Day two of Golden Week. The whole crime crew had gathered: me, the student council president, Yanami, and Shiratama-san. Before us stood our senpai in skulduggery, Asagumo-san.
“Complications notwithstanding, the open house was a great success!” she declared.
Yanami gave me a look. “‘Complications.’ That’s one word for it. But hey, one of us got to sample French cuisine. Must’ve been nice.”
Shikiya-san and I had just kind of ditched them yesterday after we lost contact. Good food, pretty girl, productive day all around. Man, she smelled nice.
“I wasn’t exactly on vacation myself,” I retorted. “Go on, Asagumo-san.”
“Right. Let’s organize what we’ve learned.” She started to sketch a rough floor plan of the venue. “Right next to the front desk is a changing room for family. Just past that is a waiting room for guests. The bar means this space will be especially populated.” She took a red marker next and drew arrows on the (very rough) floor plan. “Beyond the waiting room is the garden, which is also where the chapel is, but it’ll be hard to get to it from across the lawn without anybody noticing. The reception will be held in clear eyeshot.” A line went from the chapel to the stairs. “Thankfully,” Asagumo-san went on, “it’s very close to the groom’s suite on the second floor. It should be easy getting Tanaka-sensei there if all goes smoothly.”
The president removed her hand from her chin and said, “He’ll have to pass through the guest room. If he meets anybody along the way, it could complicate things.”
“Indeed. Which brings me to the schedule.” Asagumo-san stuck a sheet of paper up on the whiteboard. “The bride is to arrive at half past seven that morning. The groom, at nine. After changing, there will be meetings regarding photography and the ceremony itself at ten.” Another paper went up. “Guests are scheduled to arrive via bus thirty minutes later. Admission begins at eleven. The ceremony officially commences at noon, at which point our chances of success drop significantly.” She crossed out the second sheet of paper with a big, red X.
“But if Tanaka-sensei’s getting in at nine and meeting with the real photographer only an hour later, what’s that leave us with?” Yanami asked. “That’s barely any time at all.”
Asagumo-san nodded. “Indeed. Our best chance is the brief window between when he finishes changing and the meeting at ten o’clock.”
The president sneered. “So it’s a race. I’ll be right at home.”
Our mastermind gauged our reactions, then started marking up the schedule. “Here’s what I’ve cooked up. At 9:30, our fake photographer will lure Tanaka-sensei out for ‘equipment testing.’” She next put up a photo of the chapel’s interior. “Riko-san will be lying in wait, ready to insert herself as soon as the test photo shoot begins.” Then she snapped the cap back on the marker.
Given what we had to work with, this sounded like the best plan we could possibly come up with. Silence reigned for a while until Yanami broke it, conjuring a loaf of bread from her bag.
“Guess that’s what we’re gonna have to do. Gonna need to hammer out specifics, though,” she said, not waiting to finish before inhaling a chunk of her baguette. Naturally, I didn’t give this a second thought, but the same couldn’t be said for the others. “What? Why’s everybody staring at me?”
“Probably wondering why you’re eating a baguette,” I interpreted on their behalf as the resident Keeper of the Yanami.
“’Cuz it’s not fair you got to pig out on French food and I’m craving it. And?”
And this was all that amounted to French food for her. Sure. Fair enough. Technically true.
“So you’re just eating that whole thing straight.”
“I put plum jam and anko and other stuff inside, thank you very much. Also brought some kinako flour to sprinkle on top. Eugh, bad bite. Fish guts.”
The purported “other stuff.” Why in God’s name she had willingly stuffed her own bread with shiokara, why she continued to eat it regardless, and what shiokara even had to do with French cuisine were among the many questions occupying my mind. And yet I dared not hope for an answer. Not where Yanami was involved.
Swiftly quarantining the regions of my brain she had stun locked, I returned my attention to the whiteboard. “Back on topic, what’s the plan with the fake photographer? Tanaka-sensei’d recognize any one of us, and the venue’d figure it out pretty fast too. They’ve got their own camera guy on staff.”
Asagumo-san produced a slip of paper, prepared to answer that exact question. “I’ve got the real one’s business card right here. They won’t be using the venue photographer, but an outside provider by the name of Studio Damonde.” She cued in Shiratama-san with a glance.
“My sister’s friend works there, so the venue’s letting them go with a third party,” she explained. “On a related note, this finally came in.” She placed another business card on the table. It was the exact same as the one in Asagumo-san’s hand, except for the photographer’s name.
Criminals. All of us.
Asagumo-san verified its accuracy, then handed it to the president. “Houkobaru-senpai, you’ll need this on the day of.”
“Making me the photographer, I presume,” she said.
“That’s right. And Nukumizu-san will be your assistant.”
“Me?!” I blurted.
“Riko-san will need backup just in case,” Asagumo-san explained calmly.
“I literally just went on a tour of the place! They’ll recognize me!”
She giggled. “Do you remember being asked for directions at the gate when you arrived?”
“What?” I did. That had happened. In front of the school, some guy in a baseball cap wearing a mask had asked me where a board game café was. “Yeah? What about it?”
“That was Kaju-san.”
What? No. What?!
“I don’t believe you! He sounded like a boy and everything!”
“When she got your attention, that was a voice playback. Kaju’s, heavily edited to sound like a pre-pubescent boy.”
“Okay, but he kept talking after that, and that wasn’t a playback.”
“True, but the impression had been made. You heard a boy, made your internal assumptions, and the interaction was over before you could second-guess them.”
No way. I couldn’t mistake Kaju’s voice for anything. I was indignant. “But the eyes. The eyes were different. Kaju’s are bigger.”
“False eyelashes. Makeup. The hat hid her hair. What we couldn’t adequately change, we concealed.”
My jaw was on the floor. My spirit crushed. I’d been had.
“Damn, imagine that. Nukumizu-kun, the world’s clingiest brother, not even recognizing his own sister.” Yanami was eating this up.
“I knew something was up,” I insisted. “I just couldn’t say anything. What was I gonna do, accuse some stranger that he’s actually Kaju?”
“True. That’d get you a padded cell real fast.”
In conclusion: This wasn’t my fault, and also, I wasn’t clingy.