hen evening came, the temperature dropped suddenly. People’s breaths

formed into faint white clouds in front of their faces. Winter was around the

corner. Yuto was walking along, carrying his schoolbag. He was nowhere near

his house. He had originally intended to go straight home but had changed

his mind after being waylaid by the detectives.

“Listen, Yuto, this is a serious matter. There could well be a link to

your father’s murder.” Was what Detective Kaga told him true? What

exactly did he mean by “link”? Was he just talking about Dad’s reasons for

being in Nihonbashi, or was it something beyond that?

Yuto felt confused and conflicted. For a brief moment, he’d considered

telling the detective everything. In the end, though, he couldn’t bring

himself to do so. It wasn’t a decision he could make alone.

The familiar row of houses came into view. He walked toward one of

them. It was a large house in the European style. The name Kurosawa was

engraved on a plaque on the gatepost.

Yuto pressed the bell on the intercom. There was a short interval.

“Hello,” came a woman’s voice.

“Good afternoon,” Yuto said. “My name’s Aoyagi. I was in the same

class as Shota at junior high school. Is he there?”

“Oh … Could you wait a moment?” The woman seemed to have

recognized him straightaway.

A little while later, the front door opened and Kurosawa peered out.

“What’s up?” he asked, a startled look on his face.

“Got a moment?”

“Sure. A moment.”

Yuto pushed the garden gate open and walked up to the front door.

“Why don’t you pick up when I call? And you’re not replying to my texts

either.”

“Ah.” Kurosawa’s mouth hung half-open. “Just a second.” He drew

his head back inside and shut the door.

There was the sound of someone scrabbling around, then the door

reopened. Kurosawa was holding a phone.

“Got myself a new one. Sorry. Didn’t get around to giving you the

new number.”

Yuto snorted.

I bet that’s not true, he was thinking. Kurosawa must know how my

dad’s being demonized because of the workplace accident cover-up thing.

He probably thought he’d be better off giving me a wide berth.

After Kurosawa had given him his new number and email address,

Yuto looked at his friend.

“We three need to get together and have a talk. I said the same thing to

Sugino.”

Kurosawa’s eyes clouded over. “Talk about what?”

“When I say ‘the three of us,’ I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Kurosawa looked at the ground. “Why now?”

“What does that matter? Because I say so.”

“All right. All right.”

“You got time today?”

Kurosawa looked up, frowned, and shook his head. “Today’s no good

for me. My private tutor will be here any minute now. I’ve got to stay

home.”

“Okay. Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow … What time?”

“Got to be after school. How about five o’clock near Nakameguro

Station somewhere.”

After a little hemming and hawing, Kurosawa agreed. “Fine,” he said.

“See you tomorrow, then. I’ll tell Sugino.”

Yuto was already walking off when Kurosawa called him back. “Ao!”

Yuto turned around. “What on earth’s happened?” Kurosawa asked.

“You know what’s happened,” Yuto replied. “My dad was murdered.”

Turning his back on a dazed-looking Kurosawa, Yuto pushed the

garden gate open and went back out into the street.