A girl holding a cell phone to her ear noisily passed by saying, “Hahaha! Seriously?! That’s so funny!” I was powerless to comfort Aria, whose incessant crying mingled with the hustle and bustle of the city, and just stood by her side in silence.
At the start of the week, Tokyo was being visited by strong winds, and while attending classes for general academic subjects, I noted that the seat to the right of mine was empty. Apparently, Aria wasn’t coming to school today. Yesterday, when Aria finally stopped crying in front of the Alta Shopping Center, she told me that she wanted to be alone, so we parted ways there and hadn’t been in contact with each other since. That day, I followed Aria whom I just happened to come across by chance, acquainted myself with her mother as one of the victims of the “Butei killer”, and learned quite a few things—things I wish I hadn’t learned.
Aria’s mother was being held in custody as a suspect in the “Butei killings” and was already convicted at the appeals court. In all likelihood, the lower court reserved system was being applied. With this new system, in a case where sufficient evidence was presented, the process leading to a Supreme Court hearing could be expedited, preventing any delays to the trial. The sentence awaiting her at the Supreme Court was eight hundred and sixty-four years in prison—basically a life sentence. Looking back on the conversation that took place in the visiting room, there would seem to be other charges Aria’s mother was faced with besides the string of murders that were a result of “Butei killing.” Aria declared that all of them were false charges and was trying to clear her mother of them before the Supreme Court trial. The belligerent means by which she intended to do so was by capturing the true culprits as an official Butei.
There was also mention of a “partner.” Aria’s family, the “H’s”, was of nobility. Evidently, they were a distinguished family of police officers or something to that effect, and they all drastically enhanced their abilities by pairing up with a capable partner, thereby accomplishing all sorts of commendable deeds. This was why Aria, too, was being pressed to find a partner…but she was having difficulty with that. It was no surprise. It would be by no means, an easy task to find a partner who could keep up with a genius like her. Aria might have been using the term “slave” in place of “partner” to lower the standards of the person she was searching for, even if only in title, thus reducing the psychological burden she bore.
Pondering about all of this, my Inquesta class, which I was completely unable to concentrate on, came to an end, and I was alerted by a text message that was sent to my cell phone. It was from Riko.
Kii-kun, when class is over come to Club Estella in Odaiba. I have something important to discuss with you.
Normally, I would have just ignored a message like this. First of all, an invitation from a girl was an invitation to trouble, and Riko’s “important” discussions have never once actually been important. This time, however, circumstances are a little different. Riko was using the information from last week’s bus-jacking to continue her investigation, which was probably the reason she ditched today’s Inquesta class. Plus the fact that Aria didn’t come to school today was weighing on my mind. Something in my gut told me it would be worth it, so just in case, I got on the monorail to Odaiba.
I got lost a little along the way, but after arriving at Club Estella, I found out that the place was essentially a high-class karaoke box. In the parking lot was a customized shocking pink Vespa.
This horrible taste in colors…I’ve seen it before. This belongs to Riko.
On the surface, it looked like it had a 50 cc engine, but Riko had been boasting of how she paid Muto to remodel the Vespa to the point where it just barely passed automobile inspection, and now it could reach speeds of one hundred and fifty kilometers per hour.
Muto…you really need to be more discriminating about what jobs you take.
The time was six in the evening. The sky at sunset was so distinctly red that it resembled blood, and scattered clouds of navy blue were drifting along in it at an unusually fast rate. It was most likely an effect of the typhoon approaching Tokyo. The wind was quite strong. I entered the club and stepped into a bar lounge where there were female office workers on their way home from work and couples on a date picking at cakes that were like works of art. Looking around, I noticed some female students from Butei High here and there.
This place is pretty popular, isn’t it?
“Kiiii-kuuuunnn!”
Riko trotted her way towards me wearing a Lolita school uniform, as always. The one she had on today was really something. In particular, the skirt was bulging with frills like a carnation. The bulges were probably created by an underskirt called a pannier.
“Really now, Riko. What are you doing skipping class and coming to a place like this?”
“Hee hee. I was dressing up in this, my Sunday best. But you took so long in getting here I thought I’d been stood up. I’m so glad you made it.”
“We’re not in the kind of relationship in which one of us can do any ‘standing up’ or be ‘stood up.’”
“Oh, you’re being so cold. You’re about to head down the ‘Riko route’, you know?
“Say what? You make absolutely no sense.”
The upward glance she was giving me was oddly seductive, and I clicked my tongue.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come after all. What’s with this girl?
Riko latched onto my arm as if she was trying to hang down from it, and we went further into the establishment, with Riko in high spirits. Seeing this, the other girls from Butei High began whispering to each other.
“Oh my gosh. Now Kinji’s going out with Riko?”
“I wonder if he’s into short girls.”
“That’s probably the case. Don’t forget about Hotogi.”
Hey, you guys. I can hear you. Stop creating one misunderstanding after the other.
The karaoke room that Riko practically pushed me inside of was a private room for two decorated in an art nouvea style. Riko sat me down on a fluffy couch, and after seating herself right beside me, indicated with a wink the Mont Blanc and black tea on the table.