Those Who Are Not Protected - Chapter 1: Episode 2.2

Since that was the case, the next step was to speak with someone else—one of Mikumo’s coworkers. So, Tashino said he wanted to ask Mikumo’s subordinates some questions, and Narusaki agreed without hesitation.

Next, a man named Sugaō Maruyama, one of Mikumo’s staff members, came into the meeting room.

“I heard that the Section Chief Mikumo was killed?”

Maruyama also looked shocked.

“It’s not confirmed yet. But the chances are high.”

“How did he die?”

Tashino thought it would be okay to share what the news might report, so he told him that Mikumo was forced into starvation and dehydration.

“That’s horrible…”

Maruyama looked at the floor, as if Mikumo’s body were lying right in front of him.

“Yeah. In some ways, it’s worse than being stabbed or strangled.”

“It’s not just ‘in some ways’. It really is worse.”

His serious tone caught Tashino’s attention.

“This isn’t wartime. How do you, a young person, know what starving to death feels like?”

“I think working on the front lines of welfare isn’t much different from wartime.”

He spoke like someone much older than his age.

“When someone who gets public assistance doesn’t follow the caseworker’s advice or tries to cheat the system, their support can be stopped. It’s their own fault, but many of them can’t survive without that money. Once it’s gone, they have no way to live. Some people who lose their support have nothing to eat, so they just drink water. After a while, they get too weak from malnutrition to even drink, and then they start to show signs of hunger and dehydration. When neighbors notice a bad smell and there’s a call for help… well, I don’t need to tell you what we find when we get there.”

“Have you encountered cases like this yourself?”

“The Public Assistance Division gives someone like me experiences far beyond what you’d expect. Section Chief Mikumo has always worked tirelessly to reduce such tragedies.”

“To think he himself died of starvation… it’s just too ironic.”

“But according to your department head, Mr. Mikumo didn’t work directly at the reception window.”

“The decision to approve or deny an application for public assistance is made by the section chief. He would sincerely listen to the explanations from us window staff.”

If the approval of public assistance truly depended on the judgment of the reviewer, then Maruyama’s words carried a certain weight.

“I’ve heard this from my seniors—when the section chief used to work at the reception desk, he always put himself in the applicants’ shoes when responding to inquiries.”

“But if every application gets approved, wouldn’t the budget run out quickly?”

“That’s precisely what makes it so difficult. Compared to the number of people in need of public assistance, the budget is far too small. We, as front-line staff, only report the applicants’ needs. It’s Section Chief Mikumo who has to make the hard decisions. It may sound cruel, but there are always people who get left out, and there’s no safety net to catch those people. Every time an application is rejected, the section chief must have felt heartbroken.”

Maruyama bowed his head.

“Detective, do you know how the public assistance rate in Sendai City has changed?”

“No, I’m not well-informed… but I imagine it hasn’t been great.”

“In 2011, the year of the earthquake, the budget dropped. But it began to rise again the following year. After the disaster, there was demand for reconstruction-related work, and donations flowed in, which temporarily lowered the assistance rate. But from 2012 onwards, the effects of the disaster began to surface like internal wounds. With no work available, elderly people had to go hungry, and on top of that, there’s a unique situation in Sendai City.”

“Is there more?”

“People suffering poverty in other areas of the prefecture flocked to Sendai. The city has launched temporary support programmes, but the other twelve cities in the prefecture haven’t. These incoming people have put further pressure on the budget. Of course, the public assistance budget has also been reduced. The support law aims to help people become self-reliant so they won’t need public assistance. But many of those who came from outside the city immediately became recipients. Given the current situation, it’s not an exaggeration to say that Sendai City is bearing the burden of impoverished people across Miyagi Prefecture.”

Maruyama’s explanation came as a heavy blow. Even though Tashino had sensed the fragility of the social safety net, he hadn’t expected the situation to be this dire.

“There are times when we have to grant assistance on the spot. Each time, we have to revise the budget plan. Ultimately, the decision-makers bear the consequences, so Section Chief Mikumo was always troubled. Compared to those of us at the front desk, he must have been under far more stress. And yet, of all people, he’s the one who died of starvation…”

“We understand that Mr. Mikumo tried to meet the applicants’ needs. But what about his attitude toward you all? Did he ever pressure the staff too much to stick to the budget?”

“Absolutely not.”

Maruyama denied it outright.

“Section Chief Mikumo always said, ‘Worrying about the budget is my job.’ He never forced us to make cuts. Of course, we had to reject clearly invalid cases, but for the borderline ones, he always made the final decision.”

“What about in private? Sometimes people are admirable in their work but not so much in their personal lives.”

“Well…”

For the first time, Maruyama hesitated, and Tashino leaned forward slightly.

“Sorry. Section Chief Mikumo would sometimes invite the Public Assistance Division out for drinks, but I don’t drink, so I never went. I barely know what he was like in private. However, people who did go said he was the cheerful and happy type when drunk—never pushy, never complaining. They said he’d even let coworkers who missed the last train crash at his place—drunk but considerate.”

The conversation paused again.

“If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve forced myself to go, even if just once.”

“Then… do you know of anyone who hated or resented Mr. Mikumo? Like someone whose application was denied?”

When public assistance applications are approved or rejected, the decision-maker’s name is likely included in the notice. It wasn’t unreasonable to think that someone might hold a grudge against Mr. Mikumo.

But that faint hope was shattered by the next words.

“There’s zero chance of that.”

“Zero?”

“The rejection notice—internally, we call it Form No. 8—only lists the office director’s name, not the section chief’s, in the paper. So denied applicants would have no way of knowing the section chief’s name.”

Tashino felt a wave of disappointment. This would make identifying suspects all the more difficult.

“I think I understand what the detective is trying to get at. But from all the public assistance recipients I’ve interacted with, I believe that even if some of them harboured resentment toward welfare office officials or decision-makers, they wouldn’t act on it.”

“Why not?”

“Because by the time they come to our window, they’ve lost all strength already.”

Ah… Tashino nodded.

“They don’t want to rely on others. Even if they’re completely backed into a corner, they want to avoid depending on the government. Especially the elderly. They endure and endure until they can’t anymore. By the time they come to us, they’re already malnourished. Even if they still have the energy to complain, they have no strength or will to lash out. It’s sad to say, but the most they can manage is to take their own life. Despair robs people of all their strength.”

Those words hit like a blow to the chest.

Maruyama didn’t need to spell it out. The number of suicides among the elderly in Sendai had been rising year by year. These people who are impoverished are at the end of their rope. They neither stole nor hurt anyone—they just simply faded away. To someone like Tashino, whose job was to fight crime, it didn’t add to his workload—but it weighed heavily on his soul.