Chapter Seventy-Six: Sisters

Bare walls, cupboards devoid of decoration, and an open wardrobe filled only with plain clothes—Ueno Tsukasa found it strange that in the home of an old detective like Hikino Mitsutake, who had served so many years on the force, there wasn’t a single trace of his profession. No uniforms, not even a photograph with colleagues. The cluttered room was empty but for the detritus of a retired old man’s daily life. If this had been the scene of a suicide, Ueno Tsukasa would not have been surprised; it was clear the room’s owner had gone out of his way to erase every sign of his past, leaving behind nothing that could carry a memory.

Sensing Ueno Tsukasa’s gaze, Hikino Mitsutake gave a self-deprecating smile. “All those things, my whole past—I threw it all away. They just take up space.”

Before Kuroba Neko could speak, Hikino Mitsutake turned to her. “How is Kuroba Akiko these days?”

Kuroba Neko neither nodded nor shook her head. Her tone was flat. “Akiko is still the same.”

Hikino Mitsutake said nothing. He cracked open a beer and drank deeply, the can rattling as he tossed it aside. “What do you want to know?”

Ueno Tsukasa replied slowly, “Everything.”

A sharp glint flashed in Hikino Mitsutake’s eyes. “If I tell you, what you’re about to investigate could cost you everything. Even so, will you keep going?”

Ueno Tsukasa was momentarily stunned by the sudden challenge, then answered, “Whoever makes a mistake must face punishment, no matter who they are. Isn’t that our duty as detectives?”

Hikino fell silent at that, looking at Ueno Tsukasa as if seeing his younger self. As memories of his past rose up unbidden, the secrets he had intended to take to his grave appeared before him as vividly as yesterday.

“March 18th last year. I remember the date clearly, because it was the beginning of something I’ll never forget. That day, I’d just finished sorting out a case file when the chief called for me. My old partner Akasaki Nagakawa was with me. We both thought it was just a missing person or a kidnapping. But even before we reached Miss Kuroba Neko’s house, the chief hinted he wanted the case closed quickly. The bastard. Of course, we ignored him. On the way, we noticed someone tailing us. We thought it was some old gang member out for revenge. I remember how fired up we were, ready to add another achievement to our record. We decided to lure him to a deserted spot and arrest him. But we were too careless. Who would have thought a petty thug would be carrying a gun? Akasaki Nagakawa died right in front of me, and the thug died there, too. That night, my wife received a letter, bluntly stating that if I continued investigating, I’d die in some gangland reprisal too.”

At this, Hikino Mitsutake’s eyes reddened; he struck the floor in fury. “I’m not afraid of dying. But I have a wife and daughter. The next morning, I got a photo, taken without my knowledge—my daughter in the frame.”

“I’m sorry. I chose to back down.” Slowly, Hikino Mitsutake knelt, bowing deeply in apology to Kuroba Neko.

Kuroba Neko watched this man, old enough to be her grandfather, apologize in such a way. Though she had always harbored resentment toward him because of her sister, at that moment she could only avoid his gaze and remain silent.

“Takeda Takahiro—he’s the only name I could find. He’s closely connected to your sister’s disappearance.” Hikino Mitsutake straightened.

“Takeda Takahiro? He committed suicide two days ago.” Ueno Tsukasa was frustrated; finally, a lead, and yet it was a dead end.

“What?” Kuroba Neko exclaimed. “Ueno, you said Takeda Takahiro’s death was a suicide?”

Ueno Tsukasa nodded, glancing at Kuroba Neko, who explained, “Takeda Takahiro once anonymously wrote Akiko a letter of apology. He said he’d had countless chances to save her, to atone, but never acted. The guilt tormented him, so he decided to apologize in his own way. I found out his address that day and went to throw a stone at his window.”

Ueno Tsukasa pondered this while Hikino Mitsutake’s eyes grew dim.

A glance at his watch told Ueno Tsukasa it was late. He rose to bid Hikino Mitsutake farewell, asking if he’d join them for dinner. Hikino Mitsutake, watching the last sliver of sunlight through the window, gently shook his head.

As Ueno Tsukasa put on his shoes and prepared to leave, Hikino Mitsutake called after him, “Ueno, you must be careful. This case is dangerous. Best wait until you’re strong enough to handle it.”

Kuroba Neko paused but did not turn. From behind her came a warm, resolute voice: “People have told me for years that some things are best left until later, when I’ll be more prepared. But for me, my answer never changes: here and now.”

They picked a ramen shop for dinner, or rather, Ueno Tsukasa happened to see one as he looked up, and figured the timing would allow him to catch the next shinkansen after their meal.

When two steaming bowls of ramen arrived, Kuroba Akiko murmured, “Thank you.”

Ueno Tsukasa shook his head. “My grandfather always told me to keep my promises. Besides, it’s my duty.”

As Ueno Tsukasa slurped his noodles, Kuroba Neko suddenly asked, “Are you afraid?”

He paused, considered carefully, and said, “Very much so.”

The answer caught Kuroba Neko off guard. “If you’re so afraid, why keep helping me investigate?”

Ueno Tsukasa shook his head. “First, it’s not me helping you; it’s you helping me. Investigating is a detective’s job. Second, courage isn’t the absence of fear—it’s carrying on despite it.”

For the first time, Kuroba Neko studied the man seven years her senior, staring until his face flushed and she finally looked away. “Thank you.”

“No need for thanks. I’m not working for free, you know—I expect payment, young lady.” Ueno Tsukasa’s sudden seriousness made Kuroba Neko nervous. She asked warily, “How much do you want?”

Unable to keep up his stern expression, Ueno Tsukasa burst out laughing. “How about this: as long as you’re investigating cases with me, you pay for the meals.”

Instead of being embarrassed, Kuroba Neko nodded solemnly, took out her wallet, and handed a bill to the ramen shop owner.

Under the moonlight in Osaka, the two—one tall, one short—boarded the shinkansen to Kyoto.

“Ueno, what have you been up to lately? Haven’t seen you for days.” Faced with Tsukamoto Sōsuke’s questioning, Ueno Tsukasa could only smile sheepishly and apologize, “Sorry, my cousin came to Kyoto from afar, so I’ve been keeping her company.”

“You little rascal, there’s so much work at the station and you dare slack off. Next time, if I catch you, I’ll dock your pay.” Tsukamoto Sōsuke grumbled, puffing on his blue-and-white Seven Stars cigarette.

Ueno Tsukasa carefully slipped out of Tsukamoto’s office and breathed a sigh of relief. Called in first thing after returning to the station, he’d panicked, but it turned out it wasn’t about his investigation. A harmless scolding was nothing by comparison.

Meanwhile, Tsukamoto Sōsuke, having put away his lazy expression, flicked his ash and muttered to the closed door, “Ueno Tsukasa, you’d better really just be seeing your cousin—that Hikino Mitsutake case is nothing to get involved with.”

Ueno Tsukasa idly leafed through the files assigned to him, quickly growing bored with these already-solved cases. He stretched, wondering why he still had to organize these files, poured himself some buckwheat tea, and, when no one was looking, slipped into the archives. Soon he returned with Takeda Takahiro’s suicide report.

After reading for a while, Ueno Tsukasa frowned. The man’s record was just as Itō Tanikita had said: prior theft convictions, suspected involvement in gambling and brawling—a typical lowlife. Though over forty when he died, he’d never married, had no real job or income. But the family section did list some names, so he did have relatives. Ueno Tsukasa didn’t understand: if these men had families, why wander aimlessly, shirking responsibility well into middle age?

He glanced at the clock—just past eleven. Living alone in Kyoto, he couldn’t enjoy a homemade lunch like his seniors. Most days, he grabbed a cheap meal somewhere; when work was busy, he relied on instant noodles or convenience store bento.

As he left the station, he was surprised to see a familiar figure. He walked up and greeted her. “Miss Kuroba, what brings you here?”

Kuroba Neko, who had been gazing absentmindedly at the sky, smiled faintly. “I was waiting for you, Ueno.”

Ueno Tsukasa was puzzled; he didn’t recall making plans with her the day before.

Sensing his confusion, Kuroba Neko explained softly, “Didn’t you say you’d cover the investigation expenses for Akiko’s case, and I’d pay for all the meals? So I’ve been waiting to eat with you.”

Ueno Tsukasa felt awkward, waving his hand. “I was only joking. Even if you took it seriously, you didn’t have to wait for me outside the station.”

Kuroba Neko shook her head, her tone resolute. “Didn’t you say yourself that you must always keep your promises?”

Ueno Tsukasa gave in. “But how did you know I’d be leaving the station at this time?”

“I didn’t,” she replied. “If you hadn’t come out, I would have come to find you. If I couldn’t find you, I’d just keep waiting.” Her tone was calm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ueno Tsukasa could only submit. He meant to say something more, but his stomach growled—evidently the hasty natto rice from breakfast hadn’t lasted.

Kuroba Neko walked ahead, a subtle smile on her lips. “Ueno, if you don’t mind, I recall there’s a sushi place ahead with decent food.”

Face flushed, Ueno Tsukasa struggled to maintain his adult dignity before a high school girl seven years his junior. “All right, then.” That was his final act of resistance—at least he’d made the decision himself.

Presented with a platter of glistening mackerel sushi, Ueno Tsukasa ate the entire thing enthusiastically. The fresh, tender flavor was irresistible, and by the time he remembered something important, it was too late. Glancing at the price list on the wall, regret surged within him. Of course the tastiest things are always expensive. He pulled out his thin wallet with a mournful face. As Kuroba Neko calmly chewed her sushi, she asked, “Ueno, what are you doing?”

Ueno Tsukasa extracted his largest bill and looked at her earnestly. “Miss Kuroba, sushi isn’t cheap. I am a working adult, after all—how could I let you pay for everything?”

Kuroba Neko shook her head. “Ueno, we agreed. Besides, this isn’t an expensive meal for me.” To prove her point, she nonchalantly handed him her wallet.

Ueno Tsukasa was stunned by the wads of large bills inside. Embarrassingly, it was the most cash he’d ever seen at once. A strange thought occurred: Kuroba Neko was so wealthy—if only he could take her wallet and run away, he could live carefree for a long time.

He shook his head to banish the fleeting, mischievous thought, and handed the wallet back. “Miss Kuroba, you must keep this money safe. Best deposit it at the bank right away. Carrying this much cash is too dangerous.”

Kuroba Neko considered this, then asked, “Would you come with me to the bank?”

Ueno Tsukasa nodded and finally voiced the question that had lingered in his mind. “Why do you carry so much money?”

Kuroba Neko was not surprised. “It’s my child support. My father gives it to me, so I won’t lack for money before I come of age.”

“Child support.” The word conjured others in Ueno Tsukasa’s mind: “divorce,” “single parent.” Before he could speak, Kuroba Neko continued, “You probably guessed. My parents divorced when I was very young. My sister and I lived with our mother, and a few years ago, she remarried.”

Kuroba Neko recounted this as if telling a story about someone else, but Ueno Tsukasa couldn’t help but widen his eyes. “So now you live alone?”

She nodded and added, “I’ve lived alone ever since Akiko was hospitalized.”