Volu 5, Prologue
Everyone, let’s play with our chests raised. The uniform numbers that you are currently wearing are all the eternally saved numbers of the Kintetsu Buffaloes! — Nashida Masataka
What in the world does a so-called assistant detective do? People would ask such a question occasionally. It really gives a headache thinking of how to answer.
As a normal high schooler, although I head to the ran shop and the detective agency in the sa building, living a aningless life by washing bowls, washing pajamas, buying Dr. Pepper, trying out new ran, being brought to arcades, standing blankly, being dragged away to accompany gamblers, most probably, almost no one would believe it if I say that those are the jobs of an assistant detective.
The sole thing that I can say that it’s my job as an assistant detective with my chest raised would probably be to create records of incidents.
“Oh, then hand it over for to have a look.” The detective said.
The detective who was my employer was called Alice, and was a girl about the age of a primary school student. Having lustrous, almost leg-length black hair coupled with bear-patterned pajamas, she has an appearance that people won’t forget as long as they see it once.
“No, because that isn’t sothing for people to look at.”
“The sentence not sothing for people to look at is a sha on language, the greatest weapon of mankind! Listen well, Narumi. It’s because there is a way of transmitting ssages between people that we can continue to live on as humans. So let have a look.”
Just like her mystifying way of speaking, the detective was actually extrely obstinate.
“But…… I didn’t even bring it here! It’s just stored in my computer at ho.”
“Can’t you please say things like this earlier!”
Uh oh! Before I could stop her, Alice had long started to pound on the keyboard by her bed like a piano, opening a folder on the monitor. This little detective had first-rate cracking skills, so hacking into my computer was a piece of cake to her.
“W- What is this!”
After browsing through my work records, Alice jumped from the bed and turned around to glare at .
“From your way of writing, doesn’t our agency look as though we were always cleaning up sses made by foolish people making stupid mistakes?”
“…… Isn’t that the main gist of it?”
“What in the world do you see the NEET Detective who speaks for the dead as!”
Alice was so annoyed that her long black hair was continually shaking, while her hands thumped the bed sheets non-stop.
“Haven’t we faced a few large cases where quite a few people were hurt or even died, and even you were left with wounds, being unable to move because of your used up energy? Why didn’t you record all that!”
“Because I don’t have the strength to do that at all!” And didn’t you say yourself that my energy was used up?
“In any case, I do not acknowledge these records. I shall rewrite this.”
While saying that, Alice started to add a few MBs of content and closely described her own room (especially the large crowd of dolls). I sighed, pulled the loudly protesting detective away from the keyboard and returned the file to its original state. This is a file in my own computer, so please don’t change it by yourself!
“I got it already! I’ll record them in more detail.” I consoled Alice. “Perhaps these cases were indeed aningless…… But they should have once been important in certain people’s lives! There was always people working their best in each of the cases, you should be very clear about this, isn’t that right, Alice?”
That was one of the most important facts that I learnt after becoming an assistant detective.
Completely irrelevant to most people, but irreplaceable to an extre minority of people— most of the things that happen in this world are like this, so sotis, the cries of a person cannot enter the ears of the surrounding people at all.
Just at these tis, there would be a crowd of NEETs who usually perks up their ears to the sky to while off their ti clearly hearing the sounds of crying.
That is why we work as detectives.
Alice glared at in extre dissatisfaction, and suddenly pressed her index finger on my chest in the end.
“…… Fine! But be sure not to record only the process of the incident!”
It was as though she was taking a glimpse into my eyes through the strange, colorful bottom of a sea.
“Just recording what you did, t and experienced in the case would be fine. Since you are using the precious ti on my salary to record, only recording these things would be aningful. Do you understand?” After thinking for quite so ti, I nodded in the end.
Indeed— because these cases are still my story in the end.
And here, four extrely aningless and ordinary cases are recorded. No drugs, no bag with two hundred million yen, no murder or gang disputes. Even so, to so people living in this world, these incidents are still incomparably real.
Of course, as I am typing on the keyboard right now, I am one of those people as well. I truly hope that you can realize that you are one of them as well when you read.
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