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He trotted off, still hunched, toward the stairs. Still shaken, Misora followed him. Had he been listening through the door? This question tortured her. He discovered something interesting? That might just be a turn of phrase... she had kept her voice so low there was no way he could have heard her, but either

way he had almost certainly been trying to. Which meant... “Oh, Misora,” Ryuzaki said, not turning around.

“Y-yes?”

“Why didn’t I hear the toilet flush before you left the room?”

“It’s rather rude to ask a girl something like that, Ryuzaki,” Misora managed, wincing slightly at her mistake. Ryuzaki did not appear to be phased.

“Is it? Nevertheless... if you forgot to flush, it is not too late. You can still go back. The genders are equal when it comes to sanitary behavior.”

What a horrific way of putting it. In every meaning of the word.

“I was on the phone. Just a regular check-in with my client. But I did not want to you hear some of it.” “Oh? But either way, from now on, I recommend flushing. It provides good camouflage.”

“I suppose it does.”

They reached the bedroom. Ryuzaki went down on all fours as lie crossed the threshold. It looked less like an investigation method modeled on Sherlock Holmes than some sort of religious jinx.

“Over here.” Ryuzaki scrabbled across the carpet toward the bookshelves.

Believe Bridesmaid’s bookshelves, with their fifty-seven tightly packed books. It was the first place

Misora had checked after talking with L. “You said you found something new?”

“Yes. Something new—no, let us be bold. I have uncovered an important fact.” His attempt at sounding cool annoyed her. She ignored it.

“So you found a clue of some kind on the bookshelf, you mean?”

“Look here,” Ryuzaki said, pointing to the right side of the shelf second from the bottom. There was an eleven-volume set of a popular Japanese comic book named Akaukin Chacha.

“What about it?”

“I love this manga.” “You do?”

“I do.”

How was she supposed to respond? In direct contrast to her wishes, she felt her expression softening, but with no attempt to probe her inner struggle, Ryuzaki continued.

“You’re Nikkei, aren’t you?”

“Nikkei...? My parents are both from Japan. My passport’s American now, but I lived in Japan until after high school...”

“So you must know this manga. Min Ayahana-sensei’s legendary creation. I read every issue as it was serialized. Shiine is so adorable! I liked the anime just as much as the manga. Love and courage and hope—Holy Up!”

“Ryuzaki, are you going to go on like this for a while? If so, I can wait in the other room...” “Why would you do that when I’m talking to you?”

“Er, um… I mean, I liked Akazukin Chacha too. I watched the anime. I also experienced the love, courage, hope and Holy Up.”

She longed to inform him exactly how little interest she had in his hobbies, but it was doubtful whether this private detective would be able to understand opinions directed at him from anywhere near common sense. As questionable as Ryuzaki himself.

Or was that overstating things?

“Good. We shall discuss the pleasures offered by the anime in detail on some other occasion, but for the moment, look here.”

“Hunh…” Misora said, obediently looking at the volumes of Akazukin Chacha on the shelf

Notice anything

“Not really...”

It was just a bunch of comics. At most they could tell that Believe Bridesmaid was fluent in Japanese, and liked manga... but there were lots of people like that in America. Reading the original Japanese 

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