roadside station in such an out-of-the-way spot. There were huge issues about nuclear waste and decontamination getting the spotlight then, so I suppose they wanted to divert everyone’s attention to a different agenda. Who knows what was going on in their heads,” Odajima concluded. He looked unusually disgusted by the Diet. Perhaps he had been disappointed or stabbed in the back many times in the past. “Of course no one would come unless you built an attractive facility there. I suppose they don’t stop to imagine how many people would lose their jobs from that one big project fizzling out. As for roadside stations, people will come a long way to visit a really nice one. But, well, I can’t go barging into parliamentary assemblies myself.”
He put down his fountain pen and scratched his head. “So I decided to go ahead and build one anyway.” He laughed without holding anything back.
“Wow. What a guy. Seriously, a legend. I’m blown away…” Natsuki groaned with her head in her hands. This time, she did not call him a nincompoop.
“You never know what old people will do, eh? All that’s left for us is dying, so we’ve got nothing to lose.”
Sora had to agree with Odajima and smiled wryly—if everything but death had been checked off your life’s to-do list, most things wouldn’t scare you anymore.
“How did you get permission from the local government? You must have…supporters among them.” It was impossible to assume otherwise, and Sora continued with the inevitable questions.
“I pushed it through their department. It’s all my doing. I did it by myself.” Odajima showed no intention of confessing any details there.
“Are you planning to take all the blame?” Tamuramaro interjected. “I’ve met the department manager in person. He was fully prepared to do however many years in prison he’d get, with no regrets.”
The Diet and the local government might have looked the same to ordinary citizens, but in reality, one made the political decisions while the other conducted those affairs on the ground. The manager of the construction department was a civil servant on the latter side. His job involved passing documents in a clerical process, but he held no executive power himself. If he had transgressed his administrative position and moved some documents forward without permission, that would be another serious crime.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Odajima replied. “I’m sure there are all sorts of people among the Diet members and civil servants, but the ones who work hard give everything they’ve got to every job they have. They deserve retirement allowance, especially the civil servants.” He was adamant in respecting the path he hadn’t chosen for himself. “I used to think civil servants were the dullest of the dull back in the day, but listen to me now.” He chuckled.
All three around him understood that the “back in the day” he had in mind was more than thirty years ago, when he had been fervently climbing the ladder in the construction industry.
“Times have changed. And so has the world. Well then, I’ve cut off the subsidiary company. The roadside station is about to open. The locals can take care of the rest. I have no regrets. Am I headed for prison?” Odajima asked the three of them. “That could be fun, too.”
“There’s one thing I’d like to ask.” Sora spoke up. His task for the day was to make sure they didn’t miss any points to clarify, so they could fully defend themselves during the next steps. “The source of your funds was the initial payment from IR for the resort construction, wasn’t it? That means a private enterprise is backing the construction of a roadside station that’s come to a deadlock. Hasn’t the Diet investigated this?”
“There’s all sorts in the Diet—some honest ones, and those who’re only interested in their rights and how they can profit from those rights. We’ve got a bad crop these days, and there’s more of the latter. They only brought up the construction as a way of diverting attention from other issues in the first place, so they couldn’t care less. They wouldn’t even notice.” Odajima shrugged.