Tokyo: Are you even a proper lawyer?

Rio Arimura stood to the side, looking at the stack of banknotes, then at Rieko Uchida's cheeks, which were red from the cold, and felt a pang of sadness in her heart.

She looked at Masashi Akiyama, her eyes filled with a silent plea.

Masashi Akiyama remained silent for a moment.

His gaze darted back and forth between Rieko Uchida and the stack of money before settling on the view outside the window.

There, a few tiny snowflakes began to fall again, swirling slowly under the leaden sky, like some silent, cold omens.

interesting.

In Masashi Akiyama's psychological profile, Rieko Uchida is an extremely self-centered person who is good at disguising herself.

She used a shell of inferiority and cowardice to conceal the bottomless pool of venom within her heart, a mixture of jealousy and malice.

Such people usually don't go all out for others; they enjoy watching those who were once high and mighty fall into the mire, deriving a twisted pleasure from the misfortune of others.

But at this moment, Rieko Uchida has taken out all her savings to come here in the winter snow for a friend. The anxiety and sincerity in her eyes are so real that they don't seem fake.

What kind of person could inspire Rieko Uchida to be so selfless?

What could be the reason that she showed such abnormal, almost self-sacrificing "kindness" only to this person?

"I can see her. But I must state first—"

He paused. "If she really stole it, I won't take this case. If she didn't steal it, but the evidence is against her and the chances of winning are slim, I still won't take it. The legal fee is 200,000 yen, non-refundable regardless of the outcome. Can you accept that?"

Rieko Uchida nodded vigorously, tears finally falling down her cheeks, which were red from the cold, and dripping onto her tightly clenched hands.

"Yes! As long as I can see you, Yuna will definitely tell you the whole truth! I believe her... she wouldn't steal anything... she's my best friend..."

Masashi Akiyama nodded and put away the stack of banknotes that still felt cold.

"Bring her here tomorrow at three o'clock in the afternoon."

Rieko Uchida left, expressing her deepest gratitude.

Rio Arimura saw her to the door, watching her wrap her scarf tightly around herself and hunch her neck as she walked into the snowy street.

Back at her office, she closed the door, shutting out the winter chill.

The room was once again enveloped in warmth and silence. She looked at Masashi Akiyama, hesitating before speaking.

"Attorney Akiyama... are you really going to take this case? It's just convenience store theft, and the amount is small. Even if it goes to court, I'm afraid..."

"I'm afraid what?" Masashi Akiyama looked up, his gaze piercing through his glasses and landing on her face. "I'm afraid the legal fees won't be much? I'm afraid it won't boost the firm's reputation?"

Rio Arimura, her secret exposed, lowered her head in embarrassment, her fingers unconsciously stroking the warm teacup.

"Arimura," Masashi Akiyama's voice was calm, as if stating a simple fact, "what kind of cases do you think are 'worth' taking?"

"I..." Rio Arimura thought for a moment, "At least... it should be the kind of case that can truly help people, that can change something..."

"for example?"

"For example... wrongful convictions, for example... cases of the oppression of the vulnerable, for example..." She paused, her voice lowering, "for example, those cases that allow people to see 'justice'."

Masashi Akiyama looked at her and suddenly smiled faintly.

The smile was brief, barely even a smile, yet it inexplicably made Rio Arimura's heart tighten.

"Arimura," Masashi Akiyama said, leaning back in his chair, "do you know how many convenience store thefts there are in Japan every year?"

"N-I don't know..."

"In Tokyo alone, there are over five thousand police reports every year." Masashi Akiyama picked up a pen, wrote a number on a sticky note, and pushed it in front of her. "Of these, over 80% are minors—high school students, junior high students, even elementary school students. And of these cases, less than one-tenth are actually prosecuted and sentenced."

Rio Arimura froze. She stared at the number, feeling her throat go dry.

"What happened to the remaining 90%?"

Masashi Akiyama looked at her. "It's settled privately. You pay money and it's over. The school handles it internally, but it leaves a 'record.' Not a legal record, but the kind of 'stain' that's much worse, that follows you for life. Your teachers and classmates will think you're a thief, your parents will feel ashamed, and when you look for a job in the future, if employers hear about it during background checks, they'll reject you."

"And among these people, how many actually stole things, how many were wrongly accused, and how many, like Uchida's friend, were forced to 'confess' out of fear, pressure, or various other reasons? Nobody knows. Because these cases are 'too small,' too small for lawyers to take on, too small for the media to report, so small that... even the parties involved feel they deserve it."

Rio Arimura was speechless.

She just stared blankly at Masashi Akiyama, at his calm, almost cold eyes, and suddenly felt that the heating in the room was too strong, making it hard for her to breathe.

"So," Masashi Akiyama leaned back in his chair, picked up the stack of banknotes again, and gently patted them between his fingertips, the paper making a soft rustling sound, "I took this case. Not out of sympathy, not out of justice, but because—"

He paused, his gaze drifting back to the window. The watermarks left by melting snowflakes on the glass resembled some silent, yet undecipherable, code.

More importantly, he wanted to know the answer to that question—

What kind of person is "Sakura Yuna," whom someone like Rieko Uchida would go to any lengths to protect?

The answer to that question may hold the key to turning this "small case" into a "big case".

"It has the potential to become 'the kind of case' we've been waiting for."

"What kind of case?"

"A case that generates buzz." Masashi Akiyama's eyes sharpened. "Minors, theft, school pressure, convenience store surveillance, the store manager's inappropriate handling, the school's attempt to cover it up—do you think the media would be interested?"

Rio Arimura's heart skipped a beat.

She suddenly understood.

A chill slowly crept up my spine, creating an eerie contrast with the warmth of the room.

"You mean...like Fukuyama's case, turn it into..."

"A social event," Masashi Akiyama interjected. "Once it becomes a social event, it's no longer just a simple 'theft case.' It becomes a matter of 'protecting the rights of minors,' 'another form of bullying in schools,' 'the abuse of convenience store surveillance,' 'schools sacrificing students to protect their reputation'—any angle is enough to write a viral report."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the increasingly dense snowfall.

Snowflakes fell silently onto the glass, melting quickly and leaving winding water streaks, like some kind of silent tears.

"And Ayamura, you must remember... In this era, attention is a weapon. With attention comes public pressure. With public pressure, judges will be cautious, prosecutors will hesitate, and the opposing side will back down. And we... will have the chips to win."

Rio Arimura stared blankly at his retreating figure.

She suddenly remembered Takagi Mikoto's words, which seemed to carry a chill on this winter afternoon.

"The worst thing for a lawyer is to be self-righteous."

But Masashi Akiyama is different.

He never considered himself righteous.

He was just calculating—calculating the odds of winning, calculating the profits, calculating how to turn a "small case" into a "big case".

Is this approach right or wrong?

Arimura Lio doesn't know.

But she knew that her heart was beating faster and faster because of this possibility.