Pathway to Japanese Literature

1

The day when this "Sniper" incident—reputed to have seized the hearts of two million citizens of the Imperial Capital in an instant—suddenly ascended to the throne of third-page news articles, we shall borrow and arrange from Tokyo XX Newspaper's young reporter Kazama Yaochi's notebook the messages he skillfully obtained by visiting five individuals currently under suspicion of involvement in this case.

＊ ＊ ＊

“I am Torou Sanshirou, a mystery novelist.”
“For some time now, I had been dissatisfied with merely handling detective cases on manuscript paper and had been thinking of encountering some suitable real-life detective incident—when I happened to seize a chance opportunity and became able to join the investigation of this ‘Sniper’ Incident.”
“But I’m terribly lazy on top of being busy with work, so even when incidents occur, I can’t always go rushing off to do diligent things like investigating crime scenes right away.”
“Much of my knowledge regarding the case is based on Inspector Ooeyama’s reports.” (At his residence in Ōsaki Town, Tokyo suburbs)

“I am Sasagi Mitsuyoshi of the JOAK Broadcasting Technology Department.
This time, I became involved in the case through rather unexpected circumstances.
The reason being—my residence lies near the crime scenes and occupies considerable grounds, leading to suspicions that the culprit might be prowling somewhere within the estate. Consequently, I’ve found myself frequently summoned by the Metropolitan Police Department.
‘Become involved’ sounds peculiar phrasing, I admit—but that’s Inspector Ooeyama’s account of it. For my part, I remain half-convinced and half-skeptical.
Moreover, under pretext of my being a scientist, I’ve been called upon to provide scientific opinions on matters wholly unrelated to me more times than I can count.”

(At the new residence within the Sasagi estate in Kamimeguro)

“I am Homura Sōroku.”
“While I do have a primary occupation alongside it—and I must confess this with some embarrassment—I engage in ‘amateur detective’ work.”
“Of course, I’ve obtained official recognition from the relevant authorities, and Chief Inspector Ooeyama himself knows me.”
“Though I haven’t been formally commissioned for this particular murder case, I’ve been closely monitoring developments.”
“Depending on how events unfold with this case, I may find myself compelled to take an active role on the front lines.”
“This case holds an extraordinary fascination for me.”
(via telephone)

“I am Akaboshi Ryuuko.”
“I do not particularly wish to speak about myself.”
“Because of that, even if suspicions deepen, there’s nothing to be done about it.”
“To think someone like me—completely innocent—would get dragged into such an incident... I consider it the greatest misfortune of my life. It’s all pointless now.”
(Tokyo suburbs, Shibuya Town, Uguisudani Apartments)

"Inspector Ooeyama.
Age: 37.
Chief of the Investigation Section, Criminal Affairs Division, Metropolitan Police Department.
Ten years of service.
The murder case that occurred inside the National Railway Electric Train mocked this investigator and the Metropolitan Police Department to an extreme degree; however, through exhaustive investigations conducted since then, we have at last managed to identify a suspect, and thus it should not be long before the case reaches its resolution.
Furthermore, regarding those who compare this investigator to a certain police chief in Chicago, USA—said chief having been bribed by gang leader Al Capone—such comparisons surpass indignation and make one unable to help but find them utterly laughable." (Original document typed at Metropolitan Police Headquarters and handed over)

＊ ＊ ＊

Now, the very origin of the "Sniper" Incident was as follows――

2

Even though September had already ended and October was about to arrive, that year saw the intense summer heat show no signs of abating.
"The eleventh year of major meteorological disturbances," declared the Central Meteorological Observatory in an explanatory article submitted to newspapers, as if apologizing for the phenomenon.
In the Imperial Capital's rebuilt new districts, asphalt roads absorbed the sweltering heat only to spew jet-black viscous liquid that bubbled up in patches, while thick concrete walls glowed white-hot as though aflame—a commotion arose as heat-addled victims collapsed along neighboring avenues and back alleys alike.

As night fell, even the fierce summer heat that had raged relentlessly gradually weakened, and the people of the Imperial Capital—utterly exhausted—sought coolness and greedily claimed sleep.
The National Railway Electric Train that ran quietly along the Imperial Capital's outskirts in a circular route had every window thrown open, artificially cooled by fifty-kilometer-per-hour breezes piercing through the cars, lulling passengers into drowsiness.
Every train was filled with passengers sprawled unconscious in every direction, presenting a scene as though they were hospital trains racing through the night.
It was at such a moment that this shooting incident broke out.
That first incident—

As for the time—September 21st at approximately 10:30 PM—the National Railway Electric Train bound for Shinagawa had passed through Shinjuku, Yoyogi, Harajuku, and Shibuya, departed Ebisu Station, and was now racing at full speed through what appeared to be roughly the midpoint between Ebisu and the next station, Meguro.
Readers familiar with this area would know well—though the bustling streetlights of Shibuya and Ebisu suddenly grew desolate just beyond Ebisu Station—that only the deserted Ebisu Beer Company factory lined both sides of the tracks, along with a few quiet little houses showing no lights and two or three spacious estates surrounded by dense woods. Between these stretched undulating grassy embankments, cliffs of exposed red soil both large and small, and ditches that could be called neither ponds nor puddles—making it an utterly dark and gloomy place even without leaning out from the train windows to look.
When trains raced through this area, even their interior lights would dim as though the voltage had suddenly dropped, fading into faintness with a soft hiss.
To make matters worse—whether from poor tracks or numerous switches and overpasses—a gnawing clatter of *gatango-go-go* noise invaded through the windows, creating an unsettling atmosphere. It was precisely at this location that the National Railway Electric Train now arrived.

The train consisted of six cars, and in the fourth car from the front rode Torou Sanshirou—the mystery novelist familiar to you all. If you, dear readers, had been riding in that very car, you would undoubtedly have found it peculiar. The reason being, Torou Sanshirou had contributed an essay to Shin Seinen in which he made such statements: "When I ride a train, I make it a point to choose a seat as close as possible to young women. Their raw body odor; garments rich in striking sensual hues that pierce one’s very core; and beneath them those voluptuously curvaceous figures—these constitute nothing less than the most economical and rational rejuvenation method one ought to experience daily." And indeed, across from Torou Sanshirou sat a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old beauty in a pink one-piece dress, her plump snow-white upper arms exposed. She leaned her head—topped with a white beret—against the window frame, her supple crimson lips slightly parted as she slept. And then beside Torou Sanshirou sat—remarkably—a beauty embodying pure Japanese aesthetics, her hair arranged in a dewy peach-split style, wearing a refreshing large-patterned ro-shibori kimono of navy and aqua secured with a pale yellow summer obi, appearing perhaps two or three years past twenty. Inside the train, the smattering of passengers who remained awake stole casual glances at the striking contrast between these two beauties while stifling yawns.

It happened simultaneously that the wheels made a clattering noise as they engaged with a switch point and that the massive girder of an overpass near the train car scraped past with a groan.
The passengers felt themselves jolted forward and backward with a shudder.
As if carried by the clamor and violent shaking, the body of the one-piece-clad beauty slid smoothly forward.
Her knees thudded squarely against the floor, made no attempt to brace herself with her two bare arms dangling limply at her sides, swung her upper body sharply to the right, and collapsed flat onto the train floor face down.

The people inside the train thought the girl had simply slipped from dozing into deep sleep and tumbled over carelessly.
The passengers cast scorching gazes at the snow-white bloomers peeking out from her disheveled Western dress and at glimpses of startlingly pale thighs, all while anticipating what kind of alluring embarrassment this girl might display upon awakening.
Yet betraying everyone's expectations, the girl showed no inclination to rise.
She didn't so much as twitch.

“Doesn’t something seem off here, everyone!”

The one who stood up after saying this was a merchant-like man nearing forty.
The car buzzed with sudden commotion as passengers stampeded toward the girl’s vicinity.

“Please rouse her at once.”

The one who said this was mystery novelist Torou Sanshirou, his voice strained.

“Hey, Miss,” said the merchant-like man as he briskly stepped forward and prodded the girl’s shoulder.
Of course, the girl gave no response.
With that, he placed his right hand on her shoulder, slipped his left beneath her chest, and forcefully lifted her up.
The girl’s head lolled limply against her chest.
What met his hands was her chest—slick with blood that made it slip through his grasp.

“Gah!”
The man who had hoisted up the girl peered at her from the front, turned pale, and clung to the collar of the person behind him.

“Blood! Blood—blood, blood, blood!”
The man next to him shouted in a voice trembling as if he’d gone mad.

“Agh!”
The merchant-like man, utterly startled and without a second thought, dropped the girl’s body heavily where she lay.

Torou Sanshirou stepped forward in his place and gently laid the girl’s body face up.
Before the people, the girl’s beautiful deathly visage appeared clearly for the first time.
Centered on her left chest area, her clothes were soaked through with fresh blood.
Moreover, seeing that an area of about two shaku square on the floor was dyed crimson, the bleeding appears to have been extremely instantaneous and copious.

“Isn’t the conductor here? It seems hopeless, but we still need to get her to a doctor quickly.”

Just then, the conductor arrived.

“Everyone, please move further back.
“The train is currently racing at full speed toward the next station, so…”

Before his words had even finished, the train sounded a piercing, scream-like emergency whistle and plunged into Meguro Station’s grounds.
Before the train came to a complete stop, Chief Conductor Kurauchi Ginjiro nimbly leapt onto the platform, rushed into the stationmaster’s office, and immediately placed calls to both a doctor and the Metropolitan Police Department.
In the meantime, the train came to a stop, and all passengers from the fourth car where the beautiful girl had collapsed were forced outside.

3

The doctor who had rushed to the scene found himself powerless to aid the beautiful girl lying collapsed on the train floor.
This was because a single bullet had cleanly pierced through the upper portion of her heart.
The projectile appeared lodged between the ribs of her left back, with no exit wound visible on the girl’s bare skin when they removed her clothing.
“Cardiac penetration by firearm—instantaneous death, without question,” the doctor declared.

The train bearing this mutilated corpse was hauled into a siding track exactly as found. From Tokyo’s Metropolitan Police came Chief Inspector Ōeyama and his team, while Prosecutor Karigane of the Public Prosecutor’s Office made his appearance. Once all necessary officials had assembled, they transformed the train car itself into an impromptu interrogation chamber and began their inquiries.

Inspector Ōeyama twitched his slightly pale, nervous-looking face and summoned Chief Conductor Kurauchi Ginjirō.

“Conductor Kurauchi, report everything you know.”

“Yes, sir. It happened like this,” said Conductor Kurauchi as he spread railway diagrams and carriage layout sketches across the small desk before the officials. He recounted facts already familiar to readers—details he’d observed after hurrying to the murder scene at passengers’ insistence, and stories he’d heard from them about earlier events.

“Where were you stationed when the crime occurred?”
Inspector Ōeyama demanded.

“Ah, I was indeed in that fourth car, but given the conductor’s compartment being separate, I didn’t notice right away.”

“Where exactly were you positioned within the conductor’s compartment?”

“I was standing with my head pressed against the right-side window.”

“Around the time of the incident, did you hear anything resembling a gunshot?”

“The noise from the train was too deafening to hear anything.”

“Did you see anything flash suddenly in the darkness outside the window?”

“Ah… nothing in particular.”

“From your position, could you see inside the train?”

“I couldn’t see. The curtains had been drawn down…”

“After entering the train car, was there any smoke-like substance lingering from the firearm?”

“There was none.”

"About how many passengers were in the car, and what was the breakdown between men and women?"

"Well, I believe there were about thirty people. There were four or five female passengers, and the rest were men and children."

“What was that car’s seating capacity?”

“One hundred and two.”

“For reference purposes, I’d like your answer—do you think the bullet was fired from inside the train at that time, or shot in from outside? Which would it be?”

That Inspector Ōeyama would pose such a question to Chief Conductor Kurauchi—who remained entirely unaware of the circumstances surrounding when the girl had been shot—seemed nothing short of absurd.

“I believe it was fired from inside the train.”

Chief Conductor Kurauchi unhesitatingly delivered a foolish answer to match the inspector’s foolish question, stated smoothly without a trace of shame.

“Then why didn’t you detain the passengers who were in that car?”
“...It’s only just now that I realized that.”

“What makes you think that?”

“There’s no particular basis, but I just have that feeling.”

“Then there’s nothing to be done about it. If you prefer, after having the passengers from that time who are still here temporarily withdraw, I could have you share your thoughts...”

Many of the passengers who had been aboard appeared reluctant to become involved with the incident, and when the death train reached Meguro Station’s platform, they scattered in all directions—only two had followed this far.
One of them was a merchant-like man in his forties, his left hand stained crimson with the girl’s blood, and the other was mystery novelist Torou Sanshirou.

“Don’t talk nonsense!” the merchant-like man interjected, unable to contain himself any longer. “If we’re t’believe this newfangled notion ’bout someone inside shootin’, you didn’t come out till long after th’fact! What’re ya s’posed t’know, showin’ up so late? First off, I was right there in that car an’ ain’t heard no pistol shot.” He wheeled toward Torou Sanshirou. “Right? Didn’tcha hear nothin’ either?”

Torou silently dipped his chin in acknowledgment.

“Look here! That bullet came flyin’ from outside the window—no doubt about it! I ain’t havin’ nobody spoutin’ baseless nonsense! This whole mess started with your damn blunderin’, and now outta all them people, only us two get hauled in here—forced to testify like we’re murderers? What kinda damn joke is this…!”

“Mr. Hayashi Sanpei, would you kindly quiet down?” came Inspector Ōeyama’s voice as he stopped the merchant-like man who was about to pounce on the conductor.
“I would like to hear any additional statements from Mr. Torou Sanshirou.”

“I have a minor observation to share,” Torou began. “As I mentioned earlier, I’m speaking purely from my position as a mystery novelist—my analysis may diverge considerably from actual events.” He leaned forward slightly. “I was seated directly across from the murdered girl—Kaoru Ichimiya, was it? Yes, Kaoru-san—but I distinctly recall hearing no gunshot report.” His index finger tapped his right earlobe. “However, I did perceive a dull resonance lingering here—a faint sound like air being sharply parted.” He demonstrated with a swift hand gesture. “An indistinct yet persistent noise heard specifically through my right ear.”

Torou gestured toward the train’s forward direction. “By ‘right ear,’ I mean the one facing our direction of travel—toward Conductor Kurauchi’s compartment.” His gaze shifted sideways. “Approximately two feet from that ear sat a woman wearing her hair in traditional Japanese style.”

Bringing both hands together in a steeple formation, he concluded: “Considering these spatial relationships, the bullet likely originated from my right flank. Since Mr. Hayashi remained positioned far to my left, he seems unrelated.” A calculated pause followed. “Should this prove an internal shooting, while I naturally fall under suspicion, those seated to my right warrant equal scrutiny.” His eyes narrowed fractionally. “The traditional-haired woman goes without saying—and with all due respect, Conductor Kurauchi belongs in that same investigative category.”

“So you’re in favor of the inside-the-train theory?” Inspector Ōeyama inquired.

“No, rather I support the outside-the-train theory. The bullet was fired from outside the train, passed between that woman with the traditional Japanese hairstyle and myself, and pierced through the chest of Kaoru Ichimiya who sat directly across from us. I believe the swish sound occurred when the bullet grazed my right ear.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to have heard from others?”

“As for people present at the scene, there’s no one else left to mention. If I may indulge in some meddlesome advice, I’d recommend conducting an extensive search around the crime scene area. If those bullets hadn’t struck passengers in that incident, they likely would have flown out through the windows. In fact, such bullets might already be scattered about in considerable numbers. I wonder if examining those could provide some lead toward the culprit. I’d also like to thoroughly inspect the corpse—were there any peculiarities worth noting?”

“Well, thank you for your efforts,” the inspector said without answering Torou Sanshirou’s question, acknowledging his efforts.

4

Inspector Ōeyama was alone in a room at the Metropolitan Police Department, striving to organize his thoughts regarding the National Railway Electric Train Sniper Case.

Torou Sanshirou’s inquiry of “Was there anything unusual about Kaoru Ichimiya’s corpse?” had shown keen insight.
In the left pocket of the clothing the corpse had been wearing lay a peculiar scrap of cloth.
It resembled a manufacturer’s label sewn beneath a shirt collar—a three-centimeter square of blue fabric featuring a white cross at its center, overlaid with red-thread embroidery of a skull in profile.

What could this skull emblem cloth signify?

"Could it be a charm?" he wondered.
It seemed too mundane.

A sudden thought struck him—this might be a membership badge from some delinquent girls' group. The murdered Kaoru Ichimiya had been the beloved daughter of XX Girls' School's principal, but delinquents emerging from educators' households weren't unheard of.
What if Kaoru had been a delinquent girl killed for violating her gang's code?

Inspector Ōeyama called an attendant and had him bring the delinquent girl registry, then meticulously combed through every corner of the blacklist, but found neither Kaoru’s name nor that suspicious emblem.
In that case, could it be an unarrested delinquent group?

When considering things in this way, the logical conclusion was that the bullet had been fired inside the train.
But no one had heard a loud bang inside the train, had they?
In that case, perhaps they should consider that a silenced pistol had been used.

But many passengers had fled.
Suspecting Hayashi Sanpei—who claimed merchant status—and Torou Sanshirou the novelist would remain a last resort.
Conductor Kurauchi, alone in the conductor's compartment throughout, had given an explanation that lacked clarity.
There lingered something undeniably dubious about his testimony.
He maintained having heard no pistol report.
Accustomed as he was to operational noise, this claim of auditory oversight held plausible merit.

However, when detectives went out and properly questioned residents near the scene, about three people came forward who claimed to have heard an explosive sound between ten and eleven o'clock that night.
One of them was a grade crossing guard relatively close to the crime scene, who stated it had been a sound loud enough to echo through the hills.
However, they described it as being closer to the sound of a car tire bursting than a gunshot.
This was currently under investigation across all taxis and private automobiles in the entire capital city, so it would become clear within two or three days.

If that were indeed the sound of gunfire, wouldn't it imply something was wrong with the conductor's ears? The noise from the train was actually louder outside than inside. What if we considered that someone opened the chief conductor’s compartment door a crack and fired a silenced pistol? In that case, the bullet would strike Kaoru’s left chest from the side. However, the bullet tract caused by her bullet entered almost straight from the front despite being slightly tilted to the left. That didn’t fit. In that case—while the train was moving—he would climb from the window onto the roof, hook his feet onto the rooftop railing to hang completely upside down—positioning his face right at the upper window frame—and from that bat-style suspension fire the silenced pistol. After completing that act he would return to the conductor’s compartment with an innocent face and pretend to have just noticed the commotion inside before rushing over. Hmm—this wasn’t impossible—let’s look into Conductor Kurauchi Ginjirō’s background.

There was a knock at the door.

“Very well.”
Inspector Ooeyama turned toward the door.
It opened smoothly.
The attendant entered.

“An express delivery for you.”
With those words, the attendant placed a large square package wrapped in brown paper on the inspector’s desk and exited.

The inspector carefully unwrapped the package.
Inside lay only a single copy of Radio no Nihon magazine’s December 1930 issue.
He picked it up and flipped through the pages until finding one folded near the middle.
Opening it revealed a white cloth bookmark with a drawn arrow.
At the arrow’s indicated location was an article underlined in red pencil.
Titled “A Study of Wireless and Noise,” it bore the byline “Oiso HS Student.”
The radio-related content held no inherent interest for Inspector Ooeyama.
He nearly discarded the magazine until noticing the word “noise” – perhaps connected to the train disturbances? – prompting him to begin reading in fits and starts.
Though quickly realizing his initial assumption was misguided, he found the article surprisingly accessible and sufficiently intriguing to hold his attention.

The HS Student who conceived "A Study of Wireless and Noise" was someone living in the Yamate area not far from Oiso Station on the Tokaido Line.
His house had a radio receiver, but whenever he listened to it, a loud grating noise—so intense that the broadcast became inaudible—would intrude dozens of times a day.
When he measured the times at which noise occurred in the radio, he discovered that it emitted a grating sound at the same fixed time every day.
As he continued his investigation, it became clear that the noise originated from small sparks created when electric locomotives on trains passing before his house made contact with overhead lines—particularly loud noises occurred at points where overhead lines joined.
As a result, by counting the noise through the receiver while watching the clock, one could discern both the train’s speed in kilometers per hour and its precise location along the tracks—all from within the house—as clearly as if holding the information in one’s hand.
HS Student had inserted numerous maps of the Oiso vicinity and curve diagrams showing noise magnitude to explain this.

"This is an interesting discovery," Inspector Ooeyama inadvertently muttered to himself.
"But what does this article amount to?"

It seemed somehow related to the National Railway Electric Train Sniper Case, but when pressed to explain exactly how, he couldn't explain.
He could only sense a vague connection.
The inspector attributed this to his own lack of scientific knowledge and felt genuinely annoyed.
Still, who on earth had sent this magazine?

Again, there came a knock at the door.
There was no need to open it to know it was his subordinate, Detective Tada.
When he answered “Come in,” sure enough, Detective Tada entered.
His complexion, glowing with joy, undoubtedly meant he had discovered something.

“Inspector!
“I’ve finally found something interesting!”
“This is it!”
Detective Tada placed a small paper package before Inspector Ooeyama as he spoke.

The inspector took it in hand and opened it to find two cartridge cases.

“Hmm, where were these found?”

“Near the crime scene, under the fence of the Sasagi Residence.”

"Wait, wait. Let's see if this matches the bullet," said the Inspector as he deliberately stood up, picked a bullet from the glass case beside him, and tried fitting it to the cartridge case.
Sure enough, the two fit together perfectly, becoming one.
The bullet that the inspector had taken from the glass case was the one extracted from the body of the murdered Kaoru Ichimiya, so what Detective Tada had picked up was undoubtedly the cartridge case that had fired that bullet.
There were two cartridge cases but only one bullet—a discrepancy that wasn’t without its mystery.

“Good work.”
“And did you check the Sasagi Residence, Detective Tada?”
“Acting promptly, I’ve brought along Sasagi Mitsuyoshi—the young master of the Sasagi household.”
“I’ve prepared an initial written report here.”

With those words, Detective Tada handed over a small piece of paper.
Inspector Ooeyama read Tada’s written report while groaning low like a beast.
“Alright, let’s meet him.”

Guided into the room and making a quiet entrance, Sasagi Mitsuyoshi was a young gentleman nearing thirty. His complexion was on the darker side, and as befitting the son of a bourgeois family, he appeared refined yet with a hint of self-assertiveness.

"I must apologize for this terrible inconvenience," said Inspector Ooeyama in an exceedingly polite tone. "I must inform you that my subordinates retrieved these items"—here he indicated two cartridge cases and one bullet—"with the cartridge cases found lying beneath your residence's fence, while the bullet was recovered from grasses across the tracks opposite your residence, as shown here on this map. Do you have any idea how these might have come to be there?"

With those words, the detective placed three items on a sheet of white Western-style paper and presented them.
While Detective Tada was exasperated by the inspector’s nonsense, he observed the young man’s complexion.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Sasagi replied flatly.
“If you require fingerprints, please do not hesitate to take them officially.”

Inspector Ooeyama, disguising his flushed face with a laugh, quietly pulled the white Western-style paper toward himself.

“Where were you on September 21st at 10:30 PM? I would like to hear that.”

“I was at home, but I was already asleep.
“When the radio program ends, I make it a habit to go to bed immediately, so…”

“Do you sleep alone?”

“Yes – why do you ask? I sleep alone in my bed. I don’t yet have a wife.”

“Is there anyone who can verify that you were in bed that night?”

“There wouldn’t be.”

“Around 10:30, did you hear anything resembling a gunshot?”

“No.
I was asleep.”

“And your occupation?”

“I work in the Technical Department of JOAK.”

“JOAK!
Are you that broadcasting station’s engineer?”

Inspector Ooeyama’s facial muscles twitched.

“That’s correct. Is there a problem?”

“Are you familiar with a magazine called ‘Radio no Nihon’?”

“Of course I know.”

“Is your name Mitsuyoshi?”
“I am Mitsuyoshi.”

“Do you own a villa in Ōiso?”

“No.”

“Does anyone hold a grudge against you?”

“No, not at all.”

“Were there any signs of someone having sneaked into the grounds?”

“I haven’t noticed anything at all.”

Inspector Ooeyama grew disgusted at his own utterly pointless questions and fell completely silent.

“Do you still have no leads on the National Railway Electric Train murderer?” Sasagi Mitsuyoshi countered.

“I haven’t a clue yet,” Inspector Ooeyama blurted out.

“Was the bullet fired from inside the train, or was it shot into the train from outside?”

“...”
The inspector merely made a troubled face.

"If they determine the angle at which the bullet entered the body, they can identify the direction it was fired from—are you aware of this? The young lady who was killed was reportedly shot almost directly above her heart, but to be precise, how much was the angle tilted?"

"Well, that..."
Inspector Ooeyama flinched.
He had never even considered attempting to precisely measure the angle at which the bullet had penetrated the corpse.
"That’s an interesting method."

“It’s fascinating—allow me to explain. This represents the train,” Sasagi Mitsuyoshi said as he drew lines resembling combined triangular rulers on paper. “When we express the train’s velocity as a vector like this, and the bullet’s velocity like this… This shows the bullet’s angle of incidence. By breaking it down, you can immediately determine its trajectory origin. Inspector—why don’t you attempt this analysis?”

“I’ll try that later,” the Inspector thanked him.

“When she was shot, I hear the young lady’s body was leaning slightly to the right.”

“Oh, how do you know that?”
The inspector made a strenuous effort to conceal his astonishment.

“That night, a female relative visiting my residence mentioned it.”
“She was seated directly before the murdered young lady when it happened.”

“Ah! Then could this be regarding the woman with traditional Japanese coiffure…”

“Precisely.”

“Where does this lady reside?”

"Shibuya’s Uguisudani Apartments."

"What’s her name?"

"Akaboshi Ryuuko."

5

Inspector Ooeyama did not attempt to leave the Investigation Division Chief’s office even as night fell.
Mysteries that seemed related to the case had piled up one after another, yet there was no sign of any "keys" that might solve them.

At this point, he had no choice but to endure the humiliation, boldly withstand the ridicule of the entire metropolis, construct a solid foundation of reasoning, and grasp the truth of the case.
As his first course of action, Inspector Ooeyama embarked on calculating the bullet’s trajectory that Sasagi Mitsuyoshi had left behind for them.

He made fresh phone calls to inquire with the forensic medicine department about the precise angle of Kaoru’s bullet wound in degrees and contacted the Railway Bureau to ask about speed variations of trains between Ebisu and Meguro. Upon obtaining the figures, he desperately solved the equations.
Indeed, since the bullet’s trajectory had been properly determined, he drew a long straight line in that direction with a pencil, centering on the crime scene.
It intersected the railway tracks at nearly ninety degrees.
And astonishingly, that bullet trajectory penetrated the northern corner of the Sasagi Residence.
Moreover, wasn’t the spot beneath the fence where the bullet trajectory collided precisely the location where his subordinate Detective Tada had retrieved the cartridge cases?
From that location, the shortest distance to the train window was a mere fifty meters.
It was close enough that even a small pistol could easily demonstrate its lethal potential.

Even so, Inspector Ooeyama completely failed to grasp Sasagi Mitsuyoshi's true intentions—why he had gone out of his way to teach this calculation method while fully aware his own residence would become the focus of suspicion. He sprawled back in his chair in the chief inspector’s office, shaking his large head repeatedly, yet could only conclude that Sasagi’s intentions were equally divided between goodwill and malice.

It was at this moment that the desk telephone in the chief inspector’s office began ringing shrilly and insistently.

“Is this the chief inspector?”
That voice was Detective Tada.

“Right – what happened, Detective Tada?”

“I followed Akaboshi Ryuuko from Shibuya and boarded the Shinagawa-bound train.”
“It was 8:30.”
“Then, in the carriage where Akaboshi Ryuuko and I were riding, another murder occurred.”

“What? Someone was killed.”
“A gunshot wound?”

“Yes.”
“A young woman, apparently named Futatsugi Kaneko.”
“The bullet struck directly above the heart again.”

“Right, I’ll head there immediately. You kept the passengers from leaving, right?”

“They’ve all gotten off, you see. The train arrived at the station too early, you see…”

“Idiot!”

Inspector Ooeyama was furious, sped his car at forty miles an hour, and rushed into the train containing the victim’s body that had been moved to the siding track.

“Inspector, she’s been killed over here,” dejectedly reported Detective Tada as he guided them.

“What about Ryuuko?”

“It seems she got off at Meguro.”

“Never mind the corpses! From now on, detain Ryuuko on the spot!”

“Inspector, that small cloth with the cross-and-skull emblem was found inside the corpse’s sleeve.”

The second victim, Futatsugi Kaneko, was a plump beauty in her early twenties wearing a kimono.

“The bullet appears to have flown in through this window.”

“What about the location?!”

“It’s exactly the same as yesterday’s case with Ichimiya Kaoru.”

“Ugh!”
The inspector groaned.

“Is the chief conductor Kurauchi Ginjirou?”

“No. Kurauchi is off-duty today and won’t be coming in, I hear.”

As they were saying this, an assistant stationmaster wearing a hat with red and gold stripes rushed in, deathly pale.

“I-I have something to report to the Metropolitan Police.”

“What happened?!”
Inspector Ooeyama whirled around in shock and barked.

“Just now, on the upbound train that entered the platform, another passenger has been shot dead.”

“What? Killed again—woman or man?”

“A woman who appears to be a respectable married lady, around twenty-four or twenty-five.”

“Warn the Ebisu Station Master to have all windows on upbound trains closed!”

"But... in this heat—"

“Pull yourself together! Isn’t life more important than a little heat, Assistant Stationmaster?”

On the siding track stood two sets of completely empty trains connected in cramped fashion. The station was in utter pandemonium. Not only the station staff but even the police officers who should have maintained composure were running about pointlessly in an uproar, as if they had lost all common sense. Only Chief Inspector Ooeyama remained calmest of all, though his eyes were bloodshot crimson as he barked orders.

The third victim was named Miura Itoko.
She was a rather tall woman with flesh as soft and springy as a cushion.
The bullet appeared to have struck precisely above the heart, destroying the aorta.
Compared to the first and second victims, the entry wound was positioned slightly higher.
It was discovered that all three victims had been seated on the left side of the train.
Moreover, the firing points of the bullets matched with ruler-like precision.
Inspector Ooeyama found himself unable to shake the image of the Western-style Sasagi residence across the tracks—encircled by pitch-black woods—from his mind.

The inspector called several detectives to his side and whispered secret orders to each one individually.
He commanded the station staff that even when upbound trains arrived at the platform, they must not open the passenger doors unless they confirmed there were no abnormalities inside the cars.

After that, Inspector Ooeyama carefully examined the cross and skull emblem—found in the third victim’s handbag moments earlier—under the bright lights inside the train car.
Combined with the previous two emblems, this brought the total to three.
A look of confusion appeared plainly on Inspector Ooeyama’s face.
Clutching the small cloth tightly in his palm, Inspector Ooeyama stepped outside and crunched onto the gravel.

Oh cursed emblem.

Inspector Ooeyama thought this to himself and groaned, "Ugh." Why were only those possessing this emblem being shot dead?

If the bullet had been fired from outside the window, what a marksman the perpetrator must have been. To accurately target those who sent the cursed emblems and cleanly pierce their hearts required truly extraordinary skill. But wasn't this malicious shooting such a fittingly decadent sport for our modern age of fin-de-siècle decline?

Crossing over the dimly lit rails and nimbly leaping onto the platform, Inspector Ooeyama found a man suddenly standing right before his nose.

“Inspector Ooeyama, things have taken a terrible turn, haven’t they?”

“Oh, you are Torou Sanshirou, the mystery novelist,” the inspector said.
Torou was dressed in a faded yukata, presenting a thoroughly disheveled appearance.
Inspector Ooeyama realized that the hint Torou Sanshirou had pointed out during the first shooting incident had now given rise to an undeniable, clear fact—if only he could hear this detective novelist’s brilliant theory.
—It was more than the proverbial straw that a drowning man clutches at, the inspector justified in his own mind before opening his mouth.
“What brings you here?”

“Take a look at this.”
As he said this, what he presented was an extra edition of the Tokyo ×× Newspaper bearing large headlines in primary-typeface-sized characters.

On the National Railway Electric Train

Daring Sniper Appears

Same Culprit as Previous Night?

The headlines read, and tonight’s Futatsugi Kaneko shooting incident had been reported in bold, sensationalized typeface.
The thought that the third Miura Itoko shooting incident would soon be splashed across papers in even larger print made the thunderous roar of newspaper rotary presses suddenly seem to reverberate through Inspector Ooeyama’s eardrums.

“Sniper—that’s what the papers are dubbing them.”
“That makes three now.”

“A perverted sniper targeting only young women,” Inspector Ooeyama snapped, blurting out something unexpected. “By the way, you seem rather adept at writing erotic detective novels yourself. Hah hah.”

“This is no joking matter, Inspector Ooeyama. You appear to be withholding information, but doesn’t the National Railway sniper leave his victims with these emblems of damnation before killing them? If you investigate where the three victims lived and their daily routes, I believe you’ll find something they all shared in common. Follow that thread, and wouldn’t it lead us straight to some secret society using crosses and skulls?”

“A secret society?”
“That’s merely my conjecture.”

Inspector Ooeyama realized Torou Sanshirou knew something more about the cursed emblem. He should put a tail on the novelist as well.

“Detective novelists don’t commit actual crimes. Someone once said, ‘Detective novelists don’t commit actual crimes because constantly racing their pens through criminal fantasies dulls their capacity for criminal excitement,’ but is that truly the case?”

“But Mr. Torou. The mysteries surrounding this culprit aren’t limited to just that—there are plenty more.”

“You’re gravely mistaken if you think there are so many mysteries,” Torou said contemptuously. “I consider this a surprisingly straightforward case...”

“Mr. Torou, do you think the bullet was fired inside the train or from outside?”

“That’s exactly it, Inspector Ooeyama. When I was asked that question yesterday, I proposed the external sniper theory. Considering tonight’s murder case, I hear all three victims without exception were shot in the heart at the same location, each seated on the right side. While it’s possible the shot was fired from inside the train, given the precision of these shootings, wouldn’t it be more intriguing to consider that someone installed an extremely accurate firearm at an external location and aimed it using a mechanical device?”

“So, what kind of device would that be?”

“I don’t know the details myself, but a pistol with a 4.5-centimeter caliber isn’t exactly something one would find readily available on the market.”

“My, you’re quite familiar with the caliber.”

“I heard it from a friend in the forensic medicine department. Therefore, I conclude that the culprit possesses specialized scientific knowledge and wields a terrifying weapon. Silencing a pistol isn’t particularly difficult. To conceal the muzzle flash, one would only need to use a sufficiently long pipe and make a small hole at the tip where the bullet exits. The fact that the chief conductor didn’t see a muzzle flash outside the window can also be explained with this kind of setup. Furthermore, you could use electricity to trigger the firing mechanism.”

“I understand!” Inspector Ooeyama struck his gavel, though his mind was clouded by the detective novelist’s outlandish theories.

“Why does this sniper strictly limit their operations to nighttime, as if all three victims had coordinated their schedules?”
“You see, this presents an intriguing problem.”
“If the killer were aboard the train, they wouldn’t need to choose nighttime—even midday offers relatively empty cars where they’d naturally want to shoot.”
“The fact they avoid this and stick to darkness means they require a fixed installation point for this precision device.”
“Because exposing either their machinery or themselves would prove disastrous.”

Inspector Ooeyama groaned like a beast, falling into his characteristic habit. At the same time, he found himself harboring a certain suspicion—did detective novelists truly require such scientific rigor to practice their craft?

"You’ve certainly done your homework," the inspector said with deliberate sarcasm.

"I simply want to piece together what you’ve overlooked and resolve this case swiftly. After all," Torou added with a dry chuckle, "I’m told I’m among the suspects myself."

A detective came running.

“Chief, you have a call from His Excellency the Superintendent-General.”

“What? The Superintendent…”
Inspector Ooeyama made a pained grimace.

“How unfortunate for you,” Torou said, giving his back a light tap.

The Superintendent-General was indeed in an extremely foul mood.
Inspector Ooeyama had no time to wipe the oily sweat from his face, his complexion like he’d been doused in water, as he proceeded to give a detailed account.

“Do you know that Akaboshi Ryuuko—the mistress of Sasagi Mitsuyoshi in Meguro—receives daily ear treatments at Kobushiki Hospital in Hongo?” the Superintendent-General suddenly said.

“No—I’m afraid I don’t know…”
Far from knowing about the ear treatments, this was the first time Inspector Ooeyama had even heard that Akaboshi Ryuuko was Sasagi Mitsuyoshi’s mistress.

"This won't do at all," snapped the Superintendent-General's voice through the telephone receiver. "You—"
"And do you know that Torou Sanshirou used to be a teacher in the Electrical Engineering Department at Hamamatsu Higher Technical School?"

"Ugh..." Inspector Ooeyama groaned, savagely biting into the telephone.
"Th-that too...... I'm afraid I don't know......"

“......”
The Superintendent-General remained silent.
The Superintendent-General must also have been groaning.

“Your Excellency, Superintendent-General—if I may ask—who told you such a thing?”

“It’s Mr. Homura Sōroku—the private detective.
“He is currently visiting my residence.”

Speaking of Homura Sōroku, the inspector was not someone he was unaware of.
Though still an amateur detective with a fledgling career, he was beginning to gain some renown for dabbling in modern scientific detective techniques and solving cases through mysterious means.

"I understand he has offered to assist you whenever necessary."
"Shall I request his assistance now?"

"That won't be necessary."
Inspector Ooeyama resolutely refused, restraining a feeling like he wanted to burst into tears.

6

Inspector Ooeyama hung up the phone with a clatter and stood frozen in place for a moment. There was no need to even consider it—his position was extremely unfortunate. In this case, he somehow couldn't get any lead on the culprit. Though the incidents had only occurred over the past two days, the list of potential suspects—Hayashi Sanpei, Kurauchi Ginjiro, Torou Sanshirou, Akaboshi Ryuuko, Sasagi Mitsuyoshi—kept growing longer, yet he found himself unable to single out anyone who resembled the true culprit. What he had just conceived from the Superintendent-General's words was this prospect: since Torou—formerly an electrical engineering teacher—was conducting such thorough investigations, allying with him would yield great investigative advantages. However, this would prove entirely futile if Torou himself happened to be the culprit. He decided he would meet Torou, gauge his reactions, and then make a decision. The fact that Akaboshi Ryuuko was Sasagi's lover came as a shock, but her having been aboard the murder trains twice could hardly be considered mere coincidence. In truth, he wanted to consider things in more detail once he received the report on Ryuuko's movements that he had ordered his subordinates to prepare earlier.…

Inspector Ooeyama left the telephone room and pulled out his pocket watch as he descended the stairs toward the platform.
The night had deepened considerably—it was now exactly half past ten.
Remembering yesterday’s shooting that had erupted around this same hour filled him with dread.
Then he thought he heard an emergency whistle blaring somewhere far off.

He halted midway down the stairs.

“Toot, toot, toot, toot!”

Ah, the whistle.
Undoubtedly, it was the whistle of an upbound train.
Gradually, the blaring sound swelled and grew louder!
He plunged down the stairs like a falling object.
At that exact moment, the upbound train loaded with screaming passengers abruptly slid into the platform.

“Damn it, another one?!”
Inspector Ooeyama bellowed.

“Another young woman!” the conductor shouted from the window.

“The window’s open! After all I told you!”
Inspector Ooeyama turned crimson with rage.

“It was closed when we left Ebisu Station.”

“Alright—I’ll have the passengers restricted from moving around!”

“Understood!”

Inspector Ooeyama rushed to the front of the second car where the young woman’s corpse lay sprawled.
The window snapped open, and Detective Tada’s face—looking as though he were crying—appeared.

“Inspector, the victim is Akaboshi Ryuuko.”

“What? Akaboshi Ryuuko—”

The woman whom the Superintendent-General had just cautioned had been killed.
The woman whom the inspector himself had cast a big question mark over just five minutes earlier had been killed.
The inspector entered the train car.

“Inspector,” Detective Tada called out hesitantly and pointed to the corner of the left-side passenger seats at the very front of this carriage.

“Ryuuko was sitting right here in this corner.”
“The window across was definitely closed, but when we came near the beer company building, this country bumpkin of an old man who was sitting there went and opened it.”
“By the time I tried to stop him, it was already too late.”

“Where on earth were you?”

"From the entrance on the far side"—he pointed toward the rear door—"I was keeping watch over Ryuuko."

"Is Ryuuko dead?"
With those words, the Inspector turned around.
She lay bare on a portable stretcher.

"Inspector, she's severely injured but still alive.
"The wound tract grazed the heart and is directed toward the back."
"With camphor, she might last two or three hours," the doctor said.

"Will she regain consciousness?"

"I think it will be difficult, but we've been administering treatment since earlier."

“Do a transfusion or whatever it takes and get this woman conscious again!” Inspector Ooeyama gazed at Akaboshi Ryuuko’s paper-white face as if in prayer and said this.

“Detective Tada, where is that country bumpkin old man?”

“He’s there, but…” With that, Detective Tada scanned the faces of everyone in the train car, but the old man was nowhere to be found. The detective panicked and questioned each person one by one. As a result, someone said they had seen him open the small partition door and go to the next car. Panicked, he checked the next car, but no one had seen any old man from the countryside.

“What do you mean, he’s nowhere to be found?!”
Upon hearing this report, Inspector Ooeyama was seized by the urge to knock the inept detective flat but barely managed to restrain himself.

“Inspector, there’s a gentleman who wishes to see you,” said one of the subordinates as he brought over a single business card. Taking it up to look,

“Private Detective.
Homura Sōroku”

Inspector Ooeyama, caught between his desire to enlist Homura’s help and his still-smoldering animosity, let out his characteristic “Umm” groan.
At that moment, a voice sounded nearby.

“Inspector Ooeyama. Through Your Excellency the Superintendent-General, I made a request, and it seems you have graciously granted permission to employ my services. For that, I am deeply grateful.”

“Ah, Mr. Homura.”
Inspector Ooeyama saw the gentle eyes of the young detective Homura Sōroku. His countenance remained gentle, unexpected for someone who had just plunged into the heart of the case. He had no recollection of permitting Homura’s assistance, but surmised it was likely Detective Homura’s considerate arrangement and felt no displeasure.

Detective Homura and Inspector Ooeyama brought their faces close together and then spent about twenty minutes discussing in hushed tones. When that concluded, Inspector Ooeyama’s complexion suddenly seemed to regain vivid vitality.

“Alright, send Ms. Akaboshi Ryuuko to the Infectious Disease Research Institute’s operating room. The closest one from here will do. Then I’ll be heading that way myself, so if anything comes up, give me a call.”

The subordinates stood utterly dumbfounded.

Everyone thought Inspector Ooeyama would stay up all night at this station—the one that had produced three victims that evening—and persevere. With what honor could he leave this crime scene so meekly? Moreover, the trains were supposed to still be passing incessantly. There were still two hours until the last train, weren't there? The group found it difficult to gauge where exactly the Inspector's intention lay in trying to withdraw without paying heed to that.

One of the quick-witted subordinates thought this.

(The fact that the Inspector was withdrawing with the critically injured Akaboshi Ryuuko meant they already knew no further crimes would occur tonight.
Why had that become certain?
Hmm, perhaps it was a mistake that Akaboshi Ryuuko was shot—could she have injured her own body herself?
Her suicide!
That terrifying National Railway Electric Train sniper was indeed Akaboshi Ryuuko.)

As he thought this and observed, the gravity of the group transferring her to the Infectious Disease Research Institute's hospital room sufficiently corroborated his earlier conjecture.

"It was said that Akaboshi Ryuuko had stabilized with camphor and might yet survive if all went well."

Such rumors spread among the station employees after the car bound for the Infectious Disease Research Institute departed—to such an extent. Would Ryuuko survive after all? Had the mystery of the remaining four suspects already been solved?

7

“Inspector Ooeyama.
Are the preparations in order?”

“I’ve taken care of everything exactly as you instructed—Mr.Homura.”

This was Denken’s hospital room.
The Denken campus was surrounded by a vast primeval forest said to harbor tanuki even in daylight, with spindly buildings dotted here and there.
Now, especially as midnight approached, the campus lay as quiet as if submerged at a lake’s bottom, the night air seeping through the window glass into the room like a spirit.

“Then, I will have you listen to my account.”

Detective Homura stealthily peered through the half-opened door to the adjacent room before deliberately beginning to speak.
“The Sniper Case is no ordinary incident.”
“The culprit planned this incident with meticulous attention to every detail, like assembling an airship.”
“He had prepared pitfalls that ensnare anyone carelessly passing by, and quagmires that trap those who enter.”
“Those caught are unfortunate.”
“I would have been rendered just as helpless as you, had the culprit not left behind that critical error in their final act.”

"The three young women from the first through third cases were killed with precision. The locations of their gunshot wounds matched perfectly. You've determined the bullet's trajectory through calculations, I see. Those findings largely align with the facts but require one crucial adjustment—accounting for the culprit firing from inside the train rather than outside."

"So you're concluding the killer was aboard," the Inspector said, nodding in agreement.

“The culprit took various precautions to make it seem like the shots were fired from outside the train.”
“To create the illusion of bullets passing through opposite windows, he always left a small vacant space in front of the victims.”
“The consistency of shooting locations helped reinforce the notion of precision equipment being stationed outside.”
“The victims’ possession of cross-and-skull emblems—which logically should have indicated the train-bound culprit planting evidence post-crime—was instead twisted to support theories about external devices, thoroughly confounding investigative logic.”
“Through collected cartridge cases and simulated noises from tire blowouts, he maintained this deception skillfully—until Miss Akaboshi Ryuuko’s wound exposed every last trick.”

Miss Ryuuko had her body leaning against the rear corner of the carriage.
The fact that she was facing directly forward is guaranteed by Detective Tada, who never took his eyes off her.
The window frame of the seat opposite her, being part of a steel train car, formed a vertical wall measuring ten centimeters in width from the left edge with boards attached to its inner surface, beyond which a square window opened to the right.
If the bullet had been fired at her heart from outside the train, it would have passed grazing the edge of this window frame (here, he drew various lines with a pencil over the train diagram sketched on paper).

However, this explanation applies when the train is stationary. If the train had been moving leftward at fifty kilometers per hour, the bullet would take some time to pass through the opposite window and reach the victim’s chest. Consequently, the entry wound would shift significantly to the right, likely striking either the right chest or right arm area.
Moreover, since Miss Akaboshi Ryuuko was struck from directly in front on a spot located to the left—opposite her heart—this would necessitate that the bullet had pierced through a steel plate while still retaining enough tremendous force to penetrate the victim’s chest.
Of course, upon examining the scene, not only was there no hole in the steel plate, there was not even a mark from where a bullet had struck.
“This clearly proves the bullet was fired from inside the train.
Once we establish the condition that it was fired from inside the train, the problem becomes very simple.
All events occurring outside the train can be entirely disregarded as irrelevant.”

Having said that, Detective Homura briefly paused his words.

“I see, that’s an interesting deduction,” Inspector Ooeyama said with an emphatic nod. “Then the culprit’s name is…”

Just as he was about to say this, a shrill car horn blared, and an automobile came to an abrupt halt at the hospital ward’s entrance. Before long, clattering footsteps echoed down the corridor, followed by a knock sounding on the hospital room door. Detective Homura stood up and opened it to find Detective Tada standing there with Sasagi Mitsuyoshi.

“Inspector Ooeyama, we’ve completely uncovered the truth,” Tada said, beaming a bright smile. “This is it—a silenced, flashless pistol. It had been rigged in the hollow of the large zelkova tree at the Sasagi residence,” he declared, thudding a jet-black object resembling a tea caddy onto the table.

When Inspector Ooeyama opened the tea caddy, inside lay a single pistol. Extracting the bullet revealed a caliber of precisely 4.5 centimeters. Upon opening the firearm and measuring its rifling grooves under a microscope, they matched perfectly with the groove patterns on bullets previously confiscated from the victims’ bodies.

“Then, is this pistol yours, Mr. Sasagi?” the Inspector asked.

“It is not mine.”

“No, Inspector sir.
This man harbored murderous intent toward Akaboshi Ryuuko.
Please look at these letters.”
As he spoke, Tada handed over a bundle of letters addressed to Sasagi from Ryuuko.
Upon reading them, it became clear that the relationship between the two had recently reached a critical state.

Sasagi Mitsuyoshi remained shiftily silent.

Inspector Ooeyama peered briefly at Detective Homura’s expression with a suspicious demeanor, as the current situation and Homura’s conclusion diverged significantly.

"That pistol differs from the one the culprit directly used."
Homura examined the pistol, then said quietly.

“You’re saying they’re different even though the groove marks are identical?”
The inspector said with a faint sneer.

“That’s correct.”
Homura answered firmly.
“This is also the culprit’s trick.”
“The culprit was well aware that pistol bullets bear unique rifling marks—like human fingerprints—on them.”
“To conceal that point, he fired the pistol that Mr. Tada just brought into soft ground, then dug up the bullet by turning over the soil.”
“The culprit, having thus obtained bullets bearing the distinctive rifling marks of a pistol, then loaded them into another non-rifled pistol—likely a modified high-quality toy pistol—and brought it into the National Railway Electric Train.”
“Please examine it carefully.”
“The bullets extracted from the corpses bear the extractor marks made when they were secured in cartridge cases.”

Inspector Ooeyama could only stand utterly astonished at this tenacious culprit’s trick.

“So the real culprit possesses a toy pistol loaded with this bullet.”
“Then Mr. Sasagi isn’t the culprit?”

“It is not Mr. Sasagi,” Homura replied curtly.

“Then the culprit’s name is…”

That was the moment.

With a sharp *clatter* came the sound of shattering glass from the next room, followed by something crashing down from the roof to below the window with a loud rattling noise. At that cry, the entire group shoved the door open and burst into the adjacent room.

“Gah!”

The entire group froze in place.

The large windowpane directly in front had been shattered into pieces, leaving a gaping, grotesquely large hole through which the iron grating beneath lay exposed like rib bones.
Under that window was a bed, and lying upon it was Akaboshi Ryuuko in critical condition.
Ah, but in a ghastly turn, the area around the breastplate of the white hospital gown covering Ryuuko from the chest down had been riddled with holes like a beehive, from whose depths crimson blood now welled forth quietly.
The scene before them bore witness to someone having sneakily approached from outside the window and rained down a hail of bullets upon the sleeping Ryuuko.
Who was it that fired?

“Mr. Homura, we’ve finally caught him!”

There was a face approaching beyond the bars.
It was Kazama Yaochi, a reporter from the Tokyo ×× Newspaper, holding a white reporter’s notebook in one hand.
Behind him stood a man bound in a crisscross pattern, guarded by a crowd of detectives.

That was the haggard figure of Torou Sanshirou—the detective novelist who called himself well-acquainted with Inspector Ooeyama.

“Mr. Homura.
As a small favor, could you give me a quick response?” Reporter Kazama asked, licking his pencil over and over as he raised his face from between the bars.

“The real culprit Torou Sanshirou disguised himself as an inconspicuous old man or used a beautiful woman to draw the crowd’s attention, then committed his crimes hidden in their shadow—you see?”

Homura gave a slight nod.

“The cover Torou Sanshirou had marked out in advance was the partially deaf beauty Akaboshi Ryuuko. He took a seat next to Ryuuko, fired the silenced pistol, and skillfully covered his tracks. However, Ryuuko’s hearing had recovered considerably enough that she finally detected his crime. There, he conceived murderous intent but botched the attempt right then and there. You see, Mr. Homura?”

“Now then, rumors reached him that Ryuuko—though critically injured—had survived. Torou Sanshirou followed her trail, infiltrated the Denken hospital room, and waited for an opportunity. The opportunity came. He fired repeatedly around Ryuuko’s heart as she slept—well, since it was a silenced pistol, he shot with muffled pops—and was caught by the detectives lying in wait there.”

“I won’t write about my own achievements since that would be self-praise. Of course, the counterfeit pistol Torou used in the crime was also discovered. You see, Mr. Homura?”

Torou had mistakenly believed he had successfully shot Ryuuko dead.

Ryuuko had already died when she was at Meguro Station.
The rumors that she was still alive had spread as a method devised by Detective Homura to lure the culprit.
“Shall we conclude that Torou tarnished the name of a mystery novelist and became a martyr to his perverse purity (?), hmm, Mr. Homura?”

Homura smiled quietly.
“Where did Mr.Torou hide the pistol inside the train…”

“Ah! If we forget that detail, our whole achievement won’t count for anything.”
“Well—since Torou fired through a hole in his coat’s right pocket lining so only I noticed—how’s that sound?”