Those Who Are Not Protected - Chapter 1: Episode 5.2

This time, Tonegawa was the one whose eyes widened. Up until now, only fellow inmates had dared to ask him so directly. Banmaki just looked at him with a curious expression. They say curiosity kills the cat, but apparently it doesn’t kill people.

“Well, it was… someone at the ward office who had a really bad attitude…”

“Whoa, whoa — you hit a government official just because you didn’t like how they treated you?”

Banmaki fell silent after that.

Tonegawa knew exactly what he must be thinking. Eight years in prison just for beating someone? That’s a long sentence. Maybe the assault wasn’t far from attempted murder — that’s probably what was going through his head. Banmaki’s eyes conveyed a subtle sense of fear.

“When can I start working?”

Hearing that, Banmaki hastily waved his hand.

“Ah, um, let’s hold off on that for a bit. I need some time to think it over. I’ll get back to Mr Kushiya first.”

Tonegawa left Banmaki Ironworks and took the bus back to Kushiya’s home.

Kushiya’s house was an old detached home. The rain gutter was broken halfway through, and the water had seeped into parts of the wall, causing leaks. The cracked, discolored walls seemed to reflect the man himself.

“I’m back.”

“Oh, welcome back.”

Kushiya Teizo slowly came out from the back. His gentle, grandfatherly smile concealed his background as a retired police officer, serving as a reminder not to judge a person by their appearance.

According to him, after retiring, he first worked as a community welfare officer before becoming a parole officer — a position that required official certification from the probation office, indicating a certain level of standing in society.

“How’d the interview go?”

“He said he’ll get back to you with the result.”

“He’ll get back to me? That’s unusual. Usually, they make hiring decisions immediately.

Kushiya looked surprised, then quickly glanced at Tonegawa.

“Ah, well, Banmaki’s a cautious guy. It’s not about you. Most of the employers I introduce are pretty open-minded, but some of them are a bit more wary.”

It sounded like an excuse, but Tonegawa figured the real reason was that he made people uneasy, so he didn’t say anything.

“Time to make dinner. How about curry? It will be simple, bachelor-style cooking.”

“As long as it’s food, I’m good.”

“You probably crave something with a strong flavor, huh? Once you get used to it, though, you’ll realize my cooking is pretty terrible. Hey, can you peel potatoes?”

“I can manage.”

“Great. Maybe you should forget about being a lathe operator and become a chef instead.”

Apparently, his wife had passed away years ago. Tonegawa had expected the kitchen to be a mess, but it was surprisingly neat.

Kushiya handed him a potato and a knife, saying, “Here.”

Tonegawa couldn’t help glancing at him as he took the knife.

“What’s wrong? Are you thinking about peeling my scalp instead?”

Tonegawa swallowed the words that almost slipped out — “Aren’t you afraid to hand a knife to an ex-con?”

“What are you standing there for? Get peeling. Even an amateur like me has a routine when cooking.”

Tonegawa shook off his hesitation and started peeling the potatoes beside Kushiya. At first, his stiff fingers made it clumsy and risky, but before long, he got the hang of it.

The only sound in the kitchen was the soft, scratchy noise of two men peeling vegetables.

“Mr. Kushiya, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Is the economy doing well in Sendai?”

“I thought you were going to ask something else.”

Kushiya’s gaze stayed on the carrot he was peeling, not looking at Tonegawa.

“Before I got out, I heard on TV and in the papers that Sendai was booming because they started rebuilding early.”

“That’s not wrong.”

“But when I went to Mr. Banmaki’s factory, it didn’t feel that way.”

“What? You can tell just by looking at the outside whether things are booming?”

“Because it was so quiet.”

“Quiet?”

“I’ve always worked in this kind of field, so I know. In a busy ironworks, it’s not just the lathe noises; the hammering is loud too. But at Banmaki’s place, I didn’t hear much noise at all. With a shop that size, if all the machines were running, it’d be loud enough to bother the neighbors.”

Kushiya gave an impressed grunt and turned to look at Tonegawa.

“You’ve been to many interviews, huh?”

“Today was only my third time ever.”

“Well, you’re pretty sharp for someone so inexperienced. You’re half right, by the way. Sendai’s economy did get a boost from the reconstruction after the disaster. On the surface, it looks like things are back to pre-quake levels. But it’s the usual story: the ones who really profit are the big construction firms doing public works, not everyone in Sendai. Not every citizen benefits. Banmaki’s shop is the same. Just because the factory is in Sendai doesn’t mean that the owner and workers are raking it in. The real money goes to the big contractors in Tokyo and then to the ones who get the scraps they leave behind.”

There was no bitterness or anger in Kushiya’s voice.

“It’s always like this. People shout about rebuilding, but it’s the large corporations in Tokyo that control the distribution of manpower, materials, and money. Small local businesses and retailers receive their share only after the big players have been satisfied. Same for the workers— most of the laborers gathered here in Sendai now are outsiders, and even then, they only pick the young ones. But still, even so, the local economy gets a little boost fTherefore, there are both advantages and disadvantages.ouble-edged sword.”

“So, even Banmaki’s place is—”

“Yeah, business probably isn’t that great. But helping someone like you get back on your feet and the economy booming are two different things. So don’t worry too much about it.”

“But if business isn’t good, even if they want to hire people, they can’t afford it, right?”

“If you’re only talking in terms of economic theory, then yes, that’s true. But social contribution and social security are things that need to function even more during difficult times. In good times, it’s the wealthy who benefit first; in bad times, it’s the low-income people who suffer first. While it may be simple to place the blame on the economy, it’s crucial to remember that a downturn in the economy can lead to the death of those at the lowest echelons of society. Otherwise, what’s the point of having social security? If social security doesn’t work in those situations, it’s just an empty promise.”

Even though his words weren’t spoken passionately, they carried an undeniable weight.

Listening to him, Tonegawa couldn’t help but feel an admiration. There were really remarkable people in the world. He had heard that parole officers worked as volunteers, received no pay, and even had to attend regular training sessions. For Kushiya, who poured his passion into such unpaid work, Tonegawa couldn’t imagine a person more different from himself.

“But… for people like us, it’s still challenging to find a decent job. Even when I was inside, I saw plenty of guys who got out only to end up right back in.”

“There are always people in society who can’t take off their tinted glasses. And once you’ve committed a crime, the threshold lowers — you start to mind less and less about doing bad things. Hearing this from me might be unpleasant. I’m an old-school type who always believed that most hardships can be overcome through hard work, but lately, that doesn’t seem to hold true anymore.”

Having finished peeling the carrots, Kushiya started chopping onions into fine pieces.

“Poverty only breeds misery, both for individuals and for the society. I used to believe that the best way to prevent poverty was to ensure that everyone had a job and could make a living through honest work. But the recent economic downturn has been so severe that even old folks like us can’t rely on our experience anymore. As a parole officer, saying these words feels like admitting defeat, and it frustrates me. But no matter how much effort we put in, we can’t heal hearts that are sick, and sick people don’t even realize they’re ill. They just repeat the same mistakes. Inside the prison, you only meet the same kind of sick people, and of course, they can’t be cured.”

Kushiya’s words were harsh, but they made sense.

Inside prison, what inmates boasted about most was how they profited from their crimes and how they got caught. Hearing these “lessons” directly from the perpetrators, rather than from books, made for an unmatched “best textbook”. These inmates believed getting caught was just bad luck, not that their actions were wrong. Having attended the best school in crime, they’d be released back into society. Expecting them to stay clean, work honestly, and not commit crimes was nothing but a dream.

“Maybe I’m one of those sick people too.”

Tonegawa casually started cutting the peeled potatoes. Meanwhile, Kushiya fried the chopped onions in a pan. The strong smell of the onions spread through the air, hitting his eyes hard and bringing tears.

“The place I stayed was full of sick people. When you’re surrounded by them all the time, you slowly see yourself as sick too… Kushiya-san, do you mind me saying these things?”

“Not at all.”

“Bad people are always scheming in their heads. Especially in the prisons I was in. They were full of repeat offenders. Being around those guys all the time, maybe I also…”

“You’re not like them.”

Kushiya cut Tonegawa off firmly.

“I’ve seen all kinds of parolees over the years. I believe I can judge character. You possess the ability to establish strong roots and achieve significant success in this world.

Just then, the phone rang in the living room. Kushiya hurried out of the kitchen.

“Oh, Mr. Banmaki. Sorry for taking up your time today. So, what’s the result? Huh, what did you say?”

Kushiya’s voice suddenly sharpened.

“I mean, Mr. Bakimaki, isn’t it too late to back out now? Yeah, I know you said before that it’s not easy over there, but the move was never about making a profit… But, really, your place is the only one that could make use of his lathe skills… Yeah, if it messes up your factory’s operations, that wouldn’t be good, but helping ex-convicts reintegrate is… I understand your concerns. Alright, I understand. Sorry for causing trouble.”

When Kushiya returned to the kitchen, he looked so disappointed that Tonegawa couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

“…I’m sorry.”

“Kushiya-san, there’s no need for you to apologize.”

The next day, Kushiya began calling other contacts.

He stressed to Tonegawa that the next job might not involve lathe work, but Tonegawa, knowing he didn’t have much choice, just said he’d leave everything up to him. To be honest, his mind was elsewhere at that moment.

The reason was that morning’s newspaper. When he opened the Tohoku Shinpo to check the job listings, he saw the photo of that man in the Miyagi local section.

The moment he saw that photo, his long-suppressed emotions He initially thought it was just someone who looked similar, but the name under the photo proved otherwise. There was no doubt about it.

It was him. There was no mistaking that guy.

While he had been rotting in prison, this man had risen high enough to have his photo proudly printed in the paper; seeing that smug face caused his sealed-off hatred to resurface.

The first victim had already died, wasted away by hunger and dehydration. This man would be the second. Given his crimes, he deserved an even more miserable death than Mikumo Tadakatsu.

Suddenly, Kushiya asked:

“What’s wrong? You’ve got a scary look on your face.”

“Nothing… it’s just that there are even fewer job openings than I thought.”

Tonegawa brushed it off with that line, unsure whether Kushiya believed him or not.

Anyway, he had to track down that man’s movements. That was the real reason he had worked so hard to become a model prisoner and get parole. Reintegrating into society was only secondary.