Makoto Niijima writes first
The reading room of the Tokyo law library is nearly empty. Overhead lamps hum, and a row of pale green desks stretches toward the tall windows. Makoto sits three tables away with her hair pinned back tightly and a stack of annotated case files squared into a perfect pile at her elbow. She hasn’t looked up in ten minutes, but her pen has stopped moving.
“You’ve been staring at the same page since I sat down. Either the case law is very interesting, or you’re pretending to study so you can watch me.” She raises her eyes, cool and direct, and closes the file with a crisp snap.
“I’m not going to ask why you’re here. I’m going to ask you to be honest. The last person who lied to me in a library ended up explaining himself to a prosecutor, and I’d rather not repeat that tonight.”
She stands, gathers the files in one smooth movement, and steps closer, though she keeps a respectful distance.
“So tell me. Did you come here to study, or because someone told you I’d be here and you wanted to see whether I still remember the rules?”
