4. Mrs. Yukinoshita Has a Reason to Be Angry
Modern Japan is a prosperous and safe country. Of course, every year we face typhoons, earthquakes, and occasionally the tsunamis that follow. Fires, car accidents, and other emergencies happen too. But our healthcare is excellent, the crime rate is exceptionally low (and I speak from personal experience, not just official statistics), and traffic-related fatalities are negligible compared to the US or Europe. The average Japanese citizen is far more likely to willingly part with their life, disillusioned by the soul-crushing monotony of being a salaryman, than to die a violent death.
Most Japanese people born in the last 50 years and even before have never and likely will never encounter a situation where another person poses a mortal threat to them. They will never know what it's like to pull a comrade from the mangled remains of a truck cabin blown apart by a bomb and realize he only has minutes to live. They won't experience the terror of hiding in bushes from armed men who just slaughtered an entire village over differences in faith. They will never have to kill strangers just to survive. And it's highly unlikely they'll ever have to take the life of someone begging them to do so.
All of this is well known to me. I understand horrific things as intimately as Edogawa Rampo or Koji Suzuki. I don't claim to have endured more than Keiji Nakazawa or Akiyuki Nosaka, but I know far more about real horrors from personal experience than is good for one's mental health. Ask my nightmares if you don't believe me — just please don't let the medical commission hear about it.
All that experience, which should have granted me immunity to mental trauma or at least strong resistance to psychological attacks, proved utterly useless against a few simple words. Either I had forgotten just how dangerous Mrs. Yukinoshita truly was, or she had climbed even higher in the rankings of Japan's most formidable beings since our last encounter. In a showdown between Godzilla and the current Mrs. Yukinoshita, I wouldn't bet on the mutant lizard.
Up until this moment, I had been behaving like a rational, if tired and somewhat incompetent, human being. Now, I turned into a pillar of salt. That's another story from the Bible, by the way. The Old Testament has many fascinating parables worth reading, even if you're not interested in Christianity.
Some part of my brain managed to keep functioning. I refrained from saying the customary "tadaima." This wasn't my home, nor was it a place I belonged to. Instead, I offered a precise, respectful bow and responded in the formal tone of a corporate drone:
"Good morning, Yukinoshita-san. I'm Detective Hikigaya from the Nishi-Chiba Police Station. I apologize for any inconvenience we may be causing, but I hope the investigative measures will conclude soon. Yamada-san, the chief of criminal investigations, can provide you with a more accurate timeline."
"Detective Hikigaya," Mrs. Yukinoshita emphasized the first word, her tone sharp. "So, you chose the police after all. I had hoped for the prosecutor's office or civil service, but this is an acceptable alternative."
"Is there anything I can assist you with, Yukinoshita-san?"
"Retrieve the stolen paintings as soon as possible. My husband values them greatly. As do I. One of them, Winter in Inage Park, was painted for the fifteenth anniversary of my marriage to Nobuo. Four others were gifts from Takahara-san to mark significant occasions in my husband's life. Two were purchased during a time of financial difficulty when he didn't want to accept assistance outright."
My pencil scratched quickly across my notebook, recording these details. If the paintings held such sentimental value for the Yukinoshitas, the robbery could very well have been orchestrated as an act of revenge. This family accumulated enemies as effortlessly as they breathed.
"Thank you. This information could prove useful for the investigation, Yukinoshita-san. However, it might be better if one of my senior colleagues conducted this interview."
Let them deal with the woman who had successfully run a major construction company for decades by pulling the strings of her not-so-simple husband. Not long ago, I found the seniority system irritating, but right now, it offered a chance at salvation. Let someone older and more experienced be fed to the lions. I wouldn't mind.
"Hachiman, I'm confident the investigation will lead to the recovery of what was stolen and the punishment of those responsible. I'm also certain we have things to discuss beyond this unpleasant incident."
"Yukinoshita-san, any topics of conversation between us disappeared many years ago. I must admit, that it was entirely my fault. I hurt Yukino-san and disappointed your entire family. On top of that, I never made the effort to properly apologize. All of that is long in the past. I will understand if you wish to express your thoughts about me, but I would ask that we postpone any personal discussions until they won't impact the police's ability to restore your rights."
In one fell swoop, I accomplished several feats: I argued with Mrs. Yukinoshita, admitted my mistakes, and began navigating my way out of a socially fraught situation without running away in disgrace. Ten years ago, I would have spent an entire day congratulating myself for such reckless bravery. But over the years, my definition of "heroic" had risen sharply. So, I simply confirmed to myself that, yes, I had done the right thing.
"Ended?"
I witnessed the impossible. Mrs. Yukinoshita was beginning to lose her temper. What next? The Mariners win the Japan Series in four games? Chiba Port freezes over? I get summoned to Minato, where the U.S. embassy's military attaché personally apologizes for a thousand-pound bomb dropped on my head by their brave pilots from the USS Ronald Reagan? All of these events now seemed entirely plausible.
"Hikigaya Hachiman. From the perspective of our entire family," she emphasized the word "entire" so clearly even the deaf could read it on her lips, "you are Yukino's husband. No one ever annulled the engagement, and the absence of a certificate from the city hall is hardly critical. Yukino will not inherit anything, and you have nothing to inherit, so there's no property or potential gains to warrant a prenuptial agreement. The fact that you do not live with your family doesn't make you an outsider. It simply makes you someone who owes an extraordinary amount of apologies."
The look in Mrs. Yukinoshita's eyes — my mother-in-law's eyes? No, until I unraveled this madness, she would remain simply Mrs. Yukinoshita — could have terrified Madara Uchiha and vaporized a couple of Gurren-Laganns.
"An extraordinary amount of apologies," she repeated, her tone ice-cold. "Especially to Yukino."
I stood there, staring at the gravel of the walkway. Unfortunately, she was absolutely, utterly, indisputably right.