“…I see.” He nodded slowly. “You are certainly quite different from how I imagined.”
What’s that supposed to mean?!
“Now, care to explain what brings you—” But just then, there was a sound at the front door, and he rose to his feet. Evidently, the boss was home. “Excuse me for just a moment.”
After he left, I looked at Ushio. “Have a seat.”
“Good god, Kei…!”
In his face, I could see panic, confusion, and a hint of poorly concealed joy. At last, I gave him a taste of his own medicine. Very satisfying indeed—but unfortunately, I didn’t have the composure to savor it or the time to explain myself.
“Just sit down and watch what I’m about to do,” I said. “I don’t want to hear a peep from you, got it? Just trust me.”
He choked back something I couldn’t parse. “O-okay.” He sat down directly across from me.
At nearly that exact moment, the master of the house walked in. Without a word, Wakamiya Homare sat down in the center seat and looked at me with emotionless eyes.
“State your business, sir,” Saijou said to me from behind him.
Too good to speak to me yourself, Your Majesty? “I came to introduce myself and say thank you.”
“For what?”
“For spreading rumors about my potential election campaign,” I said.
“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about.”
“At first, it was frustrating and infuriating, but now I’ve developed an interest in politics. I think I might really run in the next election,” I said.
Ushio got halfway out of his seat but stopped and laced his hands in front of his face. He must have remembered my warning.
“Well now. Good for you,” Saijou replied patronizingly with a thin smile. “I wish you the best of luck.”
“This leads me to my next point. Do you know a good realtor in this area, and if so, can you introduce me?”
“I’m sorry?” he said.
“Read. My. Lips.” I tapped on the table in front of me with my fingernail. “I’m going to run right here, in Tokyo’s first district, as an unaffiliated candidate. And since I don’t know when this dissolution might happen, I need to move here and get my resident’s card. I’ll need an office too.”
Saijou’s brow instantly furrowed.
“That’s why I figured I should introduce myself. I’m not sure if I’ll be running against you, Legislator, or perhaps your idiot son, but either way, I have no intention of losing.”
It’s like Ushio always says: whenever I really mean business, no one else stands a chance.
“Have you really come here in the middle of the night to joke around?”
“About what?” I said. “I’m just exercising my fundamental civil rights.”
“Forgive my bluntness, but it seems you don’t know how elections work. Running as an unaffiliated candidate is a major handicap, but you seriously believe you could win?”
“Oh, I know. Unaffiliated candidates are excluded from party election broadcasts, and the usage of flyers and posters is restricted as well. But why do you think that would matter? They already broadcast my name and face on national news every night during the prime-time slot.” Sure, I didn’t have a supporters’ association or campaign fund, but I did have the equivalent of a giant billboard in the form of my reputation.
“As I recall, you denied any interest in the election on that very program,” he countered.
“We all have to lie sometimes. The voters will understand.”
“You seem quite confident in your own popularity.”
“Of course,” I declared.
The moment I showed any weakness or hesitation, it would all be over. If I tried to bluff, I didn’t stand a chance against a true pro like him. All I could do was keep pushing.
Focus. Don’t get distracted. Speak loudly. Sharply. Overwhelm him. As an election guru, he already knows I don’t stand a chance. I just need a tiny little opening, enough to make him think I’m a threat.
“Feel free to spread around any dirt you happen to have on me, by the way. They’ll all assume a rival candidate’s trying to smear me…which means we’re on even ground. So what’ll it be?” I asked Wakamiya, who still had yet to utter a word to me himself. “If I lose the election, I can always find work as a freelance reporter. You, however, have a great deal more to lose. Or will you hide behind the proportional electoral system as a safety net? It’d be a cowardly move for the undefeated Wakamiya Homare, though.”
Saijou’s face twisted with displeasure. “I’ve had quite enough—”
“No, I’ve had enough, NIMROD!!!” I roared, slamming my hands on the table as I jumped to my feet. “You people started this fucking fight, and frankly, you should be honored that I’m willing to finish it! If you’re going to rob me of the place I call home, then it’s only fair that I do the same to you! I’ll make your life hell, I’ll steal your precious turf, I’ll rip down all your posters and burn them! The first district sheep will all flock to me instead! Now choose: do you wanna leave us the hell alone, or do you wanna duke it out in an election?!”
I stared straight into the great politician’s unreadable eyes. A cold sweat dripped down the back of my neck. No one said a word. Everyone was looking at Wakamiya Homare.
What finally broke that silence…was the ringtone of a cell phone.
“…Hello?” Wakamiya answered his phone so casually, it was like the rest of us didn’t even exist. “Yes… I see. Very well. I accept. Right. Talk later.”
Once he finished his brief phone call, before he could tuck his phone back into the interior pocket of his suit, I spoke.
“Congratulations, by the way.”
For the first time, something flickered to life on his face—or so it seemed, at least.
“That was the Prime Minister, right?” I continued. “I saw an old video of you talking to him on the phone, and it was the same ringtone as the one just now.”
That alone made for a weak argument, but it was clearly someone whose call he couldn’t ignore despite the present circumstances, plus his reply of “I accept”…
I decided to press harder. “After all this talk of elections, it seems the current Diet session won’t be dissolving after all. That’s what he decided, right?”
Then, for the first time, Wakamiya spoke directly to me. “How…?”
“The current Minister for Internal Affairs and Communications, Ozaki—he’s under investigation for some shady financial dealings and it might go to court, right? But he was only appointed to appease the whiny old geezer faction, so now they want to take the opportunity to stick you in that seat. Problem is, the opposition will freak out and submit a motion of no confidence against the Cabinet. So, the smart move is to strike first with a confidence resolution.”
Assuming it passed, it would take non-confidence right off the table. But it would only buy them a little bit of time, and it was generally agreed that they wouldn’t win the election that followed.
“When the PM kept going on and on about a ‘jinx,’ he didn’t mean tax hikes—he meant the confidence resolution, right? He pretends that he might dissolve the House at any second, but he won’t. He wants a confidence motion to pass first. So, to make damn sure the opposition doesn’t get any stronger, he’ll give you this Cabinet post in exchange for your help with some behind-the-scenes negotiation. You weed out the rebels, he cuts them loose and frames it as reform to win points, and after the Diet closes, he builds a new Cabinet with the lineup he actually wanted—and of course, you’ll slide right on in, Minister Wakamiya. That’s why there won’t be a dissolution until this fall at the earliest.”
At some point while I was talking, Wakamiya quietly closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. It almost looked like he was sleeping peacefully, but I suspected he just didn’t want me getting a read on his inner emotions.
At last, he opened his eyes a crack. “Who put this nonsense in your head?”
“Oh, no one in particular. I put the pieces together on my own. I guess you could say I’m just…theorizing about what I’d do if I was Prime Minister.”
“If you were Prime Minister?” he repeated disdainfully, scoffing at my arrogance.
“That’s right,” I replied with a smile. “Newscasters aren’t just talking mannequins, asshole.”
At this, of all things, Wakamiya actually smiled—not his stock politician’s smile, but the genuine grin of someone who witnessed something funny. His shoulders quivered as if he had a hiccup, then quickly fell still. “Saijou,” he called calmly.
“Yes, sir?”
“Call a cab and escort them out. Both of them.”
“…Understood.”
With that, Wakamiya rose to his feet and started to leave the room.
“Hey!” Ushio called after him.
Wakamiya didn’t look back, but he stopped walking.
Ushio didn’t seem to have anticipated that. He stared down at the floor for a second, then looked up again and said…
“Thanks for raising me for those fifteen years.”
Gratitude and a farewell, all wrapped up in one.
But Wakamiya didn’t respond to it directly. Instead, all he said was, “You’ve hooked yourself a real firecracker.”