uto switched off the alarm clock and rubbed his face. His head was a little

heavy, but he still felt more wide-awake than he had for several days. He

climbed out of bed, did a full-body stretch, and began to get dressed. Today

was going to be his first day at school since his father’s murder. While he

was looking forward to seeing his friends, the thought of classes depressed

him. What did it matter? The teachers would be sure to look the other way

even if he dozed off, attributing it to fatigue from the wake and the funeral.

He went down to the first floor. Fumiko was in the living room, with

her apron tied around her waist. The TV was on and her eyes were glued to

the screen.

He didn’t need to ask her why. There was a graphic on the screen

which read: “Unexpected Truth Behind the Nihonbashi Bridge Murder.”

The image changed. A man was sitting in a dark room. You could tell

that he was wearing a suit, but his face was completely obscured. Beneath

him was the caption: “Former employee of Kaneseki Metals.”

“Oh yes, that sort of thing was going on all the time,” the man was

saying in a voice artificially deepened to disguise his identity. “As far as

they’re concerned, contract workers like me are a disposable commodity.

Say you bump into something, cut yourself, and you start bleeding. They’re

just like, ‘Wrap a towel around that.’ They don’t actually do anything for

you. Acknowledge workplace accidents? Doing that would just show up the

complete lack of any health and safety provision, not to mention someone

having to take responsibility. That’s why they never want to report them.”

“Nonetheless, reporting workplace accidents isn’t the responsibility of

the company, it’s actually the responsibility of the agency that sends you there, isn’t it?” the female reporter asked.

“The agency won’t defy the company they’re supplying workers to. If

the company says not to file reports, the agencies will suck it up.”

“Some of these workplace accidents have long-term effects. What are

people supposed to do in that case?”

“Long-term effects? There are people who have died. The fact that the

accidents are not reported means that no improvements are ever made to the

workplace, right? And that results in more accidents. But everything gets

brushed under the carpet.”

The image changed. The screen now showed a close-up of the male

reporter, frowning gravely. “That’s the reality of what you face. I see.”

The camera drew back. The female reporter who had conducted the

interview was with the host in the studio.

“Our investigation has shown us that Yashima, who’s suspected of the

murder, had to take at least five days off work due to the fall that we

mentioned earlier in the program. Since companies are legally required to

file a report if anyone is off work for four or more days, there can be no

doubt that this was a cover-up of a workplace accident. The agency

instructed Yashima not to reveal the cause of his injury if he went to the

hospital, and they told him that he would have to cover all the costs of

treatment himself.”

The male host emitted a disapproving grunt.

“While it hasn’t yet been established for certain that Yashima is indeed

the culprit, it’s hard not to think that there’s a problem that’s bigger than any

single individual behind this incident.”

Following the formula of these sorts of programs, the host then began

soliciting opinions from a range of so-called commentators.

Social inequality, the law of the jungle, power harassment—as he

listened to all the smug-looking minor TV personalities reeling off the

talking points the host had been fishing for, Yuto began to get annoyed.

Fumiko, however, was a step ahead of him. She grabbed the remote and

turned off the TV.

“What nonsense,” she declared, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Yuto realized that Haruka was standing right behind him. Her face was

pale.

“Don’t let them get to you,” he said.

When Yuto got to school, his friends came over, one after another, to

have a word or two with him. Yuto once again thanked the ones who had

come to the wake or the funeral. He had mentally prepared himself just in

case anyone who had seen the TV program made a nasty remark, but

nobody even mentioned it. Perhaps no one had actually seen the show.

First period, then second period. As the day advanced, Yuto felt

himself sinking back into the familiar rhythms of school life. Although he

was going through the sorrow of having lost a father, that made little

difference to his fellow students. For them, life was going on as usual. The

sooner I get back into the flow of things, the better, he thought.

Yuto was in the lunchroom with Sugino when he noticed a group of

boys looking at him and speaking in hushed tones.

“Those guys, what’s their problem? Why’re they being so creepy?”

Sugino said. He went over, exchanged a few quick words with them, and

came back. He looked deflated.

“What did they say?” Yuto asked.

“I don’t really know. Something about the factory manager making an

apology. It’s on the internet.”

“Factory manager? What’s that about?”

“Hang on. I’ll have a look.” A puzzled expression on his face, Sugino

pulled out his phone. He made a few deft swipes with his fingers, then

grimaced at what came up on the screen.

“What’s wrong?”

Sugino silently handed his phone to Yuto. Yuto peered at the screen.

A block of text screamed out at him. “Did Aoyagi order the cover-up

of workplace accidents? Factory manager reveals all.”