Cherry Blossoms and Fireworks
I woke up a little earlier than usual and checked the news on my phone. The Yotsukaido Central Park terrorist attack was dominating every headline. Thirty-two dead and fifty-four injured… It looked like quite a few of the wounded had died overnight. Just as I’d expected, most of the articles tore into the police for their lax response.
Surprisingly, my own story had leaked out in bits and pieces. The tale of the man who fought the terrorists bare-handed was spreading like some kind of urban legend. The reason it wasn’t appearing in proper news reports or official media was probably because Taira Yukiko and Taira Danjo had quietly suppressed anything that might put me in the spotlight.
Since I’d gone to bed early the night before, I was up much sooner than my usual time. When I walked into the dining room, Taira Yukiko was already eating. She was having breakfast earlier than normal too?
“Good morning, Mother. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, I did. You should eat too. Come, sit here.”
I gave a polite bow and took the seat she indicated. Soon the housekeeper brought out the food—sunny-side-up eggs and toast crisped in butter. It was an unusually early breakfast, so the simple fare felt just right.
“How many of our company people were hurt yesterday?”
“Fortunately the attack happened quite far from where our staff had set up, so there were no fatalities. Only about five people were injured after tripping while trying to run away.”
That was a relief. The terrorist strike had broken out on the path back from the food stalls, which put it a good distance from the spot the Human Resources Development Center had claimed. The employees had grabbed excellent seats early in the morning, far from the stalls, so the damage was lighter than it could have been.
“I need to head to the main house today to give my report, so I’ll be leaving early.”
Taira Yukiko finished her meal quickly, got ready, and left right away. Was she going to get scolded by Grandfather Taira Danjo? Or was it simply a formal debriefing on the incident? I decided that after so long, I would return to our old home in Tokyo and visit my real mother, Jin Mija. She had left me a mountain of missed calls, so I sent her a quick text—“I’m fine”—then got in the car and drove toward Tokyo.
It had been a while since I’d taken two full days off at home. Sex or anything else could wait. After getting riddled with bullets yesterday, I needed to avoid overdoing it.
When I opened my eyes again, it was still early. Once I woke up ahead of schedule, my sleep pattern seemed to have adjusted on its own. The ideal time was right before work—8:35 a.m.—but here I was again.
Since I was already up, I had a quick breakfast of bread, packed some clothes, and spent a little over an hour working out in one of the gyms the Human Resources Development Center kept on site. After a shower and a change of clothes, I headed to the office.
“Good morning~.”
The moment I greeted everyone and stepped inside, every head in the office turned toward me. Just a few days ago they had looked at me with clear disapproval for arriving exactly five minutes before nine. The male team members especially had glared at me with jealous eyes because I was close to the team’s two great beauties, Shinone Misano and Mimata Chieri. Today, however, there wasn’t a trace of that.
Was it because I was the son of the center’s director? Until now I had only told Shinone Misano directly, so the rest of the team must have assumed I was just some distant relative on the branch family side.
“Director-nim was your mother, Hubae-gun?”
“Haha, yes. Did I never mention it?”
Mimata Chieri asked with a slightly wronged expression, as if wondering why I hadn’t told her sooner.
“That’s right. I knew your last name was Taira, but I had no idea you were the director’s son.”
“Please, not ‘son.’ Just call me Hubae-gun like always, Sunbae-nim.”
Mimata Chieri laughed as if she hadn’t been entirely serious, saying “Hehe, right? Hubae-kun?” before returning to her work. The office quickly filled again with the clatter of keyboards and ringing phones. After such a massive incident only a few days ago, this ordinary daily scene somehow felt strangely abnormal.
“Good morning, everyone. Some of you must still be exhausted from what happened the other day, but the busiest training season is almost here, so please bear with it just a little longer.”
From the company’s perspective, they couldn’t afford to give injured—or even uninjured—employees time off right before peak season, so Shinone Misano’s words were perfectly reasonable. Speaking of rest, I realized I had to take tomorrow off too. Last Tuesday two weeks ago had been the thirty-fifth day after Taira Saburo’s death, which meant tomorrow was the forty-ninth day. The final day of the funeral rites.
I could tell Shinone Misano about it later when we were alone. Or maybe Taira Yukiko had already informed her in advance, like last time.
“Taira-kun, we have a client visit. Please get ready.”
Almost as soon as I thought of her, Shinone Misano called me over. Her eyes were no joke—probably because she had gone hungry all weekend. Until today many people had found it strange that I accompanied her on outside business, but now no one batted an eye.
Everyone seemed to think she was taking me along to give me management training. Management training, my ass. It was sex education…
Since I had also saved up quite a bit of “ammunition” over the weekend, I was confident I could properly pin Shinone Misano down today.
Even though it had only been two weeks, the main house still didn’t feel familiar. Because this was the forty-ninth day memorial, many relatives had gathered, but Alice was in Milan for work. Most of my cousins stayed away, leaving only Taira Saburo’s siblings and the branch-family relatives desperate to get into Taira Danjo’s good graces.
Taira Yukiko wore her usual black funeral kimono, and I was in a black suit. Her complexion looked particularly poor—not just because of the final memorial for Taira Saburo. The constant whispering, sneering, and jealous malice swirling around her seemed to weigh heavily on her expression.
People were saying things like, “His wife must have been unlucky; that’s why the husband died so soon,” or “She has nothing to do with the Taira family anymore, so why is she still holding the important post of Human Resources Development Center director?” Those words stabbed into Taira Yukiko’s heart like daggers.
Of course, none of these people would dare speak such things in front of Chairman Taira Danjo or Taira Yukiko herself. They were small, insignificant figures who could only vent their spite while harboring empty hopes that the powerful position of director might somehow fall into their own laps.
I reached out and took Taira Yukiko’s hand.
“!”
“Mother, don’t pay any attention to them.”
I squeezed her hand gently, letting her know I was here.
Her fragile smile in return carried more warmth than any words could.
At my words, Taira Yukiko gave a faint smile. It was faint, but it overflowed with genuine feeling. I had to be her strength. Otherwise she really might break.
“Ahem! I assume everyone is here? Yukiko! Ryuta! As Saburo’s wife and son, the two of you will lead the way.”
The moment Taira Danjo publicly called her Saburo’s wife in front of everyone, the malicious gossip around us died instantly. I didn’t know whether the old man had done it on purpose or not, but—nice one, Grandfather. Well played.
Taira Danjo and Taira Shizuku stood at the very front with Taira Yukiko beside them. I followed with Taira Kanna, Taira Ichiro, Taira Jiro, Taira Kokoro, and the others. Alice’s mother, Nae Fitzgerald, stood with us as well. I exchanged silent nods with everyone, then walked behind the leaders.
Our destination was the family cemetery where Taira Saburo was buried. A monk was already standing in front of the gravestone. Once we had all gathered, he began the final funeral rite. He chanted sutras, poured water over the stone, and wiped it clean again and again. After roughly thirty minutes, the entire ceremony came to an end.
“Right! Let’s head to the banquet hall!”
At Taira Danjo’s command, everyone moved toward the large hall. It was only around five o’clock, a little early for dinner, but the tables were already fully set. I normally had a voracious appetite, yet in this atmosphere the food barely went down.
Once the meal was nearly finished, Chairman Taira Danjo called each of his children forward and gave them evaluations—what they had done well, what they had done poorly. Taira Ichiro, who had been scolded last time, received praise. Taira Jiro had the shipbuilding division taken away from him again. Taira Kokoro had achieved some major success and was awarded a media company.
“Ryuta.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
It was my turn.
“I hear you played a big part in stopping the terrorist attack this time. Is there anything you want?”
His words caused a stir throughout the hall. So he really did stop that huge terrorist incident? That was probably what everyone was murmuring about. I thought for a moment, then answered.
“You’ve never once given me allowance money, Grandfather. Could you give me some pocket money this time? It hasn’t been long since I started receiving a salary, but I’m already out of money.”
My cheeky reply made everyone burst into laughter. The uncles who wanted to be the next chairman—Taira Ichiro and Taira Jiro—had probably been wary that I might ask for something excessive, but a simple request for pocket money was downright adorable in their eyes.
The other branch-family members probably laughed because they thought it was ridiculous that the grandson of the man who ran the Taira Group—one of Japan’s top conglomerates—would ask the chairman for nothing more than allowance.
Of course I wanted something bigger, but if I revealed my real ambitions, my uncles or aunt might send assassins after me again. Besides, this was the perfect time to take even a small amount and invest it in stocks to grow it.
“Hahaha! To announce in front of the whole family that I’m such a terrible grandfather who has never once given his grandson allowance money—what a rascal you are!”
Chairman Taira Danjo called his secretary and had a check brought over. Then he summoned me to receive it.
“Here you are, you rascal! Your pocket money!”
“Thank you, Grandfather.”
The amount written on the check was fifty million yen. Pretty generous, old man Taira Danjo.
