Fallen Without Sin
This story begins quietly — so quietly that it could easily have gone unnoticed. Not with loud events, not with tragedies, and not with victories people write about in the news. It begins with an ordinary morning in a house where a family lives. The kind of family one could call “happy” — and perhaps not be mistaken.
He wakes up before everyone else. A habit shaped over the years: first by business negotiations, then by responsibility for people, for his business, for everything he has built. As the owner of a chain of family restaurants, he has long understood that success is measured not only in numbers, but also in the way people smile as they leave his establishments.
She gets up after him. With a light, almost touching haste, she tries to prepare breakfast for everyone — and in those moments, there is nothing in her of the stern person in a judge’s robe. But the moment she crosses the threshold of their home, she becomes a Supreme Court judge: a woman capable of distinguishing truth from lies not by words, but by the pauses between them. Her work leaves no room for weakness, but at home she allows herself to be simply human: a wife, a mother, and a beloved woman.
Meanwhile, their daughter is slowly making her bed. A student at an institute of architecture, she lives in a world of lines, forms, and ideas, but her heart is occupied with something else — people who need help, and animals who have no one to protect them. In her room, architectural drawings sit side by side with boxes of pet food and lists for charity fundraisers.
Looking at them, it was easy to believe that paradise did, after all, exist. But one should not think this is some perfect picture from an advertising brochure. Each of them has their own weaknesses, their own imperfections — like any living person. And that is exactly what makes them real. They sincerely love: themselves, one another, and the world around them.
Perhaps that is their greatest miracle.
He wakes up before everyone else. A habit shaped over the years: first by business negotiations, then by responsibility for people, for his business, for everything he has built. As the owner of a chain of family restaurants, he has long understood that success is measured not only in numbers, but also in the way people smile as they leave his establishments.
She gets up after him. With a light, almost touching haste, she tries to prepare breakfast for everyone — and in those moments, there is nothing in her of the stern person in a judge’s robe. But the moment she crosses the threshold of their home, she becomes a Supreme Court judge: a woman capable of distinguishing truth from lies not by words, but by the pauses between them. Her work leaves no room for weakness, but at home she allows herself to be simply human: a wife, a mother, and a beloved woman.
Meanwhile, their daughter is slowly making her bed. A student at an institute of architecture, she lives in a world of lines, forms, and ideas, but her heart is occupied with something else — people who need help, and animals who have no one to protect them. In her room, architectural drawings sit side by side with boxes of pet food and lists for charity fundraisers.
Looking at them, it was easy to believe that paradise did, after all, exist. But one should not think this is some perfect picture from an advertising brochure. Each of them has their own weaknesses, their own imperfections — like any living person. And that is exactly what makes them real. They sincerely love: themselves, one another, and the world around them.
Perhaps that is their greatest miracle.
1
Chapter 1. Family
Spring was Miko’s favorite time of year. The holidays were coming soon, which meant more free time ahead and more opportunities to make big plans.
— Good morning, — she said as she came down to the kitchen.
Despite their wealth, her family had never tried to show it off. They could certainly be called an upper-class family, but there was no ostentatious luxury in their home: their clothes were ordinary, the house was modest, cozy, and restrained.
— Good morning, sweetheart. Would you like coffee? Or tea? — her father asked warmly.
— Tea, please. Is Mom already at work?
— Yes, she had to be there earlier today. How are things at the university?
— Stable. — My studies aren’t giving up, and neither am I, — his daughter replied with a faint smile.
— The holidays are coming soon. Do you think you’ll be able to set aside a few days for a family hiking trip?
— I really want to say “yes” right away… but let me check my schedule first, and I’ll give you a definite answer this evening.
— All right. If you need any help, you know I’m always here.
He placed a cup in front of her, gently kissed her on the forehead, said goodbye, and left for work.
Miko’s father, Madoko, was a thoughtful, calm, and kind man — sometimes even overly trusting. Since Miko spent a great deal of time with animals, she understood dogs’ temperaments well and often compared him to a collie: loyal, gentle, and attentive. And if she imagined him as an element, he would be a lake — vast, quiet, deep, and safe.
Lakes, as the girl believed, gave a sense of peace, tenderness, and hidden depth. That was exactly what she felt when she was beside her father.
Yes, Miko loved comparisons. For her, they were the simplest and most honest way to explain to others what was happening in her thoughts and what her soul held within it.
Madoko-san managed a chain of family restaurants and was also its owner. Today, they were well-known and popular establishments in the city, but it had all once begun with a small homemade food shop, where he worked together with his wife — Miko’s mother, Yumiko.
Twenty years earlier, while still a student at a law institute, Yumiko was already his wife and his greatest source of inspiration. She supported Madoko in all his endeavors, believing that everything they were building was for their future — for her and for their child.
After graduating, Yumiko started from the most modest positions: assistant investigator, assistant prosecutor, judge’s secretary, attorney… And finally, she achieved her goal — she became a judge.
The secret of her success lay in a rare combination of qualities: impeccable responsibility, incorruptibility, sensitivity, and a sharp mind.
If she were an animal, Miko would call her a Jack Russell terrier — active, brave, intelligent, and tirelessly curious. And if she were an element, she would be a river, for a river symbolizes movement, life, and freedom. Everything that so perfectly reflected her mother’s character.
— Good morning, — she said as she came down to the kitchen.
Despite their wealth, her family had never tried to show it off. They could certainly be called an upper-class family, but there was no ostentatious luxury in their home: their clothes were ordinary, the house was modest, cozy, and restrained.
— Good morning, sweetheart. Would you like coffee? Or tea? — her father asked warmly.
— Tea, please. Is Mom already at work?
— Yes, she had to be there earlier today. How are things at the university?
— Stable. — My studies aren’t giving up, and neither am I, — his daughter replied with a faint smile.
— The holidays are coming soon. Do you think you’ll be able to set aside a few days for a family hiking trip?
— I really want to say “yes” right away… but let me check my schedule first, and I’ll give you a definite answer this evening.
— All right. If you need any help, you know I’m always here.
He placed a cup in front of her, gently kissed her on the forehead, said goodbye, and left for work.
Miko’s father, Madoko, was a thoughtful, calm, and kind man — sometimes even overly trusting. Since Miko spent a great deal of time with animals, she understood dogs’ temperaments well and often compared him to a collie: loyal, gentle, and attentive. And if she imagined him as an element, he would be a lake — vast, quiet, deep, and safe.
Lakes, as the girl believed, gave a sense of peace, tenderness, and hidden depth. That was exactly what she felt when she was beside her father.
Yes, Miko loved comparisons. For her, they were the simplest and most honest way to explain to others what was happening in her thoughts and what her soul held within it.
Madoko-san managed a chain of family restaurants and was also its owner. Today, they were well-known and popular establishments in the city, but it had all once begun with a small homemade food shop, where he worked together with his wife — Miko’s mother, Yumiko.
Twenty years earlier, while still a student at a law institute, Yumiko was already his wife and his greatest source of inspiration. She supported Madoko in all his endeavors, believing that everything they were building was for their future — for her and for their child.
After graduating, Yumiko started from the most modest positions: assistant investigator, assistant prosecutor, judge’s secretary, attorney… And finally, she achieved her goal — she became a judge.
The secret of her success lay in a rare combination of qualities: impeccable responsibility, incorruptibility, sensitivity, and a sharp mind.
If she were an animal, Miko would call her a Jack Russell terrier — active, brave, intelligent, and tirelessly curious. And if she were an element, she would be a river, for a river symbolizes movement, life, and freedom. Everything that so perfectly reflected her mother’s character.
The day promised to be easy — only two classes, and then home. By student-life standards, it was practically a holiday.
Miko was already getting ready to leave when her phone rang. Akemi’s name lit up on the screen, which meant one thing: the day would not be starting quietly.
As expected, Akemi was already waiting outside the house. They were neighbors, classmates, and, more importantly, best friends — even though there were not that many similarities between their personalities.
Akemi lived as if the world were a stage and she was obligated to give a premiere performance every single day. She easily skipped events she considered “unnecessary,” knew how to appear spectacularly and disappear even more spectacularly, adored attention, and loved talking about herself. She had so many acquaintances that they could have been divided into lists and still would not have fit into a single notebook. But she had only one best friend — Miko.
Akemi’s attitude toward animals was… diplomatic. Meaning, without much enthusiasm, but also without protest. However, whenever Miko went to animal shelters, her friend always came with her — and that was the kind of gesture that required no extra words.
— Hurry, hurry, hurry! — Akemi almost sang the moment Miko stepped outside.
— Take it easy. Where are you rushing off to? I don’t recall us being called to put out a fire, — Miko remarked calmly.
— No, but everything there is on fire too.
— Especially you, I assume, — Miko said with a suspicious smile.
— It’s called enthusiasm, — Akemi waved her off. — I don’t want to be late. You know we have his class now.
— A-a-ah, so that’s what this is… — Miko drawled with an understanding smile. — A great and hopeless love worthy of the finest melodramas. All that’s missing is rain and dramatic music, — her friend continued, rubbing her glasses.
— It would be wonderful if you moved your legs as actively as your tongue, — Akemi shot back. — Come on, run!
Miko was already getting ready to leave when her phone rang. Akemi’s name lit up on the screen, which meant one thing: the day would not be starting quietly.
As expected, Akemi was already waiting outside the house. They were neighbors, classmates, and, more importantly, best friends — even though there were not that many similarities between their personalities.
Akemi lived as if the world were a stage and she was obligated to give a premiere performance every single day. She easily skipped events she considered “unnecessary,” knew how to appear spectacularly and disappear even more spectacularly, adored attention, and loved talking about herself. She had so many acquaintances that they could have been divided into lists and still would not have fit into a single notebook. But she had only one best friend — Miko.
Akemi’s attitude toward animals was… diplomatic. Meaning, without much enthusiasm, but also without protest. However, whenever Miko went to animal shelters, her friend always came with her — and that was the kind of gesture that required no extra words.
— Hurry, hurry, hurry! — Akemi almost sang the moment Miko stepped outside.
— Take it easy. Where are you rushing off to? I don’t recall us being called to put out a fire, — Miko remarked calmly.
— No, but everything there is on fire too.
— Especially you, I assume, — Miko said with a suspicious smile.
— It’s called enthusiasm, — Akemi waved her off. — I don’t want to be late. You know we have his class now.
— A-a-ah, so that’s what this is… — Miko drawled with an understanding smile. — A great and hopeless love worthy of the finest melodramas. All that’s missing is rain and dramatic music, — her friend continued, rubbing her glasses.
— It would be wonderful if you moved your legs as actively as your tongue, — Akemi shot back. — Come on, run!
2
Miko sincerely found it astonishing how much information one could gather about a person without ever properly speaking to him.
For example, Akemi knew that Ryu preferred black coffee, always wore his watch on his right wrist, and tapped a pencil against the table when he was thinking. She knew that on Fridays he arrived ten minutes early for class, and that once, he had worn the same scarf three days in a row.
The last fact still seemed especially troubling to Miko.
— How do you even know all this?
— Observation.
— I think this is called something else.
But in Akemi’s defense — and to prove that her love was not as hopeless as it might have seemed at first glance — Miko kept replaying one situation in her mind, something she had noticed completely by accident.
She had been sitting by the window, lazily scrolling through messages on her phone while students gradually gathered around the classroom. The hum of voices blended into a familiar background noise, one she had long stopped paying attention to. Akemi was animatedly telling several classmates something. She waved her hands, laughed, tried to act something out right in the air — in short, she was behaving as usual.
Miko was just about to return to her phone when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement near the teacher’s desk. Ryu had lifted his head from his papers and looked at Akemi. Nothing unusual. Probably.
Except his gaze lingered for some reason. Not for one second, and not even for two. A little longer.
As if he had not merely heard her voice among dozens of others, but had instinctively begun searching for its source. At that moment, Akemi was loudly protesting something and paying absolutely no attention to what was happening around her. But Miko noticed. She narrowed her eyes involuntarily. Ryu kept looking. He was not smiling, not showing any obvious signs of interest — simply watching. Calmly and attentively, as though he genuinely found it interesting.
A few seconds later, Akemi laughed, and then the corners of his lips barely twitched into a smile. So faintly that Miko was not even sure whether it had really happened or whether she had imagined it. The next moment, the teacher had already lowered his gaze back to his documents, as if nothing had happened.
Miko spent a few more seconds looking from him to Akemi and back again. Then she slowly leaned against the back of her chair. — No.
She knew her friend far too well. If she told Akemi about that look now, then by evening Akemi would be convinced that they were secretly in love with each other and that fate itself had personally blessed their union.
For example, Akemi knew that Ryu preferred black coffee, always wore his watch on his right wrist, and tapped a pencil against the table when he was thinking. She knew that on Fridays he arrived ten minutes early for class, and that once, he had worn the same scarf three days in a row.
The last fact still seemed especially troubling to Miko.
— How do you even know all this?
— Observation.
— I think this is called something else.
But in Akemi’s defense — and to prove that her love was not as hopeless as it might have seemed at first glance — Miko kept replaying one situation in her mind, something she had noticed completely by accident.
She had been sitting by the window, lazily scrolling through messages on her phone while students gradually gathered around the classroom. The hum of voices blended into a familiar background noise, one she had long stopped paying attention to. Akemi was animatedly telling several classmates something. She waved her hands, laughed, tried to act something out right in the air — in short, she was behaving as usual.
Miko was just about to return to her phone when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement near the teacher’s desk. Ryu had lifted his head from his papers and looked at Akemi. Nothing unusual. Probably.
Except his gaze lingered for some reason. Not for one second, and not even for two. A little longer.
As if he had not merely heard her voice among dozens of others, but had instinctively begun searching for its source. At that moment, Akemi was loudly protesting something and paying absolutely no attention to what was happening around her. But Miko noticed. She narrowed her eyes involuntarily. Ryu kept looking. He was not smiling, not showing any obvious signs of interest — simply watching. Calmly and attentively, as though he genuinely found it interesting.
A few seconds later, Akemi laughed, and then the corners of his lips barely twitched into a smile. So faintly that Miko was not even sure whether it had really happened or whether she had imagined it. The next moment, the teacher had already lowered his gaze back to his documents, as if nothing had happened.
Miko spent a few more seconds looking from him to Akemi and back again. Then she slowly leaned against the back of her chair. — No.
She knew her friend far too well. If she told Akemi about that look now, then by evening Akemi would be convinced that they were secretly in love with each other and that fate itself had personally blessed their union.
“And what if I’m wrong? What if Ryu was simply lost in thought? Or happened to look in that direction by chance? Or maybe he wasn’t looking at Akemi at all, but at someone behind her?”
Too many possibilities, and too little proof. So she decided to keep quiet. Although from that day on, she began to notice one strange thing: every time Akemi laughed somewhere nearby, Ryu almost always raised his head.
Too many possibilities, and too little proof. So she decided to keep quiet. Although from that day on, she began to notice one strange thing: every time Akemi laughed somewhere nearby, Ryu almost always raised his head.
A corgi? Too cute. A chihuahua? Too nervous. A Pekingese? Too… philosophical.
Miko narrowed her eyes, watching as Akemi dramatically fixed her hair in the reflection of her phone.
No. It was obvious.
— A spitz, — she delivered her mental verdict. — Small, loud, spectacular, and absolutely convinced that it is the center of the universe — Yes, Akemi was pure spitz.
Miko narrowed her eyes, watching as Akemi dramatically fixed her hair in the reflection of her phone.
No. It was obvious.
— A spitz, — she delivered her mental verdict. — Small, loud, spectacular, and absolutely convinced that it is the center of the universe — Yes, Akemi was pure spitz.
And there it was — the classroom. Their first class was with Minase-sensei.
While the other students were taking out their tools and preparing to work, Akemi was already sitting perfectly straight. That was how either top students sat, or people who wanted to make an impression. Miko knew perfectly well which category her friend belonged to.
Every time Ryu passed by their row, Akemi instantly took on the appearance of a serious and focused artist. The moment he turned away, she transformed back into ordinary Akemi.
— You just stopped blinking.
— What?
— And breathing.
— Not true.
— I’m starting to worry about your circulation.
— Shut up.
— No, I’m curious how many more bodily functions you’ll be able to switch off.
— Today, we will continue working on the sculpture dedicated to ancient architecture, — Ryu said calmly -Who is ready to show their work?
— I am! — Akemi’s hand shot up with such confidence that it seemed as though a finished masterpiece was already standing behind her… or at least a convincing imitation of one.
— Good. Akemi, I’m waiting.
While the other students were taking out their tools and preparing to work, Akemi was already sitting perfectly straight. That was how either top students sat, or people who wanted to make an impression. Miko knew perfectly well which category her friend belonged to.
Every time Ryu passed by their row, Akemi instantly took on the appearance of a serious and focused artist. The moment he turned away, she transformed back into ordinary Akemi.
— You just stopped blinking.
— What?
— And breathing.
— Not true.
— I’m starting to worry about your circulation.
— Shut up.
— No, I’m curious how many more bodily functions you’ll be able to switch off.
— Today, we will continue working on the sculpture dedicated to ancient architecture, — Ryu said calmly -Who is ready to show their work?
— I am! — Akemi’s hand shot up with such confidence that it seemed as though a finished masterpiece was already standing behind her… or at least a convincing imitation of one.
— Good. Akemi, I’m waiting.
Miko slowly turned to her friend.
— Tell me, are you hoping that if you act confident enough, he won’t notice that instead of a project you have… well, conceptual emptiness?
— First of all, it’s not emptiness, it’s minimalism, — Akemi whispered. — Second, I’m working for the effect.
— The effect is already there, — Miko said, nodding toward the desk.
A lump of clay lay proudly on the table, weakly pretending to be an architectural object, though more than anything it resembled an eggplant that had lived a difficult life.
— Tell me, are you hoping that if you act confident enough, he won’t notice that instead of a project you have… well, conceptual emptiness?
— First of all, it’s not emptiness, it’s minimalism, — Akemi whispered. — Second, I’m working for the effect.
— The effect is already there, — Miko said, nodding toward the desk.
A lump of clay lay proudly on the table, weakly pretending to be an architectural object, though more than anything it resembled an eggplant that had lived a difficult life.
— What is that? — Miko quietly clarified.
— It’s a base.
— For what? Homemade cutlets?
— Miko.. - Akemi hissed, — what do you suggest? That I blend in with the gray masses? I have to stay in his memory!
— You, not your masterpieces. Have you considered, for example, staying after class and finishing the work? - Miko suggested calmly.
— Couldn’t you have said that earlier?! — Akemi protested.
— I didn’t know the case was so… creatively neglected.
Akemi abruptly jumped to her feet.
— Ryu!
The entire classroom turned their heads in perfect synchrony.
— Minase-sensei, my work is… not ready. I’ll show it last.
Ryu raised an eyebrow slightly.
— Interesting. All right, Akemi. Then at the end of class.
— Thank you! — She immediately lit up and sat back down, as if she had just won a strategic battle.
— “Ryu” then? — Miko drawled quietly. — Bold. Very bold.
— It’s a base.
— For what? Homemade cutlets?
— Miko.. - Akemi hissed, — what do you suggest? That I blend in with the gray masses? I have to stay in his memory!
— You, not your masterpieces. Have you considered, for example, staying after class and finishing the work? - Miko suggested calmly.
— Couldn’t you have said that earlier?! — Akemi protested.
— I didn’t know the case was so… creatively neglected.
Akemi abruptly jumped to her feet.
— Ryu!
The entire classroom turned their heads in perfect synchrony.
— Minase-sensei, my work is… not ready. I’ll show it last.
Ryu raised an eyebrow slightly.
— Interesting. All right, Akemi. Then at the end of class.
— Thank you! — She immediately lit up and sat back down, as if she had just won a strategic battle.
— “Ryu” then? — Miko drawled quietly. — Bold. Very bold.
When the bell rang, Akemi unexpectedly acquired the leadership qualities of an evacuation commander.
— All right, everyone out! Quickly! Come on, come on, life is short and rice cakes don’t wait! Miko, you disappear too!
— So much for gratitude, — Miko snorted.
— I’ll thank you later! — Akemi snapped, then practically shoved her out the door and slammed it right in front of her face.
The classroom fell silent.
— So, Akemi, — Ryu looked at her more attentively. — What’s going on with your work?
She tilted her head slightly, pretending to be thoughtful.
— You know, sensei… lately I’ve been having trouble with inspiration. Maybe you could… breathe life into me?
Ryu froze for a second. The wording was… ambiguous.
And yet, if he was being honest, he did like Akemi. She was bright, lively, too noticeable to ignore. Besides, she was a final-year student, twenty-two years old, and he was a teacher who had only recently graduated from a pedagogical university.
— Akemi… — He paused. “If my intuition isn’t failing me, then you wouldn’t mind meeting next week? In the park, for example. I could… inspire you with the architecture of our city.
Behind the door, someone quietly stopped breathing. Miko.
— Gallant… — she muttered barely audibly. — Definitely a Dalmatian.
— Oh, Ryu… — Akemi even lost her composure for a second. — Yes, I agree, sensei.
— Excellent. Then Friday, at six.
By that time, he would officially no longer be her teacher, so everything was strictly within the rules. He nodded toward the sculpture:
— And what shall we do with this?
— This… — Akemi grabbed her “creation.” — I’ll perfect it at home.
And without waiting for any further questions, she rushed toward the door. The door swung open so sharply it seemed to have decided to participate in the drama too. Miko did not manage to jump away in time.
— Mmm… ow, — she drawled, rubbing her forehead.
— Wonderful, — Akemi narrowed her eyes. — You heard everything?
— Absolutely everything. Especially the part about ‘inspiration’ and how you urgently need to add the finishing touches… to your eggplant.
— Oh, that thing can be thrown away already,” Akemi waved it off. “It has fulfilled its mission.
— What a shame… - Miko looked at the clay masterpiece with feigned sadness. - I was already getting attached to it. Maybe we should keep it? In memory of your first… almost-date.
— Do you think it really was a date?” Akemi asked hopefully.
— And we’ll give it a name,” Miko continued calmly. “Something meaningful. For example…
— Daisuke! — Akemi suddenly blurted out.
Miko thought for a second.
— ‘Great helper,’ — she nodded. — You know, that sounds symbolic. It really did help you in your personal life.
— Exactly! It’s decided. This is Daisuke.
Miko looked at the eggplant tenderly.
— Possibly the most epic participant in your love drama.
— That’s it, let’s get out of here before you start interviewing it.
— Too late. It already has a personality. It’s a piece of sh**** - Miko did not manage to finish before Akemi dragged her away again.
Ryu remained seated in the empty classroom for a while longer, thoughtfully looking at the attendance register. His finger slowly moved down the list of names and stopped on one line.
Hashimoto Akemi.
He quietly exhaled and leaned back in his chair.
— I don’t think this is a good idea… — he murmured barely audibly to himself.
But despite his own words, the smile still had not left his face. Bright, noisy, and far too alive not to think about. Ryu ran a hand over his face, as if trying to regain his usual composure, and only after a couple of minutes did he finally emerge from his thoughts.
— Right… I should go home too.
He rose from the desk, picked up a cloth, and began wiping the notes from the board while the evening light slowly spread across the nearly empty classroom.
— All right, everyone out! Quickly! Come on, come on, life is short and rice cakes don’t wait! Miko, you disappear too!
— So much for gratitude, — Miko snorted.
— I’ll thank you later! — Akemi snapped, then practically shoved her out the door and slammed it right in front of her face.
The classroom fell silent.
— So, Akemi, — Ryu looked at her more attentively. — What’s going on with your work?
She tilted her head slightly, pretending to be thoughtful.
— You know, sensei… lately I’ve been having trouble with inspiration. Maybe you could… breathe life into me?
Ryu froze for a second. The wording was… ambiguous.
And yet, if he was being honest, he did like Akemi. She was bright, lively, too noticeable to ignore. Besides, she was a final-year student, twenty-two years old, and he was a teacher who had only recently graduated from a pedagogical university.
— Akemi… — He paused. “If my intuition isn’t failing me, then you wouldn’t mind meeting next week? In the park, for example. I could… inspire you with the architecture of our city.
Behind the door, someone quietly stopped breathing. Miko.
— Gallant… — she muttered barely audibly. — Definitely a Dalmatian.
— Oh, Ryu… — Akemi even lost her composure for a second. — Yes, I agree, sensei.
— Excellent. Then Friday, at six.
By that time, he would officially no longer be her teacher, so everything was strictly within the rules. He nodded toward the sculpture:
— And what shall we do with this?
— This… — Akemi grabbed her “creation.” — I’ll perfect it at home.
And without waiting for any further questions, she rushed toward the door. The door swung open so sharply it seemed to have decided to participate in the drama too. Miko did not manage to jump away in time.
— Mmm… ow, — she drawled, rubbing her forehead.
— Wonderful, — Akemi narrowed her eyes. — You heard everything?
— Absolutely everything. Especially the part about ‘inspiration’ and how you urgently need to add the finishing touches… to your eggplant.
— Oh, that thing can be thrown away already,” Akemi waved it off. “It has fulfilled its mission.
— What a shame… - Miko looked at the clay masterpiece with feigned sadness. - I was already getting attached to it. Maybe we should keep it? In memory of your first… almost-date.
— Do you think it really was a date?” Akemi asked hopefully.
— And we’ll give it a name,” Miko continued calmly. “Something meaningful. For example…
— Daisuke! — Akemi suddenly blurted out.
Miko thought for a second.
— ‘Great helper,’ — she nodded. — You know, that sounds symbolic. It really did help you in your personal life.
— Exactly! It’s decided. This is Daisuke.
Miko looked at the eggplant tenderly.
— Possibly the most epic participant in your love drama.
— That’s it, let’s get out of here before you start interviewing it.
— Too late. It already has a personality. It’s a piece of sh**** - Miko did not manage to finish before Akemi dragged her away again.
Ryu remained seated in the empty classroom for a while longer, thoughtfully looking at the attendance register. His finger slowly moved down the list of names and stopped on one line.
Hashimoto Akemi.
He quietly exhaled and leaned back in his chair.
— I don’t think this is a good idea… — he murmured barely audibly to himself.
But despite his own words, the smile still had not left his face. Bright, noisy, and far too alive not to think about. Ryu ran a hand over his face, as if trying to regain his usual composure, and only after a couple of minutes did he finally emerge from his thoughts.
— Right… I should go home too.
He rose from the desk, picked up a cloth, and began wiping the notes from the board while the evening light slowly spread across the nearly empty classroom.
Akemi and Miko left the university building, dissolving into the warm spring air.
— What are your plans? — Akemi asked immediately. — Are you going to see Jun?
As always, she did not forget what mattered most in Miko’s life.
— Yes… — Miko nodded. — But first I want to stop by and see Mom. So I’ll probably go alone today.
There was a barely noticeable sadness in her voice.
Yumiko, her mother, had hardly been home these past few days: she left early and came back late. They had started seeing each other less and less, and it was beginning to worry Miko more than she wanted to admit.
— Are you sure? — Akemi raised an eyebrow. — For the record, I’m not against visiting Yumiko-san at all. She’s wonderful.
— Akemi.
— She always offers tea, remembers what dessert I like, and never judges my life choices.
— You’re describing my mother as if you want her to adopt you.
Akemi thought about it.
— Is that possible?
Miko slowly turned to her, narrowing her eyes.
— I doubt it, but we can go ask her right now.
— I was joking, actually…
— How could I possibly refuse you? Let’s go.
— What are your plans? — Akemi asked immediately. — Are you going to see Jun?
As always, she did not forget what mattered most in Miko’s life.
— Yes… — Miko nodded. — But first I want to stop by and see Mom. So I’ll probably go alone today.
There was a barely noticeable sadness in her voice.
Yumiko, her mother, had hardly been home these past few days: she left early and came back late. They had started seeing each other less and less, and it was beginning to worry Miko more than she wanted to admit.
— Are you sure? — Akemi raised an eyebrow. — For the record, I’m not against visiting Yumiko-san at all. She’s wonderful.
— Akemi.
— She always offers tea, remembers what dessert I like, and never judges my life choices.
— You’re describing my mother as if you want her to adopt you.
Akemi thought about it.
— Is that possible?
Miko slowly turned to her, narrowing her eyes.
— I doubt it, but we can go ask her right now.
— I was joking, actually…
— How could I possibly refuse you? Let’s go.
On the way, Miko finally shared what was worrying her.
Akemi shrugged.
— I think she just got a difficult case. You know your mom — she’s not the type to do anything halfway.
— That’s probably true… — Miko agreed uncertainly.
At the courthouse, they were met by a security guard. Recognizing Miko, he politely nodded and escorted the girls to the office.
— Please wait here. I’ll let Yumiko-san know you’ve arrived.
— Thank you, — Miko replied.
They did not have to wait long. The door opened, and Yumiko appeared in the doorway.
— Miko? Did something happen?
— Hello, — Akemi peeked out from behind her friend’s shoulder
— Oh, Akemi! You’re here too… — Yumiko’s face visibly softened. — It’s been a long time since I last saw you.
For Akemi, this meeting meant a little more than just a visit. Several years earlier, she had lost her mother, and in Yumiko she sometimes caught a glimpse of that same look — warm, attentive, full of quiet, motherly care.
Yumiko hugged both girls.
— I’m so glad to see you.
— You’ve been completely off schedule lately, — Miko said, rummaging through her bag at the same time. — I’ve already started missing you.
— I understand… — Yumiko replied gently. — It’s just that I have a complicated case right now. I need time to sort everything out.
— There! — Akemi exclaimed happily when she heard her guess confirmed. — I told you!
— My girls, — Yumiko said, — don’t worry about me. I’m all right. Or, as Miko would say: work isn’t giving up, and neither am I.
Akemi shrugged.
— I think she just got a difficult case. You know your mom — she’s not the type to do anything halfway.
— That’s probably true… — Miko agreed uncertainly.
At the courthouse, they were met by a security guard. Recognizing Miko, he politely nodded and escorted the girls to the office.
— Please wait here. I’ll let Yumiko-san know you’ve arrived.
— Thank you, — Miko replied.
They did not have to wait long. The door opened, and Yumiko appeared in the doorway.
— Miko? Did something happen?
— Hello, — Akemi peeked out from behind her friend’s shoulder
— Oh, Akemi! You’re here too… — Yumiko’s face visibly softened. — It’s been a long time since I last saw you.
For Akemi, this meeting meant a little more than just a visit. Several years earlier, she had lost her mother, and in Yumiko she sometimes caught a glimpse of that same look — warm, attentive, full of quiet, motherly care.
Yumiko hugged both girls.
— I’m so glad to see you.
— You’ve been completely off schedule lately, — Miko said, rummaging through her bag at the same time. — I’ve already started missing you.
— I understand… — Yumiko replied gently. — It’s just that I have a complicated case right now. I need time to sort everything out.
— There! — Akemi exclaimed happily when she heard her guess confirmed. — I told you!
— My girls, — Yumiko said, — don’t worry about me. I’m all right. Or, as Miko would say: work isn’t giving up, and neither am I.
They laughed.
— And now I have to go.
— Are you coming home late again today? — Miko asked, clearly hoping for a negative answer.
Yumiko hesitated for a second, then hugged her.
— I’ll try to finish early.
— All right… — Miko replied quietly and handed her a container. — I made this in the morning. Maybe you’ll find time to eat something.
— I definitely will, — Yumiko smiled. — All right, girls, I have to run.
And, quite literally, she hurried back down the corridor. For a while, they silently watched her go.
— Well then, — Akemi was the first to come back to herself. — Now we can go to Jun.
— Yes, let’s go, — Miko nodded.
Jun was a shelter dog, and Miko was his caretaker. He was a large white mixed-breed dog with an imposing appearance and a clear trace of Alabai blood in him.
Akemi, to put it mildly, was afraid of him.
But, as she herself believed, for the sake of her best friend, one could survive even a meeting with a creature that looked like “a kind bear… until it sneezes.”
Meanwhile, Yumiko stood by the window of her office, watching the girls as they slowly made their way toward the bus stop.
“Miko really is lucky to have a friend like her,” — she thought with a faint smile. — “Akemi truly is a kind girl.”
Her gaze involuntarily slid across the parking lot and, for a moment, stopped on one of the cars. At first glance, the vehicle was no different from the dozens of others parked near the courthouse, yet something about it seemed strange to Yumiko. Still, the feeling was so fleeting that she immediately brushed it aside.
— All right. Time to get back to work.
— And now I have to go.
— Are you coming home late again today? — Miko asked, clearly hoping for a negative answer.
Yumiko hesitated for a second, then hugged her.
— I’ll try to finish early.
— All right… — Miko replied quietly and handed her a container. — I made this in the morning. Maybe you’ll find time to eat something.
— I definitely will, — Yumiko smiled. — All right, girls, I have to run.
And, quite literally, she hurried back down the corridor. For a while, they silently watched her go.
— Well then, — Akemi was the first to come back to herself. — Now we can go to Jun.
— Yes, let’s go, — Miko nodded.
Jun was a shelter dog, and Miko was his caretaker. He was a large white mixed-breed dog with an imposing appearance and a clear trace of Alabai blood in him.
Akemi, to put it mildly, was afraid of him.
But, as she herself believed, for the sake of her best friend, one could survive even a meeting with a creature that looked like “a kind bear… until it sneezes.”
Meanwhile, Yumiko stood by the window of her office, watching the girls as they slowly made their way toward the bus stop.
“Miko really is lucky to have a friend like her,” — she thought with a faint smile. — “Akemi truly is a kind girl.”
Her gaze involuntarily slid across the parking lot and, for a moment, stopped on one of the cars. At first glance, the vehicle was no different from the dozens of others parked near the courthouse, yet something about it seemed strange to Yumiko. Still, the feeling was so fleeting that she immediately brushed it aside.
— All right. Time to get back to work.
When they arrived at the shelter, they were greeted by the other caretakers. The air here was always special — a mixture of joy, fur, and light chaos.
— Miko, hi! — a familiar guy named Yuto called out to them. “Your Jun has been waiting for you… and for you too, Akemi.
He said it with such an expression that it was immediately clear: he remembered Akemi’s attitude toward dogs perfectly well.
— Oh yes,” she replied dryly. “He and I suffer equally when we’re apart.
Meanwhile, Miko had already plunged into her bag as usual, like an archaeologist setting out on an excavation.
— You know, — Akemi drawled thoughtfully, watching the process, — your bag reminds me of the Bermuda Triangle. Everything goes into it… and never comes back.
— I can’t disagree, - Miko replied calmly, without looking up from her search.
— Maybe I should buy something more compact.
— Maybe you should stop packing it as if every day you’re preparing for the apocalypse.
Miko paused for a second and looked up.
— How does your head manage to hold so many… outstanding ideas?
— It’s difficult, — Akemi sighed. — But I cope.
Akemi and Miko were both sarcastic by nature, which was why they understood each other perfectly and never took offense. Meanwhile, people watching them from the outside might have thought they were arguing. In reality, Akemi and Miko were simply teasing each other.
— Ah, here they are, — Miko finally declared victoriously, pulling out the treats. — All right, let’s go.
— Deep down, I was hoping until the very end that you wouldn’t find them…
— Miko, hi! — a familiar guy named Yuto called out to them. “Your Jun has been waiting for you… and for you too, Akemi.
He said it with such an expression that it was immediately clear: he remembered Akemi’s attitude toward dogs perfectly well.
— Oh yes,” she replied dryly. “He and I suffer equally when we’re apart.
Meanwhile, Miko had already plunged into her bag as usual, like an archaeologist setting out on an excavation.
— You know, — Akemi drawled thoughtfully, watching the process, — your bag reminds me of the Bermuda Triangle. Everything goes into it… and never comes back.
— I can’t disagree, - Miko replied calmly, without looking up from her search.
— Maybe I should buy something more compact.
— Maybe you should stop packing it as if every day you’re preparing for the apocalypse.
Miko paused for a second and looked up.
— How does your head manage to hold so many… outstanding ideas?
— It’s difficult, — Akemi sighed. — But I cope.
Akemi and Miko were both sarcastic by nature, which was why they understood each other perfectly and never took offense. Meanwhile, people watching them from the outside might have thought they were arguing. In reality, Akemi and Miko were simply teasing each other.
— Ah, here they are, — Miko finally declared victoriously, pulling out the treats. — All right, let’s go.
— Deep down, I was hoping until the very end that you wouldn’t find them…
— JUUUUUN! — Miko shouted joyfully, spreading her arms wide. — Hello, my good boy!
Something large, white, and incredibly happy flew out of the enclosure toward her. Jun nearly knocked her off her feet and immediately began licking her, as if trying to make sure she was real. He adored Miko. And… whoever came with her. Jun stopped and looked at Akemi. Intently and suspiciously. Akemi hoped his gaze was not actually directed at her and tried very hard not to meet his eyes.
But then Yuto intervened.
— Jun, what’s wrong? Don’t you recognize Akemi?” he said cheerfully. “Look, she has something for you!
And he waved a treat right in front of Akemi. That was when Jun remembered who this girl was. It was her. The one.
— No, — Akemi said quietly. — No, no, no… — she was already shouting.
But it was too late. The white “bear” was already rushing toward her with the enthusiasm of someone reunited after ten years apart.
— NOOOO! MIKO, GET YOUR DOG AWAY FROM ME! — Akemi shrieked, falling to the ground under the force of his love.
Jun happily began licking her, clearly convinced he was doing everything right.
— Unfortunately, I can’t hear you, Akemi! — Miko replied calmly, already heading toward the other enclosures. — I’ll go check on the others for now!
— MIKO, YOU CAN’T JUST ABANDON ME LIKE THIS!
Akemi desperately fought him off with her bag, which, for the first time in its life, turned out to be useful.
— Ask Yuto! — Miko called over her shoulder.
— NO! THAT TRAITOR WILL CLIMB ON TOP TOO, JUST TO MAKE SURE I’M COMPLETELY CRUSHED!
But Miko had already gone far enough not to hear the rest of the negotiations between Akemi and Jun, which quickly turned into a format of: “Please stop!” and “I LOVE YOU!!!”
Something large, white, and incredibly happy flew out of the enclosure toward her. Jun nearly knocked her off her feet and immediately began licking her, as if trying to make sure she was real. He adored Miko. And… whoever came with her. Jun stopped and looked at Akemi. Intently and suspiciously. Akemi hoped his gaze was not actually directed at her and tried very hard not to meet his eyes.
But then Yuto intervened.
— Jun, what’s wrong? Don’t you recognize Akemi?” he said cheerfully. “Look, she has something for you!
And he waved a treat right in front of Akemi. That was when Jun remembered who this girl was. It was her. The one.
— No, — Akemi said quietly. — No, no, no… — she was already shouting.
But it was too late. The white “bear” was already rushing toward her with the enthusiasm of someone reunited after ten years apart.
— NOOOO! MIKO, GET YOUR DOG AWAY FROM ME! — Akemi shrieked, falling to the ground under the force of his love.
Jun happily began licking her, clearly convinced he was doing everything right.
— Unfortunately, I can’t hear you, Akemi! — Miko replied calmly, already heading toward the other enclosures. — I’ll go check on the others for now!
— MIKO, YOU CAN’T JUST ABANDON ME LIKE THIS!
Akemi desperately fought him off with her bag, which, for the first time in its life, turned out to be useful.
— Ask Yuto! — Miko called over her shoulder.
— NO! THAT TRAITOR WILL CLIMB ON TOP TOO, JUST TO MAKE SURE I’M COMPLETELY CRUSHED!
But Miko had already gone far enough not to hear the rest of the negotiations between Akemi and Jun, which quickly turned into a format of: “Please stop!” and “I LOVE YOU!!!”
Meanwhile, Miko was checking on the other dogs. There were many of them at the shelter, but she always approached each one, even if it took several hours.
All of them could have been adopted into homes long ago, but among the caretakers there was an unspoken rule: one doubt, one trace of distrust, and the interview was failed. They could not give their treasure to people they were not sure about. Yes, every animal needed a home and a family. But there were too many bad people in the world, and they had no right to make a mistake. Here, everything had been created for a decent life. The dogs may not have received the most important thing, — “their person,” — but they were definitely happy and safe.
As for Miko… She was a person with a big heart. Patient, calm, rarely losing her temper, and always trying to understand everyone. She did not judge and did not criticize. If it were up to her, she would have taken every stray home with her and loved them all equally: the mischievous ones, the most obedient ones, and those who needed much more time before they could begin to trust.
— Only the weak in spirit treat animals with contempt, — Miko often said.
And if judged by that principle… she was far too strong in spirit.
— …I’m back with you, - came a voice from behind.
Yuto had finally taken pity on Akemi and helped her escape from beneath several dozen kilograms of happiness. They headed toward Miko, who had already made it through half of her list.
— Do you want help saying hello to everyone? — Akemi asked, visibly tired, but still sincerely loving her friend.
— Oh, yes, if it’s not too much trouble,- Miko smiled. — Start from the end, and then we’ll meet somewhere around here.
She pointed toward one of the enclosures.
— Oh, wonderful… — Akemi drawled with weary irony. — I’ve always dreamed of this.
An hour later… or two… or perhaps all two and a half, Akemi and Miko headed toward the exit after saying goodbye to Yuto and, of course, to Jun.
— By the way, Miko, — Yuto called after them, — we’ll soon have a new arrival in Jun’s enclosure. Could you take him home for a couple of days? We’ll need to prepare and treat the newcomer.
— Of course, — Miko answered without hesitation. — Just tell me when.
Akemi slowly turned her head toward her.
— Great, I’ll call you, - Yuto nodded.
— All right, bye-bye! - Miko waved cheerfully.
— Bye to you too, Akemi, - Yuto added with a smirk.
Akemi looked at him… and made a gesture that could replace a thousand words.
All of them could have been adopted into homes long ago, but among the caretakers there was an unspoken rule: one doubt, one trace of distrust, and the interview was failed. They could not give their treasure to people they were not sure about. Yes, every animal needed a home and a family. But there were too many bad people in the world, and they had no right to make a mistake. Here, everything had been created for a decent life. The dogs may not have received the most important thing, — “their person,” — but they were definitely happy and safe.
As for Miko… She was a person with a big heart. Patient, calm, rarely losing her temper, and always trying to understand everyone. She did not judge and did not criticize. If it were up to her, she would have taken every stray home with her and loved them all equally: the mischievous ones, the most obedient ones, and those who needed much more time before they could begin to trust.
— Only the weak in spirit treat animals with contempt, — Miko often said.
And if judged by that principle… she was far too strong in spirit.
— …I’m back with you, - came a voice from behind.
Yuto had finally taken pity on Akemi and helped her escape from beneath several dozen kilograms of happiness. They headed toward Miko, who had already made it through half of her list.
— Do you want help saying hello to everyone? — Akemi asked, visibly tired, but still sincerely loving her friend.
— Oh, yes, if it’s not too much trouble,- Miko smiled. — Start from the end, and then we’ll meet somewhere around here.
She pointed toward one of the enclosures.
— Oh, wonderful… — Akemi drawled with weary irony. — I’ve always dreamed of this.
An hour later… or two… or perhaps all two and a half, Akemi and Miko headed toward the exit after saying goodbye to Yuto and, of course, to Jun.
— By the way, Miko, — Yuto called after them, — we’ll soon have a new arrival in Jun’s enclosure. Could you take him home for a couple of days? We’ll need to prepare and treat the newcomer.
— Of course, — Miko answered without hesitation. — Just tell me when.
Akemi slowly turned her head toward her.
— Great, I’ll call you, - Yuto nodded.
— All right, bye-bye! - Miko waved cheerfully.
— Bye to you too, Akemi, - Yuto added with a smirk.
Akemi looked at him… and made a gesture that could replace a thousand words.
— So, you and Jun are going to be spending a lot more time together soon? — Akemi asked.
— Looks like it, — Miko smiled. — Actually, I’ve already fostered some of my wards before — Nuna, Aiki, Maru… but with Jun, this will be our first experience like that.
— He seems… bigger than everyone you just listed.
— That’s true, - Miko agreed calmly. — But he’s a good boy. He won’t cause any trouble.
Akemi looked at her with mild skepticism.
— I wish I had the same confidence in myself that you have in Jun.
— I will never believe that you have problems with self-confidence, — Miko said with a sly smile, then continued, — By the way, you can come over to my place. After you help me transport him.
Akemi stopped.
— What a tempting offer… especially considering no one even remembered to ask whether I agreed to the second part.
— I simply know you can’t refuse the best woman in your life, — Miko declared with dignity.
— Oh yes, exactly, — Akemi laughed. — I truly have no chance.
— Well, here we are. Stay in touch.
— Bye-bye, — Akemi waved.
— Looks like it, — Miko smiled. — Actually, I’ve already fostered some of my wards before — Nuna, Aiki, Maru… but with Jun, this will be our first experience like that.
— He seems… bigger than everyone you just listed.
— That’s true, - Miko agreed calmly. — But he’s a good boy. He won’t cause any trouble.
Akemi looked at her with mild skepticism.
— I wish I had the same confidence in myself that you have in Jun.
— I will never believe that you have problems with self-confidence, — Miko said with a sly smile, then continued, — By the way, you can come over to my place. After you help me transport him.
Akemi stopped.
— What a tempting offer… especially considering no one even remembered to ask whether I agreed to the second part.
— I simply know you can’t refuse the best woman in your life, — Miko declared with dignity.
— Oh yes, exactly, — Akemi laughed. — I truly have no chance.
— Well, here we are. Stay in touch.
— Bye-bye, — Akemi waved.
At home, Miko’s father was already waiting for her, preparing dinner for three with the serious expression of a man on an important mission.
— Hi, Miko.
— Hi, Dad. Do you need help?
— No, I’m almost finished. Go change and come to the table.
— Did Mom call?
— She did, - he answered with noticeable enthusiasm. — She’s already on her way.
— Great! - Miko called out, opening the door to her room.
While she changed, the clinking of dishes and her father’s quiet muttering drifted in from the kitchen. Judging by the sound of it, he was once again trying to convince himself that he had not forgotten anything. Sometimes Miko thought he treated cooking dinner more seriously than some people treated their jobs.
— Hi, Miko.
— Hi, Dad. Do you need help?
— No, I’m almost finished. Go change and come to the table.
— Did Mom call?
— She did, - he answered with noticeable enthusiasm. — She’s already on her way.
— Great! - Miko called out, opening the door to her room.
While she changed, the clinking of dishes and her father’s quiet muttering drifted in from the kitchen. Judging by the sound of it, he was once again trying to convince himself that he had not forgotten anything. Sometimes Miko thought he treated cooking dinner more seriously than some people treated their jobs.
When the table was set and everything looked almost perfect, the front door opened. Yumiko. She entered quickly, like a person who had not yet mentally left work behind.
— Hello, — she said, taking off her coat.
— Hi! — Miko and Madoko replied.
— It smells good, — Yumiko noted, peeking into the kitchen.
— That’s because today dinner was prepared by a professional, — her husband announced with an important air.
— The last time this professional cooked, he oversalted the curry.
— That was an isolated mistake.
— One we kept remembering for another month, — Miko smirked.
Yumiko laughed softly. She smiled. Warmly. Almost like herself at home, though there was still a shadow of something else in her eyes. They sat down to dinner, and the conversation flowed easily: about the day, about university, about plans, about Jun. Madoko, incidentally, tensed slightly at the word “Alabai.”
— He’s a good boy,- Miko said confidently.
— I don’t doubt that,- her father replied cautiously. — I just hope he knows that too.
They laughed. Yumiko laughed as well, but not for long. At one point, she reached for her glass and suddenly froze for a second, as if remembering something important. Her gaze became distant.
— Mom?
— Hm?
— Did you remember something?
— Oh, yes. Something about today’s hearing, but nothing important,” Yumiko answered her daughter with a smile.
Sometimes Yumiko seemed to slip out of the conversation for a second, then return, keep talking… and sink back into her thoughts again.
Miko noticed it. So did Madoko.
— Hard day? — he asked gently.
Yumiko kept her eyes on her plate for a second.
— Yes… a little.
It was said too calmly and suspiciously briefly. As if there was much more hidden behind that — little. Everything under control? — he clarified carefully.
Yumiko raised her eyes and smiled. That very smile everyone knew: confident, calm, flawless.
— Of course.
A pause.
— Work isn’t giving up… — she added.
And Miko finished:
— …and neither are you.
— Exactly.
— Hello, — she said, taking off her coat.
— Hi! — Miko and Madoko replied.
— It smells good, — Yumiko noted, peeking into the kitchen.
— That’s because today dinner was prepared by a professional, — her husband announced with an important air.
— The last time this professional cooked, he oversalted the curry.
— That was an isolated mistake.
— One we kept remembering for another month, — Miko smirked.
Yumiko laughed softly. She smiled. Warmly. Almost like herself at home, though there was still a shadow of something else in her eyes. They sat down to dinner, and the conversation flowed easily: about the day, about university, about plans, about Jun. Madoko, incidentally, tensed slightly at the word “Alabai.”
— He’s a good boy,- Miko said confidently.
— I don’t doubt that,- her father replied cautiously. — I just hope he knows that too.
They laughed. Yumiko laughed as well, but not for long. At one point, she reached for her glass and suddenly froze for a second, as if remembering something important. Her gaze became distant.
— Mom?
— Hm?
— Did you remember something?
— Oh, yes. Something about today’s hearing, but nothing important,” Yumiko answered her daughter with a smile.
Sometimes Yumiko seemed to slip out of the conversation for a second, then return, keep talking… and sink back into her thoughts again.
Miko noticed it. So did Madoko.
— Hard day? — he asked gently.
Yumiko kept her eyes on her plate for a second.
— Yes… a little.
It was said too calmly and suspiciously briefly. As if there was much more hidden behind that — little. Everything under control? — he clarified carefully.
Yumiko raised her eyes and smiled. That very smile everyone knew: confident, calm, flawless.
— Of course.
A pause.
— Work isn’t giving up… — she added.
And Miko finished:
— …and neither are you.
— Exactly.
They laughed again. But there was something different in that laughter, something thin and almost imperceptible. As if behind an ordinary family evening, a shadow of something no one yet wanted to say out loud was quietly hiding.
Yumiko-san loved her work. Even though it was often difficult, morally and sometimes physically. But now one of those cases lay before her that could become a trial even for the most experienced judges.
The man who was supposed to stand trial was someone many had considered untouchable for years. A former hired killer who had become the leader of one of the largest criminal organizations in the country. A man who had built an entire empire on fear, blackmail, and the trade of powerful people’s secrets. Behind him stretched a trail of murders, corruption schemes, and ruined lives, while his connections reached into the highest offices of power.
With enormous difficulty, the case had finally been brought before the Supreme Court. Largely thanks to an investigator who had spent several years gathering evidence and was convinced that only she could handle a trial like this. Everyone knew her, both in the city and far beyond it. If someone said, “We need justice,” there was only one answer: Kayamo Yumiko. A true Themis. A woman who delivered verdicts based solely on facts.
But there was one problem. When influential people could not get what they wanted with money, they simply took it by force. And Yumiko understood that perfectly well.
Yumiko-san loved her work. Even though it was often difficult, morally and sometimes physically. But now one of those cases lay before her that could become a trial even for the most experienced judges.
The man who was supposed to stand trial was someone many had considered untouchable for years. A former hired killer who had become the leader of one of the largest criminal organizations in the country. A man who had built an entire empire on fear, blackmail, and the trade of powerful people’s secrets. Behind him stretched a trail of murders, corruption schemes, and ruined lives, while his connections reached into the highest offices of power.
With enormous difficulty, the case had finally been brought before the Supreme Court. Largely thanks to an investigator who had spent several years gathering evidence and was convinced that only she could handle a trial like this. Everyone knew her, both in the city and far beyond it. If someone said, “We need justice,” there was only one answer: Kayamo Yumiko. A true Themis. A woman who delivered verdicts based solely on facts.
But there was one problem. When influential people could not get what they wanted with money, they simply took it by force. And Yumiko understood that perfectly well.
Dinner came to an end, and everyone went off to their own quiet refuge.
Miko went to her bedroom and settled into her large beanbag chair with a book and a mug of cocoa with marshmallows, as if she intended to wrap herself not only in a blanket, but also in her own small world.
Yumiko went to the living room. She turned on the television, not so much for the program itself as for the background noise, something that might at least slightly drown out her thoughts. She took a bag of corn chips with her.
Madoko remained in his study. He needed to finish some work. But before long, he joined his wife.
They tried not to talk about work at home. There was already enough tension and difficult decisions in their lives. None of them wanted to bring that here. Home was their boundary. A place where they did not have to be strong. Did not have to be flawless. Did not have to keep everything under control.
Here, they simply wanted to be themselves.
In silence.
In peace.
In that fragile yet precious harmony they protected so carefully.
Miko went to her bedroom and settled into her large beanbag chair with a book and a mug of cocoa with marshmallows, as if she intended to wrap herself not only in a blanket, but also in her own small world.
Yumiko went to the living room. She turned on the television, not so much for the program itself as for the background noise, something that might at least slightly drown out her thoughts. She took a bag of corn chips with her.
Madoko remained in his study. He needed to finish some work. But before long, he joined his wife.
They tried not to talk about work at home. There was already enough tension and difficult decisions in their lives. None of them wanted to bring that here. Home was their boundary. A place where they did not have to be strong. Did not have to be flawless. Did not have to keep everything under control.
Here, they simply wanted to be themselves.
In silence.
In peace.
In that fragile yet precious harmony they protected so carefully.
Chapter 2. Someone Else’s Life.
A weekend morning... A day off—for Miko, at least. Yumiko was already at work, and her father was just getting ready to leave when she woke up.
— I'm off, then. See you later.
— Okay. Bye.
They exchanged brief goodbyes, and Miko headed to the kitchen to make herself breakfast. She put the kettle on and walked over to the window. The courtyard was quiet: a few scattered passersby, a cyclist, an elderly couple with a small dog. An ordinary morning.
But for some reason, her attention caught on a man sitting on a nearby bench. At first glance, he looked like any other passerby—ordinary clothes, a relaxed posture, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. And still, Miko lingered on him a little longer than she should have. Something about the scene struck her as strange, though she could not explain why. A moment later, she only shook her head.
— Just my imagination...- Miko murmured softly, then returned to her breakfast.
— I'm off, then. See you later.
— Okay. Bye.
They exchanged brief goodbyes, and Miko headed to the kitchen to make herself breakfast. She put the kettle on and walked over to the window. The courtyard was quiet: a few scattered passersby, a cyclist, an elderly couple with a small dog. An ordinary morning.
But for some reason, her attention caught on a man sitting on a nearby bench. At first glance, he looked like any other passerby—ordinary clothes, a relaxed posture, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. And still, Miko lingered on him a little longer than she should have. Something about the scene struck her as strange, though she could not explain why. A moment later, she only shook her head.
— Just my imagination...- Miko murmured softly, then returned to her breakfast.
She loved spending time with her parents. But they were often busy—sometimes too busy. Perhaps, somewhere deep down, she helped others because she saw her own reflection in them: someone who did not have enough attention. But those were only guesses. The real reason had always been her sincere kindness, compassion, and unconditional desire to help those who needed it. Most of all, Miko was drawn to animals. They seemed to her pure and selfless: "Dogs possessed beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without cruelty. All our virtues, yet none of our vices."
She loved people, too. But she understood that among them were those far harder to love. And she could not deny that, not while living beside someone who faced human wrongdoing every day and passed judgment on it. Every person had a story. Sometimes quiet. Sometimes heavy. And sometimes so painful it made you want to look away. And most often... there was nothing we could change anymore, Miko believed.
Sometimes desires overwhelmed her. Desires too strong for one heart to hold. To embrace someone who had been broken. To warm someone who had been left without warmth. To feed someone who was hungry. To reach out to someone who had lost their way. But at times, her thoughts went deeper. To become a mother to a child left alone. To become a daughter to those who had lost their own child. To become a doctor who saved the dying. To become a warrior who protected the weak. To become everything at once. To become the person someone needed.
To many, such thoughts would have seemed troubling. But Miko did not try to run from them. She accepted them, and the world as it was—with its pain, its injustice, and the impossibility of saving everyone. And still... she made herself a promise. Not to betray what she felt, not to turn away, not to grow indifferent, and to do everything within her power, even if her dreams could never fully come true. She would keep moving forward all the same.
She loved people, too. But she understood that among them were those far harder to love. And she could not deny that, not while living beside someone who faced human wrongdoing every day and passed judgment on it. Every person had a story. Sometimes quiet. Sometimes heavy. And sometimes so painful it made you want to look away. And most often... there was nothing we could change anymore, Miko believed.
Sometimes desires overwhelmed her. Desires too strong for one heart to hold. To embrace someone who had been broken. To warm someone who had been left without warmth. To feed someone who was hungry. To reach out to someone who had lost their way. But at times, her thoughts went deeper. To become a mother to a child left alone. To become a daughter to those who had lost their own child. To become a doctor who saved the dying. To become a warrior who protected the weak. To become everything at once. To become the person someone needed.
To many, such thoughts would have seemed troubling. But Miko did not try to run from them. She accepted them, and the world as it was—with its pain, its injustice, and the impossibility of saving everyone. And still... she made herself a promise. Not to betray what she felt, not to turn away, not to grow indifferent, and to do everything within her power, even if her dreams could never fully come true. She would keep moving forward all the same.
Was Miko a religious person? Someone who regularly visited a temple, who devoutly believed in the existence of God, heaven and hell, and that one day everyone would face their own judgment? Not really. She was something else. Someone who forgave sincerely, knew how to love, protected the weak, held no grudges, and tried to be honest—first and foremost with herself. Someone who knew that actions would speak louder than any words.
And yet... in a certain sense, she was more like a saint. And if heaven truly existed, she would have found herself there without anyone asking too many questions.
And yet... in a certain sense, she was more like a saint. And if heaven truly existed, she would have found herself there without anyone asking too many questions.
Meanwhile, at Madoko’s restaurant, life moved at its usual full, relentless pace. Orders, guests, deliveries, calculations, questions and answers—all of it wove together into a single current that did not stop for even a minute. He loved that rhythm. He loved his work, and he had always felt that he was exactly where he was meant to be.
Sometimes, with a gentle nostalgia, he remembered the days when Yumiko had worked with him. Back then, she had been his best chef... and his only one. Madoko remembered it as if it had happened yesterday: their first failures in the kitchen, the burned pancakes, the omelet that had turned out perfectly on the first try, and their conversations about the future.
Once, they had dreamed of making a large wedding cake together. And they had. The wedding had been modest—at the time, they had been too young to afford a lavish celebration. But there had been a cake. Big, delicious, and most importantly, made by the two of them together. Sometimes Madoko felt as though the happiest years of their lives had been those very years. When they had almost nothing. No status. No great wealth. No fear of losing it all. Only a small kitchen. And the feeling that an entire life still lay ahead.
— Madoko-san! - a waiter shouted as he burst into the office. —There’s trouble in the dining room!
And just like that, the chain of memories snapped.
Madoko understood at once, from the employee’s voice and the fear in his eyes, that this was not an ordinary complaint, but something more serious. He rose from his desk and headed quickly into the dining room.
The restaurant was in the very height of the lunch rush. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, laying golden stripes across the floor. Families, office workers, and several students sat at the tables. Usually, at this hour, the dining room was filled with calm conversation and the clink of dishes. Now, most of the guests were staring in one direction.
At the center of everyone’s attention stood a large man in an expensive jacket, carelessly unbuttoned, and in front of him stood Aya, a young waitress. The girl looked pale, and tears shone in her eyes.
— I told you not to walk away when I’m talking to you! - the man barked, sharply grabbing her by the wrist.
Aya jerked, trying to free herself.
— Please let go of me...
— Oh, come on. Why are you playing hard to get? - the man sneered, and without the slightest shame, slapped the waitress on the backside.
At the neighboring tables, guests had already begun exchanging nervous looks. Some pulled out their phones: some to record what was happening, others because they were already calling the police. A couple of men were already preparing to step in for Aya, but Madoko reached them first.
He calmly approached.
— What's happening here?
His voice was not loud, but the man turned immediately.
— And who the hell are you?
— The manager of the restaurant.
— Perfect. Then explain to your employee how she’s supposed to speak to customers.
Madoko shifted his gaze to the girl.
— Aya, are you all right?
She gave the faintest shake of her head. That was enough.
— Please let go of her hand.
The man smirked.
— And if I don’t?
— Then you’ll have to leave the restaurant.
— Seriously? - He released the girl, but only so he could shove her roughly in the shoulder.
Aya barely kept her balance, and the dining room grew even quieter.
— Listen to me carefully, - Madoko said calmly. — You’ve caused enough trouble already. You’re leaving the restaurant now, and that will be the end of it.
— And if I’m not going anywhere?
— Then the matter will be settled another way.
The man laughed. Loudly, unpleasantly, the way people laugh when they are certain no one would dare talk back to them. Then he swept his gaze around the room.
— And what are you going to do to me?
No one answered.
— Exactly.
He took a step to the side and shoved one of the guests. An elderly man nearly fell from his chair. Frightened cries rang out. A woman at the next table hurriedly covered her child with her body.
— Hey, why’d you all get so quiet? - he went on. -Scared?
The man, having completely lost all sense of restraint, slipped a hand under his jacket and pulled out a folding knife. A frightened murmur rolled through the dining room. Someone screamed and rushed toward the exit. The blade flashed in the sunlight.
— Well? - the man said with a grin. —Shall we talk now?
Madoko slowly took one step forward. His face remained completely calm.
— Put the knife down.
— Or what?
— This is your last warning.
— Don’t make me laugh.
The man began to raise his hand, and in that exact moment, Madoko moved. One swift step. A sharp blow to the jaw, dry and heavy. Not the kind exchanged in street fights. Not wide, not flashy, just perfectly precise. The man’s head snapped back, and his eyes flew open in surprise, as if right up until the last moment he had not believed anyone would actually dare stand against him. The knife flew from his hand and struck the floor with a metallic clang.
Madoko stepped forward before his opponent even began to fall, catching him by the wrist with one hand and by the shoulder with the other. A quick motion, a turn of the body, and the man lost his balance completely. A second later, his face nearly met the floor, while his arms were twisted behind his back so high that the slightest movement sent a fresh flare of pain through him.
— Ah! Let go, you son of a bitch! - the man cried out in pain.
Sometimes, with a gentle nostalgia, he remembered the days when Yumiko had worked with him. Back then, she had been his best chef... and his only one. Madoko remembered it as if it had happened yesterday: their first failures in the kitchen, the burned pancakes, the omelet that had turned out perfectly on the first try, and their conversations about the future.
Once, they had dreamed of making a large wedding cake together. And they had. The wedding had been modest—at the time, they had been too young to afford a lavish celebration. But there had been a cake. Big, delicious, and most importantly, made by the two of them together. Sometimes Madoko felt as though the happiest years of their lives had been those very years. When they had almost nothing. No status. No great wealth. No fear of losing it all. Only a small kitchen. And the feeling that an entire life still lay ahead.
— Madoko-san! - a waiter shouted as he burst into the office. —There’s trouble in the dining room!
And just like that, the chain of memories snapped.
Madoko understood at once, from the employee’s voice and the fear in his eyes, that this was not an ordinary complaint, but something more serious. He rose from his desk and headed quickly into the dining room.
The restaurant was in the very height of the lunch rush. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, laying golden stripes across the floor. Families, office workers, and several students sat at the tables. Usually, at this hour, the dining room was filled with calm conversation and the clink of dishes. Now, most of the guests were staring in one direction.
At the center of everyone’s attention stood a large man in an expensive jacket, carelessly unbuttoned, and in front of him stood Aya, a young waitress. The girl looked pale, and tears shone in her eyes.
— I told you not to walk away when I’m talking to you! - the man barked, sharply grabbing her by the wrist.
Aya jerked, trying to free herself.
— Please let go of me...
— Oh, come on. Why are you playing hard to get? - the man sneered, and without the slightest shame, slapped the waitress on the backside.
At the neighboring tables, guests had already begun exchanging nervous looks. Some pulled out their phones: some to record what was happening, others because they were already calling the police. A couple of men were already preparing to step in for Aya, but Madoko reached them first.
He calmly approached.
— What's happening here?
His voice was not loud, but the man turned immediately.
— And who the hell are you?
— The manager of the restaurant.
— Perfect. Then explain to your employee how she’s supposed to speak to customers.
Madoko shifted his gaze to the girl.
— Aya, are you all right?
She gave the faintest shake of her head. That was enough.
— Please let go of her hand.
The man smirked.
— And if I don’t?
— Then you’ll have to leave the restaurant.
— Seriously? - He released the girl, but only so he could shove her roughly in the shoulder.
Aya barely kept her balance, and the dining room grew even quieter.
— Listen to me carefully, - Madoko said calmly. — You’ve caused enough trouble already. You’re leaving the restaurant now, and that will be the end of it.
— And if I’m not going anywhere?
— Then the matter will be settled another way.
The man laughed. Loudly, unpleasantly, the way people laugh when they are certain no one would dare talk back to them. Then he swept his gaze around the room.
— And what are you going to do to me?
No one answered.
— Exactly.
He took a step to the side and shoved one of the guests. An elderly man nearly fell from his chair. Frightened cries rang out. A woman at the next table hurriedly covered her child with her body.
— Hey, why’d you all get so quiet? - he went on. -Scared?
The man, having completely lost all sense of restraint, slipped a hand under his jacket and pulled out a folding knife. A frightened murmur rolled through the dining room. Someone screamed and rushed toward the exit. The blade flashed in the sunlight.
— Well? - the man said with a grin. —Shall we talk now?
Madoko slowly took one step forward. His face remained completely calm.
— Put the knife down.
— Or what?
— This is your last warning.
— Don’t make me laugh.
The man began to raise his hand, and in that exact moment, Madoko moved. One swift step. A sharp blow to the jaw, dry and heavy. Not the kind exchanged in street fights. Not wide, not flashy, just perfectly precise. The man’s head snapped back, and his eyes flew open in surprise, as if right up until the last moment he had not believed anyone would actually dare stand against him. The knife flew from his hand and struck the floor with a metallic clang.
Madoko stepped forward before his opponent even began to fall, catching him by the wrist with one hand and by the shoulder with the other. A quick motion, a turn of the body, and the man lost his balance completely. A second later, his face nearly met the floor, while his arms were twisted behind his back so high that the slightest movement sent a fresh flare of pain through him.
— Ah! Let go, you son of a bitch! - the man cried out in pain.
Madoko only tightened the hold. His face remained utterly unbothered, as if he were not restraining an armed man in the middle of a restaurant full of guests, but checking another delivery report.
The man tried to break free, but it was useless. With every passing second, an unpleasant realization became clearer to him: he had lost. And so quickly that he had not even managed to do anything.
Madoko leaned slightly closer to him.
— When a man pulls a knife near children, the conversation is over.
His voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact, and that was exactly what made it unsettling. The dining room was so silent that the only thing anyone could hear was the attacker’s heavy breathing.
— I warned you, - Madoko said quietly.
At that moment, the police pulled up to the entrance. When the officers entered the dining room, Madoko was still holding the troublemaker down. One of the policemen looked at the man and said,
— This guy again...
— He threatened the guests with a knife, - Madoko explained briefly.
— Should’ve locked him up a long time ago, - one of the officers said grimly.
—But every time, he gets away with it. Supposedly not enough grounds.
— Well... - Madoko looked at the man in a way that made his opponent understand at once who was in charge here. — I wouldn’t advise you to keep acting like an animal.
— You listen here, I’ll—
— That’s enough! Move! - the officer cut him off, shoving him toward the exit.
—Who do you think you’re going to do anything to?
— This time we’ll make damn sure you’re put away for a long time,- his partner added.
They took the detainee away, and the restaurant finally began to return to its former calm, though a heavy silence still lingered. Even after the danger had passed, many of the guests still looked tense. Some quietly discussed what had happened with the people at their tables, while the woman who had covered her child during the conflict still had not let go of his hand. Aya stood near the host stand, trying to steady her breathing.
Madoko looked around the dining room.
— I apologize for what happened. You are no longer in any danger. Thank you all for your patience and composure.
Then he smiled faintly and added,
— And one more thing.
The guests looked at him again.
— Today, every table will receive dessert on the house.
After that, the guests visibly brightened.
— Consider it an apology for the spoiled lunch. Please enjoy your meal.
The guests began to applaud. They were grateful not only for the gift from the restaurant, but also for being saved, because no one wanted to even think about what that man might have done if Madoko had not taken control of the situation.
The tension gradually began to dissolve.
— Madoko-san... - one of the waiters said, bewildered.
— What?
— But this is going to cost us...
— We’ll survive.
He clapped the employee on the shoulder.
— Sometimes, the guests’ peace of mind is worth more than money.
Then he turned to the staff.
— All right, everyone back to your stations. Aya, please tell the pastry chef he’s about to have a lot of work.
Finally smiling, she headed to the kitchen. The restaurant filled once more with its usual hum of conversation and the aromas of fresh food.
Madoko was a composed man, the kind people could rely on, the kind they could trust with their lives. But even he had lately found himself growing tired more and more often—not physically, but morally. Too much anxiety had appeared in their home over the past few months, and it was not clear at all where it was coming from. Worst of all, he did not understand how to protect his family from whatever it was that seemed, little by little, to be drawing closer to them.
The man tried to break free, but it was useless. With every passing second, an unpleasant realization became clearer to him: he had lost. And so quickly that he had not even managed to do anything.
Madoko leaned slightly closer to him.
— When a man pulls a knife near children, the conversation is over.
His voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact, and that was exactly what made it unsettling. The dining room was so silent that the only thing anyone could hear was the attacker’s heavy breathing.
— I warned you, - Madoko said quietly.
At that moment, the police pulled up to the entrance. When the officers entered the dining room, Madoko was still holding the troublemaker down. One of the policemen looked at the man and said,
— This guy again...
— He threatened the guests with a knife, - Madoko explained briefly.
— Should’ve locked him up a long time ago, - one of the officers said grimly.
—But every time, he gets away with it. Supposedly not enough grounds.
— Well... - Madoko looked at the man in a way that made his opponent understand at once who was in charge here. — I wouldn’t advise you to keep acting like an animal.
— You listen here, I’ll—
— That’s enough! Move! - the officer cut him off, shoving him toward the exit.
—Who do you think you’re going to do anything to?
— This time we’ll make damn sure you’re put away for a long time,- his partner added.
They took the detainee away, and the restaurant finally began to return to its former calm, though a heavy silence still lingered. Even after the danger had passed, many of the guests still looked tense. Some quietly discussed what had happened with the people at their tables, while the woman who had covered her child during the conflict still had not let go of his hand. Aya stood near the host stand, trying to steady her breathing.
Madoko looked around the dining room.
— I apologize for what happened. You are no longer in any danger. Thank you all for your patience and composure.
Then he smiled faintly and added,
— And one more thing.
The guests looked at him again.
— Today, every table will receive dessert on the house.
After that, the guests visibly brightened.
— Consider it an apology for the spoiled lunch. Please enjoy your meal.
The guests began to applaud. They were grateful not only for the gift from the restaurant, but also for being saved, because no one wanted to even think about what that man might have done if Madoko had not taken control of the situation.
The tension gradually began to dissolve.
— Madoko-san... - one of the waiters said, bewildered.
— What?
— But this is going to cost us...
— We’ll survive.
He clapped the employee on the shoulder.
— Sometimes, the guests’ peace of mind is worth more than money.
Then he turned to the staff.
— All right, everyone back to your stations. Aya, please tell the pastry chef he’s about to have a lot of work.
Finally smiling, she headed to the kitchen. The restaurant filled once more with its usual hum of conversation and the aromas of fresh food.
Madoko was a composed man, the kind people could rely on, the kind they could trust with their lives. But even he had lately found himself growing tired more and more often—not physically, but morally. Too much anxiety had appeared in their home over the past few months, and it was not clear at all where it was coming from. Worst of all, he did not understand how to protect his family from whatever it was that seemed, little by little, to be drawing closer to them.
2
Meanwhile, within the walls of the Supreme Court, life also flowed like a roaring waterfall. But a quiet one, so quiet it created a strange dissonance: you saw calm, focused people doing their work with solemn precision... but you could not hear their thoughts, where a real hurricane was raging.
He killed her…
She was supposed to live…
Where am I supposed to look for him…
When will I see him again…
And dozens more, hundreds more thoughts, all settling like a heavy weight on the hearts of everyone who came to that place.
An office with a nameplate on the door: Yumiko Kayama.
Only a few minutes earlier, the woman who delivered justice had returned here. Today, a verdict had been handed down in a case that had dragged on for almost a year. A man who had used his power and the victim’s helplessness had violated a young woman, then spent a long time avoiding responsibility thanks to his connections and expensive lawyers. But this time, justice had prevailed after all. The court found him guilty. When the guards escorted the convicted man out of the courtroom, Yumiko felt neither joy nor satisfaction. Only exhaustion. It had taken too much strength to see this through to the end.
She was already preparing to leave the courtroom when an anxious woman’s voice called out to her.
— Mrs. Kayama!
Yumiko turned. A woman of about forty-five was hurrying toward her. They had seen each other many times over the course of the trial, and Yumiko recognized her at once—the mother of the injured girl. When she came closer, the woman stopped, trying to catch her breath, but tears were already shining in her eyes.
— I... I just wanted to thank you.
Yumiko lowered her gaze slightly.
— You have nothing to thank me for. I was only doing my job.
— No. — The woman shook her head. — Many people said the same thing. Investigators, officials, lawyers... But you were the only one who truly fought for us.
Her voice trembled.
— My daughter had almost stopped believing that the guilty man would be punished. To be honest... so had I.
For several seconds, silence hung between them.
— You gave her back her faith that justice exists, — the woman added quietly. — And you gave it back to me, too... Thank you for everything you’ve done for our family.
She bowed deeply. Yumiko felt something inside her tighten painfully.
He killed her…
She was supposed to live…
Where am I supposed to look for him…
When will I see him again…
And dozens more, hundreds more thoughts, all settling like a heavy weight on the hearts of everyone who came to that place.
An office with a nameplate on the door: Yumiko Kayama.
Only a few minutes earlier, the woman who delivered justice had returned here. Today, a verdict had been handed down in a case that had dragged on for almost a year. A man who had used his power and the victim’s helplessness had violated a young woman, then spent a long time avoiding responsibility thanks to his connections and expensive lawyers. But this time, justice had prevailed after all. The court found him guilty. When the guards escorted the convicted man out of the courtroom, Yumiko felt neither joy nor satisfaction. Only exhaustion. It had taken too much strength to see this through to the end.
She was already preparing to leave the courtroom when an anxious woman’s voice called out to her.
— Mrs. Kayama!
Yumiko turned. A woman of about forty-five was hurrying toward her. They had seen each other many times over the course of the trial, and Yumiko recognized her at once—the mother of the injured girl. When she came closer, the woman stopped, trying to catch her breath, but tears were already shining in her eyes.
— I... I just wanted to thank you.
Yumiko lowered her gaze slightly.
— You have nothing to thank me for. I was only doing my job.
— No. — The woman shook her head. — Many people said the same thing. Investigators, officials, lawyers... But you were the only one who truly fought for us.
Her voice trembled.
— My daughter had almost stopped believing that the guilty man would be punished. To be honest... so had I.
For several seconds, silence hung between them.
— You gave her back her faith that justice exists, — the woman added quietly. — And you gave it back to me, too... Thank you for everything you’ve done for our family.
She bowed deeply. Yumiko felt something inside her tighten painfully.
— Take care of your daughter, — was all she said. — Right now, that matters most.
The woman nodded, wiping away her tears.
— I will.
They went their separate ways, but those words of gratitude kept echoing in Yumiko’s head for a long time.
That was why, now, sitting in her office and looking at the stacks of documents, she felt her exhaustion with particular sharpness. Every person saved cost her a small piece of her own soul.
Yumiko had always immersed herself too deeply in the cases she handled. She did not know how to look at someone else’s grief as dry lines in a report or yet another number in the court registry. She lived through every story alongside the victims, letting their fear, pain, and despair pass through her.
The hardest cases for her were the ones in which the victims were young women or children who had barely begun to live. In moments like those, the same thought always rose in her mind:
What if it had been my Miko?..
And then the impartial judge, bound to follow the law, disappeared for one brief moment.
Only a mother remained. In her mind, Yumiko passed only one sentence on such criminals: the death penalty.
She loved Miko more than her own life. And she could not imagine any force capable of making her forgive someone who dared hurt her little girl.
More and more often, she found herself wondering how much longer this could go on.
The woman nodded, wiping away her tears.
— I will.
They went their separate ways, but those words of gratitude kept echoing in Yumiko’s head for a long time.
That was why, now, sitting in her office and looking at the stacks of documents, she felt her exhaustion with particular sharpness. Every person saved cost her a small piece of her own soul.
Yumiko had always immersed herself too deeply in the cases she handled. She did not know how to look at someone else’s grief as dry lines in a report or yet another number in the court registry. She lived through every story alongside the victims, letting their fear, pain, and despair pass through her.
The hardest cases for her were the ones in which the victims were young women or children who had barely begun to live. In moments like those, the same thought always rose in her mind:
What if it had been my Miko?..
And then the impartial judge, bound to follow the law, disappeared for one brief moment.
Only a mother remained. In her mind, Yumiko passed only one sentence on such criminals: the death penalty.
She loved Miko more than her own life. And she could not imagine any force capable of making her forgive someone who dared hurt her little girl.
More and more often, she found herself wondering how much longer this could go on.
Yumiko understood clearly not only her own importance, but also the immense responsibility she had once voluntarily taken upon herself. And more and more often, she caught herself thinking that she could no longer bear it. That she wanted to leave it all behind. That she simply wanted to be near her daughter, her husband...
...and Jun.
The sudden thought stopped the tears gathering in her eyes.
— Yes... Jun… — she said softly. — That will be nice.
No matter how unapproachable Yumiko seemed, she had always remained a gentle and vulnerable woman. It was just that, before, she had been able to switch that part of herself off at work without difficulty. Before. Now, doing that was becoming harder and harder. In the silence of her office, she continued arguing with herself aloud.
— It seems it’s time for me to retire... Maybe I should leave everything now?.. No, I can’t. They’re counting on me here...
She paused and ran her hand over the documents.
— Fine. Let this be my last case. Then I’ll leave. Yes... we’ll go on that hike, and I’ll finally clear my head…
She rose from the desk and picked up the case folder.
— Well, if that’s how it is, then it’s time to finish this.
The familiar firmness returned to her voice. Yumiko had been handling Kiken’s case for more than a month now. Too many people had tried too hard to bury it. But the stronger the resistance became—against justice and against her personally—the more persistent Yumiko became.
After that small but meaningful conversation with herself, she returned to her work and headed toward the investigator’s office. On the way, as she passed the glass wall of the corridor, she involuntarily slowed her steps. For a second, in the reflection, it seemed as though someone was walking behind her. Yumiko turned sharply. No one.Only the low voices of employees drifted from the offices. And still, the unpleasant feeling did not go away. She tightened her grip on the folder and kept walking.
...and Jun.
The sudden thought stopped the tears gathering in her eyes.
— Yes... Jun… — she said softly. — That will be nice.
No matter how unapproachable Yumiko seemed, she had always remained a gentle and vulnerable woman. It was just that, before, she had been able to switch that part of herself off at work without difficulty. Before. Now, doing that was becoming harder and harder. In the silence of her office, she continued arguing with herself aloud.
— It seems it’s time for me to retire... Maybe I should leave everything now?.. No, I can’t. They’re counting on me here...
She paused and ran her hand over the documents.
— Fine. Let this be my last case. Then I’ll leave. Yes... we’ll go on that hike, and I’ll finally clear my head…
She rose from the desk and picked up the case folder.
— Well, if that’s how it is, then it’s time to finish this.
The familiar firmness returned to her voice. Yumiko had been handling Kiken’s case for more than a month now. Too many people had tried too hard to bury it. But the stronger the resistance became—against justice and against her personally—the more persistent Yumiko became.
After that small but meaningful conversation with herself, she returned to her work and headed toward the investigator’s office. On the way, as she passed the glass wall of the corridor, she involuntarily slowed her steps. For a second, in the reflection, it seemed as though someone was walking behind her. Yumiko turned sharply. No one.Only the low voices of employees drifted from the offices. And still, the unpleasant feeling did not go away. She tightened her grip on the folder and kept walking.
Miko, meanwhile, was already hurrying to the shelter to see Jun, bringing along her indispensable and, more importantly, endlessly reliable assistant in the form of Akemi.
— I was hoping I’d have time to miss him, — Akemi said with a soft sigh.
— Lucky for you, that didn’t happen, — Miko replied calmly. — Yuto called today and said the new arrival has already been brought in. That’s why we’re in such a hurry.
— Let me ask my dad. He can give us a ride.
— Let’s do that. Any chance he won’t be able to refuse us... when it’s time to take us back?
— He’ll be able to refuse, — Akemi answered honestly. — That man dislikes animals even more than I do.
— Come on. You can’t dislike Jun after everything that happened between you two.
— Let’s just agree that your Jun is an abuser, — Akemi muttered, dialing the number.
— Hi, Dad! I’m at Miko’s... Could you give us a ride a couple of blocks?
— ...Uh-huh. Okay, we’ll wait for you.
— I was hoping I’d have time to miss him, — Akemi said with a soft sigh.
— Lucky for you, that didn’t happen, — Miko replied calmly. — Yuto called today and said the new arrival has already been brought in. That’s why we’re in such a hurry.
— Let me ask my dad. He can give us a ride.
— Let’s do that. Any chance he won’t be able to refuse us... when it’s time to take us back?
— He’ll be able to refuse, — Akemi answered honestly. — That man dislikes animals even more than I do.
— Come on. You can’t dislike Jun after everything that happened between you two.
— Let’s just agree that your Jun is an abuser, — Akemi muttered, dialing the number.
— Hi, Dad! I’m at Miko’s... Could you give us a ride a couple of blocks?
— ...Uh-huh. Okay, we’ll wait for you.
A few minutes later, they were already sitting in her father’s work car—a police cruiser.
— Dad, let’s turn on the lights, — Akemi suggested eagerly.
— Akemi.
He said only her name, but it was enough.
— Fiiine… — she drawled, slumping back against the seat in displeasure. — Don’t get the wrong idea. He’s pure gold. He just expresses it extremely sparingly.
— Dad, let’s turn on the lights, — Akemi suggested eagerly.
— Akemi.
He said only her name, but it was enough.
— Fiiine… — she drawled, slumping back against the seat in displeasure. — Don’t get the wrong idea. He’s pure gold. He just expresses it extremely sparingly.
Miko had seen Akemi’s father only a few times and had never really had much of a conversation with him. Their families were not close the way the families of best friends sometimes were, but she knew him well enough by reputation, so to speak.
After that, Akemi turned on some music, and they rode the rest of the way in silence, though at least to a lively beat.
After that, Akemi turned on some music, and they rode the rest of the way in silence, though at least to a lively beat.
When they arrived, Miko decided to try her luck after all.
— Fudo-san, would you be able to wait for us and take us back?
— Sure, no problem, — he answered at once.
— Oh, Dad... I don’t think you understood. We’ll be with a dog.
— A-a... with a dog… — he drawled, clearly hoping they meant something handbag-sized.
A pause.
— That’s fine. I’ll wait.
But there was noticeably less enthusiasm in his voice, and everyone understood that he was simply too embarrassed to refuse after having just agreed.
Akemi smiled with a sly look on her face, as if she knew exactly what her father was hoping for, but had decided to punish him a little for the lack of flashing lights and said nothing.
— Well then, Miko, let’s go get Jun. Quickly, before Dad changes his mind.
— Fudo-san, would you be able to wait for us and take us back?
— Sure, no problem, — he answered at once.
— Oh, Dad... I don’t think you understood. We’ll be with a dog.
— A-a... with a dog… — he drawled, clearly hoping they meant something handbag-sized.
A pause.
— That’s fine. I’ll wait.
But there was noticeably less enthusiasm in his voice, and everyone understood that he was simply too embarrassed to refuse after having just agreed.
Akemi smiled with a sly look on her face, as if she knew exactly what her father was hoping for, but had decided to punish him a little for the lack of flashing lights and said nothing.
— Well then, Miko, let’s go get Jun. Quickly, before Dad changes his mind.
Jun was already waiting in the shelter yard—on a leash, beside Yuto and a couple of other caretakers.
— Hi, Miko... and... Akemi, — he remembered.
— Yes, hi. We’re in a bit of a hurry, but I see you already have everything ready.
— Naturally, — Yuto said with a smirk. — It couldn’t be any other way. Take this boy and run.
Every time one of the dogs was taken away, the shelter filled with noise.
Barking. Howling. The scrape of claws against bars.
Some were seeing a friend off. Some were trying to break free and follow.
Each of them seemed to dream of ending up there—in a home where it was warm.
By a fireplace... or even in a modest little doghouse, as long as it belonged only to him. And most importantly, beside a person he could press close to when loneliness came.
Miko confidently took the leash and led Jun as if he were not a forty-kilogram bear, but a modest little Chihuahua.
Akemi walked beside her, already looking forward to her father’s reaction.
They came around the corner.
Fudo-san froze.
— Oh... how… — he said slowly. — Was there no one... smaller?
— We were looking for the biggest one, — Akemi replied, perfectly unbothered.
— I’m just his caretaker. I need to take him in for foster care, — Miko explained.
— Girls... people usually warn others about sizes like that, — he sighed. — He alone will take up more room than both of you. And there’s enough fur on him for a blanket... for all of us.
— Well, you didn’t ask, — Akemi said with a shrug, helping Miko shove Jun into the back seat. — How were we supposed to know you had such... complicated feelings about dogs?
Except Jun was in no hurry to get into the car. He stopped and stubbornly spread his paws, his whole body making it clear that he had no intention of climbing into that strange metal box.
— No... don’t tell me he’s decided to go on strike right now, — Akemi groaned.
Jun gave a heavy snort and turned his muzzle away.
— Jun, come on… — Miko gently stroked his neck. — It won’t be for long.
The dog looked at her with a long, suffering gaze, as if he had been betrayed, then finally moved forward with great reluctance.
Akemi’s father stood beside the car, frowning as he watched the whole scene. After Jun had been settled into the back seat, Akemi turned to her father.
— Oh, come on, don’t be mad, — she added. — It’s only a couple of blocks. And with the lights on, it’s basically one.
— Hi, Miko... and... Akemi, — he remembered.
— Yes, hi. We’re in a bit of a hurry, but I see you already have everything ready.
— Naturally, — Yuto said with a smirk. — It couldn’t be any other way. Take this boy and run.
Every time one of the dogs was taken away, the shelter filled with noise.
Barking. Howling. The scrape of claws against bars.
Some were seeing a friend off. Some were trying to break free and follow.
Each of them seemed to dream of ending up there—in a home where it was warm.
By a fireplace... or even in a modest little doghouse, as long as it belonged only to him. And most importantly, beside a person he could press close to when loneliness came.
Miko confidently took the leash and led Jun as if he were not a forty-kilogram bear, but a modest little Chihuahua.
Akemi walked beside her, already looking forward to her father’s reaction.
They came around the corner.
Fudo-san froze.
— Oh... how… — he said slowly. — Was there no one... smaller?
— We were looking for the biggest one, — Akemi replied, perfectly unbothered.
— I’m just his caretaker. I need to take him in for foster care, — Miko explained.
— Girls... people usually warn others about sizes like that, — he sighed. — He alone will take up more room than both of you. And there’s enough fur on him for a blanket... for all of us.
— Well, you didn’t ask, — Akemi said with a shrug, helping Miko shove Jun into the back seat. — How were we supposed to know you had such... complicated feelings about dogs?
Except Jun was in no hurry to get into the car. He stopped and stubbornly spread his paws, his whole body making it clear that he had no intention of climbing into that strange metal box.
— No... don’t tell me he’s decided to go on strike right now, — Akemi groaned.
Jun gave a heavy snort and turned his muzzle away.
— Jun, come on… — Miko gently stroked his neck. — It won’t be for long.
The dog looked at her with a long, suffering gaze, as if he had been betrayed, then finally moved forward with great reluctance.
Akemi’s father stood beside the car, frowning as he watched the whole scene. After Jun had been settled into the back seat, Akemi turned to her father.
— Oh, come on, don’t be mad, — she added. — It’s only a couple of blocks. And with the lights on, it’s basically one.
The hint was far too obvious. Fudo-san exhaled deeply. Got behind the wheel. Turned on the flashing lights.
— Thank you so much, Fudo-san... and I’m sorry we didn’t tell you right aw—... — Miko began.
— Miko, don’t, — he interrupted calmly. — It’s all right. Sometimes it’s even useful to spend time with animals.
— Definitely, — Akemi confirmed with a satisfied smile.
And in that moment, she looked as if she had just won a small but very important war.
While Akemi fussed with Jun’s leash, Fudo-san briefly held Miko’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
— Do you do this often? — he asked unexpectedly. — Work with shelters.
— Huh?.. Well... yes, — Miko said, slightly flustered. — Not for very long, but I like helping.
He gave a short nod, as if making a note of something to himself.
— Good work.
It sounded dry, almost businesslike, but for some reason, Miko was pleased.
— Thank you so much, Fudo-san... and I’m sorry we didn’t tell you right aw—... — Miko began.
— Miko, don’t, — he interrupted calmly. — It’s all right. Sometimes it’s even useful to spend time with animals.
— Definitely, — Akemi confirmed with a satisfied smile.
And in that moment, she looked as if she had just won a small but very important war.
While Akemi fussed with Jun’s leash, Fudo-san briefly held Miko’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
— Do you do this often? — he asked unexpectedly. — Work with shelters.
— Huh?.. Well... yes, — Miko said, slightly flustered. — Not for very long, but I like helping.
He gave a short nod, as if making a note of something to himself.
— Good work.
It sounded dry, almost businesslike, but for some reason, Miko was pleased.
After that, she began sorting through dog breeds in her head, trying to find one she could compare Akemi’s father to. She knew him only superficially, but he stubbornly reminded her of someone...
She remembered.
Doberman... she thought. Tall, dignified, speaks like every word is final.
She remembered.
Doberman... she thought. Tall, dignified, speaks like every word is final.
And immediately added to herself:
Akemi must take after her mother, then...
Miko knew Akemi’s mother only in passing, too. Sometimes she saw her seeing her daughter off before university, and they would greet each other, but they had never once managed to actually talk.
Miko sighed quietly.
— Miko, don’t be sad. We’re almost there, — Akemi encouraged her, deciding her friend was simply tired.
— Yes... I’m fine, — Miko answered softly, still unable to bring herself to explain the real reason for her pensiveness.
Akemi must take after her mother, then...
Miko knew Akemi’s mother only in passing, too. Sometimes she saw her seeing her daughter off before university, and they would greet each other, but they had never once managed to actually talk.
Miko sighed quietly.
— Miko, don’t be sad. We’re almost there, — Akemi encouraged her, deciding her friend was simply tired.
— Yes... I’m fine, — Miko answered softly, still unable to bring herself to explain the real reason for her pensiveness.
When they pulled up to Miko’s house, the girls got out of the car, and Akemi’s father drove off to take care of his own business.
— See you, Akemi. And Miko, good luck with this fine fellow, — he said with restraint.
— Thank you very much, Mr. Fudo, — she replied with a slight smile.
— Bye-bye, Dad.
— Akemi, do you want to come inside?
— I do, — she brightened, as if she had been waiting for that exact invitation. — But literally just for a couple of minutes. I need to tell you something very important.
Grabbing Miko by the hand, she dragged her forward, Jun included.
— Well, now you’ve got me intrigued, — Miko said with a smirk.
— See you, Akemi. And Miko, good luck with this fine fellow, — he said with restraint.
— Thank you very much, Mr. Fudo, — she replied with a slight smile.
— Bye-bye, Dad.
— Akemi, do you want to come inside?
— I do, — she brightened, as if she had been waiting for that exact invitation. — But literally just for a couple of minutes. I need to tell you something very important.
Grabbing Miko by the hand, she dragged her forward, Jun included.
— Well, now you’ve got me intrigued, — Miko said with a smirk.
Once inside the house, Miko busied herself with showing Jun his temporary "apartments," while Akemi, barely able to contain her emotions, began her story.
— So... remember how Ryu invited me to meet up...
— You’re already on a first-name basis? — Miko interrupted.
— Yes! We’ve been talking these past few days. I got his number from the advisor, by the way.
— Wow… — Miko replied calmly, still busy with what she was doing and not listening to Akemi all that closely.
Meanwhile, Jun was carefully inspecting the apartment. First, he noisily sniffed the corner of the entryway, then walked over to the sofa and, with a completely unbothered expression, tried to climb onto it.
— Hey, hey, no! — Miko protested at once. — It’s too soon for that. I need to wash you after being outside first.
Jun looked at her as if he had become deeply disappointed in humanity, then dropped heavily right in the middle of the room.
Akemi could not hold back and began laughing softly as she took out her phone.
— He looks exactly like my dad after seeing the total on a receipt.
— So... remember how Ryu invited me to meet up...
— You’re already on a first-name basis? — Miko interrupted.
— Yes! We’ve been talking these past few days. I got his number from the advisor, by the way.
— Wow… — Miko replied calmly, still busy with what she was doing and not listening to Akemi all that closely.
Meanwhile, Jun was carefully inspecting the apartment. First, he noisily sniffed the corner of the entryway, then walked over to the sofa and, with a completely unbothered expression, tried to climb onto it.
— Hey, hey, no! — Miko protested at once. — It’s too soon for that. I need to wash you after being outside first.
Jun looked at her as if he had become deeply disappointed in humanity, then dropped heavily right in the middle of the room.
Akemi could not hold back and began laughing softly as she took out her phone.
— He looks exactly like my dad after seeing the total on a receipt.
For the first time all day, Miko truly laughed.
— So anyway... he moved the meeting to tomorrow! — Akemi squealed happily and collapsed onto the sofa, already imagining their future date.
— Wait... but he still works at our university. What if someone sees you? It could reflect badly on him as a teacher, — Miko noted carefully, becoming more interested in Akemi’s story.
— We’re just going for a walk in the park, — Akemi waved it off. — That can hardly be considered harassment of a student.
— Of the student, no, — Miko said with a smirk. — But who ends up 'seducing' whom is still an open question.
— Oh, please, don’t… — Akemi brushed her off, then continued. — I’m already barely holding it together. The moment I look at his hands, my imagination starts living a life of its own.
— So anyway... he moved the meeting to tomorrow! — Akemi squealed happily and collapsed onto the sofa, already imagining their future date.
— Wait... but he still works at our university. What if someone sees you? It could reflect badly on him as a teacher, — Miko noted carefully, becoming more interested in Akemi’s story.
— We’re just going for a walk in the park, — Akemi waved it off. — That can hardly be considered harassment of a student.
— Of the student, no, — Miko said with a smirk. — But who ends up 'seducing' whom is still an open question.
— Oh, please, don’t… — Akemi brushed her off, then continued. — I’m already barely holding it together. The moment I look at his hands, my imagination starts living a life of its own.
— Okay, easy there, — Miko laughed. — Keep your thoughts within the bounds of decency.
Akemi suddenly fell silent and quickly opened their chat.
— Look... he wished me good night yesterday.
— Akemi... are you rereading that for the tenth time now?
— Maybe.
She pressed the phone to her chest and smiled dreamily.
— I’ll have you know, I spent fifteen minutes thinking about how long I should wait before answering so I wouldn’t look too interested.
— And how long did you wait?
— Two minutes.
— Hopeless case, — Miko snorted.
— And also, he isn’t very active on social media. I had already started thinking that we would communicate by letters or through random signs of fate. The age difference doesn’t seem that big, but he is clearly slightly… out of time.
— I think you actually like that, — Miko observed.
— Obviously! We’re so different... it’s perfect.
— Right. For example, you’re a student, and he’s your teacher.
— Oh, Miko, stop nagging and ruining my mood, — Akemi frowned.
— Fine, fine. So what are you going to wear?
— Ooh, I’ll show you!
One photo after another began appearing in front of Miko—striking evening dresses, the best ones Akemi owned, though clearly not the most modest.
— The dresses are gorgeous, obviously, — Miko began, — but you’re going to a park. How appropriate do you think that neckline will be among pigeons and families with children?
— Right… — Akemi froze. — I didn’t think about that at all. I just wanted to impress him.
— Oh, you’ll definitely impress him that way, — Miko said with a smirk. — But maybe something a little simpler? Like that skirt and the pink blouse. It’s all fairly decent... as long as you don’t decide to undo one button... then another.
— Perfect, Miko, you’re a genius, — Akemi said, delighted. — That’s it, I’m running!
She quickly jumped up, heading for the door, and called out on the move:
— By the way, I’m planning to invite him over after the date! Bye-bye!
As if afraid of hearing another lecture from her more sensible friend, she hurried out without waiting for Miko’s answer.
— Oh, Akemi, Akemi… — Miko shook her head with a smile and quietly closed the door.
Akemi suddenly fell silent and quickly opened their chat.
— Look... he wished me good night yesterday.
— Akemi... are you rereading that for the tenth time now?
— Maybe.
She pressed the phone to her chest and smiled dreamily.
— I’ll have you know, I spent fifteen minutes thinking about how long I should wait before answering so I wouldn’t look too interested.
— And how long did you wait?
— Two minutes.
— Hopeless case, — Miko snorted.
— And also, he isn’t very active on social media. I had already started thinking that we would communicate by letters or through random signs of fate. The age difference doesn’t seem that big, but he is clearly slightly… out of time.
— I think you actually like that, — Miko observed.
— Obviously! We’re so different... it’s perfect.
— Right. For example, you’re a student, and he’s your teacher.
— Oh, Miko, stop nagging and ruining my mood, — Akemi frowned.
— Fine, fine. So what are you going to wear?
— Ooh, I’ll show you!
One photo after another began appearing in front of Miko—striking evening dresses, the best ones Akemi owned, though clearly not the most modest.
— The dresses are gorgeous, obviously, — Miko began, — but you’re going to a park. How appropriate do you think that neckline will be among pigeons and families with children?
— Right… — Akemi froze. — I didn’t think about that at all. I just wanted to impress him.
— Oh, you’ll definitely impress him that way, — Miko said with a smirk. — But maybe something a little simpler? Like that skirt and the pink blouse. It’s all fairly decent... as long as you don’t decide to undo one button... then another.
— Perfect, Miko, you’re a genius, — Akemi said, delighted. — That’s it, I’m running!
She quickly jumped up, heading for the door, and called out on the move:
— By the way, I’m planning to invite him over after the date! Bye-bye!
As if afraid of hearing another lecture from her more sensible friend, she hurried out without waiting for Miko’s answer.
— Oh, Akemi, Akemi… — Miko shook her head with a smile and quietly closed the door.
The evening city was gradually sinking into darkness. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, and across the asphalt, still wet from the recent rain, strips of light from passing cars slowly stretched and slid.
Yumiko lingered by the window of her office. It felt to her as if something on that street had changed, though she could not understand what exactly. Perhaps something had simply changed in the way she looked at it. But her thoughts were interrupted by the secretary entering and informing her that the convicted man was insistently demanding a meeting, referring to an "extremely important conversation."
— Well... if the conversation truly is important, I’ll come to the meeting room, — Yumiko answered calmly.
— All right, — the secretary nodded, then left to give instructions for the room to be prepared and the prisoner brought in.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, Yumiko was already standing at the door. She took hold of the handle—and suddenly, goose bumps ran over her skin.
What does he want?..
The thought flashed through her, and with it, she opened the door.
— Good evening, Kiken. My workday is already over, so I hope you won’t keep me longer than five minutes, — she said evenly and confidently, as if setting a boundary in advance.
— I won’t keep you, Yumiko, — he replied calmly. — But sit down all the same.
Yumiko pulled the chair a little farther from the table and sat. No matter how composed she appeared, she was still an ordinary woman, and in front of her was an adult, physically strong man whose file clearly spoke of an unstable mind.
Kiken silently handed her several photographs.
Without saying a word, Yumiko took them and began looking through them.
— You know, — he began, rising from his chair, — I like you. As a person. I like your principles... your character, your manners—you have everything. If we’d met under different circumstances, I might have tried courting you...
He smirked.
— Although no, I forgot. You’re married... and I believe you have a daughter. Right?
The photographs showed her loved ones. In one, her husband was leaving work, tiredly adjusting the collar of his shirt. In another, her daughter was laughing beside Akemi near the shelter, not even suspecting that someone was watching her through a lens.
Yumiko understood at once: they had been watching them all this time. And all this time, when her intuition had been telling her that something was wrong, she had not been mistaken. Her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly, and the photographs crumpled in her hands a little more than they should have.
Kiken deliberately and slowly rose from his chair, then came closer and stopped behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder as he continued quietly:
— I wanted to settle everything peacefully. But you left me no choice.
Yumiko lingered by the window of her office. It felt to her as if something on that street had changed, though she could not understand what exactly. Perhaps something had simply changed in the way she looked at it. But her thoughts were interrupted by the secretary entering and informing her that the convicted man was insistently demanding a meeting, referring to an "extremely important conversation."
— Well... if the conversation truly is important, I’ll come to the meeting room, — Yumiko answered calmly.
— All right, — the secretary nodded, then left to give instructions for the room to be prepared and the prisoner brought in.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, Yumiko was already standing at the door. She took hold of the handle—and suddenly, goose bumps ran over her skin.
What does he want?..
The thought flashed through her, and with it, she opened the door.
— Good evening, Kiken. My workday is already over, so I hope you won’t keep me longer than five minutes, — she said evenly and confidently, as if setting a boundary in advance.
— I won’t keep you, Yumiko, — he replied calmly. — But sit down all the same.
Yumiko pulled the chair a little farther from the table and sat. No matter how composed she appeared, she was still an ordinary woman, and in front of her was an adult, physically strong man whose file clearly spoke of an unstable mind.
Kiken silently handed her several photographs.
Without saying a word, Yumiko took them and began looking through them.
— You know, — he began, rising from his chair, — I like you. As a person. I like your principles... your character, your manners—you have everything. If we’d met under different circumstances, I might have tried courting you...
He smirked.
— Although no, I forgot. You’re married... and I believe you have a daughter. Right?
The photographs showed her loved ones. In one, her husband was leaving work, tiredly adjusting the collar of his shirt. In another, her daughter was laughing beside Akemi near the shelter, not even suspecting that someone was watching her through a lens.
Yumiko understood at once: they had been watching them all this time. And all this time, when her intuition had been telling her that something was wrong, she had not been mistaken. Her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly, and the photographs crumpled in her hands a little more than they should have.
Kiken deliberately and slowly rose from his chair, then came closer and stopped behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder as he continued quietly:
— I wanted to settle everything peacefully. But you left me no choice.
He pressed the button to call security, making it clear that the conversation was over.
For several months now, Kiken had been trying to pull Yumiko over to his side. At first, it had been banal bribes through third parties so she would declare him innocent; then came personal meetings and larger sums, and by then he was merely suggesting that she recuse herself. But all of it had failed. Kiken’s hands had been badly tied. His connections to everyone he knew well had been cut off, and several people had been arrested for aiding a criminal. He had no chance... or so Yumiko had believed.
Security was already escorting Kiken down the corridor, while Yumiko remained sitting motionless, clutching the photographs.
She raised her gaze only when he had almost disappeared around the corner. And at that exact moment, Kiken looked straight at her, and the corners of his lips slowly twitched into a smile. No anger, no threat, as if he wanted to say, Now you’re afraid too. And that was precisely why the smile seemed more terrifying than anything else. Despair and anxiety seized Yumiko, leaving her unable to move.
Then an employee interrupted her.
— Yumiko-san, it’s time for you to go home, and I need to lock up. Come on, I’ll walk you out.
— No, — she answered, and hurriedly left the meeting room.
For several months now, Kiken had been trying to pull Yumiko over to his side. At first, it had been banal bribes through third parties so she would declare him innocent; then came personal meetings and larger sums, and by then he was merely suggesting that she recuse herself. But all of it had failed. Kiken’s hands had been badly tied. His connections to everyone he knew well had been cut off, and several people had been arrested for aiding a criminal. He had no chance... or so Yumiko had believed.
Security was already escorting Kiken down the corridor, while Yumiko remained sitting motionless, clutching the photographs.
She raised her gaze only when he had almost disappeared around the corner. And at that exact moment, Kiken looked straight at her, and the corners of his lips slowly twitched into a smile. No anger, no threat, as if he wanted to say, Now you’re afraid too. And that was precisely why the smile seemed more terrifying than anything else. Despair and anxiety seized Yumiko, leaving her unable to move.
Then an employee interrupted her.
— Yumiko-san, it’s time for you to go home, and I need to lock up. Come on, I’ll walk you out.
— No, — she answered, and hurriedly left the meeting room.
