Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

“Hey, you’re all here!”

The man who pushed open the door of Café Mermaid and burst in along with a cold gust of wind was Hayasaka Isamu of the Kanto Shimpo—nicknamed Legwork Isamu—a man more adept with his feet than his pen. “Hayasaka-kun? How’s business?” The one who had called out was Takagi Tetsuya—a star reporter at Tokyo Shimpo and professional rival of Legwork Isamu—a young man who seemed more abundantly endowed with friendship than competitive spirit, giving off an air of excellence. “A bonus? Well, I’ve got more than I can spend. Want me to lend you some?”

“My, Mr. Hayasaka! What prosperity!” “Well, Ms., you’re here too? Now that’s something rare.” Surrounded by two or three journalists and directing a radiant smile their way was Sono Hanae—a female journalist at Dai Tokyo Shimpo known for her sharp pen, her mysterious background, and most of all, her striking beauty. Deliberately styled as a professional woman, she wore a modest grape-tinged gray serge dress, her beautifully waved hair carelessly gathered at the nape of her pale neck. Her black fur coat lay flung over the chairback, while her legs—so exquisite they might shame a prima ballerina—rested crossed beyond the table’s edge. The overall impression blended tomboyish nonchalance with undeniable chic charm.

“When I said ‘business,’ I wasn’t talking about a bonus.” “Your patter’s the same as ever, but tonight something more interesting is starting.” Takagi Tetsuya had a whiskey brought for Legwork Isamu while exchanging glances with Sono Hanae and smiling mischievously like a prankster. The sharp eyes gleaming beneath the young journalist’s round-framed glasses and the charming mouth beneath his goatee created a peculiar contradiction in his expression. “Eh? It’s not about money anyway.” “Just spit it out straight.”

“In other words, it’s that bet.” “What, is this sumo’s spring tournament? It’s not like there’s baseball this time of year—” “It’s not that old-fashioned. As a matter of journalist pride, I’m saying we should have a special scoop competition.” “Hmm.” Legwork Isamu was slightly taken aback. The term “special scoop competition” was something he had never heard before. “The bet begins here and now. The one who secures the special scoop first and leaves the whole world speechless—we’ll all treat them to whatever they want, I say.”

“Sounds fun. If that’s how it is, why don’t you let me in on it too? I’m afraid I’ll have to take you on a drinking tour through twenty or thirty first-class restaurants across Tokyo—systematically, of course.” Legwork Isamu slapped his shin over his trousers and grinned. The tendency to mistake a newspaper’s special scoop competition for a marathon race was this man’s defining trait. “The more participants we have from all newspapers, the better—but once you’re in, you can’t back out calling it a joke.”

“As if I’d say such a thing!” “The condition for the special scoop is that it can’t be some self-serving story only one paper cares about. Once that scoop hits print, it has to be the kind that drags every newspaper in Tokyo along whether they like it or not.”

“Of course—” “A monkey at the zoo giving birth—that sort of scoop won’t do.”

“Don’t be tedious, Takagi. I’ve got this properly calculated.”

“Really?”

“Whether it’s true or false—today’s Saturday, right? Ahem! In the Kanto Shimpo’s Tuesday morning edition at the latest, I’ll have you lot stumbling upon an earth-shattering scoop that’ll make your eyes spin.” “Are you sure about that?” “What are you saying? I’m in my right mind!”

“What do you mean ‘What are you saying’? I don’t want to be underestimated here.” “But hey, Hayasaka-kun—I’ve got a stockpiled scoop of my own.” “Oh ho—so the enemy’s got their own hidden card too, eh? Appreciate it. Hearing you’ve come prepared adds some nice tension to the game.” “You talk big, huh?” “Waiter, one cocktail each for everyone here. Let’s toast to our pre-celebration.—Hold on! Ms. Sono here probably doesn’t touch alcohol.” “Given her refined nature, give her something sweet instead.”

Legwork Isamu was concluding a grand order in good spirits.

“Isamu.” “You’ve got quite the grand enthusiasm there.” At that moment as one person pushed through the door—Legwork Isamu placed a hand on his shoulder while nodding greetings toward Takagi, Sono, and the assembled company with his eyes. “Wha— You scared me! Who’s there? Oh—it’s you, Boss.” This senior colleague of Legwork Isamu was none other than Chigusa Jujiro—a renowned journalist serving as social affairs director at the Kanto Shimpo.

“Don’t be so startled—you’re acting like some felon—” “Let’s not talk about unpleasant things—I don’t have any criminal record, but with such beauty sitting right across from me, even trivial matters get under my skin.” “Oh! Mr. Hayasaka.” Sono Hanae blushed faintly and reproached Legwork Isamu. Her face, blooming with coquettish vexation, shone with the fragrant loveliness of a lotus newly opened at dawn.

Two

“Mr. Chigusa – a moment of your time.”

Chigusa Jujiro, who had left Café Mermaid a step ahead of others, was called out like this from the darkness.

“It’s someone you know.”

When he stopped before the display window of the neighboring Western goods store, the man who emerged into the same pool of light behind him was none other than the clerk-like fellow who had until just moments before been sipping Western liquor alone in a corner of Café Mermaid.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t recognize you, did you?” Removing his soft hat and stroking his face once revealed him as a keen-eyed falcon of a man. “Ah—Hanabusa—” This was unmistakably Hanabusa Ichiro of the Metropolitan Police—the detective they called renowned. “Something troublesome had happened. Let’s take a stroll around there while we talk.” Detective Hanabusa thrust both hands into his pockets and cut silently from Ginza toward Sukiyabashi Bridge—not so much inviting Chigusa Jujiro as assuming he’d follow.

“What’s happened? You’ve got to tell me—I can’t stand not knowing!”

When Chigusa Jujiro said this, the two were sitting side by side on the Roha-dai bench in Hibiya Park like a pair of society finches. It must already have been past ten. The Ginza area still lingered in early evening, but within the park night had fully deepened—even the distant city sounds, resembling ocean waves, somehow created a dispiriting mood.

“The truth is—”

Hanabusa Ichiro finally opened his mouth. He seemed to deliberate for a while whether it was wise to speak or not, but eventually continued in a resolute tone. “After all, it’s probably best I tell you.” “The truth is this.” “Around ten today, Mr. Sonoda Keitaro called requesting I come to his office immediately.” “Speaking of Mr. Sonoda—needless to say he’s the former foreign minister and current chairman of the Diplomatic Research Society—but there was something gravely urgent in his tone. When I rushed over, I found a major incident: last night a burglar had broken into the Society’s Nagatacho office and stolen crucial confidential documents from the safe.” “The Diplomatic Research Society has been called nothing less than a meddlesome mother-in-law by successive foreign ministers.” “Every important diplomatic issue undergoes research and debate here without exception—as you well know.” “Now these stolen confidential documents contain critical diplomatic memoranda. Should they ever be published in a newspaper, first the current cabinet would collapse without fail. Then everyone from Foreign Minister Mr. Ohara down to Mr. Sonoda and all committee members would have to commit seppuku before this matter could be settled.”

Chigusa Jujiro involuntarily held his breath. As he came to understand the gravity of the incident, he found himself unable to comprehend the detective’s true intent in disclosing it so casually. “As for why they stole it—it’s really quite simple—” Hanabusa Ichiro proceeded with his explanation, paying no heed to the other party’s calculations. “The Diplomatic Research Society is usually quite deserted, so three clerks take turns staying overnight.” “The one assigned to last night’s overnight duty was Koshiba Shizuo—a senior clerk who had once served as Mr. Sonoda’s secretary, so he was considered absolutely trustworthy.” “That man was found this morning in the night-duty room’s bed with a chloroform-soaked cloth pressed to his face, lying there like a dead tuna.” “The janitor discovered it and was pacing around when other clerks arrived for work, causing a commotion. They called Mr. Sonoda, who came immediately to investigate—only to find the most important confidential documents that had been in the safe in the conference room were gone.” “Apparently, even Mr. Sonoda turned pale at this.” “If mishandled, they’d become instruments for seppuku.” “It’s only natural they’d want to retrieve them at any cost before the confidential documents’ contents get published in the newspapers.” “Now then, given the sensitive nature of this matter, the case must be settled with utmost discretion—if word were to carelessly reach journalists’ ears, it would spell disaster. Though you yourself are a journalist—”

Hanabusa Ichiro turned around with a faint smile. Chigusa Jujiro felt as though he had been unexpectedly shown this renowned detective’s friendship, and amid his unease, he found himself feeling inexplicably heartened.

“Let’s go somewhere warm to talk—since Mr. Sonoda should still be at the office, I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce you and have him lend a hand.” “I wonder if there’s anything even someone like me can do to help.”

The two remained silent as they began climbing toward Nagatacho. A cold wind heavy with clouds blew up the deserted slope, while occasional maddened automobiles sped past them with terrifying swiftness. "What a dreadful evening this is." Hanabusa Ichiro hunched his shoulders irritably. That this habitually cheerful man should be so ill-tempered tonight—could there be some hidden trouble beyond the missing confidential documents? Chigusa Jujiro found himself gripped by such suspicions and peered sidelong at the detective's profile walking beside him.

Three

Sonoda Keitaro, who had remained in the chairman’s office immersed in endless gloomy meditation, regained a sliver of his usual composure upon seeing Hanabusa Ichiro return. “Did you find any leads, Mr. Hanabusa?” “I can neither confirm nor deny that at present. “In any case, allow me to introduce Mr. Chigusa Jujiro of the Kanto Shimpo. Regarding this case, I concluded it necessary to secure his assistance and therefore requested him to accompany me.”

“Mr. Chigusa—why, I’m well acquainted with you. Welcome.” As he greeted the reporter emerging from behind Hanabusa Ichiro, all traces of anxiety vanished from Mr. Sonoda’s face. Reverting to that innate magnanimity said to make soaring birds fall mid-flight in political and social circles, he now bestowed an indulgent smile. “What an extraordinary misfortune—” “Precisely regarding that matter—we’ve urgently petitioned the Police Superintendent General to have Detective Hanabusa conduct a confidential inquiry. Given the case’s gravity, we must request your cooperation.” “Should someone of your caliber observe this affair through a journalist’s lens, unforeseen insights might emerge.”

The moment he saw Chigusa Jujiro, he seemed somewhat dissatisfied, but being a seasoned man, he reconsidered and extended a welcoming hand without reservation. “Mr. Chigusa, let me show you the scene—come this way.”

Hanabusa Ichiro, judging the tide had turned, opened one of the chairman’s office doors. “Right this way.” Hearing Mr.Sonoda’s voice behind them, the two proceeded straight into the conference room central to their investigation.

The space was a considerable hall where a large mahogany table had been arranged in a U-shape, beneath which three ornate chandeliers hung. Cream-colored walls were wrapped with walnut-hued wainscoting paneling, and the complete absence of cheap wallpaper demonstrated the dignity befitting such a venue. In the large fireplace paneled with black marble, appearing as remnants of a meeting that had lasted until evening, partially burned coals emitted faint flames, creating a solemn scene.

“They were kept in this safe; opened effortlessly with a duplicate key.” “――――” The large safe embedded in the wall beside the chairman’s seat—though its sturdy door was illuminated by bright lights—had in fact been left open by the thief, its lock yet to be engaged. “This room has two entrances. One connects to the chairman’s office—the way we just entered—and the other faces the dining room doorway across the hallway on the opposite side.” “The windows had been securely closed, and there were no signs of disturbance.” “The culprit scaled the rear fence, smashed one pane of the dining room entrance’s glass, twisted the key that had been left inserted, and effortlessly entered.” “The janitor, affected by the nightcap he had drunk in secret, seems to have been fast asleep without knowing anything.” “The culprit first entered the night-duty room from the dining room, placed a cloth soaked in anesthetic over Clerk Koshiba Shizuo’s face to render him unconscious, entered this conference room, calmly retrieved the confidential documents, retraced their steps along the entry route, and exited with perfect composure—”

Four “By the way, Mr. Chigusa, there’s a matter I’d very much like your judgment on.” “…………” Hanabusa Ichiro, stopping just short of taking Chigusa Jujiro’s hand, positioned him directly before the safe.

“On the wall where that safe is embedded—there’s some kind of writing, don’t you think?” “I see.” Looking, he saw that exactly at the safe’s shoulder area, on the cream-colored wall, thickly in pencil— Borrowing for a while Taking it on loan —there were characters written in two lines.

“What do you make of that?”

“Well...”

Chigusa Jujiro groaned for a while but likely thought there’d be no point in having been specially invited if he didn’t say something. “It must be the culprit’s prank, I suppose?” Having timidly offered this opinion and stepped back, “No.” Hanabusa Ichiro resolutely denied it. “Then are you saying this graffiti holds some special meaning?”

The pitifulness of an amateur—the moment they’re contradicted, they immediately become flustered.

“I believe there is meaning here.” Hanabusa Ichiro pressed forward with logical intensity. “A criminal who risked so much to steal confidential documents wouldn’t foolishly leave meaningless graffiti as evidence. From these two lines alone, I can deduce several key points—” He raised a finger. “First—the culprit likely made a copy of the documents and plans to return the originals. Hence this ‘Borrowing them temporarily’ scrawl.” His glasses caught the chandelier light as he leaned closer to the safe. “Now—who would steal only the contents through duplication? Either political rivals aiming to topple the cabinet... or journalists dazzled by the scoop potential.” The detective’s voice dropped conspiratorially. “Revealing even fragments would cause uproar—like poking a hornet’s nest. Keeping originals invites searches and indictments—thus they’ll return them after copying.” A second finger joined the first. “Second—nine out of ten times, this culprit’s a journalist.” He smiled at Chigusa’s raised eyebrow. “I’m not guessing—the pencil’s coarse graphite matches press-issued stubs reporters carry.”

Hanabusa Ichiro’s face radiated confidence as he pressed forward, each phrase delivered like a prosecutor overwhelming a witness. “Political operatives would use fountain pens or at least mechanical pencils for such graffiti.” “But this pencil—as you see—has a thick lead, uneven pigmentation, and powdery residue. Clearly the lowest-grade graphite product.” “In central Tokyo, only journalists use such pencils.” “Journalists couldn’t write two hundred lines an hour—those breakneck manuscripts—with fancy pens or mechanical pencils.” “You yourself told me this—it must be true.” “Their weapon for those manuscripts? Those appalling utility pencils issued by the dozen from newspaper offices.” “I know journalists keep two or three such pencils hidden in their pockets.” “Third—the culprit stands about five shaku one sun tall. An agile little man.” “This requires no explanation—detective basics: people write on walls at their own eye level.” “Given this text’s height, the culprit’s short—certainly no beanpole like you.”

As the discussion grew increasingly concrete, even within Chigusa Jujiro’s mind, he became able to visualize the culprit’s appearance.

“So, have you got a lead on the culprit?” “Well, yes and no— To tell you the truth, I brought you here to bother you into making the final decision.” “You mean—” “Tonight, that’s precisely why I went to Café Mermaid.” “Since that place is practically a nest for journalists, I thought that by listening to the comings and goings of people there, I might be able to grasp some sort of lead.”

“And?” “As expected—just as you heard—that special scoop competition has begun at the café.” “I don’t know much about it since I went there later myself, but they said it was none other than Takagi Tetsuya from Tokyo Shimpo who started it.” “However, I believe it was your company’s Hayasaka Isamu who said he’d deliver an earth-shattering scoop within two or three days—”

“What?” The riddle had been solved.

Hanabusa Ichiro, suspecting Isamu the Legwork, had lured Chigusa—who held a supervisory position at the same company—to this place to spring a verbal trap. "There’s no way such an absurd thing could happen! That upright Isamu could never do something so audacious!" "No, but—" "There is absolutely no such possibility! First off, those characters on the wall don’t resemble Isamu the Legwork’s handwriting one bit." "But people can alter their writing style." "A skilled person might simplify their hand to write crudely, but someone like Isamu the Legwork with his famously terrible penmanship couldn’t possibly produce such deft characters no matter how he tried. Isamu isn’t the type to do such a thing! I guarantee it. And if anyone planned to steal confidential documents for publication, they’d have no choice but to consult me—the social affairs director—first!"

Chigusa Jujiro desperately pleaded for Isamu the Legwork’s sake, but Hanabusa Ichiro’s persistent suspicions showed no signs of abating despite such efforts.

V “How could such an absurd thing be possible? Isamu the Legwork isn’t the kind of man who could commit something like theft!” Even as he desperately argued, Chigusa Jujiro had not a single piece of counterevidence. However, sensing what he felt, Hanabusa Ichiro did not press the argument.

“Alright, I’ll respect your opinion. Even one or two would suffice—could you present evidence that the culprit isn’t Hayasaka? I know that man well—for most matters, I wouldn’t want to tarnish the reputation of such an upright man.” “There’s plenty of evidence.”

As if being dragged along, Chigusa Jujiro forced out these words.

“For example...” “For example—”

Could an amateur armed with nothing but zeal possibly obtain counterevidence that could overturn in an instant the hypothesis of Hanabusa Ichiro—a man acclaimed as a great detective? This journalist friend who prized loyalty stayed wordless for some time—Sherlock Holmes-like—scouring every inch of the vicinity.

“This is it!” “——”

“You stated that when writing on walls carelessly, people do so at human eye level.”

“Ah, I said that.” “What if it wasn’t written carelessly, but deliberately to hide one’s height?” “What? What?”

Hanabusa Ichiro stood up aghast.

“Look here—these vertical pencil strokes start with strong pressure at the top that fades as they go down. Do you know why that is? To make it look like a short person wrote it, a tall person would write around chin level or lower—since the pencil tip angles downward, you end up with exactly these kinds of characters.”

“――――” “Detective Hanabusa, could these characters truly have been written by the short-statured Isamu the Legwork?” Chigusa Jujiro felt like sounding a victory cry.

“And then—”

“And then—how did Isamu the Legwork obtain a duplicate key to the safe?” “——” “Even if we disregard the duplicate key, the safe would have had a password.” “Isamu the Legwork has no connection to Mr. Sonoda—how could he possibly know such a thing?”

The victory was already Chigusa Jujiro’s. As he pressed on with his argument, Hanabusa Ichiro—who had been silently listening—

“Thank you.” This solidified my confidence. Though I’d caused undue alarm, any lingering doubts had to be pursued relentlessly to their conclusion. The crux now seemed to center on how the safe’s combination had been compromised. “I must see Mr. Sonoda once more.”

As he turned to leave after saying this, Mr. Sonoda—who had just finished preparing to depart—appeared before the two men, still wearing his overcoat and holding his hat. “I shall take my leave now.” “I will leave two clerks behind, so please do not hesitate to let me know if you require anything.”

As he politely bid farewell and tried to leave, “I must ask you to wait a moment.” Hanabusa Ichiro called out to stop him. “What is it, Detective Hanabusa?”

“Since this is an extremely important matter, I must ask you to clearly answer—”

“――――” “The only ones who knew the safe’s combination were you and—” “As I mentioned earlier, I believe it was only myself and my daughter who knew it, but—” “Is your daughter currently at the residence?” “No, she is not at the residence.” A trace of bitter anguish floated vaguely across Mr. Sonoda’s face. “Then where would she be?”

“Must I really divulge that as well?” “This would likely be the most crucial point in investigating this case.” “No, that cannot be. This is a private family matter.” “Please refrain from inquiring about my daughter’s whereabouts for the time being.”

“――――”

Leaving behind the thoroughly chilled atmosphere of the room, Mr. Sonoda had already stepped out through the door.

“I have one more request.”

“What is it?” “Is there anything important left in the safe?” “There’s nothing at all. The remaining confidential documents have been deposited with the Foreign Ministry.” “In that case, how about we completely lift the security at this office and return to normal operations?” “By that, you mean—”

“The culprit will sneak back here tonight or, at the latest, tomorrow night to return the stolen confidential documents.”

“Good heavens, could such a thing happen?” “That is certain. If we keep the lights blazing and have five or even seven people standing guard all night long, even if someone wants to return them, they won’t be able to. To claim we aren’t letting someone return them when they’re going to such lengths to do so would be a lie. Let’s afford the culprit every possible convenience.” “Please proceed in whatever manner you deem appropriate. If the documents are returned, there could be nothing more gratifying.”

“It may still be too early for you to rejoice, but in any case, the documents will undoubtedly be returned.” “I do hope it turns out that way.”

With an uncanny feeling biting at him，Hanabusa Ichiro bit his nails while watching the viscount’s retreating figure. “This case is impossibly tangled—I’ll need to scrap everything and start fresh.”

“Does Mr.Sonoda’s daughter have some connection to this case?” “There may be one—or there may not be at all. Let’s leave this office empty for two nights and see how our opponent shows themselves. I’ve played my last trump card.”

Hanabusa Ichiro lowered his profoundly somber face and sank into unfathomable meditation.

Six

Two days later.

A triumphant-sounding call came through from Hanabusa Ichiro to Chigusa Jujiro.

“Mr. Chigusa? This is Hanabusa.” “The documents have finally returned to the safe—completely intact, exactly as they were originally.” “Mr. Sonoda is overjoyed, but the case is only now reaching its main thread.” “If you’re free, could you come to the Diplomatic Research Association posthaste? I’m waiting.” “There’s something truly interesting—Goodbye then.” Having said everything he wished to convey, the phone abruptly disconnected.

When Chigusa hurried over, Koshiba Shizuo—the clerk who had been anesthetized with chloroform the previous night—now fully recovered, guided him to the chairman’s office. When he reached the front of the chairman’s office,

“How can you say we’re safe now?” Through the door, Mr. Sonoda’s voice carried clear to the corridor.

“The schemer’s true work is only just beginning.”

Hanabusa Ichiro’s voice resonated no less resolutely. Under such circumstances, holding any secret discussion seemed impossible. Upon knocking and entering,

“Ah, Mr. Chigusa! Perfect timing.” Mr. Sonoda promptly stood to greet him.

“I hear the documents have been returned—first and foremost, you must be relieved.” “However, Mr. Chigusa, Mr. Hanabusa insists there’s absolutely no cause for reassurance.” “And I stated that the schemer’s work will now enter its main phase.” Hanabusa Ichiro stated this in a businesslike tone without so much as twitching an eyebrow. “The main phase?” “What does that mean?” “The schemer had no need for the original confidential documents.” “In other words—it was that copy he wanted.”

“What?!” “What I meant by ‘the main phase’ is this.” “They likely don’t intend to sell it to anyone, but the government’s opposition party or a newspaper must have needed that copy of the documents.” “Is that even possible?” “There’s no other possibility.” “Moreover, having obtained a photograph of the schemer, I’ve grown even more convinced of that theory.” “A photograph of the schemer?”

Both Mr.Sonoda and Chigusa involuntarily widened their eyes in surprise at Hanabusa Ichiro’s words.

“This is it. Please take a look.” Without any fuss, Hanabusa Ichiro took out a card-sized photograph from his pocket and thrust it before the two men. The photograph—unmounted on any backing paper and seemingly developed in great haste—still glistened damply, yet showed with striking clarity the schemer’s face: a fedora pulled low over his eyes and a handkerchief masking the lower half. From beneath the rat-like fedora shone thick-rimmed Lloyd glasses; from under the handkerchief peeked the barest hint of a goatee. No matter how one examined it, this could only be a portrait of Tokyo Shimpo journalist Takagi Tetsuya.

“Isn’t this a photo of Takagi?” At the very moment Chigusa Jujiro cried out in surprise, “Ah!” Mr. Sonoda had turned almost deathly pale. “What’s wrong, Mr. Sonoda?”

“No, no—this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening!”

Mr. Sonoda, as if shown something filthy, stubbornly pushed the photograph back toward Hanabusa Ichiro while—

“I simply can’t believe this.” “Mr. Hanabusa, how did you take this photograph?” “No—rather, how did you obtain it?” “Your skepticism is warranted, but this is neither a doctored nor counterfeit photograph—it is indeed an image of the culprit who came to return the documents to the safe last night. Though merely stating this may still leave you unconvinced.” “The truth is, this photograph was taken using ultraviolet light.” “Needless to say, photographic dry plates are most sensitive to ultraviolet light.” “Ultraviolet light refers to rays beyond violet in the spectrum when sunlight is split into seven colors—invisible to the human eye—and if one can extract these rays, photographs can be taken with complete freedom even in darkness.” “To artificially produce ultraviolet light, one may use a Giba suntan lamp or a Cooper-Hewitt lamp—there are various methods—but essentially, passing an electric current through a mercury lamp to make it emit light will suffice.” “However, that alone would still be visible to the human eye, so if one places the lamp inside a special filter that absorbs visible light and only transmits ultraviolet rays, to the human eye, almost no light would be visible—yet photographs can be adequately captured.” “The term ‘filter’ might sound complicated, but it’s simply black glass colored with nickel oxide—even marked with a glass catalog number: 30651.” “I installed this lamp inside the safe and ignited it simultaneously with opening the door, automatically activated the shutter of the small camera also installed inside the safe, and set it up to photograph the culprit in an instant.” “It may look like an utterly trivial toy-like contraption, but if you wish, I can conduct an experiment later to demonstrate it.”

Hanabusa Ichiro’s explanation bordered on the surreal, but Mr. Sonoda was no longer even listening. “Excuse me—I shall take my leave momentarily.” “I expect to return within thirty minutes.” “Kindly await my return.”

Staggering, he rose as if unable to endure remaining seated and left without any discernible direction.

Seven “What’s going on, Hanabusa? I can’t make heads or tails of this—” “It’ll become clear soon enough. The case is about to take an intriguing turn.” “Where did Mr. Sonoda go?”

“That too will become clear soon.” “Let me think for a moment—I still have one remaining doubt myself. It’s no bigger than a needle’s eye, but this will prove rather difficult.” Hanabusa Ichiro fell completely silent after that.

Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes—until nearly an hour had passed—when sudden commotion arose from the entrance corridor. From behind the violently opened door’s shadow, a man and a woman burst in like a whirlwind.

One was Mr. Sonoda Keitaro—his usual composure lost to rage and anguish; the other, being dragged in by the hand while resisting, was Tokyo Shimpo’s female journalist—that radiant beauty Sono Hanae. “What are you doing, Father? That hurts!” “Be quiet and come here. I have something to show you.” “Father, such violence—” “What do you mean ‘violence’? For an unfilial child who disgraces her parents’ honor and still isn’t satisfied—who tries to hang a noose around her own father’s neck—this treatment remains too lenient!”

The female journalist Sono Hanae was indeed Mr. Sonoda’s daughter. Yearning for freedom, this beautiful young lady had defied both her father and family name to throw herself into the ranks of pen-wielding professionals, ultimately becoming a female journalist at Tokyo Shimpo under an assumed name. However, she herself had concealed her origins, and the hidebound family members—ashamed of their family name—had not so much as hinted at the young lady’s whereabouts or her unconventional profession. “Hanae, look at this photograph.” “Isn’t this Takagi Tetsuya—the man who seduced you and dragged you into that vulgar occupation?” “A man who—just because he showed some glimmer of talent—I kept watch over him only to have him fill your head with wicked notions when my back was turned, making you into some sort of lady writer or scandal-sheet journalist! An utterly inconvenient man.” “He’s truly an unpardonable rogue—but even I never imagined he’d resort to outright theft—”

“Father, that’s going too far.” “When did Mr. Takagi ever commit theft?” While being grabbed by her father, Mr. Sonoda, like a small sparrow, the beautiful Hanae desperately resisted due to the extremity of the situation.

“He stole crucial confidential documents from this safe, made copies of them, and was caught in the very act of returning the originals—snapped clear as day through ultraviolet photography.” “How’s that? Behold the splendid figure of Takagi Tetsuya you so idolize. Hmm?” “That isn’t true—it must be some mistake.” “Mr. Takagi would never do such things!” “What drivel!” “The evidence doesn’t stop there—only you and I knew this safe’s combination.” “The home safe used your late mother’s name as its combination, while this office safe used your own given name Hanae—no one else could possibly have known this!” “You gave Takagi that combination and had him plunder documents from the safe.” “Should those documents’ contents become public knowledge, I’d have no recourse but to slit my belly in atonement!” “Enough! Without further ado—if you told him, admit you told him; if you stole them, confess you stole them—spit it out plainly!” “Detective Hanabusa of Metropolitan Police Headquarters stands right here. One telephone call is all it takes to have Takagi Tetsuya trussed up within half an hour!”

“Father, Father, that is not the case.” “Since I know nothing about it, there’s no reason Mr. Takagi would open the safe.” The beautiful Hanae desperately clung to his knees, looking up at her father with tear-filled eyes that begged for mercy, but her father’s blazing fury could not be quelled by such gestures. “Detective Hanabusa, make the call at once. We must have Takagi arrested and recover the copies immediately.”

“Understood.” To Hanabusa Ichiro’s arm reaching for the desk phone, Hanae clung with her entire body like a shattered full-bloom flower,

“Wait, please wait—Hanabusa-san. I was the one who opened the safe and stole the documents—Mr. Takagi knows nothing about it!” “What?!” “Mr. Takagi knows nothing—when I asked him to return the documents to the safe, he simply had the misfortune of being photographed.”

“What is the meaning of this?” “This... This is how my own child behaves? You wretched disgrace!” Mr. Sonoda did not lay a hand on her, but glaring down at his beautiful daughter collapsed on the floor, he involuntarily stomped on the mosaic tiles. “I’ll have the copy returned immediately. Please let me make the phone call.” Crawling toward the desk phone and clutching it as she sobbed out the number, Hanae’s face quivered and contorted with terror and agitation. Yet within that pearl-like pallor radiated a woman’s peculiar beauty—one desperately shielding her lover.

He even thought—Why not just forgive her?—such was the touching quality that moved Chigusa Jujiro. But upon seeing Mr. Sonoda’s unforgiving face and Hanabusa Ichiro’s cold eyes, there remained nothing Chigusa—a mere outsider—could do.

Before long, Takagi Tetsuya seemed to answer the phone. “Ah, you’re Mr. Takagi—I’m Hanae—um, please return the copy—to my father’s hands.” “Huh? Wha—?” “It’s the copy of the confidential documents—the one that came from the Diplomatic Research Society’s office safe—don’t you understand???” “I’m at the office right now—no, no—there’s no need for you to come—if you’ll just return the copy.” “—You don’t understand?” “What’s wrong? That can’t be right...” “Right now it’s critical—with ultraviolet photography, you were photographed.” “Huh? Huh? You’re coming here?” “You mustn’t do that! Father, Mr. Hanabusa, and Mr. Chigusa are all here—Huh? —What about the copy?” “You don’t know… No matter what—”

Hanae, still gripping the receiver, looked around in bewilderment—first at her father’s face, then Detective Hanabusa’s, and finally Chigusa Jujiro’s—utterly at a loss.

8

Takagi Tetsuya finally burst into the midst of this gathering. Because Hanae’s phone call had been unclear, he had taken it upon himself to come into the midst of the Diplomatic Research Society’s commotion. “Takagi, you are truly an outrageous man.” When Mr. Sonoda Keitaro saw Takagi Tetsuya’s trim figure entering the chairman’s office, he could no longer contain himself and roared a rebuke. “What are you suggesting?” Takagi greeted him courteously, but upon receiving Mr. Sonoda’s rebuke, he involuntarily came to an abrupt halt.

His round-framed glasses, goatee, and pale face gave him a philosopher-like demeanor that seemed unlikely to steal confidential documents, yet they bore an unmistakable resemblance to the culprit captured in Hanabusa Ichiro’s ultraviolet photograph. “You’re the one who took the confidential documents from this safe.” “What are you suggesting?” “If you persist in making such accusations, even you, Mr. Sonoda, I shall not overlook this.” “Do not speak such impertinence! Look at this photograph—can you truly claim this isn’t you?”

Gazing at the photograph thrust before him,

“Hmm.” Takagi Tetsuya could only groan.

“Now first return the copy. Then I might find room for consideration.” “There appears to be some dreadful discrepancy here. I remain utterly ignorant of this matter.”

What a noble and composed countenance! When one looked upon Takagi Tetsuya's face—his anger momentarily restrained, eyes now wide and crystalline—no matter how incriminating the photograph might be, one found it impossible to suspect this man of villainy. "No more deception! My daughter has already confessed. "Mr. Hanabusa, why do you hesitate? Bind that man and seize the copy!"

“Understood.” “In that case, I trust you have no objections to us taking the culprit into custody here, Mr. Sonoda.” “Very well. With this much evidence, it’s equivalent to catching him in the act.” “Then, by your leave.”

Detective Hanabusa Ichiro spun around, pretended to grab Takagi Tetsuya’s arm, and swiftly pulled back the curtain behind him. In the shadows, a man—startled and about to dash into the hallway—was gripped by the nape from behind and yanked back. “You’re Koshiba!”

“This man is the culprit behind the confidential documents.” “What?!” The gathering’s astonishment reached its zenith. Clerk Koshiba Shizuo fought like a cornered animal, desperately trying to escape Hanabusa Ichiro’s hold, but when he understood the detective’s iron grip left no room for even a tremor of resistance, he appeared to surrender all resolve and crumpled bonelessly to the floor.

9 When they summoned the janitor and had him search, there inside Koshiba’s desk—audaciously enough—the copy of the confidential documents was stored intact. He must have thought the darkest place was under the candlestick and hidden them in such an obvious spot. “How did you know Koshiba was the culprit? And how exactly does this photograph show Takagi-kun?” Forgetting his earlier awkwardness, Mr. Sonoda inquired of Hanabusa Ichiro.

“Before that, let’s take care of this fellow.” “Mr. Sonoda, shall we have this one taken to the Metropolitan Police after all?”

“No, no—I would prefer not to make the incident public.” “A mindset that repays years of kindness with enmity is truly detestable, but I shall endure it and sweep it aside as a fool’s errand.” “If the documents are safely returned and we obtain the copy, that will suffice for me.” Mr. Sonoda finally returned to his usual magnanimous self.

“Did you hear that, Koshiba?” “It’s a shame to let you off like this, but your master’s words are reasonable.” “If you keep dawdling around here, I won’t stand for it! Now get lost to the ends of the earth!”

The window was opened, and Koshiba’s body was thrown out into the Nagatacho thoroughfare. “By the way, Mr. Hanabusa, until I hear how you identified Koshiba as the culprit, I simply can’t feel at ease.” Mr. Sonoda continued pressing Hanabusa Ichiro for answers. “No need for concern—it was elementary. Over these past two days of investigation, several facts came to light.” “While serving long-term as your secretary with mansion access—if I may speak frankly before you—Koshiba developed inappropriate feelings for your daughter.” “However, when she grew close to Mr. Takagi Tetsuya and eloped with him, he orchestrated this scheme with dual aims: revenge against his romantic rival Mr. Takagi and profiteering by selling that copy to opposition factions.” “My initial suspicion of Hayasaka Isamu proved entirely misguided—I fell prey myself when the ultraviolet photograph misled me into suspecting Mr. Takagi.” “Koshiba demonstrated frightfully simian cunning from inception—engineering circumstances to implicate Mr. Takagi through journalist-like methods while donning round-framed glasses and false beard during his document-returning visit.” “A perilously close call.” “Though nearly deceived myself—I suddenly realized Mr.Takagi requires powerful prescription lenses for severe myopia while this impostor’s identical-looking glasses contained plain glass.” “This discrepancy becomes obvious upon inspection.”

When explained, they could indeed see that it made sense, but given the utterly unexpected turn of events, Mr. Sonoda—let alone Chigusa, Takagi, and Hanae—remained dumbfounded and speechless for some time. Hanabusa Ichiro, paying no heed to this, continued speaking, “When Koshiba wears round-framed glasses and a goat beard, his face becomes the spitting image of Takagi-kun’s. The only difference is that Koshiba’s eyes have slightly more white visible below the iris—even in the photograph, you can distinguish them if you look closely. As for the safe’s combination, Chief Clerk Koshiba had the most opportunities to learn it. If he had constantly observed Mr. Sonoda opening the safe, with a lover’s sensitivity, he would have quickly realized the combination was set to the young lady’s name—the same goes for the key. It goes without saying that Clerk Koshiba occupied the position most advantageous for obtaining them. Shattering the cafeteria window from outside and fabricating traces of scaling the wall—those were things he could have easily managed. Finally, once it becomes clear that Koshiba is the one hiding behind the curtain in this room and observing the situation, there remains no room for doubt. I simply caught him abruptly and threatened him head-on. But he really plotted this out well. A schemer who’d sniff chloroform himself to fake being knocked out by the criminal—even someone as seasoned as myself was nearly taken in by his ruse.”

In Hanabusa Ichiro’s manner as he laid out this explanation, there was nothing but calm detachment—not a trace of pride. “Thank you, Mr. Hanabusa—thanks to you, everything has been resolved safely.” Mr. Sonoda rose from his chair and extended a hand in heartfelt gratitude.

“Ah, Mr. Sonoda, there remains one unresolved matter.” Hanabusa withdrew his hand with sly deliberateness while looking up at Mr. Sonoda’s face and stated bluntly. “Still one more?—”

“Please forgive my rudeness.—The other unresolved matter I speak of concerns the young lady and Takagi-kun.”

“…” “Takagi-kun is a man of rare character and by no means a shameful match for the young lady.” “Please—as atonement for having doubted Takagi-kun even once—allow this well-matched pair to clasp hands forever.” “Through the young lady’s sacrificial attitude—though she believed Takagi-kun to be the culprit until the very end, she still tried to protect him—you must fully understand the feelings of these young people.” “The role undertaken by the young lady in this case is truly splendid.—Now then, everyone—Chigusa-kun, you’ll return with me. I’ve caused you quite an unexpected worry, haven’t I?”

Hanabusa Ichiro bowed politely and then attempted to exit into the hallway.

“Ah, please wait! After such tremendous efforts on your part, I must offer my gratitude at once—otherwise I shan’t rest easy.” “No, no—it wouldn’t be fitting for a mere Metropolitan Police functionary like myself to accept recompense for such trifling matters.” “Should you arrange for the young lady and Takagi-kun to pose for an ultraviolet photograph together, that would suffice me entirely.” Leaving behind the beautiful Hanae and Takagi Tetsuya with their flustered expressions, the two men briskly made their way out into the afternoon streets.

“How about it? Feeling refreshed?”

Outside was a beautiful winter day; Hanabusa Ichiro stopped and took a deep breath of fresh air. “Shall we go to Café Mermaid and raise a toast between fellow lone wolves?” “Very well.” The two unconsciously linked arms.