"According to Shidou he had an affair with Sachiko Akechi, your mother. This appears to be collaborated in journals obtained from your apartment and records with social services."
Akechi's body tensed at the mention of his mother's name.
For Sae's part, she starting to question if this like of questioning wasn't a mistake. Sachiko Akechi was a passive victim at best. One who had been dead since 2003. "I'm sorry. This has to be a hard topic."
He shook his head, "just go on." The tone was distant. Perhaps it was the drugs, but the boy wasn't even looking at her but the space past her, through the windows out to the last embers of dusk along the Tokyo skyline.
"Shidou said he found out that she was pregnant around the New Year in 1998. He took a job in Kyoto and left without telling her. So obviously he wasn't a part of your childhood at this. Does this sound correct?"
A nod, "she regretted not aborting me."
Had there been anger, or tears Sae wouldn't have thought any less of the boy. While working alongside her as an apprentice of sorts, the way he deflected emotions into that television personality mask was off-putting. With that façade removed, she finally understood what it was that hadn't clicked, because underneath was emptiness. She couldn't peg her finger on it until now.
As a woman she wanted to refute such claims. It wasn't unheard of and almost common in interacting with children who grew up in state facilities. Even knowing that, she would have pressed for the opposite if the file on Sachiko Akechi wasn't on her desk with everything from the psychiatric evaluation shortly after giving birth to the coroner's report.
"The intake documents for you at the time of her death mentioned malnourishment and the state of your living environment. Was she abusive, or simply neglectful?"
This was a question that should have been included. Some kind of interview, even if he was barely five and any answers would be limited it was something that should have been part of the file.
Yet he shook his head no at the accusations.
"Then what?"
"We were poor. Ostracized. She eventually broke."
"Mom. I'm hungry. Are you making dinner today?"
Life in the Akechi household was never easy. The meager government welfare covered a single room apartment in Katsushika, the furthest reach of Tokyo before ending up in Chiba. After the bills were paid, there wasn't much left for anything else.
"I cooked last night, Goro."
The three-year-old shook his head. "Nope. You said today."
Sachiko Akechi rarely could bring herself to rise from her futon in the corner of the room. She'd finished a degree at Keio University with respectable grades and every opportunity to get a job at a reputable company where she would be able to find a suitable husband. Masayoshi was someone who was going somewhere and had reassured her that it was just a matter of saving up for a wedding.
Fumbling around her, she digs into her purse and a couple pants pockets, collecting loose change into her hand she extends it out to her son. "Here. Go to the 100 yen store and get a snack."
For all her promise, her aspirations were those of being a simple housewife. The pregnancy was unexpected, but a good omen. She could be a mother who was at the arm of Masayoshi as he worked his way up the political ladder. Their little apartment was decorated with their photos. Her hair and makeup done to accentuate her well proportioned features.
She didn't tell him about the pregnancy for several months, instead dropping marriage hints his way with increasing frequency.
The framed picture by her futon was from a few days before he left for Kyoto. By New Year it was impossible to hide the growth of her abdomen and every outfit she had emphasized the tiny load she carried.
"Mom? Are you sick again?"
Goro didn't know anything else. There were many days she languished on her bed while dishes piled up and the garbage missed the pickup days. Once he was able to work the lock, he learned the layout of the streets. He was only allowed to go to the 100 yen shop on most days, but every so often, when he was able to find enough loose change on the street, he would bring whatever he had in one of his mother's old peeling wallets to the meat market and plop it down on the counter for whatever he could afford.
"That poor kid," a woman gossiped with a friend on the stoop of her own small, tidy home, "having to take care of that selfish woman."
"Is he always dressed like that?"
Nothing he owned was new. Not even pleasantly used. The only thing that matched were the grass strains on his pants. Until a hole became indecent, Akechi would throw it into the bathtub with all the other laundry and lay it out on the open windowsill. Nobody told him you needed to scrub them.
"Shouldn't someone report it?" the friend asked.
"I mind my own business," the woman replied, not caring that the toddler was looking directly at her with his mop of half tangled hair. "Besides, can you imagine the kind of kid to come from that house."
It was a mantra around their neighborhood. Even if there was something wrong with the mother, there must be something wrong with the child to explain why the father picked up and left.
Goro had to hop in front to the censors to trigger the automatic doors. Walking in the cool air was a relief from what was turning into a very early summer. The clerk paid no mind as the small child explored the lower levels of shelves. Waking past the stationary and other odds and ends, he reached a small area with random snacks and produce. Part of him wanted something sweet, but if his mother wasn't cooking, it needed to be filling enough to last until she was feeling better. Settling on some bread, he tottered up to the counter. She had forgotten to give him the five yen for tax, leaving the child embarrassed as he fumbled for his own coin.
The clerk, a middle ages woman, took the change, but slipped a small book of stickers to Goro.
Walking back, he tore into the white, mostly tasteless treat. His stomach had been churning. His mother would want quiet and so, instead of heading directly back to his apartment, took the small side street that led to the playground.
Several other children his age ran about, climbing the equipment as their mothers looked on. His mother could come out on her best days and sit in the shade away from the other mothers. That was some months ago.
"It's that dirty kid again." Was the comments from a little girl to ran up to him after coming down a slide.
Goro did his best to wipe his hands on his pants, extending his hand out. "I'm Goro."
The girl stepped back and played with the hem of her skirt, glancing back at her approaching mother. "Come on, I don't want you getting lice."
None of the parents encouraged their children to interact with the poorly dressed boy, carefully guiding them away from whatever he approached. After the jungle gym cleared, Goro, head drooping, took his bread to a swing where he could eat away from the commentary and avoid the distrustful glares.
"Please tell me this is an exaggeration."
Akechi's shoulders could barely manage the shrug.
Sae scoffed in disgust. She knew what being born out of wedlock meant under the best of circumstances. She prosecuted many young men whose family registry was no more than them and a mother. Even without Sachiko Akechi's mental illness, the poverty and stigma were nearly overwhelming.
The nurse was back, this time with a cart and accomplice. They seemed surprised at Sae's presence. "I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over."
Checking her phone she realized that it was past 8pm. It hadn't felt like they had covered much, but not unexpected given the need to cater to Akechi's pace. Even under the medication and the slowly declining vitals the kid was doing an admirable job, but much like with her last interrogation, sentences drifted off into nothing, the words that came out slurred to minimal comprehension.
"My apologies, I am here on police business."
The nurses nodded, "well, can you step outside for a few minutes?"
A reasonable request. Akechi was nearing his limit. His words were deteriorating in number and comprehension. Even when she filled in from her own documents, the little tidbits were slow to register.
"I'll wait outside."
As she collected her recorder though a hand clutched her own. "please.. don't go."
The nurse interjected, "Akechi-kun, we need to change the drainage catheters and all he dressings."
"Stay… Niijima-san."
Niijima looked at the nurse, who was swapping out bags of fluids from the pole. "It's up to you if you want an adult present. Also, your doctor wants to try a new antibiotic and blood tests for your liver."
Akechi nodded.
This was quickly exceeding the parameters of what would be her job. She was a lawyer trying to fill in her case. She was here for information, not to be an attendant of a surrogate for a parent. She had a plea agreement prepared and a plan to arrest the kid six hours ago as an accessory to Shidou's crimes.
Yet as the old dressings were snipped away, the scent of decay and disease was too acute. The way the boy held back whimpers at the clearing of pus from still open wounds. She kept her eyes focused on his face to avoid voyeurism but couldn't help seeing a flash of his ruined abdomen as they shifted his weight to reach other areas.
"Niijima-san. Go on. Please."
She was starting to understand Kurusu's comment. Staying hadn't been anybody's job.
"As you wish. I suppose at this point we need to discuss what triggered the events of June 2nd, 2003."
"As I said earlier. Mom broke."
