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Kapitel 52

Natsume looked at me.

"What? Xiao Guan, so it's someone you know?"

I was at a loss for words.

"Since you're an acquaintance, could you ask him for me? He knows where Kanako is."

“Mr. Sekiguchi, is this rude gentleman someone you know? If so, please pass on my message that I don’t know the Kanako he mentioned.”

The two spoke almost simultaneously, and even I found it incredible that I could distinguish between their words.

Why is Kubo here? Kyogoku-do said that most things in this world are based on chance, but if even this is a coincidence, isn't that too much of a coincidence?

Kubo, as always, had his hair neatly styled, his eyebrows as thin as if drawn with an eyebrow pencil, and his long, narrow, almond-shaped eyes. He wore a velvet coat and a scarf instead of a tie, looking extremely gentlemanly. In contrast, Natsuki's strikingly large eyes were half-open beneath his thick, seemingly glued-together eyebrows, his expression relaxed. His red sweater, though casual, actually looked quite stylish on him.

Both of them give the impression of being artificial creations, yet they share no common ground and each possesses an incompatible world. To each other, the other is like someone from another world.

"Hey, Xiao Guan, what are you daydreaming about? You really are a turtle, you turtle. Never mind, the more important thing is you!"

"My last name is Kubo."

"You really dare to say you don't know Kanako? Then take a look at this photo. If you say you do know her after you see it, I won't forgive you."

For some reason, Natsume sounded quite smug as he pulled a photo from his pocket and handed it to Kubo.

Kubo took the photo with surprise; he was still wearing white gloves today.

What he was handed was probably a photo of Kanako that he'd gotten from Masuoka. But upon closer inspection, it's clear that Kubo had no reason to know Yuzuki Kanako. Even encountering Kubo here was far too coincidental. If Kubo did have any strange reaction after seeing the photo, it would go beyond coincidence and become a farce. Because this kind of plot only appears in third-rate detective novels that rely on coincidence.

However--

Kubo stared at the photograph, frozen in place just like Natsuki had been moments before. He held the photograph, his missing fingers on his white glove trembling slightly.

"See, you really do know him. You're a liar."

No—I don't know him—

"Still denying it. Xiao Guan, how come so many of your friends are liars? Is this what they call birds of a feather flocking together?"

Natsume's rude remarks did not reach Kubo's ears.

"Is this girl named Kanako?"

"Oh yeah. What, you don't know my name? Oh no, what's my name?"

"Yuzuki. This girl's name is Yuzuki Kanako. Kubo, you wouldn't have—actually met this girl before, would you?"

With a myriad of complex thoughts, I questioned Kubo.

"No—of course I've never seen it, it's just—"

Listless, this wasn't the reaction I knew of Kubo Shunji. The Kubo before me no longer possessed the sharp, dagger-like edge I'd seen when we first met. Even though we'd only met once, I'd already formed a mental image of Kubo Shunji. Perhaps that was just my overactive imagination, and the disharmony I felt now was simply due to the overly strong impression I'd made at our first meeting.

Are you looking for—this girl?

"Hehehe, to be precise, it should be 'looked for this girl,' but I don't plan to look for her seriously anymore."

Kubo was sweating profusely, and I could sense his intense emotions through the air.

Did Kubo really know the inside story?

"Could I borrow this photo?"

How could he say such a thing! His answer was beyond my expectations.

"Kubo, what... what are you saying?"

"No, no, Mr. Sekiguchi, I don't know her directly, but I do know a few clues. If we can find this girl, it should be of some help to you, right?"

"There is some truth to that."

What's going on? That's such a reluctant answer!

To me, it all sounded like a flimsy excuse made out of desperation, but Natsume seemed completely oblivious.

"Then, I'd be happy to help you search using the clues I know, and perhaps that will lead us to her location. Yes, that would be better. Mr. Sekiguchi agrees, right? It would be better to do it this way—"

"OK."

Natsume answered my question first.

I simply can't keep up with this farce unfolding before my eyes.

Natsumi took the photo back from Kubo, wrote his contact information on the back, and handed it back to Kubo. During this time, Kubo seemed lost and stood there blankly. Even if he had a clue, what kind of clue could it be? I felt I should at least ask that question first, but Natsumi seemed indifferent. As soon as he got the photo, Kubo started staring at it intently, his gaze unusual.

To me, both of these men are—outcasts.

"Alright, Xiao Guan, we should go back to our seats! Look, the waiter has been standing there the whole time, not knowing what to do! The precious coffee you thoughtfully ordered for me is about to get cold. Drink it while it's still warm."

Xia Mujin turned around briskly, and when she looked back, the shop assistant was standing there with a puzzled expression, holding a cup of coffee.

I still care about Kubo. I feel there are still many things I need to ask Kubo.

But I was also confused and didn't know where to begin.

Oh, right, the Mikoto-no-Kami—

Just as I was thinking this, Natsuki returned to her seat and loudly called me over. Kubo completely ignored me, his eyes fixed on Kanako's photo.

While keeping an eye on Kubo behind me, I returned to my seat, starting to feel that asking questions would be pointless.

In this farcical turn of events, this little thing is utterly meaningless.

Asking won't help.

As soon as I sat back down, Xia Mujin beckoned to me, leaned his face close to mine, and said:

"Hey, Xiao Guan, your friend is weird."

I have no problem with that, but if I heard someone like Natsume say something like that, I think he himself would be quite surprised. Natsume lowered his voice and continued:

"Is he a chef who specializes in cooking wild game and mountain produce? Or an Aztec priest? He certainly isn't a doctor, he doesn't seem like one."

What are you talking about?

None of the examples he gave seemed to fit. It shouldn't be an association based on clothing or behavior. I told Xia Mujin that he, like me, was a novelist. I don't know if Xia Mujin took it to heart, he just gave a casual response.

We didn't talk much, but we still managed to kill about an hour.

During this period, my whole heart was with Kubo.

Looking back periodically, he would just keep his head down and not move, still staring at the photos.

This sense of distance felt very unnatural. We were clearly acquaintances, yet we weren't seated together, but there was no reason to continue pretending not to know. I started to hate this feeling. Like his work, *The Girl in the Box*, the aftertaste was awful. In the end, we left "New World" without even saying goodbye.

"That guy is probably waiting for someone."

When we returned to the Kusumoto residence, we found a young girl standing by the back door, making a creaking noise as if she were trying to open it. She was small and slender, wearing a dark blue suit jacket and matching skirt—probably her uniform. The girl was so engrossed in her task that she didn't notice our approach.

"Can't you open it? Has no one come back yet?"

As usual, Xia Mujin spoke rashly.

The girl reflexively turned her head.

She is a beautiful girl.

"Who are you?"

It's no wonder they openly expressed their doubt.

"We are detectives, and you are the one who belongs to this family—"

Are you a friend of Kusumoto Yoriko?

Before Natsume could come up with a name, let me continue. If we left everything to Natsume, it would probably scare the girls away.

"I am Kusumoto Yoriko. What's the matter?"

Is this girl Nanmoto Yoriko—?

"Oh, that's wonderful. Isn't Mother here?"

"Are you... debt collectors?"

"I already said he was a detective."

His suspicious expression only increased.

Judging from the fact that a little girl who is only a middle school student would mistake us for debt collectors, it must mean that the Kusumoto family is really in dire financial straits.

But if it's really him, why can't he even open his own door?

The girl continued to stare at me and Natsume, seemingly comparing our gazes. I couldn't look her in the eye; it made me feel like a filthy, unclean thing, giving me a strong sense of inferiority. The gaze of a pure young girl was a deadly poison, enough to kill someone like me.

Perhaps seeing my bewildered expression, the girl's wariness noticeably increased.

In a moment of desperation, I came up with an excuse.

"We're police officers, by the way, we're acquaintances of Detective Kiba. You can check if you don't believe me. So don't be so wary, please trust us."

According to the police files provided by lawyer Masuoka, this girl—if she really is Kusumoto Yoriko—should know Kiba.

"Mr. Kiba's?"

"Xiao Guan, why are you making up these excuses? We haven't done anything wrong. We can just say it openly and honestly. There's no need to drag that idiot Muba into this. Hey!"

"What do you want?"

"We've come to find your mother, isn't she here?"

“My mom—she should be here, but she locked the door—so I can’t get in. She must have locked it while I wasn’t here.”

"That's a really bad mother, she's always like that?"

"—Not exactly—it's always like this."

"Haha, so you mean you do it occasionally?"

It's truly astonishing—although still somewhat hesitant, Nanamoto Yoriko has gradually opened her heart to Natsukizu, leaving no room for me to intervene. But listening to this, it becomes clear that Natsukizu treats everyone equally, regardless of who they are.

"Excuse me—are you really Detective Kiba's friends?"

"That square-faced guy? Yeah, he's a friend. A really annoying friend, right? His face is really scary, isn't it?"

"I don't find it scary at all—well, you're here to ask about Kanako..."

"Huh?"