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—That being the case, it must mean that he ended up using quite a few of your ideas.
That’s correct; except, not once was I ever awarded recognition for it. Everything related to product development was presented as if the boss had done it, after all. When something of yours got used, there were no bonuses, no shares… They didn’t have anything like that there.
Trial Manufacture Staff:
—You’re saying that they were stingy when it came to incentives?
To be perfectly honest, yes. Our base salary was about average, but there was very little set in stone regarding pay raises and such. Though, I suppose this was just after company was about to go under. (wry smile)
Trial Manufacture Staff:
—Was the share of company profits poorly distributed among its employees?
The returns were… Well, personally, I didn’t know much about it. But, to tell you the truth, I think they were lacking. We outsourced the manufacturing to Suzukuni Confectionery, and that cost us a considerable amount of money. The costs were just too damn high. Getting all the different ingredients lined up for test-manufacturing alone was an extravagance.
Trial Manufacture Staff:
—And the working environment?
Oh, we were lucky in that regard. There were zero restrictions on the funds we expended, to the point where sometimes I had to wonder if it was really okay to be spending so much. But whatever we ended up using, the boss always had to perform his check at the end.
Trial Manufacture Staff:
—So that would mean all product development was ultimately handled by the president?
That’s right. Kind of unusual, isn’t it? When I say check, he didn’t just give it a taste—he had to remake the whole thing from scratch. In that sense, we weren’t much of a development team… You know, it was almost like being a photo model. It was clear that I was the one in the photos, but the work still belonged to the photographer who took it, you get it? It felt like we were just supporting actors for his inspiration.
Trial Manufacture Staff:
—Haha, ouch. So really, whatever the process, it wasn’t much of a creative job, then.
I mean, what we were doing was experimental. But, you’re right. I don’t think there was much in the way of creative achievement.
Trial Manufacture Staff:
—Would you say that that was the reason for the vice president’s resignation?
It might have been, yeah. But she and the boss were effectively doing the same kind of work. They were evenly matched in terms of talent, after all. I expect she’d seen a number of products through from start to finish. It was just that her name was never publicly announced. Of course, they never actually made it clear who made what at that place.
Trial Manufacture Staff:
—So the president was the kind of person who always had to have things his own way?
Hmm, I don’t know about that… It’s true that the world thought he was the one who made everything thanks to how he marketed himself as a kind of mascot. But really, it was the kind of place where ‘anything goes as long as it tastes good.’ It was such a strange place to work at.
Trial Manufacture Staff:
* * * * *
I stopped the interview tape there.
“What do you think?”
“…” Miyashita Touka was frowning.
We’d moved from the earlier cake shop to a booth in a coffee shop. Its lack of customers made it a good location for interviews, but I was the one doing the explaining at the moment.
“So, these people were working with him?”
“That’s right. Though they’re all doing different jobs now.”
“I can’t really tell if they’re praising or mocking him.”
“I know what you mean. He must have been a hard one to gauge.”
“Hmm…” she considered.
“So, why exactly are you so interested in him?”
“Well, I’m not especially interested in him as a person, exactly…” She was being vague. “But like, this guy was really, really invested in his work, right? At least, from what I’ve heard.”
“True, it’s what everyone’s been saying.”
“I’ve been thinking… How do you get to be so dedicated? Is it really that much fun making ice cream?”
“It sounds like he was a real artisan. I doubt it was easy for ordinary people to understand him.”
“Ordinary, huh? …That’s it, that’s the problem. I’m so ordinary, it’s almost sad,” She sighed, “Sometimes it’s easy to lose confidence.”
“Confidence in what?” I asked, but she wouldn’t answer. Then she raised her head.
“Hey, are you going to keep investigating after this?” she said, changing tack.
“Ah, well... Actually, I’m not covering him in any official capacity,” I admitted. I explained that it was all a personal endeavor, and that I’d only been acting independently. “…so, I don’t have anything planned, per se. Though I have been thinking of checking out where he used to live.”
“You know the address?”
“Yeah.”
“I wanna go! Come on, let’s go there!” she said, eyes lighting up.
“Alright, but… do you have enough time for that? You’re studying for entrance exams, aren’t you?” When I asked this, she let out a particularly vocal sigh.
“Well, I actually took a one-hour train ride just to get here. You wanna know why?”
“Hmm, I guess you must live in this area? Or, uh, you went shopping for a change of pace?”
“Nope. Mock test,” she whispered. This surprised me.
“S-So then, it must have started a while ago, right? Is it okay for you to be out here like this?”
“Nope. It’s not okay,” she said offhandedly. “I’m skipping it. If my parents find out, they’re gonna flip out at me again. Maaan…” she said casually.
Now I understood why she’d been so strangely absentminded when we first met. Her mind had been elsewhere, filled with guilt and impatience. My calling out to her wouldn’t have reached her ears.
“Which is why I don’t have anything to do today. I’ve pretty much got the whole day to myself.”
She spoke with renewed vigor, letting out an embarrassed laugh. Oddly enough, it didn’t sound like a show of courage, but something simpler and more refreshing.
Miyashita Touka, eh?
To be honest, after looking at her and listening to her story, I almost felt like the report didn’t matter very much.
“So, where’s the house?”
“Uhh, it could be a ways out. It’s still within the city, though.”
After leaving the coffee shop, we began to consider how we’d reach our destination: Kigawa Tosuke’s former home.
“I wonder if we can catch a taxi…”
I scanned the area looking for a taxi rank, at which point she started yanking on the hem of my coat.
“Hey, Nonomura-san, look!”
My eyes followed her finger, but I couldn’t see anything of interest.
“What is it?”
“That woman.”
As I looked more carefully in the direction she was pointing, I saw that there was indeed a woman standing there, waiting for the traffic lights to change, but found nothing remarkable about her.
“What about her?”
“Isn’t that Kitasono?”
Being told this, I squinted hard to confirm. It was true—it was the celebrity Furukita Sonoko. “Kitasono” was her nickname.
“Now that you mention it. She looks so different from when she’s on TV, I hadn’t noticed.”
“Has she even been on TV lately?”
“Oh yeah, come to think, I haven’t seen her on recently. Maybe she’s lost popularity.”
“Actually, hasn’t it been since the ‘green blood incident’? Maybe she just hasn’t been working since then.”
“Perhaps, since we’ve heard nothing about it.”
“I wonder what she’s doing now?” Miyashita was looking incredibly inquisitive.
“Shall we tail her?” She was surprised at the suggestion.
“…Is that okay?” she asked, looking hesitant.
“She’s connected to Kigawa Tosuke too. We could always formally ask her for an interview, if you’d prefer that,” I said, grinning.
She hemmed and hawed for a bit, then nodded. “That’s true.”
And so, we began following behind Furukita Sonoko.
* * * * *
Sonoko-chan? Yeah, she came over a lot.
Head of Facilities:
—What sort of relations did she have with the president?
Relations? Now, hang on. I mean, sure, the two of them were stuck in a room together for hours at a time, but I don’t think what you’re implying ever happened.
Head of Facilities:
—Well then, what business was she there for? Was it really just as a monitor?
Well, I’m not sure she was just a monitor, considering she only ever had to taste products that we never planned on selling. It was one of the president’s amusements. I don’t think Sonoko-chan herself was very relevant.
Head of Facilities:
—So, he got her to taste high quality products?
Right. Some of them cost 100,000 yen a piece. For stuff like that, you need to be a real connoisseur to really appreciate the flavor. I think the president must’ve wanted someone who’d understand him.
Head of Facilities:
—You believe Furukita-san had a good sense of taste, then?
Well, I couldn’t really tell you about that, given that I’d never actually seen her eating anything. But I recall her saying that she didn’t like sweet things.
Head of Facilities:
—Now that’s odd. What would she be doing as an ice cream tester if she didn’t like sweet things?
Well, this is going to sound a little strange, and you’d know this if you worked with the president, but the two got along so well, it was almost uncanny.
Head of Facilities:
—I see. So that’s why everyone accepted her?
Ah, except for the vice president. She openly disliked her. She thought that she wasn’t suited to monitor testing because she was too biased. But I suspect that it was more of a personal jealousy.
Head of Facilities:
—I heard there were rumors of her and the president getting married.
Yeah, we were all saying that. But I doubt that Sonoko-chan was the reason they split apart.
Head of Facilities:
—What about Furukita-san herself? Did it look like she was enjoying the testing?
Hmm… I might be saying too much here, but she got incredibly cute for a time, and I think the president’s ice cream had something to do with it. People are more appealing when they’re delighted by something, right?
Head of Facilities:
—You’re saying this was because the ice cream was so delicious?
I think so, yeah. I mean, I might be thinking this because there’s a certain kind of faith surrounding “taste,” always tinkering with the machines I do. But here’s the thing, did you know that, in prison, they say that the prisoners forced to eat terrible food all the time start to get this dark look in their eyes, cause nothing but trouble, and serve longer sentences? The older ones apparently burst out crying when they get something they don’t like. On the other hand, the ones without much of a preference look peaceful. Not that I want to lump Sonoko-chan together with prisoners, but you get the idea.
Head of Facilities:
—You think that the ice cream changed her personality?
I got the impression that she mellowed out. And I mean really mellowed.
Head of Facilities:
—In which case, I wonder what’ll happen now that she’s stopped eating it.
Ah, good question. I think… No, I’m not really sure. But sometimes she’d have these moments where she seemed really lonely.
Head of Facilities:
—Lonely?
You know, like when you miss your mother’s cooking? That was the kind of feeling I got from her, I’m sure of it.
Head of Facilities:
—Perhaps she’ll revert to her bad personality.
…You’re not very nice, are you? But I couldn’t tell you about that. Nobody has a clue about what’ll happen to her now…
Head of Facilities:
* * * * *
We’d been on Furukita Sonoko’s trail.
She hadn’t disguised herself or been hiding her face, yet not one of the commuters around her seemed to notice that she’d been a regular on TV. I wondered if it was because of her completely unassuming aura, and the fact that she just looked like your everyday average girl. I struggled to remember exactly what she’d been like before, but I just couldn’t recall. Had she always been this way? I’d seen her on TV multiple times up until the last few months…
Hmm…
After about five minutes of walking, she entered a certain building.
“…What?”
“Isn’t this…?”
Miyashita and I looked at the building. We were dumbstruck. It was an obstetrics clinic.
“I, uh, I wonder why she’s going in there.”
“N-Normally, it means, uh… It’s where babies are…” Miyashita’s face was turning a shade of bright red as she spoke.
“…Is she pregnant?” I’d been prepared for a lot of things in my line of work, but this took me off guard. As I recalled, she was unmarried, and only 19 years of age—not even an officially recognized adult yet.
As we stood there, side by side, passers-by began to give us strange looks. We panicked and hurried into the nearest convenience store. Pretending to browse magazines, we kept watch on the clinic’s entrance.
“…Hey, you don’t think it was with the president, do you?” she whispered to me in a hushed voice.
“It’s possible… But then, what would that mean?”
I was confused again. There were idle rumors that Kigawa Tosuke was, in fact, an alien with green blood, or some kind of mutant. If those rumors were true, then what would that make the child in her belly?