Chapter 2: A House Built on Sand

1

I was able to make lots of memories with Holmes that summer. In July, we went to the Gion Festival and Shimogamo Shrine’s Mitarashi Festival. In August, we went to see the fireworks show at Lake Biwa and Gozan no Okuribi, the five ceremonial bonfires.

“Gozan no Okuribi really has a special atmosphere,” I said as we watched the bonfires from the Takano riverbed.

Holmes smiled in amusement. “Last year, you called it the Daimonji bonfires. You’ve become a real Kyoto resident, Aoi.”

“That’s because you corrected me.”

We laughed as we walked along the riverside.

At the end of August, Holmes and I went to see the floating paper lanterns on the inlet at Takase River. I also helped out at my local Jizo Festival at my mother’s request.

The Jizo Festival was held on and around August 24th. Typically, small celebrations were held around the Jizo statues found on street corners and whatnot. Since it was a festival for Jizo, the protector of children, the adults that lived in the area put up stalls with fun activities for kids, like water balloon fishing and ring toss. My mother was on the district board, so I got roped into helping.

Working as festival staff in the late summer heat was quite an ordeal but seeing the children’s happy faces made all of my fatigue disappear. As staff, we took turns taking breaks, ate the curry that the district board members made for us, and had fun conversations. Holmes came to bring me refreshments, which caused a big commotion around us.

So ended my summer vacation, and then it was fall, which meant it was back to studying for entrance exams for me, and Holmes continued to help me as my tutor.

One mid-autumn day, a special program about appraising aired on TV. For a while after that, Kura was flooded with customers wanting their antiques appraised.

“Please appraise this plate.”

“I brought a hanging scroll.”

“Can you do my tea bowl next?”

It was probably a temporary spike in business, but it was a spike nonetheless. On any normal day, there was no way customers would have to wait in line for an appraisal.

“The TV effect is incredible,” I said, unable to hide my astonishment.

Holmes chuckled. “Even if it’s temporary, I’m happy about it. That said, it seems like most of them only want to know how much their antiques are worth.” He walked over to where the customers were waiting and sat down in front of the counter.

I felt conflicted. I could understand why a TV program made them curious about the value of their antiques at home, but it seemed sort of shameless.

Holmes put on his usual white gloves and began appraising the items. First was the customer with the plate. He stared intently at it and said, “This is in the style of Imari ware, but it’s mass-produced and the design is printed on. I’d say it’s worth...about a thousand yen.”

“O-Only a thousand?” The customer’s eyes widened. They looked back and forth between the plate and Holmes.

“Yes. The size makes it rather convenient, and it’s a lovely color. Please use it well,” Holmes said with a smile. He bowed to the customer as they walked away dumbfounded. “Next, please.”

The next item was a hanging scroll.

“This is a replica made in the Showa period. I’d say it’s worth around five thousand yen. It’d make a great interior decoration, so I encourage you to hang it in your alcove.”

He moved briskly through the line.

“This is an imitation of a Shino tea bowl, not a real one. Oh, but authentic Shino tea bowls aren’t something you can find easily.”

The customers all slumped their shoulders in disappointment as they left the store.

“Is that appraiser trustworthy?”

“I heard he’s Seiji Yagashira’s grandson, but he’s too young for this.”

“I’m going to try another shop.”

Holmes must be hearing what they’re saying. How does he feel about it?

Then the door chime rang again.

“Welcome,” I said. I looked up and it was Yoshie. “Oh, Yoshie! Wait...”

Her eyes were red and puffy. Holmes stood up, immediately noticing that something was wrong.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

Suddenly, Yoshie crouched down and broke down into tears.

“Yoshie?!” I asked.

“What on earth happened?” Holmes asked. “Please sit down.”

We quickly ran up to her and helped her make her way to the sofa.

2

When Yoshie had calmed down, Holmes brought us hot chocolate.

“Here you go.”

He must have thought that something sweet would help her relax.

“Thank you, Kiyotaka.” Yoshie sipped her drink, looking like she was still on the verge of tears.

“So, what happened?” Holmes asked again, sitting down across from her.

“W-Well...” Tears rose to her eyes once more.

“A-Are you okay, Yoshie?” I asked, panicking.

Holmes quietly waited for her to continue.

“You see...” she began.

Yoshie’s story was as follows: her period hadn’t come for about two months now, and she had secretly thought she might be pregnant. Even though there were risks associated with giving birth at her age, she’d wanted to have the child of the person she loved—but she hadn’t known if the owner would accept it.

I couldn’t contain my shock. I mean, the owner’s in his late seventies. Is it even possible to conceive a child at that age? Moreover, while I obviously knew that Yoshie and the owner were lovers, I thought it was more of a...spiritual thing. I didn’t realize it was a physical relationship too. I shook my head, not wanting to think about it too deeply.

Holmes, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed. “And you went to the hospital today?” he asked softly.

“Yes, and they said my cycle was just irregular because of my age. I’m not pregnant.” She sniffed.

“Did that come as a shock to you?”

“W-Well, yes, but that was just the funny part of the story.”

Phew. So she wasn’t actually sobbing over that.

“So then I told Seiji what happened,” she continued. “I said my period hadn’t come in two months, and I thought I might be pregnant, but it turned out I’m just getting old. It’s a funny story, right? And then I asked, ‘What would you have done if I really was pregnant?’”

“Oh, I can see why you’d ask that,” I said. If I were in her position, I would’ve asked too.

“And Seiji said, ‘It’s the woman who struggles with either option, so I’d let you decide. I’d recognize the child as mine and provide support, and if you didn’t want to raise them, I’d take them in myself. But I wouldn’t be able to marry you.’” She sobbed again. “It was just a what-if scenario since I’m not actually pregnant, but he said it so strongly!”

I really sympathized with her. The owner might have said that because of how old he was, but it still would’ve been a shock to be told, “I won’t marry you.”

“And then I remembered...a rumor I heard about Seiji before,” she said.

A rumor about the owner?

“I heard that he and his ex-wife, Tsubaki, separated in a horrible way. The public thinks his wife got fed up with his free-spirited nature and left him, but in reality, she was dying from an illness, and he shoved divorce papers at her, saying, ‘I don’t need a dying wife.’ I couldn’t believe the rumor when I heard it, but what if Seiji really does have that sort of attitude towards marriage?” She slumped forward onto the counter, bawling her eyes out.

Holmes looked at her with a pained expression. He’d told me before about the circumstances that had led to Tsubaki and the owner’s divorce. I recalled what he’d said when we met her...

“First of all, I hear that the reason why my grandfather left you was because after you got married, he saw you ailing from an illness that wouldn’t go away, and he thought he’d become a god of pestilence.”

“Apparently a shaman told him in the past, ‘Because you have defeated everything in your way and obtained all you could want, there is a potent karma swirling around you. However, you are under your ancestors’ powerful protection, so no harm will befall you. Instead, all of the karma will go to your spouse.’”

“Don’t worry—the story itself is nonsense. However, it’s true that grandma could not recover from her disease. After giving birth to my father, she fell deathly ill. When my grandfather saw her suffering, he was convinced that he’d become a god of pestilence and resolved to leave her.”

The story had come as a shock to me as well. Come to think of it, Tsubaki had laughed and said, “Yes, but it was such a shock to receive his farewell letter and the divorce papers while I was being treated at my family’s home. I think the anger sent my illness flying.” The part about shoving divorce papers at her and saying, “I don’t need a dying wife” was probably embellished by the rumors.

“It’s true, but it happened a bit differently,” Holmes said. He told Yoshie the same story that he’d told me, about what the shaman had told the owner on his wedding day.

Because of that, he thought it was his own fault that Tsubaki was ill...

“My grandfather broke off his marriage with my grandmother because he thought he’d become a god of pestilence. He was worried about what the shaman said. It was a false assumption, but after that, my grandmother did recover and become healthy. Because of that, my grandfather appears to have sworn not to marry again. Still, I thought he would’ve forgotten about the shaman’s diagnosis a long time ago. Apparently, he’s still letting it control him.”

Holmes looked down with a sorrowful expression. Neither Yoshie nor I were able to say anything else.

3

After that, Yoshie staggered out of the store. Kura was again shrouded in silence. Her bawling and the owner’s past had come as a great shock. It was too much to take in all at once.

Holmes took a deep breath and said, “At any rate, I was surprised when she said she might’ve been pregnant. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

“Y-Yes, that was a surprise.”

It was a bit of a relief to know that he’d been surprised too behind his calm face. I thought I was the only one who’d been flustered. It has to be a shock when your grandparent has a baby. That said, it’s strange for Holmes to say, “I didn’t know what I was going to do.” Was it so surprising for him because he’s the owner’s grandson? I covered my mouth and giggled.

“If she really were pregnant and gave birth, I’d definitely be the one raising the child,” he said, sighing deeply.

“Huh?”

“My grandfather and Yoshie are always traveling from place to place for work. They’d absolutely shove their baby at me, saying, ‘Kiyotaka, babysit for us.’ While I listened to Yoshie’s story, I envisioned myself standing here in the store with a baby on my back and a bottle in one hand, and I felt faint and light-headed.” He rested his chin in his hands, a distant look in his eyes.

He’s right, now that he mentioned it. If those two really did have a baby, they would definitely make Holmes help them. The image of Holmes standing in the shop with a baby on his back was so easy to visualize that I burst out laughing. “Y-Yeah, they’d definitely make you babysit.”

“Right? Even though my head was spinning, there was a part of me in the back of my mind that thought, ‘I need to buy a book about childcare.’”

“You’re pretty into the idea, huh?” It’s just like him to think that, though.

“To be honest, I was also happy. It felt like I was getting a younger brother, although he’d technically be my uncle.”

“Your uncle!” Right—if the owner had a son with Yoshie, that child would be Holmes’s uncle.

“When I heard she wasn’t pregnant, I felt a bit relaxed, since I had run so many simulations in my head in that short period of time. And now I even feel a sense of loss.” He smiled happily.

“Loss? So you were excited about the idea.” I giggled. “Anyway, the owner sure is, uh, young,” I murmured, finding it difficult to get the words out. Why did I even say that out loud? I blushed, suddenly overcome with embarrassment.

“My grandfather is...a monster, in many ways. That said, there are many men who have had children in their old age. Some famous examples would be Picasso, who had a child at the age of sixty-eight, and Fabre, who had one at seventy.”

“But the owner is even older than that!”

“He is indeed.”

As we were laughing together, the door chime rang again.

“Excuse me, I’d like to have something appraised,” said the customer.

“Of course,” Holmes replied. “Please have a seat here.”

Another wave of customers, I thought as more people began coming in.

Once they were gone, Holmes leaned back in his chair and sighed. “It’s hard to come across authentic works.” Despite that, he looked like he was having fun.

“Has anyone brought in an authentic piece during this appraisal fad?” I asked as I cleaned up the counter.

“Yes, there was one. It was a shame, though.”

“Huh?” I stopped and tilted my head.

“The other day, a customer brought in a Hozen Eiraku incense container and burner set in a wooden box. They were in the shape of cute baby turtles, but...”

Hozen Eiraku was a potter from the Edo period who had specialized in Kyo ware. He was one of the Ten Senke Artisans (an honorific title given to the ten craftsmen—such as lacquerers and woodworkers—who were involved in tea ceremonies and affiliated with the three Senke houses) and the eleventh generation of Zengoro, a line of potters who made earthenware tea stoves. Today, a single incense container by Hozen Eiraku could fetch around five hundred thousand yen.

“The container was real and the burner was fake,” Holmes continued. “I imagine the turtle-shaped burner seemed to match Hozen’s incense container to the untrained eye. Seeing them together in that beautiful box was a true shame. If only they’d both been real.” He slumped his shoulders.

“Yeah,” I said with a laugh. “It’s disappointing when people bring in counterfeits, isn’t it?”

“No, I wouldn’t say it’s disappointing. I do get excited when they bring in something real, though. It’s only natural, because authentic works of art rarely show up.” He sipped his coffee, which must’ve been cold by then.

“Oh,” I said. I decided to ask him something I’d always wondered about. “Why do you perform appraisals for free, Holmes?” Most places charged for professional appraisals. Basically, Holmes was working pro bono.

“I do it because I’m only halfway to becoming a professional. Examining many things is part of my training. Ninety percent of the things brought into this store are fake, which is why I’m so happy when I encounter something real. I enjoy it, so even if I did become a full-fledged appraiser, I’d probably still do it for free. And most of all, I want people to feel free to visit and see the antiques.” He smiled gently.

This aspect of him hasn’t changed since the day I met him.

“Isn’t it frustrating when people don’t believe you?” I asked hesitantly.

His eyes widened. “No. It’s to be expected.”

“Is it?”

“It’s understandable that they wouldn’t take a student’s appraisals seriously. Most people don’t believe me. They go to other appraisers afterwards, and some of them come back here to tell me I was right all along. I simply give them my appraisal regardless of whether they believe me or not.”

“Holmes...” I murmured, moved.

The sound of applause came from the direction of the door.

Who could that be? I didn’t sense anyone, and the door chime didn’t ring. Confused, I looked towards the door and saw a man in a hat and suit. He was holding the door chime so that it wouldn’t ring.

“Nice speech there, Holmes of Kyoto,” he said with a grin.

My body tensed, and I saw Holmes’s eyebrow twitch. It was his rival: the genius counterfeiter, Ensho.

“Well, if it isn’t Ensho. What brings you here?”

The warm air in the store seemed to freeze in an instant. Holmes placed his hands on the counter and stood up in a relaxed manner. There was no trace of a smile left on his face—his expression sent chills down my spine.

“Don’t make that scary face,” Ensho said, grinning. “I’m here to ask for an appraisal.” He took off his hat, revealing his shaved head. He held something wrapped in cloth in his left hand. In the midst of the tense atmosphere, he sat down on the sofa in front of the counter without waiting for permission. “I want you to look at this.” He put the item on the counter.

Holmes said nothing and sat down in the chair again. He had a skeptical look on his face as he put his gloves on.

The store fell silent. The only thing I heard was my pounding heart. Holmes and Ensho sat across the counter from each other. I never expected to be able to witness this sight. It was the sixth confrontation between the young genius appraiser and the genius counterfeiter.

Holmes carefully unwrapped the cloth, revealing a small box that seemed like it’d contain a tea bowl. He opened the lid, and his eyes widened. Inside was a smooth, round piece of white porcelain, small enough to fit snugly in the palm of one’s hand. It was very simple, but that simplicity reminded me of the owner’s prized Chinese celadon, which was called an utmost treasure.

“It’s...a white porcelain incense container.” Holmes gulped. Incense containers were used to store the incense to be burned in a tea ceremony room.

“Yeah, from the Joseon dynasty. Gonna take a look at it for me?” Ensho smiled fearlessly.

“Joseon white porcelain...” I murmured. Suddenly, I remembered what had happened at the Saito estate in Takagamine. Ensho had frozen upon discovering one of the Saito family’s treasures—a small white porcelain pot. Later, when Ukon had asked what we thought the most valuable object in the house was, Ensho had mumbled “the white porcelain” as his answer. Maybe he reacted that way because he had white porcelain too.

“The Joseon dynasty began in 1392 and flourished for five hundred years,” Holmes explained. “White porcelain was the favorite form of pottery during that time. It was once designated for the king’s use, and it was controlled strictly so that ordinary civilians couldn’t use it. However, as Confucianism became more widespread, porcelain vessels were allowed to be made in large quantities for ceremonial use.”

This porcelain was loved by a prosperous dynasty. It must be so valuable that you almost never come across authentic pieces.

“You can ramble on about anything, eh? Ever the knowledgeable one.” Ensho laughed mockingly.

It didn’t seem like his taunt reached its target’s ears. Holmes stared intently at the incense container and took off his gloves.

“Why’re you taking your gloves off?” Ensho asked curiously.

Holmes said nothing. He was still focused on the appraisal. He’d told me before that when a “serious” appraisal is needed for ceramics, the gloves are taken off. This incense container must’ve been valuable enough to warrant that. Ensho shrugged, crossed his arms, and watched him intently.

The Joseon white porcelain that Ensho brought in... Is it real? Or is it an elaborate forgery by this genius counterfeiter?

The store was filled with a tremendous amount of tension. How much time had passed? It must’ve only been a few minutes, but it felt like a very long time. Holmes continued to stare at the incense container. Not a single word was spoken. The silence was terrifying.

After some time, he closed his eyes and opened his mouth, saying, “It’s real. It must’ve been fired in one of the royal porcelain furnaces in Gwangju, Korea.” His voice was quiet but clear. He’d determined it to be real.

Ensho’s eyes widened for a second. Then he simply laughed in amusement, arms still crossed. Holmes narrowed his eyes in suspicion but said nothing.

Ensho stopped laughing, leaned forward, and peered into Holmes’s face. He was so close that the tips of their noses were almost touching.

“Too bad, Mr. Holmes,” he said. “That’s a fake.”

I gasped and immediately put my hand over my mouth—my first instinct had been to scream. Holmes, however, remained calm.

“That’s a counterfeit I made,” Ensho continued.

Holmes said nothing. He put the incense container into the wooden box, neatly rewrapped it in the cloth, and handed it back to Ensho. “Regardless of your claim, I’ve given you my appraisal,” he said with a firm gaze.

Ensho’s face twitched but only for a moment. He quickly put on his usual grin and said, “You’re a real sore loser, eh? Well, whatever. Thanks.” He took the wrapped box, stood up, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and left the store. By the time the door chime stopped ringing, he was out of sight.

The air in the store was still tense, and my heart was still pounding. Holmes silently put his gloves in his inner pocket.

“U-Um, Holmes...”

“That was real,” he said, as if sensing my confusion. “I don’t know what Ensho was thinking when he said that, but it was undeniably real. No matter how much of a genius he is, it’s simply impossible for it to be a fake,” he declared coldly.

I fell silent. I could tell that he wasn’t lying or being a sore loser. He was confident in his appraisal.

But what if Ensho did make something truly convincing? I’ve seen his acts of genius before. This time, he might’ve finally created something good enough to deceive Holmes. But if that’s the case, he didn’t seem as happy as I would’ve expected. When Holmes said it was real, he looked a bit surprised. Was he disappointed that Holmes couldn’t see through his forgery?

But at the same time, I can’t imagine Holmes ever getting an appraisal wrong. So it was genuine. But why would Ensho call a real antique a counterfeit? Actually, forget it. He isn’t the kind of person who’d ever fall into my realm of understanding.

I was extremely uneasy. A bad feeling was spreading in my chest, and I lowered my eyes. The mirror in the store reflected the pained expression on my face.

4

About a month passed. It was now December, and everyone in class was even more focused on entrance exams than before. I’d gotten used to the strained atmosphere.

“Hey, Aoi, are you going to Kura cram school today?” Kaori asked me after school, picking up her bag. “Kura cram school” is what we called it when I went to Kura for tutoring rather than work.

“Yeah, Holmes was at university today, but he said he’d be at the store after 4 p.m.”

“Must be nice, having an exclusive private tutor who’s a grad student at Kyoto U.”

“Y-Yeah, pretty much.”

We left the classroom. As usual, I went to the bicycle parking area, got my bike, and walked it outside the school gate. Our school allowed us to have cellphones, but we weren’t permitted to use them inside. Since I couldn’t use my phone anyway, I always kept it turned off.

I reached into my bag to get my phone with the intention of texting Holmes, “I’m on my way to the store now.”

“Aoi,” called a voice in a tone just like Holmes’s. Surprised, I instinctively smiled happily and looked up—but immediately calmed down upon realizing that the voice itself sounded completely different. How could I mistake the voice for his when it sounded so different? Is it because the tone was exactly the same?

The person standing there wasn’t Holmes. It was Ensho. I was too shocked to speak. My eyes opened wider than they ever had before.

“Was it that similar?” Ensho asked with an amused chuckle.

I stood still, not saying anything.

“Something like this happened before, right?” he continued.

It had. The first time I’d gone to the Saito estate in Takagamine, Ensho had mimicked Holmes, and I’d completely fallen for it. Back then, I’d stood completely still in shock, the same way I was doing now.

Ensho was wearing a jacket, jeans, and a cap. He gave off a completely different aura.

“Isn’t that guy kinda hot?” whispered the schoolgirls passing by.

Oh, so normal people see Ensho as a “kinda hot” guy. I feel nothing but terror, though. Why is he here? I wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come out. I could only stare at him.

“Please don’t make that scary face, Aoi,” he said, placing a hand on his chest. His tone of voice and mannerisms were such a perfect replication of Holmes’s that chills ran down my spine.

“Oh, I must have scared you too much. Sorry.” This time he spoke in a standard Japanese dialect with perfect intonation.

I shuddered. But I much prefer this over copying Holmes. “What do you need?” I asked, finally finding my voice.

“Well, you looked like you couldn’t accept how that all turned out, so I thought you might wanna know the truth.” Now he was back to his usual Kansai accent.

The truth... He’s talking about the white porcelain.

“I’m not gonna take you anywhere sketchy,” he continued. “You can keep your distance too. How about we talk in that park over there? It’s got a good view, and there are kids and housewives there too.” He pointed at a nearby park surrounded by houses.

5

In the park, small children were playing on the swings and in the sandbox while their mothers watched over them. There was a Jizo shrine at one end—something that had surprised me when I’d moved to Kyoto was that every park had one. It was normal for Jizo statues to protect the children in the parks here, and the deity had a summer festival dedicated to him.

Oh yeah, I helped with the Jizo festival last summer, I thought absentmindedly as I looked at the shrine in the park.

Ensho and I were sitting on opposite ends of a bench, and both of us had yet to say anything. Even though alarm bells were going off somewhere in my head, I had ended up here with him.

“Sure is warm today,” he said, looking up and squinting at the bright sky. He was still wearing his cap. The rest of his clothes were normal too, so he really looked like a regular guy. “Truth is, there was something else I wanted to ask Mr. Holmes for that day, not just the appraisal,” he murmured to himself.

He had a request? I was confused, but I didn’t think he was lying. Ensho had visited Kura out of the blue. It was possible that he did have a request for Holmes.

“What was your request?” I asked softly.

“It’s a secret,” he said with a mischievous grin. He really does have a completely different aura.

The park was filled with the innocent voices of children, relieving the tension that was building up. Ensho watched them from afar with a content smile. I found that strange.

Come to think of it, Holmes and Ensho both grew up without a mother. They also both grew up in an environment immersed in art. Maybe they really were mirror images of each other, both raised in a unique setting with their unique talents.

“Well, unlike Mr. Holmes, I only had a lousy father,” Ensho said with a dry smile.

It was as if he could read my mind, just like Holmes, and I shuddered. I thought I’d gotten used to Holmes figuring out what I was thinking, but it was scary coming from Ensho. He’s not normal either. I felt like I now understood why Kaori often called Holmes “scary.”

The all-too-normal atmosphere that Ensho had created now seemed like it had simply been part of his plan. I clenched my fists tightly. If I don’t focus, I’ll get dragged along with him.

“So, um...what was the truth?” I asked, looking at him with a firm gaze.

He chuckled and took a wooden box out of his sling bag. “You’ll know when you look at this.” He held it in front of me, presumably wanting me to look inside.

The box wasn’t big. In terms of antiques, it could have held a small dish.

I hesitantly took it and opened the lid. “This is...”

Inside was a white porcelain incense container, cruelly broken in half. I stared at it wordlessly.

“I don’t need it anymore, so I broke it,” Ensho said with a twisted grin.

“I don’t need it anymore, so I broke it.” Is he saying that he doesn’t need the counterfeit he made anymore because Holmes failed to expose it? Or...

“No,” I said confidently. “This isn’t the white porcelain you brought in.”

Ensho looked surprised. After a few moments, he asked, “How’d you know?” His eyes were wide open in disbelief.

“It’s obvious at a glance. This isn’t the same white porcelain.”

I could tell that it had been made to look similar, but the luster, texture, and the aura it exuded were all different.

One time, there’d been a party at the Yagashira residence where a commotion had broken out because the prized celadon piece had been shattered. The owner had immediately declared that it was a fake, and at the time, I’d been really impressed. But now, I understood exactly how he’d felt. It’s so different.

Ensho fell silent for a short time before chuckling and saying, “A connoisseur’s girlfriend’s got sharp eyes too, eh? Not bad for a high school girl. That’s a forgery I bought in China.”

So I was right. Then what about the white porcelain he brought in that day?

“This time, you aren’t denying it when I call you his girlfriend.” He peered into my face, and I recoiled slightly. He was referring to when we had last met at the Saito estate, which was before I’d started dating Holmes. Ensho had mistaken me for Holmes’s girlfriend, and I’d frantically denied it.

“Oh, so you really weren’t going out back then, but now you are?” he continued.

I blushed.

“Hey, did Mr. Holmes fall in love with your keen eyes?”

“N-No, I don’t think it was that,” I said weakly, looking down. He often tells me that I have good eyes, though. Was that part of it?

“Why’d you pick him, anyway? Isn’t he a real weirdo? Is it because he’s rich, educated, and good-looking?”

“N-No, that’s not it either...”

I had always admired Holmes’s stylish looks, but I hadn’t fallen in love with him just because of his appearance. If it were only a matter of looks, Akihito and Rikyu were good-looking too. Why was I attracted to Holmes? Right, I know why.

“We can show each other our weaknesses and embarrassing sides.”

The first time I visited Kura, I broke down into tears, and Holmes warmly accepted me. Back then, I was really ugly and helpless. I was so consumed by jealousy and hatred that I could only think about myself. I was stiff and narrow-minded. Holmes was the one who saved me from that situation, and perhaps because I’d shown him my ugly side first, he showed me his weaknesses too. Maybe that’s why we were drawn to each other—we could laugh together without having to pretend to be people we weren’t. That’s why...

“I love all of his weaknesses, his competitive and childish sides, his quirks, and his slight eccentricities.”

After saying that, I came back to my senses. Why am I telling Ensho this? My cheeks suddenly felt hot.

He grinned in amusement as if he’d read my mind. “Hey, you’re still a virgin, right?” he asked boldly.

I choked on my breath. Why does he always say these things? I should really report him for sexual harassment.

“I said it before, but I’m serious this time,” he continued. “That egotistical guy must care about you a whole lot if he’s keeping his hands off you.”

I looked down in embarrassment—and gasped when his hand touched my chin. He held it firmly and peered into my face.

“I wonder what face he’ll make if I defile you.” He put on a twisted sneer, right in front of my eyes.

I wanted to shove his hand away, but I couldn’t move. I felt like a frog being stared down by a snake. Too stiff to move, all I could do was stare back at him. His long, cold fingers wrapped around my jaw, sending chills down my spine. Though his mouth was in the shape of a smile, it didn’t reach his light brown eyes in the slightest.

When people are faced with true fear, they freeze.

Suddenly—“Aoi!”—Holmes’s voice rang through the park, bringing me back to my senses. I turned in the direction of the voice and saw Holmes hurrying towards us.

“Oh, now that’s a scary face,” Ensho said with an amused laugh.

Without saying a word, Holmes raised his fist to hit Ensho, who instantly grabbed me by the wrist and yanked me into a standing position in front of him, using me as a shield. Holmes’s fist stopped mere millimeters in front of my face. I even felt the wind from the force.

“Stopped just in the nick of time, hmm?” Ensho said mockingly in a forced Kyoto accent. “It’s a good thing you didn’t hit your girlfriend. Violence is never the answer, Mr. Holmes.” He grabbed my shoulders, laughed happily, then let go and jumped back.

“Why, you!”

I’d never seen Holmes look so angry before. He was about to chase after Ensho, who was trying to make a quick escape—but my legs gave out, and I sat down on the spot.

“Are you all right, Aoi?!” Holmes immediately took my hand.

I was so happy that he’d taken my hand instead of running after Ensho. So happy that it brought tears to my eyes. I’d been so nervous and scared that now I couldn’t stop shaking.

Holmes knelt in front of me and ran his hands along my cheeks, arms, and back, checking for injuries. “Are you really okay? Did he do anything bad to you?” he asked hurriedly with a serious look in his eyes.

I was so overwhelmed that all I could do was nod. He still looked worried, though, so I gulped down my breath and forced out the words, “I-I’m okay. He didn’t do anything to me.”

His tense face relaxed slightly. “Thank goodness. Really, thank goodness.” He brought me into a gentle embrace.

“Holmes...” I wrapped my hands around his back and clung tightly to him. Released from my tension, I burst into tears. I’m okay. But what would’ve happened if Holmes hadn’t come? Ensho’s eyes were really scary.

We stayed like that for a while, and as soon as I calmed down, I started to wonder, why is Holmes here to begin with?

Holmes, reading my mind as usual, let go of me and sighed. “Ensho called the store and said, ‘I’m about to go on a date with your girlfriend.’ It was right before you got out of school, so...”

That means Ensho probably came to me as a way of messing with Holmes. Maybe he wanted the satisfaction of seeing Holmes panic.

I’d always wondered why Ensho did such things, but after seeing his eyes just now, I understood. He’s hopelessly jealous of Holmes. They were both raised by their fathers, without a mother’s warmth, in an art-specialized environment. They were both born with unique talents. Even though they had so many similarities, they ended up very different. Holmes had his share of hardships, but he was loved by everyone and walked in the sun. Meanwhile, Ensho never had a choice but to live in the shadows.

Perhaps it had started when he’d taken an interest in the young man who’d exposed his forgery. But after learning about Holmes and interacting with him, he questioned why they were so different despite being so similar, and it turned into jealousy bordering on hatred.

That’s what it felt like to me.

6

After that, we sat there on the bench for a while. Holmes didn’t ask me what Ensho and I had talked about, but I took it upon myself to relay the entire exchange to him. I didn’t think I’d be able to relax unless we talked about something, and this felt like something that had to be told right away.

Holmes listened in silence with a conflicted expression on his face. After some time, he said, “Aoi, please leave your bike at school today and go home by taxi. I’ll get you a ticket to pay with.” He stood up.

I don’t think Ensho will approach me again today, but I guess he wants to play it safe. Normally I would’ve said, “It’s okay.” But today, I couldn’t even act tough. I nodded obediently.

We went to my school, and I parked my bicycle there again. Then we walked down the road towards a major street so that we could hail a cab.

The air around us was heavy. Holmes spoke much less than usual. The houses around us were decorated for Christmas, but it didn’t match my state of mind at all, so I grimaced and looked down.

I glanced sideways at Holmes. His face was so expressionless that it felt cold. He must’ve been angry with Ensho—or maybe he was angry with me too. I let Ensho trick me into following him.

“Aoi,” he murmured after some time.

I flinched and looked up at him.

“Please don’t come to the store for a while,” he said in a monotone voice.

I lowered my eyes, unable to say anything. I was afraid he’d say something like that. Our “Kura cram school” ends pretty late, and it wouldn’t be reasonable for him to accompany me home every time.

“Until when?” I asked quietly.

Holmes stopped walking half a step ahead of me. A cold wind blew through the small, empty road.

“This...is not going to work,” he said, reverting to his Kyoto accent.

“Huh?”

“Aoi.”

“Y-Yes?”

Holmes took a deep breath and turned around. “Let’s break up,” he said with a cold, listless look in his eyes. There was no light in those eyes, as if they were devoid of emotion.

My knees trembled. “What do you mean by that?” My heart was pounding furiously.

“I mean it literally. Let’s stop dating.” He looked me firmly in the eye and smiled self-deprecatingly.

My heart rate quickened even more, and it became difficult to breathe. It was obvious why he’d say such a thing. “Is that to protect me from Ensho?” I asked, even though I already knew.

Holmes narrowed his eyes. “Yes, but I’m also tired of this.”

“Huh?”

He let out a long breath. “I’m disillusioned with you for following such a dangerous man. If I always have to be worrying about keeping you out of harm’s way, my nerves aren’t going to last. If I’m the only target, then I can handle anything he throws my way.” He chuckled. “Besides, I didn’t actually plan on continuing this relationship for a long time. You’re a high school girl, so I thought it’d last a year or two at most. In that case, wouldn’t this be a good time to end it? Now that this has happened, we can’t keep pretending to be in a fun relationship.” He looked down on me. “Right?”

I stared at him in silence. My hair fluttered in the cold, dry wind that blew between us.

Holmes ground his back teeth for a second since I still wasn’t saying anything. “It works out for you too, doesn’t it? We haven’t slept together, so you aren’t ‘defiled goods’ yet,” he said with a twisted smile.

Silence.

“In that case, please defile me,” I said, looking straight at him.

“Huh?” He blinked.

“I don’t want it to ‘work out’ for me. If you want to temporarily distance yourself from me because it’s dangerous right now, I’m okay with that. But I don’t want to break up. If you really want to break up with me, then fine; it’s not like I can stop you. But in that case, please listen to my request too. Turn me into, as you said, ‘defiled goods.’”

He looked at me, eyes wide open.

“Please sleep with me, Kiyotaka. I decided long ago that you would be my first,” I said in a quiet yet strong tone.

“Aoi...” he murmured, dumbfounded. The calm expression he’d maintained up until now crumbled, and tears welled up in his eyes. “Why are you saying that? You know how I feel,” he said sadly, putting his hand over his face to hide his tears. I could still see them flowing down his cheeks, though, and my heart ached.

I’m sorry, Holmes. I know.

Holmes was trying his best to make me hate him. He picked what would be the worst possible time and said the cruelest things he could think of. He tried so hard, but his feelings were clear as day. He wanted me to say “I hate you!” and leave.

I always thought you were an incredible liar. I thought you were a cunning person with a tough side. But in reality, you’re clumsy and terrible at lying.

My tears wouldn’t stop.

Ensho’s reason-defying hatred isn’t something that can be stopped. Pretending to break up isn’t going to convince him. That’s why you determined that the safest way was to truly cut ties with me. You’re trying desperately to protect me, just like when the owner said his farewells to his bedridden wife. I understand completely, to the point where it hurts.

“Aoi...” He gently pulled me by the hand into a firm embrace. “I’m serious. Let’s break up.” He was still crying.

I shook my head in his chest like a spoiled child. “Then...listen to my request.”

“You understand, right? Don’t do this to me.”

“No,” I whimpered. All I could do was shake my head.

He hugged me tightly, to the point where I could hardly breathe.

“Thank you for everything, Aoi. I truly loved you.”

His pained words stabbed me in the heart. He was trying to put our relationship in the past.

I wanted to say “No, don’t say that,” but only sobs came out of my mouth.

We cried and held each other. I understood that Holmes was seriously trying to make this our last moment together.

A relationship between a man and a woman is so fragile, I thought as I cried. A few words and it’s gone, like a house built on sand...