WHERE DID THE CAT GO?
WHERE DID THE CAT GO?
The middle portion of the winter break crept asymptomatically toward the new year; originally we had been looking forward to the mystery that Koizumi and his comrades had set up for us, but the day we arrived at Tsuruya’s vacation house, we found ourselves wandering within its daydreamlike interior, and to make matters worse, Nagato collapsed out on the ski slope, which got even Haruhi freaked out.
Fortunately, upon returning to normal dimensionality, Nagato soon recovered, but no matter how you figure it, it was a crazy New Year’s Eve Eve—or December thirtieth, as the calendar figures it.
The next day. New Year’s Eve.
We had finally come to the brink of a project that had been in the planning stages for some time—the winter version of the mystery game that that overachiever Koizumi had set up when we’d visited a remote island during summer vacation. Of course, this time we knew it was a game, but it was still the main event of this whole excursion. As for the disaster on the snowy mountain; the phantom villa; the nude, fake Asahina; Euler’s theorem (or something); the feverish Nagato fainting—those were all unanticipated and undesired incidents. They weren’t Haruhi’s style, and I’d like to tell whoever or whatever was responsible that they’ll get what’s coming to them. Although Nagato was incapacitated, Koizumi and I (it’s hard to say how useful Asahina the Younger was) managed somehow. And now in the same villa that housed us, we had Tsuruya as well as Koizumi’s associates, none of whom should be underestimated. It would be stranger if something didn’t happen.
So.
With the preparations completed, things could now proceed in an SOS Brigade–style—or should I say Haruhi-style—fashion.
I had lingering doubts about whether this was the right way to end the year, but since I was the only one who seemed to hold such doubts, I kept my own counsel.
Just to be clear, the dramatis personae of this episode were: me, Haruhi, Nagato, Asahina, Koizumi, Tsuruya, my little sister, Shamisen the calico cat, Mori, and Arakawa, along with brothers Keiichi and Yutaka Tamaru, who arrived that day.
At Haruhi’s urging, Koizumi’s Mystery Tour Part Two began.
The morning of New Year’s Eve. After polishing off the breakfast that Mori and Arakawa prepared for us, we assembled downstairs in Tsuruya’s villa. The first floor was an open common area. The floor consisted of around twenty tatami mats arranged upon a Japanese cedar base, almost like a stage for performing Noh or Kyogen theater. In the middle of the room was a sunken hearth table that could easily seat eight people. The space seemed designed for letting guests relax and make merry to their hearts’ content. The floors were also heated, of course, and a quiet heater fan in the corner blew a warm breeze through the room, so both the common area and the hallway were kept effortlessly warm.
Through the windows, the clear blue of the sky above the ski slope was perfectly smooth, as though airbrushed onto a smooth acrylic board—but there would be no snow sports today.
“I’m still a little worried about Yuki, so let’s play inside today,” said Haruhi, putting a ban on skiing. Of course, Nagato herself had returned to her normal expressionless self, even saying “It’s nothing” to try to curtail Haruhi’s nursing efforts, but once she’d decided something, Haruhi never reversed herself.
“No! At least stay inside for today. Until I’m sure you’re all right, no intense exercise or vigorous activity. Okay?”
Nagato just looked at Haruhi with those big eyes of hers, then looked to the rest of us in turn. I probably wasn’t the only one who thought it was almost as if she were saying “I don’t mind, but how do you guys feel about it?”
“It would be worrisome to leave Nagato all alone while the rest of us went out. I agree with Haruhi. All of us facing doom in order to save just one… it makes a beautiful story, does it not?” said Koizumi pleasantly.
Tsuruya and my little sister, neither of whom were proper brigade members, also agreed. Shamisen dangled from my sister’s arms; his opinion was unclear, but he didn’t make any noise, so presumably he had no complaints.
“Shall we push the plan forward, then?” said Koizumi, his gaze pointed out the window. “I had originally planned to start in the evening and end around midnight, but we can begin earlier.”
Can’t we just begin now? I wondered. Before the light of Haruhi’s anticipation burns out my optic nerves?
“Actually, it needs to start snowing again before that can happen. The weather forecast calls for snow showers starting around noon, so we’ll need to wait until then.”
I had only dragged the heavy Shamisen all the way out here because Koizumi had told me he needed the cat, and now he needed snow? If he needed snow, there were piles of the stuff outside, I told him.
“I need continuous, ongoing snowfall. I can’t explain further—I don’t want to ruin the trick.”
Having explained, Koizumi smiled to the calico cat in my sister’s arms, who was for the moment behaving himself, then picked up a rucksack from next to the heater.
“In anticipation of such a situation, I’ve brought several games. We can play indoors all day, if need be.”
I got a little excited, but then Koizumi started taking analog board games out of his bag. I wondered if he had something against video games.
Sure, we could play, but I was worried about Mori and Arakawa. Arakawa had acted as butler and chef, taking care of everything since our arrival the previous day, and Mori attended to us as a maid—although both of them were really members of the same Haruhi-observing Agency that Koizumi belonged to.
Their demeanor was so servantlike that I felt bad, and I wondered if I should help clean up a little after meals or something.
“No, we’re quite all right,” the two of them politely assured me. “This is our job, after all.”
Huh? Were they actually a butler and a maid? I was pretty sure they were just pretending and were actually part of Koizumi’s Agency.
Perhaps having noticed my doubts, Arakawa removed his businesslike mask and smiled. “It’s a gift of our occupational training,” he said to me.
Thus, neither of them were to be seen in the common area. Perhaps they were busily working away in the kitchen.
As for the other two—Keiichi Tamaru, whose fortune from bio-something or other was large enough to buy himself a private island, and his brother, Yutaka—they wouldn’t arrive until around two o’clock, by which time Haruhi had made herself a board-game billionaire, leaving the rest of us bankrupt, and we’d moved on to lunch and Haruhi’s nerve-racking punishment games.
The two brothers appeared in the common room where we were all playing, led there by Arakawa.
“The trains were running late because of the snow. We’d planned to be here in the morning.”
Keiichi Tamaru looked like a completely normal older guy, and his smile was just as nice as it had been in the summer.
“Hi, guys. It’s been a while.”
The pleasant Yutaka Tamaru smiled even more brightly than Koizumi as he waved, then spoke to Tsuruya.
“Pleased to meet you—my name is Tamaru. Thank you so much for the invitation. It’s an honor to be invited to the Tsuruya family villa.”
“Don’t worry about it!” said Tsuruya quickly. “You’re friends of Koizumi’s, and you’ve put together this game for us, so don’t sweat it at all! I love stuff like this!”
No matter whom she was talking to, Tsuruya had a way of making friends in fifteen seconds. I wondered if Asahina’s homeroom class was like this too. The second-year guys in that class must be pretty happy.
Mori and Arakawa immediately paid their respects. “Welcome, honored guests.”
“To think we’d be imposing upon you in the winter too!” said Keiichi with a sheepish smile. “We’ll rely upon you, Arakawa.”
“Would you care for some lunch?” asked Mori with a small smile.
“No, thank you, we ate on the train,” replied Yutaka. “I think we’d like to put our luggage in our room.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll take it up for you, then.” Arakawa politely nodded, then looked to Koizumi.
Koizumi stood and addressed the room like a priest conducting a marriage ceremony.
“With everyone assembled, let us begin the game—I should apologize to the Tamaru brothers, who’ve only just arrived.”
Koizumi’s smile was a bit forced. Was he unsure whether the game would go smoothly, or did some foolish punch line await us?
“Let me state again that the only victim will be Keiichi. There are no plans for this to become a serial murder case. Also, there is one murderer, and only one. Do not worry about multiple culprits. You need not consider motive. It has no meaning in this game. Finally, I would ask that starting now”—he pointed to a clock on the wall—“from two PM to three PM, no one other than Arakawa and Mori may leave this common area. Yutaka, that goes for you as well. If you need to attend to anything before we begin, please do so now. Is this all understood?”
Everyone nodded.
“It’s still seven minutes until two, but that’s fine. Shall we begin?” asked Keiichi Tamaru, at which Koizumi nodded.
“Well then.”
Reprising his role from this summer as the victim, Keiichi scratched his head, apparently a bit uncomfortable with being the center of attention.
“My room is in the small building, a bit removed from the main house, correct?”
“Yes. I can show you the way,” said Mori.
“I think I’ll take a bit of a nap. I actually awoke rather early today and am running short on sleep. My nose is acting up, as well—I may have caught a cold.”
“Now that you mention it, Keiichi, you are allergic to cats,” Yutaka said. “Perhaps that’s the trouble.”
Even for an act, this was all way too fake.
“That could be it. Uh, please don’t worry about me. The allergy’s not that severe. It can be rough in a small room, but I’ll be fine in a large space like this.”
Then, as though to really hammer the point home:
“Please come and wake me around four thirty. Will that be all right—four thirty?”
“Understood, sir.”
Mori bowed, then returned to her upright, elegant posture. “This way, please.”
Having delivered that series of obviously expository lines, Keiichi disappeared into the hallway after Mori. It was all so obvious.
“I’ll take my leave, then. Mr. Yutaka, I’ll take your luggage.”
Arakawa the butler gave a full ninety-degree bow, then quickly gathered up the bag and coat and left.
Having watched the three leave, Koizumi cleared his throat deliberately.
“Well then, that concludes the opening. Please enjoy yourselves in the common area for the next hour.”
“Now wait just a minute.”
It was Haruhi who objected.
“There’s an external building? I don’t remember that.”
“Sure there is,” said Tsuruya. “There’s a little place, separate from this house. Didn’t you see it?”
“I did not. Koizumi, it’s no fair hiding clues. You have to tell us these things. Let’s all go take a look at it.”
“You were going to see it later anyway…” Koizumi’s smile was weak in the face of his already disintegrating plans, but after looking at the clock, he seemed to decide the situation was salvageable. “Understood. There’s no harm in doing this much.”
“This way!”
Tsuruya walked along, taking the lead. Everyone else followed behind, of course—even my sister, carrying Shamisen, not that one person and one cat were going to be any use in solving the mystery.
Leaving the common area, we came to a hallway that ran parallel to a courtyard. The outside-facing walls were glass, so the garden was plainly visible.
Somewhere along the line it had started to snow.
The accumulated snow was about knee-deep. The garden was totally covered in white, yet somehow I got the sense that it had been done in the Japanese style. In the middle of the courtyard was a small hut.
After a minute’s walk, we came to the door that led to the courtyard, which Tsuruya opened. She then pointed.
“That’s the place. My grandfather used to use it to meditate. He hated people, see, so whenever he’d come to visit, he’d say something about getting away from my grandma, then lock himself up in there! It’s like, if you don’t like it, don’t come, right? But he’d get ticked off if we didn’t invite him. Tough guy to please.”
Tsuruya sounded a little nostalgic as she explained.
I tried to notice every little detail. A path led from the main house to the garden shack, but it had no walls—only a roof protected the stone path from snow, even on days that had light snow showers, like today. Things wouldn’t go so well if there were a blizzard.
The freezing air gave all of us a chill as it blew through the open door. Shamisen was particularly affected, and he wriggled around, trying to get back to his warm bed. My sister seemed to find this very funny, and before I could stop her, she walked out onto the stone pathway in her slippers, bringing Shamisen closer to a drift of snow.
“Look, Shami, it’s snow! Want to taste it?”
Shamisen thrashed around like a bonito on a hook, and as soon as he jumped free of my sister’s arms, he expressed his heartfelt irritation with a “meow!” as he disappeared back inside the house. No doubt he was returning to the heated floor to continue his nap.
“Goodness.”
Having shown Keiichi to his place, Mori walked back along the stone path with a floating grace. Her smile had an ageless quality to it.
“Is something the matter? If you are looking for Mr. Keiichi, he would be in the shack.”
“Are you sure?” asked Haruhi. Her face was already suspicious.
“Quite sure,” said Koizumi. “That’s what the script says.”
Once we’d returned to the common area, the clock pointed to two o’clock on the nose, and Koizumi seemed to sigh in relief.
“I’ll say this one more time. Please do not leave this area until after three o’clock. If you absolutely must, please tell me.”
Koizumi went over to his rucksack in the corner and took out another item. If there was more, why didn’t he just take it all out at once?
“Huh.”
Something suddenly occurred to me—Shamisen was nowhere to be seen. Koizumi had left his bag in the corner with the heater, and lately the pillow in front of the heater’s vent had been the cat’s preferred location. I thought for sure he’d be spitefully sleeping there, but no. Just as I was thinking about it—
“Shall we try this game to pass the time? Suzumiya, will this do?”
My questions were erased by Koizumi speaking.
“Sure,” said Haruhi, sounding somehow pleased with herself. “It might be a little early, but we’ll wind up playing anyway, so we might as well. Gimme that, Koizumi.”
Koizumi handed over the bag, whereupon Haruhi took something curious out of it—some sheets of paper with pictures drawn on them, along with a corresponding number of envelopes. She spread them out on the hearth table around which we all sat. I was suddenly filled with a sense of nostalgia.
“It’s fukuwarai!” said Haruhi. “You played it when you were a kid, right? Just pin the eyes, noses, and mouths on blank faces while blindfolded. I’d planned to play tomorrow, but we’ve got time, so let’s do it now. Plus, this isn’t just any old fukuwarai.”
That much was obvious. Just looking at the facial outlines and hairstyles, it was clear that they were caricatures of our faces. They were drawn well enough that even without eyes or noses, you could still tell who was who. I could see why Haruhi was so proud of them.
“I drew these. They’re handmade! There’s even one for Tsuruya. And I knew Kyon’s little sister was coming, so I made one for her too. Oh—sorry, Yutaka. I couldn’t really remember your face.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” said Yutaka easily. “That’s probably for the best, really.”
“Probably!”
Haruhi grinned and looked over the brigade members.
“Ready? We’re gonna play with our own faces. And no do-overs! When the faces are done, we’re gonna glue them in place and hang them on the clubroom wall, so be serious. If you don’t, you’ll be stuck with a weirdo version of your face in our clubroom forever!”
Her thinking was something else. She’d done an amazing job of capturing everybody’s features. If we managed to line them up right, they really would look like cartoon versions of us. Based on that alone, we’d want to be serious about it.
Still, when had she found the time to do all this?
“All right, who’s going first?” asked Haruhi.
Tsuruya’s hand shot up energetically; hers was the only one.
While Tsuruya was a force to be reckoned with, even she didn’t have X-ray vision. Blindfolded with a towel, she made a hilarious arrangement of her own features that caused the table to burst into laughter, and when she herself saw the completed portrait, she rolled over and nearly died. Not even a laugh bag could be so funny.
Next up was Koizumi, whose clever, handsome features were totally ruined. When the blindfold was removed and he saw the results of his work, he made a disappointed face—but I couldn’t really laugh, since my turn was up next.
I’d never felt so nervous playing fukuwarai. Just as I was psyching myself up for it—
“Excuse me for a moment,” Koizumi muttered to me. “I need to go speak to Arakawa et al about tomorrow’s arrangements.”
And with that, he left the common area. I didn’t know what he needed to meet with them about, but that wasn’t my problem at the moment. The fate of my clubroom portrait was in the hands of my own sense of spatial orientation.
My round of fukuwarai ended with a burst of laughter. Oh well. It would’ve spoiled the mood if I’d arranged a perfect face, I suppose. Hey—Tsuruya, you’re laughing a little too hard, I thought.
As I took off the towel amid Tsuruya’s and Haruhi’s cackling, I saw Koizumi return. Reflexively, I checked the clock.
It was just past two thirty.
“Pardon my absence.”
For some reason, Koizumi had gone somewhere and returned carrying Shamisen. What was he doing with that cat? I asked him.
“Ah, nothing. He was just following Mori around too much in the kitchen.”
Koizumi set the calico down on the cushion in front of the heater, whereupon the cat curled up in front of the warm airflow. Putting a well-fed cat somewhere warm is the best way to get it to behave.
“How did you do?”
Koizumi sat down next to me at the table and took a look at the proceedings. My little sister had inflicted her paste upon the portraits of myself, Tsuruya, and Koizumi. Surely there was something better than these to decorate the clubroom with—Asahina’s cosplay photos, for example.
Time passed, and the game of fukuwarai proceeded with Asahina, then Nagato. Asahina’s hands were charmingly hesitant as she felt around for the parts of her face, and in the end her portrait was just as charming. Nagato then completed a surrealist version of herself that absolutely slew Tsuruya. Nagato regarded her own work curiously, having no idea what was so funny about it.
As we continued to play—
“Excuse me, everyone—it will soon be three o’clock.”
Koizumi made his announcement.
“I’d like everyone to take a short break. I’ll need you all to stay here from three to four o’clock, so if you need to use the bathroom, now is your chance.”
Everyone left the room except Nagato, Yutaka, Koizumi, and me. Nagato continued to regard her fukuwarai portrait, while Yutaka watched her profile, seemingly amused.
I turned to Koizumi.
“When will the murder happen?”
“More important, take a look outside the window.” Koizumi pointed outside. “You can see that it is snowing, correct? Please remember that. If it hadn’t been snowing, I would have had to ask you to pretend that it was, but fortunately, things are working out nicely.”
As I was scrutinizing Koizumi’s easy smile, the four girls returned. Yutaka seemed like the most likely suspect to me. He had no other role to play, after all. Not that he was actually doing anything suspicious at the moment.
Haruhi sat back down at the hearth.
“Koizumi, let’s do that next. Get it out for me, will you?”
Koizumi again went over to his rucksack. Wondering what handmade nonsense he was going to pull out this time, I followed him over. He rummaged around for a moment, then, looking back at me, produced a large sheet of paper by some sleight of hand.
“Please give this to Suzumiya.”
Koizumi handed me a large sheet of paper that was folded over onto itself; it fluttered slightly in the heater’s breeze. As I tried to open it, I felt suddenly uneasy. It wasn’t because of the big sheet of paper. There was Koizumi right in front of me, his hand on his bag, and next to it was the heater. Also there was Shamisen, sleeping comfortably away on the cushion.
There wasn’t anything strange about it, and yet something was off. Had Koizumi seemed nervous when I’d gotten close to him?
“Kyon, what’re you doing? Bring it over here!”
I reluctantly brought the mysterious sheet of paper back to the table, Koizumi following me.
The clock indicated exactly three o’clock.
“Koizumi and I made it!”
Haruhi’s pride seemed to hit a crescendo. It was written all over her face.
“It’s a board game just for the SOS Brigade! I drew every square by hand, so you’d better be grateful.”
Incidentally, the first square my piece landed on said this:
KYON ONLY—THIRTY PUSH-UPS.
Other squares said things like PLAY STRIP ROCK-PAPER-SCISSORS WITH THE NEXT PERSON WHO STOPS, or SAY FIVE NICE THINGS TO THE CHIEF, or ANSWER EVERYBODY’S QUESTIONS HONESTLY (AND EVERYBODY HAS TO ASK THE MOST EMBARRASSING QUESTIONS THEY CAN), and so on. It was a board game filled with Haruhi-style punishments.
After much fuss, obviously we wound up playing it. Asahina and Yutaka landed on the strip rock-paper-scissors square, but Asahina’s blank face made it clear she didn’t have the slightest idea what the terms meant, so I wound up playing in her stead. What followed was a parade of squares I can only assume were designed to exhaust me. An hour later, when Tsuruya finally reached the goal, I was about ready to collapse.
I’m sure Koizumi didn’t care about me a bit, but he raised his hand and spoke, as though he’d been looking forward to it.
“Your attention please, everybody. It is now four o’clock,” he announced like a timekeeper for a live broadcast. “It is now free time. Please assemble back here by four thirty. Also, if possible, please refrain from going outside. Of course, that only applies if you are not the murderer.”
“Well then, if you’ll excuse me,” said Yutaka Tamaru, smiling meaningfully as he stood. “I need to unpack the luggage in my room. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in five minutes.”
He left immediately thereafter, whereupon Haruhi announced, “I’m going to the kitchen,” and she did, taking Tsuruya with her, returning a few moments later bearing tea cakes and drinks. No one else left the table. Nobody wanted to be accused of being the murderer, after all—especially if it wasn’t true.
Incidentally, I should add that Yutaka did indeed return five minutes later.
It was just past four thirty in the afternoon.
Mori entered the common area and made an announcement.
“Mr. Keiichi is not answering the door.”
She pretended to look unsettled.
“I checked the shack, but there is no response, and the door has been locked.”
“It’s time!” Haruhi said, standing up gallantly. “We’ll need to check the scene of the crime first.”
Every inch the tour guide, Koizumi headed down the hallway, the rest of us trailing behind.
Upon opening the doors that led to the courtyard, we found outdoor shoes set out for us in advance. After putting them on and making our way down the path to the shack, we found Arakawa waiting beside the door.
“What’s the situation?” asked Haruhi.
“Just as Mori said, I’m sure. The door is locked from the inside, and Mr. Keiichi is the only one who has the key. Incidentally, there are no duplicates.”
“That’s how things are,” noted Koizumi. “However, there is no need to break the door down. Please simply assume that there are no duplicate keys. Arakawa, the key, please.”
Arakawa the butler extended his hand, which contained a key.
“This key does not really exist. Please act as though that were true.”
Koizumi opened the door, through which Haruhi immediately strode.
“Hi.”
Keiichi waved at us. Lying next to the futon, the elder Tamaru brother pointed to his chest.
“I’ve been stabbed again.”
A knife handle stuck out of his chest—a gag toy I’d seen before.
“Who stabbed you?” asked Haruhi.
“I can’t say. I’m dead, after all, and corpses don’t talk.”
With that, his hand flopped down onto the floor.
“Everyone, please,” began Koizumi, “take a careful look around the room. The key to the shack is here on the desk. This is, of course, the one that Keiichi brought with him. That means that the murderer did not leave through the door.”
Koizumi approached the window that faced the veranda.
“The window is closed, but it is not locked, which means that the killer escaped through it. Also, snow is piling up outside.”
Once Koizumi opened the window, we all peered out at the courtyard.
“Allow me to explain the killer’s escape route. We know that he or she did not leave through the door, but escaped through the window. While walking through the snow would of course leave footprints behind, none are visible. Look above the window—the eaves of this shack overhang all four corners, and directly beneath them, the layer of snow is very thin. The killer walked along the outside wall to get to the path that returns to the house.”
I looked down at the ground that Koizumi was pointing to, then back up to the sky. Snow was slowly falling.
“The falling snow has covered up the killer’s footprints. Based on this rate of snowfall… the footprints wouldn’t have disappeared in less than thirty minutes.”
Then, as if to confirm that everybody understood, he added, “This is the scenario. I ask for your cooperation. The corpse cannot talk, but as the game’s master, I will not deceive you.”
“Hmm.”
Haruhi looked back and forth from the snow to Koizumi, then frowned and folded her arms.
“Is that all?”
Koizumi only pointed to the futon. Something seemed to be moving around beneath the soft comforter. Could it be—?
It was Haruhi who pulled the comforter aside, to reveal—
“Shamisen?”
It was definitely our cat, narrowing his eyes at the sudden light.
We returned to the common area and sat around the table.
Mori and Arakawa quietly stood back, while Keiichi—his corpse duties concluded—was probably enjoying a nice cup of coffee somewhere.
“Let’s put the facts in order. Keiichi entered the shack at exactly two o’clock. His body was discovered just a moment ago, at four thirty. We know for sure that the crime was committed sometime during those two and a half hours. The doors were locked from the inside, and the key was inside the room. Let me reiterate that you must assume that there were no duplicate keys. The window that faced the veranda was unlocked, which means the killer escaped through that window.”
Koizumi explained the facts.
“It would be impossible to reach the path to the shack from the window without leaving footprints. The fact that there are no footprints means that the prints that were once there have been covered by the falling snow.”
He looked at the calico cat that my sister held.
“Moreover, Shamisen was present at the scene of the crime when the corpse was discovered. Now, let’s think back. Before discovering him with the body, when did we last see the cat?”
I’d seen him right after Koizumi told everyone to take a bathroom break. He’d been sleeping by the rucksack when Koizumi took Haruhi’s punishment board game out of it, I told everyone.
“What? Really?”
Haruhi pushed on her forehead with her finger.
“Now that you mention it, I don’t have any memory of seeing the cat for the last three hours. Was he really there?”
“I think he was there…” said Asahina without much confidence. “I, um, saw him a few times when we were playing fukuwarai. He was sleeping on the cushion.”
“That was the last I saw of him too!” said Tsuruya. “Right when I stood up to head to the bathroom, I saw the kitty cat all curled up there. I think he was there when we were board-gamin’ it up too.”
It seemed that based on witness testimony, I was the last one to have seen him. Which meant that Shamisen had no alibi from three to four o’clock.
Sometime during the time we were absorbed with the game, he’d woken up and wandered off somewhere. Eventually he’d found his way into Keiichi’s room, then snuck into the futon…
Wait—that can’t be right.
“There’s no way the cat would decide to go into the shack of his own volition,” I said. “He hated the cold so much he freaked out just by being outside for a bit. He flinched away from the snow, and he couldn’t have opened the door from the main house to the courtyard by himself.”
“True.”
Koizumi voiced his mild agreement.
“It stands to reason that someone must have taken him there. Either Keiichi or the killer.”
“Well, it couldn’t have been Keiichi.”
Haruhi butted in.
“He said he was allergic to cats. That was foreshadowing, although it was kinda fake.”
“Of course, that was part of the setup for the mystery. It would have been a bit problematic otherwise. So whoever brought the cat into the room must be the killer. This seems to be a hint.”
Haruhi raised her hand at Koizumi’s declaration.
“Now wait just a minute. So that means Shamisen was with us until three, whereupon he went missing. The killer had to leave the shack no later than four thirty. It took half an hour for the snow to cover the tracks, so that narrows it down to four. That means that the killer took Shamisen—and killed Keiichi—sometime between three and four.”
That sounded right, I said.
“The hell it does!” Haruhi said. “Something’s wrong. The only ones who left the room at four were Tsuruya, Yutaka, and me. But I was with Tsuruya the whole time, so that means she’s not the killer. Yutaka’s suspicious, but if it took at least half an hour for the snow to cover the tracks, he couldn’t have done it either.”
Good point, I said.
“It’s no point at all! It means everyone here has an alibi! We were all here during that hour.”
Eight of us played the board game starting at three—Haruhi, Asahina, Nagato, Koizumi, my little sister, Tsuruya, Yutaka Tamaru, and me. Since the break at three until the beginning of free activity time at four, not a single one of us had left the common area—except for the cat.
“Could it have been Arakawa or Mori?” Haruhi wondered.
The two servants were immediately brought in for interrogation. Haruhi sounded like a police detective as she questioned them.
“Well then, Mr. Arakawa, let’s hear your alibi, starting from three o’clock.”
Arakawa the butler gave a polite bow.
“I’ve been in the kitchen since two o’clock, cleaning up after lunch and preparing for tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast.”
“Do you have anyone who will vouch for that?”
“If I may,” said Mori, her smile as pure as her maid uniform, “I was with Mr. Arakawa the entire time, helping him prepare. He didn’t leave my sight until I went to wake up Mr. Keiichi.”
“Likewise,” said Arakawa. “At the very least, I can state with confidence that Miss Mori did not leave the kitchen between three and four o’clock.”
“Which means you’re testimony for each other.”
Haruhi nodded thoughtfully.
“But that means you could have conspired to commit the crime together—or that one of you is covering for the other. Am I wrong?”
Haruhi’s shining eyes turned to Koizumi, seeking an explanation.
“That is not the case. This mystery is predicated on a single perpetrator, and neither Arakawa nor Mori will give false testimony. I’ll just come right out and say it—neither of these two is the killer,” said Koizumi.
“Well, then who is it?” said Haruhi happily. “Everyone’s alibi is perfect, which means none of us could have killed Keiichi!”
Koizumi seemed slightly pleased. Haruhi seemed to have hit upon the point he wanted her to hit. With a smile, he replied:
“That is precisely what I want you to think about and solve. There’d be no game otherwise.”
“The first thing we need to think about is why the killer needed Shamisen.”
Having appointed herself chair of the investigation, Haruhi poked at the nose of the calico cat my sister held.
“Otherwise, what’s the point? What was the killer doing that they needed a cat for?”
If the stupid cat would just talk, he could’ve provided crucial testimony—he was a witness, after all.
“What I think is that the killer needed Shamisen to be there for some reason,” said Haruhi.
Even I knew that much. The question was, what was that reason?
“Kitty, kitty cat… hmm…” Asahina muttered charmingly under her breath, her hand touching her chin as she mulled it over. “Cat. Calico cat. Calico. Hmm… kitty… kitty food…”
She didn’t seem to be getting anywhere, though.
Tsuruya always seemed to have pretty sharp eyes; she stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes back as she thought. I guessed that was just how she looked when she was thinking hard. She silently folded her arms, maintaining her funny expression.
Speaking of silence, there was Nagato. Although at the moment, it was probably best for her to stay silent. I’d bet with a fair amount of confidence that Nagato had seen through whatever trick Koizumi was playing. Maybe I’d get her to tell us who the culprit was once everyone else had given up, I thought.
“Shamisen’s alibi is the key. If only he hadn’t shown himself the whole time… a locked room trick? A locked room using snow to impose a time limit… hmm?”
Muttering to herself, Haruhi suddenly looked up. She regarded Koizumi’s smile, then Yutaka’s calm expression, then Shamisen’s sleepy face.
“Time limit… alibi… oh, I see!”
Haruhi suddenly turned to me.
“Kyon, what do you think of when you hear the word ‘alibi’?”
“Cop shows,” I answered immediately, then regretted it. “Uh… made-for-TV suspense movies,” I tried again, then regretted it even more. Time continued to pass as I tried to think of what to say next.
“He’s a decoy!” Haruhi answered her own question. “Of course he’s a decoy! Shamisen’s being used to trick us!”
Trick us how? I asked.
“Just think about it. Here—when does Shamisen’s alibi get vague?”
From three to four thirty. I was the last one to see him before he teleported to the scene of the murder.
“Forget about that time period. Think about what happened earlier.”
Before three? Hadn’t we just been wandering around the villa then? No—wait.
“Koizumi, when was it that you carried the cat back to the common area?”
I thought I noticed Koizumi’s handsome smile turn slightly more angular.
“Just a bit past two thirty,” he said.
“And where did you bring him from?”
“The kitchen.” Koizumi smiled at Mori. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
Mori looked to Shamisen with a smile.
“Just as I was tidying up, the cat came in and started sashaying around at my feet. I gave in and let him have some table scraps, but he only seemed to become more persistent. So when Mr. Koizumi passed through, he took the cat with him.”
I remembered Koizumi saying something about making plans for tomorrow and leaving his seat.
“And that was at two thirty?”
In response to my question, the plainly dressed maid gave me a smile so elegant I almost flinched away.
“Yes… yes, it was. I didn’t check the time, so I can’t be perfectly accurate, but I think it was around that time.”
“And when did Shamisen start hanging around you?”
“At two o’clock, when I returned from the shack, he was grooming himself in the kitchen.”
So that much matched up. Our calico cat had roamed around the villa after escaping my younger sister’s clutches, had begged for food from Mori, then around two thirty had been carried by Koizumi back into the common room, where he’d commenced napping on the cushion in front of the heater.
“So he has an alibi from two to three.”
There was an explanation for his movements for that hour. But what had Shamisen seen between then and when he went to the shack? I wondered.
“That’s where the trick is.”
Haruhi narrowed her eyes and stroked her throat. Then, as if something had jumped out at her—
“All we know for sure is that one hour. The rest is still vague, especially where he went and what he did after three. The cat’s alibi, and when he fell into the hands of the killer…”
Haruhi frowned, deep in thought; I went ahead and frowned too. My sister looked up at me with a puzzled expression, while Yutaka only smiled and said nothing. He probably knew the truth, being the prime suspect.
“Shall I give you a hint?”
“No, wait.”
I cut off Koizumi and thought.
It was around two o’clock when Keiichi had gone to the shack.
The cat was last seen at three, and nobody had seen him again until we found him with Keiichi’s corpse at four thirty.
If the killer had exited the shack through the window, it had to be with enough time for the falling snow to cover his or her tracks, so the murder had happened between three and four.
But between three and four, all of us—including Yutaka—were in the open common area, and none of us left. Only at four did Yutaka, Haruhi, and Tsuruya leave.
All right. I nodded, satisfied.
“I give up. Give me a hint.”
Koizumi shrugged.
“I would have thought that the first to notice would be either you or your sister,” was all he said before clamming up again.
“Huh?”
What kind of hint was that? I couldn’t imagine that my sister was sharper than Tsuruya or Haruhi.
“Oh, I see!” Haruhi shouted.
Tsuruya’s bright voice rang out immediately after Haruhi’s.
“That’s it, Haru-meow! The cat’s alibi is the same as the killer’s!” she said, the realization all over her face. “Yes, yes! That’s it! That’s why the cat had to be here! Not just anywhere, here! Not in the shack, but in the room with everyone else!”
I didn’t have the slightest idea what she was saying. Asahina and I were dumbstruck, but Haruhi seemed to understand, and her voice rose accordingly.
“Right! Nice one, Tsuruya! For that hour, the cat had to be in a place where everyone could see it, because otherwise, the killer’s own alibi would be blown!”
“Bingo!”
Tsuruya snapped her fingers.
“Shami didn’t go missing at three, but at two thirty! He has two hours without an alibi, not just an hour and a half!”
“Which pushes the time of the murder forward half an hour, from between two thirty to four… no, sometime in the half hour between two thirty and three—basically, the true crime happened at two thirty. Right?”
“Right!”
I told them to hold up. The two energetic girls sounded like they were closing in on the truth, but what about the rest of us? I had no clue what they were going on about.
“You’re so slow, Kyon. Who would be confused by the fact that Shamisen went missing from three to four thirty, then was found at the crime scene?”
Uh, us, right?
“Okay, and who stands to gain from that?”
Nobody? I asked.
“It’s not nobody! The killer took Shamisen off and locked him in the room. The fact that they did that meant they needed to do that. What part of that did they need?”
Haruhi’s eyes bored into me accusingly, as though she were the true killer, glaring at a detective.
“Uh,” I said. “The fact that Shamisen was there means that… the killer took him there, so the moment when Shamisen disappeared is the time of the murder, so…”
“That’s right.”
What’s right? I wanted to know.
“What do you mean, ‘what’? That’s what everybody would think. That’s the trick! The killer needs us to be thinking about the time when Shamisen doesn’t have an alibi.”
“Everybody has an alibi from three to four,” said Tsuruya. “But what about starting at two o’clock? We were told not to leave the room, and we didn’t, right?”
“That’s because the killer needed to preserve their alibi between two and three,” said Haruhi. “So they had to make it seem like Shamisen was still here. Why? Because Shamisen going missing from three to four thirty would actually establish their own alibi. Shamisen couldn’t be both here and at the scene of the crime at the same time. If the cat is here, we assume that the killer hasn’t yet taken him to the shack. But you were the last person to see Shamisen, and that was around three o’clock. Making us think that the killer had to have taken Shamisen to the shack sometime after three is obviously the trick!”
“Which means there’s only one person who could possibly be the killer! It’s the person whose alibi around two thirty is shaky, and the person who was closest to the cat at three!”
Tsuruya giggled happily.
“Kyon, don’t you see? Think about it this way. We just need to find the person who had the opportunity to kill Keiichi between two o’clock, when he shut himself in the shack, and four, when we broke in. Turns out it’s impossible for everybody except one person! Except that if we narrow it down to three o’clock, that person also has an alibi. So what we’ve gotten wrong is the time of the murder!”
Not to be beaten, Haruhi grinned.
“Right, right! Keiichi was killed before three, and that’s when Shamisen was taken to the shack.”
“Now wait just a second,” I said. “How do you explain that I saw Shamisen at three? And what about Asahina seeing him sleeping a bit before three? Don’t tell me he split himself.”
“You still don’t get it?”
Haruhi’s smile was full of pride.
“Let me explain what the killer did. Neither Mori nor Arakawa is the killer, and we don’t have to doubt their testimony. Since the game master gave them the stamp of approval, we’ll ignore them.”
Apparently the only ones who hadn’t figured it out were me, Asahina, and my sister.
Haruhi looked us over, then started explaining victoriously.
“The killer left the common area sometime between two and three and took Shamisen out of the kitchen. He or she then took Shamisen to the shack where Keiichi was. It doesn’t matter whether it was locked or not—either way, the killer entered the room and stabbed Keiichi. Then he or she locked the room from inside, left Shamisen there, exited the room via the window, moved around to the path, then returned to the house—empty-handed, of course.”
“Hang on,” I said. “What about the fact that I saw Shamisen at three? He was sleeping on the cushion in front of the heater.”
“That wasn’t Shamisen!”
Haruhi glanced at Tsuruya, and after having confirmed that Tsuruya’s expression indicated agreement, she continued.
“It’s the logical conclusion. There’s only one killer, and the only time that killer could have acted alone was during a few minutes around two thirty, while moving easily between the main house and the shack was impossible for everybody else, no matter what time it was. Regardless of his or her alibi, that person is the killer. And what do we need to destroy that alibi? Don’t you see? You just need to show that Shamisen went missing around two thirty. Which means the only explanation for the Shamisen you saw was that it was a fake.”
Tsuruya butted in.
“So lemme just ask you, Kyon. The Shamisen you saw between two thirty and three—was that the real Shamisen?”
When she put it that way, I didn’t have an answer. I only saw the cat from behind—both when it was picked up and when it was sleeping on the cushion. That was all I saw.
But a fake? What kind of fake? Was she saying that Shamisen had been secretly cloned somewhere along the line? I asked.
“Who knows?” answered Haruhi calmly. “I told you, it’s the logical conclusion. The cat you saw on that cushion between two thirty and three was not Shamisen. It couldn’t have been Shamisen. I don’t know if it was a clone, or a doll, or just a look-alike. All I know is that it wasn’t your calico.”
“Hey, Haru-meow, I think everybody’s figured it out, so let’s just say the name of the killer, ’kay? We’re not gonna get anywhere otherwise,” said Tsuruya excitedly, at which Haruhi nodded.
“Good point. If we wait for Kyon, he’ll be thinking about it all winter break at this rate. Together, then?”
“Gotcha. The killer is—”
The two girls smiled together at a certain individual, then with double-barreled synchronization, shouted out the name of the killer.
“—Koizumi!”
Koizumi raised both hands, like a suspect run down by two famous bounty hunters holding Winchester rifles.
“Right you are,” he said, his bitter smile looking a bit defeated. “I was the killer. I had hoped you would take a bit more time to think it through, but Suzumiya and Tsuruya were too sharp.”
Haruhi’s mouth bent into a smile.
“Why didn’t you give us free time starting at three, instead of four? It would’ve taken more time to pin down the culprit, I think.”
“That would have indeed made ascertaining the killer more difficult,” Koizumi explained. “If any one of you had left for more than five minutes starting at three o’clock—that’s the amount of time it takes to get from the house to the shack and back—and had been alone for that time, that would’ve made it impossible to exclude you from the list of suspects. In other words, there would be no way for you to plausibly deny being the killer, so I decided it would be better to remove everybody from being a suspect. The game would have been too difficult otherwise.”
That made sense, but I wondered if he hadn’t just thought of it.
“Where did you hide the body double for Shamisen?”
“In my room. I had Arakawa bring it there before the game began. That doesn’t make him an accessory—from the perspective of the story, I brought it in myself.”
With an expression like a day laborer reaching the end of his shift, Koizumi continued.
“After the murder, before returning here, I went and got the double out of my room. The rest, you’ve figured out.”
So that was the cat Koizumi had carried in a bit after two thirty. Still—
“So where’s the cat?” I asked again. “Where’d the fake go? It still hasn’t shown up, not since I spotted it last. Don’t tell me you were able to make it disappear again.”
The defeated Koizumi looked to Haruhi, whereupon our gallant brigade chief marched over to the heater in the corner of the room.
“Kyon, think back carefully now. Koizumi was next to the calico cat you saw sleeping on the cushion, right? You took the board game from him and then came back to the table, and we were all paying attention to you. Koizumi took the chance to stick the sleeping cat into his rucksack. So—”
Standing by the wall, Haruhi picked up the rucksack that was sitting next to the heater vent.
“—that’s where it still is.”
She tipped over the bag, and sure enough, a big ball of fur came tumbling out.
“Shamisen?”
I blurted out the name despite myself; the cat really did look like Shamisen. It was a perfect copycat, down to the body shape and pattern—save one big difference: it was female. Male calicos are incredibly rare, and if you want to know why, I suggest asking your biology teacher.
The fake Shamisen sat dazedly on the floor for a moment, then eventually flicked her tail and walked over to my sister and sniffed noses with the real Shamisen, whom my sister was holding. My cat stared round-eyed at the female, then escaped my sister’s clutches and sniffed the female’s tail. The two circled around in pursuit of each other’s tails, which ended about ten seconds later when Shamisen took a swipe at the female.
“Hey! Bad Shami!”
My sister scooped up the growling Shamisen, whereupon the female calico looked around, then for some reason decided to occupy Nagato’s lap.
“…”
Nagato looked blankly down, meeting the gaze of the cat that looked up at her with a demand in her eyes. Eventually, Nagato extended a hesitant hand.
Satisfied with Nagato’s timid petting, the impostor kitty curled up and closed her eyes. She certainly did resemble Shamisen, but there were differences. I’d lived with Shamisen for two months—more than enough time to tell the face of my own household’s cat from some other animal.
“Ah, so that’s why you said you thought my sister or I would have noticed first.”
“Yes. When you got close, I was breaking out in a cold sweat. If you’d actually noticed, I was planning to whisper into your ear to play along. But based on your expression, you didn’t seem to have noticed at all.”
Sorry, pal, I mentally apologized to Shamisen.
“The hardest part of all of this was finding that cat.”
What follows is Master Koizumi’s supplemental explanation.
“As far as cats identical to Shamisen go, when I started looking I had no luck finding one. I had naively thought that all calicos were equal—how wrong I was. After skipping all over the country, I finally found a stray with similar coloration, though not quite exact. Ultimately parts of her fur had to be dyed. But even that wasn’t enough. She also had to be trained.”
What kind of training? I asked.
“She had to learn ‘wait,’ like a dog. If she started wandering around, that would ruin everything, so I had to teach her to sit still and feign sleep until she got a sign from me. If she moved or meowed during the half hour on the cushion, then during the hour and a half inside my rucksack, the trick wouldn’t have worked.”
Koizumi shook his head, thinking about it. If the cat had actually learned that kind of trick, it might have a future in showbiz—and showbiz would be even easier for the guy who’d learned how to hypnotize cats.
“I named her Shamisen the Second, Shami Two for short. I couldn’t think of anything else.”
Having given that strange excuse, Koizumi cleared his throat.
“So, our mystery game has come to an end. I trust no one will mind awarding both Suzumiya and Tsuruya the prize for correctly solving the mystery—said prize will be presented in a moment.”
Koizumi bowed slowly.
“This concludes the day’s entertainment. I thank everyone for their cooperation, particularly Tsuruya for the use of her family’s villa, Keiichi Tamaru for playing the role of the victim, Yutaka for acting solely as a misdirection, and Arakawa and Mori for all their help. Thank you all for your support.”
Haruhi and Tsuruya started clapping like monkeys, followed by my sister, then the baffled Asahina. Seeing even Nagato clapping quietly, Shami Two still in her lap, I wound up applauding as well.
Good job, Koizumi.
The prize was a small electroplated trophy. It was decorated with a stylized cat that actually looked a bit like Shamisen doing a headstand. Haruhi and Tsuruya held it up, their fingers flashing V-for-victory poses, so I gave up and snapped a picture—with Shamisens One and Two, of course.
Later, Arakawa brought out the traditional New Year’s Eve soba noodles a little early. Haruhi and Tsuruya immediately grabbed their chopsticks and went crazy, while Koizumi’s chopsticks barely twitched. Now that I thought about it, I’d never seen him really tear into a meal.
“So, how did you like the game?”
Well now, this was a rare thing indeed. Even in the house of illusions the previous day, Koizumi hadn’t shown me the slightly uneasy smile he now wore. I didn’t really feel like complimenting the scenario, but…
“I guess it was all right,” I said.
I gulped down some onions in noodle broth.
“Haruhi’s mood is as good as ever. Aren’t you satisfied?”
“That’s good, if true. It means this was worth arranging—it was all for her amusement, after all.”
There was that—it’d been nothing but a pain for me, and I couldn’t say I felt particularly resolved. Asahina didn’t seem to have understood either, and she was busily drawing lines in a memo pad.
“This is two o’clock, and this is three, and the cat was here from two to three… wait, no, half an hour? Huh? Kitty, kitty…”
Asahina muttered away, slurping up her noodles with a confused-looking face. The person who understood the least was my sister; she hadn’t heard a single thing, but there she sat, happily stirring up the contents of her bowl.
I breathed a sigh of relief to see Nagato’s appetite returning to normal, with the female calico still in her lap. Basically, it was good to see everybody acting like themselves, save Koizumi, who seemed to be trying to elicit sympathy.
“I’ve been totally preoccupied by the planning for this ever since the winter field trip was announced. Thanks to everyone, I’m finally free. I don’t think I’m really cut out to be the killer or mastermind type. I’m happy to leave the detective role to others too. I think being a commentator suits me best.”
If it were up to me, I’d have the commentator role abolished—I didn’t want any more crazy things happening that needed commentary. Just as I was making that wish, an idea flashed through my mind.
“For the next murder mystery, why bother doing a whole performance? If it’s all planned, wouldn’t it be easier to just hand out booklets with the script?”
Koizumi made a face like noodles were stuck in his throat, then spoke like a boxer, bleeding because of an accidental head-butt and being told by the doctor to forfeit.
“… That’s a good point,” he said unwillingly.
“So hey, Koizumi—”
Haruhi spoke up as she got a refill on her noodles from Mori.
“We’re leaving next summer’s event to you! We’ve done an island and a snowy mountain, so next we’ll need someplace even weirder. Like someplace with a weird name! Someplace overseas might be good. Yeah, like a castle! An old stone castle would be perfect!”
Haruhi destroyed my dreams and Koizumi’s as she whipped her chopsticks around like a baton.
“I know the perfect place—my dad’s friend owns a castle overseas!”
Tsuruya joined in, unfortunately, and seemed even more excited than Haruhi.
“Hey, guys, did you hear that? Get your passports ready for summer!”
Koizumi and I exchanged a glance and a sigh, proof that neither of us had the strength to withstand the tag-teaming of Haruhi and Tsuruya. I was just the guy who was going to try to get Haruhi to give up on her overseas travel plans, and Koizumi was the SOS Brigade’s drama producer of last resort. The way things were ending up, battling unseen opponents was starting to sound pretty good.
If I didn’t do something, we’d wind up opening an overseas branch of the SOS Brigade. I really didn’t want things to get too out of hand, or so I told myself as eloquently as I could.
This was probably the first New Year’s Eve I’d ever passed without a single glance at the television.
We played another round of Haruhi’s board game, this time including Mori and the others. As Haruhi had fun and I got worn out, the luxurious dinner and evening conversation came to an end, and eventually we realized that the hour was getting late.
“Once we wake up tomorrow, we can write our New Year’s resolutions and play hanetsuki in the snow!” Haruhi shouted.
Hey, at least let us eat some zouni first before we go play badminton in the snow, I thought.
“It’ll be the new year, after all, so we gotta do the basics. Although we already played fukuwarai and my board game a little early.”
Haruhi looked at the wall clock as she continued.
“It’ll be bad if we don’t do the first shrine visit of the year too.”
I didn’t think it would be particularly bad. I didn’t care how generous the gods and Buddhas were; I doubted they really wanted Haruhi coming around their temples. The shrine where we did our location shooting was probably sending out letters saying we were banned from entering ever again, I told her.
“What’re you talking about? We’re lucky enough to live in a country that mixes up all kinds of religions, so it’d be a waste not to do everything! Celebrating Christmas without doing New Year’s would be like ordering a gourmet meal and then leaving after just looking at the utensils! We can’t miss doing the first shrine visit!”
Well, in that case, why not just build a snow temple out in the yard and stick an offering box in front of it? Of course, we’d dress up Asahina as a shrine maiden and put her inside the temple. That way we wouldn’t have to slog all the way to some existing shrine, and for my part I’d pray there day and night. Eventually word would get around, and we’d get people making the pilgrimage to see her all the time—and I promise the donation box wouldn’t run empty, I said.
“Idiot!”
Haruhi clung to Asahina’s shoulder.
“Although it’s hard to give up on the idea of shrine maidens, I want to see Mikuru in a full kimono! We’ll do shrine maidens after we get back from the trip. We’ll find some temple or shrine to go to. Oh, obviously Yuki has to dress up too—and so will I!”
Once Asahina’s earlobe turned red from her nibbling, Haruhi checked the time again.
“Hey, everybody, it’s time!”
At Haruhi’s direction, we all sat in a circle, kneeling down in the traditional way. In addition to the five SOS Brigade members, Tsuruya was also part of the circle, and next to her sat my sister and the two cats. Also, the bonus quartet of the Tamaru brothers, the butler, and the maid joined us at Haruhi’s behest. Were they really all right with that? I wondered. If things went badly, they’d wind up getting ordered around like brigade members.
But my worries aside, everyone was smiling their own unique smiles. And why not? Show me a guy who’s frowning on a day like this, and I’ll show you a guy who doesn’t have a calendar. I couldn’t think of a reason to complain.
When Haruhi gave the signal, we all bowed and said the standard Happy New Year phrase: omedetou gozaimasu.
It’s old and boring, but if we changed it, we’d surely miss that phrase.