But Kiryu Kazusuke pointed at the tool of the crime she was holding in her arms. “That 3,000 yen wasn’t for me. It was the money I spent helping you buy the bat.”
Saionji Mina opened her mouth.
Now that she thought about it, she really had been the one mostly using the bat tonight.
No wonder Kiryu-san had asked her for money in front of the general store. The logic came full circle.
“But I wanted to treat you to a meal to express my thanks…”
“No. You can’t cash it out.”
“And I’m not asking you to go out for some very expensive dinner.”
“I was thinking, if Kiryu-san doesn’t mind, I could buy some ingredients at the supermarket and cook at home…”
She stammered as she explained, her voice growing smaller and smaller toward the end.
It was the truth.
Although she still had some savings in her bankbook, about two or three hundred thousand yen, it was all money she had scraped together by pinching pennies.
In an era when she could be laid off at any time, that money was her last sense of security.
If she had to take out ten or twenty thousand yen to treat someone, the pain would genuinely keep her awake for several nights.
But cooking at home was different.
As long as she bought some discounted meat and vegetables at the supermarket, then added the cooking skills she considered fairly good, it would be both sincere and economical.
“Cook at home?”
“Y-yes. If I make it myself, I can keep the cost under two thousand yen, but still make a very generous meal…”
“You’re sure the things you make are edible?”
Kiryu Kazusuke looked at her embarrassed expression and asked in return.
Saionji Mina had clearly also thought of what had happened that morning.
She hurriedly trotted after him. “I can make curry! Curry is absolutely no problem!”
Kiryu Kazusuke slowed his pace and suddenly asked, “You work at city hall, right?”
He looked the woman beside him up and down again.
Although she was currently wearing a somewhat outdated tracksuit, the business suit she usually wore to work wasn’t expensive, but it was still proper enough.
Saionji Mina nodded.
Kiryu Kazusuke asked again, “Since you’re a public employee, your salary should be stable. Why do you sound so poor?”
Saionji Mina fell silent for a few seconds.
She had already lost count of how many people had asked her that question.
In everyone’s eyes, city hall employees were a privileged class who drank tea, read newspapers, drew high salaries, and waited to receive massive retirement payouts.
“Actually… I’m not a regular employee.”
“I’m… a temporary hire.”
Saionji Mina lowered her head and stared at the tips of her shoes.
Hearing that, Kiryu Kazusuke’s brows lifted slightly.
So that was it.
In 1994, Japan’s employment system was just beginning to undergo violent upheaval.
In order to cut costs, companies began drastically reducing the hiring of “regular employees,” turning instead to “dispatched employees” and “contract employees,” cheap labor with no benefits or guarantees, who could be dismissed at any time.
Only, he hadn’t expected that even city hall, the face of the government, had begun using this kind of cheap labor.
Regular employees were protected by lifetime employment, had generous summer and winter bonuses, complete insurance and pensions, and salaries that automatically rose with seniority.
As for dispatched employees?
Only meager hourly wages. No bonuses, no transportation allowance, contracts renewed year by year, and at any moment they could be told to pack up and leave.
They did the same work, sometimes even more exhausting work, yet the money they received was only a third of what regular employees made.
Saionji Mina raised her head and looked at Kiryu Kazusuke, a trace of apology in her eyes.
“My current hourly wage is 900 yen.”
“After deducting rent, utilities, and insurance, what’s left is barely enough to live on.”
“And…”
“I still have to send 50,000 yen back home every month.”
“My father’s back injury relapsed last year, so he can’t do heavy labor. My younger brother is still in high school.”
That was the entirety of her reason. There was no reckless spending, nor any bad habits. Simply staying alive had already taken everything she had.
Kiryu Kazusuke nodded.
He did not ask further, nor did he say any useless platitudes like “You have to do your best.”
Excessive concern, sometimes, was itself a burden.
“Got it.”
“No need to treat me to a meal. I’m not interested in going to your place either.”
“If the police come knocking about tonight’s business, I’ll push it all onto you.”
After saying that, he walked straight toward the apartment building.
…
They returned to the apartment building and climbed up to the third floor.
The light in the corridor was still dim, and the bulb with the bad connection let out a sizzling current-like sound.
Kiryu Kazusuke had just inserted his key into the lock when Saionji Mina behind him called out to him again.
“Kiryu-san…”
“Tonight…”
“I really had fun. Thank you.”
She said it very earnestly. Although she was still holding that extremely violent-looking bat in her hands, her face carried a relaxed smile she had not shown in a long time.
“Go to sleep early.”
But Kiryu Kazusuke only replied with those three words before pushing open the door, entering his room, and locking it behind him.
The corridor outside the door returned to silence.
Saionji Mina stood where she was, looking at the tightly shut door of Room 302. Only after several seconds did she turn and open her own door.
Click.
After entering her room.
She stood in the darkness, both hands gripping the aluminum alloy bat. Her waist twisted, and her arms exerted force.
Facing the air, she once again made that swinging motion.
“Bang.”
Saionji Mina softly spat out an explosive sound from her mouth, adding a sound effect to her own movement.
Then she lifted her foot and forcefully flung off the sneaker she was wearing.
Thud! Thud!
One shoe smashed into the shoe cabinet, while the other flew to the middle of the hallway and toppled onto the floor.
If her mother back in the countryside saw this crude, utterly ill-bred behavior, she would definitely scold her for two hours.
But right now, there was only her here.
“Hah…”
Saionji Mina let out a long breath of stale air. As if that still was not enough, she lifted her foot again and kicked the floor mat askew.
Fuck the rules.
Fuck etiquette.
Barefoot, she stepped on the cold floor. Without turning on the light, she hummed an off-key tune like a triumphant little demon and swaggered into the bathroom.
Hot water sprayed from the showerhead, washing over her body.
Washing over her body, and also washing over the mad memories of tonight.
She lowered her head and looked at her palm.
The web between her thumb and forefinger was a little red, still aching faintly—the mark left behind from swinging the bat too hard that night.
After showering and drying her hair.
Saionji Mina changed into clean pajamas and burrowed under the blanket.
In the past, she always had to toss and turn in bed for a long time, her mind filled with the grievances she had suffered during the day and anxiety about the future.
But tonight, she felt an exhaustion and peace she had never felt before.
After thinking for a moment, she reached out and pulled the aluminum alloy bat beside the bed into the blanket.
“Hiss—”
As soon as Saionji Mina’s cheek touched it, she shrank back from the cold.
An aluminum alloy bat in the winter months was about the same temperature as a block of ice. She had wanted to hug it to sleep, but now she could only regretfully give up on that idea.
However, she merely pushed the bat over beside her pillow.
As long as she reached out, she could touch it.
“Good night.”
She said softly to the bat, then closed her eyes. In less than a minute, her breathing had become even and steady.