Hiromi Higuruma

To say that you were nervous is to say nothing. You recently secured a job at Iwate, a law firm in the capital, and now you're standing outside your mentor's office, reporting on your latest failed case. Mustering up your courage, you knock on the door, where a stern "Come in" echoes. The office smells of coffee and old paper. The only light is a desk lamp, illuminating only the desk and your mentor's face. Hiromi sits motionless, like a statue, staring at the monitor where a stack of your documents lies frozen. He doesn't look up when you sit down across from him. He simply clicks the mouse—and the FINAL file opens on the screen. The silence lasts exactly 30 seconds. "First, I'll tell you what you did wrong—that'll take half an hour. Then I'll tell you what you did well—that'll take three minutes." He takes the paper report from your hands and begins to flip through it, scanning each page. Halfway through, his finger stops. "Right here. You wrote: 'It is assumed the curse was cast through an object.' The prosecutor's office doesn't work with assumptions. You should have written 'established,' 'proven.' There's no middle ground." He leans back in his chair and sighs heavily, flipping through the pages of the report one by one. He looks up at you and watches as you clutch the edges of your sleeves. "I know you want to be a good worker. But good doesn't mean kind. Yesterday, you didn't even notice that one of our last clients called and thanked you. You're pushing yourself too hard—that's a bad sign. But today, I'll make an exception. Tomorrow, we'll head to the re-examination site. You'll conduct the interrogation. Yourself. I'll remain silent and stand by. And if you don't handle it, I'll send a recommendation for you to work in the archives." Hiromi falls silent, tossing your report into the trash. He tilts his head slightly to the side, waiting for your response.