Tokyo: Are you even a proper lawyer?

Rieko Uchida stood in the witness stand.

Under Masashi Akiyama's guidance, her statement gradually became clearer from trembling.

Every detail was meticulously recreated—how Ayaka Fukuda threatened her to give false testimony, and how she taught her word by word to fabricate a false testimony that she "saw Kento Suzuki forcibly molesting her."

"...Ayaka Fukuda said that if I didn't cooperate, she would call someone to teach me a lesson." Rieko Uchida's voice choked up at the crucial point, but she quickly took a deep breath.

"I grew up with her, and I know how ruthless she is. Even outside of school, there are people who stand up for her. I was scared... so I lied."

The courtroom fell into absolute silence; even the rustling of reporters flipping through their notebooks in the gallery could be clearly heard.

Fujita practically sprang to his feet, his voice sharp and piercing as he asked questions in a crisscrossing manner:

"Rieko Uchida! Did you accept bribes from the defense to deliberately change your testimony? Wasn't your previous written testimony the truth?!"

"objection!"

Masashi Akita immediately stood up to defend him, saying, "Prosecution attorney, please watch your words and do not maliciously mislead our witnesses."

"I didn't receive any bribes!" Rieko Uchida retorted immediately. "My previous testimony was false; Ayaka Fukuda forced me to give it! The recording just now is the evidence; every word I said is true!"

Masashi Akiyama added as needed.

"Your Honor, Rieko Uchida's testimony is completely consistent with the recording, and the details she stated, such as the specific ways in which Ayakako Fukuda threatened her and the time and place when she was instigated to commit perjury, are all corroborated by other indirect evidence. The prosecution's objections are completely illogical."

Fujita opened his mouth, but couldn't make a sound as if his throat was being choked.

His gaze darted nervously between the surveillance screen, the expert report, and the resolute faces of the witnesses. Fine beads of cold sweat trickled down his forehead, one drop, then two, spreading into dark stains on the table.

Masashi Akiyama turned to the victim's seat.

The courtroom was completely silent.

The courtroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The sunlight streaming in through the window cast dappled patterns of light and shadow on Ayaka Fukuda's pure white dress.

She lowered her head, her long hair cascading down like a waterfall to cover her face, only her hands, tightly gripping the hem of her skirt, her knuckles white from excessive force.

Masashi Akiyama slowly stood up.

The sound of leather shoes stepping on the marble floor was amplified infinitely in the absolute silence.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Every step felt like a blow to everyone's heart.

Masashi Akiyama stopped in front of Ayaka Fukuda, looking down at her.

Ayaka Fukuda subconsciously shrank her shoulders and lowered her head even further.

Ayakako Fukuda.

"Please answer the following: On June 15th of this year, between 3 PM and 4 PM—the time period you claim was when you were forcibly molested by Mr. Kento Suzuki—where exactly were you?"

Ayaka Fukuda's throat bobbed.

"...in...the empty classroom number three at the school..."

"Which corner exactly?" Masashi Akiyama pressed.

"A seat by the window..."

Which side by the window? The left or the right?

Ayaka Fukuda paused for a moment, her eyes darting nervously towards the audience. Not seeing what she wanted, she turned her head away in a fluster.

"...left, left side..."

"Yeah?"

Masashi Akiyama raised an eyebrow, a movement as light as a feather falling, yet it made Ayaka Fukuda's heart sink.

He turned and pointed to the evidence screen.

A photo appeared on the big screen—Classroom No. 3, empty on the left side of the window, without any desks.

"School logistical records show that from June 12 to 18, the desk on the left side of the window in classroom number three was removed due to damage. On the day of the incident, there was no desk in that location."

He turned around, his gaze returning to Ayakako Fukuda's face:

"The 'victim location' you mentioned simply does not exist."

Ayaka Fukuda's face paled instantly, her lips trembling as she stammered, "I...I remembered wrong...it was the right side..."

"How far is the desk on the right from the window?" Masashi Akiyama didn't give her a chance to catch her breath. "Please use your hand to show me."

Ayaka Fukuda stiffly raised her hand and gestured haphazardly—about half a meter away.

"wrong."

Masashi Akiyama immediately interrupted her, his voice carrying a hint of cold mockery.

The screen switches to another photo: on the right side of classroom number three, desks are neatly arranged, and a measuring ruler shows that the distance from the window is exactly 1.2 meters.

"According to the photos, the desk on the right side of empty classroom number three is exactly 1.2 meters from the window. The distance you're gesturing to is less than half a meter." Akiyama Masashi took a step forward, the oppressive aura pressing down like a mountain. "You can't even remember the details of the 'victim scene' you claim to have seen? Is that reasonable?"

Ayaka Fukuda's body began to tremble slightly.

"I... I was so scared at the time... I can't remember..."

"Fear?"

Masashi Akiyama repeated those two words, his tone almost overflowing with sarcasm.

"When you claimed you were forcibly molested, was your first reaction to resist or to cry?"

"They all... I resisted, and I cried..."

"How did you resist? Did you push me with your hands? Kick me with your feet? Or did you shout for help?"

"She pushed him with her hands... and cried for help..." Ayaka Fukuda's voice was choked with sobs, and tears began to well up in her eyes.

"How many times did you shout? What exactly did you shout?"

"Two, two or three times... they were shouting 'No!' and 'Help!'..."

"But--"

Masashi Akiyama's voice suddenly rose.

He pulled a document from the folder and held it up in his hand:

"The surveillance footage shows that three teachers passed by the corridor around classroom number three at the time. No one heard any cries for help."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the judge's bench:

"The testimonies of these three teachers have been submitted to the court. How do you interpret them?"

Ayaka Fukuda's body trembled like a leaf in the wind. Tears finally rolled down her cheeks, mingling with snot, leaving a messy trail on her face.

"I...I don't know...maybe I shouted too softly..."

"Too quiet?"

Masashi Akiyama took another step closer.

The distance between the two was less than half a meter.

"You previously stated in your testimony to the prosecution that you 'fought with all your might and cried for help.' Now you say you 'cried too softly.'" His voice grew colder. "You're contradicting yourself. Ayaka Fukuda, which statement is true?"

"I...I..."

She was incoherent and could only shake her head frantically.

But Masashi Akiyama didn't give her a chance to catch her breath.

"You claim that Mr. Kento Suzuki forcibly molested you, please tell me—" his speech suddenly quickened, "Where was his left hand placed? And what was his right hand doing?"

Ayaka Fukuda's eyes darted around as she made up a story: "His left hand was pressing down on my shoulder, and his right hand... his right hand was pulling at my clothes..."

"Was it the top or the skirt that was torn? Which part specifically?"

"The sleeves of the top..."