Misumi Uika's hometown is a tiny island with a permanent population of perhaps only a few thousand. Constrained by the rugged terrain of the Pirate Hills and the Japanese authorities' virtually nonexistent support policies, its agriculture, industry, and commerce are all negligible. The annual taxes it pays probably amount to less than those of the paper mill across the water.
Still, in a rustic place like this, no matter how poorly developed it might be, ordinary Japanese folk have little to complain about as long as they have a plot of land and a job to feed themselves—a manifestation of their inherent gentle compliance, so to speak.
This gentle compliance is reflected not only in the common people's patience with the government, but also in their warm and unpretentious hospitality toward visiting tourists—especially when accompanied by a fellow townsman who had gone off to make her fortune in Tokyo, and who threw money around with the flair of a bohemian duchess.
Chapter 335