Steeping their tea on Mondays like this one, Yuka thought Norio Aoki looked like a pirate. For the summer heat, he had clipped his hair and wrapped a thin blue cotton towel around his head. Like most Japanese laborers, he wore heavy cotton knicker-bocker style pants, but his were a lurid raspberry color. All her 45-year old boss needed was a black patch over one eye.
"Another reminder from those bloodsuckers in the income tax department." He flipped the letter toward his desk.
Yuka watched it flutter onto the jumbled pile of empty cigarette packs, overdue bills, ATM deposit slips, building plans, and bank statements only a few feet from her desk. Her nose wrinkled at a half-eaten lunch in a plastic dish that quivered with bacterial life.
"Oyaku sho shogoto! Government paperwork -- Aoki raised his fist defiantly. "This year we're going to beat the tax men. We're getting professional accounting."
She pursed her lips. To get her boss to clean up his desk, she would have agreed to almost anything except sharing their premises. The cramped, one-room office was only slightly larger than Yuka's bedroom and hers was the smallest room in the apartment where she lived with her parents and sisters. In fact, she preferred staying at the office to going home. Her boss only came in for an hour or two in the mornings to pick up messages. After he left, she had the office to herself. Contentedly, she would set herself a leisurely workpace, send e-mail, call her friends, or drink tea and read travel brochures.
        "Are you sure we need an accountant?" she asked.
        "We're not talking about an ordinary accountant." Aoki snapped his fingers in emphasis. "Ito, Kazushige worked for one of the biggest construction companies in Tokyo. Then he embezzled some cash, lost his job, and did prison time. Now he'll take any work he can get."
Yuka clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Hanzai sha! A criminal!"
"It's not like American gangster movies. He made paper bags in prison. And I don't think he's the type to bother young girls." Aoki patted Yuka's hand. Carefully withdrawing it, she sighed. "Mr. Aoki..."
After lunch, they got a call. Aoki held his hand over the receiver, and whispered to Yuka. "It's him." Then he answered in a loud voice. "Yes, this is the President of Aoki Construction. Just take the stairs to the third floor, Mr. Ito."
Soon, they heard a timid knock. Yuka opened the door on the panting, slightly hunched figure of a man about 55 wearing a shabby grey suit and worn black shoes. His pallid, spectacled face flushed in embarrassment. Dipping forward to bow, he revealed a bald patch on the crown of his head. As he straightened up, his eyes darted to Yuka's boss.

In the tiny office, Aoki sat partially cross-legged on a chair, dangling one of his legs. He had rolled down his sock, so that he could scratch his bare and hairy shin. He looked up and smiled beatifically. "Mr. Ito, I presume."
Ito rubbed his hands together nervously. In a dry, chalky voice, he said, "You told me you had a payroll of 12 and gross annual receipts in excess of 750 million yen."
AI exaggerated a little," chuckled Aoki. "We're almost that big. There's Miss Yamada here, and my construction crew."
"Very well," muttered Ito.
From that day, Yuka shared the office with him. At first, she pretended he wasn't there by averting her eyes. Later that first week, she started coming to work before nine o'clock, so she was there before the accountant came and had a little time by herself.
One morning, Ito confronted her. "You don't think much of me, Miss Yamada. But then you're just an office lady. What do you do around here except make tea?"
Yuka's face reddened. AI never went to prison."
"That's behind me," said the accountant. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a large lottery ticket, bordered in white.
She recognized it as the takarakuji. It was the summer lottery promoted by several major Japanese banks and paying off 10 million yen.
"And I have others." He showed her tickets for the weekly mini-loto, and a scratch-and-win. "Just you wait. You won't catch me at this cheap outfit."
Yuka groaned. AI doubt there's much chance of winning, Mr. Ito."
"Someone wins, don't they?" he snapped.
She felt relieved after their conversation. Apparently, Ito didn't much want to speak to her, either. After that, she relaxed her efforts to avoid him. When he arrived each morning, they would exchange greetings. She would carry him a cup of green tea. He would mumble his thanks, then dodge behind the mound of papers at Aoki's desk.
Maddeningly, though he was out of sight, Yuka could hear a persistent, rodent-like scratching noise behind the mound and watch the tendrils of smoke waft from it B no doubt, from a smoldering cigarette on the other side. Gasping in their tiny office, she would shove open the window by her desk. Finally, one afternoon, when Yuka saw smoke, she simply doused the pile with her teapot. Ito's head and shoulders erupted from the splattered papers. "Miss Yamada, how could you!"
She apologized profusely. "Shitsurei itashimashita. I thought something had caught fire."

Grumbling, Ito subsided beneath the mound of papers. By degrees, Yuka slipped into her old routine. Between answering telephone calls, she painted her nails an extravagant blue with little rainbows on them. She e-mailed recipes to her friends. She categorized her collection of travel literature.
But the pile on the desk began shrinking. One afternoon, she saw Ito's hand shoot up over the mound, waving a mini-loto ticket like a flag on a summit.
"Ten million yen this week, Ms. Yamada," he said.
Then Ito's head, and shoulders emerged. Soon he became visible, hunched over his desk, entering the deposit and expense slips into a long brown ledger with the year and company name on the cover. That seemed reasonable if a trifle archaic to Yuka since almost everyone in Tokyo, including herself, probably employed some form of computer recordkeeping. More unsettling, Yuka noticed that Ito also made entries in another book, a red one, that he sometimes cradled in his arms.
She tried peering over her desk whenever he wrote in it. But Ito would cover the page with his hand. She spilt some water on his desk. Before she could reach the book, he had snatched it away. In one of her more elaborate stratagems, she offered him more green tea in the hope that he would have to go to the toilet and leave it for her to read. However, whenever he left the desk, he took the red book with him. She couldn't imagine its secrets. Did it contain his system for buying lottery tickets. Would Ito prove a budding novelist? Had he hidden pornographic magazines in it?
The next time she saw him writing in it, she finally asked, "What's in the book, Mr. Ito?"
He picked up the brown ledger.
"No, the red book."
Ignoring her, he handed over the brown one. "The company records. If ever I'm late for work, or ill, and you have a question, please consult it."
She shoved the book at him. Intolerable, she thought. Not only do I have to put up with him in the office, but he's keeping secrets from me.
They had both come in that Saturday for a half day of work. Ito was supposed to make the company's weekly bank deposit. Before he left, he placed the red book in his shoulder bag. With a slight but noticeable flourish, he set the brown ledger out on his desk for her.
Fuming, Yuka left the office right after he did. She was just in time to watch him pick up a mini-loto ticket at a stand, then see him disappear into Shibuya station. On her way home, she stopped at a stationary store where she picked up a red book just like the one Ito had. She planned to exchange the two books.
The following Monday, she heard Aoki complaining about Ito. Her boss had arrived earlier than usual, so the two of them were alone in the office.

"What's wrong with that man? Doesn't he like sakae? He never goes go drinking with me or my crew." Aoki shook his head. "But I need him for the books. The inspectors are due any day. Normally, everyone makes mistakes in bookkeeping. And some businesses even evade taxes, of course, so if the government finds a single mistake in your entries, there's a fine. They're going to go over our books until they find that mistake."
"One mistake?" said Yuka.
Aoki nodded. "That's the whole point of the inspection. It's just another business tax. Then we'll see if Mr. Ito's worth his salary."
A week later, the company had their audit. Yuka watched as two men dressed in navy polyester suits and carrying cheap black attache cases entered the office. Gravely, Ito handed them the brown ledger.
The younger, more junior of the two inspectors, a lean, sharp-featured man, barked an order. "Back, everybody, please."
Yuka, and her boss retreated to the other side of the room.
The inspector turned to Ito. "You're the accountant, aren't you? Keep your hands away from the desk, please."
Aoki found some pretext to hang around the office. Yet half an hour proved all he could take of watching someone do paperwork. He ran off to a construction site in Naka-meguro. Ito, on the other hand, stood enraptured, craning his neck to watch the two men reading his ledger entries.
The morning dragged on. Although the office lacked air conditioning, the junior inspector asked Yuka to turn off the circular fan that stood in the corner. The spinning blade riffled their papers. The two men removed their jackets, and rolled up their sleeves. Notwithstanding these efforts, they sat bathed in sweat. Pitying the two inspectors, Yuka made them some iced coffee.
She carried over the tray and the two men eyed one another nervously. Then the younger inspector turned away, leaving the explanation to the older man, the senior inspector with his broad, dimpled face.
"Miss, if we accept so much as a tea bag from you. We could lose our jobs for taking a bribe."
Yuka apologized. AI can't believe the department is that strict."
As she removed the tray, the older man whispered, "Why do you think they sent two of us."
In the afternoon, the senior inspector called out numbers from the ledger. "Yes!" the younger man replied emphatically, summing the subtotals on his calculator.
After they had finished, the older man looked over the numbers in Ito's brown ledger. He shook his head. "Impossible."
Together, they studied the numbers in Ito's brown ledger.
"Sempai, do you mind running the numbers again?" asked the junior inspector.
The older man nodded. They switched roles and repeated their calculations. After another two hours in the afternoon, they still hadn't found any errors, so they gave up.

The senior inspector shook his head. "It's the first time in my career I've seen anything like it." He turned to the younger man. "An absolutely perfect set of books. You're lucky to see this."
They prepared to leave. The senior inspector nodded to the accountant.
"Aren't you Ito, Kazushige'?"
Ito bowed.
"I've heard of your work."
They packed up their briefcases. With a cursory bow to Yuka, they filed out the door. A few minutes passed. Then she heard a muffled cry.
Ito rose from his chair, clenched both fists, and swung his arms into the air. "I've done it!" he cheered. AI must have saved this company hundreds of thousands of yen."
Then, just as quickly, as if a new idea had suddenly come to him, Ito dropped his arms to his sides. He sat down, and brooded until Yuka closed the office and he left.
The following Saturday, he excused himself early. He packed his red book into his briefcase and rushed out.
Perplexed, Yuka crossed her arms, and leaned back in her chair. She was just about to read one of her travel magazines when it came to her. "The red book -- he's keeping a double ledger!"
She locked the office and dashed to the nearest ATM. It confirmed her worst fears. Ito had just withdrawn a huge amount from the company account. With a groan, she realized the company might fail, and she would lose her cozy job.
She ran down the street, her high heels clattering. Fortunately, Ito had stopped to buy his customary mini-loto ticket, and she caught sight of him running to the station. She followed him onto his train. It bumped past a few stations, then Ito bolted out at an express stop. Yuka shadowed him across the platform and they boarded a second train, jammed with passengers. At the eighth stop, most of the passengers streamed from the carriage.
She gulped. "The West Tokyo Race Track."
In her confusion, she lost sight of Ito. Back and forth, she searched the corridors underneath the enormous concrete grandstand. One race was held. Ito had probably already had time to bet on it. Finally, she found him at one of the betting windows. He had just thrust a pile of banknotes at the cashier.
"Number Five -- Winged Victory -- to win," he said.
"Mr. Ito!," said Yuka.
His bet taken, he fled into a bunch of people milling through the corridor. But Yuka tracked him to the stairs and up into seats in the massive grandstand. On the benches sat tens of thousands waiting for the race. She caught up with him.
"You've stolen Mr. Aoki's money!"

"Prove it," said Ito, finding himself a seat, "just you prove it."
AI will!" retorted Yuka. "Just you wait! We'll get it all back."
He sneered, "Even the tax inspectors missed it." He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in her face. "We're not in your tidy little office any more, Miss
Yamada. I've put everything on this one."
Yuka felt dizzy. She reached for the wooden bench to steady herself. Then she sat down.
Ito waved his racing form. "Winged Victory ran 4th twice over the last month. Both times, he started from 8th place, took the lead at the three-quarter mark, then tired. I've been following this horse for months, Miss Yamada. Now he's got a new jockey and a better post. At 7:1, I can't lose."
"But it's not your money!" Yuka said.
"Finders, keepers," said Ito.
A pistol shot rang out. The race horses charged from their chutes. The grandstand thundered with huzzas. Thousands shouted to the horses and jockeys. Number Five, the chestnut gelding, Winged Victory, hurtled into fourth place behind the favored horse, the race leader, Evening Glory.
Ito stubbed out his cigarette. "Come on, Winged Victory!"
Yuka stared as Number Five overtook the third, then the second place horses. Was it possible? Before she knew it, she yelled, "Go, Winged Victory! Gambete"
The horses rounded the second curve of the track, then the third. If Winged Victory's jockey planned to make his move, he had to do it soon. And he did. The chestnut gelding and his blue-shirted jockey pulled forward. Winged Victory and the race leader were running neck and neck.
Sweating, overwrought with emotion, Ito yanked off his tie. He flapped it in the air, crying hoarsely, "You've got to make it --
The two horses charged for the finish line. One hundred metres. Fifty.
The mob in the stands rose to their feet as the horses closed in on the finish line. The jockeys were whipping their mounts. Abruptly, Evening Glory surged forward and won. The stands reverberated with applause and wild cheering.
Ito's face went blank. His knees buckled and he collapsed. The emergency service at the track quickly arrived. The attendants lifted him onto a stretcher. One of them took his personal details from Yuka, then they hustled him off in an ambulance.
When Yuka arrived at the hospital, she met Aoki there. The admissions desk had called him. He had rushed over as he hadn't had the chance to thank Ito for the company's victory over the tax men. Then Yuka told him about the racetrack. The color drained from Aoki's face. He dropped the chocolates and flowers he had brought into a nearby trash bin.

A perky ward nurse in squeaky crepe-soled shoes led them to his ward. Several rooms had been filled with accountants who had recently collapsed.
"Nervous exhaustion," the nurse explained, adding in a hushed voice, "it always happens during tax return time."
She praised Aoki's generosity in arranging a private room for his employee. Yuka heard her boss gnashing his teeth. The nurse remarked that
Ito's prognosis appeared quite good. Since he had come round, he had taken a great interest in reading.
They found Ito in bed, thumbing through a horse racing magazine. Eight or nine others lay stacked on his bedside table. As soon as he saw them, he dropped the magazine, and fell onto the bed, gripping his side. "Nurse! I feel more pain coming on."
"I'll get something for you!" She bustled off.
"No, wait!" He raised himself on one arm. AI meant I'm too sick to see visitors."
"Too sick to see us, are you?" Aoki saw a corner of his red ledger sticking out from under Ito's pillow. He jabbed his finger at it. "We want that book, right now!"
Ito clutched it to his chest and ducked under the covers. "Ore no mono da. Nothing to do with you."
Aoki snatched off his blanket. He tried to pry the book from Ito's arms. Yuka tried to intercede. "Wait, Mr. Aoki, please!"
"Thief!" cried Aoki.
"You don't understand, Mr. Aoki," wailed Yuka.
Returning to the room, the nurse saw the two men locked in combat. "Are!" she ran into the room just as Aoki grasped Ito in a chokehold. She sprang at Aoki and dug her nails into his shoulders. With a yelp of surprise, he released Ito who dropped to the floor with a loud thump.
        "How can you be so heartless!" scolded the nurse. "He's a sick man --
Embarrassed, Aoki hastily apologized. When the nurse threatened to call the police, he and Yuka made a speedy retreat from the hospital.
As their taxi drove away, Aoki remarked, "If only I could have gotten that account book. I could have proved he was stealing from me."
Yuka presented her boss with a shopping bag. Inside lay the red book. "Mr. Aoki, I tried to tell you. I've had his book since he collapsed at the race track."
With the book, Aoki filed a police report. When the company ledger was cross-checked with Ito's book, and the bank notified, the accountant was moved to a hospital in the local prison.
Blissfully, Yuka reoccupied the office. But the next time she saw her boss, he told her the bad news. "Ito skimmed 7 million yen from me." He sucked in a breath.
"Aren't the police going to search for the money in his apartment?" asked Yuka.
Aoki nodded. "It won't do much good though. He was such a lousy gambler, he's probably lost it all."
Yuka cast down her eyes. There goes my job, she thought. "Oh, Mr. Aoki! I'm so sorry...for both of us."
He shrugged as if shaking off the disappointment of losing everything. Then he grinned. "Don't worry, Miss Yamada, it won't affect the bonus I'm giving you."
Yuka looked up in surprise.
"Kachigumi to makegumi." Winners and losers. From the breast pocket of his purple jacket, Aoki pulled out a thick envelope with a wad of 10,000 yen notes inside. It looked to be at least half of Yuka's annual salary.
"Do you remember what Ito bought before the race? He left it pressed between the pages of his red book. It was a winning lottery ticket."

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