Chapter 4: The Case at the Mount Kurama Lodge

1

It’s the beginning of July, the time when leaves turn a deep green.

When I said I was going to Mount Kurama, Holmes said, “Would you like to go together?” and my chest tightens every time I remember the gentle smile on his face.

Friday evening after school, I went to Teramachi-Sanjo’s antique store Kura for my shift. My heart was secretly aflutter as I diligently cleaned the dust from the valuable goods.

Today was unusual because both Holmes and the manager were at the shop. Holmes was doing the accounting, while the manager was engrossed in his manuscript as always.

“Oh right, Kiyotaka, Aoi,” the manager said, pausing his writing and looking up.

“Yes?” we both replied.

“You said you were thinking of going hiking in Kurama in July, right?”

Since it was going to be on a weekend when I was likely to have a shift, we had told the manager in advance.

“Yes. Now that I think about it, it’s already July.” Holmes looked at the tabletop calendar as though he’d just realized. Meanwhile, I’d been looking forward to July this whole time...

“I know this is sudden, but could you take your trip tomorrow?” the manager said with a serious expression, surprising the both of us. “You see, one of my author friends has a mountain lodge there.”

“Right,” Holmes said with a nod. “Kajiwara, was it? I heard he passed away three months ago.”

“Yes, and his family would like to consult with you about something. Could you stop by their place after your hike?”

Holmes hesitated before answering with an unenthusiastic “Fine.”

“Sorry about this, Aoi. Oh right, you and Kiyotaka can have lunch at one of Kibune’s river terraces. I’ll make a reservation for you,” the manager said as if to sweeten the deal. He probably felt bad asking us to do him this favor on our day off.

“A Kibune river terrace? Really?” I asked in disbelief. When it comes to river terraces, the Kamo River comes to mind first, but Kibune’s are a whole other beast. They’re called the epitome of summer luxury, with clear water flowing beneath the floor. I saw them on a travel show and was enchanted, wishing I could go just once in my life. I never would’ve thought it’d actually be possible. Going to Kurama and eating lunch on a Kibune river terrace would be like a dream come true!

While I was off in my own little world, Holmes sighed. “All right, it seems like Aoi doesn’t mind, so I’ll do it.” He shrugged halfheartedly.

“I’m sorry to impose this on your hiking trip,” the manager said, although he looked relieved. He made it sound like he’d suddenly remembered, but he definitely could’ve been waiting for a chance to ask. Maybe he has difficulty asking Holmes to do things, unlike the owner?

“It’s okay. We’re just stopping by on the way back, so it’s no big deal,” I said, waving my hands. Honestly, I was happy that we could go so easily.

At the time, we weren’t aware of the bizarre mystery that’d occurred at the Kajiwara mountain lodge or the family trouble that we were going to get pulled into.

2

The next day, Holmes and I were to meet at 9 a.m. at Demachiyanagi Station. I arrived a little bit early and carefully secured my bike in the bicycle lot next to the station.

“There we go.”

By the way, Demachiyanagi Station is close to the junction between the Kamo River and the Takano River that I talked about before. The Keihan subway and the Eizan railway are both accessible from it, and you can board the Keihan Main Line to Osaka from here as well, making it a busy station.

I exited the bicycle lot and went to the ticketing area. There, I saw that Holmes had already arrived.

“Good morning, Aoi.”

“Ah, good morning.”

“Shall we go?” he said, holding out a ticket.

“Oh, you didn’t need to buy it for me.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m sorry that this trip had to be so sudden.”

“Don’t be!” For me, this worked out perfectly.

We passed through the small ticket gate directly onto the platform where a train with only two cars was on standby. Even though this was the starting point, it still felt oddly impactful to see the train cars so close.

“Let’s take the front car. We’ll have a nicer view of the mountain there,” Holmes said.

“Okay.” I headed for the front car in a cheerful mood. The interior layout was the same as the city trains, with a horizontal row of seats on both sides. That said, the empty two-car train felt more like a rural train up in the mountains. I got excited, feeling like we’d already traveled far away.

I sat down and enthusiastically looked around the train. I noticed that a single one of the hanging straps was in the shape of a pink heart and stared at it in confusion. “Holmes, that one strap is a pink heart, right?” I asked.

“Yes.” Holmes nodded. “The Eizan railway’s train cars have heart-shaped straps. According to superstition, they’re ‘happiness straps’ that grant the holder happiness.”

“Happiness straps!”

“While we’re here, you should try holding onto it too.”

“Oh, um...okay. I might as well.” I awkwardly stood up and grabbed onto the heart-shaped strap. Then, the train started moving, so I hurriedly sat back down. “A-Are you not going to do it, Holmes?” I asked, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“It’s not my first time riding the Eizan line,” Holmes said with a grin.

It’s not his first time. In other words, he’s held onto that strap before. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d do that if he was by himself, so could it be that he rode this train with his ex-girlfriend and they held it together? Or was it with someone else? He said that after he fell out with his ex, he ‘spent part of his university life doing the complete opposite of what a priest would.’ That means fooling around with girls, right? Thinking about it, such an attractive, highly educated guy has to be popular. I heard about his past, but what about right now? Does he have a girlfriend?

I think I’ll ask.

I peeked over at Holmes, who was sitting beside me, gazing out the window. His side profile really was handsome.

“If there’s something you want to ask me, feel free,” Holmes said nonchalantly. His usual perceptiveness made my heart skip a beat.

If I ask him in this situation whether or not he has a girlfriend, I think he’ll misunderstand for real.

“N-No, it’s nothing.” I shrugged and looked out the window. The train’s course went through the mountain, and the vast rural scenery looked nothing like where I lived. It was hard to believe we were still in the same district. It really did feel like we’d traveled somewhere far away.

Before long, we entered a lush green tunnel. These were the fabled “green maples.”

“Wow, they really are pretty!” I exclaimed.

“They have a different aesthetic from autumn leaves, right?”

“Yes, they’re lovely and fresh.”

“I wouldn’t have minded driving to Kurama, but the train has its own advantages.”

“I like it, because it feels more like a journey. After all, this is...” A trip to relieve heartbreak. I shut my mouth before finishing the sentence.

“You’re right. This is a hiking trip, after all,” Holmes continued for me.

I felt relieved. “Exactly,” I said with a small chuckle, looking out the window. The green maple leaves were dazzling under the bright sun rays.

3

At last we arrived at the final stop, Kurama Station. It was a very small and old-fashioned station.

“This reminds me of the movie Poppoya.” Wait, didn’t that take place in Hokkaido? Maybe all of these small, timeworn stations have something in common. At any rate, the Yoshitsune and Benkei portraits decorating this station definitely made it feel like Kurama, since they are both part of the local legends.

Right after exiting the station, we immediately found ourselves facing a statue of a large tengu face.

“Wow, that’s a big tengu—and it’s only the face!” A bright red face, sharp, glaring eyes, and an outstretched nose. Fitting for Kurama, the tengu mountain.

“Many people take commemorative photos here. Would you like to?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine.”

Holmes looked surprised at my instant refusal.

“I don’t like having my picture taken,” I explained. “I do like taking commemorative pictures, though.” I forced a smile as I took out my smartphone and snapped a photo of the tengu.

“Does that mean you don’t like photo booths either?”

“Hmm...those are all right.”

“I see. Are you the type who always squints in photos?”

I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. “H-How did you know?”

“I thought that might be the case, since you dislike having your picture taken but you’re fine with photo booths. Because in the latter, you can edit the image,” Holmes answered in an amused tone.

“You don’t have to read that deeply into it,” I said with a pout.

“My apologies. I wouldn’t have said that to anyone else, though,” he said as though talking to himself.

“Huh?” I froze.

“Let’s go to Kurama Temple first, Aoi.”

“Ah, okay.”

Next to the station was a series of souvenir shops. What stood out to me most were the rows of tengu masks, but there were also banners saying “Ushiwaka Mochi”—fitting for Kurama, seeing as how Ushiwakamaru was Yoshitsune’s childhood name.

After walking uphill for a while, Kurama Temple’s Nio Gate came into view. The faded vermilion two-story gate was exactly what I would’ve expected from a mountain temple.

“This gate was built by Tankei, a sculptor from the Kamakura period, and enshrines the Nio, the two guardians of the temple. It forms a barrier between the secular world and the sacred grounds,” Holmes explained.

“D-Does that mean the area past this has been purified?”

“Indeed. This is a fairly famous ‘energy vortex,’ as people like to say.”

“Right. I’ve heard of it too.” I nodded and passed through the gate with Holmes. We’re on sacred ground now... “The air does feel different,” I said with a serious face.

Holmes burst out in a short laugh.

“Were you thinking that I fell for the placebo effect?” I asked.

“I was, but I think that’s a good thing. For example, when you pass through this Nio Gate, your perception will change based on whether or not you know its story. It is placebo, but you’ll get more out of the act if you use that knowledge to enjoy it more.”

He might be right. I get the feeling that knowing this was a sacred ground made passing through the gate seem more special than if I hadn’t known.

After walking some more, we came upon a small shrine called Kiichi Hogen Shrine.

“It is said that Kiichi Hogen, the martial arts master who taught Ushiwakamaru the art of war, is enshrined here,” Holmes said.

“I heard the legend that Ushiwakamaru was trained by a tengu, but it was actually this person, huh?”

“However, some say that Kiichi Hogen was a fictional person as well.”

“Huh, is that so?”

“Yes. Minamoto no Yoshitsune is a mysterious person in various ways.”

“He really is.” I nodded. “But it’s true that he was raised here on Mount Kurama, right?” I asked as we slowly walked on the mountain path.

“Yes. Ushiwakamaru was the third son of the head of the Minamoto clan, Minamoto no Yoshitomo, and his favorite concubine, Gozen Tokiwa. When Yoshitomo was defeated by the Taira clan, he feared there was a high chance that his children would be killed as well. However, in the end, Taira no Kiyomori took mercy on them, and Ushiwakamaru was raised here in Kurama.”

“Why was he spared?” Wait, this is probably common knowledge for anyone who took history class seriously, right? I drilled all those era names into my head, but the details are hazy. I’m sorry for being such a pathetic student, I swear.

“According to one theory, Ushiwakamaru’s mother, Gozen Tokiwa, was an incredible beauty. Kiyomori fell in love with her at first sight and asked her to become his concubine, to which Gozen Tokiwa said, ‘Only if you spare my children’s lives.’ He agreed to her condition.”

“H-Huh? Does that mean Gozen Tokiwa became the mistress of the enemy commander—the one who killed her husband—in order to save her children?”

“Yes, it does.”

“And in the end, Kiyomori was defeated by the child he spared, right?”

“Yes, such is karma.”

I took a deep breath. It really was karmic. “Someone as powerful as Kiyomori must’ve had plenty of beautiful women around him. Why did he go to the trouble of making his enemy’s wife his mistress? Was she that beautiful?”

“That’s a good question. Gozen Tokiwa was said to be selected from among a thousand women. She was a winner of Japan’s first beauty pageant.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“The empress consort at the time—in other words, the emperor’s wife—loved beautiful things and wanted to select beautiful people to be her servants. She gathered a thousand of Kyoto’s beautiful women for judging, and the final person she chose was Gozen Tokiwa. So, Gozen Tokiwa was indeed the most beautiful woman in Kyoto. Of course, there’s no telling how much of this story is true.”

“W-Wow, that’s interesting.”

“Indeed.”

As we talked, we finally reached Kurama Temple. The lone mountaintop building was more modest than I’d expected. It had a simple exterior, perhaps fitting for a mountain temple. What intrigued me was that the stone guardians weren’t the usual lion-dogs.

“These are tigers, right?” I asked.

“Yes, this temple has tigers as guardians.”

And the most eye-catching of all was the large hexagon on the ground in front of the main hall. At its center was a triangular stone tile.

“This is the most famous energy vortex here,” Holmes said.

“Oh, I’ve seen this on TV! They said that energy pours into it from space. I’m going to try standing on it.” Being the enthusiast that I was, I stepped onto the triangle at the center of the diagram. The moment I did, I felt a static shock in my right hand—“Whoa!” I panicked and clenched my fist. What was that just now? I quickly stepped off the hexagon, bewildered. I tried stepping on it again, but this time, nothing happened.

“Did something happen?”

“Oh, no, nothing...” I was too embarrassed to say something clichéd like “I felt a shock in my hand.” The temple looked plain, but maybe it really was amazing.

I looked at the building and changed the topic. “Is this where Ushiwakamaru lived?”

Holmes nodded. “Yes. He grew up strong and healthy on top of this mountain, so I can understand how he’d be tougher than most people.”

“Right,” I giggled.

He was born to a beautiful woman selected out of a thousand, and it was his mother’s love that allowed him to survive. He was then raised in this temple, and when he finally descended to the city, he met Benkei at Gojo Bridge. There they dueled under the moonlight, and it’s said that the young Ushiwakamaru was handsome, slender, and fought nimbly as if dancing. I don’t know how much of that story is true, but it really does sound awe-inspiring.

Next, we walked along the “Tree Root Path” towards the village of Kibune. The weather was even nicer than I expected. Since we were up in the mountains, the wind was much cooler than it usually was in July, and it felt absolutely amazing. It was the perfect weather for hiking.

At last, Kifune Shrine and its beautiful red torii came into view. It’s said that the deities of water have been worshiped here since ancient times. Red garden lanterns lined both sides of the stone steps. Many bamboo trees were planted throughout the shrine grounds, and colorful paper strips hung from them.

“Oh right, it’s almost time for the Tanabata festival,” I remarked.

“You can write your wish and hang it from one of the plants. Would you like to?” Holmes asked with a smile.

“Hmm...” I saw a paper strip that said “I hope my boyfriend and I will be in love forever” and immediately turned away. “I think I’ll pass this time.”

“All right. Shall we visit the shrine?”

“Okay.”

We prayed at the shrine together and decided to do the famous water fortune telling. There was a special basin near the main hall where you could float blank fortune slips on the spiritual water to make words appear.

“This is neat, huh?” I said.

“Indeed,” Holmes replied.

We bought our fortunes and placed them on the water. Before long, I saw the words “Great Fortune” emerge on mine.

“Wow, great fortune! Yay!”

“Mine says good fortune.”

“That’s good too, Holmes!”

“Indeed.”

We picked up our fortunes and laughed together.

Holmes checked the time and said, “I think it’s time for lunch.”

I nodded with a slight smile. “Oh, okay. I’m actually pretty hungry.” It was finally time for the river terrace. My heart was racing with anticipation.

4

We left Kifune Shrine and walked along the river, slightly downhill. The path led to a row of restaurants set up on the riverbed. There are a lot of these, huh?

The restaurants had varying aesthetics. One had red parasols over its tables, while another was Western style. From our higher elevation, we could see people eating on the river terraces, and I couldn’t help but feel elated.

“This is my father’s favorite,” Holmes said, gesturing towards a traditional Japanese restaurant that looked like it had a long history. He stepped inside without hesitation.

In the wide entryway, a waitress wearing a dark blue kimono bowed to us. “Welcome!”

“We have a reservation under the name of ‘Takeshi Ijuin,’” Holmes informed her.

The waitress smiled and nodded. “Understood. Are you his son? I can see the resemblance.” She smiled happily and walked ahead of us into the passage leading further inside. “Right this way.”

The passage led straight outdoors. The door on the other side had been left open, and looking down, we could see the rippling stream and the platforms that had been built above it. The platforms themselves had soft rush mats laid over red carpet and blackish rectangular tables with soft rush floor cushions. The ceiling had bamboo screens acting as sunshades. It was truly Japanese-style luxury.

“This is amazing...” I stood stock still in admiration.

The waitress giggled and said, “Come this way.”

We descended the stone steps in the outdoor-use slippers that’d been provided for us. The chilly mountain breeze caressed my skin, which was hot from hiking.

“Wow, it’s so cool in here,” I said in surprise.

The waitress nodded. “Even in the middle of summer, it only gets to around twenty-five degrees Celsius here. Right now, it’s about twenty-three. Here is your table.”

The table that’d been prepared for us was the one furthest upstream, with possibly the best view of the river. Even further upstream was a man-made waterfall.

“H-Holmes, am I allowed to experience this much luxury at my age?” I murmured without thinking.

Holmes and the waitress both looked surprised for a moment before laughing.

“I think there’s good luxury and bad luxury. If you experience luxury and are able to use it as motivation, then that’s good luxury and a wonderful lesson learned,” Holmes said, sitting down on one of the cushions.

“O-Okay. This is life experience, right?” I sat down across from him, feeling out of my league.

“Besides, it’s not about age. Thanks to my grandfather, I’ve been taken to all sorts of surprising places ever since I was a toddler, where I encountered rare antiques worth hundreds of millions.”

“You’re right.”

All of that became Holmes’s motivation, and that’s why he became the person he is now. I nodded to myself as I came to terms with it.

Soft rays of light streamed in from the gaps in the bamboo screens. The soothing wind blew. We were surrounded by the sounds of the waterfall, stream, and mountain birds. It felt like all of my everyday struggles were being washed away...

Now, if someone asks me what Kibune’s river terraces are like, I’ll be able to give a proper answer. It’s a topic of conversation I’ll be able to use forever. When I thought about it that way, this luxury was a valuable experience, albeit a little excessive. All of the places I’ve been hesitant about before because they were “beyond my means” might turn out to be similarly wonderful experiences if I force myself to go.

As I was absorbed in listening to the sound of the flowing water, our meal arrived. An appetizer of clear broth soup, a sashimi platter, and salt-grilled sweetfish was followed by seared beef, seasonal tempura, parboiled eel, and fresh tofu skin garnished with okra. Lastly came shirataki noodles, more soup, pickled vegetables, rice, and fruit. It all looked so delicious.

The individual servings were small, so at first, I wasn’t sure if it’d be enough. But after finishing everything, I was surprisingly full. If it’d all been brought out at once, I’m sure that wouldn’t have been the case. I was only this satisfied because the food had been brought out bit by bit. How do I put this... It felt like the meal was gentle to my body.

“That was really good. I’m already full,” I said, taking a bite of melon regardless. It was delicious and felt velvety on my tongue.

“Fruit after a meal tastes especially good even when you’re full, right?” Holmes said with a smile. He really blended in well at places like this because of his elegant behavior. Meanwhile, I constantly felt out of place. If it weren’t for the manager, this never would’ve happened. In fact, I might’ve gone my whole life without being able to come here. I really needed to thank him again.

“Come to think of it, does the manager often go to places like this?” I asked.

“I think he comes here once a year. He often ate here with Naotaka Kajiwara, his author friend who owned the mountain lodge in Kurama.”

“Kajiwara passed away three months ago, right?”

“Yes. He’d only just turned sixty, but his diabetes led to complications.”

“Diabetes...”

“He was a rather hearty man from Kyushu and quite the heavy drinker. Apparently, he ignored all of his doctor’s warnings, saying that he’d eat and drink as he pleased. This could be considered a bad luxury, but if he was aware of the risks, then perhaps it was his form of happiness.”

“He was a different type of author from the manager, huh?”

“That could be exactly why they got along.”

Just then, the waitress walked over to us. “Excuse me, you have a phone call from the Kajiwara household.”

“Ah, all right,” Holmes said. He got up and followed the waitress.

Speak of the devil. I guess they’re asking what time he’ll arrive.

Still, the thought of two authors conversing on a Kibune river terrace was awe-inspiring in its own right. The rippling stream and the tree leaves fluttering in the wind... If I had any creative talent, it’d make me want to write something too. Since that’s not possible, maybe I can at least come up with a haiku.

“The rains of summer, gathering into swift flows...” No! At this rate, I’ll be plagiarizing Basho Matsuo! And besides, this river isn’t fast enough to be called a “swift flow.”

“What was that about rains of summer?” came Holmes’s voice from behind me.

I jumped in my seat. “Oh, nothing, really.”

“Are you talking about Mogami River?” Holmes asked. That was the last line of the famous haiku.

“Y-You were listening all along! That’s so cruel!” I exclaimed, my face bright red.

“By the way, this river is called the Kibune River,” Holmes explained with a grin on his face.

Argh, that confident smile with a hint of meanness. A wicked Kyoto guy, through and through.

“A-Anyway, what was the call about?” I pouted, changing the subject.

“Ah, sorry. The person said he’d come pick us up, if that’s all right with you. Would you like to explore Kurama some more first?”

“Oh, I’m fine. We hiked for a long time, so I don’t mind going over now.”

“I’ll let him know, then.” Holmes turned around to leave.

“Wait, is he still on the line?”

“Yes. I wanted to get your approval first.”

“Y-You didn’t have to be so considerate,” I said, although I was secretly happy. Holmes really was a gentleman. A mean one, though.

Still, I wondered what the family of the deceased author wanted to discuss with Holmes. Did he leave behind antiques that they wanted to get appraised? If that’s the case, it shouldn’t have to be Holmes.

I gulped down the cold plum juice as I pondered.

5

We drank tea while we waited and I tried sticking my hand into the river (which was indeed cold). Twenty or thirty minutes later, the person from the Kajiwara household arrived to pick us up from the restaurant, and we met him outside the entrance.

“I’m Kajiwara’s secretary, Kurashina,” he said with a bow. He was a slim man in a suit who looked to be in his forties.

Kajiwara had a secretary? That’s kind of impressive.

“I’m Kiyotaka Yagashira.”

“I-I’m Aoi Mashiro.”

Kurashina smiled in response to my introduction. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Thank you for coming to pick us up,” Holmes said.

“It’s the least we can do, after suddenly forcing this request on you. Please get in the car,” Kurashina said, opening the rear door of the Benz parked in front of the restaurant.

A Benz! And it’s black!

“Authors sure are rich, huh?” I murmured to myself, impressed. Holmes and I got into the car.

“Aoi, do you know of the film Struggle for Power?” Holmes asked.

“Yes, I’ve heard of it. It’s about politicians and yakuza fighting and stuff, right?” I didn’t watch it because I wasn’t interested in the genre, but it was a famous film that got turned into a TV series.

“Kajiwara wrote the book that that film was adapted from.”

“Oh, really? Wow.”

Kurashina chuckled as he sat down on the driver’s seat. “It’s not exactly aimed at young ladies.”

“S-Sorry. I think my dad watched it, though.” I vaguely recalled the plot being really complicated.

“Kajiwara was a student at Tokyo University during a time rife with student protests. After he graduated, he became a lawyer and occasionally got a glimpse of the underworld. He wrote Struggle for Power using many of his personal experiences and won the Best New Writer Award. That book became a smash hit, receiving TV drama and film adaptations and propelling his career as an author to great heights,” Holmes explained as usual.

“You know a lot, Kiyotaka.”

“Yes, of course. He was close with my father, so I was personally proud of that connection as well,” Holmes said with a first-rate smile. He always has a perfect answer for everything.

“However, Kajiwara wrote more than just Struggle for Power. He also wrote beautiful stories such as Flowers of All Kinds and Forbidden Fruit,” Kurashina said cheerfully as he drove. He’d said it casually, but I could sense passion in his words.

“Indeed, Kajiwara’s books about taboo subjects are also a great success. You must be quite the enthusiastic fan yourself, Kurashina.”

Kurashina hesitated before saying, “But of course. I might even be his biggest fan.” He seemed embarrassed that he’d been seen through.

The car ascended the mountain road.

“Wow, we really are deep in the mountains,” I commented, looking out the window. The green leaves were almost dazzling. This view might’ve been the same hundreds or thousands of years ago, and I found the thought moving.

We turned from the main road onto a smaller road, and before long, a conventional wooden cabin appeared amidst the trees.

“Wow, this is lovely!”

“Thank you. This was Kajiwara’s studio.”

“Would he hole himself up in here when he was writing?” Holmes asked.

“Yes,” Kurashina answered with a nod. “His wife and I would also come here, so you could call it his second home.”

“Where’s the main home?”

“Right now, it’s an apartment in Shijo. He lived in a house in Kinugasa when his sons were young, but after all three grew up and moved out, he and his wife moved to an apartment because the house was too big for just the two of them.”

Kurashina parked the car in front of the mountain lodge and we quickly got out. The refreshing breeze carried with it the scent of leaves.

“The air is so nice,” I said, stretching my arms and taking a deep breath. It felt like the atmosphere was full of Mount Kurama’s spiritual energy. I could understand why an author would seclude himself here to write.

“Please come in,” Kurashina said. The moment he started walking towards the lodge, the front door opened, revealing a woman who I assumed was Kajiwara’s wife.

“Thank you for coming. I’m Kajiwara’s wife, Ayako,” the woman said, bowing deeply. I’d guess that she was in her fifties. She was thin and pretty enough to be an actress.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kiyotaka Yagashira. My father has always enjoyed talking about you.”

“My, what has Ijuin been saying about me?”

“Every time he returns from meeting you, he always says, ‘She’s so beautiful. I’m jealous of Kajiwara.’”

“Such a flatterer. That aside, you look just like him, Kiyotaka.” She giggled. From her accent, I could tell that she wasn’t from Kansai. “I’m so sorry to intrude on your date,” she said, glancing at me. I was taken aback. A d-d-d-d-date?!

“So, what did you want to ask me about?” Holmes ignored the comment and swiftly moved on with the conversation. Wait, is he acknowledging that it’s a date? Then again, it obviously is one, no matter how you look at it.

“Oh, do come inside first.” Ayako opened the door all the way for us.

“All right.”

We stepped into the mountain lodge. The living room had a retro, Showa-era feel to it. There was a black chandelier, a large grandfather clock similar to the one at Kura, a bar counter, and a billiards table. Three men were sitting on a velvet couch. They stood up when they saw us and said one after the other:

“You must be Ijuin’s son...”

“...and Seiji Yagashira’s grandson.”

“Thank you for coming today.”

They were probably Kajiwara’s sons. From oldest to youngest, they looked like they were in their early thirties, mid-twenties, and early twenties respectively. The three brothers seemed mildly concerned at how young Holmes was, although they didn’t voice it out loud.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kiyotaka Yagashira.”

“I-I’m Aoi Mashiro.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m the eldest son, Fuyuki,” said the man in his early thirties. My first impression of him was that of a young businessman.

“I’m the second son, Akihito.” The man in his mid-twenties looked frail and had the aura of an artist. He was quite good-looking, perhaps resembling his mother.

“I’m the third son, Haruhiko.” This one looked around the same age as Holmes. He was all smiles with a gentle aura and seemed like a good guy.

Based on their outer appearances, I assumed the eldest son, Fuyuki, resembled their father—who I’d never met, but knew was a strapping man from Kyushu—while the second son, Akihito, resembled their mother, and the third son, Haruhiko, was a mix of the two. Also, you could tell from their names what seasons they were born in, with “Fuyu” meaning “winter,” “Aki” meaning “fall,” and “Haru” meaning “spring.” They were rather unimaginative names coming from an author...

“Well, it’s not strange for an author to have a hard time assigning names,” Holmes whispered quietly enough that only I could hear. I started. Don’t read my mind! It’s terrifying!

“Please have a seat,” said Ayako. As prompted, we sat down on the velvet couch. Coffee and biscuits were brought out for us immediately, and I was relieved to see that milk and sugar were provided as well.

“Kiyotaka, I hear that you go to Kyoto University just like your father did.”

“Yes, although I started from grad school. I was at Kyoto Prefectural University before that,” Holmes answered with a smile.

“Ah, KPU. Haruhiko is in his second year there right now.”

“Maybe I’ll try to get into Kyoto University for grad school too,” Haruhiko said with a laugh. If Haruhiko’s a second-year university student, that puts him at around 20 years old.

The second son, Akihito, who was sitting at the counter, shrugged. “I never went to college, so that stuff’s all foreign to me.”

“That’s because you ran off saying you’d become an actor,” said the eldest son Fuyuki with a bitter laugh.

“Since you went to the University of Tokyo just like Dad did, I felt bad that I sucked at school. But hey, since you moved to Tokyo, I was able to go there too.”

“Only because you moved in uninvited and leeched off of me. Geez.”

Ayako interrupted, “My husband acted like he was against it, but on the inside, he was willing to help Akihito if he truly wanted to become an actor. But Akihito said he didn’t want to become famous because of his parents’ influence, so he studied acting while hiding the fact that he was Naotaka Kajiwara’s son. His hard work slowly paid off, and now he’s appearing in films and TV shows, albeit in minor roles.” She seemed embarrassed yet eager to share her son’s story.

“I heard that you originally wanted to become an actress too, Ayako. You met your husband through an audition, right?” Holmes asked, drinking his coffee.

Ayako nodded. “Ijuin told you everything, huh? Yes, that’s right. I didn’t have the talent to become an actress, but fortunately, my son has inherited my dream.”

Ayako, it’s not that the manager told Holmes everything. It’s that Holmes figures out everything in the blink of an eye, I secretly thought to myself while listening to their conversation.

Holmes placed his coffee cup on the table with a clunk, looked up, and asked, “So, what did you want to talk about today?”

Ayako and the Kajiwara brothers looked at each other, as if unsure where to begin. Then, the secretary, Kurashina, stepped forward. “Please allow me to explain the situation.”

The friendly atmosphere in the living room was replaced with an air of tension.

“When Kajiwara passed away, he left two wills with his attorney. The first one was unsealed immediately and was a formal will detailing how his assets should be distributed. For the second one, we were instructed to unseal it three months later in this mountain lodge. The three-month anniversary of his death was three days ago, so we came here to receive the will from the attorney. Inside was written, ‘I wish to give each of my three sons one of my prized paintings,’ as well as the password to a safe. The safe contained three hanging scrolls.”

I gulped as I listened to the story.

“Hanging scrolls, you say?” Holmes said quietly.

They must’ve called him here for an appraisal. Three hanging scrolls left by a famous author to his sons... How much would they be worth? I started to get excited.

As I sat next to Holmes, anxiously waiting for the scrolls to be brought out, Kurashina sighed and dropped his gaze. “Yes. A painting of Taira no Kiyomori for Fuyuki, the eldest son; a painting of Mount Fuji for Akihito, the second son; and a painting of Taira no Tadamori for Haruhiko, the third son. Thinking they might be worth a great sum, we immediately called for an appraiser and found that they were all reproductions with no particular value as antiques. We then speculated that Kajiwara simply wanted to give his sons his favorite pieces of art.”

I stared blankly at him. The appraisal has already been done? Why did they call Holmes here, then? Meanwhile, Holmes’s expression remained unchanged as he waited for Kurashina to continue.

Instead, Fuyuki sighed deeply. “That day, we shared drinks here in this mountain lodge while talking about how we were going to take good care of the scrolls. Everything was peachy when we fell asleep, but the next morning, something terrible had happened.”

“What do you mean?” Holmes and I asked in unison.

“All three scrolls were burned in the incinerator out back,” Haruhiko murmured, twisting his face in grief.

“What?” We gaped, not knowing what to say.

“Burned... Does that mean there are no traces left?” Holmes asked, grimacing.

Kurashina shook his head. “No, the rods and whatnot are intact. But the artwork itself has been burned away.”

“Who would do such a thing, and why?” Ayako questioned, quivering and biting her lip.

Akihito shrugged dramatically. “Mom, it was obviously someone here.”

“Right, we were the only ones here in the mountain lodge that day,” Fuyuki said, looking intently at Holmes.

“Yeah, but like I keep saying, who here would burn the scrolls? Stealing them would make more sense,” Haruhiko said with irritation in his voice.

“What if they were stolen, and the burned scrolls were a decoy?” Akihito suggested with a smile, as if enjoying the situation.

“Why steal them? The paintings themselves weren’t worth much. The appraiser said they’d only be a few tens of thousands of yen if sold,” Fuyuki retorted.

“Even if the paintings weren’t worth anything, Dad could’ve hidden something in them. You know, like a secret fortune,” Akihito replied.

“Hmph, you’re the only one who’d say that. After all, you’re the most strapped for cash out of all of us, right?”

“Say that again?”

Fuyuki and Akihito stood up, but were interrupted by Ayako shouting “Cut it out!”

Wh-What have we gotten ourselves into?!

Meanwhile, Holmes continued drinking his coffee, completely unaffected. His expression was calm, but I could tell from the slightly curved corners of his mouth that he was amused in some way.

“Wait, Holmes. What’re you thinking?” I whispered in an accusing tone, poking him with my elbow.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just surprised by the uncanny resemblance.” Holmes put down his cup gently and looked back up.

The uncanny resemblance?

Between who and who? The three brothers?

I don’t know about their personalities, but their appearances are all different.

The late Kajiwara and his three sons?

I don’t know Kajiwara, so I can’t tell.

Ayako and Akihito?

They do have similar faces.

As I tilted my head in confusion, the heated quarrel continued to play out in front of me.

“Please calm down.” Holmes’s voice was relaxed but pierced through the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing. “Considering you called me here, I assume you didn’t go to the police?”

“Of course. It had to have been someone here, so we aren’t going to get the police involved,” Fuyuki declared.

I found myself nodding in understanding. If the culprit was absolutely someone here, then they wouldn’t want the police to handle it. But, since they still wanted to solve this inexplicable incident...

“When we talked to Yanagihara, who did the appraisal for us, he said that Ijuin’s son was a mastermind nicknamed ‘Holmes’ with the ability to see invisible truths with the mind’s eye,” continued Haruhiko.

Holmes placed his hand on his forehead as if annoyed. “I see. So it was Yanagihara who did your appraisal.”

“Do you know him, Holmes?” I asked.

“He’s an old friend of my grandfather’s.”

“Oh, I see.” It was another one of those connections.

Holmes regained his composure and looked at everyone else. “If Yanagihara was the one who looked at the paintings, then their valuation should be correct.” In other words, it was safe to believe that they weren’t priceless works of art.

“Well, I don’t care about that anymore. What I want is for you to interrogate us and figure out who burned the scrolls, Detective ‘Holmes.’ I’m a Sherlock fan, so I wanna see how good you are,” Akihito said with a mischievous grin. He’s good-looking, but he kind of bothers me. He doesn’t seem to be taking this seriously.

“The reason I’m called ‘Holmes’ is because of my surname, so I’m not sure if I’ll meet your expectations,” Holmes said, returning the smile and proving that he was indeed a calm and composed adult.

“You’ll accept this case, but you’re already stuck, huh?” Akihito said provokingly. I was taken aback. Why is he being so aggressive? Are they clashing because they’re both good-looking? Or does he dislike that someone’s being called “Holmes” because he really is a big Sherlock fan?

I felt nervous, but Holmes smiled coolly and replied, “Indeed. I have figured out who the culprit was, but unfortunately, I don’t have proof.”

“Wh-What?” Everyone voiced their surprise.

“R-Really?”

How could he figure out the culprit with this little information?

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Akihito said with a blatant frown.

“Do you really know?”

“Wh-Who is it?”

Everyone leaned in.

“My apologies, but I can’t say who until I have proof. Please allow me to question you thoroughly.”

Huh, Holmes must’ve gotten pretty worked up if he’d say something like that without proof. He acts aloof, but perhaps he’s more competitive than I thought. It seems like Akihito didn’t like him, but maybe the antagonizing went both ways?

“You’re right. I’m not fond of frivolous ‘pushy, egotistical, good-looking men,’” Holmes whispered in my ear, reading my mind. I almost spat out my coffee.

“So, I’d like to speak with each of you individually. First, Fuyuki. Could you introduce yourself again? State your name, age, and profession.” Holmes folded his hands in front of his chest and looked at Fuyuki.

“Starting with my name? All right. Fuyuki Kajiwara, thirty-two years old. I majored in economics at the University of Tokyo and started my own IT business.”

Fuyuki was thirty-two—my guess was correct.

“So you’re an entrepreneur? Could you tell me the name of your company?”

“Yes, it’s called West Japan.”

“Ah, an elite, well-regarded company, the stock value of which is on the rise.”

“Thank you,” Fuyuki said hesitantly. He looked surprised that Holmes was immediately able to describe his company. He’d probably assumed that the young man wouldn’t have heard of it.

“Were you satisfied with the distribution of assets three months ago?” Holmes asked bluntly, surprising me.

Fuyuki didn’t seem bothered though and he nodded. “When our father was alive, he said that the three of us would each get the same amount, and it was true. So, I wasn’t surprised. Besides, our father was a reckless spender, so there wasn’t that much left.”

“I see. What did you think when you saw the hanging scroll left to you by your father? Could you tell me your candid impressions?” Holmes looked him straight in the eye.

Fuyuki scratched his head. “Er, my father liked Kiyomori, so I didn’t really think anything beyond that... I also wasn’t sure what to do with it, since I don’t have anywhere to put it up.”

It seemed like those truly were his honest impressions. He must’ve been excited to see what he’d be inheriting, so maybe he was disappointed that it was a hanging scroll he wasn’t interested in.

“Thank you. Next, Akihito, if you may.” Holmes shifted his gaze to Akihito, who was sitting on a chair in front of the counter.

“Why do we have to give our names when you already know them? Whatever. Akihito Kajiwara, twenty-five. I’m an actor affiliated with AK Company,” the second son said, shrugging his shoulders exasperatedly.

“AK Company is quite a famous talent agency. How did you feel about the distribution of assets, Akihito?”

“Well, Dad was always telling me ‘I don’t have a single penny to give a prodigal son like you,’ so I was amazed I even got a share.”

“That’s not what Fuyuki said.”

“I dunno what Dad told him, but he told me I wasn’t getting any, so I was surprised for a different reason, I guess.”

“How did you feel when you saw the scroll?”

“Oh, I was pretty dang happy. I like Hokusai, the artist, although it turned out to be a reprint,” Akihito said with a lighthearted laugh. He really was frivolous.

“All right. Haruhiko, you’re next.” Holmes abruptly turned away.

“Wait, are you done with me already?” Akihito complained.

Haruhiko chuckled at Akihito before composing himself. “Haruhiko Kajiwara, twenty years old. I’m a second-year at Kyoto Prefectural University.”

“Haruhiko, how did you feel about the distribution of assets?”

“Honestly, I thought our family was richer than that, so I was confused at how little I got. I knew our father was a spendthrift though, so I came to terms with it.” Akihito laughed to cover up the awkwardness. This opinion felt genuine too.

“What made you think your father was a spendthrift?”

“He was very generous. He’d gather a bunch of people who’d helped him in one place and treat them to a feast. If he was in a good mood, he’d go to his favorite bar and pay for everyone’s tab—including complete strangers—encouraging them to drink as much as they wanted.” Haruhiko’s expression relaxed into a smile, presumably because he was recalling his father’s generosity. From that, I could tell that he loved and respected him.

“As the youngest son, was your father particularly strict with you, or was he lenient instead?” Holmes asked.

Before Haruhiko could answer, the two older brothers voiced their discontent:

“Our father always spoiled him.”

“Yeah, must be nice to be the youngest.”

“Maybe it’s because I was well-behaved, but he was always nice to me. Then again, my brothers often got yelled at, so I tried to be careful not to do anything to get yelled at myself.”

I think that’s a common privilege for the youngest kid. I have a younger brother too, who just started middle school, and he has an easier time because he sees the kinds of things I get scolded for.

“Haruhiko, what did you think when you saw the hanging scroll?”

“Hmm, I guess I didn’t understand it.” Haruhiko smiled and crossed his arms.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my brothers’ scrolls were instantly recognizable as Kiyomori and Mount Fuji, but mine was an unknown warrior. I asked Mom and my brothers who it was, but they didn’t know either. It was the appraiser Yanagihara who told me it was Taira no Tadamori,” Haruhiko explained with a bitter smile. I could tell that he was disappointed by his painting.

“I see. I’ve been meaning to ask this, but could you all tell me more about the paintings on the hanging scrolls? Fuyuki, yours was Taira no Kiyomori, but what was it like?”

The three brothers looked at each other.

“Let me think... Kiyomori was wearing a golden kimono, and there was a bright red sun and a large folding fan,” Fuyuki said, recalling the painting.

Holmes smiled knowingly and nodded. “Was it ‘Kiyomori Calls Back the Setting Sun?’”

“Kiyomori Calls Back the Setting Sun?” we all asked in unison.

“It refers to Kiyomori’s appearance in the kabuki play Beckoning at Itsukushima.”

“Oh!” Ayako exclaimed. “Now that you mention it, my husband liked kabuki.”

“My father does too, and occasionally went with Kajiwara to see a show.”

“You’re right.”

Holmes and Ayako giggled together.

“Now then, what was Akihito’s Mount Fuji painting like?” Holmes asked, returning to the topic at hand.

Akihito crossed his arms. “Hmm. It was overall yellowish-brown and had a sharp-looking Mount Fuji with a black dragon rising up in the sky.”

“‘Dragon Over Mount Fuji,’ then. Duly noted. Your turn, Haruhiko.” Holmes quickly turned around.

“U-Uh, is it just me, or have I been getting the cold shoulder?” Akihito sounded unamused.

“Interesting of you to complain, when you provoked me first,” Holmes said, turning around with that first-rate smile on his face again. Akihito stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed by its impact.

There it is—his wicked attack with a smile. He doesn’t outright trash talk his opponent, but his words pierce through them nonetheless. That’s how a Kyoto guy rolls!

I found myself clenching my fists at this abstract battle.

“So, what was Haruhiko’s painting like?” Holmes asked, quickly resuming his serious expression. The air of tension returned.

“Oh, the painting on my scroll depicted a warrior and an old priest carrying a lantern in a forest.”

“A priest carrying a lantern...” Holmes fell silent for a moment before saying, “I see. Thank you.” He then shifted his gaze to Ayako. “Could you reintroduce yourself as well, Ayako?”

She looked up, surprised. She probably didn’t expect to be questioned. “Oh, me? All right. My name is Ayako Kajiwara... I’m fifty-three,” she said, hesitating before saying her age.

“When did you get married?”

“I met Naotaka when I was eighteen, and we got married when I was twenty.”

“He was seven years older than you, right?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know that he’d prepared hanging scrolls for your three sons?”

“No, I had no idea.”

“Did he not prepare anything for you?”

“No. Oh, but...” Ayako showed us the shiny light blue gemstone on her left ring finger. “He gave me this before he passed away. It’s a ring with my birthstone.”

“Aquamarine. You were born in March, then.”

“Yes. You’re very knowledgeable, Kiyotaka.” Ayako touched the ring, looking happy.

“Ayako, what did you think when you saw the paintings?”

“Hmm, I was so sure that they must’ve been valuable art pieces, so I was a bit confused when I heard that they weren’t.”

“Did your husband like hanging scrolls?”

“He was interested in anything and everything, so that was part of it. It was a bit surprising though, because we didn’t have any hung up in our apartment or this lodge.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

Next, Holmes turned to Kurashina. “Lastly, Kurashina, if you would.”

“Of course.” Kurashina nodded with an earnest face. “Yohei Kurashina, forty-two years old. I work as Kajiwara’s secretary.”

“Were you aware of the hanging scrolls beforehand, Kurashina?”

“No. Only the attorney who had the second will knew about them.”

Holmes paused for a moment. “I see. By the way, what led to you becoming Kajiwara’s secretary?”

“It’s embarrassing to admit, but I used to be part of a biker gang,” Kurashina said with a bitter smile.

“Huh?” I was the only one who was clearly surprised.

“It’s hard to believe when he’s so serious now, right?” Ayako giggled. The three brothers laughed too. It seemed that the entire household already knew. And Holmes probably did, too.

“When I was eighteen, my mischief landed me in trouble with the police, and Kajiwara was the lawyer that helped me. I admired him because of that and I’d hover around him wanting to be of use somehow. He hired me as his driver, and two years later, he said, ‘You’re pretty useful’ and allowed me to be his secretary,” Kurashina explained cheerfully.

The three brothers nodded emphatically.

“Kurashina might’ve been an ex-delinquent, but he’s extremely smart.”

“Academics ain’t everything, after all.”

“And most importantly, he saved our father’s life!”

Holmes’s eyes widened at the last statement. Evidently it was news to him.

“It’s true. After our father wrote Struggle for Power, he angered the yakuza group he’d based it on. One of the more impulsive members charged at him with a knife, and Kurashina stood in the way, getting stabbed in his place,” Fuyuki explained.

“I...did not know that.” Holmes folded his arms, looking impressed.

“It wasn’t such a big deal. It only took two weeks to make a full recovery, and since the incident wasn’t made public, Kajiwara was able to reconcile with the yakuza. All’s well that ends well,” Kurashina said with a smile.

“Our father promoted Kurashina from driver to secretary out of gratitude. But of course, it was also because he was capable of the job,” Fuyuki said.

“I see.” Holmes nodded. “I have another question for you all. When did Yanagihara perform the appraisal for you?”

“We had him come right after we and the attorney obtained the hanging scrolls here.”

“You had Yanagihara come here?”

“Yes. We said we’d go to him, but he knew about this mountain lodge and drove here himself. He said it was on the way, because he was going to Kurama Hot Springs afterwards.”

“And approximately half a day passed between obtaining the scrolls and the burning? Did anyone leave this lodge during that time?”

Everyone looked at each other.

“No, no one left.”

“Yeah, we bought food and stuff before coming here.”

Holmes continued, “After Yanagihara’s appraisal, you shared drinks here, right? Where were the hanging scrolls while this happened?”

“On the counter,” Akihito said, putting his hand on the counter.

“Did you pass out right here in the living room?”

“No, the only one who passed out drunk was Akihito. The rest of us went to our bedrooms,” Fuyuki said, causing Akihito to scratch his head in embarrassment.

“When you left the living room to go to sleep, were the hanging scrolls on the counter?”

The brothers tilted their heads in contemplation.

“I think so. Actually, I’m not sure.”

“I don’t remember either.”

“Same...”

“By the way, was the incinerator one that anyone could use?” Holmes asked.

“Yes. It was originally used by our father to burn his scrapped manuscripts so that no one would read them,” answered Fuyuki.

“I see.” Holmes nodded. “This is...difficult.” I was shocked. It was rare to see Holmes so distressed. Did he lose confidence in his answer after talking to them? Maybe he suspected Kurashina because he wasn’t a family member, but hearing his story changed his mind? Holmes, are you okay?

As I was freaking out, Akihito laughed. “Still don’t know, right? Wanna look at the burned up scrolls, then? You can pretend to check if they’ve been swapped out.” He picked up the bundle wrapped in cloth from the counter, placed it on the table in front of us, and uncovered it. Inside were the tragic remains of three hanging scrolls with only the rods left intact.

Holmes gently held one up and declared, “No, they were not swapped.”

Everyone froze. “What?”

“No one here knew what the second will was about. In other words, no one knew beforehand that you’d be receiving hanging scrolls. From the way you spoke, I could tell that you weren’t lying. Basically, everyone found out about the scrolls at the same time, and Yanagihara performed the appraisal right after. The burned scrolls were discovered the next day, and no one had left the lodge in that time. There wasn’t time to prepare decoys. Plus, even if someone had snuck out unnoticed, there isn’t anywhere to procure decoy scrolls out here in the mountains.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“But more importantly, it’s not pinpointing the culprit that I find difficult.” Holmes murmured softly, his face twisting into a grimace.

It’s not pinpointing the culprit that he finds difficult? What does that mean? Everyone wordlessly shared glances, seemingly as confused as I was.

Akihito slammed his hands on the table, breaking the silence. “What’s that supposed to mean? If you know something then tell us. Or are you too stubborn to admit defeat?”

“Akihito! Don’t be rude to our guest,” Ayako chided.

“I mean... Okay,” Akihito mumbled, perhaps out of shame.

Fuyuki stepped forward and bowed. “I apologize for Akihito’s rudeness, Kiyotaka. If you’ve figured something out, could you please tell us?”

“I want to know too. Was there really a secret message in the burned scrolls? Something leading to hidden treasure?” Haruhiko asked, cheerful despite the circumstances. Maybe he thought of this as a riddle-solving game.

“Well...the paintings did contain messages for each of you, although not relating to hidden treasure,” Holmes began. Judging from his tone of voice, he was reluctant to continue. Everyone awaited his next words with bated breath.

“First, Fuyuki’s ‘Kiyomori Calls Back the Setting Sun,’ which depicts a scene from the kabuki play I mentioned earlier. In this scene, the sun is about to set before an important ceremony, and Kiyomori, inspired by a mythological Chinese king who had nine suns shot out of the sky, beckons at the setting sun with a folding fan in an attempt to make it rise back up. Upon doing so, the sun really does begin to ascend, and everyone prostrates themselves before Kiyomori, who has control over the sun.

“This play was a somewhat satirical depiction of Kiyomori’s limitless power and authority during an era when it was said, ‘If you are not of the Taira clan, you may as well not be human.’

“However, you must be aware of how Kiyomori ended up. Kajiwara liked Taira no Kiyomori, and seeing your business accomplishments, I believe he wanted you to embody Kiyomori’s rare charisma to aim for greater heights, while not making the same mistake of letting it go to your head,” Holmes said quietly.

Fuyuki began to quiver, his eyes puffing up. “Our father wasn’t the kind of person who’d tell us these things specifically. I do think I’ve been arrogant because of my successful company. It was foolish of me to brush off a painting he put so much thought into giving me,” he said, holding back his tears. He must’ve been devastated about the burned scroll.

My chest hurt, too. As I looked at Fuyuki, Akihito weakly brushed his hand through his hair. “So, um, what about mine...?” he asked with great difficulty. He must’ve been embarrassed to ask because of all the mocking he’d done, but he still wanted to know.

“Right. Akihito’s ‘Dragon Over Mount Fuji’ was painted by Hokusai three months before his death. Hokusai was almost ninety when he left this world, but his final words were ‘If only Heaven would permit me another five years, I could become a true painter.’ He lamented on his deathbed that he wanted to paint more and improve his skill. You could say that he was a true artist.

“I believe Kajiwara wanted to say, ‘If you really want to pursue a career in entertainment, then do so with the proper amount of passion. Don’t go at it half-heartedly. And just like the Mount Fuji in the painting, become the best in Japan. Become a star, like the dragon ascending in the sky.’ I’m sure he was supporting you, even if he couldn’t say so.” Holmes smiled warmly.

Akihito’s eyes opened wide. “Dad...” he said, trembling. He silently turned around and sat down on the bar stool, not wanting us to see him cry.

“Lastly, Haruhiko’s painting...”

“Stop!” Ayako screamed, interrupting Holmes.

“Huh?” The rest of us turned around, confused.

“Please, just stop. I...I burned the scrolls. You can stop now, right?”

Everyone gaped at her, myself included.

“What... Mom? Why?”

“I-I know he gave me this ring, but I was upset that my name didn’t come up at all in the second will! Since the scrolls were cheap and uninteresting anyway, I burned them in a drunken rage!”

“Th-That’s why?” Haruhiko looked flabbergasted.

“Yes! I didn’t know they had messages in them! It’s all my fault! So please, I’ve had enough! Kurashina, give them something for their time and take them home!” Ayako sprang up from her seat and dashed out of the living room.

“Mom, wait!”

“Ayako!”

Haruhiko and Kurashina hurried after her. Fuyuki, Akihito, and I stared blankly at the door she’d run through. Holmes was the only one who seemed relieved. He placed his hand on his chest and said, “The mystery has been resolved. Let’s go home.”

“Huh? You call this resolved?” I asked.

“We know who burned the scrolls and the reason why.” Holmes stood up.

“Wait. You still haven’t told us about Haruhiko’s painting.” Akihito stood between us and the front door, blocking our way.

Fuyuki bowed deeply. “I want to know too. It seemed like our mother was trying to prevent you from explaining it.”

Holmes sighed and said quietly, “It might be something you’ll wish you hadn’t known. At the very least, Ayako doesn’t want you to know.”

“I’m all right with that.”

“Yeah, we’ll keep it to ourselves.”

The two looked earnestly at us, and Holmes nodded. “The painting for Haruhiko was the tale of ‘Tadamori and the Lantern.’”

“’Tadamori and the Lantern?’” I repeated. I had no idea what that was.

“One night, when Emperor Shirakawa was passing through Gion to meet with his favorite concubine, Nyogo Gion, he saw a demon-like being on the path ahead and ordered his bodyguard, Taira no Tadamori, to kill it. However, Tadamori captured it alive to ascertain its identity and found that it was an old priest. The emperor was very grateful for Tadamori’s prudence, because it meant that his misconception didn’t result in an innocent priest being killed.

“Now, one theory states that as a reward, the emperor gave his beloved Nyogo Gion to Tadamori, and thus was Kiyomori born.”

The living room fell silent. What...?

“What does that mean, giving Nyogo Gion to Tadamori?” I asked.

Holmes grimaced. “It means that he allowed Tadamori to spend a night with Nyogo Gion.”

“H-Huh? A-And that led to Kiyomori being born?”

“I can’t speak as to whether it’s true, but there is such a theory.”

I-I can’t believe it. In plainer terms, he “lent” his woman to his subordinate for a night, right? But then, Kajiwara giving that painting to Haruhiko would mean...

“Wh-What? Are you saying that Haruhiko isn’t Dad’s kid? But who else could it possibly—” Akihito stopped in his tracks.

Around twenty years ago, Kurashina risked his life to protect Kajiwara. If Kurashina secretly desired Ayako and Kajiwara knew, then Kajiwara might’ve given him the ultimate proof of his gratitude.

Kurashina...and Ayako...and then Haruhiko was born.

Does that mean Kajiwara was raising Kurashina’s child as his own? I felt chills run down my spine.

“Ayako most certainly didn’t want it to be known. Even if she didn’t know what the Tadamori painting meant, I’m sure she would’ve looked it up. And then she may have panicked when she discovered the truth,” Holmes explained calmly. The rest of us stood stock still, unable to say anything.

“I-If they kept it a secret for this long, then Dad could’ve left it this way forever. Why did he give Haruhiko a painting of Tadamori?” Fuyuki asked, tightly clenching his fists.

Exactly. Why would he confess three months after his death, by means of a painting? It felt irresponsible.

“This is simply speculation on my part, but was it Haruhiko’s twentieth birthday recently?” Holmes asked.

Fuyuki and Akihito nodded. “It was two weeks ago.”

“I think the ‘three months later’ may have been because Kajiwara was firm on waiting until after Haruhiko turned twenty to tell him the truth. However, from my perspective, it’s still a bit too early for him. Ayako likely felt the same way.” Holmes frowned.

Oh, so that’s why Holmes said it was “difficult”!

“I’ll be taking my leave now. I’ll speak with you at a later date, Fuyuki,” Holmes said.

“What about me?” Akihito spoke up from beside us. Holmes ignored him.

“Thank you for telling us. What should we do about this situation?” Fuyuki asked with a grave expression.

“When you feel that Haruhiko is ready, please tell him the truth. Do not carry the secret with you to your grave,” Holmes cautioned.

“Why can’t we just keep it a secret forever?” Akihito asked, furrowing his brow and tilting his head. I thought the same thing. I felt as if it’d be better that way.

“Ignoring your ancestors will always lead to familial strife. Haruhiko is part of the Kajiwara household, but his blood is inherited from Kurashina. He needs to be aware of that.” Holmes’s words carried incredible weight, and the rest of us gulped again. “Now then, shall we go, Aoi?” Holmes looked me in the eye and I nodded, still bewildered.

“I’ll take you. Where do you live?” Akihito said, taking out his car keys.

“Thank you. Kurama Station will be fine.”

“Oh yeah?”

We left the living room.

“Wait, Kiyotaka. This is for you.” Fuyuki ran up to us, holding an envelope.

“I’m afraid I must decline.”

“Just take it. They’re tickets to a kabuki show.”

Holmes hesitated. “In that case, thank you very much.” He accepted the envelope with both hands. You’ll accept a reward if it’s kabuki tickets?! I thought to myself.

6

As we exited the mountain lodge, the sky to the west was lit up by the radiant setting sun. Oh, it’s already sunset. I can’t tell if that time felt long or short.

“I wonder if our mother is all right,” Fuyuki said, looking up at the sky.

“Kurashina ran after her, so she should be fine,” Holmes said, turning around after reaching the car. “Oh right, please tell Ayako this for me when the time is right: the aquamarine ring Kajiwara gave her symbolizes more than just her birthstone. It also means something in the language of gems.”

“The language of gems?” Fuyuki looked confused.

Holmes nodded. “It’s the gem equivalent of the language of flowers.”

“I’ve heard of it. What does aquamarine mean?”

“Aquamarine symbolizes calmness, wisdom, and...freedom.”

Freedom... I get it. Kajiwara wanted Ayako to live a second life after his passing. Maybe this time, he’s entrusting her to Kurashina for real.

Fuyuki and I were speechless, but Akihito sighed loudly. “Man...”

“Huh?”

“I’ll admit it. You’re Holmes.” He smiled and opened the back door. “Take a seat, Holmes.” He placed his hand on his chest in gratitude, but with an almost unpleasant grin on his face.

“Thank you,” Holmes replied with his first-rate smile. He got into the car, and I followed suit. Their battle was as incomprehensible as ever, but watching the verbal competition between these two different good-looking men was certainly a treat.

“Thank you so much for today, Kiyotaka. I’m ashamed of what you had to see. Please allow me to express my thanks again later.” Fuyuki bowed at Holmes from outside the car.

Holmes shook his head. “I don’t need any more thanks, but please come visit whenever you want.”

“Thank you.” Fuyuki bowed again, and we bowed back.

“All right then,” Akihito said, shifting the car into drive. We drove along the narrow road for a bit before reaching the main road.

“You really are amazing, man,” Akihito mumbled while driving. I almost laughed out loud.

“That’s not true,” Holmes said.

“When did you figure out the truth?”

Oh, I wanted to ask that too.

“Well, when I first saw Haruhiko, I knew that he was Kurashina’s son,” Holmes said nonchalantly. Akihito and I choked.

“S-Seriously?” Akihito balked.

“H-How on earth could you tell?” I asked, baffled as well.

“They looked too similar,” Holmes said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Huh? What part of them was similar?”

“Their ears.”

“E-Ears?” Akihito and I responded shrilly.

“Yes. Kurashina and Haruhiko’s ears were the exact same shape, which would be impossible unless they were parent and child. Knowing that, I wondered if Ayako had had an affair with Kurashina.”

“Wait, you were thinking that behind that graceful smile of yours?” I asked.

“Yes. Is there a problem?” Holmes replied without hesitation.

I felt chills run down my spine. “You really are too scary.”

Akihito burst out laughing. “I thought you were some obnoxious academic, but you’re pretty funny, huh?”

“I also found you obnoxious, but you’re quite amusing yourself,” Holmes retorted instantly.

“Obnoxious?” Akihito flinched.

“Please don’t get depressed over a word that you used first,” Holmes said, exasperated. Akihito pouted in response, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh yeah, you guys were on a date today, right? Sorry you had to get dragged into our issues.”

I blushed. H-He called it a date.

“Indeed. Would you like to use these tickets to see a kabuki show, Aoi?” Holmes said, smiling warmly at me.

“Y-Yes!” I nodded eagerly.

“Damn you two, having fun back there. Let’s get this drive over with.”

I laughed again at Akihito’s grumbling as the car sped down Mount Kurama. Outside, the setting sun illuminated the green leaves in bright red on this lovely summer evening.