NarWool

Waitress: “You’ve been swinging by a lot lately.”

Shizuma: “Oh? I’m flattered you remember me.”

Waitress: “Well, you always sit in the same seat and order the same thing.

I even remember how much sugar you like.”

Shizuma: “I can get a good coffee anywhere, 

but nothing beats sitting by these windows.”

Waitress: “Really? The glass is so warped, you can hardly see a thing.”

Shizuma: “These panes are a relic from the Taisho Era.

They’re a poorer quality due to the technology available at the time.”

Waitress: “Ah, they do seem cheap.”

Shizuma: “Not to mention, they’re quite fragile as well.

Waitress: “Well, that’s no good—all our windows are made from this material.”

Shizuma: “Which shows just how well you’ve taken care of this place.”

The woman approached his table.

Waitress: “You’ve got your eye on someone?”

Shizuma: “Who can say?”

Waitress: “Your face gives it all away.”

Shizuma: “Aren’t you running an honest business here?”

Waitress: “Well, that depends entirely on the customer. I don’t mind getting a little dirty every now and then.”

The woman’s smile changed.

The man tilted his head.

What an annoying conversation.

There was nothing sincere about their smiles whatsoever.

It was simply an exchange between two liars going through the motions.

I was slumped back on the sofa.

Shizuma-san was at a table by the window, 

flirting with the waitress.

I had been eavesdropping on them the whole time.

But he probably knew that.

How did it come to this?— 

I had asked Shizuma-san to recommend a suitable place in Tokyo to hold a meeting.

However, he never mentioned anything about frequenting this café.

Much less showing up at the appointed time himself.

By the time my client arrived, 

my coffee had completely cooled down.

Woman: “I apologize for being so late. I got lost on my way here.

Are you Oosaki-san by any chance?”

Oosaki: “I am.”

Woman: “Thank you for kindly agreeing to meet with me.”

Oosaki: “Please, have a seat.”

The woman was wearing a large hat that cast a shadow over her entire face.

Naomi: “My name is Ariake— 

I mean, Kawai Naomi. 

To reiterate, 

there’s someone I need you to find for me.”

Reaching into her bag, the woman pulled out a few things.

Documents.

A key.

And a single photograph.

The student in the photograph,

appeared to be lifting his chin, as if spooked by something.

Not a shadow touched his face, 

making it seem like his head bobbed in blank space.

He showed none of the vigor expected of a young man his age, 

the outline of his silhouette as delicate as a white lily.

Naomi: “This is my older brother, Ariake Shoutarou.

Please, hear me out—”

Naomi: “This photo is from ten years ago.

My brother is now 27 years old.

I don’t have a current picture of him.

Although we are currently estranged, 

I have never stopped thinking of him.

As of now, I am preparing for my wedding.

However, when I didn’t receive an RSVP from him, 

I decided to pay him a visit in-person 

and discovered he had not been seen at work or anywhere else for half a year.”

Naomi: “—My brother is not the type to throw away his life on a whim.

I’m certain something terrible has happened to him.

Oosaki-san, will you be able to find him with this information?”

Her eyes welled with tears.

It was my turn to reply.

However.

I couldn’t speak—

Naomi: “Oosaki-san?”

Oosaki: “ “

My lungs seized.

My blood turned to ice.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t take my eyes off this photo, and the boy within it.

No, there was more to it.

The boy, his eyes, they were drawing me in—

Suddenly, I fell back into the sofa.

Shizuma-san was sitting next to me, 

his arm slung over my shoulders.

It took him an instant to physically close the distance between us, 

but his eyes were focused solely on the client, Naomi-san.

Naomi: “Who are you…?”

Shizuma: “A fellow detective.”

Naomi: “Weren’t you just sitting over there?”

Shizuma: “I’m afraid you must be mistaken.”

Naomi-san nodded in response to Shizuma-san’s smooth answer.

...She must’ve been desperate to accept such a bold-faced lie.

Shizuma-san rifled through the papers.

Shizuma: “Did your brother live in Shibuya?”

Naomi: “Yes.”

Shizuma: “What is this key for?”

Naomi: “It opens the door to his house. The police made it for me.”

Shizuma: “Which means there’s already an investigation underway.”

Naomi: “Yes, but progress has stalled…”

Shizuma: “And that’s why you came to us.”

Naomi: “Yes.”

The conversation moved quickly as Shizuma-san ascertained the facts.

Shizuma: “Can I ask you a question?”

Naomi: “Of course.”

Shizuma: “Why would you come all the way to Kanagawa for help?”

I also wanted to know the answer.

Naomi-san faltered for a second.

Naomi: “I consulted with a few agencies in Tokyo, 

but they all refused my request…”

Shizuma: “Why?”

Naomi: “I don’t know.”

Only the Shinkiba Detective Agency agreed to meet with me.”

Shizuma: “In that case, consider your sorrows over.

Nothing is more important to us than the client’s feelings.”

He raised a finger.

Shizuma: “We’ll find your brother for sure. 

Just leave it to our star detective, Oosaki.”

Naomi-san finally smiled and left.

There was a car waiting for her outside.

A tall man opened the door and ushered her in.

Observing them through the glass, 

I felt like I was watching a foreign movie.

The only things left behind were the documents, the key, the photo, 

and Shizuma-san’s grin.

Shizuma: “Finding missing persons is your specialty, isn’t it, Detective?”

Oosaki: “Please don’t negotiate work for me.”

Shizuma: “But I heard everything that was said.”

He lit up a cigarette.

Oosaki: “There’s a process to these things.”

Shizuma: “Cutting to the chase makes it easier for the client. 

I should know—I hired you once too.”

Oosaki: “Don’t interfere again.”

Shizuma: “Hey, take it easy. 

I was only trying to help.”

Oosaki: “Help?”

Shizuma: “You didn't realize?”

He gestured towards the portrait of the young boy.

Shizuma: “Your face blanched as soon as you saw this.

Shaky breaths, clammy skin. 

I could’ve sworn you were about to shit yourself—”

I quickly packed up to leave.

Oosaki: “Thank you for the recommendation.”

Shizuma: “Always happy to help. I’ll see you around.”

It was disgustingly hot outside.

But I didn’t bother to find shade, 

and jumped into the first cab I could.

Shizuma-san was right.

I had been disturbed by the picture.

Something about it 

chilled me to my very core.

However, I had finally calmed down enough to look back at the photo with a clear head.

I was beginning to place what felt off about it.

Somehow, somewhere,

I had seen this boy before—

A neighborhood in Shibuya near Yoyogi.

Ariake Shoutarou’s house was shrouded in silence.

The electricity had been cut off at some point, 

so I could only rely on the light that streamed in from outside.

—There was a dining set for two.

But one remained in the cupboards.

There were only toiletries and clothing for one.—

While there seemed to be guests over from time to time, 

the occupant most likely lived alone.

However, I found no living signs of them—only a layer of dust on everything inside.

I returned to the agency before dark, 

and reported my initial findings to Naomi-san.

Naomi: “—My brother’s hobbies?” 

Oosaki: “Yes. Do you know if he played sports or music or enjoyed reading, perhaps?”

Naomi: “When I think about it, he did play the piano every so often. 

Although he was no virtuoso, 

he would occasionally practice a song from what I remember…

Does that help?”

Oosaki: “When I investigated his house in Shibuya, I found no indication of his personality whatsoever. 

Did Ariake-san have another residence?”

The woman gasped as if she just remembered something.

Naomi: “We have a summer house.

When my father was still alive, 

we’d often take trips there.

My brother loved that house. Perhaps…”

Oosaki: “Where is it?”

Naomi: “I can’t remember exactly, but I do recall the view. There was…”

“An island.”

“A hill”

“And city lights.”

From the faded fragments of Naomi-san’s memories, a drawing began to take shape.

With the finished sketch—

—I made my way to Shonan’s Inamuragasaki Bay the next day.

This was it.

To my right was Enoshima.

To my left was a large hill.

At the top of the hill was a man.

He stood in front of an easel, looking down at the sand and sea.

Oosaki: “Are those watercolors?”

Man: “Yes.”

Oosaki: “Are you painting the scenery? It looks a little different.”

Man: “This is from earlier in the day. 

I was trying to capture the tranquility of the waves.”

Oosaki: “Are you a local resident?”

Man: “Yes.”

Ariake (Oosaki): “My name is Ariake.”

His paintbrush stopped.

Ariake (Oosaki): “My family lives somewhere around here. 

Do you know anyone by that name?”

Man: “It doesn’t ring a bell.”

He looked towards the sea once more.

My first attempt at questioning dissipated into thin air.

It was my fault for bothering an artist at work.

I turned to head back into town.

Man: “Ariake-san.”

My breathing stopped.

Turning around, I saw the man pack up his supplies.

Man: “I’ll help you find them.”

Since I had no reason to refuse his company, 

we began walking together.

Man: “There are many vacation homes in Inamuragasaki.

A lot of city people only come to visit, 

so I don’t see them often.”

As we walked up a slope, we passed by several houses with nameplates.

Turning around, I compared the scenery with the sketch in my notepad.

It was the same ocean, but the resemblance was drifting further and further from how I had imagined it.

Ariake (Oosaki): “Could we try a different path?”

Man: “What is that drawing?”

Ariake (Oosaki): “This is the view from our vacation home.

I drew it from memory.”

Man: “...I see.”

I took the lead while the local followed behind.

Strangely enough, our roles were reversed.

Finally, I spied the correct nameplate.

From the outside, it seemed like a two-story building.

This had to be Ariake Shoutarou’s residence—

When I knocked on the door, the sound echoed throughout the house.

However, it didn’t seem like there was anyone to hear it.

Man: “I suppose no one’s home at the moment. Should we wait until they return?’

The door was locked.

Man: “I know they’re your family, but should you be trying to enter like that…?”

I broke a nearby window.

Man: “!?”

Ariake (Oosaki): I have permission. 

If no one is home, I can look inside, even if I have to break in.”

Man: “W- Whose permission?”

Ariake (Oosaki): “My sister’s.”

Man: “Even so…!”

Ariake (Oosaki): “Ariake-san’s whereabouts are currently unknown. You should go home.”

Man: “I- I’m coming too…! 

Who knows? You could be a thief…!”

I entered the house from the window and opened the door from inside. 

Cautiously, the man followed me in.

It didn’t seem like there was any electricity, 

but a lantern hung by the door.

A pair of shoes lay on the ground, 

but it seemed like we were the only living souls.

The smell of dust permeated the house.

Rotten air drifted by,

crawling across my skin, 

and unsettling all my senses.

At the end of the hallway, 

I placed my hand on the first door.

A rancid smell 

was seeping from the room.

Ariake (Oosaki): “Call the police.”

This stench could only be—

Ariake (Oosaki): “Call the police—!”

However, there was nobody there.

I was certain a man was here just moments earlier, 

but he had disappeared without a trace.

Oosaki: “—His family asked me to confirm his safety.”

Police: “Were you the first person to discover the body?”

Me… And one other person—

However, I never asked for the man’s name.

I had no proof he was here and no choice but to hide his existence.

Oosaki: “Yes.”

Finally, I was released from the police’s interrogation

and the vacation home turned crime scene.

Suddenly, someone burst through the front door.

A woman’s wail pierced the air.

Naomi: “Shoutarou! Shoutarou!”

Without wavering from her destination, Naomi-san flew into the bathroom.

—A corpse was slumped over in the waterless bathtub.

The body had completely dried up, 

its skin so shriveled that one could clearly see the outline of each bone.

Slumbering peacefully in its state of death—

As Naomi-san reached for the corpse, 

her husband pulled her back in an embrace.

Afterwards, the police handed her an envelope.

Police: “We found this suicide note in the upstairs bedroom. 

It’s addressed to you, Naomi-san.”

Naomi-san traced each letter with her shaky eyes, 

teardrops silently falling on the page—

Shizuma: “You look terrible, Oosaki-kun.”

Oosaki: “...As do you.”

A few days had passed, and I was meeting with Shizuma-san whose face had tanned from the sun.

Only the area around his eyes, protected by sunglasses, remained white, giving him an unsightly appearance.

The two of us were sitting by the window, 

but only Shizuma-san was graced by the sun.

Shizuma: “It’s been so hot lately that I’ve been surfing to beat the heat.

However, it tires me out so quickly that I pass out before I know it.”

Oosaki: “With who?”

Shizuma: “Hm?”

Oosaki: “Who have you been going with?”

Shizuma: “Oh, just me, myself, and I.”

He added more sugar to our coffee.

Oosaki: “I think I know why no one else would accept Naomi-san’s job.”

Shizuma: “Why?”

Oosaki: “Even if I had found her brother, it would’ve brought nothing but sorrow.

Missing persons cases rarely have a happy ending.”

Shizuma: “You really are an idiot. 

While I can’t deny things are difficult for Naomi-san, 

her brother must be happy that someone found him.”

I contemplated the thought in silence.

Shizuma: “What did his suicide note say, anyways?”

Oosaki: “—Naomi, I give you all my happiness—”

Shizuma: “Ah, blessings for the new couple. 

How beautiful.”

Oosaki: “If that really was her brother.”

Shizuma: “Huh?”

—The corpse had long nails and graying hair.

Oosaki: “The body didn’t seem like it belonged to a twenty-year-old.”

Shizuma: “Didn’t Naomi-san identify the body?”

Oosaki: “She was distraught at the time.”

Shizuma: “But what of the suicide note?”

Oosaki: “Why would Ariake-san write his sister’s name out in hiragana as if he didn’t know how to spell her name?”

Shizuma: “What are you trying to say…?”

Oosaki: “I believe someone else planted the body, pretending it was Ariake Shoutarou’s.”

Shizuma: “And why would they do that?”

Oosaki: “I don’t know.”

Shizuma: “Then it’s still the police’s job. 

Even though there was a suicide note, they can conduct an autopsy.”

Oosaki: “Unfortunately, 

per Naomi-san’s request, the body has already been cremated.”

Because of the note, 

the police immediately ruled the death a suicide.

Oosaki: “Shizuma-san, there’s something I need to ask you.”

Finally, I met Shizuma-san’s eyes.

Oosaki: “Will you come to Ariake Shoutarou’s summer home with me? 

I may need your architectural expertise—”

I stood in front of the house in Inamuragasaki once more.

Shizuma-san squinted up at it.

Shizuma: “It’s a Meiji-style building with a Western flair. 

Probably the kind of house a soldier or diplomat would own.”

The door was still unlocked from before.

Shizuma: “There’s hardly any furniture in here. They must’ve sold everything. 

It’s such a shame considering how beautiful the front is.”

As if following some sort of trail, Shizuma-san climbed the stairs.

He headed toward the bedroom.

Oosaki: “The note was on top of the piano.”

Shizuma: “Look at all that dust. 

The suicide note must’ve been there for at least 3 or 4 months.”

Shizuma-san stepped out onto the veranda.

I followed him.

The sea breeze brought to mind the sketch I had made.

...It was the exact same scenery.

The landscape I’d drawn from Naomi-san’s words 

was unfurling right before me.

Overlapping with the drawing in my mind, 

the sea pulsed gently beneath the faint light.

Shizuma-san was staring at the doorknob.

Shizuma: “The lantern at the entrance. 

It didn’t have any dust on it. 

Did someone move it?”

Oosaki: “None of us touched it.”

Shizuma: “Same with this doorknob.

There isn’t any rust on it. 

A place this close to the sea is particularly vulnerable to rusting.

There should be some unless the knob’s frequently turned or polished.”

Oosaki: “What does that mean?”

Shizuma: “There’s someone living here even now.”

—It was a rainy morning.

Water droplets traced the whorls in the window pane, 

casting shadowy tear streaks in the café.

Only the ring glittering on Naomi-san’s finger 

seemed to provide any light in the room.

Naomi: “The wedding went off without a hitch.

For the ceremony, I wore a white kimono 

and switched to a scarlet dress for the reception.

I was very particular about every last detail 

down to the table cloth frills.”

As she spoke, she fondly caressed the photographs on the table.

Naomi: “It’s all thanks to you, Oosaki-san.

I’ll be sure to call on you again if I’m ever in need…”

Oosaki: “...Naomi-san.”

Naomi: “Yes?”

Oosaki: “I apologize if I’m being too forward, 

but please, allow me to keep investigating the case.”

My voice trembled.

How should I explain it?

What would she think?

I spoke carefully and calmly 

so as not to disrupt her peace.

Oosaki: “From the state of the body, 

there’s a possibility we’re dealing with a murder case.”

Naomi: …”

Oosaki: “I requested this writing sample from Ariake-san’s workplace. 

The handwriting on the documents and the one on the suicide note 

are not the same.”

Naomi: “Perhaps my brother took extra care on the note seeing how important it is…”

Oosaki: “Perhaps that’s what the culprit wants you to think.”

The woman didn’t blink once.

Oosaki: “There is no proof the body belonged to Ariake-san, 

so please, allow me to look for him again—”

Naomi: “Oosaki-san.”

Naomi-san took my hand. 

At some point, it had curled into a trembling fist at the edge of the table.

With her slender hands, she loosened my stiffened fingers one-by-one.

When I came back to my senses, she had a smile on her face.

Naomi: “You did exactly as I asked—you found my brother.”

That’s wrong.

I hadn’t confirmed anything.

Naomi: “I can still remember how he used to smile. 

I’m certain my brother rests behind those closed eyelids.”

Wrong again.

It was I who truly knew

what his smile looked like.

Naomi: “You led my brother into heaven.”

Naomi-san took out a stack of photos from her bag.

A weeping bride.

Surrounded by a crowd of weeping people.

However, little by little,

the smiles returned to their faces.

I felt as if I was watching a movie reel.

Tearful smiles blooming before my eyes.

Naomi: “I should've invited you to the wedding. 

It wouldn’t have been as moving a ceremony without your help.”

Oosaki: “N- Naomi-san.”

Naomi: “Take a look at this picture—

a bride in red embracing a white urn…”

Naomi: “Don’t I look just gorgeous?”

She was utterly mesmerized by her own beauty.

After the woman left, 

I didn’t stand up for a long time.

The sky was weeping pitifully today.

Like the tears of someone who knew the truth.

Suddenly, I noticed Shizuma-san was sitting across from me.

Shizuma: “...She turned down your offer to find her brother, didn’t she? 

I wonder which ending is most apt for our tragic heroine?”

Whether he lives.

Whether he dies.

A touching reunion could be staged either way.

She was the type of person who sought a fairy-tale ending over the truth—

I opened my notebook.

A description of the boy, notes on the corpse, the view from the veranda.

Tearing those pages out,

I stole Shizuma’s cigarette and set them aflame.

Pieces of paper curling black in the glass ash tray.

Shizuma-san watched the cremation ceremony 

with widened eyes.

Oosaki: “Shizuma-san, 

will you teach me how to surf?”

We drove down highway 134.

Escaping the gloom of the city, we emerged in a paradise so sunny, it felt almost deceitful.

We were at Inamuragasaki Beach once again.

I stripped under the shade of a rock.

By now, Shizuma-san had tanned so much, you could no longer make out the circles of his sunglasses.

The surfboards tied to the top of his car demonstrated his expertise.

Since I didn’t bring a swimsuit, 

I went down to the water wearing nothing but my long underwear.

However, this level of exposure was normal for the beach.

What really made us stand out were the enormous American surfboards Shizuma-san had received as a gift.

They attracted the attention of children who gathered to watch us practice in the sand.

Shizuma: “—And that’s how you paddle and take-off. 

Next, we work on picking the right waves…”

He pointed at a distant wave.

Shizuma: “Do you see that? 

Those waves are hitting against the seabed and breaking at just the right moment. 

It’s the perfect surfpoint for a beginner like you.”

—As I searched for a wave, 

I noticed a figure at the top of the hill.

The man was painting again.

For some reason I was certain, 

he was currently painting 

the view from Ariake-san’s veranda.

Was Ariake-san alive?

Or was he dead?

If Naomi-san were to face the truth, 

what would she have to say to her brother?

Shizuma: “Oosaki-kun! The next wave looks like a good one!

Wait right there, and I’ll show you how it’s done~!”

Shizuma-san started to run 

as if there was nothing to fear from the crystal blue sea.

Unconsciously, I began to follow after him.

Kicking up sand.

Stepping into sea foam.

Diving into the waves with the boats.

—Paddling.

Lying on my belly, I breached through the waves.

The water kept obscuring Shizuma-san from view, 

but every time I broke through, the sight of his back calmed me.

The next thing I knew, a powerful force lifted my body.

A great wave.

With both hands and feet, I pushed myself up.

—Take-off.

This had nothing to do with pure strength or violence.

For the first time in my life, 

I felt like I had control over the waves that roared inside me.

The crest of the wave fell, 

and the two of us slid through a tunnel of azure blue.

Shizuma: “Didn’t I tell you to wait!!? Why’d you tag along!?”

Oosaki: “I don’t know!”

Shizuma: “And how are you so good at this!!?”

Oosaki: “I don’t know either!”

As soon as we started riding, the wave began to collapse behind us.

I shifted my center of gravity to accelerate, 

but it was too late.

We were swept up by the ocean.

Eventually, the two of us resurfaced above the water.

I felt the hard edge of a buoyant surfboard hit my back.

Beside me, Shizuma-san wheezed.

Shizuma: “I can’t… believe… you took on a wave like that…”

Oosaki: “Me neither.”

Shizuma: “That’s all you have to say!? 

And it’s your first time surfing too…”

He covered his face with both hands.

Oosaki: “Why are you crying?”

Shizuma: “You’re seriously asking me that…?”

Oosaki: “I swim these kinds of waves all the time.”

Shizuma: “...”

Oosaki: “Children from Shonan are trained to swim in the sea.”

Even now you can hear the sound of laughter rise and fall. 

None of us fear the ocean

because we know how kind it can be.”

Shizuma: “Am I the stupid one for being worried…?”

Oosaki: “Yes, you are.”

Shizuma: “Now I know I’m the idiot for forgetting you’re an idiot…”

Shizuma-san finally laughed.

Oosaki: “...Weren’t you impressed too, though?”

I’m more talented than whoever taught you to surf, right?”

Shizuma: “Ahaha, are you jealous?

Oosaki: “I have no intentions on returning this board.”

Shizuma: “The other guy’s just a friend.”

Shizuma-san sat up, 

and looked down at me over his wet shoulder.

Shizuma: “Despite me showing all this skin, you still don’t get it?’

Oosaki: “...”

Shizuma: “The only marks I have are from you.”

The next wave glinted in his eyes.

Giving me nothing but a smile,

he began to paddle out to sea.

Shizuma: “You better wait like a good boy this time. 

And with that said… Don’t you dare take your eyes off me!”

Suddenly, I recalled the words of my old swimming instructor:

Never mess with the ocean and never lie.

Otherwise, you’ll be sure to drown.

Although Shizuma-san was always joking around, 

out here in the waves, I felt I could trust him.

Once summer ends, the surfing season will too.

It was the same with photography in the fall and sculpting in the winter.

Still, I remained captivated.

Completely soaked, Shizuma-san waved at me from afar, 

his slight gesture stealing my breath away.

I haven’t taken my eyes off him for a long time now—