To Sora, the unknown path stretching out in front of them was not a source of anxiety but renewed hope.
“I felt like we were gonna die. Even though we can’t,” said Tamuramaro, walking through Shakujii Park in the middle of the day in October.
“Yeah, I thought so, too.”
“…Woof.” Fuuka also agreed.
After they had left the container terminal, the three of them had walked for six hours to reach Shizukuishi. It was dawn when they got home, and right after they finally passed out, the police came to interview Sora, of course, as the renter of the car. And Tamuramaro was back in his role as Odajima’s consulting attorney.
Sora somehow managed to convince the investigators that he had dealt with the men by himself. The men kept muttering about a “white wolf,” so the police decided to settle for the testimony of the thirty-one-year-old who had rented the car rather than the ravings of the criminals.
“Mr. Odajima’s enjoying his time in detention,” Tamuramaro told Sora. “People over seventy-five are wild. According to him, anything he hasn’t done before is fun.”
The article in the weekly magazine was safely published, but Odajima, who had nearly been murdered by the gang sent by Diet member Yamagata, was still under suspicion of embezzlement, so his consulting lawyer had a pile of work to get through.
“Mr. Odajima… He’s over seventy-five?” For the umpteenth time, Sora shuddered at what elderly people were capable of.
“Apparently, that was his birthday. So he felt content to die then and there, but now he says, ‘There’s so many things I have left to do!’ He’s sprier than us right now.”
“He did promise to have the seafood set and sake with Ms. Natsuki at the roadside station.”
North Station appeared in the news daily as a brand-new attraction, set to become a familiar feature in the region affected by the disaster. The tale of its construction excited much public attention and was drawing large crowds to it every day. Sora and Tamuramaro were heartened to hear the local people on TV interviews say that all this bustle was only temporary, so they could keep calm and focus on their long-term goals.
“Everyone’s in an uproar about the Diet now. If they don’t register it officially as a roadside station, they’ll be vilified even more, so I’m sure the application will go smoothly,” Tamuramaro remarked. Even though they couldn’t round everything off to satisfying perfection, what mattered was taking one step at a time.
“People plus work equals hope,” said Sora with a sigh of relief.
“Woof, woof!”
As they reached their usual path by Sanpouji Lake, Fuuka was the first to notice Tatsuko and Rokurou sitting on their usual bench.
“Hello there. Getting along well, I see. How nice.” Rokurou smiled to see Sora and Fuuka walking with their lodger.
“We just ran into each other, that’s all…,” Sora mumbled wearily, but in truth, they always went on afternoon walks together these days.
The reason was nothing other than ramen, plain and simple. Whenever Sora and Tamuramaro got ready go out by themselves, Fuuka would cry out angrily, “Are you gonna eat ramen without me?!” and tag along. As a result, neither Sora nor Tamuramaro had had any ramen since the day they’d walked home from Aomi.
“I’ve run out of steam…,” Tamuramaro grumbled, staring off into the distant sky while dreaming of ramen.
“Natsuki was singing your praises, by the way,” Tatsuko said. “She told us you’re both so accomplished in your work.”
“We couldn’t be happier that there’s someone in the neighborhood who understands your complicated job, Mr. Lawyer,” Rokurou joined in.
“Thank you so much for the introduction.” Sora bowed, remembering that it was the Kashiwagis who had brought Natsuki to him.
“If you’re that reliable, we’d really love to have you settle our divorce,” remarked Rokurou.
“That’s right. Brisk and efficient, that’s what we need,” Tatsuko added, reciting the same line as usual.
They appeared to be their normal, cheerful selves, but to Sora, it also seemed that the many iterations of those same words was wearing out their hearts.
“Tamuramaro.” Sora handed Fuuka’s leash to Tamuramaro for the first time, since somebody had to be holding it at all times. Then he sat down on the bench beside Tatsuko.
“Divorce isn’t difficult,” said Sora, looking into their eyes. “Perhaps there’s no need to split your property, either. If we follow the necessary legal steps, your home might become Ms. Tatsuko’s.”
Sora expected that such an outcome was possible and that Rokurou would be content with it. If Tatsuko herself wished to live alone, they likely wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of dividing up their property and assets.
“Will we have to go to court?” The couple seemed terribly surprised and alarmed that Sora was finally listening to their request.
“There’s a process called mediation before it’s brought to trial. From what I’ve seen, I don’t think you have any objections, Mr. Rokurou?”
“…Indeed. You’ve hit the nail on the head, Mr. Lawyer.”
“Honey…”
It was the first time Sora heard Tatsuko address Rokurou like her husband.
“Ms. Tatsuko has the right to that much. Though I’m not an attorney lawyer, I can act as your representative in a mediation.” Sora spoke deliberately, expressing his sincerity to both of them. “If you ask me officially to settle your divorce, I’ll see it through to the end.”
Sora waited until they took in his words. Tamuramaro, standing nearby, and Fuuka, sitting on the ground, waited with him.
“But if I say how I feel…,” Sora went on, once he saw that they’d digested his explanation. “My wish is for you to live together always—teaching calligraphy to the kids in Shizukuishi.”
Just as he said, that was only his wish. But both Tatsuko and Rokurou were staring at him.
“That’s unfair, Mr. Lawyer.” Tatsuko sighed, as though at a loss.
“How can we say no to that?” Rokurou sighed, too.
“That’s the first time anyone’s said I was unfair,” Sora replied, breaking into a childish grin.
“I’ll bring you some inari sushi later, wrapped in fried tofu skin,” Tatsuko said.