Chapter 6: The Lying Yamamoto Hiroshi, The Widow

The Yamamoto Hiroshi residence was located in Higashi-Shinjuku, Third District—a house that bore the marks of age.

“Ding-ling-ling~ Ding-ling-ling~”

Aya Asai pressed the doorbell. “Is Detective Yamamoto home? I’m Aya Asai from the Ballistics Division.”

“Hello! Please wait a moment.” A male voice came from the intercom. Shortly after, a young man of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with dark circles under his eyes, emerged to open the door. He bowed and said, “Inspector Asai, Detective Aoyama, thank you for waiting. Please, come inside.”

Aya Asai nodded slightly. Aoyama Hidenobu returned the bow, and the two followed Yamamoto Hiroshi into the living room.

“Please sit, I’ll make some tea.” Yamamoto Hiroshi settled them on the sofa before turning away.

Aoyama Hidenobu surveyed the room. The house was purely Western in style, and though Yamamoto lived alone, it was remarkably neat and clean.

Soon, Yamamoto returned with tea, handing cups to each guest before sitting beside them. He pressed his hands to his thighs, lowered his head in embarrassment, and said, “It was my lack of attention that caused this mistake. I’m very sorry to have made you come all this way. I apologize for the trouble.”

“Detective Yamamoto, there’s no need for such formality. What’s done is done; the urgent task now is to rectify it as soon as possible.” Aya Asai glanced at Aoyama Hidenobu—seeing he had nothing to add, she continued, “Please recall how you lost your gun. When did it happen?”

Aoyama Hidenobu opened his notebook to take notes.

“Yes!” Yamamoto nodded emphatically, then, with a thoughtful expression, began slowly, “Three days ago, in the morning, I received my gun. It was still with me at noon. I discovered it missing around three in the afternoon. At that time, I had just met a friend at Paradise Karaoke on Kabukicho Ichiban Street. There were many people, and the place was chaotic. I suspect I lost the gun there, or perhaps it was stolen.”

He paused, then, in frustration, covered his face with both hands, confessing in a voice choked with remorse, “If only I hadn’t gone to such a place during work hours to meet a friend, none of this would have happened. No innocent person would have died by my gun. I am guilty, truly…”

“Detective Yamamoto, please calm yourself.” Aya Asai tore off some tissues and handed them to him.

Yamamoto took the tissues, wiping his face haphazardly and sniffing. “Sorry, I lost my composure.”

“Let’s continue. Since you suspect the gun was lost at Paradise Karaoke, you must have gone back to look for it afterward.” Aya Asai’s voice was cool and clear.

“Yes.” Yamamoto nodded repeatedly, licking his dry lips. “I returned immediately to search, but there were too many people, and the surveillance footage was unclear. Many spots were blind zones, so… so I never found it.”

“Very well, Detective Yamamoto, if you recall anything else, contact me at once.” Asai stood as she finished speaking. “We’ll take our leave now.”

Aoyama Hidenobu closed his notebook and rose as well.

“Inspector Asai!” Yamamoto called out.

Aya Asai turned back, puzzled.

Thud!

In the next second, Yamamoto dropped to his knees, hands pressed to the floor, lowering his head in a gesture of desperation, pleading in a voice blurred by tears, “The loss of the gun is my responsibility. I accept any consequence without complaint. But Section Chief Nakayama only acted out of kindness to protect me; he was implicated solely because of me. This has nothing to do with him. I beg you to ask Chief Superintendent Asai for leniency on his behalf.”

“I am merely an inspector. I have no authority to command a chief superintendent.” Aya Asai’s face turned cold in an instant; she spoke, then left without another glance.

Outside, Aoyama Hidenobu said, “No need to be upset by such things. With me around, one day, people won’t just remember you as the commissioner’s daughter.”

“I hope you can truly make good on your words.” Aya Asai exhaled, turning to fix her gaze on Aoyama Hidenobu.

He smiled faintly, pinching her flawless cheek. “I always keep my promises.”

“You’re so rude.” His bold gesture left her both embarrassed and angry. She stepped back to avoid his hand, and, seeing no one around, she finally relaxed. “What do you make of Yamamoto Hiroshi’s words just now?”

“We’ll talk in the car,” Aoyama Hidenobu said, pointing to the vehicle.

Only then did Aya Asai realize they were still standing outside Yamamoto’s house. She walked to the car and took the passenger seat.

Aoyama Hidenobu got in the driver’s side, then abruptly grabbed Aya Asai’s hair and pulled her close.

“Ah! What are you doing?” Aya Asai cried out in pain, her face blanched as she glared at him.

Aoyama Hidenobu smiled. “You just dodged my hand. Do you know how much that little step back hurt me?”

If she dared avoid his hand today, who knows what she might dare tomorrow? He had to make her understand what attitude she ought to display before him.

“I—I was afraid someone would see us,” Aya Asai said, her face twisted in pain, anger and fear mixed in her heart.

Aoyama Hidenobu leaned in, pressing his face to hers, speaking each word with deliberate clarity: “Don’t let it happen again.”

“I—I won’t,” Aya Asai promised.

Yet Aoyama Hidenobu still didn’t let go. Instead, he forced her head down, giving her a harsh lesson, a direct and humiliating punishment. “Just like Yamamoto Hiroshi lost his gun—when you make a mistake, you must accept the consequences.”

“Not—not here, please…” Realizing what he intended, Aya Asai was both terrified and furious, enduring the humiliation as she pleaded in a trembling voice.

Aoyama Hidenobu chuckled. “Still disobedient.”

Aya Asai bit her lips hard, her pale hands slowly reaching for Aoyama Hidenobu’s belt.

“Hah~ Mmm~” Aoyama Hidenobu’s body tensed instantly, then gradually relaxed. He gently stroked Aya Asai’s head while expertly starting the car, driving away. Calmly, he said, “Yamamoto’s house is too tidy. He claims remorse over losing his gun, but still has the mind to clean every day? He’s clearly lying. Don’t stop. Later, go to Paradise Karaoke and retrieve the surveillance footage from three days ago. I’ll visit the Nozahara family to ask about their situation.”

In his previous life as an assassin, one of his greatest skills was observing details in any environment.

“Mmm…” Aya Asai’s voice was muffled.

About twenty minutes later, Aoyama Hidenobu dropped her off outside Paradise Karaoke, then drove alone toward the victim Nozahara’s home.

Aya Asai’s cheeks were flushed. She stood, tidying her slightly disheveled hair and collar, then resumed her cold, proud demeanor as she stepped into the karaoke entrance.

“I’m Inspector Aya Asai from the Ballistics Division of Shinjuku Police. Have your manager come out to meet me!”

…………………………

Ten minutes later, Nozahara’s house.

A detached villa with its own garden.

Clearly, lending money was profitable. Nozahara’s finance corporation was of average size in the industry, yet he could afford such a home.

When Aoyama Hidenobu entered, he saw several people arranging the funeral altar in the yard. They noticed him as well.

“I’m Hidenobu Aoyama of the Ballistics Division, Shinjuku Police. Is Mrs. Nozahara at home?” Facing their puzzled looks, Aoyama produced his credentials.

“Mr. Aoyama.” With a slightly hoarse feminine voice, a beautiful woman dressed in black mourning clothes, her hair pinned up, stepped out from the house.

She looked around thirty, her black attire lending her an icy elegance that couldn’t conceal her striking curves. Her face was delicate, her eyes alluring, the red rims lending her a vulnerable charm, as tempting as a ripe peach.

Aoyama Hidenobu, upon seeing her, conjured up countless scenes from widow-themed films in his mind.

Fortunately, having just forced his superior to swallow her pride, he was now in a state of calm detachment—his gaze clear and his demeanor steady. “Mrs. Nozahara, my condolences for your loss. I’m here to learn more about the situation.”

“Please come in, Mr. Aoyama. I will cooperate fully.” Nozahara Iren spoke softly, bowing slightly, her hand gesturing for him to enter.

Wearing wooden clogs, she took small steps ahead to lead the way. Beneath her fitted kimono, her round hips swayed gently with each movement—enough to make any man want to betray his better judgment.