“Hey there, Mr. Lawyer. You and your doggy are always so sweet together!”
A big, cheerful young man with wavy black hair stepped out onto the thoroughfare from the rather chic, black-walled fresh produce store on the right of the shopping street entrance.
Everyone in Shizukuishi greeted Sora like this, calling him “the lawyer who’s in love with his dog.” It was an apt moniker; even now, Sora had just been hugging Fuuka and pressing his ear against his fur.
“Whoops, is he a friend of yours? Sorry to butt in. I never see you hanging out with anyone.” Noticing the tall figure glancing at Sora, the young man stopped in his tracks and scratched his head apologetically.
“Hello, Mr. Keita. No, he’s not a friend. He’s my lodger, Mr. Tamura.”
Straightening up, Sora gestured to Tamuramaro on his right and introduced him to Keita Murakami, the son and heir of the vegetable grocer.
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Tamura, his new lodger. I just moved in yesterday, actually. I look forward to getting to know you.”
Tamuramaro bowed to Keita with a greeting that seemed oddly proper for someone not wearing a suit.
“Huh! Good for you, Mr. Lawyer. A nice, young lawyer like you living by yourself in that big house—you need something to fill the time.”
“Woof, woof!” Fuuka protested at Keita’s remark that Sora lived alone.
“Right, right—you got Fuuka with you. It’s almost like you get everything I’m saying, Fuuka. Smart boy.” Keita bent over and petted Fuuka’s head.
“I don’t have enough money. Or work,” Sora explained in his mid-toned, monotonous voice. This living arrangement wasn’t for fun, that was for damn sure.
“Come on, Mr. Lawyer. Don’t be so depressing. So anyway, I’m having a family feud with my old man every day now. Oh, and here, take these veggies from the up-and-coming organic farmers; they’re really good! And help me beat Pops!” Keita reeled this off in one breath, then jumped into the store.
“But, Mr. Keita, as I said before…”
Sora must’ve explained to the people of Shizukuishi at least a thousand times that he neither worked as an attorney, nor would he agree to represent them in return for organic vegetables.
“Don’t they make your mouth water? Kamo eggplants, manganji peppers, mibuna leaves, and kintoki carrots!”
The vegetables that Keita brought out in a bamboo basket were the produce that he himself bought directly from the organic farmers. Keita’s father, who wasn’t retiring anytime soon, had allotted just ten square feet of the space in the shop for Keita to sell them. The vegetables really were a cut above the rest, but since they were too expensive to buy on a regular basis, even for an affluent neighborhood, his father’s decision to limit their shelf space was wise.
“I wanna change the name of the shop, too.”
“Greengrocer Oshichi3… Seems to me like your father has quite a sense of humor,” said Tamuramaro, looking up at the sign on the store and admiring the wit of Keita’s father. He pulled out a black case with his business cards and handed one to Keita with a smile. “I’m an attorney lawyer, by the way. If I can be of any help, please do get in touch.”
“Wow! Two lawyers living together, huh.” Keita studied the card, still convinced that Sora was the same kind of lawyer as Tamuramaro.
“Don’t do your sales talk in this town. Get work where you’re registered as a resident,” Sora interjected in a whisper. He didn’t want Tamuramaro to stick his nose into some dispute in the neighborhood, which Sora now saw as his own home.
“Is that a law?” retorted Tamuramaro without missing a beat.
Sora clenched his teeth, frustrated that he could only express his discontent in such childish words.
“…Of course, the best way to shut you up is bringing up the law. Typical, Sora.” Tamuramaro gave the silent man a somewhat resigned smile. “Not to worry. I won’t join in on a clearly losing battle.”
Tamuramaro coolly surveyed the store and the current outcome of their family quarrel. However he looked at it, it was the father’s management prowess that was holding up the business, at least for the time being.
“I see your office is in Ikebukuro. Pretty close. Mr. Tamura…maro?”
Keita cocked his head to one side, as if he’d heard the name somewhere before.
“Anyhow. Mr. Lawyer, you should be the one to do the divorce settlement between Ms. Tatsuko and Mr. Rokurou.”
Keita wasn’t kidding. Unfortunately, Sora was bad at giving ambiguous answers, so he couldn’t react at all. He noticed Fuuka’s tail flipping back and forth in a gesture of growing boredom, and he chose to change the subject. “Bean sprouts and scallions, please.”
“Awww! What about our family feud?!”
“I’m not going to take those Kyoto vegetables as payment, and I doubt your quarrel has already reached the point of a legal dispute.”
With this honest response, Sora pushed back the basket of organic vegetables.
Guessing what was for dinner, Fuuka peered into the store and rubbed his cheek against Sora’s leg.
“And could we have the hakusai cabbage?”
“Shucks.”
Keita, still wrapped up in his family competition, picked the vegetables for them. Sora paid and put them in his shopping bag.
“All right, then! See you around, Mr. Tamura!!”
“Just so you know, I’ll take on any kind of case, from family disputes to divorces. No guarantees that I’ll win, though,” said Tamuramaro with a laugh.
Just as the three were leaving, they heard the lively voice of a woman. “Keita! Give me five pounds of kimchi!!” She was a brisk, neat, and tidy kind of woman, and Sora had caught sight of her on the shopping street a few times.
“Hey, Natsuki. Beer and kimchi are great, but how ’bout some Kyoto veggies?”
“They’re too expensive. You better do the stocking once you’ve learned something about cost percentage and management!”
The woman named Natsuki seemed to be at least ten years older than Keita. She talked rough, but at the same time, her advice on management was warm and constructive.
“This town has a rather strong grasp of frugality,” murmured Tamuramaro, voicing Sora’s thoughts.
“Oh, Mr. Lawyer! Out shopping with Fuuka?” A few steps down from the grocers, the owner of the soba restaurant Kiriya called out to them brightly and splashed some water to clean the street in front of her place. “You’re welcome to order some soba noodles from us; there’s no minimum! If you help us with prepping the will, I’ll make it free anytime, you know. Won’t be long till Grandpa tips over!”
“Thank you. Maybe next time. Also, I’m not an administrative scrivener.”
Apparently, everyone in town knew that Sora lived by himself in a big house, but they weren’t concerned about remembering the specifics of his profession.
“I’m surprised. You’re already part of the community here after just two years. But you’ve never stayed long in one place before,” observed Tamuramaro, walking next to Sora and Fuuka. Knowing their past, he was genuinely impressed.
“Well, it was chance, really…”
There was a reason the townsfolk of Shizukuishi had welcomed him like this, but Sora didn’t know how to explain it. As he scratched his head, that very reason came walking toward them from down the street.
“Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Lawyer!” The couple was waving at Sora and Fuuka.
“Coooo.”
Fuuka noticed them first and wagged his tail with a happy croon.
“Oh, what’s this? You have quite a handsome man with you today.”
It was Mr. and Mrs. Kashiwagi, whom Sora usually ran into in Shakujii Park.
“Yes, and what a charmer he is.”
With his sturdy build and honest face, which made him doubly attractive, anyone would quickly form a positive impression.
“He isn’t handsome,” Sora answered with a stony expression, inwardly disgruntled.
“Soraaa, come on.”
“He isn’t. He’s a lodger who has been renting a room in our house since yesterday.” Sora pointed at Tamuramaro. The childish sullenness on Sora’s face was reminiscent of Fuuka when he was a human, in contrast to the tranquil smile that he usually wore whenever he saw the Kashiwagis.
“Hello, I’m Tamura. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Tamuramaro courteously introduced himself in his deep, velvety voice.
Sora frowned.
“We’re the Kashiwagis. Is that true? That’s wonderful news. We were worried about you living by yourself—I mean, with Fuuka—in that big house of yours.”
“Good to see your lodger is a tough man. It’s too easy to break into that house, to be frank. It’s mostly made of wood, and it’s hidden behind bamboo, so we were anxious.”
When they explained those specific reasons for their concern, Sora realized just how much the couple had been worried about the eccentric young man who had bought such a house and moved right in.
Apparently, Tamuramaro was as trustworthy as they come in the couple’s opinion, and they had nothing negative to say about the new arrangement. He didn’t like how highly the couple thought of Tamuramaro, but it gave him a surprising sense of peace to know that Rokurou and Tatsuko were looking out for him so much.
“Thank you for the somen yesterday. It was delicious. We ate it all up already.”
“Oh, I had some of it as well,” added Tamuramaro. “It was very tasty! Thank you.”
Sora, Tamuramaro, and even Fuuka all bowed.
“You’re eating together, too? That’s nice,” commented Rokurou.
“I hope I can eat alone before long,” Tatsuko joked as usual, even though the pair looked and acted every bit the old married couple.