Chapter 4: Investigation Results

1

Rikyu came to Kura the next Saturday. The door opened right as the grandfather clock chimed three o’clock.

“I’m here, Kiyo.” He raised one hand and cheerfully entered the store. Today he was wearing a newsboy cap, a white shirt with a fashionable necktie, and fairly tight shorts. A messenger bag hung diagonally from his shoulder. The outfit looks good on him, but...is he cosplaying as something?

Holmes, who’d been checking the inventory, turned around and smiled, binder in hand. “Oh, welcome, Rikyu. Are you dressed as a young detective?”

“Yep. Of course you’d know.”

“You’ve always been one to prioritize appearances.”

Not that Holmes is any different...

“Thanks.” Rikyu giggled shyly.

Um, I don’t think that was a compliment.

“Here’s the results of my investigation.” Rikyu placed a brown envelope on the counter and sat down. The envelope was tied with string and had the word “CONFIDENTIAL” stamped on it. It was extremely over the top.

“This looks promising,” Holmes said, going around to the other side of the counter and picking up the envelope. “Oh, let me make coffee first.” He put the envelope back down.

“No, I’ll make tea today,” Rikyu said. “I brought some nice black tea, so you can relax and read my report.”

“Thank you. The tea you make is wonderful, so I’m looking forward to it.” Holmes sat down, looking happy, and took the report out of the envelope.

I put down the feather duster and hurried to the kitchenette. “Rikyu, do you want me to help you?” I asked hesitantly.

As expected, Rikyu shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll make it for you too since I have no choice, so sit down.” He took three sets of cups and saucers out of the cupboard.

“Rikyu is very skilled at brewing tea, befitting his namesake,” came Holmes’s voice from the counter. Rikyu was named after Sen no Rikyu, a famous tea master. “Come have a seat, Aoi. There aren’t any customers, so you can take a break.”

“Okay.” I hesitantly sat down next to Holmes. Normally I sat across from him, but if a customer arrived, I’d notice faster if I was next to him. This also gave me a good view of Rikyu brewing tea.

First, he poured hot water from the kettle into a glass teapot and the cups to warm them up. Then he emptied the teapot and added three servings’ worth of tea leaves. After that, when the water in the kettle boiled, he poured it into the teapot and quickly put on the lid. He looked down at his watch, and about three minutes later, he stirred the contents of the teapot with a spoon. Once the color of the tea was consistent, he skillfully poured it into the cups. Usually it was the scent of coffee that wafted through the store, but today it was the nice smell of black tea.

“Thanks for waiting, Kiyo.” Rikyu placed a cup and saucer in front of Holmes, then me, and lastly in front of his own seat, before sitting down.

“Thank you, Rikyu,” I said, quickly bringing the cup to my mouth. I couldn’t help but smile at its rich aroma and flavor. Even though there wasn’t any sugar in it, it tasted faintly sweet. I’d always found the taste of black tea somewhat harsh, but this was a new flavor to me. “It really is delicious...” I can understand why Holmes openly praised it.

“Well thanks,” Rikyu said bluntly. He did smile, though, seeming genuinely happy. He has an angelic smile, but it’s too bad about his personality...

Holmes, however, was engrossed in reading the report and didn’t even touch his teacup. He gets into this focused mode sometimes, like when he’s standing in front of the bookshelf, absorbed in an art textbook. When he’s like that, he doesn’t even notice when you call his name. It makes me worry about whether he can watch the store by himself, but apparently he reacts to the sound of the door chime, so customers don’t go unnoticed.

Rikyu seemed well aware that Holmes was in that state, so he didn’t try to talk to him. He simply sipped his tea and nodded, satisfied.

When Holmes finished reading the report, he said, “I’m impressed with how much you found.”

“Yeah, our student council president’s a girl, so I hugged her from behind and asked,” Rikyu said smoothly. I imagined him sweetly embracing a glasses-wearing, smart-looking student council president. But...

“Sh-She didn’t get mad at you for that?” I blurted out.

Rikyu shrugged. “Of course she got mad at first. She was like, ‘Takiyama, that’s sexual harassment!’ So I went, ‘Wow, so you do think of me as a guy! You always treat me like a girl, which I don’t like,’ and put on a sad face. That got her feeling sympathetic, so I pretended to be teary-eyed and said, ‘I was close with Shirasaki, so I can’t believe what happened. Do you know anything? Even the slightest information would help.’ I was able to pry the information out of her that way.”

I was lost for words.

Holmes, on the other hand, smiled in amusement and said, “That’s a technique that only you can pull off.”

“Really? I think you could too, Kiyo. Especially if it’s an older woman—you’d win her over in a heartbeat. You should try it.” Rikyu flashed me a mischievous grin. Startled, I slumped my shoulders.

“Could I? In that case, I think I’ll try it on Aoi,” Holmes said. This time I was startled for a different reason. I blushed and Rikyu grimaced.

“Anyway, Haruka helped with the investigation too,” Rikyu said, quickly changing the topic.

“She did?” Holmes blinked. “Oh, Haruka is Rikyu’s childhood friend. They’re the same age and go to the same school,” he explained for me.

“Yeah. She knows a lot of people and she doesn’t tell secrets. She did well.”

“I’ll have to thank her, then.”

“It’s fine, I’ll do it. I’m the one who asked her to help. Anyway, you’ll do me a favor now, right?”

“Of course. I did promise you I would. What do you want?”

What would Rikyu ask Holmes for? I felt kind of nervous.

“I want you to go to Tokyo with me sometime. Dad called me over, and I don’t want it to be just the two of us.” Rikyu slumped his shoulders.

“Tokyo...? All right, then. It’ll have to be after these cases are resolved, but I can squeeze in a two-day trip.”

“Yes!” Rikyu raised his hands in the air.

“However, from this report, it seems that there was more to Suguru Shirasaki than met the eye,” Holmes said, looking back down at the documents. There was a picture of the boy in question on the first page. He was wearing his school uniform blazer and looked like any other third-year high school student. His smile made him look completely harmless. “Suguru Shirasaki, seventeen years old. His father works at a bank, and his mother is a piano teacher. His grades were among the highest in his school, he was the head of the disciplinary committee, the teachers trusted him—in other words, he was a model student. But that was only a front.”

“A front?” I looked up at Holmes.

“Yes. It would appear that he was quite two-faced.”

Like you? I secretly thought to myself.

“Not like me,” Holmes answered smoothly, reading my mind. I choked on my tea.

“His family was well-off, his grades were top-notch, and all of the teachers trusted him,” Holmes continued. “He was at the top of the school caste.”

I imagined a pyramid diagram in my head. School castes are often talked about. There’s a depressingly clear hierarchy in place from the bottom tier to the top.

“And apparently he was the leader of a vicious group of bullies.”

“Bullies...?”

“Yes. Behind the scenes, he was making it so that everyone would ignore the people who he didn’t like or who went against him. But since it never became public, he was never seen as a concern. Instead, everyone had the impression that ‘Shirasaki is a nice person, but you don’t want to make him angry.’ However, it would seem that the student council president had seen through him. Also, the other disciplinary committee members were in on it. One of them, a student named Yohei Sato, worked particularly closely with him. You could say that he was Shirasaki’s right-hand man.” Holmes laid out the information about the disciplinary committee members on the counter and pointed at Yohei Sato. “He lives alone in an apartment in Nishioji while his parents live overseas. Shirasaki visited it quite often... If only we knew what this apartment was like,” Holmes said, crossing his arms.

“The apartment?” Rikyu tilted his head. “I’ve been there before. Since he lives alone, he uses it for small gatherings and discussions.”

“Was there a hanging scroll there?”

“Yeah. It was in the only bedroom and it made a pretty strong impression.”

“It was a hanging scroll of General Mekira, right?” Holmes asked confidently.

“Yep, Shuei Akutagawa’s.”

“Bingo.” Holmes put on a satisfied smile.

“Um, how did you know that this...Yohei Sato had a hanging scroll of General Mekira in his room?” I asked.

“Because he’s to the west, right?” Rikyu answered easily.

“Oh...”

“Rikyu is correct,” Holmes said. “The answer is simple. The Twelve Divine Generals represent twelve directions. Sato lives to the west of central Kyoto, while Shirasaki lives to the southeast. The possibility that they were connected crossed my mind.”

“S-So is Shirasaki really behind the art thefts, then?”

“No. Try to remember—which artwork was in Shirasaki’s room?”

“U-Umm, it was a copper ornament of Sakra.”

“Do you remember who originally owned it?”

“Huh...?” Who was it again? The creator was Murakami, but the owner was someone else. Did we even talk about the owner to begin with? Suddenly, someone came to mind. “Oh... Was it Representative Amamiya?”

“Correct. Sakra’s owner was Representative Amamiya. However, he withdrew his claim, saying that it ‘wasn’t stolen.’”

“R-Right. He said his son took it.” Everything was coming back to me.

“And that son didn’t seem to be Shiro.”

“Yes, you said that it was probably his hidden son, Hiro.”

“Let’s assume that Hiro took the painting, and now it’s in Shirasaki’s room. Do you know what this means?”

“It means...there’s a connection between Hiro and Shirasaki?”

“Yes. I’ll investigate what this connection is...but it’s all coming together now.” Holmes tapped the files on Suguru Shirasaki with his finger.

“Yeah,” Rikyu said, nodding. “Oh right.” He looked up. “Kiyo, you said you were going to a mental health seminar as part of the investigation. What happened with that?”

“Oh, I wanted to ask that too,” I said. Holmes and Komatsu had already attended the seminar several times by now.

“The second time was the price listed on the flyer, but from the third time onwards, the price skyrocketed to thirty thousand yen.” Holmes smiled in amusement, placing his hand on his chest.

“Th-Thirty thousand yen?” I squeaked.

“Yes. They didn’t force us to pay, but they said, ‘The price up until now has been for people who wanted a little bit of relief. From now on, only the people who truly want to be saved should come. Thirty thousand isn’t a low sum, but when you consider that this will change your life, I think it’s quite cheap.’ Half of the people quit the seminar after that. Phrased differently, half of them stayed.”

“You and Komatsu stayed, right?” I asked.

“Of course. Then, after the third seminar, we were invited to a three-day camp. Perhaps we were accepted as official members.”

“A camp?” Rikyu and I asked in unison.

“They rent a martial arts dojo in Ohara and train their minds and bodies. Apparently you can go whenever you like as long as it’s from Friday to Sunday. The cost is sixty thousand yen, or thirty thousand for students.”

My eyes widened. “W-Wow, that’s expensive.”

Rikyu smirked and rested his chin in his hands. “It’s a clever price, though. It’s high, but it’s not out of reach. Adults and students could both pay it if they tried.”

“Yes, I thought so too,” Holmes said. “As I expected, the seminar became more and more suspicious.”

“You’re going to the camp, right?” Rikyu asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Yes, of course. Once I infiltrate that dojo, I’ll know the true state of affairs.”

Rikyu immediately put on a serious face. “Are you going to be okay? Won’t it be dangerous? Underground organizations can be involved with that kind of stuff, right?” He seemed amused up until now, but his attitude changed when Holmes was going to enter the storm. Looks like he’s still serious about protecting him.

“I’ll be fine. I might need your help again, though, Rikyu.”

“You can count on me,” Rikyu said proudly, sticking out his chest.

“Rikyu is one of Holmes’s Twelve Divine Generals, huh?” I giggled.

Rikyu gave me an upset look. “I can protect Kiyo by myself. He doesn’t need twelve guardians.”

“Oh, right.” I nodded in vague understanding.

Holmes chuckled. “Besides, if Rikyu was a Divine General, that’d make me... Oh.” His eyes widened and he put his hand over his mouth.

“Holmes?”

“What’s wrong, Kiyo?”

Holmes said nothing and opened the cabinet behind the counter. He rummaged around for a bit before taking out a booklet and flipping through its pages. “Not here.” He put the booklet down. Before I knew it, there was a stack of booklets and pamphlets on the counter.

“What are you looking for, Holmes?”

“A picture of the hanging scroll that was stolen from Kunishiro.” He took out a booklet about Buddhist art, flipped through it, and added it to the pile.

“Kunishiro’s hanging scroll?”

“Yes, I just remembered the painting I saw as a child. Vividly, at that.” He took out another booklet and frowned. “Not here either. Oh right.” He brought over something that looked like a photo album.

“Is that an album?”

“Yes, this is from when I was in elementary school. I don’t remember the contents too well, but I think we took a picture when we visited his house.” He placed the album on the counter and flipped through it. My eyes were treated to page after page of adorable pictures of Holmes as a child, but now wasn’t the time to appreciate them.

“It’s here,” Holmes said, stopping at one of the pages. In the photo, Kunishiro, the owner, and Holmes were sitting in a row in a Japanese-style room. There was a hanging scroll on the wall behind them—the Yakushi Nyorai one that Kunishiro was devastated about losing. In it, the Buddha was looking down and looked absolutely beautiful, like a goddess.

I gasped, immediately understanding what Holmes was getting at. The Yakushi Nyorai in the painting looks just like Yuko.

2

Meanwhile, Komatsu was north of Kyoto, paying a visit to Ohara at Holmes’s request. Though he’d lived in Kyoto before, it was his first time going to Ohara. “Whoa...” he murmured at the endless expanse of greenery. He walked along in the tranquil atmosphere, impressed that there was a mountain village a mere hour’s bus ride from central Kyoto. The mountain, trees, and moss were beautifully, dazzlingly green. He closed his eyes and smiled at the soothing sounds of flowing water and wind rustling through fresh green leaves. This must be what true luxury is...but thinking that way must mean that I’ve grown old, he thought self-deprecatingly.

“Kyoto... Ohara... Sanzen-in, huh?” Just when it seemed like the quiet, natural scenery would go on forever, he arrived at the road connecting Sanzen-in Temple and Jakko-in Temple, which was lined with busy gift shops and teahouses.

Komatsu recalled Kiyotaka’s suggestion: “While you’re there, why don’t you visit Sanzen-in Temple? You’re tired, right? It’ll make you feel refreshed.” Back then he’d replied with a noncommittal, “Sure, if I feel like it.” But now, he felt himself drawn to the temple road.

Sanzen-in Temple was a monzeki temple, meaning that its head priest was a member of the imperial family or an aristocrat. Like a castle, it was surrounded by a stone wall, giving it a grand, dignified appearance.

Komatsu passed through the gate, paid the admission fee, and then started on the designated route through the temple. From the austere reception hall, which was thought to be built by Hideyoshi Toyotomi, he saw Shuheki Garden and stopped to admire its clean, natural beauty. He felt like he was looking at a painting on a scroll. He stood there fascinated for a while before slowly proceeding into the hallway towards the main building, which was called Shinden. The Yakushi Nyorai statue in Shinden had a very benevolent face. Awed by its divinity, Komatsu pressed his hands together in prayer. Next was the outside corridor leading to Yusei Garden, a moss garden that was called “The Treasure of the East.” Komatsu breathed in and said, “Sure feels like the Buddhist ‘pure land’ here.” Sparkling sun rays shone through the trees as he walked.

Next was the Ojo Gokuraku-in hall, where there were beautiful golden statues of the Amida Triad. These were all National Treasures. In the garden past it, there were cute little statues called “laughing Jizo.” They reminded Komatsu of when his daughter was young, and his heart ached. He came to a stop and looked down to see two young girls passing by him.

“There’s gold water over there that’ll give you a longer life,” one of them said. “The guide says to wash your hands in it for good luck.”

“Let’s go!”

Komatsu looked back up and smiled. He left Sanzen-in Temple, thinking, I’m glad I came here. Outside the gate, he turned around and looked up at the sky, overcome with feelings of gratitude. I didn’t think it’d heal me this much. I’ll have to thank the kid.

“Now then, time to find that dojo and do some questioning.” He walked along the trail with light steps. The dojo was deeper in the mountain. The cypress fence was brand new, but the dojo itself had a very traditional appearance, with a tiled roof reminiscent of an old mountain temple. There was a wooden sign that said “Akashi Takezo Aikido Dojo” hanging from the tightly shut gate. There was also a paper notice that said “We are currently not accepting new disciples. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

I can’t see much past the fence, but there’s probably people here. I’ll walk around the perimeter and see if I can find anyone.

The property was quite large, about the size of a school campus. The building seemed to be one story, with the dojo hall itself and other Japanese-style rooms. The trees in the yard were a majestic sight too.

Well, I’ll be going inside later anyway, so I’ll leave that for now. Komatsu left the dojo and went to a nearby soba restaurant.

“Welcome,” greeted a plump lady with a gentle smile. She looked past middle age, but not quite elderly yet. “Are you sightseeing at Sanzen-in?” she asked, pouring water into a cup and placing it on the table.

“Yeah, something like that.” Looks like she’s a talkative one. That’s good.

Komatsu ordered the tempura and soba set, looked up, and said, “I’m actually a journalist. I’m writing an article about Kyoto and martial arts.”

“Ooh, martial arts?”

“There’s an aikido dojo over there, right?” He turned to face the direction of the dojo.

“Oh... They’re not active anymore. The instructor retired and there was some fuss over whether to sell the dojo or not. It looks like it’s being rented out now.”

“Rented?”

“Mmhm. The renters came by once and said they’re using it for their cram school’s training camps. They leave their smartphones and stuff at home, meditate and chant sutras, and then focus on their studies. I see a lot of kids come on the weekend on a minibus.”

“I see...” Komatsu put his hand on his mouth. “Um, have you seen this child before?” He took his phone out of his pocket and showed her a picture of Yuko.

“What a pretty girl. I haven’t seen her before, though. Is she missing or something?”

“She’s my daughter...and she ran away from home.”

“Oh dear, you must be so worried.”

“I thought she might’ve gone to the training camp.”

“I know kids go there, but I don’t know their faces because they go straight inside from the minibus. At first I was hoping they’d come to my restaurant, but apparently they cook for themselves.” She shrugged.

“That’s too bad.”

“Yes, but sometimes one of the staff members comes here to eat. He’s a real looker.” She giggled and hit Komatsu on the shoulder.

“A looker...” Komatsu recalled the good-looking men he’d encountered. One of them was Kiyotaka Yagashira, but there was another one he’d seen recently. He remembered thinking, there’s a surprising number of good-looking guys out there. Suddenly, he gasped, picked up his bag, and took out a photograph. “Did he look like this?” He showed the woman a picture of Representative Amamiya’s illegitimate son, Hiro Haraguchi.

“Let’s see... Oh!” Her eyes widened. “That’s him.”

“So it was him...” There’s the connection. Komatsu clenched his fist under the table.

When his food arrived, he slurped some of his noodles and took his laptop out of his bag.

“Journalists always bring their laptops around so they can write anywhere, huh?” The woman placed a cup of coffee on the table. “On the house,” she said.

Komatsu thanked her and looked at the laptop screen with a serious face. “I didn’t want to do this, but...” He entered “Hiro Haraguchi,” took a deep breath, and began typing away with fervor.

3

Komatsu came to Kura at around 7 p.m., when we were already closing up shop. Rikyu was still here, reading an art textbook at the counter. Holmes was draping cloth over the shelves. I’d just opened the door after closing the curtains when the detective appeared.

“Hey,” he said, raising a hand as he entered the store.

“Good evening, Komatsu,” Holmes said, turning around and smiling.

“Sorry I’m late. I was putting together the files.” He scratched his head, ruffling his messy hair.

“Thank you,” Holmes said. He gestured towards a chair. “Please have a seat. This is Rikyu, who I said was like a younger brother to me.” He put his hand on Rikyu’s shoulder. “He’s helping us with this case.”

Rikyu immediately put on his usual adorable smile and said, “Nice to meet you, sir. My name is Rikyu Takiyama.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too,” Komatsu said. “You’re a boy, right?” He peered into Rikyu’s face.

“Yes.”

“I got witness testimony saying that Hiro Haraguchi was involved with that dojo.” Komatsu sat down, opened his bag, and took out his documents. Though he’d investigated Hiro Haraguchi before, there were many more pages this time.

“This is incredible,” Holmes said, holding the report. “You even found the hospital he was born in and his juvenile record.” He seemed impressed. “So Hiro Haraguchi was the leader of a youth biker gang when he was a student. The team’s name was ‘Idaten,’ as in the Buddhist figure. A common name among such groups.” He put his hand on his hip and smiled.

I tilted my head. “Why is Idaten a common name for biker gangs?”

“According to folklore, when the Buddha achieved nirvana, a fast-running demon stole his ashes. Idaten chased after him and retrieved them. Because of that, ‘Idaten’ is used as a synonym for a great runner.”

“Oh, so that’s why biker gangs like it.”

“That said,” Komatsu cut in, “it looks like he stopped racing on the streets after his first run-in with the cops. After that, they were just a group of rowdy delinquents. Apparently they’re still together.”

“I see he often attends Kyoto’s underground auctions,” Holmes said, slowly pacing around the store as he looked at the documents. He stopped and turned to Komatsu. “How did you obtain this much information?”

Komatsu looked away. “Uh, well, I didn’t think Amamiya’s illegitimate child was that important before. All I did this time was take it more seriously.”

Even though I wasn’t particularly perceptive, I could tell from his awkward smile that he was hiding something. Holmes definitely would’ve noticed too, but he didn’t press him. Instead, he showed him a picture. “Komatsu, please take a look at this.”

“That’s a pretty old photo, huh? Dang, the owner looks younger. And is this kiddo kneeling with perfect posture you?” He sounded amused.

“Yes.” Holmes nodded and pointed at Kunishiro. “Do you know him?”

“Nope. He looks like a bearded potter.”

“This is Kunishiro. Could you take a close look at the hanging scroll in the back?”

Komatsu squinted, then widened his eyes. “This is...”

“It looks exactly like Yuko, right?”

The painting of Yakushi Nyorai, with her downwards gaze and compassionate smile, was very realistic.

“This much of a resemblance cannot be a coincidence,” Holmes said. “Did Kunishiro have any contact with your ex-wife, Masami?”

“Yeah... They met at a party and I heard there was a lot of flirting.”

“Who said that?”

“Masami herself. She was always telling me how popular she was, and stuff like, ‘You tried so hard to win me over before we got married, but you don’t feed the fish you caught,’ and ‘It’s not like I minded it, you know.’ The artist Kunishiro was one of them, and—oh right, she said the Yagashira owner hit on her too.”

Owner... My face stiffened.

“My grandfather simply thinks that it would be rude not to ask a beautiful woman on a date. He wasn’t seriously making a move on her. But the fact that she brazenly told you so means that she may not have felt guilty about it.”

“Who knows?” Komatsu shrugged.

“There’s no doubt that Kunishiro painted this Yakushi Nyorai out of his attraction to Masami. The problems are twofold: that Yuko was the spitting image of her mother, and that this hanging scroll was stolen.”

Komatsu and I silently waited for Holmes’s next words.

“Here is my hypothesis. A group of thieves tried to sell the painting, but since it didn’t go for as much as they expected, they put it up for auction instead. There, Hiro Hiroguchi saw it. Considering that he named his gang Idaten, he may have been fascinated by Buddhism. Attracted to the realistic depiction of Yakushi Nyorai, he won the bid and was later shocked when he saw Yuko in a magazine.”

“Since there was a girl who looked exactly like Yakushi Nyorai...” I murmured.

“Yes. I wouldn’t know if it was out of romantic love or some other emotion, but the point is that he wanted to ‘obtain’ Yuko.”

Komatsu leaned forward. “I-If it wasn’t love, then what was it?”

“A symbolic reason?” Rikyu said, resting his chin in his hands.

“What?” Komatsu looked back and forth between Holmes and Rikyu.

“I agree,” Holmes said.

“What symbol?” Komatsu asked.

Suddenly, the door chime rang, and a young man in a suit and tie entered. He wore glasses and looked like a nervous office worker. It was someone we knew.

“Uncle Kazuhiko...” Rikyu said, eyes wide open. The man was Kazuhiko Shinohara, Rikyu’s uncle and the third son of Ukon Saito. He worked as an accountant.

“What brings you here, Kazuhiko?” Holmes sounded surprised.

“Sorry for coming by after closing. I heard you were looking into the stolen art pieces.” Kazuhiko bowed apologetically.

“Oh yeah,” Rikyu said. “You were a victim too, right?”

“Yeah. My Kongo Rikishi sculpture was stolen.” Kazuhiko sighed.

“I’ll make coffee, so please have a seat,” Holmes said, pulling out a chair.

“Thanks.” Kazuhiko sat down, Komatsu and Rikyu moving slightly aside to give him more room.

“Long time no see, Kazuhiko,” I said, bowing.

“Oh, Aoi. You look like you’ve grown up since we last met. You’re prettier now.”

“Th-Thank you.” I looked down, embarrassed.

Rikyu sighed loudly. “Stop that, Uncle Kazuhiko. Kiyo’s glaring at you from the kitchen.”

Kazuhiko looked towards the kitchenette and stiffened up.

“Huh?” I turned to look too and saw Holmes with a cheerful smile on his face.

Before long, Holmes came out and placed a cup of coffee in front of Kazuhiko. “Thank you for waiting.”

“Th-Thanks.” Kazuhiko bowed awkwardly and drank.

“Kazuhiko, I wanted to ask how your Kongo Rikishi sculpture was stored.”

“It was in my office, but always at the back of the shelf.”

“Why is that?”

“It was a great sculpture, but the rest of my decorations are Western-style, so it didn’t fit the theme. Before I knew it, it was gone. I came today because I wanted to ask what other things were stolen.”

“Ah, I see.” Holmes nodded. He took out the list of stolen items from the drawer and placed it on the counter.

Kazuhiko immediately picked it up and his eyes widened. “Now that’s a surprise. All of these are people from Unbound,” he murmured.

“Unbound?” Holmes looked up.

Kazuhiko flinched. His face clearly revealed that he’d screwed up.

“What’s ‘Unbound’?” Holmes asked again.

“Oh, uh, it’s the name of a group for modern artists.”

“Do you know much about it?”

“No, well, I only ate with them once or twice.”

“Do the members meet regularly?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. Sorry.” Kazuhiko put down the list, gulped down the rest of his coffee, and stood up, flustered. “Mom will yell at me if I’m out too late, so I have to go now. She likes the octopus and egg from Nishiki Market. You know, that salty-sweet stewed dish where they put quail eggs on top of little octopuses. I like it a lot too,” he rambled as he hurriedly left the store.

A fully-grown man saying that his mom will yell at him... I gave a strained smile.

“Man, Uncle Kazuhiko really sucks at lying,” Rikyu said, resting his chin in his hands and slumping his shoulders slightly. “That ‘Unbound’ is related to this somehow, right?”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” said Komatsu.

“Indeed. They could even be holding auctions for stolen works that can’t be sold publicly, while being artists,” said Holmes.

“No way...” Komatsu said, surprised.

I cast my eyes down. Before I worked at Kura, the idea of art theft felt like something that only happened in movies. But now I know that art thieves really do exist and are a problem. There are people in this world who want things even if they know they’re stolen. The illegal business only exists because buyers exist.

Each incident in this string of thefts occurred in a different place, but there’s a whole mess of connections between them. Maybe there’s a single thread that links everything. I hugged myself, feeling chilly all of a sudden.