The Footsteps Of A Friend

[BlackDuke]

To all those who have entered here, seeking entertainment, know this...

The wonderful story and characters of Katawa Shoujo are not mine to own and I'm not one of those extraordinary people responsible for their creation – just like the main character in this story, I am walking in the steps of people with far greater skill and dedication than myself here. I was merely inspired by a great work of art, hoping to add a small piece to it and to entertain other KS fans yearning like me for the saga to continue.
I have not read any KS fan fiction apart from the great “Summer's Clover” yet (I borrowed the idea about Miki's rural background there), so if somebody you know or even you yourself have written something similar to what I concocted, please accept my sincere apologies and have a good laugh at my expense if you did a better job than me.

A friendly word of caution to those who read visual novels for the H-scenes: there are none in this story. I pondered including a sex scene between my protagonist and his co-worker, but in the end I decided against it because it simply did not seem fitting. Also, while the story takes place twenty years after the events of the visual novel (which – in this universe at least - happened in 2012), this is not a science-fiction story – at least the thread is not dependent on a bunch of futuristic gadgets.
Apart from my protagonist and some side characters, I used the characters from the magnificent game, which are now in their late 30's; they have undergone some changes in their personalities, but I hope you will find them still recognizable. The events of Hisao's final school year were altered slightly to fit my narrative, but you will probably recognize most of the things mentioned by my characters.

I did succumb to temptation and demonized one particular character because I needed an obstacle the protagonist had to cope with. For all those out there who love the little guy: I'm sorry, but I don't share that feeling, and I do believe that the character (as he is presented in the game) could very well end up as he does here. Anyway, this is my story and... see above.
I am not familiar with the more intricate details of Japanese society and customs, so I did not use honorifics like “chan”, “san”, “sensei” etc. Should the characters in this story behave in any way that goes totally against Japanese cultural legacy and traditions, please accept (see above).
I am also not a native English speaker, so despite many years of practice and the safeguards of modern computer programs, there are bound to be errors in this story. Should you find them, give them a good home and – well, you know the rest...

EDIT (February 20th, 2017): Due to several complaints and suggestions about my 'walls of text', I changed the layout of all the chapters. Now, every time another person starts talking, there's a new line beginning to indicate the change of the speaker. Since this made individual posts grow longer, I divided several of them into two posts. While the new layout makes the text look more ragged than before, I hope it increases its readability - and that's the only important thing. After all, I'm a writer, not a graphic designer...

[BlackDuke]

October 22nd, 2032, Tokyo Suburbs, about 4:00 a.m. (19:00 C.E.T.)
„...who's there?“
„Good morning, sir. Do I have the pleasure to be speaking to Professor Nakai?“
„Mmph... yes, this is him speaking. What is it?“
„This is Stockholm, Professor Nakai. My name is Gustaf Qvist...”
“Well, Mr. Qvist, I hope you're aware of the time difference between our countries. In fact, it's very early morning in Tokyo, so please state your business so I can go back to sleep.”
“I apologize for the early call, Professor Nakai, but I'm afraid you'll get no more sleep this night. Like I said, my name is Professor Gustaf Qvist, and I am the chairman of the Nobel Assembly at the Karolinska Medical Institute, on whose behalf I am now calling.”
“Excuse me?”
“Professor Nakai, I am extremely honored to inform you that earlier today, the Nobel Assembly has voted to bestow upon you this year's Nobel Prize in Physiology and Medicine for your accomplishments in researching congenital disability factors and introducing possible future cures. Please let me be the first person to congratulate you, Professor.”
“Ehm... thank you, Mr. Qvist... I mean Professor Qvist. Actually I wasn't aware I was even a candidate for the Nobel. Maybe twenty years from now, but...”
“Well, it's refreshing to hear that there are still renowned scientists around who're not sitting around cradling their phones tonight. They'll all be very surprised to see the papers in a few hours and read your name on the first page.”
“Yes, they will... wait a minute, so the media already knows?”
“Of course not, Professor. The laureate is always informed first to prevent anyone else anticipating our proclamation. However, we will give the information to the media directly after this. I'm afraid you will be swamped by all kinds of interested people before noon – as well as by hundreds of journalists.”
“Yes, I think so too. However, it's a small price to pay for the supreme scientific honor of the planet. Please convey my sincere gratitude to all members of your Assembly, Professor Qvist. And tell them I'm very much looking forward to meeting them in Stockholm at the official ceremonies.”
“I will certainly do that, Professor Nakai. Congratulations once again and good luck with the press. Please call us if you have any further questions.”
“Thank you, Professor Qvist. Goodbye.”

In Stockholm, Gustaf Qvist laid down the receiver of the old-fashioned telephone which had transmitted dozens of similar life-changing messages over the years and smiled at several other members of the Assembly standing or sitting around him, who started talking with each other. As the chatter in the room subsided, Qvist picked up another, more modern telephone and dialed a shorter number, which connected him to the Nobel Foundation's waiting head of public relations.
“Yes, this is Qvist at the Karolinska. The Assembly has elected Professor Hisao Nakai from Tokyo, Japan, to receive this year's Physiology Prize. Yes, Nakai. N-A-K-A-I. First name Hisao, H-I-S-A-O. A detailed summary of Nakai's career and scientific accomplishments will follow shortly. Please give this news to the press waiting outside and transmit it to all the agencies around the world. Thank you.”
As he terminated the call, he leaned back in his chair and took a small glass offered to him by the assembly member next to him. “Well, here's to Hisao Nakai. To the beginning of his new life as a demigod of science...”, the Assembly members chuckled as Qvist continued “...and to the end of his previous life.”

Nine time-zones away, the man of the hour still sat on his bed next to the telephone, trying desperately to harness his thoughts and control his heartbeat.
The Nobel Prize – and at the age of 39, which meant that, unlike many past laureates who had gotten their prize decades after their greatest feat and had received the legendary golden medal sitting in a wheelchair or leaning on a cane, he could enjoy the immense prestige of it – and the prize money - for decades.
And his wife would be so proud once she returned from her trip to Osaka – which would be probably cut short by the news of his award, which would reach the local media in a few minutes.
If only his heartbeat would get back to what it should be at 4 am...
…and stop giving him elephant kicks to the ribs all the time...
...where were those pills he usually kept on top of the desk...
...or the nitrogen spray the cardiologist had given him for emergencies...
...not now, please not now...
AAAAAAAHHHHH...

Nippon News, to all subscribers, Priority very high.
October 23rd, 4:30 am
Re: Nobel Prize Decision
Japanese scientist to receive Nobel Prize for Medicine – Karolinska Institute votes for Hisao Nakai (39), Professor of Genetic Science at Kanto University – Nakai gets prize for research on congenital disability factors – Press Conference expected later in the morning – Further information on Nakai, his career and research fields following...

Nippon News, to all subscribers, Priority high
October 23rd, 7:00 am
Re: Nobel Prize for Nakai
First press agents and friends gather in front of laureate's house – Kanto University dean: Prize for faculty member high honor for entire university – Wife of laureate on her way back from Osaka – Nakai himself not seen yet today...

Nippon News, to all subscribers, Priority high
October 23rd, 9:00 am
Re: Nobel Prize for Nakai
Family, friends and world press still waiting for Nakai's reactions – Prime Minister is pleased about Nobel recognition of Japanese scientist – International researchers see Nakai's work as key to future disability cures – Students of laureate assembling at University to prepare rousing celebrations for popular professor...

Nippon News, to all subscribers, Priority very high
October 23rd, 10:30 pm
Re: Nobel Prize for Nakai
Laureate still not appearing – Press anxious for news – Mrs. Nakai currently landing at Tokyo Airport, will be escorted to home by police cars – Nobel Assembly chairman: spoke with Nakai this morning, reaction surprised but no sign of health problems...

Nippon News, to all subscribers, Priority FLASH
October 23rd, 11:02 am
Re: Nobel Prize for Nakai
NOBEL LAUREATE NAKAI FOUND DEAD AT HOME BY WIFE –
further information forthcoming

Nippon News, to all subscribers, Priority very high
October 23rd, 13:30 pm
Re: Nobel Prize laureate found dead
The following statement has been released by the wife of Professor Hisao Nakai:
“It is with the greatest sadness and grief that I have to inform the world that my husband Hisao Nakai, Professor of Genetic Science at Kanto University and newly-announced winner of this year's Nobel Prize for Physiology and Medicine, was found dead today at 11:00 am in his bedroom. After a preliminary examination, we believe that he died of a severe heart attack shortly after receiving the great news from Stockholm. I will release more information about his death as soon as we have the results of his autopsy.
I also wish to thank all of Hisao's friends, his colleagues and other well-wishers who came today to share in his success and are now mourning his sudden passing. The Nobel Foundation has assured me that, since my husband was alive when their committee reached its decision, their judgment still stands and they have invited me to Stockholm in December to receive the prize in his stead. Please accept that I will not issue any further statements at this moment.”

[BlackDuke]

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kazuo Inari, I'm 34, single and working as a freelance journalist.
Over the years, the Japanese media sector has become tougher than ever, with many newspapers reducing their permanent staff in a desperate attempt to keep up with the web and all the half-wits out there supplying information free of charge and faster than any professional ever could.
Hiring a freelancer has become something almost obscene for many editors – after all, there are always in-house hacks needing to earn their wages. So why don't I quit this rat race for a decent job in advertising or teaching, just like my parents keep urging me to? To put it simple: I love writing, and I'm good at it.

Unfortunately I'm not one of those guys you call to churn out 50 lines about the latest bathhouse fire in Yokohama or 80 lines about the City Council's inability to reach a decision about parking problems or the decay of the local schools.
I'm also not the man you should send to a boring soiree of the local Arts Club when the usual guy can't stand the bubbly and wants to avoid his ex-mistress whom he once picked up there. Believe me, I did such jobs in the past and the results weren't appreciated by me or by those who hired me.
The reasons that make me a desired freelancer with a decent yearly income might be summed up in two words: tenaciousness and ingenuity. As one of my friends once told me, I can find a story where nobody else would, and I stick to it until I have the full picture.
In today's society, that's a rare currency – which by the way is a rather sad comment about today's society, I believe. Anyway, over the years I acquired a small but loyal circle of friends who'll help me and vouch for my character if I ask them to.

But you wanted to hear my story. Well, it all started with the news about the death of Hisao Nakai, the Nobel laureate who died from a heart attack on getting the big news.
As soon as I heard about it, I remembered that I'd come across his name three years ago when I did an article about the trial of some misguided animal activist who'd been caught trying to break into Kanto University's labs. Nakai had been a witness for the prosecution, describing his field of research and the damage the activist had done; back then, he'd struck me as a self-confident smart man with the rare talent of explaining complicated scientific matters in clear words.
Later, I'd told a journalist friend of mine about Nakai, only to discover she'd actually been at school with him. I hadn't thought about it much back then, but it had stuck in my mind – especially since I knew that the school my friend had attended was something special...

After looking into Nakai's official biography, I invited my friend for lunch, hoping to get more information from her. She was a little surprised by my offer, but accepted immediately when I suggested a new pseudo-Australian diner in Shinjuku; I'd heard she had a weakness for steaks and fries. As soon as the waitress had left our booth, my friend took a sip from her beer and fixed me in her gaze.
“So to what do I owe the pleasure of a free Aussie Meal, Kaz? Please don't tell me that, after knowing me for seven years, you've finally found the guts to confess your undying love to me.”
I chuckled. “If I did, I would've probably chosen a more romantic place which doesn't look like a kangaroo might come hopping in at any moment to look for his loved ones. Besides, I know you're not on the lookout right now, are you?”
She smiled. “Good point. So why am I here, eating up your hard-earned money?”

I leaned back in my bench. “You once told me you went to school with Hisao Nakai. You know, the Nobel price guy?”
“Yeah, sure. He came in during the last year of school and had a hard time adjusting himself. Why do you ask?”
“So we're talking about Yamaku Academy, right?”
“Oh yeah. Good old Yamaku...” She gazed wistfully at her right hand lying on the table before she looked at me again. “Why do you want to know?”
I grinned at her. “Hisao Nakai came to Yamaku because of a heart problem, didn't he?”

Pulling out my CommPhone, I called up a resume I'd collected from several sources, only some of them publicly available.
“Take a look at this. This is Nakai's CV, according to his wife, his employer and everybody else who's been giving out information about him after the Nobel decision got public. There's not one single comment about him having been at Yamaku!”
She took the gadget and read for a minute with growing interest on her face while I drank some coke from my still-full glass, watching her expression intently.

Finally, she looked up again. “So they forgot to mention it. What's so sinister about it, Kaz?”
I smiled again. “This guy got the Nobel for finding a cure for genetic disabilities. Something which could change the lives of millions of people who got a shitty start in life just because their internal chemistry got derailed somewhere between conception and birth.”
I looked at my friend's other hand hidden below the table. “Not to mention all those whose bodies were mauled or damaged by some stupid accident. And nobody made it public Nakai himself attended a school for disabled students? Because of a genetic defect which ultimately killed him? Come on, Miki!”

Miki Miura drew up her other arm and regarded her left hand, which was – as I knew since the day she'd put it into hot coffee in my presence without flinching to shock another colleague – a stiff plastic prosthetic fixed to the stump of her lower left arm. “So you think you might have a big scoop on your hands?”
I nodded. “You know you probably can't just ask his widow or Kanto University, right? If they told the world otherwise, they'll be rather reticent to let you quote them differently.”
“Exactly. That's why I need you.”

A short silence followed as I took another sip of my coke, gauging Miki's expression which went from slight amusement to conflict and then, just as I considered saying something to break the deadlock, she finally spoke. “Listen, Kaz... first of all, Hisao was at Yamaku for less than a year and although he was in my class, we seldom had any contact beyond that. Now if I were to tell you everything about him I remember right now, your article would probably only be five sentences long. But there is a chance...”

She bent down towards her purse and considered her own CommPhone, looking back at me after about thirty seconds. “Are you free tomorrow evening?”
“Well, I am, but...”
She waved off my weak protest. “I have to look into some stuff I keep in storage, which might help you much more than my sketchy recollections. However, I can't do so today.”
I smiled at her. “In that case, we should enjoy our meal and I'm eager to see what you might have for me tomorrow.”
Miki raised her glass. “It's a deal.”

[BlackDuke]

One day later, I met Miki again in the lounge of a suburban mall which harbored a good jazz bar with decent prices. While I had gladly paid yesterday's lunch out of my own pocket, my freelancer status made me wary to treat her to a full dinner again before I knew whether it might be worth it. After all, two decades had passed since she and Hisao Nakai had been at Yamaku Academy together for less than a year – and yesterday, she'd admitted that they hadn't been even very close back then.

My daydreaming was rudely interrupted by Miki coming up behind me and slapping her artificial hand on my shoulder. I reflexively cringed to absorb the blow, which made her laugh out loudly, making several passers-by look in our direction.
Miki grinned at me ruefully as I straightened again and gave her an annoyed look. “Oh sorry, Kaz. Sometimes I'm not aware of my own strength. But I've good news for you!”
My spirits were lifted immediately. “In that case, let's go have a drink somewhere!”

As we sat down at a table in the jazz bar, Miki pulled out a thick leather-bound item from her bag and laid it face-down on the table before I managed to get a closer look.
She noticed my curiosity and smiled again. “No peeking!”
I held up my hands. “And here I thought you brought me a present.”
“It's not actually a present, but it's something you'd love to see - if you agree to my terms, Kazuo.” Seeing my clueless expression, she flipped the item around so I could read the inscription “DIARY” on the front cover.

“Like I told you yesterday, I wasn't close to Hisao Nakai during our last school year, although I do remember more of him than of some of the guys in my class who attended Yamaku with me longer than he did. However, I was an avid diary writer during the years at Yamaku – and I especially loved noting down the little things which happened between the other students I knew and observed. I looked up some things before I came here, and from what I did read there, you'll get a general idea how Hisao Nakai did during his time at Yamaku – and you'll also get the names of some people who spent more time with him there than I did. They can probably tell you more about him.”

As I beamed at her in anticipation, her face became stern. “Before you put on the party hat, there are several terms.”
“I'm all ears, Miki.”
“Fine. First: I'll sift through my diaries alone – this is just one of several I filled during my senior year – and copy down for you everything in it related to Nakai and what I wrote about his exploits at Yamaku. Everything else in it is probably irrelevant for you and your story... and also potentially awkward for me. Either way, it's none of your business. Okay?”
I smiled at the thought what the adolescent Miki Miura might have confided to her diaries. “It's okay with me. What else?”
“The second condition is that I'll be your partner on this: I'll accompany you to all interviews and I'll get collaborator's credit.”

She held up her hand to forestall my upcoming protest. “I'm not simply interested in getting half of your fees, Kaz. I know you'll try to sell this thing to old Okayama first, and he knows me. I'd love to prove to him that my skills reach beyond filling his sports page with drivel. Also, some of the people who might give you more information about Hisao might not talk to an outsider about that year. That's not a condition, but a friendly warning, by the way.”
I was still pondering the idea of sharing my idea with her, but then I noticed that her expression had changed at the last sentence. “Okay, I'll handle the collaboration idea. But what's so special about that year that people might not want to talk about it – apart from Yamaku's obvious peculiarities?”
Miki looked at me dismayed. “You really don't know?” I shook my head, feeling a bit alarmed. “Unfortunately Kenji Setou was in our year too – and although he wasn't in our class, he was actually Hisao's dorm neighbor during his time there.”

For a moment, I was flustered – but then my professional memory kicked in: eighteen years ago, the whole country had been shaken for weeks by a young man who'd slaughtered several women with a katana in a Fukuoka mall. After he had finally been taken out by a police sniper, investigators had raided his parents' house and found a long, hate-filled pamphlet by Setou – dubbed “Kid Satan” by the media – about what his aberrant mind had perceived as the imminent takeover of the country by 'radical feminists'.

Miki looked at me as I made the obvious mental connections. “So you'll understand if you cold-call anyone from my former class saying you're inquiring about the time at Yamaku, they'll automatically believe you're only trying to drag the “Kid Satan”-story up again.”
I nodded as she continued. “I would probably think so myself if I were in their shoes.”
“Exactly. So I'll go with you and introduce you to the people Hisao ran with mostly. From what I looked up in my diaries this morning, we're talking about six girls who were also seniors then. They should all remember me from back then and hopefully trust you too – although I can't vouch for that.”
“Thanks Miki. I couldn't ask for more.”

Our conversation was interrupted by a waitress bringing two beers and a big plate with appetizers. We started eating, but I soon laid down my fork as I remembered the last thing Miki had just told me. “You said Nakai mostly spent his time there with six girls... didn't he make any male friends there?”
Miki shook her head. “Funny the guy had such a following – after all he must have been a geek already if he went on to be a professional scientist, right? Or was he that irresistible to the Yamaku girls?”

Instead of a verbal answer, Miki started laughing and almost hiccuped the pepperoni she had just swallowed, which forced her to clear her throat audibly.
“From what I remember, Hisao was a nice-looking guy who'd been doing sports regularly and still had all his limbs. You've got to remember the school was full of amputees and frail kids, so looking healthy and complete alone earned him a place among the more attractive students. But I don't think he actually had something going with any of the girls I'll introduce you to. I'm actually pretty sure that he didn't 'score' there, but that's because it was just the wrong time for a heart patient to enter Yamaku.”
Sensing a story behind that, I pressed on. “Why that?”

As I leaned forward, Miki smirked at me. “Three weeks before Hisao entered Yamaku – straight out of hospital, I believe - another student with congenital heart problems had suffered a seizure while making out with his girlfriend and almost passed away on top of her. I don't know if poor Hisao ever learned about this, but after that, only a very intrepid girl would've dared to go far with somebody suffering from the same problem as the almost-deceased. I think Hisao even inherited the other guy's seat in our class.”
I smiled bitterly. “Poor guy indeed. Alright, I'll be glad to team up with you – and not only for your connections and your memories. However, I'd prefer to know the names of the six women you mentioned in order to research their background, okay?”
I looked at Miki, who grinned at me mischievously. “Please don't tell me they live on the other side of the world right now or that they've all become celebrities.”
“Well, no... and yes.”

[BlackDuke]

Early next morning, Miki and I sat in front of a corner office in Shinjuku, both concentrated on the difficult task ahead of us. After several minutes of waiting, the door opened and the bulky figure of Hiroshi Okayama stepped out. As Miki and I rose from our seats to greet him, I once again thought that the stress of being editor-in-chief of a weekly magazine would've made me keel over long before I'd look as cranky as he had for as long as I knew him. But maybe that's why I was here begging him to fund my idea and not the other way around...

After we'd all entered the big office and sat down at a large desk, Okayama smiled at me tiredly. “You know you've got a lot of nerves calling me at five in the morning for a story idea, Inari. I wonder whether you'd dare to do this to any of my competitors.”
I smiled at him. “You're right, chief – but that's because I know your competitors are either asleep in their own beds or awake in somebody else's at that hour. I guessed you were already busy planning the next issue after getting up at four, right?”
Okayama chuckled. “Point taken. But you still got a lot of nerve, boy. And this time you dragged my baseball expert into this, I see?”
He nodded to Miki, who was lounging on the chair next to me. “Please don't tell me you've uncovered a betting scandal in the Premier League.”
“Well no, because if there was one, you'd probably be in on it.”
Okayama laughed. “Good one, Inari. So what is it?”
Alright, time to stop the chatter and get serious. “Actually I want to make a piece on that Nobel winner Nakai. Miki's with me because she's offered to help me and I'd like you to fund us.”

The editor pondered a moment before he answered. “You're losing your touch, Inari. I thought your forte was discovering newsworthy subjects before the rest of the guys did, not bringing up the rear on a plowed field.”
“It is, chief. But let me explain...”
The older man interrupted me. “Nakai was the hottest topic of last week, I give you that – after all, he flipped over at the very apex of his time, which makes him a veritable Samurai. But unless he reincarnates in time for the award ceremony in Stockholm, he's literally cold meat.”
I sighed inwardly. “Have I ever let you down, Okayama?”
The large men shook his head slowly. “Not yet, but I feel a strong indication for you starting right now."

He straightened in his chair and nodded to the clock on the wall. “You have exactly one minute to pitch it to me, Inari. Starting now.”
“If I do and you like it, you'll fund our further research and refrain from setting your own guys on it. We won't be outrun by them, but they might spoil it for everyone. Do we have a deal?”
“Okay. Now spit it out, boy.”
“You know Nakai's career: a normal city kid with working parents who went through school and college to university and stayed there after graduation. Married to a girl he picked along the way, no kids, your typical egghead, right?”
“Mhhm. And?”
“Also no explanation why he concentrated on trying to find and cure congenital deficiencies and disabilities, right?”
“I think so. 20 seconds left, by the way.”
“He had a severe heart attack at age 17 and spent his last high school year at the 'Yamaku Academy for the Physically Disabled' up north.”

Okayama looked at me, then he reached for his CommPhone, browsing through it for a minute. When he finally laid it back down, he frowned. “It isn't mentioned in his official CV, but you probably know that.”
“I do. And that's what makes it newsworthy, doesn't it? Just think: the highly-renowned scientist who, at a critical time in his life, experienced a setback and lived among the disabled. He probably found the motivation to help their plight back then.”
Okayama smirked now. “You really got a talent for headlines, Inari. But what do you propose to do – apart from aggrieving the mourning wife, who turned down all interview offers since the day her husband died?”

Alright, the lure worked. Now go for the kill. “I'm not thinking about approaching the wife; I know she's closeted up in some spa at Shikoku. But there must be dozens of former Yamaku students out there who can remember the guy who suddenly transferred in during senior year, not to speak about teachers and other school personnel.”
“And what makes you think they'll speak with you – or with Miura?” Okayama eyed us critically.
“Well, Hisao was my classmate back when we both attended Yamaku.” Miki smirked at the older man.

I used Okayama's stunned silence – so he actually could be surprised – and pushed on. “There's something else, chief. Just as Nakai proceeded to university and found glory there, other students who attended Yamaku at the same time became quite big on their own.”
I drew out a sheaf of paper and showed him a collage of six photographs with the names of the persons depicted written below. Okayama's expression told me I had hit bulls-eye.
“You probably know those names. They all were friends with Nakai at Yamaku. And we do believe they'll speak to us – and only to us - about him.”
The editor tore his gaze from the paper and gave me a satisfied smile. “What do you need, Inari?”

Miki and I almost floated out of the office ten minutes later with a contract covering Okayama's exclusive right to print our story in exchange for a large advance, all expenses paid and an almost immoral-sounding lump sum due on the day the article ran.
I turned to Miki as we stood in the elevator. “You know I could kiss you here and now, right?”
“As much as I rejoice at milking that old bastard... maybe we better wait until we're out of the transparent glass cabin, right?”
“Oh yeah. Good point.”

My elation slowly subsided as we sat in a restaurant waiting to have our orders taken by the overworked waitress. “I just hope you were genuine about your capability to get those women to talk with us, Miki. I'd hate to pay that nice big advance back to Okayama – not to talk about the humiliation of having to tell him we failed.”
Miki looked at me, still in high spirits. “Oh yeah? I'll bet you dinner I'll arrange the first interview right here without even resorting to my diaries.”
“Okay, you're on. I'm waiting.”
She drew out her own CommPhone and typed in a very short name, followed by 'call'. After some time, I heard a lively voice answering and Miki gave me a satisfied smile bordering on arrogance. “Hi Emi. It's Miki Miura.”

I listened to Miki's part of the vivid conversation with interest. “Yes, it's really me... no, I'm not calling for the rematch I demanded after we had a spontaneous track run at 1 am at the last reunion... No, nobody's asked for my hand yet, and seeing I already parted with one, I can't afford giving the other away in any case... yes, I know there are people around having it worse, so don't tell Rin I said that... True, it's exactly the kind of bad joke she'd appreciate... Yes, I've watched that show of yours last month, and my offer to help is still valid... Will you listen to me for once, Emi, I need you to do me a huge favor... you did hear about Hisao and his death, didn't you?”

At this, the woman – which I'd identified by then as Emi Ibarazaki, heroine of three Paralympic track programs and known by the epithet “Steel-shin Shinkansen” - abruptly stopped her animated chatter, which gave Miki the chance to start explaining the idea to interview her about her memories of Hisao's time at Yamaku.
I cringed a bit as she described me as “an eager, good-looking freelancer with great style”, but decided not to get a word in since Miki seemed totally in charge of the situation now. “Yes, I know... but you can't blame him, Emi... Rin said that? Really?... Well, we'd love to talk to her too, of course... Yes, the sooner, the better... Great, I'll tell him. Until then, Emi... Bye.”

Miki terminated the call and actually managed to broaden her smile by another inch. “You know what I'd like for dinner, Kazuo?”
“Whatever you want, we'll get it... but first you're going to tell me what she told you.”
“Well, you overheard most of it...”
“Cut the procrastination, please.” I gave her a stern look.
“Sheesh, you're no fun. Now, Emi's willing to meet us, but she's busy tomorrow and asked if we could drive out to her training camp near Nanao; I said yes.”
“Sure we can.” I remembered my own research about Emi Ibarazaki and the project she had started after her retirement from track running some years ago.
“I'll get a car and fetch you at your place at six. Now, about dinner...”

[BlackDuke]

The engine of the hired electric car purred steadily as I crossed another bridge, squinting through the early November mist. Next to me, Miki was lazing in her seat, looking sleepily at the coastal scenery. I decelerated slightly to cast a glance on the navigational screen, which confirmed my estimate. “You better sit up straight again, Miki. We're almost there.”
“It's about time. Jeez, I wonder how some people can stand driving for hours every day without falling asleep.” She adjusted her position and bent down to put her boots back on, which she had thrown off as soon as we had steered on the freeway. “I just hope Emi's not getting any new guys today. It's always so hard to see that.”

After some more miles and a number of turns, we drove through an open gate and entered what looked like a private school: a dozen buildings in subdued colors stood around a large sand field which seemed to double as a parking space for the institution. Farther in the distance, I spotted several basketball and tennis courts and a football field with a large grandstand.
I parked the car and looked at Miki, who gave me a smile. “I've been here before, Kaz. Just follow me.” She grabbed her coat and stepped out of the car, leaving me to follow her towards one of the smaller buildings after locking the car door and extracting my own things from the backseat.

As we crossed the pitch, I saw several younger men exiting another building and coming our way, all of them walking in a deliberate, slow pace. It was not until we were almost in front of them that I recognized they all suffered from disabilities: some of them obviously had prosthetic arms, while others seemed to take great care not to put too much weight on a single knee or hip. The most shocking sight was a guy looking like seventeen, who slouched along while pressing both his hands firmly against his lower back in order to keep up straight, all the while looking extremely concentrated on his next move. Miki caught my astonished look and smiled bitterly. “Welcome to the place where heroes hide.”

My mind was still occupied with the pitiable group of young men when we walked through a long corridor with a continuous line of pictures of sports events and smiling athletes receiving a medal or a gleaming golden cup. I almost felt like a student summoned to the headmaster's office for breaking a school rule, so when the heavy door at the end of the corridor opened, I automatically slowed down. However, instead of a stern and wizened old disciplinarian, the door revealed a petite woman in a blouse and ankle-length skirt, who burst out of the room and rushed towards us calling Miki's name. Miki grinned as she stepped forward and embraced the smaller person with her complete arm. “Hello Emi!”

After several moments, the two women separated again and Miki turned to me. “Kaz, meet the girl who kept three years worth of track victories as well as tons of medals and prizes from me with her miraculous legs. Emi, this is my colleague Kazuo Inari.”
I stepped forward and shook Emi's hand. “It's a great honour, Miss Ibarazaki. Thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”
Emi grinned widely. “The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Inari – especially if it means seeing Miki too. Please call me Emi.” She motioned to the door she had flown out of seconds ago. “I spend far too much time cooped up behind my desk these days.”
Miki smiled. “Then how about giving Kazuo and me a tour of the place? I'd love to move my legs a bit.”
“Deal.”

As I followed the two women across the grounds, I mulled over the information I had gathered from my sources and from Emi Ibarazaki's own website. In retrospect, the seven decades after the defeat of 1945 seemed like a golden age now. To be fair, when the Japanese government had proposed a “reinterpretation” of the constitutional ban on military commitments in 2015, few people had actually foreseen the impact this would have on our society.
But in late 2024, the North Korean dictator had lashed out southwards in a last-ditch attempt to save his regime, and the United States – still embroiled in the aftermath of their Middle Eastern campaign - had demanded Japanese troops to help out. Six months later, our government had boosted arms production and reintroduced conscription to fill the gaps the battle for Seoul had torn in the ranks of the Japanese “Self-Defense” Forces.

The first casualties of war to return to Japan had been welcomed by a wave of compassion just like earthquake survivors or rescued sailors. But as more and more wounded and maimed young men appeared at the naval bases of Kyushu and the airfields across the country, they had to realize that their fellow citizens saw their predicament with disgust and self-righteous indignation; even the politicians who had sent them off with rousing speeches and promises were mainly indifferent to the physical and psychological horrors they brought back.
To put it succinctly: theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die – and theirs not to come back mangled and empty-eyed to a country that had never valued the defeated.

Since the official gratitude was lacking, it fell to a number of charities and private endeavours to care for the returning soldiers – and Yamaku Academy had offered its assistance, since the school was well acquainted with treating the amputated and traumatized. As it happened, Emi Ibarazaki had just returned from her third Paralympic Games with another four medals to add to the nine she had earned in 2016 and 2020, looking for a perspective after her upcoming retirement from professional running.
Initially, she had just been the poster girl for a media campaign launched by an alliance of charities, but then she had founded her own organization “Training Legs” and used all her contacts to wheedle, demand and extract the necessary funds to build up the institution we were just visiting. Last year, Okayama's paper had published a title story about her, calling her the “Angel of the Abandoned”.

My thoughts returned to the present and to the oddly-matched pair of women walking in front of me: the small energetic blonde whose artificial legs showed between the hem of her skirt and the rims of her track shoes, and the taller black-haired woman with her prosthetic hand partially hidden in the pocket of her black jeans.
As I stepped out faster to catch up with them, I caught the last part of Emi's sentence. “...and last time I was in Tokyo, I even met Hanako. Can you imagine she'd come to the opening of Rin's latest project?”
“Not really – but even Rin's art has gotten slightly more palatable in the last 20 years. Don't tell her I said that, okay?”
“Well, you can tell her yourself.”
Miki nodded. “Yes, she's also on our list of people to interview about Hisao. Do you know where and when I can reach her?”
Emi grinned brightly at her. “Actually, I saved you two some work - she's just behind that hedge.”

Before Miki could answer, we turned another corner and entered a small yard with several benches, one of which was occupied by a slim person in a light brown coat. As we came closer, I could see it was a woman with short auburn hair, who seemed entirely lost in her thoughts since she did not look up to greet us. Even as Emi cleared her throat audibly to make her aware of our presence, the other woman's gaze remained focused on the grass patch in front of her suede slippers, which seemed to hold a great fascination – at least to her.
Miki laughed at the sight. “Still totally unfazed by the mundane grasp of reality, is she?”
Emi snorted, then she called out. “Hey Rin, wake up! Miki and her journalist friend are here!”

At the sound of her friend's voice, the sitting woman finally turned her gaze away from the ground and faced us with a mildly curious look. “Oh, it's you, Miki. Emi said you'd come here today.” She craned her head. “And you're Miki's friend, right?”
I automatically moved forward in order to shake her hand, but froze in my tracks when my eyes fell on the knotted-up sleeves of her coat and I realized that the woman opposite me had no hands I could shake.
Noticing my hesitation, she gave me a deep look from the unusually clear eyes below her auburn bangs that only increased my awkwardness. “Ehm... yes, my name's Kazuo Inari... and you're Miss Rin Tezuka, right?”
I was rewarded by an amused smirk and a slight raising of the right coat sleeve. “That's me all right. Sorry I can't rub elbows with you, but I've never been fond of these formalities anyway. Do you want to sit down?”

While we followed her invitation, I tried to call up what I knew about Rin Tezuka. According to her official credits, she had won the Nippon National Prize for Modern Art several times and was one of the most acclaimed artists of our era. The poster she had created for the 2025 Osaka World Fair, showing a group of small children looking out to the sea, had become an iconic representation for the problems of our current times. I had seen a few of her paintings years ago down at Yokohama Harbour while dating an art student who had dragged me to an exhibition of the artist's early works; I also remembered how amazed I had been at the extent and scope of Rin Tezuka's artistic visions.

Her prodigious artistic skills were even more astonishing, considering her handicap which had just thrown me into confusion on meeting her. A contact of mine had told me her parents had been engineers self-testing an experimental water-treatment system for remote islands, discovering too late that the necessary chemicals had been contaminated with thalidomide – and that they were expecting a child, whose development the poison had already affected.
My contact, another journalist who managed Okayama's Humanities page, had also expressed strong doubts that the artist would actually meet us since she had a long-standing reputation of missing exhibition openings and other social appointments. However, Miki had assured me that Rin Tezuka always honoured her commitments to Emi's institution – being one of the co-founders – and to Yamaku Academy, where she gave classes as a visiting tutor.

Looking at the slender woman sitting next to Emi on the wooden bench – Miki and I had taken the opposite bench in a silent agreement to face our interview partners – I remembered that the Humanities expert had actually offered me a wager that I would come back empty-handed. I had politely declined his offer since he was unaware of Miki's personal connections and since I knew I might still need his help in the future. Before leaving his office however, I had promised to relay my first impression of the oh-so-fabled artist to him later.
But having met her now, I did wonder if I could be honest and tell him my opinion that Rin Tezuka was... absolutely stunning, without being beautiful in the classic sense.

[BlackDuke]

My reveries were interrupted by Miki, who had already taken out her CommPhone and activated the recording function. Emi was just telling her friend that, since the three women called each other by their first names and she had offered me the same, Rin and I should also do that.
“...if you're okay with it, of course.” Miki added as she moved some inches away from me in order to place the CommPhone on the bench between us.
“Oh, I'm okay with it. Like I said, I'm not particular fond of formalities anyway. So do you prefer Kaz or Kazuo?”
“Pick one... but since I can't possibly shorten yours any further, I'll stick to Rin, okay?” Rin smirked at me, then she looked over at Miki. “I like him. So, where do we start?”

Miki leant back on our bench and drew a deep breath. “As I told Emi on the phone yesterday, Kazuo and I want to write an article about Hisao and about his year at Yamaku, which was probably a defining time in his life – and which all of the reports about him getting the Nobel Prize and dying of the shock somehow seemed to ignore.”
“Yeah, I saw that.” Emi said. “Made me wonder where they got their information in the first place.”
“Well, at least most of them were content to reprint his CV from the university's website and from the Nobel committee's press statement.” I threw in to guide the conversation. “So we'd like to fill in the gaps and tell the world about it. Can you still remember the first time you met him?”

After a short glance at Rin, Emi started speaking first. “Well, I for one remember that vividly. I was on my way through the corridors...”
“...running like your butt was on fire as usual, I guess...” Rin added, getting a playful push from Emi.
“...and ran straight into poor Hisao leaving his classroom.”
“Ouch!”
Emi made an apologetic face at my remark. “You tell me. Later, our school nurse told me about his condition and that such a collision could have killed him. Lucky for him, his assailant was only five feet high.”
I smiled. “Anyway, to apologize, I invited him to our lunchtime on the roof of the main building, and that's where he also met Rin...” she broke off when Rin shook her head “...or did you meet him before?”

Rin nodded slowly and looked at the sky in thought before she spoke. “I forgot that, but now we talk about it, I do remember. Whenever Emi spent her lunch break on the track, I usually ate lunch alone in the art room, and some days after Hisao came to the school, he barged in on me eating curry or something. So when Emi brought him up for lunch, I already knew him.”
I thought for a moment. “Didn't you guys share any classes?”
Emi shook her head. “Hisao was in Miki's class... 3-3, if I remember correctly...” Miki nodded. “...while Rin and I were in class 3-4.”
“Ah, I see. So you only met him during the breaks?”
“Not exactly. You see, we both tried to drag him into joining our favourite pastimes – track running and painting.”

Emi looked down on her shoes as she continued. “I'd been looking for a running partner for a while, and while Hisao's condition prevented him from joining the track team, he had actually been quite athletic before his attack and was under doctor's orders to exercise a bit in order to strengthen his heart. So I coaxed him into running with me in the mornings before class, which also earned me points with the school nurse.”
“You also nagged him to give up fried food, didn't you?” Rin quipped, smirking.
“No, I gave him a detailed diet plan to accompany our training runs, you dolt.” Emi fired back, then she became serious.
“Unfortunately, I never managed to slow myself down enough to have him keep up with me – and after half a dozen runs, Hisao overexerted himself trying to run my tempo and started having chest pains on the track. I barely got him to the infirmary before he dropped down in front of the nurse.”

Emi pensively rubbed her upper leg. “When I saw him lying in there, looking dazedly at the ceiling with his heart beat almost audible from several steps away, I really thought I'd killed him with my well-meant regimen. As it were, he spent a day under close supervision and when I came back that evening to visit him, I was lectured by the nurse, who threatened to ban me from running altogether for my stupidity. And that's when I suddenly heard Hisao's voice from the bed.”
Miki looked up in sudden interest. “What did he say?”
Emi swallowed, obviously moved by her memory. “He told the nurse that the whole thing had been his fault, that he'd been foolish to overestimate himself, and that I wasn't to blame for his folly in any way. In the end, Hisao was forbidden to join me in my morning runs – but I was allowed to leave without any further sanctions. In fact, I might owe him my whole career.” She choked.

To my surprise, Rin moved over to her friend and silently raised her left arm stub, softly touching the smaller woman's back in a comforting gesture. Emi sniffed and leant back into the partial embrace Rin offered her.
Despite the tender scene in front of me – which seemed to be a well-known form of expression between them – Emi's last sentence still rang through my mind, taking the form of a large newspaper headline: 'Paralympic heroine about late Nobel laureate: I owe him my career!'. Okayama would wet himself getting such an eye-catcher. If the other women had similar memories of Hisao Nakai, this might become the biggest scoop I had ever experienced – and a sure-fire guarantee for more work too.

I wrested my mind away from future promises and back to the task at hand. Emi had separated from Rin and now sat up straight again, taking a deep breath. Miki glanced over at me and I gave her a nod to continue. “So did you still see Hisao regularly after he was banned from running with you?”
“Not as much as I would've liked. He still joined us for lunch occasionally, and sometimes I also ran into him between classes – not literally, of course – but after all, we were in different classes and lived in different dorms.” She thought for a moment, then she smiled. “He did visit a few of our track meets to see me kick Miki's butt there...”
“Hey!” Miki protested.
“...but since this reminded him of the strength he'd lost, he stopped coming after a while. I believe Rin can tell you more about what he did then.”
I looked at Rin, who was lost in thought again. “What did you and Hisao do together?”

Rin blinked at me dreamily, then she spoke in a detached voice. “Poor Hisao came to Yamaku a week before the school's summer festival, which had everybody on edge because of all the preparations. I had been talked into doing a big mural by our art teacher, so I spent most of my free time outside painting or getting new materials from the art room. Hisao was a recent arrival, so he had neither a class booth nor a club project to help with, so he assisted me, carrying things and mixing paints for the mural...”
“..and learning a whole bunch of new names for colours from you.” Emi added cheekily.
“...and unlike a certain other person, he actually comprehended some of my ideas.” Rin continued, ignoring her friend's quip, “Anyway, when the festival came, we spent some time together talking about art and about life in general – and somehow I fell asleep on his shoulder later.”
“Really? How romantic!”

Rin and I reflexively looked at Emi as the obvious source of the sudden interruption, but Emi also looked surprised – at Miki, who drew a grimace at her own outburst. “Oops, sorry guys.”
I chuckled. “Don't worry, we can edit this out later. Now what happened then?”
Rin pondered. “At the festival, Hisao told me he was interested to take a closer look at the art club and attended the next meetings with me. In retrospect, I think he was desperately searching for a new pastime after being barred from all kinds of physical exertions.”

I thought about being an eighteen-year-old boy, stranded in a special school. “So did he have any talent?”
Rin frowned. “Well, he could paint a decent still life with watercolours, but as soon as we tried out something advanced, he was out of his depth. Since he wasn't very interested in our teacher's frequent monologues about his pet topics, he quit the club after some weeks.”
“And after that...”
Emi chimed in. “Tell him about Nomiya's exhibition idea!”

I looked over at Emi, who gave her friend an encouraging smile, then at Miki, whose face lit up after a moment. “Wait, you mean him trying to show your stuff at the local gallery? But you never accepted that, did you?”
“Exactly – thanks to Hisao's timely intervention.” Rin glanced at me. “Oh yeah, you'll love that story, Kazuo.” She stretched her legs and shifted slightly on the bench.
“Like many art teachers, our Mr. Nomiya was originally a hopeful artist who'd switched to teaching when he realized he'd never earn a living from his art. Since I was the most talented artist in Yamaku, hands down – no pun intended...” Emi chuckled. “...he wanted to help me achieve the artistic success which had eluded himself. As a start, he urged me to exhibit my paintings at a local gallery owned by a friend of his. He almost had me convinced when Hisao intervened, persuading me not to do it – and thank heaven he did!”
“But why?”

Rin noticed my perplexed expression and cocked her head. “You don't see it, do you? Nomiya didn't either – and I think he never did.”
Emi cut in. “Just imagine it, Kazuo. You're a student of a special school in a small town whose citizens take one look at your uniform and know you've got a problem. If Rin had really exhibited her work there, she would've been seen as just another freak from the hill, painting with her feet – sorry, Rin.”
“Actually, that's exactly what Hisao said – and he also told me that this small town gallery might not be the best place for my graphic visual style. Instead, he advised me to put together a collection of my work to apply for an art scholarship without stressing my disability. When I did that, I got a full grant to attend Osaka Art Academy later - on merit alone.”
She looked up at the sky in thought. “It's like Emi just said: maybe I owe my subsequent career to Hisao's influence.”

The interview progressed with Emi and Rin remembering some more interactions with Hisao Nakai at school, and in the end, I was forced to cut the conversation short when I realized we had to return to Tokyo that night.
As Miki switched off her CommPhone, I turned to the other two women. “I've got a final question – off the record, if you don't mind.” Rin nodded. “From what I heard today, Hisao was a good friend to both of you back then. Did you have much contact with him after leaving school?”
Emi sighed. “Not as much as we would've liked. Hisao went to Nagoya to study there while we had our own careers to focus on, but he came to Yamaku for the annual reunions. Sadly, he stopped coming soon after he married, and I don't think I ever met his wife.”
Rin nodded. “I believe I saw him last when we ran into each other in Tokyo, but that was several years ago.” She shook her head. “It's a real shame he's gone.”

On the way back to Tokyo, Miki drove while I replayed the entire interview, occasionally making some notes on my own CommPhone when a quote required further fact-checks or a point had to be explained for the final version.
When I was finished, I laid down both phones and smiled at Miki. “If the other four interviews go anything like this one, we should think about the book and movie rights.”
“Absolutely... but I've got to warn you. Interviewing Emi was easy because she's always been open and carefree about things – otherwise, she might've broken from the double shock of losing her lower legs and her father in one accident – and as you heard, she still has a soft spot for Hisao. Therefore, she was the perfect person for our first interview. Rin's usually harder to talk to, but she relaxes with Emi around – and she must've also cared more about Hisao than I knew back then.”
“Yeah, so I gathered.”

Miki concentrated on overtaking a slower car, then she looked at me again. “Unfortunately, the other four women will be harder nuts to crack. Hanako Ikezawa has always been extremely shy, so she'll be wary of you as a stranger asking personal questions – and to be frank, I've seldom spoken much with her, neither recently nor back then. Her best friend Lilly Satou is one of the best and friendliest persons you'll ever meet, but her current occupation means she might not be entirely honest about her time at Yamaku. And any conversation with Shizune Hakamichi – who is fearsome at the best of days – must go through an interpreter, which explains why she's rarely interviewed. As for Shiina Mikado...” she trailed off.

Before Miki could take up her train of thought, I had an idea. “So Ikezawa and Satou were best friends back then and still are...” Miki nodded. “...and the same goes for Hakamichi and Mikado, right?”
“Yes, but I still can't see your point.”
“Actually, it's simple. Since we had so much success with a double interview, why not continue like that? From what you said about Ikezawa, she might open up much easier with her best friend, and if we get to see both Hakamichi and Mikado at the same time, we don't even have to worry about the sign language barrier. Okay, it might be more difficult to fix up the double interviews, but judging from what we might gain, it's probably worth to go through with that.”
Miki grinned. “Great idea!”

[BlackDuke]

Two days later, Miki and I once again sat in the anteroom of a large office building in downtown Tokyo – but unlike Okayama's labyrinthine den with its crowded smelly corridors, these halls exuded an air of tranquility and professionalism, just like a brand-new machine eagerly expecting to fulfill the task it was constructed for.
Despite the sophisticated surroundings and the splendid view towards the bay, I felt quite uneasy, fearing that this interview would be something much different from the pleasant and fruitful talk we had enjoyed with Rin and Emi. When I looked over at Miki, her unusual silence and slightly strained expression only aggravated my own apprehension of the task at hand.

During the last few days, I had inquired with several contacts and experts all over Tokyo about the women who had been friends with Hisao Nakai in Yamaku. While I had been cautioned about the quirks or the shyness of some of them, the person I had asked about Shizune Hakamichi had actually advised me strongly against facing the woman whose actions since her entry into one of Japan's largest investment corporations had earned her the nickname 'silent shark'.
My contact – one of the fiercest bloodhounds in the business – had initially refused to say anything about Miss Hakamichi other than that she was simply 'different'. When I had probed further and promised not to quote him, he had told me some stories about her, none of which would ever reach his readers. Personally, I had been shocked most by the tale about how she had bankrupted her own father's firm by supporting his business rivals.

However, my contact had also told me some things about Shizune Hakamichi's other, better side. Unlike many other magnates, she gave a fair share of her wealth to several good causes all over Japan – and she treated those projects with the same determination as her business matters. In the words of my contact, she was respected by many, admired by some, but feared by most of the financial experts around, being a strategic mastermind as well as a ruthless manipulator of the people around her – regardless whether those people were her colleagues or her rivals. Her physical inability to hear or speak a single sound and her subsequent remoteness from society only served to fuel Miss Hakamichi's sinister image further.

I looked around the anteroom, taking note of the expensive paintings on the wall – one of them a Rin Tezuka original showing parts of Tokyo's skyline against a stormy magenta sky with green blazes – and of the polished marble coffee table in front of my knees. The whole room signaled large quantities of refined class and available money; it was obviously decorated to reflect the character of Shizune Hakamichi as well as inspire awe in the spectator.
The crowning touch was a large golden picture frame next to the entrance, which held a picture of her with the caption “The Mind of the Market: Hakamichi heads high”. I knew the picture: it was an old title page of Okayama's magazine celebrating Miss Hakamichi's daring actions during the Second Asian Stock Meltdown of 2027, which had saved a large number of Japanese corporations from utter ruin.

Well, at least we would not be alone with the 'silent shark', I mused as my mind was recapping the information I had gathered about the unlikely pair of friends we had come to visit and interview. At first glance, the extroverted middle-class Shiina Mikado who had entered Yamaku on a grant to learn sign language and the formidable Shizune, daughter of a boastful semi-legal entrepreneur who had expected Yamaku to 'fix her problem' as Miki had told me in a derogatory tone, had been worlds apart.
But once both had met there, the first girl's skill and capacity to transmit her friend's thoughts and ideas to the world had glued them together. After graduation, Shiina Mikado had abandoned her plan to teach the deaf and mute in order to stay with her friend - and this decision had led both of them into the highest financial and economic spheres of our country.

Suddenly, the contemplative silence of the room was shattered by another person entering through the door behind us, followed by a high-pitched, ear-piercing shout. “Hey, Miki! It's so great to see you! So sorry we kept you waiting, but I really had to finish that thing for Shizune! I hope you and your friend found your way up here without problems?”
I hastily stood up and turned around to face a small exuberant woman in a smart business costume, whose wavy golden hair complimented her bright large eyes; she burst into laughter as she noticed Miki's astonished face. “Oops, I'm sorry. Did I surprise you two?”
Miki smirked at her. “Actually, you did. This is my colleague Kazuo Inari; Kazuo, meet Mi- I mean Shiina Mikado.”

The woman embraced Miki briefly before she shook my outstretched hand. “It's a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Inari. But I'm certain Miki's already told you she knew me by another name when we both attended Yamaku, right?” She winked at Miki. “It's still 'Misha' for old friends, as you know – even though my appearance has changed considerably since I started working for Shizune up here.”
“Yes, I do believe some members of the investment circles would be shaken by you wearing bubblegum-pink drills like you did in our senior year.”
“Well, I remember you complimenting me on them...” She stopped. “But you've come to talk about Hisao with us, right? Please follow me, Shizune's waiting.”

Miss Mikado – Misha – led us through another corridor past several doors, one of which bore her name along with the title “Special Assistant to the Managing Director”, towards a large corner office. As we stepped in, we saw an expensively-dressed woman with shoulder-length, blue-black hair at the window with her back towards us, looking at the street below.
Since she made no attempt to greet us, Misha flicked the light switch in a well-practiced motion, which made the woman turn around, showing a slightly angular face with light blue eyes covered by hexagonal spectacles. Her inquisitive gaze swept over Miki and me for a moment before she gave us a small smile and started signing to Misha, who motioned back.

After a moment, Misha turned to us again. “Mr. Inari, please let me introduce Miss Shizune Hakamichi. Miki, Shizune says it's nice to see you – but you should really change your outfit to something more in tune with your age.”
Miki blushed for a second, then she grinned maliciously. “Tell Shizune I'm actually only three months older than her – and it's not a nice thing to say for someone wearing glasses that make her look like her own grandmother.”
Misha chuckled while signing that, which made the frowning Shizune answer with a new flurry of signs. “Well... you haven't come for friendly banter, I believe. Shall we sit down over there?” She motioned to a conference table in the back of the vast room.

[BlackDuke]

As we sat down and I drew out my CommPhone to record our conversation, Misha addressed us again. “Miss Hakamichi – Shizune – suggests we use first names in our interview as Miki and we were classmates once. She also said we'll be glad to talk about our time with Hisao with you, Mr. Inari - Kazuo. From now on, I'll translate directly so please ask if you can't make out which of us is actually speaking to you. I know this can be a bit difficult for you, so bear with me.”
I leaned back in the sumptuous chair and looked at the two women. “Let's start at the beginning. I know from Miki that Hisao Nakai was a member of your senior class and came in directly from hospital. Can you remember your first impression of him?”

Misha conferred with her friend for a moment. “Well, our homeroom teacher Mr. Mutou had informed us about Hisao's arrival and had asked Shizune as class president to help him a bit, so we showed him around and told him about the usual things – you know, clubs, ground rules and the like. Hisao obviously had a rough time adjusting to the idea of attending a school for the disabled at first, so we also told him about us being members of the student council and inquired whether he felt like joining the council.”
“Did you tell him that you two actually were the entire council?” Miki interjected, making Shizune smirk after getting the translation.
“Ehm... not immediately, I think. Anyway, he told us he needed time to think about that.”

Shizune continued with a longer string of signals, which Misha did not translate; I used the interlude to take a sip from my water glass. Finally Misha spoke again. “You've already talked with Emi and Rin, so you know Hisao tried out a number of pastimes during his first weeks at Yamaku – without finding something which fit him and his situation."
"Some weeks later, we ran into Hisao in town and had lunch with him at our favorite tea house. He told us he still hesitated to join the council as a full member, but that he was willing to help us if something special came up. As it were, we were busy with preparing for Tanabata and roped him in, preparing stalls and painting signs for all the different classes. He actually offered to ask Rin for help doing the second task, but Shizune politely declined his idea since we'd gotten several complaints about the mural she'd done for the school festival.” Miki laughed.

“Anyway, Hisao ended up helping us for several weeks after classes, since we failed to interest any other students in joining our work. During that time, he told us much about how his life had been before the sudden heart attack, and we in turn told him about our childhoods and our time at Yamaku. Despite the huge workload, we actually had much fun working together, and during our breaks, he also turned out to be a decent board gamer who – unlike me – could even challenge Shizune.”
Misha chuckled self-apologetically, which made Shizune smile – and for a moment, I could see in my mind how the ferocious businesswoman must have looked twenty years ago in high school, when the scope of her ambitions was still limited to the organization of the occasional school festival and the victory in a friendly game of Risk.
“And did Hisao spend time with you after the festival?” I asked Misha after a moment.

As Misha stopped chuckling and translated my question to Shizune, I noticed how her expression tensed slightly. The two women conversed in sign language for over a minute, with Misha looking anxious and Shizune obviously trying to bring her point across. Finally, Misha nodded slowly and turned back towards us.
“Listen, Mr. Inari... Kazuo... I know we offered to speak freely with you and Miki about our experiences with Hisao, but in order to tell you what happened right after Tanabata, you'll need to know something we've never told anybody before. I'm actually against it, but Shizune believes you should know about it to understand what Hisao did for us. However, while you can write about him spending time with us before and after Tanabata, you may not include the particular issue we're about to divulge to you. That goes for you too, Miki.”
I exchanged glances with Miki, who nodded. “Okay.”

To my surprise, Shizune reached into her jacket and drew out a photograph, which she laid on the table; it showed three students below a string of electric lights. After a second look, I recognized them as a younger Hisao Nakai in his school uniform, framed by Shizune and Misha wearing festive yukatas.
Miki also looked at the photograph and smiled. “Very cute, Misha. I didn't remember you two dressing up for that; Hisao was a lucky guy.”
Misha smiled halfheartedly. “Well, we'd decided to thank Hisao for his help setting up the festival by making it a memorable night for us all, and it really was...”
I straightened in anticipation as Misha continued. “We'd brought a bottle of liquor to celebrate our work, which Hisao and Shizune shared after I found out I didn't like the flavor. Later that evening, I left the other two for a while... and when I returned, I found them in a tight embrace, kissing each other.”

The ensuing silence lasted for exactly one second and was ended by a loud clunk which made Misha and me look up in alarm; the source of the noise turned out to be Miki's empty water glass, which she had dropped in shock. After she had bent down and retrieved the fallen item, her expression bore a mixture of shock and astonishment.
“But... I always thought Hisao did never form any romantic bonds with any girl at Yamaku... and with Shizune, of all people...”
I hastily nudged her in the side to make her stop talking, grateful for Shizune's deafness and silently praying for Misha to refrain from translating the last part of Miki's outburst. Misha looked at Shizune, who seemed lost in thought, then she resumed speaking.

“Obviously, any teenage girl would've been shocked in that situation – seeing her best friend kissing a guy right in front of her, and under the influence of alcohol at that. At least that's what Hisao must've thought, since he immediately separated from Shizune and apologized – and when I failed to translate his words, he sheepishly bowed to both of us to display his deep regret only to run off afterwards.”
Miki laughed, but stopped as Shizune gave her a stern look. “Oops, sorry. But what happened then?”
Misha grimaced. “The day after, I asked Shizune about what had happened after she'd gotten over her hangover; she told me she scarcely remembered anything and ventured a guess that Hisao probably felt similar. Hisao turned up that evening, apologized again for any improprieties and blamed the liquor. Therefore, everything seemed to be settled.” The tone of her voice belied her last sentence.

I waited for several seconds, expecting Misha to continue telling their story or at least to elaborate upon the aftermath of the festival. When she failed to do so, I exchanged a worried look with Miki, who seemed equally clueless about how to proceed, then returned my attention to our interview partners.
Misha was still looking down in thought, but Shizune had started typing on a small computer which I had seen lying on her desk when we had entered the room. Noticing my perplexed expression, she gave Misha a short burst of sign gestures before she resumed typing.
Misha sighed. “Shizune says she'll tell you what happened; you'll see what she's writing on the wall screen in a few minutes.”
“Alright, we'll wait.”

It took about five more minutes of typing, but then the large screen on the opposite wall lit up and started displaying a succession of short clear sentences, which Miki and I read in stunned silence:
After Tanabata Hisao stopped coming to the council room after classes – but so did Misha. I tried to 'talk' with her about it in class, but she refused to tell me.
I thought seeing me and Hisao kissing shocked her, but I could not guess why she avoided me. Then I remembered that when we were freshmen, she once had told me she would love to be with me forever. I had brushed it aside as a girlish outburst and she had never repeated it.
After some days, Hisao realized something was amiss and came to see me. We agreed there were no deeper feelings between the two of us and he offered to talk to Misha.

He came again the next day and gave me a note from Misha. It said she was in love with me and had harboured the hope I would answer that feeling. But seeing me with Hisao, she realized her mistake and felt too stupid to face me. She would ask for a transfer to another school as soon as possible. Hisao had told her we were not involved, but that had not soothed her. One day another boy would come whose feelings I would reciprocate.
When I asked him for advice, Hisao asked back what Misha meant to me. Then I told him Misha was the best friend I had ever had. If she forgave me, I would do everything I could to be the person she deserved. I had realized in that moment I could not – and did not want to – imagine a life without her by my side.

Misha gulped audibly, which made me tear my attention from the screen back towards her. She cleared her throat and started speaking again.
“Hisao came back to me with the same sheet he and Shizune had used to communicate – and which bore the exact choice of words you can still read on the screen. That night, Shizune and I had a long conversation and I finally told her all the things I had sworn myself a thousand times to say, but which my hands had never managed to sign to her.”
Misha looked over at her smiling partner. “Since then, we've always been together. We both went to college here in Tokyo and entered this firm right after graduation.”
She pondered for a moment. “You know, it's weird. I had thought Hisao might forever part me from Shizune when I saw them kissing – but then he proved himself to be the best friend we could ask for. If there are angels or benign spirits, he's certainly one now.”

Miki and I left about an hour later with lots of additional material for our story. As Miki and Misha gave each other a farewell hug, I noticed that Shizune was typing on her keyboard again; after several seconds, the screen flashed up again and I read her farewell message: Thank you for coming. It was an honor for us to tell you about Hisao. Tell the world he was a great man – and a good friend.
I smiled at her. “Misha, please tell her how grateful we are – to both of you. And... tell her that, behind all the stories about the fearsome financial mastermind, there's a really nice person with a big heart.”
Shizune started smiling too as she received the translation, then she flashed me a cocky smirk as she typed in two more sentences.
Of course there is – but please do not tell anyone. Nobody would believe you anyway.
I bowed towards both women. “Goodbye.”

[BlackDuke]

The following day, Miki and I were once again leaving Tokyo in a hired car, bound north for our final interview. Miki had already called Lilly Satou earlier and fixed a meeting with her in Tokyo, but that had been before our decision not to separately interview Hisao Nakai's former classmates, so we had canceled that appointment.
Since she had only been in Tokyo for three days, we had agreed to drive up and meet her at her office. While this had meant getting up at 4 am, which I normally loathed with a passion, the advantages of interviewing Lilly Satou at her workplace far outweighed the hassle of an early start.
Changing the time and place of our interview had also made Miki and me accept a small detour, which I regarded as a potential benefit for our project – even if the reason for the detour was currently sleeping in the backseat, her face hidden behind a veil of long dark hair.

Miki looked up from her CommPhone and noticed my slight smirk. “What's on? Oh, I see.” She turned around and regarded our nodding passenger, who had fallen asleep about two minutes after entering the car. “I'm still amazed she managed to get up at all; from what I heard, she held a public reading of her new novel at Kanto University which lasted until midnight.”
She smiled self-consciously. “To be honest – and I hope she really is asleep – I'm also still amazed to hear that she's taking part in public events at all. Well, first impressions are probably hard to erase from your mind – even after over twenty years.”
I used a lull in the traffic to look over my shoulder at the sleeping form of Hanako Ikezawa. “They probably are.”

As I tried to concentrate on the road ahead, the image of the slim woman in the simple black coat and the lilac trousers stayed in my mind. When we had picked her up at dawn, I had only seen her face for a moment before she had slipped into the backseat, but even that glimpse had shown me her defining feature: a pattern of purple scars which covered about a third of her face and – according to Miki's memory of seeing Hanako in the Yamaku swimming pool once – ran down her entire right side, her arm and down to her upper leg.
Miki had also told me what she had learned years later about the night Hanako had gotten those scars, and about the loss of Hanako's parents in the same fire that had disfigured her forever.

Knowing about this horror – and the fact that the scarred tissue also served as a constant reminder of her loss – I could only too well understand how an already shy child had turned into a traumatized adolescent with severe problems to interact with other people. Miki had told me of their first year at Yamaku, when Hanako had scarcely managed to fulfill the attendance requirements due to frequent truancy, chronic depressions and periods of self-chosen isolation in her dormitory room.
Luckily for her, Lilly Satou had moved into the dorms at the start of their second year, becoming Hanako's first real friend - although even with Lilly's support, Hanako had still been a very timid and withdrawn student. But then, about halfway through senior year, something had changed in Hanako's behavior, Miki had told me – and she had attributed that beneficial change to Hisao Nakai befriending her and Lilly.

Well, whatever the reasons for Hanako's growing confidence and courage had been, they had obviously stayed with her all through college and had carried her through a meager first job with a small newspaper up at Hakodate, I thought. The dull work had allowed her to write a collection of short stories on the side, which had caught the eye of a major publisher and had earned her a book contract. Three years later, her first novel had earned her not only the universal praise of the influential critics, but also considerable commercial success.
Since then, nine other novels had followed, among them the 'Rising Sun'-trilogy which followed four generations of a Hokkaido family through the struggles of the 20th century. The trilogy had been hailed by many people as the 'Great Japanese Novel' of our time and had turned Hanako Ikezawa into a likely candidate for the Nobel Prize for Literature.

After some more hours of driving, we arrived in a small rural town in the hills north of Sendai. Hanako had woken up and was busy looking at the passing scenery through the rear window while Miki was just emerging from her nap.
By now, I had grown so accustomed to the silent figure in the backseat that I was astounded to suddenly hear her quiet, but clear voice behind me. “You should turn right at the next crossing and follow that way up the hill, Mr. Inari. The navigation doesn't know it, but it's faster than the official road.”
“Oh... yes, thank you, Ms. Ikezawa.”
“She's right, Kazuo.” Miki chimed in, then she turned to Hanako. “Say, do you mind if Kazuo addresses you and Lilly by your first names? We've done this with the others, and they all were comfortable with it – even Shizune.”
“Even the mighty Shizune? Well, then I'll be honored to do the same.” Hanako gave me a small amused smirk.

As we drove up the winding road towards the school, I tried to imagine how it must have been for Hisao Nakai – or any other new student - to come to Yamaku Academy for the first time; seeing the small town we had just left and knowing he or she would enter a 'special institution' for those life had dealt a bad set of cards. Then I turned the final corner and saw several school buildings behind a brick wall and an imposing iron gate for pedestrians, which stood invitingly open.
Hanako directed me through a side entrance for cars and into a small parking lot with many empty spaces. Turning off the car, I saw that she was looking around happily at the familiar scenery. “Glad to be here?”
She nodded. “I'm home, Kazuo.”

Following Miki and Hanako through the well-kept school premises, I saw students walking between the buildings chattering with their friends or sitting on benches with lunchboxes. Apart from the occasional crutches or bandages, they looked and acted just like typical high-school students - and after all, why should they not?
I glanced at my fellow travelers, who once had voluntarily entered Yamaku – although neither Miki's missing hand nor Hanako's burns could be considered life-threatening, they both had preferred the company of the disabled to the contempt and compassion of the so-called 'normal people'.
Suddenly I remembered my previous thoughts about how it must have felt for a new student to arrive here and blushed in silent shame at my high-handed assessment. I hurriedly walked up to the two women, grateful they could not read my thoughts.

We reached the entrance of the main building, where about a dozen students lounged in the warm light of the late morning sun. One of them noticed Hanako's face and started talking to his friends, pointing at us repeatedly. Just as I pondered how to make him stop gawking at her, one of the doors to the building opened – and Hanako suddenly shot past me with a happy face to embrace a tall blonde woman emerging from it.
Miki laughed as the other woman overcame her initial surprise and hugged her assailant back, then she called out. “Hello Lilly! Long time, no see... oh crap, I'm so sorry.”
Hanako turned around and glared at her, but the other woman smiled kindly. “It's okay, Miki. Is your journalist friend also with you?”
“Oh yes, he is. May I introduce: Lilly, this is Kazuo Inari, my esteemed colleague. Kazuo, this is Lilly Satou – my old school friend and the deputy principal of Yamaku Academy.”

After some more words of welcome (and an autograph from Hanako for the gawking student, who had actually been reading one of her novels), Lilly led us up the central ramp towards her office on the third floor. As we went through a corridor, I saw that the wall was full of picture frames showing photos of former students: there was Emi receiving a gold medal, Shizune with Misha at the Tokyo stock exchange, Rin with one of her pictures and Hanako holding up a book.
I compared the last picture to the present Hanako, who looked down bashfully as she noticed it – and then I recognized the person standing next to her on the photo: it was a younger Hisao Nakai, smiling in the camera. I was about to comment on the photo wall to Lilly, but then I remembered that the blind woman had never actually 'seen' the photographs – or the people they pictured, although she had probably met and known most of them.

Following the three women who were now busy chattering with each other, I found myself thinking about the things I had learned when I had asked my contacts about information on Lilly Satou. Unlike the other five women on Miki's list, she enjoyed the universal approval and even admiration of all the people I had spoken to – which was a rare thing coming from a bunch of cynical media pros, who tended to believe everybody had skeletons in their closet.
But although some people might harbor sympathy and pity for her handicap or might be stunned by the striking beauty of the tall blonde half-Scot, neither of these things could explain away the words a friend of mine whose specialty were investigative stories about the shortcomings and flaws of the Japanese school system; in his opinion, Lilly Satou was 'as close to being an angel as you could be without growing feathery wings and a halo'.

I smirked as I watched the 'angel' navigate the halls of the school she had left twenty years ago as valedictorian of her class – after a long struggle with her father, who had left Japan a decade before to take over the European branch of his family's business in Inverness. As I knew from Miki, Korechika Satou had deliberately chosen his career over his daughters, whom he had left in Japan with relatives – only to summon them to Scotland six months before Lilly's graduation at Yamaku and in total ignorance of her own plans for the future.
Although she had managed to cajole her father into letting her complete her final year at Yamaku and obtain her Japanese high-school diploma, Lilly and her sister had moved to Inverness immediately afterwards, ostensibly abandoning the country of their birth and childhood forever. Miki had told me that, back then, she had not expected to see Lilly ever again.

But after some years, Lilly had returned to Japan to study English Literature at Sendai College, braving the opposition of her family to pursue her dream of becoming a teacher. As soon as she had finished college, she had successfully applied for a teaching position at Yamaku. By 2025 she had become head of the language department; three years later she had accepted both the post of deputy principal and the invitation to join a special committee evaluating the Japanese school system.
When her committee had submitted its final report, the minister had refused to act on it (he had never intended to) – only to be toppled by the subsequent public outrage stirred by the skillful networking and interviews Lilly and the other committee members had orchestrated. In the end, the government had acquiesced – and Lilly Satou had become the benevolent face of Japan's special education system.

[BlackDuke]

Wresting my mind away from Lilly's past exploits, I entered her office with the three women ahead of me. Lilly was feeling her way into a big swivel chair while Hanako sat down on the edge of another chair next to Lilly. Miki started rummaging in her bag, drawing out her CommPhone after a moment.
Just as she switched it on and gave me a sign to begin the interview, Hanako cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Miki... can we ask something before starting? I mean, off the record?”
“Of course you can, Hanako. What is it?”
Lilly turned her head towards me and I could almost feel the gaze of her sightless blue eyes on me. “I'm sorry for having to ask this, but... are you also going to inquire about Kenji Setou?”

For a moment, I was petrified; I had actually feared one of our interview partners would ask that, but I had not anticipated that it would come up at the very beginning of our talk with those two women. And after all, this was Lilly Satou, the woman who had stood against the Ministry of Education and won... I noticed Miki looking at me in a silent plea to come up with a prudent answer – and quick. Well, here's to honesty.
“I know about Kenji Setou, of course – and if he was still alive, Miki and I might've wanted to interview him also since he was Hisao Nakai's dorm neighbor. However, we all know what he did and there's no need to drag his story back up. We're here to hear about your memories of Hisao – and nothing else.”

To my surprise, Hanako was the first one to speak. “Thank you for your honesty, Kazuo. I hope you'll understand our concerns...”
“Of course I do, Hanako – and I did promise Miki not to include Kenji Setou in this. After all, it's not your fault you went to school the same time as him.”
Hanako nodded sadly. “I wish the journalists back then had thought like that. I can still remember the night-time calls from hacks trying to get 'inside information' on that loony from me.”
“If you think that's bad, try being his class representative and having almost the same surname as him.” Lilly remarked. “After having to explain for the twentieth time that my name's Satou, not Setou, and I'm not related to Kenji, I just stopped answering the phone and got an unlisted number.”
“Ouch. I never thought of that.” Miki said. “So let's all focus on Hisao, okay?” The other two women nodded. “When did you meet him first?”

Once again, Hanako answered first. “Well, since Hisao was put in Miki's and my class, I probably encountered him earlier than Lilly did. Back then, everyone was a bit surprised to have a new student at that time of year, but our class was one person short after...”
“I already told him about poor Mitsuru and his seizure, Hanako.” Miki interrupted, seeing the other woman's discomfort.
Hanako gave Miki a grateful look as she continued talking. “Anyway, our homeroom teacher had cautioned us to go easy on Hisao because of his long time in hospital and to give him time to adjust to Yamaku's peculiarities. I do remember him coming up to me in the library during his first week, asking about something or other, but I can't remember exactly what it was.”
She chuckled self-consciously. “I probably froze or choked up anyway, just like I normally did when somebody else than Lilly approached me back then.”

Feeling Hanako had finished her tale for the moment, Lilly took over. “The first time I met Hisao was probably when he accidentally barged into the room Hanako and I used for our tea and lunch breaks. Like all new students, he initially had problems navigating the school and finding his way through the corridors. In fact, there are new freshmen stumbling into my office every spring, looking for their classroom, the library or simply the next bathroom.” Miki laughed.
“But back to Hisao. I invited him to have a cup of tea with me, which he gladly accepted, and showed him on his way later. Hanako had also told me about the new student in her class and described him to me, so I got a good impression of Hisao. However, it took several months before we got to know him better, since he spent his first months trying out a number of pastimes with other students.”
“Like student council with Shizune, right?” Miki asked.

Lilly smiled as she heard her cousin's name. “Yes, thank you Miki. You see, Kazuo, Shizune and I had a rather problematic past since we could literally not 'understand each other' – and it was worst during our time at the student council, with Shizune and me clashing over every topic and Misha as our not-so-impartial translator. When I finally quit the council, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders – until I became representative of my class, which earned me even more disagreements with Shizune.”
She looked wistful now. “I should add that we three are on good terms now and Shizune's actually the head of our alumni program as well as its biggest financial supporter – but back then, I was constantly on edge whenever I had to deal with her, so Hanako and I certainly weren't going to interrupt Hisao having fun being with the council. However, you already spoke to them, didn't you?”

I reflexively nodded, but then I remembered Lilly's blindness and spoke instead. “Yes, and they told us about their time with Hisao. But you just said it took some months until he started spending more time with you two. How did that happen?”
“Well, he retired from the council after Tanabata – though I don't exactly know the reason for it.” Hanako said hesitantly.
Miki and I made eye contact, and I shook my head at her as Hanako continued. “Anyway, he came to the library more frequently and we began talking about our taste in books. When I invited him to our teatime, he realized that Lilly and I had problems with some of our science work, so he offered to help us out after classes.”
Lilly chuckled. “Perhaps that's why he decided to focus on lab work instead of a regular teaching career; he must have remembered how hard it had been to educate two stupid girls about the laws of gravitation.”

After we had all stopped laughing, I leaned forward. “So Hisao participated in your teatimes and gave you science lessons. Was he already that brilliant in school?”
“Oh yes, he was; after our science teacher realized Hisao's potential, he gave him extra work and materials to prepare for college. They also inaugurated Yamaku's science club, which still exists.” Lilly looked pensive again. “It's a pity Mr. Mutou died some years ago. He would've deserved to see Hisao get the Nobel Prize – but that also goes for Hisao himself.”
Hanako leaned over and patted Lilly's left arm, then she continued. “But the real reason why Hisao was so precious to us is different, Kazuo. When our final year was half over, Lilly got a message from her parents who wanted her to come and live with them in Scotland.”
Miki nodded. “Yeah, I still remember your shock when she told you about it.”

Hanako looked down for a moment, but then she straightened again. “At that time, I almost felt like my world had collapsed all around me – again. And maybe it would have been that way, if it hadn't been for Hisao. First he talked me out of my impromptu idea of accompanying Lilly to Scotland – which was crazy to begin with, since I had actually no idea what to do once I got there. He also spoke with Lilly's sister Akira, who had been summoned home too, and after much deliberation and planning, the sisters managed to get a postponement until the end of our senior year. But the greatest thing Hisao did was...” Hanako swallowed.
“Yes?” Miki was on the edge of her chair fixing Hanako, but it was Lilly who continued.
“...was his offer to stay with Hanako once I would go to Scotland. He said that, since I could not be there for her any longer, he would try his best to be the kind of friend I'd been to her until then.”

During the ensuing moment of silence, I looked at the three women in the room. Miki was still on the edge of her chair, but now her mouth was wide open in surprise. Hanako looked at her feet, obviously lost in her memories, while Lilly ostensibly scratched her forehead to hide a tear that had formed in her right eye.
Finally Miki found her voice again. “That's some large promise, if you ask me... but what exactly did it include?”
Lilly finished dabbing at her eye. “I asked him the same question to make sure – after all, I knew Hanako's inner demons better than anyone else. Hisao then said it included whatever was necessary for Hanako's sake – for starters, adjusting his college plans to fit hers if she so desired.” I gasped.

Hanako smiled shyly. “To gauge the full extent of Hisao's dedication, you've got to remember that, back then, everybody – including Lilly herself – thought that she would depart Japan forever. I actually suspected he'd fallen in love with me when Lilly told me about his promise, and spent one day in utter confusion until I got a chance to talk to him.” She paused.
“To be frank with you, I would've probably gone along with it if he had really wanted me to – but he saw me as a dear friend and I felt the same for him, but not more. However, I had already considered going to college at Nagoya, which also offered a renowned science facility for Hisao, so we both took the respective entrance tests and got in. During our time there, we used to meet regularly for lunch or for some evening pastime; we depended on each other and had a good time, although of course it was not like being at Yamaku with Lilly.”

As Hanako stopped talking to take another gulp from her water glass, Miki spoke up. “But I always thought Lilly came back from Scotland because you missed her so terribly, Hanako. So if you and Hisao were attending college together...”
Lilly sighed. “While I was concerned for Hanako's welfare, I knew from her letters and calls she was quite happy – unlike me. I spent three very awkward months with my folks in Inverness before I went off to St. Andrews University, but once there, I was rather lonely. It took me two years to finally overcome both my pride and obstinacy, and to tell my misery to Hanako over the phone. Two days later, I came home from college and found her and Hisao in front of my flat, saying they both had come to take me home.”
She smiled. “So actually, it was the other way around, Miki. I had once saved Hanako from isolation, but then she returned the favor – with Hisao.”

We spent another hour talking in Lilly's office and afterwards took a stroll across the campus, which ended with a snack in the empty school cafeteria and more stories about Hisao from the three women. While we ate at a corner table, I could well imagine them as they must have been twenty years ago: Lilly tasting her meal slowly and daintily, Hanako pecking timidly at the food and Miki devouring the day's offer before speeding off to the track club.

Finally, we returned to the parking lot and the rental car; Hanako would stay at Yamaku and get back to Tokyo tomorrow by train.
As Miki unlocked the boot, I turned back to the other two. “A final question before we leave: did Hisao ever plan to return to Yamaku as a teacher?”
Hanako looked at Lilly, who bent her head slightly, then she sighed. “Back at college, Hisao sometimes said he'd like to go into teaching – which he did in the end, only at university – and I know he had a long talk with our old teacher Mr. Mutou at our first or second class reunion. But after he got a doctorate grant and moved to Tokyo with his future wife, it was clear that he aimed for higher laurels.”
Lilly nodded. “When I became deputy principal, I started a series of lectures given by successful Yamaku alumni to motivate the current students and inspire them about what they might do after graduation. Hisao came once and delivered a great speech, but his busy schedule prevented him from becoming a regular guest like Rin or Hanako are now. Too bad, I believe he was a great inspiration to the kids.”
“He always had a big heart for others.” Hanako agreed sadly. “If only his own had been stronger...”

[BlackDuke]

Back on the road, Miki started replaying her CommPhone recordings and made some notes while I steered the car southwards.
After some time, I realized that the electronic playback had stopped and I looked over to her. Miki was quietly staring down at her plastic hand lying in her lap; the phone had slid down without any kind of reaction from her. “Ehm... Miki? Are you okay?” My companion stayed silent, so I deliberately cleared my throat and slowed down a bit.

Finally, Miki slowly looked up, her expression reminding me of a small child waking up at an unfamiliar place. “Sorry, Kazuo. Were you saying anything?”
I smiled at her. “Just checking whether you had a seizure.”
“No, I didn't. It's just... well, seeing Yamaku and speaking with my former schoolmates has... stirred up memories I thought I'd buried long ago.” She wistfully gazed down at her fake appendage again. “Of coming up here... after it happened.”

Sensing her inner commotion, I stayed silent, feeling that she would come around to telling me soon. After another minute, she drew a deep breath, bending forward to retrieve the fallen CommPhone before turning to me again.
As she started speaking, her voice sounded much more normal than before. “Did I ever tell you how I lost my hand?”
“No – but if you'll tell me now, I'll be glad to listen.”
She chuckled slightly. “Always the gentleman. Well, I grew up in a rural area of Kyushu and took after my sturdy parents; I helped out at the farm and preferred the company of boys to that of girls. I'm an only child and my folks hoped that some day I'd take over the place, so they never held me back from trying out things for myself - until the day I attempted to clear out an obstruction in our wood thresher and the blade wheel suddenly started turning... with my hand in it.”

Miki slowly lifted up her left arm and looked at the plastic hand. “I was both lucky and unlucky. The thresher crushed my hand and mangled my lower arm, but it didn't rip off the entire arm, which might've been fatal. That's why I wear a stiff plastic hand instead of a mechanical one, by the way – I lost all the nerves and muscles necessary to move a real prosthetic. My folks could prove that the thresher had moved due to an electrical fault and used the large insurance sum to send me to Yamaku.”
She coughed quietly. “I arrived there believing I was the most miserable person in the whole world with my bandaged arm stump and my shattered dreams of Kyushu farm life. Then I met people who'd never known a normal life because of birth deficiencies, horrible diseases or accidents, and who probably never would. In comparison, all I'd lost was my weaker hand – and some childish illusions about my fate.”

I thought about Miki's story for a moment as she took a water bottle from her bag and gulped down its contents.
Suddenly I remembered a question I had mulled over during each of our interviews without daring to voice it. As pictures of the former Yamaku students we had talked to as well as of the invalids in Emi's facility and of the current Yamaku students we had seen today flashed before my inner eye, I decided to ask Miki for her opinion.
“I just thought about something, Miki. Who did you think had it worse: the kids who came to Yamaku with a disability or condition they had from birth, or those whose deficiency developed during their childhoods or resulted from an accident?”

Several seconds passed without an answer from Miki, who sub-consciously tapped the empty water bottle against her fake hand while pondering my question. Finally, the tapping stopped as she exhaled audibly and spoke.
“If you want to hear my personal opinion – as a member of the second group, that is – I'd say it's worse for those whose deficiencies were found out or acquired later. It depends on the specific case of course, but I think those who were born lacking something do not feel the lack as much as those who lost something they had.
Take for example our interviewees: Lilly has never known the sight of the world around her, while Shizune has never heard a spoken word nor uttered one herself. And Rin grew up learning how to use her legs and feet just like other kids do with their hands. They worked with or around their problems better because they never knew the alternative.”

She sighed heavily as she pointed to her CommPhone. “Remember our first conversation with Emi and Rin? Rin said Hisao was desperately looking for something to do with himself. He had to adapt to a whole new life when his heart attack ended the one he'd known for over seventeen years.
I was the same when I came to Yamaku, hiding my stump whenever I could and being constantly on edge from the frustration of living life with one hand less than before. Imagine Emi learning to walk again with prosthetic legs after running around so long on her own ones, or Hanako looking at her face in the mirror and remembering how it looked without the disfiguring scars. We all knew normal life, and we all remember losing it.”

We drove on silently for a while, with Miki once again lost in her thoughts and me pondering the things she had told me.
Just when I thought Miki had dozed off, she suddenly spoke to me again. “Kaz?” I looked over to her. “Do you think this thing has turned out as you hoped it would?”
I smiled at her. “Actually, I believe this has already gone beyond my wildest imaginations – and none of it would've been possible without you, Miki. Thank you so much.”
Miki chuckled. “Well, I'm certainly glad I could be a part of it, Kazuo... but to be honest, I've got to thank you for all this. You did a great job with the others – and I know they all felt the same.”
“Then let's make them proud, shall we?”
Now Miki smiled. “You bet we will.”

Once Miki and I had cobbled together a rough narrative, time seemed to blur before my eyes. For three days I pored over the electronic transcripts, adding background information for some parts while reducing or erasing other portions. Miki came by several times to help me with details relating to their time at Yamaku as well as after school; she also spent a whole day in Okayama's archives to provide pictures to the story.
My article presented Hisao Nakai exactly like his former fellow students had seen him: a good man and a great friend, whose road towards scientific glory and finally the Nobel Prize had started among the disabled at Yamaku. When I finally called up Okayama to send him the finished text, I felt like a zombie and I probably looked like one too – but I reveled in knowing that Miki and I had managed to successfully complete the most ambitious assignment of our careers.

When the story ran a week later – meticulously prepared and advertised by Okayama's well-oiled PR machine – the public and critical reception exceeded even my wildest expectations.
I was flooded with commendations and job offers by people I had not seen or worked for in years, and Okayama had to divert three of his secretaries from their regular job to handle the mails and calls coming in response to the story. Later, he told me he had been seriously tempted to sell his contractual exclusive rights to the story to one of his competitors who offered a huge sum, but in the end he declined.
Miki also basked in the glory of co-authorship and confided to me that she would have a hard time returning to the blandness of baseball and football match reports. When we both decided to celebrate our success over dinner at Shinjuku, we were even asked to autograph several issues of our story; I felt like a movie star.

While the public approval and the praise of my fellow journalists naturally felt good, I was particularly touched by the reaction of our six interview partners, which actually came in two parts. Directly after the publication, I received letters from each of them, commending me on my work and once again expressing their gratitude for my treatment of their friendship to Hisao.
One week later, I got another letter – this time from all of them together. Since they were all well-known public figures, they had been asked by other media representatives for further statements about Hisao Nakai, but they wrote they had referred all inquirers to my article as the true and complete story of their time with him. They also assured me once again they would gladly supply me with further information if Miki and I wished so. Miki almost dropped the letter in astonishment when I showed it to her.

[BlackDuke]

After two more weeks, the elation our story had caused slowly began to subside. Okayama had pondered sending me to Stockholm to cover the Nobel ceremony or commissioning Miki and me to turn our material into a book, but other events had sidelined those plans.
To be honest, I appreciated a break since I was rather drained from the hard work of writing the article and the subsequent stress of our sudden glory. For years, I had freely distributed my name and contact data to hundreds of colleagues and potential employers in need of a good writer, and it felt as though every last one of them had called me now to voice their praises about the story or to offer me a follow-up commission.

On December 4th, I sat in the kitchen of my small apartment eating my breakfast when my CommPhone screen flashed up. As I took the call, I heard a quiet female voice. “Excuse me... is this Mr. Inari speaking?”
“Yes, this is him. How can I help you?”
The woman sounded very hesitant. “I... well, I've read your story about Hisao Nakai, and... You see, I think it was really well-written, but...”

I exhaled slowly. “That's good to hear, madam. I'm always glad if my readers enjoy my work.”
“Oh yes, I did, but it's... well, I'd rather like to talk to you in person...”
I grunted as I reached for my coffee cup on the table, pondering how to end this conversation quickly. “Hmm... well, you'll probably understand that I'm a very busy man, Madam... excuse me, I didn't get your name.”
The woman took a deep breath. “Oh yes, you're right. I'm sorry, Mr. Inari... my name's Nakai. I'm... sorry, I mean I was his wife.”


Seven hours later, I stood in front of a small coastal hotel, whose windows reflected the clouded December sky above and the roiling waters of the Pacific behind me.
After regaining my composure and apologizing for my lukewarm initial reaction, I had mostly listened to Mrs. Nakai, who was still hiding from the attention of the press and the public in a town in southern Shikoku. When she had proposed to meet her there, I had immediately accepted, stuffing some clothes into my sports bag and hurriedly booking a seat on the next flight to Kochi Airport right after terminating the call.
I had tried to call Okayama, but his secretary had told me he was out discussing his Christmas ad campaign; she had also told me that Miki was covering a game at Niigata, so I had refrained from calling her too. I also felt it might be better to see Hisao Nakai's widow without Miki – one of his former classmates – next to me.

Locking the rental car I had picked up at Kochi with the remote, I turned towards the hotel entrance and stepped through the doors into an almost empty foyer. The concierge looked up from a dog-eared book and scrutinized me, but before he could ask me about my wishes, I saw a woman rise from her seat at the far end of the hall.
As she approached me, I recognized the small slender frame and the black hair of the woman I had previously seen only on a photo of her standing next to her husband at a party, smiling happily at the camera. Now her face was pale, showing signs of sleepless and tearful nights far from home, as she held out her hand to greet me. “Mr. Inari, right? Thank you for coming. Shall we sit down?”

After we had settled in two comfortable armchairs, my hostess wrung her hands, obviously looking for a way to start. I decided to take the first step.
“Thank you very much for agreeing to meet me here, Mrs. Nakai. Please accept my sincere bereavement about the loss of your husband. I... only met him once, years ago, but he really impressed me with his friendliness and his wit. I hope you will not take this the wrong way, but I heard a lot about him from my contacts, and especially from the six women my colleague and I interviewed for our article. And after having talked with them, I'm genuinely sorry I didn't get to know him better; he must have really been a remarkable man.”

Before she could answer, we were approached by a waiter who had appeared from a nearby door. “Would you like to order some drinks now, Mrs. Sugara?”
“Ehm... yes, bring us two small bottles of water, please.” As the waiter shuffled off again, she smiled bashfully. “It took me several days to start responding to my aunt's maiden name, but it has kept off the attention of your fellow journalists.”
“It obviously did.” I smirked, then I leaned forward and fixed her in my gaze. “Now what can I do for you, Mrs. Nakai? I can't deny I was very surprised to hear from you after all this time since I never thought I ever would. I'd also understand if you've changed your mind or prefer to speak to me only 'off-the-record', as it is. However, I must admit that I'm extremely curious for anything you'd like to tell me - especially about the life you've lived with your husband, Professor Hisao Nakai.”

Mrs. Nakai managed a small smile. “Like you said, Mr. Inari, he was a remarkable man – and I'm very grateful you managed to capture this in your article. I had hoped that someone would do that – especially since I wasn't able to due to the circumstances.” She looked down.
“After the trauma of Hisao's death, my brother took me here to save me from what he called 'the maniacal hunger of the rabid press' – please forgive my expression – but after a while, I loathed being cut off from everything and everyone. My family and some friends I called during my exile convinced me to stay here until the Nobel ceremony and to fly to Stockholm directly, but when I read your excellent article, I started wanting to talk with you about Hisao. So if you'd like to hear my story as you heard the stories of Hisao's former classmates, I'd be honored to tell you – and you may freely decide whether you'll use any of it.”

The waiter returned with our order, and we spent a moment pouring water into our glasses and drinking silently. Mrs. Nakai was the first to set down her glass again, swallowing deeply to collect her thoughts before speaking.
“The first time I met Hisao was back in middle school, long before his heart problems surfaced; at first, he was just another boy I occasionally ran into in the hallway. We ended up in the same high-school class by chance, and got to know each other better – but then he had his attack and suddenly vanished from school.
Everyone was shocked for a while, but our school life went on without him and the manner of his departure from it made him a problematic topic among us. Months later, I heard Hisao had transferred to a special school, which lay up north somewhere in the wilderness – at least in comparison to bustling Tokyo. I once tried to contact him, but he didn't answer.”

I held up my hand to stop her narration. “One moment, please. So you completely lost contact with him after his heart attack?”
“Yes, I did – until the beginning of my third college year, when I transferred from Fukuoka to Nagoya to be closer to my family. During my first week, I heard someone talk about 'that science wizard Nakai' and inquired about him; that same evening, he showed up at my dorm to ask me out for dinner.” She looked wistful.
“We talked about all sort of things: mutual friends, our college experiences, future plans, the lot. After that, we started spending more and more time together and soon realized there was more to it than friendship.” Her face went melancholic. ”By then, he'd told me about the disadvantages he faced because of his weak heart – among them, a much lower life expectancy than most other people, and his constant dependency on a large number of medications.”

Mrs. Nakai paused to drink the rest of her water, and I signaled the waiter to take away the empty bottles and bring new ones. As he departed again, she continued. “We both graduated in 2017 – sadly, my rather decent score paled in comparison with Hisao's outstanding degree. He had previously applied for a research grant at Kanto University and, when he learned of his success, he proposed to me – 'giving you my heart, frail as it is' he said.” She choked for a moment at the dear memory before continuing in a quieter voice.
“We moved back to Tokyo: Hisao worked at his lab and I took up a position as assistant manager in my father's housing firm. Early on, we agreed not to have children because I was not keen on pregnancy and Hisao was afraid to pass on his heart condition to another generation, so it was just the two of us. After Hisao finished his doctorate, he stayed at Kanto as a lecturer...”

[BlackDuke]

For the next two hours, Mrs. Nakai kept on telling me about her husband's career, about their life together and his dedication to find a way to counter the various disorders in the human genome, which could cause physical or mental disabilities. While listening to that topic, I silently praised the information I had gathered about Professor Nakai's achievement, which was sufficient to grasp the gist of his widow's narration – even if I would check back with an expert later to fully understand the scientific stuff. Several times I threw in a question about a detail of her story or consulted my own notes about Hisao Nakai's career.
Yet despite his widow's frankness about their private life and his professional accomplishments, I still felt she held back something which troubled her deeply and which might surface once she found the inner strength to voice it. Therefore, I trusted my instincts and kept listening.

When we had finally reached the day of the Nobel proclamation and the emotional turmoil it had caused for the woman opposite me, the December sky outside had darkened and the other hotel guests were exiting the restaurant again after finishing their dinner. We had eaten at our table, continuing our talk during the meal, and I had asked the concierge for a room while Mrs. Nakai had been to the bathroom.
As she finished her narration with the discovery of her dead husband, she inhaled deeply to fight back a tear, but then she managed to produce a small smile. “Thank you very much for listening, Mr. Inari. It actually felt good to speak about Hisao with you. Is there anything else you'd like to know?”
Okay, it's now or never. “Well, I might be wrong about this, but it felt like there's still something on your mind, and you're unsure whether you should tell me. Whatever it is, you might feel better voicing it.”

Several seconds passed before Mrs. Nakai reacted to my words; when she did, her face looked surprisingly determined. “Yes, there is something, Mr. Inari – and it's one of the reasons I called you down here today. You see, I was very touched by what you wrote about my husband, but reading your article also made me feel weak - and dreadful.”
She waved off my attempt to apologize and proceeded. “I know it wasn't your intention, Mr. Inari. The truth is that I deserved to feel that way because I did something terrible and hurt many people – and I only realized it after reading your article.”
I was genuinely puzzled now. “But... what did you do that was so terrible?”
She sighed deeply. “I estranged Hisao from his Yamaku friends.”

As she leaned forward in her armchair and took a large gulp from her water glass, I suddenly realized that, in more than two hours of conversation, she had scarcely mentioned Yamaku or her husband's time there. I also remembered the awkwardness of our interview partners when being asked about their more recent contacts with Hisao Nakai; Emi had actually said that Hisao stopped coming to their reunions after he married and Hanako had hinted that his focus had changed when he had left for Tokyo.
I wrested my mind back to the present and to the hunched woman opposite me, who looked gloomily at the floor as she spoke again. “I asked you before to hear my story and told you to feel free to use everything you heard from me, Mr. Inari. I must ask you now to hear my confession – and if you will, I hope you'll be able to show me a way to atone for my actions.”

Seeing my gesture of agreement, the small woman took a few moments to collect her thoughts before she started talking again in a subdued tone. “From the moment Hisao proposed to me, I knew two things, Mr. Inari. I knew I wanted to spend my entire life with him until death would part us, but I also knew that, due to his condition, Hisao would probably predecease me. I was willing to take that risk in order to be with the man I loved.” She sighed again.
“However, by the time we met again, Hisao had successfully adapted his way of life to his condition, so I was optimistic that medical progress might eventually come up with something new to cure him. Moreover, a weak heart was not like a missing limb or a facial scar: it did not show on the outside and few people knew about it, so we were able to forget about its shadow looming over us most of the time – even when speaking about his professional work.”

I noticed that her glass was almost empty and signaled the waiter for another refill, then I turned back to Mrs. Nakai, who smiled gratefully. “Thank you for that. Anyway, the ignorance treatment, as we once called it in jest, worked beautifully for every part of our life – except one: his past at Yamaku.” She looked down again.
“Yamaku came to symbolize a part of Hisao I desperately wanted to banish from our life together. To me, Yamaku meant the frailty of Hisao's heart, meant a group of disabled people who knew about his illness, meant a time in my husband's life I had played no part in, and which I could not understand. It also meant some secluded place far from Tokyo, which I only visited once when I accompanied Hisao to a class reunion and which I found utterly repulsive – at least back then. Every time the topic of Yamaku came up, I felt the ghost of Hisao's premature demise in the room.”

She stopped talking when the waiter brought more water and I poured some of it into our glasses. As she sipped at her glass, I contemplated what she had said about Yamaku and thought about our own visit there; then I remembered the epiphany I had experienced there about coming to Yamaku as a student. But to go there as an outsider, laden with prejudices... “Did your husband knew about your views of Yamaku Academy?”
Mrs. Nakai gulped down her drink, then she nodded with a sad look. “He never actually confronted me about it, but he probably felt my uneasiness and silent dislike whenever the topic came up, so he refrained from bringing it up if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I know they kept inviting him to the annual reunions, but after he missed the school jubilee in 2020 because of his work schedule and realized I would never accompany him there again, he stopped going altogether.”

After a moment of silence, she sighed audibly. “Actually, it's rather ironic. When I first learned that Hisao had gone to a special school, I imagined his condition would condemn him to an existence at the fringe of our society and keep him from living a normal life. That's probably one reason why I was so happy to see how well he was doing when we met at Nagoya College later, by the way. As we started dating and grew closer, he told me of the people he had met at Yamaku and of their various talents, of course.”
She sighed again. “It wasn't until after I had managed to make 'Yamaku' a taboo topic in our home that I found out that some of them were too important to be ignored.”
“What do you mean by that?”

Instead of answering my query, she reached over to the adjacent table and took up an old journal. “You worked with one of Hisao's friends and spoke with several others, so you know of their accomplishments.” She showed me the title page of the journal, which sported a photo of a stern-looking Shizune Hakamichi in the upper left corner.
“Now imagine me, trying to banish everything related to my husband's time at Yamaku from my mind – only to see his former classmates all over the media every other day. Whether it was Rin Tezuka and Hanako Ikezawa in the cultural section, Emi Ibarazaki and Miki Miura on the sports pages, Lilly Satou commenting about educational topics or Shizune Hakamichi dominating the economy, I always felt a stab whenever I read their names and saw their photographs somewhere. Thankfully no one ever found out about his connection to that lunatic Kenji Satou...”

She laid down the journal again and drew a deep breath. “I'm aware this sound rather melodramatic and slightly paranoid, but the public omnipresence of Hisao's former friends probably played a big part in my perseverance to avoid the topic so strenuously. If I ever thought about them, I imagined that they probably hated both Hisao for withdrawing from them and me as the logical – and actual – reason for this behavior, which made the idea of meeting them or visiting Yamaku even more remote. I was actually very relieved that, after my husband's death, all the obituaries copied his official CV and nobody mentioned him being at Yamaku – until you and your friend Miki Miura published your story.”

Recalling her earlier statement about her initial reaction to our article, I wanted to apologize again, but Mrs. Nakai gave me a sad smile. “So here I was far away from home, with a lot of time to think about my former and future life. For the first time in over a decade, I really thought about my husband's time at Yamaku and how I had – more or less – made him break off all ties with it.
And then I read your article and learned how his former friends, the same people whose constant presence in the media had always bothered me so much, actually cherished their memories of Hisao. I know how journalists concentrate on the highlights of a story, but if only half of what you wrote is true, he was a great friend to all of them – and he probably would have continued to be that, if it hadn't been for me loathing everything connected with his Yamaku time.” She swallowed heavily to fight down a tear.

After another moment of silence, she spoke again in a quiet voice. “Reading your article, I finally realized how I had robbed both them and Hisao of the chance to continue the friendships they had formed at Yamaku and afterwards. I feel deeply ashamed towards his friends, even more so since your article also convinced me that Hisao was never romantically involved with any of the women in question – that was another unfounded fear of mine which made me keep him away from Yamaku.”
She chuckled apologetically at her own stupidity before she exhaled deeply, looking like a person freed from an incredible burden. “Now I need your advice, Mr. Inari. Is there anything I can and should do to make up for my actions?”

I straightened in my armchair and poured more water in my glass, mainly to gain time for my answer. Mrs. Nakai looked at me, her eyes filled with the genuine hope to receive some advice on her dilemma.
As I slowly drank from the glass, many persons went through my mind: Emi and Rin, whose lives had profited from Hisao Nakai's deeds... Shizune and Misha, for whom he had been the catalyst to confess their feelings to each other... Hanako and Lilly, who both had been saved by Hisao in a way... the young men I had seen in Emi's convalescent home and the present Yamaku students lounging in the sun...
Looking up at the quiet woman opposite me, who was pained by a guilty conscience mostly induced by our work, I suddenly knew exactly what to tell her. “Mrs. Nakai? I believe there actually is something you can do – and I do think that your late husband would have greatly appreciated it.”

[Silentcook]

Walls of text. Improve your formatting, you have far too few line breaks.