Holmes of Kyoto: Volume 10, page 1
Table of Contents
Cover
Characters
Prologue
Chapter 1: Kyoto’s Kukai Pilgrimage and Rengetsu’s Thoughts
Short Story: Kaori Miyashita’s Decision
Chapter 2: Their Departure and an Unsettling Encounter
Chapter 3: Reflected in One’s Eyes
Short Story: The Melancholy of Kaori Miyashita
Epilogue
Afterword
Color Illustrations
Bonus Translator’s Corner
About J-Novel Club
Copyright
Thank you for reading.
In the past, this series has presented temples, shrines, and other places using their real names, but in this volume, some of the transportation and facility names appearing from Chapter 2 onward have been slightly modified from their real-world models. This is because when we asked for official permission to publish the names, they requested to change the names slightly so that they would only be a model rather than a direct inclusion.
Also, due to story developments, this volume inevitably has to include stronger romantic elements than before. Please be aware of this in advance. Thank you for your understanding.
Prologue
It was April.
Last spring, Holmes had been working at a place called Shokado Garden Art Museum in Yawata City, Kyoto Prefecture, as part of his training. The garden was 1.5 times the size of Koshien Stadium and could be enjoyed all year round, but it was especially beautiful in spring when the cherry blossoms bloomed. In addition to the light pink variety, there were also deep pink weeping cherry trees. I thought back to the time when he—Kiyotaka “Holmes” Yagashira—had been called “a beautiful young man with the grace of a weeping cherry tree” and smiled.
I, Aoi Mashiro, was leisurely walking around Shokado Garden by myself. I had come here with Holmes, but he wanted to discuss something with the assistant director, so I had decided to wander around the garden in the meantime.
“So pretty...” I stopped, awed by the beauty of the flowers. “I’m glad I got to come here. When I visited last year, it was past cherry blossom season.”
I had assumed that no matter how long Holmes’s discussion ran, I wouldn’t get bored here—and I was right. In the outer garden, which had around forty types of bamboo, there were three tearooms called Sho-in, Bai-in, and Chiku-in, as well as a stone washbasin and the historic Ominaeshi Tomb. The camellias really made it feel like early spring.
Beautifully arranged flowers, bamboo, trees, and ponds. The Kyoto Botanical Gardens near my university were nice too, but this place was overflowing with charm.
I wonder what Holmes’s discussion is about? People often come to him for advice, but it’s unusual for him to ask someone for advice himself.
“Aoi!” came a voice from behind me.
I turned and saw Holmes jogging towards me. Behind him was Assistant Director Igawa, and I bowed to him.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” said Holmes. “You could have joined us...”
“It’s okay. I was admiring the garden.”
Since we came all this way, I want to take my time exploring the garden. I’m sure he can understand that feeling.
“The garden is nice in spring, isn’t it?” he said with a grin.
Igawa, who had slowly walked up to us, raised a hand and said, “Hey there, Aoi. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has.”
“The last time we met was when Kiyotaka was working here, so I guess it’s been about a year.”
“Yes, although I secretly came here in the fall as well.”
“You did? Thank you. You should’ve asked for me,” he said happily. “Oh, right.” He turned to Holmes. “How far along are you in your training, Kiyotaka?”
“I’m already on the final stretch.”
“Really?! Didn’t you say it was going to take around two years?”
“I’m trying to finish as soon as possible.”
“I’m impressed. So, where are you working now?”
“Daimaru’s Kyoto store.”
“That department store?! What are you doing there?”
“I’m helping with a project in the sales promotion department.”
“Huh, that seems like a good fit. We’d love it if you came to work for us again.”
“I’m honored to hear that.”
“We were able to make new connections through the Seiji Yagashira exhibition. Oh, and Yoneyama has become famous in the industry in such a short time.”
Ryosuke Yoneyama, who had visited the exhibit, was someone we knew well. He was a former counterfeiter who had reformed after being exposed by the nationally certified appraiser Seiji Yagashira, Holmes’s grandfather and the owner of Kura. After finding a girlfriend, he had wanted to become a man worthy of her, so he’d gone abroad to study painting and won a major contest there. Using that achievement as a stepping-stone, he had gone on to win several awards and was now a famous painter, both in Japan and overseas. As it happened, his girlfriend was Saori Miyashita, my best friend Kaori’s older sister.
“Indeed,” said Holmes. “I heard he had a successful solo exhibition in Roppongi.”
I had also heard about it from Kaori. Yoneyama had held a solo exhibition for ink wash paintings—his specialty. Apparently, when the topic of an exhibit in Tokyo had come up, he had insisted on holding the show in Roppongi because that was where Miyashita Kimono Fabrics had once expanded their business to. Unfortunately, the store had lost so much money that they’d had to pull out of Tokyo and business was poor for a while. Knowing that, Yoneyama had purposely chosen Roppongi so that he could get revenge for them. His exhibition turned out to be a great success, and he happily proclaimed, “I’ve avenged Miyashita Kimono Fabrics.”
I’m not sure if Yoneyama having a successful exhibition in Roppongi counts as Miyashita Kimono Fabrics getting revenge...
There was a reason Yoneyama was working so hard. It was because he was serious about marrying Saori. Since he was a talented painter who was willing to be taken into the Miyashita family and inherit the store, Saori’s parents had initially been enthusiastic about their relationship. However, their minds changed after learning that he was a former counterfeiter who had been on a suspended sentence. Yoneyama was trying his best in many ways to overwrite his past deeds and win their approval. His success in Roppongi surely would’ve improved their impression of him.
“Yes, the exhibition was a success, but it’s a shame that he ran into trouble.”
“Huh?” Holmes tilted his head. “What trouble?”
“Oh, you didn’t know? Since you’re so well-versed in the art world, I thought you’d know everything.”
“I’m not accompanying my grandfather these days, so that kind of news hasn’t been reaching me,” Holmes said in a mildly bitter tone.
Holmes’s position as the owner’s attendant had been taken over by Yoshie Takiyama, the owner’s girlfriend. Sometimes her son, Rikyu, accompanied them for learning purposes. On a side note, Rikyu had successfully passed the exam for the Kyoto Institute of Technology, his first choice of university.
“Some of Yoneyama’s works were stolen,” the assistant director said with a grim face.
“What?!” Holmes and I both blinked in surprise.
“I haven’t seen anything like that in the news,” said Holmes.
“Yeah. It seems they don’t want to draw too much attention to the matter, so I think only the people involved know. They did report it to the police, of course.”
“I see,” Holmes muttered, stroking his chin.
As I listened to their conversation, I found myself increasingly curious, so I asked, “Which paintings were stolen?”
“I don’t know, but he said he’d been holding on to them because he wanted to submit them to overseas contests. He must be especially distraught over the theft because he had that emotional attachment to them.”
My heart pounded. What kind of paintings are they?
Yoneyama had shown Holmes and me one of his ink wash paintings before. It was a gray scale piece titled Weeping Cherry and Bush Warbler. It didn’t use any color, yet looking at it made you envision a light pink hue. I was fascinated by the perceived color, and the captivating beauty of the weeping cherry blossoms left a deep impression, as did the adorable bush warbler lovingly looking up at them. The painting had rendered me speechless, and before I knew it, I had tears in my eyes.
Holmes murmured a passionate, “This is incredible.”
“It’s a painting of you two,” Yoneyama happily responded.
“Huh?” We blinked in surprise.
“People were calling Kiyotaka ‘a beautiful young man with the grace of a weeping cherry tree,’ weren’t they? Ink-painted weeping cherry trees really do feel like him. They’re elusive and people imagine different colors when they see them. So, this weeping cherry tree is Kiyotaka and the cute little bush warbler is Aoi,” he explained with a mischievous grin.
Holmes and I looked at each other and chuckled.
“I’m honored to be likened to such a wonderful piece of art,” Holmes said.
“Me too,” I added. “This adorable bird is me? I feel like other people will get offended.”
“It has your round and cute eyes, but you’re much lovelier,” Holmes said smoothly, making my heart skip a beat. It felt more like something a Parisian would say than a Kyoto guy.
“Yeah, yeah,” Yoneyama said with a shrug.
>
“Am I really such an elusive person?” Holmes wondered. “I consider myself fairly easy to understand.” He gazed at the painting for a while before slowly lowering his eyes and placing a hand on his chest. “I sincerely think it’s a masterpiece that will last for generations.”
Yoneyama scratched his head, looking both happy and embarrassed. “Did you like it?”
Holmes nodded. “Yes, very much. Even if it wasn’t modeled after us, I’d want to look at it all day long.”
I could tell that his praise was genuine. After all, I felt the same way. Every time I set eyes on the monochrome painting, vivid colors came to mind. It was a wonderful work of art that made you want to admire it forever.
“I like it too, so I was planning on keeping it,” said Yoneyama. “But I wouldn’t mind letting you have it, Kiyotaka. What do you think?”
Holmes froze for a second.
What will he say? I wondered, looking up at him.
He smiled gently and responded, “I appreciate the offer.”
“Great,” Yoneyama said with a grin.
“What do you mean by that?”
“You said before that when you’re truly fascinated by something, you might buy it for the store, but you’ll never buy it for yourself. That means you really do like this painting.”
“Did I ever say that to you?” Holmes averted his eyes, seeming ashamed.
“Now that you mention it...” I nodded. I’d known Holmes for a long time, but I’d never seen him buy any works of art for himself.
Wait, no, there was one time he bought a coffee cup at Hyakumanben Chion-ji Temple’s handicraft market. But thinking back on it, I doubt he liked it to the point of “fascination.”
“You did say it,” Yoneyama insisted. “It left an impression on me. I thought, ‘Is this what a real merchant is like?’ You know, like how drug dealers never get addicted themselves.”
That’s a perfect comparison, I thought, my face stiffening.
Holmes’s expression relaxed. He must’ve been thinking the same thing. “Yes, that’s right. I’m a merchant through and through. I truly love this wonderful painting that you’ve likened to us, and that’s precisely why I won’t try to obtain it for myself. I would like to make it one of Kura’s featured pieces, though,” he said with a grin.
Perhaps due to that conversation, Weeping Cherry and Bush Warbler was special to me. I couldn’t bear the thought of it being stolen—and that was from the perspective of someone who merely admired the work. It must’ve been even more distressing for Yoneyama himself.
“It’s deplorable that such a thing could happen,” Holmes said, crossing his arms and sighing.
“It really is,” Igawa agreed. “We were talking about how we have to be careful too.”
“How were they stolen?”
“I heard the thief mixed in with the delivery workers after the exhibition ended.”
Holmes furrowed his brows.
“Is something wrong?” Igawa asked.
“Oh, no. We really do need to be careful. Excuse me,” Holmes said, taking his phone out of his pocket and looking at the screen. He’d received a message. He grimaced and said, “Speak of the devil.”
“Huh?”
“It appears Yoneyama is visiting a detective agency right now. I know the guy there, and he’s asking me to come in...”
“Are you talking about Komatsu?” I asked.
Katsuya Komatsu was a detective in his mid-forties who we had met through a certain incident. He didn’t seem very reliable at first glance, but he used to be a hacker on a world-class cyber team.
“You should go,” Igawa said, giving Holmes a light tap on the shoulder.
“Thank you for sparing time for me today.”
“No, it was a pleasure. Oh, and as for your plan, I’ll help you in any way I can. Good luck!”
Holmes thanked him again and bowed.
What did he discuss with Igawa? I wondered, but before I could ask, Holmes hurriedly took my hand and said, “Let’s go, Aoi.”
*
South of the Kiyamachi-Shijo intersection was a charming street along the Takase River, lined with traditional townhouses and historic restaurants. Petals were falling from the riverside cherry blossom trees.
Holmes and I stopped in front of a townhouse that had a wooden sign saying “Komatsu Detective Agency.” Komatsu used to work out of an apartment in Gojo, but after getting back together with his ex-wife, she and their daughter had come to live with him, so he’d moved his office here.
“This is pretty elegant for a detective agency, huh?” I remarked.
It was my first time visiting, and I looked up at the building in wonder. It was probably rare for a detective agency to be in a traditional townhouse. I had heard that a small quirk of fate had led Komatsu to choose this place in Kiyamachi for his new office.
“The landlord was one of his former clients, right?” I asked.
“Yes. The elderly couple who lived here asked him to find their disowned son. He successfully located him and now the couple is living with their son’s family.”
It happened to be right when Komatsu was set to remarry and had been looking for a new office. When he’d mentioned it, the elderly couple had said, “We’d rather let you use this townhouse than rent it to a stranger.”
“What a nice story,” I said after Holmes had recounted the series of events.
“It’s not all good, though.” He opened the sliding door.
“Huh?”
“The rent is expensive. This area has high property taxes, so that’s not surprising. Komatsu said that after happily accepting the offer, he realized he screwed up.”
It’s a tough world out there.
As an aside, I’d heard that Komatsu had also asked Holmes to train under him. If that had happened, he really would have become “Detective Holmes of Kyoto.” I couldn’t help but smile at the thought.
“Excuse us,” we said, stepping inside. We were greeted by a sofa set on a wooden floor rather than a Japanese-style tatami room.
“It’s a Western-style interior?” I remarked. “That’s unexpected.”
“It was originally tatami, but he got the landlord’s permission to renovate,” Holmes explained. “The first-floor living room is the reception room, and the second floor is the research room equipped with the latest in computer technology.” He took out a pair of slippers for me. “Here you are.”
“Thank you.”
I set my shoes aside, put on the slippers, and followed Holmes into the refashioned living room, where there were two three-person sofas facing each other. Komatsu the private detective and Yoneyama were sitting there.
Komatsu looked at us and raised a hand. “Hey there, kiddos.” As usual, he spoke bluntly and his face was unshaven. He seemed scary at first glance, but he was actually a nice person, albeit socially awkward. He stared at the laptop resting on his knees with a serious look on his face.
“Long time no see,” I greeted him with a smile.
Across from him was Yoneyama, who said, “Thanks for coming.” He smiled but his expression was that of a man who had given up on everything. His slightly long hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he had the delicate air of an artist.
“Yoneyama...” I didn’t know what to say to him.
“Have a seat, Aoi,” he said, shifting to one end of the sofa. I sat on the other end, and Holmes sat next to Komatsu.
“Congratulations on the success of your solo exhibition in Roppongi,” Holmes said. “But...I’m sorry about what happened.” He had a gentle look on his face.
“Yeah, I was really attached to those pieces.” Yoneyama shrugged and chuckled weakly. His way of laughing hadn’t changed. “It doesn’t seem like the police were able to trace their whereabouts. I came here because I remembered Aoi’s eighteenth birthday party, when Kiyotaka introduced Komatsu as a ‘brilliant detective.’”
“I ain’t that,” Komatsu said, scratching his head awkwardly.
“Yes, you are,” Holmes insisted. “Did you find out anything yet?” He craned his neck to peek at the detective’s laptop.
“Yeah, I looked into the foreign auction site you sent me earlier.” He tapped away at the keyboard and stopped. “And I found out they were put up for auction in the UK.” He placed the laptop on the table between the sofas and turned it so that we could see the screen. Yoneyama’s ink wash paintings were among the list of items.
