LP Beach

Let's see what it says!

Chance Meeting.



“One moment. Just let me read this.” Osawa read the response.



I got that same result!

Do you really think it’s too late? Don’t give up hope. Hang in there! p (^ - ^) q

It’s never too late.

Every family has its share of problems. Like, you’ll never find one that doesn’t, I’m sure. When it comes to family, there’s no such thing as “Game Over.”

So don’t let it get you down, Julie!

(i_ i) (^_^)

Besides, I did learn one thing from reading your post.

In the end, a father’s happiness is his daughter’s happiness. (^ o ^)

No music.

Kajiwara peered into the monitor. “A young girl is posting to a forum for people forty and older?”

“It’s Pretty Honey. She always replies to my threads.”

The detective furrowed his brow. “I see.”

“Is something the matter?”

“No. That last line there just has me curious, is all. A young girl writing something like that...well, that’s neither here nor there right now. Let me see those emails, if you would.”

Osawa opened his email. He pulled up the images of the human testing on the monitor.



“What...is this?” Kajiwara stared at the monitor as if unable to look away.

“These are images from unauthorized clinical testing of an antiviral drug I developed, carried out by my company without my knowledge.”

“Images of a-I’m sorry, what was that?” The detective frowned at the unfamiliar terminology.

“In simple terms, the antiviral is a wonder drug to combat the Ua virus.”

“Hold on. Maria is infected with the Ua virus, isn’t that right?”

“Yes. Ua is a species of virus discovered in South Africa relatively recently. Roughly twelve hours after infection, patients develop a cough, then a fever, then begin vomiting, and ultimately begin to bleed uncontrollably from all over, resulting in death. The mortality rate is...” Osawa was reluctant to say it.

Kajiwara held his breath, waiting.



“...it’s nearly one hundred percent.”

Kajiwara shuddered. “But-wait,” he said after a moment. “If you have this wonder drug, then Maria-”

Osawa shook his head. “Without Tanaka, I have no means of getting it out of the lab.”

Kajiwara’s frown deepened. “I see. It may not be much to go on, but I think we can put together at least one piece of our little mystery here. Pardon me one moment.” Kajiwara inspected the email address of the sender, “A,” then brought up the mail header.

General Tip – Mystery wrote:Something difficult or impossible to explain; an enigma. You see plenty of books titled The Mystery of Such-and-Such or The Secret of Whatever on bookstore shelves, but when you read them, you’re invariably disappointed by the mystery not being that mysterious after all.

Tension.



“You don’t see email addresses like this much. It’s seemingly from a foreign country, but that may be fake.”

“You can tell that just from the email?”

The detective flashed a little grin. “Take a look here. So if we just do this, and then this...” His fingers flew over the keyboard, calling up the header details, singling out the [Received: from] field. “This set of four numbers at the bottom is the sender’s IP address. Think of it as an ordinarily hidden location marker of sorts.” As he spoke, the detective pulled up a website called “IP Station.” He copied and pasted the set of four numbers and pressed the Enter key. The monitor showed the name of the provider, connection method, and other such details.

Osawa couldn’t make heads or tails of most of it, but one thing drew his eye.

General Tip – Provider wrote:A vendor that provides an Internet connection service. A typical Internet connection requires a dedicated line; customers who do not already have one must make a contract for one with the provider. When the provider establishes your connection to the Internet, you are assigned an identifying number called an IP address.

Access Point: Shibuya Ward, Tokyo

Kajiwara went into the email program’s options and checked the server info for Osawa’s connection. “Hmm...” Deep furrows formed in his forehead. “This here-this is the same provider that you use, Mr. Osawa.”

“What does that mean?”

“What kind of Internet connection do you have here at your house?”

“What sort? Um, well, it’s plugged in over there, but...” Osawa pointed at the router.



“And does everyone in your family use that same line?”

“Um...yes, I think so.”

Kajiwara opened up a command prompt, then typed “ipconfig.”

General Tip – Command prompt wrote:A literal prompt for users to issue computer control commands via keyboard instead of mouse; also frequently used to refer to the window or program allowing for such.

“Okay, so, if the same numbers we saw before pop up here, that’s a bad sign.”

“Oh?” Osawa stared at the monitor.



Kajiwara pressed Enter, and a black window covered in white alphanumeric characters appeared.

“What the heck?” Kajiwara muttered under his breath.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Osawa asked. “Explain simply, so that I can understand.”

“Faking an email address is simple enough, but the typical person wouldn’t be able to fake an IP. It’s very likely that these emails were sent from another computer inside this house.”

Osawa had to stifle a gasp. The emails had been sent from his own house at around 11 o’clock that morning. Since Osawa hadn’t sent them himself, that left only one possible culprit:

No music.



Ai.

Suddenly, his phone rang, nearly startling him out of his seat. Makino’s name showed on the incoming call display. Osawa quickly picked up.



“Is there an update on the emergency board meeting?!” he blurted.

Makino’s voice was quiet and subdued. “I tried pulling whatever strings I could, but to no avail. I’m afraid holding a board meeting today just won’t be possible.”



The phone fell from Osawa’s hand. His only possible means of saving Maria was now gone.

Setup.



Cigarette Smoke.




The taxi stopped outside of Heaven Publishing. The trip had taken ten minutes on the dot.

“Thanks.” Minorikawa left a thousand-yen bill on the seat and exited the cab.

“Sir!” the driver called after him.

Minorikawa turned back around.



Kimizuka was leaning out the window to point at him. “It isn’t called ‘work’ because it’s fun, sir. The day will be over soon enough. Just hang in there a little bit longer.” The driver finished with a knowing grin.

Minorikawa cracked a ghost of a smile; maybe his spirits had been lifted just a tiny little bit.



“Thank you,” he replied. “You’re a true friend of the working man.” He waved half-heartedly, then headed into the building.

No music.



“Mr. Mino!” Chiaki threw herself at him as soon as he opened the door to the editing office.

News of the explosion was playing on the television.

Minorikawa marched straight to his desk and opened up his laptop. While it booted up, he tried to get a handle on the current situation. “Where are the folks from the loan company?” he asked.

“They’re here,” Chiaki said. “I have them waiting downstairs.”

“Do they know Toyama’s dead?”

“I’m sorry. I kind of let that slip.”

“What about Hana?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t heard from her since she called earlier.”

With a tiny sigh, Minorikawa started typing at his laptop.



By some miracle, his six pages of the copy were nearly wrapped up. Still, he needed to do whatever it took to see this job through to the end. That would serve as his final tribute to Toyama’s memory. He loaded his copy into the DTP software in order to set the layout. Bit by bit, actual magazine articles began to take shape.

Then the editing department door swung open.



“Hey!” snarled the young man who barged in first. He kicked over a stack of books. “How long you gonna keep us waitin’, huh?!”

Mystery.



“Honestly, Segawa, must you be so rowdy?” A middle-aged man stepped in alongside him. “Are you Mr. Minorikawa, then?” he added as his eyes fixed on the journalist. He held out his business card.



“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Asao Ozu, from Takarada Financing. My deepest sympathies about Mr. Toyama. However, I am afraid that we do need you to give us back the money we loaned.” Despite his polite tone, the threat in his voice was plain.

428 Tip – Takarada Financing wrote:A black-market lending firm that offers loans at an interest rate above what the law allows. Well-known for taking whatever steps necessary to collect What’s owed. Its business card slogan: “Got bad credit, but you need a loan? Call any time! We’ll put together a loan that suits YOUR needs!”

“Look-next month’s issue of Four-Star General Gossip is definitely coming out. Couldn’t you please wait for repayment until we have the funds from those sales?” Minorikawa asked. That was exactly what Toyama’s plan had been, after all.

“Well, we certainly aren’t monsters. If the magazine is going to be making you money, we wouldn’t mind delaying another month.”

“You really mean it?!” Chiaki chirped.



“To clarify, that would be the case, if Toyama were still alive. Releasing the next issue is all well and good-but with Toyama gone, so too is the company. That will make full repayment of what we’re owed impossible, I expect”

“Then what do you want us to do?” Minorikawa asked coldly.

“How ‘bout we just cut to the chase?” growled the younger man, Segawa. “Dig out your ears and listen up!”

Chiaki recoiled in a panic, and Minorikawa held up an interposing hand. “Knock it off,” he said. “You’re scaring the young lady.”

A thin smile came to Ozu’s face. “All we want to know is where Mr. Toyama’s daughter is.”



“Yeah, that’s right!” Segawa said. “Tell us where the girl is!”

“No way!” Chiaki squeaked in protest. “Hana’s just a little kid! She doesn’t have any responsibility to pay back the-”

Ozu didn’t let her finish.



“We’re aware of that. Nevertheless, we’d still like to know where she is.”

The law didn’t matter right now. Guys like this had all sorts of ways of wringing money out of people. It was clear from the looks on their faces that Ozu and Segawa had some wicked scheme up their sleeves.

“Unless, of course, you would prefer to take on Toyama’s debts, Mr. Minorikawa? You are quite the accomplished reporter, after all.”

Take on his debts, huh? Minorikawa didn’t know how much Toyama had borrowed, but it only took one look at these guys to tell him it was no small sum.

“How about it?” Ozu asked. “The way you land scoop after scoop, I’m sure you’ll be able to repay us in full before you die.”

Let's throw caution to the wind and go A

Tie breaker between A and C.

Take it on.

Mystery.



“Can’t we just call it even?”

The two men stiffened.

“What was that?” the older of the two demanded.



“Can’t we just call it even?” This time, Minorikawa spat the words out sharp and clear.

The older fellow furrowed his brow, a vein pulsing visibly at his temple. “You wanna say that one more time?” he growled.

Minorikawa cleared his throat.

• The thread made a decision, and we're going to stick to it.

“Call it even.”

Music stops.

The next thing Minorikawa knew, he’d been head-butted right between the eyes; an instant later he was slammed bodily down onto the desk.

“You dumb bastard!”

He could vaguely hear the middle-aged man’s voice ringing inside his head. That’s when he lost consciousness.

“Mr. Mino!” Someone was calling to him. “Mr. Mino, wake up!”

Chiaki? He forced his eyelids back open.



“Nngh. What happened?”

“Here, could you please read this?” Chiaki held out a printed draft of her article.

How long had he been knocked out? A minute...? No, maybe an hour?

“Are you awake now, sir?” The voice of the middle-aged thug intruded on his dazed mind.



Looking around, Minorikawa saw the two men from Takarada Financing still there, casually seated on the sofa. He couldn’t have been out for too long, then.

“We’ll just wait here until you’re inclined to take on this debt.”

Minorikawa’s nose stung painfully.



“Please, can you read this?” Chiaki repeated. “It’s my copy from those street interviews.” “I know even if next month’s issue gets released it’s not going to fix the debt problem, but still...I mean I already wrote it and all.”

Nodding silently, Minorikawa took hold of the copy. She was right: this wasn’t going to help with the debt situation. But when a professional took on a job, they saw it through to the end.



Minorikawa gave it a quick once-over. He saw immediately that the piece was lacking in structure.



He then read the article a second time, checking the finer details. Several off-theme sentences jumped out at him. “This is no good. Rewrite it.” He thrust the printout back at Chiaki.

“Yes, sir.” She bowed her head and retreated to another desk.



The TV was still on. A news broadcaster’s voice suddenly broke through the silence, as well as Minorikawa’s concentration. “We’re live on the scene now, where an explosion in Shibuya has...”

Minorikawa gazed blankly at the screen. He found his mind drifting to a particular memory of Toyama.



The door looked like it might fall apart at any moment, but Minorikawa didn’t care; he pounded on it as hard as he could.

The “Toyama” nameplate popped off and fell to the floor. It was hard to believe this dilapidated apartment was the home of a newspaper editor who’d worked his way up from reporter.

“Hey! Toyama! Get your ass out here!”



At the sound of Minorikawa’s angry shouting, other tenants on the floor poked their heads out of their rooms to stare. He paid them no heed, continuing to call out.



Eventually Toyama opened the door, dressed in his sweats and undershirt. “Quiet down, you moron!” he snapped. “C’mon in...”



“I hear you tendered your letter of resignation at the paper.” Minorikawa sat cross-legged on the tatami-covered floor. “Tell me why!”

Toyama quirked a lopsided grin. “You wanna know why I quit, huh? All right. Lean in close.”

Minorikawa peered at him dubiously. “Huh? Why?”

“I don’t want anyone overbearing this.”

Resigned, Minorikawa leaned forward andturned his right ear toward Toyama. The man’s warm breath against his cheek was pretty unsettling.



At first he had trouble concentrating on Toyama’s story. But when the older man got to the crux of the matter, he found himself listening with rapt attention. By the time Toyama finished, Minorikawa was unable to suppress his shock.

Best.



“You’re-you’re starting your own publishing company?!”

“Not so loud, dammit!” Toyama shushed him with a finger to his lips; he looked around warily, as if there might be spies in his own apartment.

“Right, but-a publishing company?” Minorikawa said again, more quietly this time. “What are you doing for your distributor account?” All booksellers were required to use a wholesale distributor to circulate their publications. To do business with such a distributor, a publisher needed a specialized distributor account. “They’re not going to let a company with no track record open a new account with a distributor. I’m sure you must realize that.”

Toyama grinned, a proud gleam in his eyes.



“I know. That’s why I bought one.”

“You bought one?”

“A ghost account, belonging to a publisher that went bankrupt.”

Distributor accounts could go for tens of millions of yen. There was no way Toyama could afford that on his severance pay alone. He must have taken out a loan in order to make the purchase.

But the publishing industry was in a slump nowadays; people just weren’t buying books much anymore. Starting up a new publishing company was a beyond-risky endeavor.

“And I’ve already decided on a name for my company, Minorikawa.” Toyama’s face was positively beaming. “Get this: Heaven Publishing!”

“‘Heaven’? That sounds...fatalistic.”

“The idea is that the people who work for me will feel like they’re in paradise!” For all his kvetching about keeping quiet, Toyama was now exclaiming pretty loudly, himself.

“I mean, I can appreciate your willingness to take the risk, but...surely your wife must have had objections?” Minorikawa said.

Toyama fell silent; he went and opened up the refrigerator.



Minorikawa took a peek inside. Its shelves were mournfully spare, holding little besides beer cans and drinking snacks.

“The missus left me. Took our daughter with her.” Those scant few words painted the picture clearly enough.

Toyama grabbed a can of beer and tossed it to his guest.



“But no more sob stories!” he went on. He briskly cracked open his own can of beer. Weak foam bubbled from the top. “Cheers, Minorikawa! To Heaven Publishing’s big debut!”

He’d cast everything aside, and was striving for a new beginning. If the man had braced himself for the challenge, it wasn’t Minorikawa’s place to tell him he was making a mistake. Even if it was an uphill battle he had little chance of winning.



“Congrats, Mr. Toyama.” Minorikawa pulled the tab on his beer can.

“Cheers!”

The two of them clacked their cans together.

No music.

...one year had passed since Toyama founded Heaven Publishing.

Minorikawa poked his head into the editing office, a bag from the convenience store in hand. “Hey boss, how’s business?”



“How does it look like it’s doing?” Toyama sat amidst a veritable mountain of returned stock, his expression bleak. The books were all bulky, nonfiction tomes-not exactly the sort to fly off the shelves. The man couldn’t even muster a smile for their reunion.

General Tip – Returned stock wrote:Bookstores do not purchase the books they sell, but rather take them on consignment. This allows them to return to the publisher any books that do not sell.

“It’s been like this for every nonfiction book we’ve put out.”

“Wow, starting right off with the bleak stuff, huh?’

“’Cause things are bleak. The only thing that’s selling is this gossip rag of ours.”

Minorikawa pulled some beer cans from his bag, handing one to Toyama.



Toyama lifted an issue of Four-Star General Gossip from atop his desk. It was Heaven Publishing’s one breadwinner, the only thing keeping the company afloat. But the Gossip now seemed like it was buried in the red of the publisher’s nonfiction releases. “I really did have higher aspirations than this,” Toyama sighed, gazing in disappointment at the piles of unsold books. “But here were are, with our gossip magazine as our only viable publication.” The beleaguered bookseller chugged his beer.

“Daddy, I’m hungry.”

Minorikawa was startled to hear a young child’s voice.

Devotion.



He turned around to see a little girl nestled between the stacks of returned stock.

“That’s my daughter, Hana,” Toyama said. “It’s...complicated, but she’s living with me, now.”

“I see.” Minorikawa couldn’t press for more details with Hana right there. In all likelihood, things with Toyama’s ex-wife hadn’t been going well.

“Go on, introduce yourself,” Toyama said. “This is one of daddy’s work friends.”

Hana turned to Minorikawa with a bright little grin. “Hello. My name’s Hana. I’m six.”



“You want some of this?” Minorikawa held out a packet of dried squid he’d bought to go with the beers.

“Sure!” Hana greedily stuffed her cheeks with the squid.

Toyama flashed a sheepish grin.

“Do you like living with your daddy, Hana?” Minorikawa asked, giving the girl’s hair a gentle ruffle.



“Uh-huh, I do! My daddy’s amazing. He runs a company.”

Toyama let out a tiny, involuntary sob at his daughter’s ready praise.



“I’ll keep at it,” Toyama said, looking into his daughter’s smiling face. “Hana is more important to me than any high aspirations I might have had. I’ll keep shoveling out copies of the Gossip, and at least make sure she’s always got something good to eat.”

“Daddy, this is really tasty!” Hana held up the pouch of dried squid.

Tears welled in Toyama’s eyes. “Next time, I’ll make sure she has some sashimi instead of something like this.”

“Hey. What do you mean, ‘something like this’?” Minorikawa grumbled. “I’m the one who bought it.”

Toyama and his daughter laughed together.



It was a heartwarming sight, Minorikawa thought, a father and his girl getting along so well. Toyama might have been a hard-hitting journalist, but when he came home at the end of the day, he was just ‘daddy.’ It was only natural for the man, as a father, to put his child above anything else.



After gorging herself on snacks, Hana fell asleep on the sofa, looking well and truly satisfied.

“You know, Minorikawa, Hana’s happiness means more to me than my lofty artistic ideals ever could.” Toyama kept his voice low as he regarded his daughter’s sleeping face.



And from that day forward, Heaven Publishing had shifted its focus to scandal rags, with Four-Star General Gossip as its pillar.

Had that been for good, or for ill? Whatever the case, Toyama had abandoned his pride; Minorikawa had watched him become more and more of a miserable wretch.

No music.



Minorikawa snapped back into the present as a sheaf of pages appeared in front of his face.

“Here you go,” Chiaki said, radiating anxiety.

“Right.” Minorikawa gave her copy a close read-over, then thrust it back out to her.



“What did you even fix?” he asked.

“Um, could you please tell me what parts are wrong?” she mumbled, hanging her head.

“What are you talking about?”



“It’s just, well, we don’t have a lot of time, here, so I figure if I just fix the parts that need fixing...” Chiaki trailed off into an indistinct mutter.

“Is that always how you go about fixing your copy?”

“Um. Yes.”



“Then you’re never going to get any better! If someone tells you it’s no good, you rewrite the whole thing from scratch! Just making fiddly tweaks here and there is what an amateur does!”

Chiaki dipped her head even deeper, cringing at the reprimand.

Minorikawa let out a tiny sigh.



“Look. What I just told you-that’s what Toyama told me when I was first starting out. There were times he’d have me do dozens of rewrites. At first, I thought he was just pushing me around. But after rewriting things over and over, I realized something: there are a whole lot of ways you can write about the same thing. And that’s what helped me hone my skills as a writer.”

Chiaki raised her head back up. “Oh wow. Really?”

“If you can get that, then stick with it. Ride your submission deadline as close as you have to in order to write the best piece you can.”



“Okay. I can do it. I will do it!” Finally, Chiaki’s face brightened with a smile.

“That’s the spirit!” The woman might have talent, but she hadn’t realized it yet. She needed to be able to stick to an assignment, even when things got tough. If she didn’t have that kind of resolve, she’d never make it as a freelancer.



“Oh, how touching,” Ozu chimed in, applauding. “I’m almost moved to tears. They’ll make a movie of this for sure. See, we had only been acquainted with that sad sap Toyama; we never knew there was such an upstanding fellow here who was so good at tough love.”

Minorikawa shot to his feet and pounded his fist on the desk. “That’s about enough from the peanut gallery.”

“Hold your tongue!” Segawa snarled. His eyes shone with a vicious gleam. “We’re gettin’ sick of waitin’ here!”

“Segawa, you really are a short-tempered guy, aren’t you?”



Ozu clucked disapprovingly at his underling, then slid a sheet of paper onto Minorikawa’s desk. “Nevertheless, I’m afraid we do require a decision, now. If you’ll just stamp here, we’ll be on our way.”

Chiaki stared down at the document.

Decision.

“Is this...a bond of recognizance?!”

“Yeah, that’s right! That’s whatcha write when transferring a debt!” Segawa puffed himself up proudly.



Minorikawa silently looked over the contract.

“If you don’t have a stamp, we’ll gladly accept a signature as well,” Ozu pointed out.

“Face it, pal,” Segawa added, “if you don’t hurry up and sign, we’re never gonna stop goin’ after Toyama’s daughter!”

Minorikawa snatched up a pen.



“Mr. Mino, you can’t do this! Think about what you’re doing!” Chiaki shouted. “If you go through with this, you’ll just wind up like Mr. Toyama!”

“I won’t.”

“Yes you will!”

“Just who the hell do you think I am?! I’m Minoru Minorikawa, dammit! I’m going to land so many scoops it will make your head spin! And I’m going to pay back this debt and rebuild Heaven Publishing!”



“But...why would you take such a risk?” Chiaki sobbed.

Minorikawa lowered his voice. “Because I owe him so much. I can’t stand by and let these scumbags kill his daughter.”

No music.

“A-haaaaaa!”

Before Minorikawa could sign, Segawa startled him with a sudden exclamation.

Impatience.



Looking up, Minorikawa saw what the loan sharks had seen: little Hana, standing by the door.

“Get her!”

“On it, boss!”

Ozu and Segawa rushed at the girl.

“Run!” Minorikawa shouted.



Hana bolted right back out the door, but Ozu managed to snatch her up just as she reached the stairs.

“Let’s be on our way, shall we?” A vile grin came to Ozu’s cruel face as he headed down the stairwell.



“Stop! Let her go!”



Minorikawa rushed after them, trying to grab the girl, but Segawa drove a punch right into his face.



“Oog...” The pain staggered him. Nevertheless, he managed to press on. “Get...your hands...off...off that...girl...”

Dread.



“Shut your damn mouth!”

Something hard slammed into his chest. His vision went dark. He felt himself slipping from consciousness. Just before he blacked out, he heard Hana’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Minorikawa.”

Sorry? No. I’m the one who should apologize... But before his thoughts got any further, Minorikawa passed out.

See this is why he should have agreed up front.

Setup.



Powerless.

• Picking either of the two Sasayama options will lead to Kano leaving the station and running into Hana.

• From here, things play out the same way as we've already seen; Tateno demands Kano meet him with Hitomi, under threat of killing Maria. Kano goes alone, Tateno explains why he's after Hitomi.

Setup.



Decision.




Minorikawa readied his pen and signed the document.

“Awright!” Segawa cheered. “Now we’re talkin’!”

A satisfied grin came to Ozu’s face as he reached for the contract. But before he could pick it up, Chiaki snatched it from the desk.

Impatience.



“I’m not letting you do this!” Crumpling the paper, she stuffed it right into her mouth.

“Hey!” Segawa snapped. “What the hell are you doing?!” He tried to force Chiaki’s mouth open. “Don’t you dare, you bitch!”



But despite his frantic efforts, Chiaki managed to gulp the wad of paper down.

Segawa blinked a few times. “Oh you did not just do that!”

Ozu looked on, dumbstruck.

“Guess we gotta get a new contract from the office, boss.”

“Bring as many as you want!” Chiaki declared. “I’ll just keep eating them!”

“Girl, you some kinda damn goat or something?!”

General Tip – Goat wrote:The mental image of a goat eating paper is a common one, dating back to long ago, when paper was made solely out of plant material. If a goat were to eat modern paper, the wad of chemically-treated pulp would go undigested, and possibly cause an intestinal blockage. So please, do not feed paper to goats.

Segawa shoved Chiaki up against the desk.

“Ow! Cut it out! That hurts!” As she struggled to resist, Chiaki lurched toward the desk, planting one of her hands atop the TV remote control. One of her fingers happened to land on the ‘Volume Up’ button.



The sound from the television set soon hit max volume.

“We have just learned the identity of the victim killed in the explosion. Shibuya resident and a pharmaceutical executive-”

No music.

Shibuya resident? Minorikawa tilted his head in confusion. Toyama didn’t live in Shibuya.



“Once again, the victim of the explosion was Shibuya resident and pharmaceutical company executive, Mamoru Tanaka. The cause of the explosion remains unknown; the police are still in the process of following up several potential leads. The site of the incident remains an alarming scene, with relief workers continuing to tend to the wounded...”



The four people in the editing office spoke in near unison.

Violation.

“Huh? Who's Tanaka?”

Start of a new hour, please vote for Achi, Kano, Minorikawa or Osawa. Maria's story ended in the previous hour, she'll be unavailable for the rest of the game.

That’s disappointing. Especially after the hint that a new story was beginning.

Let’s stick with Minorikawa for now.

Setup.




No music.



The TV news continued to report on how Mamoru Tanaka had been killed in the minivan explosion.

“What...what does this mean?” Chiaki blinked in confusion. “I mean, Hana told us herself that the van explosion was her father committing suicide, didn’t she?”

“The only explanation I can think of,” Minorikawa replied, “is that Hana was lying.” He scratched his head as he considered the situation.

“But, why?” Chiaki said.

Ozu let out a snort. “Well, it would seem Mr. Toyama had her lie in order to deceive us. What an upstanding individual, using his own daughter to buy himself some time!”

Minorikawa wanted to yell at the guy, but he managed to hold his tongue.



The important thing was that Toyama was still alive. And if he was still alive, then there was still a way to save Heaven Publishing. They’d get the current issue out on time, with a big scoop waiting in the wings for the issue after that. From there on out, it should be smooth sailing.

“Well, no matter,” Ozu said. “Seeing as Mr. Toyama isn’t dead after all, we’ll just wait here for him.” He sat back down on the sofa.

Best.



But Segawa leaned threateningly toward Chiaki. “Hey!” he snarled. “You sure you don’t know where the guy’s hiding out?”

“I don’t!” Chiaki shot back. “And even if I did, I’d never tell you!”

“Say what now?!”



He leaned in even closer just as she stood on her tip-toes in defiance-and their foreheads
collided with a dull thud. Both reeled back, clutching their heads in their hands.



Just calm down, Chiaki,” Minorikawa said as he began rooting through Toyama’s desk. “For now, I’m going to look for clues to where Toyama might have gone. You just focus on working on your article.”



“Oh?” Ozu raised an eyebrow. “Getting all cooperative all of a sudden, I see.”

“I want to change up the plan for next month’s issue. And I can’t do that without the editor-in-chief’s approval.”

What Minorikawa was actually looking for, however, was a back issue of Four-Star General Gossip. He was pretty sure the article on Osawa had been printed in the magazine’s inaugural issue. If he could find that scandalous piece that the scientist had asked for, he’d also be able to get his big lead about “the power balance of the world” being at stake. And if he could get that, not only would next month’s issue be a sure thing, it was a good bet that sales figures would go through the roof.

He found a file folder full of early material and quickly flipped through it. It didn’t take him long to find the article. “Floundering Okoshi Pharmaceutical Arranges Marriage of Political Convenience” The large headline practically jumped off of the page.

Minorikawa quickly read over the story.

The basic gist of it was this: The corporate director of Okoshi Pharmaceutical had ‘sacrificed’ his daughter in order to keep a researcher named Kenji Osawa on board. The daughter, however, had previously been dating another man.

That must be what Osawa wanted him to look into-the guy his wife had been dating before they were married. It should be easy enough to just ask whoever had written the article.



Minorikawa’s gaze jumped to the end of the piece, looking for the writing credit.

The piece had been written by Toyama himself.

“Hey, ain’t you done yet?” Segawa yelled. “Tell us where Toyama is already!”

Yeah, Minorikawa thought, we’re going to need to do something about these guys.

“I’m still looking into it,” he said. “Just hold on.” He made a show of opening and closing various desk drawers.



The drawers themselves were packed with a jumbled mess of electrical and gas bills, noodle house delivery menus, and the like.

Loan sharks can have little a noodles, as a treat. B.

Best.



Maybe he could mollify this guy by having some noodles delivered for dinner.

“Hey, you guys hungry? I was thinking of ordering some soba.”

“Man, this ain’t no time for that!” Segawa snarled. “Besides, we just had some soba anyhow! And ugh, it was awful! Don’t talk to me ’bout noodles.” Segawa launched into a shadow-boxing session, as if trying to punch out the provider of his disappointing soba.

The guy clearly had zero capacity for sitting still.

Minorikawa had found the back issue of the Gossip he was looking for. He still needed Chiaki’s article, though, and she wasn’t quite finished yet.

He had to buy some more time. “By the way,” he said to Segawa, “Are you familiar with S.O.S.?”

“S.O.S?” The thug paused mid-jab.

“Yeah, S.O.S. I was planning on interviewing them later today. Hear they’re some pretty tough guys.”



“Hmph. Only one of them who’d be able to give me a fight would prob’ly be that Achi Endo. Except as I hear it, he’s left the gang.”

“Aha. Really now? Heard anything else interesting?”

“Sounds like nowadays they’re being run by some guy named Susumu.”

The name Susumu rung a bell. Those two young punks who’d been arguing after the van explosion had mentioned him.

“Seems like S.O.S. is in a pretty rough state since Achi left, though,” Segawa added.

Minorikawa didn’t miss a beat. “What do you mean, rough state?”

“Back in the day, they were all goody-two-shoes-never shake folks down, or steal, or any of that stuff. Guess their founder Achi hated that sorta thing. But now that he’s out, a lotta rough-and tumble, hot-blooded types have been signing up with them. Smart move is not to get involved with S.O.S nowadays, really. Hard to find a scarier bunch ‘round here, when there’s a lot of ‘em together.”

“Mmhmm. And their main hangout-that’s at Inferno, yeah?”

“Yeah, over in Ura-Harajuku. Man, you been listenin’ out on the streets. What gives?”

“Ura-Harajuku, huh?”

General Tip – Goat wrote:Known as “Ura-Hara” for short. The area east of the Japan Rail Harajuku Station, around where Takeshita-Dori meets Meiji-Dori. There are many small clothing and accessory stores here, set up in renovated houses. Most of these shops are on the cutting edge of youth fashion, offering quirky and unique means of personal expression.

Minorikawa smiled to himself. Inferno’s location had practically fallen into his lap.

Suddenly Segawa’s eyes went wide. “Aha! So that’s where Toyama is! ...wait. Nah. No way a coward like him would go to a place like that.”



Chiaki looked up from her keyboard. “Look, can you please shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“That’s my phone.” Minorikawa pulled his cell out of his pocket.

Unrest.



It was Toyama’s name on the incoming call screen. Minorikawa’s heart skipped a beat.



“Toyama? Where are you?!” he blurted out as he picked up.

Chiaki, Ozu, and Segawa turned to look at him as one.

“Well...um...”

“What were you thinking, faking your death like that?!”

“Even if we could fill those pages and postpone repayment, all it would do is delay the inevitable. I’d still be up to my ears in debt. So I thought if I made it look like I was dead....”

Minorikawa let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, everyone already knows you’re still alive. So your little attempt at subterfuge didn’t even wind up buying you time.”

“What?!” Toyama’s hysterical squeak was painful to hear.

“All right, listen up,” Minorikawa said. “If it’s the debt you’re worried about, you’ll be able to pay that back real soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve landed a huge scoop. You could do a print run of a million copies and still sell out if we can run it as an article.”

Toyama perked right up. “Wait-you really mean it?!”

“I’ll give you all the details. Just get your butt back here!”

“But...aren’t those loan sharks there at the office right now?”

“Fine, then I’ll come to you. Tell me where you are.”



The two thugs crowded nearer, a predatory gleam in their eyes.

And Minorikawa had a flash of inspiration. “Got it,” he said quickly, before Toyama could respond. “Miyashita Park. I’m on my way now. Don’t go anywhere!”

Ozu and Segawa grinned at one another, then bolted out the door.

No music.



“Heh,” Minorikawa said as their footsteps receded. “Those guys took the bait. I sent them to Miyashita Park.” He allowed himself a cocksure grin. “Right, then. So where are you really, Toyama?”

“You...you imbecile! I am at Miyashita Park!”



“What?!” Minorikawa fought the urge to pull his hair out. “What the hell are you doing someplace like that?!”

“Why the hell did you tell them Miyashita Park?!”

“I thought it would be a clever ruse!”

“Well it wasn’t!”



“This is no time to be fighting!” Chiaki butted in.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Minorikawa scowled. “Anyway, Toyama, those guys are headed your way. We need you to get out of there and go someplace we can talk. I can meet you there.”

“Right. Okay.”

They needed someplace safe and public where they could speak freely. Someplace where the staff wouldn’t be overly nosy.

No music.




The familiar café by the station was a natural choice. He quickly described the location.

“Okay,” Toyama said. “Cafe Lautrec-got it. I’ll see you there.” He hung up, and Minorikawa quickly gathered his belongings.



“Chiaki! How’s that copy coming along?”

“Um...well... Almost done? Just a little more, I think.”

“All right. Bring your computer and come with me. I’ll read over what you’ve got so far.” Minorikawa waited as Chiaki got ready to head to the café.

As the two were heading out of the office, however, someone else opened the door.

“You’ve got fourteen minutes and fifty-seven seconds left to send to press...fifty-six...fifty-five...”

General Tip – Send to press wrote:The writer submits to the editor, the editor submits to the designer...this is the next step in that whole handoff process. Naturally, being late for this causes quite a lot of trouble.

A slender man with a gaudy necktie entered the room and sat down on the nearest desk, staring fixedly at his pocket watch.

Minorikawa narrowed his eyes dubiously. “Who the hell are you?”

“Always make sure to show up fifteen minutes ahead of the appointed time. That’s just common decency.” The man gave no indication he’d even heard Minorikawa’s question. “I suppose I can wait here,” he continued. “Just for another fourteen minutes and twenty seconds.”

“Uh, Mr. Mino? Is this guy talking about our submission?” Chiaki stared doubtfully at the newcomer.

“Hey, you,” Minorikawa asked. “Are you from the printer?”



But the man did not reply.

“Don’t ignore me! Are you from the printer?!”

Still the man remained silent.



Minorikawa was furious. “Look, cut the crap!” he roared.

In response, the man quietly reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his business card.

Mystery.



“My name is not ‘hey you.’” He handed the card to Minorikawa. It read:

Cho-Nippon Printing,
30., Ltd. Sales Department Division #1,
Koichiro Katayama




He should make a complete recovery in about two months.”

428 Tip –Predecessor wrote:Sachio Usui. 39 years old. Single.

A long-time veteran at Cho-Nippon Printing. Rather timid by nature; the strain of dealing with publishers makes him sick to his stomach.

At around 1:10pm earlier today, while driving to meet with one of his clients, he had to swerve to avoid a young man and woman who darted into the street. He crashed into the car next to him and ended up at the hospital.

• This is the second time Katayama's appeared; does anyone remember when he first appeared?

“Well, what are you doing here, Katayama?” Minorikawa asked. “I thought we had until eight o’clock to complete proofreading.”

“Eight o’clock? Surely you must be joking. Our company’s proofing deadline is 5:30.” Katayama stared fixedly back at Minorikawa.

“Now that had to be a joke. I heard from the editor-in-chief that it was eight o’clock.”

“I take that to mean, then, that you don’t have any copy for us.”

“It’s not that we don’t have it,” Minorikawa said. “It’s just not finished yet. Just hold on until eight.”

Katayama raised an eyebrow. “No, no, no. Publisher and printer need to work in concert. Perhaps my predecessor was the sort to delay the proofing deadline owing to your...circumstances here. But now I’m in charge, and I do not make exceptions. The proofing deadline is 5:30 sharp, and I intend to keep it that way. And while we’ve been having this discussion, you’re down to twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds.” Katayama held out his pocket watch as if to emphasize the point.



“That’s ridiculous!” Minorikawa exclaimed. “Just who the hell do you think you are?! You guys are going to be printing a paper that I wrote! Do you even know how lucky that makes you? So just wait, okay? Just give us...”

Be bold. We will have it done by 8.

Mystery.



“Just give us until eight o’clock!” That was the original understanding; it was unfair to change it now.



“Eight o’clock, hmm? And where’s your guarantee that you’ll finish by then?”

“We will! Just trust me!”

“Hmph. I’m supposed to heedlessly trust the word of a man I’ve just met?” Katayama mused.



“We’re down to ten minutes and forty-six seconds, by the way.”

“You son of a bitch! Don’t get all high and mighty just because you work for the printer!”

“High and mighty? I’d say it’s the people on the publishing side of the things that act high and mighty. Whatever high-minded claims you might make, without us, you’d have nothing to put on the store shelves. Forgetting that and blithely ignoring your proofing deadline makes for more work on our end. Just what are you getting at, I wonder? Now it’s ten minutes and twenty seconds.”



Minorikawa ground his teeth so hard he could hear it. His usual tactics were useless here. Katayama was simply too unflappable to be browbeaten. If he backed down now, though, it was game over.

“Ten minutes and seven seconds remaining. I realize there’s little point, but I’ll wait until the designated time. That’s just common decency.” Katayama’s eyes were once again locked on his pocket watch.

It was no use.

Minorikawa couldn’t find a way to talk this guy around.

428 Tip – That’s just common decency wrote:Katayama’s pet phrase.

Thus far, he has said “That’s just common decency” three times in this story.

“Always make sure to show up fifteen minutes ahead of the appointed time.”

“I realize there’s little point, but I’ll wait until the designated time.”

There was one more. Do you know when and where it was?

No music.



“Um...” Chiaki held her hand up. “May I say something?”



“Isn’t it also common decency not to break a promise once it’s been made?”

“If you’re referring to the eight o’clock deadline, I was not the one who promised that.”

“Maybe not, but I believe your predecessor’s responsibilities become your responsibilities.”

Katayama crossed his arms and gave her a bemused look. “What’s your name, miss?”

“Chiaki,” she said bashfully. “Chiaki Iso.”

The printer’s expression brightened visibly.

Best.

“Good. That timid hesitation of yours is just splendid. You have none of the arrogance so typical among publishers.”

“Huh?” Chiaki was taken rather aback.

“In deference to your polite demeanor, I shall wait until seven o’clock. That is the latest I can possibly allow.”



“All right!” Minorikawa shouted, practically in Katayama’s face. “We agree to those terms!”

“No, I-I wasn’t talking to y-”

“But we’ve got terms of our own!”

Katayama reeled ever so slightly. “I’m not certain you’re in any position to set terms, here.”

“Just shut up and listen! From here on out, you’re coming with us.”



“What? Why?”

“We’re going to finish up our copy on site, then burn the data onto CD and hand it over to you there. That’s why.”

Katayama let out a sigh of resignation. “Oh, very well. I suppose I’d simply be waiting here, anyway.”

Minorikawa pumped his fists in victory. “All right, Chiaki. Go and copy the DTP data we’ve got so far onto your computer.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Mino.”



Chiaki quickly set about copying the data from the editing department’s desktop. “Okay, done!”

“Then let’s go!” With the others in tow, Minorikawa headed for the café where Toyama would be waiting.

No music.



They reached Cafe Lautrec without incident, and Minorikawa promptly spotted the publisher.

“Over here!” Toyama hissed, eyeing his surroundings with obvious unease. Hana sat by his side, sullenly sipping on some juice.

The waitress came over as Minorikawa joined them. “May I take your order?” she asked.

Yum Cha.



“Water.”

“Just water, sir?”



“Fine. Make it a double!”

Exasperated, the waitress headed back to the kitchen.

Toyama looked over at Katayama. “Who’s this guy?”



“I’m Koichiro Katayama, from Cho-Nippon Printing.” Katayama presented his business card.

Toyama turned to Minorikawa with a quizzical look. “What’s someone from the printer doing with you?”

“I’ll explain later. There’s no time for that right now,” Minorikawa replied.



“First, I need you to answer some questions. Does the name Kenji Osawa ring any bells?”

“Osawa?” Toyama closed his eyes in thought.

“He heads up a laboratory at Okoshi Pharmaceutical. You ran a piece on him in the first ever issue of Four-Star General Gossip.”

Toyama’s face lit up with recognition. “Ah, yes, that political marriage piece!”

“Yeah, that one. Do you remember the details from that article?”

“Of course. Who do you think I am?” Toyama puffed himself up proudly. “I used to be local news copy editor for the Central Times. I’ve got the details for all the stuff I’ve ever covered here in my head.”

“In that case, do you know who Kenji Osawa’s wife was dating before they got married?”

Toyama blinked his eyes vacantly.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Minorikawa asked.

“This, ah, this is a pretty tough pop quiz you’re giving me.”

“Cut the crap, man. You just said you have all the details inside your head.”

“Oh, they’re in there all right. They’re just not coming out.”

General Tip – Pop quiz wrote:Surprise, kids! It’s time for a science quiz!

What colorless, odorless gas, lighter than and air and used for consumer and municipal gas applications, is also known as “marsh gas” or “swamp gas”?

Helium

Ethylene

Propane

Methane

Tune in next time for the answer.

Minorikawa slumped. “Mr. Toyama, please. Whether or not you’ll be able to pay off your debts depends on your memory, here.”



Hearing this, Hana cast a cold glare up at her father.



“All right. I can remember. Or I can at least try.” Toyama folded his arms and hummed to himself, his gaze turned inward. “Hmm...so...I feel like it was a really common name.”

“Sato!” Chiaki chirped. “Yamada! Was it either of those? They’re pretty common names.”

But Toyama shook his head.

I think it's Takahashi, but I'm not sure either.

Yum Cha.



“Tanaka.”

“Hmm...no, not that. It was something else.”

Just then, the television inside the café switched over to a news report on the Shibuya explosion.

“...the remains of the individual discoveredwithin the minivan itself, who has since beenidentified as pharmaceutical company executive, Mamoru Tanaka...”

“Mamoru Tanaka?” Toyama turned around to look at the TV.

An image of the victim’s face appeared on the screen.

No music.



“Bwuh?!” the publisher blurted, nearly falling out of his seat. “That’s it! It was him, right there! Mamoru Tanaka!”

Decision.

“That’s what I said-Tanaka!”

Toyama pointed excitedly at the TV screen.



“That’s who Kenji Osawa’s wife was dating before they got married—Mamoru Tanaka!”

Minorikawa felt himself getting goosebumps. The victim of the terrorist bombing in Shibuya was also linked to the researcher who was key to a terrorist viral scare.

His reporter’s hunch was now a certainty. Right now, Shibuya was at the center of some massive conspiracy. This went far beyond even a major scoop. “Mr. Toyama, we need to make sure that next month’s issue hits shelves.”



Minorikawa called up Kenji Osawa to let him know the results of his little investigation. The man didn’t seem terribly surprised; probably he’d had his suspicions all along. Osawa told him that there was something he needed to do before he was ready to give details on the big scoop, but that he would call back later.

In the meantime, Minorikawa knew, he’d have his hands full getting the current issue of the Gossip wrapped up for the seven o’clock deadline.

He slapped his hands down on the table. “All right-emergency editing meeting, right here!” he announced.



“We need to get a lead-in on the Shibuya terrorist bombing into the next issue. The article about the twins winning the beauty contest can be dropped for that. We’ll use the info from Kenji Osawa as the basis for our big scoop in the issue after that. Mr. Toyama, any problems with that?”

“No, that should be fine. But what about the remaining pages for next month’s issue?”

Minorikawa opened the file on his computer. The layout built in the DTP came up on the monitor.



The report on the Burning Hammer sales demo.

The surveillance camera opinion piece.

The interview with Oarai.

Those three were finished, the copy already incorporated into the layout.

Once Chiaki’s street interview piece was loaded in, that one could be checked off, as well.

“Chiaki, how’s your copy coming along?”

“I’m sorry. I just need a little bit longer.” The writing seemed to still be giving her a fair bit of trouble.

The article on S.O.S. was still just a placeholder in the layout. And Minorikawa hadn’t even gotten any material for that, putting it even further behind than Chiaki’s street interviews. Still, he’d at least learned where Shibuya’s legendary street gang made their hangout. He’d just have to take the risk of dropping in on them unannounced to ambush them with some interview questions.



And then there was the lead-in for Shibuya bombing. That wasn’t even in the layout yet. It was a completely blank slate. Against all odds, they were going to need to put that article together from nothing with just an hour and change. It was an impossible amount of work for just him and Chiaki to do.

“Well, well, well. And how are things coming along?”



Katayama rose and came closer, trying to peer at the monitor.

Minorikawa hurried to cover the screen. “Don’t look.”

If the printer rep saw all the blank pages, he might decide to stop waiting.

“Would you mind telling me roughly what percent of the total you have completed thus far?”

“What percent? Come off it, man. We’re at one hundred percent.”

“If you’re one hundred percent done, that implies that you’re all finished. Could I please have the data, then?”

“No, no. I’m saying our willpower is at one hundred percent.”

“I’m not even going to pretend I understand what you mean by that.” Shaking his head, Katayama sat back down in his chair.



“Minorikawa,” Toyama asked, his expression uneasy, “so I know I asked before, but why is someone from the printer here again?”



Katayama promptly chimed in. “The long and short of it is that your proofing deadline has been changed to seven o’clock,” he said.



“What?! But that’s impossible! Who’s doing the lead-in for the Shibuya bombing?” Toyama eyed Minorikawa and then Chiaki; both stared back noncommittally.



“Then it really is impossible. We’ll never meet that deadline. We don’t have enough people.”

“No. We do have enough.”

No music.



Minorikawa thrust out his finger. “Mr. Toyama, you’re going to write that one, and handle the layout.”

“What?!”

“Heaven Publishing is your company. Won’t you step up in order to protect it?”

Toyama hung his head.



“Even if I headed to the scene right now, I’m sure the other outlets have already gotten their coverage. I wouldn’t be able to find anything new to write about.”










Devotion.



“And so you’re just going to give up?!”

A moment later, Toyama was on the floor, Minorikawa glaring down at him. “You’ve always said you wanted to tell the world about the things the mass media can’t or won’t write about! So what the hell difference does it make if they’ve already gotten the sound bites they’re after?!” Minorikawa’s voice was raw with emotion.



“Don’t you dare give up! Not that easily! Get your ass out there! Find something that only you can write about!”

“Minorikawa...” Toyama began to object; then he glanced over at Hana.



There was an imploring look in her eyes, as well.




“I get what you’re saying,” Toyama grumbled, “but still-you’re expecting a lot.” But then, despite his words, he flashed a broad grin.



“Yeah.” Minorikawa let out a quiet chuckle. “And it’s got you all fired up.”

“Yeah, I’m fired up, all right.” Toyama’s face shone with a resolve Minorikawa hadn’t seen in a long time.

“There we go-that’s the Toyama I know.”



“You know-I’m really sorry. Now I see the huge burden I put on you. But dammit, it’s going to be all right.” Getting to his feet, Toyama took his daughter by the hand and strode boldly out of the café, looking like a changed man.



Minorikawa watched them go, glad the dithering was over.

Even if Toyama were still in his prime, he’d be cutting it close to do that article in an hour. But he would pull through somehow. When it came to taking care of Hana, the man would rise to the occasion again and again.

Father and daughter disappeared into the crowd, hand-in-hand.

No music.



Minorikawa shook himself out of his reverie. “All right!” he cried. Despite the clear blue sky, an unexpected gust of wind blew across his cheek. “Come on, guys! We gotta get going, too!

Impatience.

Things might look grim, but he wasn’t going to give up until the bitter end.

It was time to head to the S.O.S. Hangout: Inferno.



The three ran long and hard after leaving the café. If the proofing deadline was seven o’clock, then they needed to finish up with S.O.S. by 6:30 at the latest. The gang’s hangout was in Ura-Harajuku. Running all the way there on foot was going to eat into too much of their time.



But traffic was at a near standstill for some reason, and there wasn’t a taxi in sight.

“How long do you plan on running like this?” Katayama called out, panting.

“Just take a look at the road! With this traffic, there’s no point in hailing a cab!” Even Minorikawa was feeling the time pressure, now.



“We’re just gonna have to keep running until the roads clear!”

“Whaaat?!” Katayama wailed.

“Stop your whining. Just keep quiet and stick with me!” He’d finally gotten Toyama to find his willpower again. Next month’s issue would come out on time, and no way was some printer guy going to mess that up now.



But the traffic showed no signs of abating. Catching a cab wasn’t going to be an option. Fighting an ever-louder echo of despair, Minorikawa kept up his desperate headlong rush.

Still, there were limits to how far the mind could push the body before exhaustion set in.

“Eek!”

General Tip – Headlong rush wrote:To rush into a situation recklessly or heedlessly. Not quite the same as being daredevil.”

Unrest.



As they were running across a pedestrian overpass, Chiaki slipped and took a nasty fall. She skinned her knee hard enough to draw blood.

“Hey, you,” Minorikawa snapped at Katayama. “Don’t just stand there! Help the poor girl already!”

Katayama scurried over to Chiaki.



“I’m...I’m sorry, Mr. Mino...I....” Chiaki’s voice bubbled with suppressed tears.

Maybe it was cruel to make her run with her computer all the way to Ura-Harajuku. But the copy for her interviews still needed to be looked over. They couldn’t just leave her here.



Minorikawa hesitated, undecided. Even at a full run, they wouldn’t make it in time. And with traffic the way it was, there was nothing they could do.

“You now have...” Katayama consulted his pocket watch. “...exactly one hour remaining.”

“Dammit!” Minorikawa raged. “What do we do?!”

Relentlessly, the clock ticked on.

Achi, Kano or Osawa are available.

I vote for Achi

Tie break between Achi and Osawa.

Achi!

Setup.




No music.

The rain won’t let up. The sound is growing louder and louder inside my head. It is the sound of regret, spattering against my heart. My emotions surge like a terrible storm within me. I never wished for this. Never expected my heart to be dragged so far beyond my control.

Frenzy.



We can’t save Maria.

The words stormed through Osawa’s mind in a relentless cacophony.

He’d called up images of the bodies from the human testing trials on his computer monitor. He couldn’t help but imagine his daughter in the same gruesome state. In just a few more hours, Maria would begin hemorrhaging blood and die just like the people in these pictures had.



We can’t save Maria.



We can’t save Maria.



We can’t save Maria.

He couldn’t shake the words-or the reality-from his mind.





“Dammit!” Osawa began pounding his fists fiercely on the desktop.



“Sir, what are you doing?!” Kajiwara tried to intervene, but he kept on pounding away.

When he finally ceased, the pain of the repeated impacts lingered in his hands. “My research was never about any sincere desire to help people. And now I’m paying the price for that. The one time it finally matters, I can’t even save my own daughter.”

“Mr. Osawa.” Kajiwara set a hand on his shoulder. “You can always blame yourself later. But for now, think again, good and hard. Is there really no other way to save Maria? Nothing else we could try?”

Osawa shook his head. “The only means we had left was using Tanaka’s password to unlock the doors.”

And now Tanaka is dead.

“There’s...no other way...”

“Is there a possibility that Mr. Tanaka told someone else his password?”



This was something Osawa hadn’t considered. Was there anyone Tanaka might have shared his password with? Only one person came to mind. “Well-yes, there may be someone.”

No music.

“You’re referring to Ai, sir?” Kajiwara cast his eyes down.

“You figured that out, then?”

“Yes. Back during the commotion over that listening device. A necktie clip isn’t typically the sort of present one gives to one’s husband’s coworker. And yet although some might consider it somewhat, ah, inappropriate, Mr. Tanaka was wearing it as if it were a matter of course. Which, ah, implies something about...their relationship...”



Kajiwara’s voice trailed off; he coughed apologetically and tried again. “I realize it’s an awkward situation, sir, but please check with your wife.”

“Even if Ai does happen to know the password, that does us no good if Maria gets quarantined someplace we can’t reach her.”

“I understand, Mr. Osawa. I’ll bring Maria to you, then. I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen.”



The detective then produced a bunch of bananas from his pocket. “These are all left over. You’re more than welcome to them, sir.” Despite his gentle smile, the rest of his face was firm with resolve.



“You said you didn’t care whether other people understood you, didn’t you, Mr. Osawa?”

Osawa nodded guardedly.

“At the risk of being presumptuous, sir, I understand you,” Kajiwara said. “I used to be quite the workaholic, myself. You’re just like me. Innocent and awkward.”

“Calling yourself innocent, huh? How modest of you.” Osawa let out a sardonic chuckle, and after a moment Kajiwara joined in.

428 Tip – Just like me wrote:On another occasion, Kajiwara was shocked to run into a man who looked just like him. The fellow was a stylist at a hair salon Kajiwara visits on occasion; he let out a gasp of surprise of his own upon seeing the detective. Kajiwara felt a peculiar connection, and was expecting go to the salon regularly, but when the stylist asked what he did for a living, and Kajiwara answered honestly that he was a detective, the other man’s face went pale, and he bolted out of the building. Kajiwara never saw the man again after that.

• I think this is a Machi reference.

“The next time I see you, Mr. Osawa, I’ll have Maria with me.” The detective gave a slight bow, then left the study, a look of determination on his face.

Osawa watched him go with admiration; no matter what trouble arose, the man always looked for something he could do. He really was a fellow who knew how to hang tough.



“Compared to that...I’m just...” Osawa couldn’t even articulate his own self-disgust.

And asking Ai about the password would also mean inquiring into her relationship with Tanaka. The prospect was daunting. Venturing into the emotional territory of another person was his weakest suit.

He left his study, but somehow found himself making his way to Maria’s room, not Ai’s. He realized that he hadn’t been into his daughter’s room since a certain rainy day years before.



Now he stepped quietly inside, and saw Maria’s world laid out before him. A small photo was set atop her neat and tidy desk.



It was a close-up of someone’s hands doing a cat’s cradle. Whose hands were they? From the skin tone, they didn’t appear to be Maria’s.



Several more photographs were pinned to a corkboard that hung on the wall. They were snapshots of people and townscapes from the Middle East. One glance at them, and Osawa felt like he was back there for a moment. The images weren’t necessarily aesthetically pleasing, but they all looked like they’d been taken by a professional.

When he spotted the last photo on the corkboard, however, he was certain that Maria had taken them all.

Implications.



The last picture was of Osawa himself. He was facing the camera, holding some luggage and flashing an awkward smile. It was a comical, affectionate image.



He’d never known that photography was one of his daughter’s hobbies. No-this went beyond a mere hobby. Did she perhaps aspire to be a professional photographer one day? She certainly had the aptitude for it, from the look of things.

Maria, a photographer... As he mulled the idea over, Osawa felt his chest tighten. Right now, it looked like Maria’s hopes and dreams were about to be snuffed out. Her future consisted of bleeding to death a few short hours from now.

Osawa stared vacantly out the window. The view from Maria’s room remained unchanged from so long ago. Again that rainy day crept back into his mind, as vivid as the present.



On that day, Osawa was dealing with some pressing business from work. He’d ensconced himself in his study, wrestling with some paperwork, when Hitomi barged in, looking distraught.

“Maria’s gone.”

Sensing that Hitomi was legitimately alarmed, Osawa hurried to Maria’s room. He found a letter she’d left atop her writing desk.



Dad, you only care about Hitomi.

You’re always working and never do anything with me.

So I’m running away.

A few hours earlier, he’d cancelled their weekend trip to the amusement park. He just wasn’t going to be able to get his work done in time. Hitomi had resigned herself readily enough, but Maria just couldn’t accept it. She’d been looking forward to it for so long, she railed at him; how many times now had he broken one of his promises to her?

“Hitomi understands why we can’t go. So why can’t you do the same?” The cold rebuke had ended her complaining, but it was clear she still didn’t accept the situation.



Now, Hitomi helped him look around, but they found nothing missing from Maria’s room. Despite her assertion that she was running away, then, it seemed like there was no point in being overly concerned.

“Maybe she’s at the park she always goes to?” Hitomi looked worried.

The park was roughly a twenty-five minute walk from the house. It would only take about an hour for Osawa to go get her and bring her home. But an hour was more than he could afford to spare right now.



“Dad, I think she’s waiting for you to go after her.”

Osawa didn’t need Hitomi to tell him that. He knew it well enough; that was what galled him so much about the situation. Why did she have to pull something like this precisely when his work was at its busiest? He’d done everything he could as a father since his wife had passed away. Why couldn’t his daughter see that?



“It’s all right. Your sister will come back.” The rain was coming down pretty hard outside the window.

“Do...do you think she brought an umbrella?” Hitomi asked anxiously.

“I don’t know. But with the rain like this, she’ll come back home soon enough.”

He spoke the words for himself as much as for Hitomi. Then he headed back to his study and got back to work.



But several hours went by, and still Maria did not return.

The rain had gotten even more intense, to the point where Osawa could hear it in his study. He was so concerned about his missing girl that he couldn’t focus on his work-but he stubbornly refused to give in and go search for her.

Several more hours passed. At last, Maria appeared at the front door, soaking wet.

Osawa met her silently in the entryway.

Wet strands of hair clung to the girl’s forehead as she looked up at her father with a bitter glare. “You don’t care what happens to me, do you?”



Immediately, Osawa smacked her across the cheek with the flat of his hand. It was the first time in his life he’d ever struck anyone. He hadn’t known such a violent impulse could exist inside him.



Maria stood there, her hand pressed to her cheek. Tears welled up in her eyes; she began to tremble. On her lip was a small bead of blood.

A flood of guilt and regret rose up inside Osawa, as if he’d just shattered some intricate piece of glasswork.



How...how could I do such a thing...? He clenched his shameful hand into a fist. And in that moment, he was afraid of Maria. Afraid that his daughter could bring such raw emotion out of him and make him do something so thoughtless. But even more, he was afraid of how stunted he was as a human being.

Was someone like him really fit to be a parent? What kind of future could Maria and Hitomi hope for with a father like him?



That was why he’d married Ai as Makino had proposed. Having a mother, he’d decided, would help keep his family together despite their sad excuse for a father. But in so doing, Osawa had dug a psychological ditch between himself and his daughters. A deep ditch-so that he could keep his daughters from being hurt. So that he wouldn’t hurt himself.



Now Osawa was staring across that ditch, wondering if it was too wide to leap. He thought back to his earlier exchange with Kajiwara.

“If you get angry, you show it. If you get sad, you show it. It’s human nature to let other people know how we’re feeling, after all.”

“But what if doing that hurts the other person?”



“That’s when you apologize, sir.”

Yes, that was right. He needed to apologize to Maria for what he’d done that day. It still wasn’t too late.



It’s never too late. When it comes to family, there’s no such thing as “Game Over.”



He recalled Pretty Honey’s words. He needed to apologize to Maria-and so he needed to ask Ai for that password.



Osawa was going to have to face his wife.

• There's a Keep Out here; we've already found the Jump point to bypass this one.

Setup.




Decision.




No music.



Osawa’s phone rang and Minorikawa’s phone number popped up on the LCD display. The reporter must have finished looking into the matter Osawa had asked about.

“Mr. Osawa? Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“How did it go?”

“Well, I looked into the background of that story you asked about. And I learned who it was your wife was dating.”



“Who was it?” Osawa asked immediately.

There was a brief pause. “Mamoru Tanaka.”

“I see.” Finally he had proof positive of a relationship between Ai and Tanaka. Now, more than ever, it was no time to waver. No matter how painful the reality was, it was also true that if they hadn’t been dating, there would probably be no way of saving Maria.

“So,” Minorikawa said, “what was this big thing about disrupting the power balance of the world all about?”

“There’s something I need to take care of on my end, first. Once I’m finished, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Things are pretty hectic on my end right now, anyway.”

Osawa had expected Minorikawa to put up more of a fight. He’d figured a reporter for Four-Star General Gossip would be a bit more persistent.

“-Oh, by the way. There was one other thing I wanted to tell you, Mr. Osawa.” Osawa could practically sense the finger pointing his way from the other end of the line. “Don’t be too angry with your wife. All too often in this world, people let their anger get in the way of solving their problems.”

“You may have a point.” Osawa let out a wry chuckle. “All right, then. I’ll call you back later.”

Osawa found Ai standing by herself in the yard; she kept her back to him as he approached.



“May I have a moment?” he asked quietly.

“What?” Still she didn’t bother to turn around.

“There’s something important I need to talk to you about.”

“I’m not in the mood right now.”

“Please, Ai. I realize you’re upset about Tanaka’s death, but...”

At the mention of Tanaka’s name, Ai slowly shook her head . “Don’t. Just tell me what you want. Hurry up and get to the point.”

Osawa tried to move closer to her, but she pointedly kept her distance.

…Huh?

Uh… let’s stay on track??? A?

No music.



This was no time to mince words. “Did Tanaka give you his password?”

Hope.

“His password?”

“For the electronic lock on the lab. I need it in order to get the antiviral out.”

Ai turned to face him at last.



“To get it out? What are you thinking? That belongs to the company!”

“I just need one dose, to save Maria. Please, if you know-please tell me.”

“I don’t know it.” Ai’s voice was barely a whisper.

Osawa looked his wife right in the eye. “You’re telling the truth.”

“I am.”

“I see. Then...do you have any idea what number he might have used for a password?”

Ai shook her head silently, then turned her back to her husband once more.



“Even if I did know,” she said, “I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you get it?!” Ai’s words came out as a strangled rasp. “Do you even know why I’m with you?!” she snapped. “You really have no idea how much you’re worth, do you? The value of one woman’s life versus the potential profits your research would bring in-there’s no comparing the two. If it meant that Okoshi Pharmaceutical could monopolize your talents, then what did it even matter what I wanted for myself?” There was something akin to desperation in Ai’s words.



“And so you sent me those threatening emails, too?”

“What?” Ai looked at him in shock; he knew he’d guessed correctly.

“You would go that far...just to keep me tied to your father’s business?”

“That’s right. I would.” Ai bit down on her lip, hard.



“But what would you even know about how I feel?”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize. I’m not the victim here.”

“You say that, but isn’t it because of me that you and Tanaka weren’t able to stay together?”



Ai began to tremble. Her secret was out. “When did you figure it out?” she asked.

“Earlier today. That tie clip...”

“Heh. Right. Not the sort of gift one gives to a husband’s coworker, is it?” Ai’s smile was bitter with self-deprecation.



Osawa couldn’t help pity her. Even Tanaka must have suspected that she placed the company’s profit above all else, if she’d go to such lengths to protect it. It was like she’d given up her entire life just for that.

“Please. Don’t mess my life up any more than you already have.” Ai’s words were only a faint murmur, but Osawa felt the rejection they carried with agonizing clarity.



Tanaka hadn’t given Ai his password. Osawa’s last chance had gone up in smoke. He let out a long, shaky breath and shut his eyes tight. Was it true? Was there nothing more he could do?

• We haven't found the Jump point for this Keep Out yet, so we'll go over to Achi for now.

Setup.




No music.



Achi told Stanley and Hitomi what his father had done.

As she listened, Hitomi hung her head; her face was sallow.

“I’m so sorry,” Achi told her. “I’m not really sure what to say.” He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles popped, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

“So if I were rendered brain-dead...you could help your sister,” Hitomi murmured.

“Stop!” Achi said quickly. “Please, don’t say things like that.”

General Tip – Brain-dead wrote:A state where brain function has ceased irreversibly. In Japan, there are two conditions for declaring breath death. The first is that the patient must be comatose and in a state of apnea (no longer breathing) due to damage to the brain. The second is that the root cause is diagnosed and it is deemed that no reasonable treatment will restore brain function.

A sad look came to Hitomi’s face, and she pressed her right hand to her heart. “I mean...to find out like this...” She turned to Achi, tears glistening in her eyes. “I want to help your sister, but...”



“We have other things to worry about right now.” This time it was Stanley who cut her off. “Remember, Alphard is after you, Hitomi. Isn’t that what Canaan told you?”

“Yes. She’s said I was the mastermind’s target.” Hitomi wiped her tears away with her fingertips.

“So Alphard and Achi’s father are after the same thing,” Stanley said. “Is that just a coincidence?” It didn’t sound like he thought so.

“Hold up,” Achi growled, leaning in from the back seat. “Yeah, my dad’s way out of line. But he did what he did for Suzune-he wouldn’t work with terrorists.”

“I’m not saying he’s deliberately aiding terrorists,” Stanley replied coolly. “It’s common sense that a pro wouldn’t get an amateur involved with their plans. That makes it too likely that a clumsy misstep will cause things to fall apart. But then again, that’s not the way Alphard thinks. So...actually, the likelihood of failure could well be part of the plan.”

Achi thought back to what Canaan had said earlier.

Doubt.



If you achieve your goals using accidental means, the outline becomes blurred, and it makes it harder for anyone outside, looking in, to grasp what the actual plan is.



Not only have they put together a perfect plan they’ve purposely left certain tiny holes in it.



“So if we assume the plan has failed, this slip-up might be exactly what Alphard wants,” Stanley muttered.

“Sort of an ‘intentional hole,’ then?” Achi said.

Stanley snorted. “Canaan told you guys that too, huh? If that’s the case, then you really are a fool.”

“What did you just call me?!” Achi barked.

“If you’ve known all along how formidable this opponent is, you should have given Hitomi over to police custody right away. It’s only a matter of dumb luck that either of you are still alive right now.”

“Look, luck or not, me and Hitomi have managed to get by safely. That’s all that matters.”

No music.



“What exactly is the relationship between you two, anyway? Are you guys dating?”

Achi and Hitomi exchanged glances.

When Hitomi hesitated uneasily, Achi decided he’d better speak up. “No, it’s not like that. We just happened to run into each other earlier today. Guess I’m not the kinda guy who can abandon someone in trouble.”

“Can’t abandon someone in trouble, huh? You sure you’re not just trying to make yourself feel self-important? There are plenty of people out there that you can’t see who are also in trouble, who are also suffering. If you only help the ones close at hand, then what’s the point, really? The world’s a lot bigger than you can imagine, and there’s a lot you’re blind to.”

Achi Endo.



“So what-if I see someone who’s in trouble I’m supposed to just ignore them? Nah, I can’t do that. If I see someone who’s collapsed from hunger, I’m not gonna just walk on by because there are people starving somewhere else in the world. I’d be all, ‘Hey, let me treat you to a beef bowl’ or whatever.”

“You couldn’t have come up with a smarter example?” Stanley replied with a tiny laugh.

“Okay, so I’m an idiot.” Achi scowled. “My bad.”

Stanley laughed again.



“Today’s been an interesting day,” he said. “I was with another fellow earlier who was just like you.”

“Meaning what? Was he an idiot, too?”

“Yeah, he was an idiot. Do all you Japanese have that problem?”

“Hardly. My little sister’s so smart she’d make your eyes pop out.”

“Well I’m sure relieved to hear that. If everyone in this country were as dumb as you guys, I might actually start to like this place.”

“Huh? What does that even mean? Talk so I can understand, man,” Achi shot back.

But Stanley didn’t respond; instead he stuck his head out the car window, peering at the road ahead.



They were close to Shibuya Station, now, and the traffic had ground to a halt.

“Gridlock, again?” Stanley grumbled. “It’s probably better to walk the rest of the way to Endo Electronics.” He pulled over on the side of the road.

General Tip – Side of the road wrote:Specifically, the shoulder that runs along either side of the traveled portion of the roadway.

A place where trash tossed out the windows of moving cars tends to accumulate. Tossing cigarette butts and empty cans out onto the street can potentially hurt people, and it definitely makes a mess. Please, don’t litter.

Achi got out of the car, feeling his guts knot up with worry. Pretty soon he was going to have to confront his father.

Stanley gave Achi a look. “Are you scared about meeting with your father?”

“I’m not scared. First things first, I’m gonna punch him right in the face. Then we can have ourselves a chat.”

“Don’t let your emotions get out of control. Your father might be one of the key players in this case.”

“I don’t give a damn about that.” Achi took Hitomi by the hand and started walking.

No music.



They’d gone up and down Dogenzaka so many times today already. But this was probably the last time he and Hitomi would make their way up the hill together.

No music.



Achi walked at an easy pace, wanting to delaythe end of their time together just a little longer. Once they reached his home, this kidnappingcase would be all over-because his own father, Daisuke, would be arrested as the culprit.

General Tip – Culprit wrote:Kidnapping for ransom carries a potential life sentence, with a definite term of imprisonment of no less than three years.

Bringing Daisuke down would be easy. Achi wasn’t worried about that part at all. If he didn’t hold back, there was a good chance he’d wind up hurting his father.

Holding back... Getting hurt...




A memory from long ago rose in Achi’s mind. A pure white karate gi. Thrusting out with his left fist. Daisuke collapsing to the floor. One of many memories of his father that Achi could not forget.

Echo.



Kneeling before the memorial altar of his mother, Kotone, Achi wept uncontrollably. He clutched his ohajiki tightly in his hands. Achi had always been rather clingy with his mother. When she was alive, she had often joined him for ohajiki, origami, and the like.

General Tip – Ohajiki wrote:

On this particular day, Achi had come home miserable after getting bullied by the neighborhood kids for acting like a wimp.

“Achi.”



He turned to see his father, holding two cups of shaved ice.

“Come here for a bit.”

They sat on the stairs together, eating their sweet frozen confections.



“You want to get tougher?” Daisuke’s words were soft and simple. “How about you and me get tougher together?”

Achi looked up at his father, frowning in confusion. “How are we gonna do that?”



“Well, for starters, how about we learn some karate?”

“Karate?” Achi’s face twisted up unhappily at the idea. He couldn’t even imagine himself punching or kicking anyone.

“It’ll be all right,” his dad said. “I’ll go with you. Don’t you worry.” Daisuke flexed one of his scrawny arms. His biceps bulged up the tiniest bit.

Achi was well aware that his father wasn’t much of an athlete. There had been an athletics meet at his grade school. Even now, the memory of Daisuke tripping clumsily during the parent-participation relay was burned into Achi’s mind.

428 Tip – Parent-participation wrote:A type of children’s event where the parents who have come to watch their children compete are asked to join in with them. Daisuke took part in the tug-of-war, only to get tangled up in the rope and dragged over the line. Achi was understandably disheartened by his father’s embarrassing display, but after eating the lunch his father had made for him, his spirits quickly returned. Daisuke had made rice balls that were clumsily over-salted, but Achi could tell how hard he’d worked to prepare them.

“I guess...I mean, if you’re gonna be there.” And so the two began training together at a local karate dojo.



Achi put on his white gi and fastened his obi tightly. As he did so, he felt as if his feelings were being anchored in place as well.



“Ichi! Ni! San!”

Achi’s gi sleeves made a whooshing sound as he thrust out his fists in time with the sensei’s chant. Even simple kata practice made him feel like he was getting stronger, somehow.

His dad, having left Suzune in the care of their neighbors, was working up a sweat alongside him. But he was out of shape, and his technique was shaky; he was soon exhausted, and went to lean up against the dojo wall.



Achi stepped out of the training circle and called out to his father. “Dad, are you okay?”

“Yeah...I’m just...gonna take a little break...” Daisuke sounded like he was on the edge of hyperventilating.



“Thanks, Dad.”

“Huh? What for?”

“For asking me to come take karate lessons with you.” Achi was sure he’d never have dared to go to the dojo alone.

“Hey, just so long as you’re liking it. Now go on, get back to training.”

With a deep bow, Achi resumed his kata practice.



As they were walking home from the dojo, Achi turned to his father. “How come you want to get stronger, Dad?” he asked. “I mean you're not getting bullied by your friends.”

Daisuke was quiet for a few moments before answering; his words came out awkward and embarrassed. “I was picked on a lot when I was your age, too, Achi. I had a friend who would always come and bail me out.”

“A friend?”



“Yeah. A friend.” A distant look came to his father’s eyes. “He was a real fighter. I always looked up to him. I wanted to be strong, like him.” His expression turned lonely. “I don’t get to see him anymore, though.”



“Why not?” Achi asked. “Did he die?”

“No. No, nothing like that...”

“Then did you guys have a fight?”

“Something like that.” Daisuke smiled sadly.



He stared out into the sky for a while before speaking up again. “His name’s Tateno.”

“Hm?”

“My friend. That’s his name.” Achi’s father increased his pace. “Come on,” he said. “We have to go and pick up Suzune.”

After that, despite Achi’s questions, Daisuke would say no more about his old friend.



By the time he was almost done with grade school, Achi had grown up fit and strong, almost unrecognizable from his younger self. Perhaps he’d had the physical knack in him all along. He was chosen as the representative for the boys’ karate team, even managing to take second place in a national tournament. Nobody bullied Achi anymore.

One time, Daisuke suggested that the two of them do some sparring. Achi may have been a national competitor, sure, but he was still a grade-schooler squaring off against an adult. His father had been training for close to two years now as well, and his confidence had grown accordingly.

Achi was excited to be able to face off against his old man.



Early on in their karate training, Achi’s kumite had seemed rather hopeless. He’d been shocked that his out-of-shape father was able to overpower him, but also pleased to get a sense of how strong the man was.

This time, Achi thought, he might well lose again, but he was going to go all-out. As they adopted their fighting stances, Daisuke’s face was full of confidence.



The instructor gave the signal to begin, and Achi opened with a sharp low kick. Daisuke didn’t guard against it; the blow caught him in the thigh. It looked to Achi like he’d allowed himself to take the hit, not fearing the effect of a child’s kick.

Achi proceeded to unleash several more low kicks to the same spot. Bit by bit, Daisuke’s face revealed his discomfort; finally he yanked his leg away. That was when Achi realized: his father wasn’t letting himself get hit on purpose. He was just unable to keep up with the speed of his son’s footwork.

If that was the case, Achi felt bad about exploiting his dad’s weakness; he decided to leave his leg alone. Instead, he aimed a punch at his father’s midsection.



He was shocked by the impact as the blow struck home. He hadn’t attacked with a great deal of force. He’d just thrown a light mid-section punch as a check.



But as Achi pulled back his fist, Daisuke crumpled to the floor, writhing in pain as he clutched his gut.



Achi stared in disbelief at his own hand. That was the last day that Daisuke went to the dojo.

Hitomi Osawa.



“Your dad’s pathetic.”

“Yeah, he’s such a loser.”

Achi was on his way home from practice, and some older students from the dojo had started ribbing on him. “Wh-What did you just say?” These kids were middle-schoolers, but Achi wasn’t about to back down.



He thrust out with a quick punch, stopping it just short of one boy’s nose. “Go on, say that again. I’ll kick your ass.”

The older boys went pale, then took off and ran. But this small victory did nothing to bolster Achi’s spirits.

His father had looked so small and lonely, heading away after quitting karate. But Achi didn’t think there was anything pathetic about that. Sure, maybe by now, he was better at karate than his father. But really, what difference did that make?



In growing stronger, he’d learned something. Using force to win out over someone else didn’t mean anything. Strength alone didn’t determine a person’s worth.

Achi loved and respected his father for going to the dojo with him. Beating him in a karate match didn’t change the way he felt.

No music.



Achi resurfaced from his memories to hear Stanley talking on his phone.

“I see. So, that’s what’s going on. Once we’re finished with things in Dogenzaka, I’ll bring Hitomi right back to the precinct.”

Ask about the topic with B.

No music.



“What was that about just now?”

Stanley’s reply was clipped. “I know what they’re after now.” With that, Stanley proceeded to wrap up his phone call.

Guess I’m not going to get much out of this guy, Achi thought.



By now they could see Endo Electronics up ahead. Achi was about to hurry inside when Stanley stopped him. “I’ll go in first. You two wait out here.”

“No way. This is my dad we’re talking about.”

“And you don’t think it’s dangerous to bring Hitomi right to him?”

“Well-all right. We’ll wait here for a bit, and once we know it’s safe, we’ll head on in. You cool with that?”

“I’m cool with that.” Stanley stepped inside.



Achi fussed about impatiently, staring at the entryway. The palm of his clenched fist was sweating. Never before in his life had he wanted to just deck his old man.

Hitomi watched him uneasily.



“Hitomi...”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I really don’t want you to have to see this, but I think you’re about to witness the crowning shame in Endo family history.”

“Achi, don’t say that,” Hitomi said. She squeezed his hand.

Chance Meeting.



He found his other fist unclenching.

“Please, you have to try to talk to your father.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”



Suddenly there was a loud crash from inside the building. The time for waiting had passed.

“Let’s go!”

Achi and Hitomi raced inside. Barging into the living quarters without bothering to shed his shoes, he heard his father’s voice coming from the workroom.



“Dad!”



Achi hurried through the workroom door and saw Stanley holding his father pinned across a desk.

“Let me go! Please, let me go!” Daisuke thrashed both of his legs.



“Stanley, please. Let my father go. I want to talk to him.”

Stanley snorted dismissively, but did as he was asked. Daisuke stood up, rubbing at a sore wrist.



“Dad, please, you have to tell me. Where is Maria?”

“Maria? What are you talking about?” Daisuke wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Achi pointed at Hitomi. “You know who this is, don’t you? Hitomi Osawa, the girl you’ve been after. Maria is her sister.”

But Daisuke remained silent.



“You’re gonna pretend you didn’t call the hospital? Nothing about maybe being able to get your hands on a heart? I mean, seriously? It’s all so simple. Even I can tell what’s been going on. You’ve been watching me and Hitomi through the surveillance cameras. And you were telling that guy with the cane where we were.”

The blood began to drain from his father’s face.

“Don’t you go quiet on me! If I’m wrong, then go ahead-tell me the truth!”



Daisuke’s arm shot out suddenly, knocking an external hard drive from his desk onto the floor. It was over and done before Stanley could stop him.



Stanley hunched down and picked up the shattered drive. “I’m guessing there was important data on here. Footage from the cameras, maybe?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Daisuke spat.



“You can’t do this to an innocent person, Dad!” Achi shouted, grabbing his father by the collar.

No music.

There was a sound of footsteps from out in the shop. Someone was quickly getting closer.

Stanley grabbed Hitomi by the hand and pulled her back against the wall.



Achi stiffened as he turned his gaze to the door.



Setup.




No music.



A gunshot rang out-from Tateno’s gun. But it was a wild shot, fired reflexively as the weapon flew out of his hand.

A figure had leapt from behind the water storage tank, kicking him in the arm that held the gun. Then, moving almost too fast for the eye to track, the newcomer delivered an elbow strike to Tateno’s jaw.

Kano didn’t even have the chance to fire his gun. Before he could react, Maria’s kidnapper was already laid out on the ground.



Without so much as looking back, the girl bolted down the stairs.

“Maria!” Kano shouted. He started to chase after her, but a bright glimmer in the corner of his eye stopped him in his tracks. The strange assailant had drawn a knife, and was preparing to slit the unconscious Tateno’s throat.

Kano quickly brought his gun back to bear. “Stop right there!”



The knife stopped, mere millimeters from Tateno’s neck. Kano was sure that if he hadn’t intervened, the detective’s throat would have been slit already.

The knife-wielder pulled back the hood that had been concealing her face.

“You...I know you,” Kano said, shocked to see that he recognized the attacker.



It was the girl who’d been knocked down by the minivan explosion. “Why stop me?” she asked, her tone ice-cold. “Weren’t you just about to shoot him yourself?”

“I don’t have a reason to shoot him anymore. Not now that you’ve helped Maria escape. Please, put the knife away.”



“Very well. Looks like he’s not waking up for a while, anyway.” The girl withdrew the knife and rose to her feet.



“Why did you come to Maria’s rescue?”

“Because she’s my friend,” the girl said simply.

“She’s been infected with a virus,” Kano said. “We have to get her to help as soon as possible.” He headed for the stairs that Maria had scampered down.

Tension.



“Not so fast. Don’t move.” The girl’s sharp tone made Kano stop.

“What for?” he demanded. “I thought you wanted to help-”

“I do want to help her, which is why I’m not letting the police get their hands on her.” The girl’s voice was quiet, but hard as steel. “The police are afraid of the Ua virus spreading. Which is why they’ll certainly place Maria under quarantine. If that happens, there won’t be any way to save her.”



“Just who in the world are you?”

“Before I answer that, let’s make a deal.”

Kano waited, noncommittal.

“I have information relevant to this case,” the girl continued. “I want to make an exchange.”

Kano swallowed the lump in his throat. “An exchange for what?”



“Tell me where Hitomi Osawa is.”

“Hitomi Osawa?”

Stanley had taken Hitomi into custody. Kano could probably get in touch and ask him where she was, but...

“Why do you want to know where Hitomi is?”

“Do we have a deal or not?” The girl looked like she was in no mood to argue.

Still, if she knew about the Ua virus, she was probably telling the truth about having information. But it was a violation of police policy to leak information on any investigation to a third party.

Canaan is cool.
I think Kano would be wary of her, so B.

Tie between B and C.

B!

Tension.



“No way. I can’t share that info.”

A thin smile came to the girl’s face. “That’s very noble of you. But I think once you hear what I have to say, you’ll change your mind.”

“Who...Who are you?”

“My name is Canaan.”

Canaan?

No music.



Kano thought back to the grisly scene at the foreign syndicate’s hideout.



Did she do that? He was almost afraid to wonder. There was still a lingering trace of adolescence in this strange girl’s face. It was hard to believe someone so young could be a covert Middle Eastern operative. And yet Kano had seen how quickly she’d been able render Tateno unconscious.

“All right, then. Guess I’ll go first,” Canaan began. “There’s someone out there trying to get their hands on the antiviral drug. My objective is to eliminate this person, and put a stop to their plan.”

Unrest.

Kano felt neither surprise nor horror at her use of the term ‘eliminate.’ After all that had happened today, he realized, his sensibilities had gone numb.



“This person you’re after-you’re talking about an arms dealer named Alphard, aren’t you?”

Canaan nodded. “The Ua virus has been weaponized, and tested several times on the battlefield to great effect,” she said. “The antiviral would render this weapon wholly ineffective. Countries the world over are dying to get their hands on it.”

“Then why did Alphard orchestrate this kidnapping? If the goal is to get the antiviral, why not just steal it from the laboratory? There was a lot about this kidnapping case that still didn’t add up. Kano was sure Alphard’s plan was hidden in those baffling details.



“Lab security at Okoshi Pharmaceutical is practically perfect. The place is under surveillance twenty-four hours a day, and getting to where the antiviral is stored requires bypassing three sophisticated electronic locks. Getting the antiviral out is impossible.” Unexpectedly, a sly grin appeared on Canaan’s face. “If you were Alphard, how would you steal it?” she asked.

“Huh?” Kano was taken aback by the sudden question. He thought good and hard about how to answer.

All of these seem reasonable but let’s go for B again

Tie between B and C.

B

Unrest.



“Osawa heads up the lab-wouldn’t he be able to get it out?”

“No. Accessing the storage facility requires the authentication of both Kenji Osawa and Mamoru Tanaka. It’s impossible, even for one of them, to gain entry alone.”

That’s right. Stanley had mentioned the same thing.

“The lab security also performs a thorough body search at the building’s exit. This ensures that employees can’t sneak materials out on their way home from work.”

That level of security was perhaps understandable. Kano tried to think of other ways to gain access to the drug, but none came to him.

“Six days ago, Alphard injected Hitomi Osawa with the Ua virus.”

“What?!” The tale had taken a sudden and very unexpected turn. So it wasn’t only Maria who had been infected, but Hitomi as well? And six days ago, at that...



“Wait, hold on. Hitomi Osawa was perfectly healthy earlier today. So that must mean...”

“Exactly. Kenji Osawa administered the antiviral to her.”

An unsettling thought occurred to Kano. It was supposedly impossible for Osawa to access the antiviral all by himself. But if he’d been able to give it to his daughter all the same, then that had to mean-

“He needed Mamoru Tanaka’s help to do it, of course,” Canaan said. “Which is why Alphard bribed Tanaka ahead of time.”

“So that’s what happened.” Tanaka had been paid off to inject Hitomi with the virus. Getting Osawa to take action at that point wouldn’t have been difficult. “But why go to such lengths to get the antiviral administered to Hitomi?” Why would Alphard have Hitomi infected with the virus only to then have her father cure it?



“It’s been roughly a week since she was given the antiviral. The DDS is still in her body.”

“The what?”

“Essentially, taking blood from Hitomi Osawa now would allow someone to extract miniscule amounts of the antiviral.”

Kano was stunned. Suddenly all these seemingly unrelated threads were beginning to form a pattern. “So...since getting the antiviral itself out of the lab wasn’t an option, Alphard must have thought of using a human vessel,” he murmured.



“Which means the thing that Alphard’s really after is...”

Canaan nodded. “Yes-Hitomi’s blood,” she finished.



“Alphard specifically requested that Hitomi make the ransom handoff,” Canaan said. “Additionally, the crime syndicate was hired to carry out a relay with the attaché case containing the ransom money. This would disrupt the investigation and distract the police, allowing the kidnappers to target Hitomi in secret.”



“Wait, no. Hold on.” There was something about this story that still made no sense to Kano.

so… why is Hitomi the vessel?

Unrest.




“Why not use Tanaka for the vessel instead of Hitomi?” Tanaka could enter the lab along with Osawa, then secretly inject himself with the antiviral. It didn’t seem like that would be terribly difficult.

“A good question. If getting the antiviral were the only goal, that would be the most expedient means of doing it.”

“So then why use Hitomi Osawa?” Kano asked.

Canaan thought for a moment before answering. “Tanaka may have objected to the idea of giving himself the drug. I hear that it can have some severe side-effects.” But she seemed unconvinced by her own words.

“Do you know why they targeted Hitomi?” Kano demanded.

“I don’t. But I’m sure there must be some reason.”

Alphard hadn’t gone with using Tanaka, which would have been the sure thing. Instead, they’d gone with Hitomi. Hitomi was injected with the virus, brought into the lab, and used to sneak the antiviral out. Now, the plan was to extract the antiviral from Hitomi’s blood.

Hmm... Something about this idea still struck Kano as incredibly odd. “So wait-why not just abduct Hitomi from the very beginning? Why kidnap Maria instead?”