Track 3 - Backbone

—“I, Tarumae, have reached the age of 80, and with old age, I’ve thought at times about giving up, feeling as though I’ve reached the end of my political career…but now, however, I’ve renewed my resolve to follow through with the great convictions I’ve held since my childhood.”

A clear voice resounds throughout the venue.

For an 80-year-old geezer, he has pretty good pronunciation. Spoken like a true politician.

The birthday man himself, Tarumae Kotaro, had just begun his speech on stage. 

Turning on the recording function of my glasses, I make my way around to every corner of the venue while handing out drinks to the guests.

— “Thinking about it, now that I am 80 years old, the aspiration I had as a child to make Japan into a more prosperous nation has become the trunk, the bone, and the marrow that supports my life—it pushes me further to take root and grow into a great tree.” 

As Tarumae spoke with conviction, I could hear the younger politicians snorting and muttering, “You have some nerve,” and “The stuff you do behind the scenes is disgusting,” as I slipped through the crowd.

Inwardly, I congratulate them. Lucky for you guys, that geezer’s probably gonna fall from grace soon.

I circled around the key people I’d memorized earlier—Ichito, Niwa, and Mikura–and found they had all given identical thin data cards to the CEOs of large companies and representatives of large pressure groups.

I pinned down who had relations with whom. With this much dirty laundry on record, more crimes were bound to come to light.

I guess my work here is done.

Just as I was thinking that it was about time to clock out, out of nowhere, someone grabs my right arm.

Wait a second. Why didn’t I notice their presence?

Alarms were suddenly going off in my head. 

“Is something the matter?”

I’m still just a waiter though, so I turn around with a look of surprise to face a suited man in his thirties. 

In the blink of an eye, I take in the man’s features.

He looks like a businessman with a medium-sized build.

With his cheap, ill-fitted suit and spotless leather shoes, at a glance, the man gave off the vibe of a confused, young corporate employee whose boss dragged him to this place where he obviously doesn’t belong.

But I could tell from the way he handled himself, the gleam in his eyes, the harsh grip of the hand grabbing my arm, and the strength of his fingers.

This guy is in the same line of work as me, or something similar, at least.

“Can I see those glasses?” He spoke with an intimidating voice. For a second, the man and I exchange glances. 

He’s probably someone from the government, public security, the police, or maybe…

――”I kindly hope you will continue to show your support for me!”

The old man finished his speech, and applause erupted throughout the hall.

The map of the venue flashes in my head.

The exit is 50 meters away. The escalator area is an open shot to the ground floor. I can easily escape on my own.

That said, if I caused a commotion, it would hurt the organization’s credibility.

Now then, what should I do? I spend a few moments considering my options.

“Aaahh!”

A woman’s shrill voice rang out.

I glance over and see my work partner.

About three meters away, a pearl necklace had fallen and scattered to pieces.

The woman acts beside herself in distress over the fate of her necklace.

The man’s gaze drifted in her direction for just a moment.

I feel his grip on my arm loosen.

“Um, my glasses? Here you go, sir.”

I lean forward and stick my face out towards him.

You’re holding my right arm, and my left hand is balancing a tray of drinks, so a “normal” part-timer wouldn’t be able to move their hands, right?

I make a gesture saying, “Here you go, please take my glasses off yourself.”

The man seems taken aback before letting go of my arm and grabbing the glasses.

Quickly giving them a once-over, he returned them and said, “...No, sorry. It seems I was mistaken.”

There was a hint of bitterness on his face.

“No worries, thanks for your hard work.”

I smile and hand him a drink.

Having a strong sense of justice is a good thing, brother, but real liars are good with their hands.

Take your eyes away for a second and you’ve already lost.

Of course, my original pair of glasses had been moved to my back pocket.

But I guess the other guy wasn’t that stupid after all.

On my way home after work, I listened to the faint footsteps behind me.

One…no, two. They’re pretty well trained.

The footsteps are muted, and they’re walking in sync, so it’s hard to tell how many there are.

Hidden in the darkness of the night, an unknown force is tailing me.

It’s been a while; should I get a workout in?

After all, a woman ended up saving me today. Though as I’m thinking about it, I figure I should check first.

Communication is key when it comes to the workplace, after all.¹

I turn into an alley and silently jump up to the top of the building.

My pursuers seem to notice I disappeared, frantically running over to search for me.

Watching the scene from above, I jump to the next building.

I turn on the communicator behind my ear and ask, “What’s going on?” It seemed the organization already knew what I was talking about.

―― “It’s an undercover investigation from Yorozu. They probably got suspicious of your movements back at the hotel and followed you. We’re not enemies this time, so don’t start anything.”

Oh I see, a government dog. No wonder he was so naive.

Good thing I asked.

If I’d messed around and made a move on them, it would’ve been a pain in the ass to deal with later.

“Well sure, I guess. I’m sending you the footage I took right now, so take a look at it, please and thank you.”

I put on the tacky glasses and leap from building to building while sending the data.

After a while, the person on the other end replies, “Confirmed. Good work, Tenth,” before cutting off the transmission.

Just as I reach the roof of a high-rise, I drop the glasses and communicator on the ground and stomp on them, smashing them to pieces.

The equipment was so mangled, it’s impossible to tell what it was originally.

“Annnd splat. If you grind it all up, no one will ever know you were wearing those tacky things.”

I mutter uselessly to no one in particular.

――…the aspiration I had as a child to make Japan into a more prosperous nation has become the trunk, the bone, and the marrow that supports my life…

For some reason, right then, that geezer’s speech returned to me like static in the back of my ears.

At the same time, the image of the pearls that had once adorned the woman’s neck, broken and scattered on the ground, appeared in my mind, overlapping with broken equipment at my feet.

Things that disappear when they’re thrown away.

Things that don’t disappear even if you throw them away.

I wonder how much of each there is in the world.

――…Do you have a backbone² that supports your life?

From the distant darkness, a voice asks me.

When was that? And whose words were they?

Did that person call me ‘Ten³’?