Cow Thief: Chapter 3

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On the futons laid side by side, they spoke in hushed tones. Tokuma traced letters onto the tatami. When Ryoichiro asked why he didn’t use a pencil, Tokuma’s finger froze under the dim lamplight. Ryoichiro suddenly remembered—he had thrown it into the pond during his fit of anger. There should have been spares he’d bought Tokuma, but none of them had been brought along.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” Ryoichiro said. At that, Tokuma’s pale face softened into a slight smile.

As the night deepened, the guests from the funeral finally departed. Even as the house grew quiet, Ryoichiro couldn’t fall asleep and tossed and turned repeatedly. Propped up on one elbow, he gazed absently at Tokuma, who was gently fanning him under the moonlight.

“My father, my mother, and my brother—they’re all gone,” Ryoichiro murmured, almost to himself.

“Houses and people alike… they disappear far too easily.”

Tokuma continued fanning, silently listening.

“It seems like I’m destined to stay behind, watching everyone else leave,” Ryoichiro said, his eyes drifting to Tokuma.

“Among the mononoke you see, is there one that grants long life to those it possesses?”

The fan froze mid-motion.

“If such a mononoke exists, catch it and keep it. At least make sure you don’t go before me.”

Scooting closer, Ryoichiro rested his head against Tokuma’s knee. Fingers gently parted the sweat-soaked hair from Ryoichiro’s forehead.

“Don’t go before me,” he repeated, shutting his eyes.

Before long, his consciousness drifted into sleep.

When he woke, Ryoichiro found himself entangled with Tokuma, their bodies pressed close. Even lying down, Tokuma’s arms were cradling Ryoichiro’s head with care.

He was overcome with emotion, and tears welled in his eyes despite the early hour. In his heart, over and over, he repeated the words: How dear you are. How very, very dear.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The day after the seven-day mourning period for his parents and brother, Ryoichiro was summoned by his uncle for a serious discussion. After lunch, they sat across a low table in the living room. Earlier, the uncle’s seven-year-old second daughter, Ritsuko, had been playing with a ball in the garden, but the uncle handed Tokuma some money and instructed him, “Buy Ritsuko some candy,” effectively sending them outside.

“It’s been rough with the funeral and everything, but things have finally settled down,” the uncle murmured deeply, prompting Ryoichiro to bow his head low.

“I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for us, Uncle,” Ryoichiro said.

The uncle waved it off with a modest gesture, tugging at his triangular chin beard.

“By the way, how’s university going?”

“Same as always—staring at grass through a microscope,” Ryoichiro replied.

“Hmm, well, I suppose that’s the nature of academics,” the uncle muttered, almost to himself. He then changed the subject. “There’s something I want to consult you about—the Satake family’s finances.”

Ryoichiro had expected the conversation to eventually lead to this.

“The truth is, there’s not much left in terms of wealth. In fact, the debts outweigh what little we have. For the past few years, the sake business has been struggling, and just as your father was planning to start a general goods store to turn things around—borrowing money to build the shop—that fire happened.”

The revelation of the struggling business surprised Ryoichiro. He had always thought the family finances were stable. Though he received a salary from the university, it wasn’t much, given that he was an assistant. The expenses of renting a large house, paying the housekeeper, and covering Tokuma’s wages, as well as purchasing necessary books, often exceeded his income. Whenever he fell short, he had unhesitatingly requested help from home. His father had never objected, always providing whatever was needed.

“The storehouse survived, but rebuilding the Satake sake business is out of the question,” the uncle sighed heavily.

“Even if we close the business, the outstanding debts are considerable.”

Ryoichiro rested his hands on his knees and looked up.

“How much debt are we talking about, Uncle?”

When his uncle stated the amount, Ryoichiro turned pale.

“With that much, the interest alone would be overwhelming. Didn’t we have several mountains? We could sell those…”

The uncle shook his head and slumped his shoulders.

“The mountains were sold off years ago. All that remains is the land where the house stood and the surrounding area.”

“Then let’s sell that,” Ryoichiro suggested.

“Not now. After the fire, people will see it as unlucky and offer a pittance,” the uncle countered.

The two lapsed into silence. After a while, the uncle looked up at Ryoichiro with a measured gaze.

“Do you have a sweetheart in Tokyo?”

The question was so abrupt that Ryoichiro let out a dry laugh.

“No, I don’t,” he replied.

“My studies keep me busy.”

The uncle nodded deeply, as if unsurprised.

“Well then, do you know Adachi, the head of Maruya?”

“Adachi Tasukeroku?” Ryoichiro asked.

Adachi was a well-known businessman in a neighboring port town who ran a successful trading company, Maruya. He owned three ships and was rumored to be quite wealthy.

“It was either yesterday or the day before,” the uncle began, “Adachi came to see me. Now, I know it’s soon after the seven-day mourning period, and perhaps inappropriate to bring this up, but he proposed a match between his fourth daughter and you.”

“Huh,” Ryoichiro muttered, as though the matter didn’t concern him.

“He knows about our financial situation. He said that if you take his fourth daughter as your wife, he’ll cover our debts. Of course, his real aim is likely to acquire the land in exchange for settling the debt.”

The uncle rubbed his beard repeatedly.

“That land is valuable—worth far more than the debt. But because of the fire, it won’t fetch much now. Even if we sell it, the debt won’t be cleared. Waiting two or three years might be an option, but the accumulating interest would leave us in the same position. That’s why I think you should consider marrying Adachi’s fourth daughter.”

Ryoichiro fell silent.

“That way, the debts will be cleared, and you’ll be able to focus on your studies without worrying about money. I’ve seen Adachi’s daughter—she’s quite the beauty,” the uncle said, clearly enthusiastic about the arrangement.

But no matter how reasonable it sounded, Ryoichiro couldn’t bring himself to say yes.

“It’s a sudden proposal, and I understand you’re likely bewildered,” the uncle continued. “Take your time to think it over. Adachi said there’s no rush. After all, we’ve just had a family tragedy.”

The sound of Ritsuko’s voice echoed from the entrance. She had returned from buying candy. The uncle excused himself and left the room, and Ryoichiro, too, walked down the corridor, put on his shoes, and picked up his hat at the entrance.

“Tokuma,” Ryoichiro called as he stepped into the garden. Tokuma, who had been playing ball with Ritsuko, turned to look at him.

“We’re going out. Come with me.”

Tokuma handed the ball back to Ritsuko, patted her head, and quickly joined Ryoichiro.

The sun was scorching as they ventured outside. Though Ryoichiro had invited Tokuma for a walk, he had no particular destination in mind and wandered aimlessly along the riverside path. Tokuma followed half a step behind, his white kimono reflecting the intense sunlight, making him appear cool and serene despite the heat.

Overcome by the oppressive heat, Ryoichiro sat beneath the shade of a large willow tree. Tokuma sat beside him, wiping the sweat from his brow with his palm.

Ryoichiro’s mind was consumed with thoughts of the debts his uncle had just discussed. Selling the burned land wouldn’t yield much—it was true. The debts would remain. He had considered asking his uncle for another loan, but the man had already borne the cost of the funerals, including for Tokuma’s mother, without complaint. Burdening him further seemed impossible.

Two things mattered most to Ryoichiro: his studies and Tokuma. He could continue his academic pursuits, but repaying the remaining debt while supporting himself would leave him unable to afford Tokuma’s wages. The thought gnawed at him.

An idea struck him: perhaps the university could employ Tokuma. Though Tokuma lacked formal education, he could read English and Russian and had a solid understanding of plant taxonomy from working alongside Ryoichiro. He had also studied Western arithmetic and physics at the same private school as Ryoichiro. With these skills, he could easily handle clerical tasks or organizing research materials.

If Tokuma worked at the university and became financially independent, he could still live with Ryoichiro as before, even on a modest salary. The thought offered a glimmer of hope. When Ryoichiro turned to look, their eyes met.

“Sorry for dragging you out in this heat,” Ryoichiro said. Tokuma, his face faintly flushed from the heat, shook his head slowly. He reached into his kimono for a pencil, only to realize it wasn’t there, and smiled wryly.

“Not having a pencil is inconvenient, isn’t it?” Ryoichiro muttered, then extended his palm toward Tokuma.

“Write here. You look like you have something to say to me.”

Tokuma gently took Ryoichiro’s hand, steadying it with his left, and wrote:

“Walking alone is lonely, isn’t it?”

Tokuma’s expression was earnest.

“There’s nothing lonely about it,” Ryoichiro said brusquely. “I only invited you because you looked bored.”

He pulled his hand back quickly, turning away from Tokuma. He felt uncharacteristically self-conscious. Above them, the relentless chirping of cicadas buzzed in the heat.

“Aren’t you lonely?” Ryoichiro asked without looking back. Since their return to the countryside, he hadn’t seen Tokuma shed a single tear. Tokuma stepped in front of him, gently taking his hand to write again:

“I am lonely.”

Even as he wrote the words, Tokuma’s face betrayed no emotion. His fingers began to move again on Ryoichiro’s palm.

"Still, Ryoichiro-san must feel even lonelier than I do."

Tokuma wrote the words on his palm, his quiet empathy sparking an intense feeling of love in Ryoichiro’s chest. He wanted to hold Tokuma tightly, to kiss those delicate lips.

The loud clatter of a cart passing behind them startled Ryoichiro back to reality. Even in the shade, the thought of losing control in public filled him with embarrassment. He stood abruptly and began walking quickly. Without a word, he led the way, the faint zash, zash of Tokuma’s sandals trailing behind him.

Back at his uncle’s house, the interior was unusually quiet. The uncle, his wife, and Ritsuko were nowhere to be seen.

Returning to the six-mat room at the back, Ryoichiro found Tokuma standing by the window, slipping a hand into the fold of his kimono with a faint sigh. That slight gesture unraveled Ryoichiro’s remaining self-restraint. He grabbed Tokuma by the arm, pulled him into the corner of the room, and embraced him tightly. Tokuma’s slender body trembled, frozen in shock.

Gripping Tokuma’s hair, Ryoichiro pressed their lips together. Tokuma closed his eyes, remaining motionless as if surrendering to the moment. After a long while, Ryoichiro abruptly let go, pushing Tokuma away with the same suddenness. He stormed out of the room, down the corridor, and out of the house.

He jammed his feet into his shoes and fled outside, his thoughts chaotic, his mind boiling. He couldn’t stop wondering how to explain his uncontrollable impulse. Could he claim that kissing was merely a Western greeting, a gesture of friendship rather than a declaration of deep affection? Would Tokuma believe him?

Ryoichiro spent the entire afternoon wandering aimlessly through the neighborhood. By the time dusk fell, he resigned himself to returning home. Like a child apprehensive about being scolded, he entered the house with trepidation. Yet, even after returning, he couldn’t face going back to the room. Instead, he stayed in the sitting room, pretending to engage with Ritsuko’s doll play, all the while dreading the possibility of Tokuma passing through the corridor.

Eventually, it was time for dinner.

At the dining table, Tokuma behaved as though nothing had happened. He neither avoided Ryoichiro nor averted his gaze. In contrast, Ryoichiro was a bundle of nerves, fidgeting so much that he dropped his chopsticks twice.

After the meal, Ryoichiro went straight to the bath, then hurriedly retreated to bed. He lay down so early that his uncle, who came to invite him for a nightcap, remarked, "Are you feeling unwell?" before leaving, puzzled.

Shortly after his uncle departed, Tokuma entered the room and extinguished the lamp. It was clear that Tokuma was being considerate, not wanting to disturb Ryoichiro.

Even in the darkness, Ryoichiro couldn’t sleep. His mind was swarming with thoughts, each more intrusive than the last, like a bunch of mononoke running rampant in the room.

Was Tokuma angry? Or just resigned? Ryoichiro desperately wanted to ask but couldn’t bring himself to. If Tokuma was angry, he needed to apologize. But the memory of Tokuma’s soft, yielding lips only fanned the flames of his desire. He longed to crawl into Tokuma’s futon, but fear of rejection kept him frozen. A second impulsive kiss wasn’t the solution, especially when he hadn’t even managed to explain the first.

The night stretched on interminably, suffocatingly long. Ryoichiro spent it listening to the endless chirp-chirp of insects, and as dawn approached, he finally slipped into a fitful, shallow sleep.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Ryoichiro wrote a letter to the professor. He explained that he would need to remain in the countryside for a while to settle family matters and asked if Tokuma could be employed as university staff. The reply came quickly. The professor expressed his deep condolences for the tragedy that had befallen Ryoichiro and assured him that, with the university now on summer break, there was nothing to worry about.

However, the request to employ Tokuma as staff was declined. Having accompanied Ryoichiro on several plant-collecting expeditions, the professor knew of Tokuma. Despite this familiarity, the professor firmly stated that Tokuma’s inability to speak could cause issues in situations requiring communication, making it unsuitable to recommend him for a position.

Logically, the professor's reasoning was sound, but Ryoichiro couldn’t help feeling deeply disappointed, having held on to a faint hope. He now had to reconsider how to keep Tokuma close.

For two or three days after the kiss, Ryoichiro avoided Tokuma entirely. Yet Tokuma’s unchanged demeanor made him wonder if perhaps the man wasn’t troubled by it at all. If that were the case, then it seemed absurd for Ryoichiro to remain so preoccupied. Gradually, he resolved to act as if nothing had happened, treating Tokuma as he always had. Even so, their interactions felt awkward, as though something was fundamentally out of place.

Time passed uneasily, and August arrived.

In early August, Ryoichiro’s uncle brought up the subject of meeting Adachi’s daughter again. Ryoichiro insisted he had no intention of taking a wife, but the uncle countered, asking if he truly planned to sell the burnt land for a paltry sum just to pay off the debts. When Ryoichiro replied that he did, the uncle pressed further, saying it would be far less trouble to marry Adachi’s daughter.

“If you’re not in love with anyone, then, forgive me for being blunt, wouldn’t any good-natured woman suffice? It’s not as if marrying her means you have to stay here. You can return to Tokyo and continue your academic pursuits as before. Surely you don’t plan to remain a bachelor your entire life and let the Satake lineage die out.”

The uncle’s argument was entirely reasonable, yet the idea of marriage still felt oppressive to Ryoichiro. He responded vaguely, “No, I...,” leaving the matter unresolved. No matter how much he thought about it, the root issue was money, and he had no leads on securing it.

By mid-August, as the oppressive heat of summer reached its peak and began its slow decline, the rural town celebrated the Koji Festival, a traditional event praying for abundant harvests. In recent years, the festival had included the offering of a cow at the shrine, leading many to refer to it as the “Cow Festival.”

On the day of the festival, Ryoichiro, his uncle and aunt, Ritsuko, and Tokuma headed to the shrine together. After living together for about a month, Ritsuko had become quite attached to Tokuma. She held his left hand tightly in her small one, skipping along the lantern-lit path to the shrine. The colorful stalls selling goldfish, sugared beans, and flowered hats fascinated her, and each new discovery had her tugging Tokuma over to explore.

Before leaving for the festival, Ryoichiro noticed his uncle acting unusually restless. He thought it odd for someone of his uncle’s age to be so excited about a festival, but the reason became clear later.

After they finished praying at the shrine, the uncle pulled Ryoichiro aside and invited him to a teahouse at the edge of the path. “I have something I want to discuss with you,” he said, explaining it was a conversation best had between men. Ryoichiro didn’t suspect anything and followed him inside.

Even after sitting down on the bench inside the teahouse, the uncle kept glancing around nervously. Then, as a middle-aged man and a young woman entered the shop, the uncle stood and waved his hand dramatically, his booming voice drawing the attention of everyone present.

“Well, Adachi-san! It’s been too long!”

Ryoichiro met Adachi for the first time. Adachi, who gave off the impression of a genial old man, appeared to be in his sixties. Though affable in the manner of a seasoned merchant, his sharp eyes beneath the wrinkles betrayed his shrewdness. Standing beside him was a young woman with her hair styled in a traditional shimadamage. This was Adachi’s daughter, Yukiko. The scent of powder wafted from her heavily whitened neck was noticeable as Ryoichiro approached.

Ryoichiro’s uncle turned to him and said, “I have some matters to discuss with Adachi-san. Why don’t you take the young lady to walk around the festival stalls in the meantime?” Ryoichiro felt tricked but couldn’t refuse. He reluctantly took Adachi’s daughter through the bustling festival stalls.

Yukiko was a quiet woman. Despite walking side by side, she hardly spoke. Ryoichiro, too, made little effort to sustain any conversation, and they wandered in silence.

It was excruciatingly dull. He thought how being silent while walking was a common occurrence with Tokuma, yet with someone else, it felt entirely different. The powdered scent of Yukiko lingered unpleasantly in his nose.

“Ryoichiro!”

The call came from the crowd. Turning around, he found Ritsuko standing close by, with Tokuma just behind her. Ryoichiro cursed the unfortunate timing. Tokuma’s expression remained as composed as ever, and he gave a slight bow to Yukiko, who must have been a stranger to him. Ritsuko, clutching Tokuma’s hand, looked up at Yukiko.

“What a beautiful lady.”

Ritsuko’s innocent remark caused Yukiko to blush faintly and smile. Ryoichiro introduced Ritsuko as his uncle’s daughter and Tokuma as their family servant.

“Is the pretty lady Ryoichiro-nii-sama’s wife?”

The child’s guileless question silenced the three adults. Ryoichiro quickly said, “I’ll see you later,” and hurriedly led Yukiko away from the scene.

When they returned to the teahouse, Adachi and Ryoichiro’s uncle were waiting in front of the shop. After some brief conversation, they parted ways with Adachi and his daughter. As soon as they were out of sight, the uncle turned to Ryoichiro and asked, “What do you think of her?”

“That’s Adachi’s fourth daughter. Young and beautiful, isn’t she?” His uncle seemed quite pleased with himself.

“Adachi took quite a liking to you, too. He was impressed, saying you stood out as a learned man. He’s even willing to provide financial support for your scholarly pursuits if it’s for such noble work.”

While his uncle brimmed with enthusiasm, Ryoichiro felt utterly unmoved. He deflected the conversation noncommittally, but this only caused his uncle’s mood to sour. At last, the uncle snapped, shouting in the middle of the road.

“What’s wrong with that girl?”

“It’s not about what’s wrong with her,” Ryoichiro replied, “I just have no intention of taking a wife.”

“You’re already twenty-six. Most men your age are married.”

“I have my studies.”

“Do your studies cook meals? Bear children? There’s nothing inconvenient about having a wife. Leave household matters to her and focus on your studies as much as you like. Even if you’re not deeply in love now, living together will bring affection in time.”

His uncle’s persistence began to irritate Ryoichiro. “I’ve already told you, I won’t take a wife. I’ll sell the land to repay the debts, and whatever remains short, I’ll figure out myself.”

The two quarreled loudly, right in the midst of the busy festival crowds. After they had vented all they could, a heavy silence fell between them. It was the uncle who first looked away. His face darkened, and he suddenly sank to his knees. Placing his hands on the ground, he bowed his head low.

“You’re all I have left. Please… I’m begging you, take Adachi’s daughter.”

Ryoichiro was stunned. He couldn’t understand why his uncle, here in the middle of the street, would go so far as to bow before him. Bewildered, he took his uncle by the arm and guided him away, out of the prying eyes of curious onlookers.

His uncle, who just moments ago had been fuming with excitement and anger, now looked utterly drained of energy and spirit. Leaning against the earthen wall of a shop on a back street, the uncle covered his face with both hands.

"Why are you so insistent on me marrying Adachi’s daughter?"

"The debt… it isn’t just your problem," his uncle murmured.

"Was it last year, around the end of the year? A matchstick factory for imported goods and a cotton weaving factory, both of which my wholesale shop dealt with, went bankrupt in succession. The fallout left my shop saddled with debt. Your father stepped in and took on some of it, but it still wasn’t enough. On top of that, Satake’s sake brewery hasn’t been doing well for years, and then came the fire. The funerals and everything else drained even more money. I was bracing myself for the shop’s collapse when Adachi approached me, asking if I’d sell him the burnt-out land."

His uncle clung to Ryoichiro.

"If you sell that land to Adachi, everything will fall into place. It might look bad for him to buy the land at a discount after the fire, but if you marry his daughter and join the family, society will find it acceptable. Adachi plans to build a wholesale shop for imported raw cotton on that land. If the deal goes smoothly, he’ll let me manage the shop. I’m begging you—please marry Adachi’s daughter. I have a wife and child. I can’t afford for us to end up on the streets."

This time, Ryoichiro couldn’t bring himself to say a firm "no." His uncle had done so much for him, handling all the funeral arrangements and aftermath while Ryoichiro himself had been paralyzed by shock.

In the distance, a low booohhh sound echoed from a conch shell. His uncle lifted his head and muttered, "Ah." The Koji Festival was nearing its climax, and the ushioi (Cow Driving) ritual was about to begin.

"Let’s head back," Ryoichiro said, prompting his uncle to leave with him. They returned to the torii gate at the shrine, where his aunt, Ritsuko, and Tokuma were waiting.

His aunt noticed them approaching and said, "Honestly, where have you two been?" Her mildly irritated expression showed she had been annoyed at being left behind. Ryoichiro realized in that moment that she knew nothing of what had transpired.

Ritsuko, holding Ryoichiro’s hand tightly, beamed as she said, "The cow this year was black!"

When Ryoichiro was a child, there had been a string of years following the Koji Festival when the ceremonial cows mysteriously disappeared. The disappearances were so sudden and inexplicable that people began to believe the mountain gods were summoning the cows. Ever since, a single cow was offered to the shrine during the festival. Within seven days of the festival’s end, the cow would invariably vanish without a trace. The household whose cow was selected was believed to be promised a year of health and safety.

"This year, the cow is from Shirou-san’s household," his aunt said. "They’ve been overjoyed because his wife has been ill."

She exhaled lightly. The area around the shrine’s approach was bustling, but as they moved away, the crowds thinned. The adults fell silent, while Ritsuko continued to happily sway her newly purchased papier-mâché doll and sing a children’s song.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

For two nights, Ryoichiro thought. About the land, about his uncle, about Tokuma, and about his academic pursuits. …In the end, Ryoichiro couldn’t bring himself to abandon his uncle and his family.

When he told his uncle he would agree to marry Adachi’s daughter, the uncle suggested they solidify the arrangement. Together, they visited the Adachi household. The engagement was formalized with the wedding set for the following summer, after the first anniversary of Ryoichiro’s family’s passing.

By the time they returned from the Adachi home, evening had fallen. It seemed Ryoichiro’s aunt had heard about the engagement because that night’s dinner was more extravagant than usual.

"After so much misfortune, it seems good things can still happen," she remarked. His uncle, in high spirits, offered Ryoichiro some sake. Not wanting to dampen the mood, Ryoichiro took a small sip. His aunt also offered Tokuma a drink, but he took only one sip and left the rest untouched.

After returning to his room, Ryoichiro called Tokuma to sit beside him. Facing each other in a formal kneeling position, Ryoichiro decided to address the matter he had avoided until now. Tokuma must have learned about the engagement during dinner earlier.

"I’ve gotten engaged to Adachi’s daughter," Ryoichiro said.

Tokuma bowed deeply and traced the words "Congratulations on your engagement" on the tatami mat with his finger.

"The wedding will be next summer. I’ll marry her, but our daily lives won’t change. I’ll continue my academic work at the university, and you’ll continue working under me as you have."

Tokuma listened in silence.

Adachi had promised financial support, which removed the worry of keeping Tokuma employed. To Ryoichiro, this was the compromise he had settled upon. Marriage was inevitable; his obligations to his uncle couldn’t be ignored. But letting go of Tokuma was unthinkable.

"Ryoichiro-san, I have a request," Tokuma wrote on the tatami. A sense of foreboding crept over Ryoichiro.

"May I be allowed to take my leave?"

Tokuma raised his head after writing those words.

"Why are you saying this?" Ryoichiro demanded.

Previously, when Tokuma had asked to leave, it was to care for his mother. But now that his mother had passed, Tokuma had no remaining family. There was nowhere for him to go.

"I want to stay here and tend to my mother’s grave," Tokuma wrote.

Ryoichiro clenched his teeth.

"You intend to spend the rest of your life as a gravekeeper?"

Tokuma nodded.

"I can understand how you feel. But I need you. I have work that only you can assist with."

Tokuma lowered his gaze momentarily before lifting it again. He was smiling.

"You’ll be fine without me, Ryoichiro-san," he wrote.

"But—"

"It’s better for me not to stay."

"Even so—"

Ryoichiro was still searching for words to persuade him when Tokuma wrote something that struck him like a thunderclap:

"It’s time…"

The finger paused for a moment.

"It’s time to let me be free."

Seeing those words, Ryoichiro finally realized the depth of his own selfishness. Or rather, he was forced to realize it.

He had never thought of himself as someone keeping an older man captive. Tokuma’s presence had seemed a given, something natural. Because Tokuma couldn’t speak, because Ryoichiro paid his wages—he had let these justifications blind him.

Ryoichiro bit his lip. Tokuma, sitting before him, once again placed his hands on the tatami and bowed deeply.

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