3. The Flames of Revenge Burn in My Heart Like Hell ⑤

Hori-kun opened the door of the car, which he had parked precisely in the designated spot as if tracing a path he had repeated many times, and looked up at the blue sky.

“It’s hot, especially today.”
He squinted, and clear beads of sweat dripped from his short neck.

The heat was so intense that I couldn't bear to keep my jacket on either, so I buttoned my frilled shirt all the way up and used my palm to at least cast a shadow over my face. The relentless summer sun cast dark, deep shadows on both the car body and us.

The temperature was enough to drain you just by standing in it. Is this how roasted beans scattered on a frying pan always feel? “I suppose so.”

The parking lot was windless. Hori-kun had put a silver sunshade on the windshield, but it seemed like a futile resistance. I was already dreading the return trip after the interview.

“This is the last one, okay?”
He emphasized in a low voice and closed the door with a heavy thud.
“I told you I understand. All that’s left is to write it. Right?”

I didn't intend to miss the deadline either.
“If you say so.”
He said curtly and started walking ahead.

Just as I thought, sweat erupted from my head after walking only a few dozen meters, and I worried about my foundation smudging. I wanted to get into an air-conditioned building as soon as possible and touch up my makeup.

In a flower bed that was fenced off as a mere formality, sunflowers hung their heads limply. Even from here, I could see that the soil at their feet was parched and dry.
The sound of cicadas echoing incessantly crawled into my ears like a curse.

I looked up at the massive white building and followed Hori-kun’s back, his shirt soaked and clinging to him.
It really seems like today will be the last time I come here.

※

“It’s hot, isn't it? How are you feeling? Any changes?”
“I’ve lost my appetite. I’d be grateful if you could bring me somen noodles instead of rice. I won't even ask for draft beer.”

Mando laughed in a limp, collapsing sort of way and said that lately, he’d been looking forward to these interviews.
“To be honest, the air conditioning here works really well, which is a big help.”

Mando said this without any sign of guilt, but he did look a bit gaunt, with shadows cast on his slightly thinner cheeks, perhaps from summer fatigue.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, as today is scheduled to be the final interview. I appreciate your cooperation.”

“Oh? Have you already figured me out? You’re smart, Doc.”
A provocation. But even that looked lonely now. Perhaps it was because I could easily imagine this man’s future fate.
For me, and of course, for Mando himself.

“People can never fully understand one another. From the beginning, I have intended to see you as an equal human being. That is why I am sure there are many things I could not see. If there is anything you want to say before I write the evaluation report, say it now. Right here.”

I must have been staring at him intently, but Mando repeated the same words with a cool face, not moving a single eyebrow.

“I didn't do it.”

Is that all he has to say? His claim had been consistent the whole time. I find that impressive. Especially if it isn't the truth.
“I understand. Since that is what you are saying, I will write it in the evaluation report as well. I promise.”

“Well, thanks for that.”
He said in a flat voice, and Mando looked at me with those snake-like eyes.
“I have something I want you to hear today.”
As I said this, I placed a small voice recorder on the table.

“What’s that? Are you going to play me some music? Chopin’s ‘Farewell Waltz’?”
Ignoring Mando’s dry laugh, I played the audio of Eri that Hori-kun and I had edited. Without explaining anything at all. I was also curious to see when Mando would realize what it was.
A woman’s voice, raspy from alcohol, rang out over the static typical of an amateur recording.

“My parents were strict Christians. They're both dead now, though...” “Her name was Isabella. Funny, right?” “The other side's parents wanted me to have an abortion, but they couldn't really push it, could they? I'm pretty sure my father put the pressure on and told them to just say the father was unknown.” “We were high schoolers, after all.” “They said they wouldn't have anything to do with me or Tetsuto, but they wouldn't put him on the family register either.” “I was sad, honestly.” “They wouldn't do anything good for him, but they wouldn't abuse or bully him either.” “It's too late for me to play the mother now.” “We're both women, so there's no way we'd get along.” “Keeping me from having an abortion but cutting me off from the man—that was all my mother's doing.” “She doted on him like she was trying to spite me.” “I guess raising a boy is more fun than raising a girl.” “She was always nagging and controlling.” “From how he used his chopsticks to how he spoke, everything.” “But I don't think Tetsuto would understand even if I told him. To Tetsuto, that woman was nothing but a doting, kind mother.”

Mando listened silently and calmly to the woman's voice, which had been edited to be easier to hear.
Was he feeling nostalgic? His mother's voice. Had Mando ever exchanged words with Eri for this long before?

Eri's voice echoed in the bleak, square white room.
I couldn't read Mando's emotions; he didn't even change his expression.
I couldn't even begin to guess what he was thinking.

“Domestic violence, debt, and the worst part was that he was a junkie.” “I thought it might be better if he wasn't with me. It wasn't very good for Tetsuto.” “Every man leaves me behind. Now there isn't a single exception left.”

Eri Mando never spoke in a way that sounded like she was bitterly complaining about her misfortune. She was the type of woman who spoke about her feelings calmly, sometimes even humorously. I suppose she really was an intelligent person.
Even if what she did wasn't exactly good parenting.

“How did you feel when Tetsuto-kun was arrested?”
“Oh, I just thought, 'Oh, he's alive.' I thought he looked just like that man.”
“...You mean Tetsuto-kun's father, right?”
“It was on the national news, 'Mando.' His age was reported too, right? I thought, 'He probably knows about this now, too.'”
“How did you feel?”
“A feeling of 'I'm sorry,' and then... I wondered if he would contact me.”
“Did he contact you?”
“Of course he wouldn't, would he?”

The audio cut off abruptly, and silence returned. Even though there were four adults in the square room, not a sound or a breath could be heard.
I was observing Mando in front of me. Mando raised his head without a sound and whispered in a raspy voice.

“I don't like this... I heard it for the first time.”
“About your father?”
Mando tried to answer, smiled weakly as if troubled, and nodded with trembling lips.

“I didn't... know.”
He said he didn't know, his voice sounding choked.
His snake-like eyes suddenly lost their sharpness, and clear, watery pressure began to well up in them.
He let out a damp sigh and smiled weakly.

“I see... yeah, I see.”
He repeated it as if savoring the words, clenching his back teeth to endure. His shoulders, which looked like they might tremble at any moment, looked as thin as a young boy's.

Helpless and fragile.
With a single tear flowing like a faint light shining through the clouds, Mando raised his head straight up.
Stared at head-on, my breath caught.

“Thank you for letting me hear this.”
His voice was wet, but it wasn't trembling. He said it with a somewhat clear expression.

“Because I didn't know. If I had known, I don't think... things would have turned out this way.”
I thought it was the most honest Mando's voice had ever sounded.
Terribly gentle and soft, calm like a sea at sunset.

“Doctor, if it's possible... could you tell me the address of that person, my mother?”
“Address?”
I repeated it blankly, not understanding the meaning immediately, and Mando nodded with a soft smile.

“When I return to the detention center, I want to write a letter... I misunderstood my mother.”
“I see. I'm sure she'll be happy about that.”
That was all I could say.

Mando wore a sad smile and held out his palm to me.
From the hand I overlapped with his as if drawn to it, a sweet heat was transmitted, slowly eroding me.

“Thank you very much. I am truly grateful that I was able to meet you.”
“Um, thank you, too...”
His voice was clear. My voice was muffled and timidly shrinking.

At this rate, you couldn't tell who the appraiser was.
His eyes, like clear glasswork, reflected light, and his palm, which I had touched for the first time, was so smooth and soft that I couldn't believe he had killed someone.

An inorganic room filled with white summer light.
How bright. It's so bright I might just forget.
The work I have to do after this. And because of that, Mando will...
I couldn't stand it and looked away first.
In the room, the image of the thin man smiling is seared into my mind by the white light.

And thus, the long evaluation of Tetsuto Mando came to an end.

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