2. My Mother (4)

My work always begins with a question.
What on earth is this person thinking?

Interest naturally expands from the smallest of questions, leading to research.
In that sense, this man, Tetsuto Mando, could be called a very easy person to work with.

Questions and interests well up inexhaustibly.
What is this man thinking? Why did he kill? Or could it be that the real culprit is someone else? I still don't know. My throat clicks...

"I was wondering what you were looking at, but it's his background, isn't it?"
Hori-kun asks in an exasperated voice, saying, "You've already memorized that, haven't you?" With a grunt, Hori-kun sits in the seat opposite me, his stocky body half-disappearing behind a mountain of paper. It's a pile of reports submitted by students. I know I have to get around to grading them eventually.

"Well, I might have it memorized by now."
Mando seems to be a truly excellent and capable person.
"Look at this. His elementary school guidance record."

The copy I reached out and fluttered was swallowed up by the mountain of reports.
I often hear opinions worrying about our country's education, but when you actually request past data on criminals like this, you are more often than not surprised. It is not rare to find such detailed descriptions that the life in elementary school, which even the person themselves has forgotten, comes vividly back to life.

Since the teachers could not possibly have foreseen that this child would commit a serious crime in the future, it must mean that they were guiding every child with equal care and leaving a record of it.

Life records from childhood are a treasure trove for mental health professionals. They are not seen by the general public, but having them or not makes a big difference in understanding a human being.

Sometimes, when looking at a criminal's guidance record, I wonder what was written in mine. Of course, I could never request it out of mere curiosity.

"His grades are excellent... it's almost creepy."
Hori-kun continues in a tone where I can't tell if he's impressed or exasperated. I can't see his expression at all, blocked by the mountain of reports.

"There was always one of these guys in every class, wasn't there? An honor student, or someone who could do anything without a hitch. They're abnormally clever, to put it simply."

"There are plenty of kids who are good at all subjects... but Mando seems to have no weaknesses at all. Top marks in physical education and arts, and no absences, so his health must have been good too."
"On top of that, with that face, isn't he perfect?"

Yes, perfect. He is truly a model student.
Hori-kun's chair creaks. Is he leaning back, staring at the unchanging ceiling? I imagined Hori-kun rolling his eyes.

"I was no good at art. I couldn't draw at all, and even though I intended to draw normally, it would end up looking like avant-garde art. I wonder what that was about. It's still a mystery to me even now."

"That's what they call art is an explosion! I was no good at physical education. I couldn't do a back hip circle no matter how many times I tried. They made me stay after school for a week, but it was impossible, so the teacher finally gave up."

Haha, it looks like the mountain of paper raised its voice and laughed.
"Everyone has at least one subject they're bad at. That's normal. But Mando was different. He wasn't normal."

"But just because you're too good at things, you don't usually become a criminal, right?"
"So, look at this. His middle school record."
"Let's see."
The copy disappeared behind the reports again.

"Huh? Is this really Mando's record?"
Hori-kun stands up with a clatter, and his eyes, finally visible, are wide open behind his glasses.

"I'm sure it is."
His grades have dropped as if he were a different person, and there are irregularities in his attendance.

"If that's the case... does that mean something happened in middle school?"
"Yes. Something."

What on earth could have happened to a model student who was more than capable? I couldn't read that much from the guidance records.

But surely, the clue is here. My accumulated experience as a psychiatrist rumbled deep in my throat.

Hori-kun was standing, looking down at me with an expression of unease or perhaps pity, but I had no way to stop the laughter welling up inside me.

※

“Isn't this your first afternoon interview, Doc?”
“Maybe so. Well then, hello. So to speak.”
For some reason, Mando was in a good mood today. Whether there was a reason for it or not, I still didn't know.

Mando was sitting at an angle, shaking one leg unceremoniously. It could look like he didn't know what to do with his long legs, but was this caution? It was body language that didn't match his good mood. As always, he wore a look of composure on his beautiful face.

“Tell me about when you were little.”
“When I was little?”
Mando's eyebrows twitched slightly.

“You must have been little once, too. What kind of child were you? No, first, let's see. Can you tell me your oldest memory?”
Mando turned his gaze to the light streaming in from the skylight, his expression blank. I waited. Mando opened his mouth.

“I don't really have many memories from long ago.”
“Come now. Anything is fine. If you like, you can even make it up.”

“No, really. I have almost no memories of my childhood. It's not that I don't have a few, but I don't have the feeling that they are real memories. That's because my own figure is inside my memories.”

It was a clear explanation.

“You feel that is strange, don't you?”
Mando looked straight back at me. His gaze didn't seem like he was lying at all. Furthermore, I couldn't see any reason for him to lie about this content for the time being.

“It is strange, isn't it? If they were real memories, I shouldn't be able to see myself. Even if it were a reflection in a mirror, it's one thing, but a memory of someone watching a child who looks like me in my childhood. This is clearly strange. I suspect these aren't my memories, but rather fake memories created by looking at photographs or something.”

“Do you have no memories of other people? Like your father or mother?”
“If you had read that file thoroughly, you would know, but I don't have a father. There was someone I thought was my father, though.”

With this, I understood that for Mando, his grandfather was the person he 'thought was his father'.

“When did you find out he wasn't your father?”
“I kind of realized it when I was in elementary school. He was too old to be my sister's father, and they were both too old to be parents. I never received New Year's money from the people my classmates called grandparents. Naturally, I had never met them, nor had I ever heard them mentioned.”

“I see.”
That explanation, delivered calmly, was also precise.

“When were you convinced?”
“That was after I became a middle school student. Because my grandparents died one after another.”
“Inheritance?”

“That's right.”
He answered in a clownish tone. The corners of his mouth were twisted unevenly. If so, could this be the cause of his poor academic performance?

The truth about his birth was revealed at the exact 'wrong' time during his adolescence. Was the psychological burden too great to bear when he learned it just as his foster parents, who were not his real parents, were passing away one after another?

“And what did you think?”
“What did I think? Nothing in particular... just, ah, I knew it.”

Suddenly, Mando lowered his eyes like a naive boy. This person's eyelashes are unusually long. Like the proboscis of a black swallowtail butterfly, they cast a faint, flickering shadow on his delicate, thin cheeks.

"So that's why you grew to hate her?"
"Huh? What?"
The eyes that looked up at me sparkled as if they had been wounded.

"My mother."
"......"
After a brief silence, he answered in a low voice.
"That probably started even before then."

"Before then? So you liked your grandmother more than your mother?"
At this probing question, Mando let out a sharp breath and his expression crumbled.

"That way of putting it is likely to cause a misunderstanding. To begin with, I hate that woman, so it's just that my grandfather and grandmother were far better than her. If you ask me whether I like or dislike them, I don't think I like anyone at all."

"Oh. What a coincidence. Me too."
When I agreed with him from the bottom of my heart, Mando and Hori-kun both looked at me with the same expression. I let out a soft puff of air and looked up at the ceiling. It was a newer, more open, pure white ceiling than the one in my familiar laboratory.

"Hey, Mando-kun."
"What?"
"Have you ever loved anyone? A woman, a man, anyone other than yourself?"

"No."
He answered immediately. I smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction that I could clearly recognize myself.

"That's good. We might be able to understand each other. Provided you cooperate with me, of course."

Mando stared at my face with an expressionless, scanning gaze. He had always had a terribly intrusive way of looking at people, but he stared at my face longer than he ever had before.

And then.
After a long pause, Mando replied.

"Don't you dare talk down to me, you pathetic psychiatrist."

His voice was so low and suppressed that I wondered where it was coming from, and his glaring eyes looked as if they were burning.

"I am not understood by anyone, and I don't understand anyone. Remember that well."
His bright red tongue flickered out like a snake's. But I couldn't afford to flinch here. If I let him look down on me here, it would be over.
Conversely, the fact that he gave this reaction now means that this man is afraid of me.

Over-defense. Psychological.

That's why I'll push forward. The person opposite me is no delicate boy. This man is a vile criminal. And I am...

"I'm sorry? Understanding and analyzing you is my job. As a professional."
With a loud bang, he slammed his hand on the desk, and the snake-like eyes were pressed right in front of me.

"Anno-san!"
I heard Hori-kun's voice, and I used my still-barely-free left hand to restrain the legal center staff member who was saying something and trying to come over.

"Don't act tough, you woman."
The warm breath he exhaled hit my face. Surprisingly, I felt no discomfort.
"You're actually scared, aren't you? Your eyes are wide open, huh?"
"Hey Mando! Get back!"
I couldn't tell if it was Hori-kun's voice or the staff member's.

Mando didn't try to touch me. He just leaned forward to apply pressure. In the first place, he was wearing a waist restraint, so he wasn't supposed to be able to do anything reckless.

And yet, he could threaten me this much with just those glowing eyes.
A murderer's eyes.

I have seen them before. This person definitely has the eyes of a killer.
They are an indescribably beautiful color.
I am literally glued to them.

You know, a murderer's eyes are surprisingly clear and untainted.
When you see them up close, you can barely even breathe.

"Shall I do to you what I did to those women, right here and now?"
I was finally able to reply to the voice that seemed to cling to my neck.

"I didn't know you were into mature women."
With a scoff, Mando finally sat back down in his chair. My breathing became easier by the distance that had physically opened up between us.

"Usually, 'mature woman' is something you say to a sexy older lady. Well, whether she's sexy or not, it's not my type anyway."
It was clear that I wasn't the only one who felt relieved. The air in the room changed to relief in an instant. Mando turned around and smiled at Hori-kun.

"Hey, did you fall for it again? Hahahaha! Am I really that scary? I've told you so many times! I really didn't do it, okay? I am not the culprit behind the Tokyo Long Hair Murders!"

Hori-kun stared at Mando, who was laughing in a way that felt completely out of place, with intense, burning eyes from behind his glasses.

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