After the yakuza left, Mr. Ogawa collapsed onto the sofa for a while, but then he suddenly jumped up and hurried over to his desk to start dealing with his work. Glancing at the schedule on the white board, I saw that the boss was scheduled to catch a flight to Tokyo today at 3:30 PM. He would be returning tomorrow at 9:00 PM. It sounded like a hectic schedule, but his only business purpose was to meet a single person, with the main objective of the trip being to attend the after-party of a friend's wedding. Sorting stacks of documents into a few piles, the boss looked up. "Kanako-chan, this invoice is, wait, we didn't call you in today, did we? You just came to hang out, so I'm not paying you a part-time wage." Then he beckoned to me, who was tidying up the office that the yakuza had ransacked during their search. "You've made invoices before, right? Please take care of this one and that one. Send them here." After giving several instructions, he spent a while neatly organizing the documents on his desk, and finally started checking the reports on Mr. Hattori's desk. Meanwhile, Kanako just blankly watched the boss and me working, occasionally yelling "I'm starving~" or arbitrarily inventing retroactive allowances like "danger pay" or "yakuza pay," basically just begging for pocket money and getting in the way. The boss finally stepped away from his desk after writing instructions on sticky notes for Hattori's report. He began putting on the jacket he had taken off, prompting Shisho to tease him, "You going to a wedding with that crooked tie?" "Idiot. I'm going home first. Besides, I'm only going to the after-party," he replied. Before hurriedly leaving the office, he turned to us with a serious tone. "What happened today is my fault. I'm sorry. I don't want you guys getting involved with people like that as much as possible, and I don't want to get involved either. No matter how they decide to settle things with Tamura, if it's dangerous enough to risk his life, Tamura has enough common sense to run straight to the police himself. Since he chose to do that kind of work, he needs to clean up his own mess. Tamura is mentally prepared for that. So do not get involved in this matter. Especially you, Kanako. Based on my experience, I have a really bad feeling... You'll be fine, right?" Shisho gave a deliberately vague nod. Placing a hand on Shisho's shoulder, the boss pressed him again with "You'll be fine, right?" and forced a smile. It looked like he was gripping the shoulder with considerable force.
"You're pretty cold-hearted, Boss. Tamura came looking for you specifically, didn't he?" "He probably said 'forget I ever asked,' right at the end. He was ashamed of himself for trying to rely on someone. Anyway, don't get involved anymore. Got it?" Shisho finally gave a proper nod. Though my feet still felt light and floating from my first Level 3 close encounter with the yakuza, I felt a sense of relief, thinking this matter was finally over. The next day was Saturday. I called Shisho's house in the morning, but there was no answer. Assailed by a premonition similar to the one Boss Ogawa had yesterday, I hopped on my bicycle and headed for the Ogawa Investigation Office. I climbed the narrow, dim stairs beside the multi-tenant building and knocked on the office door on the third floor. There was a response, and when I stepped inside, Shisho was there, just as I suspected. She sat at her desk with a sullen expression, resting her elbows on the desk and propping up her chin. "What are you doing?" "Nothing." Mr. Hattori was at the opposing desk. However, Shisho's gig as a part-timer dealing with ghosts was irregular. Boss Ogawa had the sole authority to decide whether or not to take on such requests. There were no pending cases, and there was no conceivable reason for Shisho to show up here while the boss was away. Except, of course, for the whole Tamura business yesterday—or rather, the yakuza business. "Hey, what are you actually doing?" "Propping up my chin." Because her chin was fixed in place, her head bobbed jerkily. "Let's go home." "Go ahead." "I'm not going." "Do as you like." "I will." "..." "What are you trying to do?" "My right elbow is starting to hurt, so I'm trying to switch to my left." She muttered "There," and shifted her posture. Across from her, Mr. Hattori was clacking away on a word processor while making a phone call to someone. He seemed to be fact-checking the parts of yesterday's report that the boss had pointed out. In a normal workplace, such a disparity in work ethic between part-timers would breed friction, but they simply ignored each other in a good way. Indifference, you might call it. Since the two of them had no points of contact in the first place, not even friction could occur.
As a suffocating silence continued, the office telephone rang. Hattori reached for it, but Shisho picked up the receiver on her desk even faster. "Hello, Ogawa Investigation Office." Oh, it's the boss. That mutter slipped out. I strained my ears to listen. After exchanging a few words with the boss on the other end, Shisho glanced at me, pulled the receiver away from her face, and said: "Tamura hasn't been caught yet. According to the Ishida gang guys." Huh? I was dumbfounded, having no idea what she was talking about. Shisho put the receiver back to her mouth and continued. "How did you find out? Oh, through some connections, huh? For all the big talk you made, I guess you *were* worried about how things turned out after that." Then she looked at me again and said: "Anyway, she said to get out of the office right now." She pressed her ear back to the receiver. "Eh? Hattori? Hattori's here too. Ah. Got it. I'll tell him. Understood. Understood. I said we're leaving right now. Yeah, yeah." After hanging up, Shisho turned to Hattori and me. "For some reason, Tamura managed to escape. The Ishida gang members are still searching for him, using their affiliate groups as well. They might storm this place again, so the boss says to go home immediately. And Hattori, you're done for today too, so go home." The moment he heard that, Hattori's hands stopped clacking on the word processor. It was with a naturalness as if he had just finished typing the very last character, rather than out of shock. Silently, he tidied up his desk, didn't say a single word, and left the office. I pressed a hand against my chest, feeling my heart pounding. Was this fear, or something else entirely? No, it had to be fear. "Let's go home too." "Yeah." Yet Shisho didn't make a move to leave. She looked as though she were deep in thought. "It's dangerous here. Let's get out of here fast." "I've got some business to take care of. You go home first." She said that without even meeting my eyes.
No matter how I thought about it, the business Shisho mentioned seemed closely tied to the looming crisis. What on earth is this person thinking? I managed to steady my wandering gaze and finally opened my mouth. "Then I'm not going home either." "Do as you like." From that point on, I felt like I was living a living death. We sat side by side at our desks, staring straight ahead, repeatedly shivering at the thought of what might happen next. As for Shisho herself, though she looked contemplative, her attitude was entirely unconcerned. Noticing that Hattori's word processor had been left powered on, she laughed, "That ninja forgot to turn it off. He's rattled, he's totally rattled," turned off the power, and went right back to brooding. It was about an hour later when the familiar low rumble stopped at the bottom of the building, followed by the sound of multiple footsteps climbing the stairs. If they were going to come, I wish they had come sooner. Having exhausted myself from over-imagining every scenario, that was already my state of mind. The door opened without a knock, and yesterday's gapped-tooth, dyed-brown-hair punk appeared. Right behind him came Matsuura, the junior boss, along with another young grunt I hadn't seen yesterday. Three of them. In my simulation, a decrease in numbers compared to yesterday meant the danger level should be going down. And yet, with Matsuura present, the danger level should be going up. Plus and minus made zero. I judged that the situation was largely unchanged from yesterday. The three yakuza looked around the room suspiciously, and at Matsuura's signal, the other two began searching the office just as they had yesterday. "Where's the boss?" To Matsuura's question, Shisho replied in a mocking tone. "He's here. Working." "Where?" "Right here. Right in front of your eyes. That guy works insanely fast. You can't track him with human eyes. He'll become visible once he takes a break." "Hey, you bitch!" The close-cropped grunt let out a roaring voice. He was far more intimidating than the brown-haired one. I almost jumped out of my skin.
Matsuura wore a clearly displeased expression, but he still stopped the grunt. Seeing that, Shisho pointed at the whiteboard on the wall with her finger. "Come to think of it, it was written right there." This should have been a moment where they could interrogate us about whether we were hiding to harbor Tamura, but Matsuura's memory spared them any useless banter. "You must have caught Tamura by now. You shouldn't have any business here anymore." Even though Shisho spoke flatly, using the exact same disrespectful tone as yesterday, Matsuura didn't fly into a rage. Though he had told her to learn the proper etiquette for speaking to superiors by the next time they met, he was the one who had made "the next time" happen today instead. He had no grounds to get angry, but breaking grounds like that should have been their trade. I couldn't read what Matsuura was thinking at all. "Aniki, he ain't here." Opening even the cabinet under the kitchen sink—where no grown adult could possibly hide—the grunts reported back. "Understood. Wait downstairs." Looking surprised at Matsuura's instruction, they started to say, "Eh, but..." but didn't have the nerve to disobey the repeated order of "Wait downstairs," and both quickly left the office. I stood rooted to the spot, bewildered by a turn of events not covered in my simulations. Shisho remained propped on her desk, in the exact same posture I'd seen her in that morning. What kind of insane nerve did she have? Matsuura moved the sofa to a position of his liking and sat down. Double-breasted suit, white shirt. Genuine leather shoes, black-rimmed glasses. The exact same outfit as yesterday. But looking closely, everything except the glasses was from a different, similar brand. Interlacing his fingers, the man opened his mouth. "Tamura got away. There was some miscommunication." "Your crew sure has a lot of misunderstandings and foul-ups." "Spare me the backtalk. Young lady. I know you're afraid of me. And I'm a little afraid of you. Let's leave it at that." At that, Shisho showed an expression of surprise for the first time and straightened her posture. "What is it you want to ask me?" Matsuura hesitated for a moment. He looked frustrated that it wouldn't be easy to explain.
I could only sit there blankly, watching the two of them interact. It felt as though they were in a space that contained only Shisho and Matsuura. "I had you investigated. Your peers at other detective agencies almost unanimously dismiss your work as a sham, yet those who have actually hired you all insist it's the real deal. What that tells me is that, at the very least, you have the ability to solve cases tied to psychic phenomena. Even if it's a sham, that is." Matsuura chose to start with a preamble. It was going to be a long conversation. Yet he made no move to pull cigarettes from his pocket. Perhaps he didn't smoke at all. He just stayed silent, carefully choosing his words as he continued. "Tamura is still on the run and hasn't been found. Money, alcohol, women... we've checked all the likely spots, but we haven't been able to trace his current whereabouts. Or perhaps he has already managed to flee outside the prefecture. Even worse is the possibility that he slipped into the bosom of an organization hostile to us and the Sonami clan. If that happens, we'll be forced to back off. We'll be left with no choice but to sit on our hands and watch the Sonami clan get devoured." "Those square bastards from the east?" When Shisho made a pointed gesture, Matsuura didn't deny it. "However, as I started to mention yesterday, there's something strange about the 'poison' Tamura brought out. If that 'poison' is a cleverly crafted fake, it cannot serve as a fatal scandal for the old man, nor for the current Sonami clan. If the 'poison' he is still carrying and fleeing with turns out to be worthless, it means we lose our motivation to look for him." "You want me to authenticate the poison without even having the real thing?" "No, I have a replica. But it is crude and lacks the value of the original. Still, regardless, it is enough to deduce what kind of fatal, lethal poison it would be if it were real. What I want to know is the identity of the impurities mixed into that 'poison'." "Poison, impurities—it's far too abstract. I haven't the slightest idea." "Once it becomes concrete, there's no running away for you." A single fragment of ice was mixed into Matsuura's quiet words. A sharp ice shard that would reach the throat and take a life. Shisho looked straight into Matsuura's eyes and said.
"You never intended to let me walk away anyway, right? Fine. You're saying that this menacing 'poison' or whatever can instantly turn into an eco-friendly substance depending on the impurities, is that it? Though I doubt anyone could expect much from an appraisal by someone like me." "I don't know about that. But at the very least, this falls squarely within your field of expertise." Matsuura reached into the inner pocket of his suit. But Shisho sharply cut him off. "Hold on a second. Is this a request for the Ogawa Investigation Office? Or a favor? Or a threat?" Matsuura's lips curved up slightly at the corners. "Since you seem to desire the answer 'a request,' let's call it that. I don't know your standard agency fees, but I'll pay five times that amount. Plus double that again for you personally." Shisho let out a whistle fitting the occasion. No matter how terrified someone was, being able to whistle right when it was called for showed true composure. "But that depends entirely on the contents of my so-called appraisal... which means I might not even get paid, right?" Matsuura didn't answer that. "I don't need the money. I hate yakuza. If my head was pressed down by that money, I'd never forgive myself." Shisho said it flatly. All expression vanished from Matsuura's pale face. "You're turning it down?" It was a voice that genuinely didn't care about human life at all. My heart was making an ugly sound. "I like ghosts. Why don't you tell me a ghost story?" Her tone was breezy, but at the edges, fragments of extreme tension peeked through. What an awkward woman. Briefly, an expression returned to Matsuura's lips. His hand, which had been reaching into his jacket and stopped, finally completed its purpose and pulled out a single slip of paper. Shisho took it and looked at it as if it were thoroughly uninteresting. I leaned in close as well, peering at what was in her hands. It was a photograph. No, a copy of a photograph? Printed on dull, monotonous black-and-white paper, about ten people were captured in the image.
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