Chapter 4: Rose Madder Sky

1

As the end of the short spring break drew near, so did the end of Kyoto’s cherry blossom season. The crowds were thinner than during its peak, but the Teramachi-Sanjo shopping arcade was still full of tourists. As usual, though, they all passed right by Kura. It was as quiet as ever inside the antique store.

I was currently in the shop with the manager and a woman who was sitting across the counter from him. I glanced at them as I cleaned. The woman was beautiful and looked smart. She wore a bright-colored suit. Her long glossy hair was tied up in a half-ponytail, and she wore stylish glasses. There was a laptop open in front of her, and she was typing out everything the manager said.

“I’ve always been a fan of yours, Ijuin,” she said. “I’m so glad you agreed to do this interview.” She looked up at him and smiled. It was her first time doing so since arriving, and her gentle smile instantly relieved the tension that’d been building up.

Faced with that charming smile, the manager grinned back, looking very pleased. “It’s an honor to hear that from an editor,” he replied.

Apparently she was an editor who had requested an interview at Kura, the place where the author Takeshi Ijuin did most of his writing. The manager gladly accepted.

“That’s not true,” she insisted. “You readily accepted even though we’re such a small web magazine aimed at an overseas audience. I really am grateful.” She bowed humbly.

The manager shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with his usual gentle expression.

The woman’s business card was on the counter. It said, “JCN — Japan Creative News — Editorial Department — Hitomi Hamaguchi.”

“I’m fortunate enough to have my works translated and sold in bookstores overseas, but I usually don’t get the opportunity to thank my foreign readers,” the manager continued. “I’m very happy that you reached out to me.”

“That’s a relief.” The woman smiled.

Huh, so the manager’s books are sold overseas too. That’s amazing, I thought as I continued to clean. I was curious about the interview, but I couldn’t exactly listen in on purpose. Still, there weren’t any customers and the only other noise was the quiet jazz music playing in the background, so I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. I felt bad for eavesdropping, so I went to the opposite end of the store to dust the shelves and wipe the mirrors and porcelain. I returned to the counter when I was done.

“So, um, could you show me what we discussed on the phone?” the editor asked hesitantly.

“Yes, of course,” the manager said, slowly standing up. “The storeroom is on the second floor, although I’m ashamed to say it’s rather messy.”

The woman smiled cheerfully and said, “It’s fine. Being able to see celadon—one of the world’s greatest treasures—is like a dream come true. Do you mind if I take pictures?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

The woman took a Nikon DSLR camera out of her bag and followed the manager up to the second floor.

“Huh,” I murmured as I watched them. So he’s showing her the celadon. China’s celadon pottery is considered a supreme treasure. Its modest yet sublime beauty and its abundant grace are said to embody the aesthetic sense of the Chinese people. The piece she was about to see was one of only a few dozen like it confirmed to exist in the world. It’s an incredible, priceless work of art that was originally discovered by the owner’s teacher, Kuranosuke Yagashira, in mainland China.

The small, smooth, jade-green jar is usually kept at the owner’s estate in Higashiyama, but occasionally there are requests to see it, at which times it’s brought to the room at the back of Kura’s second floor. It’s a windowless room that’s kept at the optimal temperature for preserving art. There’s a security camera inside and several locks on the door, including a padlock and a digital number lock. The security is impenetrable. At times, the room is also used to store expensive antiques that museums and department stores want appraised.

Is she going to include pictures of Kura and the celadon pottery in addition to the manager’s picture in the article? That means people overseas will learn about Kura when they read the interview...which is great, but if we start getting a lot of foreign tourists at Kura, it might be hard to deal with them.

Kyoto is a world-famous tourist destination, so there are a lot of foreigners here. I often get asked for directions when I’m out walking. My English grades are okay, but I always get nervous when foreigners talk to me. The vocabulary just vanishes from my head. Explaining antiques in English is going to be hard. I’ll have to study more, I thought, clenching my fists. I didn’t know how many subscribers JCN had, but I continued to fantasize about foreign tourists coming to Kura anyway.

Before long, I heard footsteps coming from the stairs. I looked up to see the manager and the editor smiling at each other.

“It really was beautiful—and moving,” the editor said. “I still can’t believe I was able to see celadon up close.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” the manager said.

“Um, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to visit that cafe you say you always go to. Do you have time?” the editor asked timidly.

The manager grinned and said, “Yes, I have time for tea.”

“Oh, thank you!” She clapped her hands, her eyes shining. In that instant, she looked like a mere fan rather than a magazine editor.

The manager didn’t seem to mind having a beautiful young woman gleefully talking to him. He smiled happily before looking at me apologetically and saying, “Aoi, I’ll have to excuse myself...”

“Sure, take your time.” I smiled and bowed.

“Thanks for bearing with me,” the editor said. “Now then, Ijuin...”

“Yes, let’s go.”

The two of them left the store to go to the cafe on Teramachi Street. A successful author and a beautiful editor... There’s a big age gap, but they might be a good match for each other. I smiled and picked up the tray, intending to wash and put away the coffee cups they’d been drinking from.

“Huh...?” I blinked. There was only one cup on the counter.

◆　◆　◆

In a dim, windowless room, a man sat on a sofa, surveying his surroundings. The wallpaper was light pink. There was a large TV and a dresser, but the majority of the space was occupied by an enormous bed. It was very much a hotel for lovers’ trysts.

The man took off his hat and grinned. “Even the refined city of Kyoto has hotels like this, eh?” he said as if to himself.

The editor who’d just been interviewing Takeshi Ijuin at Kura sat down on the bed and took off her wig. She sighed, relieved to be back to her pixie cut. “Well yeah. You can find hotels like this in rural villages that don’t even have convenience stores.”

The woman looked at the smiling man on the sofa next to the bed. He was bald like a monk, and there was a sharp glint in his almond-shaped eyes. He went by many names, but to the Yagashira family, he was known as Ensho.

“I met with him,” she said with a cigarette in her mouth. “It went as planned.” She ruffled her short hair.

“Thanks. So what was Takeshi Yagashira like?” Ensho asked, lighting a cigarette for himself. “We met at the New Year’s Eve party, but I don’t remember much about him,” he murmured.

“Eh, he was normal. Mild-mannered good guy. I didn’t sense any malice from him at all. I always thought writers were all kinda eccentric, but I guess there’s normal guys like him too.”

“Hm.” Ensho rested his chin in his hands and took a puff from his cigarette. In other words, exactly as he looks. Completely different from his son, eh? Then again, he looks like a “mild-mannered good guy” at first glance too. He laughed and then stared at the woman. “And the celadon?”

“It was there. Security was way tighter than I expected.”

“Figures.” Ensho chuckled and laid back against the sofa.

“There’re several surveillance cameras around the store and they use one of the popular security companies. Once we’ve hacked in, we can disable the cameras for about an hour. But the room on the second floor is special. It has its own security system.”

“Its own?”

“Mmhm. They make it look like it’s the same security company, but it’s different. The locks on the door, including the padlock, are probably a facade—camouflage to throw you off guard. The real problem is the digital number lock that comes after the fingerprint scanner. Oh right, I got his prints.” The woman put on gloves and took a coffee cup out of her bag.

“Thanks. So about that number?”

“I couldn’t see it, but it was probably twelve digits.”

“Twelve...”

“He also said that they change the password every day.”

“His son does that?”

“Mmhm. He even said, ‘If you get it wrong, the door won’t be openable for a while, and multiple failed attempts will trigger the security system.’”

“It changes every day? What a pain.”

“Mmhm. I get that the celadon’s a priceless treasure, but it’d take a ridiculous amount of effort to sell it considering Seiji Yagashira’s connections. If we’re going to carry out this job, we’ll have to hire a security professional, which won’t be cheap. Do you really need to cross such a dangerous bridge? You’re just a counterfeiter—you’ve never physically stolen anything before, right? So you’re an amateur. There’re easier ways to make money out there, you know?”

“You’re completely right.” Ensho grinned and nodded.

The woman shrugged, exasperated. “Not going to turn back, huh? Oh well, it’s been a while since I’ve had something to be excited for.” She giggled. “Okay, let’s lift the fingerprint then. Get the aluminum powder.” She stood up, but Ensho grabbed her arm, drawing her into a kiss. When their lips parted, she asked, “What about the fingerprint?”

“We can do that later. Can’t make our move until nighttime anyway, so there’s plenty of time.”

“Oh, I haven’t seen that fiery look in your eyes in forever. I’m glad you still get excited right before an evil scheme. Looks like you’re back to how you were before you entered the priesthood.”

“That was all bogus.”

“Oh I know.” The woman wrapped her hands behind Ensho’s neck and kissed him on the lips. They proceeded to tumble onto the bed.

◆　◆　◆

I heard Kura’s chime and looked over to the door, thinking that the manager might’ve returned. However...

“Oh, Holmes.”

“Hello, Aoi.” Holmes entered the store and smiled, his elegant eyes narrowing into arcs.

“Good afternoon, Holmes.”

“Where’s my father?”

“He just left with the editor to go to a cafe.” I looked at the grandfather clock and furrowed my brow. “Now that I look at the time, it’s already been two and a half hours.” Does he really have that much to talk about with her? I frowned at the clock.

Holmes nodded in understanding and said, “He most likely stayed in the cafe to work on his manuscript after their discussion.”

“Oh, that does sound like something he’d do.” I nodded and looked up at Holmes. “I thought you were going to be at university all day today, Holmes. Didn’t you say there was an event?”

“Yes, there was. I was planning on going straight home afterwards, but I couldn’t help but worry about the celadon, so I came to retrieve it.”

“Did you think the manager would forget to take it back?”

“The security here is impenetrable, so forgetting wouldn’t be too much of an issue. I’m more concerned about him dropping it and breaking it.”

“Oh...” I smiled wryly. Everyone was nervous because the manager dropped an expensive tea bowl the other day. As a result, the owner and Holmes were both making him keep a safe distance from anything valuable. He did regret his mistake—the other day, I saw him staring forlornly at the glass case with the Shino tea bowl in it, saying, “This tea bowl is one of my father’s most precious treasures, but I’m not allowed to touch it. They told me it was too dangerous.” As I was looking at the Shino tea bowl, the grandfather clock chimed.

“Oh right, Aoi, when does school begin for you?” Holmes asked.

I looked at the calendar. Today was April 8th. “Umm, the new semester starts on the 11th.”

Holmes nodded. “You’re finally going to be a third-year, huh?”

“Yes...” I nodded a little, smiling shyly. I’d decided that I was going to enjoy spring break, and after the new school year began, I was going to confess my feelings to Holmes. Realizing that the time was nigh made me nervous...because then I might not be able to keep working at Kura. My chest felt tight, and I closed my eyes in anguish.

“Aoi?” Holmes peered into my face, looking worried.

The door chime rang again, and this time it was the manager who came in.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Holmes. “Oh, Kiyotaka. I didn’t think you were coming today.”

“I finished earlier than expected,” Holmes explained. “I’m going to bring the celadon back while I’m here.”

“Oh, leave that here for tonight. I have to show it tomorrow too.”

“You do?” Holmes tilted his head, confused.

“I was told that the editor forgot to take a picture of the foot and got yelled at. They really want that picture, apparently.”

“I see. That certainly is necessary.”

The “foot”—in other words, the pedestal part at the bottom—is crucial for determining authenticity. So when it comes to valuable antiques, people are very interested in how the foot looks. I could understand why they’d want that photo. I wouldn’t have understood before, though. Kura’s really rubbing off on me.

I absentmindedly glanced at the counter and suddenly realized something. “Oh right,” I said, looking at the manager. “Th-The coffee cup you were using is gone.”

“I know.” He nodded. “She said she wanted to take a picture of my cup with a fancy backdrop since it’s ‘an author’s essential tool.’ She’ll return it tomorrow.”

“Oh, I see.” I placed my hand on my chest and sighed, relieved that I hadn’t somehow misplaced it.

◆　◆　◆

Dark nights when the moon is behind the clouds might just be the best for evil schemes.

Ensho, dressed inconspicuously in a black hat, jacket, and jeans, stepped out of the empty backstreet into the shopping arcade and quickly walked towards Kura. He went around to the back of the building. Unlike the front door, the back entrance was cold and unwelcoming.

“I’m here,” he whispered.

A voice came from his earpiece: “Got it. He says to hang on until exactly midnight.”

“All right. Man, hackers sure are something, eh?” Ensho grinned and crouched in front of the door. “I could really use a smoke right about now,” he added, looking up at the store. Even if you put up the latest and greatest security, there’ll be a hacker who can crack it. It’s like a game of cat and mouse.

“Ten seconds until it’s unlocked. Finish the job in fifteen minutes and get out of there by twenty.”

“I know. Thieves make their escape within fifteen minutes—it’s universal knowledge.”

“Universal?” The voice laughed.

Ensho smiled and put on his leather gloves.

“Okay, he says it’s open and the first-floor cameras are frozen.”

“Gotcha.” Ensho nervously and slowly turned the doorknob. To his mild relief, the door opened with a creak.

He’d been prepared for pitch black, but the store was dimly lit by miniature light bulbs. A grandfather clock ticked in the background. The rows of antiques and the faintly smiling dolls sent a shiver down his spine. It’s like a haunted house, he thought, smiling wanly as he silently made his way forward. He had the layout of the store memorized—the positions of the shelves, sofas, counter, and stairs.

“He says some of the cameras on the second floor aren’t connected to the security system, so he can’t stop them.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter if I show up.”

Ensho nimbly made his way upstairs without making a sound. The storeroom was littered with stacks of cardboard boxes, but he ignored them all and went straight to the door in the back. It was covered in locks, including an old-fashioned padlock. Camouflage, facade, whatever. Maybe someone here just likes locks. Either way, nothing a li’l tool and some know-how can’t handle. He easily unlocked them.

Next was the fingerprint scanner.

“All right,” he said, taking off one of his gloves and putting a rubber cap over his thumb. Takeshi Yagashira’s fingerprint was imprinted on it.

The screen immediately displayed the following: “Authenticated. Please enter the password.”

On the wall next to the door, there was a cover disguised as a power outlet. Opening the cover revealed a three-by-four number pad, with the top row being “1 2 3” and the bottom row being “* 0 #”—the arrangement you mainly see on telephones.

Here’s where it really begins. A twelve-digit number.

Ensho took a deep breath. He’d simulated this countless times in his head before coming here.

If I were him, what number would I use? A number that changes every day. Knowing him, there’s no way in hell it’s random. Even this padlock’s here for a reason—he knows that something like this ain’t gonna stop a real thief. It’s only here for the aesthetic of having an antique padlock on a door that’s guarding treasure.

So how does he come up with the number? It should be something he can associate with the calendar date without actually being that. Now that it’s past midnight, the date’s April 9th. After a whole lotta thinking in his shoes, the answer I came up with was “the ninth poem that reminds you of spring”—because the ninth poem in Hyakunin Isshu is as “spring” as it gets.

“The flowers’ color has faded in vain, and so too have I as I gazed at the falling rain.” In other words, “The cherry blossoms faded in vain during the long spring rains. Similarly, my beauty faded while I fretted about love, society, and more.” The self-deprecating poem of Komachi Ono, who was once hailed as an unrivaled beauty. This has to be a clue.

“It’s the first part,” Ensho murmured. What color are the flowers? There’re tons of possibilities, but this is him we’re talking about, so the name should have “sakura” in it, for cherry blossoms. A color name with “sakura” that reminds you of faded cherry blossoms... There’s two: sakura mouse gray and ashen sakura pink. Both of them work, but that guy wouldn’t pick “mouse.” Since it’s a flower color that a former beauty used to describe herself, he’d definitely pick ashen sakura pink. The hex code for that color is #e8d3d1. Converting the letters to numbers based on alphabetical order gives me 584341—but that’s only six digits. Even if I add “#,” it’s only seven. Actually, forget the digits—I can’t imagine him converting a color code directly to numbers for a password. In which case...

“Caesar.” There’re countless ciphers out there, but he seems like he’d like Julius Caesar. I bet he’d use that guy’s cipher too. “e8d3d1” in Caesar’s cipher is “h11g6g4.” Converting that to numbers, I get 8117674...seven digits. But if I also put 0409—today’s date—through the cipher, I get 37312. That makes a total of twelve. This should be it—the date probably comes first.

Ensho gulped and entered “373128117674.”

The screen displayed: “Incorrect password.”

“Seriously?” He pressed his hand to his forehead. It came as a shock to him because he had full confidence in his emulation of Holmes’s thought process.

Maybe it’s not the poem then. But somehow, I just know it has to be that. More importantly, I don’t have time to come up with something new. I have to go with the poem. Maybe there was no point in using the Caesar cipher. I’ll just enter it as-is. Wait, no, that can’t be it. I’ll try sakura mouse gray.

“Tell me the color code for sakura mouse gray,” he whispered.

He heard the sound of the woman typing, and then her voice: “It’s #e9dfe5.”

“Thanks.”

Putting that through the Caesar cipher gives “h12gkh8.” In number form, 81271188.

“Eight digits. Adding the Caesar-fied date makes thirteen.” That’s too many. It has to be twelve. Or maybe the date doesn’t get converted? No, that can’t be right. Maybe the number of digits is different today.

Ensho entered the new number, “3731281271188.”

Again, the screen displayed: “Incorrect password.”

“Shit.”

“It’ll probably lock you out if you get it wrong one more time. Then you won’t make it in time.”

“I know, shut up for a minute.” He clicked his tongue and held his head in his hands, unable to contain his frustration.

It’s probably not sakura mouse gray. Ashen sakura pink is better. But is it really? There’s no time. I gotta think fast.

“Argh!” He clicked his tongue again at the invisible pressure. I feel like a wartime cryptanalyst. Suddenly his eyes widened. Wartime... Right, the Enigma machine. It’s gotta be more than just that, though. First, put “e8d3d1” through the Caesar cipher to get “h11g6g4.” Change that to numbers—8117674. Back to letters—“haagfgd.”

“Can you put ‘haagfgd’ through Enigma for me?”

“I’m not going to have an ancient machine like that, you know? Oh, looks like there’s a program that simulates it. One sec.” After a brief wait, she answered, “It’s ‘rtwqokw.’”

“Thanks.”

Convert that to numbers and we get...182023151123.

“There... Twelve digits.” Ensho wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Think it’ll work?”

“No idea. If it doesn’t, then oh well.” He carefully entered the twelve-digit number, fingers trembling from nervousness, excitement, or both.

The screen displayed... “Authenticated.” The sound of an extremely heavy lock being opened echoed through the quiet room.

Ensho heaved a great sigh, noticing that his back was dripping with sweat.

“Congrats, you did it.”

“Yup.” I beat him.

Ensho stood up straight and opened the door, revealing a pitch-black windowless space. He took a small flashlight out of his pocket, turned it on, stepped into the room, and froze—he sensed a sharp atmosphere, as if he’d entered a cage with a terrifying beast lurking in the shadows.

“Good evening,” said a calm voice.

Ensho gulped and pointed the flashlight at the center of the room. There was a table holding a wooden box that presumably contained the celadon. And there was also a smiling Kiyotaka Yagashira holding a wooden sword.

2

...I can’t sleep.

I looked at the clock on my wall for what must’ve been the hundredth time and sighed. Time was passing unproductively as I sat on my bed, hugging my knees. It was now past midnight and I didn’t even feel like getting under the blanket. I kept replaying today’s events in my mind.

When Holmes found out that the editor had taken the cup with her, he immediately stood up, opened his laptop, and picked up the phone. “I apologize for interrupting you when you’re likely busy. I’m Yagashira from Kura, the antique store in Kyoto.” He was calling the company that ran the magazine’s website. “Ah, is that so? Okay, I understand. Thank you. Have a great day.” He hung up the phone and mumbled, “I suspected as much.” He then opened the drawer, took out something that looked like a transceiver, and immediately started walking around the store with it.

“Kiyotaka?” the manager asked.

“Wh-What’s going on, Holmes?”

Holmes sighed softly and looked at us. “It doesn’t look like we’ve been bugged.”

“Bugged?” the manager and I asked in unison.

“This is a listening device detector,” Holmes said. “I bought it just for fun—I didn’t think I’d actually have to use it one day.” He put the object on the counter.

“Why would you need to use that now...?” the manager asked, bewildered.

“Tonight, a despicable fellow is going to come for the celadon,” Holmes declared flatly with a determined look in his eye.

The manager and I exchanged glances.

“A-A despicable fellow?”

“I can’t be completely sure, but I imagine it’s Ensho.” Holmes placed his hand on his chin and chuckled. Despite the amused look on his face, his whole body radiated an overwhelming fury. “I think we should give him a nice welcome. Can you help me, Dad?” He turned to me, smiling gently. “Please don’t make that face, Aoi,” he said. “There’s nothing to worry about.” Then he went upstairs to the back room to begin preparing his attack.

Even though he said that, I can’t help but worry anyway. How does Holmes feel right now, waiting for Ensho in that windowless room? I clenched my trembling hands and pressed my face into the cushion.

◆　◆　◆

Ensho’s breath caught in his throat upon seeing who’d been lying in wait. He gulped. They were predator and prey—Kiyotaka was the snake lurking in the cave; he was the unsuspecting frog.

Kiyotaka smiled in amusement as he watched Ensho stand there, paralyzed in fear. “Please don’t make that face. Was it so unexpected that I’d be here?” He pressed the switch on the lamp on the table. With a click, the room was illuminated by a faint light. He slowly looked up and grinned. “Your plan seemed natural at first glance, but something was off.”

“What?” Ensho squeaked, then gulped again, realizing that his voice betrayed his distress.

“The first thing that was unnatural was that my father received an interview request from a web magazine targeted at an overseas audience. Now, since his works are translated and sold in overseas bookstores, I wouldn’t call it strange, but to be honest, I thought, ‘Why him?’ Assuming that the magazine wants publicity, there are a lot of historical novelists with a stronger overseas presence. And why would they send someone all the way to Kyoto? However, even that’s not out of the question if you consider that the editor could be his fan,” Kiyotaka explained as if soliloquizing. He slowly walked around the table.

“So I took a look at the website. The site was real, but they’d never interviewed an author before. If anything, it was more of a scientific magazine that presented Japanese research findings. Still, this could’ve been a new project they were starting up. But even thinking about it that way, it still felt strange that they’d choose my father as the first subject. Something didn’t sit right with me.”

Kiyotaka continued to pace around the table.

“Additionally, when I heard that the request included, ‘I heard a rumor that the Yagashira family is in possession of a piece of Chinese celadon ware, and I’d love to take photographs of it,’ I wondered if the target was not my father, but the celadon. If that were the case, it would make more sense to ask to interview my grandfather. He works overseas as well, so he and the celadon would surely make for an interesting article. Well, it could be that they wanted to combine an author interview with pictures of celadon, but something just didn’t seem right.” He slumped his shoulders.

Ensho stood frozen in place, not saying a word.

“Then the editor took my father’s cup, saying that it was for photography purposes. If she was going to take a picture of his usual cup, wouldn’t it be better to have it on the store’s counter? She said she wanted a more stylish place with better lighting, but isn’t that strange considering that she came all the way to Kura to see his usual writing environment? Why would the cup be shown in a different location by itself? What’s more, she took the unwashed cup, saying that she’d feel bad making him wash it—another statement that makes sense yet feels strange. And then she was going to come back the next day because she forgot to take a picture of the jar’s foot. Now, I can understand why they’d want a picture of that, but something wasn’t right. Everything about this situation could be described, ‘It makes logical sense, but something isn’t right.’”

Kiyotaka stopped walking and looked at Ensho.

“So I called the company that operates the website and they said there was no such project. They have an employee with the same name as the editor who visited my father, but today—or I suppose yesterday now, she was at their Tokyo office all day. She never came to Kyoto. Plus, she’s in her forties. A fake editor visited my father, had a fake interview with him, looked at the celadon, took his cup, and arranged it so that the celadon would be kept here tonight. I asked my father some more questions and found out that she asked for the interview to be on either April 9th or 12th—the days when I wouldn’t be at the store because of university events. At this point, I knew without a doubt that a despicable fellow was going to come for the celadon. It’d have to be someone who knew our circumstances well—and your face was the first to come to mind.” He smiled but there was still a sharp look in his eyes.

Ensho felt tense, as if looking away for a fraction of a second would get him slashed. He maintained eye contact and clenched his fists.

“I was going to wait outside the door to this room,” Kiyotaka continued. “But as you know, I’m not very nice. I wanted to see if you could crack my password, so I asked my father to lock the door so that I could wait inside. I also left the password the same as it was before. If you couldn’t solve it and backed down, then that would’ve been satisfying in itself. I’d enjoy watching your discouraged face in the camera footage over and over. But here we are now. I’m impressed—you truly embodied my thought process. Putting your imitation skills to full use, huh?” He chuckled, smiling.

“Why thanks.” Ensho sighed softly and returned the smile.

“Now then.” Kiyotaka gripped his wooden sword tighter, and in the same instant, swung it down at Ensho’s head. A loud bam echoed through the room.

Ensho winced as he caught the blade right above his head with both hands. “Such a violent kid. Based on how much my hands hurt, that blow would’ve killed me if it hit.”

“I’m simply fending off a scoundrel who broke into our store. Regardless of what happens to him, it was deserved, no?”

“You say that, but I bet you knew I’d catch it.”

“I can’t deny that.” Kiyotaka smiled sweetly, sending chills down Ensho’s spine.

“You never change, eh? Feels like something like this happened before.”

“Yes, it was at Nanzen-ji Temple.”

“First time we met, yeah? Now that’s nostalgic.”

“Indeed, Ensho.” Still holding the wooden sword, Kiyotaka raised his leg and kicked Ensho in his solar plexus, sending him flying backwards out of the room.

“Guh!”

“We can’t fight inside the room—it’d be problematic if something happened to the celadon.” Kiyotaka calmly stepped outside.

“You’re really a completely different person when you show your true colors.”

“True colors... Anyway—” Kiyotaka let go of the wooden sword and grabbed Ensho by the collar. “Ensho, what do you think you’re doing?!” he roared.

“What? Can’t you tell? Just a little burglary.” Ensho sneered.

Kiyotaka’s right hand trembled as it gripped Ensho’s collar. “I despise you. You annoy me beyond belief. And yet, I tried to understand you. Your prejudice against me and your sentiments towards counterfeiting angered me, but deep down in my heart, I sympathized with you.” He paused, then switched to his Kyoto accent. “But this time, I cannot fathom your actions. What on earth are you doing? How far have you fallen?” He tightened his grip.

“How far have you fallen?”

Something about those words must’ve struck a nerve—Ensho swung his fist at Kiyotaka’s cheek.

“Tch!” Kiyotaka staggered but quickly recovered his stance. He wiped the blood from the broken corner of his lip with the back of his hand.

“How far have I fallen? I’ve always been right here at the bottom. How would a spoiled kid at the top of the pyramid know anything about it?” Ensho shouted in Kiyotaka’s face, so close that their noses were nearly touching. “You were blessed with everything anyone would want, and I only had my alcoholic dad who beat me. I had no choice but to make counterfeits so that he’d be happy with me—so that I could survive! You’d never understand!”

Kiyotaka grimaced and pushed Ensho’s face away with the palm of his hand. “You’re right. I don’t understand why you’d willingly stay at the bottom forever.”

Ensho swung his fist again, but Kiyotaka caught his arm in his armpit and slammed him against the floor with a loud bang.

“Indeed, it makes no sense,” Kiyotaka continued. “Your childhood wasn’t your fault. You were young and powerless, so you had no choice but to do what you did. Children sometimes become slaves to their parents.” In his fury, he suddenly reverted to his Kyoto accent. “But now it’s different. You’re an adult now. You’re not anyone’s slave anymore. If you work hard, you can climb out of the depths. So why on earth are you content with being at the bottom forever?!” he shouted, climbing onto Ensho’s fallen body and grabbing him by the collar again.

Ensho raised his upper body and grabbed Kiyotaka’s collar back. “And I’m saying that that’s how people at the top think. People who were born and raised at the bottom stay there forever. There’s no escaping. Thinking it’s just a matter of ‘working hard’ is exactly the kind of lazy, selfish thing a spoiled kid would say. You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand why you’re like this.”

“Now you sound like a broken record,” Ensho jeered.

“I seriously don’t understand! How many times do you think I’ve dreamed of having your talent? I’d sell my soul to the devil for it! You’re...you’re so talented, so why are you doing this?!” Kiyotaka cried out in grief, as if wringing the words from the bottom of his throat.

Ensho was dumbfounded. “What...?” He widened his eyes in shock and looked back at Kiyotaka. The young man’s fists were trembling and his eyes were bloodshot. “T-Talent?” Ensho stuttered, taken aback. “That’s...another thing that spoiled kids say. You just want what you can’t have. How boring.” He sneered, shoved Kiyotaka off him with all of his might, and ran away at full speed.

“I’d sell my soul to the devil for it!”

Ensho clicked his tongue, trying to shake the words from his head as he fled downstairs.

Back on the second floor, Kiyotaka didn’t make any attempt to chase after Ensho. He brought his palm to his forehead and sighed deeply. Noticing that his cheek had begun to sting, he slumped his shoulders ever so slightly and stood up. I managed to avoid the brunt of the hit by turning my head towards the blow, but that fist is still a dangerous weapon.

“Seriously, what a corrupt priest.”

Kiyotaka slowly descended the stairs to get something to cool his cheek with. The moment he reached the first floor, he gasped, immediately realizing that something was wrong.

The Yagashira family’s other treasure—the Shino tea bowl—was missing from its glass case.

◆　◆　◆

It’s past 4 a.m. now. Night has passed, and morning is just one step away. Did Ensho really show up? If he didn’t, and I worried this much for nothing, then that’s fine. But if he did, and the two of them faced off... What would’ve happened? Holmes does martial arts, so he may be strong. But Ensho looks strong too. If a real fight broke out, I don’t think Holmes would leave unscathed. I imagined Holmes lying on the floor, covered in blood, and shook my head to rid myself of the thought.

I’d been refraining from texting him since it was such a crucial time, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I took out my phone and started typing with shaky fingers: “Holmes, are you okay?”

I hesitated to send the message. What if the notification sound gets him into trouble? I asked myself. Holmes wouldn’t be that careless, though. He definitely either turned off his phone or put it on silent mode. I pressed “Send.”

Several minutes passed without a response. Did he go to sleep because Ensho didn’t show up? Or is he unconscious...? The terrifying thought made my fingertips feel cold.

Then my phone buzzed, making me flinch. The screen said, “You didn’t get any sleep, right? I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m okay.”

All of the tension left my body. “Ensho didn’t show up?” I immediately replied.

“He did. I protected the celadon, but he stole the Shino tea bowl. I wasn’t careful enough.”

I gasped, got out of bed, and got ready to head over to Kura. I left the house quietly to avoid waking up my family.

The spring sky at 4:30 a.m. had that deep blue color that you see just before the sunrise. There were no people or cars on the streets—the neighborhood was so still that it felt like I had it all to myself. I frantically pedaled my bike, my heart pounding with anxiety. That short last message was enough for me to sense exactly how he was feeling: anger towards Ensho, anger towards himself, and despair.

What can I accomplish by going there? I wondered, but I couldn’t just sit and do nothing. I jumped off of my bicycle and pushed it into the Teramachi shopping street, half running towards Kura. The district was always bustling, but now it was dead silent. It felt like I was in another world.

I couldn’t see inside the store because the curtains were closed, but I could tell that there was a faint light on. I reached the door, parked my bicycle, gulped, and grabbed the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. I gently opened the door, my heart beating like crazy.

Holmes looked up at me when he heard the chime ring. He’d been sitting in front of the counter, hanging his head.

“Aoi...” He seemed extremely surprised. The dim light from the lamp on the table was enough for me to see that his cheek was swollen and dark red, and the corner of his mouth was torn.

I gasped. “Holmes, you’re injured?”

“Ah... It’s nothing major. I’ve dealt with it.” He smiled, but there was no energy behind it. “You came all this way? It’s dangerous to go outside this late at night.”

“It’s already morning. Sorry, I just couldn’t sit still.” I entered the store and caught a glimpse of the empty glass case with the corner of my eye. The Shino tea bowl had always been there. The first time I saw it was the day I first visited this store. It was the first antique that’d ever captivated me. It was the Yagashira family’s treasure, and it was special to me too.

I didn’t know what to say. Tears welled up in my eyes. Why would he do this?

“Aoi...” Holmes narrowed his eyes, placed his hand on his forehead, and looked down.

Silence. Is he crying?

I couldn’t even speak. It felt like I was suffocating.

After some time, Holmes murmured quietly, “I don’t know if I’m unbearably angry or unbearably sad.” His voice quivered.

“Holmes...” My hand quivered too as I lightly touched his shoulder. He flinched and apologized. Without looking up, he gently placed his palm over the back of my hand. I could feel his anger and sorrow from the way it trembled, and I wordlessly turned my own hand over to hold his.

3

The owner and the manager came to the store at 9 a.m. to look at the now-empty glass case.

“W-We have to call the police first,” the manager said, picking up the phone receiver.

“Wait, Takeshi.” The owner held up his hand to stop him and stared at Holmes.

Holmes returned his stare without saying anything.

“Did the corrupt priest do that to you?” the owner asked quietly, referring to Holmes’s wounds.

“Yes.” Holmes nodded.

“Did you give him an eye for an eye?”

Holmes paused before shaking his head. “No.”

“What the hell, you half-wit?! You let him walk all over you!” the owner yelled, loud enough that even people outside the store might’ve heard.

I flinched, but Holmes was unperturbed. “I did.” He nodded.

“What’re you gonna do about this?! Let him win?!”

“No, Ensho will take action against me, without a doubt. I swear I’ll reclaim the Shino tea bowl.”

“All right, well until you get it back, you’re not allowed to step foot inside the Yagashira estate. Since you couldn’t protect our ancestors’ treasure, you have no right to enter the premises. Got it? Until you get it back, you’re expelled.”

I clenched my fists in anguish. “No right”? But he fought so bravely... I almost spoke up without thinking, but I quickly closed my mouth. The owner’s eyes were bloodshot and his fists were trembling. I could tell how frustrated he was, not just because the Shino tea bowl was stolen, but also because his grandson—his pride and joy—had been outmaneuvered. Of course he’d be frustrated.

“I understand,” Holmes said, bowing deeply. “I made an unforgivable mistake and you have my heartfelt apologies. I swear I will atone for this failure.” He didn’t make a single excuse.

The owner nodded. “This is a tricky opponent for you. It’ll be like fighting your mirror image, so be careful.”

“I will.”

“Takeshi, as you can see, this is an internal problem. Don’t tell the police. It’d just bring shame to the family.” The owner turned on his heel and left.

The store fell silent.

The manager listlessly hung his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Kiyotaka. This happened because I fell for their trick...”

“No, you did nothing wrong. They’re the ones who did it in the first place, and this only happened because of my conflict with Ensho. I should be the one apologizing for getting you involved,” Holmes said, patting the manager on the back.

“Kiyotaka...”

“You didn’t get any sleep last night because you were worrying about me, right? Please go home and rest.”

“That goes for you too, Kiyotaka.”

“I’m still young, so I’m fine. Besides, I have much I’d like to think about,” Holmes said quietly.

The manager nodded, realizing what Holmes was getting at. “R-Right, sorry. I’ll be taking my leave then. We can close the store for today, since your face is in bad shape. You look pale too.” He left the store.

It was just me and Holmes left now. The silence was stifling.

“You’ve been up all night too, Aoi. Please go home and rest.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m young too,” I said, repeating Holmes’s excuse. “Oh, but if you don’t want me here, I’ll go,” I added hastily.

His expression relaxed. “Thank you, Aoi.”

“Huh?”

“You really saved me by coming here this morning.”

“Holmes...”

“It feels like you’re always helping me.”

“N-No, I should be the one saying that.”

“Aoi...” He reached his hand towards me but was interrupted by the fax machine beeping. My heart leapt.

Holmes picked up the sheet of fax paper and smiled. “I knew it.”

“Who’s that from, Holmes?”

“It was sent from a convenience store,” he said, showing me the fax.

Holmes of Kyoto,

I’m borrowing the Yagashira treasure.

Find me at my location.

It was written with a brush in incredibly artistic handwriting. There were ink paintings around the message: cherry blossoms and a tree branch with a silhouette of a small bird on it, possibly a sparrow.

“This is from Ensho, right?” I asked.

“Yes. As usual, his work is splendid, but there’s a hint of chaos in the painting and words. I imagine he wrote this today instead of preparing it in advance.”

Holmes put his hand on his chin as he looked at the fax. “Where is Ensho telling me to go?”

He silently continued to stare at the message. “‘My location,’ he says...” he murmured quietly, furrowing his brow.

◆　◆　◆

After Aoi left, Kiyotaka remained in the store, mulling over the message. There was no jazz music playing today. The only noise was the ticking of the grandfather clock.

There should be a clue in this message. He folded his arms.

“Holmes of Kyoto,

I’m borrowing the Yagashira treasure.

Find me at my location.”

Cherry blossoms, ink paintings, a small bird without any defining features. It could be a tree sparrow or a Java sparrow. Where are these cherry blossoms? And if he painted them in such a detailed way, then why is the bird only a silhouette? Do these paintings represent a location or a sentiment?

“It’d be a location,” Kiyotaka murmured, looking up at the ceiling. There’s nothing related to cherry blossoms that links him to me. We first met in autumn, at Nanzen-ji Temple. The second time we met was also in autumn, at Genko-an Temple. Then we met on New Year’s Eve at the Yagashira estate in Higashiyama, followed by last month at the Saito estate in Takagamine...

I need to search his heart, the way he did when he cracked the password. Although to be honest, I’m not inclined to try to be like him. He leaned back against the chair. It’s often said that when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Touching the abyss can get you dragged into its depths.

Kiyotaka rested his chin in his hands and thought back to their previous conversations. At Nanzen-ji Temple, that man had said, “When I found out that you saw through one of my counterfeits—that you were younger than me and smart enough to be nicknamed ‘Holmes,’ I wanted to challenge you.”

Then at Arashiyama, he placed a forgery of Strayed Sheep at the Yanagihara estate to lead me to Genko-an Temple. You could say that Ensho likes using riddles to lead people to places. At the temple, he thrust my folding fan at my throat, glared at me, and said, “It became clear that I really can’t stand you.” The reason for which was revealed last night, when he said, “How would a spoiled kid at the top of the pyramid know anything?”

“Which means the location is at the ‘bottom of the pyramid.’” Where is that? Can I think of Teramachi-Sanjo as the top of the pyramid? No, that’s not right. Kiyotaka shook his head, took out a map of Kyoto, and spread it out on the counter. He marked the following locations: Nanzen-ji Temple in Higashiyama (where they’d first met), Tenryu-ji Temple in Arashiyama (the closest temple to the Yanagihara estate where Ensho had challenged him), Genko-an Temple, Takagamine (where the Saito estate was), and the Yagashira estate which was near Ginkaku-ji Temple. When he connected the locations with lines, they formed a crooked trapezoid. Depending on how you look at it, it could be a quadrangular pyramid. I’ll emphasize those lines—yes, it is indeed a pyramid, albeit crooked. In which case, the bottom of it is...

“I see, that makes sense.” The cherry blossoms are in full bloom there, and this bird isn’t a tree sparrow or a Java sparrow—it’s a nightingale. He made it a silhouette on purpose, because it would’ve been too easy to guess the location if I’d known it was a nightingale from the start. He didn’t want me to figure it out, but at the same time, he did. It’s similar to how he creates his counterfeits.

“Anyway...” Now I know where he is. Kiyotaka placed the fax paper on the counter and opened his laptop. As he typed away, the door chime rang. He looked up, surprised. “Akihito...?” His eyes widened. Standing at the door was Akihito Kajiwara, peering inside at him.

“H-Hey, Holmes.”

“Sorry, we’re closed today. I’m also busy with something.” Kiyotaka stood up and gave Akihito an apologetic look.

“Oh... W-Well, I guess you would be.”

“Huh?”

“Man, I thought you were gonna be depressed, but you seem fine. That’s a relief.” Akihito nodded.

Kiyotaka frowned. “Did someone tell you something?”

“Uh, he told me not to tell you it was him, but a certain old man called me and said, ‘Kiyotaka’s real depressed, so go cheer him up if you can.’”

Kiyotaka wordlessly facepalmed.

“I asked what happened, and he said, ‘Explaining’s too much work, so go ask Aoi.’ So I called Aoi and asked.”

“And you came all the way here just because of that?”

“Yep, that I did. Well, I was in Osaka so it wasn’t too bad. So did you figure out the location in Ensho’s fax?” Akihito entered the store and sat down across from Kiyotaka without hesitation.

“She really told you everything, I see.”

“Yeah, I told her the owner gave her permission to tell me. Wait, crap, I just said who it was.” Akihito hurriedly covered his mouth.

“Good grief,” Kiyotaka said, shrugging and relaxing his expression. “I understand now. Thank you for your concern. I suppose I’ll make coffee first.”

“Cool. I bought kouign-amann cakes from an underground shop in Umeda. Let’s eat ’em together.”

“Sure. That’s awfully thoughtful coming from you.”

“What do you mean by that?!” Akihito crossed his arms unhappily.

Kiyotaka went into the kitchenette. Come to think of it, I haven’t eaten or drunk anything today besides water. Not even coffee. He smiled at his sudden craving for coffee.

Upon his return, Kiyotaka placed the coffee cups on the counter and turned on the jazz music. He and Akihito both looked down at the fax paper while eating the kouign-amanns.

“Oh, so he’s telling you to go to him,” Akihito said, his mouth full of cake. “And you’ve figured out the place, right?” He glanced at Kiyotaka.

“Yes.”

“Now that’s our Holmes. So where is it?”

“Here,” Kiyotaka said, pointing at a location on the map he’d been using.

“Ooh.” Akihito looked up from the map. “When are you going?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’ll come too,” Akihito said immediately.

Kiyotaka blatantly frowned.

“I’m sure Aoi wants to go too,” Akihito continued. “You always go out of control when you’re with Ensho. She must be really worried.”

“I’m...aware of that.” Kiyotaka sipped his coffee with a bitter look on his face.

“C’mon, let’s all go together. If it seems like we’ll get in the way, I’ll get Aoi out of there. You might think you’ve been battling Ensho by yourself all this time, but Aoi and I have been watching you too. Let us witness this,” Akihito said, looking straight at Kiyotaka.

Kiyotaka sighed and cracked a smile, having resigned himself. “I shouldn’t be the target of Ensho’s envy,” he said, reverting to his Kyoto accent.

“Huh?”

“I’m just saying that in the end, you’re the most enviable person of them all.”

“Wha? Is that sarcasm?” Akihito frowned dubiously, resting his chin in his hands.

“No, not at all. Back to what we were saying... Let’s go together then. Please take care of Aoi if something happens.”

“Yep, leave it to me. She’s important to you, so I’ll make sure to protect her.”

Kiyotaka gave a sad smile. “Thank you,” he said, bowing.

4

The next day, I got on the Karasuma subway line at Kuramaguchi Station. I was nervous—but happy that Holmes had invited me along. At Karasuma Oike Station, I transferred onto the Tozai Line towards Uzumasa Tenjingawa. I got off at the closest stop and walked to my destination: Higashi Ote Gate, a huge two-tiered gate with a lookout. That was our meeting spot.

Holmes and Akihito were already in front of the gate, so I quickly jogged up to them.

“Holmes, Akihito,” I called out.

They smiled and waved.

“Hello, Aoi.”

“Hey, Aoi.”

Akihito being cheerful was nothing new, but it was a relief to see Holmes looking happy again. Yesterday’s tension was gone. My eyes felt like they were going to tear up from joy. This must’ve been the work of Akihito. He can easily make Holmes lighten up, even if it’s not on purpose. I felt a bit frustrated that I couldn’t do the same, but my feelings of gratitude were stronger.

“So this is the place your enemy meant, Holmes?” Akihito asked, turning around.

“Yes,” Holmes replied. “The irony of the bottom of the pyramid being here is actually quite like him.”

“Yeah...” I said. “I can’t believe it’s the castle.”

The place in Ensho’s riddle was Nijo Castle.

“Haven’t been here since elementary school,” Akihito said, stretching.

I nodded. “I came here for a field trip in middle school. It’s famous for the nightingale floors that make chirping sounds, right?”

“Correct. Ieyasu Tokugawa had Nijo Castle built to protect the Imperial Court. It was also where he stayed when he was in Kyoto. The highlight is Ninomaru Palace—one of Japan’s National Treasures—which was built in the traditional samurai style of the Momoyama period. Its reception hall was where Yoshinobu Tokugawa declared that power would be returned to the Imperial Court. The ‘nightingale floors’ you mentioned are another important feature. As well as...”

We passed through the gate. Upon entering the grounds, we were greeted by the sight of magnificent cherry blossom trees.

“Wow!” Akihito and I exclaimed, our eyes lighting up.

“Nijo Castle is also famous for its cherry trees,” Holmes continued, “although it’s already the end of the cherry blossom season here.”

“They’re still amazing, man. That’s a castle for you.”

We looked up at the cherry blossoms as we walked towards the Kara Gate that led to Ninomaru Palace. The solemn, beautiful gate reminded me of Nikko Toshogu, one of the many shrines dedicated to Ieyasu Tokugawa. Maybe the Tokugawa family liked this kind of atmosphere, I thought as I passed under the gate adorned with gold plates. Now that Ninomaru Palace was right in front of us, I felt even more nervous knowing that Ensho could be waiting inside.

As Holmes had explained, Ninomaru Palace truly looked like a samurai residence. We entered through what was called the “carriage porch” and took our time looking around. I admired the coffered ceiling and the painting of Tan’yu Kano on a sliding screen. When we reached the hall where the declaration of the restoration of imperial rule took place, I sensed its profound history and instinctively straightened my back.

“Dang, it really feels like we’re experiencing history,” Akihito murmured. I nodded in agreement.

When we walked in the corridors, the floor squeaked, making us smile.

“Hey, this was an anti-ninja strategy, right?” Akihito asked.

“Yes,” Holmes answered. “However, some say that it wasn’t intentional. Besides, the ninjas back then didn’t care. Apparently they could still walk on the nightingale floors without making any noise.”

“Really? Ninjas are amazing, huh?”

Holmes chuckled, but then his face fell. Perhaps the word “ninja” reminded him of Ensho. “He doesn’t seem to be here,” he said in a low voice.

Akihito’s eyes widened. “You mean this is the wrong place? Or it’s the wrong time?”

“I thought it’d be eighteen seconds past 1:31 p.m., but...”

“The heck? That’s so specific.”

“Indeed, it is.”

“Well, nothing we can do if he’s not here. Anyway, it looks like they’re doing a ‘Flower and Calligraphy Exhibit’ in the courtyard.” Akihito showed Holmes the flyer he’d received at the entrance. “Let’s check it out while we’re here.” Casually, he started walking.

Holmes and I looked at each other and laughed at Akihito’s usual carefreeness. We followed him to the courtyard, where white partitions and tables were lined up under the blooming cherry trees. There were spring flower arrangements on the tables and calligraphy on the partitions. Many of the poems were associated with spring.

I stopped in front of a magnificent verse that hung above a beautiful cherry blossom arrangement.

“Spring haze lingering o’er the mountain cherry blossoms, a sight I never tire of, as with you.”

“Is something the matter?” Holmes asked.

“No, I just thought it was lovely.”

“Indeed. This poem is by Ki no Tomonori. It means, ‘Like the cherry blossoms on the mountain under the springtime haze, I never tire of looking at you,’” he whispered.

I suddenly blushed and looked at the next one.

“Let me die in spring, under the flowers, during the full moon of the second month.”

I smiled in nostalgia at Saigyo Hoshi’s poem.

“Man, it’s all so elegant, huh?” murmured Akihito, folding his hands behind his head. There was nothing elegant about his posture and speech, but I could tell that he was appreciating the beauty. It was quite an impressive exhibit with over eighty items on display.

Holmes stopped upon seeing a certain piece of calligraphy. The arrangement accompanying it consisted solely of green leaves. The simplicity seemed rather abrupt, but it was still beautiful in a calm, refreshing way.

The calligraphy said: “Glistening dew clinging to every blade of grass.”

“This must be it.” Holmes took a step closer and nodded.

“What?” Akihito asked.

“It’s a message from Ensho,” Holmes said quietly, narrowing his eyes.

“D-Did Ensho write this?” I asked.

“Yes, he did. Sneaking into an ordinary exhibition would be an easy task for that man. Also, starting from the entrance, this is the sixty-second item.”

For the record, the display items weren’t numbered.

“What’s special about sixty-two?” Akihito tilted his head, looking completely oblivious. I was the same.

“It’s simple. The three lines in that fax had thirteen, thirty-one, and eighteen letters, for a total of sixty-two. At first I thought it was indicating a time, but now I see that it was a display item. Or no, perhaps it was both.” Holmes looked at the calligraphy. “With this, Ensho has indicated a new location. He should be there this time. And I will go alone,” Holmes said, a determined look in his eye.

I didn’t know what to say.

“Wh-What can you tell from this?” Akihito asked. “What place is it showing?”

“This is another of Saigyo Hoshi’s poems.”

“Saigyo Hoshi?”

“Yes. Who can remain in this world? We are glistening dew clinging to every blade of grass in Adashi Moor,” Holmes recited quietly. He turned to us and bowed. “I’ll be going now.”

“Holmes...” I bowed back and watched him turn on his heel and walk away without a hint of hesitation in his gait. I shivered. What if this time, I won’t be able to see him again? Even though I knew it couldn’t possibly happen, I still had a bad feeling about this.

Without thinking, I ran up to Holmes’s receding figure. “Holmes!” I grabbed his hand and he turned around in surprise. “I’ll be waiting at Kura! No matter how long it takes, I’ll be waiting!”

“I have today off, so I’ll wait with her!” Akihito shouted.

Holmes frowned and put his hands on his hips. “You don’t need to stay in the store alone together for so long.”

“But the manager’s there too!” Akihito said immediately.

“Ah.” Holmes nodded. “All right. I promise I’ll return safely, so please wait for me.” He smiled brightly.

I felt a prickle in my nose and held back my tears. It felt like if I let myself cry, that “bad feeling” would come true...

I watched Holmes as he left, praying that he would be safe.

◆　◆　◆

“Who can remain in this world? We are glistening dew clinging to every blade of grass in Adashi Moor.”

Can anyone remain in this world? No. Everyone dies eventually. We are all fleeting presences, like the glistening dew clinging to each blade of grass in Adashi Moor. That is what Saigyo Hoshi wrote of Adashi Moor.

In Tsurezuregusa, Kenko Yoshida wrote, “The dew upon Adashi Moor never fades, nor does the smoke on Mount Toribe ever disperse; if we too were eternal, why, there would be no pathos. The world is remarkable because there is no certainty.” The dew in Adashi Moor and the smoke in Mount Toribe don’t disappear, but if it was customary for humans to live in this world forever too, then that would mean having no emotions. The transiency of this world is what makes it wonderful.

In Buddhism, Adashi Moor represents transiency and emptiness. It’s said that the name symbolizes the transformation from life to death, followed by reincarnation or moving to the pure land of Amitabha.

Adashi Moor immediately brings to mind the Nenbutsu-ji temple in Sagano. It was once a burial ground, and after Kukai’s weather-beaten remains were buried, people began to hold memorial services for him there. The temple is packed with approximately eight thousand stone statuettes and monuments. It is the gravesite for all of the people who were buried in Adashi Moor.

After leaving Nijo Castle by himself, Kiyotaka drove towards Sagano. Even though it was a weekday, it was still spring break, and cherry blossom season at that. The whole city of Kyoto was bustling. However, Adashi Moor was very quiet. Since that Nenbutsu-ji temple packed with stone statues was known for being a former burial ground, its history brought about frightening rumors that kept the fun-seeking tourists away.

Upon reaching Adashi Moor, Kiyotaka parked the car and walked down the quiet temple road. The small path was lined with various gift shops. There were accessories made of bamboo and a Daruma doll with eyebrow hair so long that it reached the table below, covering the doll’s eyes. A rickshaw stood to the side, seeming to have been abandoned. The only noise was the rattling of pinwheels spinning in the wind. The moor was shrouded in a mysterious, otherworldly atmosphere.

Kiyotaka climbed the stone steps leading to the temple. He passed through the gate and was greeted by vivid, beautiful cherry blossoms. The weeping cherry trees in front of the belfry were like guides, bowing their heads to welcome visitors. With them was a sea of stone statuettes and monuments which was called the Western Riverbed, a reference to Buddhism’s Riverbed of Death. It was also known as “the far end of the earth,” making you wonder if this scenery extended into the “other world.”

A priest wearing an ink-black kimono stood in the center of it all, looking at the trees swaying in the wind. If anyone else saw him, they would certainly believe that he was a priest at this temple. Even though he wasn’t a real priest, he blended in perfectly with the surroundings.

Kiyotaka stepped into the Western Riverbed. The “priest”—that is, Ensho—looked at him, smiled, and bowed. “Hello, Mr. Holmes. I see you’ve found me. You really are something, eh?”

“You say that, but you knew I’d come, right?” Kiyotaka kept walking and stopped about five steps away from Ensho.

“Why yes.”

“Why did you call me to Adashi Moor?”

“Well... I like this place. This temple keeps people away. There’s a rumor that if you come here for fun, terrible things will happen to you. It’s the far end of the earth where it feels like the netherworld.”

“I see. It’s just like you.” Kiyotaka chuckled.

Ensho didn’t seem bothered by that response.

“However,” Holmes continued, “I don’t think of this as a place that keeps people away.” He looked at the countless stone statues.

Ensho narrowed his eyes, not saying anything.

“It’s modest, but the cherry blossoms are so beautiful. Also, this land is exceptionally stunning in autumn. Cherry trees bloom for the sake of their own lives, and humans are fascinated by that. But autumn leaves are different. They change color before dying. For what purpose do they do that? Unlike cherry blossoms and flowers, it’s not for the sake of their lives. People are simply fascinated by seeing them before they disappear. When I visited this temple in autumn, I felt that this was a very lonely place. Of course, I wouldn’t want inconsiderate people to come here. But I felt that this place wanted visitors who would respect it and sympathize with the souls that rest here. It seems to reject people, but it’s actually seeking them out. A sad, yet beautiful temple,” Holmes said quietly, gazing at the Western Riverbed.

Ensho’s eyes widened. “What, are you saying I’m the same?”

“It’s up to you how you want to interpret it, but if you say that, then it’s true, right?”

Ensho clenched his trembling fists and clicked his tongue. “I really can’t stand you. You always talk too much.”

“Yes, I agree. Even I don’t think I need to say all of this. I can lie to myself when it comes to most people, but not you.” I can’t control myself, and I end up saying things that rile me up. There’s only one other person who does this to me... Kiyotaka imagined the “other person” and secretly smiled. He felt his irritation subside and tried to calm his breathing as much as possible. “Now, could you return the tea bowl?”

Ensho took a small slip of paper out of his sleeve and handed it to Kiyotaka.

Kiyotaka unfolded it and saw a simple hand-drawn map. It indicated a building that was within walking distance.

“That’s my atelier,” Ensho said. “Go get your spoils of victory.”

“You’re going to make me walk even more?”

“What’s the big deal? Just go before I change my mind.”

“All right, I will.” Kiyotaka turned around and left the Western Riverbed.

Ensho stood in the middle of the statues, looking slightly amused as he waved goodbye. Once Kiyotaka was out of sight, a twisted grin appeared on his face.

Kiyotaka left the temple grounds and continued walking. He followed the map along a road lined with old houses to a mountain path. The trees rustled loudly in the strong winds.

He arrived at a small two-story apartment building with light brown outer walls. It was an old building with an outside staircase.

There was no room number written on Ensho’s note. Kiyotaka stared at the rusty, weed-ridden stairs. They were so neglected that it made you wonder if anyone lived there.

When he approached the building, a voice said, “Hello.” A woman with very short hair stepped out from behind it. She was wearing a light trench coat, a white blouse, a short black skirt, and black stockings. The beautiful woman in her mid-twenties had a confident look in her eyes.

“Hello... Are you the editor who visited my father by any chance?” Holmes asked, smiling.

The woman blinked. “Now that’s a surprise. How did you know?”

“You don’t look like you live in this building, and you were waiting for my arrival. Therefore, you must be that man’s cohort.”

“We’re not cohorts. We just work together sometimes when necessary.”

“Bad work, right?” Kiyotaka smiled.

The woman shrugged. “That’s not a very nice smile. There’s a lot of bad money and art in this world that can’t be made public. All I do is borrow it.”

“I don’t care what your excuse is. It has nothing to do with me.” Kiyotaka turned away.

The woman grabbed him by his shirt. “I have the key. Take it.”

Kiyotaka silently turned around.

The woman slowly lifted her short skirt, revealing black garters. “The key is on my thigh...inside my stocking. Will you take it?” she asked bashfully, blushing.

Kiyotaka tilted his head. “Are you all right with me taking it?”

“Yes, please do.”

“Okay.” Without hesitation, Kiyotaka lifted her leg by the ankle and retrieved the key that was sandwiched between her stocking and inner thigh. It had “205” written on it in permanent marker. “Thank you for the key. I’ll be going now.”

“I thought you were an inexperienced kid, but you didn’t show any emotion. That’s not cute at all. Shouldn’t someone named Holmes have a soft spot for women?” The woman crossed her arms, looking genuinely annoyed.

Kiyotaka chuckled. “I do, but only for the woman I love.” He placed his hand on his chest and smiled.

“Tch!” The woman blushed.

Kiyotaka climbed the rusty stairs. As the clanging sounds rang out, the woman shouted from below, “Hey, I love hot guys, so I’ll do you a big favor and give you some advice.”

He silently looked down at her.

“Don’t be too stubborn,” she said.

“Stubborn?” he murmured. He realized from her eyes that she was completely serious, so he nodded.

“Good,” she said, sighing in relief. “Bye, then.” She left quickly. It almost seemed as if she was running away.

Kiyotaka inserted the key into the doorknob and turned. It unlocked with a click. He opened the door warily and was immediately surrounded by the smell of paint and canvas. He squinted. It was a bit musty, but he didn’t dislike the smell of paint.

The light-blocking curtains were left partially open. The setting sun shone in through the gap, illuminating the room. Palettes, paints, and brushes were strewn all over the floor. Faded canvases were propped up along the walls. Paintings that looked like they were from the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries were scattered on the ground. Judging from how they were treated, they were probably bought from overseas so that the paint could be scraped off.

The atelier hadn’t been used in quite some time. Kiyotaka entered, making sure not to step on any of the paint. Suddenly, the landline phone rang. He ignored it.

After ringing for some time, it switched to voice mail. “Mr. Holmes, it’s me. Could ya pick up the phone?”

Kiyotaka frowned and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Welcome to my atelier. The tea bowl’s in the back, behind the curtain.”

Kiyotaka silently opened the curtain and his eyes widened. The Shino tea bowl was inside an acrylic case on top of a low table. He was relieved to see it, but at the same time, he grimaced at the multiple locks on the case. Right behind the case was an old-fashioned computer monitor. There was a keyboard in front.

“What’s with these locks?” he asked.

“You need a password to unlock them.”

Kiyotaka lightly clicked his tongue. How irritating.

“I copied what you did. This one’s sixteen letters, though. Time limit’s fifteen minutes. Since you’re so smart, you only get one shot. Starting in ten seconds.”

A countdown appeared on the screen. 10, 9, 8, 7...

“And if I don’t solve it in time?”

“Well, it explodes.”

The word “START” came up on the screen, along with a timer starting at 14:59.

“It explodes?” Kiyotaka furrowed his brow.

“There’s a bomb in that old computer. I wanted to do that red wire, blue wire thing you see in the movies, but they said it wasn’t possible.” Ensho laughed.

Kiyotaka’s face stiffened. “That joke isn’t funny...”

“I ain’t joking.”

“You would kill someone over something like this?”

“What? You can just run away. It ain’t gonna blow up the whole room, just the tea bowl. If you’re scared, just get away from it a minute before.” He snickered.

Kiyotaka recalled how serious the woman looked when she said, “Don’t be too stubborn.” He facepalmed and said, “There’s seriously something wrong with your head.”

“Time’s ticking! Get to it. Let me hear a nice sound, Mr. Holmes.”

Kiyotaka said nothing. He put the phone on speaker, placed it on the table, and sat down, looking at the keyboard. If he copied me, then he must’ve chosen the password the same way I did.

Sixteen letters.

“Oh, you know how I said you only get one shot? It explodes a minute after you get it wrong. You’d better run fast.”

“Only one chance? That’s rather strict.” Kiyotaka smiled.

“Why of course! It’s you, after all. Well, I guess it is pretty strict. I’ll give you a hint. No numbers, only uppercase English letters. When you’re done, hit enter. As long as you don’t hit enter, you can press as many keys as you want.”

“Only English letters... Is it an English word or a transliterated Japanese one?”

“Now that I won’t say. See ya!” he said, stressing the last words in a mockingly childish tone.

Kiyotaka clicked his tongue. I never want to see you again.

Today is April 10th. If he’s using the same method I used, then that means the tenth poem in Hyakunin Isshu.

’Tis the place—going or coming, parting ways, knowing or not knowing, all are Osaka no Seki, by Semimaru. “According to the rumors, people who leave Kyoto, people who return, acquaintances, and strangers alike all part ways and meet here, at Osaka no Seki.” Osaka no Seki was a checkpoint at the border between Yamashiro Province and Omi Province. Omi Province is now Shiga Prefecture, and Yamashiro Province is now the city of Kyoto.

Is the password made from its latitude and longitude? Or is it from Shonagon Sei, who also wrote a poem about Osaka no Seki?

As he contemplated, an indescribable sense of discomfort welled up in his chest. “No, that’s not it.” He shook his head. Even if he said he copied me, he wouldn’t do it to this extent. It’s probably not a poem.

Think.

What kind of password would Ensho come up with?

He glanced at the display. It said 10:09. Only ten minutes left.

He probably just meant that it was based off of the date. I don’t think he’d want to copy the rest. Kiyotaka crossed his arms.

An amused laugh came from the receiver. “There’s a camera, so this is great. That’s a nice face you’re putting on.”

“You really are rotten.” Kiyotaka sighed and ran his hand through his forelocks.

Ensho said he was at “the bottom of the pyramid” and used that to indicate a location. Maybe he did the same thing this time and the clue is in his words. What words did Ensho throw my way?

He pondered.

Come to think of it, there was one phrase that felt a bit unnatural: “Let me hear a nice sound, Mr. Holmes.” What did that mean? I originally assumed he meant an explosion, but that might not be the case. For now, I should think about what happened on April 10th... Louis III became king of West Francia. The Titanic set sail. Prince Akihito married Michiko... Ugh, that’s all I can think of.

He reluctantly decided to give up and look on the internet. As he was about to take his phone out, he stopped. “Oh...” That’s right, April 10th was the day that the bell was completed for the United Kingdom’s parliament building. It was named Big Ben after Sir Benjamin Hall, who oversaw its installation.

The “nice sound” was referring to Big Ben’s chime, then. It rings every day at noon. In Japan, the sound is often used for school bells. We call it the “Westminster Chime.”

In which case, the sixteen letters are “WESTMINSTERCHIME.”

Kiyotaka typed in the letters and was about to hit enter, but stopped. No, there’s no way this is enough. He wouldn’t make it that straightforward. He looked at the timer which now said 01:29.

“I think you’d better get running.”

“No, I won’t run.” Sweat dripped down his forehead.

“Don’t be stubborn, or you really will die.”

“Please be quiet.”

“No regrets, eh?”

“I have plenty.”

There were a lot of things he’d regret if he died now. But the biggest one was...

“I will not die here, not while I haven’t told her what I need to,” he snapped.

Ensho burst out laughing. “Oh, to be young again. I like how you are right now.”

“Well, I hate it.”

If he entered the wrong password, the computer would explode after one minute. If he ran immediately, his life would be spared but the tea bowl would be destroyed.

This isn’t my field of expertise. The first letter could be “C” or “F.” It could even be “E.”

The display said 00:59.

Only one minute left. I have to enter something. Forget about the correct answer—what would Ensho choose?

Suddenly, Kiyotaka recalled Ensho’s “See ya!” Holding his breath, he typed: “CEDGGDECECDGGDEC.” The instant he slammed the enter key, there was a loud explosion sound.

5

I can’t calm down. I sat on a chair at Kura, constantly looking at the grandfather clock. Its ticking hands had already passed 6 p.m.

“Hey, Aoi, you seem pretty restless,” Akihito said. “Calm down.” He was wandering aimlessly around the store, seemingly not able to sit still. The manager had been with us for a while, but he couldn’t seem to relax either. He went out for a walk to “get some fresh air.”

“Y-You should calm down too, Akihito.”

“I... Yeah, you’re right. I wonder if he’s okay.” He plopped himself down on a chair as if he’d been playing musical chairs and the music had suddenly stopped.

“He’s fine,” I whispered, mainly to myself.

“Yeah. He is. He’ll be back soon. I’m gonna wait outside for him.” He really can’t sit still.

Akihito quickly stood up and left. Now there was no one but me. The grandfather clock’s ticking echoed through the store. Since we were closed today, the music wasn’t playing.

I propped my elbows up on the counter, folded my hands together, and closed my eyes tightly. It’ll be okay, I thought, but I couldn’t shake my fears. I felt like I was suffocating. Where did Ensho summon him to? What is he trying to do? It shouldn’t be something extreme. It shouldn’t be, but Ensho is fully capable of doing the extreme.

I have a bad feeling about this.

At the Saito residence, there was clear enmity in Ensho’s eyes—I sensed that his attitude towards Holmes had transformed into genuine hatred. But even then, why did he do something so drastic? Before, all he did was challenge Holmes with his counterfeits. Does he want to outwit Holmes no matter what it takes? Or has his hatred grown to the point where he doesn’t care about appearances anymore?

What if something happens to Holmes...? My heart pounded furiously. Feeling my fingertips growing numb with cold, I clenched my fists.

The door chime rang. Akihito and the manager must be back. I turned around and my eyes widened.

“Holmes...?” I trembled.

“I’m back, Aoi.” Holmes smiled as if he’d just returned from a minor errand.

“I-I’m so glad you’re safe.” I quickly stood and ran up to him.

“I’m sorry for making you worry. As you can see, the tea bowl is safe too.” He showed me the wooden box with the tea bowl inside and placed it on the counter.

“Th-That’s good too, but I’m really glad that you didn’t get hurt.” My eyes were blurry with tears. He seemed so unchanged that I wondered if I was only dreaming that he’d returned safe and sound. “I-If something happened to you, I...” What would I do? Up until now, I just thought I had a crush on him—which is true, but it’s more than that. I realized just how important he was to me. Even if our feelings aren’t mutual; even if he rejects me and I never see him again, as long as he’s safe, that’s enough for me. It might be a reckless way of thinking, but I realize now that even if you take away all of my feelings of romantic love, Holmes is still extremely important to me. “I’m really, really glad.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Although for a second I thought I was going to die.” He slumped his shoulders.

“Wh-What? What happened?” I asked, quickly looking up.

“Don’t worry, it really was fine. As you can see, both the tea bowl and I are safe. But for the first time in my life, my legs gave out.” He smiled, slightly cheerfully.

“Your legs? Wh-What on earth happened?”

“Well, you see...” He put his hands on his hips.

◆　◆　◆

Back at Ensho’s hideout, the moment Kiyotaka typed the sixteen letters and hit enter, he heard an explosion. Immediately after, the screen displayed “Congratulations!” and a fireworks video. Then the ding-dongs of the Westminster Chime played. The locks opened with a clack.

“Congrats, Mr. Holmes. As you can see, it was ‘CEDGGDECECDGGDEC,’ the notes of the Westminster Chime. A job well done as usual.”

Kiyotaka heaved a sigh and placed his hand on his forehead. “Just so I know, was there really a bomb?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Didn’t think you’d be that stubborn, though.”

“I don’t know what you expected, but I’ve lived this far on stubbornness alone.” Kiyotaka tried to stand up and grimaced.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Aw, your legs gave out from the explosion sound? Get some rest!” Ensho burst out laughing.

“I’m quite fine.” Kiyotaka sighed again, stood up with the help of his arms, and retrieved the Shino tea bowl. It was back in his hands now. Upon seeing that it was unharmed, he felt sincerely relieved.

“You really are a stubborn one. I was hoping to see you cry and run away with your tail between your legs, but I guess that’d be too normal.”

“I apologize for not meeting your expectations.”

“Anyway, I bet you don’t know why I did this, yeah?” he said self-deprecatingly.

“I know. Or rather, now I know.”

Ensho laughed quietly on the other end of the phone. “Until next time, Mr. Holmes.”

“I don’t need a ‘next time.’ Farewell,” Kiyotaka said coldly, taking the wooden box with the tea bowl outside with him.

◆　◆　◆

“That’s what happened.” Holmes smiled cheerfully.

My eyes widened after hearing the full story. It was more than I could’ve ever imagined. “I-It was that dangerous?”

“It wasn’t as dangerous as you think. I could’ve run away if I had to, and I don’t even know if there was actually a bomb in the first place.”

“But it felt like there was, right? That’s why your legs gave out, right? I’m sure you knew there was one, even if you didn’t know if it would actually explode!” I accused angrily.

“Perhaps.” He gave a strained smile.

“I’m begging you, don’t be so reckless. I was so, so worried. Not just me—Akihito and the manager were dying from anxiety as well, and I’m sure the owner was too. I can’t believe such a thing happened!” What would’ve happened if he made a single mistake? I trembled at the thought and started crying for a different reason than before.

Holmes looked down at me with sad eyes. “Forgive me, Aoi.”

“Holmes...” Unable to contain my emotions, I gripped his shirt tightly. “H-Holmes, um...”

He looked at me without saying anything.

“Sorry, there’s something I really have to say,” I continued. My heart was beating a mile a minute. I was originally going to tell him after summer break, when I became a third-year. But I can’t wait anymore. I want to tell him now. “I-I...um, I’ve always...” Liked you.

“Aoi,” he said, interrupting me before I could finish. I stiffened up. “Please don’t say the rest,” he said flatly.

My heart was in anguish. “S-Sorry.” I hurriedly bowed and stayed looking at the floor. It was unwanted after all. I didn’t expect him to accept my feelings anyway. I just really wanted to tell him. I didn’t think he’d even stop me from doing that... I wish I could’ve at least said it. My eyes flooded with tears.

“Aoi,” Holmes said in a gentle tone.

When I looked up, he reached out.

“I love you,” he said in his Kyoto accent.

Before I knew it, I was in his arms. He was hugging me tightly.

“Forgive me for making you go that far,” he continued. “I should’ve been the one to say it. I love you, Aoi.”

Not comprehending what was happening, I simply stood there, eyes wide, trembling in his arms. Bewildered, I looked up and our eyes met. His eyes, which were usually so calm and gentle, now burned with passion.

I felt dizzy. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Y-You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” he said in a slightly irritated tone.

“But you said there was someone you wanted to be your girlfriend...”

Holmes paused. “That was you. I’ve had feelings for you for a long time now.”

I stood there, stock-still. I can’t believe this. Everything he’d said and done in the past was flashing before my eyes.

“What...? Since when?”

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure myself. By the time I realized it, I’d already been in love with you,” he said weakly.

I didn’t know what to say.

“But it may have been the Gion Festival, although I wasn’t aware of it at all at the time.”

“The Gion Festival...?”

“Yes. That night when you left the store, there was a chance that you’d run into your ex and your former best friend, right?”

I clammed up. On the night of yoi-yoi-yama, my ex-boyfriend and best friend apologized to me in front of all of our friends. It felt like I was on a bed of nails. That was when Holmes came in dashingly and saved me.

“When I thought that you might be crying, I couldn’t sit still. I wanted to protect you,” he said, looking straight at me. I felt dizzy again. “But as I said, I wasn’t aware of it at the time. It wasn’t until after the encounter with Ensho at Genko-an that I thought, ‘I might be in love with you.’ Akihito interrupted me before I could accidentally say it out loud, though, and I came back to my senses.”

I raised my hands to my mouth in surprise. Back then, Holmes had taken my hand and said, “Aoi, I...” Apparently he’d realized his feelings and was about to say, “I might be in love with you.” I honestly couldn’t believe it. But thinking back, what happened at the Gion Festival also happened at Shinkokan on Valentine’s Day and the gathering of appraisers at the Saito residence. He always came to my rescue. He’s always been protecting me. Sometimes he nonchalantly steps forward, risking his own life...

Warmth welled up in my chest and tears spilled down my face. Holmes took his handkerchief out of his pocket as usual and gently wiped my tears.

“I’m sorry for surprising you. I didn’t mean to confess my feelings for a while longer, but...”

“How come...?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Holmes made a troubled expression. “Because you’re still a seventeen-year-old high school student... When I realized how I felt, I decided to wait until you graduated. But the longer I was with you, the more I began to worry if it was all right to go so slowly. My own feelings had grown stronger too, after all. So I decided to at least wait until you turned eighteen. But today, when I was in a life-threatening situation, the first thing I thought was that I wished I could’ve confessed my feelings. And I resolved to do so once I got back...”

I couldn’t stop crying at his words.

He touched my shoulder and brought his face closer to mine. “I love you, Aoi...”

Between the relief that Holmes had returned safe and sound, the discovery that our feelings had been mutual all this time, and most of all, the fact that he was about to kiss me, my mind was in absolute chaos. Everything went silent—I could only hear my heartbeat reverberating through my body.

Just when he’d come close enough for our noses to touch, he sighed and straightened back up. “Unfortunately, we’re being interrupted.” He smiled wryly and slumped his shoulders.

“H-Huh?” Confused, I turned around just in time to hear the door chime.

“Kiyotaka!” The manager ran inside.

“Holmes, you’re back?!”

“Kiyotaka’s back?!”

Akihito and the owner followed suit.

So that’s what he meant. Phew, that was close. I turned away to hide my beet-red face, secretly relieved.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.” Holmes bowed deeply to everyone.

“Kiyotaka...” The owner looked Holmes up and down. Upon confirming that he wasn’t injured, he smiled in relief—but quickly switched to a sharp glare and yelled, “So where’s the tea bowl?! You got it back, right?”

“Yes, it’s right here.” Holmes pointed at the wooden box on the counter with his right hand.

“O-Oh,” the owner murmured. He looked inside the box and broke out into a wide, happy grin. He must be overjoyed that Holmes safely brought it back.

“I truly am sorry.” Holmes bowed again.

“You did well.” The owner immediately turned around after saying those three short words and left the store.

“Wh-Wha? Why’d he leave?” Akihito asked, tilting his head in confusion.

I think I know why. The owner’s eyes were moist with tears. Tears of relief, joy, and pride. He probably didn’t want us to see them.

“I’m surprised you really did stay here the entire time, Akihito,” Holmes said. “Since you weren’t in the store, I thought you left already.”

“What?! I was worried, you know?!”

“Yes, I know. Thank you. I appreciate what you did this time.”

“O-Oh. It’s kind of gross when you thank me honestly like that.”

“Could you refrain from calling it gross?” Holmes said coldly. He looked at us as a group and said, “Aoi, Dad, Akihito, I’m sorry for the trouble I caused.”

“It’s fine,” the manager said, smiling gently. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Yeah, just treat me to something next time!” Akihito shouted.

“Sure. I don’t think it’ll quite make up for it, but I’ll treat you to dinner at Mishima Restaurant tonight,” Holmes said, smiling and placing his hand on his chest.

“Sweet! That’s an expensive sukiyaki and shabu-shabu place, right? I’m starving!”

“C-Come to think of it, I am too,” I said. I hadn’t eaten properly since yesterday.

“No, Kiyotaka, I’ll pay,” said the manager.

“It’s fine,” Holmes said, laughing and opening the door. The bell chimed.

Upon confirming that everyone was outside, Holmes locked the door tightly. Akihito and the manager walked ahead of us.

“Um...” Holmes murmured softly.

“Yes?” I looked up at him.

“Could we...hold hands?” he asked, averting his eyes out of embarrassment.

A tingling sensation ran up and down my body. “Y-Yes, I don’t mind.” I nodded shyly, looking down at the ground.

“In that case...” He took my hand in his and held it firmly. Now it felt like all of the blood in my body was heating up. This isn’t even the first time we’ve held hands, though.

I looked up at Holmes and he covered his mouth with his other hand. “Rats, I made a mistake,” he said, reverting to his Kyoto accent.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Why did I pick such a close restaurant when we’re holding hands? I should’ve picked something farther away.”

“H-Holmes...”

His pale skin had become noticeably flushed, making me blush harder as well. We stood next to each other, holding hands, rooted in place in front of Kura.

Akihito stopped walking and turned around, only to look extremely exasperated by what he saw. “What the heck are they doing?”

“Akihito, I’m probably more shocked than you are,” the manager said. “I’ve never seen Kiyotaka like that before...but it’s a relief that he is a normal child after all.”

“A normal child? He’s your own son, right?”

“Yes, of course. Well... Let’s go to the restaurant first, Akihito.”

“Yeah. Jeez, he was giving me that lecture about rationalizations and now he’s blushing over holding hands? Is he an elementary schooler?”

“Rationalizations?”

“Uh, never mind. It’s something between him and me.”

Holmes and I watched Akihito and the manager from afar as they went into Mishima Restaurant, laughing to themselves. We awkwardly looked at each other.

“Aoi...”

“Yes?”

“I’ll be in your care,” he said, with a gentle yet firm look in his eyes.

“Yes, same here.” I bowed.

A refreshing breeze blew past us, carrying the scent of fresh leaves. Today is the last day of spring break. Tomorrow, my new life begins. My heart leapt at the thought of the wonderful days to come.

...I hadn’t yet realized it at the time. Holmes is quite an eccentric, and sometimes he’s wicked. He’s considerate, but he has a bit of a selfish side. On top of that, he’s blackhearted—definitely not straightforward at all. Joining hands with him was going to put my heart through a great deal of turmoil and get me caught up in all sorts of new cases—but that’s a story for later.

“Shall we go?” he asked.

“Okay.”

Under the rose madder sky, I held his hand tighter and we started walking. On this special day, the two of us took a new step forward.