Chapter 3: Volume 1 Epilogue

A week had passed since returning to the mainland. I finally began attending school, but finding myself hopelessly unable to adapt due to my late start, I just couldn’t get into the mood. And thus I found myself cutting morning classes, walking down West Main Street. What you call a mental health day, or “playing hooky,” if you want to be a jerk about it. “What the hell was I doing all that time before coming back to Japan?” My self-directed mutterings were more or less heartfelt, but they were probably mostly meaningless. Whether I was in ER3, Kyoto, or Wet Crow’s Feather Island, it had changed me little, just as leaving a five-year blank had hardly changed Kunagisa. “Hmm, more nonsense?” I muttered as I continued my stroll. I turned south, thinking I’d head back to my Nakadachiuri apartment and do some reading, but on the way I remembered today was the day Kunagisa’s favorite magazine went on sale, so I stopped in a local bookstore to buy a copy. “Kunagisa Tomo?” Since the island incidents, Kunagisa had stayed holed up in her house. She was deeply immersed in making all sorts of repairs on the workstation and PCs and what have you that Akane-san had destroyed. This time she was all fired up, saying she was going to rebuild them completely out of nighinvulnerable steel, but it seemed to me that this wasn’t logically possible. Of course, what she got fired up about was her business, so I didn’t say anything as to that. As for Sonoyama Akane-san and Sakaki Shinya-san, Kunagisa looked up what had become of them on the Internet, most likely employing the skills of her old pal Chiikun. Akane-san had retired from the Seven Fools and begun a somewhat reclusive existence, but retained her prominence as a scholar. Shinya-san supposedly remained by her side. Considering the fact that no one had reported them to the police, this seemed plausible enough. I entered the bookstore and bought what I wanted with a gift certificate, then stood and flipped through it for a while before leaving the store. Outside, an extremely gaudy—that is, expensive-looking—convertible was parked in front of the store. It was an eccentric sort of car that would have stood out even if this was a street in the middle of Kyoto. The kind of upper-class car you see in magazines and the like. You know, with names like “Anaconda” or “Viper” or “Japanese Ratsnake.” This probably wasn’t a Japanese Ratsnake, but I was sure it was something in the snake family. But what were they doing riding in a car like this on a Japanese road? Or more important, what type of person rode in this ridiculous beast of a machine? I glanced over just in time to see the driver step out of the car. So as not to lose to the car, the driver herself was adorned in attire just as flashy. She wore a generously revealing dress shirt inside a wine red suit that was bound to catch any passerby’s attention, wanted or not. On top of that she had a spring coat draped over her shoulders with nothing in the sleeves. Her shoulderlength hair was unnaturally shimmery, suggesting she had used any number of expensive hair products. Deep red sunglasses completely concealed her eyes. Her proportions were enough to make you wonder if she was a model, and she was tall to boot. She was a beautiful woman in the truest sense, but at the same time, she was the kind of beautiful woman you didn’t want to approach. She looked like the type to have a lot of bad habits and lack universal appeal. There was something offensive or disharmonious about her. “Wow,” I managed to eke out an utterance of wonderment. So, good-looking cars do have good-looking drivers, I thought as I stared at her striding toward me. I cleared a path for her, thinking she wanted to stop in the bookstore, but I was wrong. She came to a halt right in front of me. Then she stared at me over her sunglasses. Dominated by her overwhelming, abusive gaze, I found myself unable to move. Like a frog in a snake’s gaze. And as such, I was unable to avoid it. Without any warning, she brought her long leg upward, sinking her pump-adorned foot into my gut. I crumpled facedown to the pavement. “Uguu…” I felt like I was going to puke until there was nothing left in my stomach. But there was no time to scream. With no mercy nor reservation, she began stomping on my collapsed body with the heel part of her shoe, so it hurt quite a bit. As is always the case when you’re in trouble, there wasn’t a single person in the vicinity. There was a bus stop nearby, but the bus must have just left because nobody was there. Damn, must be my lucky day. Still, I hail no intention of making an ugly spectacle of myself by screaming for help. I rolled over in an attempt to somehow escape, but this ended in failure as soon as she seized me by the collar. Just like that, she lifted me up. “Huh… You really don’t close those eyes,” she said as if impressed. “Wow, it’s pretty amazing. Haha. That’s kinda cool. Okay, anyway… Hello.” “Hello.” “Come on, this isn’t a funeral.” What the hell is she talking about? I wondered as she tightened her grip around my neck. She dragged me over to her convertible and tossed me into the passenger seat like a suitcase. She herself got into the driver’s seat. She took off her shades and jammed her foot down on the accelerator. It seemed the car had been idling the whole time. She was a foe to the environment. I thought as I rubbed my stomach and back. Um, what was this? What was going on? Was this an abduction? Why me? Things were moving too fast for me to keep up. As much as I was a go-with-the-flow nineteen-yearold, I had scarcely been caught up in a torrential rapid like this before. Who was this woman? “Um, who are you?” “Hmm? My name? You just ask my name there, pal?” She looked over at me. Her glare was even worse with the shades off. It was a terrifying gaze that seemed to pierce straight through my heart. What kind of life did one have to live to obtain a gaze like that? “The name’s Aikawa Jun.” Aikawa? Aikawa, Aikawa… The name rang a bell. “Aikawa-san?” “Jun is fine.” Her voice was brusque and surly. It seemed like such a waste, considering how beautiful she was, but maybe it suited her personality surprisingly well. “Uh, Jun-san. Have we met before somewhere? I’ve got kind of a bad memory when it comes to acquaintances, but I don’t feel like we’ve met before.” “First time.” “Thought so.” Even if we had only met one time, there was no forgetting a woman like this. “What’s that now? Eh? You mean Iria-san never told you?” “Iria-san?” That name rang a hell, too. “Uh, Iria-san, Iriasan…” Ah. At last, the circuit in my brain connected. Right. I remember. “So then, you’re the ‘detective,’ Aikawa-san?” “I’m an independent contractor, to be precise,” she said cynically. “Looks like you remembered.” “I didn’t think you were a woman.” “Thanks. That’s the best compliment there is.” She smacked me on the shoulder. It was more than a little surprising to learn that the Aikawa-san I had long been thinking was a man was, in fact, a woman—and such a beautiful one at that. But if you thought about it, except for the tagalongs like Shinya-san and me, Iria-san had mostly brought relatively young women to the island. Looking at it that way, I probably should have realized Aikawa-san was a woman. But Iria-san kept using ambiguous words like “hero.” “I was going to go all the way to your college,” she said with a taint smile. “But then I spotted you standing there reading in that bookstore. It was a hell of a coincidence, so I thought I’d give you a whistle.” “You mean you were looking for me?” “Yep. Thought I ought to see with my own eyes what kind of jerk was sneaking around stealing my jobs. Thanks to you, you chump, I never had my turn. How’re you gonna make up for that?” Her gaze pierced through me. It was like she had a direct grip on my heart. In my mind, the events that had occurred on that island were already over, so this development was completely beyond my expectations. “Because of you I missed out on a job. And here they told me it was going to be a safe and easy case.” “Uh, I…” Not really understanding the situation, I decided to just go ahead and apologize. “I’m real sorry. Please forgive me.” “Haha!” Aikawa-san laughed. “No reason to apologize. In fact, I should be thanking you for making things easy.” Well, which was it? My unease was growing proportionally to my composure. What the hell situation had I gotten myself into? It was beyond comprehension. I had no idea what this Aikawa Jun character was trying to do. “Um, where are we headed now?” “Heaven. Or maybe Hell. I forgot.” “They’re totally different.”“Yup, totally different. They’re complete opposites. So we’re bound to end up at one of them.” Where was she pulling this stuff from? She went on driving without a care in the world. Maybe we really were headed for Hell. It seemed plausible enough. In a relatively unexpected turn, maybe my life was about to end. But then I guess the end is always unexpected. “Well then, now that I’ve seen your face, that’s one thing to mark off the to-do list. That leaves just one more.” Without a shred of reserve, Aikawa-san leaned that alluring face of hers right next to mine. I reflexively flinched at her whimsicalness. I wasn’t very used to close contact with people other than Kunagisa. “Um, one more? What is it?” “Oh, I just thought I’d put one of your woes to rest,” Aikawa-san said. “I’m an independent contractor. It’s my job to solve people’s pesky little problems. I lend a rescuing hand to those individuals with problems the likes of you could never handle. You chump.” “So that’s what you mean by ‘independent contractor’?” That is to say, insofar as a detective is also someone who takes up contracts. “But what problem do I have?” “On rare occasions I have been known to work for charity. Call me capricious. It’ll be your reward for solving the last case so splendidly in my stead.” “Reward?” “Don’t be so tense. I may not look it, but I’m pretty much full of goodness.” Good people don’t usually beat the hell out of others with their pumps on a first meeting. “Now then, troubled one. You gonna take my hand?” she said, showing me the palm of her hand. “What’s it gonna be? Your decision.” She was weird. Like, crazy weird. Her weirdness was in a league of its own. If you set that pack of eccentric crazies on our favorite deserted island as the average, Aikawa-san’s weirdness was off the chart. Nevertheless, I grabbed her hand in a rare exhibition of assuredness. This bizarre human being. How could I miss out on this?” “Okay, pal.” She gave a wicked smile. Maybe that was hasty of me, I thought. “Um, before we get into anything, what is this ‘woe’ of mine you mentioned?” “That’s the one thing you ought to know way better than me. Way better. Can’t you guess? I’ve come to see you. Me. So obviously it’s about the incident at Wet Crow’s Feather Island.” “The incident?” I said. “Yup.” Aikawa-san gave a small nod. “After that, I ended up paying a visit to the island anyway. I was originally planning to make it a vacation, so I was lucky the case had already been solved. I really mean that. Anyway, I talked to Iria, Hikari, Akari, and Rei. Incidentally, Teruko didn’t say a word. She was silent as always. Even I’ve only heard her voice one time. Oh yeah, there was also one hell of a chef and some creepy fortune-teller. Ah, I don’t want to think about her. What was up with that lady?!” Suddenly furious, she slammed down on the steering wheel, practically breaking it. Evidently something had transpired with Maki-san on the island. What had that woman done now? To be sure, you could tell just by looking that those two women were incompatible. “Hmph,” Aikawa-san grumbled before continuing her story. “Anyway, I talked to them about the incident. No detail left out.” “So you think there’s still something wrong?” I said. “I mean, what do you think personally, Aikawa-san?” “That’s Jun,” she said in a suddenly low and grim voice. “Don’t call me by my last name. Only my enemies do that.” “Do you still think there’s something wrong, Jun-san?” I corrected myself and asked again. “That’s better,” she smiled. Her moods changed like mad. I’d say they changed like the weather, but not even mountain weather changed this often. “No no… I’m not the one feeling discontent, buddy. It’s you, right? You solved the case. And you did it damn well. You did it so damn well nobody could even raise an objection. But you yourself still have doubts, don’t you? Isn’t something missing from your detective work?” I was at a loss for words. Indifferent to this, she continued. “Am I right? You solved the case in three days. It’s only natural someone with brains like yours would still have doubts. Stop me if I’m wrong.” I couldn’t say anything, and obviously it wasn’t because she was out of line. It was because she was exactly right. Exactly. I… Kunagisa and I had made solving the case quickly a priority and shoved our own doubts into a dark corner. She had submitted a solution we personally didn’t approve of. Aikawa-san grinned.“That feeling of discontent, those doubts, those things that seem less than agreeable to you, you chump—have you got them pinpointed?” “Uh, well…” “Why would Shinya kill Ibuki? Why would Shinya and Sonoyama be working in cahoots?” She flicked out her dark red tongue provokingly. “That’s it, isn’t it?” “Yes,” I nodded reluctantly. “But that’s their problem and, ultimately, no one else’s, right? It has to do with their motives, and that’s something beyond my grasp, so…” “You’re similar,” Aikawa-san said. “Didn’t you think so? Didn’t Shinya tell you that himself? That you and he are ‘similar.’ Now why would this guy so much like you kill Ibuki Kanami, the one person irreplaceable to him, his version of that ‘blue-haired girl’ of yours?” “It’s probably just a misunderstanding. If it wasn’t… Yeah, it’s probably actually Akane-san who’s ‘irreplaceable’ to Shinya-san.” “Are you satisfied with that?” Aikawa-san said with sarcasm. “No way, right? There ain’t no way you’re satisfied with that. I fully understand your sentiments.” “You’re beating around the bush, aren’t you? You’re right, Aikawa-san, I’m not totally convinced. But…” “That’s Jun. I told you not to call me by my last name.” I got glared at again. It was frightening. “Jun-san. You’re right. I’m not totally convinced, but there are no other possibilities, so there’s nothing I can do. When you’ve erased all the impossible possibilities, the remaining one is the truth, no matter how impossible it seems.” “That’s a myth. So you mean you’ve been taking that ridiculous motive about eating people’s brains seriously?” Huh. I was at a loss for words. Aikawa-san snickered, reveling in my response. “Now now now, get yourself together. Get yourself together, man. “Do you really think there’s a single idiot in this whole world dumb enough to believe if you eat the brain of a genius, you become a genius? It’s not a bad thing if there is someone like that. People are free to think what they want. Everyone has the right to be feeble-minded. There’s nothing wrong with that. We have freedom of thought, and freedom to be stupid. But would someone willing to use a corpse as a stepping stool, someone who has absolutely no respect for humans, really be thinking something like that? What do you think, bud?” Well, indeed, that was a good point. “Well, so what? What are you saying? I’ve always been confident in my ability to talk around subjects, but even I never go this far.” “That’s because you’re below me. I know something you don’t know. Not to say you’re incompetent or nothin’.” “You’re just calling yourself competent?” “I’m a jack-of-all-trades. If I wasn’t, I couldn’t do this kind of work,” she boasted. She was almost frighteningly narcissistic. “Well then, what do you think about it, Jun-san? You say you know it all, right? Please enlighten me.” “If you had just asked me that in the first place we could’ve cut right to the chase,” she laughed. “Come on, bud. You noticed something unnatural, didn’t you? I heard from Hikari. You noticed it, right? That painting you modeled for. Why was there a watch painted in?” The watch? I had completely forgotten about that. “You didn’t forget about that, did you?” she said. “Please don’t tell me you forgot something that important.” “Of course not. How could I forget? But I thought it was just a painting mistake. Kanami-san relied on her memory to do the painting, so I thought it was just a memory issue.” “Not likely. It’s essentially impossible for someone who claims her memory and perception are synonymous to make a blunder like that. Even supposing it was possible, don’t you think there’s some other reason, bud?” “Okay, Ai… Jun-san. What do you think?” “I don’t know what other people think, but this is what I, Aikawa Jun, the world’s most powerful contractor, have concluded: that picture wasn’t painted by Kanami. “Right. That’s the only viable possibility. I mean, think about it the other way around. Let’s say Ibuki painted it. If she painted it, it would be weird for there to be a watch, right? You weren’t wearing a watch when you were sitting in front of her. So it probably wasn’t painted by her.” “Why?” “What do you mean ‘why?’ You didn’t actually see her painting it, right? Sure, maybe there are artists who always work alone, but I don’t think Ibuki was one of them. I submit that Ibuki could not have done that painting.” “She ‘couldn’t’ have? Kanami-san was an artist. She was famous. Surely she could’ve painted that.” “Plenty of artists have used fraudulent ghost painters,” she said as if it was obvious. “Roughly fifty thousand. It wouldn’t be odd if Ibuki was one of them. Not odd at all.” “So you think Kanami-san was a fraud?” “Just think about it,” Aikawa-san said. “You’re not a painter?” “Art is not my forte.” “So you were probably thinking something like ‘this person is an artist all the way to the bone,’ weren’t you?” Why did this woman know what people were thinking so damn accurately? She reminded me of Maki-san, but telling her this would anger her, so I remained silent. “Don’t compare me to that sketchy character.” Hey now. She looked at me with a smirk. Don’t clam up now. That was just a basic mind-reading trick. It’s just a technique. With a little training, anyone can do it. But that aside, why did you think Ibuki was an artist?” “Why? Well, I…” Cat had my tongue. “It’s not like you ever saw her paint anything, right? She only told you that, bud. You heard what she had to say, and then, based solely on that, you assumed she was an artist.” “I saw her paintings, too. Like the one of the cherry blossoms and stuff.” “But you didn’t see her paint it, did you? Man, for someone who doesn’t trust anyone, you sure are naive. It’s like you don’t trust anyone but you don’t doubt them, either, or like you just withhold all conclusions indefinitely. You just took Ibuki’s steaming pile of doo-doo for fact.” Doo-doo? Did she say doo-doo? Was everything Kanami-san said nothing more than doo-doo? How was I supposed to kn— “Oh, how were you supposed to know?” Aikawa-san beat me to the punch with my own line. “I wonder. I really wonder, buddy.”“If there’s something you want to say, go for it.” “That’s no way to ask for a favor.” “Please tell me.” She smiled. She was probably a little more childish than I had thought. “Like the whole dress thing. When you modeled for her, you saw her wearing her dress, and what did you say? You said, ‘You’re going to paint like that?’ right?” I didn’t know who she had heard that from (and only Maki-san was likely to know), but she was exactly right. “A real artist never dirties her clothes with painting materials,” Aikawa-san muttered. And then suddenly, “Like anybody like that really exists!” she yelled. “That’s impossible! Even if she didn’t get her clothes dirty, they’d be soaked in stench! It’s not a matter of can and can’t—people don’t do that! Don’t you notice these things, you moron?” This was no act, she really seemed mad. I cowered in all seriousness. I thought I was about to get pounded. Suddenly I understood what Hikari-san had meant. A “violent-tempered” person, huh? “Anyway, when you’re working with paint on canvas, you at least put on an apron. Even if you suck at art, that much is just common sense.” “Sure. But if that’s the case, then…” Then what did that mean? Kanami-san lied to me? No, not only that: she didn’t know anything about art? There was no way an artistic genius like Ibuki Kanami didn’t know something as simple as that. Why? Because it was a fact that anybody with a little experience would realize… Which meant… “Yup, didn’t know anything.” Aikawa-san said with a slightly mocking tone. “Ibuki Kanami, the genius painter who couldn’t paint. So, how will you solve this conundrum?” “Well, uh, are you saying Kanami-san was a fraud then?” “No. Think. And then realize, man. Ibuki didn’t paint that picture. But Ibuki was the painter. Thus, by the law of syllogism, Ibuki was a fake. And thus, of course, she couldn’t paint.” “A fake? But, a fake would… Why? Um, sorry. I’m totally confused.” I clutched my head and thought. “So… in other words… an imposter Kanami-san was killed, and the real one wasn’t? “Yes. And the real Sonoyama Akane was killed.” Bam, another whack on the shoulder. My brain ceased for a moment. “Say what now? Akane-san?” “Yeah. Sonoyama Akane. If you think about it, that clears up all the confusion, doesn’t it? Why did Shinya kill Ibuki? Simple. He didn’t. Why did Shinya go into cahoots with Sonoyama? Simple. He didn’t. He was working with Ibuki. His irreplaceable Ibuki.” “So Kanami-san and Akane-san switched places? When? Hold on a second here. I spent three days on the same island with those two. I may have a bad memory, but I definitely would’ve known if they did a switch.” “What I’m saying is they switched before that, before they arrived at the island. I don’t know how long those two were there, but it was before that.” “One has blond hair and blue eyes. The other is an intellectual-looking brunette. How in the hell do two people that different switch pla—” “Hair can be dyed. You can put on color contacts. If you really want to look like someone else, it’s simple. Especially when the person has such notable characteristics. Think about it.” “But— So those pictures—” “It’s like I’ve been tellin’ ya, Sonoyama painted those. That day, I bet you were wearing a watch every time Sonoyama saw you. Thus, she’s the one who painted you. Sonoyama… as Ibuki.” Sonoyama Akane as Ibuki Kanami. Come to think of it, where was Akane-san that morning? Was she in the atelier doing that cherry blossom picture? Did that mean Akane-san was the one painting me that night? “Why would she—” “To make everyone think she was Ibuki. Surely you would never have guessed the painter of that wasn’t her. But you gotta admit, the whole watch mistake isn’t like her.” “But… but, Iria-san… she’s the one who invited them. She should’ve noticed right away, right?” “How do you figure?” “I mean, she must’ve at least seen pictures of them before.” “Pictures? Hey now. Hey now, man. Don’t make me laugh here, buddy. You trying to make me laugh to death? Gimme a break here. Do you think people’s faces look the same in real life as they do in photos? They leave different impressions, don’t they? That’s why wanted posters never work. Photos are still motion, reality moves. And the human eye chooses things arbitrarily. So naturally, when you compare the two, your mind favors reality.” She was right. Kanami-san herself had said the same thing. Suddenly I had the bizarre, truly bizarre feeling that I was the real criminal and detective Aikawa-san here was hot on my tail. “Why… why were they doing that?” It was a prank. They switched places as a prank. Iria and Rei switched places, too, right? And they said it was a prank when you asked why, right? It’s the same deal. I wonder who will notice. Will any of these so-called geniuses notice? Can this salon-running princess even tell the difference between us? “That’s at least what Sonoyama was thinking. Oh, the real one, I mean. So she, Shinya, and Ibuki got together and made these plans. Sonoyama was on board. She probably thought it would be funny. Scholars can be surprisingly willing to take part in such hedonistic pleasures. Especially those ER3 system goons. I’m sure you know that though. You were right smack in the middle of it.” That information from Chii-kun. Ibuki Kanami and Sonoyama Akane had met in Chicago. They were acquaintances. It wasn’t so impossible that they had planned such a thing. Kanami-san and Akane-san, who had gotten into countless arguments. But did this mean all that fighting was just something they planned so their switch wouldn’t be obvious? “So, what now?” It goes like this. Ibuki and Sonoyama switched places. Ibuki became Sonoyama, Sonoyama became Ibuki. Then one of them was killed. The remaining one was Sonoyama. The switched Sonoyama. “Who would’ve thought the woman once thought dead and then pronounced the murderer was actually someone else?” “You mean it was Kanami-san posing as Akane-san?” Akane-san had retired from the Seven Fools and begun a somewhat reclusive existence, but retained her prominence as a scholar. Shinya-san supposedly remained by her side. “Considering the fact that no one had reported them to the police, this seems plausible enough,” Aikawa-san said cynically. “Are you saying that’s the motive? But why would they do—” “Ha!” Aikawa-san laughed as she narrowed her eyes at me. “That’s an indescribably irrelevant question, my man. Man, I mean what would you say if I asked you why you’re alive? “Granted, a guy like you probably never thought about it. Have you ever wanted to become something? Haven’t you ever wanted to become someone? It not, then you’ll never understand Ibuki Kanami’s feelings, no matter how many times I explain it. You, with your one established style, will never understand Ibuki Kanami, even if you travel to the four corners of the earth.” It was another virtual machine, I realized. A fake. There to trick the software. “Does that mean you understand?” “Nope. Other people’s feelings are beyond my comprehension. But insofar as I have a working brain, I can at least imagine it. Yeah. All that sealed room stuff was just child’s play to them. A diversion to keep people from learning their real objective. Even you got so distracted by all the sealed rooms and headlessness going on that you didn’t even consider the possibility that they had switched, right?” She was right. But… but it was all too sudden. “Hey, I can’t just believe all this up front.” “That’s right. For sure. It’s so convoluted it’s unbelievable. It’s so convoluted, my words lose all meaning and even your personality isn’t an issue. But one thing is clear. That woman discarded her former shell known as ‘Ibuki’ and succeeded in being reborn as ‘Sonoyama.’ She completely hijacked Sonoyama Akane’s background.” “But won’t she be found out?” “Hell no. She’d probably been preparing for this for a long, long time. And don’t you think the whole crazy idea to replace Sonoyama, to turn into her, came from the fact that their faces were similar to begin with?” “To turn into her… So you’re saying that’s why she killed her? I mean I guess if you wanted to ‘become’ someone you’d also want to get rid of the real person, but still…” To be sure, killing someone was the fastest way to get rid of them. And indeed, a deserted island beyond the influence of the police was the prime place to do it. “If that’s the case, then it should’ve just ended once Ibukisan was killed. There was no need to make herself a victim and play dead.” “Get a hold of yourself, man. Geez, you’re useless. If she did it like that, surely the question of why Ibuki was the only one killed would come up in no time. That’s why she had to make it look like a serial killing. To hide her true intentions. She had to pose as a lust murderer going after everyone. That business about eating everyone’s brains was probably added on as an afterthought; no doubt after she overheard you guys talking about it. But even if she had to kill someone, she probably couldn’t bear to kill an innocent, so she pretended to be the victim herself instead. It’s so clear-cut. Her calculations were so disgustingly sharp.” “Would a murderer really put so much planning into it?” “Not all murderers are bloodthirsty maniacs. Just like not all wolves act the same. In reaching your objective, it’s only natural to try and avoid danger as much as possible. The more incidents you cause, the more clues you give everyone. Am I wrong?” Shinya-san had told me they were planning to kill everyone, and I believed him. After they had already killed two people, plus trying to kill Yayoi-san and myself, I never would have dreamed they knew anything of mercy. However… “But she tried to kill Yayoi-san.” “She didn’t kill her.” Aikawa-san cut off my objections in one fell swoop. “You made an assumption. You assumed ‘Sonoyama Akane’ would kill again after she went as far as recycling a corpse to hide herself. That’s why you thought up that trap, using Sashirono as bait. But you were blind. “Think about it. Then realize, man, you were dancing in the palm of Ibuki and Shinya’s hand. Why would Shinya show you the sleeping bag? Why would Ibuki smash those computers in the morning when everyone clearly had an alibi?” “Even that?” Everything, even that, had been precalculated? They had predicted—no, dictated—our actions that far? The showdown in Yayoi-san’s room, Kunagisa’s anguish, all of it, all of it was in the palm of their hand? Had we all been nothing more than chess pieces subject to a strategy so devious there was no room to anticipate the next move? Thinking all the while we were so clever, we were really just being controlled.And me with no basis to argue. But wasn’t this all just a little too outrageous? That vague sense of disconcertion I felt had now disappeared without a trace. Aikawa-san stretched her right hand in front of me and, using those long, slender, white fingertips, began brushing my lips. Though I can’t speak from experience, I thought it felt very much like being raped. “Surely they had fallen in love with their target’s work. Those paintings of Ibuki Kanami’s, completely errorless, sans wristwatch and all. ‘Now that’s an artist,’ they probably said. Haha, I’ll bet they were originally planning to use me in their scheme. It didn’t matter who they used. All they needed was someone to solve the mystery of the sealed rooms. As long as somebody figured out and exposed the truth that ‘Sonoyama Akane’ wasn’t dead and then fingered her as the killer, Ibuki would be reborn and that was all that mattered.” And she would obtain a magnificent new identity. Enjoying worldwide recognition as a comprehensive scholar. “But, hey, even if she switched backgrounds and managed to turn into someone else, you still have to account for ability. ‘Akane-san’ is still to this day continuing her life as a wellrounded and outstanding scholar, even though she’s retired from the Seven Fools. If those two really did switch places…” “If, huh?” Aikawa-san said. “You’re still talking about it in those terms, man? You sure don’t know when to give up, do you?” “Based on your detective work, Akane-san is really Kanami-san. But as far as Kunagisa has researched, she’s still an active scholar.” “What’s wrong with that? She can paint and study pictures, obviously she’s capable of murder, and she’s even capable of changing her identity entirely. Doesn’t that essentially make her… a genius?” “A genius?” Why had Ibuki-san been summoned there? Was it not because she possessed extraordinary ability? She was the outsider of all outsiders. The penultimate. Transcendent of boundaries. Yes, that was absolutely… “What was your definition of a genius again, buddy? Someone who’s ‘far away’? I heard from Iria. But you’re wrong. It’s a vector, basically… someone who devotes all of the time in his or her entire life to a single direction, to reach a given maximum potential. Human beings can do all sorts of stuff. But if, instead, they just focus on one skill, they can hone it to a ridiculous level. So much so that they seem ‘distant,’ as you might say.” A prominent function. The direction of a vector. A restrictive bias. If you set that arrow in a single direction, instead of dispersing every which way… The power of focus. The savant syndrome. An inexhaustible motivation. Pon pon, Aikawa-san smacked me on the shoulder. “You did well, pal. But you’re still an amateur. In baseball terms, you’re a Little Leaguer, Mr. Pitcher. And just when you thought your opponent was a Little Leaguer, too, she turned out to be Domo-kun, figuratively speaking. You know him? Domo-kun. Before your time?” Aikawa-san said, getting a little friendly as she reeled my shoulders around. “It was just a little premature, trying to end the story before the lead detective arrived, my man. And you were still too green.” “But… hang on a second here. Kanami-san was in a wheelchair.” “Any old schmo with working legs can sit in a wheelchair,” she said cynically. “That’s all there is to it, really. Even Ibuki Kanami said legs are just a decoration. Sure, they helped in kicking you around, but that’s about it.” “Maybe that’s the case for Akane-san. All she had to do was sit in a wheelchair. But Kanami-san was born with bad legs. She couldn’t just jump around all over the place like—” “Ibuki Kanami wanted to become Sonoyama Akane. She wanted to take over the identities of others. I wouldn’t be surprised if that wasn’t the first time Ibuki Kanami had switched places with someone.” Just how long had Shinya-san been serving Ibuki-san? He had said it was a long time. Since when, exactly? And even now he remained by Akane-san’s side. How long would this go on? It was a virtual machine. Simulating the presence of multiple machines. Possessing no one style. Shunning the very concept. “Did…” What about Maki-san? Had the famous, transcendental Himena Maki “known” even this fact? Was she just watching over—or blowing off— the situation with a goofy grin, despite knowing everything? What was real? What was fake? Who was real? Who was fake? “You can’t ask questions,” Aikawa-san giggled. And at last, she pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Tough break, kid. That’s all I can say. And you did good. You did real good. How’s that for a compliment? But you gotta try a little harder than that. If you’ve got lingering doubts, don’t just blow them off. Settle your suspicions. Make the inconceivable conceivable. Don’t write your thoughts off as just a pile of caca. Okay?” “Okay.” “That’s the A answer,” she said, sticking out her dark red tongue. “Well, I’m done bugging you. It’s thanks to fellas like you that life’s worth living. I really think so. But pal, you just need to cut down on the slacking a little bit. Human beings can do so much more, so get out there and do it, dammit.” Then, with a little tilt of her head: “Well, that’s it for today. See ya. Hey, get outta here, kid, you bother me.” She had a hell of a nerve tossing me into the car and then kicking me out. But naturally I couldn’t muster the energy to contradict her, so I opened the door and stepped out. Looking around to see where I was, I discovered we were right in front of Kunagisa’s condominium. If there was ever a street in this world that didn’t belong in Kyoto, it was this swanky residential one, Shirosaki. Even Aikawa-san’s bloodred car didn’t seem out of place here. “Well, there you go…” I nodded, looking up toward the roof of the building. “This really is Heaven.” “Or Hell. Haha. This is where you were headed anyway, right?” “How’d you know?” Aikawa-san pointed at the bag in my hands from the bookstore. Come to think of it, I was on my way to deliver the contents to Kunagisa. But this lady really figured that out just from this bag? She was like… like one of those famous books of yore. Like… Like a detective. “Ha,” Aikawa-san laughed. “Well, if our fates are linked, we shall meet again. Like there’s any doubt about that.” She gave me a regular, noncynical smile and patted me once each on the head and shoulder. Then, pointing to the top floor of the condominium: “Say hi to Kunagisa for me, too,” she said. Now that was a little suspicious. If there was anyone to commend in this case, Kunagisa deserved at least half the credit. So why had Aikawa-san only come to see me? Was she planning to see Kunagisa later? “Aren’t you going to see her?” I asked. “You came all this way. You might as well.” “Nah, that’s okay. I saw her yesterday.” So I was the one on the back burner. The strength drained out from my shoulders. “Ha,” I sighed. “Jun-san…” My final question. “Then… then what do you live for?” “Like you have to ask. I’m the same as you, Mr. Ii,” she said before stepping on the accelerator, and in another instant the red car had vanished from sight. I stood rigid in that spot for a while, unable to think. Unable to want to think. Sigh… “I feel as if I just ran into a street bandit.” It was a fairly accurate analogy. I felt an emptiness, like the luggage had been snatched off my back. What was with that lady? Why did she start everything off by kicking the crap out of me? Was she just testing what she heard from Teruko-san? Or was it just payback? Considering she had come all this way to meet me, that was probably it. Payback… for stealing her turn? Maybe that was it, or maybe she was just in “one of those moods,” or maybe it was just as she had claimed, some kind of reward. But maybe none of that mattered, either. At any rate, she didn’t seem like a very nice person, and even if I was wrong about that, I wasn’t so far wrong that it was uncorrectable. Really… Dammit. What is this? I’m surrounded by it here. Really now. “Really now, this is just a bunch of crappy nonsense.” Take Akagami Iria. She brought together geniuses, deceived them, tricked them, did anything she wanted only for the sake of her own enjoyment, for the sake of the little world that was all her own. Take the Chiga sisters. All three of them seeming somewhat off, all three were the same, all the while being totally different. They were like the Sierpinski gasket, bearing complete self-similarity, the individual parts and their sum all uniform, all of them exactly the same while being completely different, an infinite abyss inside them impossible for anyone to view. Take Himena Maki. She who had the end of her life to look forward to in two years, she who knew the truth of all things, the truth of everything, and yet all she did was laze around yawning and purring like a kitty. Take Aikawa Jun. A big blur of red in the guise of a detective with a reputation as the world’s best contractor, she had shown up on the island and solved the already solved case beyond any shred of doubt, no blade of grass left unchecked, all for no reason, and then vanished in a cloud of cynicism. Take that woman whose name I didn’t know, that woman who was no one. Surely, she was a genius. “And then…” And then. And then, take Kunagisa. Nothing really matters to me. The world just does what it wants, and even if it didn’t, that would have nothing to do with me, and even if it did have something to do with me, I wouldn’t be interested. I’ve never wanted to become someone, and I’ve never felt like there was something I had to do. Sometimes I wonder if that’s okay, but in the end, that doesn’t really matter to me, either. Somewhere along the way I just cooled off. No, that’s not right. Probably, I dried out. Apathetic and indifferent. And that’s why Kunagisa was moisture to me. “Moisture, huh,” I thought to myself. Was Shinya-san the same way? Sakaki Shinya, stuck to that woman like a shadow. If so, he and I really were of the same breed, almost too much so. “Hah…” Sigh. I didn’t know who our worlds revolved around, but this world revolved around the sun. That’s all there was to it, really, and it never amounted to anything more. And that goes for everyone. The truth is always out of my reach. And what’s more, I never really care to reach for it. Maybe that was the problem. This was probably what Aikawa-san meant by “slacking.” “Eh, that doesn’t matter. I don’t live to sit here and think about those kinds of things, and it’s not like I’m trying to change the world or solve its mysteries. When I’m confronted with a puzzle, it’s just annoying. If I can just keep on living like this tomorrow, that’ll be enough.” Done talking to myself, I finally began to proceed on foot. Any more thinking would just be a bother. I’d leave it to the people who wanted to do the thinking. No offense to Aikawa-san, but I wasn’t looking to give some kind of worth to the world. If anybody asked me why I was alive, I’d probably say just in case. That’s about the only reason people have, and that goes for me, you, and everybody. But… But Kunagisa is different. You know, if you were to put it in words. “Whatever.” With Kunagisa’s condo in plain sight, I thought about just going back home right then. I just wanted to throw off that haughty contractor’s expectations, that’s all. Even if we didn’t meet today, we could always meet tomorrow. We could meet up anytime we wanted. Nothing more to it. Hmm, but… My legs came to a halt once again. And I thought. Five years ago, before meeting Kunagisa Tomo, I had nothing. But even reuniting now, even now that we were able to be together forever, I still had nothing. I was empty. It was like… meaningless routine work. Just functioning, just living. “Ah, dammit.” The contractor’s cynical smile crossed my mind. I recalled the “prophet’s” words. The lying sisters’ words, too. And then, the advice of that woman whose identity remained a mystery. “You should just go.” Aggravating as it is, my life amounts to little more than just going with the flow. Letting myself be manipulated however people like, however they please, however they desire. Like a doll. Like a heartless machine. As half-assed as that may seem. And so this ambiguous and mechanical scrawling of unanswered questions, accompanied by a certainty so undercooked it’s practically unnatural, comes to its almost predictably anticlimactic end, like a vague, crimson fairy

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