The Witnesses1
On the evening of the thirteenth of January, Tatsuo Yasuda invited one of his clients to join him at the Koyuki restaurant in Akasaka. His guest was a senior official at one of the government ministries.
Yasuda was the president of a company that sold industrial machinery. The company had grown considerably in recent years, a success it was rumored to owe to its large number of contracts with the government. This explained why Yasuda often brought important officials like tonight’s guest to the Koyuki.
Yasuda liked the restaurant. It wasn’t the fanciest in this part of Tokyo, but that was precisely what gave it such an informal, relaxing atmosphere—and the waitresses who served in the private dining rooms were all more than up to the task. Yasuda was considered a good customer. He was happy to splash his cash around—or, as he liked to call it, his “capital.” His clients were all the type to enjoy this extravagance. Still, no matter how friendly he was to the waitresses, he took care never to reveal much about his guests.
A bribery scandal had been in the news since the previous autumn, centering on a certain government ministry. A number of companies doing business with the ministry were also said to be involved. So far only a few lower-ranking officials had been implicated, but the newspapers were predicting that by spring the scandal would have spread to the ministry’s upper echelons.
As a result, Yasuda had become even more discreet about his guests’ identities. There were clients he had brought seven or eight times, whom the waitresses knew by affectionate nicknames like “Ko-san” or “Wu-san”—and yet, while they realized most of these guests were government officials of some sort, they learned nothing further about them.
In any case, it didn’t matter who they were. Yasuda was the one footing the bill. All they needed to do at the Koyuki was keep him happy.
Tatsuo Yasuda was around forty years old, with a broad forehead and a rather sharp nose. He had a dark complexion, kind eyes, and eyebrows so thick they could almost have been painted on. He radiated the easy confidence of an experienced businessman. Despite his popularity with the waitresses, it seemed he never had designs on any of them, instead showing the same friendliness to each.
His designated waitress was Toki, for the simple reason that she had been the one to serve him on his first visit. While they were on good enough terms, it seemed their relationship had never gone beyond the walls of the Koyuki.
Toki was twenty-six, but with her beautiful pale skin could easily have passed for twenty. Her large black eyes made quite the impression on guests. When one of them addressed her, she would glance up and flash them a smile she knew they would find enchanting. Her oval face and delicate chin gave her a graceful profile.
It was no surprise, then, that several customers had attempted to seduce her. Rather than living in, the waitresses came into the restaurant at around four every afternoon and headed home sometime after eleven. Sometimes a customer would ambush Toki as she left the restaurant, asking her to meet him under the railway bridge at Shinbashi. She couldn’t turn them down flat—they
were customers after all—so instead would breezily agree to their requests before standing them up three or four times in a row. That way, as Toki was explaining, the penny would usually drop.
“Sometimes they’re a little slow on the uptake. One turned up the other day in a rage. Pinched me so hard I practically screamed!”
Still seated, Toki lifted her kimono, revealing to her colleagues a small bluish patch on her pale knee.
“Well, what did you expect, leading him on like that!” said Yasuda, smiling as he tipped back his sake cup. The waitresses knew him well enough that he was privy even to this kind of gossip.
“Say, Ya-san, how come
you never try it on with us?” asked Yaeko.
“What would be the point? Knowing you lot, you’d only stand me up!”
“Just listen to him! I know your type, Ya-san,” teased Kaneko, another waitress.
“Oh, I don’t know what you’re implying—”
“It’s no use, Kane-chan,” cut in Toki. “We’re all smitten with Mr. Yasuda, but he barely even looks at us. I wouldn’t waste your time.”
“Hmph!” said Kaneko, flashing a grin.
It was just as Toki had said: the waitresses at the Koyuki were quite taken with Yasuda, and if he’d ever made approaches they would have been well received. His looks and personality made him an irresistible choice.
That evening, after seeing his guest off at the entrance, Yasuda had returned to the private room to relax with a drink. When he turned to Yaeko and her colleague Tomiko and asked, “By the way, you two—how about I take you out for a meal tomorrow?” they jumped at the offer.
“But what about Toki? Why don’t you invite her, too?” asked Tomiko, casting her eyes around for her friend, who had left the room on some errand or another.
“Let’s make it just the two of you. I’ll take Toki another time. I can’t have you all skipping out on work.”
This was true. The waitresses were supposed to be at the restaurant by four and would arrive late if they ate out beforehand. It wouldn’t do for all three of them to join him.
“That’s settled then. I’ll see you at three-thirty, at the Levante in Yūrakuchō,” said Yasuda, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
Copyright © 2025 by Seicho Matsumoto. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
