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Johnny Keats
Jan 24, 2023



[5/29 Rewrote this OP to be better]


Keisuke Matsuoka is a celebrated Japanese author known for his meticulously detailed mystery/thriller novels. In English, accessible works are few and far between, but in Japan the cultural impact of his series like "Senrigan" ("Clairvoyance") and "All-Round Appraiser Q" could be compared to the National Treasure series of films in the West, or Dan Brown's "Da Vinci Code" series that blew up a while back. Imagine the vibe of those, but significantly less lovely and actually well researched, and you'll understand Matsuoka's vibe. For example the titular appraiser in that series, Riko Rinda, was a Holmes-like figure with encyclopedic knowledge and a knack for solving mysteries. And her mysteries always just so happened to revolve around historical artifacts and urban legend type conspiracies, just like National Treasure. At the core, his stories are thrilling and engaging, but they also weave in subtle social nuances and cultural authenticity that make them memorable.

The "All-Round Appraiser Q" series wrapped up semi-recently in 2020 and was functionally replaced by a new series called Koukou Jihen ("The High School Incident"). This, in my opinion, marked the start of the current era of Matsuoka, which also makes it a good introduction-point. Pivoting away from deep-dives into the specifics of art, history, and literature, the subject matter that this series promised to delve into was two seemingly unrelated subjects. Organized crime, and high school. Having read 6 of this series' novels so far, I would say that his thematic focus does not deviate, yet he also has something new to say in each one. This series is an interesting departure for the author as well, in that it leans away from intellect-based deduction and focuses much of its intrigue on using that savant-like knowledge to survive deadly situations. The novels are episodic, like episodes of Columbo or something, so I can safely commit to translating one novel. It wraps up [pretty much] every thread by the end, save a few details that are a part of greater continuity. In that sense, the pacing of each novel feels like that of a movie.

Matsuoka's style is very accessible, as his writing is highly exposition and fact oriented, with an emphasis on conveying details precisely. Yet at the same time it is richly informative and his use of subtle word choice or syntax decisions make the translation experience a difficult and engaging one for me as a reader and writer. There are times that I find his choice of how to present information deeply fascinating. Every line feels like it has some purpose. He is perhaps the master of hiding key setup in unassuming text and/or an abundance of detail. Hints are always given before answers, but there is not the same type of "answer" as a traditional whodunit. Questions about motive, about large-scale what is going on, even on a meta level about thematic significance, are implicitly posed to the reader all the time. For example, the early chapters of The High School Incident emphasize poor rush-hour traffic conditions over and over and over, without an immediately obvious relevance. But for those who have an idea of what is coming, the detail can be seen as setting up a puzzle: how does a surreptitious large-scale terrorist operation happen when transport to the area is so bad?

I hope that all this is enough to convince you to be excited about checking this out. There is bit of a slow burn at the start, so I'm really trying to sell you on it. When I first picked this up, I had trouble getting into the dense political drama, but now I think it's really funny. I hope my translation has properly conveyed that those government scenes are scathingly satirical, despite a tone that sounds like a press release.

One last thing. I've made liberal use of hyperlinks (usually to Wikipedia) in lieu of footnotes, for optional extra research about real things that are mentioned. On rare occasions, such as the definition of the term hangure gangs, the in-text explanation is exactly the same as you will find Googling in Japanese or English. So there is no hyperlink for that, despite referencing real life information. Even if you don't have a passing knowledge of Japan, I think it is fairly well-projected which elements are fictionalized and which are directly referencing real life. For instance the current Prime Minister in the novel is a fictional character, despite sharing circumstantial similarities with Shinzo Abe, while former Prime Minister Jun'ichiro Koizumi is mentioned by name.



quote:

1

The Prime Minister of Japan had one final task on his agenda: just past midnight, as scheduled, he would call his personal secretary on the phone. They would exchange brief pleasantries, then hang up. That way, his secretary on location at the official government offices could inform the press that he had retired for the evening. This was how the Prime Minister’s bustling day came to an end, without fail.

At the age of 64, Prime Minister Yahata Kazuo spent each night at his private home in Shoutou, Shibuya. Although his coworkers often suggested that staying in the official residence designated for him would eliminate the issue of his commute, Yahata did not like the official residence. He would constantly fret that a visitor might arrive, and restful sleep would be impossible. When that happened, he’d be stuck powering through the next day in a drowsy haze.

As much as the Cabinet Office made a point of emphasizing the Prime Minister’s hard work in the media, the reality was he had plenty of time for sleep. Even when the National Diet was in session and mornings were early, he didn’t leave for work until eight o’clock, and when the Diet was in recess, such as today, he could take his time and leave as late as nine thirty. Thus, he was able to eat breakfast with his wife Misaki (55), and view the NHK morning news in its entirety. His own face would appear on the screen, and they would watch silently without conversation. Even after the reporting turned to non-political affairs they still didn’t speak a word to each other. The childless home had always had this atmosphere. Ever since their younger days they’d lived the quiet life of an elderly couple. This had shown no sign of change after he’d become Prime Minister.

Yahata stood in front of a mirror and straightened himself out. He was wearing a tailored suit from Eikokuya Ginza with a necktie Misaki had picked out. Despite the unending flattery that he looked no older than fifty, Yahata was vividly aware of his own age. On television it was no concern, but with the naked eye white strands at his hairline were clearly noticeable.

Soon it’d be the age of 8K definition, so he would need to start dying his hair more diligently. Yahata recalled those words of caution a stylist had told him at the salon Misaki had recommended. At the time, he’d dismissed it as a strong sense of salesmanship, but perhaps it had been pertinent advice after all.

Yahata bid farewell to his wife and the housekeeper, then left out the front door as he always did. The softly-lit view from his doorstep was gentle on the eyes. Tender autumn sunshine blanketed the housing district in a thin coat of orange. Pale shadows fell on the asphalt, light and darkness nigh indistinguishable from one another. The shiny black vehicle that normally awaited him had been upgraded from a Century to a Lexus LS. He looked at his security officers, whom he knew well, and deliberately said nothing. Even in this extremely peaceful neighborhood, he would be remiss to distract his guards from their duty. The driver opened the rear door, then stood aside humbly as Yahata got in.

The man in the passenger seat turned around to face him. Bespectacled and slender-faced, parliamentary secretary Ikezaki Yoshio (38) greeted Yahata professionally. “Good morning, Sir.”

“Good morning,” Yahata replied. “Today’s schedule?”

“A cabinet meeting at 10:04,” Ikezaki said, holding a notepad in one hand. “At 10:26 you have a meeting with the advisory committee pertaining to the implementation of labor reform. At 11:34 we’ll be driving to the Parliamentary Museum for a tour of the new exhibit. At 12:05 you have a private meeting with the president of the National Governors Association. Then, starting at 1:33, you’ll meet with candidates for the upcoming election and give them your official designation of approval. And at 2:32 the People’s Honor Award presentation ceremony will begin. A draft of your speech has been prepared, of course.”

A gloomy sensation spread like a fog in Yahata’s chest. He mumbled to himself. “Maybe I should’ve given the award to Tashiro Yuuji after all.”

“This was a decision reached after countless deliberations,” Ikezaki said, placing a finger on the brow of his glasses. “You mustn’t let the reporters’ questions reveal any hesitation in you.”

He’s right. Yahata nodded and sighed.

Tashiro Yuuji was a 2nd-year high school student and naturalized Japanese citizen. His name from birth in Vietnam was Nguyen Van Triet. Normally, naturalization would not be granted to a minor, but because he’d been living with both parents in Japan, he was naturalized with the rest of the family.

The boy’s naturalization had ended up being in Japan’s national interest as well. This wasn’t known until afterward, but Triet had been a badminton prodigy. At his current school, Musashi-Kosugi High, there is no doubt that he single-handedly carried the badminton team to first place at the Interscholastic Athletic Meet. As such, there was even some speculation that he might participate in the Tokyo Olympics next year.

As the Japanese name Tashiro Yuuji began circulating in the press, talks soon also turned favorably toward the impressive open-mindedness of the high school which had accepted him. In an age where many prestigious schools would shy away from accepting a student naturalized from Vietnam, this was seen as a monumental display of upholding civil rights. Thanks to which, they’d obtained a valuable gem of untapped potential. The media had overwhelmingly praised the school administration’s decision.

Once news stations had started showcasing the boy’s charming, kind demeanor and good looks, Tashiro Yuuji’s popularity had skyrocketed. As often occurs with viral topics, the public was swept into a fervor, and in their delirious state extreme opinions took precedence over common sense. A very small fraction of voices had even started announcing that Tashiro Yuuji should be given the People’s Honor Award. It was true that the decision of whom to grant the award was at the sole discretion of the Prime Minister, so eligibility requirements were not a concern, but even so, Yahata had viewed these comments as obviously premature, and had refrained from comment. Merely winning the championship at a high school athletic meet wasn’t enough to warrant the distinction.

However, certain government officials had made their own independent predictions, which had then appeared in newspapers and caused criticism to be sent his way. It was reported that Musashi-Kosugi High’s deviation ranking was only fifty-two, and that the female students were known for their excessive use of makeup and accessorizing. These facts were theorized to have influenced the prime minister’s decision, according to comments from Diet Members.

All of a sudden, the public was rallying against it. Yahata himself hadn’t graduated from anywhere prestigious like Tokyo University, simply advancing through his school’s escalator system. So while they weren’t wrong about his lack of experience with the harsh competition of exam season, bringing the school’s ranking into the discussion was absurd. He had believed this opinion to be merely a vocal minority, but to his surprise, a shocking number of officials from both sides of the party line had begun uniting against him on this front.

Yahata saw that they were already driving along a main road. He gazed at the morning congestion and grumbled to himself. “No matter what I do, they’ll find some fault with it.”

“You’re an easy target. After you extended the term limit from two to three, winning for a third time was the worst case scenario for those looking to back other candidates.”

“I'm grateful to live in a country where the crime rate is so low. I’m even permitted to commute from home without fear.”

Yahata and Ikezaki shared a laugh. That sort of questionable statement would get him crucified in an instant. They could only crack such jokes within the confines of this car.

Speaking of which, it has been widely reported by reputable sources that the prime minister’s personal vehicle is equipped with bulletproof glass. While this is true, Yahata had been informed that the car would put up little resistance if struck by a missile. In the first place, bulletproof glass merely disperses the shock of impact across a plastic film. It could reliably intercept a handful of small caliber rounds, but not much else. Every world leader understands this fact, though none, understandably, says it aloud. The only other part of the car that would qualify as specialized equipment was a blue LED emergency light.

Rather than take the expressway directly to the offices, they were using local roads. Unfortunately, there was no hijacking the traffic lights to make them green or anything of the sort. Those measures were only used in emergencies. They took a different route every morning, but no amount of intricate planning could beat the morning rush. They even obeyed the speed limit. Still, they somehow made the full trip every morning in under fifteen minutes, never failing to arrive at the scheduled time.

Five floors above ground and one below, constructed out of steel-reinforced concrete. The design was quite elegant, with an emphasis on glass paneling, though after seeing it so many times Yahata felt nothing novel in it anymore. Built on sloping land, the main entrance on the eastern side led to the third floor. Thanks to that, Yahata was able to walk comfortably to work without having to pass by the press club in the lobby. Of course, there were plenty of reporters crowded inside the third floor entryway as well, but this was preferable to trekking across their central den of operations.

Yahata proceeded up the stairway to the fourth floor as normal. The only time he would ever head downstairs is when they take the commemorative cabinet photo at the start of each term. The ministers assemble in the fourth floor hall for regularly scheduled cabinet meetings every Tuesday and Friday, and today was Tuesday.

If the Diet were in session, then they’d use a room inside the National Diet Building specifically meant for cabinet meetings. In those instances, they’d all sit on the couches in the lobby and wait to have their picture taken by the press. On the news, this would be presented as a view of the cabinet meeting itself, but the reality was different. Actual cabinet meetings were closed off to the public. And the same held true in these offices. Once they’d successfully shut out all representatives of the media, they gathered themselves around the large, round table in the center of the room.

The only people in attendance besides the ministers were the three Deputy Chief Cabinet Secretaries, and the director of the Cabinet Legislation Bureau. Seated at a rectangular table separated from the large round one, they would read off various legislation and other items on the agenda one by one. Since these were almost exclusively issues that had been previously discussed at length, no objections were ever raised. Then the cabinet ministers would all sign some documents. Such were the events of a regularly scheduled cabinet meeting, nothing more and nothing less.

After leaving the meeting room, Yahata dispassionately went through the motions of his duties. Not even lunch offered a reprieve, as he needed to meet with the president of the National Governors Association while eating. In the afternoon the American Deputy Secretary of State paid him a visit. Then he met with the president of the Bank of Japan to discuss the monthly economic report, among other things. This meeting lasted until just past five.

When he finally returned to his personal office, Yahata found awaiting him the Minister of Education, Science, and Culture --- Usui Shouji, who was currently in discussion with Yahata’s six secretaries.

At 54, Usui appeared quite young in Yahata’s eyes. Of course his black hair was dyed too, but in terms of volume Usui’s was far superior. His skin was more youthful as well. For a man so up-in-arms about the declining health of educators due to overworking, the minister himself seemed fit as a fiddle.

The atmosphere in the room was much more amicable than a standard conference, and Minister Usui spoke to Yahata in a friendly tone. “Remember how you appeared in a Mario costume at the Rio Olympics opening ceremony? We are quite lucky that you received Nintendo’s permission beforehand. Otherwise, those shady Chinese dealerships in Shibuya would have an excuse to rent their Mario Kart lookalikes without fear of legal action.”

Yahata was at a loss for words. This again? The international media had eaten it up, but in Japan the stunt had been widely mocked. His trusted circle of former prime ministers and government officials had seemed enthusiastic about the idea, so he’d agreed to it without much thought, but the embarrassment haunted him to this day.

The secretaries in the room chuckled playfully. Ikezaki spoke in agreement with Usui: “Lately, they’ve been painting huge letters on the side that say NOT AFFILIATED WITH NINTENDO.”

Even Iioka Tetsuji (51), the stern-faced member of the National Police Agency, had to grin at the irony. “Of course, that only makes legal action trickier to pursue.”

Yahata didn’t want to spend any more time on the subject. He sat in an armchair and said, “If this is about the Tokyo Olympics, I’d think your department has more pertinent concerns, Minister. Offering access to advanced classes and course credits to volunteering students... People are saying that’s too far.”

Usui became stone-faced. “My apologies. This is not about the Tokyo Olympics. Our present concern is the lack of basic academic skills in our youth, and a decline in their passion for learning.”

“So kids aren’t studying... That didn’t start with me.”

“Public schools being the most notably affected. We’ve found that on weekdays, less than half of high school seniors spend any time on study outside of class. We’ve even fallen below international standards.”

“Surely you don’t mean to suggest that my performance at the Rio Olympics has a connection to kids’ interest in video games?”

“No. That being said, we thought you might be interested in taking the initiative to advocate for the importance of education.”

Secretary Tatsuyama Shigeki, a 45 year old man of timid disposition from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, spoke with a dubious look on his face. “Is our education so sub-standard? According to the OECD’s PISA exam, Japanese students rank at the top worldwide. And the percentage of students in lower brackets is decreasing.”

Usui shook his head. “That test is aimed at 15 year olds who have only finished compulsory education. Our problem is after they proceed to high school.”

The only female secretary in the room was Hoshino Toshiko, 43 years old, from the Ministry of Economy, Trade, and Industry. Toshiko spoke to the Prime Minister: “The idea has merit. We understand that around the time of the Olympics, it was put forward as a necessity to emphasize the appeal of the Japanese video game and anime industries to foreign nations. Perhaps a balancing of the scales is now in order. We don’t want to give our nation’s youth the misconception that we approve of play.”

Kuramatsu Naoki, mustachioed 55 year old member of the Ministry of Finance, nodded as well. “Agreed. I believe it would be well within our interest for you to stress the necessity of study to today’s high school students.”

Usui leaned forward. “Precisely. A Shouka Sonjuku for the modern age.”

Yoshida Shouin? A name sure to touch Yahata’s emotions, having grown up in Yamaguchi prefecture. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel put on the spot. Yahata replied quietly. “My wife and I never had kids. My nephew has been a working adult for a very long time. I don’t have a clue what teenagers are like these days.”

Ikezaki replied: “What if we used that to our advantage? You could visit a high school in person to observe and interact with the students and teachers there. Even a cursory appeal to study would earn the support of parents too.”

Usui’s face lit up. “That’s a great idea. Not a well-renowned school, but an exceedingly commonplace public high school would work best.”

Within the animated group of secretaries, silver-haired, tan-skinned former member of the Ministry of Defense --- Takemoto Ryouji, stood apart. He alone wore a dark expression, and said: “Minister Usui. You say a commonplace high school, but I would rather take more care in making the proper choice. From a crisis management perspective, I cannot recommend that the Prime Minister travel far for this.”

Yahata said the first thing that came to his mind. “Musashi-Kosugi High. How’s that?”

He scanned the room. His secretaries were looking at each other’s faces.

Usui flashed white teeth. “Excellent! Isn’t that the public school attended by badminton prodigy Tashiro Yuuji?”

Ikezaki nodded with a humble expression. “The school has gotten positive attention, and visiting may also soften the blowback from overlooking him for the People’s Honor Award.”

Tatsuyama turned to Ikezaki. “Won’t that be criticized as empty pandering?”

“Those criticisms will be made regardless.” Ikezaki laughed with his nose. “We can overwhelm them with sheer newsworthiness. In terms of what’s reported, it would only be footage of the visit aired on the news, but a face-to-face with Tashiro Yuuji the badminton prodigy is sure to make waves.”

Takemoto’s dark expression became even more severe. “That’s the school that accepted a boy naturalized from a socialist nation?”

Ikezaki sighed deeply. “Our country is their number one ODA contributor.”

“Of course. Vietnam is not regarded as a threat. And Musashi-Kosugi High is regarded highly for its dedication to civil rights. However, due to being such a high-profile school, it can also be seen as a more likely target for extremist groups.”

Iioka from the National Police Agency expressed agreement. “You’re saying we shouldn’t announce the visit beforehand, and leave out the media as well?”

Ikezaki looked flustered. “That defeats the purpose of earning widespread attention. How about we narrow down the media presence to ten people, give or take?”

“No.” Iioka looked at Ikezaki. “The information would leak on TV or the newspapers. It’s not just a matter of trusting people to maintain silence. Anyone paying attention to the activity of those press members could easily guess what’s going on. We need to follow the blueprint of a sudden, unexpected visit established at Gonpachi in 2002.”

Gonpachi,” Ikezaki murmured. “The izakaya in Nishi-Azabu.”

“The Prime Minister at the time, Koizumi Jun’ichirou, had dinner there with President Bush. Not even the restaurant staff knew until it was announced just beforehand. In truth, the upper management must have been involved in some planning, but that should be fine for us too.”

Yahata turned to Iioka. “Back then, the image of the two dining together appeared on the news though, right?”

“Yes, they brought a press corps with them. We’ll do it differently. The media won’t be involved until the entire school visit is over. The news stations and papers will just interview students and teachers after the fact.”

“So footage of the visit won’t be broadcast on television?”

Ikezaki seemed like he had come to an understanding. “Prime Minister. Upon consideration I do believe this would more effective. Of course, it also means we will need to focus on increasing your general likability.”

“Not even the image of me and Tashiro together?”

“We can send pictures of you two chatting to the various news stations. But the lack of additional details will really stress that this isn’t a stunt for the media. We’ll have the Chief Cabinet Secretary announce that you kept it private in order to earnestly observe the place of learning to your fullest. The news stations will probably be riled up in dissatisfaction, but your public perception will soar.”

Footage of him with a high-profile naturalized youth... a waste to limit the moment to a photo or two. But there were advantages. Leaving reporters by the wayside meant he could avoid getting worn down by worrying he might make a small mistake in his words.

A Shouka Sonjuku for the modern age... not a bad thing to call oneself. It had been a long time since a great plan had come to him like this. In preparation for the Tokyo Olympics next year, it was time to start working hard on earning points with the nation. Plus, even if only a little bit, this could be used to better sell the idea of constructing a high-speed rail to Vietnam.

Yahata asked: “My physical’s coming up soon?”

“Yes,” Ikezaki replied. “It’s mandatory for all of us. We could plan this for shortly after. Shall I amend your arrangements to attend the premiere of that Western film?”

“No. I love American big-budget films,” Yahata answered with a smile. “Please make it work with my schedule right away. The sooner I do this school visit, the better.”

Johnny Keats fucked around with this message at 05:55 on May 30, 2024

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Johnny Keats
Jan 24, 2023

quote:

2

Fifty five years old, and like a cruel joke his monthly salary was 550,000 yen (5,000 USD). That was the worth of a public high school principal. His entire life summed up in a numerical value.

Minemori Sauo stood alone on the roof of the school, depressed. It was supposed to be fall, but the rays of the midday sun shone as fiercely as ever. He had to place himself in the shade cast by the stairway enclosure.

It was humid, like a summer’s day come late. Across the fence, clusters of high-rise apartments shimmered through the morning mists, as though through the shimmer of hot air. The buildings boasted modern, sophisticated architecture, but the area hadn’t completely transformed into a metropolis. Turn your gaze just a hair and you’re looking down on the sprawling Tama riverside. Plenty of greenery and even grassy baseball fields exist out here. Like always, he could see heavy traffic clogging up Maruko Bridge, the one that got destroyed in the recent Godzilla movie. There are only a handful of bridges along the length of the river between Kanagawa and Tokyo, so they congest easily.

In his thirties when he’d started work as a homeroom teacher, Musashi-Kosugi had been nothing but a factory town to him. In his forties when he’d become a senior instructor, signs of development had already become apparent on the streets. Aiming to be vice principal, he took a management aptitude test, and passed at the age of fifty. The following year at fifty one he was given the position.

The sudden rise in Musashi-Kosugi’s popularity could probably be credited in part to the Great Earthquake. People started avoiding the newly-developed housing in reclaimed land along the coast, and trended a bit more toward inland apartment complexes. Both public and private railways can take you anywhere in the metropolitan area too, so the ease of transportation is second to none. However, there were negatives as well. Due to the population increase, almost every morning entry restrictions were in effect at the station. Commuters were regularly left standing in long lines at the gates. At its current pace, Musashi-Kosugi’s growth would probably reach a ceiling eventually.

His career would encounter a similar dead end soon. Right after becoming vice principal, he took a headmaster’s management aptitude test, the only difference from the last being the addition of a written response section. The previous principal had been nearing mandatory retirement age, so it had seemed natural. As anticipated, Minemori had succeeded him.
Recently, he felt like he’d become more influential than he actually was. Whether tagging along with his wife on errands at Grand Tree, or getting coffee in Shin-Maruko, strangers would smile at him. Before long he realized those were the faces of people watching him on TV. The principal who gave hope to the shining future of Tashiro Yuuji, the star naturalized from Vietnam. Somewhere in the many news interviews he did, that perception of him had become the default.

It felt good at first. Requests to give speeches at other schools had come flying in. But the questions would only be about Tashiro Yuuji. He had felt himself getting disillusioned in real time.

Prestigious institutions notwithstanding, public high schools aren’t turning away students just for being born outside the country. School principals don’t have that authority anyway. Tashiro Yuuji had been naturalized already, and wanted to attend a full-time high school instead of a part-time one. His parents had wanted to live in the Musashi-Kosugi area and had submitted a notice of residence change to the Nakahara district of Kawasaki city. Every step of the process had developed naturally. But that honest response isn’t what people wanted. They wanted a moving story of a school free from discrimination and prejudice toward its students. Numerous human rights groups were trying to champion Musashi-Kosugi High as a real-world application of their ideals. Minemori had no choice but to play along. They had always aimed for a liberal school culture, and teaching the importance of human rights. Zero tolerance for bullying. All students are equal regardless of race or nationality. He would repeat those statements and more in all the interviews. And he’ll be expected to say them again at the parent-teacher conference coming up.

Suddenly a bout of nausea hit him. His body pitched forward automatically. He desperately maintained composure in front of the staff, but this hangover was killing him. He’d stayed out late drinking last night at an izakaya outside Hiyoshi station. He had become reliant on alcohol as a mental stabilizer and sleep-inducing drug.

Behind him, he heard the sound of the stairway door opening. The vice principal, Isogai Kyouji, three years his junior, called out to him. “There you are.”

Minemori straightened up and turned around. A face with thinning hair and black-rimmed glasses looked at him with concern. Minemori couldn’t tell how much of that was genuine. Isogai had also made preparations to take the management aptitude test to become principal. If he saw the current principal in poor health, he might leap at the opportunity to snag the position.

But for the time being, Isogai’s expression was casual. “I phoned the Prime Minister’s office. They confirmed everything. It wasn’t a prank. The Prime Minister is visiting our school.”

“Shh,” Minemori silenced Isogai with both hands. “They made it very clear to keep this between us. It’s not something you should be saying in a loud voice.”

“Right.” Isogai smiled awkwardly. “Sorry. I’m just happy.”

“Who else knows besides us?”

“Just the Kanagawa Prefecture Board of Education. With arrangements to inform the Kawasaki city board just beforehand, apparently.”

That may sound like a lot of people who know, but including the board superintendent, that would only be six people. At the moment, if you leave out those on the government side of things, very few people were aware of the Prime Minister’s visit.

Again the nausea struck. Minemori loosened his necktie. Taking in deep breaths, he suppressed the feeling in his stomach.

Isogai made a weird face. “Sir, I understand your anxiety. We’ll need to direct our students well, so as not to disrespect the Prime Minister. It’s a big responsibility, but I’m sure it will go fine.”

“Yeah, if our students respond to direction,” Minemori replied bitterly. “No, that’s not the problem. The problem is Yuuri Yui.”

“Ahh.” Isogai’s expression clouded over. “Yuuri...”

“Did you tell the Prime Minister’s office?”

“No. It didn’t cross my mind.”

Frustration welled. Minemori spoke roughly: “It’s important. You need to tell them.”

“Shouldn’t you be the one to tell them something so important? I...”

But we don’t want the Prime Minister to cancel his visit. If he chooses another school instead, that’s the worst case scenario. Isogai’s face said it all.

Minemori agreed. Public schools have long adopted the principle of competition that exists between private schools. With the declining birthrate leading to fewer and fewer students, schools are vying for every possible enrollee they can manage. It was obvious that this visit from the Prime Minister would give their school a boost.

“Hey, Isogai...” Minemori twisted his body to redirect the stomach pain. “People like to treat Musashi-Kosugi High and Musashi-Kosugi Hospital as these relics of the past. The buildings and staff have all stayed the same as they were pre-redevelopment. They dismiss us as unbefitting the lifestyle of the current residents. Of course, it doesn’t help that our deviation score is 52, which is worse than the closest alternative Sumiyoshi High. Things are changing now though, thanks to Tashiro Yuuji.”

Isogai nodded. “As the number of applicants increases, so will the rate of those with higher academic capabilities. We can also expect our college admission rate to increase.”

“And with the Prime Minister's visit on top of that, the future looks very bright indeed. It’s literally a case where good fortune begets more good fortune. However, it must be acknowledged that when you open a window, it’s not just fresh air that comes in but dust as well.”

“True.” A shadow crossed Isogai’s face. “Maybe it was a mistake. If we had just refused Yuuri Yui...”

“We didn’t have that option. The lawyers and human rights activists were clearly ready to pounce on us in protest if we did that.”

When one heard the odd-sounding surname Yuuri, any citizen of Japan would instantly be reminded of Yuuri Kyouta, the most heinous monster of the Heisei era. Forty two at the time of his arrest in 2012. Due to the impact of the revised Act on Prevention of Unjust Acts by Organized Crime Group Members and other regulations targeting bouryokudan gangs, the influence of those gangs weakened and Yuuri rose to prominence in the underworld as the leader of seven different hangure groups.

Each of those groups originated as bousouzoku motorcycle gangs, which reigned violently over Shibuya’s teamer gangs and event circles, spreading their influence. Yuuri Kyouta is the one who gathered them up and established deep connections based on a hierarchical structure.

The members all resided within the 23 wards of Tokyo, with many coming from relatively wealthy families. The organizational structure differed from bouryokudan, more resembling their biker gang days, as they fell into natural roles based on seniority and prior relationships, growing more and more violent as they banded together.

Taking advantage of the chaos after the Great Earthquake, they would go as a group to affected areas and rob people on the streets, trash homes, rape, and destroy vending machines. Then, they started doing bank transfer scams all across the Kanto region. Over a period of a year, an estimated ten billion yen (125 million USD) of damages were accredited to the crimes of hangure groups run by Yuuri Kyouta. Their earned money became capital, and members operated a good number of clubs in areas like Roppongi and Shinjuku, as well as getting involved in the sale of illicit substances. They were perfectly willing to go to war against opposing groups, attacking rival stores funded by the yakuza, offices of the yakuza organizations backing those stores, even police boxes trying to maintain public order. Their active members would make use of 3D-printed handguns and chemical weapons like sarin and VX gas developed by former cult activists, boasting an offensive capability to rival any armed group. They kidnapped and murdered lawyers representing their enemies, as well as the managers of various notary offices. When the police had started to encroach, they released sarin gas at a Ginza department store to slow down investigations, a devastating event leaving eighteen dead and seven thousand wounded.

Police searched the nightclubs in Roppongi, Shinjuku, and elsewhere, confirming that each had been used as a base for hangure activity. The managers and assistant managers of the establishments were determined to be executive staff of these gangs, and were arrested. Yuuri Kyouta went on the run until the very end, when he was finally discovered hiding in Nakatsugawa city, Gifu, and apprehended.

The fourteen people at the head of the gangs were sentenced to death for the string of crimes. In the final year of the Heisei era, that sentence was carried out on all fourteen of them. The curtain was closed on Yuuri Kyouta’s forty nine years of life.

But that was only the beginning for the issue of Yuuri Kyouta’s children. It was well known that Yuuri enjoyed a free-spirited relationship with several hostesses and patrons of the clubs, and he left behind a number of children with unclear parentage. Yui was born in 2002, the second-born daughter among those confirmed to be Kyouta’s children, and she was nine years old when she was first discovered by police in a nightclub dressing room.

After her father’s arrest, Yui was taken in by an orphanage, but required a one month period of observation before she was allowed to enter grade school. As with all of Kyouta’s other children, wherever Yui transferred, the local board of education and PTA would burst into heated debate. Due to reports suggesting Yui had been raised by her father without any outside influence, and that she had even grown emotionally attached to some of the other hangure gang leaders, many had even rallied to have the observation period extended.

Aside from that, Minemori hadn’t known the specifics. To respect the privacy rights of children, the news had shied away from reporting on it.

As for what he now knew of her academic history, it was finally decided that Yui would attend an elementary school in Aichi prefecture, which she later graduated from. She had then moved to a new orphanage in Shizuoka, attending a middle school there. Three years later she had moved again, this time to Tochigi, so she had attended a high school in Utsunomiya city. However, she had been expelled for injuring three of her male classmates. The police had investigated the incident but could find no concrete evidence to indict Yui, so the case had been abandoned.

Musashi-Kosugi High had been contacted in the spring by a human rights group advocating for the children of Yuuri Kyouta. Tashiro Yuuji had just achieved victory at the national championship and the school had been gaining notoriety as a pioneer of human rights at the same time. The charity organizations must have seen that and thought they would be the perfect fit for Yuuri Yui as well.

Due to the efforts of the lawyers and human rights groups, those details were never reported to the public. Not even that she’d been expelled. The fact that they had admitted Yui probably wouldn’t even make the news nowadays.

To be honest, he would have preferred not to accept the daughter of a violent criminal, but if he’d turned her down, the human rights groups would have certainly expressed their dissatisfaction with the situation.

He could see the magazine headlines now. Human rights advocacy a hoax. Accepts promising badminton athlete but rejects daughter of criminal. Musashi-Kosugi High, school of hypocrisy and lies. Principal only in it for the money.

Minemori had assembled the parents and guardians for an emergency meeting, at which surprisingly few complaints were raised. The parents had seemed to feel the same sense of danger that Minemori did. If they opposed Yuuri Yui’s acceptance, they’d be branded as enemies of human rights. Everyone had probably felt the same way, and as a result, a half-hearted majority had voted for Yui to attend.

Occasionally, rumors would crop up online about Yui’s reason for expulsion. Minemori had been on pins and needles at the meeting waiting for the parents to ask him about it, but in the end the question never came. If he’d told them three boys had been injured, the meeting would have surely erupted into chaos.

Isogai spoke up nervously. “It’s been almost three months since Yui transferred into 2nd year class C. According to her homeroom teacher, Shikishima Kazumi, there have been no problems.”

A lukewarm wind blew across the roof. The sound of the train was constant. Minemori mumbled gloomily: “She hasn’t made any friends, surely? And she’s not in any after-school clubs either. No problems only means we’re calling that a coincidence. It’s how we operate. We got popular with human rights groups because bullying and violence is not reported.”

“Well I doubt Yuuri is going to suddenly raise havoc during the Prime Minister’s visit.”

“I wouldn’t be so optimistic.”

Isogai seemed exasperated. “I specifically asked Miss Shikishima to observe how she’s doing and report anything to me. Without revealing the reason for my asking, of course.”

“What do we tell the Prime Minister’s office? They’ll probably be upset with us if they find out later.”

“Sir,” Isogai replied, flustered. “That should be the principal’s decision to make. What are you going to do? Will you report the enrollment of Yuuri Yui, knowing it could result in them canceling the visit?”

His pulse soared. An uncomfortable sweat broke out. Minemori blurted out the first thing on his mind. “Surely the Prime Minister’s office will check something as basic as the school’s student register.”

In other words, there was no reason to go out of their way to inform them.

Isogai shot him a look like he got the message. His expression was slightly anxious. “Shifting the responsibility to them? And if they ask about any problematic students, how should I answer?”

They mustn’t get spooked and make a scene. This would require a delicate touch. By leaving things the way they were, they’d probably be blessed with more good fortune, like what had happened with Tashiro Yuuji.

Knowing it was semi-irresponsible what he was about to say, Minemori cracked a smile. “There are no problematic students. Yuuri Yui never crossed your mind, nor mine.”


(For the currency conversion, I used historical exchange rate data from 2019 and 2012 because the value of the yen fluctuates a lot.)

Johnny Keats fucked around with this message at 06:15 on May 30, 2024

Johnny Keats
Jan 24, 2023

quote:

3

Shikishima Kazumi (30), the teacher in charge of 2nd-year class C, was struck by how innocent the students of today appeared.

This change was particularly noticeable among the girls. Kazumi felt like when she’d been in high school, they’d preferred a more sporty fashion. Their hair had been cut in a shaggy, fluffy style, and their eyebrows trimmed thin. And you were lame if you didn’t shorten the length of your blazer and skirt.

High school girls nowadays had more voluminous hair and natural eyebrows. Because of that, their faces looked cute and innocent as can be. To prevent folding the skirts to make them shorter, the waist area of the skirt is wider and the pleats are double-layered. As a result, their skirts all went down to the knee.

But if you were to guess that their attitude in the classroom had improved, you’d be dead wrong. Kazumi reflected on this during her English Communication II lecture. The number of students resting on their elbows, looking out the windows, or shamelessly yawning had only increased. Several of the boys were even collapsed on their desks, brazenly asleep.

It was easy to see them as rebellious teens, but the reality was a bit different. They all had gentle personalities at heart. All that had changed was the standard of respect that they were expected to show their superiors. Maybe because teachers couldn’t scold students as harshly anymore.

While their way of thinking had become more free and open-minded, they had also gotten more sensitive to criticism. That could be seen as a defining feature of teenagers today.

Kazumi was walking the length of the classroom while reading an English passage from the textbook. Once upon a time, when the teacher came close to your desk you’d lift your head up and stop working on homework for other classes. Now, nobody batted an eye.

Values had fundamentally changed. In the end, Kazumi had no choice but to acknowledge the autonomy of her students. If they didn’t care what their teacher thought, nothing she said could change anything.

She suddenly stopped in her tracks. The second column of desks from the window was in disarray. Midway down the aisle, the desks were moved toward the door, making a wide space.
Kazumi spoke in natural English, not intending to be easily understood: “We have some heavy machinery coming through?”

She’d been teaching this subject for six years now. It was expected for English teachers to use English in the classroom whenever possible, so she was attempting some American-style wit she’d picked up studying overseas, but there was no reaction. If they’d at least understood the meaning and didn’t laugh, she’d accept it. But they just stared at her blankly like they hadn’t understood a thing.

Except, just then, a girl's voice murmured from nearby in an almost native English cadence. “If a forklift’s coming through, Niinuma should be the one stabbed.”

Kazumi was taken aback. The pronunciation was practically fluent, like you’d hear on a CNN news program.

A couple desks away, a tan boy with long bangs, Yoshida Takuma, member of the soccer team, whistled in mocking admiration.

In a serious tone, Kazumi asked: “Yoshida, please translate.”

Yoshida’s smile froze on his face. “No clue.”

Laughs could be heard around the classroom. Kazumi smiled unconsciously as well, glancing at Niinuma Ryouko. Ryouko’s pudgy face looked confused. The English statement hadn’t come from her, but she wasn’t free from blame either. The large opening in the aisle had evidently been caused by Ryouko sliding her desk toward the door. The girls in front and behind her had followed suit.

No matter how much space you cleared, a forklift couldn’t pass through here, not even a small one. A forklift has two large prongs on the front. If some of the students on either side of the aisle would need to be impaled by one of them, Niinuma should be the sacrifice. It had been some sort of dark humor to that effect. She could guess the statement had come from the desk next to Ryouko’s on the window side.

Kazumi looked in that direction. The girl wasn’t resting on her elbows but still sat comfortably, with her long, thin legs stretched out in front of her. Long, straight black hair, fair-skinned face as small as a fist, and wide eyes like jewels. Just as Kazumi thought she saw her glance this way with a blank expression, her gaze had turned back to the window. Her well-defined nose, thin lips, and narrow chin gave a strong impression of Western beauty. Slender but with exceptional proportions that were enhanced by her well-tailored uniform.

Rarely heard speaking, but when her presence became known it was always cause for concern. Such was Yuuri Yui’s existence.

When Kazumi had heard Yui was transferring to her class, she’d been terrified. But Yui was a quiet student. Even now, Kazumi hadn’t heard a single negative report about her behavior.

However, Yui also did not appear to fit in with her classmates. It wasn’t just Niinuma Ryouko to the side, space had also opened up between the desks in front and behind Yui. A cruel, wordless isolation.

Kazumi tried to hide her sigh. Before Yui had transferred in, she’d emphasized to her class not to ostracize her. But it seemed that a peaceful utopia was not achievable.

Because the students all looked so innocent on the outside, the true state of things was hard to determine. It was inevitable that she’d be lost trying to guide them as their teacher. Would it be appropriate to chastise the students for moving their desks? Yui had also said something inappropriate, knowing it wouldn’t be understood. Maybe she should punish both sides, but in order to establish that both sides were in the wrong, she’d probably need to translate what Yui had said. That would just hurt Ryouko and cause more ill will between them.

Yui’s attitude was inscrutable as well. In the past, when Yui would read passages in class, she would speak with a faltering accent like the rest of the students, but she was actually able to speak in that fluent style the whole time?

Grasping for a decision, Kazumi finally headed toward the back of the class.

Hamabayashi Mio, with her round face and short bob, was hiding behind her textbook, copying a printout from math class. Seeing as she’d gotten homework from a friend to copy, Kazumi interpreted that it was unlikely she’d be ostracized.

Kazumi spoke up. “Hamabayashi?”

“Wha?” Mio jumped in her seat and looked up at Kazumi. “Yes. What?”

“I’m sorry, but could you please switch seats with Niinuma?” She turned to Ryouko. “Niinuma, is that alright?”

Mio’s eyes darted around as she put the printout away. “I’m sorry. This was just, um...”

“It’s fine,” Kazumi assured Mio. “You’re not supposed to do homework in class, but that isn’t why I’m moving you forward.”

“Okay.” Mio rose from her seat, flustered. She picked up her bag that was leaning on the side of the desk.

Mio was the cheery, talkative type. People were quick to open up around her. Kazumi had spoken to Mio one-on-one and asked her to try and be friends with Yui. She had figured if anyone could do it, Mio could. Of course, the class was well aware of Yui’s history. Mio had been at a loss for words, and the blood had drained from her face. She’d been so scared, tears had welled in her eyes.

It was probably a slapdash method of establishing a friendship, but in the current situation, with Yui in danger of more and more isolation, no other student but Mio could sit beside her.

Ryouko pouted and rose from her seat, moving to the back with a huff. Mio sat at the desk Ryouko had evacuated. It seemed she hadn’t noticed that it was next to Yui’s until now. She smiled at Yui, and Yui looked back with a composed expression.

A hamfisted move, for sure. The students would probably see through it, but she had no other option. The seats in front and behind Mio awkwardly moved their desks back into place as well, an appropriate distance from Yui.

Yui pretended not to notice anything, and looked out the window again. The bright afternoon light streaming in accented her almost transparently white skin even further. It looked as if she gave off a dim glow, illuminating the area around her. The dark clouds of resentment resonating off Ryouko made for a stark contrast.

She’d need to talk to them about this. Kazumi was not looking forward to that. Yuuri Yui was a complicated issue for a number of reasons. If she fumbled this, it could lead to a total collapse of order in the classroom.

Johnny Keats fucked around with this message at 04:44 on May 30, 2024

Johnny Keats
Jan 24, 2023

quote:

4

Hamabayashi Mio was in the wind ensemble, but there was no after-school practice today. Maybe it’s because she was in going-home-early mode, that she’d let herself get careless.

Before she’d realized it, Yui was nowhere to be found. Mio jumped up and ran down the hallway, changed into her outdoor shoes at the entrance, then dashed across the courtyard.

The gentle breeze carried a feeling of deep autumn with it. The sun was already going down. Towering apartment buildings around them stood out in relief against the reddened sky. Uniformed students on their way home could be seen in all directions. One slender figure was on its way out the school gate. It was so slim, it made the backpack it was wearing seem abnormally wide. Yui.

Mio ran at full speed to catch up to her. “Yuuri!”

Yui turned her eyes toward Mio. The cold, refined gaze she always wore silently asked what Mio wanted.

“Um...” Mio panted, matching pace with Yui and catching her breath. Thanks for letting me look at your math homework.”

Yui responded aloofly. “You chased after me to say that?”

“Well yeah, but also, you know... I’m still waiting on an answer...?”

“For what?”

“The wind ensemble. Have you... thought about joining?”

“Oh.” Yui seemed utterly disinterested. “Music’s not my thing.”

“What do you mean? You play the clarinet and the sax. Besides, you’re the one who approached me about it in the first place.”

“I never said I want to join.”

“But...”

“I thought it was weird you hadn’t picked an instrument yet when we’re already in 2nd term, that’s all.”

That’s exactly what she’d said before. Mio had been alone in the music room after hours. She’d been playing the clarinet, probably painful to listen to, when she’d noticed Yui standing in the doorway.

The first words out of Yui’s mouth had been to criticize her embouchure technique. Then, she’d continued with criticisms about Mio’s appearance, that her face holding the mouthpiece looked unsightly. That she put too much power into her cheeks and it made her chin bunch up.

Mio had pouted and asked Yui if she played. Yui’s eyes had gone to the saxophone lying next to Mio. That’s when she’d said it. That Mio’s weird for being indecisive over an instrument this late in the school year.

Thinking about it now always made her laugh, but at the time she’d been so angry she could cry. Mio had always been assigned to instruments against her will. When their advisor had told her she wasn’t made out to be a star trumpet or trombone player, and that she had the perfect body type for tuba, it had wounded her on a deep level. All the cute girls always seemed to play clarinet or saxophone, so Mio had been practicing in secret to see if she might switch to one of those.

Immediately after getting mad, Mio had realized the person in front of her was Yuuri Yui, and she’d withered. Their teacher, Shikishima Kazumi, had asked Mio to make friends with her, but they hadn’t spoken a word to each other before the music room.

Yui walked over to Mio and took the clarinet from her hands. Mio had been afraid Yui was going to smack her with it.

But instead, Yui had put the clarinet to her mouth and started to perform a piece with no effort at all. Brahms’ Clarinet Sonata No. 1 in F minor. The tone was flawless, like a professional recording. Mio had immediately understood. Yui’s earlier advice had harbored no malice. The way Mio’s chin had wrinkled up truly was a sign that her embouchure was not steady on the mouthpiece. Yui’s lips were natural and relaxed at the edges while playing, and she’d maintained an expression that looked like a smile. That was the most important thing to produce a clear sound.

Next, Yui had played the saxophone. An up-tempo, jazzy piece Mio had never heard before. She had been amazed by the speed of Yui’s fingers. After the performance, Yui had told her it was a well-known piece by a musician named Jacques Ibert.

After a minute of silence, Yui had said ‘I’ll go wash the mouthpiece’ and started to walk away. Mio had stopped her without thinking. ‘It’s alright, you don’t have to,’ she’d said, flustered. ‘Wait, no, I mean, not in a weird way. I’m not gonna use it without washing it, I’ll do that myself, I just... didn’t want to trouble you...’

Why had she been so shaken up? For some reason, it had felt like her one and only chance to befriend Yui had arrived. Yui’s loneliness since transferring in had been painfully obvious. Mio could see during fleeting moments that deep down, Yui wanted to open up. Even if she was just reading into things, Mio had wanted to try closing that gap anyway. Over time, Yui’s family situation and the circumstance of her upbringing had stopped factoring in.

They exited the school grounds out the front gate. A narrow road ran through the housing district. The urban planning could have used more work, because the buildings felt cluttered together.

Although it was named Musashi-Kosugi High, the closest train station was actually Shin-Maruko. Apparently Shin-Maruko used to be a red-light district, so there were random love hotels everywhere as the remnants of that. The shopping district was old too, with a lot of bikes piled up outside pachinko places. The redevelopment had been limited to the area with tightly clustered apartment buildings. If you strayed just a little bit from the center, it was nothing but the same Kawasaki as always.

The students avoided the crowded shopping district and cut through alleyways that were almost as packed as the main road to reach the station. There was a recommended route given to them by the school, but the Shin-Maruko shopping district didn't have anything high schoolers would want anyway. Mio hadn’t found anywhere selling Jill Stuart or Paul & Joe cosmetics or anything, just boba tea and cheese dogs.

Mio spoke to Yui while walking. “All we’re missing against Sumiyoshi High’s wind ensemble is a clarinet or saxophone player with real looks. They’ve got such cute girls playing over there. We desperately need a star player like that.”

Yui walked with her head down. “Ask Tanaka or Suzuki or Satou... Anyone with a common name would be a better pick. People hear Yuuri, and they’re reminded of the Ginza department store incident, whether they like it or not.”

“That’s not true. Yuuri Yui’s a really cool name! The way it’s like, alliteration? It sounds like a celebrity’s name.”

“Like who?”

“Uhh...... Like Woody Woodpecker.”

“Ah. The attraction at Universal Studios that got itself replaced by Curious George.”

Mio started to laugh, but Yui’s face was serious. Suddenly, she didn’t know how to react. Yui’s way of speaking was weird so it always kind of sounded like she was joking, but to Mio’s surprise this seemed to genuinely trouble her.

Mio got out some black mint xylitol gum. She opened the metallic wrapping paper and asked, “Want one?”

“No. But thank you.”

“With talent like yours, it’s a shame you don’t play.”

“If you won’t take no for an answer, I’ll help maintain the instruments.”

“Maintenance work? Well, it’s true none of us can really use that toolbox in the room very well...”

“Right? That’s what I’m best at.”

“But I think you’re better suited to performance, is where I was going.”

Ahead of them, a short male student was hobbling along, carrying four or five bags in his arms. Further ahead, four boys with long hair like they were in a rock band stood with their hands in their pockets.

One of them seemed like the leader, with a slender face but a jaw that jutted out. He spoke louder than necessary. “Miyamori. Walk faster. You said you’d be of use to us, shitstain.”

The one they’d called Miyamori was a first-year, the rest third. Miyamori pushed himself to hurry up and follow the group. Then one of them kicked him in the rear.

Mio whispered to Yui. “That’s first-year Miyamori Satoru. Those guys are always picking on him.”

“And the one with the jaw?” Yui asked.

“Third year class D, Tokito Shuu. His family runs a love hotel around here. He’s famous for being a punk, but the teachers love him for some reason. He also gets tons of girlfriends and even dates two or three at a time. What they see in him I cannot fathom.”

Tokito wasn’t wearing his necktie. His collar was unbuttoned and a gold necklace peeked out. He clicked his tongue melodramatically and shoved Miyamori hard. Miyamori staggered and fell on his backside.

“The hell are you doing?” Tokito shouted. “Don’t let our bags touch the ground, freak. Now stand up and keep walking. You should be grateful we pay attention to you at all. C’mon, I’ve got cleaning for you back at the hotel.”

He was raising his voice so ostentatiously you could think he wanted bystanders to hear. Miyamori stood up with big tears in his eyes, but the moment he was up Tokito slapped him in the face.

Yui almost stopped walking, but Mio pulled on her hand and urged her not to linger. Yui continued walking without a word. Mio breathed a sigh of relief.

With bullying these days run rampant in insidious ways under the surface, Tokito’s group of miscreants could be classified as a dying breed. But this area did see its fair share of violence. Four years ago, there was an incident where a middle-schooler got on the bad side of some older boys and was murdered by the Tama riverside. The news had made a huge fuss about it, but it had only given the impression of too little, too late. Besides Tokito, Mio could also imagine several other guys in school as being next in line for something like that.

A smartphone text notification pinged. Yui got out her phone and looked at it.

“What’s up?” Mio asked.

“From the orphanage.” Yui typed her reply in the LINE app.

Mio peeked at the screen. The contact was listed as Tsumugi. “I feel like you’ve mentioned a Tsumugi-chan...?”

“Yeah. An elementary school girl in my orphanage. She wants me to get an autograph from Tashiro Yuuji.”

“Ahh. Yeah, that’s annoying. Getting asked stuff like that just because we go to the same school.”

“Well, she’s a little girl who lost both her parents, so I kind of want to do this for her.” Yui put the phone away, a shadow crossing over her face.

“I bet you could do better than Tashiro and his badminton. Your debut in the wind ensemble will be just as glorious.”

“We’re still on that?”

“It’s not high school boys at the center of things, it’s the girls. I read an article about it online. It’ll be high school girls who save Japan in the end, they said. Even in our exported anime and games, it’s the beautiful young Japanese characters that garner the most interest. Not to mention idols? High school girls fuel the economy!”

“I'm sure. As an object of curiosity and a label for commodification.”

“Well I think you could be the school’s true savior, above Tashiro, since the country itself depends on high school girls to prosper. It’d be like, Japan in a nutshell.”

“I’m hungry. I wonder if there’s a conveyor sushi place or something open around here.”

“Hey, are you even listening?”

As they reached the station, they saw other girls in their year. Mio tried to greet them, but the group hurriedly picked up their pace and got far away.

Something felt wrong. Mio became aware that her face was frozen in a stiff smile.

Looking closer, the group of four ahead of them were indeed from their class. It was Niinuma Ryouko and her posse. One of them turned around, made a show of noticing them, and whispered something to her friend.

Ryouko stopped in her tracks. She looked at Mio, then glared at Yui. She frowned blatantly and urged her group to step off to the side of the road. The four let Mio and Yui pass.

They did so in silence. Yui murmured: “See? I’m no good for the wind ensemble. Everyone would flee from the music room. Same at concerts.”

“Of course they wouldn’t...”

Then they heard Ryouko’s voice from behind them. “I am so fed up with having a criminal’s daughter in our class.”

The other three answered with laughter. Displeasure welled in Mio. Ryouko was badmouthing Yui loudly enough for them to hear. And riling up her friends too, after socially isolating her target. This wasn’t Tokito’s overt violence, but the damage inflicted was not minor. The deadliest trick women have is their technique of coming together as a group to bully someone.

Mio whispered to Yui. “Don’t mind them.”

Ryouko’s voice got even louder. “Her ugly rear end thinks she’s better than us. No guy wants to be with her so she’s desperate. The way she’s weirdly good at English, that’s proof she wasn’t raised in a proper environment. Her parents only hung out with freaks.”

Another one jeered. “Like drug dealers?”

“Yeah,” Ryouko laughed. “Drugs. A buncha junkies. I bet they got her stoned too. What a useless piece of crap. Chip off the old block, am I right? And birds of a feather flock together? The gross fatty with nowhere else to go has to snuggle up to the criminal’s daughter for companionship.”

Mio’s pace slowed a tiny bit, but she lacked the courage to turn around. She shuddered. She had become a target.

Ryouko raised her voice. “Ugh, such a gross face the criminal’s friend has. She’s so fat and ugly, no wonder she plays the tuba. Let’s all call her Tubacca.”

Not understanding the reference, the posse smiled awkwardly. “Uhh, what?”

“Who cares, just call her Tubacca from now on. Making friends with Tubacca is off limits. Because she’s gross.”

Mio had tried to put it out of mind, but a feeling she couldn’t suppress welled in her chest. Without thinking, she turned around, on the verge of tears.

The four all burst out laughing. The smartphones in their hands were all pointed in her direction. Apparently they were recording her on video. One of them shouted in a shrill voice. “Tubacca’s looking at us! So dumb and ugly, ew.”

Tears made her vision swim. For as long as she’d been attending school, she had feared this exact scenario. She wouldn’t be able to dodge it anymore. She knew intellectually that it was all nonsense, but this was not a world where one could depend on the wrong being judged as wrong. The side with more advocates was right. And their position would quickly disseminate among all the girls in their class. The boys who got along with the girls would go along with it too. There was no escape. She’d experienced this in elementary and middle school. To avoid facing that ever again, here in high school she’d acted cheery and bright from the start, but her hard work had all gone to waste.

All she could do was stand there, made into a laughingstock, a position she never wanted to be in again. Once cornered, her personal relationships would never again be restored. Even if she had done nothing wrong, she would be made to feel as if she had.

And then Yui turned around. She gazed upon Ryouko with cold eyes. “Aren’t you way fatter than her?”

A moment of silence. Then, Ryouko laughed in a high pitch. “What the hell? It’s talking to me, gross.”

When you strike out at them with the truth, they change the topic and assert dominance. That was bullying 101. There was no reasoning with them. Mio was overwhelmed with hopelessness at the understanding that fighting back was meaningless.

But Yui continued calmly: “Eating too much can lead to a sudden blockage in your heart. Even though you’re in high school, if you’re obese you may as well be an old person.”

Again, Ryouko let out a perfectly natural sounding laugh. But the other three looked confused. Their faces said they weren’t sure how to react, while Ryouko laughed on her own to brush the moment aside.

Realizing how awkward it was that her friends weren’t joining in and she was the only one still acting excited, Ryouko’s face turned red. She shouted at Yui. “You’re so freakishly thin because you’re poor! A poor person living in an institution. Yuuri Kyouta’s daughter. Scum of the earth. Why’d you have to transfer here of all places? Frickin’ daughter of a death row inmate. We ought to send you to the......”

Her words cut off. Mio could only stand in shock.

Ryouko’s flushed face rapidly became pale before their eyes. Her whole body convulsed, and she coughed violently while clawing at her neck. She raised her head to the sky and foam came bursting from her mouth before she collapsed on the ground.

The other three screamed bloody murder. But nobody rushed over to Ryouko’s side. Mio was frozen in fear as well. It felt like getting closer would put her in physical danger.

Students had begun to gather along the roadside. Of course they only watched from a distance. Ryouko was writhing on the ground, continuing to spit up foam. Before long, she started to vomit. The contents of her stomach splashed around, and that distinctive sour smell wafted over them. Eventually, Ryouko stopped moving, sprawled on the ground.

Yui’s expression was composed, and she murmured quietly. “Gross. You look like a crab.”

Moving her gaze from Ryouko to Yui took considerable effort, but Mio managed after some time. But Yui had already turned away. She was walking away quickly, the wall of people parting for her. Bag swinging from her back, appearing wider against her slim figure.

Johnny Keats fucked around with this message at 04:50 on May 30, 2024

Johnny Keats
Jan 24, 2023

quote:

5

Hamabayashi Mio sat in the hallway of Musashi-Kosugi Hospital, making her body small in the chair.

You’d think the terror would fade with time, but more and more intense chills assaulted her. She wished her mom and dad could be here, but unfortunately they both worked. They’d answered by LINE that they couldn’t leave yet. Once they’d learned that her homeroom teacher Shikishima Kazumi was here, their concerns had seemed to evaporate, although knowing that their own daughter was unharmed must have also been a factor.

Mio was scared. The terror had felt so real, as if it had happened to her. Ryouko had suddenly spat up foam and fainted, and there had been no sign that anything was wrong until moments beforehand. Mio hadn’t the slightest idea how it could have happened.

The inpatient ward was surely a place wrapped in silence on normal occasions. But right now, the hall was awash with noise. Ten or more adults were arguing, each clamoring to get a word in. From the school, aside from Shikishima Kazumi, principal Minemori and vice principal Isogai had also come rushing.

In addition, the teacher in charge of their year, Mizoshika Takeharu, was here. Mio only remembered his given name because the students all called him Takeharu behind his back. He was in his early forties but dressed younger, and had what might be described as a slight babyface. His short hair combed tidily and face clean-shaven, he was a paragon of cleanliness. He was polite and easy to understand in his Japanese composition class, but he had this quirk where sometimes he’d hand out copies of his own amataur novels and make the students write a report on their impressions. These novels usually featured protagonists modeled after Mizoshika himself who achieved unparalleled success with women and in their careers, turning off the reader. But if you didn’t lavish his work with praise, your grades would suffer. It was a problem.

Mizoshika had originally aspired to go into science, rather than liberal arts. He mentioned that fact at every possible opportunity. It was clear he had an earnest personality, but also carried with him a particular enthusiasm of self-indulgence. This firmly put him in the category of teachers Mio couldn’t handle. She was sure other students felt the same way.

There were three uniformed police officers in the hallway. They’d arrived at the scene quicker than the ambulance. Even in this situation the police were remarkably calm. However, they could do nothing to control the woman screaming in hysterics.

Niinuma Ryouko’s mother was named Sae. Mio had heard the doctor call her by that name earlier. Sae raised her voice: “You aren’t listening to what I’m saying! Ryouko wasn’t sick with anything, so this sudden attack is obviously strange.”

The white-robed doctor, thin and malnourished-looking, did not inspire confidence. He looked over some documents. “These are the results of her physical examination provided by the school. This is sensitive to say, but a BMI of 28 is a little on the high side...”

“That reading was off, her actual body fat isn’t that high! She’s great at physical exercises, right Miss Shikishima?”

The mother’s temper was the spitting image of her daughter’s, Mio thought. Before Kazumi could respond, other people crowding the hallway started talking over her. It seemed there were also PTA members here. Everyone was saying different things all at once, so Mio couldn’t make anything out.

Yuuri Yui was nowhere to be seen. According to the adults, she’d needed to go straight home to the orphanage and was not allowed to leave until morning. Apparently, that’s because she was still under strict surveillance by the government. She may not have been watched constantly while walking to and from school, but Yui still faced restrictions in her day-to-day life. Today was the first Mio had learned about that.

Principal Minemori made introductions. “Miss Niinuma, this is Fukutomi Kouji from the Board of Education.”

The well-built man dressed in a nice suit bowed politely to Sae. His lower lip was thicker and jutted out a little.

Someone else frowned. “Fukutomi? That’s odd. I’ve never seen you before. My PTA is acquainted with the board superintendent and all its members.”

Fukutomi looked at the speaker with an expression nearing disdain. “I’m not from the city Board of Education, I’m from the prefecture Board.”

Surprised reactions rippled out. Mio didn’t know for sure, but from the look of things, the fact that a representative from the prefecture Board of Education was here meant that the situation was more serious than they’d expected.

Vice principal Isogai spoke up. “Fukutomi’s main work is as an attorney.”

“An attorney?” Niinuma Sae looked perplexed. “The Board of Education has lawyers?”

Fukutomi cleared his throat. “In addition to school faculty, the board consists of other individuals like lawyers and university professors. It is important to approach education from diverse perspectives.”

Sae instantly snapped back. “If you’re a lawyer you’ll definitely understand. This is suspicious no matter how you look at it! I know that girl did something to my baby!”

One of the uniformed police officers cut in. “Ma’am, like I said before, you should be careful of rash accusations...”

“No!” Sae raised her voice again. “Yuuri Kyouta’s daughter was there at the scene. What are the police doing about it?”

“You say that, but Yuuri Yui is enrolled legally at Musashi-Kosugi High, so it’s difficult to control her proximity to your daughter.”

“Are you forgetting that her father was the hangure leader who used sarin and VX gas to achieve his ends? I don’t understand the details, but I know she did something to my daughter.”

Fukutomi looked at Sae. “Do you have grounds for believing that?”

Sae got out a phone and showed the screen to Fukutomi. “My daughter’s friend took this. Look, Yuuri Yui is there. Right after she said those threatening words suggesting my daughter would have an attack, the attack happened.”

The other three girls had complained of feeling unwell and gone home. One of them had left her phone with Ryouko’s mom, apparently. Ryouko and her friends’ jeers were played back, echoing down the hall of the hospital. Mio could barely stand to listen. She wanted to cover her ears.

After the video ended, Fukutomi’s face became grim. “It looks like Ryouko was the one infringing the rights of Yuuri Yui and her friend to me.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Sae frantically explained. “Being in the same class as the daughter of such a dangerous criminal, anyone would be shaken up. I acknowledge that Ryouko was over-agitated. She can get worked up over small things, but to suddenly collapse like that? Something doesn’t add up here.”

“Really? Because from what I saw, Yui did nothing to Ryouko. There was plenty of distance between them. She didn’t approach or threaten her at any point.”

“She said it would happen before it did!”

The doctor spoke timidly. “It sounds like she was just warning about the health risks of being overweight? Ryouko herself said she experienced a sharp pain in her chest. When there is a lack of blood flow to the heart, attacks like this are known to occur. It fortunately didn’t result in cell necrosis, so it didn’t lead to a full heart attack, but the symptoms are very similar. Caused by things like hardening of the arteries and, of course, obesity...”

“This hospital can’t be trusted! We residents are all dissatisfied. You use the name Musashi-Kosugi but you’re just a worthless rural hospital from the age when Kawasaki was a flophouse district.”

Fukutomi’s expression got more stern. “Ma’am. Please refrain from controversial remarks. To those newer residents who moved into the area of more expensive housing, I’m sure these historic institutions can feel at odds with the rest of your surroundings. But reducing wait times is our primary focus moving forward. The skill of the doctors will increase and the whole facility will be upgraded.”

“Please don’t cloud the issue. Those of us who live in the high-rise apartments like me and my husband, we have dozens of complaints about the hospital and the school. But I’ve already accepted those things. I’m just begging you please, tell the doctors here to do a more thorough examination.”

The doctor groaned. “We are, of course, performing a blood test. The detailed results will take a little time.”

“Could you be any more lax about this?”

“Our examinations will tell us everything we need to know. For right now, we should stay calm and wait.”

Sae looked at the police officer with pleading eyes. “Please look into this as a criminal case. I’ll file the report on my daughter’s behalf.”

The officer shook his head. “You’re free to talk to the guys at the station about it, but I’m willing to bet we won’t find any evidence of crime.”

“How many times do I have to say it? Ryouko was confronting Yuuri Kyouta’s daughter when she suddenly had this attack. Exactly like the girl announced beforehand.”

Fukutomi murmured, “There was no sign of physical injury. Your insistence on declaring this a crime could rise to the level of slander.”

An oppressive air filled the hall. Sae was wordless, and tears formed in her eyes.

The teacher in charge of their year, Mizoshika, spoke to Fukutomi in a quiet voice. “Please excuse her. I understand what you’re saying, but imagine how you’d feel if your child suddenly collapsed in the middle of the road. Add in the fact that she was arguing with Yuuri Kyouta’s daughter...? When the media hears about it, they’ll probably jump to the same conclusion.”

Vice principal Isogai turned to Mizoshika angrily. “The hell are you saying?”

“What? No,” Mizoshika cowered. “I’m just... concerned about the situation getting even worse. If we leave it be, it’ll probably become a bigger problem. Yuuri Yui is most likely innocent, but her father’s crimes were on another level. The fact that the government still has security officers surveilling her speaks to that.”

Principal Minemori glared at Mizoshika. “Why are you trying to cause problems?”

Kazumi spoke up, looking reluctant. “Sir, I actually agree with Mr. Mizoshika. I think it’s plain to see that Yuuri Yui did nothing wrong. But I also can’t understand why everyone is treating Miss Niinuma so coldly. Even if just to clear suspicions, is wanting the police to investigate so out of the ordinary?”

Finally, Mio thought. An opinion she could agree with.

The principal and vice principal’s attitudes were extremely formal and distant, to the point where it felt like they didn’t even care. It seemed they wanted to consider this done with as soon as possible.

They were stubbornly cutting off discussion about elevating it to a police matter, but why? It didn’t sit right with her. Investigating whatever they needed to prove Yui’s innocence would let Mio rest easier too.

Fukutomi sighed. “This is a problem. A homeroom teacher and senior teacher should be an unmoving, singular unit in accord with the principal. Although I had figured when the prefectural Board of Education sent me out here, that some sensitive matters were at play behind the scenes.”

Mizoshika bashfully asked, “What sensitive matters?”

Again the hall got silent. Fukutomi glanced at Minemori, betraying an awkward expression.

Minemori frowned and turned to the doctor. “Alright. Can we please have a room for ourselves?”

The doctor answered. “There’s a small conference room that way.”

“Thank you very much.” Minemori started walking. “Miss Shikishima, Mr. Mizoshika, we need to talk. And Mr. Fukutomi of course. Isogai, you come too.”

When the group walked off, Sae tried to follow, but Isogai turned around and held out both hands to stop her and said to please wait here.

Sae roamed the hall with a grave expression. None of the PTA or police officers tried to talk to her. After a while, Sae took a seat next to Mio and they made eye contact. Mio gave a slight bow, but Sae just stared in shock. She must have realized that this was the girl with Yui, whom Ryouko and her friends had been verbally abusing.

Mio had to silence her own complicated emotions too. She was sitting next to her bully’s mother. She couldn’t even deny that she had felt a little bit like Ryouko had deserved what happened, in the moment. But now it was just scary. If this was indeed Yui’s doing, Mio couldn’t ever betray their friendship.

Johnny Keats fucked around with this message at 04:53 on May 30, 2024

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Johnny Keats
Jan 24, 2023

After a break, I'm back on this! I rewrote the OP and edited chapters 1-5 for polish.

Chapter 6 is about 60% done, but it's pretty long and I am excited to bump this thread after completing those aforementioned edits, so here's approximately half of the chapter now. I cut it at the best place I could find. I'll post the rest in a day or two, and then see about regularly updating this again.

quote:

6

The airspace presented scattered clouds, but visibility remained optimal. There appeared to be little to no wind. Not even a slight sway could be felt.

Prime Minister Yahata Kazuo was seated on an EC225 Super Puma military transport helicopter. Below them was the sprawling sight of Tokyo Bay. Traffic was congested from the Rainbow Bridge off in the direction of Hamazakibashi Junction.

The cars were barely inching along. As one would expect, the morning rush was a difficult time to move by car. To get across Tama River, one would have to face the congestion at Maruko Bridge or Gas Bridge, which wasn’t ideal for safety reasons. Hence, his security team judged it best to travel by helicopter. Two other helicopters of the same model were flying in front and behind them as escorts.

Since the visit itself was never made public, their route to the school was top secret as well. In addition, they wouldn’t land directly at the school. They would land in Musashi-Kosugi, then transfer to a car waiting for them at a designated location. Yahata had been briefed on the arrangements.

The compact helicopter was painted blue and white, decorated only with a small mark of the rising sun. To an outsider, it wouldn’t be recognizable as a VIP escort vehicle at all. However, the seats were wider than an average civilian helicopter, and they were leather. The floor was also covered with a nice red carpet.

Across from Yahata sat his Executive Secretary, Ikezaki. A member of the Security Police rode with them as well. All of them wore headsets, and their voices were transmitted to each other through the device. Even the captain’s communications went directly into their ears, uninhibited by the helicopter’s roar.

Ikezaki continued his explanation, file in one hand. “To reiterate, please make sure you stick to formalities the whole visit. Trying to appeal to the students by referencing games or anime would be unwise. When the mass media interviews them afterward, they’d only talk about that, which would be disastrous for our elderly voter base.”

“I know, I know,” Yahata confirmed. “Reference Yoshida Shouin and Shouka Sonjuku at every opportunity, right?”

“Yes. We need to make it so those words come directly from the faculty and student’s mouths in the interviews. We’d like you to stress that pursuing an education builds character, without touching on the financial angle at all.”

“And my meeting with Tashiro Yuuji will be after the classroom tour?”

“Correct. First you’ll meet with the administrative staff, then after a handful of classrooms you’ll arrive at his class, 2-F. The photography will be handled by a cameraman coming with us. Unlike usual, we’ll be able to pick out the best photo ourselves, so there’s nothing to worry about there.”

Yahata smiled ironically. “If only I could always perform official tours this comfortably.”

Ikezaki’s face hardened. “I wasn’t finished. We have doubled our security presence.”

The security representative sitting next to Ikezaki -- a man in his thirties with a crew cut and a rugged face, police inspector Nishikiori Kiyotaka -- spoke up. “Last week, a concerning fact was discovered. Musashi-Kosugi High is attended by Yuuri Kyouta’s second daughter.”

“What?” Yahata spoke without thinking. “How did you not find this earlier?”

Ikezaki’s expression turned bitter. “We repeatedly asked whether there were any problematic students and were assured there were none. Afterward, we also asked Minister Usui to examine the student and staff registers.”

“And still it wasn’t found? That is unbelievably sloppy.”

Inspector Nishikiori responded. “It’s hard to imagine anyone overlooking the peculiar family name Yuuri. According to secondhand reports I’ve heard, there was an unofficial phone call made to the Ministry from the Prefectural Board of Education asking for discretion.”

“So Minister Usui definitely knew, then.”

“The security department submitted a request to the Ministry for the student records, but the response was continually delayed. Last week, the situation was finally clarified.”

Ikezaki took over explaining with a sigh. “Needless to say, Yuuri Yui is not a criminal. She progressed through elementary, middle, and high school without causing any problems and recently transferred to Musashi Kosugi High School. Minister Usui explained that he was concerned suspending the school visit because of her would only damage your reputation.”

Yahata was put in a sour mood. “That’s for the Prime Minister’s office to scrutinize, not the Ministry of Education.”

“Indeed. Minister Usui was probably trying to avoid a situation where he’d be forced to apologize to various parties he’d already made promises to.”

“Prime Minister,” Nishikiori looked at him. “We haven’t reviewed her student record, but until the age of nine she had direct contact with the executives of the hangure group run by her father. When she left her previous high school, there were suspicions that she had injured three male classmates, but it was never brought to trial. According to the Tochigi prefecture police, there was an altercation between Yui and three boys, although no concrete evidence of the injuries was found. Still, it cannot be denied that the matter is concerning.”

Ikezaki nodded. “Even if Yui doesn’t get her own hands dirty, she probably has the support of those former hangure gang members.”

Yahata asked: “Aren’t the hangure gangs supposed to have all broken up? You’re saying Kyouta’s second daughter still has a connection to them?”

Nishikiori opened a bag and took out a photograph. “As you can see, she has grown into a beautiful young woman. We are also aware that several major talent agencies have made attempts to scout her in Shibuya. It seems they all turned tail and fled upon hearing the name Yuuri.”

Yahata took the photograph offered to him. Putting on his reading glasses, he examined the face of this Yuuri Yui. It appeared to be a covert photo taken when she’d been out on an errand. Her blazer must be the uniform of Musashi-Kosugi High, Yahata supposed. He could definitely see how her looks were suitable for modeling or idol work.

But that was something he hesitated to say aloud as Prime Minister. Yahata voiced only his safest opinion: “She’s thin.”

“No.” Nishikiori’s expression became stern. “It’s dangerous to judge solely on appearance. I have also seen videos taken by the surveillance team tailing her, and when she twists her body, the firmness of her abdominal muscles can be seen even through her clothing. Her biceps are also larger than normal and she’s quick on her feet. One would guess she’s an athlete, based on her physique. She looks weak at a glance, but that’s only because her body fat percentage is extremely low. That doesn’t happen without an intense training regimen.”

“The security police are continuing to monitor her?”

“Of course. We have men watching her orphanage around the clock, and aside from school and shopping trips accompanied by orphanage staff, she’s not allowed outside. What’s more, we have never witnessed her jogging in the morning or evenings. That’s why we’re so suspicious. If she has been training her body in secret within the confines of her room, there must be an agenda behind it.”

Yahata felt this to be overly paranoid. He replied jokingly: “My wife also likes the idea of exercising outside the public eye. Instead of going to a gym, she wanted to purchase a running machine to install in our house. The renovations to make the floor strong enough really added up. It was so expensive it made me want to repeal the sales tax increase, I swear.”

Nishikiori wasn’t laughing. “You and your wife are exposed to the media. It’s perfectly natural for her to care about her appearance. Yuuri Yui, on the other hand, does not even participate in afterschool activities or sports.”

“Is there any possibility we meet today?”

Ikezaki shook his head. “Yuuri Yui is not in any of the classes you’ll visit. Please don’t let it distract you. Security will be with you at all times too, of course.”

Yahata looked at Ikezaki. “What if reporters ask about it later? They’ll want to know whether I knew that the second daughter of Yuuri Kyouta was enrolled.”

“Just say that you knew, but saw no problem with it. Add in a line about how it’s irrational to judge her as dangerous simply because she’s a criminal’s daughter, and you’ll only get more popular. Use it as an opportunity to push your commitment to human rights.”

Nishikiori sat up straighter in his seat. “We are proceeding with a rock-solid framework. Rest assured.”

Well, that’s how the SP should always be, Yahata mused. But he also felt deep down that there was no reason to be so cautious.

Yuuri Kyouta’s hangure groups had been incredibly violent, yes, and their crimes very shocking, but eight years had transpired since then, and the executive members of the gangs had all been executed. The Prime Minister can surely visit a school that Kyouta’s daughter attends without worrying about a major incident. Even more so because the location and details of the visit had been kept secret.

Plus, Yuuri Kyouta’s crimes had always been performed for some immediate benefit. They’d launched retaliatory attacks against police to avoid being exposed, and caused the Ginza department store incident to confuse search efforts, but overthrowing the government had never been within their scope of interest. That is to say, even if surviving factions did remain, they would be unlikely to view the Prime Minister as a target.

The helicopter started to descend, as smoothly as an elevator. They drew near the NEC headquarters with a large heliport projecting out from the roof in a semicircle. The building’s official name was NEC Tamagawa Renaissance City. After landing, Yahata had barely unbuckled his seatbelt when the side door opened, revealing stairs to disembark. Preceded by his security, he exited the helicopter and exchanged greetings with some NEC execs under the wind of the rotor.

When making use of a facility operated by a private company, it was common for the Prime Minister to pose for a commemorative photo with the higher ups. A major corporation could be trusted not to misuse the photo. In fact, when it came to Kanagawa, the only time he needed to respectfully decline a photo was in Yokohama’s Chinatown. It didn’t matter if he told them not to make the photo public, it would wind up displayed in their storefront anyway for at least fifty years.

They took an elevator down to the lobby, where a familiar Lexus was waiting outside. Defended on all sides by motorcycle police and security vehicles, the Prime Minister’s private transport pulled onto the main road. This was the neighborhood of Shimonumabe. Mukaigawara Station on the Nambu Line was rather small, and the crossing was congested with traffic, but their procession wasn’t heading that way.

They turned in the opposite direction, eventually passing by the Yokosuka Line entrance of Musashi-Kosugi Station. As expected, it was pristine. The roads and sidewalks were all spacious, and the area around the high-rise apartments had been landscaped with greenery, giving it the appearance of a modern park. Foot traffic was heavy due to the morning commute, but everywhere you looked there were brand-new modern amenities, while still maintaining a beautiful natural aesthetic. In the past, when he’d given his campaign speech here, several of those facilities had still been under construction. The townscape appeared to have been nearly completed in the meantime.

However, upon leaving the cluster of apartment buildings, the view from the car window was replaced by a messy, dirty street corner like you’d find anywhere. Storefronts and homes stood side by side with no gap. The narrow road provided no space for pedestrians or bicycles and still the way could be completely blocked by so much as a single parked car or bike.

It must have been garbage day, because Yahata saw quite a number of the blue service vehicles. He had heard reports about Musashi-Kosugi’s explosive population increase leading to high-volume garbage collection, causing traffic delays.

Yahata muttered to himself. “It’s like the Imperial Palace versus the rest of the capital.”

Ikezaki laughed. “That’s because the only places that got remodeled were the factory lots that shut down during the recession. Sir, please try not to only praise the area near the station. Many of the students live away from the city center.”

“Is there anything else I should be aware of?”

“Most of the instructors and all of the students were only just informed of your visit this morning. They probably won’t look their very best, so make sure not to react negatively on your face. We’d also ask that, based on appearance, for every student you connect with who excels in their studies, you interact with three students who do not.”

“Isn’t it usually one to one?”

“Yes, but today, without the media watching, everything will depend on the students’ subjective opinions. We must not give any one student with an inferiority complex the opportunity to bemoan how the Prime Minister ignored them. If you see any students who look the type, please go directly to them to shake their hand first.”

“I got it.” Suddenly, a concern crossed Yahata’s mind. “You’re sure there’s no chance I’ll run into Yuuri Kyouta’s daughter?”

Officer Nishikiori nodded. “We’ve confirmed it with the school.”

If he carelessly exchanged a handshake with a criminal’s daughter and that photo got out, the tabloids would have a field day. With no interest in the context, negative articles would be written with the sole purpose of disparaging him. The world was a cruel place.
[Chapter 6 continued in next post]

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