A year had passed in the blink of an eye.
Once again, Yamashita rang the bell of the Kudo Detective Agency.
“Well, look who it is. To think you’d be the one assigned to me. What a coincidence.”
“Is it really a coincidence?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I bet you’re the one who requested me.”
“Oh?”
“Didn’t you tell me exactly that last year?”
“Did I? Do you have proof? I’d suggest you secure your evidence before making accusations. What if I decided to destroy the evidence now that you’ve tipped me off?”
Yamashita’s voice sharpened. “I don’t have any proof.”
“My bad. I wasn’t trying to get under your skin. I hope you didn’t take it the wrong way. Anyway, congratulations on making it into the MPD, just as you wanted.”
“Thank you.”
“What are you up to these days?”
“I’m in training. I’m at the Police Academy, living in the government housing in Fuchu.”
“I see. The standard route. But suddenly, in the middle of your training, a special mission has been issued. A secret assignment just for you. How does that feel? Exciting, isn’t it?”
“Stop teasing me.”
“But you’re the one who said it. You wanted a special assignment. You said you hated the idea of patrolling for the Traffic Division.”
“I did, but…”
“Well, have a seat. Let me get you some tea.”
Yamashita marched past the sofa and slid open the balcony door.
“I’ve been thinking about how much I wanted to see this view again.”
The sky was now unmistakably autumn. From here, she could see the path of the cold winds that blew from the Sea of Japan, crossed the Nikko mountains, traversed the Kanto Plain, and swept into Tokyo Bay. She looked across to the Sumida riverbanks—Bokutō, Fukagawa, Honjo, Mukojima—and tried to overlay this image with the scenery of two hundred years ago, when the banks were a vast expanse of reed beds. As the cold wind brushed her cheeks, she felt as if she could smell the scent of withered grass from the Musashino plains.
“My gut tells me you weren’t cut out to be a conventional police officer. That’s why they sent you to a private eye like me. You not aware of that?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I bet you made it very clear from day one that you wanted the First Investigation Division.”
“…”
“You probably embarrassed your seniors with your knowledge of firearms and marksmanship.”
“…”
“And you probably alienate everyone by constantly bringing up mystery novels.”
“…”
“Hahaha. I’ve heard it all. It’s refreshing to see a young person who isn’t just playing it safe. You should stay exactly as you are.”
Kudo paused. “Enough small talk. I should give you the rundown first. This case is a tangle of several complex issues, but the core of it is a residents’ movement opposing the construction of an adult entertainment building.”
“I… what?”
“You have that look on your face—’Why am I involved in this?’ The intro is long, so bear with me. It’s a classic story: a crooked developer uses yakuza to threaten and harass residents, forces them out, redevelops the land, and builds condos or office towers. You’ve heard it a thousand times.”
“I have.”
“But lately, there’s a booming business in stirring up these residents’ movements just to sue the landowners and developers for damages. There are lawyers who specialize in these lawsuits, and politicians who handle the petitions and grievances. If you play your cards right, it’s a goldmine, and success brings in even more work. Lawyers can’t survive just waiting for clients anymore. These days, they produce the conflict themselves.”
“And that’s your job? Stirring up opposition to an adult building to make a profit? You want me to be an accomplice in that? That’s a blatant abuse of power.”
“You love jumping to conclusions, don’t you? No. Remember I told you about my acquaintance, the ward councilor? He helped me when I set up this office, and he sends me lucrative work. For a freelancer, he’s a vital client—in a way, my direct boss. His name is Moriguchi.”
“So what?”
“That councilor has a boss in the House of Councillors. It’s common for local politicians to act as secretaries for national ones, learn the ropes, and eventually run for national office. Both the ward councilor and the national politician receive all sorts of petitions. Naturally, they have legal advisors, and those lawyers get a flood of lawsuits. Moriguchi is the one who sifts through those cases and funnels the relevant work to me.”
“I’d love to meet this Mr. Moriguchi.”
“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t, but there’s no point. He’s a perfectly ordinary man. Now, the ringleader of this anti-adult building movement is another councilor, Yoichi Sasai. Sasai is Moriguchi’s rival. He’s been trying to trip Moriguchi up for a long time, so we have to hit back. Sasai gets the petitions from the protesters; Moriguchi gets the requests to crush those protesters.”
“And when the actions of these ‘professional citizens,’ human rights lawyers, and leftist politicians become too much to ignore, the state or the police can step in. I’ve been hired by Moriguchi to find the concrete evidence needed for that.”
“I’m speechless. You’re dragging me into a private feud between two ward councilors? This is absolutely an abuse of power.”
“You could put it that way. But your boss, Mr. Kidera… he’s the one who sent you to me. Right?”
“Yes. Inspector Kidera from the First Investigation Division contacted me directly.”
“Which means Kidera is also fed up with Sasai. The police generally don’t intervene in civil matters, and even in criminal cases, they won’t move unless it’s a massive score. They’re short on budget and manpower. Sasai himself has been on Public Security’s radar for a while. I’ve done some digging; he’s a monster. A dangerous man.”
“How dangerous?”
“He’s part of a multinational mafia. Russian, Chinese, Korean, Taiwanese, Hong Kong, Singapore, Philippine, American, Mexican, Canadian.”
“Someone that dangerous is a ward councilor?”
“Anyone can be a ward councilor.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, as long as they have a local power base and a reliable block of votes. Anyway, your job is to officially, as a public servant, find the decisive evidence to bring Sasai down.”
“How?”
“First, I need you to go undercover in a maid café in Akihabara.”
“What? How did we get to that?”
“I told you things were complicated. This started as a consultation for Moriguchi, but it turns out Sasai is pulling the strings behind this, too. It’s a long story.”
“There’s a maid café called ‘Domino Tomino’ owned by an acquaintance of Moriguchi. The owner is Ms. Tomino.”
“That’s a pun.”
“Yeah, it’s a pun. It’s a well-established place in Akihabara. It has a great reputation, honest service, and the coffee is excellent—which is only natural for a proper café. It’s never had any trouble. But recently, there’s been a tip-off claiming it’s become a ‘matching café’ for escorts—essentially a den for procuring prostitution. It’s completely baseless. But the rumors are spreading, sales are dropping, and the staff are leaving. She’s in a bind.”
“Moreover, Akihabara has recently been targeted by organizations like UNICEF for being a breeding ground for child pornography and juvenile prostitution. If the police just stand by, they’ll be called tax-thieves. So, at the request of Moriguchi and others, I, the general handyman, was asked to investigate the reality of the situation.”
“The reality of Akihabara? Good luck with that.”
“Yeah, it’s a tough job. Easier said than done. Recently, a new maid café called ‘Luise’ opened near Domino, and it turns out the maids there are spreading these rumors about Domino to the customers. Furthermore, my ‘sources’ indicate that Luise is linked to Sasai and is actually the one running the prostitution ring.”
“Your ‘sources’?”
“Slow on the uptake, or just playing dumb?”
“I’m asking because I genuinely don’t know.”
“In short, it’s information from a side of the world you don’t need to know about—or rather, a side that would be problematic for you to be associated with, given your position.”
“So Luise is trying to frame their competitor, Domino, to steal their customers?”
“Exactly. Ms. Tomino suspects as much. Before Luise opened, the manager came to greet her. He was an arrogant piece of work who told her he’d crush an ‘old-fashioned’ shop like hers. Tomino basically threw salt on him and kicked him out. Then, the next week, Domino’s top maid suddenly quit. She was poached by Luise.”
“That’s blatant harassment.”
“And Luise is definitely dirty. They’ll be raided and arrested soon. Or the tax office will hit them with a forced investigation. But Sasai is a rat; he’s quick to flee. Before that happens, I want to confirm his involvement. And I want evidence of the prostitution ring. If I can figure out where and how the funds for the anti-adult building movement are flowing, even better.”
“I believe Sasai’s opposition movement and the prostitution ring are linked. In other words, it’s a self-staged play. He pretends to oppose the adult building while secretly controlling the adult businesses inside it. In the Later Han Dynasty, Cao Cao and Yuan Shao were a pair of pranksters who once went to steal a bride from a village. Yuan Shao fell into a thorn pit and couldn’t get out. Cao Cao shouted, ‘The thief is right here!’ Terrified of being caught by the villagers, Yuan Shao found a burst of supernatural strength and clawed his way out. This gave birth to the idiom ‘Zokkan Sokuzoku’—the thief shouting ‘Catch the thief!’ Sasai is exactly that. If the enemy and the ally are linked behind the scenes, he can wrap things up whenever he wants. It’s a rigged game; there’s no risk of failure. He can rotate his funds with maximum efficiency. And behind it all, of course, is the mafia. The filth of society.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Once I have the evidence, we get a warrant and arrest him on the spot. His political career will be over.”
“And that’s why I’m going undercover?”
“Yes.”
“Why me?”
“Because a veteran female detective would be too suspicious. The younger and more amateurish, the better. Which is why you’re perfect.”
“I’m sorry for being so amateurish. But isn’t this dangerous?”
“Oh, it’s dangerous. Very dangerous. But isn’t that the job of a police officer?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ve already thought through the plan. Your name is Marina Misaki.”
“That’s a bit too cool. Sounds like a yacht harbor.”
“Right? ‘Keiko Yamashita’ is no good. Sounds like a Showa-era housemaid. Your story is: you were a student until last year, you got a job offer and moved from the countryside, but the company went bankrupt. Now you’re unemployed, your parents can’t send money, and you’re struggling to pay back your student loans. So, as a mix of hobby and necessity, you’ve decided to work as a maid in Akihabara. That’s the angle.”
Yamashita felt a few things were off—the student loans, the “hobby and necessity”—but she figured that’s just how it works in maid cafés.
“I’ll have Kidera forge your ID. You write the resume yourself. For your work history, say you worked part-time at a convenience store after losing your job. There are job magazines at the station. Luise should have an ad in there. Use that to apply casually.”
“I can handle the details without you spelling everything out.”
“Hahaha. Is that so? Well, the sun is still high. Let’s go see the site. Since you want to be a cop, I assume you like walking.”
“I guess.”
“From here, if we take our time and look at the scenery, it’s about a twenty-minute walk.”
“That’s surprisingly close.”
“Of course. Kuramae to Akihabara is barely one subway stop. Not worth a taxi.”
They walked through a straight, weathered alleyway she had never traversed before. Kudo mentioned that during the Great Tokyo Air raids, this specific section had been spared because the incendiary bombs happened to be duds and the wind shifted. Looking around, while the shops had been renovated, the wooden signs looked hauntingly old, like ghosts of the pre-war era. Then, emerging from the gap between buildings, she was suddenly confronted by the world-famous cyber-city: the main thoroughfare of Akihabara. It was a jarring transition. A chaotic mix of Japanese, Chinese, and other unrecognizable ethnicities flowed past.
“Look. The Luise flagship store takes up the first through seventh floors of that building facing the main street. It used to be one giant electronics store. Now it’s been carved up into small tenancies. A hundred-yen shop, a takoyaki stand, an internet café—it’s become a labyrinth of everything. This kind of building is common in Akihabara now. By the way, Domino is in the basement of that miscellaneous building on the back street. Let’s stop by Domino first and hear their side.”
Kudo led the way down the stairs. The basement was filled with vintage eateries that could only be described as the leftovers of the Showa era. The izakayas were still closed, looking bleak, but they’d likely open in the evening. There seemed to be a shared restroom.
“The basements of old Akihabara buildings are often like this. A sanctuary for the post-war salarymen. By the way, do you like coffee?”
“Yes, though I’m not great with black. If you add plenty of milk…”
“I see. I want to get a feel for the atmosphere. Let’s just act like passersby and enjoy some coffee together. Sound good?”
They entered a shop with a white plaster exterior, deliberately leaving the marks of the trowel. It had stained-glass windows and a tiled roof, designed to look like a Western-style manor, but decades of time had given it a venerable, antique aura. Yamashita wondered if any new customers ever entered such a place.
“Welcome,” called out an elderly man standing behind the counter.
Though it was billed as a maid café, there were no maids. Likely because it was daytime.
Kudo sat at the counter, and Yamashita climbed onto the stool beside him.
“Oh, nel drip. Have you had it before?”
“No.”
“Then you should try it. The shop I used to run served nel drip coffee too.”
“You were a bartender? Or maybe a host?”
“Not a host club. Just a café bar. I managed it too. Similar to this place. I served beer and cocktails.”
Kudo used to be in the service industry? Yamashita thought. It seems unlikely, yet somehow fits him.
“You should get the cake set.”
“No, I’m okay for now.”
While waiting for the coffee, Yamashita subtly scanned the interior. This was her first real “crime scene,” but she saw nothing out of the ordinary. It looked like a perfectly normal coffee shop. Plush carpets. Generic Western paintings on the walls. Cheap plastic greenery surrounding the booths. A chandelier on the ceiling. A black-lacquered wooden magazine rack holding weekly journals and newspapers. Next to it, a bookshelf with a mix of manga and novels by Banana Yoshimoto and Haruki Murakami. On the table sat one of those ball-shaped fortune-telling machines. Soon, the fragrant aroma of coffee wafted through the air, accompanied by a shuffle of quiet jazz playing over the speakers.
As a police officer, her observation concluded that this was an utterly unremarkable café.
Tomino poured the coffee into a server using a cloth filter.
I’ve never been to a café with a man like this in my life, she thought, taking a sip of the pitch-black coffee. It wasn’t too bitter. She felt she could drink it black, but she added milk and stirred it with a small, gold-plated spoon whose plating was peeling off. It tasted expensive.
“Does nel drip require some advanced technique?”
“Not really. It just takes time. You brew it slowly, then boil the filter to disinfect it, soak it in cold water, and keep it in the fridge.”
“Wow.” I’ll stick to paper filters, Yamashita thought. Same as a cloth mask. In this day and age, it’s better to use disposable non-woven ones.
“Do you like it here?” the old man asked.
“Yes,” Kudo replied. “The coffee, and the atmosphere. It perfectly resets a mind frayed by work.”
The old man looked pleased, yet suspicious. He adjusted his tortoiseshell glasses and peered at Kudo, as if about to say something. Yamashita figured he probably realized she didn’t look like Kudo’s girlfriend or wife. I need to act more natural, she thought, but the more she tried, the stiffer her body became.
Kudo spoke before the man could. “Actually, I’m here to talk to you. You’re Mr. Tomino, right?”
“I am.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Kudo. I came because of Mr. Moriguchi, the councilor.” Kudo handed over his business card.
“Oh, a detective. And the young lady as well?”
“No. I’m a cop.”
“I’m honored you’ve come all this way.”
Despite a detective and a cop walking in, Tomino didn’t seem surprised. He’s got nerves of steel, Yamashita thought. Maybe he’s seen his fair share of chaos while running a business.
“I assume you know Mr. Moriguchi through the neighborhood association,” Kudo continued.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“I used to help out at Mr. Moriguchi’s shop a while back.”
“Then you’re one of us. His shop in Awajicho?”
“No, that’s the main branch. I was a bartender at his Irish pub in Okachimachi.”
“I see. He’s quite diversified.”
Kudo and Tomino chatted for a while about local gossip and the Kanda Festival. Maybe Kudo is a community-based detective, Yamashita mused, thinking of the fictional detectives like Zenigata Heiji or Hanshichi Rōjin who were born and raised in Kanda.
“I heard you’re being harassed by Luise.”
“Haha. I might have complained about that to Moriguchi-kun, but that’s just how business is.”
“Why just accept it?”
“Tricking and being tricked. I’ve been in trade for decades; I’ve done my share of dirty tricks. I’ve had to grease the palms of a few big shots here and there.”
“Business is a competition, after all.”
“My family ran a general store in Suehiro-cho for generations, but when my parents retired, I changed the business. I wanted to recreate the cafés of the Taisho era.”
“I see. The world of Nagai Kafū and Kikuchi Kan.”
“Exactly. I spent my childhood in the Maruzen in Nihonbashi and the bookstores of Jimbocho. I was obsessed with literature in college. I was a literary youth back then.”
“However,” Tomino continued, “the term ‘waitress café’ became a derogatory term, so I had to call it a ‘maid café’ to fit the trend. And since a ‘café’ is an adult entertainment business, the police told me I needed a permit.”
“Right. The ‘Fueiho’ (Adult Entertainment Law)—’waiting rooms, restaurants, cafés, and others’ that ‘provide entertainment or food and drink’ to guests.”
“Exactly. So I went to the Bansei Police Station and got a proper permit, and had ‘maids’ serve the guests. In the beginning, I attracted the eccentrics. Famous writers would come for interviews. But for some reason, recently, shops with similar names started popping up all over the neighborhood. And because I claim to be a classic Taisho-era café, other operators started spreading rumors that I’m procuring prostitution. My most popular girls are being poached one by one. There are so many similar shops in Akihabara now. It’s a war for customers. At this rate, I’ll be bankrupt in three months.”
“From what I’ve heard, Luise won’t last that long. Please hang in there. I’ll do what I can.”
As Kudo prepared to leave, Tomino brought a brown envelope from the register. Inside was a hundred thousand yen.
“This is far too much compared to the usual consultation fee. I can’t accept this. I didn’t come here today for money.”
“Don’t say that, just take it. No receipt needed.”
“No, no. This is problematic. Well, we’ll be going now.”
After leaving Domino, Kudo explained to Yamashita.
“I can’t take money in this manner. I always have my fees handled through a lawyer.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want individual transactions with clients. And I don’t take money from the police—not that the police have a budget for private detectives anyway. Plus, the tax calculations are a pain. I’m terrible with money; I still don’t know which money is okay to take and which isn’t. Didn’t you hear Tomino-san imply it was ‘nose-medicine’ (a bribe) without a receipt? Moreover, he’s a stranger. It sounds cynical, but in this business, you have to assume everyone is a villain to survive. Even if he’s Moriguchi’s client, there’s a chance Tomino is a bad actor. I can’t take it. And once you take it, it’s even harder to give it back.”
“So it’s a case of ‘eat the poisonous manju and you’ll die,’ huh?”
“Exactly. My boss, Moriguchi, and his boss, the national politician, and other clients… they pay me to run background checks on people who send them ‘donations’ so they don’t eat poisonous manju. That’s actually my main source of income. I’m like a narcotics dog at airport customs. I can tell you now since you’re in the loop: you should only take money from people you trust implicitly. It’s a hassle, but I have a lawyer judge the situation, and then a tax accountant or accountant processes it. I only put the money in my pocket once the professionals have scrubbed it. On paper, I’m a freelance consultant hired by a law firm.”
“You’re incredibly neurotic.”
“You guys are civil servants; you don’t have to worry about where your salary comes from. Of course, any other money you take could be considered a bribe.”
Yamashita realized for the first time that Kudo was an incredibly cautious, suspicious man. He was always on guard. Maybe this is what a real detective is like, she thought. The detectives in dramas are usually just thugs who couldn’t quite become cops or outlaws, longing for a hard-boiled world. They’re optimistic, sloppy, and stumble into landmines until they die. Those kinds of funny detectives are probably weeded out quickly.
And Kudo, while a lone wolf freelancer, wasn’t a “business owner” type. He was a man whose instincts were valued by others, who was given work and lived off the rewards. He was, in essence, a “dog” for the powerful. But to last this long as a dog, he had to have a sharp nose and a clever mind.
Kudo and Yamashita stepped onto the main street and looked at the building opposite them.
“Luise has many branches and affiliates, but each one is relatively small. Depending on the shift, you might be moved around. Listen, at first, just blend into the atmosphere. Don’t do anything other than your assigned duties. While on duty, forget you’re a police officer. You’re just a part-timer. Don’t stick your nose in or dig too deep. Promise me that.”
“I promise.”
“Keep a mental note—or a physical one—of who comes and goes, how many staff there are, and what kind of customers visit. I won’t contact you unless something critical happens. You report to me by phone, say, an hour after your shift ends. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m off.”
With that, Kudo vanished into the Akihabara crowd. Yamashita then headed toward the MPD headquarters at Sakuradamon.
The next day, the woman now known as Marina Misaki—formerly Keiko Yamashita—visited Luise at 10:00 AM, as instructed. She carried a forged driver’s license and a suitably vague resume. She had visited a salon early that morning to get a slightly “gyaru” style of makeup.
The shop wasn’t open yet. Inside were only a cleaning lady in work clothes and a manager in casual, salaryman-style attire. With chairs flipped upside down on tables for the floor polisher, the manager interviewed her.
“How did you hear about this shop?”
“Um. The free info magazine at the station.”
Yamashita pulled the magazine from her bag and showed him the Luise ad.
“I also saw it online, and it looked like a fun place where I could fit in, so I applied.”
She tried to speak in the lightest, most casual tone possible.
“Marina-san. Have you ever worked as a waitress in a café like this?”
“Um. Well. I worked part-time at a family restaurant back in my hometown when I was a student. But I was in the kitchen, not on the floor.”
“You never served food?”
“Only occasionally, as a helper when someone on the shift called in sick.”
“Cash register?”
“Sorry. I’ve never done that.”
“I see. Can’t be helped. Perhaps you’ve worked at a girls’ bar or a hostess club?”
“Sorry. No.”
“You don’t have to apologize for everything.”
There was no solemn warning about entering the “world of nightlife,” nor any tragic atmosphere of “sinking into the sea of sorrow.” The conversation was purely transactional.
“Let me explain the system. Shifts are basic Early and Late. They switch between Cafe time and BAR time. Cafe time is 11:30 to 17:00. High school girls work during this time, and we generally don’t serve alcohol. BAR time is 17:00 to 22:00. Alcohol is served, but we don’t stay open late. It’s very wholesome.”
“Um. Do we sit next to the customers?”
“Don’t be stupid. We’re not a hostess club or a snack bar. You don’t need to be overly polite like at a family restaurant or a convenience store. In fact, I want you to act like an amateur, like you’re running a booth at a school festival. Play darts with them. Draw hearts with ketchup on omurice. If a crowd gathers, run a bingo game. That school-fest energy is plenty. The customers here aren’t ordinary people; they’re ‘otaku.’ They actually enjoy it when a girl they’ve just met is a bit harsh with them. Then, once they’ve visited a few times, you can become slightly friendlier. That makes them even happier. But listen: never think about becoming actual friends. This is a business. It’s a service. Just use the ‘tsundere’ technique—be cold, then be kind. No otaku hates being treated that way. Some girls in this town are naturally like that, though they usually just think they’re princesses and look down on the otaku. Anyway, you won’t get that yet. Just keep it simple at first. On the other hand, if someone from around Ikenohata comes in, be careful.”
“Ikenohata?”
“The area around Shinobazu Pond.”
“What’s a ‘customer who knows how to play’? How are they different from otaku?”
“You can tell just by looking. First, the clothes. Suit-wearing salarymen, or guys in foreign polo shirts. Their faces are different too. Arrogant. They look down on the nightlife industry, so they speak rudely. We have a different way of handling them.”
“Different how?”
“We introduce them to real izakayas and bars. Give them a discount coupon for an affiliate shop. By the way, do you like cosplay?”
“Eh?”
“Do you go to Comiket?”
“No… not really. I just moved here from the country.”
“Interested in trying it? Wearing a light-blue twin-tail wig, for example?”
“I… let me think about that.”
“Do you sing anime songs at solo karaoke?”
“I don’t.”
“They love it when you duet with them. You don’t even have to let the customer sing; if you just sing for them, they’re thrilled.”
“I see. That’s how it is.”
Basically, he wants me to be like an underground idol in cosplay, Yamashita thought, feeling anxious about having to learn anime songs.
“Don’t Akihabara otaku carry model guns or army knives?”
“Why are you worried about that, Marina-chan?”
“Well, there was that incident recently where an idol was stabbed. It’s been on my mind.”
“Are you scared?”
“Yes.”
Of course, she was lying.
“It’s fine. There are a few like that, but if you feel like a stalker is following you, tell me immediately.”
“I will.”
Stalkers should be arrested, she thought. But if I arrest him, my cover is blown. I see. I’ll just report it to a colleague and have them make the arrest. A stalker sting operation. A classic move.
“Right. Go to the changing room in the back, put on this uniform, and go distribute these.”
“Eh? I’m hired?”
“Yes.”
“I start now?”
“Yep. Just distribute these two boxes. Tissues.”
Here it is. Tissue distribution. In the middle of Akihabara. And I’m a probationary officer of the MPD.
Right. I’m an undercover agent. I have to swallow my pride. I’ll do anything.
“Once you’re finished, you can go home. Oh, and the floor is wet from the polisher, so be careful not to slip.”
“I will.”
Clad in a black maid outfit, a snow-white apron, and a matching cap, with gray socks, she hugged two cardboard boxes and stepped out of the elevator, leaving the mechanical hum of the polisher behind.
She vaguely thought that people would stare at her cosplay, happily take the tissues, and she’d be done in no time.
She was wrong.
She was met with a barrage of tongue-clicks. Not just from old men, but from middle-aged women and gyarus. She didn’t know that the sound of a tongue-click could pierce the heart so deeply. Some people muttered, “Isn’t she in the way?” as they passed. The sheer contempt made her feel nauseous. Someone yelled, “Don’t cross my path!”
Some people simply shoved her aside in silence. And yet, the two boxes of tissues barely diminished.
Then, a “catcher” from a competing shop approached. “When did you start at Luise, sweetie?” “The maid outfit looks great on you.” “Where are you from in the country?” “How’s Luise? Fun? How much are they paying you?” “Give me your card if you have one.” Eventually, one guy said, “I’m Hiroshi. I’m a host at a place called Templeton. If anything bad happens, come see me. I’ll give you some advice.”
She wanted to quit immediately.
Damn it. I need Kudo to comfort me. She didn’t know what part of her brain led her to this conclusion, but she found herself visiting Kudo’s office in Kuramae.
“Why are you here? Without an appointment.”
“It was close by.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way here.”
“But I’ve grown fond of it. The view from this room. And…”
“And what?”
“I wanted to see the night view of the Skytree…”
Yamashita tried to act a bit cute and pouty.
Thick rain clouds were hiding the top of the Skytree. The red warning lights for aircraft blurred into the mist.
The surface of the Sumida River looked grayer than usual.
“As I told you, this is my home. Or rather, it’s an office for tax purposes, but I meet clients elsewhere. I don’t let people in here. It looks bad for a man and woman to be alone in a room. It creates rumors. Don’t make a habit of dropping by.”
“Then why did you let me in the first time?”
“Well, you’re a junior from M University and you were referred by Professor Nakayama, so I slipped up.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Maybe you had an ulterior motive? Trying to seduce a college girl?”
“Don’t be stupid. I’m not lacking in women.”
“It’s fine to stop by. Mr. Kudo, even if you decided to try and trap me, do you really think you could beat a third-dan in Aikido?”
” ‘Trap’ is a dangerous word. Want to test it?”
The two shook hands and entered a grip-strength battle.
“Looks like I’m the stronger one.”
“Not yet.”
Next, they arm-wrestled on the table. Kudo won easily.
“That’s strange.”
“No matter how much you train, you still have the thin arms of a woman.”
“You can say that after you beat Saori Yoshida.”
Kudo stuck out his tongue. Yamashita defended herself.
“Grip and arm wrestling favor those with longer reach and more muscle. But you won’t beat me in joint locks.”
Yamashita turned to Kudo and took a combat stance.
“Hey, hey, don’t get worked up over an amateur. You might be a dan-rank or a real martial artist, but I’m just a layman. I’m not going to attack you. That’s not the point. A girl like you shouldn’t come to a place like this so often. Don’t you get that?”
“Listen. I’m on the early shift for a while. I finish at 18:00. Then I’ll walk here. I can report to you then, right?”
“Why? Do you have feelings for me?”
“No I don’t!”
“Are you lonely? Anxious? Do you want someone to rely on? Want me to teach you the trade?”
“Maybe.”
“No. Use the phone. After you leave the shop, leave a gap of time, calm down, and call me when you’re alone. If you come here, you might be tailed. Then I’d have to give up this office. I’m not particularly attached to the place, but finding a new tenant is a pain. Anyway, stop coming here directly from the field.”
“Understood.”
Yamashita lingered on the view from the balcony.
Kudo felt a slight urge to keep watching her back. He suddenly remembered the time he was called “Kudo the Seducer.” He had been young. Back then, if they were alone like this, he would have put his arm around her shoulder long ago. If she were an older woman, he might have flirted a bit. But there was a twenty-year age gap between them. He couldn’t just casually mess around.
Since she was already here, there was no point in kicking her out. Let’s just stand here in the wind and talk, he thought.
“You still don’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation, so let me tell you. You’ve been in the force for six months of training. Normally, your first assignment would be standing guard at a neighborhood police box, but you were sent to me. Your face is completely unknown. You’re a pure virgin. As an undercover agent, the risk of being exposed is minimal. On the flip side, because it’s your first mission, the risk of failure is high. You were chosen for this job partly because of my recommendation, but mostly because you can infiltrate a maid café without suspicion. That ‘rarity’ is your greatest asset right now.”
“If Luise turns out to be dirty, your face will be completely known in the underworld. You’ll be in the database with a photo. Not just you—every cop assigned to the Criminal Investigation Bureau eventually ends up that way.”
“So undercover agents are basically single-use and disposable.”
“Once your face is known, you just change jobs to become a ‘veteran female detective.’ You take on bigger cases, make a name for yourself among the villains, and eventually sit in headquarters directing operations. Once you’ve climbed that high, you can go independent and open your own agency. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Hmm. I thought so, anyway.”
“Feel free to agonize over it.”
“Want some coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
Kudo boiled water in a Tefal kettle, pulled a large army-green MJB tin from the top of the kitchen shelf, brewed the coffee roughly, and poured a cup for each of them.
“I take mine with soy milk. How about you?”
“Soy latte. Yes, I’ll do that too.”
A lukewarm brown liquid, a mix of coffee and soy scents. For some reason, the feeling of being comforted made Yamashita feel inexplicably angry. After all, I’m an unwelcome guest, she thought.
“Girls usually want something sweet at times like this.”
“Yes.”
“Wait a second. I think I have some crackers. They’re half-eaten, but…” Kudo pulled out a package from a discount supermarket with German writing on it, and brought some cream cheese from the fridge. The crackers were individually wrapped, dry as bone, and tasted like cardboard. Once the cheese was added, they became just right.
“Why did you decide to live in Kuramae, Mr. Kudo?”
“Hmm. Did I not tell you?”
“Born and raised in Kuramae?”
“Haha. I wish I’d been born in the old downtown. Like Natsume Soseki or Nagai Kafū. But I’m just a provincial transplant.”
“Oh.”
“Did I miss the mark?”
“I didn’t even have a mark to begin with.”
“You might be from the physical education department, but—”
“I’m not. I learned martial arts from my father and Professor Nakayama. I like sports, but I’m a law major.”
“I see. Professor Nakayama’s specialty is Western Art History, right?”
“Yes, now that you mention it.”
“After M University, I went to the Master’s program at the University of the Arts in Ueno. It’s reasonably close to here. Convenient transport.”
“Wow. Are you a painter?”
“No. A bit of music. But my specialty is Western Art History.”
“Then why a detective?”
“Like I said, I wandered around and studied abroad intending to become a researcher, but while working as a bartender under the Ueno tracks and doing odd jobs, I somehow started making a living that way.”
“I see.”
This man, Kudo… I can’t figure him out at all.
The next day, Yamashita stood on the shop floor. After work, she called Kudo to report as usual.
“How was it? Staff and customers?”
“Customers… I don’t know, they just seem like ordinary otaku. As for the staff, many of them are like hostesses. About fifty girls are registered. Most are newcomers or have been there for six months.”
“And?”
“There’s one girl who’s very quiet. Her hair, makeup, and accessories are full-on Gothic Lolita, and the jewelry she’s wearing looks incredibly expensive. She’s caught my attention.”
“Expensive jewelry? Just her? Her name?”
“Her stage name?”
“Real name or whatever.”
“Alisa-chan.”
“Alisa, huh.”
“And she’s a First-Class Maid.”
“What the hell is a ‘Maid Certification’?”
“Obviously it’s not a national qualification, but apparently there’s a certification exam in this industry, from Third to First class.”
“Hmm. You think she’s particularly suspicious?”
“Yes, my wild instinct tells me so.”
“Why?”
“She probably has a rich patron. She’s likely the mastermind’s mistress.”
“Stop with the preconceptions. I’ll say it again: this is your first case. If you’re going to fail, don’t do anything at all. Just be natural.”
“Understood.”
“Anyone else?”
“No one for now.”
“I see.”
After hanging up, Marina felt a sudden wave of loneliness. She became curious about the place the manager had mentioned—Ikenohata—and decided to go see it. It was like a miniature Kabukicho, a pleasure district with izakayas and miscellaneous buildings piled with bar signs. Though it was called Ikenohata, it wasn’t that close to the pond. She figured it was the remnant of the old pleasure quarters that once surrounded the pond. Perhaps after the Great Kanto Earthquake or the Tokyo Air raids, the area was reorganized into a park and roads, and the pleasure quarters were squeezed into this corner, leaving only the name behind.
In front of a place called “European Pub,” women with thick makeup and long dresses—Russian or Bulgarian, perhaps—stood like living mannequins. Next to them were women in tight qipaos from China, ao dais from Vietnam, and Filipinas in glittering basketball tank tops. They’ve come all the way to Japan to sink themselves into the world of nightlife, Marina thought. If things had gone differently, maybe I’d be infiltrating a place like this. Or worse, since Luise has affiliates here, I might be sent to one of these shops one day.
She walked through the entertainment district and followed the embankment, where weeping willows and lotus leaves created an eerie atmosphere, until she reached the Bentendo temple. It was deserted, and the food stalls had already packed up. Climbing the stairs toward the Ueno hills, she saw couples flirting in the shadows. What am I doing here? I shouldn’t have come, she thought, quickly descending the mountain. Pushed by the mechanical melody of “Toryanse,” she saw crowds of people crossing the intersection between the JR station and the department store, and Marina, like a moth drawn to a flame, let herself be sucked into the throng.
Ameyoko was already closing for the day, with middle-aged men with raspy voices shouting “Thousand yen! Thousand yen!” in desperate clearance sales. But the grilled meat shops under the tracks were just entering their peak.
Young couples, solitary middle-aged men, unrecognizable old women. She wanted to join the drunken crowd, but she didn’t have the courage to enter such a place alone. Watching them from the side, Marina descended the stairs to the subway.
After working in the Ueno-Akihabara area for just a few days, Marina felt the illusion that she had lived there for years. So many things had happened at once. Of course, this wasn’t her first time in Tokyo. She’d visited many times since childhood for tourism, events, exams, and job hunting. But now, having come alone from the countryside, she felt completely out of place among her MPD colleagues and superiors. She was always alone. Six months in, and she was suddenly dispatched to Kudo’s agency. Then, by a twist of fate, she started working in the nightlife industry, and the only acquaintance she had, Kudo, treated her coldly. Who am I? What will Probationary Officer Yamashita of the MPD Criminal Investigation Bureau become? Maybe I won’t last a year and will quit. But she couldn’t go back home now. Maybe I should just actually become an Akihabara maid, she thought impulsively.
When the shop had no customers, the maids had to distribute tissues on the street and act as touts. That was the rule at Luise.
“Hey, you. Still distributing tissues in this scorching heat?”
The one speaking was the flashy host who had teased her a couple of days ago. Was he persistent, or just bored?
Surely he didn’t have feelings for her; Marina had zero confidence in her own looks.
“Yes. You can tell just by looking, can’t you?”
“Cute lipstick. Did you put on sunscreen?”
“You’re so nosy. Of course I put on foundation—with UV protection.”
“Heh. Want me to tell you about a good foundation that would suit your skin?”
Creepy. Marina felt a shiver. “Do you really think a man knows more about my skin than I do?”
“Yeah, I do. I’m not a host for nothing. When it comes to women’s skin, I’m a pro.”
“Hmph. Overconfident much?”
“Overconfidence is exactly what you need in the host business. I have a discerning eye. I’m used to handling them. I’ve dealt with thousands of women.”
“And?”
“The development of cosmetics is mostly done by men. I know every brand and every manufacturer. Foreign and domestic.”
“Every single one?”
“Yep. But for Japanese women, I think Japanese products are best. Some people order perfumes or soaps from Turkey or Egypt—which is the heart of the industry, sure—but they can get rashes. And since the ingredients are unknown, doctors are clueless when something happens. Look, orthopedists and dermatologists are usually men. Men who make a living off women know women better than women do. Like us. I can be of use, missy.”
He looked as if he were about to put his arm around her shoulder, so Marina stepped back.
“I see.” What a theoretically armed host, she thought. “Your pick-up lines are impressive. I guess that’s expected from a tout.”
“A tout? That’s a harsh way to put it. But without us, women would be unhappy. The world is darkness.”
“I suppose so.” Cosmetics and apparel. Wow. Marina had almost no interest in such things. She suspected this Hiroshi guy really was more knowledgeable than her, but it didn’t matter.
“Hmm, two boxes of tissues. Looks tough.”
“It is, relatively.”
“If I help you, we’ll be done in a flash.”
Marina looked at him suspiciously. “You? How? You’re not going to dump them on the road or scatter them like some folklore old man, are you?”
“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t do that. Honestly, with my looks alone, I’d finish before you. Women don’t leave me alone. Want to try it?”
Marina was stunned. A tissue-distribution battle between a host and a maid. In Akihabara. Fight!
Is he an idiot?
Even if she won, she’d just finish her work a little faster. It wasn’t an urgent task. If she lost, she’d suffer the humiliation and owe him a favor. There was no merit for her.
“No thanks. I’ll pass.”
The man smiled. He didn’t seem bothered by her obvious rejection.
“Actually, my main job is as a street performer. A host and a street performer. I travel from one pedestrian paradise to another. Today, it’s Akihabara. I’m going to do a magic trick here. Want to help? I won’t let you down. If a crowd gathers, it’ll promote your shop, and your tissues will disappear faster. How about it?”
Looking closely, he was wearing a tie and black suit today. He did look like a magician, and he was wearing white gloves.
“Why would your magic make my tissues disappear?”
“Hehehe. Usually, I do card tricks, but today, I’ll use tissues.”
Without waiting, the man plucked a pocket tissue from Marina’s box. “Alright, everyone! Look at this!” he shouted to the people passing by with bags from Yodobashi and Senshoku. “I take one tissue, pull the tip up slightly, and then—bam!—I shove the rest into my palm like this.”
“And then, I tear off the tip. There, I’ve torn it. And then…” As he spoke, he slipped the scrap into his pocket and opened his other palm. The tissue that should have been there had vanished.
“How was that? Anyone want to try? It’s easy!” As he said this, he grabbed handfuls of tissues from the box and began distributing them to children and couples. The children, amused, began to mimic him.
Marina took the opportunity, hugging the box to her side. “Luise here!” “Please take one!” she called out, handing tissues to those who stopped.
No matter how many times the passersby tried, the tissue remained in their hands. Only this man, Hiroshi, vanished the tissue with effortless grace.
The man performed a few more tricks while handing out tissues. One box disappeared, then the second.
The crowd applauded. Some people even threw money into the cardboard box.
The man’s white teeth sparkled in a dazzling smile.
Marina suddenly snapped back to reality. No, no. I almost fell for his trick.
For a second, her heart had wavered toward him. Moreover, looking at him now, he was actually quite handsome.
“Impressive skill.”
“You’re welcome. I’m honored by the praise.”
“I bet you always use magic to attract women.”
“I do. That’s my job. Is that a problem?”
“It’s not a problem, but just leave me alone.”
“Why?”
“Just leave me. You’re just acting on a whim. What, are you trying to scout me? Sorry, but I’m not becoming your customer.”
“Hehehe. Then let’s be friends.”
“I’m not exactly free, you know. We only met two days ago. You know nothing about me, and I know nothing about you. We are total strangers.”
“But we’ve already met. We’ve talked for two days. We’re not strangers at all. The sun is our witness.”
Is this guy a stalker pretending it’s a coincidence? Has he been observing me every day? The question flashed through her mind.
“Your name is Marina, right? Nice to meet you, Marina-chan. You just moved from the country, didn’t you? It’s written all over your face that you’re lonely and can’t adjust to the city. If you’re short on friends, I’m more than happy to be one.”
Why did he know her name when she hadn’t told him? It was because she had tucked a handwritten card into the tissues: I’m Marina, nice to meet you! ♥
“I’m not the kind of woman who falls for a simple sleight-of-hand trick just because I’m lonely.”
“I know. Magic is magic. Just a prop. A way to start a conversation.”
“Or maybe you’ll become my customer? My shifts are irregular, but I’m usually at Luise these days. Though even if you nominate me, I don’t get a cut of the nomination fee. It’s just a maid café, and I’m just a day laborer.”
“Luise, huh? Hehehe.” The man laughed meaningfully again. “I’m a host. I deal with customers, I tout. But you’re different. I don’t see you as a customer. I’m not looking at you as a host right now, nor do I want to be your customer. I want to be your friend.”
“That line… that sickeningly sweet line is exactly the kind of pick-up line hosts use, don’t you realize that?
Or are you just saying it with a straight face? ‘You’re special. I want to be your friend.’ Psh. You just want the woman to fall for you. You want to make her forget the relationship is between a host and a customer, so she’ll keep paying you.”
“Hahaha. You’re quite the skeptic. And here I was, confessing the truth to you. Out of the tens of thousands of women I’ve met, you are the only special one.”
Marina almost screamed. She suppressed it. “Look, I’m a country girl. I have no immunity to city men. So stop it.
You’re bothering me. Please go bother people who are more used to this.” Damn it. I can’t believe I’m wavering over a guy like this. I have to be stronger.
“Hmm. I see. Maybe that’s true. Then, let’s just take it slow and get to know each other. If I happen to pass by while you’re distributing tissues, I’ll help you again. It’s much more fun than doing it alone, right? With enough time, you’ll get used to the city, and you’ll get used to me. Then maybe your guard will drop.”
“Do whatever you want.”
“So I can assume I’m not being rejected.”
Rejected? Marina was a police officer. If he did anything illegal, she’d arrest him on the spot. Wait, I can’t. I’m undercover. She’d report him to the Bansei station and have them take him.
“To you, women are just a game. You just increase the affinity levels and unlock achievements, right?”
“Hmm. Well put. But what’s wrong with that?”
The smartphone in the man’s pocket rang.
“What?” “Hmph.” “Yeah, I got it.”
After chatting for a while longer, he said, “Well, I’ll see you again. I’m sure of it, Marina-chan.” He turned around and vanished into the crowd heading toward the station without looking back.
The man didn’t appear the next day, nor the day after. Marina felt deflated. While distributing tissues, she found herself scanning the crowd, wondering if he would show up, and she grew furious with herself.
That jerk. What was he thinking? ‘I’ll pass by,’ he said. ‘I’m sure we’ll meet again,’ he said. So irritating. It really was just a whim. I was just played. He was just killing time.
If you’re going to seduce someone, do it properly. If you don’t want to, then don’t mess with people. Don’t be kind for no reason and get people’s hopes up, you idiot. You parasite. Drop dead.
For several weeks, the man did not reappear. Eventually, the memory of him faded, and she could no longer clearly recall his face.
One day, a battered, washed business card fell out of her maid uniform pocket. Hiroshi from Templeton. Yes, no mistake. It was his card. Who is this guy? No one. Just a host. ‘Hiroshi’ is probably just a stage name anyway.
Should she visit the shop to check it out? No, that would be walking straight into a trap.
Looking back, that had been the first time Marina had been seduced—or felt like she was. For some reason, her life had been completely devoid of romantic interest until now.
Right. I have no immunity to men. I’m an innocent country girl in the city. I have to be careful. In this business, who knows what kind of men will approach me. I have to keep a strong heart and not fall for temptation. I need to gain experience and build up my immunity.