16. Asking for Help Can Be Dangerous

For some people, asking for help comes naturally. Others have to push themselves beyond their limits. I'm not one to seek assistance by exploiting someone else's trust. I can at least agree with Ōba Yōzō on this.

My life has turned out in a way that I'm more often the one others ask for help. Back in school, I was even part of a Service club — a strange, small organization created by my homeroom teacher and the school psychologist Hiratsuka-sensei. It was a cross between emergency psychological support and the shadow government of our high school. We fought bullying and malicious rumors, helped sports clubs organize events, corrected mistakes made by festival committees, supported candidates running for the student council, argued and negotiated with the parent-teacher organisation, and worked on establishing ties with other schools. We even helped with matters of the heart until we ourselves became tangled in a sticky, thick love triangle that felt like condensed milk.

I admit that, at that time, I also had to ask for help. My attempts were pitiful and sometimes laughable, but occasionally they were successful. Over the years, I learned to do it better. But still, when you ask for help, you place yourself at a disadvantage in your relationship with the other person. Even for me, someone who lost the game called life many years ago, this is difficult.

For most of my life, there's been only one person I could always ask for help without a second thought. Of course, it's my best little sister, Komachi. Don't think I'm going to be a burden on my imōto, dangling my legs while leaning on her. She wouldn't tolerate me, either in a literal or figurative sense. But when things get really bad, I won't hesitate to turn to Komachi. Just as she should never hesitate to ask me for help.

The second person in my life like this was Yukino Yukinoshita. I've asked her for the impossible before, and without batting an eye, she gave it to me. Whether it was bringing my crazy, unfeasible ideas to life or forgiving and accepting me after offenses that no one else in the world would have ever forgiven.

Now, however, I had to ask for help from someone I had once failed to help. A lonely girl, who couldn't interact normally with people, someone who owed me nothing. And who, I realized, I would never be able to repay. I had to ask for help with something that wasn't even her concern.

Lately, I haven't seen Rumi Tsurumi. Maybe her university commitments were interfering with her regular visits to her uncle. Or perhaps the deputy chief of the Chiba City Police Department had been spending more time with his niece off-duty. But I needed to find a way to talk to Haruto Tsurumi without his colleagues and subordinates finding out.

I had Rumi Tsurumi's contact details. That alone was a big success for someone whose private phone book contained fewer than five numbers. I texted her, asking to meet the following evening.

In the café near the Chiba station where we met, the girl stood out. Always impeccably dressed, she looked anxious, even troubled. Not a good start. The more serious her problems were, the less chance I had of convincing her to help me.

Conversations with Rumi Tsurumi were never easy. Perhaps it was the unpleasant memories from her childhood, or maybe it was my even more unpleasant personality now, but something about me made it difficult for her to speak. She stammered, blushed, avoided answering, and awkwardly tried to change the subject, even when I was just making polite conversation. But sometimes, she became sharp, aggressive, and sarcastic. Almost like an another Yukinoshita. She even looked a little like Yukino did when she was younger.

I ordered coffee and European-style pastries for us. Then, I found the strength to ask for my request.

"Tsurumi-san, I need to ask a huge favor of you. I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to repay it, but I have no other option. I need to have an unofficial conversation with Chief Tsurumi. It concerns a politically sensitive matter involving me and the people close to me."

A malicious spark lit up in Rumi Tsurumi's eyes.

"Is the person close to you… her? The lawyer you're involved with?"

It was a strange reaction. Back in school, Tsurumi had shown no interest in Yukinoshita at all. Why did her voice sound so angry now? But more importantly, how did Rumi know about my relationship with Yukino?

"I won't deny the obvious. Yes, it concerns a threat against Yukino Yukinoshita. The lawyer, as you put it."

"And that's the only reason you're coming to me?"

"I don't ask for help unless I can't fix the situation myself. The problem I'm facing requires high-level informal connections. You, Tsurumi-san, are my only way to gain such connections. I understand how rude and inappropriate this request is. While I can't promise much, I am committed to repaying you in proportion."

"In proportion?" she asked coldly, with a sharp edge. "If I ask, will you break up with that lawyer?"

I choked on my coffee.

"Tsurumi-san, I don't understand why you would make such strange and clearly impossible demands?"

"How else can I get you to pay attention to me? To stop humiliating me with a formal, polite address, as if I were a witness to your latest theft? I'm not Tsurumi-san; I'm Rumi!"

People started looking at us. I suggested we find a more suitable place for our conversation. Tsurumi, regaining her composure, agreed.

We found an empty bench in a nearby park, away from too many prying eyes.

"Hachiman, what do I have to do for you to finally notice me?" Tsurumi asked tensely. "How can I make up for all the years when you barely looked my way?"

I didn't answer. Pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place, and I didn't like the picture they formed. How could I have been such an inattentive idiot?

"Why did I endure humiliations for years, brushing aside the confessions of all my admirers like a broom sweeping away trash? Why did I try to pour everything I felt into my art, trying to express what had burned inside me since school? Why did I do all that? Just so you could come and ask for help for her? Why did you never try to help me? Not the little girl who was bullied in your memories, but the real Rumi Tsurumi, a woman whose happiness seems to be hidden behind a glass wall. Rumi Tsurumi, who for years didn't know how to express the most important feeling in her meaningless, lonely life!"

I didn't know how to respond. Both words and silence, both actions and inaction, would only hurt her more. When there's no choice, freeze in panic and hope that luck will favor you.

Rumi started crying. I gently, awkwardly, hugged her. She buried her face in my chest, sobbing, too embarrassed to lift her eyes.

"Forgive me, Tsurumi-san, but there's only room for one woman in my heart. Yukino Yukinoshita is the only one who will hear those sincere words. The others can only be like sisters."

The girl continued to cry in my arms. Finally, calming down, she pulled away. Without saying a word, without looking back, without bothering to fix her disheveled hair or wipe away her tear-streaked face, she headed toward the station.

I sat there for a while, fighting the sharp desire to drink myself into oblivion. After reuniting with Yukino, such urges seemed to have faded into the past. But, as it turned out, not entirely.

Quite some time passed. It had already gotten dark. One of the smartphones in my jacket pocket vibrated. It was my personal phone.

It was a message from Tsurumi: "Come on Saturday at 1 PM." And an address in an upscale neighborhood near central Chiba. Another message followed. "Make sure to come together. I need to understand who and why I lost. You won't owe me anything more, Hachiman."

I rubbed my temples. I'd rather have the old familiar nightmares that had only come to me two or three times a week lately. I'd rather endure Sergeant Hitomi's ghost every day than face such a trial.