The Detective is Already Dead-Chapter 4 - 1.3

Heart, Bat, and pseudohuman

I knew this particular jailbird.

His name—his alias—was Bat. I never wanted to see this guy again if I could help it.

But as Ms. Fuubi had hinted, he might be able to solve Natsunagi's problem. Reminding myself that this was work, I faced Bat.

"Unfortunately, I'm not an ace detective."

Sorry, but the only ones here are the assistant and a client.

"Hmm? ...Oh, you're— Yeah, I see. Watson, huh?" His unfocused eyes glared at me, and then the corners of his lips quirked up slightly.

"Your Japanese is as good as ever."

"Ha-ha! It's an essential skill for a guy like me. Besides, I've been living here for years now; I've forgotten my mother tongue."

I'm pretty sure he was from northern Europe. However, those rare emerald eyes of his were dull and cloudy now.

"Do your eyes still work?"

"Nah, they're useless at this point. It doesn't really matter to me whether I've got eyes or not, though."

"I hear it matters to most people."

"We've got the same eyes now, Watson. Like a dead fish."

"That's the worst news I've heard this century. Also, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me that."

"Ha-ha! What, you all done playing assistant?"

...Well, that was the plan anyway. "I'm here because I wanted to talk to you, Bat."

"Huh. I bet. Unless there were special circumstances, there's no way you two would come all the way down here to see me."

You two, huh? True, when I first met this guy, I wasn't alone. That was a long time ago, though.

"Sure, go ahead and talk. Life in here is boring as hell. It'll make for a good way to kill time." With a hint of life in his voice, Bat urged me to go on. "I see. In that case, I'll introduce you right away. The girl next to me is

Nagisa Natsunagi; she's a classmate of mine."

"Nagisa...Natsunagi?" At that, Bat moved his head slightly, turning those cloudy eyes on the girl next to me.

"...It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Natsunagi."

She'd briefly flinched, but she promptly resumed her usual resolute expression, facing the prisoner in front of her squarely.

"I came today because I wanted to ask you about my heart."

A few minutes later...

"I see; so that's what it was. No wonder."

When Natsunagi had finished telling him about her problem, Bat cracked his neck audibly.

"Long story short, you came to ask me if I had any idea who owned that heart."

"Yes, that's right... But..." Natsunagi leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Can he actually tell something like that?"

Oh, right. Come to think of it, I hadn't filled Natsunagi in on that part yet. "Uh, so, he's..."

"Hey, that was pretty rude, sweetheart."

"Ack! He heard us." Natsunagi looked off into the distance, embarrassed. Well, of course he did. After all—

"Ha-ha! At this distance, I don't even have to try. If I feel like it, I can hear people talking a hundred kilometers away."

That's where "Bat" got his code name.

This guy wasn't human. He was part of the group my old partner fought against right up until the moment she died: a pseudohuman.

"Well, I lost my sight in exchange. Besides, my phenomenal ears aren't any use in here. As long as the door to this cell is shut, this place is soundproof. Wonder if this is what the undead feel like? Ha-ha!" Bat's joke at his own expense wasn't very funny. "Now that I can use my ears, though, picking up the sound of your heart is a cakewalk for me."

"That's crazy..."

"Some things are, y'know. Big world out there." Bat smiled at Natsunagi.

It sounded like a good argument, but it wasn't. He was still as good as ever at messing with your head when you talked to him. That had to be why Ms. Fuubi had been so adamant about putting a time limit on our visit.

"...Let's say I believe you. What are you planning to do, after you listen to my heart?"

Although she was still wary, Natsunagi prompted Bat to go on.

"I've got a database of the hearts of all the people I've met over the past few decades. I'll check it against that and see if I find any hits."

"That's the craziest thing I've ever—! And what even are the chances that you just conveniently ran into the owner of this heart before...?"

"No, Natsunagi. It may be safe to get our hopes up a little." "Kimizuka? What do you mean?"

After all, this guy didn't have an ordinary career. He was a pseudohuman who flew all over the world, following orders.

It was possible he met the owner of Natsunagi's heart while they were alive. And, using his augmented ears with their extraordinarily sharp hearing, he could even tell different heartbeats apart. That's an ability he really has.

"I wasn't trying to hide it from you, Natsunagi, but I know this man well. I first met him four years ago—above the clouds, at ten thousand meters."

That's right. It was that day—the day I met the ace detective. This guy was a fellow passenger on that plane.

"Ha-ha, has it been four years already? That takes me back... Hey, why don't we reminisce for a bit?" Bat's dull eyes gleamed slightly.

"Sorry, but we don't have that kind of time. Ms. Fuubi gave us a set visitation window."

"Oh, the broad with an ass as big as her attitude? Eh, it'll be fine. How about I slip you a little intel about us afterward? You'll be able to put her in a good mood that way."

"What are you trying to pull, Bat?"

I know they say not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he was being way too cooperative. Even if banter was part of our relationship, Bat and I were definitely not on the same team.

"I'm not trying to pull anything. It's just been a long time since I had guests, so my mood's a bit better than normal."

And I'm supposed to believe that?

...Still, if we put him in a bad mood at this point, we could end up wasting our hard-won hint.

"Sorry, Natsunagi. This is going to take a little while."

Geez. If that's how it is, no way to go but forward.

I thought back to what had happened on that day, four years ago.

Is there a detective on the plane?

"What am I doing on a beautiful day like this?!"

The weather really didn't have much to do with anything, but...as I gazed through the window at the clouds, ten thousand meters up, in my second year of middle school, all I could do was curse my own fate.

The source of my worries was sitting in the luggage compartment above my seat. But there was no telling what would have happened to me if I'd refused a request from those men in black.

Man, if this isn't rotten luck, then what is it?

Just as I was lamenting my own fate—I heard the sentence that would change my life.

"Is there a detective on this plane?" At first, I thought I'd misheard it.

After the second time, though, I accepted the reality: Some sort of situation

that required a detective was unfolding on this plane.

I'll be honest with you, though. This was far from my first run-in with mysterious problems. I wasn't kidding when I said trouble always seems to find me.

That being the case, I thought I'd probably be able to duck-and-weave my way out of this one, too. If I closed my eyes, the storm would blow over before I knew it.

Naive, I know. I'll admit it.

However, what was different this time around... What made me open my eyes was...

...first and foremost, the fact that she was in the seat next to mine.

"Yes, I'm a detective."

That was how we met: me, Kimihiko Kimizuka—and her, Siesta.

Her hair and eye color made it unlikely she was Japanese, and her symmetrical features were as delicate as spun glass. Her dress's unique design reminded me of a military uniform from some other country. All together, those elements gave her a beauty that was practically unreal.

This miracle of a girl had been right next to me, and up till that very moment, I hadn't even registered her existence. I couldn't believe myself— and I forgot everything, even the situation I was in.

"What's your name...?"

However, this was a fateful encounter of a different sort. "Perfect timing. You—be my assistant."

"Huh?"

No sooner had she spoken than the girl caught my hand and stood up. "This way, please!"

"We'll be right there."

The girl strode off, following the cabin attendant...and since she was pulling me by the hand, I followed her. Under the stunned, open-mouthed gazes of the other passengers, our weird procession advanced.

What is this? What's happening?

...Oh, right. A detective, huh?

The girl's vivid presence had almost erased it from my memory already— right now, something was happening on this plane, and a detective was needed to resolve it. And she'd called me...her assistant?

This beautiful girl who had me by the hand was a detective, and I was her assistant.

I'd been born as a magnet for unusual situations and had spent the past dozen or so years surviving all sorts of trouble, and even I was having a really hard time following this development.

The girl didn't notice my confusion and said, "Siesta." Just one word, and she didn't even look back as she said it. "That's my name."

"...Kinda weird one," I finally managed to say. "It's a code name."

"A code name?"

"People do have those, usually."

"No they don't, usually." They don't, do they? Usually?

"Then what's your name?" "Kimihiko...Kimizuka."

"I see. I'll call you 'Kimi,' then." "...Is that a nickname?"

When I asked her that, for the first time, Siesta looked back at me. "Good question. What do you think it is?"

The smile she flashed me was a hundred million watts of adorable.

But this was no time for romantic comedy shenanigans.

The cabin attendant led us to the cockpit, which was the worst possible place to have problems on a plane.

"I've brought a detective and the detective's assistant."

My title is spreading way too fast...

I didn't even have time to make a retort, though, as the situation was still evolving.

When the attendant knocked on the door, I heard an electronic beep, followed by a lock disengaging, and then the heavy door opened.

"Holy..." I couldn't believe my eyes.

Two men, the pilot and copilot, were sitting in the seats of the cramped cockpit.

The older one—probably the pilot—was gripping the control stick, his face ashen. The younger man, the copilot, was doubled over and unconscious

—while another man was sitting cross-legged on top of him. "Hey, you actually found a detective?"

The man had striking blond hair and emerald eyes.

He was speaking Japanese, but his features and the color of his skin suggested he was from northern Europe.

From his spot on top of the copilot's body, the man glanced coolly from my face to Siesta's and back.

"You're younger than I expected, but whatever. So. Which one's supposed to be the detective?" he asked mockingly.

Was he trying to intimidate us, to maintain as much of an advantage as he could?

He hardly needed to, though; we were already in deep shit. Even I hadn't run into a hijacker before, and my knees went weak despite my attempts to keep them steady.

"First of all, what's your name?" Siesta asked.

The pilot was still pale, the copilot was still unconscious, and the flight attendant was so sweaty that her makeup was running, but she was the one person who hadn't frozen up. Ignoring the incapacitated adults, this teenage girl barred the hijacker's way, all alone.

"Bat. It's a code name," the man said.

Siesta turned to me. "There, you see? Everybody has a code name." "Look, I don't care!"

I seriously could not care less about that! This really isn't the time!

For some reason, Siesta looked a little proud of herself, but I made her face forward again, toward Bat the hijacker.

"I am Siesta, and this is my assistant, Watson. We grew up together on Baker Street." She lied like it was nothing. Her nerves were way too steady. "Well, Bat? What are you trying to do? Why have you called me, the ace detective, here?"

Oh, right. Yeah.

Thanks to Siesta's carefree attitude, I'd almost forgotten the actual situation.

"Ha-ha, ha-ha! You're funny, girl. I like it; this might be fun." Bat laughed, then spoke from his spot on top of the copilot.

"Deduce why I've hijacked this plane. If you get it right, I won't snap the pilot's neck."

In that moment—the lives of six hundred passengers and crew members were entrusted to the skill of a single detective.

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