Nocturne of Remembrance

by Shichiri Nakayama

  Kayabacho, Nihonbashi, Chuo Ward. Though crowded with securities brokerages, the hustle and bustle ebbed away like the tide after the afternoon session. Mikosiba’s destination was the office building that housed Tokyo Mortgage.

  He found the building along the alley behind New Ohashi Street. The neighborhood was lined not only with securities brokerages but financial-services firms that provided stockbroker’s loans. During the bubble economy they’d sprung up like bamboo shoots after the rain, but by now, waves of consolidations had winnowed their numbers.

  When Mikoshiba announced himself at the front desk, the female office worker narrowed her eyes in annoyance, but only for a split second. It wasn’t an unusual response from a financial-services staffer. Most borrowers who couldn’t pay their debts ran to lawyers, who naturally ended up as these firms’ nemeses. But being offended by such adverse reactions was for people with sensibilities more delicate than Mikoshiba’s.

  The hallway to the reception room was decorated with lovely interior accessories, but the posters that adorned the walls were pure garbage.

  “Your Invitation to a Higher Stage”

  “Upper-Crust Asset Management”

  “Your assets will increase fivefold! Trust and Experience - Tokyo Mortgage’s securities investment loans”

  In the case of secured loans, as Aoyagi had testified, the average amount per account was tens of millions of yen, so high-income earners inevitably made up the majority of clients. The entire floor was elegantly designed with them in mind.

  Yet trading in large figures and with posh customers didn’t necessarily mean that this type of business itself was classy.

  A big-shot investor, whom Mikoshiba had defended, once told him something interesting. The stock trading that the majority of investors went in for today wasn’t investment per se. That would entail spotting a company with future potential and accelerating its growth with your own capital. Any gains from selling stock was chore money. Yet most individual investors nowadays traded stocks over the short term to profit from marginal gains. That was gambling, not investment but speculation—

  Indeed, if they were merely gambling, the existence of financial services that provided securities loans made sense. “Asset management” sounded good, but it was no different from the owner of a gambling den lending to customers who were short on funds. Trying to prettify it only made it fishier.

  Mikoshiba was made to wait in the reception room for five full minutes before Aoyagi showed up. There was suspicion on the man’s face, probably because he couldn’t figure out why a lawyer was here, but compared to when he’d taken the witness stand, he somehow seemed square.

  “Oh, you’re the defense attorney for Mr. Tsudas wife … What brings you here today?”

  “I have something to confirm about the status of borrowings of the victim, Mr. Shingo Tsuda.”

  “In court I testified about his outstanding loan, the value of securities pledged, and the value of his real estate collateral. I think that is enough to explain the status of Mr. Tsuda’s borrowings.”

  “Regarding the various amounts that you testified about in court, when were their fixed dates?”

  Aoyagi looked surprised by the question.

  “You see, some cases that I handle involve fights over an inheritance, so I do at least know that determining stock prices requires settling on a date. The figures that you provided in court must have been based on the day of your last visit to Mr. Tsuda’s domicile.”

  “… That’s exactly right.”

  “Actually, I obtained the stock chart for the day of the incident.”

  Mikoshiba pulled out a booklet from his bag. The page that he’d tagged had a chart of the Nikkei Stock Average’s monthly movements.

  “This shows price movement for the half-year until Mr. Tsuda was killed. During that time, the nation’s trade deficit hit a new high, and partly also because the Bank of Japan’s short-term survey was disappointing, the Nikkei Stock Average continued to drop despite some fluctuations. Many investors were bearish and folded, accelerating the decline in stock prices. I doubt all of Mr. Tsuda’s holdings were designated stocks, but it’s unthinkable that his alone remained stable amidst a long-term downward trend. No, he was a rank amateur pretending to be a day trader, so the dip should have been worse than average. A greater-than-imagined decline in the value of his holdings over the half-year, however, is in contradiction with your testimony.”

  “In contradiction?”

  “According to your testimony, after the September 2008 Lehmann Shock, the price of his stocks fell across the board to the extent that he needed to submit additional collateral on top of mortgaging real estate. You, who were in charge of his account, tried to contact him, but in vain … Correct?”

  “Y-Yes … But where’s the contradiction?”

  “Although real estate prices do see some movement, their market prices only ever plummet when the posted price is significantly lowered or when nearby properties get traded at a level well below the norm. For real estate in renowned Setagaya to collapse in value over just half a year or a year is quite unthinkable. Not so with stock prices. They can get halved after four consecutive days of maximum single-day losses.”

  “What are you trying to—”

  “According to this chart, stock prices had been declining for several months before the incident. Without increased collateral or a reduced loan balance, your lendings’ status should have been in a critical state. You testified in court that you couldn’t simply sell off those vital securities because their prices were too low, but that sounds strange from the standpoint of credit management. For the most dire accounts, it’s common practice in your industry to sell the stocks with the lowest decline rate, partly to urge the borrower to pledge additional collateral.”

  “Without the client’s permission? No, that—”

  “A third party normally can’t sell off a customer’s stocks. But you can if you speak to a local securities brokerage beforehand and the necessary documents have been signed and sealed by the customer in advance. People with dead stock have often stopped caring, and selling off some brand in their portfolio won’t even shake them up. If real estate is pledged as collateral, though, it’s a different story. Panicking that it could be sold off next, the debtor gets busy meeting relatives and finds the money. If he’s the proud type, the idea of being thrown into the streets is the scariest thing ever.”

  “… You’re awfully familiar with our industry, aren’t you?” Aoyagi couldn’t so much as blink.

  Mikoshiba’s verbal siege was like a relentless cross-examination. “Yet you testified that you hadn’t sold his shares. If so, it’s only natural to conclude that when the rate of collateral decreased, Shingo put in something.”

  “Sensei, what do you want me to do?”

  “You could disclose his transaction history for the year before the incident.”

  “Mikoshiba-sensei, that’s not possible. The police took the requisite steps and requested a disclosure, but you represent his wife, not Mr. Tsuda. You’re not even involved in this as a liabilities lawyer and are, so to speak, nothing but a third party. Plus, you don’t have investigative authority because you aren’t the police. You can’t possibly not know that we’re prohibited from disclosing it to you.”

  “Of course I know. But your client Shingo Tsuda is dead, so at least he’s no longer covered by the Private Information Protection Law.”

  “I’m sure you know this better than me, but collateral loans are attached to things, not people. Even if Mr. Tsuda is dead, the loan balance remains, and in the presence of collateral, the credit is our company’s confidential information. Why share with a third party?”

  When Aoyagi demurred, Mikoshiba changed his strategy with a smile. “Nobody is a villain through and through. They’re actually, all of them, kind people who know mercy and love justice. You’re a case in point.”

  “… What?”

  “Yet being part of an org
anization slowly numbs people to all sorts of things. The company’s bottom line and the boss’s orders are absolute and crush personal conviction and principle like a juggernaut. Even so, a select few continue to cradle a small still voice.”

  “What’s gotten into you, sensei? All this zeal.”

  “Mr. Aoyagi, you seem quite accustomed to appearing in court.”

  “Yes, because I’m in charge of lawsuits.”

  “You represent your company, so you can’t be yourself. But when something tugs at your heart, your humanity shows, just like it did in court the other day.”

  “B-Because you asked almost leading questions.”

  “You let me lead you because you already felt for them. A family forced to huddle thanks to a good-for-nothing man. Above all, that daughter used as a shield against a debt collector—you truly pitied her. And now, the girls are about to be deprived of not just their father but their mother.”

  I … see.

  “If I succeed in defending her, though, it will only be for a short while. For that, however, I need your support. Not the Tokyo Mortgage employee’s. Toshihiko Aoyagi’s.” Mikoshiba paused to gauge the man’s reaction. He did appear to be good at heart and to be wrestling with his conscience.

  “Will disclosing Mr. Tsuda’s trading history really be that effective?”

  “More than you can imagine. And this is something that I can only ask of you.”

  “Why, sensei, you’re pretty handy with your niceties, too.”

  “I’m not so naïve to think that someone like you would fall for them. And I only entreat people who’re worth entreating.”

  Aoyagi grunted as if he were enduring something. Then he said, “Please wait a moment,” and suddenly stood up and exited the room.

  Did I lose him?

  Just when Mikoshiba started to worry, Aoyagi came back with a clear plastic file under his arm. Reentering the room, he locked the door from the inside.

  “Sensei, can you keep this confidential?”

  “It’s a basic requirement for lawyers.”

  “If this leak is traced back to me, I’ll get disciplined.” Aoyagi pulled several A4 pages out of the plastic file. “To tell you the truth, I did some research on you after the hearing the other day.”

  “On me?”

  “Your clients are more often shady than not. You’re regarded as a maverick by the bar association for your exorbitant legal fees and outsize court battles. Why should I ever trust you?”

  “It’s true that I have many shady clients. Working with such people, I’d have become fish food a long time ago if I couldn’t guarantee confidentiality.”

  Hearing that, Aoyagi resigned himself and handed over a sheet. “You can’t photocopy it, so please review it here and now,” he indicated in a hushed voice, to which Mikoshiba nodded.

  At the top right were a serial number and Shingo Tsuda’s name. Dates ran down a column, while the rows showed the deposited sums, total collateral values, additional collateral values, loan balances, and integrity rates. It was all laid out so that not just the cash flow but any additional collateral, the lack thereof, and the exact shortfall were clear at a glance.

  Tracing the figures with his finger, Mikoshiba saw how the total collateral value and integrity rate declined in tandem with the struggling economy. “So the integrity rate dropped by ten percent in just one month despite the loan amount staying the same.”

  “His monthly deposits were only for the interest, and many of the stocks he owned had been gamed.”

  Mikoshiba knew about these gamed stocks. A group with funding would intentionally manipulate a stock and sell through the moment the price shot up. Since shares gamed in this manner had poor intrinsic value, their prices tumbled down after the group was done with them. “So his were so-called ‘lantern buys’?”

  “Yes. You spot a tall white candle on the trading volume chart. It has legs on the second day and third day, too, and you rush to buy, prodded by dubious internet rumors. Even after you opt in, the price continues to go up. You wonder if you’re a trading genius. When it goes into free fall, though, you have no idea when to sell. You set a floor, but the thing’s been tumbling faster than that. In no time flat you’re under your purchase price but lack the guts to cut your losses. Before long, you’ve totally missed your chance to get rid of it and have dead stock on your hands.”

  “Why didn’t you warn him? As an industry person you had access to that info.”

  “Company regulations prohibit issuing instructions on specific stocks. If the client profits, we might be accused of insider trading. If the client doesn’t, we might get sued for supplying false tips.”

  Aoyagi had a point, so Mikoshiba let it go. Reaching for gamed stock, blowing his horn when the price went up, and fretting as soon as it started tanking overlapped perfectly with the picture of Shingo that Yozo had drawn.

  The further down Mikoshiba went, the more blank spaces lined the column for sums deposited—Shingo was even beginning to miss his interest payments.

  Mikoshiba kept going and finally found what he’d imagined he would: “add-co” equivalent to 80,000 yen in collateral value supplied biweekly for the two months prior to the incident. “So there was additional collateral worth a total of 400,000 yen in cash terms. Yet the integrity rate barely changed.”

  “Well, the shortfall in collateral dwarfed the additional collateral. In fact, these itsy-bitsy add-cos are the worst.”

  “Why do you say the worst?”

  “While they aren’t substantial enough to boost the rate, it shows some attentiveness and a base line of intent. The client seems to be trying to make good, so we think twice about unilaterally selling the stocks … And as that goes on, the debt turns bad. We’re partly to blame for providing the client with meaningless mercy.”

  “But additional collateral in the form of securities only nets eighty percent. Doesn’t a cash influx beat submitting stocks for raising the integrity rate?”

  “You know, poverty dulls the wits. They think, ‘Cash is only ever worth its face value. If it’s in stocks, there’ll be a synergy effect when I get my chance to roll things back.’ They can’t think straight anymore, having been pushed into a corner.”

  Drop-in-a-bucket add-cos and creditors’ meaningless mercy—how ironic that such impulses generated bad loans. No matter the era, nothing was as toxic as half-assed good will.

  “I really appreciate your cooperation.”

  “What? Is that it?”

  “I’m beginning to see my line of defense thanks to you.”

  The next day, Mikoshiba went to Yozo’s home.

  “Ah! It’s Mikoshiba-sensei!”

  Bad premonitions tended to come true, and indeed, it was Rinko who greeted Mikoshiba. As he approached the entrance, she clung to his feet like a puppy.

  “Hey, hey, you went to Kyushu? Was Mommy’s house still there?”

  “Nope, not anymore.”

  Rinko pouted in disappointment. “Aww, I was gonna visit too if it was still there.”

  Don’t—Mikoshiba just barely swallowed the word. “When the trial is over … and your mother comes back, ask her. The house may be gone, but there are still people who remember her.”

  “Okay.”

  The trial’s outcome was uncertain. So was Akiko’s date of release. But even if she never returned, Rinko would head out there someday. Mikoshiba had come to understand the girl in the last few days. She would head to Fukuoka alone if need be to seek the roots of the misfortune that had struck her family. And she would know new sorrow, and new anger.

  Mikoshiba had no right to stop her.

  Her grandfather looked rather more solemn when he showed up at the entrance. “Sensei, thank you for your continued efforts. How did the trip to Fukuoka go?”

  “Well, it wasn’t to report on the trip that I came here today. I have one last thing to confirm.”

  Sensing something from Mikoshiba’s tone, Yozo instructed Rinko to go to the other
room. “I bet it’s not appropriate to discuss in her presence.”

  “Thank you.”

  Shown into the living room, Mikoshiba sat face to face with Yozo, who seemed somewhat anxious. The man must have been agonizing in his own way while Mikoshiba was away on the trip.

  “Was it worth visiting such a distant place?”

  “It wasn’t entirely pointless. Luck smiled on me and I found someone familiar with Akiko’s early years in Fukuoka.”

  “Her early years … Will that serve any use in defending her?”

  “Character formation from early childhood to the present day often provides for extenuating circumstances.”

  “It’s been a while since she became my daughter-in-law, but she’s never talked about her childhood.”

  “That’s not unique to your family, is it? Not everyone had a bright and cheerful childhood. Some people prefer not to share that part of their lives.”

  “But it will be beneficial to her defense after all?”

  “I intend to make it beneficial. It might tarnish Shingo’s image as a result, though.”

  “Like I said before, that can’t be helped.”

  “This may be rude, but Shingo and Akiko seem to have been such contrasting personalities for a married couple.”

  “Contrasting?”

  “Soon after Akiko graduated from commercial high school in Kobe, she got a job at an accounting firm in Tokyo. Apparently she was the only one from her class to come out here.”

  “She was already pretty independent, then.”

  “Not necessarily. On the contrary, maybe she sought new ties.”

  “New ties, huh?”

  “With her parents, she’d only ever be in a position to be protected. If she left home and lived in a new world, though, she might find someone to protect. And she met Shingo and started a family that she needed to protect.”

  “True, her two daughters are someone to protect for Akiko. But are you sure this isn’t a little too precarious?”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s entirely off the mark given her attitude in court and her behavior when I interviewed her. Plus, we have her relationship with Shingo.”