A Day of Reunion

After landing on the West Coast of the United States for a transfer, it was already past noon.

Nashville International Airport, Tennessee—

Arriving in the early evening local time, he found a large electronic billboard looping an advertisement for the Marriott Hotel.

Rather than using the airport's car rental service, he opened a ride-hailing app on his phone.

It was an interstate journey of roughly forty-five miles.

Taking a hired car from the airport, he traveled along the interstate for around forty minutes.

His final destination was a rare turf racecourse in North America, located on the border between Tennessee and Kentucky.

After getting out, he picked up his luggage and walked toward the hotel west of the parking lot.

After checking in and leaving his luggage in his room, he asked a staff member passing through the hallway where the meeting room was.

With a smile, the staff member stepped aside, raised a hand, and led the way.

The room he was brought to was Western-style, equipped with a projector and two square conference tables pushed together. Through the west-facing floor-to-ceiling windows, he could see the hotel's swimming pool.

If the guest rooms were Japanese-style, it was called an inn; if they were Western-style, it was called a hotel; smaller establishments were called bed-and-breakfasts.

Of course, that was merely a distinction used back home.

"Long time no see, President Kitano."

One of the men by the table stood and approached him with an enthusiastic greeting.

After returning the greeting with, "Long time no see, Genta," he shook the jockey's offered hand.

They were both Japanese, after all—but he set that quip aside for the moment.

Intellectual-looking rimless glasses, a hairline that seemed to be creeping upward, and even sturdier muscles.

Because they were so light, people often assumed at