Lady Joker, Volume 1 by Kaoru Takamura (lightest ebook reader .txt) 📕

he spoke these words, he felt disgusted with himself and wondered what right he had to stick his nose in someone else’s family business. This was not Sugihara’s family problem at all—it was indeed the company’s problem. Sugihara, bemoaning what he could have possibly done differently, felt real anguish, yet the words out of Shiroyama’s mouth were so haughty and stereotypical that he himself shuddered.

“You are a father before you are a company man! No need to mention how you investigated his background—it could lead to more misunderstanding—but I’d like you to consider the feelings of these grieving parents, and to treat them with as much respect and courtesy as possible. I ask you as your brother-in-law.”

Shiroyama recoiled from his own mean logic, but a part of him coolly observed such reasoning and assessed, So this is the kind of man I am. He had advised against mentioning the segregated community because that’s what he would have done himself, but this calculation was based upon the company’s need to avoid falling victim to Okada’s dirty tricks and people’s suspicions. No doubt Sugihara saw through these contradictory arguments.

“I’ll go see the boy’s parents tomorrow. I’m sure it will help to alleviate my own distress, and that of my daughter and wife too,” Sugihara said with all the sarcasm he could muster, and hung up the phone.

As Shiroyama replaced the receiver, he gazed at the night view that stretched out beyond his desk. The cityscape that this morning had resembled an orderly factory line was now a vast sea of lights.

In a momentary daze, Shiroyama had the sense that he now faced an unexpected uncertainty. What plagued him was an inchoate anxiety—an instinct to avoid the fact that his own relative’s brief and careless remark had, however indirectly, precipitated the death of a student and shaken, if only slightly, the state of a corporation. When he found out what his niece had said to Hatano, in that instant Shiroyama’s mind had intrinsically rejected that reality. And even had it not, he would still have avoided working out the exact thoughts that were running through his head now. What he ended up with was the singular, indeterminate emotion that was the uncertainty of life itself.

On the other hand, Shiroyama wondered if there was an appropriate end to this complex situation that his niece’s single remark had triggered. Would time sort everything out? Would it eventually be lost amid life’s miscellaneous affairs? Would the feelings of the parents who had lost their only son—and those of Sugihara, his wife, and his daughter—be allayed so easily? And so on, he reflected. However, it did not take long for him to realize that such contemplation was an act without an end.

His thoughts having returned to the uncertainty of life, Shiroyama put away these emotions for the time being. He then picked up the phone again and dialed the office of the general manager of the beer division.

“This is Shiroyama. Could you give me three minutes? I’ll head over right now.”

“I can come to you,” Kurata said.

“No. I’m on my way.”

Shiroyama fixed the necktie that he had loosened, and left his office. He took the elevator one flight down to the twenty-ninth floor to find Kurata standing in the elevator hall. Shiroyama appreciated that he had hurried to meet him, but Kurata’s appearance—his necktie loose, complexion pallid, and his shirt sleeves rolled up—made for a dreadful sight, obviously indicating that until this moment he had been buried in reports at his desk. Unbeknownst to most employees, though, this was Kurata’s default nighttime look.

As usual, Kurata immediately took in Shiroyama’s expression and asked, “Should we go to my office? I’ve got our competitor’s newest product perfectly chilled.” He kept his own mien scrupulously calm.

“No, no. This is no time to be drinking,” Shiroyama responded absently, feeling obsequious as he became aware, after all this time, of his obligation to his employees—Kurata included—and the company. “Kurata-san. Given the situation, I must tell you this. In regard to that student Hatano, I’ve just questioned my niece about him and she told me that on the day before the interview, she told him about the issue with his father’s birthplace. I don’t even know how to apologize—”

“No. As it stands, this has nothing to do with your niece. It’s my fault for giving Okada an opportunity to take advantage.”

“No. This is also a problem for Sugihara’s family, so I’ve asked him to pay his respects—as a father—to the boy’s parents. I ask for your understanding about this. Please.” Shiroyama bowed, and Kurata waved off this gesture with his hand.

“I understand. But please allow me to handle the matters of the letter under a false name and the tape. I’d like to be able to prove at least one incidence of Okada’s involvement. Once the police have identified the suspect and how they acquired Okamura’s letter, we’ll withdraw our claim.”

“I understand. That’s all I wanted to say. I’m sorry to bother you so late.”

“It’s no problem. Thank you for coming down here.”

It happened just then, as Kurata reached over and pushed the elevator call button for Shiroyama. In the brief moment when Kurata extended his arm, a pungent smell wafted from his body. Shiroyama’s nose wriggled unconsciously, but by the time he had realized it was the smell of whisky, the elevator doors had already opened.

Shiroyama stepped into the elevator and stared back at Kurata, who stood outside the door and bowed once. He searched for the right words, but the door proceeded to close, and Kurata disappeared from sight.

4

Shuhei Handa

Shuhei Handa got off the train at Shimbamba Station and thought to himself, I must’ve stepped on something. Skipping the hassle of removing his shoe to check what it might be, he kept walking to Shinagawa Police Department and had run up only a few stairs when a grinding pain finally shot through his right big toe. Handa moved aside to the wall, took off his right shoe, and flipped