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PROLOGUE
What are ideals?
There are innumerable answers to that question. One could say it’s merely a term, or an idea, or perhaps even the source of all meaning. But if you ask me, the answer is obvious. It’s the word written on the cover of my notebook.
My notebook has all the answers. It is my creed, my master, and a prophet that guides me. At times, it can be either a weapon or a solution.
Ideals.
Everything I am is written in this notebook, which I always carry with me. My entire future lies within it, from what I’m eating for dinner to where I’m moving five years from now, from my list of tomorrow’s tasks for work to the cheapest radish prices in the district. My plans, projects, objectives, policies—they’re all there, waiting for me to bring them to fruition.
I would even argue that this notebook is like my personal prophecy. My ideals are always inside—all I need to do is follow them. My future is under my control as long as I stick to the plans within this notebook. Control of my future—what promising words.
However—
No matter how brilliant an ideal may be, if the path to realization is too far, then the light at the end is nothing more than an illusion, and those ideals—meaningless. Thus, the quickest path to fulfillment is inscribed on the first page of my notebook:
“Do what must be done.”
My name is Doppo Kunikida, an idealist who lives in reality, a realist who pursues ideals.
And this is a record of the struggles between a man who yearns for the realization of ideals and a new hire destined to interfere with them.
7th
Around three days have passed since I wrote a new page in my notebook.
What happened during that time is as follows:
Takekoshi came to my house. We took a stroll under the moonlight together.
Hacker Rokuzo Taguchi contacted me back regarding the foreign ship.
I ate a pear. It wasn’t sweet.
I mustn’t let petty things bother me.
Ah, I wish for nothing more than to do what is right.
“Stop right there!”
I chase the offender through the city of Yokohama. Mirthful vendors hawking at their stands, crowds of people talking in the streets, customers begging for discounts, and the sound of rickshaws riding east and west over the pavement: The busy shopping arcade is as boisterous as ever. If someone was to start a fight on the right side of the street, the people on the left side wouldn’t even notice, I’m sure.
