The Detective is Already Dead Chapter 4 - 1.3

Heart, Bat, and pseudohuman

I knew this particular jailbird.

His na—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 , 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 . 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 erald 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 whether I've got eyes or not, though."

"I hear it matters to most people."

"We've got the sa 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 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 co all the way down here to see ."

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

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

"...It's a pleasure to et you. My na is Natsunagi."

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

"I ca 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 ca to ask 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 sothing like that?"

Oh, right. Co 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 kiloters away."

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

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

"Well, I lost my sight in exchange. Besides, my phenonal 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 ."

"That's crazy..."

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

It sounded like a good argunt, but it wasn't. He was still as good as ever at ssing with your head when you talked to him. That had to be why Ms. Fuubi had been so adamant about putting a ti 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 t 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 an?"

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 t the owner of Natsunagi's heart while they were alive. And, using his augnted 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 t him four years ago—above the clouds, at ten thousand ters."

That's right. It was that day—the day I t the ace detective. This guy was a fellow passenger on that plane.

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

"Sorry, but we don't have that kind of ti. 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 sa team.

"I'm not trying to pull anything. It's just been a long ti 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 ters 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 compartnt above my seat. But there was no telling what would have happened to if I'd refused a request from those n in black.

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

Just as I was lanting 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 ti, though, I accepted the reality: So 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 .

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 ti around... What made 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 t: , Kimihiko Kimizuka—and her, Siesta.

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

This miracle of a girl had been right next to , and up till that very mont, 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 na...?"

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 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 mory already— right now, sothing was happening on this plane, and a detective was needed to resolve it. And she'd called ...her assistant?

This beautiful girl who had 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 ti following this developnt.

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 na."

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

"A code na?"

"People do have those, usually."

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

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

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

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

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

But this was no ti for romantic cody 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 ti 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 n, 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 erald 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 na?" 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 na," the man said.

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

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

For so 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 , 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 mont—the lives of six hundred passengers and crew mbers were entrusted to the skill of a single detective.