Sunday, May 15, 2011

Page 17

People can smile even when terrified.
“Okay,” Ryuzaki said, licking jam off his fingers, giving no sign how he took her reaction. “So, Misora, let’s go.”
“Go? Go where?” Misora asked, desperately trying to figure out a way to refuse on the off chance that he should attempt to shake her hand.
“Obviously,” Ryuzaki said. “To continue our investigation of the scene, Misora.”
At this moment, Misora should still have been capable of (arbitrarily) choosing her path in what was to come. She could have physically thrown Ryuzaki out of Believe Bridesmaid’s house, and we could even say that doing so would have been the most sensible reaction to his presence, but despite being very, very tempted to take the sensible approach, Misora made up her mind to let him stay. More than anything, the possibility that he had overheard her conversation with L rated Ryuzaki as a hazard, and even without that he was suspicious, sinister, and had a copy of the crossword puzzle, which clinched the deal. She needed to keep him under observation until she had a better idea who he was. Certainly,
anyone who knew more about the situation, anyone like me, can tell that this was exactly what Ryuzaki was hoping for, exactly what he was trying to achieve, but it would be too much to ask to expect Naomi Misora to have realized this so soon. After all, several years after the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases, when she was killed by Kira, Misora remained convinced that she had never met L in person, that she had only obeyed his voice-augmented commands through her computer screen. Depending on how you look at it, this might have been a good thing for the world even the murderer Kira, had he known lust how deep Misora’s connection with L was, would never have killed her so quickly. L’s life was only extended by a few extra years, but even that may well be thanks to Misora… nah, not even worth speculating about.
Back to the point.
Anyone who has read Sherlock Holmes will remember the vivid descriptions of the great detective bounding around the room, peering closely at everything through a magnifying glass. An iconic image that is so firmly associated with the old detective novels that one never sees a detective behave like that anymore. For that matter, the term detective novel is almost never used—they get called mystery novels, or thrillers. Nobody wants a detective who actually deduces anything—much more exciting if they just blurt out the truth. The process of deduction requires such a lot of work and no real genius
ever needs to work. Same goes for boys’ comics in Japan, popular all over the world. The most popular books all have heroes with exceptional powers.
So when they entered the bedroom and Ryuzaki abruptly went down on all fours, just like he had been when he emerged from under the bed, and began crawling all over the room (albeit without .1 magnifying glass) Misora was genuinely surprised. Being under the bed had not been the only reason for this posture, apparently. He seemed so accustomed to spending time on all fours that he looked ready to climb up the wall and across the ceiling.
“What are you waiting for, Misora? Join me!” Misora shook her head so quickly it blurred.
It was beneath her pride as a woman. No, as a human being— joining him would forever part her from something extremely important.
“Oh? What a shame,” Ryuzaki said, apparently never having possessed that critical something in the first place. He shook his head sadly and continued searching the room.

“B-but Ryuzaki. . .1 don’t think there’s anything left here to find. I mean, the police already searched it pretty thoroughly...”
“But the police overlooked the crossword puzzle. It would not surprise me at all if they overlooked something else in here.”
“If you put it that way... but there’s just so little to work with. I wish I had a clue to what I was supposed to be looking for—the room’s too empty to just rifle through it at random. And the house is too big.”
“A clue...?” Ryuzaki said, pausing mid-crawl. Then he slowly bit his thumbnail so carefully that it looked thoughtful, but the move meant was so infantile that it made him look equally stupid. Misora could not decide which emerged victorious. “What do you think, Misora? When you came in, did you think of anything? Any idea that might help narrow it down?”
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