“…Huh? Come to think of it…”
It was around half past midnight when Seiji spoke up. Perhaps Tosu, the false detective, was on the other side of the door, patrolling the train right now.
After they left the dining car, they’d searched Room 302 for bugs, on Shiroshi’s suggestion, but hadn’t found much of anything. When they stopped to rest, a thought struck Seiji.
“Um, I just now realized that even though Kaganuma was killed, nobody’s shape has changed. I still get glimpses of their yokai forms, and they’re all the same as earlier.”
Exactly: Nothing had changed. That was why it hadn’t registered before. But now that Seiji was thinking about it, “no change” seemed pretty unnatural. Someone had died. Was it possible for the Mirror of Illumination to simply ignore that crime? Or could it be that—?
“Could Godou, who’s still missing, be the killer…?” he asked fearfully.
“Hmm.” Shiroshi put a hand to his chin, his brow furrowed in thought. “It isn’t impossible. After all, it’s not even clear whether he’s alive or dead. However, there is another possibility.” He put up an index finger. “Note that the Mirror of Illumination always reflects one sin only. If a criminal has committed two or more crimes, the gravest is the one reflected as a yokai. In other words, when a sinner commits a more serious sin, their yokai form is overwritten. For example, in her journal, Mayuka said that she first saw Kazutora as a dorotabou, but he became an ushioni after Kuniomi’s murder. Conversely, if the culprit’s past sin was more serious than killing Kaganuma, the murder would not affect their appearance.”
“No, but… Then you mean the culprit is somebody completely heinous?”
The moment the words were out, Seiji’s upper arms broke out in goose bumps. A crime more serious than murder—he couldn’t think of too many of those. Who’d have thought the executioner would be someone so dangerous?
However, there was another bigger question on his mind.
“Who exactly is the executioner?” In the end, it all came down to that. “Tosu’s the most suspicious one right now, isn’t he?”
“Actually…” Unusually, Shiroshi hesitated. He tilted his head indecisively. “I really don’t think it’s him.”
“…Huh?” No, come on, that can’t be right. “Why is he passing himself off as the detective, then?”
“There’s no way to know without asking him. I have an idea, but we’re woefully short on clues.”
Setting aside the issue of how to deal with Tosu, however, the most serious question was…
“Then wh-who else could it be?”
“Well, let’s examine that now.” Shiroshi took out his notebook.
Thinking it might give them some sort of lead, Seiji got that out of his luggage: his own personal copy of The Illustrated Demon Horde’s Night Parade.
Shiroshi began to chuckle ominously, so Seiji got up again before he could reach out and pat his head.
“I’ll get some drinks out of our bags.”
Bwa-ha-ha-ha, evasion successful! Or so he thought, but in the end, he just got patted when he came back. Jesus.
“The azukiarai is essentially a mysterious sound,” Shiroshi began. “In simple terms, it’s a yokai that makes a noise that resembles someone washing azuki beans by rivers, wells, and other sources of water. In some regions, it also sings. Its legend is found throughout the country, from Tohoku in the north to Kyushu in the south, and its name and true form differ by region.”
Hm. Talk about vague.
“The common element is the fact that only the sound is heard, and its shape is never seen. Anyone who searches for it is unable to find it and will fall into the water during the attempt. For that reason, it’s also considered a shared auditory hallucination.”
“Why azuki beans? If you heard that sort of scraping noise by water, it seems like the first thing you’d think of would be rice.”
“Heh-heh-heh. Quite so. However, long ago, azuki beans were a special food eaten only during festivals and on important occasions. Their red color was considered to have magical significance. There are even old tales of using stewed azuki beans to vanquish monsters.”
“…Huh. I see.” This wasn’t really clicking for Seiji, but it sounded plausible. More importantly… “Um, then what sin would show up as an azukiarai?”
“That’s a good question. Let’s formulate our deduction from its true shape. Since its distribution is nationwide, explanations are quite varied. In the Ehon Hyaku Monogatari, it is said to have been a young monk who was ostracized and killed by some older apprentice monks. However, other sources say it was someone who fell into the river and died, or the ghost of someone who was killed. In most cases, the ghost is said to be that of a woman.”
“Oh.”
Ah. That part had clicked.
Shiroshi seemed to have read Seiji’s expression; his fountain pen skated across the notebook.
Drowned his wife on a stormy night—Azukiarai—Fumitake Ishizuka?
Nice; I called it.
“Then ‘that woman’ Ishizuka mentioned is his drowned wife?”
“It’s quite likely. And, to Ishizuka, I believe Schubert’s ‘Wiegenlied’ is a trigger that evokes a memory of her death.”
“…Um, so it’s like PTSD?”
That would mean the person who’d invited Ishizuka onto the train knew that and intentionally used the record player. If the wine rack on the other table had been bait to lure the man closer, and the never-ending Schubert piece had been a trap meant to drive him out of his mind and isolate him from the other passengers, then…
“…I think that goes way beyond tripping a death flag.”
“Yes, but at this point, having him lock himself in his compartment is our best—”
Just then, the phone rang.
The second he heard it, Seiji flinched.
Slowly rising to his feet, Shiroshi checked the room phone’s number display. “Ah, it’s Tosu.”
“Huh? But isn’t he on patrol right now?” Then Seiji remembered what he’d said: “If anything happens, call me immediately on your room telephone; I’ll do the same.” Then…had something happened during his patrol?
“Hello? This is Room 302.” Picking up the receiver, Shiroshi promptly switched the phone to speaker mode.
“Hello. Tosu here.” His voice was as impassive as always. “I’ve got two things to fill you in on. First off, I found bugs in the dining and lounge cars.”
Ugly news, right off the bat.
“They were the type that look like USB adapters. After I split up with you two, I went straight back to the lounge car to check, and sure enough. I suspect there are more, but I haven’t been able to find them.”
“I see. Excellent work… However, do you mean to say you’ve been searching on your own all this time?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Under the circumstances, that seems rather reckless.”
“…You’re not going to tell me you’re worried about me.”
“Yes, actually, I am. You don’t strike me as someone with a long life ahead of them.”
“Yeah, I doubt it. I already know the age I’ll die at.”
Okay, I’m pretty sure that was a joke, but…
“Now for the second thing. While I was searching the dining car, I found an intact bottle in addition to the one Ishizuka was using as a weapon. I think it’s probably the one he initially tried to steal. Anyway, it was open.”
“My.” Shiroshi blinked. “I don’t believe I saw a bottle opener there.”
“It looks like he did it with his bare hands. The cork had been shoved down into the bottle.”
The tenacity of drunks was a terrifying thing. What about that is a problem, though? As Seiji was puzzling over it, he heard a violent cough from the receiver.
“Sorry. I guess I really did catch a cold… Like I was saying, I licked a little of the contents of that bottle, and it made my tongue go numb. It may be poisoned.”
Seiji’s heart thudded. Like a swarm of insects crawling out of their nest, a black haze spread through his mind.
“According to Ms. Nomura, though, he started bashing the wine rack before he’d taken a drink from the bottle, so I don’t think there’s any need to worry there. But I do have a really bad feeling about this.” Tosu seemed to be having trouble breathing; he was wheezing painfully.
Naturally, Ishizuka hadn’t responded when he called his phone or knocked on his door, so Tosu was about to call Takamura and have him use the master key. He said he wanted the other passengers to be present as well.
“…I wonder if he’s still alive.”
He murmured the words to himself, and Seiji couldn’t give an answer. The man probably didn’t want one anyway.