Chapter Seventy-Five: Akiko Blackfeather

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“Kuroba Akiko, born June 13, 1985, attended Kyoto Sakura Shade Middle School, disappeared on March 17, 1997 on her way home from school, found a week later according to the report by the informant Hatsuno Mie, discovered by the roadside, was sent immediately to the hospital due to her unconscious state. The officer in charge of this case is Hikino Mitsutake.”

Ueno Tsuku felt a bit lost; this was the shortest file he had ever seen since becoming a police officer. There were no records of the investigation results, the informant’s discovery location, or any other crucial information. It was as if someone had deliberately erased those details.

He noticed another document tucked inside the folder. He pulled out the paper—a hospital diagnosis. “…multiple soft tissue injuries… vulvar laceration… traumatic subarachnoid hemorrhage…” Ueno clenched his fists. There was no doubt this was a typical case of child rape. Ueno Tsuku did not believe in gods, and the main reason was that if such deities truly existed, why would they allow demons to roam freely among humans?

With a frown, Ueno flipped through the sparse file and finally decided he would visit Officer Hikino Mitsutake; there were simply too many puzzling aspects. Normally, a crime as heinous as this would have the media swarming like sharks smelling blood, yet even as a Kyoto police officer, he had never heard of it. And the file was so rudimentary, almost as if someone was trying to hide it.

Before visiting the retired officer, Ueno had something important to do. Originally, he felt nervous, much like the anxiety before an exam during his university days, but after reading the case file, he felt a profound sympathy for the girl he had met the night before. Ueno knew well the helpless pain of seeing a loved one suffer; his grandfather had been tormented by cancer. When he saw his once burly, self-proclaimed samurai grandfather reduced to a frail old man lying in bed, the pain hit him like the waters of the Shinano River, leaving him sobbing uncontrollably. Watching his loved one slowly taken by death made him realize the cruelty of the world for the first time. The day he removed his mourning attire was the day he truly became an adult.

He glanced at his watch—it was nearly noon. Making up an excuse, he slipped out of the station. Half an hour later, he arrived at the agreed-upon location.

Before entering the restaurant, Ueno saw Kuroba Neko standing alone at the entrance, dressed in a brown school uniform, staring quietly at the sky as if shepherding the sun, moon, and stars, waiting for their return.

It wasn’t until Ueno called out that Neko drew her gaze away from the deep sky, turned to him, and bowed deeply. “Thank you. I thought you might treat yesterday’s promise as a childish agreement and forget.”

Ueno felt a bit awkward. He bowed in return and spoke softly, “Not at all.”

Neko gazed at the somewhat shy young man before her and felt a strange sense of reassurance. “It’s just about lunchtime, so let’s go in and talk.”

Neko ordered assorted tempura, while Ueno chose a pork cutlet and Japanese omelette rice. The two sat facing each other in silence, until Neko spoke, “Were you serious about what you said yesterday?” Ueno nodded, “Of course. I’ve already looked into your sister’s case this morning.”

Neko’s eyes dimmed. “Do you think you can find the culprit?”

Ueno hesitated, then nodded emphatically. “I will find them. But the case file at the station is extremely sparse, so there are some things I’d like to discuss with you.”

Seeing her nod, Ueno continued, “I’d like to know your sister’s current condition, if that’s alright. Some details need to be confirmed by her, but you can ask on my behalf if necessary.”

Neko shook her head. “I’m sorry, Akiko can’t answer any questions. Not because she’d be upset, but because she has forgotten everything.”

Ueno was stunned. “Forgot everything?”

Neko spoke with sorrow, “When Akiko was found, she was badly injured and taken to the hospital immediately. After treatment, she regained consciousness, but the doctors said she suffered from moderate closed head injury, leaving her with sequelae—aphasia and agnosia. She forgot everything. Not even psychologists could restore her memories. But at least she has forgotten those painful days.”

Ueno didn’t know how to comfort the despondent girl. Just then, the waitress brought their meals. Ueno picked up a piece of pork cutlet and placed it atop Neko’s tempura.

“When I was young, my grandfather spent a long time bedridden with illness. I think I felt much the same as you do now. Before he passed, he used his last strength to tell me, ‘Eat well.’ I’d heard it a thousand times, but only that last time stayed with me. It’s odd—since then, I never heard it again, and realized all those times before had been him, but I only remembered the last. Whenever I eat, I silently repeat those words and eat a little more. It’s a strange recipe for healing, but it works for me. So, Miss Kuroba, please eat a little more.”

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Neko looked at the golden pork cutlet. She said nothing, but used her chopsticks to tuck it beneath the tempura. Ueno felt awkward, but said nothing, and the two ate lunch in silence.

When Neko finished the last piece of tempura, Ueno had long since finished his meal, but a young man in his early twenties is never truly full. Just as he was about to ask for the pork cutlet back under the pretense of not wasting food, Neko, with utmost seriousness, ate the cutlet in small bites, then wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Thank you. The cutlet was delicious.”

Ueno felt a pang of shame for having judged her wrongly; he had assumed she didn’t like pork and was hiding it like a child hides vegetables. Who could have guessed she saved it for last out of respect? Her reverence was like a Christian at Communion.

Ueno summoned the waitress and reached for his wallet, but Neko handed her a thousand-yen bill bearing Noguchi Hideyo’s portrait. He noticed her wallet bulged mostly with five-thousand-yen notes featuring Higuchi Ichiyo. Ueno glanced at his own flat wallet, opened his mouth, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

Neko noticed his discomfort and smiled for the first time—a fleeting smile, as faint as an evening blossom. “Don’t worry, Ueno. My father is president of an electronics company.”

So, she was a privileged heiress. No wonder she lived alone in such a large house. Ueno’s mind, trained as a detective, couldn’t help but wonder: if the Kuroba sisters were so well-off, why had no ransom note been received during Akiko’s disappearance? When he voiced his question, Neko shook her head. Ueno rubbed his chin. No ransom note—perhaps a random abduction and assault, though it could be someone jealous of her father’s business. A flood of speculation raced through Ueno’s mind.

After leaving the restaurant, Ueno resolved to visit retired Officer Hikino Mitsutake as planned. He meant to bid Neko farewell, but she insisted on joining him.

“Don’t you have school?”

“Since the day my sister disappeared, I’ve applied for leave.”

“Why do you still wear your uniform?”

“Because Akiko was wearing hers the day she disappeared.”

Her answer was as calm as a breeze stirring fallen sakura, but its hidden meaning left Ueno unable to refuse the girl who was Akiko’s sister.

Thus the two boarded a train to Osaka. Hikino Mitsutake had retired last year and returned to his hometown in Osaka; Akiko’s case was his last. Ueno hadn’t met him before, as he only became a detective in Kyoto last September.

The Shinkansen’s expensive tickets were painful enough, but the several-hour journey left Ueno sleepy. More embarrassing was waking to find he had leaned on Neko’s shoulder. She said nothing, her cheeks flushed, but an elderly man, white-bearded and smiling, commented on the joys of youth, making Ueno even more mortified.

“Sorry,” Ueno apologized to Neko, ignoring the old man’s gaze. As a grown man, to be so tired as to fall asleep on a girl seven years his junior—even worse, if she hadn’t woken him, he might have missed his stop. It was shameful.

Neko shook her head, her voice gentle. “It’s fine. You probably didn’t sleep well last night because of me.”

Ueno pulled from his pocket the note he had secretly taken from the station, bearing Hikino Mitsutake’s post-retirement address. He had wanted to obtain the address through proper channels, but when he asked his superior about the retired officer that morning, the usually supportive Chief Tsukamoto Suke suddenly changed his attitude and sternly warned Ueno not to inquire about him.

But he was too young—too young for any rule to restrain him.

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When Ueno found the somewhat shabby apartment, the blazing midday sun was already sinking westward, bathing Bamba Town in a faint red glow.

He presented his police badge to the building manager, who quickly led him to the destination. “Find him yourself. Hikino’s temper is a headache,” the portly manager grumbled before returning to his office to watch television.

Ueno knocked. Soon, a loud, gruff voice rang out, “Who is it? If you’re a damn salesman, get lost.”

The door swung open, revealing an old man in a dirty kimono, reeking of alcohol, food stains marking his clothes—he looked like an unemployed, down-and-out drunk. But the moment Ueno saw him, he knew—those bleary eyes flashed with sharpness, and the man instantly sobered, like a lion ready to pounce. Only a seasoned detective could possess such authority.

“Hikino-senpai, I’m Ueno Tsuku, assigned to Kyoto in year nine of Heisei. This is Miss Kuroba Neko. We’ve come to inquire about a case you once handled.” Ueno bowed respectfully, presenting his badge; Neko bowed deeply as well.

Hikino Mitsutake paused, murmured, “Kuroba Neko, is it?” He didn’t take the badge, but sighed where he stood. “I know which case you’ve come for, but I’m sorry—I can’t tell you.”

Before Ueno could speak, Neko raised her head and met Hikino’s gaze, her tone forceful. “You retired early without resolving Akiko’s case. Do you still intend to block someone from finishing what you should have done?”

“That’s rather harsh, Miss Kuroba,” Ueno said, uncomfortable at her bluntness.

But Hikino wasn’t angry. Instead, he seemed truly old, sinking into melancholy. “I’m sorry, Miss Kuroba. Truly sorry. But I can’t tell you anything about that case.”

Ueno pondered aloud, “Did you sign some confidentiality agreement?”

Hikino shook his head, then hesitantly nodded.

“I came here for Akiko. I want to ask for her sake—will you let the demon who hurt her roam free?” Neko’s words struck like a heavy blow, thoroughly breaking the sixty-year-old man before them. Ueno noticed his hands trembling.

“Come in,” Hikino said, his voice so frail it was hard to believe he was the same formidable man from moments before. Watching him turn, Ueno thought, so even such men grow old.

Empty beer cans, bento boxes with food remnants, cigarette butts littered the cramped apartment—things that should have been bagged as trash were scattered everywhere.

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