Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume 1 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER III 

12th 

Here at the office, the midnight oil burns until morning. 

I sit before a solitary light, unable to sleep most of the evening. 

The countless deaths, the people lost… 

There is no difference between myself and them. Are we not all born on the same planet, only to ultimately return to the eternal heavens together in death? 

O divine creator, answer me. 

“Allow me to begin.” 

I address the attendants sitting around the table. The agency’s conference room doubles as a drawing room. There are a total of seven workers present—office workers and detectives—and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say these are most of our top members. It’s extremely rare for them to gather like this. I pass out the necessary documents, then explain. 

“I would like you all to refer to these documents concerning our situation. To summarize, our agency is currently being threatened. Someone has crafted a careful, devious scandal against us.” 

“Yeah, the agency’s in trouble. We get it. Now get to the point and tell us about the bomb.” 

One of the attendees speaks up. It’s the agency’s personal physician, Dr. Yosano. 

“Very well. This is an e-mail I received from the offender. It will help profile the criminal as well, so please make sure to read it.” 

Dear Sir, 

I hope everyone at the Armed Detective Agency is doing well. I would first like to extend my deepest gratitude to you all for your support in investigating the abandoned building. Now, I know this is quite sudden, but I am contacting you in hopes of asking you another favor. 

Only a few moments ago, we set a massive bomb somewhere in town. Therefore, for the safety of the people, I would like for you to promptly find this explosive and dispose of it. Furthermore, this bomb is set to detonate tomorrow at sundown, so I strongly urge that you solve this case before then. 

This explosive we created is the same type of bomb that robbed the world of over one hundred precious lives during a certain incident in the past. What a horrendous event that was. The everlasting flames and blinding corona made it seem as if the sun itself had fallen out of the sky. The buildings fell one after another while innocent people’s skin melted as they struggled to escape. The ground liquefied, and vehicles were knocked into the buildings like spears. I could describe it only as hell on earth. That is why I beg that your agency makes their best effort to prevent something like that from ever happening in Yokohama. 

While I understand that this goes without saying, we shall be recording your agency’s efforts just like last time. Please note that if you unfortunately fail to disarm the bomb, we will once again release the footage to the public. 

With best wishes to you, I pray for your health and success. 

Yours sincerely, 

The Azure Apostle 

“…What kind of sick person writes a thing like that?” Dr. Yosano scoffs. 

“I completely agree. It is more than evident that this so-called Azure Apostle is the one who recorded the incident at the abandoned hospital and released it to the public to tarnish our agency’s name. And now it appears they are threatening us again.” 

“So you believe the offender’s objective is to hurt our agency’s reputation?” the president calmly inquires. 

“Most likely.” 

The Armed Detective Agency has fought through hell on multiple occasions. You would need an army to take us down in a battle of brute force. However, as long as we are a commercial corporation in the service industry built on the trust of our clients, a scandal like this would make us vulnerable. If the news spreads that we failed to disarm the bomb, and if there is any judicial intervention, then the agency’s reputation will be ruined. We would be driven out of business. 

“Do you have any idea as to where the bomb is?” 

“The terrorist insinuated that it’s somewhere that could kill and injure over a hundred people, so we have workers currently searching for possible locations. However, there are countless candidates, such as stations and skyscrapers, so finding the bomb before time runs out could be next to impossible.” 

“How about we start off by searching for surveillance video cables?” 

As mentioned in the e-mail, the Azure Apostle would have to record us failing and leak those videos to the public in order to tarnish our reputation. Therefore, they would most likely be using equipment to secretly videotape us just like last time, but… 

“If the surveillance equipment or wiretaps used the latest batteries, they would be able to record a few days’ worth of footage. They could also be small and shaped like a die or fountain pen, even, and able to wirelessly transmit data up until the explosion destroys them. Realistically speaking, finding the surveillance equipment would prove to be an even more difficult task than finding the bomb. Just in case, I have been asking distributors if they know of anyone purchasing a large number of said devices, but the answers I’ve received so far have been less than ideal.” 

“Any records of criminals who go by the name Azure Apostle?” 

“We haven’t found any such records so far.” 

Azure Apostle. The only difference from the first e-mail is the fact that the client signed off with their name. There has to be a reason for that. All we can say for sure right now is that the Azure Apostle is knowledgeable about explosives and is, for whatever reason, trying to run the agency into the ground. 

“I’m currently in contact with an affiliate who’s making a list of candidates who specialize in explosives and may have a grudge against the agency.” 

“Still unable to get in contact with Ranpo?” Dr. Yosano asks. 

I’m fairly sure the president himself has been keeping in touch with Ranpo… 

“I spoke with him this morning,” the president replies, crossing his arms. “He said the incident in Kyushu is about to reach a conclusion, so he should be on his way back soon. However, it’s unlikely he will be able to return before sundown.” 

Ranpo Edogawa is a skill user and the top detective we have at this agency. Assault, kidnapping, murder—no matter the crime, his extraordinary skill, Super Deduction, allows him to reveal the truth. We would have been able to solve this case in no time if he was here…but unfortunately, he is in Kyushu handling another case at the request of a central government official. Ranpo’s investigating a bizarre murder case where a white-haired man supposedly came back from the dead and killed his wife and best friend, so he is not in a situation where he can immediately return to Yokohama. 

“Would it be possible to have an interview with this taxi driver in custody?” the president asks. 

“The driver is currently on board a special military aircraft that is still in the sky as we speak. It’s keeping him safe from any assassination attempts by the Mafia, but it also makes getting an interview with him extremely difficult.” 

Even the Mafia wouldn’t be able to reach their target if he’s in the sky. Unfortunately, that makes getting information from our witness a difficult task as well. 

“I will speak with the military police’s intelligence department. I want you to get in contact with whoever you can on that aircraft and have the cabdriver answer our questions in writing.” 

“I’ll prepare the necessary documents immediately.” 

It’s unlikely that the cabdriver is the Azure Apostle. It just wouldn’t make sense for him to go out of his way to e-mail us with information on where the kidnapped victims were being held. In a way, he’s also a “victim” who got ratted out by the Azure Apostle. But then that begs the question: How are the taxi driver and the Azure Apostle connected? At any rate, all we can do now is hope that he knows something. 

“Everyone, listen up. What we have here is a cowardly attack on the Armed Detective Agency. We have two objectives: find the aggressor and disarm the bomb. Defusing the bomb within the time limit is our top priority. If we allow that bomb to kill anyone, then we do not have the right to call ourselves detectives anymore. Understand that your pride as humans, not as detectives, is on the line. Now get started.” 

And with those orders from the president, everyone stands and promptly begins to take action. 

The investigation is so busy that there is hardly a moment to breathe. The deadline is sundown today. Until then, we have to search the city and find that bomb. There’s no time. 

I think back to the investigation that led to this and pick up the phone. I asked Rokuzo to trace the first e-mail, which could potentially help solve this case. After listening to the phone ring for a while, Rokuzo finally picks up. 

“Heeey… This is Taguchi. Sorry I’m not…yaaawn…here right now. Seeya.” 

“I don’t have time for your games. This is urgent.” 

“Oh, is that you, Four-Eyes? Do you have any idea what time it is? It’s nine in the morning, for cryin’ out loud!” 

“You’re the only one still sleeping at nine in the morning, you social misfit. Start acting like a normal person and go outside more. It’s good for your health.” 

“Tsk. Who d’you think you are, my dad?” 

“No, I—” 

I can’t be your father. I swallow the words before they slip off my tongue. 

“Anyway, there’s been a change of plans. I need you to trace that client’s e-mail and find out who they are as quickly as possible. Have you made any progress?” 

“Oh, that? It turned out to be a lot more difficult than I thought. I won’t get technical on you, but they’re using multiple hubs to hide their tracks. This wasn’t the work of an amateur.” 

I am already painfully aware of that. 

“I received another e-mail from the same sender. Could you find the source if you had that?” 

“It would help, but I can’t say anything for sure until I try… There are other ways to do this, though.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I could send a virus to the hub and use it to trace the source from there. It’d take some work, but it’s reliable. I’d kind of have to break the law, though.” 

“It’s fine. The ends justify the means. Do it.” 

“Whoa. You serious? You, Mr. By-the-Book? I’m recording this call, y’know. What if I told you to hand over the recording of me hacking into your detective agency in exchange for this conversation?” 

“Then I’d do it. Just hurry, okay?” 

I never planned on handing it over to the authorities in the first place. I just said that to have an excuse to get Rokuzo’s assistance. Apparently, he hasn’t figured that out, though. 

“Wow. How generous of you, Four-Eyes. You better have some cash waiting for me when this is over.” 

The phone clicks. I ponder in silence with the receiver still in hand. This is no time to get sentimental. The bomb is top priority. We’re going to have the deaths of innocent lives on our hands if we don’t find it in time. Still, we have no leads. Damn it. What the hell is Dazai thinking, disappearing at a time like this? 

It isn’t long before I find Dazai during my search downtown. He’s at an old-fashioned café facing the road, trying to chat up a woman. 

“Is this your first time in Yokohama? I could show you around if you want.” 

“Really? You would do that for me? But I’d feel terrible… I mean, it sounds as if things are rather chaotic at the detective agency with the bomb threat. You even said Detective Kunikida has been busy with phone calls and the investigation all morning.” 

“He’s a workaholic—a real glutton for punctuality. I mean, get this: If you tell him to meet you at around twelve o’clock, he’ll show within ten seconds of twelve every time. What is he, a train?” 

“Oh my… You don’t say.” 

“Dazai! What do you think you’re doing, skipping work?! And don’t use me in your attempts to pick up women!” 

“Oh, and when we were at this abandoned hospital, Kunikida thought he saw a ghost, and he started shrieking like a little girl—” 

“Don’t ignore me!” 

I slap Dazai on the back of the head while he merrily chats with Miss Sasaki. 

“Ouch! What was that for, Kunikida? Hmm? …Kunikida? How long have you been there?” 

“Don’t play dumb. You knew I was behind you. Anyway, what do you think you’re doing? We have a dire emergency on our hands, and you’re out on some kind of fancy date? Not only that, you’re out with a victim from one of our cases!” 

“Are you jealous?” 

“I’m not jealous!” 

I am in no way jealous. Absolutely not. 

“Come on—don’t be like that. She was almost killed by some monster. The poor gal’s traumatized. Isn’t it our duty as a detective agency to protect her and provide emotional support? And from my experience, it takes only a smile and some kindness to get a woman swooning over you when she’s fallen on hard times.” 

“You should have just shut up while you were ahead.” 

…I’ll have to write that tidbit down in my notebook later. 

“Besides, how could someone as flippant as you even have a chance?” 

Surely a woman this beautiful must already be seeing someone. 

“And that’s just what makes you Doppo Kunikida. I asked, and she doesn’t have a family or anyone she can go to. Also, she and her boyfriend separated not too long ago.” 

…I remember her mentioning she didn’t have anyone to turn to, but I had no idea it was this severe. 

“So she’s available, Kunikida.” Dazai grins, gently elbowing me in the side. 

“Available for what?” 

I’ll just make a face like I have no idea what he’s talking about. 

“Listen, Dazai. I came here to fill you in on what we discussed at this morning’s meeting, which you so happened to skip. And if I catch you skipping again, I’m going to take every appropriate measure to successfully resuscitate you the next time you try to kill yourself.” 

“Oh, that’s dirty. You’re sick, Kunikida.” 

Dazai makes a disgusted expression. Satisfied, I place the documents in hand on the table and spread them out. 

“This is the latest information. We received a recording of the kidnapper’s statement during the military police’s questioning. It appears he admitted to kidnapping the victims and gassing them so they couldn’t escape. However, that’s all he admitted. He claims he didn’t know about the surveillance equipment, and it’s unlikely he would lie about it now. That’s why—” 

“There must be at least two people behind this, right? The person who kidnapped the victims and the person who recorded everything: The former is the driver, while the latter is the Azure Apostle, I’m guessing?” 

“Conceivably, yes.” 

“Um…” Miss Sasaki timidly speaks up. “Are you sure I should be listening to this? Wouldn’t this fall under confidential information?” 

“You’re a victim, Miss Sasaki, and you’re just as much a part of this as we are, so don’t worry about a thing. If you weren’t, Mr. Stickler-for-Rules right here wouldn’t have started explaining things with you around.” 

“I am not particularly strict about rules. This is normal.” 

“See? He even jokes around sometimes. Hilarious, am I right? Anyway, any new leads on the criminal we’re after?” 

“I’m completely normal.” 

“…Sorry, you’re right. It’s completely normal. So can you continue filling me in on what’s going on?” 

Why did he apologize? 

“We looked into the cabdriver’s history, and as far as we could tell, he had no connections with any underground shady businesses. The data makes him seem like nothing more than your ordinary taxi driver. He has no criminal history and no reputation for hanging with the wrong crowd. And yet, I have a hard time believing he came up with the idea to kidnap people and sell their insides to an organ-trafficking syndicate on his own. Someone must have told him about this get-rich-quick scheme.” 

“Someone like the Azure Apostle? Couldn’t we just ask the driver who told him?” 

“He won’t tell us. He thinks if he talks, they’ll really kill him this time. I’d love to pull each and every hair off his head until he gives us something, but unfortunately, he’s under heavy surveillance over the clouds right now. We’d run out of time before we could pull enough strings to get an interview with him.” 

Just who’s behind all this? Not only did they approach the taxi driver with the organ trade offer, set up surveillance equipment in that abandoned hospital, and make a bomb, they also set said bomb somewhere in the city and are trying to threaten the agency. But why? What are they after? 

“I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries here, but…” Miss Sasaki suddenly speaks up. “Do you think this Azure Apostle could be the criminal behind the Azure Banner Terrorist incident?” 

“Hmm…” 

The Azure Banner Terrorist case—the incident that cost Rokuzo’s father his life. The moment I saw the word azure in his name, I briefly played with the idea myself. 

“But the terrorist behind that incident, the Azure King, died in the blast as well. The dead cannot threaten the living. That much is certain in this world.” 

“Oh, so does that mean you’re not afraid of ghosts anymore, Kunikida?” 

“Never speak of ghosts again.” 

“But it was a large explosion, yes? I heard they never found the Azure King’s body, either. What if he faked his death to escape and is now in hiding somewhere?” 

I had wondered that myself, which is why I contacted the military police. However, they said that wasn’t possible. 

“According to police analyses, the Azure King undoubtedly perished in the blast. They have the latest forensic technology available, and some of their comrades died in the explosion as well, so it’s hard to imagine they would overlook anything.” 

“But…” 

“Well, I dunno much about this Azure King, but is he really someone who would crawl out of the pits of hell to take vengeance on the agency?” 

Dazai’s ignorance never ceases to amaze me. 

I reluctantly explain. The Azure King was the mastermind behind the Azure Banner Terrorist incident that targeted and destroyed government facilities. He was known as the worst and most destructive domestic terrorist threat of postwar Japan. 

Once said to be an excellent state government official before raising the azure banner, the ambitious youth graduated at the top of his class from an elite educational institution, then worked as a central civil servant in the executive and legislative world after studying abroad. Yet, somewhere along the line, he mysteriously began to aspire to cleanse society through its destruction. 

Then one day, a certain video recording was sent to a major domestic broadcasting station. It was a video of a young man whose face had been obscured by an azure banner. He called himself the Azure King and claimed he was going to commit an act of terror. He then told of how he lamented for this imperfect world and that such imperfections could only be buried by other imperfections. 

“No matter how much we aspire to, our neighbors will fall ill, our parents will die, and only a small fraction of evildoers will see justice. Then let us realize an ideal world, not by the hand of a god but by our own imperfect bloodstained hands.” 

And with those final words, three domestic government facilities were simultaneously attacked: The city police’s associated facility was set on fire, something collided with a government vehicle, and a military post was hit with a bomb. 

A later investigation revealed that the eight people he killed included a murderer who was found not guilty due to the prosecutor’s insufficient paperwork, a member of parliament who was rumored to have been embezzling funds meant to aid refugees from industrializing nations, and a military platoon that beat a young military policeman to death before systematically covering up the act. These eight people all perished in the attack. The Azure King committed an act of evil to execute criminals who couldn’t be punished by the law. 

This blitz tactic shocked everyone. He was able to simultaneously attack and destroy multiple strictly guarded and heavily protected government facilities. Nobody even imagined such an attack was possible. 

And the Azure King’s terrorist acts continued further. Disgraced, the military and government gave nationwide orders to locate and arrest him. Even the detective agency was asked to help. What happened after that was exactly how I explained before. His hideout was discovered, and those who went inside were killed in his suicidal blast. The case was solved at the cost of innocent lives. 

“But if the one behind this really is the Azure King, then why would he be so persistent in trying to tarnish the agency’s name?” 

“Maybe because you’re the one he has a grudge against, Kunikida.” 

A grudge? Against me? I mean, I was the one who contacted the police and led them to his whereabouts, but… It can’t be. The ghost of the Azure King, the worst terrorist this country has ever seen, returned from the grave to have his revenge on the agency and me because of a grudge? 

“At any rate, we’d best keep our guard up until we know who we’re dealing with. There’s no way of knowing who’s going to attack us or when they’re going to do it. We have to take Miss Sasaki somewhere safe as well.” 

“Perhaps the agency office? Oh, but nobody’s there at night. Hmm…” 

That’s when I suddenly catch on to what Dazai’s up to. 

“I seriously hope you’re not trying to find an excuse to keep her at your place to ‘protect’ her, because I will not allow such lewd, immoral, unhealthy relations to continue any longer. Honestly, were you raised by savages or something? Absolutely appalling. If it were me, y’know, I’d first make her feel comfo—” 

“Hold on, Kunikida. You know there’s nothing going on between Miss Sasaki and me, right?” 

“What?” 

“Listen, the first day she stayed over, I slept in another room. I haven’t laid a finger on her. C’mon, do you really think I’d try to seduce a woman who was almost killed earlier that day? I’ve got a little more sense than that. Besides, I’d have to deal with you if that ever happened, and I’d rather not.” 

Oh… It looks like I jumped to conclusions. 

“I can’t deny that I knew you had the wrong idea, and I just decided not to say anything ’cause it was funny, though.” 

You little… 

That said, a pure, honest man such as myself could have had it much worse in this kind of situation. Dazai could have said something like “You assumed the worst all because she spent the night at my place? Gee, Kunikida, you’re a real perv.” I wouldn’t be able to refute that, and I’d probably die an agonizing death on the spot. I guess I should just be thankful that didn’t happen. 

…But how could I not imagine something like that? This is Dazai we’re talking about. In any case, if there is anything to be thankful for, it’s that he’s not some lecher who jumps on any woman he can get his hands on. Keeping a professional distance from the victim is more difficult than I thought. 

“Just stop wasting my time, Dazai. If nothing happened, then we have nothing to worry about. But from now on, let’s make sure to keep a healthy distance during work and forge proper relationships with our clients. This is what it means to be a professional.” 

“…I hear you.” He firmly nods before facing Miss Sasaki once more. “So what’s your type?” 

“Didn’t you just say you heard me?!” 

I take it back. He is a lecher who would jump on any woman given the chance. 

“M-my type…? I’m sorry; I just feel it would be rather presumptuous of me to seek out a specific type of man, but…I do find men who are passionate about their ideals and really devote themselves to something to be…very attractive.” 

…Come again? 

“Aw man. You basically just described Kunikida! Looks like I never had a chance. Tsk. Well, you two enjoy the rest of your date. I’m gonna go make sure I still have all my fingers.” 

“D-Dazai, get back here!” 

“What? Ugh, now I forgot what finger I was on!” 

“Quit sulking and take a seat!” 

You can’t leave me alone with her! I wouldn’t know what to talk about! 

“But I’m just an ordinary woman. Even if I was with someone who lived for his ideals, I wouldn’t be of any help. Even if I devoted myself to supporting those ideals, I would only end up getting in the way and exhausting us both… Ultimately, he would choose his ideals over me, and things would end there. So I think I will abstain from dating any idealists in the future.” 

There is a hint of sorrow in her smile…but why? 

“You’re so easy to read, Kunikida. You know that?” 

“I—I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular! Quit looking at me, Dazai!” 

“Ouch!” 

I twist Dazai’s head until he’s facing the opposite direction. 

“First, you want me to sit. Now you want me to look the other way. Can you make up your mind? Anyway, can we just get back on topic?” 

…What were we talking about again? 

“Oh, about keeping Miss Sasaki somewhere safe, yes? Well, I do have some acquaintances with the police I could contact…” 

“Hey, um…I really appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, but I don’t want to bother you any more than I already have… So please don’t worry about me. I’ll find a hotel to stay in tonight.” 

“I can’t allow that. Hotels aren’t safe, and sending you to one after the recent events would be in bad taste. Having said that, I wouldn’t trust Dazai to keep his hands to himself if you stayed at his place again. Come stay at mine.” 

“Huh?” 

“Huh?” 

“D-don’t get the wrong idea! I have no ulterior motives, if that’s what you’re implying!” 

“Actually, from the way this conversation’s been going, it sounds like an ulterior motive is all you have. You just don’t know when to quit, eh?” 

“It’s not like that! I’m just genuinely—” 

“Ah-ha-ha-ha! I’m kidding! Miss Sasaki, you’ll be safe at Kunikida’s place. He doesn’t have the courage to— Ahem… He is a man of ideals and virtue. Would you like to see his notebook? You should read the page about his ideal woman. It’s amazing.” 

Dazai hands Miss Sasaki a notebook. Taken aback, I pat my pockets, but it’s nowhere to be found. 

“Dazai! When did you steal that from me?!” 

“Here, it’s this page.” 

He opens my notebook and points. 

“Oh my… Are you sure this is okay?” 

“You’re curious, right?” 

“Well…in all honesty…yes, I suppose I am slightly curious.” 

Miss Sasaki reads the notebook with a bashful smile before slowly turning pale. 

“Huh? What does that…? Oh, I see. But this is…” 

My ideal woman: a voluminous work consisting of eight pages, fifteen topics, and fifty-eight items. 

“Huh?! …Oh, so that means… Hmm… Ohhh…” 

I remember what Dazai said: “Never show this to a woman. It’d really turn them off.” When Miss Sasaki lifts her head after reading, her expression is void of any and all joy. The only thing on her face is a chilling, lifeless smile, not unlike a statue’s. 

“Detective Kunikida.” 

“Yes…?” 

“People like this don’t exist.” 

Someone bring me a stiff drink. 

It’s located in the nation’s capital, Tokyo, the heart of this country where the political and economic central functions intersect. 

Foreigners of all races and creeds go in and out of this building—the United States Embassy, the largest foreign territory in Japan. Despite it being the afternoon, the people in the waiting room for general visitors are quietly whiling away the minutes and hours until their turn. They keep silent as if anticipating a judge’s decision, staring off into space as if looking at something only they can see. 

A live Major League Baseball game plays on the flat-screen TV installed on the wall, while a middle-aged Caucasian male wearing a black cap lazily criticizes his favorite team for allowing the other to score a run. 

I look at Dazai at my side. He’s smiling gleefully. He must be really looking forward to the mission. This is no laughing matter, though. 

“Everything ready to go, Kunikida?” 

“My stomach already hurts thinking about it. Please don’t mess this up. We could be tried under international law if we aren’t careful.” 

“International outlaws… Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? All right, well, here goes nothing!” 

“Hey…!” 

Stricken with panic, I try to stop him, but he’s already heading over to the information desk. Dazai is wearing a raggedy, patched-up undershirt while I’m dressed in a high-end navy business suit and tie. He stands in front of the embassy worker’s desk and obnoxiously opens his big mouth. 

“Hey, you! How much longer do I hafta wait?! I’ve been here for siiix whooole hooours!” 

Everybody in the vicinity turns around and stares. The Japanese lady working reception blinks in astonishment. 

“I don’t wanna wait anymore! I can’t…! I just can’t take it! Lemme talk to your boss right now!” 

Dazai thrashes his arms and legs about as he continues to mouth off to the receptionist. Though this may be part of the mission, it’s painful to watch another adult act this way. I would rather drink poison and die than do that. 

“Excuse me… What was it you needed again?” she asks, puzzled. Her handling of the situation is admirable, but she’s outclassed. 

“I toldja, didn’t I?! I wanna seek refuge! R-E-F-U-G-E! I’m here for refuge in your honorable nation! But you’re making me wait foreeever! Does that mean you’re refusing my request? Is that it? Missy, you’ve got a lot of nerve making political decisions like this! You’ve got no right!” 

“You there! What do you think you’re doing?! Causing a disturbance in the embassy is a serious offense, you know!” 

Naturally, the guards at the entrance start rushing toward Dazai. Looks like I’m up. 

“Stop right there. That man making a fuss over there is with me. Do you have the authority to arrest him?” I stand before the rushing guards. “Vienna Convention on Consular Relations, article thirty-one, paragraph two! ‘The authorities of the receiving State shall not enter that part of the consular premises that is used exclusively for the purpose of the work of the consular post except with the consent of the head of the consular post or of his designee or of the head of the diplomatic mission of the sending State.’ That man is a guest of the embassy until deemed a hindrance by the consular post. Stopping him without permission could turn this into an international issue!” 

My loud rebuke puzzles the guards. 

They obviously know the Vienna Convention on Consular Relations by heart, but it’s only natural to flinch when someone screams “international issue” at you. 

“Hey, Boss! I need refuuuge! BOSSSSSS!!” 

Dazai throws a temper tantrum on the floor in front of the information desk. While it’s a relief knowing the guards can’t stop him, there’s a part of me that wants to forget the mission and kill him. 

Now, there’s a reason why the Armed Detective Agency is using a five-year-old’s tactics to attack the embassy, an important, high-toned diplomatic establishment. 

“The bomber is from another country?” I ask. We’re back at that same street-side café. 

“Yeah, and a pro, at that,” Dazai replies while sipping his coffee. He first pointed this out to me after Miss Sasaki got off the phone with a colleague from her university. 

“My college major was criminal psychology. Perhaps I know something that could be of use,” she’d said. 

I hear Miss Sasaki is well-known in her community as a criminal psychology researcher. It seems she’s a talented young associate professor whose work has been recognized by several famous academic conferences, which is why she’s been independently scrutinizing similar past crimes detailed in a fellow researcher’s work. 

“I contacted a colleague in my field regarding similar cases, but their investigation concluded that there has not been a single bombing incident in Japan that has claimed over a hundred lives as mentioned in the e-mail… Of course, this is excluding those who died in the war.” 

“Have there been incidents like this abroad, then?” 

“Yes… There have been a few dozen terrorist attacks in other countries, revolving around ideology and political conflict. However, there is little data for these cases that would provide details such as the type of bomb used or the manufacturer… I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any help.” 

“No, that’s really good information. This would mean the Azure Apostle knew the composition and structure of the explosive used in those bombings when they made the one to set in Yokohama. I feel like we’re now one step closer to finding our guy, don’t you think?” 

“That said, we still haven’t figured out where they hid the bomb. Do you really think we’ll be able to find it in time at this rate?” 

At the very least, we need to find out this person’s name and what they look like. There’s no other way to locate the bomb. 

Dazai places a thumb on his chin as if deep in thought. 

“The bomber is in hiding… There’s no way we’re going to find them,” he suddenly mutters. “…Guess I have to do it myself.” 

“Do what?” 

“Kunikida, in the e-mail, they said they’d ‘made’ the bomb, right? But can you really make a bomb that could kill hundreds that easily?” 

“It wouldn’t be easy for the average person, but someone with extensive knowledge probably wouldn’t have much difficulty.” 

Even I have a certain amount of knowledge of hazardous chemicals, since I’m currently pursuing a degree in science and mathematics. Besides, I also work on dangerous jobs at the agency. Chemical production for explosives requires utmost caution, especially in regard to temperature and impact. Even the smallest mistake could cause an unwanted catastrophe. The ingredients themselves, however, are simple and could even be found in an elementary school’s science room. Hydrochloric acid, nitric acid, nitrogen fertilizer, aluminum: All of these can be legally purchased for cheap. The combination ratio, order of procedure, transportation, and technique for detonating the bomb are where things get tricky. 

“Some say that each pro has their own recipe, which acts as their brand when they sell their explosives, but…” 

“Exactly. That’s why I don’t think it’d be easy to replicate a bomb that was used in some previous terrorist attack.” 

“So what you’re saying is…the person who made this bomb is the same person who made the bomb in that incident that killed over a hundred people?” 

“Not only that, the way it was described in the e-mail was oddly visually specific, don’t you think?” 

I check the e-mail again. “The everlasting flames and blinding corona made it seem as if the sun itself had fallen out of the sky. The buildings fell one after another while innocent people’s skin melted as they struggled to escape. The ground liquefied, and vehicles were knocked into the buildings like spears.” 

“This is just speculation on my part, but doesn’t it sound a bit like he’s describing what he saw?” 

“What?” 

“Miss Sasaki, is there any news footage showing any of the past bombings abroad?” 

“No, I’m afraid not. Filming an explosion that large was probably the last thing on the victims’ minds as well.” 

“Normally, I’d agree with you, but the e-mail vividly details what just happened minutes after the explosion. Maybe they set the bomb, ran away, and came back after the explosion in time to see all this?” 

“In other words, the bomber who killed all those people in the past is the Azure Apostle?” 

If that’s the case, then that would narrow down who the criminal might be. We’re looking at a bomb expert who was abroad during that incident and is currently in Japan. But… 

“We still don’t have enough information to go by.” 

“Why?” 

“I suppose I will fill you in, since you decided to skip the meeting. The Public Security Intelligence Agency and military police–affiliated organizations already looked into domestic bomb-making experts, and they didn’t find any suspects. Nobody on the list of Japanese candidates possesses the refined technology needed for high-grade explosives that could kill or injure over one hundred people, nor are there any bomb manufacturer candidates they don’t already have their eye on. Having said that, it’s not like we could go around questioning every non-Japanese person we see.” 

“Heh-heh.” Dazai smirks. 

“What are you so obnoxiously giddy about?” 

“While even the military police come to the famous detective agency for help from time to time, there’s still one directory nobody wants us to see: information held by foreign intelligence agencies. I’m sure they have records on past bombing suspects.” 

“A foreign intelligence agency…?” 

The most famous intelligence agencies that come to mind are the CIA and NSA in the United States and MI6 in the United Kingdom. They conduct covert operations all around the world for their home countries’ safety and prosperity. However… 

“Foreign intelligence agencies aren’t just going to hand over confidential information to private Japanese enterprises. Do you even know anybody working for an intelligence agency in the first place?” 

“Nope.” 

“I figured.” 

“But I know where to meet one.” 

—I’ve got a bad feeling about this. 

And that’s how our undercover mission at the embassy began. The plan Dazai came up with is simple: One of us makes a scene at the embassy, and if we’re lucky, one of the higher-ups will come over to bring things under control. Then we can talk with that high government official to negotiate. For a secret agent abroad, their home country’s embassy is not only a base but a place of peace and comfort as well. The embassy must have some sort of connection with their country’s secret agents. 

While it’s a reckless, aggressive plan, Dazai’s idea sheds a glimmer of hope on a seemingly desperate mission. During our work together, I at times find his wits and critical-thinking skills nothing short of amazing. There is no telling what he’s capable of. I can’t help but feel that hidden behind his eccentric behavior lurks something chilling—a devilish wisdom of some kind. 

I have a difficult time believing he’s just some wanderer with no real background. Whenever I try to ask him about his past, he avoids the question. While I refuse to press him for answers, I wonder if he has a dark past. Could he have been in an illegal—? 

“Awww, c’mon, lady! Just grant my asylum already! Pretty pleeease? C’mon, don’t look away from me when I’m talkin’ to you! Look at me! Yeah, like that! Keep lookin’ at me like that!” 

—No. He’s just an idiot. 

“Um… Could you please write your name on the waiting list?” The receptionist timidly pulls out a sheet of paper. 

“I’ve already filled out one of those!” Dazai yells. He’s lying, of course. “I even made sure to complete all the parts in fine print with my favorite fountain pen, and I’m still not gettin’ any service. Why d’you think I came here to talk to you, huh?” 

He whips out a thick coal-black fountain pen from his breast pocket to show her. 

“This fountain pen is the same kind that was used by a Middle Eastern dictator. Pretty cool, huh? You can have a look if you want. Here. It’s long and heavy, so it’s extremely hard to write with. I had to use this to fill out all those little spaces over and over again. You can see why I’m mad now, right?” 

It’s your fault for using that pen in the first place! 

I keep that thought to myself, though. 

“Listen, lady, I’m an author, mmkay? Ever read any of my books? Here, I’ll even make you the protagonist in my next story, so please just lemme speak to one of your higher-ups. I’ll write a book about us committing lovers’ suicide. I’ll even use this pen to write it if you help me defect.” 

For a terrible author, he’s becoming curiously good at this acting thing. I get the sense this is how he woos women at pubs. 

“C’mon, throw me a bone here. I’m in a lot of trouble. Big trouble! Some scary guys from the PSIA are coming for my neck! Listen, I just write whatever I like, and all I said was that one of the Foreign Affairs ministers was wearing a toupee, and now the authorities are trying to kill me! This is a violation of free speech, and I will not allow the government to abuse their authority! And down with hairpieces!” 

“Shut the hell up, will ya?! I’m tryin’ to watch the game here! And what’s your problem with toupees?!” the Caucasian man in the black cap watching the baseball game shouts hoarsely, but it’s going to take more than that to bring Dazai down. 

“Hey, I’m not the problem here! It’s the guy who got mad at me for calling him out! If he was gonna get that upset about it, then he shoulda just shown us all his shiny bald pate and been proud of it!” 

“E-excuse me, sir? You’re, um, you’re with him, c-correct?” the flustered office worker asks me with pleading eyes. Apologies, but this is all for the greater good. 

“I’m his chief editor. While I sympathize with you, as you can see, he’s in no mood to listen. If a civil servant with authority, however, was to come and talk with him directly, I guarantee he’d give up. So do you think you could talk to one of your superiors for me?” 

“Okay…” 

Drained of energy and in a state of shock, the receptionist nods before staggering to her feet. 

“I’ll be right back…with someone to help you…” 

She probably feels that she’s done everything she could and just doesn’t want to deal with Dazai anymore. I don’t blame her. I truly pity the woman. 

After waiting for a short while, she returns and waves Dazai and me into another room. 

“This way, please.” 

*   *   * 

“You’re making things really difficult for me, you know?” 

We’re taken to a diplomatic reception room where a bald Caucasian diplomat appears to have been waiting for us. The business card handed to us says he’s a third attaché. Not a bad catch. But it’s not enough. He isn’t ranked high enough to know intelligence-agency secrets, which means only one thing: This is where the real mission starts. 

“I completely understand, sir.” 

I lower my head. To someone from a different culture, bowing might confuse them, but it’s surely not going to make them feel better. 

“Never in my career have I ever heard of someone seeking political asylum from a country as peaceful as this one. I could contact our State Department, but I know the answer is going to be no. Therefore—” 

“Oh, I don’t care about that anymore. Sorry for the trouble. I mean, I really appreciate you taking the time to speak with us, but to tell the truth, I’m not actually an author.” 

I take out a black notebook with gold-framed letters. 

“We’re with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department’s Public Security Bureau.” 

“S-security…police…?” the attaché asks in astonishment. 

I don’t blame him. The situation is a lot more serious when you believe you’re talking to the recipient country’s security police. 

“Due to the circumstances, we needed to take an unconventional route in establishing contact. However, this notebook should serve as proof that we are who we say we are.” 

I hold up my police notebook with the words PUBLIC SECURITY BUREAU written in gold on the black cover. Inside sits my picture beside my division’s name. The attaché opens my notebook and compares the picture to me. Of course, it’s a fake I created with my skill, The Matchless Poet, but it appears every bit as real as an official one. Therefore, he has no way of knowing just by looking at it that we’re lying. 

—But what happens next determines whether we’re in the clear. 

“For certain reasons, we must secretly obtain information possessed by your country’s intelligence agency. We would like for you to provide data on bomb engineering specialists within Japan. This is an issue of national security, so we need to be quick.” 

In one breath, I deliver the whole monologue I memorized prior to our arrival. 

“Th-this is absurd.” 

“I know it’s a lot to ask.” I double down. “If you do not possess the information we need, then could you introduce us to someone who does?” 

“There are indeed people from the intelligence agency who come here, but… This is not quite that simple.” 

“This is a time-sensitive matter. The lives of at least a hundred innocent people are on the line.” 

The attaché turns pale the moment he hears that people could die. He seems like a good person. 

“P-please give me a moment.” 

Sweating profusely in fear, he picks up the telephone and calls someone. Speaking in almost a whisper, he argues with them for a while, then hangs up before facing us again. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” the attaché says with a smile. “We usually cannot accept such requests, but…” 

I internally let out a sigh of relief, thrilled with how perfect things seem to be going. “Thank you very much.” 

“I spoke with the secretary on the phone, and she told me that my boss just happens to be having a meal with the Public Security Bureau’s director right now. My boss probably won’t be able to refuse a request from someone so high up. Phew. Thank goodness.” 

“…What?” 

“Your boss should be here in around ten minutes. Please make yourselves at home until then.” 

He wipes the sweat off his forehead, a relieved smile on his face. 

……This isn’t good. 

This is not good at all. 

The Public Security Bureau’s director has the same amount of authority as the chief of the Metropolitan Police, but he probably doesn’t even have a clue about the bomb threat. Even if he did, he would never agree to go along with a scheme—let alone one by imposters—to steal confidential information from a foreign intelligence agency, especially when we still have no way to prove a bomb even exists. 

“No, we… That wouldn’t be good.” 

“Hmm? Oh, don’t worry about a thing. The intelligence agency surely wouldn’t ignore a request from someone as important as the Public Security Bureau’s director. So please make yourselves at home. I insist.” 

What are we going to do? This entire mission will have been for nothing if the director shows up. 

“That really wouldn’t be good. Because… Uh…” 

The attaché stares back at me in befuddlement. 

“The director cannot come here…for various reasons.” 

“Are you sure? What reasons would that be?” 

Damn it. I’m terrible at improvising. 

“He’s…very busy right now. He has a lot to do.” 

“I am sure he is quite busy, but they told me on the phone he could come and that it wouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Yes, that’s not what I meant, though. While he claims it wouldn’t be a problem, he has…many errands.” 

“…?” 

“Like…meeting an acquaintance who he’ll end up chatting with for hours, going to the public office to turn in some documents, going to the store to pick up some dog food…” 

“What is he, a housewife?” He tilts his head to the side, puzzled. 

Ugh. I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore. 

“A-anyway, we cannot let the director know any of this.” 

“Do you mean…you came here without telling him?” 

“No, we, uh— Well…yes. Yes we did.” 

“That’s certainly no good. Why didn’t you tell him?” 

“We forgot.” 

“You forgot?!” He’s completely dumbfounded. 

“Yes, we… We were in a hurry, since it’s an emergency, so we forgot to call him. So, you know, it was a state of emergency…so we forgot to call him.” 

“Was there a reason why you said it twice?” 

“I have already told you all I’m permitted to say. Anyway, just bring us an intelligence operative to speak with!” 

Because the more I talk, the deeper this hole gets! 

“You do realize what you’re asking from me, yes? The whereabouts of our intelligence operatives are secret. An explanation like the one you gave isn’t—” 

“Yeesh… Guess I’ve got no choice, then.” Dazai heaves a sigh, then leans in. “First, I apologize for my inarticulate subordinate. Allow me to explain, sir. We had no choice but to come here in secret. There’s a mole in the Public Security Bureau who’s feeding information to the bomber, and we have reason to believe he’s a close adviser to the director.” 

“What?” 

“We’re working with internal investigators to identify the criminal and the mole leaking intel, which is why we had to come undercover. We fear the mole may detonate the bomb if they figure out we’re meeting with the director. So before that happens, we must find where this bomb is hidden.” 

The attaché’s face turns pale. “Th-that certainly is a serious problem. You should have just said so,” he says, glancing at me. 

“The reason my colleague didn’t say anything was because he was afraid of a leak. He may be a terrible liar, but he does it to protect confidential information. If you were in our shoes, would you just casually tell the police that your boss might be a mole?” 

“You have a point…” He nods in agreement. 

“Fortunately, we are close to figuring out who our bomber is. He was the mastermind behind a large-scale terrorist bombing overseas sometime in the past. This is an important investigation for the national security of your country, one which also protects the world from terrorists. With the help of your intelligence agency, I want to clean the streets of these antiestablishment incendiaries hiding in the system. So could I ask for your cooperation?” 

“Very well. I am at your service.” 

Dazai……… That was… That was amazing… 

“Come with me, please.” 

The attaché hastily stands and motions us to follow. 

He takes us to a private office in the embassy’s basement and, his expression tense, asks us to wait here. Dazai and I are the only ones left in the room. 

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop picking on my attaché. He’s a really good person. In fact, that’s all he is.” 

A familiar middle-aged man eventually walks into the office. 

“You’re… You’re the man who was watching baseball in the waiting room… You’re the US intelligence operative?” 

It’s the same middle-aged Caucasian man in the black cap who had been idly watching the ball game on TV earlier. 

“My ID says I’m the office janitor, though.” 

He grabs the name tag on his chest and shows us. 

“So what are two busy detectives from the Armed Detective Agency doing here?” 

Dazai and I exchange glances. 

“You knew?” 

“It’s my job to gather information on issues occurring in this country, and when an organization of skill users starts making a fuss first thing in the morning, you can bet word has already reached halfway around the world. We’ve had our eye on you ever since you walked into the embassy.” 

It seems the omniscience of intelligence agencies isn’t limited to movies and novels after all. 

“We’re looking for the person who set a bomb in the city. They’re also responsible for a similar bombing overseas that claimed the lives of over a hundred people. Is there anyone like that in your records? The offender said, ‘The everlasting flames and blinding corona made it seem as if the sun itself had fallen out of the sky,’ and—” 

“Oh… I figured it was him.” The intelligence operative shakes his head. 

“You know who’s behind this?” 

“‘An everlasting fire and blinding white light’ sounds just like Alamta and his aluminum powder–based explosives. Here’s his file.” 

The intelligence operative pulls out a stack of papers from within the cabinet. 

“A man of Japanese descent, Zadkiel Alamta was a bomb purveyor for a Middle Eastern terrorist organization. We’ve been keeping tabs on him ever since he entered the country a year ago.” 

“Without even telling the authorities in Japan?” I retort as I pore over the documents. 

“We had our reasons. We wanted to capture him ourselves. Not only is he a bomber, he also sells explosives to terrorists of the same trade. If only we had his list of customers, we could arrest countless anti-American terrorists.” 

I flip through the pages where I see Alamta’s photograph and the details of his past crimes. 

“There honestly couldn’t be a worse bomb composition.” 

I tightly clench my jaw. 

“There are going to be a lot more than a hundred dead if this thing goes off in Yokohama.” 

Alamta specializes in railroad car bombs that contain a mixture of aluminum powder in slurry explosives. After placing a few hundred pounds of explosives in the passenger car, he lights the fuse remotely using a small electronic transmitter, such as a cell phone. He uses ammonium nitrate as his main raw material and acetone peroxide as an auxiliary material. Both ingredients are cheap, so bombs can be manufactured in high volumes. 

Judging by the composition detailed in the documents, anyone within a radius of about 650 feet of the blast would die instantly, and people out of range would be showered in the liquefied aluminum and exposed to the extreme temperatures from the blast wave. 

The only reason Alamta uses aluminum is to make sure he kills as many people as possible. Aluminum is a combustion promoter, which emits a blinding white light and increases the intensity of the explosive flames when it burns. Simultaneously, the blast waves would carry it, creating a cloud of extremely hot dust reaching over a thousand degrees Fahrenheit, which could burn the flesh right off a human body. To make matters worse, aluminum reacts with water to create a flammable hydrogen gas, meaning any contact with water would make more fire. Therefore, using the water from a fire hydrant to put out the blaze would only worsen it, making rescue operations difficult. 

“The everlasting flames and blinding corona made it seem as if the sun itself had fallen out of the sky.” He wasn’t exaggerating. The bomb is as dreadful as it sounds. If a bomb goes off in a densely populated place in the city, casualties could exceed a thousand when considering secondary disasters such as blackouts and other fatal accidents. Moreover, a train bomb could easily sneak past the police and into the city. We absolutely cannot allow it to be detonated in Yokohama. 

“Where is Alamta right now?” 

“He threw my colleague off his trail and went into hiding two days ago. We figured he was getting ready to do something.” 

Damn it. It looks like we’ll have to start searching for Alamta before we can find the bomb. I guess learning the bomber’s name and background is a step forward, though. It is highly likely that Alamta and the Azure Apostle are one and the same. However, it’s still unclear why he would threaten the detective agency. If he does have a grudge against us, then perhaps looking into the agency’s past solved cases could lead to some clues. 

“So, Mr. Spy, what do you want in return for this information?” Dazai chimes in with a chuckle. 

“Nothing. I can’t just sit back and watch hundreds of lives lost, even if they’re another country’s citizens. I am doing this for justice. I’ll gladly provide you with any information you need.” 

“Yeah, right. I dunno about Kunikida here, but I’m just a bit more cynical than that,” he replies with a grin. An American intelligence operative’s job is to advance the prosperity and security of his country, after all. The agent ponders in silence for a while before responding. 

“…If you catch Alamta, hand him over to us, not the Public Security Bureau. He’s going to give us a list of his customers whether he likes it or not.” 

“Hand him over to you?” I knit my brow. “If he truly is behind all this, shouldn’t you be questioning him along with the Japanese authorities?” 

“About that, Kunikida. These guys plan on torturing the bomber for information, and with methods so brutal they’re prohibited by international law. See, they wouldn’t be able to use such unethical means if they were to cooperate with another nation’s authorities. That’s why they want to take him into custody without anyone knowing.” 

“……” 

I look at the agent, who is silent and expressionless. It’s evident he’s not looking to make any excuses. Criminals aren’t the only ones who break the law and violate ethical standards. Nevertheless, a foreign secret intelligence agency won’t change their ways, regardless of how a nobody like myself might feel about it. 

“This isn’t an official meeting, and you haven’t leaked any information. Therefore, there is no reason for us to provide anything in return. Come, Dazai; we’re leaving.” 

After urging Dazai to get up, I turn on my heel and head for the door. 

“Tell the receptionist you’re from Fenimore Transport from now on. They’ll let me know you’re here. Anyway, I’m impressed you were able to make it this far with almost no clues. You have talent. If you’re ever fired from the detective agency, get in touch with me. We could use an agent like you.” 

“Wow. What’ll it be, Kunikida?” 

“I have no interest in joining an organization that doesn’t bat an eye even after hearing that a terrorist plans on bombing Japan. We’ll be leaving now.” 

I depart the office without even waiting for a response. The agent remains silent. 

Dazai and I return to the detective agency to organize the information from the documents. Approximately two hours remain until sundown. We have to capture the bomber Alamta and force him to tell us where the explosive is…within a mere two hours. We’re not without good news, though. I received some reassuring information when I contacted the agency. The moment I heard the news, I became certain: We can disarm this bomb. 

“Ah-ha-ha-ha! You guys would be lost without me!” 

I hear his usual boisterous laughter the moment I return to the office. 

“Ranpo! How did the case in Kyushu go?” 

“Oh, that? I took one look at the body and figured out who did it and how.” 

The man mirthfully sipping on his drink as he talks is Ranpo Edogawa, a senior colleague. 

“I heard what happened, Kunikida. Everyone’s been running in circles over some little bomb, huh? I really wish my colleagues could take care of themselves sometimes. You know, I didn’t even get the chance to sightsee in Kyushu thanks to you. Man, I really wanted to eat some onsen tamago, too.” 

“You have my apologies. However, we need your help.” 

“My help?” 

“Yes. Unfortunately, we were unable to solve this case on our own and are in desperate need of your assistance. I apologize for my incompetence.” 

After gazing at me for a few moments, Ranpo lets out a sigh. 

“Well…… Ah, fine, I guess I’ll lend you a hand! And there’s nothing to be sorry about, Kunikida. If there’s anyone to blame, it should be me for being too gifted! After all, Super Deduction is the greatest skill in the world, so coming to me for help is only natural!” With a boisterous laugh, he pats me on the shoulder. 

“You are absolutely right.” I wholeheartedly agree. 

“K-Kunikida, are you okay? You don’t have to hold it in,” Dazai timidly says. Hold what in…? What is he talking about? I’m perfectly fine. 

“Dazai, give Ranpo the files.” 

“Oh, sure. Hey, I’m the new guy, Osamu Dazai. Nice to meet you.” 

“Yes, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m counting on you to find a good case. I’ll be the one to solve it, of course.” 

Ranpo’s eyes are locked on Dazai as he takes the documents. 

“So, newbie. Uh…Dazai, was it? Where did you work prior to coming here?” 

“Hmm?” 

Ranpo’s expression has faded, his eyes peering into Dazai’s as if he is searching for something. 

“I didn’t really do anything after finishing school. Was just kinda around, you know?” 

A few seconds go by as Ranpo silently stares at Dazai. Finally… 

“Oh, that’s nice. Anyway, welcome to the agency.” 

And that’s it. He begins laying out the documents across the desk as if nothing happened. What was that just now? 

“Dazai, what was that about?” 

“Don’t ask me… By the way, what kind of skill user is Ranpo?” 

Oh, right, I still haven’t explained it to him yet. 

“Ranpo’s Super Deduction gives him the incredible ability to deduce the truth about a case just by looking at it.” 

“What?! Is there really a skill like that?!” 

It seems even Dazai can hardly believe it. 

“Yes, and there are a lot of important people in the police and government officials who come to Ranpo every time they need help with a difficult case. His skill is what keeps this detective agency in business.” 

“I dunno, it’s just hard to believe a skill like that actually exists.” He doesn’t appear convinced. 

“You’ll believe it when you see it.” 

“Kunikida! Do you just need to know where the bomb is?” 

“Yes. We’re almost out of time. Finding that bomb is our top priority. We’ll be able to disarm it if we know where it is.” 

“So I don’t need to find this Alamta fellow, yes?” 

“The bomb comes first.” 

“Okay, then let’s get started! Ha-ha-ha! Sorry, everybody, it looks like your assistance won’t be needed anymore now that I’m on the case. Dazai, hand me those glasses.” 

Ranpo puts on the black-framed glasses that Dazai hands him. Putting them on is apparently needed to activate his skill. His eyes sharpen into a radiant gaze that could pierce through all of nature, and his mind becomes an oracle of the gods. 

 Super Deduction . 

“…………………………………………………I’ve got it.” 

Ranpo sets his glasses down. 

“Wait. Seriously?” 

Dazai, standing behind Ranpo, holds his breath as he leans forward in curiosity. 

“Map.” 

Ranpo points. I get the large map of Yokohama from the bookshelf, then spread it out over the desk. Where did this maniac—an apostle of panic and fear—hide this weapon of pure evil and mass destruction? At a train station? A major hospital? A school? Perhaps a skyscraper, even? Or is it at city hall? What about a shopping mall? The worst-case scenarios pop into my mind, one after another. 

“The bomb is…” 

I wait with bated breath as Ranpo lowers his finger over the map. 

“…right here. This fishing-gear shop.” 

……………………………What? 

A fishing-gear shop? 

I must be hearing things. Perhaps there’s a secret facility here? Or maybe they deal in illegal goods? 

“…I see,” Dazai mutters to himself after a few moments go by. “That’s it… That’s it! Ranpo’s skill is real! If you’re going to set a bomb, this fishing-gear shop is the only place that makes sense! Kunikida, we have to hurry!” 

“I see the new guy’s blown away by how amazing I am.” 

“I am! That was incredible! You are without a doubt an extraordinary detective! I’m so glad I joined this agency! Now come on! We don’t have time to waste, Kunikida! We’ll be able to make it before sundown if we leave now!” 

“But, Dazai, I…” 

“I’ll explain on the way! Hurry!” 

“Good luck, you two!” 

With Dazai dragging me by the sleeve, I reluctantly leave the detective agency behind. 

We get into the company car and head straight toward the fishing-gear shop. 

Since I prefer not to ride in a murder box on wheels, I decide to drive. 

“Now tell me what’s going on, Dazai,” I say to him. 

“Sure, I’ll explain, but you’re not doubting Ranpo’s deduction, right?” 

“If Ranpo says the bomb is in the fishing-gear shop, then it’s in the fishing-gear shop. I still don’t get why you believed him, though.” 

Ranpo has the ability to see the truth, and his Super Deduction has never let us down. But there’s something bugging me about Dazai being so easily convinced. 

“It’s simple when you look at the map.” 

I visualize the map in my head. The only things around the fishing-gear shop are roads, corporate facilities, and small shops. While there would be a fair number of victims, it lacks the viciousness one would expect from an international terrorist. 

“Stop testing me. I have plenty of other things I need to think about. Just tell me what’s going on.” 

“I thought about it after checking out the files we had on Alamta. He’s been behind multiple large-scale bombings around the world, but he never bombs the same place twice. He’s already bombed a luxury hotel packed with tourists, a military communications office, and a skyscraper’s support beams. He always chooses an area that would produce the most damage to his target. So what area is he targeting this time?” 

“Quit playing games and tell me.” 

“Alamta’s target is…the oil storage facilities.” 

A bolt of lightning shoots down my spine as if I’ve been hit in the head with a hammer. 

The petroleum complex in Yokohama! 

How did I not think of that? Yokohama, Japan’s most prominent port city, is the largest hub for transporting fuel by sea. There is a sizable plot of land at the port with numerous facilities that store oil and natural gas. Day and night, enormous amounts of fuel are carried out from those facilities to support industries throughout the Kanto region. Furthermore, the complex is surrounded by factories that use petrochemical-based materials, steel production factories, and petroleum production factories. If an explosion was to happen around the petroleum complex and the storage tanks caught fire, then the entire port would be engulfed in flames before long. The fire would most likely last for days, resulting in the worst industrial disaster this country has ever seen. Petrochemical fires are difficult to put out with water, which would even further prolong the destruction done. Not only would human lives be lost, but the domestic economy would suffer immeasurable damage as well. 

“I see. So you were so impressed with Ranpo because of how accurate his deduction was.” 

“No, that’s not why.” 

What? 

“What amazed me was neither the novel idea of targeting an oil storage facility nor Ranpo’s skill.” 

“Then what was it?” 

“Heh-heh. What surprised me the most was the fact that Ranpo’s ‘skill’ isn’t actually a skill at all.” 

…Huh? 

“Don’t be ridiculous. As if someone without a skill could really do something like that.” 

“That’s what makes it so amazing! Listen to this. When Ranpo was thinking, I sneaked up behind him and pinched some of his hair.” 

“What?” 

Dazai was indeed standing behind Ranpo the entire time, now that I think about it. But when did he—? 

“As you know, I can nullify people’s abilities just by touching them. I guess you could call me an anti-skill user. As long as I’m touching someone—no matter how powerful they may be—they will be unable to use their skill. So what I’m trying to say is…” 

Ranpo’s Super Deduction isn’t a skill? 

“Then that means—” 

“It’s just simple deduction. He reached a theoretical conclusion in the blink of an eye based on his own observations and inferences. He linked his knowledge on disasters, the files on Alamta, and the map of Yokohama to come to a conclusion in a matter of seconds. It was like I was watching a great detective from a novel find out who was behind the crime— Wait. No, it was more like watching the famous detective at the end of a novel after solving all the cases. Without leaving the building or meeting the suspect, Ranpo figured out where the bomb was simply by glancing at the files we gave him. He possesses tremendous deductive and observational skills that your average fictional detective could only dream of.” 

Deduction? What he’s doing is not a skill or a supernatural phenomenon but purely the product of thought? 

“But is that even possible? I mean, how…?” 

“That’s what impressed me. A skill would make this just another phenomenon, which wouldn’t even be surprising, let alone impressive. But Ranpo is utilizing his brain, something we all have, to reach these conclusions. So Alamta disappeared two days ago, thus probably not having enough time to obtain a permit to get into the oil storage facilities or disguise himself as a worker there. The easiest thing he could’ve done was use cash to rent a car, store the bomb in it, park it somewhere near the oil storage facilities, and leave it there. If the explosive’s effective casualty range is around six hundred fifty feet, then that would leave within that range only the shops that have an oil storage tank, and the only place at the port that meets these conditions is…” 

“The fishing-gear shop.” 

“Exactly. Of course, things like wind direction and how difficult it would be to discover the bomb are also factors, but… Wow! I still can’t believe how Ranpo figured that out just by looking at the documents we gave him. That guy’s got some serious powers of deduction and observation! And even Ranpo himself seems to think he’s using a skill. Man, that is one amazing detective. I need to start applying myself more.” 

I finally understand why Dazai was so impressed. No matter how divine it may be, a skill is nothing more than a bewildering phenomenon. However, things are different if these powers of deduction are something the person possesses on their own. Ranpo has solved far more than a few dozen cases in the past, to say the least, and he solved them in an instant with only a small amount of information. Not once has he been wrong. Calling what he does a superhuman feat still wouldn’t be enough to illustrate how unbelievable it truly is—an ability that surpasses all skills. I could only describe it as a divine skill rarely seen in Japan—no, in the entire world. 

Still, though… 

I look over at Dazai in the passenger seat. 

“I’ve never seen you marvel over someone else’s skills like that before.” 

“Huh? Really? Lots of things take me by surprise. Like, once, I tried to pick up a clam with my chopsticks, and it was still alive. I was so startled, I nearly—” 

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You seemed taken aback that someone had the ability to see and know all.” 

For someone so full of eccentricities, there is something about his behavior that makes it seem as if he has an unobstructed view of the world. I don’t know exactly why, but all his emotions strike me as an act to some degree. Is he just playing dumb? Could there be more to him than he’s letting on, lurking behind his ambiguous mannerisms? 

“I guess. But you, Kunikida, I’ve got a good idea of who you are now, so nothing you do will ever surprise me. I mean, compared with me, you’re just a simple man with a simple mind, after all.” 

“What did you just say?!” 

“See? You wear your heart on your sleeve. You don’t hide how you’re really feeling. It’s nice. You know what else is nice? Just knowing that you’re going to be worrying later to yourself, ‘Am I really that simple?’” 

“Why, you—” 

But I refrain from arguing. Whatever my response, he’s just going to end up telling me, “I knew you’d say that.” 

“One day, you will be amazed by what I am capable of, and I guarantee you won’t see it coming.” 

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll take you out for a drink if you end up surprising me.” 

“All right, it’s a deal. You better not forget.” 

“I won’t. Besides, I’ve got nothing to lose either way. Oh, look, I can see the fishing-gear shop.” 

I slow down the car and park on the side of the street where I can see the shop. 

After getting out of the car, I observe the store. Only an hour remains before sundown. We should have the bomb disarmed in time as long as nothing goes wrong. 

“Any idea what kind of car we’re looking for?” 

“It’s simple, really. Just look for a large commercial vehicle with tinted windows to keep people from seeing inside.” 

I park the company car slightly away, then carefully approach the shop. I cannot deny the possibility that there might be armed personnel hiding somewhere in order to protect the bomb. 

The fishing-gear shop seems to be closed for the day, so only a few cars sparsely occupy the parking lot, which could fit a little over ten vehicles. There’s no sign of anyone in the parking area, and the slope on the west side leaves the whole place dim. I turn my head until I find a bunch of tall oil storage tanks behind me reaching out as far as the port itself. The closest tank is only around three hundred feet away from me. If the parking lot was to be blown up, the hellish flames would undoubtedly spread across every tank with ease. 

“Kunikida, check that car out.” 

I face the direction Dazai is pointing in, where I find a small white commercial vehicle parked with a rental car plate. The tinted windows are visible even from afar. Furthermore, the car seems to be sitting lower than the others even though nobody is inside, which suggests it’s not totally empty. I jot WIRELESS JAMMER down in my notebook before tearing the page out and focusing. Then the sheet of paper instantly transforms into a handheld wave inhibitor. 

“Dazai, place this by the vehicle but keep your eye out for booby traps. I’m going to search the vicinity.” 

The jammer bears a strong resemblance to a cell phone. However, this device can intervene with radio channels, making nearby wireless devices unable to communicate with one another. It has an effective radius of around fifteen feet. The bomber won’t be able to remotely detonate the bomb with this nearby. 

I grip my gun while scouting around the parking area. I keep my guard up, but there are no signs of any snipers or enemies waiting to ambush. Instead, I find two recording devices hidden in the grass. One camera is the same type we found at the abandoned hospital, while the other is a smaller wireless type. This only further confirms that the bomb is here. 

Suddenly, I hear people’s voices and lift my head. 

—What’s going on? 

People have started to gather on the other side of the road. Around ten people appear to be surrounding something, their faces clouded with worry. I have a bad feeling about this. After hiding my gun, I approach the crowd. Then I cut my way through to get a look at the cause of all this fuss. 

My breath catches in my throat. There’s something there that shouldn’t be. 

It’s Alamta’s body. 

“Hey, Kunikida, I placed the jammer by the car. What do you want me to—?” 

Dazai calls out to me from over my shoulder, but even he finds himself at a loss for words at the sight. 

Why is this guy here? 

Why is he dead? 

I approach the corpse. There are no signs of hypostasis and no postmortem rigidity in the chin. He is still warm under the arms. It’s evident that he was killed only moments ago—murdered right before we arrived. Not only that, but there are no visible wounds on the body. Nor are there any external changes that might indicate how he died. Instead, countless black symbols appear on his skin, covering his body like blemishes: “00.” Two zeros? Are these tattoos? Or could this be—? 

“Kunikida, the military’s bomb squad will be here soon. Let’s let them handle the technical stuff and get out of here.” Dazai places a hand on my shoulder. 

“……Okay.” 

I checked Alamta’s belongings, but all he had was some change and a fake license—nothing of use. And with the mystery left unsolved, Dazai and I plow through the growing crowd of spectators and leave the scene. 

I ruminate behind the wheel of the company car. 

Why did Alamta have to die? And who wanted him dead? 

“Kunikida, I get that thinking is important, but make sure to watch where you’re driving, too, okay?” Dazai says from the passenger seat. 

“I know,” I tell him as I grip the steering wheel. 

This situation needs analyzing. On the surface, there are but two cases here: the Yokohama kidnappings and the bomber. The perpetrators were the taxi driver and Alamta, respectively. That much is clear. But there’s another common motive between these two cases: damaging the detective agency’s name by releasing to the public footage of our failure to save the victims. The cabdriver and Alamta are most likely not involved with this goal, though. Someone must have been manipulating them from behind the scenes. 

That someone is the Azure Apostle. 

This person manipulated both the taxi driver and Alamta and made them the perpetrators. And just like that, the Azure Apostle attacked the detective agency without getting their own hands dirty by making it look like the other two committed these crimes of their own accord. 

Attacking them is next to impossible, since they gave so few orders and simply let the perpetrators do as they pleased. Both the cabdriver and the bomber committed the crimes on their own turf in their own way. Perhaps they didn’t even realize they were being used as pawns. If we don’t stop the one behind all this, then it won’t be long before we are attacked for a third time, something the agency might not be able to handle. The clues we have are next to nothing, though, which leaves me puzzled as to how we’re going to find this mastermind. 

There’s one more thing I’m worried about. What is the Azure Apostle going to be charged with? The only crimes they’ve committed are secretly videoing and threatening us. They didn’t kill anybody or blow up anything, and our chances of building a case to get them charged for instigating murder and kidnapping are extremely slim. Should I just hope the Azure Apostle accidentally left some evidence behind at the scene of the crime? And yet— 

That’s when my cell phone begins to ring. It’s the detective agency’s president. I pull over on the side of the road and press the call button. 

“Kunikida, my informant in the military just contacted me. The taxi driver… He’s dead.” 

What?! 

“But wasn’t he midflight on one of the military police’s aircrafts?” 

“He was. During questioning, he suddenly began suffering intense pain and passed not long after. His cause of death is unknown, but I was told two black zeros started to surface all over his body… Get back to the agency and let’s go carefully over the situation.” 

The phone clicks. My head is swimming with questions. 

Our sole path to the Azure Apostle has been cut. The only clue we had to locate this person was to find out who taught that driver about the organ trade, but those tracks died along with him. It’s almost as if the Azure Apostle is watching us, always one step ahead. Alamta was killed right before we arrived at the scene, and now the cabdriver, our last hope, is gone as well. Just who is this person? The enemy is somebody who knows everything about the detective agency’s investigation and every move we make. Somebody who can constantly tamper with the scene of the crime and manipulate the situation from afar. 

“You okay, Kunikida? You look real tense.” 

I don’t even have a moment to respond. How is the enemy getting inside info? How are they always a step ahead of the detective agency? My cell phone rings once more, interrupting my train of thought. It’s Rokuzo. 

“Hey, Four-Eyes. Got a moment?” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s… It’s about the e-mail you asked me to trace. I did it.” 

“What?!” 

That’s it. The sender of that threatening e-mail said their name was the Azure Apostle, and they gave orders to investigate the kidnapping and bombing. If we can find out where that e-mail came from… 

“I’ll cut to the chase. Both e-mails came from the same computer, which was heavily protected. But hey, I was able to break through. Anyway—” 

“Who’re you talking to, Kunikida?” 

I raise my hand, cutting Dazai off. “Go on.” 

“All you asked me to do was trace the e-mail, so don’t come to me with questions about what it means, okay? ’Cause I ain’t gonna know. So with that in mind—” 

“Get on with it.” 

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell ya. So… 

“…those e-mails were sent from inside the detective agency…from the computer of the new guy—Dazai.” 

Come again? 

My brain freezes over, my mind completely blank. 

This can’t be. It has to be some sort of trap. Dazai’s been with me the entire time investigating the… 

—The enemy is somebody who knows everything about the detective agency’s investigation and every move we make. Somebody who can constantly tamper with the scene of the crime and manipulate the situation from afar. 

“I’ll call you back.” I hang up the phone. 

“What was that about? It sounded like you were talking to Rokuzo.” 

“Just shut up for a moment.” 

My thoughts are scattered. 

Dazai. Osamu Dazai, a newcomer at the detective agency who popped up out of nowhere. 

This sequence of events started after he showed up. 

“I asked a close acquaintance in the military’s intelligence department to do a background check on him, but eerily, they found nothing. 

“It’s as if someone very carefully wiped his background clean.” 

The poison gas at the abandoned hospital was triggered when Dazai touched the trap while we were trying to save the kidnapped victims…and yet, for some reason, he wasn’t in any of the released footage. 

How was he able to stay clear of the cameras? 

A clever and cautious string puller, the Azure Apostle never soils their own hands. 

Someone of considerable intellect, whose acting abilities could deceive even embassy staff, with knowledge of the organ trade… 

I start the car engine and begin driving again. 

“Dazai.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Let’s go for a drive.” 

I turn the steering wheel, entering a deserted mountain path and continuing down it until we reach an old abandoned storehouse. 

“What’s this?” Dazai asks while looking at the storage shed. 

“It’s a storehouse I used for work once. At one time, it was used for industrial materials, but it was abandoned after the company moved overseas. Nobody comes here anymore, which makes it the perfect place to discuss things in private.” 

“Oh, great.” 

A lukewarm reply. I drive inside the storehouse and park. Since the building still has all four walls, I don’t have to worry about being watched, and I would be able to hear any reinforcements should they come. 

“Get out.” 

Without a word, Dazai gets out of the car. Before I do the same, I open my automatic pistol’s magazine to make sure it’s loaded. Then, after writing in my notebook, I exit the vehicle as well. 

“Gee, it sure is quiet here. Definitely the perfect place if you ever wanted to talk in secret. So why are we—?” 

I point the pistol at Dazai. 

“…What’s the gun for?” 

“Take a guess.” 

“Hold on, Kunikida. I thought you hated jokes like this.” 

“I do. But this isn’t a joke.” 

“This must have something to do with that phone call, right? Well, whatever you heard, I’m sure it’s all some kind of misunderstanding. I’d be able to explain myself if you just told me what he said.” 

“I hope so.” I tighten my finger around the trigger. “When the victims at the abandoned hospital were gassed, you were somehow able to avoid showing your face in the footage. Why is that?” 

“That’s it?” Dazai looks troubled. “I just happened to see the surveillance equipment when I walked into the room. I was going to tell you, but we found the victims almost immediately after, so I didn’t get the chance. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I apologize—” 

“Really? Are you sure you didn’t know where the cameras were and what they were for from the start?” I continue to press him. “Next question. You were the one who suggested we go to the embassy in order to find the bomber. How were you able to come up with that idea so quickly? Was it because you knew about Alamta beforehand, perhaps?” 

“Oh, come on. You’re joking, right? You should be praising me for my acumen, not doubting me. Is that what all this is about?” 

“Where did you learn about the organ-trafficking syndicate?” 

“That’s… Listen, I told you already. I was at the pub…” 

“You can’t come up with a better lie than that? Was it just a coincidence that you ran into Chief Taneda, head of the Special Division for Unusual Powers?” 

“W-wait! C’mon, Kunikida. Could you put the gun down? I’ll tell you everything after you do that.” 

“Why were the Azure Apostle’s e-mails sent from your computer?! Answer me!” I yell, cocking the pistol’s hammer. Dazai’s face goes blank. 

“I see. So that’s what Rokuzo told you on the phone, huh? He’s a real talented kid… I’m sure he’ll make a great detective one day.” His tone is flat, his face void of all emotion. 

Thinking back, there was always something enigmatic about Dazai. While he struck me as an eccentric, he also perfectly expressed the kinds of schemes and knowledge necessary to influence others. Just as his excellent acting at the embassy fooled everybody, who’s to say that this Dazai persona isn’t just an act as well? 

“Convince me of your innocence right now, or I’ll shoot.” 

“You can’t shoot me.” He shakes his head. “You’re conscientious and an idealist. You unravel all the mysteries, get the criminal to confess, then arrest them and have them tried by the law. That’s what’s ideal to you. You would never kill the suspect somewhere like this while the truth is still up in the air.” 

“The law is powerless against the Azure Apostle.” Even if I demand he be prosecuted, there’s no case against someone who didn’t kill or kidnap anybody, let alone instigate another to do so. It’s a lost cause. “I’ll shoot if that’s what must be done.” 

—“If you sense any signs of wickedness in his heart, shoot him.” 

The president’s words… The heavy pistol I was entrusted with… 

—“Do what must be done.” 

“Kunikida, hypothetically speaking, let’s say I am the Azure Apostle, and let’s say your ideals dictate that you should hurry up and kill me… Even then, you still couldn’t shoot me.” There’s a cold-blooded, inhuman glow in his eyes, as if he can see right through everything—as if he knows all. “Think back to when you found Alamta’s body. All he had on him was some change and a fake license, which begs the question: What happened to the detonator?” 

The detonator could be used to wirelessly set off the bomb, but there’s no threat without it. 

“Whoever’s really behind all this has it.” 

“Exactly. And what if that person knew every move the detective agency was making? And what if that person knew that the detective agency figured out where the bomb was? Don’t you think they would have moved the bomb or prepared a spare?” 

The next thing I know, Dazai’s right hand is in his overcoat pocket. I’m not able to check if he’s holding something from where I’m standing, though. Is he insinuating that there’s still a bomb out there and that he has the detonator to it? Is that why he said I couldn’t shoot him? 

—How naive. 

“I suspected as much, which is why I came prepared. Take a look at this.” 

I take this out of my breast pocket before placing it on the ground. “It’s a wireless jammer just like the one I used before. No wireless devices can be used within fifteen feet of me. A detonator is no exception.” 

“Wha—?” Dazai’s expression is overcome with surprise. My gun still aimed at him, I stick my hand into his pocket and feel something, then pull it out. 

It’s a fountain pen and a blue cloth. 

“Looks like I couldn’t fool you. Too bad it’s just an ordinary fountain pen.” Dazai cheerfully grins. It’s the same pen he showed the receptionist at the embassy, the one he claimed was his favorite or something. 

“Anyone else would have believed you, but it’s going to take a little more than that to fool your partner.” 

I unscrew the pen top and take it off, revealing not an ink cartridge but a long, thin electrical device with an exposed circuit. It’s a small transceiver. 

“Is this the detonator?” 

“…I’m impressed, Kunikida. Nothing gets by you, does it? Incredible.” His smile is cold, inhuman. “I’m so glad you were my partner.” 

Those words have me boiling. 

“Shut up!” 

I point the pistol down and shoot, sending a bullet into the floor by his feet. Dazai doesn’t even bat an eye. 

“What do you want?! Why did you threaten the detective agency?! What was the point of killing the missing people and setting the bomb?! You… You were…” 

You were so talented. 

I couldn’t have asked for a better partner. 

“This is my final warning. Tell me everything, or I’ll shoot.” 

Who is he? Who is the Azure Apostle? He has others do his bidding before disposing of them without so much as lifting a finger…all while getting the victims involved as well. 

Kill the criminal— 

—“Then let us realize an ideal world…” 

—“Not by the hand of a god but by our own imperfect bloodstained hands.” 

It can’t be. 

I glance at the blue cloth I swiped from Dazai’s pocket. Have I seen something like this recently? 

—“I heard they never found the Azure King’s body, either.” 

—“What if he faked his death to escape and is now in hiding somewhere?” 

We know who the Azure King was. He used to be a high-ranking government official. However, changing one’s face or background isn’t impossible with the help of a specialist. Even fooling the military police’s forensics unit and faking one’s death isn’t entirely unfathomable. Could it be that…? 

—“We looked into his past but found nothing. It’s completely blank.” 

Then could Dazai be…? 

“Are you— Are you the Azure King? Was this grand scheme of yours all just to get back at the detective agency?” 

“Shoot me.” 

He grins mirthfully from ear to ear. There’s tranquility in his smile. 

“You win, Kunikida. Shoot me. You must have received orders to, yes? This is how it should be, and you have every right to.” 

“What do you mean I have ‘every right’?!” 

“I wouldn’t mind being shot by you.” 

No. This isn’t what I want. I want to hear the truth. I want Dazai to tell me the truth. 

—“However, if you sense any signs of wickedness in his heart…” 

No. I must find the truth. 

—“Shoot him.” 

“I wouldn’t mind being shot by you”? 

I see. 

It all makes sense now. 

“Understood.” 

I lift the pistol, aligning the sight just between his eyebrows. Tucking my arms in, I close one eye while carefully aiming. There is no way to miss from this distance. 

“I’m going to shoot, Dazai. I’m really going to do it, so if you’re going to panic, you better start now.” 

His peaceful smile never once wavers. 

“Shoot me,” he says. 

There is no longer any hesitation in his words. I bend my index finger around the trigger, and a bullet spits out of the muzzle. 

The bullet tears through the air until it hits him right between the eyes. Dazai’s head flies back, causing his spine to arch backward. Knocked off his feet, he flies into the air and then— 

—he hits the ground. 

I lower my pistol. White gunpowder faintly drifts from the muzzle. 

“……” 

Perfect accuracy: The bullet hit him right in the middle of his skull. There was no way I’d miss this close. After putting the safety back on, I check the pistol to make sure there won’t be any misfires before returning the weapon to my pocket. I crush the fountain pen–shaped detonator in my hand, bending and twisting it until it can no longer function. 

I have to think about my next move. I begin to walk back to the parked car. After taking a few steps, my cell phone starts to ring. I seem to be out of the wireless jammer’s range now. Expressionless, I look down at the screen. It’s the detective agency. 

“Yes?” 

It’s Dr. Yosano. 

“Kunikida? Listen, we just got another threat from that obnoxious Azure Apostle guy! I’m sending it to you right now, so get a move on!” 

“But I’m—” 

The call ends, and I get a notification telling me I’ve received an e-mail. I open my in-box to display the following message: 

Dear Sir, 

I am contacting you to discuss a third request. Passenger airline flight JA815S is currently midflight. I have taken the liberty of sending an interference signal to the aircraft’s engine and yoke that will disable their functions. I would like for you to remove the device from the aircraft and save the passengers. 

Thank you for your understanding. 

Yours sincerely, 

The Azure Apostle 

“An airplane…?” 

Another threat? Now? 

Preventing an aircraft attack presents a far greater challenge than a kidnapping or bomb. Trying to hop on a high-speed airplane midflight to remove some device is beyond the realm of possibility. I would need a military fighter aircraft to even consider it. No, I still wouldn’t be able to get in if the passenger plane had some sort of system to prevent intrusion. 

While shutting down the engine and control wheel would indeed cut the plane’s power, it would still be able to glide for a short while. But even then, without the power to steer, there would be nothing preventing the plane from suddenly dropping before its inevitable crash. Without control, it would be difficult to land in a relatively safe location such as the ocean, and if the plane hits the ground, then everyone on the plane will die, barring a miracle more awesome than the creation of the universe itself. 

There’s only one way to end this seemingly inescapable disaster. 

I glance at Dazai. He’s lying on his back with his eyes closed. 

Then I slowly approach him. 

“How long do you plan on playing dead? Get up. We’ve got work to do.” I kick his body. 

“Hmm? Aw, c’mon, just a few more minutes.” Dazai pouts. 

“Something happen?” 

“Yeah, we got another e-mail from the real enemy threatening a plane crash, so if you’re not the person behind this, get up and help.” 

“I knew you would use that to shoot me, Kunikida.” Dazai grins, still on his back. 

“Same as ever, I see. You are free to scheme all you want, but don’t involve me in your ridiculous skits.” 

I take the pistol I shot earlier and toss it at Dazai. He catches it, and almost instantly, it transforms back into a piece of notebook paper in his hands. 

“But how did you know? I received a pistol just like it from the director. What made you so sure I wouldn’t shoot you with that one?” 

“Because I trust you, of course. Someone as cautious as you wouldn’t threaten a person with a real gun out of the blue like that.” 

“Hearing you say the word trust really tarnishes the word.” 

The pistol I shot Dazai with was one I created out of a sheet of paper using The Matchless Poet. Since the bullets were also created using my skill, they were nullified and vaporized by Dazai’s own skill on contact. 

“When did you first realize it?” 

“When you told me to shoot you.” 

Dazai would never say, “I wouldn’t mind being shot by you.” One thing I learned while working with him is that nine times out of ten, he’s messing with someone when he says hackneyed phrases like that. Under normal circumstances, he would have said, “Now I can finally die,” while dancing and jumping for joy. 

“Oh, and one more thing. This pen of yours—this isn’t a detonator. It’s a covert listening device, isn’t it?” 

“Quite so.” 

I haven’t been working as a detective all this time just for show. I can tell whether something’s a detonator. That little charade of his was to get me to block the bug. He predicted I would bring a jammer and use it. 

“When were the fountain pens swapped?” 

“You know when we were by the fishing-gear shop? Well, someone switched the pens on me when I was pushing through the crowd. Ugh. That really was my favorite pen, y’know. They’ll be sorry when I make them reimburse me. It was really hard to write with, though.” 

“So that must have been when they put that azure banner in your pocket, too.” 

The enemy was planning on framing Dazai as the mastermind behind this string of events, but we were one step ahead of them. 

“But I know you. You wouldn’t let the enemy just brush by you when you knew they were coming, right?” 

“Of course not. In fact, I’d been playing the villain for a good while just for this moment. I waited for the moment they bugged me to place a GPS tracker on them. They were fools to believe they could ever outwit me.” 

Dazai knew what the enemy was trying to do and still went along with their scheme. A criminal like the Azure Apostle always needs others to do their dirty work. The kidnappings, the bomb—every criminal act was outsourced, every event carefully planned to avoid suspicion. So why not outsource the role of “Azure Apostle” to someone else as well? And Dazai figured it out. 

“It first hit me when the victims were gassed at the abandoned hospital because I never touched the electric lock on that cage, and yet, gas started to spray out from who knows where. Which means the enemy was watching us and controlling the poison-gas device remotely to make it look like I did it. I thought, ‘Why would they do that?’ That’s when I started to feel something was up, and it wasn’t long before I figured out what they were trying to do.” 

The enemy’s objective was to frame someone, and who better than a newcomer with an unknown past? Dazai, however, didn’t take any steps to prevent that from happening, either. 

“This villain we’re up against never reveals themselves. We have no evidence to identify them, and they’ve thoroughly made sure they can’t be traced. Even so, this person still has to come in contact with the outside world from time to time, and that’s when they make their puppets. The only people lucky enough to meet the Azure Apostle, albeit briefly, are the perpetrators like the cabdriver and bomber: the ones who actually carry out the crimes. So my only chance of coming into contact with this guy was becoming a criminal myself, and if you hadn’t realized that, I would’ve been locked away in the criminal’s place.” 

That’s why Dazai continued to pretend he didn’t know he was being set up until he could destroy the listening device in a natural way. From the point of view of our eavesdropping enemy, the bug no longer functioning is not a problem. They probably believe that everything is going according to plan. 

A brief taste of freedom from the enemy’s watch—Dazai didn’t tell me what was really going on and continued to play the villain just to create this moment for us. 

I am once against struck with admiration. 

The man is incredible. 

Our enemy has the wits and resources to manipulate a seasoned bomber. Simply being able to realize they’re setting you up is an amazing feat itself. Dazai, however, worked their scheme into his own like a hook to drag out our foe. 

“I bet the guy who planted the bug on me is laughing themselves silly right about now. They probably think their little plan worked and that I was killed by one of my own. This would also be the perfect moment for the enemy to make their next move.” 

I nod. It was probably no coincidence that the enemy waited for this moment to threaten us with the airplane. After listening to our conversation, they probably don’t even doubt that Dazai was executed, and their assumption was almost a reality. They were waiting for Dazai to go down before sending in the third threat. 

“This would’ve been the worst possible timing for the detective agency to get the threat. It’s impossible to get inside a moving plane to remove that device. Plus, only moments ago, Kunikida killed me, the supposed author of said threats. The case would be sunk, and it’d be curtains for the agency.” 

He’s right. If the scenario played out as the enemy had written it, then that is exactly what would have happened. 

—And if it had been anyone other than Dazai, it probably would have worked. 

“There is only one way we can do this… Follow the tracking device you placed on the enemy to their hideout and put an end to this ourselves!” 

“Let’s show this ‘Azure Apostle’ fellow who they’re dealing with.” 

Dazai gets to his feet. 

Leaving the bug and jammer in the abandoned storehouse, we get in the car and start our search. Dazai turns on his handheld transmitter, displaying the location of the tracking device. It’s relatively close by in the mountains, and it’s not moving. I’ll have to ask the detective agency to gather information on the area. If this is where the enemy’s hideout is, then I cannot deny the possibility of there being some sort of defense facility. 

However, before that happens, the agency gets in touch with me and says they were contacted by someone on the plane. Apparently, somebody happened to find a video communication device while checking the passengers’ belongings. The agency transfers the video call to my cell phone; I can see the cabin of the plane. 

“I… I’m, um, one of the people on the airplane. Mommy w-wasn’t feeling well…so I’m talking f-for her. The p-plane is falling…s-so fast… Everybody’s c-crying and screaming…” 

“Damn it!” 

Speaking into the camera is a little girl no more than ten years old. Tears stream down her face as the aircraft rocks back and forth. 

“The pilot t-told us to s-stay in our seats, b-but…but nobody’s listening, and there are s-some people fighting…” 

“I’m speaking to you from on the ground. Can you hear me? I know it’s hard, but I need you to tell me what’s going on in the plane right now.” 

“It’s f-falling. They s-said the engine stopped moving…and th-the steering wheel d-doesn’t work anymore, either.” 

Although clearly terrified, it seems the little girl understands what’s going on. She desperately tries to describe the situation as best she can. 

“Can you hear me? Are we…gonna d-die? E-everyone says we’re gonna die… I’m scared… Mommy’s not moving…or a-answering me. P-please, please help us…” 

“Hello, little one. Can you hear me?” Dazai takes over the call. “We here are airplane experts. There’s nothing to worry about anymore. We’re going to fix the plane. What’s your name, little miss?” 

“Ch-Chiyo…” 

“Chiyo, everything’s going to be okay. Got any snacks with you?” 

“Mommy gave me this piece of candy…” 

“Candy, huh? I love candy, too. It’s so sweet, and it really helps you relax, doesn’t it?” 

“Dazai—” 

“I’ve got this… Chiyo, first, I want you to really take your time enjoying that piece of candy. After that, I’m going to need you to take that device you’re talking into and bring it to the captain’s room. Do you know where the captain’s room is?” 

Chiyo nods, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

“Don’t worry. There’s nobody screaming in there, and I bet your mommy will be feeling better in no time.” 

“B-but I… I can’t go alone. I can’t leave Mommy behind…” 

“Your mommy’s gonna be just fine. The pilot will make things all better. So I’m going to need you to take that device to their room and give it to them, okay?” 

The little girl stares at the floor for a few moments, then takes the candy out of her pocket and stands, albeit trembling. From there, she starts walking toward the cockpit. My hand tightens around the steering wheel. 

“This is the captain of flight 815S. We are currently experiencing engine failure and are unable to make contact with any control towers, so we’ve had to resort to internal navigation. Who am I speaking to?” The captain takes the call. He appears to be an experienced pilot a little over forty years old. 

Facing the communicator, I reply, “We’re with the Armed Detective Agency. The military’s deployment forces won’t make it in time, so we will be handling the situation. I need you to be specific about what’s happening to the airplane.” 

“The Armed Detective Agency? …You mean those detectives who let those missing people get killed? Just great. Just in case something happens to us—” 

“Sorry to disappoint you, but we’re the only ones who understand what’s going on here. It would take several hours before the military could grasp the situation and orchestrate a rescue mission.” 

“We don’t have ‘several hours’! Nearly every electronic device on this plane has quit working, so we can’t increase or decrease speed, let alone roll. If my calculations are correct, we have only an hour before we crash!” 

“Listen to me. The airplane was purposefully sabotaged. Are there any strange devices on board? Or was anything destroyed?” 

“…My copilot discovered a large iron box in the freight room. We found out that it was connected to some wires, but the iron box itself was welded to the aircraft. We wouldn’t be able to move or destroy it with what we have available.” 

I see. The device must be interfering with the aircraft system. The enemy must have sneaked into a hangar where the aircraft was being stored, then welded a device that would temporarily paralyze the plane’s control system. After takeoff, they must have remotely activated the device to prevent the aircraft from staying airborne. 

I remember reading something similar to this for work once. The now-defunct National Defense Force had been developing equipment capable of crippling aircraft functions. Eventually, however, they learned that you would first have to carry the device onto the aircraft, so they abandoned the project. In spite of that, it bears a lot of similarities to this case. If the same type of device has been brought into this aircraft, then signals being sent from the ground are controlling interference. In short, cutting off the control unit’s signal on the ground could very likely restore control on the aircraft. 

“Captain, we are going to remove the source of the problem. I need you to be prepared to regulate the airplane’s altitude when I give you the signal.” 

“Roger that. Just know that I won’t be able to gain altitude if we get too close to the ground. I need you to hurry. We have four hundred and ten passengers on board, and according to my calculations, we have only an hour before we crash around Yokohama’s designated tax haven.” 

Only an hour. 

There most likely wouldn’t be any survivors, regardless of how the plane crashes. To make matters worse, if it crashes in a densely populated industrial area such as the designated tax haven, then the damage it would bring would be devastating. Alamta’s bomb would have been nothing compared with the disaster this would cause. 

There’s no time. 

I step on the accelerator. 

Following the tracker device, we race through the mountains of Yokohama. There’s not a house in sight, and the rough bushlands cast shadows onto the car. 

“Looks like this is it.” 

I stop the vehicle. Built into the mountain face is a black iron door. It leads to an air-raid shelter built during the war for the now-defunct National Defense Force. Never used, the crumbling military base has succumbed to the unforgiving flow of time. 

I see now—shooting off a cannon inside wouldn’t even catch anyone’s attention, much less bring the device here. 

That’s when out of nowhere, the sound of gunfire assaults our ears from both sides. The company car shrieks as bullets rain down on it. 

“We’re under attack! Get out of the car!” 

I slam on the gas and quickly accelerate before jumping out and escaping into the thickets. 

“I guess this means we’re at the right place…!” 

The armed enemies are shooting at us with rifles from the lee of some slanted rocks. There are three…no, four of them. 

“What do we do, Kunikida?!” Dazai shouts out while hiding in the shadow of a slope. 

“They’re only trying to buy time! I’ll provide backup! Just get inside that building!” 

Bullets fly over my head as I yell. I glance over at our attackers. All they’re doing is firing at random and taking cover. Their guns are good quality, but they are not as experienced as the Port Mafia gangsters. 

“The Matchless Poet: Flash Grenade!” 

I’ve been using far too many pages out of my notebook lately! 

I catapult the flash grenade, and the enemies recoil from the noisy explosion over their heads. 

“Now’s your chance! Go!” I urge Dazai while firing my weapon. He springs into action. 

Dazai separates from Kunikida and races through the decaying air-raid shelter. The tracker device’s signal is coming from the maintenance depot on the other side. After climbing out of the pit, he passes through the marshaling yard before immediately dashing to the two-story maintenance depot’s galvanized iron outer walls. 

The abandoned maintenance depot has a hangar for storing cars and aircrafts on the first floor, with an operations room looking down at the hangar on the second floor. Dazai dashes up the staircase and rushes inside the operations room. 

“It’s here, huh?” 

While the floors are discolored and worn with rust at every turn, the door’s hinges appear to be new, implying someone has been frequently visiting this timeworn room. A near-empty liquor bottle rests on the table by a faintly smoking cigarette. The flashing light on the large communicator attached to the wall blinks, indicating it’s still working. 

Dazai is approaching the communicator when a shadow falls over him—a large foreign man now stands at his back. The muscle-bound, tanned individual with a tattoo of a camellia on his arm looks at Dazai in silence. Old scars run down his bald head and over his dark-green eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” the giant barks. 

“What am I doing here? …Isn’t it obvious?! I came to warn you!” Dazai swiftly turns around and shouts. “The Armed Detective Agency found our hideout! We’ve gotta get outta here, or we’re all done for! Where’s the boss? Come on—we don’t have much time! They’re gonna come breaking through the entrance any minute now!” He urgently rattles on without even taking a moment to breathe. 

“I don’t know you.” 

“Well, of course you don’t. I work undercover for the boss. You know how secretive the guy is. Now hurry! Go get ’im!” 

A hint of bewilderment flashes across the man’s face. 

“Okay.” 

He turns his back to Dazai to leave the operations room. 

Crack. 

The large man sluggishly falls to the ground. A large bump is forming on his head. Grinning, Dazai stands behind him with the bottle of liquor cracked in half in hand. 

“The boss is a real secretive fellow. Not that I’ve ever met the guy, but it’s just a hunch.” 

Having no more use for the bottle, Dazai tosses it to the floor before facing the communicator once more. 

“All that’s left is to send a stop signal with this.” 

I start to follow Dazai after neutralizing the enemy. In stark contrast with the shoot-out by the entrance, a dead silence hangs over the building’s interior. Fresh footprints and tire tracks litter the ground, making it rather apparent this is their hideout. But I have no way of finding Dazai now. Plus, he has the transmitter’s tracking device. 

However, as I walk past the galvanized iron outer walls of a maintenance depot, I suddenly hear the sound of glass shattering coming from inside. 

—Is Dazai fighting with the enemy? 

Pressing my back against the wall, I get into stance with my pistol. I plunge through the entrance with the muzzle aimed inside, searching for the enemy. It appears the first floor was used for storing armored cars and aircrafts, but now it is nothing more than a vacant lot of exposed earth. I guess that leaves an office and the operations room for the second floor. If the communicator is anywhere, it would be on the second floor. 

At that moment, I get a terrible feeling that something is wrong. A chill shoots down my spine, and it feels as if swarms of insects are crawling under my skin. Unable to endure it, I fall to my knees. That’s when I notice some sort of patterns drawn into the ground: circles and lines along with various diagrams and letters. The illegible letters seem to be ancient symbols. It resembles a magic circle for rituals using a grimoire, but…my spine has been tingling with chills ever since I stepped on it. Which means— 

I roll up my sleeve, an unbearable itching pain overtaking my arm. 

The number “39” surfaces on my skin. 

I check my entire body. Arms, chest, ankles: nine brands, resembling tattoos, cover me. I know for a fact these weren’t there a few seconds ago. 

“Gimme … Gimme your number.” 

I instinctively point my pistol in the direction of the fragile voice, where I find a boy—rather, a short young man—staggering in my direction. I aim my gun at him. 

“Stop right there! We’re with the Armed Detective—” 

Before I can finish my sentence, I take an invisible blow from the side, which knocks me to the floor. I am slammed into the ground only to bounce back up and collide with the galvanized iron wall hard enough to warp it. My head is spinning, my vision swirling. I have no sense of balance after all that spinning from the hit. I have to fight back. 

I’m somehow able to pick up my pistol lying on the ground by my side, but immediately, my arm is struck by another invisible blow that knocks it into the air and bends me backward. My bones creak as the pistol soars through the air. 

“A feisty one, ain’tcha? How excellent. You must have a wonderful number.” 

The skinny young man picks up the pistol and curiously peeks into the muzzle. 

Obviously he’s a skill user, and one with a battle-oriented ability, at that. They appear to be some kind of long-range attacks. I look at the marking on my skin: the number “32.” 

Impossible— 

“I’m impressed you found the place. That’s the Armed Detective Agency for ya. That’s the amazing Armed Detective Agency for ya.” 

The slender man points my gun in my direction, then empties the magazine until not a single bullet remains and the firing pin takes to the sky. The bullets pierce the ground before me. 

“C’mon—I wouldn’t shoot ya. It’s a very important number, after all. I couldn’t shoot ya.” 

A morbid smile runs across the slim figure’s lips as he walks toward me. 

“Every time you take damage, that number gets smaller. It even gets smaller as time passes. And when it reaches zero—” 

“You… You’re the skill user who killed the taxi driver and Alamta?” 

“Heh-heh… Ha-ha… Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh, of course a detective would ask that. Ha-ha-ha!” 

I fix my eyes on the young blond man dressed in a threadbare hooded jacket. Judging by appearance alone, he doesn’t seem to have an aptitude for fighting. However, there is one thing I am sure of. 

—This skill user is the enemy’s boss. 

Dazai operates the communicator. 

“Yeesh, how old is this thing?! So if this is the frequency and this is the direction—” 

A shadow moves behind him. 

“It’s no use! I can’t input the final command— Hang on, do I need the control key to change the settings?!” 

Colossal fists rain down from behind, smashing into Dazai’s temple and spinning him across the floor like a rag doll. There’s a dull thud when he collides with the desk. 

“…That hurt, y’know.” 

Dazai stands, and his lips curl upward—a fierce grin—as fresh blood drips down his cheek. 

The massive man slowly and emotionlessly approaches Dazai. On each hand are hammer-like steel knuckles. The man raises his arm in the air and swings once more, but Dazai kicks off the desk and dodges. In just one punch, the steel fist smashes the wooden desk into splinters. 

“That’s quite an arm you’ve got there! You really oughta consider working in freight delivery!” 

Dazai slides across the floor to create some distance before facing the behemoth. 

“Well, this is just no good. I’m quite weak, you see. A big guy like yourself would snap me right in two… But I promised Chiyo I would save her.” 

“I won’t let you use…the communicator.” 

The man blocks the path to the device. 

“Really? Guess I’ll just give up and run away, then.” Dazai swiftly turns around and bolts for the door. 

“Get back here!” 

As the giant man chases after him, Dazai races through the wooden door and closes it on his way out. Once the enemy reaches out to open the door, Dazai drop-kicks it from the other side, hitting his opponent in the process. Hampered by the door and unable to support the weight of Dazai’s jump, the man is sent flying back. Fragments from the wooden door scatter as he rolls on the ground. 

“Striiike!” 

Upon landing, Dazai approaches the giant to follow up with another hit. The enemy swiftly goes for a sweep, seemingly unfazed by the kick, but Dazai leaps back as if he saw it coming. 

“You’re really tough! You know that?” 

The man uses his back muscles to kick up off the ground, then throws a hook. Dazai manages to bob and weave out of the way, but part of his clothing catches on the steel knuckles just enough to pull him off-balance. 

“Ack—” 

A fist starts to bury into Dazai’s stomach. He instantly jumps back to soften the blow, but the man’s massive arm follows through until Dazai’s body is thrown back by a punch strong enough to destroy a table. Doubled over, he soars straight into the wall on the other side of the room. 

Blood and spittle drip from his mouth. The enemy raises his stout arm into the air and swings it like a club. Dazai rolls to his side to evade, but the man follows up with a backhand, knocking the detective’s head so hard that his neck almost snaps as he is driven into the ground. Trembling, he staggers to his feet. 

“Strong and fast, eh? …What, were you raised by gorillas or something?” 

While he may be joking, the sense of crisis in Dazai’s eyes tells a different story: 

—I can’t beat this guy. 

Dazai glances out the window at the storage room below, where he finds Kunikida fighting against a skill user. 

Facing the young man, I charge. Now that I’ve lost my pistol, close-quarters combat is my only chance to subdue him. The skill user steps backward, but I pursue and reach out to grab his arm. Most of the martial arts I know involves using the opponent’s momentum against them, which is why I have to grab them first if they refuse to engage. I drag his arm to pull him off-balance before moving out of the way. Then I step in to grab him, but that’s when I see him raise his arm into the air, and I come to a sudden stop. 

—Here comes another shock wave! 

Rolling to the side, I evade the ray coming from his arm. I dodge his attack, and yet, I don’t. The wave knocks me back, and every bone in my body lets out a crack. My brain shakes, unable to keep up with the sudden acceleration of my body, and I start blacking out. I know I dodged his attack, so why—? 

“Here’s the thing about my attacks… You can’t dodge them. I’m not hitting you with a shock wave. I’m able to accelerate those marked with the ‘number’ in any direction I want. Any direction I want. Any direction. Which is why—” 

“Gwah?!” 

My spine creaks. Following the swing of his arm, I am slammed into the ground. It feels as if gravity has suddenly been increased a hundredfold. 

“Oh look, a fly!” 

He lifts his arm into the air only to swing it down once more, crashing me into the floor like a flyswatter. He repeatedly slams me on the ground. It feels like being hit by a train over and over again. My bones crack; my skin tears. The numbers on my body have already decreased to “21.” 

“That number is how much time you have left to live! Once it reaches zero, you writhe in pain until you’re dead! Nobody can escape their fate! Nobody! Nobody! Nobody! Nobody!” 

The acceleration stops, but I’m unable to even lift a finger. It’s as if every muscle in my body is torn. A warm liquid creeps into every breath. 

“Give up yet, Detective?” 

The young man casually approaches me as I remain lying on the ground, unable to move. It hurts to breathe. Every joint in my body is screaming in pain. 

“I shoulda killed you all one by one like this from the start. I didn’t need to go through the trouble of framing the mysterious newcomer to bring down the detective agency from the inside. Besides, that strategy failed anyway.” 

The young man stands next to me and casually kicks me in the head. I see stars, but I can’t do anything about it. 

“But it’s always good to be optimistic. I’ll kill you, kill you, and after that, I’ll kill your friend upstairs—kill him, too. After that, the plane’s gonna crash, and the detective agency’s rep will be ruined, and that’ll make my work in Yokohama a little easier. It’ll make it a little easier, right?” 

“Your work…?” 

“I’m sick and tired of shuffling goods in secret while living in fear of private organizations of skill users like yours. I’m gonna live in a world where I can buy all the organs I need and sell all the weapons I want. I’ll make a killing.” 

Organs…and weapons. 

This is the organ-trafficking syndicate! If the Port Mafia are the sellers, then that would make these guys the buyers. They’re an underground criminal organization and general trading company in the black market for illegal goods such as organs and weapons. They have countless smugglers under their banner and ties with criminal organizations domestically and internationally. 

“I learned from the Azure King incident that the Armed Detective Agency isn’t to be taken lightly. We’re big on discretion. We crush our enemies before they’re a threat. That’s the basics of the basics of business.” 

The numbers on my body are now at “11.” I guess whatever happened to the taxi driver and Alamta is going to happen to me if these reach “00.” 

“…You seem to be making good money selling weapons to foreign merchants.” 

“There’s so much to like about this city: the Port Mafia, the conflict in the foreign communities, the lawless areas of Yokohama, and the fights just waiting to escalate. I love this place.” 

He’s right. The fighting in this city will never disappear. An arms dealer such as him must feel like a ship’s captain arriving at a new frontier. They buy organs or foolhardy thugs to sell to foreign syndicates, while bringing smuggled military weapons and seasoned mercenaries into the country to make a profit. And just like that, a new death trade is carried in from abroad to a world where the law and morals are meaningless. 

However… 

“I…cannot allow you to sell any more weapons. Even the smallest street fight could end with serious injuries or death if a dagger or firearm was brought into the equation. That’s why—” 

“Whoa, there. What d’you think you’re doing?” 

The enemy raises his arm, sending my body straight up. As the air is expelled from my lungs, the notebook I was hiding in my breast pocket slips out. 

Shit! 

“You thought you could buy some time talking so you could write in your notebook, huh? But that’s not happening. That is not happening. I know what your skill is. Anyway, I’ll be taking this.” 

He holds the notebook in the air and shakes it at me. My skill has two disadvantages: One is the fact that it takes time to write something in my notebook and rip out the page. The other…is the fact that I cannot use my skill at all if my notebook has been stolen. 

Just like that, my skill has been completely neutralized. I still have my wire gun from the last fight tucked in my belt behind me, but it doesn’t have enough power to kill, let alone seriously wound someone. Nevertheless, I cannot give up. That’s the one thing I can’t do. Not because I have to save the lives of the victims on the plane or because it’s my job as a detective at the Armed Detective Agency, but because I’ve decided that’s what needs to be done. 

An agonizing pain shoots down my body, but I ignore it and get to my feet. 

“Wow… Your eyes still got a little life in ’em, huh? Guess that means you want seconds!” 

I take another hit from behind that spins me around and rams me into the ground. 

“Gah…!” 

I cough up blood. My vision blurs. I don’t even know what kind of position my body is in anymore. 

“And now for the grand finale. Here, I have a key. What key, you ask? The release key for the communicator. You won’t be able to save the people on that airplane without this… You want it? You want it, don’cha?” 

He pulls a thin key out of his pocket. It’s a small and fragile key with a dull yellow tint. I gaze at it. 

“Want it? Here ya go.” 

He bends the key until it audibly snaps in half. 

“What—?” 

“Ah-ha-ha-ha… Ha-ha-ha-ha! All hope is lost! Now nothing can prevent the plane from crashing! It’s over! It’s over, it’s over, it’s over! Ah-ha-ha-ha!” 

The young man scornfully laughs—the wicked laugh of a man watching the world burn. 

“Now, let’s put an end to this. I’m gonna kill you. I’ll kill you, and we will scream our victory from the mountaintops!” 

He raises his hand. The number on me is now displaying “04.” 

I instinctively look up at the operations room on the second floor where I see Dazai. Dazai, bloodied and beaten… 

Kunikida is outside the window, riddled with wounds. Dazai takes another blow to the face so powerful it shatters the window on impact. Fragments of glass scatter into the air. 

Dazai looks at Kunikida, and their eyes meet. They yell. 

“KUNIKIDA!” 

“DAZAI!” 

That is all it takes. We know what to do. 

I promptly pull out the wire gun at my waist and shoot it at Dazai. The hook hits the wall right next to him just as I wanted it to. Immediately, I reel in the wire, hoisting my body into the air. 

Dazai kicks off the window frame and leaps out the window. Kunikida’s eyes are locked on him as he flies through the air at the end of the steel wire. 

They exchange glances, then words, before the distance between them widens again. 

Utilizing the tensile force of the wire, I swiftly glide through the air. Dazai has already left the operations room and is falling toward the ground. After arriving at a point right under the window to the operations room, I continue letting the wire pull me up… 

…allowing me to run straight up the wall. 

“HAAAAAAH!” 

Kicking off the wall, I lunge into the room. I look up and see a tanned giant of a man equipped with some sort of brass knuckles. A fist powerful enough to crush a person immediately swings past my head. 

The behemoth is thrown into the air. 

His path through the air carries him right into the wall. His face is overcome with astonishment and bewilderment. He has no idea I just used his momentum to throw him over my shoulder. However, the man soon stands back up and throws a second punch. 

“You should have stayed down.” 

I roll with his attack and grab his wrist. Then, pulling him forward and off-balance, I gently cup his elbow while shifting my weight backward to lift him off the ground before throwing him along the wall and into the ceiling. His eyes roll back. 

“What—?! You’re…” 

“Sorry, but you’re up against me now.” 

After landing on the first floor, Dazai casually walks over to the young man. 

“Why…?! Why won’t any numbers appear?! I can’t accelerate, either! Why, why, why is this happening?!” 

“You should’ve done your homework. Skills don’t work on me.” 

The enemy steps back while raising his hand, but Dazai, unconcerned, only continues to get closer. 

“Explain yourself! How did you two know to switch opponents just by looking at each other?! What kinda trick was that?” 

Wearing an unwavering smile, Dazai continues to close the distance. The young man steps back, overwhelmed. 

“J-just who the hell are you?! Your entire history was wiped clean! Who are you?! Who?! Who?!” 

“Oh, looks like I forgot to introduce myself.” 

Dazai towers over the young man and peers down at him. Then he gently clenches his fist before raising it into the air. 

Dazai’s right fist connects with the young man’s face, spinning him a full 180 degrees. The enemy’s eyes roll back into his head as he passes out. 

“The name’s Osamu Dazai, Armed Detective Agency personnel.” 

The giant man charges at me like a wild beast before I throw him into the air. The stronger my opponent, the more powerful the throw. After a few tosses, I eventually hurl him through the window frame, where he free-falls all the way down to the first floor. 

When I glance out the window, I see that he’s foaming at the mouth, out cold. He won’t be waking up from that for a while. Then I look at my body to find that the numbers have vanished. Dazai must have defeated that skill user. 

Phew. Thank goodness. 

Relieved, I check the communicator. All that’s left is to cut this machine off. I operate the vintage device, fumbling with the frequency and direction. It’s a rather old machine, but I can manage. 

“Kunikida!” 

Dazai comes rushing up the stairs now that the enemy below is defeated. 

“I think we need this release key to use the communicator! But it looks like that jerk broke it before passing out!” 

Flustered, he shows me the bent key. 

“I know.” 

“We can’t work the communicator with this! The plane’s—” 

“I’m constantly running into issues. The unexpected is my norm. That’s why…” 

I tear the stitches off my hip pocket and pull out a sheet of paper. 

“…I always have a spare page with me for emergencies.” 

I unfold the paper and write with my own blood. 

“The Matchless Poet: Release Key!” 

The piece of paper transforms into a yellow release key. 

“And as long as I get one good look, I can produce a perfect replica using my skill.” 

“Wh-whoa… Really?” The unflappable Dazai finally opens his eyes wide in astonishment. 

“Really. Surprised? I think you are. All right, we made a promise. You owe me a drink.” 

Operating the communicator’s control panel, I adjust the settings, insert the release key, and turn it. Immediately afterward, a green light illuminates the control panel. I forcefully press the disable button. 

“Now the airplane should have full control again! Dazai, call the pilot!” 

“Already on it!” 

We rush toward the outside, but at the same time, I can hear a low rumbling coming from somewhere. It’s getting closer. 

This sound— 

It gradually grows louder until it becomes a deafening roar. 

“Captain! Can you hear me?! We stopped the interference device! You should be able to control the plane now. Hurry! Pull up the nose and gain some altitude!” 

“I’m trying! But we’ve already lost too much altitude! Damn it! Come on!” 

The roaring that we’re hearing is the passenger aircraft flying right above us! 

Dazai and I race out of the building. A colossal shadow sweeps the ground as the heavens thunder overhead. I gaze into the sky. 

It’s getting closer! The airplane flies over us, gradually being sucked in by the land up ahead. 

Heading toward the city… And down toward the earth… 

Don’t fall. You absolutely must not fall. 

Don’t fall. Fly to the sky! Fly! 

“FLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!” I bellow. 

The passenger aircraft’s shadow grazes the ground before the nose pulls up. A surging gust storms across the land as the aircraft regains altitude, and the plane flies toward the evening sun. 

—It’s flying. 

They made it. 

Together, Dazai and I watch the airplane slowly melt into the deep-crimson sky.