Chapter 78: Fireflies in Broad Daylight

Ueno Hisahisa had followed his seniors to investigate cases in many places, but this was his first time entering a bar during business hours. Fortunately, it was not the kind of deafening club where people drowned in intoxication and music, but a tranquil lounge with jazz wafting through the air, where the bartender quietly polished glasses.

He ordered a mojito, glanced back at Kuroba Ningko, whose eyes brimmed with curiosity, and then ordered a glass of milk as well. Afterward, he began to inquire about Chiba Maki with the smiling bartender.

"Excuse me, do you know Ms. Chiba Maki?"
"Why? What business do you have with her?"

Faced with the bartender’s wariness, Ueno Hisahisa could only fabricate a story. "My father was once a friend of Ms. Chiba Maki. I’ve heard him mention her many times, so since I’m in Shinjuku on business, I wanted to meet her and convey my father’s regards."

"I see. Please wait a moment, I’ll call Ms. Chiba for you." The bartender’s innocence filled Ueno Hisahisa with guilt.

Soon, a woman in a pale purple kimono emerged. A faint smile graced her face. Beneath her lavender outer garment was an under-robe embroidered with golden flowers, and her waist was cinched with a white sash adorned with silver patterns, tied into a butterfly knot. The vivid colors harmonized, lending her an air of elegance and brilliance. Though the years had left their mark, her innate grace still hinted at the legendary beauty of her youth.

Once the bartender returned to her station, Ueno Hisahisa inclined his head apologetically to Chiba Maki. "I’m sorry for deceiving the bartender. In truth, I came to ask you about Takeda Takahiro." He produced his police badge.

Chiba Maki did not reach for it; she merely glanced at it before replying with a smile, "Officer Ueno, I haven’t seen Takeda Takahiro in many years."

"Then why did you attend his funeral?" Ueno Hisahisa sipped his cocktail and asked quietly.

Chiba Maki’s tone did not waver. "It seems you’ve done your homework, Officer Ueno. No need for me to spin further lies. Did you know, I was once quite adept at lying—for years, I made a living selling them." She laughed softly, her gaze fixed on Ueno Hisahisa.

He pressed on. "Why did Takeda Takahiro die?"

Instead of answering, Chiba Maki beckoned the bartender, accepted a drink, took a sip, and exhaled a faint breath of alcohol. "If I’m not mistaken, he did indeed die by suicide. He was well favored by those above."

"Those above?" Ueno Hisahisa sensed this case was entangled in something far deeper.

Chiba Maki drank again, unconcerned. "Forget it. Those important people can’t even be bothered to cover their tracks. If you keep digging, you’ll find out sooner or later. Let me tell you. I hope that after you hear it, you’ll still believe your actions aren’t utterly feeble and powerless."

"It’s simple. In this world, everything has its price. If someone is willing to pay, there will always be someone to provide, whether it’s caviar from Aquitaine or black truffles from the Alps. As long as those powerful figures desire something, someone will fulfill their wishes. But under the influence of money and power, who would be satisfied with mere culinary delights? These men age in flesh alone; the older they become, the more they crave the temptation of young bodies. Their hearts are forever filled with desire for youth and vitality."

At this, Chiba Maki noticed Kuroba Ningko’s angry, rapid breathing. She swirled the faintly blue liquor in her glass. "I’m sorry, little one. The adult world is much filthier than you imagine."

With a trace of mockery, Chiba Maki went on. As she uttered several names, Ueno Hisahisa felt a long-absent anger, born of helplessness, surge within him. But Chiba Maki remained indifferent. "Officer Ueno, have a few more drinks. Forget all of this after tonight—it’s best for everyone."

Ueno Hisahisa shook his head. Chiba Maki was not surprised. He wasn’t the first police officer to look into this case. Some returned and, as if struck by amnesia, simply resumed their lives. Others stubbornly persisted, but without exception, they gained nothing. Whether forced or voluntary, the outcome never changed. Looking at this overconfident young officer before her, Chiba Maki almost wanted to laugh. People like him, whose deaths would not even register with those in power, still tried to uphold a nebulous justice, clinging to blind faith in themselves and unrealistic dreams of the future. Perhaps therein lay the tragedy of humanity.

Ueno Hisahisa fixed his gaze on the emerald mojito for a long while, as if finally steeling his resolve. "I will do everything I must."

Chiba Maki watched him, a strange feeling welling up inside. If she had kept that child, he would be about this age now. She shook her head and spoke. "Let me advise you: think carefully about who has the right to disregard the law and indulge their desires. Money and power are their playthings. Are you truly prepared to unveil the fig leaf of those high above? Even if you report this to your superiors, no one will dare accept it. No media outlet will dare to publish it."

Kuroba Ningko placed a bill on the table, then pulled the staggering Ueno Hisahisa away.

Watching their departing figures, Chiba Maki’s gaze became unfocused, as if glimpsing the tangled past. After a long time, she made a call. "Hello, Director Suzuki?"

Ueno Hisahisa did not know how he left the bar; he was lost in thought until Kuroba Ningko spoke.

"Ueno-kun," she called softly.

"What is it?" He raised his head, staring blankly at the girl whose eyes brimmed with tears.

"Can we pretend none of this ever happened?" Kuroba Ningko’s tears streamed down her clear cheeks, under the streetlamp like a meteor flashing through the night.

"I promised you," Ueno Hisahisa said, turning away so he wouldn’t see her. After Chiba Maki’s words, a rage he’d never known had gripped him; now, it ignited a stubbornness buried deep within. In the end, he was just a young man, fresh out of university.

They fell into a silence as ancient as the stars, walking side by side down the bustling street without a word.

It lasted a long time, until late at night, when Ueno Hisahisa saw Kuroba Ningko home.

The Shinkansen did not understand a maiden’s heart. It sped on, drawing ever closer to the ancient capital.

"Don’t let yourself get hurt, all right?" That was the last thing Kuroba Ningko said before she turned away. Ueno Hisahisa nodded, then strode into the biting Kyoto dawn without looking back. He was afraid to meet that helpless gaze.

"I’m sorry, Miss Kuroba, detectives are very good at lying," Ueno Hisahisa apologized to the empty street, then walked resolutely toward the police station.

The station was still ablaze with light—working late seemed to be a detective’s fate. Once, Ueno Hisahisa thought this was a badge of honor; now, it felt only like irony.

Aosuke Tsukamoto had waited a long time, wishing only that the wait would continue, but things did not go as he hoped.

Ueno Hisahisa walked straight into Tsukamoto’s office. For the first time, he looked directly at his superior, the middle-aged detective who had always treated him as his successor.

"You knew," Ueno Hisahisa said, sadness in his eyes.

Tsukamoto did not deny it. He nodded. He had been waiting ever since receiving a call from Director Suzuki at Shinjuku Police.

"On my first day as a detective, you told me we are the law’s enforcers in this world." Ueno Hisahisa pulled his badge from his pocket and set it on Tsukamoto’s desk.

In that moment, Tsukamoto looked less like a seasoned detective than a silent father, cigarette in hand. At length, he spoke, "You’re just a poor kid from the countryside—smart, disciplined, and hardworking. You could have enjoyed a good life; you could hold signs in the blazing sun. The best among the common people. Maybe you think you should overturn injustice and reclaim rights from the powerful, but, Hisahisa, they control everything in this country."

Ueno Hisahisa shouted, furious, "If a country can only survive by tacitly accepting darkness, what is the point of its existence?"

Tsukamoto said nothing more, only stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette. "Hisahisa, forget all of this. Pretend it never happened. In a few years, my position will be yours. You’ll have a better life."

The cigarette butts in the ashtray glowed faintly in the night.

"As we live in this world, we watch the bustling scenes while walking towards hell," Ueno Hisahisa recited a haiku by Kobayashi Issa, then walked out slowly but resolutely.

Tsukamoto watched the young man’s retreating back, murmuring with self-mockery, "As people grow older, they should gain something. But somewhere along the way, I found that the older I became, the more I lost. Hisahisa, I’ve decayed so much I can hardly face the sun."

A month later, in a building of lavish excess left from the bubble economy era, a bespectacled, refined man glanced through Ueno Hisahisa’s file, flipped it carelessly, then made a call. "Take care of this. Make it clean."

Ueno Hisahisa stood in anger at the gates of government, holding a sign aloft, surrounded by a box full of all the evidence he had gathered over the past month. Not a single media outlet dared to appear; even the onlookers, after a glance, hurried away.

After a black third-generation Honda Prelude passed by, all was emptiness.

Just as Ueno Hisahisa was about to shout, he saw Tsukamoto in the driver’s seat, wearing sunglasses. Before Ueno could speak, Tsukamoto began, "Listen, you still have family. Do you want them to be hurt because of you? Do you know why no victim has ever come forward? Because anyone seeking answers has disappeared. Go, run, abandon this name, flee far away. If you’re found, even I will be punished."

Ueno Hisahisa tried to protest, but then noticed the file envelope on the passenger seat—it contained photos of his family, and even a candid shot of him and Kuroba Ningko.

"Hisahisa, you are right, but the world does not reward being right. When everyone lives in darkness, the one who carries a torch is an outcast."

That was the last thing Ueno Hisahisa ever heard addressed to him by that name.

*

In the izakaya, a weathered man sat in the seat that once belonged to a missing advisor, drinking shochu with the air of someone telling another’s story.

"Uncle, you’re a good man," Aphra raised her glass of juice in salute to Ueno Hisahisa, then downed her blue-tinted plum wine.

Qin Mo, moved as well, spoke softly after emerging from the story’s spell, "Thank you for saving Ji Ning."

Ueno Hisahisa waved it off, grabbing a skewer of yakitori and chewing heartily. If not for his daring driving earlier, no one would believe that this middle-aged, jobless, would-be street musician was telling the truth.

"I’ve investigated for many years. There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask." Ueno Hisahisa spoke casually.

"Please, go ahead."

"Is there really such a thing as supernatural power in this world—a realm science cannot explain?" Though he was still chewing, his eyes were locked on the young men and women before him.

"Yes." Catherine hesitated, but ultimately broke the rule forbidding the disclosure of the supernatural to ordinary people. But even if she denied it, after so many years, Ueno Hisahisa already knew of the Order of Desirous Flesh.

"Can you fly?" Ueno Hisahisa asked, his tone odd. If supernatural powers existed, then these young people must be no ordinary folk.

"Uncle, I can even transform into a magical girl. Want to see?" Aphra laughed.

Ueno Hisahisa, embarrassed, buried his face in his tempura. How rude of him! But perhaps this little girl really could transform?

Perhaps it was best for a middle-aged uncle who watched taiga dramas to stay out of the young people’s conversations. After all, today’s youth had long since left old-timers like him behind.

Catherine was lost in thought. The teaching at Deer Academy aimed to shape them into a force for justice. Most importantly, it seemed no one had ever specified any limits—no one had said they could only intervene in supernatural matters.