Pathway to Japanese Literature

The Client

On December 12, Showa 52 (1977), winter dawn broke with the snow.

The elderly detective Furumura Soroku awoke on his basement bedroom futon as usual.

Because the beautiful artificial human assistant Kayumi had come to wake him at the appointed time.

“――And Master. Today is the day to replace your artificial lungs. The preparations are already complete in the next room.”

Having said that，Kayumi announced that day’s special matters requiring attention.

The elderly detective sat up abruptly.
While brushing back his fully white long hair, he stood before the mirror hanging on the wall.
His complexion was healthy.
His skin looked ready to drip blood.

The detective extended one hand and pressed the button at the corner of the mirror.

In that instant, his figure in the mirror vanished, and in its place appeared a graph of curves.

Seven curves intertwined across its surface.
And then, seven new points were added to the December 12 horizontal axis in plain view, displayed as glowing spots.
Those seven curves represented the seven criteria for evaluating his health.
They were pulse rate and regularity, respiratory rate, body temperature, blood pressure, and several other reactions.
If one stood before the mirror, these would be measured almost instantly and displayed as spots on the health curves—such was the mechanism’s design.

Hmm, this morning's condition was the worst I've had in a while. I should probably replace my heart with an artificial one soon too—but I wonder if that's okay.

No—it would be too tedious to list out every detail like this and explain his daily life in Showa 52 (1977). From here on out, matters would be recorded sparingly. Except in special cases…

After replacing his artificial lungs, taking his morning bath, and finishing his meal, Furumura sat with a large teacup of coarse tea gathered from his hometown mountains at his side, listening intently to a radio news digest when Assistant Kayumi entered and announced a visitor. And he twisted the television's switch.

On the projection screen appeared a life-sized image of a woman.

She was hiding the lower half of her face with a handkerchief.
In both eyes peering out from above was a look of intense fear.

Her attire consisted of an atomic bulletproof helmet on her head, a ruby bead necklace, a long Canadian squirrel overcoat, and tall bulletproof boots on her feet.
She held a short stick with a metallic sheen—about one meter in length—in one hand clad in bulletproof gloves.

In short, a young woman caught up in some incident and trembling with fear had come to visit.
She wasn’t particularly cultured, nor did she seem like some shallow woman.

The elderly detective welcomed the female guest and ushered her into the parlor.

The woman removed her fur overcoat.
From beneath it appeared a vivid yellow dress.
The yellow dress, the red ruby necklace, and the pale woman’s face seemed to speak of all that was romantic.
The detective had finished oiling all the relays in his own brain.

“Please make yourself at ease…”
“And what might that be, Madam—the matter troubling you…”

Furumura offered the golden cigarette case to the female guest.

"I'm in such distress."
The guest took only a single puff of smoke.
“……I am being followed by a man with a terrifying face…”
“...I would like you to protect me somehow...”

“That must be quite distressing for you.”

"A man with a terrifying face is following me—she wants protection," the female guest said.
An old-fashioned case.
It was the kind of case that occurred in the Egyptian era five thousand years ago—no, rather, in even more ancient times after the expulsion from the Garden of Eden.
Yet even now, it sprouts anew with fresh vigor.

“And how would Madam like this man dealt with to achieve your satisfaction?”

The detective had called her “Madam” for the first time at this moment—a precise strike at the heart of this woman who had yet to introduce herself.

“I want you to make him stop following me… To make him vanish completely from my sight—please resolve this matter for me.”

“Either extract a promise from that man or kill him.”
“Which does Madam prefer…?”

The elderly detective uttered those words smoothly without altering his tone of voice.

“Um, I do have some money...”

The woman whispered a large number in a low voice.

"However, I must make it a condition that the matter is completely resolved."

"It comes down to either giving him death or making him fully commit to a promise—but whether he’s truly the sort of man who would keep such a promise—ah, on that matter—exactly what relationship does this man have with you, Madam? I would like you to tell me about that…"

The detective, believing the opportunity had arrived, addressed the issue he had wanted to know from the beginning. But the outcome proved far from fragrant.

"He is a man with whom I have had absolutely no prior connection whatsoever, I assure you. He is someone I had never laid eyes on before. If I had ever seen a person with such an ugly, distorted face even once before, there is no way I could have forgotten. And yet, I am now constantly being stalked by that monster of a man. Ah, how dreadful! It is terrifying. I feel like I am losing my mind…"

“If that is indeed the situation, then having the police intervene to admonish that man would seem the most sensible approach at this juncture, but...”

“Oh, what are you saying? What could the police possibly do for someone like us? They merely stir things up needlessly, make us agitated, and temporarily expose us to public scrutiny—I cannot obtain a single thing I seek through them. I must disagree. I take a direct and effective approach. That is the wise course of action. You are known among people as one who guards cases’ confidentiality well, who asks only the barest minimum of questions, who shortens resolutions through decisive methods, and who always becomes your clients’ absolute ally—that is why I have come to request your services. Though this public reputation does contain certain inaccuracies...”

“You flatter me excessively.”
“In any case, I shall commence your requested work immediately. However—if I may be so bold as to ask just one question—is your marital relationship harmonious?”

The female guest showed a mocking expression, but it seemed reflexive and vanished immediately.

“Oh, perfectly harmonious… My husband loves me dearly and takes excellent care of me.”

“And how about you—in relation to your husband…”

Furumura could become sensitive to even a single nuance.

"That..." The female guest clearly faltered, but as if to cover it up continued, "I too love my husband.
"That is certainly true."

Furumura appeared to stiffen for a moment. However, he immediately followed up with the next question. "How many years ago was it that you and your husband became married?"

Furumura had expected that the client would state a surprisingly short period.

“It was three months ago.”

Hmm—even shorter than he’d anticipated. For a woman of twenty-four or twenty-five, taking a spouse came unusually late. And yet she possessed such striking beauty.

“Forgive my bluntness, but you established your household remarkably late. Might there have been another partner before this?”

The client’s face tensed with unmistakable indignation.

“My husband is Ikari Eiji. A member of the Masugata Expedition Team, as you’re surely aware. The team departed for Mars six years ago in Showa 46’s summer—remained Earthless for over five years—only returned this autumn. Given these circumstances, you’ll appreciate this marks my first domestic arrangement. Does that satisfy your inquiry?” Her lacquered nails tapped the armrest. “In truth, I’ve endured six solitary years since first meeting that man.”

"You mentioned 'Ikari Eiji,' correct?"

The detective’s question doused the blazing female guest like a cup of water. Yet this cooling effect had not been Furumura’s intent. Though well-versed in Masugata Expedition lore beyond ordinary understanding, his ignorance of one Ikari Eiji among its ranks necessitated this inquiry.

"Yes, Ikari Eiji."
"A hero of space."
"When our Ryusei rocket faced peril in the gravity equilibrium zone, my husband volunteered to venture outside the craft and perform miraculous repairs."
"Thus did Ryusei escape danger and quit that zone at last—securing this grand expedition’s triumphant foundation."

“I see, I see… In that case, I shall take a few days’ time to address the resolution of this case. Of course, if the matter is resolved quickly, I shall come to report to you immediately without waiting for those few days. Then, the questions I have to ask have all come to an end. If Madam has no further questions, I would humbly take my leave at this juncture.”

“In that case, here is a retainer check and my address and name. However, I trust you will proceed with this matter while keeping it strictly confidential even from my husband—please bear that in mind.”

Tanimura Shizuka stood up from the chair.

Nephew and assistant Hachiba

When Furumura, who had seen off the female guest, quietly stepped into the study, the young man standing by the window turned around.

“Good morning, Uncle.”

“Ah, Musashi.”

Furumura called his nephew Hachiba Jūroku “Musashi”—since “sixteen” (jūroku) [from the Sixteen-Fingers game] translates to “Musashi.” However, this antiquated pun held no meaning for contemporary youth.

“I heard everything, you know,” said Hachiba, pointing to the wall-embedded television device that connected directly to the reception room, “Uncle, are you in love with that woman?”

Though rarely perturbed by anything, the old detective found his nephew uniquely capable of widening his eyes—Furumura’s eyes opened wide as he gave a wry chuckle.

“In love… To think you’d voice such vulgar words and harbor such vulgar notions.”
"The impetuousness of modern youth."
"You neglected even to offer a proper greeting."

"But that’s the conclusion you’d reach, right? Uncle, you’ve left out crucial points one after another that you should’ve naturally elicited from the client. Why has the great detective become so utterly disoriented? There’s only one answer. The old detective—no, the great detective has fallen in love—it’s because he’s smitten with that woman……"

"So that’s your deduction."
"Hmph."
"And what crucial point have I failed to ask about?"

"For example, well... You haven't clearly established the basis for why that woman fears that man."

"The reason for her fear was explicitly stated by that person. The man's face is apparently horrifyingly disfigured. She maintains he's persistently stalking her. That constitutes the entirety of her rationale."

"Isn't that conclusion dangerously oversimplified? You should have interrogated the foundation of her terror more thoroughly. The true cause lies buried far beneath this superficial account."

“You are deliberately trying to complicate and dramatize the problem.”
“That’s not good.”
“Mistakes arise when one doesn’t view matters honestly.”

“But in that case, Uncle’s judgment is far too lenient.”
“This is a huge case!”

“That may be so, but from that woman’s standpoint, that’s all there is to it.”

“I cannot agree.
“Uncle.
“What does the face of that man—the one terrifying that woman—look like?”
“You didn’t ask about that, did you?”
“But this is an extremely crucial point…”

“There’s no need to ask about such things. The clearest way is for us to go now and actually see with our own eyes the face of that man clinging to that person—is that not best?”

“How carefree.”

“Musashi.
"It’s best to avoid questioning clients as much as possible."
“If we can understand something through our own methods, it’s better not to ask about it.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

Hachiba Musashi, the nephew, wore a dissatisfied expression.

“You’ll come along—I will be leaving in five minutes. Of course—to see that man with the terrifying face.”

“Of course I’ll accompany you, Uncle.”

The nephew suddenly broke into a smile.

Mercury Basement District 399—was the location of Tanimura Shizuka and Ikari Eiji’s love nest.

The old detective rode the moving road alongside the nephew to the vicinity, then slowly walked along the sidewalk from Utsusemi Square onward.

This area had been developed as a residential district about five years prior; though designed with practical convenience in mind, relatively few residents had moved in.
This was likely due to its location being farthest from the city center and giving an air of remoteness.
Yet measured temporally, using the high-speed transit conduit would have required merely fifteen minutes to reach downtown...
People had grown fundamentally defective in their nature.

The detective ascended the gentle slope.
The top of this slope was a corner of 399, where the apartment was supposed to be.
Modern apartments had ten or twenty inconspicuous entrances, allowing people to choose whichever passageway they preferred.
——Which made it all the more troublesome for the detective business.

“We’ve arrived.”
“Hmm.”
“It seems best to enter from around there.”

The old detective’s intuition—honed over many years—was fearsomely sharp.
The nephew followed along quietly, prepared to immediately leap in front of his uncle and strike down any assailant should push come to shove.

A passageway snaked underground like a curved eyeglass bridge—twisting and turning inward toward the depths.
But gas-discharge lamps in the ceiling cast a bluish-white light, providing ample illumination even for those with failing eyesight.

The old detective suddenly stopped.
Understanding the situation, the nephew jutted his chin over his uncle’s back.

“In the shadow of the seventh arch—look, he’s leaning forward.”

“I can see it too.
Agh!
……What a truly awful face!”

“Hmm.”
The old detective groaned with the portable telescope held to his eye.
“This is the first time I’ve encountered such a deformity.
It’s shattering the principles of embryology.
It’s like a house on the verge of collapse.”

“What a truly horrible face that was indeed.”

Faces protruding forward or flowing backward were not particularly strange.
Even among other horrifying faces, they generally maintained bilateral symmetry along the vertical axis passing through the nasal bridge at the face's center.
Even the terrifying visage of O-Iwa of Ōzeki rank—though her eyes showed slight asymmetry from swelling—remained bilaterally symmetrical around the facial axis when viewed as a whole.
——Yet the face before them defied this principle.
First, the nasal bridge slanted diagonally.
Moreover, the entire face tilted at an angle.
It was an unnatural face.
Adding to this, darkened gashes—whether remnants of boils or something else entirely—covered his features here and there, rendering his countenance barely recognizable as human.
His lips bore a vertical scar on the left side that pulled taut like a driven metal staple.
Such a twisted face, such a grotesque visage—no encyclopedia contained its likeness.
The misshapen chin stood visible, but the presumably deformed skull remained concealed beneath a brown wide-brimmed fedora.

The old detective had somehow already captured the man in a small camera.

“Hey, Musashi.
“I’ll go request a meeting with that individual now.”

“Should I apprehend him if he tries to escape?”

“No—let him do as he pleases for now.
“There will still be plenty more opportunities.”

No sooner had those words ended than the old detective leaped out from the corner of the passageway.
The nephew advanced as if chasing after him.

But the old detective's pace gradually slowed.
A Maduros pipe had found its way into his mouth at some point.
Even he, who had completely quit smoking, would sometimes chew on a pipe filled with substitute tobacco out of professional necessity.
He approached the suspicious man at a slow pace.
And then he finally came to a stop.

“Excuse me, but might I inquire whether the residence of a Ms. Tanimura Shizuka happens to be located in this vicinity?”

Startled by the sudden address, the suspicious man’s grotesque face contorted further into an uncanny mask—but then he swiftly covered his face from the eyes downward with both gloved hands. He violently shook his head from side to side.

“Very well,”
“You don’t know her?”
“My apologies...”
“Forgive my impertinence, but might you have previously served aboard a ship?”
“I too was a sailor for many years—I believe I’ve seen you somewhere before...”

Then the man let out a beast-like scream.
And knocking the old detective to the ground on the spot, he stampeded away with frantic haste.
Nephew Hachiba raised his pistol.
The old detective shouted, “Don’t shoot!”
The suspicious man fled while dragging his leg terribly, his posture resembling a bat crawling along the ground.
And halfway up the slope, he leaped into the left-side wall opposite the apartment building.

Love Nest Reconnaissance

“Uncle.”
“That won’t do.”

While helping Furumura up and brushing the mud off his clothes, the nephew voiced his thoughts.

“What exactly won’t do?”

“Isn’t this bad? You suddenly asked that man about Ms. Tanimura Shizuka like that… That way he’ll be on high alert.”

“That’s exactly how it should be. I saw it clearly. To that man, the name Tanimura Shizuka elicited no reaction whatsoever. It was unexpected, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, so that’s what you were after.”

The young Hachiba’s earlobes turned slightly reddish.

“The part about him possibly being a sailor got a huge reaction, I tell you. And then he knocked me down and ran away.”

“Why did you assume he was a sailor?”

“It’s because of how he wore that hat. Storm caps are donned precisely that way.”

“Ah.”
“So if he’s a sailor, what bearing does that have on this case?”

“That’s what we must now unravel.”
“We’ve acquired this equation—his identity as a sailor.”

“There appears no linkage here.”

“No—I believe there is. Once we confirm his maritime past—can’t you sense how this must interlock with some aspect of our mystery?”

“Well…”

The nephew tried wringing out brain matter, but when no answer came, he shook his head from side to side.

"You're overcomplicating things—that's why you didn't notice."

The old detective smiled and thrust both hands into the overcoat pockets.

“Well then, let’s go pay Madam Tanimura a visit.”

“Are we going to formally meet her?”

“No—informally.”
“I’ll have you play a part.”
“This is the scenario we’re dealing with.”

The old detective whispered something in a low voice to his nephew.
The nephew listened gladly with eyes like a mischievous urchin.

There was indeed an apartment building bearing nameplates for Ikari Eiji and Tanimura Shizuka.
The nephew reached for the doorbell.

“Wait.”
“Change of plans.”
This house has a television phone installed.
“Just call them on the telephone.”
“You’ll act as if you’re calling from a newspaper company.”

Furumura took out a corded device from his pocket and laid it over the wires creeping along the entrance wall.
After adjusting it briefly, he soon turned toward his nephew and signaled.
Hachiba took charge of the device.
Then he began placing the call in a hushed tone.

“...This is the Ikari residence, correct? Is this Madam? This is the Sakura Newspaper. Is your husband available? If he’s available, we’d like him to come to the phone for a moment.”

Madam Tanimura Shizuka made her pale face even more menacing and glared at Hachiba from the television screen.

“What business may I ask?”
“Please state your business.”

“Actually, we’ve received a letter and money from your husband’s fans.”
“In other words, a reader has made a donation in recognition of your husband’s distinguished service as a Mars Exploration Team member, and we’d like to discuss this matter briefly.”

This proposal had an immediate effect.
Madam Shizuka instantly transformed her expression, assumed her signature smile, and went to summon Ikari from another room.
Furumura had both eyes pressed tightly against a separate compact projection screen device he’d positioned along the side path.
This merely allowed viewing the other party’s face; Furumura’s visage wasn’t teleported to their end.

Ikari Eiji’s enraged visage leapt onto the screen.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I won’t accept that money.”
“Send it back.”
“I’m not some hero who deserves your praise.”
“Just leave me be.”
“And stop writing those damn articles about me being an Exploration Team member.”
“It’s beyond irritating.”

As Ikari tried to hang up the phone，Madam Shizuka，who was beside him，stopped his hand and took over the call．

“I’m terribly sorry．He is an exceedingly humble person，you see－these days he absolutely detests being publicized as some sort of heroic figure．As for the newspaper company，you see－I will personally visit them to offer my apologies and gratitude in his stead，so please do not take offense．”

“Oh no, I’m not upset, but please accept the fan’s letter and money.”
“Then I’ll send it by mail to you.”

At the old detective’s signal, the televised meeting concluded.
They put away the device, muffled their footsteps, and withdrew from the apartment entrance.

When they reached the downward slope, Hachiba—in a way that showed he could no longer hold back—called out to his uncle who had remained silent.

“Was the way I handled it just now all right?”

“It was adequate.”

“Well, that’s fine then… But Uncle, all we got for our trouble was being yelled at by Ikari. We didn’t gain anything at all, did we?”

“Is that what you think?”
The old detective twisted his lips into a tight ヘ-shaped line.
“I’ve learned various new things.”

“Huh? New things?”
“What kind of things?”
“That...”

“I think you’re already aware of this, but those two were indeed cohabiting.”

“If that’s all, even I could’ve figured that out…”

“And that Madam Shizuka takes pride in Mr. Ikari.
However, Mr. Ikari does not share this sentiment and dislikes being publicized as an expedition member—this was my greatest discovery.
Because of that, I now have a place I must visit immediately.”

“That’s interesting.”
“I’ll go anywhere with you.”
“But Uncle.”
“Aren’t you straying from the main case?”
“But even if we investigate Mr. Ikari, that terrifying-faced man stalking Madam Shizuka won’t get resolved, so…”

“Well, just come along with me. In any case—whatever it may be—when you find something that doesn’t sit right with you, solving that first is the true essence of this line of work. Sometimes that unexpectedly provides a direct and significant clue.”

“Is this Uncle’s empiricism again? That’s antiquated thinking. Statistics are merely an accumulation of coincidences. They’re worthless data that probability theory can easily dismiss.”

“If you properly organize the parameters, they won’t remain so worthless. Now then—let’s be off.”

Secret Records

At the Masugata Expedition Team Office, they ushered Furumura and his companions into a domed hall where blue sky could be seen through its bulletproof ceiling.

Captain Masugata had once been colleagues with Furumura on a certain project years prior, and since Furumura’s extraordinary efforts during that period had saved him from a crisis, he was obliged to extend the highest courtesies to Furumura as a matter of protocol.
Yet whether he genuinely felt gratitude toward Furumura in his heart remained uncertain.
In such circumstances, people often grow to resent those who once saved them—keeping their distance, or in extreme cases, some might even attempt to trip their benefactors and toss them into a river given the slightest opportunity.

Masugata was a portly, imposing man in his fifties, but when he stepped into the Azure Sky Room where Furumura and the others waited, his face suddenly broke into a smile as he greeted them in an amiable voice.

“Today, I wanted you to tell me more about that Mars expedition from before.”

Furumura said bluntly.

“What’s this—business? Surely not another profit-sharing lawsuit? There’s not a scrap of earnings left in the team’s coffers.”

“That’s not it. I want to know about a certain expedition team member. There was a man named Ikari Eiji—the one they hailed as a cosmic hero in newspapers and on the radio.”

“Ah, another marriage proposal inquiry? That man’s already out of the running. He’s building a love nest with some woman who’s carried a torch for him these seven years.”

“You’re referring to the woman named Tanimura Shizuka, then.”

“Oh, you already know about that? If that’s not it, then what kind of case is this?”

“My work obligates me to keep my clients’ secrets, you see… Now then, I’d like you to show me those record volumes from that time. I’ve already had you show me everything once before, but heading to the archives would be less of a hindrance to you all, I suppose.”

Masugata was thoroughly distressed. It was difficult to refuse the brazen detective’s demands.

“Even crew members are prohibited from viewing under our regulations, but well—since it’s you—I suppose it’s permissible.”
“Come this way.”

The archive was located on the thirteenth basement floor, situated directly behind the captain’s office.
Masugata did not take his eyes off Furumura and the others for even a second.

“This is strange. In the earlier sections, Ikari Eiji’s name isn’t in the crew roster; from midway onward, his name appears there. What’s the reason for this?”

“Ha ha ha ha! Is that all? Can’t even the great detective understand something like that?”

“The initial crew roster listed thirty-nine members. By the time of their return, it had become forty. Ikari Eiji was omitted from the original count. Why would that be? A crew member you, as captain, are excluding from the records. Ah—Ikari Eiji was a stowaway. That’s correct, isn’t it?”

“Of course, that’s how it would be.”

Masugata feigned composure and said nonchalantly.
Furumura paid no heed to it, stood up, and retrieved another document from the shelf.
That was the Aviation Log.
He began reading intently from the first page.

“There it was.
August 3rd (Day 3): Immediately before rousing all crew members, a stowaway was discovered in the Fifth Storage Passageway.
It was a remarkably terse record.
‘And after that...’”

Furumura poked at the page with his fingertip while probing ahead.
Toward the end of the same day, there was another article.

"The Department Heads Meeting re-examined the inventory quantities of food, air, fuel, and other supplies, resulting in five members deeming it possible to increase the crew by one additional member and four members deeming it impossible."
(Numbers redacted) The matter was decided.
As a result of the lottery, this conference approved the registration of Ikari Eiji as crew member No. 40.
The remaining matters were entrusted to Dr. Kōkawa for processing.
So on the third day, Ikari had obtained his qualification as a crew member.
"And indeed, the capacity increased from thirty-nine members to forty."

Masugata’s eyes were fixed on Furumura’s profile as though frozen.
Furumura remained as rude as ever in such matters.
(His nephew was serving as a faithful watchlight, relaying information through the sound of his footsteps.)

“I’ll copy down the wording of this log.”

With that, Furumura proceeded to write them down in his notebook.

“Mr. Masugata.”
“There’s some text that’s been redacted here in this section—how should this be read?”
“Redaction—that is to say, text that need not be read.”
“But if you don’t read this part, the text feels linguistically deficient, you know?”
“It’s not a literary work, so that’s permissible.”
“It’s odd that a master of documentary literature would show negligence only here.”
“In any case, this Ikari Eiji avoided disciplinary action as a stowaway, had his life spared, and was incorporated into the crew—which he was profoundly grateful for—then later performed a great exploit by rescuing the *Ryusei-maru* from crisis and abruptly became a hero... that’s how it transpired, I take it?”

“That’s correct.”
“In truth, his exploits were…”

Masugata suddenly grew eloquent and began recounting those days at length.
Furumura hummed in agreement, nodding along with apparent interest.
Yet his hands kept busily turning pages in a separate volume.
This was the “Communication Department Report” from Dr. Kōkawa’s records.
The entry for August 3rd contained the following notation:

“…Processed one stowaway in accordance with regulations.
23:05 commencement, 23:55 conclusion.”

Then, in the margin, there was a pencilled notation: “23XSY”.
“Damn it, fraud et cetera”, “the winner must be monitored”, and three such phrases were written horizontally.
Furumura's face stiffened.

"I thought there was one stowaway, but no—there were two."

Furumura shouted.

"You're free to interpret it as you wish."

Masugata declared brazenly.

"It's clearly written here."
"In this 'Communication Department Report'."
"This is Dr. Kōkawa's handwriting."

Furumura pointed at the part stating, "Processed one stowaway in accordance with regulations et cetera." At that moment, another document concealed the penciled notations in the margin. It was unclear whether this was accidental or deliberate.

"After reading this and returning to the 'Aviation Log' again, it became clearly inferable that there were two stowaways."
"Quite cunning—no, rather, a clever way of recording things."

Masugata was letting Furumura’s words wash over him.

“Through the lottery, Ikari Eiji was to remain aboard the *Ryusei-maru*. And the other was processed by Dr. Kōkawa in accordance with regulations. There’s no doubt about it—who was the other one? What kind of processing was performed? Could you explain it to me?”

“I’ll leave that judgment to your common sense.”

“What we know is that the stowaway of unknown name was not permitted to remain aboard the *Ryusei-maru* and was expelled outside at 23:00 that day.”
“Exactly.”
“Does that mean death, I wonder?”

“I’m not responsible for anything that happened outside the craft. So I don’t know what became of it.”
“So I don’t know what became of it.”

“I find that rather questionable, but I don’t intend to reproach you now. What I want to know is how the unnamed individual was processed. If we ask Dr. Kōkawa, he’ll know—but where is the doctor now—” Furumura began, then suddenly shuddered as if struck by an electric shock. “...Dr. Kōkawa met an unexpected end during the expedition’s return journey, didn’t he?”

“You already know everything, don’t you?”

“I’ll eventually uncover everything—”
“But I don’t know everything yet—if I can’t speak with Dr. Kōkawa, I want to meet someone from the Communications Department and ask them.”
“Arrange an introduction.”

“They’ve already disbanded—there’s no one left.”
“The Communications Department has been completely dissolved.”

“I see.”
“That is unfortunate.”
“But the roster should still exist—I’ll copy it into my notebook and be on my way.”

The Late-Night Slope

Furumura withdrew from there with his nephew and returned to his office.

The young nephew was excited, paying no heed to Furumura.
Furumura continued his work methodically while persistently trying to calm him down.

“In that case, you’ll be putting Mrs. Tanimura Shizuka’s case on the back burner, right?”

Driven solely by his desire to recommend this course to his uncle, Hachiba kept blurting out such remarks repeatedly.

Furumura gave no response.

Before they knew it, the night had grown late.

“Hey.”
“We’re heading out.”
“Coming along?”

“Absolutely!”
“But where exactly?”

Furumura’s target was that interminable slope again.
Midwinter aboveground—but here in the subterranean arcade, thermostats held steady at twenty degrees.

Furumura, seemingly burning with conviction, briskly ascended that slope.

As they were about to reach the top of the slope, Furumura signaled to his nephew.

The two suddenly came to a halt and turned left.
Hachiba lit an illumination lantern that rendered the five-meter square area as bright as under a full moon.
Both Furumura and Hachiba stood fully exposed in the light.
Even the pistol glinting in Hachiba's hand...

“Easy now, easy.”
“If you don’t run away, the pistol won’t be fired.”

The elderly detective called out in a pressing tone to the man with the grotesque face who stood facing him.
He appeared plastered against the far wall.
From beneath the dirty hat’s brim, knothole-like eyes gleamed; a distorted mouth torn open wide enough to bare teeth…

“Mr. Kida Ken’ichi.”
“I know all about you.”
“I heard everything from Mr. Kusaka, the engineer at Radio Station 23XSY.”
“I sincerely sympathize with your misfortune and unhappiness.”

At the old detective’s words, the man’s grotesque face twisted into a strange expression.
His emotions were stirred.

“We would now like to accompany you to the house above here. And we wish to assist you thoroughly and completely as your allies. I trust you will agree.”

The man with the distorted face was momentarily stunned.
But he seemed to finally understand what the old detective was saying.

“What kind of people are you?”

In a hoarse voice, the mysterious man asked.

Furumura honestly gave his name.

After verifying multiple times that Furumura and the others had not come to arrest him under police orders, the mysterious man finally agreed to accompany them.

“However, even if you meet them, simply state your resentment. You mustn’t resort to violence. That would also lead to you losing the sympathy of those who support you.”

The elderly detective spoke as though instructing a small child.

The three began walking.

But Hachiba couldn’t rest easy.

“Uncle, are you sure this is okay? If something were to happen...”

He cautioned his uncle in a low voice. When they let this mysterious man meet Mrs. Tanimura Shizuka, wouldn’t he fly into a rage and strangle her? If such a situation were to occur, how would Furumura explain himself to the client?

But Furumura merely showed his nephew a signal indicating there was no need to worry and did not attempt to slow his pace. That’s some confidence.

As the three took a few steps into the passage leading to the apartment entrance, gunshots suddenly rang out from deep within.
It was the sound of over a dozen wildly fired gunshots.

“Damn it!”

The elderly detective stiffened on the spot and clicked his tongue.
His face was contorted in shock.

“Let’s go check!”
“What’s—”

“Wait, Musashi. It’s already too late.”

Furumura's voice had returned to its usual calm.

"What do you mean it's too late?"

"He was shot dead. That man..."

“Who is ‘that man’?”

“Ikari Eiji was shot dead.”
Furumura then placed a hand on Kida’s shoulder.
“Mr. Kida.
“The person you wanted to voice your resentment to seems to have become a corpse just moments before you could reach them.
“You may be dissatisfied, but please give up and consider this a settled matter.”

Kida let out a strange cry, his body trembling violently.
The elderly detective, while calming Kida and supporting him as if holding him up, entered the apartment.

Furumura's deduction had been correct.

At the back entrance, Ikari lay dead, his entire body stained crimson.

Special police squad members armed with light machine guns gathered.
The squad leader was none other than Inspector Egawa, who was acquainted with Furumura.

“Ah, Mr. Furumura... We’ve killed him.”
“Because he resisted.”

According to the inspector's account, when they moved to urgently arrest Ikari Eiji under suspicion of Dr. Kōkawa's murder, he suddenly drew two pistols and resisted, leading to an exchange of fire between both parties until they finally gunned him down there.

“What about Madam?”

Furumura asked.

“Madam cannot be seen.”
“Moreover, the personal effects are nowhere to be seen, and the clothes wardrobe is practically empty.”
“Madam seems to have gone somewhere.”

“Oh, I see.”

Furumura let out a small sigh of relief.
Then, protected by his nephew, he went to where Kida stood dejectedly in the darkness,

“Mr. Kida. This should suffice for now. Now then, shall we take our leave? And if it’s not inconvenient for you, would you please stop by my house with us? Tonight, I’d like to have you as my guest.”

Unexpected Regeneration

Several days later, Hachiba finally welcomed the chance to converse leisurely with his uncle after a long interval. He told his uncle he wished to learn the conclusion of the Kida and Ikari case he had been eagerly awaiting.

“Both Ikari and Mr. Kida were fellow crew members, you see. When they heard about the Masugata Expedition Team’s departure, the two conspired and planned to stow away. And on the third day, they were discovered. As you know, after deliberation, the expedition team determined they could accommodate only one more person – another would be impossible. So they decided by lottery which of the two would remain.” Furumura paused momentarily. “Then Ikari drew the winning lot. Mr. Kida lost, you see. By regulations, Kida was to be expelled from the craft as a stowaway... but what awaited him was death.” His voice grew heavier. “Because three days had already passed since departing Earth – even if he’d worn a parachute, there was no way he could’ve survived landing on the ground.”

The disposal of Kida had been entrusted to Dr. Kōkawa.
Dr. Kōkawa was indeed the foremost authority on the Ryusei-maru’s mechanical systems.
Dr. Kōkawa considered taking a different approach instead of lowering Kida with a parachute.
That was Dr. Kōkawa’s long-researched method of breaking down a human body into electric particles for teleportation.
Although this wasn’t guaranteed to succeed one hundred percent, it held a far greater possibility of survival than being discarded into the dark void of space with a parachute.
“Dr. Kōkawa confidentially consulted Kida about this matter, and Kida agreed.”
“And so it was decided that the procedure would commence at 11:00 PM that night, and Mr. Kida and the doctor completely isolated themselves from the others aboard the craft, shutting themselves away in the doctor’s mechanical chamber.”

Before long, Kida began to act strangely.
“He had just participated in the fateful lottery with Ikari using playing cards when, at this very moment, Kida remembered that Ikari had once been a master of card tricks.”
“So he came to believe today’s lottery had also been won by Ikari through skilled deception.”
“Thus he cursed Ikari and appealed to the doctor for a redo of the lottery, but this was already beyond remedy.”
“Whether Ikari actually employed deception or not, there was no evidence of it—and besides, the disposal order had already been issued.”
Dr. Kōkawa calmed him and finally proceeded with the task.
The doctor contacted the long-established receiving station—23XSY Radio Station—electrically decomposed Kida’s body, and teleported it there.
This procedure concluded at 23:55, having taken fifty minutes.
“Let me note that I read about this in the ‘Communications Department Report,’ where I recognized its significance as a clue.”
“Because if they had made Kida don a parachute and ejected him from the craft, it shouldn’t have required fifty minutes.”
“Therefore, the delay indicated they must have employed an alternative method.”
This suspicion arose, prompting me to examine the doctor’s penciled annotations in the report’s margins.

The symbol "23XSY" was quickly identified as a radio station name.
"I couldn't quite grasp what 'ikasama da' meant at first, but I later learned its meaning directly from Mr. Kida."
"The phrase 'Beware the Victor' made me think of poor Dr. Kōkawa's tragic end."
"This was my intuition at work, you understand."
"That thing you always scorn."
"Regardless, once I realized this connection, I recognized it as a grave matter and reported it to the proper channels. Yet that day, we arrived moments too late."

“Mr. Kida’s body was received at the 23XSY Radio Station and reconstructed, but due to the transmitter and receiver being completely out of sync combined with the misfortune of strong atmospheric interference that very night, the regenerated Mr. Kida ended up with that Fault Face—an ugly countenance full of fissures—and a misshapen body.”
“However, the fact that Mr. Kida did not lose his life is something to be celebrated.”
“Once Mr. Kida’s body had recovered, he could not help but harbor resentment toward Ikari Eiji.”
“This is something anyone could understand.”
“Due to his disfigured face, he avoided public attention as much as possible while searching for Ikari’s whereabouts until he finally located him and began stalking him.”
“Mrs. Shizuka misunderstood this and came to believe she herself was being stalked by the mysterious man—as for what happened after that, well, you know the rest.”
“Well, and another thing about Mrs. Shizuka—it seems that in the past, she was loved by both Ikari and Kida, and initially she preferred Kida.”
“However, Kida disappeared.”
“Then Ikari returned from the expedition and was hailed as a hero.”
“Then Ikari began stalking Mrs. Shizuka.”
“Through that arrangement, the two ended up living together, it seems.”
“Regarding this matter, I am currently considering one possible conclusion—meddling as it may be.”

What the old detective had been considering became known later when Tanimura Shizuka married a handsome young man.

That young man is said by old acquaintances to be "Kida Ken'ichi, who had long been reported missing, suddenly returned and married Tanimura Shizuka, his former love from long ago."

Regarding this matter, the meddling undertaken by the old detective involved requesting Engineer Egawa at the aforementioned radio station to once again disassemble Kida's body into radio waves through space for transmission, have them received at another station, and reassemble Mr. Kida's body anew.
At that time, through Engineer Egawa's extraordinary efforts, the distortions in Kida's face and body were corrected while simultaneously completely removing the atmospheric interference that had infiltrated.
As a result, it is said that Kida was able to return to being a youthful, handsome man.

Since it's Showa 52 (1977), such things are possible.
Thirty years ago, it was something one couldn't have even dreamed of.
Is that not the case?