Nocturne of Remembrance

by Shichiri Nakayama

  “Anything scheduled for today?”

  “Nothing.”

  In that case it was extra convenient. He could stop at Tanizaki’s office while out for the current matter.

  “Perfect. I’ll head over now, so get me an appointment with him right away.”

  Tanizaki’s office was in the neighboring Akasaka area of Minato Ward right near Mikoshiba’s practice. Tucked in among a line of elegant high-rise buildings, the man’s lair was on the second floor of the kind of low-rise you seldom saw these days.

  The telltale dull color of the building’s outer walls hinted at the number of years since its construction. But it looked less aged and decrepit than subdued and stately. Once inside, that impression grew stronger—totally correctly venerable. It gave the illusion of wondering in the midst of Meiji-era architecture.

  In recent years, the trend among prosperous lawyers was to relocate their offices. Stepping up, without exception, from offices that were in the middle of nowhere to glamorous locations; from old buildings to newly built ones; from one-room converted apartments to entire floors of high-rise buildings. And even though most of their work was not done in these offices, external appearance was seen by them as most important. Mikoshiba, himself, couldn’t be snide about that trend because he, too, rode around in a Mercedes-Benz for the shine.

  In that respect, from the start Tanizaki had always had his office here. Together with the building, he had aged, but in his case it fostered a sense of stability rather than frailty.

  Mikoshiba explained the purpose of the visit, and the receptionist immediately led him to the meeting room. The furniture was very antique, but it was a calming color and there was a new sofa.

  “Well, Mikoshiba-sensei. It’s been quite a while.”

  Tanizaki, appearing as usual with his thick silver hair slicked back, welcomed Mikoshiba with a mildly warm expression on his face. His eyes were deeply set back, as if they could pull you in, always giving a bright feeling of wisdom.

  But his demeanor was deceptive. Although he behaved like a perfect gentleman, the man had once made a name for himself as the vanguard of the reformist faction in the Tokyo Bar Association. According to what Mikoshiba had heard from other sources about past sagas, Tanizaki was never a gentleman nor was he ever mild-mannered. For those that he opposed, be they his elders or seniors from his alma mater, it was no use arguing with him. He crushed them all. That was how he got his fighting name “Onizaki”: Demon-zaki.

  Kango Tanizaki, eighty years old. Former Tokyo Bar Association chairman, with a bar-registration number in the 10,000 series. He was the leader of the Tokyo Bar Association’s Liberty Conference faction, which boasted being the largest. And even after having retired as chairman, he still wielded the power to speak his mind behind the scenes.

  Currently in bar associations everywhere, lawyers with bar-registration numbers in the 10,000’s were quite old and their numbers few. In other words, the senior posts were their cartel and they reigned at the apex of almost all of the regional bar associations. The legal profession was supposed to be made up of individuals without any senior-junior relationships because each practitioner’s status was independent, but wherever authority exists there also exist hierarchies. You could say Tanizaki was a living example of that.

  “I presume your injury is all better.”

  “Yes, thank you … By the way, I must apologize for the inconvenience that I caused you.”

  “No apology is necessary. With all the pieces of that case in place as well as you had them, the result would have been the same with any lawyer. Even the prosecution and the judge were of the same opinion, which is almost embarrassing in the High Court and above. The defendant kept on complaining, but fifteen years imprisonment was a reasonable sentence. Oh, by the way, the presiding judge Manabe was my junior at school. And afterwards, for the first time in a long while, we enjoyed some delicious sake together. To the contrary, I should be grateful to you for that.”

  That was news to Mikoshiba.

  “Manabe had a lot of praise for you. He said that for an attorney today your logic has an unusual flair. No, he was not being sarcastic. The element of stagecraft can’t be ignored now that quasi-jury trials have become the norm. Apparently, he’d have loved to listen to you argue the derivative case, too.”

  Mikoshiba was in the hospital when he learned that his client was given imprisonment. Another case that was associated with it was still pending, but because there was no smooth communication with the accused the lawyer on that one was struggling badly.

  “I am further obligated to you, sensei. It sounds like you brought to a close the Bar Associations’ disciplinary claims against me, too.”

  “Oh, that? It doesn’t require any thank-you, either. That shameless man was brandishing a sense of ethics that was paper-thin. He has a habit of going back and forth on the line of ethics, but when someone else oversteps it, he starts dancing madly like he’s slain some dragon. Even watching from the sidelines I couldn’t bear the sight of it, so I promptly crushed him.”

  Tanizaki chuckled as he said this. Ruthlessly slamming those who didn’t agree with his sensibilities and fell afoul of his principles was reminiscent of the “Onizaki” of yesteryear.

  “The head of the disciplinary committee swore that you were a criminal and said that you should be stripped of your qualifications as a lawyer for what you did. Certainly, common sense says that your action was not particularly praiseworthy. But from the standpoint of defending your client, it wasn’t entirely bad. If that was a kind of deception, probably others in our profession would sympathize with you, too.”

  That pointed to the corpse disposal that Mikoshiba had perpetrated, and he had no reply.

  “Even though it is a big world, deception is not commonly tolerated. However, you’re allowed to lie if you’re the governor of the Bank of Japan, a writer, or a lawyer—if you hold one of those three jobs. If it’s to protect the interests of their clients, lawyers can say that they don’t know something even when they do. No, they must say that they don’t know. It is a lawyer’s mission to defend his client under any circumstance, even if he makes enemies by doing so. I cannot understand the shamelessness of lawyers who don’t get this.”

  “Did you say something along those lines to the disciplinary committee, sir?”

  “Yes. There seemed to have been some agreement with that lowlife when he made the claim against you. But it was just rubbish coming from someone who has always been low. And there was no one that would raise a hand to refute me.”

  Mikoshiba broached a different subject. “Tanizaki-sensei, I heard that you also defended me vis-à-vis the police, too.”

  He had heard from Yoko that the particulars of the previous case were not mentioned in the newspaper reports, and that Tanizaki had acted preemptively when the police got worked up about the crime committed by Mikoshiba.

  “Oh, you are referring to me going to the Public Prosecutor’s Office. It was no big deal and I certainly didn’t have to exert myself. I just visited an old acquaintance and asked if there was sufficient material evidence to press criminal charges.”

  So that was it. This shrewd lawyer had reminded the young prosecutor in charge of the case that even if he tried to press charges there was no physical evidence whatsoever that Mikoshiba had abandoned the corpse.

  “That prosecutor understood reason, and it wasn’t necessary for me to explain how dangerous it would be to prosecute you based on disposing a corpse. It took only three minutes for us to settle the matter. After that, we had a pleasant time just discussing the latest gossip about mutual acquaintances.”

  In a nutshell, the story went like this:

  In the previous case, Mikoshiba had the corpse of the victim that the accused had murdered removed from the crime scene. Not knowing at the time that the accused was the criminal, he’d had the body moved simply to avoid getting his client involved in any trouble, of course.

  But when the person beca
me a possible suspect, the detective in charge of the case began to suspect Mikoshiba of corpse abandonment. That was because, given the suspect’s circumstances, no one else but Mikoshiba could have moved it. Because he already had a bad reputation among the police, the team investigating the crime wished to pursue the related charge of corpse abandonment.

  But they couldn’t uncover any physical evidence pointing to Mikoshiba. Above all, the accused, who would have witnessed the whole scene from start to finish, expressed an intention to completely deny the charges and fight them, which in effect also negated Mikoshiba’s complicity.

  Also, even if the defendant admitted to the charges, it still couldn’t be proven that Mikoshiba had abandoned the corpse. Naturally, he counted on this, but it was only after he regained consciousness that he remembered; it hadn’t even been on his mind when the previous hearing had concluded.

  “Well, it took all the prosecution’s efforts to overturn the claims of the accused, and the reality is that they just weren’t able to get around to you.”

  And so Mikoshiba’s deed still hadn’t been prosecuted.

  “We cannot put doors on people’s mouths, though, and rumors spread quickly around the Bar Association. But if they want to disqualify you as an attorney on account of this, there are plenty of others that should have been expelled before you. That is probably the real reason why the members were afraid to raise their hands in support of the claim against you.”

  “No, I don’t think that was it.”

  “Really? Then what was it?”

  “There is no one in that bunch with the backbone to make an enemy of Tanizaki-sensei.”

  Tanizaki laughed heartily again. “That’s overestimating my value. Who would be afraid of an old man whose face is turning half black with senile plaque?”

  “Excuse me, sir, but your humility sounds a bit put-on.”

  Hearing such advice, Tanizaki looked at Mikoshiba pleasantly. “Then let me be frank, and precise about it to boot. There is no one in the Tokyo Bar Association with the backbone to make an enemy of me except for you, Mikoshiba-sensei.”

  “Now that is really an overestimation. I don’t have an antiestablishment bone in me. It’s just that I’m not used to the daily conduct of the Bar Association. I’m like the delinquent who’s reluctant to show up for homeroom period.”

  Tanizaki spat out, “Homeroom? It’s a bit odd to call it that. But you’re right. It’s not only limited to Tokyo, all of the bar associations have become homerooms for grownups. No one says what they really think. They think that they will be indulged if they just espouse their public positions and idealistic arguments. They impertinently go on about freedom and justice. But the bottom line is that they just love power and profit. And when their self-preservation is at stake, they think nothing of what is in the best interest of their clients.” Then, changing his tone, he said, “A moment ago you said ‘delinquent.’ The word has a nice ring to it. Actually, Mikoshiba-sensei, that’s precisely what I want to talk to you about. Since I’m a delinquent too, how about joining up with me.”

  “Excuse me, sensei. But I don’t exactly follow you.”

  “When I was young I was called a delinquent lawyer. That is why I get along well with you. I’ll get right to the point. I want you to run in the bar association’s next presidential election as the Liberty Conference faction’s candidate.”

  “But, sir. I have already said no to that.”

  “This time I’m serious. The more we leave that ‘homeroom’ bunch to their own, the more and more rotten they’ll become. The situation will never turn around unless it’s dug up from the roots. And only a delinquent like you can do that.” Tanizaki looked composed, but his eyes were tinged hot to the bottom as he gazed fixedly at Mikoshiba.

  “If I may ask … Why are you so supportive of me, sensei?”

  “Hmm. For sure, it is because I am unconventional in various ways. A person who breaks up the status quo is always the one who deviates from the established rules.”

  “Maybe it won’t be just breaking up the status quo, but bombing it to pieces.”

  “Then better to destroy it than to let that hodgepodge of connivers continue to get worse.”

  Tanizaki had to be really fed up with the Tokyo Bar Association, and probably highly valued Mikoshiba as an aloof nonconformist. Despite Tanizaki’s inclination to take much in stride, he would no doubt not be proposing this if he knew that he was addressing a literal outlaw.

  However, it was not necessary for Mikoshiba to go out of his way to clarify his own origins. At the moment it was a good idea to just be evasive like the last time.

  “May I think about it for a while, sensei?”

  “Why, of course. The election is next April. There is plenty of time.”

  “Please don’t get your hopes up, though, sensei … Good bye, sir.”

  He bid farewell and was about to leave the meeting room when a voice from behind told him to wait.

  He turned around to see the still-seated Tanizaki staring at him.

  “To make sure there is no misunderstanding here, let me say that I don’t think that you are simply rash. And I don’t think that you are so upright and clean-handed. Because I know what you did in your boyhood.”

  For a moment, Mikoshiba stopped breathing.

  “Aha. Before overestimating me, did you misjudge me? Do you think that I would support you this much without looking into your past? Don’t worry, and thank our nation’s lenient juvenile law. I am not the type to reveal such a thing to anyone.”

  “… Now I am even more puzzled. Knowing my past, why would you want to make me your steed, sir?”

  “To the contrary, it’s precisely because I know your past that I want to get my hands on you.” Tanizaki laughed one last time. “People like you fascinate me.”

  — 2 —

  Mikoshiba next visited an office building that stood in a prime location in Minami Aoyama.

  The seventeen-floor, futuristic building was covered in glass all the way. The place he was visiting occupied the entire fourteenth to sixteenth floors.

  On the door of the fourteenth-floor office was a florid gold-colored sign that said “HORAI Law Office.”

  When Mikoshiba gave his name to the receptionist, who could have served in the same capacity at a major corporation and who probably did not know the first thing about legal documents, he was led to a room on the sixteenth floor.

  After waiting for a considerable time, the person he wanted to see finally appeared.

  “Oh, sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  Kaneto Horai had a business smile pasted on his face. His attitude was precisely that of a salesman. Even so, his eyes were not laughing, so he would catch barely any customers with his smile if he went out hunting for clients.

  “I heard that you just got discharged from the hospital the other day. Are you better already?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “In the hospital for three months. As I recall, you’re the only lawyer at your firm, so your absence must have been pretty taxing.”

  Implicitly, Horai seemed to be boasting about the size of his own office. The HORAI law firm was a registered corporation. In addition to this Minami Aoyama location, it had branches in Osaka and Fukuoka, as well as one in Hokkaido. Horai, himself, had the title of representative. Under him he had two attorneys and one hundred forty law clerks and office workers. While Mikoshiba had never seen it, reportedly there was one whole floor where over a hundred people were crammed in earning income for the firm, much like at a large company’s call center. Rather than a law office, it was better to say this was a complete business entity in itself.

  Overpayment refund claims by lawyers and judicial scriveners had become a booming business in the past few years, and an increasing number of lawyers suddenly got rich on the huge fees and other compensation they received. They all expanded their offices, but eventually the boom came to an end. It became evident that with the pie itself bein
g limited, these lawyers’ capital would be depleted if a war over the spoils continued, which Mikoshiba expected and was watching for with much interest. How many lawyers would end up out in the cold as a result, and how many female law clerks would end up working nights in bars and cabarets? Already the signs were there, and some lawyers now had annual incomes of only three to four million yen—roughly one third of an American six-figure salary. Not many people are likely to go after markets where there is no money. Sooner or later, a glacial period would be visiting this business, too.

  “During your absence, Kume was elected the new chairman. But, frankly speaking, I think he is too old-school. And in the next election, I want to challenge him with a new circle of friends. At that time, please support us, Mikoshiba-sensei.”

  Horai had published know-how books for debt consolidation, his specialty, and in recent years had appeared on TV talk shows. There was no mistake that he was a successful lawyer in the public eye, but apparently money alone wasn’t sufficient for him. In this year’s election for chairman of the Bar Association, he had run with disastrous consequences, finishing at the very bottom. Nevertheless, he had added to his business cards the line “Tokyo Bar Association Chairman Candidate,” his thirst for honor blooming into a halo of ridiculousness.

  Mikoshiba was tempted to tell this guy what he was requested a little while ago by Tanizaki. For sure, it would have made him very surprised and flustered, after which he would probably ask Mikoshiba to butt out right away or to join his camp. In any event, while it was pleasant just to imagine how panicky it might make Horai, Mikoshiba stopped thinking about it because he was visiting for a different purpose.