Mystery 6
Shijôsaiaku no Bakudanma
The Wickedest Bombing-Demon

The doors to the lobby opened, and a man in a beige trenchcoat dragged his crippled foot over the tiled ground floor of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Headquarters. The stranger carried in one hand a bundle wrapped in cloth decorated with the police seal, as he limped by the great stone pillar just adjacent to the escalator, where Detective Hayashida was trying to impress the women in uniform. Hayashida's flirting came to a screeching halt when he caught sight of the stranger, and he ducked and hid behind the two women, as the men on the escalator likewise watched with a sense of foreboding.

Shibata's face was buried in her book as she entered the building, moving quickly past the great windowpanes, heedlessly past Hayashida and his companions, around the corner, and right smack into the unforgiving shoulder of the stranger with the crippled foot.

She flew backwards in a flurry of skirts and papers, landing with her back on the giant tiles and her black-stockinged knees pointing to the ceiling. She apologized between short little cries of pain as she rubbed the part of her head that had met the floor, and began obliviously to gather the loose sheets of paper that the stranger had dropped. Then her attention was transferred completely to the fat characters on the opening data sheet: "28 February of the 59th year of the Showa, explosion of the bomb having arrived in a Matsukasu steak box. Akabane Sakura was the--"

Shibata's words were cut short by the pain sent through her arm by the hand that yanked it upward hard, a hand attached to the squat, grizzled, balding stranger of rough demeanor of whose presence Shibata was suddenly forced into awareness as the paper was snatched from her hand. "Ack--ow!--I'm sorry--!"

"Yeah, you oughtta be," the surly man sneered as he collected his own fallen papers. "This ain't no fuckin' place for a goddamn broad like you, heh! Get outta here!" He shot a disdainful look at mute Shibata, frowning angrily as he took his untidy stack of data in his arms and hobbled away from the clumsy girl. He grumbled another vulgar epithet and spat over his shoulder with contempt as the others on the floor looked on in silence.

"Don't dare get in old Phlegm-pot's way," mused Hayashida before his female companions.

Shibata remained on the floor, and leaned forward to find a tiny fragment of iron sitting on the tile. "Huh? Did he lose this?" she wondered, turning the object in her hand. She did not call out to him.

Assistant Section Chief Nonomura was amusing himself by setting up two armies made of party mix on his shôgi board. He was his own opponent, moving back and forth from chair to sofa to devour the losing soldiers after each turn. Taniguchi was on the telephone as usual. "Ah, I understand the reason for your preference of pizza delivery over the soba shop at three o'clock," he said quickly. "Anything from the pizzeria would take less than thirty minutes to get here. That is..." Aya occupied the other phone on the desk cluster, having finally gotten through to a voice on the other end of the ticket reserve line. "Ah! Hello? Hey, hey--the Celine Dion concert in April, yeah, yeahyeah. Ten for the arena." Kondoh sat typing at his computer, and Mayama killed time making underlines in his book, with his cigarette dangling from his lips.

The policewoman at the door announced her entrance, and Nonomura looked up with curiousity. Everyone but Aya seemed to notice: "We are being paid a visit by the honourable Assistant Section Chief Tsubosaka Kunio of the homicide investigation chapter of the..."

"Ack--Phlegm-pot," Taniguchi gasped.

"He's here--!" said Kondoh, rising from his chair. Aya continued to ramble in her own world as the grizzled old detective limped in and greeted the head of the basement office. "Heh-hey, Nonomura, long time no see!" he rasped with a crooked grin.

Nonomura reciprocated the greeting with a smiling bow, and they exchanged only a couple of short phrases before the visitor, resting his disheveled bundle of papers on the coffee table, noticed the brazen young woman in the tight suit sitting on the desk cluster with the open magazine held under her nose and the telephone between her chin and shoulder. "Ah! I got the arena seats--"

"Shit's gettin' loose around here, Nonomura," Tsubosaka grumbled, stepping over to the desk cluster and slamming his hand down hard on the telephone button.

"What the hell, old man!"Aya shouted.

"Shut the fuck up!" the man thundered, causing Aya to jump from the desk and stand at attention with her arms at her sides. "Wanna fuck with me? Huh? Lemme have it! Lemme have it!" he roared, hitting himself in the head with a roll of papers. "Heh?!"

Aya cowered, holding her hands out defensively in front of her. Mayama, sitting just on the other side of the desk, didn't look up from his book. "Clean this mess up!" Tsubosaka ordered, limping away toward the coffee table. "Ah, I'm kinda thirsty. Tea, gimme tea!"

Aya, distraught and panic-stricken, was in a frenzy gathering the papers and clinging to Taniguchi in fear. "Tea, tea," she repeated, scurrying away from the desk cluster and back again.

"Mayama!" the old man called from the sofa. "Tea, tea!"

The room was silent for a second, then Mayama lifted his head from his book for the first time. "Get it yourself," he said, returning to his book.

Tsubosaka chuckled. Then the apologetic blur that was Shibata Jun rushed in through the office doorway, only to stop short at the sight of the stranger with whom she had collided upstairs. "Sorry I'm la--eh?"

"The hell's your problem?"

"Ah, er, this is, er, her name is Shibata," Nonomura explained.

"What? A skirt from the insurance agency?"

"Well, that is..."

"I'm a detective," said Shibata.

"Bullshit," said Tsubosaka.

"I really am," said Shibata, lowering herself into the chair opposite him.

"It's all over with, Japan and the world," said the old man.

"Um, you dropped this, didn't you?" Shibata asked, producing the tiny fragment of iron and holding it out to him in her fingertips.

Tsubosaka clicked his tongue, leaning forward to take the thing back. "Dropped it, dropped it, can't fuckin' get ridda the damn thing..."

"This here is my senpai by one year, Inspector Tsubosaka," Nonomura introduced. "Better known as Enma no Tsubosaka," he added, naming a mythical judge in hell.

"Enma, my ass," said Mayama, pronouncing a combination of the words for phlegm and pot: "Tantsubo. Hm."

"Mr Mayama!" Kondoh breathed.

"About time for retirement, eh?" Mayama said without lifting his eyes from his book. "Ah, look, look, it's even in the newspaper," he taunted, holding his book out toward the sofa where Nonomura and Tsubosaka sat looking exasperated.

Shibata, in her infinte gullibility, uttered a surprised syllable and brought a newspaper out from her bag, attempting to locate a reference to the man. He promptly snatched it from her hands and tore it to shreds, growling, "Here," as he ripped it apart, "Here, heh! Here, heh!?" even as Nonomura attempted to placate him.

Shibata's eyes widened, but Nonomura eventually persuaded his senpai to stop, holding out a dish of party mix, and asked if he was taking a furlough.

"Furlough?" asked Shibata.

"Police detectives are alotted one month of vacation time prior to retirement," Kondoh explained from across the room.

"I can't take no vacation," Tsubosaka said as he stuck a few morsels of party mix in his mouth. "Not until I climb this goddamn mountain."

"The letter-bombing case from East Machida Middle School, isn't it," intoned Shibata with some alacrity.

"Fuckin' annoying, this broad!" Tsubosaka growled.

"It's Shibata!" she exclaimed as she jumped back, as if to confirm that she had a name.

"Jesus," Tsubosaka mumbled, keeping his narrow eyes on her as she clutched her tote bag and got up to walk away.

"Fifteen years ago, a plastic explosive was mailed to a guidance counselor at East Machida," Nonomura sighed as Shibata disappeared into the book stacks and Mayama sat looking almost ill. "It claimed one victim."

"Fifteen years ago," interjected Taniguchi. "Isn't that almost under the statute of limitations?"

"Excuse me, I can't seem to locate the data for this case," Shibata apologized as she emerged from the bookshelves.

"What a fuckin' idiot," Tsubosaka mumbled to Nonomura as the latter attempted to appease him with gestures of his hand.

Kondoh, standing before Shibata, explained, "Generally, one month prior to expiration under the statute of limitations, any documentation regarding the suspects is remitted to the Public Prosecuter's Office."

"Eh?!" she cried. "It's already been sent away? But there are two weeks remaining until the statute of limitations..."

"The thing about the statute of limitations," Nonomura said as he stepped up to her, "Is that it places a restriction on the amount of time during which a suspect can be arrested. If it didn't, I wonder if there'd be any time limitations of the fixed term for legal appeal."

"Then, we can't take more than a week to solve this case," Shibata said urgently.

"What's even more ironic, in another week I'll hafta retire--"

"Thank you for your work," Mayama interjected with offhanded sarcasm.

"--It's a damn shame, I can't stand to go out and leave this one damn thing hanging."

Shibata stood behind the desk cluster, her face brimming with steadfast resolve, as Nonomura told Tsubosaka he understood his feeling. "I came here 'cause I need your help," Tsubosaka said, standing to face the others.

"Yessir!" said Nonomura. "As your humble servant, I will do anything in my power!"

"Hey, Mayama," said Tsubosaka. "Mayama!"

"Mr Mayama," Kondoh urged.

Mayama finally looked up from his book, and turned his head to look Tsubosaka in the face. "You gotta be kidding," he said. He returned to his book.

"I got a copy of the data right here," Tsubosaka said, patting a file on the coffee table. "I'll be waitin' at the crime scene at ten tomorrow," he said with a final wave of the fingers, and headed for the door.

Shibata stepped up behind him and chimed, "May I come along, too?"

Tsubosaka gave her a quick look from head to toe. "What the hell for?"

"For the investigation," she said.

"It ain't a place for a damn broad to go playin' around, fer cryin' out loud," he said, turning his back.

"I'm not playing!" Shibata said firmly. "For the investigation."

Tsubosaka glanced at her again, then walked out the door.

Mayama sat for another second before lowering his book and rushing out into the hallway to catch up with the old man. "Hey!" he called out, letting Tsubosaka stop and turn around, standing face to face with him. "I ain't going."

"Ha? Why the fuck not?"

"You know better than anybody why not," Mayama replied.

Tsubosaka uttered a sarcastic hiss. "You still got that damn grudge against me. I'm your fuckin' reason. To call yerself a detective, you really oughtta come up with a better reason than that--"

"What the hell would you know?" Mayama smirked. "You're a damn self-centered bastard. How the hell could you understand, with your happy damn life as a detective."

Tsubosaka scratched his bald pate, unable to keep Mayama from walking away. "Hey!" he shouted ineffectually at Mayama's back.

The computerized cartoon man announced closing time on Kondoh's computer screen, and Kondoh shot up from his chair with the energetic announcement that he had flamenco practice to attend, and Taniguchi likewise donned his overcoat.

"I've got an engagement as well," said Nonomura, his coat draped over the arm that held his briefcase. "G'night." Mayama got his coat from the coat rack and ambled off. "Later," he said as he passed Shibata, the only one left seated, who watched the men file out with a look of infinite dissatisfaction in her eyes.

Then she remembered the bundle that Tsubosaka had left on the coffee table. "Ah--Mr Mayama, here," she pointed emphatically.

Mayama stopped with his hands at his sides. "What?"

"Aren't you going to read it?" she nearly pouted, lifting the heavy bundle with both hands and proferring it to him.

"Forget that," he said sourly, turning away.

"How can you say that!"

"Look," he said. "I ain't doin' shit to help that old bastard. Y'got that?"

"Why do you have such a grudge against him?" Shibata asked his back.

Mayama turned around again and paused for a brief sigh. "I worked on a case with him. The bastard just about got my ass knocked off so he could trick the perpetrator."

"No way!" Shibata exclaimed.

"So, the bastard nailed the perp at the crime scene, and that was called distinguished fuckin' service, using my ass."

"Is that true?"

"Look, no matter what you do, you ain't gonna find a goddamn thing. It's been fifteen years without a fuckin' clue! The case shouldn't even be continued. Unsolvable," he nodded, "Statute of limitations," he said, taking the bundle from her and dropping it into a carboard box designated for garbage. "The end." He marched out of the office without further ceremony.

When he was gone, Shibata returned to the box, groaning softly. She removed the bundle from the box, and the tiny piece of shrapnel fell with a plink onto the floor. She reached down, picked it up, and held it before her inquisitive face.


"What is this?" Maiko demanded of her boyfriend. They stood at odds in the near darkness of Asakura's apartment, the evidence of his inquiry into Shibata Jun's personal life illuminating his computer screen. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "Is there something between you and Shibata?"

Asakura's grim, quiet face showed no attempt to justify his actions. He raised an extended pointer finger to Maiko's face, and poked hard at a pressure point between her eyebrows. She collapsed instantly.

Her dreaming mind saw Asakura and Shibata embracing in a sepulchral nightscape garnished with blinding headlights and the distant blots of streetlamps, the two of them staring at her in defiance. Shibata's lustful mouth breathed on Asakura's neck, and her pale eyes looked into his as she clung to him with nefarious happiness.

Maiko's eyes opened, but she did not move from the floor. Asakura flipped a tiny switch near his computer, and let the bits of information siphon up through the long, serpentine electrical cord that wound off the desk and through the darkness, all the way into the ceiling of Mayama Tôru's vacant apartment. The smoke alarm. The goldfish. The view from above. Mayama. Asakura smiled.

Shibata turned another page of the data she had unraveled and spread about the desk cluster like a tablecloth of characters. "Incident occured on 28 February, 59 Showa. The outbreak of violence during the school's first period," she read to herself. "Parcel bomb was received by drama teacher Morita Kousaku, aged thirty-one. It had been addressed with an accompanying letter from the name of one Shirasana Ryuta, an alumnus of the preceding year." Shibata envisioned a scene of Mr Morita reading the letter, an apology for the trouble the student had caused, and a gift of a gourmet steak set. Morita would have then offered it to the young woman bringing coffee to the others in the office; she protested that it must have been expensive, but with some persuasion she was glad to have it. "Morita's package was given as a present to a secretary at the same school, one Akabane Sakura. Believing the parcel to contain a steak set, she brought it home. She then invited her fianceé, one Tomikawa Keiichi, to her home..."

Shibata imagined that perhaps Miss Akabane had talked merrily with her fianceé about what a change of heart that rambunctious student must have had, to send such a gift to his teacher. She removed the unopened box from the refrigerator so that they could celebrate its acquisition together. They talked about the meal they would have, and she left to get beer. That's when Tomikawa began to undo the ropes that held the parcel, lifted the lid, and opened the bomb that blew him and half the apartment to smithereens.

Tsubosaka parked his car on the curb in the morning, and limped toward the old three-story apartment building, gazing up at that room, now reconstructed, before he went up and into it.

He opened the door and uttered a low cry of surprise at the sight of Shibata, sprawled out in the kitchen, sleeping in her overcoat on the linoleum. She roused herself promptly and sat up straight and eager. She bowed cheerfully from her seat. "Good morning!"

"What the hell's this?"

"It's Shibata," she reminded him.

"Not your damn name, I mean what the hell are ya doin' here," he grumbled.

"The investigation," she pronounced.

Tsubosaka clicked his tongue. "What kinda bullshit yer talkin' in yer sleep, fer cryin' out loud..." He hobbled past her and into another corridor, and she scurried after him. "I'm not talking in my sleep," she said, pointing to her eyes. "Look! I'm completely awake."

Tsubosaka clicked his tongue again. Shibata reached into her tote bag. "I've brought your lost article," she said, revealing a pendant she had fashioned from a rope around the old shard of iron, and placing the pendant around Tsubosaka's neck. "Look. This way you'll never lose it again," she smiled.

Tsubosaka made a sour face and turned away, rubbing his bald forehead, and grunted unpleasantly.

Tsubosaka's compact car rolled over the neat, quiet suburban street while his passenger read aloud from the case files. "The primary suspect was the alleged sender of the package, Shirasana Ryuta, sixteen at the time." Shibata flipped a page to examine a photograph of young Shirasana. "Um, in addition his girlfriend, Tomono Junko, had committed suicide by jumping from a rooftop three months prior to the bombing incident. It was thought that her suicide was the result of the degree of harassment she received from Instructor Morita, and that out of resentment toward Morita, Shirasana sent the parcel bomb disguised as steak meat after graduation." Shibata paused for breath. "Of course, the investigation at that time centered around Shirasana and the depth of the resentment he harbored toward Instructor Morita." Having not heard a syllable from Tsubosaka, Shibata put a question to him. "So, was the culprit's objective made clear?"

Tsubosaka disregarded her completely, keeping his eyes on the road, on the scenery, anywhere but in her general direction.

"Excu--use me!" she shouted in his ear. "Was the culprit's objective made clear?"

"I hear ya, shut the fuck up," he grumbled.

"I suspect the same thing," she said.

"The primary suspect, Shirasana, got his own alibi, and we never could figure out how he coulda got the bomb. Shit, we couldn't even figure out who sent the package."

"That bomb was such a simply made thing--"

"He didn't make it!"

"Oh, I see," she said. "I got it! A chemistry teacher could make it, right?"

"It's like this, the chemistry teacher in those days was on his way out and had already got another appointment. The likelihood he had anything to do with this case is just about zero."

"I see," Shibata whispered in apprehension.

Tsubosaka grunted affirmatively. "In all them that graduated, there was people goin' into science and technology instutes, people goin' to work for companies involved in the chemical industry--Jesus, we looked all over an' tried everything. I'm ready to throw my hands up." Then he literally did put his hands up, and Shibata frantically grabbed the steering wheel.

The elevator opened and the two of them stepped into the hallway. "There's something that strikes me as odd," Shibata commented, poking after Tsubosaka.

"What?" he snapped.

They passed the senior citizen carrying the knife and the mackerel, and followed him with their eyes as Shibata continued, "The perpetrator, having sent the bomb to Mr Morita, had ended up killing an entirely different person. Why, then, do you suppose another attempt was not made on his life?"

"Beats the hell outta me," Tsubosaka said, arriving in front of the door to Mayama's apartment. He banged on it with his palm a few times and called out, "Hey, Mayama, wake the hell up!"

"Perhaps he's not in," said Shibata.

Tsubosaka clicked his tongue with irritation. "Shit," he grumbled, then proceeded to slam his foot repeatedly and furiously into the door with such volume that Shibata started and covered her ears. "Hey Mayama! Get the fuck up! It's the police, goddamn it! The fuckin' police! Get yer ass outta bed!"

Mayama pushed the old man's squat body with the opening of the door and shouted back at him. "Shutup and go to hell! Get the fuck outta here!"

The two men struggled in the doorway, pushing violently at each other, while Shibata stood dumbfounded in the hallway with Mayama calling to her for help.

The three mismatched detectives walked along the multi-story balcony toward the apartment where Ms Akabane now dwelled. "The victim's girlfriend, Akabane Sakura, aged twenty-two at the time," said Shibata.

"Ah, she got some psychosomatic condition after that case," Tsubosaka commented.

"A psychopysiologic disorder attributable to stress, an illness of the heart and stomach, isn't it," Shibata recited knowingly. "But that's as a matter of course, when she'd seen her boyfriend blown apart."

Tsubosaka made a queasy face before pressing on the doorbell.

Akabane Sakura, presently not far from forty, smiled a warm welcome to her visitors. "Please have a seat," she told them, turning toward her stove to prepare the tea.

"Ah, thanks, thanks," said Tsubosaka. "How's your health been lately?"

"Thank you for asking," she smiled. "I've been well enough lately."

"Unh, that's good," said Tsubosaka. "Listen, today I've got some support in the investigation," he said, gesturing toward the other two. "It's kinda my last-ditch effort to apprehend the perpetrator."

Meanwhile, Shibata had become curious about the teapot that served as a centerpiece on the table, and lifted the little lid, only to be smacked on the head reprovingly by Mayama.

"Oh, really," Ms Akabane crooned. "Then, have you gotten some new lead?"

Tsubosaka scratched his head with self-deprecation as he responded negatively. Shibata leaned forward with profound sincerity. "Nothing at all!" she declared, earning a sharply reproachful look from Tsubosaka.

The four of them sat at the table with their teacups. "Ah--a good luck sign!" Shibata exclaimed, having found a tea stalk floating in her cup before she sipped it. Tsubosaka imbibed his own irregardless, and Mayama peered into his own cup to see if he had the same, but the look on his face seemed to indicate he didn't. Shibata leaned over as if to look into his cup, and she lapsed into her faintly dreamy smile while she watched him drink.

"Our time's almost up, isn't it," Ms Akabane lamented while Mayama burned his mouth. "And you, too, Mr Tsubosaka--?"

"Yeah," he grunted. "Yeah, next week I'll be at retirement age."

"Really, I'm terribly obliged to you for all that you've done."

"Nah, don't give up yet! There's still six days left." They reciprocated one another's congeniality, giving polite bows of the head and such; meanwhile, Mayama's face held nothing but silent doubt, and Shibata's eyes were already beginning to scour the apartment. She got up to find a photograph in the alcove. "That photograph," she observed, "That's the deceased Mr Tomikawa, isn't it?"

Ms Akabane said that it was.

"Mr Tomikawa, at that time, was working part-time at the Futakotamuga Cafe while studying for his judicial exams, aiming to become a lawyer, isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"So, you called him over when you had received that meat." Shibata confirmed, stepping away back toward the table.

"He skipped meals and worked less at his part-time job so he could devote more time to his studies," Ms Akabane explained. "That's why I thought it would be good for him to have a nice meal, for a change."

"Would you say that your cooking is your strong point?" Shibata asked.

"I suppose so," Ms Akabane beamed. "He certainly loved it."

"Mr Tomikawa was twenty-six at the time. The life of a law student during examinations is quite a load to bear. Did he have any financial assistance?"

"Sure, a little."

"If he had succeeded in his exams, would you have gotten married?" Tsubosaka's eyes widened with indignation at her audacity.

"I guess so," Ms Akabane admitted somewhat bashfully.

"Aaahh," Shibata purred. "The budding love of two struggling people, sharing a steak together..."

"Woman!" Tsubosaka snapped, slamming his palm on the tabletop.

"It's Shibata," said Shibata.

"Get the hell outta here, you!"

"Eh?"

"What the hell's the big idea, heh!" he growled, coming around the table toward her.

"I'm establishing the circumstances."

"Ya call that establishing circumstances, heh!? Heh!?"

Mayama took another sip of his tea and yawned as Tsubosaka tugged Shibata by the shoulder and dragged her out of her seat and toward the door. "W-wait-please, wait!" she resisted, going quickly back to Ms Akabane. "Would it be all right if I ask you just one more thing?"

"Sure," said Ms Akabane.

"Er, it's about that parcel--Were there no unusual markings on the packaging?"

"No, it was just an oridinary package."

"It was a parcel tied with string, just like a normal one?"

"Yeah."

"According to the data, after you returned home, instead of breaking the seal, you put the package in the refrigerator just as it was--was it tied with string as it was? That is, did you take off the string?"

"I knew it to be nothing but a steak, and so just I put it in the refrigerator just like it was."

"Oh," Shibata nodded. "I see..."

Tsubosaka grabbed her and shoved her toward the door, forcing her out, saying, "That's enough, go on, get outta here, I'm sick a you, get the hell out, go on, get outta here!" He threw her bag onto the balcony after her, grunting and yanking the door closed. "Sorry!" he grunted heartily to Ms Akabane as she bowed dismissively and he rubbed his head with embarrassment. Then the doorbell rang. "Goddamn it!" he shouted.

"What the hell's with that broad, anyway," Tsubosaka grumbled as he dragged his lame foot after Mayama over the balcony, attempting to keep up the younger man's pace. "Fuckin' harassin' the victim like that, got the wrong goddamn attitude for a detective..."

Mayama was resolutely heading for the end of the walkway.

"Hey," Tsubosaka called. "Hey wait. Mayama! Wait. Wait up, Mayama," he panted, jogging after until Mayama stopped. "Mayama. Is it fun, goin' so hard on this old goat?"

Mayama turned around. "Yeah, it's fun," he said, glowering. "How 'bout I just call it quits right here. You got alot of goddamn nerve askin' for my help. I don't think I can do it, anyway." He turned and tramped away toward the elevator.

"Mayama!" Tsubosaka called out as he saw the latter pressing a button on the console. "Here it is," he said, dropping to his hands and knees on the balcony floor, catching his breath. "Just this one case. I just wanna see it settled. C'mon, Mayama. Gimme your cooperation," he huffed. "I'm beggin' you." He closed his eyes tightly and thrust his head beneath his shoulders as he prostrated himself.

Mayama scrunched his nose with disgust, and stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding closed behind him. Tsubosaka sighed with defeat.

Shibata sat by Tsubosaka's car, blowing her runny nose and whispering to herself about the cold. The old detective ambled over with his hands thrust in his trouser pockets. "What the hell ya doin', woman?"

"It's Shibata," she cried, standing straight up. "Mr Mayama has already left," she said, motioning behind her. "Why is it that he has such a resentment toward you?"

"Hah?" Tsubosaka uttered with surprise. "I don't really need to be tellin' you this, but a long time ago, I used him as a decoy to bust a big time crook, and he almost got killed."

Shibata murmured affirmatively, nodding. "So he's taking it personally, then."

"Yeah, that and..."

"That and?"

Tsubosaka caught himself. "Oh, uh, nothin'," he said, getting in his car and slamming his trenchcoat in the door. Shibata knelt on the pavement and leaned in his open window. "Ah--Please wait, please--"

"What, woman!" he snapped.

"There was just one more curious thing there."

"Hm?"

"The chemistry teacher retired just one month following Miss Tomono Junko's suicide."

"Oh yeah?" Tsubosaku mumbled, cranking the engine.

"Wait, please, wait!" Shibata cried, scurrying around to the passenger's side door.

The teacher they interviewed at East Machida remembered the face of the chemstry teacher in the photograph well. "Mr Kawai was often intimidated by his students," the man explained. "I suppose he must have been struck by nearly half of them at one time or another."

"Could the suicided Miss Tomono Junko have been one such student?" Shibata asked, holding out the photograph of the young girl.

"I wouldn't doubt it," he said. "She was a good kid at a glance. But she was part of a so-called 'underside gang.' A man like Mr Kawai could have been bullied quite a bit, I suppose."

Shibata scratched her chin with contemplation as she envisioned the young Tomono stepping out of her slippers amid a flurry of snow, poised at the edge of the roof. "Six thirty PM, 15 December, 55 Showa, Tomono Junko jumped from the rooftop."

Shibata herself soon lay at the bottom of the building, simulating the position of the girl in the postmortem photograph she held, as Tsubosaka stared up toward the rooftop. "Death was caused by fracturing of the skull and rupturing of several internal organs." Shibata mused, sitting up suddenly and engaging in conversation with herself. "There's something funny about that, too..." She paced for a moment, picked up her tote bag, and trotted off heedless of Tsubosaka. "Isn't that funny? Hm..."

"Hey, hey! Wait a second!" Tsubosaka called.


"Did Miss Tomono Junko really commit suicide?" Shibata asked Mr Kawai, in the shop where the latter now repaired cordless telephones.

"Why do you ask me a thing like that?" he asked.

"Why was it that you retired abruptly from your position at that junior high school and returned to graduate school?"

"Because I felt like I couldn't face the other teachers."

"That just happened to be one month after Tomono Junko's suicide."

"Why are you talking like you suspect me?"

"Er, I apologize if I've offended you, it's just that I was wondering if it was necessary for a teacher who had been abused by his students to retire from teaching after the departure of someone who had abused him."

Kawai had his eyes cast downward. "Tomono was one of the few who didn't abuse me," he replied.

"Of course," Shibata said, gesturing with an upturned palm.

"Are we finished?" Kawai hoped morosely.

Tsubosaka scratched his brow. "Uh, listen, ah..."

"We're finished," said Shibata, bowing. Thank you very much."

"Eh?" Tsubosaka watched her march out the shop door and hobbled after her. "Hey, hey! What the hell's yer problem!"

"The name used as the sender of the bomb was that of Shirasana Ryuta, now age thirty-one," said Shibata's voice. She and Tsubosaka sat in the restaurant where Shirasana, clad in the white chef's uniform and tall hat, peppered a steak below him on the countertop. "A strange man came by not too long ago," he said.

"Oh," Tsubosaka sighed. "Mayama..."

"I really wish you'd give me a break," the chef continued, knocking the pepper shaker against the inside of his hand. "I was sixteen at the time. I don't know why I'd go and do a thing like build a bomb, anyway!"

"Mr Shirasana, you were acquianted with the suicided Tomono Junko at that time, weren't you?"

"So that makes me a suspect."

"About Miss Tomono's suicide, you must have missed her, though?"

Tsubosaka clipped a heavy hand onto Shibata's shoulder. "Wait a minute, what the hell are ya doin' askin' questions that don't make no damn sense."

"It wasn't suicide," said Shirasana, leaning toward them. "She was murdered."

"Ohh," said Shibata, watching him adjust the burner in the countertop. "By whom?"

"Morita," he replied.

"You make that assertion," Shibata replied, flipping through the data. "Er, you had written it here. So," she said, clutching the book and pressing her face slightly toward him. "However, Mr Morita had an alibi. Have you considered such a thing as that Mr Kawai may have killed her?"

"Ha?" said the bemused Shirasana.

"Hey," said Tsubosaka. "What the hell's the connection between Kawai and that girl and Morita. We sure as hell wanna know, it's gotta be the bastard who tried to kill Morita!"

"Is that truly the case?" said Shibata.

"What?" said Tsubosaka.

"If you truly believe that the bomb was intended to kill Mr Morita," Shibata continued in the cab of Tsubosaka's car as it rolled through the night, "Then don't you think it would have been preferable to have sent it directly to his home, rather than to the school?"

"So what?" said Tsubosaka.

"So I've determined who the culprit is."

"You got evidence?"

"No."

"Got the culprit figured out with no evidence, huh?"

"But, there's no one besides that person who can be considered."

"What the hell," Tsubosaka snarled, slamming on the brakes and bringing the car to a screeching halt. "Fuckin' cut the bullshit!" he barked, causing Shibata to recoil with fear. "You punks fuckin' come outta Tokyo U doin' nothin' but readin' your goddamn books, think you know so goddamn much! I been on this case fer fifteen fuckin' years and talked face to face to a hundred thousand goddamn people! If you can figure out the culprit from a minute with four or five people, what the fuck am I doin' here, fuckin' octopus!"

"I'm not an octopus," she said meekly. "I'm Shibata."

"A fuckin' broad like you ain't cut out to be a detective. Fuckin' give it up!"

"That's terrible," she protested softly.

"Whatever," Tsubosaka grumbled. "Just get outta my car. I already seen yer dirty fuckin' mug too many times."

Shibata sat for a moment as if paralyzed.

"Get the fuck out!"

Shibata jumped. She got out and shut the door. The car pulled away, leaving her numb on the curb to watch it disappear into Tokyo's quiet night.

She made a face like an ogre, then sighed.

She sat brooding for some time in the solitary dimness of the basement office before Mayama sauntered in through the shadows. "What's up, weirdo?" He smiled and offered her a small takeout box. "Want some cake?" He placed it on the desk cluster in front of her.

Shibata, still dispirited, managed to sit up and gently open the box. Out leapt a tiny jack with a startling squeak. "Stupid," Mayama taunted, "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid."

"What's the idea, anyway!" Shibata slammed the box down on the desktop in annoyance and rubbed her tired face.

"You're all pissed off!" Mayama sighed. "You're lucky," he said, picking the box up off the floor and sitting down, crossing his ankles on the desktop. "It's not a bomb."

"How can you be joking about that," Shibata murmured with exasperation.

"Jokes aside," Mayama said, "Whoever really sent that bomb is out there somewhere." He paused for a moment in the stillness of the office. "Way back when, the good old days when I was in school, when Tantsubo was in public safety, a package came by mail to his house..." He paused again. "A bomb."

Shibata closed her eyes.

Mayama rubbed his forehead. "His wife and three-year-old son died instantly. Tantsubo was the only one who survived. That's how his right leg got crippled for life."

Shibata listened quietly. "So that's what happened."

"Tantsubo carries that piece of shrapnel. That's probably the piece that was stuck in his son's neck." Mayama pressed his fingertips to his temple. "In the end, the statute of limitations comes around without ever finding the perpetrator. Even now, this case is like going into a labyrinth." He folded his arms over his chest."If he's not a detective he's got nothing else to live for. His whole famiy's put to rest. Unh, so that's why this case is so important to the old man." He rested his elbows on the desktop. "But there's no evidence. Even if we did ever figure out who the culprit is, there's no way we can bring him in." Mayama sighed again, cleared his throat and coughed, running his fingers through his short hair. "The old man knows that better than anybody."

He stopped talking. He tapped his fist on the desktop once or twice and loosened his necktie. Then he slammed his palm down hard, letting papers fly off and startling Shibata, and he shoved away from the desk and into the darkened bookshelves.

"Where's the evidence?" he said, taking a book from the shelf at random and tossing its contents carelessly against the wall. "There ain't any," he yelled, shoving an entire row of data files onto the floor. He rounded the corner to the opposite side of the bookshelf, and cleared its shelves furiously. "Evidence! Shit, god-fuckin'-dammit! Where's the evidence!?" He flung the books against the floor and kicked them across the room. "Shibata!" he screamed. "Don't you know anything?! You're smart! Can't you tell me anything?! Fuckin' tell me something!"

Shibata beheld him with a silent tear in her eye.



Morning broke in the sky over the towering apartment complex in which Ms Akabane lived. Tsubosaka sat with her at her kitchen table, accepting the inevitable fruitless termination of the years he had spent on the case. "Hmm, well, it looks like today's the statute of limitations," he sighed. "It's a damn shame, after all this time we never did arrest the offender."

"Not at all, you've done so much for so long," she thanked him, bowing her head, a gesture he reciprocated with polite dissatisfaction.

The doorbell chimed, and Ms Akabane exchanged a glance with the detective, who raised his eyebrows with curiousity as he looked toward the door.

Mayama greeted Ms Akabane, excusing himself as he removed his shoes in the genkan and stepped into the dining area. "What the hell are you doin' here?" said Tsubosaka.

Mayama sighed without responding, and turned back to Ms Akabane. "Ah, there was a surveillance report made today." They exchanged slight bows, and he continued, "They're trying to track down the crooks. It's pretty tough to shake 'em down, I guess--"

"What's that, what the hell are you sayin'?" Tsubosaka wanted to know, accosting Mayama and gripping his arm. Mayama shushed him with a few whispers: "Okay, okay, just shutup, willya," and resumed addressing the woman formally. "Well, er, it seems that there are in fact two culprits," he said, gesturing with his hand, "The one who made the bomb, and the one who sent the bomb to the school."

"And so?"

"The one who built the bomb seems to have covered the trick. The accomplice will come under the statute of limitations first today. That is, uh, the one who made the bomb had been interrogated and, to protect himself, an advance notice call just came in to the police in which he admitted to having given false information."

"But, uh, isn't the statute of limitations simultaneous--"

"Nananana, the guy who made the bomb went overseas to work for a year. During that time, the statute of limitations was suspended. Basically, as it stands, the statute of limitations only applies to the accomplice, er, the one who sent the bomb to the school."

"So?" Ms Akabane insisted anxiously, with Tsubosaka hanging earnestly on every word.

"So," Mayama continued, "To the sender of the bomb, having the accomplice talk first would be intolerable. So, somehow, he'd probably take some action to rub out his accomplice."

"Such as, sending a bomb to the accomplice..."

Mayama chuckled quickly, running his palm over the back of his head. "Nah, dunno if he'd go so far as to do that, but, ah, in any case we'll just see if we can't round up and arrest the killer and the accomplice at the same time."

"Do you know who the accomplice is?"

Mayama shook his head. "No, we don't," he nodded, "But that's because of the trick."

Ms Akabane slumped her shoulders in defeat. "If that's the case--"

Mayama reassured her with a firm gesture. "As long as we know about the bomb, you can just trust us on this."

"Hey, hey, hey," Tsubosaka interjected with some incredulity, "Wait, that's pretty damn dangerous. Whattaya gonna do if the accomplice gets knocked off?"

"Who was it who made the bomb?" insisted Ms Akabane.

Mayama sighed evasively. "Well, ah, that one's, ah..."

"Please tell me!" she implored.

Mayama sighed again, and stated firmly, "It's Shirasana. There's no mistake. We've already obtained his friend's testimony."

"Hey," said Tsubosaka, slapping Mayama's arm, "Is that true?" Mayama nodded subtly, and Tsubosaka leaned toward Ms Akabane. "That's great," he whispered. She concurred, but with what seemed to be some sort of apprehension.

"The guy'll surely make his move," Mayama pronounced.

"Is there no lead on the other person?" the woman asked.

"It's just, as we suspeted, somebody who had a motive to aim at Mr Morita. Ah, don't worry about it. If anything at all happens, they'll relay it to me by telephone right away," Mayama said, indicating the area of his trenchcoat in which his portable telephone was pocketed. "So, mind if we just sit and wait, for now? Okay?"

"Oh, please do," Ms Akabane said. The two men were about to seat themselves at the table when the doorbell rang. It was Shibata, apologizing for her tardiness as she slipped off her shoes in the genkan. "Huh? Where's Mr Kawai?" she asked.

"Mr Kawai?" repeated the puzzled Ms Akabane.

Tsubosaka uttered a rising scale of grunts. "That's the chemistry teacher from East Machida Middle School."

"Why Mr Kawai?" Ms Akabane requested of Shibata.

"When we interviewed him the other day, he said he missed you very much and would certainly like to see you. Funny, he promised one o'clock..." Shibata and the disconcerted Ms Akabane both looked at the clock, which declared some twelve past one. Shibata held her hand to her cheek. "Ah, maybe it was two o'clock--two o'clock it was!" She declared. "Oh, that's right. Ah, I'm sorry," she murmured, seating herself opposite Mayama.

Ms Akabane pulled up the chair beside her. "I wonder if Mr Kawai would come here."

"Sure he will," said Shibata, taking off her coat. "He made a promise."

"I wonder if he knows the address."

"Yes, he said as that he did, so there's no need to worry." Shibata turned her smiling face away from Ms Akabane's much more somber one, and said softly, "We're going to arrest the perpetrator. I'm so excited." She turned back to Ms Akabane to declare, "Mr Kawai is very delighted as well!"

Mayama's ears perked up. "Huh? What for is Mr Kawai delighted? Shit, you didn't talk to him about the investigation today?"

"Eh?" Shibata raised her fingertips to her cheek. "Should I not have done that?"

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, you're as stupid as ever!" Mayama barked. "The investigation's confidential, ya can't go an' blab about it all over the place!"

Shibata winced her apology, cringing for only a moment before the doorbell rang once again. A voice beyond the door announced a delivery for Ms Akabane, and Shibata readily offered to go to the door to accept it. Ms Akabane herself looked quite ill at ease while the men remained seated, waiting for Shibata to return from the genkan. When she did, she carried a rectangular gift-wrapped package and held it out to Ms Akabane. "Ah, it looks like it's from your mother. It's uiroh! I'll bet it's delicious. This is my favourite."

"Well, you can have it," Ms Akabane offered without any hesitation.

"Can I really?" Shibata's face lit up with excitement.

"Sure!"

"Oh, no, no, no," Tsubosaka growled, "Sorry about that, ya can't go an' take that," as Mayama attempted to brush him off. Ms Akabane made little bows, smiling reassuringly. "It's quite alright, everyone can have some!"

"Ah, but, look--"

"I don't really like uiroh," Ms Akabane insisted. "I'd probably just end up throwing it away."

"Well go on an' thank her," Mayama said quickly to Shibata, "Go on, do it."

"Thank you very much," Shibata bowed, smiling.

"Mayama," Tsubosaka grumbled, "C'mon--" The two men carried on a brief, stifled argument in rapid whispers, with the younger man shushing the older, while Shibata stuck the package into her tote bag and Ms Akabane continued to smile with generousity.

Soon the long hand on the ticking table clock was nearing the hour, and Akabane Sakura cast still another worried gaze toward it. "I don't see why we're not gettin' any communication yet," Tsubosaka commented, setting his teacup in the saucer.

"Could it have been a mistake about the bomber?" Shibata asked.

"Can't you trust my feeling on it," said Mayama.

"Well, I'm getting hungry," said Shibata.

"Oh, well, let's have some uiroh!" Mayama suggested, causing Shibata to smile and Tsubosaka to protest.

"Oh, in that case, I'll go pick up some box lunch or something," Ms Akabane offered.

"Let's just stand by, please, let's wait," Tsubosaka insisted, once again brushed off and placated by Mayama as Ms Akabane slipped out the door. "What the hell's with you?" Tsubosaka growled at Mayama.

Ms Akabane hurried down the hallway and into the elevator as quickly as she could. She breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator doors began to shut, but then, to her surprise, Shibata managed to scoot in just in time. "Excuse me!" she cried, catching her breath, "Mr Tsubosaka told me to go with you. Why don't we go together."

Ms Akabane was aware of a ticking sound coming from Shibata's tote bag, and was horrified to find the gift-wrapped package sitting right there in it. She swallowed, trembling, and attempted to break the tomblike silence. "Is something making a ticking sound?"

"Is it?" Shibata replied with distant irony.

Ms Akabane could no longer stand it when the flashing digital screen that displayed the floor number stopped on six. She frantically jabbed the buttons on the console, and the elevator came to a sudden, jerking stop.

"Huh? Did it break down?" Shibata wondered. She leaned back against the wall resignedly and let Ms Akabane have her own fit of fear, shoving her fingers at the emergency intercom, calling out for help and finding it to be inoperative. She looked at her wristwatch and saw that only minutes remained before two o'clock. "This is the end," she shuddered.

"It'll be okay," Shibata said. "They'll have the elevator back in order in no time." She then let her tote bag fall from her hands carelessly onto the elevator floor with a deliberate thud.

"Stop it!" Ms Akabane cried. "That's a bomb!"

"Heh?" said Shibata. "How could uiroh be a bomb?"

"Because Mr Kawai wants to kill me!"

"Ah, it's working," Shibata said of the elevator as it began to move again. At the ground floor, Ms Akabane struggled to get away, but Shibata had her by the arm and was trailing after her. "Sakura, why would Mr Kawai kill you? Why would he?"

Akabane Sakura grabbed the parcel out of Shibata's tote bag and hurled it as far as she could across the yard, ducked and covered, leaving Shibata standing there while the gift box flopped idly onto the asphalt. "The uiroh!" Shibata cried.

Sakura cowered, waiting for an explosion that never came.

Shibata ended the charade. She crouched down before Ms Akabane, and camly reached into her bag to draw out the wind-up clock she had used to simulate the ticking of a time bomb. Speaking into her walkie-talkie, she told Mayama the elevator was fine. "Why would Mr Kawai kill you?" she asked again.

Ms Akabane could barely speak, and stuttered with shock as she got up from the ground.

"Fifteen years ago," said Shibata, "It was Mr Kawai who made the bomb that killed your fiancee, Mr Tomikawa, and it was you, Ms Akabane Sakura, who planned that murder, wasn't it?"

"What are you talking about!" she pretended uselessly.

"The bomb package that Mr Morita received fifteen years ago," Shibata said as she walked past the bicycle racks and toward the box of uiroh to pick it up. "It was you who sent it, wasn't it? You had calculated that Mr Morita would turn the package over to you."

"How can you accuse me of a thing like that?"

"If I'm not mistaken, the present was a beefsteak set, wasn't it? Mr Morita was single and lived alone. If someone sent him a two-kilo steak, it could be expected that he would give it to some other person." Shibata began to walk back to Sakura. "If it were pastry, it might have been opened so that everyone could eat it together. Something like beer might have just been returned to the sender. However, with a thing like beef, neither of those things would have happened. You were sometimes given things like that, weren't you? Your colleagues in the staff remembered that."

"But there weren't many teachers who would give me something like that. What a dangerous gamble that would be--even impossible, I think."

"It wasn't crucial for you to use any one particular box you receieved. As long as you had in fact actually recieved a box, you could verify that you yourself were the victim of a terrible disaster. It was not necessary for the box that Mr Tomikawa opened and the box that had been given to you to be the same. It is not a dangerous gamble at all. In short, the box of steak that had been sent to Mr Morita, the truth of your acceptance of which was only a ploy, was exchanged for the bomb which you coerced Mr Kawai into building so that you might replace it in your refrigerator." Tsubosaka and Mayama had arrived, and stopped at the edge of the lot as Shibata continued, "And then, Mr Tomikawa had the box opened, and... you played the part of tragedy's fianceé."

"Why would I have wanted to kill my own fianceé?!" she cried. "I--I loved him!"

"Yes, I know!"

"Well then!"

"That's why you killed him! Mr Tomikawa had a wife by unregistered marriage, and a child, didn't he? Sakura, on 5 November of 58 Showa," Shibata hesitated, "You were carrying a child, weren't you? The clinical records are on file in the maternity and gynecology department in Kawashima. On exactly the same day, Mr Tomikawa's unregistered wife, Miss Nishimi Mami, gave birth to a baby boy. You know all about it, don't you?" Shibata's voice was near a whisper. "About the man you loved and his betrayal."

Akabane Sakura began to weep softly. "I--I was carrying that man's child. If he'd passed his legal exams, we would surely have had all our happiness... That's all I wanted."

Ms Akabane recalled her fateful gynecology appointment. "I thought it was all for him. My bleeding had stopped and I stayed out of school, but didn't want to see him just then. I saw him at the florist's, buying flowers... I left before he had a chance to notice me." She had followed him back to the hospital, where he entered a room with his bouquet. "Who was that just now?" she had asked of a nurse.

"Ah," the nurse smiled, "He's Miss Nishimi's husband.

Young Sakura peered into that room with horror to find her fianceé happily cradling a newborn baby with another woman. She vomited in the restroom sink, and vowed to kill him.


Meanwhile, Kawai was robbed in the chemistry lab in East Machida Middle School, threatened at the tip of a broken beaker by one of his students. That student, Tomono Junko, would not listen to his pleas as she pocketed the bills and tossed the rest of his wallet into a vat of chemicals. In a rage, he attacked her and fractured her skull. Sakura had then entered the lab unexpectedly to find a half-crazed Kawai over dead Tomono's body. Sakura shut the door quickly and told Kawai that they had to make it look like suicide. They carried her up to the roof. "That's how we handled Mr Kawai's accidental murder of Tomono Junko.

"I had him make the bomb instead," said Ms Akabane. She waited until the gift box was received and then given to her by Morita, then met and exchanged boxes with Kawai in broad daylight. She put the bomb in the refrigerator and waited for Tomikawa, in her absence, to remove the wrapping of that deadly gift.

"But, you only checked up on me for such a short period of time," Ms Akabane said to Shibata. "Did you always suspect me?"

"From the time of our first meeting," Shibata said. "Sakura, you're very fond of cooking, aren't you? Someone like you wouldn't have put the box of beefsteak, which had been sent through the mail, into the refrigerator just as it was. You would have removed the contents from the box, and then put them in the refigerator. But you didn't do that. Therefore it remains that you knew beforehand that the bomb was contained in that box."

Ms Akabane accepted her deafeat. "So that's how you figured out that I'm the culprit."

"Yes."

"What rotten luck," Ms Akabane said. "If I could've gotten safely through just this one day, I would've finally had my freedom."

Tsubosaka's face went sour and his palm went to his forehead. The sirens in the distance drew closer as the old man stood scratching his bald head.

"Kawai Hideki's been arrested," Hayashida told Mayama as he and several others rounded the corner. He stopped before her and stuck his hands in his trouser pockets as he declared, "Akabane Sakura, you are under arrest for the murder of Tomikawa Keiichi." Saotome, standing beside him, requested that she accompany them to headquarters. Tsubosaka turned his face away as she was led quickly and silently away. Mayama gave Shibata the nod. The three of them stood on the curb, watching the whirling patrol car rush the perpetrator into custody.

The old man said nothing, and Shibata turned to him. "Mr Tsubosaka?"

Tsubosaka raised his eyebrows at the retreating motorcade, letting his mouth form a tepid frown. He blinked, glanced at Shibata's face for a brief moment, and hobbled away.


Under the great seal of the police force mounted on the mezzanine, Tsubosaka walked alone, on his way to a permanent exit through the lobby doors. Shibata hurried to catch up with him, calling out his name. He faced her with a start, and she stopped before him. "I'm sorry about everything that happened," she bowed.

"Yeah, really," he said, "What a fuckin' waste of fifteen years, I'm the goddamn laughing stock of the police force," he said with a final self-deprecating chuckle, drawing a headshake of sympathy from Shibata.

"May I ask you, just one more thing?" she requested.

"Ah?"

"At the maternity and gynecology department where I investigated, a police detective had already been to interrogate there half a year ago. It was you, wasn't it? Why..."

Tsubosaka scratched his forehead and drew a breath through pursed lips. "I didn't wanna believe it, that she was the culprit." He grunted, looking at his feet. "I been a detective for thirty years. Ever since my wife and kid got killed, I been suspecting everybody in the world. It's tough, to live the kinda life where ya can't trust anybody. So, I wanted to believe somethin' else, even if I had to force myself."

Then he stood up straight to face the young woman. "But," he declared, "Hm! Thanks to you, I can quit bein' a detective. I'll just be an old man. Can I be a plain old man? Ah, ha, I guess...

Suddenly he remembered the pendant around his neck. "Oh yeah," he said, slipping it over his head, "This thing here--You can have it back." He held it out to her until she let it rest in her palm. "Thanks," he said.

Shibata stood clutching the scrap of iron as the old man walked away.

"Ah, woman," he said turning around again, then catching himself. "Ah, 'scuse me. Inspector Shibata," he said. Slowly, he raised his hand to his brow in salute.

Shibata slowly raised her own hand to reciprocate, and smiled with satisfaction as he smiled back in his own lopsided way.

Nonomura, Kondoh, Taniguchi and Aya came running and stopped just behind Shibata. Nonomura bowed and shot his hand up in salute, and the others promptly did the same. Tsubosaka gave his parting salute to the lot of them. He took a few steps and stopped to look about the lobby as Shibata stepped up beside him. There in front of them were the scores of their comrades in uniform facing the old man for a final farewell.

Hayashida's arrogant voice came through from behind the crowd as he shouted, "What the hell's goin' on, whattaya doin' here, get back to work," as he shoved through the rows of men to make way for Saotome. Then they all came to a halt when they saw Tsubosaka. The uniformed then saluted him all at once.

Tsubosaka saluted to the whole crowd. Saotome forced himself to overcome pride, and saluted as well; his men did the same.

Tsubosaka frowned and cast his head back to Shibata again. "Well, I'm off," he said, and began to limp away. Then, among the crowd, he caught the solitary figure of Mayama leaned against the stairwell. Mayama turned his head for a moment as if ignorning him. Tsubosaka stared. Finally, Mayama let a lopsided smile spread on his face as he raised his hand in salute. The old man did the same.

Their comrades stood at attention and parted to form a straight path to the door. Tsubosaka thrust his hands in his trouser pockets, looked toward the floor, and limped away between two saluting columns.

Shibata watched the old man's back as he headed out the door. Once he was gone, the men scattered and continued on their separate ways. Shibata was the only one left on the floor, casting a small, satisfied smile at Mayama as he walked away.


mystery 6 end

mystery 7

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English translation Tremain Xenos
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