Pathway to Japanese Literature

Little did the boy Haruki know that day marked the first page of this major incident. Looking back later, it seems that on that day, fate's immense force was relentlessly pulling Haruki Kiyoshi toward it.

It felt as though several strange coincidences had converged in mysterious succession, but all of it was undoubtedly part of the boy Kiyoshi’s destiny. That bizarre and mysterious grand incident, on the very day marking its first page, had merely offered a tiny glimpse of its true nature. If Haruki Kiyoshi had been able to foresee even half of this incident’s magnitude, depth, ferocity, and terror at that moment, he would surely have abandoned any involvement in the matter. This was such large-scale terror that it went without saying that not only would a mere boy be no match for it, but he would inevitably be drawn into grave danger.

Well then, having said about this much by way of preface, let us now tell how Haruki Kiyoshi came to set foot upon the first page of that incident. On that day, Haruki Kiyoshi was mountain climbing with his recently befriended classmate—a large-built boy named Ushimaru Heitarou—taking advantage of a Sunday. This mountain climb involved ascending to the summit of Kannuki Mountain, located deep within the Shibahara Water Source Area.

It had been just about a month since Haruki Kiyoshi, the boy, had come to this town. Before that, he had been in Tokyo. This town was a port town in Kansai.

The details will be explained in due time, so I won't elaborate here, but due to family circumstances, Haruki Kiyoshi had suddenly been entrusted to his aunt's house in this port town. And so Kiyoshi had transferred to Yukimi Middle School nearby. He was a third-year student. For a time he had felt quite lonely, but by now Kiyoshi had grown completely accustomed. At school he had made cheerful friends like Ushimaru-kun, and he had also discovered the pleasure of venturing deep into the mountain range behind the port town—whenever free time allowed, he would wander through the hills.

On that day，Kiyoshi，accompanied by Ushimaru’s Heita-chan，reached Kannuki Mountain’s summit around noon．There they ate their lunches，then played to their hearts’ content in the grounds of an abandoned temple nearby，and then around three in the afternoon，the two of them set off on their return journey.

Since autumn days grow completely dark by around six o'clock, leaving the summit at three in the afternoon meant that by the time they reached the foot of the mountain and entered town, both town and port would be fully lit—they’d lingered too long playing up in the hills.

So the two of them decided to race down the mountain. After descending Kannuki Mountain and nearing the Shibahara Water Source Area, there was a place where a beautiful waterfall cascaded over a mountain stream. The name of this waterfall was said to be Ikoma Waterfall. The characters were probably written as Ikoma Waterfall. There were two descending paths leading from Kannuki Mountain. They were the East Path and West Path. The two paths met slightly before Ikoma Waterfall and merged into one. And so Haruki Kiyoshi and Ushimaru Heitarou took separate paths and began racing under an agreement to meet before Ikoma Waterfall—competing to see who would reach it first.

"I absolutely think the East Path is faster." "I'm taking the East Path," the Ushimaru boy declared. "Is that so?" "Then I'll dash down the West Path and reach the waterfall before you do."

Haruki Kiyoshi had no choice but to take the West Path because Ushimaru had chosen the East Path. This decision would lead Haruki Kiyoshi straight into that fateful incident. Had Ushimaru instead chosen the West Path at that moment，he would have been the one to encounter the mysterious incident.

The two boys separated left and right on the count of three and began descending the mountain.

The autumn sun was still blazing fiercely. However, it had already sunk quite low.

Haruki Kiyoshi descended the mountain briskly，whistling and swinging his handmade staff as he went．He wasn’t entirely free from unease，but whenever he caught glimpses of the distant sea and town from the mountain’s edge，his spirits lifted each time．

About two hours later，he finally came within earshot of Ikoma Waterfall． Well，am I first? Or did Ushimaru-kun win? After all，Ushimaru-kun was a boy born in this area，so he knew these mountains well． So I can’t beat him．

Haruki, for his part, lacked confidence for that very reason. However, in reality, it was Haruki who arrived far earlier.

The Ushimaru boy had been delayed along the way. This was because on the East Path, a log bridge had collapsed midway, forcing him to take a long detour. In truth, the East Path had been the shortcut, but due to an unexpected trail obstruction, Ushimaru ended up arriving at the scene a full thirty minutes after Haruki Kiyoshi.

And that thirty-minute delay would bring about a tremendous difference in the two boys' destinies. What exactly did this mean? Haruki Kiyoshi, the boy, unaware of anything, arrived before Ikoma Waterfall,

"Got him! I win. Ushimaru-kun hasn't arrived yet, has he?" He muttered to himself, then looked around. The waterfall was cascading down with a booming roar, like countless great drums being struck simultaneously. Haruki removed his hat and wiped away his sweat. The autumn foliage and maple trees were beautiful. "Huh?!" The boy widened his eyes.

On the path just past the waterfall, someone lay collapsed. It was a man wearing black Western clothes. (What happened?)

Because the situation seemed strange, Kiyoshi cautiously approached the figure. Then, an unpleasant sight came into view. The tightly clenched hands of the collapsed man in Western clothes, lying face-down, were bright red. Blood. Blood.

"Is he dead?" When the boy turned pale and focused his eyes again, the bloodied hand of the man in Western clothes twitched slightly and clawed at the dirt.

The Seriously Injured Old Man

“Ah! He’s... he’s alive!” The Haruki boy shouted.

After shouting, he forgot all fear and rushed to the bloodstained man in Western clothes, dropping to his knees,

“Hey. Stay with me. What happened? Where are you hurt?” he called out.

At that moment, the boy realized this bloodstained man was quite elderly. His face sported a thick, bushy beard, and his black bird-hunting hat had come off, exposing hair that had been dyed white—though at first glance it appeared black, its roots were starkly white. Near where the bird-hunting hat had come off lay a pair of glasses with brown-tinted lenses.

The old man raised his face with a pained expression and twisted it toward Haruki. But upon catching sight of Haruki, he let his face fall heavily to the ground. It seemed he had mustered all his strength just to confirm who had called out to him. The old man began groaning deeply. “Stay with me. Where are you injured?” “Where are you injured?” Haruki kept shouting as he lifted the old man up. He realized. The old man’s chest was crimson. The ground swam with blood. The wound had been made by a bullet. Though grievous - having entered through the left nape of his neck, pierced his upper right lung, and exited beneath his armpit - this extent remained beyond the Haruki boy’s ability to clearly discern. Yet since even he could plainly see the wound’s location, he knew he must bind it quickly.

There was nothing to bind it with. If only I had a bandage, but I don't have anything like that. What should I do? That's it! In that case, there was no choice but to use the shirt he wore beneath his clothes and then the hand towel. Since Haruki Kiyoshi was a boy of action, once resolved, he first laid the old man back down as before, then hurriedly stripped off his clothes. Removing his striped shirt, he tore it fiercely into long strips and joined the ends together. He tore apart the hand towel as well and attached them to those strips.

“This should do it. There, done. Old man, stay with me. I’ll put a temporary bandage on your wound, okay?” With those words, Haruki picked up the old man again and laid him face-up. The old man expelled something red from his mouth. It was because he had been injured in the chest. The boy suppressed his despairing heart and kept urging on the old man while tightly winding cloth strips around the wound. During this time, the old man had been gasping painfully, his eyes fluttering open and shut, but when the boy finished tending to his wounds and gently laid him back on the ground,

“Th-thank you... O... divine child...” he rasped in a voice so hoarse it was barely audible, expressing gratitude to Haruki boy. At that moment, the old man’s throat gurgled wetly as frothy red liquid began oozing from his mouth.

“You mustn’t speak,” he said. “Not with that chest wound.” The old man gave a faint nod. Haruki bit his lip. Now what? “I’ll go down the mountain for help. It’ll hurt, but you’ve got to hang on.”

With those words, Haruki stood up from the old man’s side and tried to run toward the foothills—but then the old man let out a loud cry. “Wait!” “Huh?”

“Please come closer.”

“What is it?” “If you keep talking so much, you’ll start bleeding again.”

Haruki knelt down beside the old man.

“It’s over... I’m done for. I want to thank you for your kindness—you must accept this. I’ll take out the token of my gratitude now, so turn aside for a moment.” “There’s no need for thanks. I didn’t do anything worth mentioning.” “No—I cannot let this go unacknowledged. Moreover, if I die like this, there’ll be none left to unravel the location of the vast fortune. I must entrust this to you. What’s your name?”

The old man, gasping painfully and frothing red bubbles, spoke to the boy. The matter's veracity remained uncertain, but it was undeniably significant. "My name is Haruki Kiyoshi."

“Haruki Kiyoshi.” “That’s a good name.” “To Haruki Kiyoshi-kun, I bequeath what I cherished second only to my own life.” “Kiyoshi-kun.” “Sorry, but could you turn me face-down again?”

The Haruki boy did as the old man instructed.

“Kiyoshi-kun. “Stay turned aside until I give the word.”

The old man said something strange. However, the boy did as he was told.

The old man brought his trembling hand to his eye. Then he began massaging around his right eye with his fingertips. Before long, between his fingertips appeared a white sphere. It was egg-sized but not an egg, bearing a black spot on one side.

It was an artificial eye. It was the artificial eye that had been in the old man’s right eye.

“Here. I present this to Kiyoshi-kun.”

The old man extended the unsettling gift toward the Haruki boy.

What on earth was this? Had the old man gone mad? Haruki accepted it without ever imagining it could be an artificial eye - thinking it might be an egg or stone instead. The artificial eye he had received...

“What’s this? What kind of value does this have?”

The boy rolled the old man's artificial eye on his palm, growing suspicious.

At that moment, within the roar of the waterfall, another sound intruded. A mechanical drone reverberated. Haruki Kiyoshi had not yet noticed, but the old man had noticed and was startled.

“Oh, Kiyoshi-kun. “The villains are coming this way.” “You need to take that quickly and hide in a cave or some rocky crevice—now!” “Hurry, hurry.” “If you don’t hurry, it’ll be too late!” “And make absolutely sure you aren’t seen from the sky.” “Come on. Hurry…”

“What’s wrong? Why are you so panicked…?” “You’re in such a panic…” “The gang of villains who tried to kill me are coming here. “If they see you, they’ll harm you too.” “Remember this well.” “Until those villains leave this area, you must not show yourself.” “You must not move your body.” “Do not forget that you now possess an important item entrusted to you by me.” “Now, go hide quickly!”

The old man continued shouting as if he had gone mad.

The Haruki boy thought that if the gravely injured old man kept shouting like that, he would only hasten his death. So thinking that quickly hiding in a rocky crevice or somewhere as the old man said would be for the old man’s sake, he stood up. But there were many things he needed to ask the old man. “What am I supposed to do with this egg-like thing?” “Now, open it up. “You must hide now.” “Can’t you hear that sound getting closer from the sky? “Hurry, hurry!”

At those words, the Haruki boy noticed. A roaring noise pressed down from overhead. But there was one more thing he had to ask the old man.

“Old man. What’s your name?”

“Are you still dawdling there?”

The gravely injured old man shouted in frustration.

“My name is Togura.”

“Togura?” “My name is Tokura Yasomarou." “Hide quickly!” “Not a moment to lose!” “Otherwise, you won’t survive!” "The world's greatest treasure will be stolen." "Jump into the hole quickly!" “There’s a hole over there.” “But be careful…”

The old man’s voice sounded like he was crying out in anguish. Haruki thought it would be wrong to trouble the old man any further now. So he ran in the direction the dying old man had pointed. A large rock jutted out. It was in the opposite direction of the waterfall basin.

When he jumped into the shadow of the rock, something astonishingly large came swirling down from overhead.

It was a helicopter. It had a large horizontally rotating propeller shaped like a bamboo-copter and was a bamboo-copter-style aircraft equipped with another smaller propeller. The helicopter halted its forward motion as if floating in midair—it was an aircraft capable of freely ascending and descending vertically. Therefore, it could take off without a runway and also land on narrow rooftops. Such a helicopter had suddenly swirled down from the sky tinged with faint twilight, so the Haruki boy was astonished.

Why was this happening? What purpose could have brought the helicopter descending here? Was it that helicopter that old man Tokura had been fearing? The Haruki boy crouched in the shadow of the rock and peered out to assess the situation. The helicopter descended vertically.

Then, the area suddenly became as bright as daytime. The helicopter directed its searchlight toward the ground. “Ah!” The Haruki boy clung to the rock.

A glaring, intense light illuminated the Haruki boy's left shoulder.

The boy, sensing danger for reasons he couldn’t articulate, quietly shifted his body to the right in an attempt to escape the helicopter’s searchlight.

However, the searchlight seemed to be pursuing him.

Haruki pressed himself tightly against the rock as he shifted his body further to the right. Then he suddenly lost his center of balance. The soil he'd been stepping on with his right foot crumbled away, causing him to miss his footing. There was a hole hidden by grass. His body swayed unsteadily to the right. Before his cry could form, his body plunged into the hole. He stretched out his hands and tried to grab the rock, but it was no good.

The boy’s body fell deep down and was eventually slammed against the bottom. It was relatively soft soil, but he slammed his buttocks hard against it, let out a groan of "Ugh," and lost consciousness. Beside the unconscious boy lay a single enigmatic artificial eye that old man Tokura had handed over. And the pupil of the artificial eye stared fixedly at the round opening of sky above, as though endowed with sight.

Aerial Drama

The Haruki boy, who had fallen into the hole and lost consciousness, was unable to witness the grand drama that unfolded on the ground immediately afterward.

Truly, at that moment, the curtain fell on a grand action drama he could never have imagined.

From the helicopter came a sudden eruption of intense machine gun fire—rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat! Bullets rained down like a torrent around where old man Tokura lay collapsed. As bullets reached the ground and struck stones, sparks flashed brightly, dancing like living creatures in the twilight's dimness. But the bullets merely fell around old man Tokura without piercing his body. “Whoa, what’s that?”

On the road directly facing the waterfall basin, a boy's figure appeared. It wasn't Haruki. It was Ushimaru. He had finally reached Ikoma Waterfall moments earlier. He still hadn't comprehended what was happening around him. With no sense of danger, he stood rigidly in the center of the road, gazing curiously at the dancing sparks.

But after a moment, he noticed the figure of old man Tokura lying collapsed. Then, startled by the ferocity of the gunfire that followed next, he suddenly sensed the danger to himself. “Ah! Dangerous!” The Ushimaru boy whirled around and scampered up the large persimmon tree beside him. Ushimaru was exceptionally skilled at tree climbing. So without a second thought, he scrambled up a persimmon tree of all things. This would prove far from fortunate for him.

At that moment, the helicopter had come directly above old man Tokura. A hole had opened in the bottom of the fuselage, and from it, a single rope came swaying down.

Then, a man smoothly slid down the rope. At that moment, the end of the rope had reached the ground. That man was clad in khaki work clothes. Both the man and the collapsed old man Tokura were within the searchlight’s beam.

The old man lay motionless, as if dead.

The Ushimaru boy, clutching a persimmon branch, watched this scene in surprise.

The man in work clothes finally set foot on the ground. He released the rope and ran toward old man Tokura. Then he knelt down and began examining old man Tokura’s body. For him, the old man’s body was flipped face-up and face-down two or three times.

After a while, the man in work clothes stood up, waved his hand, and signaled to the helicopter above. From the helicopter's fuselage window, a man leaned out his upper body and waved back downward in response. The man below appeared to understand. After stretching both arms out sideways in acknowledgment of the signal, he grabbed the rope's end, approached old man Tokura, and bound the old man's body tightly by winding the rope around him repeatedly.

Then he hung onto the rope above the old man.

As if that were the signal, the rope began rapidly winding up toward the helicopter. The helicopter hovered in midair, remaining perfectly still. From his perch in the persimmon tree, the Ushimaru boy stared in stunned silence at this spectacle.

However, the man in work clothes suddenly released one hand and pointed at the persimmon tree the Ushimaru boy had climbed. And then, a powerful searchlight suddenly flared to life, illuminating the Ushimaru boy’s entire body. “Whoa!” “This is too much!”

Ushimaru Heitarou was by nature a fearless optimist, but at this moment alone, he thought he might die. His vision blurred, and he found himself unable to breathe. He clung desperately to the persimmon tree branch with both hands and feet. His eyes completely lost the ability to distinguish objects. Up in the persimmon tree, eyes unseeing.

When the sound of the helicopter grew distant, Ushimaru muttered to himself. He thought it would make a haiku.

At this point, he could finally make out the shapes of things a little. "They really did a number on me."

He gingerly slid down from the persimmon tree.

The Ushimaru boy had been wandering around in front of the waterfall for nearly an hour. He groped through the pitch darkness, searching the area.

“Hey! Haruki-kun—!” he called his friend’s name dozens of times. Yet that reply never reached his ears. In the meantime, he also went to check on the person who had collapsed. There, he saw what appeared to be bloodstains—darkened patches staining the ground.

Who could it have been—this person who had collapsed here? He couldn't understand what was happening.

It might have been a helicopter rescue operation, but before that, he had heard what sounded like intense gunfire. Having caught that noise, he had scrambled up the persimmon tree in panic. Later reflecting on it all, he smiled wryly at the thought: "What a panicked fool I was back then."

When Haruki-kun still hadn't appeared no matter how long he waited, after about an hour had passed, the Ushimaru boy went down the river alone.

Ushimaru knew nothing; something strange had occurred here. The fact was that neither the old man Tokura’s hat nor his glasses—which had been scattered away from his body—had remained at the scene afterward.

Even so, who could those people on the helicopter have been—the ones who had picked up the gravely injured old man Tokura and taken him away? They didn't seem to be rescuers who had come for the old man. If they had been rescuers, old man Tokura would never have shown such terror in front of Haruki boy.

Then, could it be that helicopter had been carrying adversaries to old man Tokura?

It was this very scene—a blood-stained mystery unfolding against Ikoma Waterfall—that would soon emerge as the first act in the bizarre "Golden Medal Incident," through which Haruki Kiyoshi would propel himself to global renown as the Boy Chief Detective.

Escape from the Cave

The Haruki boy, who had fallen into the cave beneath the rock overhang, regained consciousness while Ushimaru-kun was still nearby. He distinctly heard Ushimaru-kun's voice calling him. There in the cave, he responded. He called out Ushimaru-kun's name repeatedly to signal his location. Yet Ushimaru-kun kept searching elsewhere and never approached the hole where Haruki had fallen.

Eventually, Ushimaru gave up, left the area in front of Ikoma Waterfall, and made his way down the path toward the foothills.

Left behind, Haruki found himself alone in the hole as his surroundings gradually darkened. He rubbed his bottom while looking around.

"Ah! That eyeball!" He noticed Tokura Yasomarou's artificial eye lying nearby and hurriedly picked it up.

"What is this?" "This is so strange." "Hmm, this looks like an eyeball." "It’s glaring this way." "Ugh, this is so creepy..." Feeling too creeped out, he put it into his pocket.

"Alright, I need to find a way to climb out of this empty well."

When he looked, there was a horizontal hole at the bottom of the empty well. It was a hole just barely large enough for a person to crawl through. However, feeling creeped out, Haruki didn't feel like entering. He stood up. He looked up and checked everything above him, but there was neither a rope nor anything else hanging down from above. The depth seemed to be about fourteen or fifteen meters.

"If only the earthen wall stays soft all the way up... And I wish I had something to dig through the earth with. Wait—I have a knife! I'll dig with this!"

Haruki came up with the idea to dig footholds into the earthen wall of the empty well and climb up using them. Thereupon, Haruki immediately began that task.

It was a laborious task, but the boy patiently carved out footholds in the earthen wall one step at a time, and before long, he managed to climb out of the hole.

"Phew, thank goodness."

Haruki let out a deep sigh and surveyed his surroundings. Everything was pitch black. From within that absolute darkness came only the ceaseless roar of the waterfall, its thunderous echoes making everything feel even more unnerving. Yet because it was a clear night, stars alone sparkled brightly overhead. Their faint glow proved insufficient for telling path from wilderness. He resigned himself to waiting until morning to descend. Any attempt now risked a misstep that would send him tumbling into the valley below.

"Well，nothing to be done." "I'll camp out tonight listening to the waterfall's sound."

Haruki plopped down onto the grass. Once he resolved himself to it, spending the night outdoors wasn’t without its appeal. Of course, come tomorrow, his aunts would probably scold him, but there was nothing to be done about that.

Haruki suddenly realized he was hungry. He searched his pockets, but there was nothing except that strange ball. He had eaten everything.

It grew colder. In the mountains of November, as night deepened, the temperature continued to plummet.

"Ah... It's cold. "This is unbearable." "I could endure hunger," he thought through chattering teeth, "But this cold..." "Isn't there anything—"

"Ah! That's it. "I have a lighter!"

For precaution in such situations, he remembered that he had a matchlock-style lighter in his pants pocket. That's it. I could light a fire with the lighter, gather dead branches, and steadily build up a campfire. The boy perked up.

The matchlock-style lighter only produced a glow like charcoal embers and didn't produce a flame like a candle. He was well aware of this, but he had previously succeeded in creating a flame by bringing easily combustible thread scraps close to the matchlock's ember and gently blowing on them, causing the threads to burst into flickering flames. He would put that experience to good use tonight.

He slightly tore the lining of his clothes to create something akin to thread scraps and succeeded in igniting them with the lighter's matchlock flame. The flame flickered up, raising red tongues as it blazed. He transferred the flame to a clump of dried grass. The fire grew bigger. This time, he transferred it to the dead branches. The fire's intensity grew even stronger. From then on, he had no more trouble. A bright, warm campfire blazed up steadily.

As warmth spread around him and light filled the space，Harukikun felt fully revitalized. He gathered plenty of dead branches from the vicinity. He would be all right now.

As he warmed himself by the fire, sleepiness began to creep over him. It must have been the fatigue from earlier that day finally catching up. However, he realized that if he fell asleep there, the fire would die out and he'd catch cold. Thereupon, he needed to devise some way to stay awake. He thought.

"Right. "I'll examine that ball I got from old man Tokura earlier."

That was the perfect task for the moment. The boy took out that ball from his pocket. Holding it to the fire, he slowly examined the object for the first time.

"Ah! This is an eyeball. Creepy." A chill ran down his back, and he dropped the eyeball from his hand. It rolled clatteringly across the ground until settling near the campfire. "Wait—that might not be a real eyeball after all. Oh right! It must be an artificial eye!" He realized his own panicked overreaction and chuckled darkly at himself. "Ah! That eyeball's about to burn! Emergency! Emergency!" He frantically grabbed a smoldering branch and fished out the artificial eye from beside the flames.

“Hot-hot-hot—!” The artificial eye had grown hot and burned his hand. From his hand, the artificial eye fell to the ground once more. Then, the artificial eye split open down the middle with a crack, breaking into two pieces.

That could indeed be considered fortunate for Haruki Kiyoshi. Because without being exposed to fire, opening this artificial eye would have been extremely difficult—in other words, this prosthetic was a sort of secret compartment. To open this sphere, he would have had to think for at least a week no matter what. Fortunately, because the boy had scorched that spherical secret compartment near the fire, its internal locking mechanism naturally disengaged; when he dropped it from his hand onto the ground a second time, it split open with a crack into two pieces. However, Haruki Kiyoshi was astonished by this and blinked rapidly.

"Oh? There's something inside! Ah, so that's it. So that's what it was. What that old man had said didn’t seem to be a lie. An immense fortune. A global treasure. What on earth could it be?"

Haruki Kiyoshi reached out, took the artificial eye of Tokura Yasomarou that had split into two, and examined it. “Oh, so this is what was inside.”

Inside the artificial eye lay an object wrapped in silk-like cloth. Within it was something hard.

When he opened the silk cloth, what emerged from within was a crescent-shaped, flat metal plate. It was quite heavy. And even in the dark, it glittered brightly with a yellow light. On its surface, carved in shallow relief, was a profile of a person’s face encircled by a chain and anchor. When he turned it over, several lines of peculiar script-like symbols were carved there in horizontal writing. But he had never seen anything like it—it didn’t resemble any country’s script he knew. Rather than ancient characters, it looked more like phonetic symbols.

"It looks like half a gold coin, but could there really be such a large gold coin? Anyway, it's a strange thing. What on earth is this?" With a look of wonder, he held the glittering golden medal—split in two—up to the fire and examined it repeatedly. "I can’t read the characters, and with it being just half, there’s nothing I can do—but even so, could this really be connected to that immense global fortune the old man mentioned?"

After all the trouble of obtaining it, this left Haruki Kiyoshi utterly baffled—it made no sense whatsoever.

Now, what would become of it all?

At that moment, a gust of mountain wind swept in, sending dead leaves swirling and blowing the campfire flames sideways with a crackling snap. Then, right in front of the boy, something suddenly flared up and began to burn. "Oh no!"

That was the piece of silk that had been wrapped around this crescent-shaped Golden Medal. It was then that Haruki Kiyoshi first noticed there were characters written on it. The flames were lapping at the silk handkerchief-like cloth, threatening to reduce it to ashes. The boy, startled, thrust his hand into the flames, pulled out the burning piece of silk, and stomped on it with his shoe.

The fire was finally extinguished. Whew. I almost let it all burn up.

What remained unburned was a portion slightly smaller than half of the silk handkerchief. On it were finely detailed Japanese characters. The boy began picking out and reading those characters, but since about half had been burned away, the text remained fragmented.

But the boy kept picking out every character he could read. But suddenly, he stiffened his face and—

“Ah, this is serious!” he shouted. Suddenly his body began trembling violently and wouldn’t stop.

Why was that?

What on earth had been written on that remaining scrap of burned silk? And what kind of secret could this crescent-shaped Golden Medal itself be hiding?

In the deep mountains, a wind suddenly arose. Sparks from the campfire danced up into the dark sky.

Mutsu Yamasai Fortress

Now，where did the helicopter that abducted old man Tokura fly off to?

The helicopter skimmed just above mountains enveloped in twilight, now veering north, now east, now west—following a bizarre course as it gradually penetrated deeper into the remote mountains.

After flying for about an hour, the helicopter descended slowly through the darkness and eventually landed with precision.

As for what kind of scenery surrounded that place or what terrain the airfield had—none of that could be seen with the naked eye. After all, the sun had completely set, and it was a night so dark one couldn’t distinguish black from white. Only the Milky Way flowed faintly bright overhead.

This helicopter was equipped with a sophisticated radar system, so locating the landing site and executing a safe touchdown in the pitch-dark night was a simple matter. A radar system is a device that uses ultra-short radio waves to survey terrain, measure altitude, and determine distances to targets, serving as the eyes of airplanes during nighttime.

Thus, the helicopter landed safely. Moreover, it undoubtedly returned to Mutsu Yamasai Fortress.

What exactly was Mutsu Yamasai Fortress?

A detailed explanation of this fortress will be withheld here. Rather than that, it would be better to follow the helicopter and document the state of the fortress.

Once the helicopter had landed safely, a blue signal light was flashed from the cockpit.

Then, with a thunderous roar, the ground began to move. Still carrying the helicopter, the ground slid sideways. It was an elaborate moving runway. It was a five-meter-wide runway constructed from assembled slender iron pieces, powered to slide sideways like a belt conveyor system. And thus, the helicopter was swallowed up into the large cave entrance carved into the mountainside.

And then shortly after, the moving runway stopped. And then from near the rear cave came the clanging sound of an iron door slamming shut.

When the sound ceased, a dazzling light beam suddenly shone down from above the helicopter. The interior of the cave entrance became clearly visible in that instant. It was a newly constructed factory building that the helicopter had entered. There was no earthy smell whatsoever - instead, the air carried the scent of fragrant oil. The walls and ceiling were painted a bright yellow and appeared sturdy. Only the floor created an eerie atmosphere, bisected by a camouflaged steel moving runway.

With a clatter, five or six burly men surrounding the helicopter brandished pistols and light machine guns, keeping a watchful eye on its occupants. Their clothing varied, with some in suits and others in work uniforms. Then the fuselage door opened, and a long-haired man peered out. He waved his hand and,

“It’s fine. He doesn’t have any strength left to struggle,” he said. This was the man who had descended from the helicopter via rope ladder in front of Ikoma Waterfall and retrieved old man Tokura. His name was Nami Tatsuji—a man of considerable authority within Mutsu Yamasai Fortress.

At that moment, a middle-aged man came running out from the back and called out to Nami Tatsuji.

“Hey. Is Tokura still alive? Listen to his heartbeat.” Kido’s face looked worried.

“The pulse isn’t good. But he’s still alive.” “You didn’t inflict any new injuries on him? If that’s how it went down—the boss won’t like this one bit.”

“Hmph, Mr. Kido, no need to worry. Do you think I’d make such a blunder? When it comes to marksmanship—”

“If that’s the case then fine. I’ll bring a stretcher – keep him exactly like this.”

The middle-aged man called Kido assumed a relieved expression and turned around. A team carrying stretchers came filing out of the stopped elevator.

Among them was one unusually tall individual. His neck was long, truly resembling a crane. His face was severely uneven like weathered rock, with a nose as sharply pointed as a triangular pyramid jutting forward. What also protruded were the large eyes beneath thick eyebrows. A thin mustache grew beneath his nose. He was as gaunt as dried mullet roe. Then, wearing a long, pure white lab coat over his suit, he strode briskly over in large steps and wordlessly climbed up onto the helicopter.

He emerged immediately. And standing before Kido, he looked down at the man as if to speak. “How about it, Dr. Tsukue?” Kido looked up at Dr. Tsukue’s small-seeming face as if urging him on. “Hmm, the boss’s so-called luck,” “No matter which renowned doctor you consult besides me, that injured man won’t last more than an hour.”

Dr. Tsukue declared with confidence, his face devoid of expression. “Oh? He’ll survive?” Kido’s face flushed red. “Then get him treated immediately. The boss wants to interrogate Tokura right away, but realistically—how many hours until that’s possible?” “By conventional standards? Three weeks.”

“I just need to know how much time you can take responsibility for.” “If this Dr. Tsukue performs the treatment, it’ll be six hours from now.” “Then I’ll take responsibility.”

“All right, I’ll leave it to you then.” “I’ll report to the boss.” “For the next six hours, no matter what happens—it’s impossible.” “Make sure to tell them they can’t ask him a single word.” “The bullet missed the heart by a hair’s breadth, but the lung is completely shattered.” “If he tries to speak, blood and bubbles come gushing out.” “Under normal circumstances, he would already be dead.” “However, that guy managed to skillfully stuff a piece of cloth—not gauze—into the wound and neatly wrap over it.” “For that guy, this was even greater luck than our boss had.”

Dr. Tsukue talked to himself.

“We’ll perform the surgery here, so I want anyone who isn’t medical staff to leave.” “What? You’re doing it here, Dr. Tsukue?”

“That’s right. “How could one possibly move this critically ill patient?” “It’s cramped, but there’s no helping it.” said Dr. Tsukue.

“The electricity is ready.”

A subordinate's signal came. Dr. Tsukue crawled back into the helicopter seat.

The Leader in Male Attire

On the same night that followed—to be precise, at about five minutes past 2:00 a.m.

Yonma Kenshaku, the leader who held command of Mutsu Yamasai Fortress, was to meet with the gravely injured old man Tokura. Old man Tokura, still firmly strapped to a wheelchair, was carried into the special room where Leader Yonma waited. Beside him stood Dr. Tsukue, resembling a utility pole buffeted by the wind, keeping watch.

The leader rose leisurely from his chair, parted the curtains, and approached old man Tokura.

His appearance was grotesque.

Yonma Kenshaku stood nearly six feet tall. And because he was immensely obese, he had a physique that wouldn’t disgrace even a yokozuna. He enveloped his splendid physique in a long-hemmed Chinese robe. His hands were hidden within the long sleeves and couldn't be seen.

On the Chinese robe was a large golden dragon, beautifully embroidered. It was a magnificent pattern, so awe-inspiring that one would instinctively bow their head.

Yonma Kenshaku's face was not visible.

This was because he wore a large conical hat on his head from whose brim hung three layers of black gauze veils that completely concealed his face - only the very tip of his chin remained barely visible. "Hey Tokura! Let's settle this quickly tonight." Leader Yonma pressed old man Tokura with his deep rumbling voice that seemed to physically pin down its listener.

Tokura sat with a pale face, his head leaning against the back of the wheelchair, remaining completely silent. It was impossible to tell whether he was dead or simply asleep—his eyes, hidden behind brown-tinted glasses, gave no indication of being open or closed.

“Hey, Tokura. Aren’t you going to answer?” “I’m showing you generosity by trying to settle this quickly tonight, and you refuse to answer—how outrageous!”

With that, Yonma Kenshaku extended his long sleeve and tried to grab Tokura’s shoulder to shake him.

"Wait, Boss," someone suddenly interjected. It was Dr. Tsukue. He stepped forward before the leader.

“Boss,” “This injured man under my care remains alive by miracle—through your doing.” “Should you handle him roughly and kill this old fool outright—I’ll bear no responsibility.” “Consider this your formal warning.” Dr. Tsukue relayed Tokura’s frailty with actorly flourishes of gesture. “Your surgical methods appear increasingly crude of late.” “Half his lungs were pulverized.” “I excised them and installed temporary artificial replacements.” “Remove those devices himself—instant death.” “A perfect suicide mechanism.” “Hence these restraints.” “Not for containing violence—merely preserving life.” “As supervising physician—my final advisement.”

With that, Dr. Tsukue waved his hands and shifted his feet, explained old man Tokura’s health condition—fragile as a cracked glass cup—then bowed respectfully to the leader and retreated behind the wheelchair.

“Doctor.” “But this old fool isn’t incapable of speech.”

“When he was carried in here, he was gurgling bloody froth from his mouth—speech was impossible.” “But now that treatment has been administered, he can speak.” “Of course, if he has no intention of speaking, he won’t say a word—but that’s not within the scope of my job.” He stopped just short of declaring that whether old man Tokura would respond or not depended entirely on your skill, Boss— “Hmph.” The leader stiffened his neck. “I only seek to know what I desire to know. “Whether it’s a persimmon tree, a human, or even the sun—I won’t allow any of them to refuse me an answer. “Moreover, lately I’ve grown short-tempered—if someone dawdles, I get the urge to thrust my hand into their mouth and move their tongue to make them speak. “I’m a bit rough around the edges, but what can I do? I’m short-tempered.”

Dr. Tsukue, Kido, and the other executives all exchanged glances. Whenever the leader said such things, it had been his custom to do something astonishing that would leave his subordinates in awe. Before that, he would lay out a solid plan. Then he would steadily advance toward it. Therefore, there had never been failure. Though he appeared to be a ruffian, in reality he was a leader who operated with meticulous care and shrewdness at every turn. The reason his subordinates could not defy him lay precisely in this aspect of his character.

Indeed, the events of that night held such grave significance that in later days, his subordinates would find themselves unable to stop recalling them time and again. That momentous event was now about to unfold before their very eyes.

“Hey, Tokura. To save your life and bring you here, three lives got sacrificed. Those two thugs who attacked you to save you—my subordinate shot them down. Poor bastard got shot himself and died too. Before croaking, he radioed me every detail from the scene with his portable set. Finished reporting and dropped dead. I lost a good man because of you. I want proper compensation from you.”

“I’ve had my share of suffering too.” “The feeling’s mutual.”

Old man Tokura spoke for the first time. His tone dripped with contempt. “Hmph.” “Say whatever you want.” Leader Yonma brushed it off lightly and took a step forward. “Therefore, I wish to conclude our transaction. Hey, Tokura. Hand over the golden crescent you’re holding.”

The words Yonma had bluntly hurled at old man Tokura! That demand was for the fragment of the Golden Medal.

“What you want makes no sense to me.”

The old man said with even greater contempt.

“You… You…!” “How could you not know about the golden crescent?” “We have solid evidence that you’re holding it.” “You’d better hand it over quickly.”

“I don’t know anything about that.” “Of course, I don’t have it.” “No matter how many times you ask, I can only say the same thing.”

Old Man Tokura’s tone grew slightly agitated. Dr. Tsukue broke an ampule of injection medicine behind him.

“I won’t let you claim ignorance.” “Then behold this!”

Yonma suddenly rolled up his long left sleeve with his right hand. His left wrist was revealed. Between his thumb and index finger lay a small crescent-shaped object that glistened. It was a fragment of the Golden Medal. However, this differed in shape from the fragment young Haruki now possessed.

In other words, what Haruki Kiyoshi possessed was undoubtedly a fragment—slightly larger than half—and when measuring its angle from the medal's center came out about twenty degrees greater than one hundred eighty degrees. What Yonma now held pinched between his fingertips was smaller than half and shaped like a fan.

The leader thrust it before Tokura. “Well? Can’t you see this?”

“Ah! That’s it!” “Ah! Thou hadst it?” “Damn it!”

Old Man Tokura shouted in a shrill voice and tried to reach out. However, his limbs were tightly bound to the wheelchair, making it impossible for him to extend a hand. He snapped his mouth open in frustration and lunged at the golden medal the leader held out.

“Now now—I can’t have you acting rough.” “Ha ha ha!”

The leader pulled back his hand just in time.

“Ha ha ha!” “This is what you want, isn’t it?” “I might just give it to you—but first, hand over the other half you’ve got.” “Let me hold onto them for a week, and I’ll return both to you intact.” “What do you say? A fine deal, isn’t it?” “Now say yes!”

At that moment, Tokura slumped limply and rested his head against the chair back. Whether his eyes were open or closed remained hidden behind brown-tinted glasses, but seeing how his shoulders heaved violently with each breath, old man Tokura seemed to be enduring some indescribable agony. Of course, he never once responded to the leader's address. "If you stay silent, I can't understand," "I want this transaction settled quickly." "Hey, Tokura." "Do you really think I don't know where you're hiding the golden crescent?"

Upon hearing that, Old Man Tokura jolted and stiffened his body.

“Ha ha ha.” “It’s too late to panic now.” “I’m short-tempered.” “What I want, I take immediately.” “First, I’ll start by removing…”

Yonma's hand shot out. In an instant, the brown glasses Old Man Tokura had been wearing were in the leader's grasp. The old man's pallid face—his glasses torn away. His eyes were tightly shut, and his lips trembled uncontrollably.

“Heh heh heh.” “If you behave yourself, I won’t resort to violence.” “What I require is that artificial eye lodged in your socket.” “You will surrender it.”

“I won’t allow it.” “I won’t allow such a thing!” “You devil!”

The old man seemed intent on putting up a fierce struggle, but the restraints on his limbs held him firmly in place. Yonma coldly looked down at this,

“Now then, your artificial eye was in the right socket, wasn’t it? Hey, everyone! Come here and press Tokura’s head against the back of the chair!”

Kido, Nami, and the other subordinates lunged at Tokura and pressed him against the back of the chair as the leader had ordered. Tokura's hunting cap was coming loose. Yonma stepped forward in front of him, extended his right hand, and went for Tokura’s right eye.

The shadow of X-rays. In the leader’s hand lay Tokura’s artificial eye.

“Hmph. “So you thought to use this as the container for the golden crescent? “Too bad for you then. “I’ll gladly take this off your hands. “No—too early for thanks. “First I’ll extract the crescent from this…” The leader twirled the artificial eye between his fingertips, flipping it end over end. Yet he couldn’t discern how to open it. He’d learned the method from a certain someone beforehand, but even when he gripped the top and bottom exactly as remembered and twisted left then right, the eye refused to yield.

(Hmm, this isn't good), the leader clicked his tongue mentally. But revealing that frustration in his expression now would not be wise—neither for Tokura nor for his subordinates.

However, the problem wouldn’t end there. He needed to open this quickly. “Hey Kido. Bring a large hammer. Hurry up and bring it!”

commanded the leader.

After Kido replied "Yes" and withdrew, a brief moment passed before he reappeared in the room. Here, the group collectively let out a sigh of relief. Dr. Tsukue Hakase finished administering the cardiac stimulant injection into Old Man Tokura's arm, wiped his fingertips with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, then craned his neck and stretched his back.

“Hey, Boss. If you use such rough methods again, I won’t take responsibility for this man’s life. This is your second warning.”

And Dr.Tsuke stated calmly. In response,the leader remained stubbornly silent. The doctor shrugged his shoulders.

At that moment, Kido returned. He handed the large-headed hammer to the leader. “Is this really okay?”

“Yeah.”

The leader placed the artificial eye on the table. Then, gripping the hammer in his right hand, he raised it high and attempted to bring it down upon the artificial eye.

“Boss.” “Wait.”

A voice called out. It was Dr. Tsukue. The leader made an unpleasant face and turned his head toward Dr. Tsukue.

“Boss. You’re planning to smash the artificial eye with a hammer to see what’s inside, aren’t you? However, that would be unwise… There’s a risk of damaging the crucial item inside.” “Then what do you suggest we do?” “That Golden Crescent of yours—or whatever you call it—is made of metal, of course. The artificial eye is resin. In that case, by using the X-ray device here to examine the artificial eye, the problem will be solved with utmost ease. Because X-rays easily penetrate resin but do not penetrate gold. Therefore, the golden crescent inside will cast a shadow and appear vividly on the fluorescent screen. How about that? That’s an excellent method, don’t you agree?”

With that, Dr. Tsukue brought out a portable X-ray device from behind and placed it on the table before the leader. This X-ray device was the one used earlier to examine Tokura's chest fracture. “This is a brilliant idea. Then apply X-rays to this and show me.” And the leader requested, surprisingly obediently. “Very well.”

Dr. Tsukue said this and plugged the long cord's plug extending from the device into the power outlet. Then, with a click, he twisted the switch and adjusted the dial. Then, a beautiful fluorescent light illuminated the square screen—approximately thirty centimeters across and equipped with a radiation shield. Between this fluorescent screen and the X-ray tube, Dr. Tsukue inserted his hand. Then, a skeletal wrist appeared on the fluorescent screen. It was Dr. Tsukue's hand.

“You’re all set.” “Insert the artificial eye here.” “Then look through this side at the fluorescent screen—you’ll see it.”

With that, Dr. Tsukue stepped aside and beckoned the leader over.

The leader moved forward to the X-ray device and did exactly as Dr. Tsukue had instructed. The outline of Tokura's artificial eye appeared on the fluorescent screen. But it wasn't only the artificial eye that showed up. The leader's right wrist appeared. A wide band ring worn on one of his fingers also appeared.

“Ah!” The leader exclaimed in a low voice and jerked his hand back. After a moment, the hand gripping the artificial eye reappeared. The fingers bore no ring. The leader swiftly transferred it to his left hand.

“How about that? Can you see it?” asked Dr. Tsukue.

"I don't see anything crescent-shaped." The leader rotated the artificial eye within the X-ray beam, but the prosthesis remained completely transparent, showing no shadow of the golden medal. "Ah, there are no metal fragments inside it." Dr. Tsukue peered at it from the side and said. "But that's impossible."

The leader said in an angry voice, withdrew his hand from the X-ray device, and placed the artificial eye on the table.

With a resounding clang, the artificial eye was smashed by a hammer. The leader, in a fit of rage, had destroyed it. He hadn't believed the results revealed by the X-ray device. Fragments scattered everywhere. Those around gasped and covered their mouths.

But all this revealed was that nothing had been hidden inside the artificial eye. "Uuugh—" the leader groaned. For a time, no one spoke. It was the calm before the storm. Suddenly, the leader puffed out his shoulders and roared.

“Hey, Tokura! Where did you hide the fragment of the Golden Medal?!”

“I know not. “No! Even if I did know, I would never tell a brute like you—not even if it killed me!””

Old Man Tokura opened his remaining eye wide and glared at Yonma. "What I want to know, I will find out—no matter what." "I see." "So your artificial eye was the other one."

As soon as he said this, the leader lunged at Tokura once more. And his fingers attacked Tokura's left eye.

Cat Woman

“Ah! That’s dangerous!” “Hold it!”

It was Dr. Tsukue who shouted. "Danger!" came his loud voice. And abruptly, he grabbed the leader’s wrist and stopped him. "Why stop me?"

“Wait a moment. Tokura’s remaining eye isn’t artificial. That’s his real eye. Even if you tried to pluck it out, do you think it would come loose? If you do this, you’ll only diminish your standing. Leader, it’s your standing that’ll be diminished.”

Even so, the leader kept his grip on Old Man Tokura’s hair and showed no sign of letting go. “Leader, take a good look. You can tell it’s a real eye by looking closely at the eyeball. The pupils contract, and blood vessels run through it.” Having said that, Tsukue held the flashlight close to Tokura’s eye. The leader brought his face close to Tokura's eye. And then he examined it closely. He examined it closely again and again. Apparently, this one was a real eyeball after all.

It was then. The leader's attention suddenly snapped away from Tokura's eyeball. He felt that light was striking his face from below. He was right. A portion of the flashlight Dr. Tsukue held in his hand—whether by accident or design—had slipped beneath the triple-layered veil obscuring the leader's face and was now illuminating his features from below. (Ah!)

"The moment the leader shouted 'You insolent fool!', the flashlight was knocked from Dr. Tsukue's hand. Dr. Tsukue clutched his hand and drew back. Blood plopped from his hand onto the floor."

“Ah, so it was your hand. “I hadn’t noticed that. “Bear with it.” As the leader immediately expressed regret, the murderous tension that had filled the room abruptly eased.

“Hey, Tokura. It’s because you’re so damn stubborn that this mess happened. Out with the hiding place already! Where have you hidden the other half of this golden medal?” The leader pinched the half of the golden medal he had stored away once more with his left fingers and thrust it toward Tokura. Tokura kept glaring at the leader, his mouth pressed into a tight line. “Hurry up and talk. Spit it out.”

It was then.

Suddenly, the lights in the room vanished all at once. A darkness so thick you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face enveloped all present.

Just as someone tried to shout—

“Move, and I’ll shoot.” “Don’t move.” “Turn on the lights and I’ll shoot.” “Don’t turn on the lights.”

Then, a shrill woman’s voice rang out from one corner of the room.

The woman wasn't supposed to be in this room. Everyone found it strange. The woman's voice seemed to come from behind where the leader had stood, on the opposite side from where everyone was gathered.

“Who are you? Name yourself!” The leader’s voice pierced through the darkness. “Don’t talk back. I can see in the dark, you know. If I decide to shoot, I could put a bullet right through your heart. I’m—” As the woman was arrogantly speaking, one of the subordinates froze in place while someone flicked on a flashlight.

And then, without a moment's delay, a deafening gunshot rang out. The flashlight shattered into fragments and scattered. "Ugh..." A heavy thud—the sound of someone collapsing. "Anyone who disobeys ends up like this. If you don't do as I say..."

Undoubtedly, it had been her swift work. Even so, how had that mysterious woman managed to infiltrate this room? It could only be described as strange. The woman's voice seemed to have rung out precisely as the lights went out. Until that moment, the room had been blazing brightly. Under those circumstances, how could she have possibly sneaked in? One would have to say she was like a woman formed from invisible glass.

“Now then, to my business,” the woman’s voice was unnaturally composed.

“Hey, Mr. Boss—hand over that precious half of the golden medal you’ve been guarding to me nice and easy. You won’t say no. Give me your answer quick. My, my—what a pathetic face you’re making. For me, those three layers of silk veil might as well not exist—I can see your ugly mug clear as day.”

She was a woman who claimed to possess eyes that could see in the dark. Faced with this verbal assault, even Leader Yonma was flattened.

“That’s a lie! There’s no way you can see that!” The leader’s voice rang out, his words trembling audibly with anger and fear. “Well, let’s set that aside for now. Hey, Leader. Hand over the golden medal already. Hey, answer me. Answer me...”

The leader’s voice came after a moment.

“Don’t be ridiculous! As if I’d hand it over!”

Then, the woman let out a low, mocking chuckle. "You’re such a fool. Before spouting that nonsense, you should look right above your head." "Everyone else should look too." "What?!" The leader looked up. "Ah! That’s…" About one meter above his head hung a small object shining clearly even in the darkness. After staring intently for a moment, it became clear to everyone that this was half of the golden medal.

“That’s impossible,” said the leader’s voice.

“Ah! It’s gone—the half of the golden medal… When did you steal it?!” “No need for commotion. Move and I’ll shoot. I’ve little patience.” “What manner of creature are you?” “In pitch darkness, I am she called Cat Woman—one who sees. Look—your precious golden medal stirs.”

That was exactly the case. As Cat Woman had said, the Golden Medal began swaying gently through the air. “Don’t move your hands. I’ll finish you off with one shot.” Mystery upon mystery—the golden medal gleamed brilliantly as it flew through the air. The group could only stare up in astonishment at its movement.

Before long, the Golden Medal flying through the air descended smoothly downward like a meteor. The moment it did, the door slammed shut with a bang.

“Ah!” The group ducked their heads.

Then, the leader’s booming voice erupted at the entrance. “Damn! “She got away! “She locked it from the other side! “Hey! Turn on the lights! “Turn on the flashlights! “It’s fine. “That woman left from here. “And we’re trapped in this room!”

The leader bellowed.

At that moment, the electric light suddenly turned on. It was dazzlingly bright. The group looked. They saw the Boss grasping the handle of the door leading to the next room, groaning as he strained against it. "Oh, Boss!" "Everyone, come here! Pry this door open. It doesn't matter if it breaks!"

With that, the Boss released the door and pointed.

There, the subordinates gathered and slammed their bodies against the door with a heavy thud. On the second, third, and fourth attempts, the door's lock broke, and the door flung open to the other side. "Now!" With the Boss leading the way, the subordinates followed, rushing from there into the next room.

Suddenly, the room fell silent.

The only ones remaining were Dr. Tsukue—gaunt as a crane—and old man Tokura, bound to a wheelchair.

The old man had lost consciousness.

Dr. Tsukue looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. "Hmm... This is strange." "It can't possibly be the work of monsters or spirits..."

With that, he thrust both hands into his trouser pockets with a dubious expression.

Strange Noises in the Dead of Night

Now, the story shifted to Haruki and Ushimaru.

As you are all aware, Haruki Kiyoshi had built a campfire before Ikoma Waterfall and spent that night there. As for Ushimaru-kun—being familiar with this mountain path—he managed to painstakingly make his way back to town despite traveling along dark roads.

Ushimaru-kun was scolded by his parents. Because his return home was so late, it was only natural that he would be scolded.

He, knowing that Haruki-kun had not come to his house, went to the home of Haruki-kun’s aunt—where he usually stayed—just to be sure.

However, Haruki-kun still hadn't returned—she had been worried about that—the aunt said with a furrowed brow.

Then a great commotion ensued. Classmates and their parents were summoned. The number reached a little over twenty people.

The group climbed into the dark mountains carrying lanterns and flashlights, holding drums, wooden clappers, and flutes. “Lost child, lost child! Haruki-kun! Hey!” Even as society progresses, the calls to search for missing children have remained unchanged since ancient times.

“Lost child, lost child! Haruki-kun! Hey!” Boom-boom-boom, boom-boom-boom. Clackety-clack, clack-clack! The lively group climbing up the mountain discovered a campfire before Ikoma Waterfall. Drawing courage from this sight, they approached—only to find Haruki-kun himself sleeping soundly by the flames in perfect comfort. They patted their chests in relief: *Thank goodness*. The two boys were scolded anew, came down the mountain, and safely returned to their respective homes.

The very next day, news about the two boys had spread throughout town, escalating into such an uproar that even their homeroom teacher came from school—leaving these usually carefree lads thoroughly cowed. The matter of the Ikoma Waterfall incident, having leaked from the boys' own accounts, eventually reached the police station and prompted an official investigation. The two boys accompanied them to the scene as witnesses. Machine gun bullets were discovered, but whether washed away by rain or not, the bloodstains couldn't be clearly identified.

The matter of the helicopter arriving and performing that daring mid-air hoisting maneuver existed solely in the Ushimaru boy's account, with nothing to prove it. All they could do was agree to stay cautious next time they saw such things flying.

Haruki Kiyoshi never spoke about the golden medal and related matters entrusted to him by old man Tokura. He never spoke to Ushimaru about it either. He thought he wanted to thoroughly research this matter himself first, as much as he possibly could. Once he had done that, it would be better to speak up. When the time came, he intended to tell Ushimaru too. After all, according to the dying words old man Tokura had left him, the golden medal affair was an extreme secret—once you carelessly let slip any connection to it, you were certain to meet with unforeseen terrible consequences. Indeed, the brutal mortal injuries sustained by that kind old man, followed by the menacing helicopter abduction Ushimaru-kun had witnessed firsthand, had made Haruki Kiyoshi wary—this was not something to be carelessly spoken of.

However, Haruki Kiyoshi could not keep strictly sealed away in his desk drawer's depths forever—the fragment of the golden medal that was the key to this mystery-shrouded treasure and the charred remnant of a silk handkerchief covered in tiny letters. It was on the evening of the third day that Haruki-kun entered his study, shut the door firmly behind him, locked it, drew the curtains over the window, then took out and opened beneath his desk lamp's light the package containing those two treasure keys. The glittering crescent-shaped gold fragment and partially burnt piece of silk handkerchief both remained intact.

“Ah, they were still intact.”

With that, Haruki Kiyoshi pressed a hand to his chest. Heh heh heh. Ever since that incident, I've become strangely neurotic. This thing means nothing. It's just like a toy. That old man Tokura must have lost his mind. Now feeling completely opposite to before, he gazed foolishly at the two treasure keys.

"But is this really gold?" He picked up the golden medal and ran his fingers over it. Quite beautiful. And heavy. It looked like gold after all. If this was gold, selling just this much would bring in serious money. (Might as well sell it off.) If I sold it, all these complications would vanish. That's it—soon I'll quietly show it to a jeweler, and if the price is good, I'll sell it right then. As he was thinking this, a low, droning growl pierced the night's stillness, coming from a corner of the sky.

Haruki jolted, his eyes flashing.

"A plane is flying," he thought. "It can't be the helicopter from before..." When he listened carefully, the sound seemed different from a normal airplane's drone. "Ah! A helicopter! This isn't good!"

He twisted the switch on the desk lamp and plunged the room into darkness. Then, groping blindly, he wrapped the two treasure keys and shoved them back into the depths of the drawer as before.

The sound of the helicopter seemed to be gradually drawing closer. Haruki Kiyoshi was suddenly seized by terror and began trembling violently. I see. They're here to steal my golden medal. There's no doubt about it. Haruki Kiyoshi thought.

This was dire. He recalled how at Ikoma Waterfall, old man Tokura who had desperately protected that golden medal had suffered terrible treatment at the villains' hands. Then he remembered how the helicopter that had suddenly descended before the waterfall unleashed furious machine gun fire upon the collapsed Tokura before finally hoisting him up and flying away. This was something he had heard from Ushimaru-kun, but it was likely true. They were utterly ruthless in their methods, those villains. They were formidable villains who freely utilized cutting-edge vehicles and murderous instruments, never resting until they achieved their objectives.

"Someone like me... I can't possibly win against them. It'd be safer to just obediently hand over the Golden Medal." Haruki Kiyoshi realized the foolishness of resistance. But he seethed with frustration.

...Wait. Old man Tokura had risked his life trying to keep the golden medal from those villains. Since he entrusted it to me... shouldn't I protect this with my life too?

The boy's resolve had shifted. Then the terror drained away like mist.

"Alright. "I'll run as far as I can!"

Haruki reconsidered. Then he retrieved the Golden Medal and silk cloth he had previously stored away, quickly stuffed them into his pants pocket, and slipped out through the back door. The helicopter drew nearer. He couldn't tell if they were signal lights or marker lights, but colored electric lights glowed in the darkness. Haruki ducked his head and dove into the wall's shadow. The waning gibbous moon illuminated everything - moving undetected would require extreme caution.

To avoid being spotted from the helicopter, he wove through the night town along the walls and fled toward the hills.

After going about two hundred meters, the terrain beyond suddenly rose sharply into a steep cliff. Atop the cliff stood a small Inari shrine. Lately neglected, its roof was torn and eaves sagged—a shrine left completely unguarded. Haruki deliberately avoided climbing the stone steps and instead ascended a steep path overgrown with grass that ran along the side. This was, of course, to avoid being seen.

After reaching the top of the cliff, he felt relieved. This place was safe for now.

For this was the base of the mountain where the slope fell away sharply. Ancient trees densely surrounded the Inari Shrine, their branches spreading so thickly they left no gaps between them. Moreover, the shrine precincts themselves were severely cramped. Here, even if the helicopter attempted to land, its rotor blades would collide with the mountain trees, rendering success nearly impossible. It was based on this reasoning that Haruki had scrambled up to the Inari Shrine atop the cliff.

The Horrifying Incident

The horrifying incident had, by this time, already mostly concluded.

At that very moment, its final touches were being carried out.

Now, what exactly was this incident?

As the helicopter gradually drew closer, Haruki grew anxious. If the helicopter continued flying in this direction, it would undoubtedly collide with the mountain behind the Inari Shrine. Haruki even thought his presence there had truly been discovered by the helicopter. However, the helicopter did not fly all the way to the Inari Shrine. Around what seemed to be a gravelly riverside area along its path, it began its signature hovering maneuver.

The riverside was visible to Haruki's right from where he stood, but the river—originating from the Shibahara Water Source Area with its meager flow—eventually joined the Minato River.

"What could they be planning?"

Haruki cautiously rose up from the shadow of the grove atop the cliff and kept watch in that direction.

Then he noticed four or five figures clustered together walking on the opposite bank of the riverbed. They were walking upstream. However, they suddenly turned back. The shadows grew longer. At the front, a small shadow was running.

That small shadow began climbing the stone steps of a certain house. Then the pursuing group converged upon that small shadow. The group of figures began walking upstream along the bank once more, just as they had before. They were clustered together. And the small shadow appeared to be being carried above their heads.

At that moment, Haruki jolted.

"Ah, that house is Ushimaru-kun’s. …Then, could it be— “Wasn’t that small figure Ushimaru-kun?” Though he couldn't pinpoint why, both Ushimaru-kun and he had become entangled with the helicopter gang these past days, and he couldn't shake the feeling they were always being watched.

Therefore, Haruki immediately concluded that Ushimaru-kun had been kidnapped. And that was truly a correct observation.

The group of suspicious men who had abducted Ushimaru-kun soon descended into the white riverbed. There, as if perfectly arranged for their purpose, a helicopter waited above with what looked like a rope or rope ladder lowered.

He saw them latch onto the ladder and gradually get hauled upward. There was a single figure remaining on the riverbed, but it was a large figure and did not appear to be Ushimaru-kun. At this very moment, Ushimaru-kun must have been bound with ropes just like old man Tokura had been and was rapidly being hauled up into the helicopter.

The helicopter executed this daring maneuver with nimble precision and immediately began climbing rapidly. "You monsters!" Haruki burned with fury. But what could he possibly do?

The opponents used the advanced tools of civilization we didn't have to do as they pleased. There's nothing I can do.

The helicopter rapidly soared upward, then just as he'd anticipated, crossed over the mountain and disappeared northward.

(It's over. Ah, poor Ushimaru-kun! …But what do those villains intend by kidnapping you? You have nothing to do with this...)

The boy Haruki thought this and felt his heart ache a little. It was because he had realized that Ushimaru-kun had been kidnapped in his place. *After all, their goal must be searching for the Golden Medal.* *Back then at Ikoma Waterfall, I had already received the Golden Medal from old man Tokura, and following his instructions, hid in the shadow of a rock to avoid being spotted by the helicopter.*

However, there was a large hole there, and he fell into it.

After that, Ushimaru-kun arrived. And he had been spotted by the villains aboard the helicopter. After old man Tokura was kidnapped and they examined him for the Golden Medal but found nothing, they must have concluded he'd passed it to that boy—after all, given Tokura's serious injuries, he couldn't have moved from where he'd collapsed. It was from this line of thinking that the villains had come to abduct Ushimaru-kun tonight—or so Haruki pieced together his reasoning.

After that came a new anxiety crawling up his spine. "If those villains investigate Ushimaru-kun and find out he knows nothing about the Golden Medal," "What'll they do next? They might come to kidnap me this time!" "No—it wasn't just 'might.' They'll definitely come after me!" he realized with chilling certainty.

“Ugh... This is bad.”

The boy Haruki shuddered. How could he survive? How could he stay safe?

It seemed that seeking police protection would be the best course of action.

"But wait." Receiving police protection would be fine, but that would mean the Golden Medal becoming publicly known. That would likely go against old man Tokura's wishes. Moreover, he felt it would be a shame to rashly reveal to the world this mysterious treasure he had painstakingly kept secret until now. Once that began and spread worldwide, treasure hunters would proliferate everywhere competing for it, and ultimately that treasure would never come rolling into Haruki's hands - or anywhere near him.

The boy Haruki, driven by a very human desire, decided to delay handing over the Golden Medal to the police a while longer. But if that’s how it is, how can I stay safe? Isn't there a way to keep both my life safe and the Golden Medal secure?

As he pondered this, a window in the school building below suddenly lit up.

Sumire Gakuen

That was the school building of Sumire Gakuen. Sumire Gakuen was a renowned private school that maintained classes ranging from kindergarten through high school. Though each class had few students, employed many teachers, and charged quite expensive tuition, the pupils educated there were truly outstanding; consequently, applicants gathered in numbers five to six times greater each year.

The light had come on in the indoor gymnasium. Specifically, a light had come on in one of the second-floor rooms. The exercise area spanned continuously from floor to ceiling across both levels, with several small rooms additionally attached to both the first and second floors. The first floor contained storage rooms for sports equipment and the like, while the second floor housed a night duty room beyond the library records room. Currently occupying this night duty room was Ms. Tachibana Katsumi, the physical education teacher. As Ms. Tachibana commuted by train from a distant location, she stayed overnight here whenever she had classes scheduled the following day.

Though Ms. Tachibana wasn't a teacher at his own school, the boy Haruki remembered having seen her before. After all, Ms. Tachibana was a conspicuously noticeable woman. She stood approximately five feet five inches tall with a slender figure defined by graceful lines. Her features were perfectly symmetrical, though perhaps owing to her teaching profession, her countenance carried an air of cool detachment. The boy Haruki had immediately recognized the teacher's face because during his time living in Tokyo, there had been a woman in his neighborhood who bore a striking resemblance to this Ms. Tachibana.

The children around here called Ms. Tachibana "Tachimen." This was because her long body resembled a silvery ribbon fish called tachi; given that she was female—and locals referred to females as 'men'—this combination created 'Tachi-men,' thus earning her the nickname Tachimen.

The boy Haruki wondered why Ms. Tachibana would be awake at this hour. He also considered whether someone other than the teacher might have turned on the light. Yet at that very moment, Ms. Tachibana's face materialized at the window. After peering briefly outside, she hastily drew the curtains shut. Though glimpsed only momentarily, this could be none other than Ms. Tachimen.

"That's it! I'll have Ms.Tachimen keep this Golden Medal for me. Ms.Tachimen may be a woman,but since she’s a physical education teacher she must be strong,and if I ask her to keep the secret she’ll probably agree. If I did that,both I and the Golden Medal would be safe indeed."

Haruki hit upon that idea. He was about to set out with that intention when suddenly the situation changed. This was because he could see a commotion unfolding in front of Ushimaru-kun’s house across the river. Apparently, the family members had rushed outside and seemed to be seeking help. The family members must have been tied up by the villains inside the house until now and couldn't untie the ropes. "This is bad. I can't stay like this." "I need to go immediately and tell the family members what I just saw."

This matter required immediate attention. The boy Haruki started running but came back once again. He hurriedly dug around the base of the towering muku tree there with whatever stone fragments he could find. After a while, when he stopped digging, a hole had been dug at the base. The boy Haruki searched his pocket and took out the Golden Medal and the remnants of the silk handkerchief. Then he wrapped them in tissue paper. He put the package into the hole. Then, he began rapidly covering it with soil. Then, he placed a round stone about the size of a lunchbox on top and firmly stamped down the surrounding soil.

"Well, I'll leave it like this for now. Otherwise, when I went to Ushimaru-kun’s house—if any villains had stayed behind and caught me—they’d take away the precious treasure."

The boy Haruki remained thoroughly cautious.

That was how it was. He couldn't afford to let his guard down. Just moments earlier, the helicopter had hoisted up Ushimaru-kun and his companion before soaring skyward—but hadn't there been one figure remaining alone on the riverbank then? Though unclear who it was, this could only be an accomplice of the villains. This person had vanished afterward, but might reappear at any moment. He might very well be lurking behind some nearby wall, surveilling Ushimaru-kun's house. If that were true, then bringing the precious treasure there would be ill-advised—so reasoned the boy Haruki.

The Golden Medal separated from the boy Haruki's body, leaving him unburdened. He slid down the cliff path as if gliding on ice and sprinted toward Ushimaru-kun's house. Arriving breathless at Ushimaru-kun's house, he found exactly what he'd dreaded. Ushimaru-kun's parents were making a frenzied commotion as if possessed. Neighbors gradually clustered around the scene. Soon engine noises announced the police squad's arrival by car.

According to Ushimaru-kun’s father, four suspicious men had entered and threatened them with a pistol. It was just like a robbery. Then they seized Ushimaru-kun and said they had some business and needed him to come with them, that his life wasn’t in danger so he shouldn’t worry, but if he didn’t obey, he’d regret it, before taking him outside. The family members had been threatened with a pistol and bound tightly with ropes, so they couldn’t rescue Ushimaru-kun.

The subsequent events unfolded exactly as the boy Haruki had witnessed them from the moonlit cliff of the Inari shrine. "If the police don't come sooner, it's no good."

“If the police don’t come sooner, it’s no good,” a neighbor said.

“That’s right! And bringing cars won’t help either! Since the perpetrators used planes to kidnap him, if the police don’t chase them with planes right away, they’ll never catch them—no matter how long they try!” another person said.

That was exactly right. However, it appeared the police had circumstances preventing them from acting so briskly. The boy Haruki offered his condolences to Ushimaru-kun’s parents and said goodbye. He thought they might bring up the recent climb up Kannuki Mountain, but neither of the parents mentioned anything about that matter. Rather than that, they were desperately pleading with the police to get their son back as soon as possible.

The Bearded Man’s Appearance

At the Inari shrine atop the cliff, after the boy Haruki had buried the Golden Medal and left, something strange occurred.

It was then that a single figure lumbered out from within the dilapidated small shrine of the Inari deity. The figure first stretched out both hands with a grunt,

“Ahh... Ahh... Aaah—” he let out a huge yawn. Where the moonlight illuminated him, his face was covered in unkempt stubble, his hair disheveled. Though he wore multiple layers on his torso, his pants, jacket, and coat were all dreadful—countless holes peppered the fabric, frayed seams hung in tatters, and rags dangled loosely from the tears. The coat appeared to have no buttons and was bound from above with a rope like a band. He was a vagrant.

“I’ve been watchin’... that brat did some weird shit. Just what’d that brat bury at the base of that tree? I’ll take a quick look. If this is edible, I’m gonna have myself a feast right now.”

Seeming to feel hungry, the bearded man licked his lips and descended. Then, lumbering his way, he headed to the Japanese hackberry tree on the cliff’s edge.

He immediately discovered the buried spot. Of course—the boy Haruki had just stamped down on the spot moments earlier, so with careful searching, it immediately caught the eye.

_Aha._ “So this stone’s the marker, eh?”

The bearded man kicked the stone away, squatted down there, and began clawing out the soil with both hands. Before long, he grasped the object he sought and stood up. "What the... this is..." He stared at it in disbelief. With a look of disappointment, he opened the paper package and peered inside, but being unable to discern its true nature, he kept hold of it and headed back toward the shrine. Passing under the shrine’s tilted roof and entering through the lattice, there was a wooden floor spanning about three tatami mats before the enshrined sacred object, with a torn straw mat spread across it. This was the bedroom of the bearded man—Anegawa Goro.

He plopped down onto the straw mat, reached toward the corner and fumbled around until his hand closed around a ship's lantern. He struck a match and lit it. The shrine was flooded with light too extravagant for its dilapidated state. Under this illumination, he opened the paper package. Out came a piece of burned silk cloth. He unfolded it carelessly. This time, the Golden Medal emerged. Startled by its bright glint, he placed it on his palm, flipped it over repeatedly, and stared intently.

The burned silk cloth fragment left the man’s hand along with the paper and, caught by a sudden gust of wind, fluttered away to tumble into the distance. Had old man Tokura and the boy Haruki witnessed this scene, they would surely have been shocked and given chase. "What the hell’s this?" The crescent-shaped Golden Medal tumbled wildly across Anegawa’s palm, but its true nature appeared beyond the comprehension of this bearded man.

“It’s shiny, but this is just gold-plated. And since it’s only half, you can’t sell it.” “Ah, all that trouble for nothing?” “Total loss.” The bearded man threw the Golden Medal onto the straw mat in irritation and then abruptly blew out the lantern. And he plopped down. Before long, loud snores could be heard. Suppressing his hunger, the bearded gentleman fell asleep.

Several hours later, dawn broke.

The bearded man, Anegawa Goro, was an early riser. Of course, the morning sun streamed through the crack in the shrine's roof directly onto his face first thing, making it too bright for him to stay asleep.

He sat up on the straw mat, let out three or four big yawns in a row, and vigorously scratched his body. Then, he absentmindedly glanced around his surroundings. Then, something glinted, striking his bloodshot eyes.

“What? “Ah, last night’s scrap metal?” “Trying to scare me, huh?” He muttered to himself, reached out his hand, and picked up the Golden Medal from the straw mat. And under the morning sunlight, he flipped it over front to back again and again, examining it. “Ain’t bad for gold-plated.” “No way this is real gold, right?” “Hey there, Mr. Scrap Metal—quit trying to spook me.” “I might not look it, but I got a weak heart, y’know.” He took the Golden Medal in hand and glanced around. The lantern caught his eye. He pulled it closer and scratched the Golden Medal with its corner. The medal yielded easily to being carved with grooves, revealing a fresh layer beneath. Anegawa Goro held it up to the sun, eyes wide as he stared intently.

“Well well.” “It’s gold-plated through and through!” “The finish is remarkably meticulous… Wait wait.” This might actually be real gold. If that was true，this was something remarkable. Even if he sold it off cheaply，it would get him about a month’s drinking money. Strike while the iron was hot. “I should get going right away.”

Anegawa stuffed the Golden Medal into his pocket. Then he untied the rope around his waist and tossed off his coat. Then he reached up toward the ceiling, rummaged around in the ceiling space, retrieved the jacket hidden there, and put it on over his undershirt. Then he reached into the ceiling space once more and pulled out a hat. From how he placed it on his unkempt hair, though its shape was ruined, it was a sailor’s hat. Then he took out a pair of torn shoes from the offertory box, slipped them onto his feet, gave his pants a firm shake, and leisurely descended the stone steps.

Unaware that such a major incident had occurred, the boy Haruki came up to the Inari shrine around eight o'clock. Last night, he had buried the treasure at the base of the zelkova tree, but to check whether he had done it properly, he had climbed up the cliff early that morning and come here.

“Agh!” His eyes immediately detected something wrong. The base of the zelkova tree had been mercilessly dug up. The boy Haruki turned pale and rushed over there. (They got me.) He knelt on the dirt and probed through the dug-up hole, but there was no trace of what he had buried last night. When he looked beside him, the round stone he had placed as a marker lay discarded. He was crushed. He remained sitting flat on the ground, and for a while, didn’t even have the strength to get up.

(I messed up.) I should've kept it hidden deep in my desk after all. Panicking and taking it out, carelessly burying it in a place like this—I'd done something unthinkable. Even though Old Man Tokura had gone through the trouble to give it to me, I'd wasted it. ...But who had dug it up and taken it from here? From the depths of his crushing disappointment, the boy Haruki finally regained his composure and stood up. (I really want to get it back somehow.) (It's still too early to despair.)

The boy, having grasped a thread of deduction and now seeking to trace that thread back to the culprit, began meandering through the shrine grounds—when he noticed fresh footprints leading from the front of the small shrine toward his position.

This might be it. He tensed. He peered into the small shrine.

As a result, he discovered Anegawa Goro’s bedroom.

"I was careless. "I got spotted by the guy who was here!" Tears of frustration wet the boy Haruki's cheeks. It was a failure he couldn’t bring himself to accept, no matter how much he berated himself. Wondering if perhaps the Golden Medal might still be hidden somewhere inside the small shrine, he climbed into the shrine and conducted a thorough search. But there was no way such a thing could have remained there. However, he discovered a scorched fragment of silk cloth caught in the shrine's broken hole and cried out in joy.

He had thought he’d lost both the Golden Medal and the cloth fragment, but considered it a small mercy that at least the burnt cloth fragment had come back into his hands. From now on, he thought, he must carefully preserve this burnt cloth fragment and ensure nothing like this ever happened again.

Anegawa Goro, grasping the Golden Medal—where had he gone?

One of the two split Golden Medals had slipped away from the boy Haruki’s grasp in this manner. The other had passed from the hands of Yonma Kenshaku, leader of the Mutsu Yamasai Fortress, into those of Cat Woman. After this, what paths would these two precious Golden Medals take? When would the two fragments of the medal come together?

Nevertheless, what could be the mystery concealed within this Golden Medal? The incident was finally ascending to its main stage.

The young detective lamented. Haruki was utterly crushed by disappointment.

He no longer wanted to do anything. He realized that not a single thing he did was going well. He became completely demoralized.

The precious half of the Golden Medal that the dying Old Man Tokura had risked his life to entrust to the boy Haruki! That was now no longer in his hands. (I thought since it was Lord Inari, he would protect it from thieves...) He had buried it at the base of the tree in the shrine grounds - that had marked the end of his luck. Someone had promptly dug it up and taken it away. (It must have been that man living in the small shrine.) From then on, the boy Haruki repeatedly climbed Inari Shrine's cliff and stealthily peered at the small shrine from behind. But no matter how many times he looked, all he ever saw was the torn mat left spread out - the man himself was nowhere to be seen.

Haruki was disappointed, but he resolved to go back there again and again to check.

The theft of the Golden Medal was a major incident that left him bitterly frustrated, but an even greater incident that echoed throughout the entire town was the kidnapping of Ushimaru Heitarou, the boy, by helicopter. After all, the kidnapping had been carried out with such callously bold audacity that both parents and neighbors were left utterly helpless—right before their eyes as they watched in stunned disbelief, he was hoisted up into the helicopter and whisked away into the sky.

The police force arrived too late. Even if they had made it in time, there would still have been nothing they could have done. A police force without airplanes was helpless. Because Ushimaru Heitarou was a boy cherished by all, the kidnapping incident sent shockwaves through the community. What’s more, when Haruki-kun had previously gone missing in the mountains during that earlier incident, it was Ushimaru-kun who had been first to sound the alarm—a fact ensuring widespread familiarity with Ushimaru the boy.

As for Haruki, having his closest friend subjected to such a terrible ordeal left him bitterly frustrated. Therefore, he had even gone so far as to submit a formal request to his teacher to be included in the search team.

“Ah, I see. That’s commendable. Last time, Ushimaru-kun informed us of Haruki-kun’s distress. This time, as repayment for that favor, Haruki-kun will be searching for Ushimaru-kun—is that the idea? That's truly commendable.”

With that, Haruki’s homeroom teacher Kanaya-sensei praised him. "Sensei. "Why was Ushimaru-kun kidnapped?"

At that moment, Haruki asked the teacher. "I just can't figure that out. Since Ushimaru-kun's family is an old established house, they might have thought there was a ton of money. In that case, a threatening letter will surely come later." "Is it a threatening letter?" "Yeah. A threatening letter saying something like, 'If you want Ushimaru Heitarou to live, bring one million yen to [location] on [date]—' that sort of thing. But the truth is, Ushimaru-kun's family is actually poor, so they don't have such a large sum of money, you know. If they think that, it's just the thieves' misconception."

Kanaya-sensei seemed to know the inner workings of Ushimaru-kun's household well.

“Then why was Ushimaru-kun kidnapped?” “I can’t say.” “Ushimaru-kun isn’t some exceptionally handsome boy like you... Ah—you wouldn’t happen to have any clues about this yourself?” “If you do, spit it out.”

With that, Kanaya-sensei stared fixedly at Haruki’s face. At that moment, Haruki considered bringing up the incident at Ikoma Waterfall. He had wanted to suggest that perhaps they had been targeted by helicopters since that incident. However, Haruki thought that if he were to mention that, he would end up wanting to reveal everything about the Golden Medal as well. The Golden Medal was no longer in his possession. He felt that everything since then was connected by some suspicious thread. In that case, wouldn't it be better to just confess everything to the teacher here and now?

But in the end, Haruki never spoke of it.

The reason was that when he tried to speak, Tachibana Katsumi-sensei happened to be passing by nearby. This female teacher was employed at Sumire Academy but frequently visited various other schools. And she would talk about gymnastics and teach new gymnastics techniques and athletic events. "Oh, Ms. Tachibana," Kanaya-sensei called out.

“Oh, Kanaya-sensei. What brings you to a place like this?” With that, Ms. Tachibana approached. Haruki bowed and stepped away from the two teachers. Thus he missed his chance to speak about the Golden Medal.

Though Haruki couldn't hear it at that moment, God wore a faint smile around His mouth, and the Devil clicked his tongue in slight annoyance.

Why was that?

The wording on the silk handkerchief

That night twice and three times again the following morning—Haruki Kiyoshi scouted the Inari shrine.

However, he could not catch sight of the vagrant he had hoped to find. That vagrant never returned to the bedding inside this shrine that night. (Why hasn't he come back? Perhaps he went to sell that Golden Medal, got money from it, and that's why he hasn't come back?) Haruki Kiyoshi’s deductions were sharp, hitting precisely upon Anegawa Goro’s intentions to a certain extent.

This was bad. If it had been sold, he needed to hurry and track down where it had gone before it was too late. But to ask about that required the vagrant's return—without him coming back, there was no way to find out. He was once again filled with regret over yesterday's failure. (If I keep dawdling, things will only get worse!)

The boy, too, clearly understood the matter.

That’s right. What a fool I had been. "If it was going to be stolen, I should have copied that cipher-like text from the Golden Medal onto another piece of paper." Ah, how late I had been in realizing that. The Golden Medal was no longer in Haruki Kiyoshi’s possession. I hadn’t been careful enough at all. I hadn’t wanted anyone to see it, thinking to keep it safe and secure, so I’d stored away the Golden Medal’s cipher text without even properly examining it.

There was a handkerchief. Characters were written on that too. That was it—the handkerchief might get stolen anytime. He needed to transcribe its text immediately. Haruki had finally regained his focus on core objectives. Yet this clarity came only after two catastrophic missteps during his investigation.

That night, the boy spread out that charred remnant of the silk handkerchief under the light.

Unfortunately, only about a quarter or a fifth of it remained. But even so, this was a crucial clue. Now, he began to read, but the characters written on the silk handkerchief—rendered in thin brushstrokes and skillfully cursive—proved quite difficult to decipher.

However, the boy overcame those difficulties, repeatedly consulting his dictionary, and somehow managed to piece together and read the characters at least for now.

What kind of phrases, one wonders, had been inscribed there?

Only fourteen lines remained. Yet not even a single line remained fully intact to its end. However, the beginnings of the lines were all present. It was a sequence of characters as follows: Heza………………………………

taru……………………………… Two combined…………………………… Treasure stored………………………… the method of opening the… ri… Oktan and He………………

...did not cooperate………………… the Golden Medal that... ...sent assassins and... The fallen Golden Medal was hidden…………… ...and thereafter went missing………… The fragment here is O…………… As for this fragment, I... underground... ...I obtained this in...

"What does this mean? I can't make any sense of it at all."

Haruki Kiyoshi was filled with regret. If he hadn't burned it so badly in the campfire at Ikoma Waterfall, he could have read a complete passage and would probably be dancing with joy over a major discovery by now. "No, I won't dwell on regrets anymore. From these charred remnants of phrases, I will extract and reveal the significant meaning contained in the entire text."

He grew excited. Repeatedly, he muttered these fragmented phrases under his breath. He racked his brain. His head burned like fire.

Before long, he seemed to grasp a hint. "There are two people who each had one half of this Golden Medal." “One was called Oktan, and the other was called Heza…” As for Oktan and Heza something-or-other—though Heza’s full name remained unknown. In any case, if these two people each held one half of the Golden Medal, then reading this text would make sense.

Emboldened by this breakthrough, the young detective pressed further with his deductions.

Then came the discovery of the second clue. "When you combine those two Golden Medals," he realized with growing excitement, "they show how to open where the treasure's hidden."

From the third, fourth, and fifth lines, he felt he had managed to extract this much meaning. If this assumption was correct, then after obtaining both halves of the Golden Medal, they would have to be combined and examined. The cipher-like characters engraved on the back of the medal apparently formed complete meaning when both halves were combined, revealing how to open the treasure vault. The young detective, now fully energized, proceeded to analyze what came next.

The sixth through eleventh lines did not seem particularly important, but their meaning appeared to be: Oktan and a certain Heza—each holding one half of the Golden Medal—had been on such hostile terms that they refused to cooperate, instead dispatching assassins to steal the half possessed by their rival. This resulted in one of the two men meeting his death. And thus one half vanished—

That must be what happened. "No—if one of them sent assassins to kill the other and took their half of the Golden Medal, that half would become their possession. It shouldn't go missing." This didn't add up. "I need to reconsider."

He reconsidered everything from every angle, teetering on the brink of comprehension, yet no satisfactory answer emerged. The young detective was thoroughly irritated, but by that point, his mind simply wouldn’t work any further.

Then, from the last three lines, he deduced the following. This fragment—namely, the half-piece that Tokura Yasomarou possessed—was the half that Oktan had held, and he—that is, Tokura Yasomarou—had unearthed this from underground. At last, he had managed to understand this much. He couldn’t determine who exactly Oktan and a certain Heza were. This must have been explained in the earlier part of the text. Because that section had burned away, the text abruptly introduced the names Oktan and a certain Heza without clarifying who they were, their relationship, or the era in which they lived.

It later became clear that Haruki’s deductions—interpreted in this manner—had correctly deciphered roughly seventy percent of the original text’s meaning. As a young detective，this was a passing grade.

From this point onward, he decided to base his subsequent activities on the aforementioned interpretation; however, there was in fact one more thing he had considered. It was:

Heza someone was killed by assassins sent by Oktan, and the half of the Golden Medal that Heza possessed went missing. Oktan attempted to search for the treasure using the half he possessed, but it did not go well. He died filled with regret. Therefore, the world's great treasure has not been discovered and remains preserved in its original location—

First, he had arrived at this line of reasoning. Therefore, Oktan was a very bad person. Heza someone was a pitiable man. And the bereaved family or subordinates of a certain Heza resented Oktan, but in their hands remained the half-piece of the Golden Medal that Oktan had failed to seize. If there was someone who possessed that fan-shaped half-piece, that person must be connected to a certain Heza’s bereaved family or subordinates—so Haruki Kiyoshi thought.

Whether this was correct would be of great interest to you, dear readers. For you, dear readers, already know facts that Haruki Kiyoshi does not yet know—such as Yonma Kenshaku and Cat Woman.

A clean solitary cell

The pitiable one was Ushimaru Heitarou, the boy who had been taken from his home by helicopter.

When he was taken aboard the helicopter, he had already lost consciousness. So he didn’t clearly remember what happened after that. When he came to, he was lying on a hard bed. Surprised, he sat up. His body ached all over. “Oh, this is…”

It was a brightly lit, narrow room, but instead of a door, iron bars were fitted across the entrance. It was a prison cell. The bed had been installed in the corner of the room and doubled as a seat.

"What are they planning to do by locking me up in a place like this?"

Ushimaru went to the iron bars and tested whether they would open. It was no use. On the outside of the iron bars, he could see a sturdy lock hanging. In front of the iron bars was a corridor. And directly ahead was nothing but a wall.

Wondering if there was anywhere he could escape from, Ushimaru looked around the entire room. There was only a small air vent on the ceiling. Even attempting to get out through there was impossible for a human. A small cat might have been able to get out, but Ushimaru was not a cat.

The ceiling was high. In the room, there was nothing besides the bed. No, there was one. It was a toilet.

Ushimaru was kept confined in this room for what felt like an eternity. Here, he couldn't discern the passage of time at all, but when a man who seemed to be a jailer came and pushed a meal through the iron-barred window, he understood morning must have arrived.

The jailer was a man around fifty years old, as doughy and round as a potato. Even when Ushimaru spoke to him, the jailer merely shook his head from side to side and did not respond.

When the jailer brought lunch, Ushimaru spoke to him again. The jailer shook his head side to side in the same manner and pointed to his own ears and mouth with his finger, (I can't hear and can't speak.) conveyed through gestures. At dinner time, when Ushimaru tried to speak to him, the jailer glared at him with frightening eyes. And he glanced around uneasily. And once again, he made a terrifying face, opened his mouth wide, and tried to intimidate the boy Ushimaru.

Ushimaru was disappointed. Having lost all hope, he threw himself face down on the bed and wailed. But there was no one who came to comfort him about it. He appeared utterly exhausted and seemed to have fallen asleep in that very position. “Wake up. Hey, wake up, kid!” At the rough voice, Ushimaru finally awoke.

“Get up. It’s the Boss’s summons. Come along quietly now.” The young man said this and clamped handcuffs onto Ushimaru’s wrists with a metallic click. Ushimaru was escorted out of the prison cell.

Surrounded on all sides, Ushimaru was made to walk down a long corridor before being put into an elevator and taken upward. Throughout this journey he kept surveying his surroundings vigilantly, though what he saw appeared to be a remarkably well-built structure. He never imagined this was the underground lair of Mutsu Yamasai Fortress - hidden deep within Kannuki Mountain's innermost reaches.

“Boss. I have brought Ushimaru Heitarou.” The young man brought the boy into the large room where Boss Yonma Kenshaku was waiting. The boy Ushimaru saw the person known as the Boss there for the first time.

At the front of a room lavishly decorated in Chinese style, where a raised platform had been constructed and upon it sat an imposing great chair adorned with dragon carvings, the mysterious masked figure seated imposingly could only belong to Boss Yonma Kenshaku. On either side of him, four or five figures who appeared to be subordinates stood lined up. The face of Kido, serving in a secretarial capacity, was visible among them. Dr. Tsukue’s lanky form was also present in their ranks. The Boss shouted from behind his mask.

“Right. “Nami, wait there on standby.” “Kido.” “Bring that boy before me.” “I’ll speak to him directly.”

The young man turned his back to the entrance and stood still. Kido stepped forward, grabbed the boy Ushimaru by the shoulder, and led him before the Boss. “Don’t handle him roughly.”

The Boss cautioned Kido.

“Now then, Ushimaru Heitarou. There was something I wanted to ask you—that’s why I had you brought all this way. You will answer my questions truthfully. If you lie, you’ll receive terrible punishment—so don’t even think about lying.” The Boss’s thick, authoritative voice stabbed through Ushimaru’s chest.

Ushimaru remained silent. He found himself utterly perplexed by the triple-layered veil hanging before the Boss's face.

“Hey, Ushimaru Heitarou.” “You received half of the Golden Medal from old man Tokura, didn’t you?” “Answer truthfully.”

The Boss said this and leaned his upper body forward to see how Ushimaru would respond. The boy Ushimaru remained silent nonetheless. The Boss became displeased because the boy did not answer. He shuddered his shoulders, “Come on, answer quickly. Where have you hidden the half of the Golden Medal that old man Tokura gave you?”

he said, his voice growing rough. "If you want to ask me something, how about showing some proper manners first? You've treated me like a criminal since yesterday—who'd feel like answering when you bark 'Answer now!' like that?"

Ushimaru, upon opening his mouth for the first time, accused the man of his rudeness. “I didn’t summon you here to receive etiquette lectures from you.” “You need only answer the questions I pose.” “Disobey this, and I’ll provide as many tortures as might please you.” “For instance... how about this?” The Boss pressed one of the buttons concealed beneath the chair’s armrest. From the ceiling descended something resembling an inverted pot suspended by a lengthy chain-cord, gliding downward smoothly. The pot-shaped device settled completely over Ushimaru’s head.

“Ouch!” The chain pulled taut. And the pot-like object was quietly lifted up. Then, with Ushimaru’s hair still adhered to it, he was hoisted upward. Every trick in the book.

“It hurts! It hurts!” The boy Ushimaru was hoisted into the air.

It hurt. His hair was about to be ripped out. The more he struggled, the more it hurt. Ushimaru clenched his teeth as tears streamed down his face. “Since this is just a demonstration of torture, I’ll let you off for now.” “Kids your age are intolerably impudent without even understanding why.” “For such impudent brats, torture works best.”

The Boss stopped the torture after making his outrageous remark. The pot-like object released Ushimaru's hair and clattered upward toward the ceiling along with its chain cord.

Even the usually easygoing Ushimaru Heitarou succumbed to this torture. If they possessed such barbaric devices so readily, he couldn't risk uttering a careless word. "So then, I'll ask again. Where is the half of the Golden Medal that old man Tokura gave you now? Now, answer immediately." The Boss's voice grew gentler than before. Though gentler, his words carried an implicit threat: "If you don't answer this time, I'll subject you to real torture." He couldn't avoid responding.

“I’ll be honest with you, but even if you keep going on about old man Tokura and some Golden Medal, I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.” “This is the honest truth.”

“What… Still lying?” “Then—” “No matter how much you torture me, what I just said is true.” “Like I told you, I’ll keep repeating it however many times it takes.” “Or if you want lies from me, go ahead and torture away.”

As he spoke, Ushimaru grew irritated and once again ended up saying things he shouldn’t have.

“I won’t let you claim ignorance.” “Then I’ll present the evidence before you.” “Bring old man Tokura here.”

By the Boss's order, old man Tokura was brought to this room. He was still bound to the wheelchair, just as before. His bearded face drooped heavily with his eyes closed.

Old man Tokura's wheelchair was placed alongside the boy Ushimaru before the Boss. Dr. Tsukue clattered over and examined old man Tokura. The examination ended quickly. Dr. Tsukue returned to his seat. "Ushimaru boy." "The man before you is old man Tokura." "You must recognize this elder." "At Ikoma Waterfall—what did you receive from him?" "Speak now and end this." "I don't know this person." "This is my first time meeting him."

Ushimaru answered so. He thought that the person who had collapsed before Ikoma Waterfall might be this old man. However, back then, he hadn’t gotten a proper look at the man’s face. Because machine gun fire erupted from the helicopter, he immediately scrambled up the persimmon tree. “Just how stubborn are you?” “Are you that eager to be tortured?” “Then let’s proceed.”

“Wait, please. “I really don’t know this person. “It ain’t a lie. “You can ask this person yerself if ya want!” The boy Ushimaru reiterated the same claim. Old man Tokura had kept his head bowed and eyes closed this whole time. He did not even try to look at the boy Ushimaru’s face. In the old man’s heart now raged intense anguish. This was because he had mistaken the boy beside him for Haruki Kiyoshi. Out of gratitude for the boy who had tended him as he lay dying, he had given him that Golden Medal—but now, cursed by that act, he believed this boy had been stripped of freedom by Yonma Kenshaku and subjected to cruel torment. At this thought, the old man’s chest felt ready to burst with agony. He lacked even the courage to glance at this pitiful boy’s face. The old man found himself in excruciating straits, uncertain how to apologize to the boy.

“Two stubborn mules gathered together.” The Boss said of Ushimaru and old man Tokura.

“Very well, then I’ll show you irrefutable evidence.” “Hey Nami, did you bring those photos?”

Then Nami, who had been standing at the entrance, pulled several photographs from her pocket and brought them to the Boss.

“Hmm.” “Looking at this, you were undoubtedly the child at the scene that day.” “Look at this!” The Boss thrust the photographs into Ushimaru’s hands.

Ushimaru saw them. His heart jolted. When he had come before Ikoma Waterfall and a helicopter descended upon him, startled, he had scrambled up a persimmon tree. His figure from that moment had been captured clearly in the photographs. Among them were some that showed his face blown up to fill the frame. When he looked at them, there was no denying it was him.

“Well? That’s you in the photo, isn’t it? There can be no mistake that it’s you.” The Boss stared voraciously at the boy Ushimaru’s face as if gauging whether he had finally been intimidated.

“This… seems to be me.”

Ushimaru readily admitted it. "But even if I'm the one who climbed that persimmon tree, I didn't get anything from anyone." "It's true."

Old man Tokura cracked his eyes open at this moment. And he peered searchingly at the boy Ushimaru's face.

(Oh...) Panic and joy flashed across the old man’s face simultaneously.

(Oh God...) The old man murmured under his breath, then slumped back into his chair, let his head hang low, and closed his eyes. The old man, realizing the boy beside him wasn't Haruki Kiyoshi, found himself suddenly released from the violent anguish that had gripped him until now.

At that moment, the Boss's anger-filled voice rang out.

“What sloppy work. “Your investigation was inadequate!” “The responsible party will be punished.” Glancing left and right, the Boss scolded his subordinates. “Throw these two stubborn mules in there for now.”

With that final remark, the Boss parted the hanging drape behind him and disappeared into the space beyond. An uncannily tall, lanky masked giant. The boy Ushimaru watched the Boss’s retreating figure with reluctant admiration.

(What kind of face lies beneath that mask?) (I wish I could see it right away)

He forgot his fear as curiosity stirred within him.

International Antique Dealer

Here, the story shifts to the crescent-shaped Golden Medal that had passed from Haruki Kiyoshi into Anegawa Goro’s hands. There was no need to describe Anegawa Goro in detail at this juncture. For he was hopelessly drunk and utterly unmanageable. His attire had changed from tattered rags into a dashing young sailor’s uniform. He appeared to have come into a substantial sum of money. The half-missing metal fragment he had dug up from the roots of a tree in the Inari shrine’s precincts was indeed golden. He sold it to the International Antique Dealer Chan Fu-go, nestled in a narrow alley just off Coast Road. The proprietor, Old Man Chan, wore a Confucian-style long mustache and beard, his complexion as ruddy as a ripe tomato. The old man offered to buy the medal Anegawa had brought for twenty thousand yen. When Anegawa heard this, he demanded no less than a hundred thousand yen, but ultimately Old Man Chan acquired it for thirty-five thousand.

As Anegawa, clutching the large sum of money and over the moon, was about to leave the shop, Old Man Chan called out to him from behind. “If you hadn’t damaged it like this and brought a complete one, I’d have paid forty percent more.” Anegawa left the shop with a snort of laughter. “Heh heh heh. It’s practically free, I tell ya.” Even melted down, it could fetch 120,000 yen. But what a waste. They split it clean in half using such a crude method. Probably wanted to check if it was solid gold all the way through.

Muttering to himself, Old Man Chan removed the Golden Medal from the scale’s pan and placed it on one of the shelves inside a glass display case in the shop’s front window. Beside it, fragmented precious metal accessories were crammed into the narrow space. A single jade earring, golden rings reduced to empty settings after losing their gemstones, pearl necklaces missing beads, gaudily engraved rings of various sizes, antiquated pocket watches, and all manner of inexplicable trinkets and spare parts jostled against one another inside the glass case.

It was three days after Anegawa Goro had sold off the Golden Medal, during the midday lull.

That day, the usual crescent-shaped Golden Medal strangely drew the eyes of customers. In the end, three customers touched the Golden Medal that day.

The first customer was an unexpected figure—Ms. Tachibana Katsumi.

That day, Ms. Tachibana Katsumi spent the morning in the auditorium of Senko Building on Coast Road for a demonstration and planning meeting regarding new gymnastics. Having finished that, she went outside and joined Kanaya-sensei there; they decided to return to school by way of Motomachi. At that moment, they happened to pass in front of the International Antique Dealer Chan Fu's shop.

At first, Kanaya-sensei stopped before the display window. Since he rarely visited such places, he peered curiously at the assorted items arranged behind the glass. Tachibana-sensei, however, appeared disinterested in such things and stood behind him with a faintly irritated expression. Kanaya-sensei suddenly burst into laughter. “Ha ha ha! This shop’s nothing but a junk store,” he said. “They put on a decent facade, but it’s all worthless trinkets inside. Look at that thing there—a half-piece gold coin. Suspicious business, selling half-coins like that. Though it’s too large for a coin—maybe a medal? Either way, who’d buy a broken half-piece like this...”

Ms. Tachibana leaned toward the display window.

“Ms. Tachibana. Look, that thing over there that looks like half a gold coin—is that gold-plated, or is it real gold?”

"Well…" Ms. Tachibana spoke in a hoarse voice.

“If that were real gold, with that much of it, I could fully repair my mother’s dentures...” “Let’s move along now.” The two teachers stepped back from Old Man Chan’s display window. They entered the bustling Motomachi district. After walking half a block, Ms. Tachibana turned to Kanaya-sensei: “I’ve just remembered an errand I’d forgotten. I must take my leave here, as I need to attend to it now.”

she said. And then the two parted ways. Ms. Tachibana briskly turned and walked back. And Ms. Tachibana entered that international antique dealer's shop. Old Man Chan had been feeding the caged bird, but when he turned toward the shop entrance, he started. She was an unusual customer.

“What may I show you today?” Chan lowered his head while rubbing his hands together. While lowering his head, he never took his eyes off the beautiful customer’s face.

Ms. Tachibana asked to see the half-piece of the Golden Medal, took it in her hands, and examined it closely. It seemed to meet with Ms. Tachibana’s approval. At that point, she asked the price. “Indeed. Since it's what you're after, I'll give you a real bargain—200,000 yen.” “That's near pure gold, and what's more, it's got a mighty pedigree—200,000 yen's a steal for ya.” He said 200,000 yen. The item he'd bought from Anegawa Goro for 35,000 yen was now being priced at six times that amount.

“Two hundred thousand yen? That’s rather steep.” “It’s worth every yen of that price. Anyone in the trade would know that.” Ms. Tachibana let out a low groan before finally addressing Old Man Chan.

“I don’t have 200,000 yen with me here. So I’ll leave 20,000 yen as a deposit now. I’ll go home and bring the remaining 180,000 yen, so please consider it sold to me.” “Well now! Thank you kindly indeed. So you’ll be buying it for 200,000 yen? That’ll do nicely. The 20,000 yen deposit – I’ll take that here.”

Old Man Chan went to great lengths to conceal his astonishment. Contrary to his expectations, she had agreed to purchase it outright for the full asking price of 200,000 yen instead of haggling it down to around 150,000. He should have inflated the price even more. Given how plainly dressed the woman was, he had expected her to be utterly stunned when told two hundred thousand yen and immediately leave the shop—but reality proved completely different.

After the female customer hurriedly left the shop, Old Man Chan returned the Golden Medal to its original glass case.

The Next Two Customers

Old Man Chan once again approached the birdcage.

And he began feeding his beloved little bird. As that task was nearing completion,

“Here, ‘scuse me,” said a man who entered the shop. He was a tall, imposing figure. He looked Japanese, yet also appeared foreign.

This gentleman was none other than Dr. Tsukue himself, who held significant influence as Yonma Kenshaku’s subordinate.

“Proprietor,” “Let me see that item in the glass case—the one resembling half a gold coin.” Dr. Tsukue stretched his long arm and pointed at the glass case shelf.

“Ah, this one?” Old Man Chan took it out and showed it to the customer. With an attitude as though he’d completely forgotten about the sales agreement with Ms. Tachibana, Old Man Chan casually produced the crescent-shaped Golden Medal for inspection.

“This is an interesting piece,” Dr. Tsukue remarked, turning the crescent-shaped object in his long fingers. “What a shame it’s only half.” His veiled eyes flicked up to Old Man Chan. “Proprietor—this is genuine gold?” “Twenty-two karat,” the shopkeeper replied, puffing his chest slightly. “Nearly pure.” “Heh.” The doctor’s chuckle carried an edge of mockery. “And your asking price?” “Well now,” Old Man Chan rubbed his chin, “since it’s not exactly flying off the shelves...” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’ll make you a special discount—three hundred thousand yen.” “Three hundred thousand!” Tsukue’s gloves creaked as his grip tightened on the medal fragment. “Ridiculous! What possible value could justify that?” The glass case rattled when he slammed his palm down. “One hundred fifty thousand.” “Can’t do it.” The shopkeeper crossed his arms, jowls quivering with false regret. “Three hundred thousand—not a single penny less.”

“Is that so? Well then, I’ll go scrape together 300,000 yen somehow.”

With that, Dr. Tsukue left Chan’s antique shop.

Dr. Tsukue took five or six steps away from the storefront, shrugged his shoulders, and snorted with laughter.

"That greedy old codger would never realize I'd photographed both sides of the Golden Medal right there in his shop." "Heh heh heh." With that, Dr. Tsukue lightly tapped the sophisticated miniature spy camera concealed beneath his overcoat button through the fabric of his clothing. It was a move befitting the Doctor's swift methods. "...But should I inform the boss about the Golden Medal being sold there, or find a way to secure it for myself? Now, which path should I take?"

Dr. Tsukue walked toward Coastal Avenue with long strides.

The third customer arrived approximately thirty minutes after that.

The man wore a foreign sailor’s uniform. His black hair and eyes gave him a Japanese appearance, yet his ruddy complexion and high nasal bridge suggested Spanish heritage. Though his features were well-formed, a terrifying sword scar ran from his forehead through his left eye, down the bridge of his nose, and reached his lip. It was a horrific slash wound. Yet this injury only appeared horrifyingly vivid when light struck his face from specific angles.

“Please show me that half of the medal.” He said this in halting English.

Old Man Chan responded in English more skillfully than the customer. He noticed the Golden Medal had become unusually popular today and was in high spirits. At the same time, he did not let his guard down. The scar-faced sailor flipped the Golden Medal over dozens of times, borrowed a magnifying glass from Chan to meticulously examine every inch of it, and even placed it on his palm to gauge its weight. After that, "How much are you selling this for?" the scar-faced sailor asked Old Man Chan.

“Four hundred thousand yen.” Old Man Chan replied curtly, thinking people like this weren’t wealthy and should be dismissed quickly. “Four hundred thousand yen? “I’ll buy it for 1,200 dollars. “At 1,200 dollars that amounts to over 500,000 yen. “You drive a hard bargain.” The customer said this and began laying out U.S. currency bills from his pocket in front of Chan. Chan hadn’t been this surprised in recent times. “Please wait. “This item has already been sold—I’m afraid I can’t give it to you.”

“How much did you sell it for?” “That’s, uh...” Old Man Chan couldn’t bring himself to honestly state it was 200,000 yen. The customer finished laying out the bills.

"I made a contract with you earlier to buy it for 500,000 yen." "I'll buy it." "There's no one besides me who'll buy this at the high price of 500,000 yen." "Very well." "I'll sell it."

Chan finally said. Selling it for 500,000 yen instead of 200,000 meant two and a half times the profit. To that woman he had made the sales agreement with—if he returned her 20,000 yen deposit along with an additional 5,000 or 10,000 yen—she probably wouldn’t complain. This was what Old Man Chan had thought. The customer left the shop with half of the Golden Medal. Chan became engrossed in counting the received bills once more. Then about seven or eight minutes later, a boy passing by Chanko Antique Shop suddenly stopped and let out a cry.

“Whoa! This’s blood, ain’t it? Blood’s pourin’ out from the back of the shop like crazy, I tell ya!”

At that cry, the neighbors came rushing out in alarm. Then they entered Chan’s shop and called out for the old proprietor. There was no response from Chan; only the small bird in the cage chirped cheerfully. “What in the world’s happened to Mr. Chan…?” “Oh! He’s collapsed here!” In the back of the shop, the old merchant lay collapsed, stained crimson. There was a horrific wound that appeared to have been from a pistol shot above his heart. And around it, a circular scorch mark had formed on his clothing. Of course, Chan had already died. Who could have turned the old merchant into such a lifeless corpse, and when had it happened?

Would this case go unsolved?

The tragic news of old Chan the international antique dealer’s murder spread rapidly to every corner of the port town. “What a gruesome criminal! That old man had no family and lived all alone with his little birds running that shop—how tragic.” Among those who had known the old man, there were some who mourned his death with these very words.

Among those who had known the old man, there were some who mourned his death with such words. "Old Man Chan was quite something with that act of his. He'd slash the prices of whatever we brought in to sell down to a pittance." "He'd polish them up afterward and sell them off to foreigners and such at outrageous prices." "Exploiting weaknesses was his greatest specialty." "He made too much profit—that's why he ended up like this."

There were also those who spoke ill of him, saying such things.

“No, that’s what you call business acumen.” “There’s no reason the old man would get killed over something like that.” “The reason he was killed like that is because among all those gems the old man collected through terrible means, there was a diamond cursed with a dreadful spell.” “It originally was embedded in the forehead of an Indian Buddha statue until a wicked sailor gouged it out and stole it away.” “And then sold it off to Old Man Chan.” “Then an Indian high priest disguised himself as a sailor and came all the way to reclaim it.” “Because the old man didn’t return it honestly, they stabbed him to death with a thrust like that.”

“No, that’s wrong.” “He was shot with a pistol.”

“Oh, a pistol?” “A pistol’s fine too.” “Is that story even true?”

“In other words, I considered whether that might indeed be the case.”

“What? They took advantage of everyone being caught up in the incident and pulled it off neatly.” “Anyway, that old man was the type who’d raise dust if you tapped him. The culprit will never be found out.” Indeed, this was exactly the case—with no leads on the culprit emerging, Inspector Akiyoshi, who was handling the case, grew increasingly irritated. He had arrived at the scene thirty minutes after Old Man Chan’s death and immediately took charge of the investigation, but the bloodstained shop interior had been thoroughly trampled by neighbors who rushed there upon being notified by the boy who discovered the incident. With this state of affairs, there was no way to obtain the evidence needed to identify the culprit. The inspector was at a loss.

Moreover, since Old Man Chan had lived alone in the shop, there was no one to testify about the state of its interior at the time. There were neighbors on both sides and across the street, and had they known Old Man Chan would be murdered that day, they would have paid attention to people coming and going from his shop—but since no one could have foreseen such a thing, there was no one who could accurately testify about who had entered or exited. Inspector Akiyoshi considered that the culprit, having fully grasped those circumstances, must have committed the crime.

He examined the shop interior and investigated what had been stolen. The results remained unclear. After all, there were countless small articles. With no inventory of the goods, there was no way to determine what exactly had been taken.

The safe was closed. He examined its contents, but this too yielded no clear answers. Inside the safe were stored Japanese banknotes, American banknotes, and the like. Was this all the cash that had been there, or had the culprit stolen some portion of it before closing the safe and fleeing? They could not determine which scenario was true. This was of no interest to Inspector Akiyoshi, but let me mention here one detail that would interest readers. It was the fact that $1,200 in American banknotes had been left entirely untouched there. This served as one reference point for determining what kind of person the culprit was. Inspector Akiyoshi, unfortunately, had not been blessed with the opportunity to obtain such materials.

Thus, the inspector’s attention was focused exclusively on Old Man Chan’s fatal wound, the location where he had died, and the posture of his body. The cause of the old man’s death was a pistol shot fired with perfect precision directly through the center of his heart. The old man must have died without uttering a sound.

The pistol had been aimed at the old man’s chest, and its muzzle must have been pressed tightly against his clothing. Under those circumstances, the pistol was fired. Therefore, the clothing where the muzzle had been pressed had a hole, and the fabric around that hole was scorched. The pistol's bullet had pierced through his back, penetrated the wall ornament behind him, and embedded itself in the wall. Upon digging it out and examining it, they found that the pistol was not a common Browning or Colt but a special model with a much smaller caliber. It was likely crafted not in the shape of a pistol but made to resemble some other object. For instance, assassins often carry pistols shaped like fountain pens or folding fans—it must have been something along those lines. To craft such items to resemble ordinary objects, they inevitably had to reduce the bullet’s caliber. Naturally, since only a small amount of gunpowder could be used, such pistols had to be fired with the muzzle pressed tightly against the victim’s body; otherwise, the bullet wouldn’t penetrate.

The culprit wasn't some ordinary person. Killing Old Man Chan had probably felt no different to them than wringing a chicken's neck.

The inspector shuddered at the thought. The old man had apparently been facing a customer across the shop counter. Then he bent his body slightly as if to move toward the back. At that moment, the pistol gripped by the culprit swiftly aimed at his heart through his clothes, and immediately the trigger must have been pulled. His face in death showed neither traces of anguish nor an expression of fear—it remained calm. When he collapsed there, blood gushed ceaselessly from the wound, eventually flowing all the way to the front of the shop—or so it was surmised.

And then what did the culprit do? That remained completely unclear. Had they come targeting something specific, taken it out and made a swift escape—or had they simply killed the old man and fled—there was no way to tell. At this point, Inspector Akiyoshi’s investigation had reached a dead end.

Since there was no other way, Inspector Akiyoshi notified each police station and even the water police department, requesting to be informed if any suspicious individuals connected to Old Man Chan’s murder were found. This approach amounted to relying on luck. However, since physical evidence wasn’t being gathered and no eyewitnesses to the incident were coming forward, they had no choice but to resort to such measures. To the Water Police Department, he specifically requested they also keep an eye on foreign sailors. However, even if there were suspicious individuals among the foreign sailors, bringing them to arrest proved no easy task.

Inspector Akiyoshi gradually grew haggard. And it seemed the case was heading into a dead end.

If the customers who had visited that shop on the day Old Man Chan was killed had come forward, the inspector would have obtained a crucial lead. However, none came forward. It was only natural. They were afraid of getting involved.

Mr. Kanaya talked.

The news of the murder of the old antique dealer in Kaigan-dori Yokocho had become a newspaper article by the next morning.

Mr. Kanaya, who was in charge of the group that included Haruki and Ushimaru, also read this newspaper article. And he immediately realized.

“Ah.” “That’s the shop.” “Yesterday when I peered into the display window—that junk-cluttered antique dealer had garishly displayed a broken gold coin there.” So that shop’s owner had been killed. “If I’d known that, I would’ve studied his face more carefully…”

And with that, the teacher felt a tinge of regret.

When Mr. Kanaya arrived at school, he eagerly spread this story throughout the staff room. "He was an old man with a long, flowing white beard. "He truly looked like someone who hoarded every last coin. "Come to think of it, he had a plump face, but there was something vaguely harsh about him. "After all, his tragic fate must have been written in his physiognomy." Since he spoke in this manner, the listening teachers wanted to hear more details.

“No, that’s all there was to it. I did think about going inside to look, but since Ms. Tachibana—who was with me—made such a disapproving face, I gave up on that idea. If I’d gone in then… well, I could’ve told you all a much more interesting story now…”

When Mr. Kanaya said this, all the listening teachers laughed.

At that moment, Ms. Tachibana entered.

“My, everyone, what could you all be finding so amusing?” she asked with a smile.

“Ahaha. Mr. Kanaya apparently took a peek into that murdered Chan’s international antique shop yesterday.” “My, what an unpleasant matter.”

At this, Ms. Tachibana furrowed her beautiful brows. "Mr. Kanaya was saying things like, 'If I'd known the shop owner was going to be killed, I would've gone inside and scrutinized everything,' so we were all laughing about it."

“I’d rather not hear any more of these unpleasant stories.” “Mr. Kanaya says that since Ms. Tachibana, who was with him, was standing behind him making such a stern face, he ultimately gave up on going inside.” “Wh-what?!” Ms. Tachibana’s expression hardened as she turned sharply toward Mr. Kanaya, but her features softened almost immediately. “Mr. Kanaya.” “You really shouldn’t indulge in such unnecessary chatter.” “If people thought you were involved and you got dragged to the police station, that would be most troublesome indeed,” she lightly admonished.

“I surrender! That’s a solid hit—I concede this round. I take back everything I just said.” And with that, Mr. Kanaya became completely dejected. The colleagues found this utterly hilarious and doubled over with laughter.

Mr. Kanaya, growing embarrassed, stood up alone from his seat and went out to the playground. On the playground, students who had arrived early at school were energetically running around.

“Mr. Kanaya!” Hearing his own name called, he snapped back to his senses and looked in that direction. Four boys stepped forward in unison. Among them was Haruki Kiyoshi. In addition, there were three boys: Kodama-kun, Yokomitsu-kun, and Tabata-kun.

“What’s wrong?” “You’re acting awfully formal.”

And Mr. Kanaya looked around at the faces of the students under his charge. “Mr. Kanaya.” “The four of us have promised to form a boy detectives club.” “That’s why we’d like you to become the advisor for our boy detectives club.”

The boys’ request turned out to be an unexpected proposal. “A boy detectives club? What exactly would be the purpose of forming such a thing?” “Our first and foremost goal is to rescue our classmate Ushimaru-kun as soon as possible.” “That’s what the police will handle. You children shouldn’t get involved.” “But we can’t just leave it to the police! They haven’t taken any action at all even now.”

"That's because they're up against formidable opponents—their preparations must be taking considerable time." "Even if you all went out there, it wouldn't work." "The enemies are simply too powerful." "You'll end up getting slaughtered!" Mr. Kanaya opposed their plan, imagining the dreadful fate that would surely befall the boys. But they refused to back down. Haruki Kiyoshi pressed on.

“The second purpose is to succeed in a treasure hunt of unparalleled rarity across the world.”

“What on earth…?” “A treasure hunt for something rare in the world… You’re talking about…”

“Mr. Kanaya. I believe Ushimaru-kun’s kidnapping is actually connected to this treasure hunt. And I think while they were supposed to take me, the thieves mistakenly took Ushimaru-kun instead.”

“I can’t make heads or tails of what you’re saying.” “To make you understand that, I need to tell the story from the very beginning of this incident. Actually, not long ago, Ushimaru-kun and I climbed Mount Kannuki together...” he continued, then confessed everything to Mr. Kanaya without omission—from encountering old man Tokura before Ikoma Waterfall and receiving half of the Golden Medal along with an explanatory document written on silk, all the way to how they ultimately lost the medal.

Mr. Kanaya was at first astonished, murmuring things like “Hmm” and “Interesting,” but by the end he crossed his arms and stiffened his posture, vigorously pressing with questions like “Hmm, then what happened?” and “That’s terrible! So what did you do?” “This is part of the silk handkerchief that remained unburned.”

When Haruki Kiyoshi placed it into Mr. Kanaya’s hands, the teacher’s tension reached its peak.

“I see. This is genuine,” Mr. Kanaya acknowledged, his brow furrowing as he fell silent for a moment before cautiously glancing around and lowering his voice. “Haruki-kun. Yesterday I saw what looked like half of that Golden Medal you mentioned—the one that was stolen—displayed in the window of an antique shop down an alley off Coast Street.” “What?!” Haruki’s voice shot up before he caught himself. “Mr. Kanaya, are you certain?” “Whether it’s authentic or not, it closely matched that crescent-shaped golden medal you described.” The teacher leaned forward, his glasses catching the light. “Given your account, I’d wager that vagrant from the Inari shrine hall sold it to them.”

“Ah! That must be it!” “Mr. Kanaya, what’s the name of that shop?” “Where is it located?” “Please tell me.” “I’ll go right now and get it back.”

This time, it was Haruki Kiyoshi who became wildly excited.

“Wait a moment, Haruki-kun. The old owner of that shop was shot dead by someone yesterday, I tell you. Didn’t you see this morning’s newspaper?” “Ah— So that’s it! Then the ‘Chanfu Owner Murder’ splashed across this morning’s paper in huge letters refers to this shop, right?”

“That’s right. So you see, right now the authorities are scouring every corner to find the killer—if someone like you carelessly goes there, you’ll be arrested on the spot and branded a suspect. Then there’d be no telling when you’d ever see daylight again.”

Mr. Kanaya's apprehension was entirely justified. However, Haruki Kiyoshi thought it might be permissible to tell this story to the police. And he reasoned that to get the Golden Medal in the shop's display window returned to him, it would be more advantageous to disclose everything promptly.

When Haruki voiced this idea, Mr. Kanaya was at a loss.

(Darn it, I’ve gone and talked too much again.) Even though Ms. Tachibana had just given me such a stern warning earlier, I went and blurted out everything again, forgetting all about it. At worst, I might be dragged to the police as a person of interest or even a suspect. This had turned into a real mess—the teacher’s despondency was extreme.

Harsh Interrogation

“Boss. “Where on earth have you been?” “These past two days, we’ve been going through hell searching for you.” “And we couldn’t reach you at all.” “All that work for nothing!” Yonma Kenshaku went before the leader’s dais where he had thudded down to sit, and Kido—the fortress’s chief steward—voiced his complaints. Kido appeared to have gone through considerable trouble.

“Heh.” Yonma responded with nothing but a light chuckle. “From now on, if you don’t somehow prepare a reliable means of communication for us, I won’t be able to manage this fortress in an emergency.” Kido seemed genuinely angry for the first time in a while. “It’s fine. If things go south, I’ll come rushing in—no need to fret.” “Even if we have something to report from our side, if we can’t do that, wouldn’t it ultimately result in a huge loss for you, Boss?”

“So you had something to report to me.” “What was it?” “It wasn’t me.” “Dr. Tsukue found something.” “That was three days ago—that’s when the Doctor went into town.” “Hmm…” “Three days ago, you say?”

The leader, behind his veil, appeared to be counting backward through the days.

“That was the day of the Chanfu Murder.”

“That’s correct. That afternoon, Dr. Tsukue came rushing back here out of breath and snapped, ‘Where is the Boss?’ When I asked what was wrong, he said, ‘It’s urgent—there’s something I must tell the Boss immediately.’ When I pressed him further, he told me, ‘Half of the Golden Medal is being sold in the display window of a shop on Kaigan-dori Avenue.’ I was shocked, I tell you.”

“What happened next?” The Boss demanded angrily, pressing for the rest of the story. The veil beneath his headdress swayed faintly. “Then came the search for you, Boss.” “We mobilized everyone and scoured every possible place.” “But it was useless.” “Dr. Tsukue kept hounding us with ‘Any news yet? Still nothing?’” “It was truly troublesome.” “So for three days, we found nothing.”

“You fools! If that thing was found, why didn’t you go buy it immediately?” “Ah! Let’s not speak of that. In this fortress, there’s a strict rule that nothing gets done without Boss Yonma Kenshaku’s orders. This is the rule you yourself created, Boss!” “Fine, fine. Then summon Dr. Tsukue here.”

“Yes.” After Kido left, Dr. Tsukue soon took his place, his lanky frame entering the room. He remained composed unlike Kido. Approaching the Boss’s desk, he settled into a square chair across from him. “Did you require something?” “I just heard from Kido that three days ago at a shop on Kaigan-dori Avenue, you found half of the Golden Medal.” “I discovered it by chance. I strained every nerve to notify you immediately, but regrettably fortune eluded you.”

“Is it genuine?” “Well now, I authenticated it as genuine.” “Moreover, it wasn’t the half you’d been holding until recently, Boss, but rather its matching counterpart—the other half meant to pair with yours.” “Crescent-shaped, with what appeared to be a skeleton’s face turned sideways.” “Did you handle it directly?”

“I did pick it up indeed. Because if it were fake, I’d only get scolded by you after reporting it to you, Boss—so I placed it on my palm to test its density by hefting it. It’s undoubtedly made of high-purity gold. When I asked the price, they said three hundred thousand yen. That wicked old man Chanfu—the owner.”

“Three hundred thousand?” The Boss paused briefly before saying, “It must be three hundred thousand yen?”

“Without a doubt.” “But why do you ask such a thing?” “Because it’s an exorbitant price.”

“Heh heh,” Dr. Tsukue laughed scornfully, “However, since this here’s the guide that’ll lead us to that treasure vault we’ve been after, three hundred thousand yen seems downright cheap if you ask me.”

“That’s too steep for merchandise from that shop—what did you do?” “What could I have done? I raced back to the fortress straightaway and started making a huge fuss to notify you, Boss. Where in blazes did you disappear to?” Without answering, the Boss snapped his words at Dr. Tsukue. “You—right in front of Chanfu’s shop—didn’t pull some magic trick there?”

“Magic tricks, you say? “That’s preposterous. “I perform surgeries, but I don’t do magic tricks.” So saying, Dr. Tsukue retorted defiantly.

A brief silence fell between them.

Suddenly, Dr. Tsukue spoke up. "I didn’t kill Chanfu. I have no reason to kill such an old geezer. ...More importantly, Boss. How about you quickly go to that shop and bring back the Golden Medal? After all, the one you had was stolen by Cat Woman, so you must be feeling rather lonely. If we could get just that one—"

“Stop it.” “There’s no Golden Medal left at that shop.” “Did the culprit who killed Chanfu take it, or—” “Or—” “Well, let’s not dwell on that.”

“Boss.” “State it clearly.” “Are you implying that I stole it?” “I don’t know.” “We’ve investigated every angle until today，but there are no leads.”

The Boss said in an uncharacteristically disappointed tone.

Life in the Cell

After that, Ushimaru Heitarou remained confined within his prison cell. Since that incident, he had never been brought before the Boss again, nor had he been tormented by his underlings. Rather, Ushimaru had come to be forgotten by the people of the fortress.

Ushimaru Heitarou, the boy, was bored and frustrated beyond endurance. He eagerly awaited his three meals a day. The meals were brought diligently by the man who couldn't speak or hear. He was sometimes referred to as "Kotake-san." At any rate, for Ushimaru Heitarou, the boy, Kotake-san showing his face became the happiest moment of his entire day. The boy would show a friendly expression toward Kotake-san, but Kotake-san never seemed to perceive it. He always wore a vacant, half-asleep expression. While overwhelmed by boredom, Ushimaru Heitarou, the boy, came to hold one wish. It was the wish to someday be able to talk with Tokura, the old man—the one who had been summoned alongside him before the Boss.

That old man must certainly have been confined in one of the cells somewhere in this underground prison. Where on earth could that be? And how on earth could he make contact with that old man? When Ushimaru Heitarou began treating this puzzle as homework to solve，the boredom vanished completely. However，the answer to this homework didn't come easily.

“Tokura’s cell must be one floor below.” Finally, this realization surfaced in the boy’s mind. He deduced this from Kotake-san’s meal delivery patterns.

The reason being that whenever Kotake-san brought meals, he carried them in a hand-held metal okamochi container. He would stop in front of Ushimaru Heitarou's cell and insert the meal through the bars. Then Kotake-san would stride deeper into the corridor until the sounds of his footsteps and the okamochi's metallic clattering made clear he was descending stairs. About five minutes later, he would return and pass by Ushimaru's cell without stopping. Through this pattern of observation, it became evident that Tokura Yasomarou must be confined in a cell one floor below.

(If that old man was being held one floor below, talking to me would be a bit difficult.) The boy felt disappointed.

However, thinking he might yet devise some clever method, he continued racking his brains and kept close watch on the activity outside his cell.

Dr. Tsukue passed by once early in the morning. However, he did not come near Ushimaru Heitarou. Apparently, Dr. Tsukue seemed to be heading downstairs to examine Tokura, the old man. The old man must have been in poor health for a long time.

One evening, Kotake-san came around to collect the dishes. As usual, he had a cloth covering his cheeks, over which rested a faded brown, misshapen hunting cap. He rapped on the cell’s iron bars and urged Ushimaru, the boy, to hand over the dishes quickly.

Ushimaru carried the dishes in both hands and went to the entrance. And then, when he met eyes with the figure waiting beyond the iron bars, he was startled.

“Shh!” The figure pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. The figure in the cheek-covering cloth and hunting cap had the familiar appearance of Kotake-san, but the face was different. It was none other than Tokura, the old man—his bearded face as round and bushy as a daruma doll!

“Ah! You... how did you get here...?” “Quiet. I came here at great risk because there’s something I need to ask you.” With that, the old man set the serving container down on the floor, pressed his face against the iron bars, and began speaking rapidly to Ushimaru. The conversation at that time was mainly about Haruki Kiyoshi. However, the old man did not say a single word about the Golden Medal he had given to Haruki. What the old man wanted to know appeared to be Haruki-kun’s safety.

But from Ushimaru Heitarou's account, the old man realized that Haruki Kiyoshi was in danger. Therefore, wanting to devise some way to warn Haruki-kun, he told Ushimaru-kun about this as well.

“Please let me escape from here. If you do that, I’ll definitely pass your message on to Haruki-kun.”

Ushimaru said that. The old man said he would think about it and left. He turned back toward the inner corridor and appeared to descend the stairs. After some time had passed, he came to Ushimaru's cell once again. But this was not Tokura—it was the real Kotake-san. Ushimaru blinked in surprise. A question suddenly popped into his mind. (This doesn't add up. How did Tokura communicate with Kotake-san—who can't speak or hear—and make him agree to swap disguises?) How had that old man managed to negotiate with Kotake-san, who couldn't speak or hear, and gotten him to consent to this impersonation?

It was utterly bizarre.

Could it be that Kotake-san was deliberately putting on an act? Having thought this, Ushimaru handed over the empty dishes and spoke to Kotake-san. Kotake-san shook his head from side to side, pointed to his ears and mouth, gestured "I can't speak or hear," and promptly left.

“Hmm... I wonder if Kotake-san really can’t speak or hear after all.”

Ushimaru Heitarou sighed.

After that, Ushimaru persevered patiently, speaking to Kotake-san each time. Yet Kotake-san's attitude remained unchanged as ever.

However, on the third day after that, something unexpected occurred.

It was after dinner when Kotake-san came to collect the dishes. When Ushimaru tried to pass two empty plates and a soup cup through the small window to Kotake-san after finishing his meal, the dishes slipped from his hands in an instant—no, since Ushimaru believed he had already handed them over, it must have been Kotake-san who let them slip—and fell onto the floor of his cell, shattering into tiny fragments that scattered everywhere. Ushimaru turned pale. He thought Kotake-san would glare at him with a terrifying expression and scold him any moment now.

Kotake-san did not do that. He took out a key and opened the cell door. Then he quietly stepped inside and began gathering the fragments. He was picking up the fragments into the serving container. Ushimaru, growing increasingly apologetic at Kotake-san’s calm demeanor, also threw himself into gathering the fragments with desperate earnestness.

After some time, that ended. Kotake-san stood up as he was and went outside. And then he locked the entrance and left. Ushimaru, who had been certain he would be severely scolded given Kotake-san’s calmness, found this utterly unexpected and watched Kotake-san’s retreating figure through the small window.

At that very moment, he was lightly tapped on the back from behind.

What a shock this was! There was no one else in this cell besides himself. That’s why the boy was startled and leapt up where he stood. He looked back.

“Ah!” “Be quiet!” A monster completely covered from head to toe in white cloth, its hem trailing long behind, spoke in a child’s voice. The white cloth came off, and from within emerged the boy’s face.

“Ah! Haruki-kun!” “Ushimaru-kun. “You stayed safe after all.” “You came to save me... “You actually came all the way to this dangerous place...”

The two clung to each other tightly, cheeks pressed together as tears streamed endlessly down their faces.

How had Haruki Kiyoshi, the boy, managed to infiltrate this terrifying fortress? And why had Kotake-san stealthily allowed Haruki, the boy, to slip into this prison cell?

That night, Haruki Kiyoshi, the boy, recounted his adventure story in detail to Ushimaru-kun.

Additionally, Haruki-kun had much to tell Ushimaru-kun—about how his home had been faring since then, matters about school, the police, and the murder of Old Man Chan.

Ushimaru-kun, for his part, had no shortage of things to tell about his experiences since being brought to this mountain fortress.

Among these matters were stories unknown to the readers that we wished to recount here—but now was not the time for them. This was because a dreadful peril was now closing in on Dr. Tsukue. We had to first document that individual’s circumstances.

A Game of Traps

A magnificently extravagant curtain embroidered with four dragons in golden thread hung behind the leader’s platform. On the platform sat only a single chair intended for the leader, with no one occupying it. No, there was no one in this room now.

Behind the curtain, faint sounds could occasionally be heard.

Was the leader engaged in some work this late at night? By this hour, even the heaviest-drinking young men among the fortress’s inhabitants should have been in bed, snoring loudly for a full hour. It was three o'clock in the morning. This mountain fortress too was in the depths of midnight, past the hour of the ox. So, who could it be? Who was making that faint sound in the inner chamber behind the Yellow Dragon?

It was none other than Dr. Tsukue. Dr. Tsukue was alone. Dr. Tsukue raised his eyebrows, veins bulging on his forehead, searching the Yellow Dragon Chamber with intense focus.

He opened the desk drawers. He opened all the cupboards and checked them. He pulled out the secret vault from the wall, opened it completely, and inspected it. He examined every fixture and piece of furniture and was now lightly tapping around the walls. Because he thought there might be a top-secret hiding place he wasn't aware of. But all his attempts failed.

(Nothing. There's nothing at all. I wonder if they don't keep anything related to the Golden Medal in a place like this...)

Dr. Tsukue bit his lip in frustration. (I definitely saw them storing the Golden Medal in this room before... Even if Cat Woman stole it now, someone as sharp as our leader would surely keep photos of the medal and related documents properly preserved—but why can't I find anything?) He possessed photographic evidence himself—a secret snapshot of crescent-shaped medal half taken at Chanfu-Go's shop. If only he could get matching documentation for fan-shaped half stolen from their leader by Cat Woman. Cross-referencing both would surely unravel medal's secrets. (Why gamble lives chasing physical medal when photos suffice? Crack cipher etched on them and treasure vault location reveals itself. My performance outshines leader anyway)—Dr.Tsukue concluded.

However, when he finally searched the Yellow Dragon Chamber where he had been certain it would be, the item he sought was nowhere to be found. Dr. Tsukue was unbearably frustrated. As he stood there with arms crossed, deep in thought—

“Hands up. You insolent fool!” A fierce rebuke rang out from the entrance. Before anyone realized it, Leader Yonma’s massive frame had parted the Yellow Dragon drapery, thrusting out his favored poison rod from his long sleeve. “Urk!” Dr. Tsukue turned pale and snapped both hands upward. The poison rod was engineered to plunge ten needles—each tipped with a dreadful toxin—deep into its victim’s flesh at the press of a single button. Since Dr. Tsukue himself had formulated the poison’s composition, he understood its virulence better than anyone alive. That was precisely why he’d turned pale and raised his hands.

“I’ve thought your behavior seemed suspicious for some time—what exactly were you trying to do in this room?” The leader condemned Dr. Tsukue with perfect composure, his voice dripping with unmistakable hatred. Dr. Tsukue kept his mouth tightly sealed. “Talk. If you don’t speak, this will fire. Do you want to get hit by those terrifying poisoned arrows you know so well, or will you talk?” “If by chance you possess even a photograph showing half of the Golden Medal, I merely wished to examine it. That is all.”

Dr. Tsukue finally responded. “That’s all?” “Hmph,” the leader sneered sarcastically, “So, you brought the crescent-shaped half-piece from Chanfu’s place.” “No, I won’t let you deny it.” “Otherwise, there’s no reason you’d want to see the half-piece I had.”

Dr. Tsukue desperately insisted this wasn't true. But the more earnestly Dr. Tsukue defended himself, the more vehemently the leader rebuffed him—how could he believe such a thing? And finally, "Right. Now we're going to your room. I'll do exactly what was done in this room—to you. I'll turn everything in your room upside down and give it a full search." "Ah, that's...Leader. Please forgive me!"

Dr. Tsukue’s attitude abruptly changed, making him appear deranged. But immediately, Dr. Tsukue regained his composure and pleaded for him to refrain from such violence. “No. You’re going to your room. Walk ahead. If you don’t obey my orders, I’ll let loose the poison arrows!”

There was no other way. Dr. Tsukue began walking dejectedly. Leader Yonma pressed the poison arrow gun tightly against his back.

“You reap what you sow! Trying to outwit your Leader—that’s treason! Do you know how we punish traitors?” As Dr. Tsukue shuffled forward with heavy steps—face turned away—a strange smile crept across his lips.

(Just wait—I'll show you something soon.) When the time comes, I mustn't lose my nerve. Hmph, you're kindly walking right into the trap I made. (I'll soon strip away Yonma Kenshaku's disguise.) Dr. Tsukue's secretive, unsettling smile was naturally invisible to the leader. The leader too wore a cryptic smile around his mouth. (Look. This time for sure, I'll deal that scheming Dr. Tsukue a fatal blow. You'll drown in your own cunning schemes. And you still haven't noticed? You're not half as clever as you fancy—)

It was a battle of deception between fox and wolf. Which was the fox, and which was the wolf? That could not be determined without watching them awhile longer.

Finally, Dr.Tsukue opened the door to his own room. At that moment he sensed an unusual presence behind him and instinctively tried to turn around. "Don't turn around! Face forward!" barked the leader sharply. Dr.Tsukue jerked his head back to face front. Yet in that momentary glance when he had turned just now—he could have sworn there had been another tall figure standing beside the leader.

“Hurry up and get in.” Dr. Tsukue was grabbed from behind.

With that, he stepped into the room. The room had been turned into a darkroom. Only a few pink neon lights dimly glowed at key points in the room, faintly revealing the positions of its furniture and machinery. “Light up the room. It’s too dark like this—I can’t see a thing.” Leader said this.

(I've been waiting for this!) At this, the doctor exulted inwardly.

“Yes.” “I’ll brighten it right now.” “Please wait a moment.” “If you try any funny business, I won’t forgive you.” “Since I’m not leaving your side, you’d better believe it!”

The leader stepped into the room.

“It’s all right.” “I won’t try any funny business.” “There’s machinery covered in oil over there, so please be careful not to trip.” “I’ll turn the switch now, so just—”

Dr. Tsukue pressed steadily deeper inside. Then he circled behind the square machine placed against the wall. Once more, a sinister smile formed on Dr. Tsukue's face.

(Now. The time has come to strip away your disguise. Prepare yourself.)

Dr. Tsukue flipped the switch. This was none other than the large X-ray apparatus he had designed and assembled throughout this entire period. The device emitted wide-angle X-rays that illuminated entire human bodies, projecting their fluoroscopic images onto a massive fluorescent screen—two meters wide and three meters tall—suspended at the room's center. This constituted his scheme to expose the true form of the perpetually masked leader through radiographic revelation. Unexpectedly, his chance had arrived sooner than anticipated. The leader himself had approached and entered this very chamber. No opportunity could be more perfect. Dr. Tsukue struggled to contain his exhilaration.

A sudden glow illuminated the screen's surface.

Masterfully, the leader’s full-body fluoroscopic image was projected onto the screen’s surface. Amidst the faint outlines of clothing and crown, a starkly black, ghastly skeletal figure was projected. This was the leader’s skeletal structure.

“Ah!” The leader noticed.

He raised the blowgun loaded with poison darts. That posture was projected onto the screen exactly as it was. The terrifying skeleton moved as though alive, burning with rage as it raised its club. The terrifying spectacle was such that it could not be captured by brush or canvas.

Bang. The blowgun loaded with poison darts came flying toward Dr. Tsukue. And then, all the lights in the room went out. Complete darkness fell. And then came a rapid succession of sounds—various objects shattering.

Dr. Tsukue's voice was absent. The leader's voice was also absent.

Dr. Tsukue had seen something terrifying. Through the leader’s skeletal projection, his true identity had been revealed to be something bizarre beyond belief. It was indeed a small man. That small man was standing on stilts about one meter high attached to his legs. He was wearing a Chinese-style robe with its hems drawn up high over them. Had they not X-rayed him like this, the leader’s secret would never have come to light.

Was Leader Yonma’s true identity that of a small man?

In this room, there were two more people outside who had witnessed this terrifying scene. Those were Haruki Kiyoshi and Ushimaru Heitarou, who had sneaked into the room beforehand. The two of them were so terrified, they no longer felt alive. Now then, how would this situation conclude in the room that had plunged into utter darkness?

Secret Escape Passage

(So our leader... was a small man?!) Dr. Tsukue was so struck by this revelation that he remained dazed for some time amidst the danger. He had thought the leader was someone else entirely, but that assumption had been proven completely mistaken when he subjected him to X-rays. (But there was still something that didn’t quite add up.) Some time ago, I had secretly brought a flashlight close under the leader’s face and glimpsed his features beneath the veil mask—at that time, his face had been a well-proportioned, splendid one. (His face had been so beautiful it could have been mistaken for a woman’s, but...)

And so, inside Dr. Tsukue’s mind, the unanswered question swirled in turbulent circles. Earlier, when I illuminated the leader’s face with X-rays and he recoiled with a gasp, I should have quickly leaped forward, lifted that veil, and confirmed what his true face looked like. But I didn’t do it. What an unforgivable blunder. Of course, had I done such a thing, the leader might have killed me with a poison dart in one swift strike. All these thoughts flashed through Dr. Tsukue’s mind like lightning as he cowered in danger.

With a clatter, more objects were hurled, raining down onto Dr. Tsukue’s head. And the leader’s rough breathing gradually drew nearer. (Dangerous... I'll be killed like this. I need to find a way to escape. Will I be able to successfully reach that descending entrance leading to the underground storeroom? Will I manage to stay alive until I open the hatch?) What Dr. Tsukue remembered was that there was a descending entrance leading to the underground storeroom in the eastern corner of this room. This was a secret storeroom that Dr. Tsukue had created to hide instruments and materials he didn’t want others to see, and within this fortress, no one besides him had known of its existence. Within that underground storeroom was yet another escape passage—by going through it, one could exit the fortress. However, it was situated atop a steep cliff, and descending from there to the road below required special equipment. Still, given that this escape passage had opened atop a steep cliff, there was little worry others would notice it, and Dr. Tsukue had been fully confident of this. I want to leap into the escape passage route. Will I make it safely to the entrance of the descending passage?

(Take him down!) Having reached this point, Dr. Tsukue steeled his resolve—there was nothing left but to entrust his fate to heaven. Resigned to sustaining two or three injuries, he groped through the darkness and crawled sideways. You just had to try everything. The raging leader’s attacks failed to track Dr. Tsukue’s movements. Still convinced the doctor hid in his original spot, [Yonma] kept hurling heavy objects with violent clattering and crashing. This ironically let Dr. Tsukue slip through danger, his heart pounding with elation as he managed to pull open the hatch door embedded at the descending passage’s entrance.

There was a faint noise. However, since the room was in the midst of a raging uproar, even that slight noise seemed unlikely to reach the opponent's ears. Dr. Tsukue wriggled his body under the hatch with a triumphant grin. His feet touched the stairs. Success was assured. He slipped completely inside. Then he quietly shut the hatch. There was no indication of anyone giving chase. Dr. Tsukue exhaled a sigh of relief.

Having come this far, it was as though he had escaped the murderer's grasp—or so Dr. Tsukue thought. He descended the stairs, groping with hands and feet. He reached the stair's bottom. Thick curtains hung there in two layers. Beyond them lay a fairly spacious storage room. Dr. Tsukue pushed through the curtains and entered. Inside was pitch-black darkness.

“Oh— The battery light’s off today.”

There, a battery-powered light usually remained lit, illuminating the room. This was a light that stayed on regardless of power outages. That light had unfortunately gone out today. Had some malfunction occurred? With these thoughts running through his mind, Dr. Tsukue had perhaps dragged his feet and groped forward five or six steps through darkness so thick he couldn't see his own pinched nose - when a tremendous shock awaited him. Suddenly both his wrists were seized in a firm grip by someone.

“Ohoho, I’ve been waiting for you, Doctor.”

In the darkness, there was undoubtedly a woman’s voice. “Who are you?”

Ah—Cat Woman! “Who are you?!” Dr. Tsukue, struck with terror, finally hurled these brief words at his opponent in a hoarse voice. “Why, it’s me~.” “I’m Cat Woman.” “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” “Wh-what? Cat Woman…” Dr. Tsukue’s astonishment quintupled. “Why is Cat Woman in a place like this——” “Don’t raise your voice now.” “Up above—as you can see—there’s a whole bunch of folks gathered, you know.” Indeed, up above, the chaotic footsteps of many people could be heard. Surely the leader had gathered everyone and was undoubtedly searching for his own whereabouts after he had vanished.

“This might be uncomfortable, but let me have you put your hands behind your back.” Cat Woman was terrifyingly strong. She twisted Dr. Tsukue’s hands behind his back with ease and clamped handcuffs on with a clank.

“What do you plan to do with me?” Cat Woman had once stolen half of the golden medal from the Leader. That made her the Leader’s enemy. Now I’ve become his enemy too. In that case, he thought, perhaps Cat Woman would join forces with him. Dr. Tsukue wanted to shout—Cat Woman, why torment me? “There’s something I need from you.” “Since I know you won’t surrender it willingly, I’ll have to search you myself.”

“What?! What do you want?!”

In response to Dr. Tsukue's anxious inquiry, Cat Woman gave no answer. Through the darkness, she methodically examined the doctor's body. The room held no functioning lights, nor did Cat Woman employ even a flashlight. Through absolute blackness she progressed steadily with her task. Cat Woman appeared to possess feline night vision. As this realization struck him, Dr. Tsukue's unease deepened.

“Oh, so this is it—the great prize you were crowing about like you’d caught the devil himself…” At last Cat Woman seemed to have found what she sought—she fished out a small film roll from the pocket of Dr. Tsukue’s underclothes.

“That’s not it! That’s nothing important!” Dr. Tsukue made his final effort. But Cat Woman made no move to return the film. And after completing her thorough body search, “The film I found earlier—I’ll be taking this,” she said. “You’re quite the clever one, aren’t you? Wasn’t it you who killed Chanfoo too?” she mocked. “Don’t be absurd! When I last saw Old Man Chan, he looked like someone who’d live another hundred years. It wasn’t me who killed that greedy old man.”

“Hmph. Go ahead and say whatever you want. But I’m neither family nor anything to Chanfoo, so I don’t plan on taking revenge on you. Whether you did it or not, God knows. So I’ll get you ready to receive His divine punishment from now on.”

Cat Woman said something strange. As Dr. Tsukue tried deciphering her cryptic words, his eyes were abruptly blindfolded. Naturally, this was Cat Woman’s work. She wound layer after constricting layer over his eyes. Dr. Tsukue shuddered with terror and began protesting. Then came the invasion of his mouth—a handkerchief or similar cloth crammed inside. As he gasped in shock, more fabric spiraled tightly across his lips. All capacity for speech vanished. The efficiency of Cat Woman’s hands bordered on supernatural.

Then Cat Woman wound rope around and around Dr. Tsukue's body. When that was done, the woman tapped Dr. Tsukue's lower back and,

“Now, get moving. You’ll be exiting through the escape hole you prepared.”

Cat Woman knew everything. What an astonishing creature she was—Dr. Tsukue, rendered speechless, could only tremble with bitter frustration and primal terror.

He walked and emerged from the hole. A chill wind struck the nape of his neck, letting him realize where he was. But there was more. Beneath the blindfold existed a tiny gap where he could sense outside light. This resulted from Dr. Tsukue deliberately scrunching his face when first blindfolded. After being bound over his contorted features and later relaxing his expression, the blindfold had loosened slightly. This was a technique the doctor had long known. Now he faintly perceived light at his feet. Not just light - could shapes be discerned? Under the blindfold, Dr. Tsukue repeatedly squinted his eyes.

After being away from him for a while and doing something over there, Cat Woman now returned to the doctor's side.

“Now, come over here.” Dr. Tsukue was forced to walk again. He was made to traverse jagged rocks. The cliff’s edge lay perilously close. A single misstep meant catastrophe.

“Stop there.” “Now then, hold your breath for the next two or three seconds.”

Cat Woman said something strange. Dr. Tsukue wanted to retort, but he couldn't speak. So he desperately struggled to see anything at all through the gap in his blindfold.

He caught sight of a rocky edge. (Ah! I'm standing on the edge of a cliff!)

Dr. Tsukue shuddered. This was bad. If he misstepped, he would fall off the cliff, shatter his bones, and bid farewell to life. It was dangerous. Dr. Tsukue screamed, “Help me!” but of course, no voice could escape.

“Don’t start struggling now. I’ll get this over with quickly.”

Cat Woman approached Dr. Tsukue. What was she going to do? At that moment, through a gap in his blindfold, he caught a glimpse of part of Cat Woman’s clothing. He saw her legs too. The skirt was made of dark green fabric—a short skirt. Beneath it stretched long, well-shaped legs. Both were perfectly aligned. She wore pale flesh-colored knee-high socks. Her shoes were ankle boots— stylish ones made of leather and canvas favored by sporty young women. Having glimpsed only this much, Dr. Tsukue regretted being unable to see above Cat Woman’s waist.

Yet Cat Woman’s true nature defied all expectations one might form from her green outfit, long sturdy legs, flesh-colored knee-high socks, and stylish ankle boots favored by sporty young women. Her clothing seemed far more refined than her rough manner of speech. Who could she possibly be? "What kind of face lies beneath—?" The instant this thought flashed through his mind, his body was violently shoved forward with a sharp "Hup!" A choked gasp of agony died unvoiced in his throat.

His feet had already left the edge of the cliff. His body hung suspended in midair! Ah, Dr. Tsukue's life now dangled like a candle in the wind. Would this eccentric villain of a doctor meet his end here? Or would some twist of ill fortune let him cling to the sheer cliff face?

Chaotic Mountain Fortress

What had become of the two boys? Haruki Kiyoshi and Ushimaru Heitarou, who had sneaked into Dr. Tsukue’s darkroom, unexpectedly witnessed the doctor’s ferocious battle against the leader. The X-ray that Dr. Tsukue trained on the leader projected his true form—a skeletal little man—onto the green fluorescent screen. They also saw that grotesque spectacle. Afterward, a violent exchange of hurled objects plunged the room into total darkness, rendering it extremely dangerous to remain there.

“Let’s get out of this room.”

“Yeah, we can make it out now.” Haruki and Ushimaru, like puppies, quickly jumped out of the room.

“Ah!” “Wait!” “Shh!” Ushimaru had stepped outside a moment before Haruki but immediately recoiled in surprise. Then he pushed back Haruki, who was following behind. He had noticed a figure at the end of the corridor.

The figure turned the corridor corner almost simultaneously as Ushimaru leaped out, so he caught only a fleeting glimpse of the person's retreating form. The person seemed tall and wore a long overcoat. He couldn't tell for certain. All he had clearly seen was one of the person's legs. It was a long shin clad in light blue trousers. And they were wearing flashy ankle boots favored by sporty types. It seemed ankle boots favored by sporty types were in fashion. Or perhaps not?

(Who could it be—that person who just went over there?)

Ushimaru tilted his head in puzzlement. However, he had no intention of chasing after that person. He thought it was just fine that they had gone away. Taking advantage of this opening, he had to make his escape quickly. “Let’s go, we’re running! We can still turn back toward the dungeon if we move now!” Ushimaru urged Haruki onward as they wove through the corridor. He had studied the fortress’s layout and knew it well. Fortunately, he was able to run back toward the original dungeon with Haruki.

There, Old Man Tokura was waiting.

Old Man Tokura had been pressed close together with the jailer Kotake, but when the boys entered, he separated. Mr. Kotake had been fitted with a brutal gag, his limbs tightly bound in coils, and tied to a chair. Only Mr. Kotake’s eyes remained free to move. His eyes, usually sleepy and dull, were now lively as they looked around at everyone’s faces. He didn’t look resentful, nor was there any sign of burning anger.

“Well then, we’ll be off.” “I leave the rest to you.” “I’ll pray for your safety every day from now on.” “Don’t lose your temper now.”

With that, Old Man Tokura lightly tapped Kotake’s shoulder, tears welling in his eyes. Then Kotake jerked his chin up and down two or three times. “Hurry up,” he seemed to urge them. From this exchange, it became clear that Old Man Tokura and Kotake shared an unspoken understanding. Kotake being bound must also have been part of an agreement between the two.

Led by Old Man Tokura, Haruki and Ushimaru fled the mountain fortress. Old Man Tokura knew well how to reach the escape route. He also properly had keys to open doors at critical points. Before opening them, he also knew how to skillfully disable the alarm systems.

But what surprised Ushimaru even more was that Old Man Tokura was brimming with energy. Even in his cell, even when summoned before the leader, he had appeared as a bedridden patient who couldn't take a single step. That must have been an act—he had been deliberately feigning the appearance of a critically ill patient. However, even if Old Man Tokura had skillfully followed escape route after escape route, he should never have been able to slip through all the meshes of the cunning net Yonma Kenshaku had laid out. But tremendous luck aided Old Man Tokura and the two boys, allowing them to successfully escape the fortress without a single misstep. This luck stemmed from the fact that, at that very moment, the fortress was in chaos due to the Dr. Tsukue incident, leaving the guards at key posts negligent.

After all, it had been a terrifying incident.

One of their members, who had gone on an errand to town and was just returning near the fortress, happened to look up and spotted something odd. A person whose body had been tightly bound was dangling from the end of a long pole that jutted sideways from the cliff, swaying back and forth.

“Whoa, that’s dangerous!” The messenger was a man named Senba Kojiro, who froze in shock and dropped to the ground with a heavy thud on his backside. As he watched, the bound figure swayed violently—the rope looked ready to slip from the pole’s end at any moment, threatening to send the dangling man plunging straight down the cliff. Once his nerves steadied, Kojiro scrambled to his feet and sprinted headlong into the fortress. There he reported the bizarre incident. The man swinging from the pole could only be Dr. Tsukue. Of Cat Woman, there was no trace.

Due to Kojiro's report, the members who had been searching for Dr. Tsukue's whereabouts since earlier now rushed out of the fortress and looked up at the cliff above.

“Bwahahaha, this is bad! “I can’t watch this!”

“That’s definitely Dr. Tsukue. Hurry, set up a net below!” “Hey, did you report this to the leader?” “I did. He said the leader’s coming here now.”

“I did report it.” “They said he’ll come out here now.” Because this commotion had erupted, the escape of the two boys and Old Man Tokura unfolded with unexpected ease. While everyone shouted commands—“Set up nets below!”, “Go up the cliff and pull the ropes carefully!”, “Build bamboo ladders and send two men up for rescue!”—the three fugitives slipped undetected into the mountains on the opposite side.

Life-or-Death Escape

The two boys and Old Man Tokura helped each other as they fled through mountain after mountain. If they took the main road, they risked being spotted by the villains of Mutsu Yamasai Fortress, so they forged through pathless terrain and deliberately took a long detour to flee. Fortunately, Ushimaru-kun—a native of these mountains—possessed detailed knowledge of the terrain, so they never strayed off course. They had emerged from the mountain fortress around eight in the morning. From there, for approximately four hours until nearly noon when the sun reached its highest point, the three pressed on in their flight.

They were starving, but Old Man Tokura had come well-prepared; from the bundle at his waist, he produced chocolate and biscuits to share with the two boys. They were delicious. Moistening their throats with valley water, the three of them mustered new energy and then continued their arduous march.

In Ushimaru-kun’s view, it would be best to boldly detour westward—emerging from Tanuki Mountain toward Yamahime Mountain, crossing over it to reach Senbonshō Pass. However, reaching that point would take more than just today; it absolutely required until tomorrow. Tonight they would have no choice but to camp somewhere in Yamahime Mountain. Once at Senbonshō Pass, about four hours of descent would bring them to the innermost shore of Shibahara Water Source Area. If they reached there, a waterworks bureau cabin would be available—and with luck, a patrol officer might have arrived. After that, there would be nothing to worry about. In any case, the real challenge lay in reaching Senbonshō Pass itself. They could probably maintain the correct direction, but everything hinged on two factors: whether their stamina would hold out, and whether they could successfully evade Yonma Kenshaku’s gang—who would surely deploy helicopters in pursuit.

Ushimaru-kun explained his plan to reach Yamahime Mountain before nightfall to the other two, and that afternoon, while maintaining particular vigilance to their front and rear, he kept them pressing onward with all their might. Around what appeared to be 2 PM, a thunderous explosion indeed reverberated from one corner of the sky, and soon a helicopter materialized into view.

“There it comes!” “Don’t move!” “Don’t move a muscle!”

Old Man Tokura snapped.

At this moment, the three were descending a mountainside slope thick with low-growing dwarf bamboo. Spitefully, there were no large trees substantial enough to hide themselves. There, while remaining facedown in the dwarf bamboo, they strove to stay as motionless as rocks. When viewed from above, their backs must have been completely exposed. So they felt no semblance of being alive, thinking they were about to be subjected to the intense rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire at any moment.

Fortunately, just as the helicopter was flying toward them, it suddenly changed course to the north, saving them. They likely never imagined they had fled this far west. It was a close call.

The helicopter had only pursued them that one time. They ran down Tanuki Mountain, walked along the stream for a while, and then finally began their ascent up Yamahime Mountain.

These two hours of climbing were the most grueling. On the steep slope, gripping tree roots, they proceeded to climb little by little. Their feet caught in the dead leaves, they would slide helplessly back down slopes they had painstakingly climbed, suffering significant setbacks. They lost count of how many times they’d turned pale while gripping some unpleasantly squelching mountain ridge. Their stomachs were empty, their throats parched, their vision swam. There were many times when each of them thought they might collapse right there and cry out. But thinking that showing weakness would disappoint the other two, they gritted their teeth and pushed on. Because everyone had persevered in this way, they finally conquered the perilous parts of Yamahime Mountain, and the terrain eventually transitioned into relatively gentle slopes. And there came into view the triangulation point tower at the summit of Yamahime Mountain, backlit by the setting sun, standing tall and stark. The three quickened their pace, forgetting their fatigue.

At the summit of Yamahime Mountain stood a hut. It was right beside the triangulation point. This was a hut erected by the Land Survey Team, and of course, it remained unmanned more often than not. The three of them entered the vacant hut and decided to spend the night there.

It was time for dinner, but there were no preparations. However, Old Man Tokura had the remaining chocolate and three pieces of dried squid. They gnawed on these and staved off their hunger.

The sun began to set. Thinking it was probably safe to come out now, the three went outside the hut and gazed down at the world below. In the distance, Shibahara Water Source Area lay gourd-shaped, its lake surface glowing dully. The lakeside cabin that would be their destination on tomorrow's journey appeared as small as a bean. (We should be safe now that we've come this far)

And so, all three of them thought exactly that. The afterglow of the setting sun suddenly faded as evening darkness spread smoky wings to envelop the surrounding mountains. Then in the eastern sky rose a perfectly round moon. A full moon. For a time, they forgot their perilous circumstances and faced the gently glowing orb. That night, Old Man Tokura listened to Haruki recount everything about the golden medal and offered heartfelt sympathy for the boy's unexpected hardships. Afterward under moonlight, he told the two boys every secret he knew about Pirate King Delma's golden medal fragments, answering their questions as they came.

“I don’t know everything about the secrets of Delma’s Golden Medal either. “If I knew everything about it, I wouldn’t be dawdling around here—I’d be obsessed with digging up that treasure right now.” “To be honest, I’ve only managed to pick up bits and pieces about the secrets of Delma’s Golden Medal—just a vague outline here and there.” “The crucial secret absolutely cannot be unraveled unless both fragments of that Golden Medal are gathered, you see.” “So my story must seem rather dull to you all, you see.”

With that, the old man looked between the two boys' eager faces. "The silk handkerchief I gave you earlier, Haruki-kun, was burned in a fire and only a third remained, but I've memorized every word by heart." "Let me try writing it down here." With that, the old man pulled from his pocket the paper that had wrapped the chocolate and smoothed its wrinkles. Then he took out a short pencil, licked the tip, and wrote out the following text.

The portions enclosed in brackets were the characters that remained in the charred remnant left in Haruki-kun’s possession.

--This Golden Medal consists of two fragments

--consisting thereof--crafted by Spain's

--Pirate King Delma, on his deathbed, his

the most influential among his subordinates, Oktan, and gave one fragment each to Oktan and (Heza)ール (it is declared thereof. This fragment --(When the two are joi)ned, Delma's sec —(stored treas)ure vault’s location and said vault’s —(know the method of opening) shall thereby obtain the means to

—(り。 Oktan and He)zaール were on bad terms —(thus did not cooperate), each other’s posse[ssing (the Golden Medal) fragment, attempting to seize (sent assassins), both men (they fell, and the Golden Medal passed into the assassins') hands (ri, and from then on missing) became (This fragment here is O)ktan’s possession (—this fragment, which I obtained at an underground sea [certain] island (—this fragment, which I obtained at an underground sea [certain] island

“Well, that’s how it is, you see. In truth, there’s another silk handkerchief that comes after this one. This is something I didn’t have time to give Haruki—during that harsh interrogation at Mutsu Yamasai Fortress, they failed to find it. It’s hidden inside my shoe.” With that, Old Man Tokura removed his right shoe and began fiddling with the heel area until a small square hole opened up. What he pulled out from within was another silk handkerchief.

With that, Old Man Tokura removed his right shoe and began fiddling intently with the heel area until, before long, a small square hole opened in the heel. What he pulled out from within was another silk handkerchief. And written upon it were the following words.

--It is noted that Pirate King Delma once landed in Japan as well. It is said that he also landed in Japan. He was bold yet meticulous and full of strategy, [He was] equally fascinated by machinery and skillfully commanded six thousand and skillfully commanded six thousand subordinates. Furthermore, to his subordinate Hezaール— Hezaール remained in Japan for one year and a half even after Delma departed,

He remained in Japan for one year and a half, making Awaji Island and its opposite shore his base. He made the region his base and lived there, yet caused no harm to the Japanese people. There were none who knew him as a terrifying pirate. He was steadfast in righteousness, cautious, and most beloved by Delma.

Oktan was a man of such bravery and valor that even demons and gods would flee before him— he was.

“What do you think? Did you grasp the meaning of what you just read?”

Old Man Tokura said this and compared the faces of the two boys. "I sort of get it, but sort of don't—I can't tell which," Haruki said. Ushimaru laughed. Prompted by this, the old man laughed too. Haruki, too, somehow found it amusing and joined in their laughter.

Haruki said. Then Ushimaru laughed. Following that, the old man also laughed. Haruki, somehow finding it amusing as well, laughed along with them.

“Well then，let me rephrase this properly again．After all，it’s just like what’s written here…”

With that, the old man rephrased it into plain terms and had them review the same information again. Naturally, it contained more details than what was written on the handkerchief. Yet the essential points remained unchanged.

“...When I obtained that half of the Golden Medal, I was serving as a ship’s doctor aboard a steamship passing through the Mediterranean.” “At that time, the steamship I was on developed steering gear trouble, so we put into a certain island for repairs.” “That meant staying anchored there for five days altogether.” “During that time, I unexpectedly came into possession of the Golden Medal, you see.” “...How did I acquire it?” “Since that has no direct bearing on the treasure hunt, I’ll keep from chattering about it.”

The old man concluded his words with that. There must be something he finds difficult to talk about, Haruki thought.

In any case, it was an astonishing matter.

Until now, they had dismissed it as nothing more than a scrap of metal, but hearing this tale of its origins made it feel like a sinister object haunted by the ghost of Pirate King Delma. “What a shame. That was stolen from me, and I’m truly regretful.” Haruki was truly filled with regret.

“Ah, well, never mind that. Now that I’m free again, there might still be a way for me to get it back. If all goes well, I’ll even let you two in on it. But you must keep this absolutely secret from everyone else.”

“Yes.”

Haruki responded. However, he recalled having already told others about this matter and was pained by it. The ones he had told were only Kanaya-sensei, four classmates from the young detectives' group, and Ushimaru-kun here, but...

“So old man, you’ve got a lead on where to find that medal, ain’t ya?”

The boy Ushimaru asked. “Hmm.” “Well… I’ve got that sort o’ lead.”

“Where’d that be? “An antique shop, maybe?” “Is it different from the antique shop on the seaside avenue?” Ushimaru recalled the story he had heard from Haruki about Chanfoo’s shop and, on a hunch, decided to mention it.

“Oh?” Old Man Tokura widened his eyes. “Then try telling me the name of that shop.” “International Antique Dealer Chanfoo’s shop, ain’t it?”

Then Old Man Tokura recoiled as if about to faint from shock. As for the incident at Chanfoo’s shop, Haruki had told Ushimaru about it, but hadn’t yet spoken to Old Man Tokura.

“How do you know that?”

“That shop’s got every kind of item there is, seein’ as how they’re there. But you can’t count on that place anymore. The owner was killed, seein’ as how.” “What did you say?”

“The old master named Chanfoo was killed with a pistol the other day, see. “They say the culprit still hasn’t been caught yet.” “I heard it from Haruki-kun.” “Ridiculous. "There’s no way such a thing could happen!" “Ha ha ha ha!” Suddenly, Old Man Tokura burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?" Ushimaru asked with a puzzled look, to which Old Man Tokura replied:

“The idea of Chanfoo being killed—that’s absolutely impossible, I tell you. You’re all being deceived.”

What was happening? Haruki stared at the old man's face in surprise. Old Man Tokura had made a strange declaration. Or did the old man actually have some concrete basis for laughing? Old Man Tokura regained his vigor, and the case once again slid into an even more bizarre direction. Yet in the midheaven, a brilliantly luminous full moon cast its unobscured light.

Blazing Mountain Fortress

Old Man Tokura said something strange.

“The very notion of Chanfoo being killed is absolutely impossible! You’re all being deceived, I tell you.”

Old Man Tokura laughed as he said this. That laughter seemed filled with conviction. Yet how could Old Man Tokura make such a claim? Hadn’t he been confined until now in a secret chamber beneath Rokuten Mountain Fortress? He had no right to comment on recent town events. Still, he wouldn’t even consider Ushimaru and Haruki’s words, stubbornly insisting Chanfoo was alive—did he have solid grounds for this? Was this the obstinacy common among the elderly—once they got an idea into their heads, they absolutely refused to listen?

Putting that aside, Old Man Tokura and the two boys—Haruki and Ushimaru—who had ended up spending the night at the land survey team’s cabin on Yamahime Mountain’s summit, soon found themselves sleeping back-to-back.

Autumn had grown quite late. The mountain cabin was cold at night. In the cabin without even a blanket, the three of them sat back-to-back, their eyelids stubbornly refusing to shut. Inside was a hearth built into the floor and firewood prepared, but they couldn't risk burning it.

If burned, it would produce flames. The smoke would rise, and the helicopter's watchful eyes posed a danger. At the slightest suspicion, they would unleash a torrent of machine gun fire without hesitation.

“It can’t be helped. Let’s just sleep like this.” “Dawn will break soon anyway.” The cold and hunger proved no match for their exhaustion. Before long, the three of them began to doze off, and soon fell fast asleep without realizing what was happening around them.

And then—how much time had passed?

The boy Haruki had been having strange dreams about things like the split Golden Medal, the Spanish pirate king, and even a hidden great treasure when he suddenly awoke with a start - he had heard something like an eerie sound in his dream.

No, that hadn't been a dream. Indeed, the sound was still continuing. A crackling noise like something popping—Haruki Kiyoshi started and sat upright, but at that very moment, a deafening boom shook the night air as the mountain cabin trembled violently. "What's... what's that...?" Old Man Tokura too jolted upright on the floor at the sound. Even the typically carefree Ushimaru Heitarou had opened his eyes,

“What the… what was that sound…?”

Rubbing his bleary eyes and stretching his entire face into a gaping maw with a massive yawn—just as he did so, another thunderous boom shook the air.

“Whoa!” Ushimaru fell backward.

“Old man, it’s coming from the direction of Rokuten Mountain.” “Alright, let’s go out and check.”

Old Man Tokura led the way out first, but then—as if struck by some thought—

“No—wait.”

He grabbed Haruki by the shoulder and pulled him back. “Old man, wh-what’s wrong?” “Wait... did you hear that sound?” Old Man Tokura’s face tightened like a sharp blade. At that voice, the two boys—Haruki and Ushimaru—stiffened and strained their ears when a faint droning hum reached them from somewhere. It was a helicopter. It was steadily drawing closer from the east. Ushimaru Heitarou’s body shook violently.

“Old man... do you think they’re still searching for us?”

“Who knows?” It was when Old Man Tokura tilted his head. No sooner had another tremendous boom echoed out and the mountain cabin violently trembled than the eastern window suddenly lit up. “Ah! I get it. “Something happened at the mountain fortress! That’s why the gang members are escaping by helicopter!” The crackling sound of something popping grew increasingly violent. Boom, boom—the explosive sounds continued incessantly, and the eastern window grew increasingly brighter.

Whirr, whirr—the drone resembling a spinning bamboo-copter gradually drew closer until finally arriving above the mountain cabin. No sooner had they thought this than— *Rat-a-tat-tat!* With a fearsome roar, the machine gun opened fire. Around the mountain cabin, machine gun bullets ricocheted off the surrounding rocks like hail. “Look out!” The three dropped flat to the floor. “O-old man... do you think they’ve found us?”

Even the boy Haruki’s voice trembled now.

However, it seemed they weren’t entirely certain this was the right place either, for after unleashing a barrage of machine gun fire, they calmly flew off toward the west. "What bastards—they just had to take the opportunity to let loose with their machine guns on their way out." "They must’ve caught some whiff of suspicion about us."

“That’s right. They must’ve thought we might be inside here and took some shots at us just in case.”

The three of them were drenched in sweat. Only now did they feel a chill reach the pit of their stomachs at the viciousness of the assault. Though fortunately unharmed, had that machine gun barrage lasted any longer, none could say what might have become of them. At this realization, the three shuddered and locked eyes.

Now, not long after that, once the roar of the helicopter had faded into the western sky, the three rushed out of the mountain cabin—only to find blazing flames rising over Rokuten Mountain to the east.

The crackling of wood splitting in the flames, the ceaseless booms of explosions—each time, a pale flash would pierce through the fire and smoke, painting a scene straight from the screaming hellscapes of Buddhist lore.

Old Man Tokura and the two boys—Haruki and Ushimaru—exchanged bewildered glances, but even so, how had things come to this?

To tell of that，the story had to be turned back a little.

The Leader’s Two Legs

As you all know, the traitorous Dr. Tsukue had been caught in Cat Woman’s taut rope and left dangling for his life over the edge of a pitiful cliff. If Senba Kojiro—the man who had gone to town on an errand—had discovered this suspended state even a moment later, even the villainous Dr. Tsukue might not have survived. Had the rope come loose from the pole, Dr. Tsukue might have plunged headlong into the valley below and burst like a pomegranate.

However, thanks to Senba Kojiro’s urgent report, the mountain fortress erupted into chaos. Since none of them knew that Dr. Tsukue had committed such an act of betrayal against the Leader, they all swarmed in and finally managed to haul Dr. Tsukue back up onto the cliff. Even the unflappable Dr. Tsukue seemed to have had his guts thoroughly chilled at this moment, looking as utterly drained as a wilted cabbage—yet still managed to get his words out.

“No, I just took a trip to hell’s doorstep. Ha, ha, ha... What a ridiculous farce.” “D-Doc, this ain’t no joke! Who on earth did this?” “Cat Woman.”

“Cat Woman…?” Nami Tatsuji let out a shrill cry. “Cat Woman, I tell you... She once stole half of the Golden Medal right from the Leader’s hands...”

“That’s right—it’s her. She jumped out from the darkness and put me through that ordeal. It seems she can actually see in the dark with those eyes.” Even the hardened men exchanged uneasy glances. “So, Doc, you’re saying she’s snuck into this mountain fortress again?” “Exactly. She slips into this fortress from anywhere like she’s made of air itself. Might still be lurking somewhere in the shadows ready to take a sudden shot...”

“No way, Doc—this is too creepy! No matter how quick that broad is, she ain’t some kinda ninja...” “Wrong again! Her night vision proves she might use ninjutsu. Think—that night when the lights cut out? Her voice came right behind Yonma Kenshaku’s chair moments later. Those lights were blazing bright till then. How’d she slip behind the Leader’s seat unnoticed? That’s ninjutsu in action.”

“No way, Doc—let’s cut out the weird talk.”

“No, it’s nothing strange. In any case, if that bizarre creature keeps slipping in and out like this, this Rokuten Mountain Fortress has no future.”

At Dr. Tsukue’s expression—tilting his head as if scrutinizing some intricate matter—even the hardened men exchanged glances. Had they known their enemy’s true nature—even were it demons or serpents—they wouldn’t have cowered in fear. But faced with nothing but a voice from the darkness—their foe’s form and identity unknowable—losing their nerve became inevitable.

The thought that she might be lurking somewhere in that darkness, her eyes gleaming like a cat’s, sent a sensation like icy water being dumped down their collars.

Though he talked a big game, even Dr. Tsukue—having been subjected to such a life-threatening suspension—had spent the entire day utterly drained, resting in his room. Now, that evening...

While they were talking with Senba and Nami Tatsuji, a man named Kido came rushing out.

“Hey! What are you all dawdling for? “The Leader is waiting impatiently.” “Hurry up and bring Dr. Tsukue here!” After reprimanding the group, Kido approached Dr. Tsukue. “Doc, what did you do to the Leader? “The Leader’s furious, I tell you!”

When he heard "the Leader—," Dr. Tsukue’s complexion turned leaden in an instant. "Oh... It’s... J-Just a little mischief, that’s all." "I don’t know what you did, but you should know full well what it means to anger the Leader." "Sooner or later, this won’t go unpunished." "Now, come along." "Hey, everyone—don’t let go of Dr. Tsukue!" At Kido’s words, everyone scrambled to surround Dr. Tsukue. In this situation—like a rat trapped in a bag—Dr. Tsukue suddenly began trembling violently. After all, this was Dr. Tsukue—the man who knew all too well the terror of the Leader.

“Well then, Doctor, I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us.” A sheep being led to slaughter—this must have been what they meant by the sight of Dr. Tsukue at that moment. Staggering and unsteady on his feet, Dr. Tsukue was hauled along by rough men flanking him on both sides until they reached the special chamber where the Leader waited.

Leader Yonma Kenshaku sat as usual in his large chair adorned with dragon carvings. His stature neared six feet, with a body as fat as a beer barrel—a physique so intimidating it could send even a sumo grand champion fleeing barefoot. His face was, as usual, concealed behind a triple-layered veil, but the quivering veil made clear how enraged the Leader was. Dr. Tsukue, turned ashen and trembling like konnyaku jelly, was forced into the chair before the Leader.

“Dr. Tsukue,” Leader Yonma Kenshaku’s voice was cold and composed. This was evidence of just how great the Leader’s wrath truly was. The greater Yonma Kenshaku’s anger grew, the more coldly composed he became. “You had better remember well what disrespect you committed against me last night.” “Leader, please forgive me...” “Silence!”

The Leader roared. His body trembled violently with anger. “Dr. Tsukue—you are the traitor in our midst! You who crept into my room like a thief. “Yet I shall forgive that. “No matter how you skulk about rummaging through desks and cabinets, you’ll find I’m not one whose secrets can be stolen. “But...”

The Leader ground his teeth with a grating sound, and—

"What I absolutely cannot forgive are your actions after that. "You tried to uncover my true identity using X-rays. "This sacred identity of mine!" The Leader raised his grating voice and lifted both hands, his fists trembling violently within his long sleeves. Sweat drenched Dr. Tsukue’s ashen face. “Well? No—what exactly did you see?” “What exactly did you see when you X-rayed me?”

“Leader, I beg you… Not that—anything but that!” “No! I said no!” “Say it before everyone.” “Tell them what my true identity was!”

The Leader’s voice boomed through the vast room, echoing like a mountain echo. “Leader… In that case… May I say it… here in front of everyone…” A fox-like cunning sneer flickered in Dr. Tsukue’s eyes. “I don’t mind. If you’re going to say it, spit it out!” “Very well, I’ll say it. Leader, you are a small man. Your large, baggy Chinese robe is nothing but a smokescreen to disguise that small man. You’ve attached rods about a meter long to your legs to make yourself look like a giant, but in reality, you’re just a small man!”

Instantly, the room fell deathly silent. At Dr. Tsukue’s utterly unexpected words, Kido, Nami Tatsuji, and Senba Kojiro stood dumbfounded, their mouths agape. (This Leader—a sumo grand champion of a giant—is actually a small man…?) Had Dr. Tsukue gone mad? Suddenly, explosive laughter erupted. It was Leader Yonma Kenshaku. The Leader doubled over with laughter. He laughed and laughed, rolling with laughter.

“Dr. Tsukue, is that what you saw? “Me? A small man—? “Hey, Dr. Tsukue—are your eyes working right? Or maybe your X-ray’s gone screwy?” “I absolutely saw it! “My X-ray is not faulty. “You’re the one who extended them with rods…”

At that moment, Yonma Kenshaku raised his leg and brutally kicked Dr. Tsukue’s shin with savage force. Dr. Tsukue let out a yelp and jumped up from the agony, but was instantly pinned down by Kido and Nami Tatsuji. “Dr. Tsukue—are you saying these legs are rods?” “Are you claiming my legs are rods?” “Touch them.” “I’ll permit it just this once.” “Touch them!”

Dr. Tsukue knelt before the Leader and timidly reached out to touch both of his legs. At that very moment, a cold sweat slickly slid down Dr. Tsukue’s forehead.

Oh, what was this? The Leader’s legs – with warm blood coursing through them – were unmistakably human legs. *Human Vault*

Dr. Tsukue sat slumped in the chair with a haggard, emaciated face. He looked as though he had aged ten or even twenty years in an instant.

Ah, I don't understand. Last night through the X-ray, the Leader had clearly been a small man with long prosthetic rods attached to his legs. Yet now, the legs I felt beneath his Chinese robe were unmistakably robust human limbs of flesh and blood. What in the world was happening? Was I losing my mind? "That's right—you're the one who's gone mad." As if reading Dr. Tsukue's thoughts, the Leader struck true.

“The mere fact you’d consider betraying me—Yonma Kenshaku—proves you’ve gone mad.” “But fine.” “This should clear your idiotic suspicions.” “Now to my business.” “Hey Dr. Tsukue—hand it over!”

The Leader's voice boomed like thunder. Dr. Tsukue, who had been sitting dazedly as though disheartened, shuddered violently at the voice. "Wh-wh-what...? Wh-what are you telling me to hand over?" "Don't play dumb. You said you picked up half of the Golden Medal and examined it at Chanfoo's shop. Do you think a cunning man like you would just go back empty-handed because there was no money? You must have used a small camera to photograph both sides of the Golden Medal. Hand over that film here."

A shadow of a cunning, derisive sneer flickered across Dr. Tsukue’s face at that moment. “Ah, splendid! As expected of the Leader. Such keen insight! I’m impressed indeed. Yes, I did photograph both sides of the medal.” “Good—well said. Now hand it over here.” “Gone. Taken.”

“Taken?” “By whom?” “By Cat Woman... Leader, you’re clever. You’ve got sharp eyes. But Cat Woman’s one step ahead of you.” “Just now—in that escape tunnel—she completely outsmarted me.” “Ah-ha-ha! She already snatched half the medal from you once before.” “And this time, she’s gotten hold of the film showing both sides of the other half too.” “The great treasure belongs to Cat Woman now.” “Ah-ha-ha-ha!”

The Leader gritted his teeth with a grating sound. His shoulders quivered with anger.

“Kido, Nami Tatsu! Search him!”

Immediately, Kido and Nami Tatsu searched Dr. Tsukue's body, but of course, the film didn't turn up. "Leader, there's nothing."

“Insufficient.”

The Leader stamped his feet while roaring in a thunderous voice. "Your search methods are inadequate—strip him naked and inspect him thoroughly!" "Strip him naked...?"

For some reason, when ordered to strip him naked, Dr. Tsukue’s complexion abruptly changed. “Y-you’re joking, right? Leader, even if you pat me down over my clothes, anyone could tell whether I have the film or not. There’s no need to strip me naked…” Yonma Kenshaku gazed coldly at the flustered, stammering Dr. Tsukue from behind his triple veil, then spoke with a derisive sneer.

“Dr. Tsukue, shall I tell you an interesting story?”

“An... interesting story...?”

“That’s right. It’s a truly fascinating story. I think you’ll be pleased to hear it. You see—this is about the day Chanfoo the antique dealer was killed. It was after you found half of the Golden Medal, successfully photographed both sides, and withdrew. Before long, a man with a terrifying sword scar on his face—wearing foreign sailor’s clothing that made it unclear whether he was Spanish or Japanese—came to the antique shop. And though I don’t know how much he paid for it, he bought half of the Golden Medal and left. However, right after that, another person came to buy that medal. Let’s call this person X for now. When X heard from Chanfoo that a sailor-like man had bought the Golden Medal just moments before, he hurriedly pursued him. What do you think, Dr. Tsukue? Quite an intriguing tale, isn’t it?”

Dr. Tsukue stared wide-eyed in fear, his gaze fixed on the Leader's triple-layered veil. His forehead was drenched with sweat.

“However, the man with a large scar on his face—unidentifiable as either Spanish or Japanese—soon entered a hotel along the waterfront avenue.” “X also followed right after him and went in.” “The sailor-like man entered a certain room in the corner of the second floor.” “X had been watching the room from a corner of the hallway when, within no more than fifteen minutes, a man emerged from that room.” “Hey, Dr. Tsukue—do you know who that was?”

Dr. Tsukue gripped the arms of the chair hard enough to break them. His body shook violently, his eyeballs bulging as if about to pop out. The Leader sneered from behind his veil,

“Ah-ha-ha! That face tells me you already know.” “That’s right—that man was you, Dr. Tsukue.” “And after you left, when X checked the room, no one remained.” “Meaning the man with the sword scar was you—you all along!” “You found half of the Golden Medal.” “But buying it as yourself would’ve let Chanfoo expose you eventually.” “So you disguised yourself as a foreign sailor to make the purchase.” “That huge sword scar? Just paint—a fake to hide your real face.” “What say you, Dr. Tsukue? Quite a story, eh?”

Leader Yonma Kenshaku shook his large belly and laughed. Dr. Tsukue, his face like that of a cornered beast, stared at the triple veil before finally mustering a shrill scream. “I get it! I get it! I get it now!”

When he thrust his slender finger at the Leader’s nose tip, “This is what they mean by ‘the truth slips out when you speak, not when questioned’." “It was X who killed Chanfoo!” “And X is the Leader—it’s you!” However, the Leader sneered with a derisive laugh, “Don’t be absurd! “If someone like me with this hulking frame walked around town, imagine how many eyes I’d draw…… Ask anyone—Chanfoo’s shop isn’t some isolated house in the middle of nowhere. It has neighbors. It has prying eyes nearby.” “Go ask anyone whether a sumo-sized man like me was walking around near Chanfoo’s shop that day!”

At the Leader’s confident words, Dr. Tsukue crumpled like a deflated balloon. “Kido! Namidateji! What’s this dawdling?” “Strip him naked—now!”

At his command, Kido and Namidateji restrained Dr. Tsukue. And with his waterfowl-slim body squealing in resistance, they stripped him completely naked in an instant. Dr. Tsukue was left wearing only his fundoshi, trembling like konnyaku jelly. Yonma Kenshaku, who had been staring fixedly at that body from behind his triple-layered veil, suddenly struck the arm of his chair and laughed.

“Ah-ha-ha! Truly worthy of Dr. Tsukue. “A human vault—now that’s inventive. “Hey, what’s with that wound on your left shoulder?” Dr. Tsukue let out a cry and grabbed his left shoulder. However, it was too late. On his left shoulder, the slightly raised wound remained fresh and raw.

Yonma Kenshaku glared sharply and drew his qinglongdao, “Dr. Tsukue—you deliberately made a wound on your left shoulder, inserted half of the Golden Medal into it, and sutured it shut, didn’t you? “Now, I’ll open that vault for you.”

Yonma Kenshaku, brandishing the qinglongdao, had just risen unsteadily from his chair when— No sooner had hurried footsteps approached than—

“Boss—it’s terrible! It’s terrible! Police officers have swarmed in! There’s a traitor among us! Every last escape route has been surrounded!”

It was a mournful voice. Hearing this, the Leader involuntarily let the qinglongdao slip from his grasp.

Chanfoo's Twins

The great raid on Mutsu Yamasai Fortress instantly became the talk of the port town.

After all, from Mutsu Mountain to Kannuki Mountain, it had continued to burn for three days and three nights, so the commotion in the vicinity was tremendous.

“What was that? What was that tremendous noise from the other night…?”

“Oh, that? Well, they say there were bandits living up in Mutsu Yamasai Fortress.” “They say that since they were surrounded by the police, they set fire to the bombs that had been planted in the fortress.” “Heh heh, bandits, huh.” “And were those bandits caught?” “But it was all sound and fury signifying nothing—just a single mouse in the end.” “They only caught small fry.” “They say all the big shots got away.”

“That’s such a shame.” “But even the police—after making such a big scene—how could they make such a blunder?”

“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it. They’ve got helicopters or whatever they’re called—those big bamboo-copter-style planes. We don’t stand a chance against them.” “Ah, I see. So that’s why they pulled off a high-flying escape?” “Oh my, you shouldn’t make such jokes!” The town buzzed with such rumors, and just as those rumors claimed, nearly all the key members of Yonma Kenshaku’s gang had escaped.

Kido, Namidateji, and Senba Kojiro—acting on their leader’s orders—bound Dr. Tsukue tightly, loaded him into the helicopter, and fled. Afterward, Leader Yonma Kenshaku detonated the bombs that had been planted beforehand and vanished without a trace. Thus, all the police managed to capture amid their major commotion were Mr. Kotake and a handful of low-ranking underlings.

Still, where had Yonma Kenshaku escaped to?

After burning down Mutsu Yamasai Fortress, their stronghold, had they disbanded? No—that seemed inconceivable. This was Yonma Kenshaku we spoke of—a man of relentless tenacity. The day would surely come when he would thrust forth that imposing frame of his to unleash fresh havoc, but for now, let us set such matters aside and continue our tale through the two boys—Haruki and Ushimaru.

Having narrowly escaped Yonma Kenshaku’s clutches, Haruki Kiyoshi and Ushimaru Heitarou descended the mountain the following day and parted ways with old man Tokura after promising to meet again. And so they safely returned home—but as for how Ushimaru Heitarou’s father and mother rejoiced or how they thanked Haruki Kiyoshi—these matters would grow too tedious to recount here and so shall remain unwritten.

Now, for some time after that, nothing particularly unusual happened to them, and they went to school cheerfully every day. At school, they were treated as full-fledged heroes and constantly pestered by everyone to recount their stories. Particularly Kodama, Yokomitsu, and Tabata—who had been trying to form a boys' detective club—were bitterly disappointed at being outdone by Haruki alone and pleaded that if anything happened again, they too must be allowed to join. Haruki and Ushimaru naturally agreed.

Several days passed in this way.

Peaceful days continued unchanged around Haruki and Ushimaru, the two boys. There had been no word from old man Tokura either—the one who had promised to send news once things settled down.

One day, when Haruki Kiyoshi went to school, Ushimaru Heitarou approached him with an overly serious look on his face.

“Haruki-kun, wait...” “Ushimaru-kun, what is it?” “There’s something strange. Look, that international antique dealer, right?” “Yeah, yeah, Chanfoo’s shop?” “Yeah, yeah—that shop’s opened again lately. Yesterday, when I went to Coastal Street on an errand, I peeked into that shop. The front was open, and there was Chanfoo sitting right there! I was so shocked my guts turned upside down!”

“Don’t talk nonsense. Chanfoo was shot with a pistol and should be dead.” “Yeah, yeah! But even so, there he was—Chanfoo! Right there! No matter how you look at him, it’s gotta be Chanfoo. I thought for sure it was a ghost—asked around the neighborhood all nervously—but turns out the guy sitting in the shop isn’t Chanfoo at all! They say it’s his twin brother, someone called Chanwu.”

“Heh heh, so Chanfoo had a twin brother.”

Haruki Kiyoshi widened his eyes. "Yeah, exactly. They say he'd been in Yokohama till now, but after his brother Chanfoo got killed with nobody to take over, he came all the way from Yokohama to inherit the shop." "Even bein' twins, they look exactly alike." "Even the neighbors're sayin' it's like Mr. Chanfoo came back from the dead!" Haruki Kiyoshi stayed silent awhile, deep in thought, then spoke in a pondering tone,

“Hey, Ushimaru-kun,” Haruki called out. “What’s up, Haruki-kun?” “Old man Tokura said something weird once, didn’t he? That there’s no way Chanfoo could die—that such a thing was impossible...” “Yeah yeah! He did say that! Huh... wonder why that’d be.”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure about that part either, but perhaps there’s some connection between those words and Chanfoo’s twin brother, Chanwu.” “Yeah, yeah, that makes sense.”

Ushimaru Heitarou nodded with a sluggish, ox-like expression.

“So, what do you think? What if we try investigating this Chanwu ourselves?… Old man Tokura said he’d contact us if anything changed, but he still hasn’t said a word. So ever since then, my arms have been itching unbearably. Because leaving things like this is like tormenting a snake—it’s just too unsettling, isn’t it?” “Same here!”

“Exactly.” “So this time, I think we should take the initiative ourselves.” “But since I don’t know where to start for now, I was thinking we should begin by investigating Chanwu’s shop first. What d’you think?”

“Yeah, that sounds interesting. Then it’s decided!”

Ushimaru Heitarou was leaping up in joy when Kodama-kun, Yokomitsu-kun, and Tahata-kun—the three members of the Boy Detectives Club—noticed his exuberant display and came running over to see what was happening. Thereupon, when Haruki and Ushimaru told them the story, all three became ecstatic with joy. “Alright then, why don’t we all head to Coastal Street today after school lets out?” And so their plan was settled—but what exactly would these boys discover when they scouted Chanwu’s shop?

Large Vase

Now then, this was Coastal Street’s International Antique Shop—the very one that had come up in the boys’ conversation.

Today, as usual, Chanwu sat at the front of the shop, steadily puffing on his water pipe. Indeed, with his Confucian-style long beard and tomato-red complexion, Chanwu looked exactly like the murdered Chanfoo. The sole difference lay in their eyewear—while Chanfoo hadn't worn glasses, his twin brother Chanwu sported large black spectacles. Perhaps he'd deliberately donned those glasses—whether because people remarked on their uncanny resemblance or to consciously distinguish himself.

Chanwu sat in the shop with sleepy eyes, having been idling there for some time, but apparently concluding there were no customers, he slowly stood up and went into a back room. After locking the door firmly from the inside—what in the world was happening?—Chanwu’s complexion, which had been sleepy-eyed until now, suddenly became animated. Behind his glasses, his two pupils suddenly sparkled with life.

Chanwu cautiously scanned his surroundings, then removed the framed oil painting of a Spanish sailing ship from the wall. Then, when he pressed a certain spot on the wall, a small hole opened there with a click. It was a safe. A hidden safe. Chanwu once again scanned his surroundings with sharp eyes, then searched the safe and pulled out a small velvet-lined box from within. Then, after closing the safe and rehanging the frame in its original place, he carefully carried the velvet-lined box to the desk and sat down.

Then, after readjusting his glasses and pressing the spring of the velvet-lined small box, the lid snapped open—and what appeared inside was—oh! What’s this? It was none other than a half-piece of the Golden Medal! Chanwu cast another swift glance around the room, drew a deep *uun* breath, then leaned forward to gaze intently at the half-piece. It was indeed the crescent-shaped part of the Golden Medal left by the pirate Delma.

But what in the world was going on here? That crescent-shaped half-piece had been transferred from old man Tokura to Haruki Kiyoshi’s possession, later dug up by the bearded man Anegawa Goro and sold to the antique dealer Chanfoo, then purchased by Dr. Tsukue, who should have hidden it within the flesh of his own shoulder. So did that mean there were two Golden Medals?

Be that as it may, Chanwu—with a pencil in one hand and a dictionary close by—began translating the Spanish text written on the back of the Golden Medal. It appeared he had been working on it for quite some time, as the beginning part flowed smoothly. That was roughly as follows. My secret ...one who... People in harmony [...] protect sacred bones appear after

Golden Medal Right Fragment

After all, since only half of the Golden Medal remained, even after translating this far, he couldn't grasp any meaning. From this alone, it became evident that he absolutely required the medal's other half—the fan-shaped fragment.

Chanwu was staring regretfully at the half-piece of the Golden Medal when, as if changing his mind, he picked up his pencil again and resumed translating—only for footsteps to sound from the shop area at that very moment.

Hearing this, Chanwu hurriedly placed the medal into the velvet-lined box, stored it in the hidden wall safe, crumpled the paper he had been translating into a ball, then—assuming an innocent face—headed out to the shop.

The customer who came to the shop was Tachibana Katsumi-sensei.

When Tachibana-sensei saw Chanwu’s face, she widened her eyes in surprise but immediately composed herself and smiled sweetly, “Oh! You gave me such a start! You look so much like the late Mr. Chanfoo that I thought I was seeing a ghost.” “Come to think of it—you and Mr. Chanfoo were twins, weren’t you?” “Yes, my brother Chanfoo and I were twins. Did you know him?” “Yes, I’d visited this shop once before… What a terrible thing that happened to Mr. Chanfoo.”

“Yes, my poor brother. I want to find the culprit somehow.” “It will surely come to light before long.” “The police won’t just leave it alone.” “After all, I’ve had the fortune of meeting you once before—if I find any leads, I’ll let you know.” “Thank you.” “By the way, what brings you here today?”

“No, actually, I didn’t come here to shop today. On the contrary, there’s something I’d like you to purchase from this shop…” “Ah, that’s acceptable. Depending on the item and price, I’ll take anything.”

“Alright then, just wait a moment…”

Tachibana-sensei had temporarily left the shop, but judging by how she immediately returned, she had brought two men with her—men who were carrying an enormous vase measuring approximately four feet in height and one and a half feet in diameter.

After the men set down the large vase in a suitable spot in the shop and left, Tachibana-sensei turned back toward Chanwu, “What I’d like you to purchase is this.” “This was bought by my father in Beijing when he traveled to your country. It’s something I’m reluctant to part with, but I suddenly find myself in need of money, so…” Tachibana-sensei’s face flushed with evident embarrassment as she fidgeted awkwardly.

“I see. This is an impressive vase. Depending on the price, I’ll consider purchasing it.”

Chanwu was stroking and rubbing the surface of the vase when he suddenly peered inside, making a strange face and furrowing his brows.

"Oh, this vase has something packed inside." "That's correct. It's been like that ever since my father bought it. He used to laugh and call it the 'unopenable vase.' But... he must have had some reason for sealing it this way." It was no wonder Chanwu found it strange. The vase was filled with cement up to the neck, producing a hard knocking sound when tapped. Chanwu remained silent for a moment, deep in thought.

“No, this is an unusual vase. However, when a vase becomes this large, rather than decorating it with flowers, the vase itself becomes the decoration. So how much do you require?” “Well then... does that mean you’ll buy it? Actually...”

When Ms. Tachibana stated her price, Chanwu laughed and, “That’s too expensive. A vase filled with cement inside is practically a flawed piece, so it has to be around half that price…”

“Oh, half is too harsh! Please raise your offer a bit more,” she pressed. After some back-and-forth haggling, they eventually reached an agreement—for when Ms. Tachibana left the antique shop shortly thereafter, her face bore an evident pleased smile. Chanwu watched her retreating figure, then tilted his head quizzically and spent some time stroking and caressing the magnificent large vase. Eventually, he closed the front door and withdrew into a back room.

It was already dark.

A Mysterious Figure Appears

Next to Chanwu’s shop stood a four-story building. The first floor served as a venue for trade promotion exhibitions, while the floors above were rented offices.

However, conveniently enough, on its third floor was the office of Kodama-kun’s father—one of the Boy Detectives Club members.

The five members of the Boy Detectives Club left school and made their way to Coastline Avenue, passing in front of Chanwu’s shop with innocent expressions, but—

“What—isn’t this right next to Dad’s office?” When Kodama-kun whispered this, they decided to ask his father if they could borrow a corner of that office for a while. There, the five boys went up to the reception room of Kodama Trading Company on the third floor. Even more conveniently, this reception room was positioned on the side facing Chanwu’s shop, and when they peered out the window, the antique dealer’s establishment lay directly below them.

“Ah, this is perfect! Kodama-kun, please ask your father to let us borrow this room for a while.” “Sure thing! My father’s very understanding—he’ll definitely agree.” Eventually, the man named Mr. Kodama who entered the reception room appeared every bit the reasonable gentleman. When Mr. Kodama heard the story from his son Kodama-kun, he initially widened his eyes in surprise, but as the group took turns earnestly pleading with him,

“I see. So you’ll be monitoring Chanwu’s shop to track down the bandits from Mutsu Yamasai Fortress who previously kidnapped Ushimaru-kun.” “That’s right! That’s right! We want to cooperate with the police and capture those bandits as soon as possible.”

When young Haruki earnestly pleaded, Mr. Kodama smiled warmly, “There, there—no, boys these days must all have at least that much courage.” “Very well, I’ll agree to your request.” “However, there’s a condition.” With that, Mr. Kodama presented the following conditions.

“First, you must fully understand that you’re still children and never approach danger. Second, if you discover anything unusual, report it to the police immediately and don’t take matters into your own hands. Third, all of you must return home together by nine o’clock at night.” “Understood. Mr. Kodama. We’ll never do anything to make you worry, Mr. Kodama.”

When Haruki Kiyoshi asserted this on behalf of everyone，Mr．Kodama smiled warmly， “There，there．Well then，you’ll be starting surveillance tonight，but you all haven’t eaten yet，right？Well then，I’ll treat you all to dinner as a pre－celebration．”

With that, the kind Mr. Kodama led the five boys to a nearby Chinese restaurant and treated them to dinner.

“Well then, I’ll be rooting for your success.” “But mark my words—never forget you’re still children.”

Having received encouragement and warnings from Mr. Kodama, the five boys who had separated in front of the Chinese restaurant were returning along the already darkened road toward the building when a woman came rushing out from Kokusai Antique Shop.

“Oh! Isn’t that Ms. Tachibana?” Haruki Kiyoshi was first to notice their teacher’s figure and pointed her out to the group. “That’s right! That’s right! It’s Ms. Tachibana,” Ushimaru Heitarou confirmed. “What business could she have coming to a place like this?”

Ushimaru Heitarou also made a puzzled face. The three boys—Kodama, Yokomitsu, and Tahata—also exchanged startled looks. However, fortunately, Ms. Tachibana didn’t seem to notice and disappeared into the twilight darkness with a man-like stride, her footsteps staccato.

“It’s really strange, isn’t it? I’ve thought Ms. Tachibana was acting strange for a while now.” Haruki Kiyoshi muttered thoughtfully as he walked. “Strange? In what way?” Kodama-kun asked in return. “Because, you know, even on the day Chanfoo was killed, Ms. Tachibana passed by Kokusai Antique Shop and peered into the display window, right? And at that time, inside the display window, the half-piece of the Golden Medal was displayed there. Moreover, the next day when Mr. Kanaya mentioned that matter, they say Ms. Tachibana made a very displeased face.”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, Ms. Tachibana does take a lot of days off from school.” “And there’s talk that she sometimes disappears from the dormitory—no one knows where she goes.” Tahata-kun said. “Alright! Then starting tomorrow, let’s split up and have someone keep watch on Ms. Tachibana.” “Surveillance? Even a kid can handle that.” It was Yokomitsu-kun’s words.

“Yeah, that sounds good. When tomorrow comes, let’s decide who’ll take charge of monitoring Ms. Tachibana.”

Thus, having established a new investigative plan, the entire group returned contentedly to the third-floor reception room. When they looked through the window, a faint light was seeping from Chanwu's shop.

"Oh! Look—Chanwu's shop has a skylight! If we peek through there, we should be able to see inside clearly." "That's right, that's right! Why don't I try climbing down to that roof?" As Ushimaru Heitarou eagerly leaned out from the window, Haruki Kiyoshi restrained him. "No, wait a moment. Let's wait until it gets darker."

After waiting about an hour, the surroundings became completely dark. A dim light was still leaking from the skylight of Chanwu’s shop.

“Haruki-kun, ain’t it ’bout time we moved?” Ushimaru Heitarou’s arms had been itching to act for some time now.

“Right.” “It’s about time now.” “Now then, to ensure fairness, let’s decide who will go on reconnaissance by drawing lots.” “Since going alone would feel too precarious, why don’t we go in pairs?”

As a result of drawing the five paper slips Haruki Kiyoshi had prepared, Ushimaru Heitarou and Haruki-kun were chosen to go. Though disappointed, the other boys consoled themselves with thoughts of potential future roles, ultimately confirming Haruki and Ushimaru as the reconnaissance team. Conveniently equipped for emergencies, the building’s side featured an emergency ladder. This ladder ran adjacent to Chanwu’s shop, separated by less than a meter. To evade detection, Haruki and Ushimaru slipped through the window, edged along the eaves’ underside, and vaulted onto the emergency ladder. Though perilous-looking, this posed little challenge for the agile pair.

When they descended the emergency ladder to the first floor, the roof of Chanwu's shop lay immediately below them. The two boys leaped onto the roof as nimbly as monkeys. Though the roof sloped steeply, crawling up to the skylight posed little difficulty for the agile boys. The skylight contained thick wire-reinforced glass. This was meant to enhance daylight illumination and better display the shop's wares. When the pair crawled up to the skylight and peered inside, dim lamplight revealed various antiques crammed into every corner—bizarre Buddhist statues, peculiar large clocks, and antique suits of armor. There in a shop corner sat that large vase Ms. Tachibana had delivered earlier.

Haruki Kiyoshi and Ushimaru Heitarou—the two boys—were holding their breath as they peered into this strange and peculiar shop when suddenly, Haruki Kiyoshi gripped Ushimaru Heitarou’s arm with forceful intensity.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” “Shh! Be quiet! Look at that large vase.”

At Haruki Kiyoshi’s hushed whisper—as though pressing him down—Ushimaru Heitarou casually turned his eyes toward the vase, but in that instant, a bone-chilling terror coursed down his spine.

Ah, look! As the cement packed inside the large vase was pushed aside from within, from beneath it slithered out—with a slick motion—a single arm!

“Ah!” Ushimaru Heitarou was on the verge of crying out in alarm but hurriedly clapped a hand over his mouth.

There was someone inside the large vase. And that guy was now trying to emerge from inside the vase.

The two boys' hearts pounded wildly. Sweat streamed down their foreheads. The two clung desperately to the skylight frame, their eyes as wide as saucers as they peered into Chanwu’s shop.

From inside the large vase emerged yet another arm. The two arms continued gripping the vase’s rim and fumbling about for some time, but then—ah, what a sight!—they clambered nimbly up to the edge like an acrobat. Wasn’t this a bizarre little man the likes of which the world had never seen? The small man wore a black outfit that clung tightly to his entire body like a stuffed doll’s fabric. On his head sat a triangular pointed hood sewn into the garment, pulled completely down, while a large mask concealed his face. Thus his features remained utterly hidden, but the eeriness of his appearance defied all description—neither brush nor words could capture it.

The small man crouched like a monkey on the vase's rim, surveying his surroundings for a while before finally leaping down to the floor without a sound. Haruki and Ushimaru—the two boys—watched this scene from above the skylight, their hands slick with sweat from tension.

The Strange Man and Cat Woman

Ah, the strange man—the monkey-like man— Once, Dr. Tsukue had X-rayed the figure of Yonma Kenshaku, leader of Mutsu Yamasai Fortress, revealing him to be a small man with long bamboo stilts fastened to his legs. However, when Dr. Tsukue later touched the leader’s legs, they were not bamboo stilts but unmistakably human legs. Dr. Tsukue was astonished by these two contradictory discoveries, but the one who had infiltrated Chanwu’s shop tonight was unmistakably the small man. If this were true, then Dr. Tsukue’s X-ray had not been mistaken—could Yonma Kenshaku’s true identity indeed be that of a small man with bamboo stilts fastened to his legs? Yet if that were so, how could one explain the legs of Yonma Kenshaku that Tsukue Hakase had touched?

Putting that aside, the small man who had descended to the floor remained still for a while, observing his surroundings, but soon crawled near the wall and took out from his pocket a rod approximately thirty centimeters long. It looked exactly like the baton used by an orchestra conductor. Well, well, what could he be planning to do with that? Unaware that Haruki and Ushimaru—the two boys—were watching with bated breath from the rooftop, the small man twisted and turned the rod until it rapidly extended to a length of about three meters.

They realized—they realized! That rod was an extendable magic wand. Even as they watched, wondering what he would use such a rod for, the small man attached a hook-like object to its tip.

"Well now, what strange business is this?" they thought. As the two still clung desperately to the skylight, watching intently, the small man used his hooked rod to snag and cut off the main switch located high above. The instant every last light in the house went out, plunging everything into pitch darkness. Haruki and Ushimaru—the two boys—instinctively exchanged glances. Then, just as footsteps echoed through the shop from within the darkness—rushing past—there came the metallic clatter of a key turning. Before long, the door opened slightly, and someone slipped inside, but it closed immediately, leaving their figure barely visible.

“The man must’ve opened the door and called someone in.” “That’s right. The man was hiding in the large vase all this time to let his accomplice sneak in.” “Still, what kind of guy could’ve sneaked in?” While the two were exchanging these whispers, down below, Chanwu—perhaps sensing something suspicious—emerged from the back door, flashlight in hand. “Is someone there?” No sooner had he spoken than a pistol roared, and the flashlight in Chanwu’s hand shattered into splinters.

“Ah, wh-who’s there?!”

“Cat Woman.” “Wh-wh-what... Cat Woman...?”

Chanwu’s voice gasped loudly in the darkness. “Yes indeed—Cat Woman who sees clearly in pitch darkness. “Running won’t save you. “Since I’ve come for a little chat, be good and stay put. “Fool! “What are you attempting?!”

Once again came the boom of a pistol. Along with a sudden scream, there came the heavy thud of something hitting the floor.

“Hohoho, that’s why I told you not to. I’m Cat Woman—the one who can see in the dark. Even if you tried to take out a pistol from your pocket, I can see it all.”

Haruki and Ushimaru—the two boys—exchanged glances in astonishment. Could this Cat Woman truly see in the dark? "Now you see my words weren't lies. If you understand, stay still." "I'll wait while you finish bandaging that right hand." "Look at all that blood you're losing." "Ah—finally done with the bandage?" "Then let's move to the back room." "We can't hold our talk here."

“What’s this ‘talk’ about?” “The golden medal.” “The golden medal? Huh, what’s this ‘golden medal’ you’re talking about?” “Hohoho. Playing dumb won’t work. As I’ve said many times—I’m Cat Woman, who can see even in the dark. I know exactly what face you’re making right now. Now listen close. Your twin brother Chanfoo once bought half of the golden medal from a man named Anegawa Goro. Then soon after, he sold half of it to a Spaniard-looking man with a big scar on his face—but that medal was counterfeit. So the real one must still be here in this shop. Hand it over.”

“But wait... wasn’t it that what Chanfoo bought was the counterfeit?”

“Silence!” Cat Woman said in a sharp voice, “I’ve investigated this thoroughly.” “I tracked down a man named Anegawa Goro and discovered exactly where he obtained that golden medal.” “That one was definitely genuine.” “Chanfoo hid away the real one somewhere and displayed the counterfeit in the shop window.” “Come—we can’t talk here.” “Let’s go to the back room and settle this properly.”

For a while after that, the sound of Chanwu and Cat Woman’s heated argument continued, but eventually, under threat of Cat Woman’s pistol, Chanwu entered a back room. After she followed him in, the door slammed shut with a bang. The voices ceased abruptly, leaving Chanwu’s shop in darkness and silence like a graveyard.

Haruki and Ushimaru—the two boys—exchanged glances with a start.

“Haruki-kun, Cat Woman’s one heck of a character, isn’t she?” Haruki Kiyoshi did not answer. He remained silent for some time, lost in thought; then finally he spoke in a low voice, “Hey, Ushimaru-kun, about Cat Woman’s voice just now—didn’t you think it sounded familiar?” “Huh? Well, I didn’t notice. Whose voice did it sound like?”

“Well, if you didn’t notice anything, then I must be mistaken. But Ushimaru-kun, what do you think happened to that small man from earlier?”

“Well... He probably went inside too, don’t ya think?”

As the two boys were whispering such things, an agonized moan seeped out from the back room. It was Chanwu's voice. Moreover, a moan of such profound agony...

Haruki and Ushimaru—the two boys—exchanged startled glances.

“Haruki-kun, this is bad! Isn’t Chanwu being tortured?” “Right, right! Ushimaru-kun, let’s go back to that room we were in earlier.” “What’re we gonna do by goin’ back there?” “We’ll call the police and have the officers come.” “You were told by Kotama-kun’s father earlier, right?” “We mustn’t forget that we’re children.” “So we’ll call the police and have them arrest Cat Woman and the small man.”

The two boys quietly slid down from the roof of Chanwu’s shop and then scrambled up the building’s emergency ladder like startled hares.

The Sky-Soaring Demon

When Haruki, Ushimaru-kun, and the rest of the Boy Detectives Club made the call, Inspector Akiyoshi—fortunately—was present at the police station. You all likely remember Inspector Akiyoshi. As the investigator in charge of the Chanfoo case—a case that had stalled and appeared headed for a dead end—he had been growing increasingly frustrated. Thus, when he received the call from the Boy Detectives Club, he was practically dancing with joy.

“Alright, then I’ll head over right now. Now then—how many of you are there?” “Yes, the Boy Detectives Club has five comrades.” “Good. All of you split up and keep watch around Bankokudo. But let me make this perfectly clear—don’t meddle in anything unnecessary. You wait there until we arrive.” “Understood. Please hurry.” After hanging up, Haruki Kiyoshi was relaying the inspector’s orders to the group when—struck by a sudden thought—his face abruptly changed.

“What’s wrong, Haruki-kun? Did something happen?”

Yokomitsu-kun inquired curiously, but Haruki Kiyoshi firmly suppressed it. "Ushimaru-kun, that... that sound...?" "What's that noise...?"

Ushimaru Heitarou also started in surprise and strained his ears alongside Haruki-kun, but suddenly began trembling violently.

Ah, they could hear it—a droning buzz like the whir of a spinning bamboo-copter. It was unmistakably the roar of a helicopter. Moreover, it was gradually drawing closer to them.

“Tabata-kun, kindly turn off the lights.”

When Tabata-kun turned off the lights, the reception room became pitch dark. “Haruki-kun, what’s wrong? What’s that noise?” In the darkness, Kotama-kun asked anxiously.

“It’s a helicopter. You see—they’re the ones who kidnapped Ushimaru-kun before...” “Ah... the one that the leader of Mutsu Yamasai Fortress is said to have...?”

The boys exchanged startled glances in the darkness—

“Even so, where could they be heading at this hour?”

asked Tabata-kun. “Perhaps they might be heading toward Bankokudo.” “Ushimaru-kun.” “Yokomitsu-kun.”

“Haruki-kun, what’s up?”

“You two, kindly keep watch over the front of Bankokudo.” “Then, Kotama-kun and Tabata-kun, kindly keep watch over Bankokudo’s back entrance.” “Alright. Got it. "But, Haruki-kun." “What about you?”

“I’ll stay here and keep watch over Bankokudo from this window.” “Since it’s nearly time for the Inspector to arrive, everyone, kindly go quickly.”

“Alright, Haruki-kun, you take care now.” “I’m fine—you all be careful instead. Don’t take any reckless actions until the Inspector gets here.” “Got it. Got it.” “Come on, everyone, let’s go.”

After Ushimaru Heitarou led the way and the four boys scattered out from the building, Haruki Kiyoshi was left alone in the dark reception room. When he approached the window, the droning roar of the helicopter grew ever closer. Peering downward, Bankokudo remained shrouded in darkness. Ah—what could be unfolding now in those shadowed depths of Bankokudo?

Haruki Kiyoshi stood with sweat-slicked hands clenched tight, alternating his gaze between the distant sky from which the engine roar approached and Bankokudo’s darkened skylight—when at that precise moment, it seemed the inspector’s group had arrived.

From both the front and back of Bankokudo came a clamorous door-knocking sound, accompanied by—

“Open up! Open up! Won’t you open this place?!”

Then, the sound of roaring voices could be heard.

“Ah, thank goodness, the Inspector’s here…” Haruki Kiyoshi felt his guard slip momentarily—when suddenly, from the distant sky, there appeared a familiar helicopter, its trajectory unerringly fixed on Bankokudo. Catching the half-moon’s glow on its rotor blades, it drew steadily nearer.

Below, the inspector’s group had been knocking incessantly on Bankokudo’s front and back doors, but upon seeing there was no response from inside, they resolved to break them down. Now we've got them! With things having come to this, they were as good as rats in a trap—that strange little man and Cat Woman had nowhere left to run.

Haruki Kiyoshi had started to let out a sigh of relief but caught himself—no, no, it was still too soon to feel at ease. What concerned him was the helicopter. Could it be that the helicopter had come to rescue the small man and Cat Woman?

That was it. Just as he’d suspected. When the helicopter reached a point directly above Chanwu’s shop, it halted precisely in midair and began intently conducting reconnaissance of the ground below. At that moment, Bankokudo’s door was shattered. Scattered from both front and back, the inspector’s group barged in. The comrades of the Boy Detectives Club had likely rushed in together with them.

But almost simultaneously with the inspectors rushing in, Bankokudo’s skylight shattered with a crash. And when he saw the figure squirming and wriggling up onto the roof from there, Haruki Kiyoshi was so shocked his insides somersaulted.

Ah, what in the world?

What came crawling out from beneath the skylight was none other than a hulking man like a sumo grand champion. He wore a Chinese-style robe with a trailing hem, and on his head sat a crown resembling a flowered ceremonial hat. From its brim hung three layers of veil.

"Ah! Yonma Kenshaku!" Haruki Kiyoshi involuntarily cried out in his mind and trembled violently in the dark window corner. Haruki Kiyoshi had never once met Yonma Kenshaku before. However, Ushimaru Heitarou had described that bizarre appearance to him countless times. The demon-like brutality of Yonma Kenshaku was something Haruki had heard about from Tokura Yasomarou and Ushimaru Heitarou so often that it had practically given him ear calluses.

It was Yonma Kenshaku who had abruptly emerged from the skylight of Bankokudo—now surrounded by police. Haruki Kiyoshi was both startled and dumbfounded. Where on earth had Yonma Kenshaku been hiding all this time? But wait—even more puzzling was what had become of Cat Woman and the small man.…… As Haruki Kiyoshi stood frozen in bewilderment at the window, Yonma Kenshaku—now positioned on Bankokudo’s roof—directed his concealed flashlight upward and drew three circles in the void. And at the same time, what unfurled down from the helicopter was a single rope ladder. Yonma Kenshaku staggered unsteadily and grabbed onto the rope ladder.

Ah, if we leave him like this, Yonma Kenshaku will get away…

Unable to bear it any longer, Haruki Kiyoshi leaned out the window and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Ah, Inspector! Over here, over here! The villain’s escaping from the roof!”

Just then, Yonma Kenshaku left the roof and came right up to Haruki Kiyoshi’s face when—upon hearing that shout—he fired with a bang! Haruki Kiyoshi shouted “Aah!” and threw himself onto the floor.

However, even without Haruki Kiyoshi’s shout, the inspector’s group had already noticed the helicopter’s thunderous roar. Having deemed the rooftop suspicious, they clattered up onto the roof—only to find their efforts futile! A single step too late, Yonma Kenshaku dangled from the rope ladder and began escaping leisurely into the void. Bang! Bang! From the policemen’s hands, pistols blazed all at once, but by this point it was already too late. Yonma Kenshaku’s dangling helicopter gradually grew distant and small until it vanished from the half-moonlit sky.

After waiting for the helicopter’s roar to grow distant, Haruki Kiyoshi crawled up from the floor and made his way down the emergency ladder to Bankokudo’s roof. “Ah, it’s you… the one who called earlier,” said Inspector Akiyoshi, grinding his teeth in frustration. “Even after you went to the trouble of warning us, we still let the villain slip away—what a regret.”

Inspector Akiyoshi ground his teeth, seething with frustration. “What? Then does that mean you let the small man and Cat Woman escape too?” “The small man and Cat Woman… There’s no sign of those weirdos anywhere.” “That’s impossible! The one who escaped through the skylight was a hulking man like a sumo grand champion. The small man and Cat Woman must still be inside Bankokudo.” At Haruki Kiyoshi’s urging, the police and his comrades from the Boy Detectives Club divided tasks to scour every corner of Bankokudo—yet neither the small man nor Cat Woman were anywhere to be seen.

How on earth could it be that the small man and Cat Woman—who should have been there—had vanished without a trace, while Yonma Kenshaku—who shouldn’t have been present at all—had abruptly appeared through Bankokudo’s skylight?…

Haruki Kiyoshi had been deeply pondering that matter when, as if suddenly remembering something, he asked the inspector: "By the way, what happened to the owner of this house, Mr. Chanwu?" "Ah, Chanwu," replied Inspector Akiyoshi. "That poor man's been through a terrible ordeal. Come over here and see for yourself."

Guided by the inspector into the back room, Haruki Kiyoshi involuntarily gasped and pressed a handkerchief to his face the moment he stepped inside. In the room’s large brazier, charcoal blazed fiercely, filling the entire area with the smell of scorching meat. “Take a look. They put Chanwu’s legs… those very legs… on top of the charcoal fire and tortured him. There really are people who do such horrible things. Absolute devils! Demons!”

Looking closer, Chanwu's legs—bound tightly to the chair—were agonizingly blistered and seeping blood. Chanwu, having reached his limit of endurance from this torture, lay collapsed unconscious—but the instant Haruki Kiyoshi glimpsed that face, he involuntarily gasped and sprang up from the floor.

“Ah! Th-this... this is Tokura Yasomarou!” Ah, Chanwu had indeed been Tokura Yasomarou in disguise.

Mysterious Ship Kuroryumaru

Now, shifting focus—this helicopter was the one that had rescued Boss Yonma.

After leaving Bankokudo on the coast road, it gradually set a westward course, arriving in the direction of Suma and Akashi—when it abruptly changed direction and headed out into the southern sea. Then, skirting along Awaji Island’s eastern coast toward the mouth of Osaka Bay, they eventually spotted a flickering light—seemingly purposeful—emanating from the island’s shadow and gradually advanced into its airspace.

The one sending flare signals toward the helicopter was a small steamship of about three hundred tons anchored in the shadow of Awaji Island—its name being Kuroryumaru.

The helicopter came to a precise halt directly above the Kuroryumaru and began to descend gradually. As the end of the rope ladder finally touched the deck, Yonma Kenshaku staggered down from the ladder onto the deck. Seeing this, Kido and Senba Kojiro came clattering over. Nami Tateru was piloting the helicopter. Yonma Kenshaku planted himself imposingly on the deck,

“You lot, go over there. Then after five minutes, bring Dr. Tsukue to my room. Got it? Understood? If you understand, then move quickly!” “But Boss, how did it go? Did you manage to get the real half of the golden medal?” “That’s irrelevant! Do I have to spell it out?! Move!” The leader roared in a growling voice. This was characteristic of Yonma Kenshaku when displeased. If one carelessly opposed him at such times, there was a risk of receiving a “visit” from the poison rod. As if adhering to the proverb “let sleeping dogs lie,” Kido and Senba Kojiro stealthily descended from the deck, but once their figures had vanished from sight, Yonma Kenshaku staggered forward.

Strangely enough, Yonma Kenshaku had a peculiar habit of detesting being seen walking by his own subordinates under any circumstances. On the single occasion when he was X-rayed by Dr. Tsukue and accompanied him to his room, he had menaced the doctor with his poison rod, never allowing him to look back. And whenever meeting his subordinates, he was always reclining in that large chair with the dragon carving.

Putting that aside, after five minutes had passed and Kido and Nami Tateru hauled Dr. Tsukue into the leader’s room, Yonma Kenshaku was sprawled back in his large chair as usual, flaunting his usual arrogance. “Well, Dr. Tsukue?” Yonma growled in a voice like grinding stones: “Has that shoulder wound healed?” “You’re the one who hid the medal there—forcing me to get rough.” “And after all your scheming to obtain and conceal that half of the golden medal? For it to be counterfeit? What poetic justice!” “Ha! ‘When you curse others, dig two graves’—this is that proverb made flesh!”

“No, no! That’s impossible!” Seized by Kido and Nami Tateru on either side, Dr. Tsukue strained his shrill voice.

“That being counterfeit... no way... That’s... That’s an ancient gold coin with genuine patina!”

“That’s right—it’s an ancient gold coin with genuine patina. But it’s still a counterfeit. Now listen, Dr. Tsukue—I’ll explain the reason right now.”

Yonma Kenshaku swayed slightly and leaned forward from his chair, “As you well know, that medal was split into two by Pirate King Delma to mark the location of his buried treasure, with one piece given to each of his two subordinates—Octan and Hezarl.” “The descendant of this Hezarl is none other than myself—Lord Yonma Kenshaku.” “And the descendant of Octan—that’s Tokura Yasomarou.” “Both Hezarl’s descendants and Octan’s descendants wandered Eastern countries in search of the treasure, marrying Easterners generation after generation until their blood gradually grew thicker with Eastern lineage.” “Now, Pirate King Delma had another subordinate named Tsukuwa—a black-hearted wretch who once betrayed Delma and was banished without receiving a share of the treasure.” “Resenting this, Tsukuwa persistently targeted the half-pieces held by Hezarl and Octan—but only once managed to obtain Octan’s half-piece.” “At that time, Tsukuwa had crafted a counterfeit of that half-piece—but soon after, he was caught and killed by Octan, and both halves—the real one and the counterfeit—fell into Octan’s hands.” “What you obtained and treasured like a rare gem was none other than the counterfeit created long ago by Tsukuwa—and who do you think Tsukuwa was, Dr. Tsukue? Your own ancestor!” “There. Now you understand, don’t you?” “A descendant is deceived by the counterfeit their ancestor created.” “Could there be anything in this world as absurd as this?” “Bwahahaha!”

Dismissed by Yonma Kenshaku’s booming laughter, Dr. Tsukue collapsed in defeat. Yonma Kenshaku guffawed while clutching his stomach for some time before finally composing himself. “No, but Dr. Tsukue—I suppose I still owe you thanks.” “Tonight I discovered Tokura was disguised as some Chinese called Chanwu, infiltrated his place, and tried torturing the real location out of him—but the stubborn wretch wouldn’t crack.” “So I’ll make do with testing this counterfeit instead.” “This fan-shaped half passed down from Hezarl—the genuine article.” “And this crescent-shaped half we dug from your shoulder flesh—as I said, a fake.”

With that, Yonma Kenshaku lined them up on the desk and showed them. Seeing the two golden medal halves, Kido and Nami Tateru involuntarily exchanged startled glances. “Boss, wh-what about that fan-shaped one?” “Wasn’t that one supposed to have been snatched away by that Cat Woman some time ago?” At Kido’s words, Yonma Kenshaku appeared startled for a moment but immediately snickered nonchalantly, “What? I took it back from Cat Woman.” “She’s just a mere Cat Woman—taking it back was no trouble at all.” “Now then, when these two half-pieces are put together, both the notches and the text align perfectly. Therefore, even though this is a counterfeit, I believe the text engraved here must have been copied exactly from the genuine article.” “Look! This is the text I translated after painstaking efforts!”

When Yonma Kenshaku took out a scrap of paper from his breast pocket, Dr. Tsukue’s eyes gleamed like a vulture’s—greedy and predatory.

There, the following was written.

Crescent-shaped portion My secret Those who dare People acting in harmony Protect the holy bones Appear after Right Medal Fragment Left aperture simultaneously Immediately Press firmly

If followed correctly

Before them it shall open Fan-shaped portion Heir’s burden Cease the assembly and both

Ascend the tower of Hekuzakan Remove the two crocodiles Insert the gold into each respective hole Insert the left fragment into the right hole Insert them，and from there Insert both medals

You who obey my commands— Then shall the vault itself yield unto you

Battle Preparation

The elderly Tokura Yasomarou, who had suffered severe burns on both legs due to the cruel demonic leader Yonma Kenshaku, was immediately carried to the hospital afterward. Fortunately, his recovery progressed smoothly, and within a week, he became able to stroll through the hospital garden with a cane in hand. The ones who came to visit the elderly Tokura Yasomarou nearly every day were five comrades from the Boy Detectives Club. Starting with Haruki Kiyoshi, the leader of the detective group, they were Ushimaru Heitarou and the three boys: Tahata, Yokomitsu, and Kodama.

The elderly Tokura Yasomarou was precisely the sort of man who had dedicated his life to fierce adventures in pursuit of pirate treasure, never knowing the warmth of a family—let alone ever considering the charm of children. Now, having suffered this unexpected injury and found himself bored to distraction in the hospital, receiving daily visits from the boys made him keenly aware of their endearing innocence for the first time, and his longing for a peaceful life grew stronger with each passing day.

“Ah, I’m getting old,” Tokura Yasomarou thought. “I want to wash my hands of this dangerous world of adventure as soon as possible and spend peaceful days like this with the children every day.” While such thoughts grew ever deeper in the elderly Tokura Yasomarou’s heart, the boys, in stark contrast, took immense delight in hearing tales of his past adventures from his own lips. When stories of beast hunting in Africa, crocodile extermination in the tropics, sandstorms in the Sahara Desert, and even shipwrecks on deserted islands after encountering storms flowed endlessly from his lips, how their blood must have raced and their flesh leaped with excitement! The boys dreamed that someday they too would become the protagonists of such adventure stories.

Ah, while the elderly Tokura Yasomarou loved peace and the boys yearned for adventure—therein lay life's true form, and without this duality, the world's progress could never be attained. Be that as it may, today being no exception, the elderly Tokura Yasomarou had gathered the five boys who came to visit him and was happily recounting old memories when Inspector Akiyoshi arrived.

“Well, you’re all still coming as usual, huh?” “Ah, Inspector. Good day.” “Inspector, good day.” Old man Tokura watched with narrowed eyes as the five comrades of the Boy Detectives Club removed their hats and beamed greetings at the Inspector,

“Inspector, please listen. Because these children come to see me every day, I can’t tell you how much I look forward to it. Lately, I’ve come to feel completely like a child again—so much so that I want to live peacefully like this forever.” “Ha ha ha ha, you’ve changed quite a bit. But Mr. Tokura—while it’s commendable you’ve come to cherish peace this way—before that, there remains a problem we must absolutely resolve.”

“Of course. It’s about that Yonma Kenshaku, right? I’m resolved to fight that bastard to the end, but Mr. Inspector—have you received any new information about their movements since then?” “Well, some information has come in. But Mr. Tokura, before that—exactly what is your relationship with Yonma Kenshaku?”

When he heard this, the elderly Tokura Yasomarou closed his eyes and pondered for a while, but then suddenly snapped them open. “No—I’ll tell you.” “Now that things have come to this, I must lay everything bare—there’s no path left but to seek your help.” “Well, listen close.” “This is how it stands.” What Tokura revealed then was the story he’d once told Haruki and Ushimaru in that mountain hut on Mount Yamahime—but now he pressed further,

“In short, the two descendants who received half-pieces of the golden medal from Pirate King Delmar—Octan and Hezarl—are myself, Tokura, and Yonma Kenshaku. But this Yonma Kenshaku is a deeply questionable figure. From what I’ve heard, Hezarl’s descendant contracted an illness in childhood that stunted his growth entirely, leaving him a small man to this day.” “Still, they say he married and had one daughter when he came of age—but there’s no way that daughter could be that sumo grand champion-sized woman.” “So, I still can’t make heads or tails of who that masked leader Yonma Kenshaku really is.”

After listening to the elderly Tokura’s account, Haruki’s eyes glinted sharply—but before he could open his mouth, Inspector Akiyoshi leaned forward, “I see, I see—that explains the general situation. But about this Chanfoo who was killed some time ago…” “Ah, that matter?” The elderly man made a slightly somber face and, “That was truly a pitiful thing I did. What do you mean ‘that’s my twin’? He wasn’t anything of the sort. While wandering abroad, I picked up a man because he was the spitting image of me, thinking he might be useful someday. In order to deceive Yonma Kenshaku’s eyes, I went by the name Chanfoo and opened that Bankoku Kottoudou, but it was because I had to be constantly on the move. So, thinking that the neighbors mustn’t suspect anything, whenever I was away, I always had that man act as my stand-in. And that’s how it ended up…”

The elderly Tokura Yasomarou blinked rapidly—ah, now it all made sense. The meaning behind those words he had resolutely declared long ago in the mountain hut on Mount Yamahime—"Chanfoo being killed? Such a thing is impossible!"—finally became clear through this revelation.

The true Chanfoo was none other than the elderly Tokura Yasomarou himself.

“I see，so I’ve roughly grasped the situation.” “Then，I will now share the information that has come to me.”

Inspector Akiyoshi opened his notebook and, “Since you once asked me to search all over Awaji Island, I contacted the local police there and we combed through the island and its coastline meticulously—when sure enough, some promising information came to light. First, we’ve observed suspicious steamships occasionally cruising around Awaji Island. Second, late at night, a sound resembling bamboo-copter toys has been heard over the island’s skies. Furthermore, when tracing the center of these rotating sounds, we discovered an old Western-style building there called Hekuzakan.”

“That’s it!”

Suddenly, the elderly Tokura Yasomarou clapped his hands and shouted.

“That’s it, that’s it, Inspector! The problem undoubtedly lies within that Hekuzakan. The fact that Pirate King Delma established his base on Awaji Island is recorded in old documents. At that time, Delma disguised himself as a virtuous missionary and is said to have built a Catholic church in the center of the island. Hekuzakan must undoubtedly be it. There lies Pirate King Delma’s hidden treasure.”

Old Man Tokura’s voice grew increasingly shrill with excitement. Whether his excitement had proven contagious, the fellow members of the Boy Detectives Club sat with sweating hands, alternating their gazes between Old Man Tokura and Inspector Akiyoshi.

Inspector Akiyoshi also smiled gently, “Exactly. We too have placed strict surveillance on Hekuzakan, generally under that assumption. By the way, Mr. Tokura—how are your battle preparations coming along? If your leg improves, I was thinking maybe we could go out together.” “Of course I’ll go. What’s this? A mere burn like this?” “Inspector!” At that moment, Haruki Kiyoshi—leader of the Boy Detectives Club—called out in a tense voice from the side.

“Please take us along.” “We want to know Yonma Kenshaku’s true identity too.” When he heard this, Inspector Akiyoshi also smiled,

“Of course I’ll take you along—after all, you’re the ones who contributed most to this case.”

Ah, thus were the battle preparations completed. With the vicious Yonma Kenshaku as their foe - how would the Boy Detectives Club fare?

Over Awaji Island, ominous storm clouds were now beginning to stir.

Hekuzakan

In the central part of Awaji Island, deep in the mountainous region far from human habitation, there stood a building called Hekuzakan.

Apart from the legend that it was built by a Spanish missionary who had crossed over during the Warring States period—a time as chaotically tangled as hemp leaves within the country—no one knew the true origins of Hekuzakan.

Since its construction, through countless seasons, Hekuzakan—battered by wind and rain—had become antiquated and weathered, left in ruins. Yet, fortunate to have escaped both fire and flood, it still stood imposingly in Awaji Island’s central mountainous region.

At some point, this place became a Catholic monastery where morally steadfast foreign monks led a pure, austere life forbidding women, never neglecting their morning and evening prayers to the Virgin Mary.

It was toward the end of November, when autumn had finally deepened, that five middle school students led by two teachers came to visit this Hekuzakan. When the older of the two teachers requested a meeting with the dean to ask if they could tour the building, the elderly Spanish dean kindly agreed and summoned a young monk. “Rozario, these people wish to tour Hekuzakan’s interior.” “Though it may trouble you, guide them.”

“Understood, sir.”

Having long been accustomed to living in Japan, the monks residing in Hekuzakan were all skilled in Japanese.

“Well then, everyone, please follow me.”

“Oh, no—thank you very much.”

Of course, this group of middle school students consisted of the elderly Tokura Yasomarou, Inspector Akiyoshi, and five comrades from the Boy Detectives Club. They each carried sketchbooks and cameras, but their true purpose lay not in sketching or photography—it went without saying that reconnaissance of the building’s interior was their aim.

After they finished viewing the aged, crumbling interior of the building in its entirety, the young monk Rozario soon guided the group to Hekuzakan Tower. This tower was indeed Hekuzakan’s most famous feature—the ancient structure soaring above the mountainous terrain stood imposingly within the forest, visible from forty kilometers in every direction.

“Oh, indeed—this is a splendid view.”

When they reached the tower’s summit, Tokura Yasomarou—disguised as an elderly professor—looked down at the view below and inadvertently let slip an awed murmur.

Indeed, it was a view of truly magnificent splendor. To the east, across Osaka Bay, lay the Kii Peninsula; to the west, beyond the strait, stretched the mountains of Shikoku and the islands dotting the Seto Inland Sea—all visible as if they could be touched. “Yes, this is regarded as the most sacred place within Hekuzakan,” said Rozario. “Therefore, the holy remains of our founding dean are enshrined within this tower. Please look there—that vessel resting upon the altar is the Holy Bone Urn.”

As they looked around, in the center of the circular room's front wall stood a niche hung with a large cross, before which stood an altar, and upon that altar rested a golden urn. And on either side of this golden urn crouched two golden crocodile statues, as though guarding the holy remains.

When Old Man Tokura saw this, he suddenly recalled the characters written on the half-sheet of the golden medal. "Those who know my secret... shall... work together... guard the holy bones... appear after..." (text continues) Since he lacked the other half-sheet, he couldn’t grasp its full meaning—but given that it contained the phrase “guard the holy bones…”, the text on the golden medal must have been referring to this very chamber within the tower.

That’s it!

That must be it. But even understanding that much, without the golden medal's other half-sheet, there was no way to unravel further mysteries. Meanwhile, as they lingered over touring the building, full night had fallen, and rain began pattering down. As previously noted, Hekuzakan stood in mountains far from any village—under these conditions, departure became impossible. When the group stood at a loss, the kind old dean urged them to stay the night. Then, though meagerly, he provided them supper.

To tell the truth, this was exactly what the group had hoped for. They had deliberately prolonged their tour precisely because they wanted to spend the night here.

Now, after being shown to a spacious second-floor bedroom within the building, the seven-member group immediately huddled together and began their deliberations. “I believe the problem lies with that tower,” said Tokura Yasomarou to the group. “You all saw it—the altar holding the founding dean’s holy bones. Doesn’t that area strike you as suspicious?” “Old man,” Haruki Kiyoshi interjected, “does that mean Yonma Kenshaku is targeting the tower too?” Tokura nodded slowly. “I’m certain of it.” He scanned their faces in the dim light. “What do you all think? Though I doubt Yonma will come tonight, shall we investigate that tower ourselves?”

In response, no one voiced opposition.

After waiting for the monks to fall into a deep slumber, the group of seven stealthily slipped out of their bedroom and found themselves in one of the old tower’s chambers. The hour had already passed midnight, and the evening’s initial drizzle had finally intensified into a relentless downpour; what had been a tower summit boasting magnificent vistas by daylight now lay shrouded in impenetrable blackness.

The group had made their way through that darkness, guided by flashlight beams, until they reached before the altar—and it was then. One of the Boy Detectives Club members, Yokomitsu-kun, let out a sharp little cry. "Wh-what's wrong, Yokomitsu-kun..."

“That sound… Listen—that buzzing like a bamboo dragonfly…” Hearing this, everyone held their breath in the darkness. Ah—yes—they could hear it now, hear it clearly: the droning buzz of a helicopter mingling with the relentless rain. No sooner had the sound drawn near Hekuzakan’s airspace than a searchlight’s beam suddenly rained down from above.

“Oh no! They’re trying to locate Hekuzakan!” When Old Man Tokura shouted, the machine gun erupted with a tremendous *dadadadada* roar. From above the helicopter, they were raining down a storm of machine gun fire upon Hekuzakan’s surroundings. “Danger! Everyone, take cover!”

The seven-member group scattered to the four walls like a spider’s web being torn apart and hid themselves behind the curtains. Dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah!

The machine gun’s roar continued unabated, and bullets rained down like hail upon the forest surrounding Hekuzakan.

Grand Climax

At last, the machine gun’s roar abruptly ceased, and the helicopter seemed to halt above Hekuzakan, as a buzzing drone came falling from the same direction.

Ah, he understood. He understood—Yonma Kenshaku intended to assault Hekuzakan from the air tonight. And to that end, they had unleashed intimidation fire from above to prevent anyone from approaching Hekuzakan Tower. The monks were probably turning pale and huddling in their rooms.

Ah, what brazen, atrocious behavior!

The five comrades of the Boy Detectives Club, along with Old Man Tokura and Inspector Akiyoshi, held their breath as they hid behind the curtains—unaware that Kido, Senba Kojiro, followed by Dr. Tsukue, and finally the masked Yonma Kenshaku would abruptly enter the tower. Because of the searchlight from the helicopter, the interior of the tower was even brighter than daylight. The group had likely just descended from the helicopter via the rope ladder. They were slightly unsteady on their feet.

“Hey, Dr. Tsukue!” Yonma Kenshaku approached the front of the altar with tottering steps, then shouted in a voice like grating metal. “Now, we’ve finally arrived at the treasure trove.” “If I take action now, the treasure will be mine in an instant.” “How’s that?” “Envious?” “If you’d stayed quiet, you might’ve gotten a scrap of the treasure. But because you betrayed me, even if you crawl into that trove, you’ll leave with nothing but empty hands.” “Bwahaha! Bwahaha!”

As Yonma Kenshaku clutched his stomach laughing, Dr. Tsukue—who had been grinding his molars with a terrifying grimace—suddenly shoved Yonma’s body from behind.

And with that—take this! No sooner had the masked leader’s rock-like body begun staggering unsteadily—pitifully so—than it abruptly folded at the waist and crashed to the floor with a thud. “Damn you!” Yonma Kenshaku shouted from behind his mask, but for some reason could only flail on the floor, thrashing about and utterly unable to rise. As Kido and Senba Kojiro watched in stunned silence, what suddenly sprang out from Yonma Kenshaku’s baggy clothes was—oh heavens—none other than a diminutive man and Tachibana Katsumi-sensei!

While the seven hiding behind the curtains were startled, it was Kido and Senba Kojiro who were even more shocked. As if they had stepped on a frog, they let out a yelp and jumped up.

Amidst this chaos, the only one doubled over in uproarious laughter was the demon-like Dr. Tsukue.

“Bwahaha! Bwahaha! East meets west! The true identity of your masked leader Yonma Kenshaku is nothing but this puny man riding piggyback on a she-mannered woman!” “Bwahaha! Bwahaha!” “Hey you! That wench—you’re the runt’s daughter, ain’tcha?” “And Cat Woman—that’s your other face, eh?” “You squeezed into your old man’s clothes and made fools of us all!” “Listen up, Kido! Senba Kojiro! Now that you see they’re just a shrimp of a man and some two-bit dame, there’s nothing to fear!” “Better lick my boots than obey these losers! Become this Dr. Tsukue’s right-hand men!” “Wipe ’em both out!”

But at this moment, Dr. Tsukue had forgotten about Yonma Kenshaku’s terrifying weapon.

Dr. Tsukue, before even finishing his last words,

“Agh! Hot，hot，hot!” he screamed，clutching his right eye. He saw a thick needle deeply embedded in his right eye.

“Agh! Hot, hot, hot!” Dr. Tsukue screamed again, this time clutching his left eye. A similar thick silver needle stood embedded in his left eye as well. “Agh! Hot, hot, hot! Hot, hot! H-help... me...” From the poison rod wielded by the small man, silver needles flew out one after another like an unbroken thread. Dr. Tsukue was transformed into a human pincushion in moments, collapsing onto the floor where he thrashed about wildly before finally lying utterly still.

This was the demon-like Dr. Tsukue’s demise. The small man chuckled deep in his throat—*Hee hee hee hee*—then, “How about that, Kido, Senba Kojiro? Have you seen what I’m capable of?” “This is what happens to all who try to cross me.” “Do you get it now?” “Sh-sh-sh... Boss...” Kido and Senba Kojiro, trembling violently from sheer terror, “I-I’d never even think of betraying you, Boss...”

“So what if you’ve realized I’m a small man? Heh heh heh. True enough—I may be a small man, but this girl here is a terrifying one. This one can see in the dark, she’s stronger than any man, and killing people means nothing to her.”

“Father, what are you dawdling about? Hurry up and remove the crocodile statues, then put the golden medals into the two holes.” Ah, the terrifying Tachibana Katsumi. Even as she watched Dr. Tsukue die like a pincushion, she remained utterly composed, not so much as twitching an eyebrow.

“Alright, alright. Hey, Kido, Senba Kojiro—try removing both of those crocodile statues from the altar.” “Ah, did you take them off? If you’ve removed them, there should be two holes there. Well?”

“Yes, Boss! There are! There are!” “Hmm, there are? Well then, try inserting these medals one by one.” “Right half-piece goes in the right hole, left half-piece in the left hole… Did you insert them? Good. Alright then.” “I’ll give the signal—push them in hard when I do! One… Two… Three!”

At that instant, a thunderous roar pierced through Hekuzakan Tower and shot through the dark night sky. The group of seven hiding behind the curtains momentarily felt the floor sway beneath them like a leaf floating on water. In the next instant when they timidly peeked out—lo and behold—Kido, Senba Kojiro, the small man, Cat Woman, Tachibana Katsumi-sensei, and even Dr. Tsukue who had died like a pincushion had all vanished without trace. The boy Haruki wore a look of utter bewilderment for a moment before timidly stepping out from behind the curtain,

"Ah, everyone, come here! Look, over there..." At Haruki's voice, the group scrambled out from behind the curtains in disarray to find a gaping hole in the floor about six meters before the altar. Peering inside, they saw blackish water churning violently tens of meters below. Caught in that whirlpool, the small man, Ms. Tachibana Katsumi, Dr. Tsukue, Kido, and Senba Kojiro all rapidly sank into the watery depths.

“It’s a pitfall trap.”

“Hmm. A pitfall trap indeed.” Inspector Akiyoshi wiped the sweat from his face, “But how did that happen? Were the things written on the golden medal just lies meant to trap people?” Old Man Tokura did not answer. Retrieving the half-piece of the golden medal embedded in the altar’s left hole, he examined the characters carved on its reverse side—then broke into a knowing smile.

“I see now—they were deceived by the text written on this counterfeit half-piece.” “You see, the genuine one I have here says that after inserting the two half-pieces into the holes—(move away from the wall)—you should push both medals—(using a long pole).” “However, this counterfeit states that immediately after inserting them, you must (press both medals firmly).” “That’s why they fell into the trap Pirate King Delmar had prepared for emergencies.”

Ah, that too must have been their own doing. Putting that aside, while the group remained preoccupied with the pitfall trap, Ushimaru Heitarou—who had been restlessly scanning their surroundings—suddenly,

“Ah!” he cried out in a shrill, startled voice.

“Look at that, everyone! Look! It’s an incredible treasure—a whole mountain of riches spilling over!” At that cry, what met the eyes of the group as they whirled around was the shrine niche bearing a cross split cleanly in two—from which ancient gold coins and gemstones came clattering forth onto the altar... And upon that altar within Hekuzakan Tower, a mountain of rainbow-hued treasure rapidly took shape before their very eyes...... The band of evildoers led by Yonma Kenshaku had all perished.

Only Nami Tateru, who had boarded the helicopter, remained missing afterward—but what could he have achieved without his boss? Later, there were claims that someone had spotted what looked like helicopter debris floating off the Kii Peninsula’s coast—might that not speak of Nami Tateru’s final fate? Word of the jewels and ancient gold coins uncovered at Hekuzakan spread across the globe in an instant. Converted to modern currency, it would amount to a sum so astronomical—one wouldn’t know how many zeros to add.

All those treasures were allocated for Japan’s educational restoration, and Old Man Tokura, the Boy Detectives Club, and even Inspector Akiyoshi and his team did not gain a single cent of profit from them.

Despite that—no, precisely because of that—both Old Man Tokura and the comrades of the Boy Detectives Club were happy.

Afterward, Old Man Tokura sold off his shop on the coastal avenue and built a house on a hill in Akashi overlooking the Awaji Island he remembered. And now, he spends his remaining years quietly, tending to flowers and plants. Old Man Tokura’s greatest joy, it is said, lies in treating his comrades from the Boy Detectives Club—who come to visit over weekends—to lavish feasts.