“Well, we’ll see where it goes,” Rokurou said gently with a sheepish smile, then turned to Sora and Tamuramaro. “There’s some history to this neighborhood, but it’s like a town made up of outsiders. I think you’ll find it comfortable to live in.”
“With the economic bubble bursting, the Lehman shock, and now the pandemic, the people here have come and gone. It might look like a residential neighborhood, but it’s really more like a post town, where travelers can rest on their way. It’s more welcoming to newcomers than you’d expect.”
It certainly wasn’t the sort of town to spurn strangers, Rokurou assured them.
“When we—er, when I moved here, Mr. Rokurou and Ms. Tatsuko welcomed me like this,” Sora explained to Tamuramaro. “They’re both professional calligraphers, and they’ve been teaching calligraphy to the local kids for a long time. Many people here went to their classes growing up. Like Mr. Keita back there. They’re like the parents of the whole neighborhood. And thanks to them, the people in town also treat me like a friend.”
He spoke haltingly, revealing the reason why he had managed to become such a familiar face in Shizukuishi in just a couple of years.
“Wow, you really looked out for Sora and Fuuka…”
For a moment, Tamuramaro seemed to be on the verge of thanking the Kashiwagis, as if he were a parent—or at least, that was how it appeared to Sora.
“Of course, dear. That’s why we want to ask him to settle our divorce.”
“We have a lot of things around the house. It won’t be easy to divide.”
The couple laughed freely, discussing their divorce as usual.
“You seem very close, in my opinion, but if you ever need anything…”
As clever as the two were cheerful, Tamuramaro chimed in and handed one business card each to Rokurou and Tatsuko.
“Your new housemate’s also a lawyer?”
“He’s not a housemate; he’s a lodger. Also, Mr. Tamura is an attorney, but I am not.” Sora glared at Tamuramaro. “And this isn’t the time to be shilling for your practice.”
“Come on—I’m only introducing myself with a business card. I even enjoyed their somen, after all. Oh, actually…” Tamuramaro turned to the couple. “If it’s not an inconvenience, please allow me to pay you a visit sometime. I’d love to get to know you better as your new neighbor.”
“You’re just renting out a room—no need for that!”
It was rare for Sora to become so animated in public. Rokurou and Tatsuko looked at him with surprise.
“Well, well, Mr. Lawyer. We were worried you only spent time with Fuuka, but it’s good to see you do have a friend, too.”
“This man isn’t a friend! Not by a long shot!”
“You’re even living together. You must be close. That sets our minds at rest a little.”
The couple looked so genuinely relieved that Sora couldn’t keep contradicting them anymore.
Tamuramaro joined in: “I’m sure we’ll be quarreling and sharing meals every day from now on—ow!”
“Woof!” Fuuka rammed his head into Tamuramaro’s knee in protest at his cheerful prediction.
“Are you all right? What’s wrong, dear Fuuka?”
“Fuuka hates Mr. Tamura. You see? He can’t even befriend a dog,” muttered Sora with a sigh, and the Kashiwagis laughed even more.
“I don’t know; it’s rather sweet. You’re acting like a little boy, Mr. Lawyer.”
“He’ll make a good housemate.”
They seemed to think it was a good thing that Sora’s usual composure was unraveled when he was with Tamuramaro. Meanwhile, Tamuramaro stood wearing his best “told you so” grin.
Sora knew he was reacting childishly, but he couldn’t get his sulky face to behave.
“Oh, by the way,” said Rokurou, smacking his hands together in sudden recollection. “You know that tax accountant’s office over there? They said they had something to ask you, Mr. Lawyer.”
“I can’t defend them even if they helped me file my tax returns, and I do my tax returns myself.”
“People in this town like to barter things for legal services… Maybe I’ll be standing in the courtroom in exchange for some daikon radishes or bowls of ramen in the not-so-distant future.”
Tamuramaro could already see that the locals tried to recruit Sora as their attorney every chance they got, even though he wasn’t even a practicing attorney, with offers of goods and work.
“No, it was about that complicated job you always mention. They asked me if you really were in that line of work, since there aren’t many people in Japan who do it. I couldn’t say the exact title myself. What was it again?”
“Do you mean they’re looking for a certified fraud examiner? At the tax accountant’s office?”
“Yes, yes. That’s it.” Rokurou shrugged at the long, difficult name.
“That’s great news, thank you. I’ll get in touch with them.” Sora bowed to them both and started walking away with Fuuka.
“Well, I hope to see you around!” Tamuramaro called out, waving at the couple.
Though Sora always tried to keep his cool, he was inwardly seething now.
“Of course, same to you, Mr.…Maro…Tamura?”
“Hmm? Or is it Mr. Tamura…maro?”
They heard the Kashiwagis’ puzzled voices behind them as the couple tried to read his business card.
Apparently, this was nothing new for Tamuramaro, and he went on smiling without any sign of concern. His self-possessed bearing vexed Sora more than it had the day before—mainly because Rokurou and Tatsuko had been just as kind and caring to Tamuramaro as they were to him and Fuuka.
“Maybe the tax accountant needs a certified fraud examiner to look into some company. It’ll be a big help.”
After buying the rest of the ingredients in the grocery shop Araike, Sora was walking toward the Shizukuishi neighborhood bus stop a little way off from the shopping street, resigned to the prospect of going back home with Tamuramaro. Fuuka was still wearing his red leash.
“Are you really out of work?” asked Tamuramaro.
“There’s not much demand for this profession.” Sora was still furious, but when he consciously considered each reason for his anger, all of them were immature. He sighed.
“I never got around to asking you—why did you quit the Public Prosecutors’ Office?”
It was a long overdue question. Sora had become a prosecutor straight out of university and quit two years later. And two years had already passed since then.
“…I used to think that I was cut out for work within the legal system, investigating and condemning evildoers and criminals,” Sora began. He didn’t want to hear that question, but as soon as Tamuramaro voiced it, he realized he had never been asked directly, even though there had been opportunities for it in the past two years.
“Knowing you, it must have been better than being an attorney. You’d have to defend criminals, too.”
Despite being the one who had asked, Tamuramaro sounded as if he already understood why Sora had chosen the path he had.
A prosecutor probed into crimes within the logic of man-made law, rather than by the rule of force. Sora had believed such a role would befit his powerful conviction that evil should be punished. As a diligent, outstanding prosecutor, he thoroughly investigated numerous suspects during those two years, and, where appropriate, he had indicted the suspect with certainty. When he deemed it necessary, he pursued severe punishment for them.
“Did you think you went too far?” asked Tamuramaro. He had faced Sora in court several times as those suspects’ attorney, and he had witnessed Sora corner them ruthlessly without batting an eye.
“Coo?”
As Sora’s expression darkened, Fuuka whined and nuzzled up against him sympathetically. Sora stroked his brother’s head.
“That’s…what I couldn’t bring myself to think,” he confessed, meeting Tamuramaro’s eyes. Even though he now knew that Tamuramaro thought he’d been too aggressive in the courtroom, he couldn’t lie about his true feelings. “I kept thinking, over and over again, that the punishment should be harsher. I believed in my own indictment more than the court’s judgment. And that’s why I quit.”
It wasn’t because he didn’t like the judges’ rulings. He had quit because every time he believed that the suspect should be punished more, he had to admit he wasn’t suitable as a prosecutor.
“I did have some hope that the legal system might help me be able to live with other people. But…” Sora had wondered whether the law would allow his extremely merciless judgment to coexist with the rest of humanity, but perhaps it wasn’t meant to be.
“…I see.” Tamuramaro sounded gentle for some reason. His tone called Rokurou and Tatsuko to Sora’s mind—the way it felt when they worried over him.
“I also wanted to determine whether the codes of law, the ritsuryo, that your people brought in has really made people happy,” murmured Sora.
“Happiness? Is that something so easy to see?” Tamuramaro didn’t assert his view either way. “But I understand you’re trying to engage with those around you, even if through those laws, Sora.” He spoke softly, as if to himself. It really was like Rokurou and Tatsuko.
It was the first time Sora was attempting to be a part of people’s lives, and perhaps he was succeeding now. Sora was aware of the fact that he was somehow trying, or at least struggling with, something he hadn’t been doing for a long time—even if he was barely making it work.
“I’m no good at anything, but they’re forgiving.”
“You’re too hard on yourself. Those people are kind to you, so you must be doing well.” Tamuramaro seemed to be thinking of Rokurou and Tatsuko, too.
“Doing what well, exactly?”
“The sort of things people do. Expressing love, receiving love. If you can feel them forgive you, aren’t you doing the same for them?”