# 011. Biblia Koshodou no Jiken Techou

## 01. Volume 1 - Miss Shioriko and the Peculiar Guests ( PDF/ePub from Nanodesu )

### 001. Chapter 1 - Sōseki Natsume "Sōseki's Complete Collection, New Edition" (Iwanami Shoten)

A book about books… This Novel kinda reminds me of ‘Hyouka’ anime… But in a way, it is different from the previous Novels I’ve read. But in a way, I kinda enjoyed it. The “me” from some years ago would’ve dropped this show without hesitation. But something makes me drawn to this hehe. I believe it’s how Shioriko unravels the hidden mysteries in the books even Daisuke & his family did not know about.

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### 002. Chapter 2 - Kiyoshi Koyama "Monument Gleaning + Saint Andersen" (Shincho Paperback)

# (NanoDesu) A Translation of the Biblia Koshodou no Jiken Techou Light Novel

ビブリアの英訳なのです！

- About

- Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia Volume 1 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Epilogue Afterword Volume 2 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword Volume 3 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword Volume 4 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword

- Tsukumodo Antique Shop Volume 1 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Coincidence Chapter 2 – Statue Chapter 3 – Memories and Notes Chapter 4 – Present Afterword Volume 2 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Silence Chapter 2 – Self Chapter 3 – Eyes of Death Chapter 4 – Make-Up Afterword Volume 3 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Chest Chapter 2 – Puppet Chapter 3 – Dream Chapter 4 – Sleeping Beauty Afterword Volume 4 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Shadow Chapter 2 – Gamble Chapter 3 – Pinky Chapter 4 – Secret Afterword Volume 5 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Luck Chapter 2 – Hope Chapter 3 – Words Chapter 4 – True Thoughts Afterword Volume 6 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Envy Chapter 2 – Sound Chapter 3 – Future Chapter 4 – Past Afterword Volume 7 Color Art Chapter 1 – Traces Chapter 2 – Truth Chapter 3 – Illusion Chapter 4 – Sin Epilogue Afterword

- Side Projects R.O.D Read or Die – Volume 1 Prologue Oniyama’s Morning What a Wise Alley Cat Wants to Know It’s Kind of Strange, Isn’t it

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## Chapter 2

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Volume 1: Miss Shioriko and the Peculiar Guests (originally translated by TehPing at hellping.org . this chapter has been fully edited by ND)

Chapter Two: Kiyoshi Koyama, Monument Gleaning + Saint Andersen (Shincho Paperback)

Before I knew it, the hour hand of the clock was pointing at eleven. It was time to open the shop.

I had been leisurely dusting away the at top of the bookshelves, but now I pushed the wagon filled with books, worth about 100 yen each, to the front of the shop, and flipped the signboard around.

But for all my effort, there wasn’t a single customer waiting. I didn’t see a soul on the narrow street near the station platform. It was overwhelmingly hot; no one would want to go out in this weather. Massive, puffy cumulonimbus clouds were gathered in the sky above the station’s roof. I guessed there would be a thunderstorm in the afternoon.

The breeze blowing by was humid, blistering, and as musty-smelling as anyone’s breath. The signboard, showing the word “Biblia”, spun around, and the words “Antiquarian Bookshop” came into view from the reverse side.

Nevertheless, a new day was beginning.

I stretched my back and turned back into the so-called “shop”; it was more like a cave made out of books. The dim interior was slightly humid, but it was much cooler than outside.

This was the third day that I, Daisuke Goura, had spent working in the Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia. I hadn’t known this before becoming an employee, but the shop was actually rather famous locally, since it dealt with very expensive books. After a search on the internet, I found out that the shop actually leased books out for exhibitions on occasion.

A few days ago. I had an encounter with the shop owner Shioriko Shinokawa, when I brought her Sōseki’s Complete Collection — a set of books owned by my grandmother. Even though my “condition” prevents me from reading books, meeting her led me to start working here.

Shinokawa felt that old books had their own tales in addition to the contents on the pages. She perfectly unraveled my grandmother’s “tale “hidden in Sōseki’s Complete Collection , and this “tale” revealed a secret about my own birth. Shinokawa had an exceptional amount of knowledge about old books and displayed astounding insight. But, she was extremely introverted; she wouldn’t dare look anyone in the eye, unless they were talking about books.

And so three days passed.

Shinokawa’s little sister was named Shinokawa Ayaka, and she minded the shop before I started. That girl never taught me anything except how to use the cash register and where to put the cleaning equipment. In fact, Ayaka didn’t even seem to be certain what a job at an antique bookstore entailed; she just watched my actions skeptically. Though certainly, it is unbelievable that I, who came in as a customer, could be an apprentice shop attendant by the next morning.

“You do know that my sister is ignorant of anything that isn’t a book, right?”

She repeated the same line so many times, it kind of got on my nerves.

“And do you know that a thief came in here a few days ago? Nothing was stolen, but it does feel a little unsafe around here now.”

The way she prattled about it seemed to imply that I was that thief. I really wanted to remind her that she was the one who made me find Shinokawa at the hospital, but kept it in and continued my work silently. I grew up in a restaurant, after all. I could do some basic customer service if I put my mind to it.

Ayaka hadn’t come out of the main house yet this morning. Perhaps she had decided to ease up on me a bit. Or maybe she had just gotten tired of looking after me all the time.

Whatever the reason, it had left the shop eerily quiet. Feeling the silence all around me, I went over to the counter and started up the computer there. When I checked my email, I found a long message from Shinokawa. “Good morning, this is Shinokawa,” it began. The body of the email contained a long list of work instructions followed by her sign off, “I’ll leave everything to you. If there’s anything you need, please send me an email.”

All of her instructions since my first day of work had been sent through email. In the Ofuna General Hospital, where Shinokawa was staying, the use of cellphones was prohibited in the patient ward. She could call from the lobby, but she probably wasn’t in a state where she could leave the bed.

Of course, if I had anything to tell her, I could head over to the hospital myself. However, there hadn’t been any customers, so there wasn’t really any reason for me to go see her.

My morning “work” included preparing deliveries based on customer invoice requests. The Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia had listings in antique books catalogs, as well as books available for purchase online. Most of the shop’s income seemed to come from remote purchases like those. I suppose that was why the shop could run just fine without any in-store customers.

I searched through avenues of books, looking for the contents of the invoices.

At this point, I had realized that the shop mostly sold specialty books, covering topics like literature, history, philosophy, and the arts. There were a few manga and paperbacks for sale as well, but these were older books that I had never heard of.

I took the books I had found, and returned to the counter. I then packed them up, carefully checking through the email Shinokawa had sent as I worked.

It probably goes without saying but, she only wrote about work in her emails. For some reason, it felt like there was subtext behind the words, ”If there’s anything you need.” She seemed to be saying, ”please do not contact me if there is nothing going on, and do not go to the hospital.”

I didn’t think she would be happy to hear any chitchat from me. The image of her whispering, “…Is that so,” and then reverting back to silence appeared clearly in my mind. Of course, it would be vastly different if it had anything to do with books. If that were the case, I’m sure she’d give me an animated explanation, her eyes shining. That was something I looked forward to.

The door creaked open. I lifted my head and found an old lady with white hair walking into the shop. She looked extremely refined, with a neat, plain dress on and a parasol dangling from her arm.

I didn’t recognize her at all, but I supposed she was someone who lived nearby. She must have come straight from the supermarket, since she was holding a grocery bag in her hand. She smiled and nodded at me, and I nodded back at her. The morning customers are all old people like her.

The old woman went around the shop once, stopping occasionally to excitedly flip through the books. Finally, she nodded at me again and opened the glass door. She probably hadn’t been able to find a book she wanted to buy.

The old woman stepped aside as she exited, making room for another customer who was just arriving.

I stopped what I was doing, surprised by how oddly dressed the new customer was. His head was bald, and his eyes were large and wide. He was a short man, and I could tell from the wrinkles on his tanned face that he was in his late 50s. He had on an oversized T-shirt with a Union Jack flag on it and jeans that were tattered along the edges. His neck had a pink towel draped around it.

I didn’t know what his occupation was, but he definitely wasn’t a salaryman on his day off. He was holding a large bag made from picnic sheets.

The old woman seemed to be as shocked as I was. She tried to squeeze by the bald man, as if trying to escape— but bumped into him as she went. At this moment, the bald man suddenly grabbed her shoulder.

“…Hey you, hold on for a moment.”

The baritone voice was filled with a menacing intent, and the old lady immediately turned as pale as paper. I hurriedly got up from my seat. This wasn’t some bustling street at night, but rather an antique bookshop during the day. I never expected to see such a dispute here.

“What are you doing!?”

I was about to pull the bald man aside, but he suddenly gritted his teeth and bellowed, “You idiot, why’re you grabbing me!? Here, look!”

He reached into the old lady’s shopping bag, and pulled out the item at the top. At that moment, I couldn’t help but exclaim. He was holding a large covered book, Modernology by Konwa Jirō and Yoshida Kenkichi. I had just placed it on the counter only moments before. The name was a little unique, so it had stuck in my memory. I returned to the counter, and found that there was, in fact, a book missing—in other words, she was a thief.

“Ah…”

She groaned in dismay. I was more surprised than shocked. The way she pretended to use the bookshelves as supports must have been a feint to help her steal books. I thought middle or high school students might try to steal something, but never expected that an old lady would do something like that.

“…I hope you can forgive me.”

She suddenly looked at me with begging eyes, a vast difference from the rich, lady-like attitude she had shown before. Perhaps this was her true nature.

“It’s not like I’m doing this because I like it. At my age, there are times when I have to do this, so please spare me some sympathy here, please?”

She gave me a pitiful look. I felt incredibly awkward. I knew, as a member of the service industry, I was supposed to formally hand her over to the police, but I was a little hesitant to do so. Perhaps, since I was brought up by grandmother, it was hard for me to treat old women harshly.

“Such indecent things you’re saying for your age!” the bald man bellowed. “This world has no room for shameless old folks like you. You might as well sell chickens instead of stealing books!”

He was much more furious than I, as the employee, was. He grabbed the old lady again—I had to stop him. We were at a standstill in the narrow passage, when the old lady lowered her head slightly.

“Sorry to trouble you.”

She suddenly turned and ran out, quickly disappearing from sight. I hurried after her, but couldn’t find her anywhere. She was surprisingly fast for her age.

“She’s most likely a serial culprit,” the bald man said to me as I returned to the shop. “Be wary of thieves, will you? What’s the point of you watching the shop if this keeps up?”

“…I’m sorry.”

I lowered my head. I was grateful that he managed to stop the thief, but I was a little confused as to why he was lecturing me. Who was he?

When he noticed my shocked and doubtful stare, the man suddenly pointed at his chest and said, “My name’s Shida. I’m a regular here.”

The man who called himself Shida approached the counter and stacked seven or eight paperbacks there.

“…What are these?’

“Can’t you see? I’m selling these books.”

My heart throbbed a little. With these, I had a proper reason to go see Shinokawa. I delightedly returned to the counter.

“The person in charge of appraising isn’t here, so please leave them and come back tomorrow…”

“I know,” Shida said impatiently. “She’s hurt and hospitalized. Are you a new employee? You must really like this job. Don’t you find the shopkeeper weird? It’s rare to see such an introverted antiquarian bookshop owner.”

He was definitely a regular customer. He casually reached his hand towards the counter and drew a piece of paper from the file holder. It was the invoice slip for customers to record transactions. He had a better idea of where things were than I did.

He wrote in an ardent manner. As he did, I inadvertently noticed his right hand; his long, narrow fingers were heavily cracked and blackened with ink. This was the hand of someone living a tough life.

“Right, this should do it,” he said as he handed me the receipt. The address given was ”Under the Bridge of the Kugenuma Beach in Fujisawa City.” I found this troubling. I thought I was rather familiar with the Kugenuma Beach area, but I had never heard of the place “under the bridge.”

“Where’s that?” I asked, noticing that nothing was written in the telephone number field.

“Hikijigawa river flows this way, and there’s a bridge right in front of the Kugenuma Beach. You know where I’m talking about? It’s slightly up from coastal road.”

Shiba drew an imaginary map with his index finger as he spoke.

“Yes.”

“It’s right below the bridge.”

I stared at his face without looking away—and after a while, I understood what he meant. This man was homeless.

“I picked up these books recently. I’m a book hunter.”

“Book hunter?”

What does that mean? Rather than answer my question, Shida merely smiled and tapped at the books in his hands a few times.

“Anyway, bring these to the hospital and get the shopkeeper to appraise them. They might not look it, but these are decent books. Your shopkeeper will definitely love them.”

“Ah, well — ”

I wanted to ask Shida what he meant by ”book hunter,” but before I could, he leaned his body over the counter as if he was afraid someone would overhear. It was all quite pointless, as I was the only other person in the shop. He really exaggerated his actions.

“…Well, there’s something I want to ask the shopkeeper about. Can you please pass it on to her for me?”

“Huh?”

I didn’t know what he meant at all, but he didn’t give me any room to interject.

“I’m a regular customer here, so there’s no problem, I guess?… Anyway, it happened yesterday …”

As I remained speechless, Shida began his story.

That evening, I went to the hospital. Shinokawa’s sister had no club activities in the afternoon, so she took over at the shop. As I knocked on the hospital door, I heard a soft voice from within. The sound was vague and muffled, but it seemed to be coming from Shinokawa.

We hadn’t seen each other in three days, but I wasn’t particularly excited. I was still thinking about the customer, Shida, who had come to the shop earlier—about the “request” he had presented to us.

“This is Goura. Please excuse me,” I said as I opened the door.

“I just emailed you. The book appraisal…”

I was suddenly speechless. Shinokawa was on the bed, drying her hair with towel. It seemed she had just taken a shower, turning her usually white skin a pale cherry pink. As soon as she noticed me, she stopped what she was doing and got very still.

“Sorry. I’ll wait in the corridor.”

Flustered, I headed outside.

“It — it’s fine…please come in…”

Shinokawa quietly called out to me, lowering her head as she motioned for me to sit down. Her beautiful, glossy black hair was drenched, drooping over her eyes. I inadvertently gulped.

“I — I just…showered…I thought you would come by later…erm, sorry…”

She seemed to be saying that she had just showered because she thought I would arrive later, but that she was sorry for her current appearance.

“No, you don’t have to apologize to me about that.”

The shop was being attended to, so I came by earlier than expected. I coughed for a while; if there was silence, I’d inadvertently think too much about the scene in front of me.

“You showered in the hospital’s bathroom?”

She nodded. The fragrance of her shampoo still lingered in the air.

“Helped me do it…”

Shinokawa murmured as she put aside the towel. She probably wanted to say that the nurse helped her shower. I see.

She suddenly took a deep breath, as if trying to relax. As she did, her chest rose greatly beneath her pajamas, and my vision instantly settled there. I thought she was a petite person, but I may have been mistaken—ah, am I an idiot? What would happen if she found out? Better get down to proper business.

“Can you look at these books?”

I handed over the bag I had brought along. To be honest, I was a little skeptical. The paperbacks Shida brought didn’t seem to be as good as he advertised, and they didn’t look old at all.

However, once Shinokawa took out the books, her attitude changed.

“Wow, this is amazing.”

Shinokawa squealed in delight, like a child receiving a Christmas present. She embraced the books tightly. With the spines pressing into her breasts, I was at a loss for where to look.

“Look!”

Her eyes dazzled, and she turned the spines towards me. They were all published by Chikuma Publishing and Kodansha Arts Publishing. There I saw the three volumes of Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens, the first and second halves of The Coming of the Book: The Impact of Printing by Lucien Febvre and Henri-Jean Martin, the Limited Edition, Gentle Love Story of Nishōtei by Shikiba Ryūzaburō, the first and second halves of Sugiyama Shigemaru’s Hundred Demons …. It seemed each book was cryptic in content, and I didn’t know what was so good about them.

“…Are they really that valuable?”

“Yes. Each book can sell for two or three thousand yen.”

“Eh? Really?”

I was shocked. That was more expensive than I thought. Those books didn’t look that old.

“All these books are highly rated by critics, and there haven’t been any reprints. It’s possible to purchase hardcover copies, but they can’t be bought with just two, three thousand yen. There’s a huge demand for such limited edition books in the antique books market.”

I remembered Shida’s spirited look. He may look suspicious, but his ability to pick books was not to be underestimated. I was a little concerned as to how he got the books though. He said that he had picked them up recently.

“A customer named Shida brought them in.”

“Ah, so it was him after all! I was wondering if he was the one,” she said excitedly.

“He specializes in these types of books.”

“Specializes? What does he do?”

“That man’s a book hunter. Did he not say so?”

“He did … but what’s a book hunter?”

I hadn’t gotten the chance to ask the man himself, as he never gave me the opportunity.

“They’re people who buy cheap books from antique book stores and sell them at high prices. Mr. Shida goes around the new antique bookshops in the area every day.”

This was the first I had heard of such a thing. I didn’t know people could earn a living that way.

“Then why did he call himself a ‘book hunter’?”

“There are many given explanations. One is that they hunt through bookshelves for any potentially valuable titles. Mr. Shida has always specialized in rare books trading … he may even know more than I do.”

“…”

So Shida was a special customer who could contribute rare book titles to our shop. I couldn’t help but regret what had happened earlier; if only I had listened to him seriously.

“Did Mr. Shida make any requests?”

She looked at me through bespectacled eyes.

“H-how did you know?”

“He always does this whenever he sells good books to us. He wants to purchase some limited edition books of a certain publishing unit…am I right?”

She gave a sweet smile as she said this. I guessed it was because he often came to the store with requests. Since he wanted to sell his books to this antiquarian book shop, it would be better to keep a good relationship with him.

“Hm, how do I put it…it’s about a limited edition book.”

I didn’t know where to begin. It was a request that was a little—no, very intriguing. Anyway, I first took a note from my pocket, something I had jotted down to prevent myself from forgetting.

“He wants us to get the First Edition of Koyama Kiyoshi’s Monument Gleaning + Saint Andersen …”

“It’s an anthology from Shinchō Paperback. It seems like the first edition was released in the 30th year of the Showa Era.”

Shinokawa’s reply was immediate, and filled with detail.

“In that case, our shop should have some entries. It’s really not uncommon…”

“No. He doesn’t want a book in our stock.”

I shook my head.

“His request was, ‘My book’s been stolen, and I hope you can help me get it back.’”

“Eh?”

She blinked her eyes. I arranged Shida’s long description in my mind. It would be better, I thought, to convey what he had said in the correct order.

“… I don’t have any money, and I’m not young anymore. Right now, I’m still satisfied with my life. I don’t have to be a burden for others, and can still live on my own. Not all old people complain about unreasonable things like that woman who just stole.

“There are some books I won’t sell no matter what. Everyone can have a book they treasure, right? For me, that would be Koyama Kiyoshi’s anthology Monument Gleaning + Saint Andersen . You’ve never…read it before? Such an unstudious person.

“That book was basically my talisman. I always put it in my bag and brought it along so that I could read it whenever I wanted to…but then yesterday … it was stolen.

“Isn’t there a path to Kobukuroya on that side, over to the northwest? It’s the place overlapping with the coastal road. You know the first traffic light when you head down the coastal path?…Right. There’s a cross junction. The left leads to Ofuna station, and there’s a temple in front. I rode a bicycle there yesterday afternoon.

“Why, you ask? For work, work. Recently, I agreed to exchange books there with someone like me. The second half of The Coming of the Book that I just brought, I got from him.

“…Huh? You’re asking me if I only have the second volume? Are you serious? The latter volumes of such a rare book series are harder to get. Some people only buy the first volume and not the second, not the other way around, right? There are fewer copies of the second volume on the market, and that makes them more valuable.

“We agreed to meet outside the temple. I arrived there first and parked my bicycle at the pine tree beside the shrine gates…there wasn’t anyone around, and it was very quiet. I didn’t bring my watch, but I guess it should have been almost 2pm. “The temple in Kamakura isn’t a very large one, and there weren’t many visitors, especially since it was so hot yesterday. I fared well under the shade of the trees, though. Much better than the poor, sweltering folks waiting at the bus station.

“I was bored and had nothing to do, so I decided to read a book under the tree. My bag was in my bicycle basket, and naturally, I had my Koyama Kiyoshi book with me.

“Just when I was about to take it out, I suddenly felt my stomach ache. It probably isn’t proper of me to say this, but I’ve been having diarrhea for the past few days. I want to watch my food intake, but it’s really hot, and my house doesn’t have a fridge.

“I went to look for a restroom, but there was no sign of any convenience stores or restrooms nearby. Instead, I went to the temple. I thought there would be a restroom for tourists to use there.

“Before I left, I placed my bag and bicycle under the tree, thinking that nobody would steal them. It was really careless of me, and now that I think about it, a grave mistake.

“I passed through the gates and went down the path to the temple. After a while, I heard a crash from behind. I looked back and found a young girl lying beside a bicycle. My first thought was that she crashed into my bicycle, since it was parked somewhere along the pedestrian pathway.

“‘Are you alright?’ I asked the girl… well, that girl was about 16, 17 years old, had short hair, and was rather tall. If not for the fact that she was wearing a skirt, I would have assumed she was a boy.”

“All our stuff was scattered in front of the temple, including the book I just mentioned.

“‘Sorry, could you please help me lift this bicycle?’ I said loudly. Well… I guess I reached my limit there, because I had no strength left to pick everything up and put it all back in the bicycle basket.

“The girl, however, did not look back, ignored my bag, and instead just picked up her own dropped bag in order to check if everything was still there… I didn’t know what was inside, but the plain maroon paper bag looked pretty high-class.

“Then the kid started to look around. It seemed like something very important had fallen out of her bag. Suddenly, she picked something up and ran off.

“To be honest, I felt it was a little strange. That kid picked up what looked like a paperback. Anyway, when I came back from the restroom, my friend had already arrived, and he helped me pick up my stuff. I thanked him and looked inside my bag, only to find that my Koyama Kiyoshi was book missing… it took me a while to realize what had happened.

“I asked my friend, and he said that he just passed a tall girl. He told me that he saw her cross the road and that she seemed to be heading for the bus stop. Of course, by the time I got there, there was no one there and the bus had already left.

“I bid my friend farewell, and checked the bus stop one more time just in case, but she wasn’t there after all. I guess she got on the bus.

“Anyway, I couldn’t get my beloved book back. So, there’s something I want to ask this shop…

“Huh? You’re asking me why the girl stole the book? Isn’t that obvious? That kind of old book is definitely worth a lot of money; she must have intended to sell it!

“That’s why, when I thought about it, I realized this antiquarian book shop is the closest one to the temple. If that kid brings in my Koyama Kiyoshi book, can you help me buy it back quietly? I’ll pay for it.

“…The police? No, I don’t want to call the police. I don’t want to catch the culprit, I just want to get my book back. There are times when people do the wrong things in a stupor… but I don’t really want to give her a piece of my mind.

“Anyway, please help me notify your shop owner… I’ll come back again later tonight. I’m off then!”

“…And that’s what he said. What do you think?”

I crudely summarized what happened and looked over at Shinokawa. Her hands were folded on her knees, and she seemed pensive.

“I guess Mr. Shida really likes Koyama Kiyoshi’s works. I first noticed this when he prevented that book theft.”

She said calmly. I was about to nod in agreement—

“Eh? That has nothing to do with Mr. Shida’s request, right?”

I merely mentioned that he prevented a theft offhandedly when I was explaining Shida’s request. Shinokawa smiled and shook her head.

“The anthology Mr. Shida had would certainly contain Koyama’s signature work, Monument Gleaning . Do you know what it’s about?”

“No…”

“It’s a short story featuring an insipid description of a poor novelist’s daily life. Of course, the basis of the story is the author himself. He meets a young girl in an old bookshop who gives him a birthday present. And when he opens the wrapping … ahh, sorry, I went on a tangent again.”

I had already leaned forward unconsciously. I was actually more interested in how he met the girl and what happened when the present was opened than in Shida. But she deliberately coughed and changed the subject.

“Back to the main topic, the opening of Monument Gleaning has a line like this.”

She looked up and recited fluently, “‘If possible, I hope to age faster, to a point when my back arches and prevents me from doing anything. When that happens, I may try raising a few chickens to make a living, but not all old people spend their time grumbling about the misfortunes of the world.’”

I was a little surprised. This truly was similar what Shida said to the old lady. I did think it was weird when he suddenly mentioned selling chickens.

But right now, I was more shocked by something else.

“…Do you memorize all the novels you read?”

Upon hearing this, she waved her hands in a flustered manner.

“H-how could I? That’s not it. Memorizing everything is… I just remember the good parts…”

“Eh? Isn’t that amazing? I’ve never met anyone like that before.”

I expressed my true thoughts, but her response was beyond my expectations. Stupefied, her mouth hung wide open, and her face turned bright red.

“…I-it feels weird to be complimented.”

“Eh? Is that so?”

“This is the first time someone’s ever said that I was amazing…”

She peered at me from behind her spectacles, and just when her eyes were about to meet mine, she suddenly lowered her head again. I felt a little lost as to what I should do.

“…A-anyway, I suppose we should help Mr. Shida.”

The room took on a peculiar atmosphere. Shinokawa coughed again to change the topic.

“Mr. Goura, please take note if anyone comes back to sell Monument Gleaning + Saint Andersen . Also…”

Her forehead wrinkled in a frown above her glasses.

“…I do wonder about something.”

“Wonder?”

“Did that girl really steal the book for money?”

I had been wondering this too. Maybe if she were a book hunter like Shida, but would an ordinary person think of selling a random old book off the street?

“I feel like it’s a little strange to only steal a single book,” she said.

“Mr. Shida agreed to exchange books with another book hunter. That meant that Mr. Shida had other items that were worth something. If she wanted money, don’t you find it weird that she left those other items behind…?”

I nodded. It certainly was intriguing. Shinokawa, who had been folding her arms, suddenly uncrossed them and leaned towards me. I thought it looked like the pose of a magazine model, but I hurriedly dispelled that notion.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Mr Shida won’t get his lost book back if this keeps up…why don’t we look for that girl?”

“Eh…”

I never thought of that. Was there a need to go to such extremes for that book hunter? However, I resisted the urge to disagree. Shinokawa’s large eyes widened. Even without any books to bring in, this incident could be the best excuse for me to be here.

At the same time, my enthusiasm to search for the culprit kindled within me.

“Let’s help out then. I’ve been thinking about doing this too, actually,” I said with conviction, or at least something close to that. She happily clapped her hands in front of her chest.

“Thank you very much. I knew you’d say that, Mr. Goura.”

Upon hearing her say that, I couldn’t help but feel a little touched. So she really trusts me?

Just when my mood changed for the better, she continued, “But if the girl’s not going to sell it for money, why did she steal the book? What do you think, Mr. Goura?”

I was a little startled at this sudden question. I actually intended to hear her out all the way, just like how it went when she unraveled the mystery behind the Sōseki’s Complete Collection the last time.

“Ah, yeah… maybe she stole it because she wanted to read a book? Or maybe she wanted to read, but couldn’t find a book?”

“I think the chances of that are rather slim.”

Shinokawa firmly denied this with a twinkle in her eyes. Her expression showed more conviction than any words she could’ve used.

“This book isn’t really considered rare, and it’s not hard to find in old book shops. There was a reprint 15 years ago.”

“Then… ah, yes, maybe she took the wrong book during the mix up…”

I heard from Shida that the girl’s bag dropped. There was no way to be sure she didn’t have a similar book, and took the wrong one in the confusion.

“I thought of that too, but in that situation, the girl’s book would have remained at the scene… I think there must have been a reason why she stole the book.”

“Hmm…”

I couldn’t think of any more explanations. This would be the limit of my mental abilities—no, wait, wasn’t this weird?

“If she’s not selling it for money or to read, why did she steal the book?”

“Yes, I do feel that is the crux of the incident,” Shinokawa said spiritedly.

“The real reason why the book was stolen will lead us to the girl. Let’s investigate this.”

“Eh… but how do we go about doing that?”

“From what Mr. Shida told you, I understand a few things.”

She raised her delicate index finger as she said this.

“First, she was very anxious back then. She knocked into the bicycle parked at the side of pedestrian pathway because she was running too fast.”

“…Yeah.”

I nodded to prompt her, and she raised her middle finger.

“Second, the bus arrives infrequently. According to what Mr. Shida said, there were people waiting at the bus stop… I can guess that she was in a hurry trying to get there.”

I started to gradually understand. The girl was anxious because there were others waiting for the bus.

“But this is confusing. She was anxious, but why didn’t she run to the station after getting up… he said she checked through the contents of her bag and looked around first.”

“Ah, yes. She was looking around for the item she dropped…”

“But she didn’t pick up the item she dropped… she picked up Mr. Shida’s book. I think there’s another possibility.”

She enunciated as she spoke.

“Maybe the item in her bag didn’t fall out, maybe she was checking her bag because the item broke or something?”

“Broke? What kind of item is that?”

“I don’t know…in that case, it might be possible she took the book to replace the broken item or to use it to repair something. She looked around anxiously, picked up a paperback…”

I continued to stare at her intently. It was the same as when she solved the Sōseki’s Complete Collection . She could deduce so much given so few clues, and she didn’t even need to leave the ward room.

However, there was something I didn’t understand.

“…Anyway, what are paperbacks used for?”

Shinokawa sighed, and bent her raised fingers. She might not have realized it herself, but she looked as adorable as a lucky cat, to the point that it made me feel awkward.

“I can’t think this through no matter how I try. There’s too little information,” she said sternly while maintaining her lucky cat pose.

“…Maybe we should ask the book hunter who met with Mr. Shida. He might know something.”

“Eh? Why?”

“Mr. Shida’s associate said that he brushed by the girl, but he wouldn’t have known where she went if he had only brushed by her. He knew she went to the bus stop because he looked back, right?”

“…I see.”

My interest was piqued again.

Shida said he would stop by the shop later. Would I have to ask him how to contact the other book hunter?

“But Mr. Shida’s friend might not come here.”

“Yes, that’s true. I think we should be the ones to visit him.”

“I see… wait, who’s going to ask?”

She looked at me doubtfully. That was a really stupid question. Shinokawa couldn’t leave this hospital. Wasn’t it obvious that I’d have to go?

The next day was a day off for the Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia.

It was the first day off there’d been since I started working there. I was spending my free time outdoors, baking under the sunlight. I parked my scooter in front of the Kamakura temple, the scene of the “crime”.

I stood under the shade of a pine tree, wiping my sweat as I looked around. This place was close to my old high school, and I often used to come here for school trips— Kamakura temple sightseeing was a staple activity at schools here. The houses were positioned not too differently from how they were back then. It was near the coastal road, but I couldn’t find any convenience stores or family restaurants. This was a quiet residential area, and I couldn’t find any pedestrians no matter where I looked.

I had agreed to meet Shida’s associate here.

Shida had come to the Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia last night, and was extremely delighted to hear that we’d look for the thief girl (and about the prices his books would sell for). He told me he had something he wanted to ask his book hunter friend, so he called him using the phone in the shop. I didn’t talk to Shida’s associate directly, but apparently he cheerfully agreed to meet me, and told Shida when and where.

“You should read Monument Gleaning sometime,” Shida said after he contacted his associate. “The first time I read that book was when I was just starting up as a book hunter. I didn’t intend to do what I’m doing now, but my company and family was in a mess and … but I guess it’s nothing much. I do find it blissful reading under the bridge.”

Shida first appeared at the Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia several years ago, and Shinokawa didn’t know where and what he used to do for a living before that.

“In the book, the main character’s just a poor man who’s not good at building relationships and is bad in social situations. My wish to live a completely content life was simply a wish. It’s all the more impossible to find an innocent and benevolent girl who could treat such a man gently, I guess.”

Shida’s tone was much gentler than his words. He spoke as if talking about a brother.

“But though the author knew this very well, he still wrote this story. You’ll understand if you read it… I really found myself empathizing with the author of such a blissful story.”

I nodded—I really did want to read it.

“…Actually, I know it’s difficult to get that book back, but I’m unwilling to give up so easily… I won’t blame you even if you can’t find it, so please don’t worry… send my regards to the Baron.”

“…What does he mean by Baron?”

I muttered under the pine tree. Is that the book hunter’s nickname? Shida never told me what he looked like, but I guess I would know when I saw him.

I checked the clock on my cellphone. It was slightly past the meeting time. Just when I was starting to get annoyed—

“May I ask why you’re here?”

I heard an inquiring voice behind me. I looked back and found a tall man in a white shirt walking over from the temple gates. He was probably in his late twenties and had curly hair and long eyes. His untanned skin smelled of cologne, and if not for the leather business bag he was carrying, I would have believed he was a model taking photos in his free time. Was he returning from a grave visit?

“I’m waiting for someone.”

Upon hearing my answer, the man’s eyes shined and he revealed his teeth in a passionate smile.

“In other words, you’re the same as me. I walked around the temple because I came by a little early…. Are you the one helping Mr. Shida find his book?”

“Yes.”

The man held my hands tightly and shook them a few times. I was still a little confused, and I alternated between looking at his hands and his face.

“I’m Mr. Shida’s friend Kasai. For some reason, he gave me the nickname Baron.”

Kasai shrugged his shoulders. Anyway, he was just like a pretty boy in a painting, and I really wanted to call him something regal.

Kasai presented me with a business card. Naturally, I didn’t have one.

“I’m Goura. I work at the Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia.” I had no choice but to introduce myself verbally.

“Ah, so you’re from that antique book shop? I’ve passed it before, but never actually gone in. Are you the owner?”

“No, I’m just a shop attendant. I just started working there.”

“Is that so? Please allow me to visit when I have time in the future,” he said with clarity.

“All I know is that you’re Mr. Shida’s friend, so I thought you’d be a book hunter too. I’m really sorry to call you out on a work day.”

Kasai scratched his head slightly. He looked a little scrawny, but he didn’t seem to be a bad person.

I looked down at the business card in my hands, at the words, “Owner of Kasai Bookstore” above the name Kasai Kikuya. I heard that he was a book hunter before, but it seemed he also operated a shop.

“Kasai Bookstore is the name of the online shop I use. Normally, I specialize in purchases, which I then sell online, so my methods are a little different from Mr. Shida’s.”

I could not help but marvel at these people called book hunters. It’s true that it would be faster to sell books to customers directly rather than through other shops. This method of operation was probably no different than any ordinary antiquarian book shop.

“I’m not too knowledgeable about books, and most of my merchandise is limited edition albums and games. I’ve exchanged goods with Mr. Shida before, and, luckily, our specialties don’t clash with each other.”

Looking at his attire alone, he did not seem to be someone lacking in funds. He seemed to be a rather capable book hunter.

“Oh yes. Is this about the kid who took Mr. Shida’s book?”

I recovered upon hearing Kasai mention the true reason for this meeting. I then explained to him what Shinokawa discovered; that the current information we had was not enough for us to look for the girl. After hearing my story, Kasai raised his eyebrows.

“What? I described it fully to Mr. Shida. He never said such an important book was stolen.”

“Do you know something?”

“I know more than you think. I didn’t just brush by her, actually. Come, follow me,” Kasai said, as he went to the coastal road. We were headed right towards the bus stop, and I could see the traffic lights and cross junction just up ahead. He stopped in front of the old gates leading to the temple rafters.

“It might be more appropriate to say that we met each other by chance. It was around 2pm, and I was walking over from the road junction. She was squatting in front of this gate doing something, and I could hear a rustling sound.”

The gates were slightly concave into the garden, and I couldn’t see the scenery within. I looked back at the pine tree. It seemed the girl must have come here and waited for a while after stealing the book.

“What was she doing?”

“Her back was facing me, so I’m not too sure. There was a maroon bag placed on the ground, and she had her hand inside. She seemed really anxious, looking at the station from time to time. I thought it was weird, but since I had an appointment I started on my way. Just when I was about to leave, she called out to me.”

I was a little surprised.

“Eh? You talked to the girl?”

“Yes. She asked me, ‘Do you have a pair of scissors?’”

“Scissors?”

“Yes, scissors to cut paper. I thought she would ask something else, and to be honest, I’ve never heard of pedestrians asking others to lend them scissors…but I just so happened to have a pair with me. I often have to deliver goods by mail, and it helps a lot with tying packages.”

Kasai took out a pair of stainless steel scissors and contentedly opened and closed them.

I stared at the glittering blades. If it was as Shinokawa said, that the book was used to repair something, would that mean Shida’s book was cut into pieces?

“I didn’t know Mr. Shida’s book was stolen when I lent her the scissors, and she looked really embarrassed. She only used them for a little bit, and then returned them to me.”

“Did you see what she did?”

“Her bag was turned away from me, and I couldn’t see what was inside… no, wait. She was holding something when I lent her the scissors. I guess that was…”

Kasai looked up at the sky for a while, before slowly continuing, “…I think it was an cooler.”

“Cooler?”

“The kind of thing you use to keep food cold, you know?”

I knew that, but I didn’t understand why the girl would be holding one.

“Does that mean the bag contained food or something?”

“Maybe, but I couldn’t tell either way.”

A paperback, scissors, and a cooler — I had no idea what linked them all.

“After returning the scissors to me, she immediately crossed the road and ran over to the bus stop.”

Kasai pointed at the bus stop on the opposite side of the road. There was a female high school student with her uniform on waiting there. It was the uniform of my alma mater. She was probably going home after her club activities, and there was a bow bag taller than her standing on the ground.

“Another high school student was waiting for the bus here yesterday, but it was a blond boy with a guitar strapped behind his back… the bus hadn’t arrived, and it was meaningless to watch on, so I headed to the temple.”

“So the girl got on the bus, right?”

“She should have been able to, but she never did.”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

She should be able to ride the bus from here to Ofuna station. I always thought she was headed to the station.

“I reached the gates, and started to pack up Mr. Shida’s belongings. After a while, I was a little concerned about that kid, so I looked back at the station. The bus just so happened to be leaving, and the other passengers had already gotten on, but she was still standing there all alone.”

“She was already at the station. She didn’t get on the bus?”

“That’s how it was. I don’t know why, though. After that, she carried the bag in her arms towards the street junction, and that’s all I saw.”

I tilted my head. After hearing Kasai’s description, I had even more questions. She had a cooler in her bag, stole a book, used scissors to cut something, ran to the station, did not board the bus, and watched it leave— I had no idea what was going on at all.

As soon as I left Kasai, my phone rang. It was an unknown number, and I hesitated a little before picking up. “Yes?” I said. I waited for a reply, but the line remained silent.

“Hello, may I ask who is calling?”

There was still no reply. Was it a prank call?

“What in the world, seriously,”

I said impatiently. But just when I was about to hang up the phone—

“…This is Shinokawa.”

Her soft voice shocked me.

“Shinokawa? Erm, why did you call all of a sudden…”

My mind was in complete chaos. I did tell her my number before, but I never thought she would really call me. She wasn’t allowed to use the phone in the room she was staying in, but it was possible to send me emails using the computer.

“I-I’m, in the corridor now… I just came out of the rehab room…”

Now that she mentioned it, I remembered there was a space in the corridor there for patients to make calls. She must have called from there. It would have been better if she had told me that right from the beginning.

“I was really curious about what the book hunter told you… so I gave you a call. I’m really sorry… so…”

She was about to hang up, and to my surprise, I inadvertently raised my voice when I spoke into the phone.

“Wai-wai-wait, please wait!”

If she hung up like this, this misunderstanding would probably continue.

“There’s something I want to ask you. I just finished my conversation with the book hunter!”

I started relaying what I had heard from Kasai without further ado. Luckily, she didn’t hang up, but I got the feeling she was getting more and more confused as I went. It was unlikely that anyone could understand such fragmented information over the phone.

I got all the way to the point where the girl crossed the road when, showing no surprise or doubt, Shinokawa asked, “…She left the bus stop with the bag like that?”

I heaved a sigh of relief. Her attitude had changed the moment the conversation turned to books. This was the Shinokawa that solved mysteries.

“Eh? Yes, that seems to be the case,” I answered. I really couldn’t think of anything else important. Shinokawa let out a sigh.

“…I see. I understand now.”

“Understand what?”

“What she wanted to do, and why she stole the book…”

I widened my mouth in shock.

“Eh, really?”

“I don’t know everything, but I have a rough idea of what happened.”

“Amazing! I couldn’t think of anything…”

I was really shocked she was able to deduce the truth from what I had said. It seemed I was wrong to think nobody could crack this case. Shinokawa could could figure out anything that had to do with books.

“…No, I’m not that amazing…”

She went silent. Even though I was still excited , I felt that something was amiss. She said she solved the case, but still sounded dejected. She didn’t seem happy at all.

“So, what did you figure out?”

Affected by her mood, my voice softened. After a while, she spoke.

“…It was a present.”

“Huh?”

“That girl had a present in her bag, probably food that required cooling. Since the bag wasn’t from any store, I suppose she made the food herself rather than buying it. She was anxious because she wanted to deliver it in person.”

“To who…”

At that moment, I recalled Kasai’s words. There was another person waiting for the bus, a young man with blond hair carrying a guitar on his back.

“And the reason why she didn’t get on the bus is…”

“She didn’t intend to get on the bus. She just wanted to give the boy her present… but got into trouble in the meantime. She knocked into Mr. Shida’s bicycle and fell over… and the bag with the present dropped to the floor.”

“…Did it break inside?”

I remembered the cookie sandwich I had eaten with Shinokawa. That was my most recent dessert. Was it something like that?

“No, if it’s broken, it can’t be given. What was broken wasn’t the dessert… there was something around the dessert.”

“Around?”

“It’s a present to the opposite gender, so it was probably delicately wrapped. Maybe the decoration or something broke, and she had to repack it again quickly, but she didn’t bring anything to do it with. There weren’t any convenience stores nearby either … at that moment, her eyes spotted Mr. Shida’s book…”

“But there’s something weird about this,” I interrupted. I had been listening quietly, but I really couldn’t follow.

“I’ve never heard of using book pages to wrap something.”

“…I don’t think she used the book either. What I want to say is…”

The sound of a bus door opening chimed. I was looking at the large bus in front of the station when I noticed. I inadvertently let out a cry.

A young man got off the bus. His school pants were partially covered by a white shirt, and he had a guitar case on his back. He was probably headed to school for practice. My alma mater would always hold cultural festivals right after summer vacation. Did he form a band with his friends and join the light music club?

His short hair was bright and blond. He must have bleached it.

“…What is it?”

“A high school student just got off the bus. It might be the guy who was waiting at the bus stop yesterday when the book was stolen…”

“Go after him!”

Shinokawa blurted into the phone.

“Please ask him about that girl.”

“Got it. I’ll call you later.”

I hung up for the time being and trotted over. I saw public bus close its doors and leave. The boy had his back to me as he walked. If the school rules hadn’t changed, students should have been banned from having such brightly dyed hair. He probably dyed it this eye-catching color because it was the summer holidays.

“Sorry, may I disturb you for a moment?”

The boy stopped and looked back. He immediately glared at me, his eyes long and narrow. He was probably scowling at me like that on purpose.

“…What?” he said unhappily, dragging out the word. This was a common manner of speaking here, and I used to do the same thing when I was in middle and high school.

“A few days ago, did a girl come to this bus stop…?” I asked. It was then that I realized. If it was true that the girl still had her bag when she left, then the boy must not have accepted her present.

“…A girl tried to give you a present, right? That’s what I wanted to ask you about.”

The boy looked as if he’d eaten something bitter, and frowned.

“Ah, you mean Kosuga? What, do you know her?”

I committed the name “Kosuga” to memory. This boy seemed to know her.

“There’s something I want to ask her about. Could you please tell me her address, or how to contact her for that matter?”

“…Are you the police?”

“Ah, no…”

I didn’t know how to continue. I failed. In my haste to call him, I couldn’t think of what to ask him at all. No one would give the personal information of an acquaintance just because someone asked. But, after thinking about it a little, he heartily took out his phone and showed me his contacts. A phone number and email address were listed right below the name, Kosuga Nao.

“She probably lives around here, I don’t really know that much about her. Is the phone number and email address enough?”

“…Thanks,” I said doubtfully. The boy suddenly curled his lips, and gave a thin smile befitting a painting. He seemed to have practiced it in front of the mirror.

“Did that brat do something bad? She’s a strange one,” he said with amusement, showing no concern at all for the girl called Kosuga Nao. I could tell he was extremely delighted.

“…What do you mean?”

“You’re looking for her for some reason, right? How come? Are you going to abduct her and throw her in the deep sea?”

I frowned. It seemed he thought of me as a delinquent. My appearance often gave this impression.

“You don’t really know her?”

“Not really. We just happen to be in the same class. I do talk to her in the classroom sometimes, but I really hate women with bad attitudes.”

“So you rejected the present?”

“Even if it’s my birthday, I do have the right to refuse, right? She was so shocked when I told her I didn’t want her present.”

So he acted friendly in school, but was completely different behind the scenes. He was someone who could enjoy rejecting a present, who could actually tell a stranger someone’s personal information.

There was no reason for me to get involved, but the more I listened, the worse my mood got. I needed a way to contact Kosuga Nao, however. I let him use his infrared communication to send the data to my cellphone.

“I’ll be off then. I still have club activities.”

After the boy left, I stayed there for a while. Although I got an important piece of information, I couldn’t bring myself to be happy.

While scouting for book related clues, we discovered that a girl had tried to give a boy a birthday present, and he had rejected her gift. Shinokawa probably wanted to be certain if Kosuga Nao took the bag with her when she left.

I suddenly recalled Koyama Kiyoshi’s Monument Gleaning . After Shida recommended it to me, I bought a copy of Koyama Kiyoshi’s short story anthology. It had been a while since I personally bought a book with printed text. Monument Gleaning was a very short novel, and I barely managed to finish it before I started feeling uncomfortable.

The protagonist, a novelist, was extremely poor and lived his life peacefully every day. He was destitute, but he had quite the idle life. He spent his time buying things, cooking, and reading books.

One day, he became friends with a young girl from an old bookstore who called herself a “protector of the books.” This hardworking and down-to-earth girl gave the protagonist a nail clipper and an ear pick. In the end, the protagonist accepted the presents heartily.

The story was overly blissful, just as Shida had said. It could cause people to forget the bitterness and loneliness of reality. Of course, it wasn’t clear if these things had actually happened to the protagonist. One could think it was all a fictitious diary written by the protagonist, and, by extension, the author.

A present that could cause someone to feel such warmth would never exist in reality. Even if someone were to give something like that, there was the possibility of rejection, just like what happened to Kosuga.

I recovered from my deep thoughts. Anyway, I would first tell Shinokawa what I heard from the boy, and then discuss with her what to do next.

I took out my cellphone, and dialed her number.

The sun was setting outside the window, and a narrow crescent moon appeared in the sky, looking just ready to disappear. I sat on the chair beside the bed, and checked the time on my cellphone.

It was 7 pm, the appointed time.

“…She’ll be here, right?” I asked Shinokawa.

“She’ll come… that’s what she told me.”

After I explained everything that happened, Shinokawa sent Kosuga Nao an email informing her that we were looking for the book in place of its owner and hoped she would make a trip to the hospital.

“I’ll go,” she said simply. She had something to say to us—I guess.

“It’s good if she can return the book.”

Kosuga Nao borrowed scissors from Kasai, and definitely cut the book in some way. I supposed the book would be incomplete.

“…It’s fine. I don’t think the book will be cut to a point where it’s unreadable.”

“Why? Didn’t she cut it with scissors?”

“No, she cut…”

Before Shinokawa could finish, we heard a sharp knock on the door. We didn’t even have a chance to reply before the door swung open and a tall girl dressed in jeans and T-shirt walked in. She had well-defined eyes and a refined figure. I thought she looked more like a pretty boy than a pretty girl.

She walked into the middle of the room, stopped, looked around quickly, and lowered her head towards us with what seemed to be a glare on her face.

“…I’m Kosuga Nao.”

“He-hel-hello…I-I’m Shinokawa…”

Shinokawa’s eyes fluttered as she spoke her name.

“Huh? Be louder, yeah? I can’t hear anything when your voice’s so soft,” the girl chided forcefully. Shinokawa’s face immediately turned beet red.

“No… erm… well…”

She was at a loss for what to say. Shinokawa seemed to be confused by Kosuga Nao’s sudden appearance. Why was the book thief the one acting justified, while the inquirer was fidgeting?

“We are from the Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia near Kita-Kamakura station.”

There was no choice, so I spoke up for her. Even after stating our shop’s name, the girl showed no reaction at all. It seemed she didn’t know anything about our shop.

“I’m Goura Daisuke, the shop attendant there. This is the shop owner Shinokawa. The owner of the stolen book is a regular customer of ours, so we’re helping him look for it.”

Suddenly, I noticed that Kosuga Nao didn’t bring anything. Where was the stolen book?

“You stole the book, right?”

She folded her arms and raised her chest arrogantly.

“…So what.”

I didn’t know respond to such a rhetorical question. Was she denying her guilt, or did she intend to admit and apologize? This girl’s attitude was certainly bad, just like the boy said.

“How did you find my email address? I don’t remember telling anyone. Did you steal it from someone else?”

She was really infuriating me. Given her position, she had no right to begrudge others for peeping in on her.

“Your classmate told us.”

“Classmate? Who?”

“…A blond guy. I met him at the bus stop near your house.”

Suddenly, her face turned pale.

“…Is it Nishino?’

So that guy was called Nishino … I had already noticed that the boy never told me his name back then. He was rather cautious when it came to his own personal information.

“Did you say anything to Nishino about that book?” Kosuga Nao said, a groan in her voice.

“No, not at all, but he told me right away.”

“Nishino…he actually…”

Her shoulders shuddered slightly. This girl had been let down twice, first when she gave the present, and second at this moment.

“Can you return the book?” I asked. Even if I said anything to console her, she wouldn’t feel relieved at all. What happened between Nishino and her was still her problem, and our job was to get Shida’s book back.

“…I can’t return it now.”

Kosuga Nao suddenly turned aside angrily.

“HUH?” I inadvertently raised my voice. “What do you mean you can’t return it?”

“Shut up! This has nothing to do with you, alright!? You definitely don’t know what happened anyway!”

“Wait, why are you angry!? You’re the one who stole the book…”

“…I think I know what happened,” Shinokawa suddenly said from the bed with her back straight as she stared at Kosuga Nao. The hesitant attitude she had shown before disappeared. It was like she had become a different person.

“I had intended to wait for the book’s owner to arrive before talking about your situation…or do you want me to tell him later?”

Her voice had a force that caused Kosuga Nao—and me—to quiet down instantly. It was just for a fleeting moment, however, and soon the girl was glaring at Shinokawa again.

“Don’t talk like you understand. Can you even describe to me what happened?”

“…Yes, most probably,” Shinokawa answered without missing a beat. The girl’s stare became even more heinous.

“Explain it to me then. If you really can do it, show me.”

This was not good. If Shinokawa made a single mistake, Kosuga Nao probably wouldn’t return the book. Of course, this case could be solved if we called the police, but that wasn’t what Shida, the victim, wanted.

“Are you sure?”

I asked Shinokawa, not because I was doubting her innate insight, but because I was worried if she could convince the other party—however, she nodded without hesitation.

“Sure, it’s fine.”

Then, she closed her eyes and began her eloquent explanation.

“That day, you made a dessert for your classmate, Mr. Nishino, as a birthday present…you needed a cooler, and since it didn’t break even when it dropped on the floor, I guess it’s a tart or something similar. After wrapping it, you decorated it with a deep red ribbon, packed it inside a paper bag, and left the house. You knew Mr. Nishino would head to the nearby bus stop after club activities and ride the bus back home…am I wrong in any way up till this point?”

Kosuga Nao opened her mouth wide. It seemed everything fit.

“…You crashed into the bicycle in front of the temple, and the bag dropped to the floor. Though the contents did not break, the packaging changed shape. The decorations near the knot were probably damaged…an artificial flower or something similar. You needed a string to fasten it.”

“Eh? A string?”

I inadvertently interrupted. Shinokawa opened her eyes, and drew a paperback from the pile of books. It was the book Sanctuary by William Faulkner and printed by Shincho Paperback. She flipped through to one of the pages, and raised a maroon cord from inside.

Ah, I couldn’t help but exclaim—now I understood.

“All the books from Shincho Paperback have this book cord…of this yarn-like texture. In the past, most printing companies had this, but only Shinchō Paperback does nowadays. Monument Gleaning + Saint Andersen has a similar deep red book cord, and you stole the book for this.”

“…Wh-where did you see it?” Kosuga Nao muttered.

“I didn’t.”

“Then how did you even know the color of the ribbon…I should be the only one who knows what’s inside that bag. Even Nishino didn’t see it.”

“I can guess the color of the ribbon because you used this book cord. The paper bag was maroon, too, so I wondered if the wrapping inside was of the same color…also, the book cord in a paperback isn’t very long. There are only a few things it could possibly repair.”

Shinokawa closed the Sanctuary book and put it back into the pile of books beside her table.

“At first, you must have thought of using your hand to tear the book cord, but the cord was not as easy to remove as you thought. You had no choice, but to borrow a pair of scissors from a man passing by. You then removed the book cord…the book was useless at that point, but you didn’t throw it away immediately because the man was still there. You decided to give the present first, and you brought the book along with you to the bus stop…”

She hesitated for a moment.

“…In the end, you were unable to give the present. You left the bus stop, forgetting you still had the book…. Am I wrong anywhere up till this point?”

Kosuga Nao knelt down in a sudden, deflated manner. For a while, everyone remained silent.

“…You even knew about that?”

She buried her head into her knees and muttered weakly.

“By any chance, do you…know why I didn’t return the book?”

“I’m not too certain…you didn’t do anything to the book after you took it back, and you thought of returning it, but you aren’t explaining why you don’t have it. Looking at these few points…”

Shinokawa’s voice grew softer and gentler.

“…Are you now reading this book?”

The girl lifted her head, her ears slightly red. Then, she seeming to regret it, she looked away from the hospital bed.

“I didn’t intend to read it in the first place. I don’t like books…but it just happened to drop open right in front of my eyes…”

“…It opened to the page with the Monument Gleaning story, right?”

Shinokawa finished for her. So that’s how it was, I thought to myself. This was Shida’s favourite story, and he probably would have marked the page it started on.

“That story has a part where a girl in her teens gives a present to a man on his birthday.”

I managed to digest a little of what was going on. Kosuga Nao was of a similar age to the girl in the story, and once she read the scene where the girl gives a birthday present, she had the enthusiasm to read on.

Kosuga Nao continued to kneel, her hands pressed to her chin, her ferocious expression becoming gentler, and her face showing some signs of immaturity.

“I don’t know whether I like him or not, I just found him special…. That’s why I wanted to give him a present. I didn’t know he hated me. Well, I guess I wasted my time and effort there.”

Her voice was extremely cheery, and I couldn’t tell whether she was forcing herself or truly feeling relieved.

“That story was just plain wish fulfillment for me. At first, I wondered how there could be a girl like that, but maybe the writer knew it was a wild wish. I realized that, and it’s a good story…I thought I would continue to read the other stories in this book.”

She put her hands on her jean covered knees. The age, sex and circumstance were different, but maybe those that like similar books have similar senses.

“…I apologize for stealing the book and cutting the cord,” she said.

“If you don’t mind the cut cord, I’ll definitely return the book tomorrow. There’s still a little bit I want to finish reading…”

“That won’t do.”

Shinokawa interrupted the girl’s words in a quiet tone and spoke to the startled girl.

“You have to return the book to its owner, not to us. The owner of the book is Mr. Shida, and he likes the Monument Gleaning story, just like you. If you apologize sincerely, I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”

I finally realized, Shinokawa had always intended to make the girl apologize directly to Shida from the moment she called her here. This was a better solution than us giving the book back, and I guessed Shida would definitely be happy.

“…I understand. I’ll do that.”

Kosuga Nao nodded without hesitation.

One morning a few days later, I brought Kosuga Nao to the coast near Kugenuma station. Cars full of foreign tourists crowded the coastal road and traffic barely moved. The sound of waves breaking could be heard from afar, accompanied by the sight of windsurfer’s sails gliding along the rippling waves.

I should have noticed the moment we proposed Kosuga Nao return the book herself that she didn’t know where Shida lived. Someone had to take her there, and I was the only one who could do so.

I turned from the coastal road and into a narrow alley along Hikijigawa River. The number of pedestrians decreased drastically.

Kosuga Nao brought the book along as requested—no, I hadn’t seen it personally, but she was holding a slightly large paper bag. Of course, we did notify Shida beforehand, and he said he would be waiting for us at his lair.

She hardly spoke at all as we went on our way. I could tell she was a little tense.

“…It’s around there.”

I pointed below the steel bridge. There was a structure made of plastic sheets built near the foot of the concrete base. As if proving my point, a bald middle-aged man pulled a sheet aside and walked out.

Kosuga Nao was a little taken aback by Shida’s appearance, and her eyes widened slightly, but for just a moment.

“…This is enough. I’ll go alone.”

She quickly went down the diagonal side of the concrete block, and I hurriedly followed her. She said it was enough for me to take her there, but I had a duty to ensure her safety. Upon noticing me, Shida took off the towel he had on around his neck. The girl stopped right in front of him and stood there.

“…I’m Kosuga.”

“I’m Shida. Good morning,”

Shida introduced himself. The girl fidgeted around clumsily, took out the book wrapped in cloth, and handed it to Shida with both hands.

“I’m returning this. I’m sorry for stealing it from you.”

Shida received the book silently, and removed the cloth as if to confirm the book’s existence. I could see the title, Koyama Kiyoshi’s Monument Gleaning + Saint Andersen, clearly. The book was very old, and the pages looked slightly brown. Shida flipped through the pages and touched the remaining part of the book cord lightly.

“…Ah, what a pity.”

He sighed. Kosuga Nao seemed to be a little worried and lowered her head.

“I’m really sorry that I can’t do anything to fix it…”

“No, I’m not talking about the book.”

Shida shook his head.

“Eh?”

“I’m talking about you. You worked so hard for this, but your present wasn’t accepted.”

The girl went still, caught unawares by this development. I could see her expression stiffen.

“I only came here to apologize.”

She muttered softly, seemingly suppressing her feelings.

“I don’t need your sympathy…it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“No, it’s not about whether it matters or not. You’re hurt because your good intentions were trampled on…there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s no need to lie about such a thing,”

Shida said quietly. He knew how devastated she was.

“I-I’m not lying…”

“You don’t have to be so defensive, there’s nobody related to your usual life with you here, right?…if you can, how about you try telling me what happened?”

Nao Kosuga gritted her teeth, and her shoulders shuddered.

“There’s no point in talking about it…isn’t it a waste of effort?”

“Well, I guess it may be a waste of effort,” said Shida, nodding. “But if you just share what happened with others, you might feel somewhat relieved…you see, Monument Gleaning ’s the same, right? There’s a line in the story, ‘Whether it is useful or not, how great it can be if we could become people who are there for each other.’ These words may seem a little cheesy, but they can etch themselves deeply into people’s hearts. If there’s anything bothering you, I’m here to listen.”

The girl suddenly shut her eyes tightly and opened her mouth. I thought she was about to shout, and got ready to move, but an unexpected thing happened.

Tears trickled down her face. She did not make a single sound. Just silent tears.

During that short moment, none of us spoke up. I could vaguely hear the sound of waves from afar.

After a while, Shida said to me, “You can head back now. This is a conversation between the two of us now.”

”Huh?”

My eyes widened. Was it fine to leave these two here—no, I didn’t think Shida would do anything to this girl, but would it be okay to leave a crying high school girl like this?

“I can’t…”

Shida looked surprised. “You’re an outsider, right? I’ll pay you back for helping me find this book sometime soon,” he said.

He then turned to ask Kosuga Nao. “What do you think? Do you want this guy to be here?”

She shook her head without hesitation, and nasally said, “…Go head back, then.”

Since both of them agreed, I had no choice. I left the riverside while feeling a little left behind.

The following days passed peacefully.

I still didn’t know what had happened between Shida and Kosuga. When I reported the outcome to Shinokawa, her only response was, “I see,” and she seemed to lose interest in the case after that. Well, we really were just outsiders, like Shida said. There was no reason for us to delve any further into this.

However, a week later, I heard something concerning from Kasai when he visited the Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia. He said said that he could not find Shida under the bridge at Kugenuma Beach.

“His luggage is still there, but his bicycle isn’t. I think he’s been gone for days…and I’m a little worried,” Kasai said gloomily. It would be good if there were any support facilities nearby, but there was the possibility he had gotten himself into an accident, or something similar.

Perhaps it would be better to ask Shinokawa? Or should I send an email to Kosuga Nao first? I thought about this as I worked, but just when it was approaching evening, Shida himself appeared in the shop.

“Yo, long time no see. Are you working hard?”

He approached the counter happily. His face was tanned and his bald head showed vague signs of greying hair. His clothes were a lot dirtier than the last time I’d seen him. He looked like he’d just survived some great ordeal.

“I caused you trouble before because of this book,” he said as he drew a covered paperback from his bag made from picnic sheets, showing me the title. It was Koyama Kiyoshi’s Monument Gleaning + Saint Andersen .

“After you left, we talked at the riverside for quite a while. We had a pretty lively discussion about Koyama Kiyoshi…she’s a little aloof, but a good kid,” he said graciously. Seeming to have remembered something, he drew a paper pouch from his bag. The pouch was likely a gift, judging by the pretty ribbon tied to it.

“She even gave me this, saying it’s repayment for cutting off the book cord…look inside.”

The bag still had ample space even with a book inside. I supposed there was a present inside. The bag had signs of being opened before. Doubtfully, I opened the paper bag and was immediately startled. Packed inside was a small nail clipper and a metal ear pick.

“It’s like she heard my heart, didn’t she? This might be the most valuable present I could get, right?”

Shida said smiling. I understood what he meant. It was the same gift the young girl in Monument Gleaning gave the protagonist. On a closer look, I found that Shida’s nails were neatly cut. It seemed he immediately used the gift after receiving it.

“I managed to get my book back thanks to the shop owner here. That kid even said…your boss managed to figure everything out even despite being stuck in hospital the entire time.”

He then hesitated a little before saying, “…It was scary how correct she was.”

I was a little unhappy. Shinokawa was the one who figured it out, but I thought I put in some effort too.

“Anyway, I didn’t expect to get my book back so quickly. I have to give something to this shop in return at least…this will be it.”

Shida put the nail clipper and ear pick back in the pouch, and handed me a paperback. It was not Koyama Kiyoshi’s book, and it was probably a little newer, though not recent. The title read Peter Dickinson’s Walking Dead , and it was printed by Sanrio SF Paperback. I had never heard of the book before, but I guessed it was probably a Sci-Fi novel.

“What’s this?”

“You still need to ask, you idiot!? Of course I came here to sell it!” Shida exclaimed loudly. “Name any price. I’ll sell it even if you say 1 Yen.”

I looked down at Walking Dead . The book was very thin, and looked cheap. The given price was 480 Yen. It did not seem to be a book Shida was proud of, but anyway, I would bring it over to Shinokawa for her to have a look.

“Where’ve you been the past few days?”

“Well, you know, I had some work to do. I looked all over and finally found this book…at least give me thank you or something.”

Why was it that I had to be the one thanking him? Didn’t he bring this book as a gift to us?

“…Thank you very much.”

Anyway, I lowered my head. I was really an idiot for worrying about him.

After closing the shop, I made a trip down to the hospital. The sun was setting, and Shinokawa, who was using her laptop in the ward room, greeted me clumsily.

“Th-thank you…”

After saying that, she went silent again. I had been working at this shop for more than a while, and we hardly talked about anything other than books.

“…Thank you.”

We then went silent. Even though we met often, it would be pointless not to say anything. I decided to talk about something random for the time being.

“Shinokawa, how’s your injury?”

“…Injury?”

“Didn’t you say you went to the rehab room?”

“Ah, yeah…I guess I did…I’ve been rehabilitating,” she answered with a soft voice.

“Speaking of which, how did you injure yourself? I never asked.”

It seemed she had a corset on her waist, but her leg wasn’t in a cast. Before, I heard she’d injured her leg; had she recovered?

“…”

She fidgeted around, wondering what to say, and finally said nothing. I was a little disappointed. I had hoped to use this as a chance to improve our relationship, but we couldn’t even have a casual chat…

“Er-erm…”

Suddenly, Shinokawa raised her voice. She seemed to be taken aback by her own voice as she cringed a little.

“I-I’m not good at talking about anything other than books…b-but I find it easier to talk to you, compared to other people…”

I couldn’t help but wonder. She said she found it easier to talk to me and still had a hard time communicating… just how bad was she with everyone else?

“Erm…you won’t resign from the shop, right?”

“Eh?”

“I get along with you easily at work, Mr. Goura… so…”

I stared at her. I knew what she wanted to say. Of course, my answer would be a definite yes—she was a little eccentric, but I was very happy to hear she needed me.

“I won’t resign. I’m happy to listen to you talk about books.”

To someone like me, who can’t read even though he wants to, this is the sort of perfect environment that you can’t find anywhere else. I did have a few gripes about my pay though.

“Ah, yes.”

I suddenly remembered why I had come, and drew Peter Dickinson’s Walking Dead from the bag Shida brought.

She tentatively lifted her head and looked at the book I was handing her. Her eyes behind the glasses widened suddenly. As someone had flipped a switch on her personality, her expression immediately brightened.

“Ah, it’s Walking Dead !”

The next moment, the book disappeared from my hands and ended up in Shinokawa’s. She beamed blissfully as she examined the book from all angles. The black-clothed girl on the hard front cover continued to swivel around.

“Where did Mr Shida find this book…did he say anything about it?”

“No… is it really a rare book?”

“The Sanrio SF imprint was known for their lineup catered towards collectors. They published quite a few western science fiction and fantasy novels that Japanese readers were unfamiliar with, but ended up shutting down after about 10 years due to declining sales. There are many novels that can only be found translated under this imprint. There are still many fans to this day who try to collect everything published by Sanrio SF.

Her energy was incredible as she rattled on with her explanation.

“ Walking Dead is a very rare book that’s still in circulation. It’s uncommon in the antiquarian book market, and nobody has ever imported it.”

I finally knew why she was so excited. So, if it was so valuable, would it sell for the same amount as the other paperbacks Shida brought in?

“How much can this book sell for?”

“Well…the top, bottom and edges aren’t darkened, and the cover is very pretty…it can probably sell for more than 50,000 Yen…”

I was speechless. For this one book? I never thought it could be worth this much. Shida even said he would sell this valuable book for ‘1 Yen’—this would be an ample show of gratitude for an antiquarian bookshop like ours. He probably spent quite a lot of effort getting this book.

“Did Mr. Shida mention anything about Miss Kosuga?”

“Well, it seems they had quite the lively chat about Koyama Kiyoshi.”

Shida had looked really delighted when he showed me the dazzling nail clipper and ear pick he had received. Perhaps it was because he met someone who shared his interests.

“Mr. Shida accepted her present. It was—”

“A nail clipper and an ear pick, right?”

She immediately filled in. I, who was about to continue on in a satisfied manner, was shocked by her response.

“Eh, how did you…”

I realized the answer as I was speaking and stopped my question midway through. When Shinokawa spoke with Kosuga Nao, she told Kosuga that Shida liked Monument Gleaning too, and even told her to apologize with their connection in mind.

I thought about what had happened, perhaps she had hinted for Kosuga Nao to give this very gift. She probably knew that Shida would be delighted and forgive Kosuga.

I stared at Shinokawa’s innocent expression and recalled the words Shida had said as he left the shop.

“I caused you some trouble here, and I really want to thank you, but…”

Shida had been at a loss of words, his face showing a serious expression.

“That shop owner of yours is so amazing, it worries me. Being too intelligent can cause trouble too. I don’t think she’s realized this though, so you need to take note of this, you know?”

At that time, I thought he was simply worrying too much. Shinokawa was only interested in books, how could she cause any trouble?

I hadn’t changed my mind or anything—but I was a little concerned about the nail clipper and ear pick. I knew she wasn’t acting out of malice, but I couldn’t honestly say she was innocent of manipulating anyone. If she ever realized the truth, she probably wouldn’t be so happy about how things turned out.

Maybe I just had to pay a little more attention. It would be fine as long as I continued working with her.

Shinokawa, who was flipping through the pages, opened her mouth and let out a hoarse sound.

It seemed she was whistling, or at least attempting to do so, without realizing it.

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### 003. Epilogue

# (NanoDesu) A Translation of the Biblia Koshodou no Jiken Techou Light Novel

ビブリアの英訳なのです！

- About

- Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia Volume 1 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Epilogue Afterword Volume 2 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword Volume 3 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword Volume 4 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword

- Tsukumodo Antique Shop Volume 1 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Coincidence Chapter 2 – Statue Chapter 3 – Memories and Notes Chapter 4 – Present Afterword Volume 2 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Silence Chapter 2 – Self Chapter 3 – Eyes of Death Chapter 4 – Make-Up Afterword Volume 3 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Chest Chapter 2 – Puppet Chapter 3 – Dream Chapter 4 – Sleeping Beauty Afterword Volume 4 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Shadow Chapter 2 – Gamble Chapter 3 – Pinky Chapter 4 – Secret Afterword Volume 5 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Luck Chapter 2 – Hope Chapter 3 – Words Chapter 4 – True Thoughts Afterword Volume 6 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Envy Chapter 2 – Sound Chapter 3 – Future Chapter 4 – Past Afterword Volume 7 Color Art Chapter 1 – Traces Chapter 2 – Truth Chapter 3 – Illusion Chapter 4 – Sin Epilogue Afterword

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## Epilogue

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Volume 1: Miss Shioriko and the Peculiar Guests (originally translated by TehPing at h ellping.org , this chapter edited by ND)

Epilogue

I resigned from the Antiquarian Bookstore Biblia just like that. Afterwards, I went to the store one last time to receive my remaining salary, but I never went to see Shinokawa even once.

My mother made quite the scene when I regressed to unemployment.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING , RESIGNING AFTER WORKING FOR JUST A MONTH? IT HASN’T EVEN BEEN LONG ENOUGH TO DECIDE WHETHER YOU LIKE THE JOB! FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, AN UMEMPLOYED PERSON HAS ALL THE VALUE OF AN INSECT HERE! THOSE WHO DO NOT WORK, DO NOT EAT!!! ”

She yelled as much as she wanted, and maybe she felt she said much when she saw how gloomy I was. Before she went to work the next day, she had left a note for me in the kitchen.

You earned enough money to eat. Calm down and look for another job.

I was bothered that she was able to say such reasonable things once in a while.

To be honest, I really couldn’t explain why I quit. Maybe it was because I felt she couldn’t trust me as a person. But as an employee, the only think I really needed was my pay. So maybe I was just looking for a relationship beyond that of a shop owner and employee. I couldn’t say if it was love, or something else. I didn’t know what that sort of relationship would even be called—between someone who loved talking about books, and someone who liked hearing about them.

Anyway, I should not expect the unreasonable from co-workers, especially older, bespectacled beauties. I kept this in mind as I started attending job seminars.

Two weeks passed by peacefully. After writing an untold number of resumes and attending as many briefings, I’d finally made it to final interviews at a food company in Saitama. Maybe things would take a turn for the better. As I was envisioning it, the phone rang. Shinokawa’s sister was on the line. I hesitantly picked up the phone, and after a simple greeting…

“…How’s the store doing?”

…I asked about something that always bothered me. A store attendant suddenly resigning had to have been a major inconvenience. However, she replied quite pleasantly.

“We closed the store for now, at least until we get new workers. Oh, you don’t have to worry too much, Goura. It was already hard to keep it open without my sister at home.”

Despite what she said, I couldn’t scrub away the guilt. The store being closed was a undeniably a direct consequence of my resignation.

“Anyway, there’s something more important I want to ask you.”

Suddenly, her tone became serious.

“Did something happen between you and my sister, Mr. Goura?”

The hardest thing right now was to answer that question. I couldn’t explain everything that happened with The Late Years , and I myself couldn’t even understand what happened between me and Shinokawa.

“Hum, well…I guess it’s, uh—”

“Uh? ‘I guess it’s uh—’ what? You’re like, uh, uh, uh… okay, listen, did you get to touch those huge boobs?”

“ What the HELL ?”

“Look, those are some huge boobs. They’re shaped nicely, too.”

She was obviously teasing me. It was dumbfounding how it still managed to start up my imagination.

“…I’m hanging up.”

“Okay sorry, hold on a sec! My sister’s been acting weird recently.”

“Eh?”

“She hasn’t been reading.”

I was at a loss for words. The person who would bring in scores of books into a hospital ward? The person who would lie to everyone around her just to protect a single one? It was hard to imagine.

“Ever since you resigned, Mr. Goura, she’s been spacing out… she’s finally getting discharged after so long, but she’s been feeling down, and I’m worried. Couldn’t you pay her a visit, even just once?”

In the end, I didn’t say whether I would go or not. I simply told her that I would think about it for awhile, and hung up the phone.

For some time after that call, I couldn’t get Shinokawa out of my mind. I was worried about her mood. Was it really because of me? Could she be feeling badly because of me?

Right now, I had no intention of visiting her. She told me straight out that she couldn’t trust me, and I couldn’t just talk to her as if nothing happened. Plus, it would be impossible to talk to Shinokawa the Introvert, anyway—but it concerned me, her being down.

And just like that, my thoughts looped round and round and several days had passed before I knew it. I attended the final interview with the food company with Saitama. I felt fine about my performance, but became suddenly tired when I reached Ofuna.

I walked to the ticket gate in the Ofuna station, walked down the stairs and stepped onto the main road. We were still having an Indian summer, and the remaining light of sunset seemed to pierce through my jacket sleeves. It was technically autumn, at least.

I walked down the avenue and saw the frontmost white building, the Ofuna General Hospital. Visiting hours were probably still on.

(…Should I really go?)

I couldn’t stop being worried about Shinokawa after all… but it was too late to visit her today. Maybe tomorrow would better… no, I was already here, so today might be—

“…Erm.”

A soft voice arose from a bench on the sidewalk. After walking for two, three steps more, it registered and I looked back in shock.

A bespectacled, long-haired woman was sitting on the bench. She was wearing a bright checkered skirt and a plain shirt, all covered by a knitted cardigan. It was the same plain outfit she wore when I met her a few years ago—speaking of which, this was the second time I’d met her in any outfit besides her pajamas.

“Shinokawa …what are you doing here?”

“I—I got…discharged today…” she muttered.

She was using a couple crutches to help her stand, with places to for her to put her elbows. I moved to help, but she shook her head shyly and straightened her waist to stand properly. I heard that she was going to be discharged, but I didn’t think she’d be so well recovered.

“…I thought that you would probably…pass by here.”

I felt my body temperature rise. From all appearances, she’d been waiting on this bench for me for a long time, and we just stayed standing there, several steps away from each other.

“Congratulations on your discharge.”

This was the only thing that I could say.

“…Thank you very much.”

She lowered her head as she said that. Both of us remained silent, not knowing how to carry on the conversation. Why did she come to see me?

“Did something happen?” I prompted.

She leaned on the crutch in her right hand to support her body, and handed the tote bag in her left hand to me.

“…T-This.”

“What?”

“Please help me take care of this.”

I took it doubtfully, checked the contents of the bag—then widened my eyes. There was a book inside: the The Late Years from before. Dazai’s signature was inside the cover, and it looked like none other than the real thing.

“W-Why this ?”

“W-Well, I would like you to…help me keep it safe, please.”

I didn’t understand. Wasn’t this the very book she wanted to keep close to her even if she had to lie to the people around her? Did she not treasure it more than anything else?

“Erm…I want to try trusting you, I guess…”

After just squeezing out those words, she blushed—so that was how it was. I understood. She put the book she treasured most in my hands, as proof of her faith in me. In other words, this would be her proposed reconciliation. Well, it was just like her to hand over a book worth several million yen just like that.

I couldn’t help but laugh. In things like this, the first one laughing loses, but whatever; she got through to me, and just that was enough.

“I don’t want this.”

I put the book back into the bag and hung it on Shinokawa’s wrist. Her expression looked somewhat strained, so I spoke quickly.

“It would be pointless for me to have this when I can’t read, so it’s better to leave it with you, Shinokawa… well, if I ever want to hold on to it, I’ll tell you then. That aside…”

I straightened my back and faced her.

“Shouldn’t it be about time to fulfill your promise?”

“…My promise?”

She tilted her head wonderingly.

“You said that you would describe the stories of The Late Years , didn’t you?… Did you forget our promise?”

Her face immediately burst into a sunny smile. She seemingly changed into someone else entirely, making it hard for me not to look at her.

“Sure. Please sit here.”

The tone of her voice changed, and she invited me to sit on the bench. Did she want to tell me about the story immediately? I felt that was kind of weird, but of course I had no reason to refuse. I kept a small distance from her as I sat down, a distance that just so happened to be the dimensions of The Late Years . However, she closed the distance by leaning over to me slightly.

I could feel her warmth from where our bodies are in contact, and my whole left half stiffened. I wondered what I’d do if she said that she hoped I’d come back to the store with her, after listening to her talk about The Late Years. Somehow it felt like I was going to have a steady job.

But none of this for now. Let’s just listen to her story first.

In our current positions, she looked over at me, and when she started talking, her manner of speaking was different than before.

“I think I mentioned that The Late Years was Dazai Osamu’s debut work, published during Showa 11. At the time, Dazai was in his twenties, and it was said that he spent ten years on this work and wrote more than five thousand manuscripts. The collected works are just a small fraction…”

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### 004. Afterword

# (NanoDesu) A Translation of the Biblia Koshodou no Jiken Techou Light Novel

ビブリアの英訳なのです！

- About

- Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia Volume 1 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Epilogue Afterword Volume 2 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword Volume 3 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword Volume 4 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword

- Tsukumodo Antique Shop Volume 1 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Coincidence Chapter 2 – Statue Chapter 3 – Memories and Notes Chapter 4 – Present Afterword Volume 2 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Silence Chapter 2 – Self Chapter 3 – Eyes of Death Chapter 4 – Make-Up Afterword Volume 3 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Chest Chapter 2 – Puppet Chapter 3 – Dream Chapter 4 – Sleeping Beauty Afterword Volume 4 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Shadow Chapter 2 – Gamble Chapter 3 – Pinky Chapter 4 – Secret Afterword Volume 5 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Luck Chapter 2 – Hope Chapter 3 – Words Chapter 4 – True Thoughts Afterword Volume 6 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Envy Chapter 2 – Sound Chapter 3 – Future Chapter 4 – Past Afterword Volume 7 Color Art Chapter 1 – Traces Chapter 2 – Truth Chapter 3 – Illusion Chapter 4 – Sin Epilogue Afterword

- Side Projects R.O.D Read or Die – Volume 1 Prologue Oniyama’s Morning What a Wise Alley Cat Wants to Know It’s Kind of Strange, Isn’t it

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## Afterword

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Volume 1: Miss Shioriko and the Peculiar Guests (originally translated by TehPing at hellping.org , this chapter edited by ND)

Afterword

Whenever I get off at an unfamiliar stop, I will often look for an antiquarian bookshop if time permits.

Once I find a signboard at the end of a shopping street or a crossing, I will randomly enter one, and then look up at the bookshelves that reach the ceiling.

I like the atmosphere they give off, something newly published books lack. It feels like there is a thin membrane applied on them after they are passed down people’s hands—of course, I do really like the hard, thin texture of newly printed pages.

There are vastly different ways to treat books; amongst those who keep their books in neat condition, some have the habit of using bookmarks, and some have the habit of removing the dust jackets. When reading through old books, my interests are not simply the contents of the books themselves, but also what kind of persons the previous owners were.

I did not know when it started, but at some point I thought of writing a story involving old books. I set Kita-Kamakura as the stage, as this peaceful place is similar to an ideal setting I wanted to write about, long ago.

On a side note, as of this writing there is no antiquarian bookshop around the Kita-Kamakura station (as far as I know). Thus, there was no clear model behind the shop the protagonists work at besides the one in my own head. I wrote this story thinking that if this kind of shop had been available during my high school years, I would definitely be a regular customer here.

However, the old books appearing in this work are real. These are all books I love, books I have memories of. I hope to write a story that can end up becoming like these books.

To all people involved in the making of this book, and to all who read all the way through the afterword, I humbly thank you.

Mikami En

References

- Sōseki Natsume (1909), Sōseki’s Complete Collection Volume 8, And Then, Tokyo, Iwanami Shoten

- Shinya Yaguchi (1929), “Sōseki’s Complete Collection of Stories, Tokyo: Seieisha

- Uchida Hyakken(1949), “Teacher Sōseki’s Random Notes”, Tokyo: Kawade Paperback

- Morita Sōhei (1967), Sōseki Natsume, Tokyo: Chikuma Shobō

- Kiyoshi Koyama (1955) Monument Gleaning + Saint Andersen, Japan: Shincho Paperback

- Kiyoshi Koyama (1969), Japan, Kiyoshi Koyama Complete Collection, Tokyo: Chikuma Shobō

- Jirō Konwa and Kenkichi Yoshida (1930), Modernology, Tokyo: Shunyodō Publishing

- Peter Dickinson (1975), Walking Dead. Translated and published in Tokyo: Sanrio SF Paperback, 1981, code 26-C

- S.N. Vinogradov and A.F. Kuzmin (1955), Introduction to Logic. Translated by Hisao Nishimura and Yoshio Nomura (1973), Tokyo: Aoki Paperback

- Osamu Dazai (1936), The Late Years, Tokyo: Sunagoya Bookstore

- Osamu Dazai (1989), Osamu Dazai’s Complete Collection, First Edition, Tokyo: Chikuma Shobō

- Toshiyuki Kajiyama (1974), The Many Exploits of the Book Watchman Baron, Tokyo: Tōgen CompanyTa

- tsurō Dekune (2007), The Price of an Author, Tokyo: Kodansha

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## 02. Volume 2 - Miss Shioriko and Her Enigmatic Daily Life ( PDF/ePub from Nanodesu )

### 001. Prologue - Michiyo Sakaguchi "Cra Cra Diary" Bungeishunjū Part I

First, thank you for reading and I hope you’re enjoying the story so far.

I actually consulted with some french speakers when I was translating this, and they came to the same conclusion that you did…that nobody calls a pigeon “cra cra”. Buuut that’s what the author wrote, so there isn’t much else I could do.

My only other options were “Kura Kura”, “Kula Kula”, or “Cla Cla” since it was originally written in katakana. Let me know if any of those are better. It doesn’t necessarily need to mean pigeon, any common bird would work.

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### 002. Chapter 1 - Anthony Burgress "A Clockwork Orange" (Hayakawa Paperback NV)

I was so wrong it is embarrassing hahaha… I thought she never read the book but watched the movie, the movie was based on the unfinished copy. Then she sympathized with the main character because her freedom was taken away from her (she was in a strict Catholic school so in a way she was forced to do good). Thus what she meant with he/she could not find happiness even though they could not commit evil…. Something like that. Shees that was so off, I’d suck as a detective

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### 003. Chapter 2 - Sadaichi Fukuda "Essay of Wise Sayings - Salaryman" (June Paperback)

This is getting interesting hehe. I liked the glimse of romance between Daisuke and Shioriko, but some where inside me, I was shipping Daisuke and Ahiko but that is with 100% certainty to sink… Am so glad I found this novel

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### 004. Chapter 3 - Fujio Azhizuka "UTOPIA - The Final World War" (Tsuru Printing)

# (NanoDesu) A Translation of the Biblia Koshodou no Jiken Techou Light Novel

ビブリアの英訳なのです！

- About

- Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia Volume 1 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Epilogue Afterword Volume 2 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword Volume 3 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword Volume 4 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword

- Tsukumodo Antique Shop Volume 1 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Coincidence Chapter 2 – Statue Chapter 3 – Memories and Notes Chapter 4 – Present Afterword Volume 2 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Silence Chapter 2 – Self Chapter 3 – Eyes of Death Chapter 4 – Make-Up Afterword Volume 3 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Chest Chapter 2 – Puppet Chapter 3 – Dream Chapter 4 – Sleeping Beauty Afterword Volume 4 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Shadow Chapter 2 – Gamble Chapter 3 – Pinky Chapter 4 – Secret Afterword Volume 5 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Luck Chapter 2 – Hope Chapter 3 – Words Chapter 4 – True Thoughts Afterword Volume 6 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Envy Chapter 2 – Sound Chapter 3 – Future Chapter 4 – Past Afterword Volume 7 Color Art Chapter 1 – Traces Chapter 2 – Truth Chapter 3 – Illusion Chapter 4 – Sin Epilogue Afterword

- Side Projects R.O.D Read or Die – Volume 1 Prologue Oniyama’s Morning What a Wise Alley Cat Wants to Know It’s Kind of Strange, Isn’t it

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## Chapter 3

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### Chapter 3 – Ashizuka Fujio. UTOPIA: The Final World War. Tsuru Printing

### Part 1

Come to think of it, I was pretty bad with origami as a child. The paper would get crushed whenever I tried to fold it and the other kids in the neighborhood would laugh at me. Perhaps it was because my hands and fingers were bigger than the average person’s. Either way, there’s no denying the fact that I wasn’t any good—

—I was remembering things like that as I wrapped books in wax paper behind the counter. The wax paper was used to protect the books from getting damaged by the sun. All of the old books at Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia were covered with wax paper like that. The one I was currently struggling with was Ikenami Shoutarou’s Sakuran . It was one of the books we bought from the Kousaka estate in Onarimachi the other day.

The cover was torn and yellowed and its overall condition was pretty bad. Books tended to become warped over long periods of time, so covering them with thin wax paper was by no means easy. I thought I had managed it this time, but the paper ended up being too small. After redoing it yet again, I somehow managed to get it right and placed the book on the pile of books going out to the store.

“Daisuke, did you put prices on them?”

I heard Shioriko’s voice from behind me.

“Ah, sorry.”

I had forgotten to do that. I lightly smeared some adhesive on the reverse side of the pre-prepared price label. The labels had to be attached with adhesive for books that did not have a slipcase. This was also something that was hard to fix if it wasn’t done right the first time. Peeling the label off unskillfully would leave behind residue.

I still felt a gaze at my back and turned around. Shioriko appeared from behind some books.

“What can I help with?”

“If you have a moment, there’s something it’d like you to look at.”

I went towards the books like she asked me to. The other side of the store counter was screened off by stacks of books piled up like bricks. This wall of books was built soon after the owner returned to the shop. She usually hid herself away behind it to manage mail orders and the like.

The computer placed at the corner of the L shaped desk was also hidden behind the wall of books.

“I was checking my mail just now and…”

She pointed to her monitor where there was an image displayed as part of an email. A couple was standing together with a blue sea visible in the background. A middle aged lady with a round face was flashing a peace sign next to an older man in dark sunglasses standing stiffly beside her.

These were acquaintances who had once come to sell a book to us: the Sakaguchi couple.

“Where are they now?”

“Ishigaki Island, they said.”

They got back from an extended overseas trip last month and it looked like they wanted to try Okinawa this time. They were leisurely wandering around the islands and sent us emails like this whenever they went somewhere new.

“Southern islands…sure sound nice.”

She had a raptured, faraway look in her eyes. Quite the unexpected reaction.

“Are you also want to travel to places like that?”

“Yes…I wonder what kind of antiquarian bookshops they have over there. I imagine their selection would quite be different from ours.”

Not an uncharacteristic response. She was definitely a hardcore bookworm.

“You wouldn’t go swimming or anything?”

“Eh, why would I?”

She seemed to have realized it after she spoke.

“That would be strange, I suppose. Going on vacation to look for books.”

“Not at all, sounds like it would be fun.”

“Is that what you really think?”

“Yeah.”

I was actually serious, by the way. Going somewhere with Shioriko and hearing her talk endlessly about books didn’t sound so bad. I’d enjoy it even if we didn’t go to any southern islands.

“Is that so…” Shioriko smiled happily.

It felt like she had become more open with me ever since the event with Akiho. She didn’t look away or mumble when she talked to me now. For her, it was a remarkable change.

Although I was happy about that, there was one thing I was curious about. That painting that I had found on the second floor of the main house—the one with the person completely identical to Shinokawa Shioriko. I couldn’t get it out of my head.

******

I was so shocked that day that I didn’t even notice the sliding door opening while I had the painting in my hands.

“That person is…”

A voice came out of nowhere and almost made me jump. I turned around to see Shinokawa Ayaka standing behind me. She was holding the clothes she had taken off her older sister in front of her.

“Shinokawa Chieko….that’s our mother.”

“Mother….?”

I looked at the painting again. With her hair and clothes, she resembled the current Shioriko way too much. They even looked to be about the same age….no, she might have been a little younger.

“This was before she and my father got married, around the time she started working here. I heard that my mother was the one who asked someone to make the painting. I don’t know who that was though.”

Ayaka continued the story without any particular emotion.

“So your mother was an employee here?”

“Right.” She nodded.

“She was originally one of our regular customers. It was only after she started working here that it developed into a relationship.”

And then they got married and had two daughters—I was interested in what happened after that. I clearly remembered how Shioriko froze up when I asked about her mother before.

I understood that something hard to talk about must have happened, but it would be a waste not to ask after all this.

“What happened to your mother?”

“About that…she left us. It was ten years ago…I do think she’s still alive though.”

I got a straightforward reply. In other words, she disappeared.

“She left…do you know the reason why?”

“I don’t really know. I was pretty young and dad and Shioriko didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe they didn’t know why either, I can’t say…but…”

Her tone suddenly became forceful.

“Goura, don’t ever bring up the topic of our mother if you want to get along with my sister. Just don’t.”

She took the painting out of my hands as she said that and put it back behind the pile of books. The white bird from before was the only part that was visible…just like it was when I first saw it.

“Shioriko’s face looks so sad whenever someone talks about our mother…”

******

I was inserting the waxpaper covered books into the bookshelves. Not a single customer had come in all morning despite it being a holiday today. With the autumn colors approaching their peak at the nearby Engaku and Meigetsuin temples, Kita-Kamakura was overflowing with crowds – but so far they had failed to reach the store.

I could hear the faint sound of typing from behind the counter. Shioriko was probably entering data on the books that were sold through mail order.

In the end, I learned barely anything about her mother. Of course, I wasn’t planning on forcing her to tell me, but the memory of dating Akiho without knowing anything about her had become a bitter one for me. I suppose I was attracted to this girl after all.

That was also the reason for my indecision. I wanted to know what she was hiding in her heart, but taking her feelings into account, it wasn’t something I could just ask her to tell me—

—There was the sound of a car engine outside.

I looked up and saw a minivan coming to a stop at the other side of the glass door. A man wearing glasses came out of the driver’s seat and started to approach the entrance carrying a cardboard orange box.

I quickly went over to open the door for him.

“Are you here to sell these books?”

The man looked up at me. His hair was thinning slightly and was speckled with white. His facial features made it difficult to guess his age, but he looked to be in his late 30s to early 40s. He gave off the impression of being an earnest white-collar accountant. He was wearing a plain colored sweater with jeans and didn’t have any particularly defining characteristics. It felt like I would quickly end up forgetting about him if we ever crossed paths.

“Yes…please.”

His voice echoed throughout the store with surprising strength. I took the box from him and carried it behind the counter.

“Please fill this out”

I handed a ballpoint pen and the purchase form to the man who was nervously looking around the shop. Opening the cardboard box, I noticed the faint smell of cooking oil wafting up for some reason. It looked like it was filled with used books and old paperbacks, but the spines were blackened to the point where I couldn’t read the titles. The tops of the books were completely covered in dust. I doubted they would sell for much.

“Is the owner of the shop available today? She has long hair and wears glasses.”

The man spoke as he was filling out his address. Nishitomi, Fujisawa City, Kanagawa Prefecture. It was about 20 minutes away from here in Kita-Kamakura. Perhaps he knew Shioriko from one of his previous visits to the store.

“If you’re looking for Shinokawa…”

Just as I turned to look behind me, Shioriko appeared from behind the counter leaning on her cane.

“I am the shop owner, Shinokawa. Welcome.”

The man stopped writing and looked her up and down. He stared at her intensely, looking to see if there was any mistake.

“Umm…is there something…?”

Shioriko asked uneasily and the man, as if coming to his senses, looked away.

“No, it was nothing. Excuse me.”

He looked embarrassed despite his age. Asking if Shioriko was around first thing was pretty suspicious behavior. I started to become a little skeptical of this man and his intentions. I wouldn’t want a repeat of the Toshio Tanaka incident.

“There is one thing I’d like to ask,” the man said.

“Y-yes…what is it?”

“Have you ever heard of Ashizuka Fujio’s UTOPIA – The Final World War ? ”

The color of Shioriko’s face changed. It was a title that I had never heard of…but the author’s name felt vaguely familiar.

“…the Tsuru Printing version?”

The tension could be heard in her voice.

“Yes…it’s a first edition, still in good condition.”

The shop owner paused briefly before continuing. I could clearly tell she was carefully choosing her words.

“I would need to take a look at it person but…does it still have a dust jacket?”

“No…I don’t think it has one.”

“…Our shop does not deal much with manga, so we can’t purchase it like a specialty shop would. However, it would likely be worth somewhere around one million yen.”

“Eh?”

I was the only one who exclaimed.

If the purchase price was one million yen, just how much would this book sell for? This might even be more valuable than the copy of Daizai’s The Late Years that Shioriko owned. It may have been an old book, but I could have never imagined there was manga worth that much.

“Is that so…sorry for asking such a strange question.”

The man lowered his head. Somehow, it felt like he had a pleased expression on his face.

“Do you have a copy of The Final World War ?” Shioriko asked.

He only would have asked those questions if he already owned the book or intended to acquire a copy. We were waiting for the answer with bated breath when the man turned towards the glass door looking like he had forgotten something.

“My car…I probably shouldn’t have left it in front of the store like that. Where are the parking spots?”

That question was aimed at me. The road in front of the store was pretty narrow, it certainly would become a hindrance if he left his car there for too long.

“Ah, right. It’s on the other side of the building. Turn right on the road next to here and continue for a little bit. You’ll then see a sign for the parking lot. You should be able to find a free parking spot there.”

“I see. I’ll go park the car for now, in the meantime, could you begin appraising these books? I’ll be right back.”

He turned around and left the shop in a hurry. Appearances aside, he had a really strange personality. What was all that about The Final World War anyway?

“…anyway, why don’t we start going through these?”

Shioriko looked into the cardboard box. Ah well, we could always continue the talk when he got back. It looked like she thought the same.

However, no matter how long we waited, he never showed up. Just to be sure, I went to look at the parking spot in front of the main house. The minivan was nowhere to be found. The only thing in the parking lot was the shop van.

The strange man who asked us to appraise his books had suddenly disappeared.

### Part 2

We left the store in the van later that afternoon and asked Shioriko’s sister to watch the shop while we were away.

The cardboard box filled with books was in the back seat. At the Shioriko’s—store owner’s insistence that we couldn’t leave these books alone, we were headed off to meet their owner. Since the appraisal was already complete, the plan was to buy the books if their owner wanted us to. If not, then we would just return the books to him.

The purchase form that the man had left behind had the address only halfway filled out—Nishitomi in Fujisawa city. The partial address was the only thing written on the form; the name and phone number fields were left completely blank.

“Couldn’t we have kept it at the store for a little longer?”

I asked with my hands still on the wheel.

“The guy just left it with us on his own, even if we don’t go out of our way to deliver it…”

We didn’t know anything except his partial address. Even if we went there, I didn’t think we could find the exact house. That was, if he wrote down his real address in the first place.

“That is true, but there might be a chance that he really does own a copy of The Final World War . He apparently seemed to know that the first edition didn’t have a cover. In that case, there is value in delivering these books to him.”

For her to jump at this opportunity just from the man’s vague statements…it looked like this was an exceedingly rare book.

“ The Final World War , was it? Is it really that rare?”

“Yes. The official title is UTOPIA , ‘ The Final World War’ was something that the publishers decided to add on their own……this was the authors’ first individually published book, and they say that no more than ten copies still exist. It was considered to be an illusionary book amongst book enthusiasts until it appeared in used bookshops for the first time in 1980.”

“Ah, so it’s because it was famous. So who was this author, really?”

If I remembered correctly, the author was “Ashizuka Fujio”. The name was strange in that it looked like the names of several famous manga authors all cobbled together.

“Ashizuka Fujio was the pen name that Fujiko Fujio debuted with.”

“Ah…”

I was shocked speechless. This was the real deal, not just some cobbled together name.

Of course, even I knew who Fujiko Fujio was. Rather, there were probably few people in Japan who didn’t know. It was the name of Japan’s most famous manga artist, no, artist pair. However, they had broken up a long time ago and one of them had even passed away.

I used to buy their manga with my pocket money when I was a child. The font size was different which meant that I could read for long periods of time. The one I liked was Kiteretsu Encyclopedia. I think that’s because the anime was airing right as I was becoming aware of my surroundings.

“When was it published?”

“In 1953…almost 60 years ago.”

“Oh…so it was that old…”

It was written in my grandfather’s generation. I knew they were active a long time ago, but I didn’t know it was that long ago.

“That’s right. Both of the authors were still teenagers when this was first published. It was normal for young people to debut in their teens during the new age of manga….the average age for creators was pretty low. Even Tezuka Osamu who was considered a veteran hadn’t reached his 30s yet.”

“Tezuka from the Tezuka Osamu Cultural Prize?”

“The very same. Their pen name was chosen as a homage to Tezuka Osamu. It meant that the character for “foot” in Ashizuka was lower than the ‘hand’ in Tezuka. The reason Tsuru Publishing asked them to write a volume was due to Tezuka Osamu’s referral in the first place. It ended up being a huge boon for the manga artists who had only just debuted.”

I got on the highway entrance ramp while she was talking. Traffic was particularly terrible due to the holiday. It wasn’t much further to our destination, but we couldn’t easily continue on. I saw people from a boxing gym training alongside the road.

“Shioriko, looks like you also know a lot about old manga.”

Biblia hardly ever dealt with old manga, so I was under the impression that her specialty was in written text.

“I don’t really know all that much…”

There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. I felt that knowing this much meant that she was already plenty knowledgeable. I got off of the highway, drove past some large temple gates and eventually came to a stop at a residential area. I checked the map and confirmed that we were in the right general area.

“Quite a few houses here.”

I looked around the area. There were dozens of homes that fit the criteria we were looking for. Not only were there single family houses, there were also plenty of apartments.

“Looks like we’ll have to go around and check the houses one by one…”

If we found the guy, it would mean we were correct. Of course, Shioriko, who had a bad leg, wouldn’t be the one who had to walk around. That job would be left to me. Thinking about how long that would take was a little depressing.

“Please wait…rather than that, look for homes with rooms that meet the criteria I’m going to tell you. I think it’ll be faster that way,” Shioriko said.

“…It should have a room with a large, westward facing window with only a thin curtain hanging from it. In addition, that room should be near the kitchen area. I believe his book shelf is located in an area where the sun shines through the window. The man from earlier should be in a house like that.”

“How did you figure that out?”

“The books inside the box all had faded spines and were covered in dust. This was probably because they spent a long time in a bookshelf that was bathed in sunlight. In addition to that, there was the smell of cooking oil on the books. That was what made me think that these books were stored somewhere near the kitchen. Considering that the smell of oil wasn’t ventilated out, there’s a high chance that we’re looking for an older building.”

“…makes sense.”

I nodded. Looking at it now, it certainly seemed logical.

“You put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?”

“It’s because I’ve been to a house like the one I just described to buy books before. The condition of the books back then was similar to these.”

So it was insight that came from experience. I opened the van door and stepped outside. It felt like the number of possible choices had been narrowed down.

We spent a while walking around. Due to so many of the residences being so crowded together, I was unexpectedly unable to find one that let enough sunlight in from a westward facing window. With the exception of newly built homes, there weren’t many options left.

Mm…?

I turned on to a rather quiet road and stopped in front of an old two storied apartment building. The apartment at the corner of the first floor had a large west facing window and I could see a bookshelf through the rough lace curtain. The exhaust vent installed near the window likely meant that this room was adjacent to the kitchen.

Even the outside of the exhaust vent was blackened because of the grime originating from the oil. It didn’t look like it was cleaned often either. It perfectly matched Shioriko’s criteria.

“So it’s here…” I murmured to myself.

***

I matched Shioriko’s walking speed, and we headed over to the apartment building. We entered the premises through a rusty gate and stood in front of the door at the farthest corner of the building.

Just how old was this building? The bathroom window lattice had a wooden milk box attached to it. An old nameplate with “Suzaki” written on it hung from it.

“He’s in here, right?” I whispered to Shioriko.

“He’s probably waiting for us to arrive.”

“Eh?”

“There has to be some meaning to him leaving these books with us and bringing up The Final World War.”

“Meaning? What reason could he have had?”

“I’m not quite sure yet…”

I was starting to feel uneasy. If the man inside was planning something, then I would need to protect Shioriko.

She rang the doorbell. We heard the sound of someone approaching, and the door slowly opened. I put myself on guard in order to react quickly if something happened.

Standing in front of us was the bespectacled middle aged man from before.

“Mr. Suzaki, correct? We’re here about the books you left in our care earlier…”

A joyful expression suddenly appeared on the man’s face. He then reached out and clasped Shioriko’s hands, covering hers with his own.

“I knew it…I should have expected it….you actually found your way here…”

“Eh? Um…”

He abruptly let go of her hand and beckoned us inside.

“Please, come in…there’s something that I absolutely want to talk about with you.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

I cut him off.

He had somehow known that we would come here to deliver his books—or rather, he originally left the books at the store in order to get us to go to him. I couldn’t bring myself to causally enter his home without knowing what his intentions were.

“It is of course, about Ashizuka Fujio’s The Final World War …but not only that… ”

Suzaki looked straight at Shioriko.

“I want to talk to you about your mother.”

### Part 3

At Suzaki’s invitation, we were led into the western facing Japanese style room that I had seen from outside. A wall lined with large doored cabinets came into view followed by a partition leading into the kitchen. Next to the partition was a thin, bare bookshelf. Suzaki had likely pulled the books he brought to Biblia from there.

Not only was there a window to the west, there was also a glass sliding door on the south side of the room overlooking a yard filled with overgrown weeds. The scenery, which probably hadn’t changed in years, gave off a strange atmosphere—as if time had stopped entirely.

We sat down one at a time, Shioriko with her legs at her side, her bad leg stretched out on the yellowed tatami mats. The entire room was so immaculately clean that it didn’t even feel like anyone lived there. It had the sort of dispassionate feel of a room right before someone moved in.

“This is my parents’ house…I used to live here with my father a long time ago.”

Suzaki cordially explained as he returned from the kitchen and placed three teacups on the tray in front of us. Steam wafted up from the plain green tea.

“My father lived here alone ever since I graduated high school and became independent…he had a stroke and passed away last September.”

“My condolences.”

Shioriko lowered her head, and I did the same. I still didn’t get where he was going with this story. What on earth did this have to do with The Final World War and Shioriko’s mother?

“As I was clearing out the apartment and sorting through my father’s old things, I recalled something that had bothered me ever since I was child. It was something I had always wondered, and so, in order to find out the truth, I decided to play a bit of a trick on you.”

Suzaki suddenly sat up straight. With his posture rigid, he turned his knees to face Shioriko.

“How did you find this apartment without knowing the entire address? Surely you didn’t go around checking every single house in the area.”

“Oh…? Well…”

“Please tell me this first…I’m begging you!”

At his insistent pleas, Shioriko once again explained the reasoning that had led us to this house. Suzaki’s eyes shinned as he nodded along with every point she made. Once she had finished, he turned towards the now empty bookshelf.

“I see…”

He nodded deeply.

“So it definitely wasn’t just luck that time. It’s like something right out of a story.”

“What do you mean by ‘that time’?” Shioriko asked.

“It’s been 30 years now, but my father once went to the Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia to sell some books. He left his books at the store and went back home halfway through writing his address, just like I did. Despite that, your mother found this apartment and kindly returned the books to us. How was she able to do something like that? I was never able to figure it out, no matter how much I thought about it.”

Shioriko stiffened the moment Suzaki said the word “mother,” but he didn’t appear to have noticed.

“I visited the store some years ago and found your father managing the shop alone……did your parents separate?”

“…yes.”

She answered with a parched voice. The story I heard was that her mother had disappeared, but Shioriko’s parents might have still gone through divorce procedures.

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know…”

“Is that so…”

Suzaki sighed.

“Your father didn’t know how she had found this apartment either. I had given up on ever finding out the truth, but about ten days ago, as I was riding on the Yokosuka line, I happened to see your store from Kita Kamakura station. There I saw a woman with a striking resemblance to the one I had met thirty years ago happily pacing around the store’s sign.”

Shioriko blushed.

That was probably the day we went out to buy books from Akiho’s estate. She had had to wait in front of the store while I brought the car around from the back. So that’s what she had been doing while waiting.

“I could tell at a glance that that woman was her daughter. I thought that perhaps, if she really was her mother’s daughter, she would be able to do the same thing her mother had done. I would like to apologize for this.”

Suzaki lowered his head to us as he said that. In short, it was a test to see if the same thing would occur if he recreated the circumstances of that day to the best of his ability. There was one thing I understood—Shioriko’s mother had the same incredible book-related insight that her daughter did. Or rather, Shioriko had likely inherited those skills from her mother.

Shioriko did not show much of a reaction to Suzaki’s apology; she looked preoccupied with something else.

“…My mother didn’t just come to deliver the books thirty years ago, did she?”

Shioriko asked in a level tone. It sounded more like a confirmation than a question.

“Moreover, your father suddenly rushed out of the store hallway even though he had come to the shop to sell his books…does this not mean that there were extenuating circumstances? …perhaps something related to The Final World War?”

Come to think of it, that question still remained.

Suzaki, his eyes wide in amazement, broke out into a smile.

“You really do resemble your mother…that’s right. What I really wanted to talk about was The Final World War. ”

Suzaki stood up and flung open the doors to the cabinets lined up against the wall one at a time.

“Woah…”

I unconsciously let out a voice of admiration.

There were an unbelievable number of books by Fujiko Fujio crammed into the cabinets. Obake no Q-tarou , Doraemon , Kaibutsu-kun , Perman , and so on. There were even multiple editions of the same work, each and every one of them stored in vinyl book covers for safekeeping. The Kiteretsu Encyclopedia I had loved as a child was present as well.

Had I been an elementary schooler, I would have been overjoyed. This would be heaven for any Fujiko fan.

“My father and I collected Fujiko Fujio manga….what you see here is his collection.”

Shioriko and I looked over the shelf from end to end. Most of it was composed of manga volumes wrapped in vinyl book covers, but there were also monthly issues of CoroCoro magazine sticking out from the bottommost shelf.

“He even has CoroCoro…?”

I whispered the question to Shioriko; it didn’t look like he had any other magazines.

“Monthly CoroCoro Comics was originally centered around Fujiko Fujio’s manga. It had the publishing rights to all of the authors’ work, meaning that masterpieces like Doraemon could be read in a single magazine. The early issues of CoroCoro here would be worth a lot in antiquarian bookshops.”

She smoothly replied with a lively explanation.

“The first issues of CoroCoro came out when I was a child. I was still in elementary school during the Doraemon boom, but my father had been a Fujiko Fujio fan since their debut.”

Perhaps pleased with her answer, Suzaku cheerily spoke up. Clearly his father had a love for the manga artists spanning decades. It was no surprise that his son had inherited that obsession.

“…and this is the book that my father valued as much his own life.”

He pulled an old looking book from out of the cabinet.

It looked like it was wrapped in multiple layers of vinyl.

“Ah”

Shioriko straightened her back and quickly moved closer. It was my first time seeing her ever move so quickly.

On the red cover was a green robot standing next to a boy holding a gun. The title, UTOPIA: The Final World War, was printed above them. I leaned forward without thinking. This was an illusionary book that barely had any existing copies. I probably wouldn’t get another chance to see this in my life.

“…would it be alright if I took a look inside?”

Shioriko said a little nervously.

“Of course. I wanted Biblia books to look at it”

Suzaki carefully took the book out of its vinyl bag, and handed it over to Shioriko. The edges of the pages were a little yellowed, but the cover had almost no visible damage. Even an amateur like me could tell it was in good condition.

The price was printed conspicuously on the spine, 130 yen. There was no doubt that no one of that time would have ever imagined that it would be worth some hundreds of thousands of yen sixty years later.

In order to confirm, Shioriko started carefully turning through the pages. The vivid two-color pages were attention grabbing. Passing over the publication info, her hand stopped at the two page spread on the back cover.

“This is…”

There was a label from Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia attached. Under the title, The Final World War, was the price, 2000 yen.

“T-this was sold at our shop?”

But it was only 2000 yen.

Shioriko took the label and brought it closer to her eyes in order to confirm.

“This is my mother’s handwriting,” she bitterly muttered at length.

“My father purchased this book from Biblia thirty years ago…”

Suzaki began to speak, with faraway eyes as if he was searching for a memory.

“The reason he ran out of the shop in the middle of the evaluation…was because of this.”

### Part 4

“Manga collections aren’t all that rare nowadays, but during my father’s time, there weren’t many people who meticulously preserved their manga. It was, after all, something made for children to enjoy. The sort of thing you read until it’s worn out and then throw away.

“I think my father collected manga because he wanted to become a professional manga artist. During his middle and high school days, he even enthusiastically sent submissions to magazines. He had to give up on that dream in the end, but never stopped collecting manga.

“He used to have a considerable number of secondhand manga from Tezuka Osamu and the like in his youth, but since those were becoming harder to collect due to their rising cost, he began collecting only the works of his favorite manga artists, Fujiko Fujio.

“My father was a serious man of few words who didn’t have any particular hobbies apart from collecting old manga. After his wife…my mother, passed away when I was six, he associated with people less and less and only occasionally got in touch with his fellow manga enthusiasts.

“If we had any common interests, it would have been Fujiko manga. He wasn’t like other parents who would take away manga from their kids. In fact, he was more than happy to give me recommendations on what to read. Even so, he was someone who took very good care of his collection. Due to that, it didn’t take long for me to learn how to properly handle old books.

“The one book my father wanted to get his hands on at any cost was UTOPIA: The Final World War. He apparently purchased a copy when he was in elementary school, right after it was released. My father loved the book, but one day his parents found it and ended up throwing it out. He tried buying another copy, but wasn’t able to find one anywhere.

“When I was in elementary school…it was summer in 1980, this book first appeared in the secondhand book market. It was on display at a Tokyo specialty comic shop storefront. It was even featured in the newspaper, and had become a hot topic among enthusiasts. For people without much money like us, it was at a price we couldn’t afford.

“Despite this, my father still left to see it as soon as he could. Perhaps he wanted to confirm its existence with his own eyes. Despite his efforts, he made it to the shop only to find that someone had already stolen the book.

“To once again be unable to see the book that he loved so much, it must have been a huge shock. My father was depressed for quite a while afterwards. He started drinking what felt like every night. All because of how much he loved that book.

“Two weeks passed, and one day, he suddenly said, ‘Let’s go for a drive,’ and went out. I thought for sure that his mood had improved. The plan was to go to the Hachiman Shrine in Kamakura first, and then go a little further to have dinner in Yokohama.

“It was during this excursion that we stopped by Biblia Books. We didn’t have much money, so he probably wanted to sell some of the books he didn’t need to make sure we had enough for dinner that evening. I glimpsed into the box as I was helping him pack the books and there wasn’t anything particularly valuable.

“He stopped the car in front of the shop and the lady behind the counter raised her head. With long black hair and pale skin…it’s embarrassing to say this to you as her daughter, but she was a shocking beauty even in my childlike mind. She smiled at us and ran over to ask if we were there to sell a book.

“My father answered yes, and she directed him to park the car on the other side of the building…I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as they talked.

“After moving the car over to the parking spaces as instructed, my father went out to the store alone carrying the cardboard box full of books. I was told to wait in the car, but was still curious about the lady from earlier. Just as I decided to open the door and go into the shop anyway, my father, blue in the face, suddenly returned and jumped into the drivers’ seat.

“When I saw The Final World War just sitting there in the seat side pocket, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I knew this was the manga that he had always been looking for. I asked him why he had it, but my agitated father hardly said a thing.

“Perhaps he noticed this book on the shelf as he was asking your mother to appraise the books he brought in. When he saw that it was being sold for only 2000 yen, he completely forgot about his own books and bought UTOPIA before running out of the store….that’s what I think happened.

“Well, looking at it now, it’s an unbelievable story, though I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Old manga was only starting to rise in value and the really high priced ones tended to be Tezuka Osamu’s early works. It seemed there were very few shops that paid attention to Fujiko Fujio. Not to mention that The Final World War was written under a different pen name. The reason it was an illusionary book was because there weren’t many people who understood its worth.

“Our drive ended up being canceled that day. My father wasn’t in any condition to drive, and more importantly, I didn’t think he had enough money left after paying for the book. He tried to pacify me saying he’d take me somewhere the next week, but I was still bitterly disappointed and didn’t stop complaining.

“I think my father still felt bad for me all the same. After we got back to our apartment, he handed The Final World War to me. It was like he was saying that I should read it first. Even so, he soon went out, leaving me behind to wallow in my disappointment. He had borrowed the car from some close relatives and needed to return it.

“Since I was all alone and had no one to complain to, I started reading The Final World War . I was also a big Fujiko Fujio fan, you see. I was curious about what kind of story it was.

Do you know what this manga is about?”

He suddenly asked us a question.

“…I don’t.”

Shioriko nodded next to me as I answered. It seemed she knew what it was about. Suzaki hesitated for a moment and then turned to me to begin his explanation.

“At the beginning of the story, a political prisoner and his son are being held in an underground shelter and used as experimental test subjects. An enemy nation drops their new weapon…an ice bomb to freeze over the entire city. When the bomb falls, the boy is thrown into a state of suspended animation.

“A hundred years pass and the boy awakens after being rescued. With his memories of his father now missing, he’s taken to an enormous utopian city without any idea of what’s going on. He then gets embroiled in the conflict between the government, which is using robots to control the people, and the united human resistance.

“I thought the art was old fashioned at first, but was drawn into the story as I kept reading. Perhaps I felt a special connection to the story because my father still hadn’t returned after such a long while. It made me uneasy thinking about what would happen if I got separated from my father, just like the protagonist in the manga was. I later learned that he was taking so long because he got caught up gossiping with our relatives…but it was sensitive time for me, you know.

“I was hesitating over whether I should continue reading The Final World War or got out to meet my father when the doorbell suddenly rang.

“I opened the door and was astonished. The person standing in front of me was the lady from Biblia books…that is, your mother. She presented a paper with only one part of our address written on it and asked me, ‘Did your father write this?’

“When I silently nodded, she pointed at the large cardboard box at her feet. It seemed she had come to deliver the books that my father had left at her shop.

“Since we couldn’t decide what to do with the books without asking my father, I asked her to wait for him in this room. Your mother sat exactly where you’re sitting right now and curiously looked around the room. We had these cabinets even back then, and she seemed to want to know what was in them. She asked me to open the cabinet, so I agreed to show her just a little. I wasn’t really supposed to show it to other people, but at the same time I wanted to show off my father’s amazing collection.

“Just as I had hoped, she was completely shocked when she saw it for the first time. However, not only was she a real Fujiko Fujio fan, she started talking knowledgeably about all of the books there. She didn’t just talk about the famous kids’ oriented manga, she knew even more than I did about the adult manga like The Illustrated Biography of Mao Zedong and Minotaurus’s Plate .

“It actually made me, who thought he knew everything about Fujiko Fujio, pretty upset. It was dumb of me, thinking about it now, but I still tried to make up for my wounded pride. I took The Final World War that I had been reading and stuck out my chest.

“‘Did you know that Ashizuka Fujio was actually Fujiko Fujio’s pen name? I bet you didn’t know that. It’s a super rare manga that my dad was always looking for.’

“I didn’t even consider the fact that my father had just bought UTOPIA from Biblia for cheap. I just wanted to surprise the person in front of me…to make the point that I really knew what I was talking about. She certainly seemed surprised.

‘Is that so…I had no idea…’

“She then suddenly moved forward to lean over me. I ended up being too shocked to move since there was now so little distance between us.

‘You taught me a lot. Thank you.’

“She said what I wanted to hear, what I wished she would say. I can only imagine that my face was bright red as I sat on the floor that day.

It’s embarrassing to say this now, but for me, your mother was my first love…”

### Part 5

Suzaki stopped talking to catch his breath. Shioriko was sitting straight up and listened to him without moving. The Final World War lay on her lap, free of its vinyl protective covering.

“… I agree with what you said earlier, that your mother must have had some other reason to deliver the books that day. I think she realized that there was something strange going on from the way my father ran out of the store so suddenly. She must have come to our house to confirm her suspicions. She had a passion for her work and a sharp intuition…just like the two of you right now.”

Shioriko’s shoulder twitched in reaction. She slowly looked at Suzaki as if she was waking up from a dream. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking now.

“… Did my mother read this manga?”

“Yes…I let her read it since she said she wanted to use it for future reference. She read it like she was trying to burn it into her eyes, you know. She was so engrossed in it that she started happily whistling. It was a little rough and she wasn’t very good at it, but I thought it was still charming.”

I held back a laugh. Looks like that strange whistling habit was something Shioriko had inherited from her mother. Since Shioriko didn’t realize that she also had the same habit, she didn’t show any interest.

The more I heard, the more it felt like Shioriko’s mother resembled Shioriko. She wasn’t as introverted, but like her daughter, she was a bookworm who was passionate about her work and possessed an incredible amount of book related knowledge. Their relationship must have certainly been good —maybe the reason Shioriko avoided the topic of her mother was because she went through a lot when she disappeared.

“That’s when my father came back home. He was pretty shocked to see someone from Biblia Books at our house. Your mother explained how she had arrived to return his books and how, since she didn’t know much about T he Final World War , she wanted him to teach her more about it. She put her hands on the ground and lowered her head as she made that request.

“Since this was in a time before the internet, the only way to obtain information on old books was to either go around antiquarian bookshops buying books or to ask someone knowledgeable. My father was one of the few experts on the old works of Fujiko Fujio so he was a good person to ask.

“They spent quite a lot of time talking about various things in this room after that. I was asked to leave since it was a conversation for adults, however…”

Suzaki sounded truly disappointed as he said that.

“Perhaps my father was moved by her enthusiasm…no, he may have also felt bad for having bought UTOPIA for cheap, but he eventually sold a large part of his collection of early works to Biblia. It was rare for him to let go of any of his books.”

“Could you please tell me which books he sold?”

“I can’t remember clearly, but there should have been a lot of books that would be worth a small fortune today. When I checked later, some of the magazine supplemental materials like “The 3 Brothers and the Human Cannon” and “The Terrifying Uran Island” had disappeared from this bookshelf.”

“Did your father own a lot of magazines and supplemental materials?”

“Yes…at that point my father’s collection was mostly made up of magazines. The focus switched to collected volumes after that.”

Suzaki stood up and pulled a nearby volume from out of the cabinet; it was a manga titled Senbee.

“The manga here overlaps greatly with my own collection. I’m not going to let go of The Final World War since it’s a memento of my father, but I was thinking of selling everything besides what’s on this bookshelf to Biblia Books. You can name the price.”

“Oh.”

At last, Shioriko’s expression changed. Suzaki had an embarrassed grin on his face.

“It’s an apology for having you come out here to return the books and thanks for selling us The Final World War 30 years ago. There are some items that have lowered in value since the Fujiko F Fujio complete works anthology was published, but I also have first editions of every volume of Fujiko Fujio Land and even a few issues of Mushi Comics. How does that sound?”

I didn’t know how much the manga Suzaki mentioned were worth, but he was making it sound like a considerably good deal for the shop. Perhaps the person he really wanted to sell the collection to was his first love, Shioriko’s mother. Since he couldn’t do that, he was trying to sell it to the daughter who had inherited her qualities.

However, it was up to Shioriko to make the final decision. She had an expression as if she was thinking hard about something and her fist was pressed to her upper lip.

“… Shioriko.”

She came back to her senses when I called her name.

“Y-yes…thank you very much. We’d certainly be interested in purchasing them. We’ll need to take the books back with us first, and will get in touch with you afterwards for the valuation. Does that work?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Actually…could you also take the books you brought back and assess those as well?”

“Of course.”

Of course, I would be the one carrying them all to the van. If I remembered correctly, there should have been some vinyl cord and a utility knife in the dashboard. Just when I stood up to start taking the books out,

“Thank you for showing me this today…I learned a lot.”

Shioriko handed The Final World War back to Suzaki.

“Was the book in this condition when it was originally purchased?”

“I believe so. My father just put it in a vinyl wrapper. Compared to how it was thirty years ago, it’s barely changed at all.”

“I see…and, um…when the books were first brought into the shop 30 years ago…where did you get the cardboard box they were carried in?’

“Huh?”

Suzaki made a perplexed face at the unexpected question. I was silently watching Shioriko’s profile. Her face, which had no traces of makeup, was even paler than usual.

“What was it now…I don’t really remem…wait, it was from the closet. There were several boxes that had books nobody really cared about, so I just took one and added the books from the shelf into it…is something wrong?

“Ah…no, nothing in particular. I was just curious is all …”

Shioriko answered in a faltering, ambiguous tone. It seemed she had no intention of providing any further explanation.

“Did your father, say, mention anything about my mother?”

Suzaki looked upwards, searching through his memory. The light from the western window dimmed as the sun continued to set. We would need to start turning on the lights before long.

“Nothing in particular…like I said earlier, he was a man of few words. Ah, there was one thing though. He said something odd while he was drinking some time afterwards. If I remember correctly, it was something about Biblia Books being a third party.”

Shioriko’s hand gripping her cane froze for a moment.

“Was it, by any chance…a ‘bona-fide third party’?”

“Ah, yes, I think that’s what it was. What does it mean?”

She only smiled weakly in reply.

It was almost dusk by the time we finished packing the large number of books into the van and left Suzaki’s apartment. The other cars coming and going already had their headlights turned on.

We had originally gone to deliver, but it ended up taking longer than expected.

“Are you going to appraise them after we get back to the shop?”

“Yes…I was thinking we should get this done by today.”

Although Suzaki said that getting the appraisal price tomorrow wouldn’t be a problem, it seemed Shioriko had no intention of putting it off until later.

Perhaps she inherited that work ethic from her parents. I thought about her mother while driving. Going by what we heard in Suzaki’s story, she was by no means an ordinary person. Rather, she was just like Shioriko. Being called ‘bonafide’ didn’t sound like a bad thing, so I didn’t think her mother was acting out of ill will towards others. I stopped in front of a red light and glanced at the passenger seat. Shioriko was fiddling with a small paper on her knee. There wasn’t much light in the car, but I was able to make out the “2000 yen” written on it.

That was the label for The Final World War .

“Why do you have that?”

“I asked Suzaki for permission.”

She had on a fierce look that hadn’t been there until now as she fixed her eyes on the paper in her hands. It didn’t take long to realize she was angry.

“I couldn’t leave this behind…I just cannot believe that a label like this would be attached to that book.”

The ends of her words slightly shook. She was probably talking about how The Final World War was priced at 2000 yen.

“But that’s all in the past, right? It was just a mistake …”

“I’m not talking about the price. This has nothing to do with that.”

“… What is it about then?”

“Don’t make me talk about my mother!”

Her shout resounded throughout the car. She seemed even more startled by her voice than I was. She limply settled down into her seat as if she had used up all her strength.

“I’m sorry…but I only thought it would become an unpleasant memory for you too even if I told you. I don’t like remembering my mother.”

The light turned green and I pressed down on the accelerator. We were passing a botanical garden in Ofuna. A broadcast could be faintly heard from inside the garden announcing the end of business hours.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

I spoke.

“But saying that you don’t want to remember means that it’s something you can’t forget, right?… If you ever do want to talk about it, I’ll always be here to listen.”

“Why?”

She turned to look at me. Being asked so straightforwardly was troubling.

“How do I say this…it’s because, I want to know you better.”

I said something that wouldn’t even be said in a confession, but even so, it wasn’t embarrassing. I continued driving without looking at her face and heard a low whisper reach my ears.

“Please go somewhere without many people.”

“Eh?”

“I want the two of us to talk someplace quiet.”

If it were someone else who said that, it might have carried some other meaning. But for Shioriko, it meant exactly what she said.

“Would the sea be fine?”

“Yes.”

I turned onto an intersection on the overpass and headed southwest on a road alongside the Kashio River. If we continued like this, we’d exit onto a highway along the coast. It would probably be abandoned at this time during this season.

“By the way, there was something I was curious about.”

It would be uncomfortable for the silence to continue, so I opened my mouth.

“How did the story in The Final World War continue? I only heard until the part where the protagonist lost his memories and somehow got embroiled in a conflict.”

“… the government was using the power of robots to oppress the people and the human alliance was rebelling against them. Then the robots gained sentience and began fighting against humanity itself.”

She began telling the story in a slower, more contemplative tone than usual.

“Humanity united against them, but were no match for the robots’ overwhelming technological might and was eventually pushed to the brink of total destruction. The protagonist regained his memories just before he was about to die and ran to the shelter in order to meet his sleeping father in his final moments.

“The main theme in this story is humanity’s struggle against the robots…but for me, I think it’s also a story about a child trying to live without his parents.”

I remembered Suzaki. For him, who really did lose his father, The Final World War held deep meaning, now more than ever. He surely remembered his father every time he read it.

“To have something like parents you would want to see once again…is enviable.”

After a long silence, she muttered this to herself as she looked out the window.

### Part 6

We passed by the Enoden Kamakura Koukoumae station and I parked the car in a spot near the railroad tracks.

We crossed the street without talking and descended down to Shichirigahama Beach from the breakwater stairs. Now that we were closer to the waves, the pitch black sea suddenly felt a whole lot bigger. I could see the lights of Enoshima shining towards Koyurugi Cape. There was no sign of any ships off the coast, the calm night sea stretched on unbroken.

Shioriko stopped walking right before we reached the water’s edge. Since there weren’t any people nearby, we didn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing anything we said.

“…Daisuke.”

Her long black hair swayed in the cold sea breeze. It was only when she brushed at it with her free left hand that I noticed she was still holding the label from before.

“Do you really believe that my mother knew nothing about The Final World War? ”

“Eh…?”

I didn’t really understand the meaning behind the question.

“I learned everything I know about old books…including old manga, from my mother. She told me that she was fairly knowledgeable about old books even before she started working at the shop. The fact that we have a few shelves of old manga in the store is because she was the one who began buying them. That she would sell it for 2000 yen is simply unthinkable.”

“But isn’t that what was written on the label?”

“Don’t you think the label itself is unnatural? The book didn’t have a slipcover, yet the label wasn’t pasted on.”

“Ah…”

Come to think of it, the policy at Biblia was to paste the labels on all books that didn’t have slipcovers.

“Maybe he peeled it off after buying the book.”

“Peeling it off without leaving any residue on neither the book nor the label would be difficult at best. Moreover, that book was not wrapped in wax paper when it was purchased…we do that for all old books at our shop, right?

I nodded. It was what I had been doing all morning.

“Suzaki said that the book was still in the same condition it was in thirty years ago. Even when his father ran out of the shop, the book was uncovered…..I don’t believe there’s any way this book could have come off our shelves.”

“Then where on earth did it come from?”

I couldn’t understand the reasoning. If the book was never on our shelves, then how did Suzaki’s father buy it?

“If this book could not have been sold at our shop, there’s only one possible place it could have come from.

The Final World War was mixed into the books that Suzaki’s father brought into the shop that day.”

“What?”

My eyes went wide. This story was starting to make less and less sense.

“So you’re saying he never bought it from our shop to begin with.”

“That’s what I’d like to believe. It must have carelessly gotten mixed up in the box of unneeded books that he brought into the shop. Try to remember what Suzaki said. He never actually saw his father buy The Final World War …he only saw him return to the car with the book in his arms.”

“But wasn’t this the book his father was always searching for? Was that also a lie?”

“That part was actually true…he most likely got his hands on it a few weeks before coming to the shop, but circumstances necessitated that he keep it hidden.”

Shioriko gazed out at the sea.

Suzaki’s story suddenly came back to me. A few weeks before…come to think of it, he did say that his father went out to Tokyo after The Final World War was discovered for sale at a specialty comic shop there. Maybe he bought it then. No, the story continued from there…

He made it to the shop only to find that someone had already stolen the book.

A chill ran up my spine.

“Don’t tell me…”

This explanation wasn’t necessarily the actual truth. It was merely Shioriko’s conjecture that Suzaki’s father was the person who stole The Final World War.

“I don’t have any proof right now…so everything I say after this is my own speculation.”

She began with that preface and continued the story in a subdued voice.

“Suzaki’s father went all the way to Tokyo to see The Final World War . I can understand why he would snatch it after seeing the illusionary book he had loved ever since he was a child right in front of him on display in the shop window.

“Of course, he was tormented by the knowledge of his huge crime. He returned home with a sullen face, and then spent the next few weeks depressed. His mood didn’t clear up even when he drank.

“Anyway, he had a change of heart and made plans to go out for a drive with his son. He figured he could sell some of the books he didn’t need any more in order to add to his meal funds a little…that’s when things began to go wrong.

“The stolen book must have been stowed away at the bottom of the cardboard box in the closet; he couldn’t keep it with the rest of his collection, you see. His son, who was helping him arrange the books, put everything they were planning to sell into that cardboard box. Suzaki’s father brought the box over to Biblia none the wiser and requested that my mother assess the books.

“When he saw my mother pull The Final World War out of the box, he must have had a heart stopping moment. There was no doubt that my mother was aware of the manga’s value; perhaps she even recognized it as the book from the recent robbery.

“He then lost his composure and hightailed out of the shop, leaving the rest of his books behind as he fled back home. Since the only thing he wrote on the purchase form was his partial address, my mother never got his name or phone number. Even the car he was using that day didn’t belong to him…he must have felt some relief knowing that unless something unexpected happened, there was no fear of anyone being able to identify him.”

What he didn’t count on was the women at Biblia’s uncommon level of perspicacity. Sure enough, “something unexpected” did end up happening.

“With the clues he left behind, my mother had no problem finding out where he lived. She might have even guessed at things like his occupation, hobbies, education, and even family composition.”

“How would she understand something like that?”

“My mother always used to say that you could get a general understanding of a person’s nature by looking at the books they owned. It was similar to profiling…something that she had an unbelievable amount of success with. I don’t think there’s anyone else that could do it that well.”

“So you can’t do it either?”

“Of course, not even me.”

Her immediate response surprised me.

I couldn’t imagine anyone being more knowledgeable about books than she was—it was even a little unsettling.

“I don’t believe that my mother was completely certain that The Final World War was a stolen book when she arrived at their house, of course. It was probably Suzaki’s story that confirmed it for her.

“He had misunderstood where the book came from, but what he told her contained some important information. His father, the Fujiko Fujio maniac who had been searching for this book for so many years, was keeping where he obtained it a secret even from his son. When she said that he taught her a lot, I think she was referring to that.”

It felt like the story we heard earlier today had a completely different subtext. If I took Shioriko’s reasoning to be completely correct, Suzaki’s heart had been stolen by the thanks that Shioriko’s mother said ironically. It was an extremely heart wrenching story.

“Then what about when she lowered her head to Suzaki’s father?”

“When she said that she didn’t know anything about the book and asked Suzaki’s father to teach her, it was simply an implied threat asking him to confess everything. The reason Suzaki was sent out of the room after that was because the ensuing conversation was not meant for children to hear.

“Reporting the crime to the police, recommending that he give up peacefully, and returning the book would have been the normal way to resolve this incident. However, my mother was not that type of person.”

“What kind of person was she?”

I unintentionally blurted out a question. Shioriko tightly chewed her pale lips.

“I’d rather not have to talk about that, but…”

She shook her head and added

“No, it’s fine…my mother was incredibly intelligent…but even then she didn’t realize the things she did were sometimes cruel. She could coolly make underhanded business transactions almost as if it were a game. I think she laid down some harsh demands that time as well.”

“Like asking him to hand over The Final World War ?”

“She probably considered it. But if she did that, it would be hard for her to sell the book after she got her hands on it. She could be accused of a crime if she knowingly bought and sold stolen books…so in exchange for keeping silent about this incident, she demanded the rest of the valuable books from his collection.”

“Eh?”

“Most of the books we got today weren’t very old, and the same is true of the books he had in his room. None of them had been published yet in 1980 and there were barely any books that would be worth a lot. It seemed Suzaki’s father owned quite a few early publications that would gather some attention even at the time…special magazines, supplemental materials, and the like. Until 1960, it was common for monthly manga magazines to have extra supplemental materials. It would be natural for someone who had been their fan since their debut to have them…my mother most likely took all of that away from him.

“Did she pay him for the books?”

“That I don’t know. Regardless, Suzaki’s father should have put up some resistance. Weren’t we told that he rarely let go of anything in his collection? I think my mother decided to write this as a trump card in order to persuade him.”

She held out the label with “2000 yen” written on it. The slip of paper fluttered in the growing wind. I thought for a moment.

“Decided to write it….meaning that this was written afterwards?”

“Yes, Suzaki misunderstood and was under the impression that his father had purchased the book from Biblia. My mother took this misunderstanding and expanded it into a lie. She proposed it as a way to deal with the off chance that it came to light that he had the stolen book. This label was a prop for that sake.”

“A prop…how would you do something like that?”

“Daisuke, are you familiar with the term ’bona fide third party?’”

“…no.”

The word somehow carried the image of a virtuous person judging by how it sounded.

“It’s a legal term.”

“Legal term?”

“Yes. For example, let’s say a book store like ours came into a stolen item. We bought it without knowing it was stolen and even if we ended up selling it to another customer, we essentially could not be accused of committing a crime. A third party who acts as an unknowing intermediary in a transaction…that is what’s called a ’bona fide third party’ in civil law. This paper was circumstantial evidence to prove that my mother and Suzaki’s father were acting as ’bona fide third parties.’”

I tilted my head to the side. I was trying to organize this in my head, but it wasn’t going well.

“I’m sorry, could you make it a little easier to understand…”

“Let’s say that this label was in fact the real thing, it would mean that someone else sold The Final World War to our shop. At the same time, it would mean that my mother sold it for only 2000 yen because she was ignorant of its true value. In other words, it makes it apparent that the book was bought and sold without knowing that it was a high-value stolen item.

“In essence, my mother invented a fictitious criminal that was completely unrelated to them. If they made up a story that the book was unknowingly purchased from this ’criminal’ and then sold, then no one could be accused of a crime.”

It all felt so convoluted. I could more or less understand what had happened now. It was basically that the victim would only be able to seek recourse from the criminal themselves.

“Would that really work so easily?”

“It didn’t necessarily need to, you see. Even if they were now bona fide third parties, there was still the possibility that they would be obligated to return the book…but I don’t think my mother explained those points one by one. The point was that she was able to persuade Suzaki’s father…not that it matters anymore since it’s hit the statute of limitations by now.”

She used her left hand and her tooth to tear the label apart. After that she let it fly off into the night sea. The paper was easily swallowed by the white waves and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Now do you understand what kind of person my mother was? She was someone who was knowledgeable about books, and had a sharp mind as well as an incomprehensible character…she disappeared ten years ago and hasn’t been in contact since.”

The conversation suddenly touched upon the crux of the issue. I took a deep breath in order to alleviate some of the tension.

“Did she leave behind a message?”

“I don’t believe so…she did leave me one book, however.”

“A book?”

“Daisuke, I think you’ve already heard of it…Sakaguchi Michiyo’s Cra Cra Diary .”

I did see those in her room before. If I remembered correctly, that was the essay collection by Sakaguchi Ango’s widow, I think. I remembered taking them out to the discount cart afterwards.

“You mean the ones that were put up for sale in the discount cart?”

“No, those weren’t the ones that my mother left behind…she would often gift me books. It was because she liked to express her feelings with books. When I saw the copy of Cra Cra Diary that she left behind for me, I quickly understood what she had done.”

“…What did she do?”

It felt like she wanted me to ask that question.

“I think she found another lover. In Cra Cra Diary , the author recounts how she left her very young child behind and ran off to be with Ango .”

An oppressive silence hung over the seashore. It felt like I finally understood the reason why she said she couldn’t bring herself to like the Cra Cra Diary .

“Why do you think I didn’t reveal the truth to Suzaki earlier?”

Shioriko was still staring out into the dark sea. It was a starless, cloudy night.

“Wasn’t it because there isn’t any proof anymore….and more importantly, you didn’t want to trample over his important memories?”

I answered her after thinking for a short while. That his father was a criminal who stole his precious book, and that his first love took advantage of that to extort his father out of the rest of his collection…you probably wouldn’t find someone who’d want to know a “truth” like that anywhere.

“There’s that but, there’s also a bigger reason…”

She fell silent for a moment. I could see that she was strongly clenching her teeth. She looked as if she might burst into tears.

“I thought he would not want to sell his manga to us if I revealed everything to him…in the end, what I did isn’t much different from what my mother did thirty years ago. I visited the apartment lured by The Final World War, and left with the rest of his books for cheap. I really have no right whatsoever to condemn what my mother did. My mother and I really resemble each other, just like Suzaki said….”

An especially cold wind blew towards the sea. Shinokawa pulled her body in, bracing herself against the cold. Almost unconsciously, I moved to wrap my arms around her slightly trembling shoulders.

“I’m never planning on getting married ever in my life.”

I stopped moving at the sudden, unexpected announcement. What on earth was she saying?

“No matter who I marry, no matter what kind of happy family I make, someday, just like my mother, I’ll probably end up leaving them behind. I don’t have the confidence to say that I won’t.”

She probably didn’t see me as someone of the opposite sex, but why did it feel like a roundabout rejection? I couldn’t imagine this eccentric, yet serious person going out with anyone without having marriage as a condition.

“Let’s get going, Daisuke.”

Her voice was already back to how it usually was. She used her cane to change her direction little by little and started walking towards the stairs.

“Thank you for listening to what I had to say…it was a little refreshing.”

I, on the other hand, far from feeling refreshed, felt gloomy. Regardless, I continued after her.

“So about the The Final World War …how did it end?”

I directed the question at the head of long black hair in front of me. I couldn’t think of anything to say in this situation besides that.

“…the protagonist managed to reach the shelter after a struggle. He embraced his unmoving father swearing that they would never be separated again…however, one of the robots managed invade the shelter and moved to kill the protagonist.”

Looking down at her feet, as if to match her step, she slowly explained.

“Thereupon his father woke up and shot the robot down. On the other side, the robots on the surface, who were on the cusp of gaining total control, had their electronic brains addled by the radioactivity and began annihilating one another. The story ends with the boy and his father, once again united, look upon the earth’s surface after the wars’ end.”

“…it’s a nice ending.”

I told her my honest impressions.

“Yes, I suppose it is…”

At length, she muttered with a sigh.

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### 005. Epilogue - Michiyo Sakaguchi "Cra Cra Diary" Bungeishunjū Part II

Here Shioriko looks like a child while her sister looks like an adult. And her mother knows it so well. It is going to be very interesting what will happen between Shioriko and her mother, and of course, how Daisuke’s apparent attempt on mediating them due to his crush on Shioriko. Thanks Erebea for translating this! I get to see how subtle Daisuke’s thinking and his crush on Shioriko seem melt Shioriko’s wall now. I also want to see Shioriko’s sister more in the story since her diary in the previous book is what I suspect to be one of the tool for Shioriko’s mother to check on them. I still wonder how Shioriko’s mother can deduce Daisuke’s name.

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### 006. Afterword

# (NanoDesu) A Translation of the Biblia Koshodou no Jiken Techou Light Novel

ビブリアの英訳なのです！

- About

- Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia Volume 1 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Epilogue Afterword Volume 2 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword Volume 3 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword Volume 4 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Epilogue Afterword

- Tsukumodo Antique Shop Volume 1 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Coincidence Chapter 2 – Statue Chapter 3 – Memories and Notes Chapter 4 – Present Afterword Volume 2 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Silence Chapter 2 – Self Chapter 3 – Eyes of Death Chapter 4 – Make-Up Afterword Volume 3 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Chest Chapter 2 – Puppet Chapter 3 – Dream Chapter 4 – Sleeping Beauty Afterword Volume 4 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Shadow Chapter 2 – Gamble Chapter 3 – Pinky Chapter 4 – Secret Afterword Volume 5 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Luck Chapter 2 – Hope Chapter 3 – Words Chapter 4 – True Thoughts Afterword Volume 6 Color Art Prologue Chapter 1 – Envy Chapter 2 – Sound Chapter 3 – Future Chapter 4 – Past Afterword Volume 7 Color Art Chapter 1 – Traces Chapter 2 – Truth Chapter 3 – Illusion Chapter 4 – Sin Epilogue Afterword

- Side Projects R.O.D Read or Die – Volume 1 Prologue Oniyama’s Morning What a Wise Alley Cat Wants to Know It’s Kind of Strange, Isn’t it

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## Afterword

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Afterword

I touched on this in the previous volume’s afterword, but I chose Kita-Kamakura as the setting because it fits the image I wanted and because it is a familiar place for me.

I attended a high school in Kita-Kamakura for three years. To get to my old school, you can either take the bus from Ofuna station, or go up the steep slope from Kita-Kamakura station. Continue past the houses on the mountain slope and a concrete school building will come into view—some of you might recognize it when I write it like that, but the model for the protagonist Daisuke’s high school was my own alma mater.

The school had a splendid view due to its elevation; on clear days, you could even see out to the sea.

I was happy to receive so many responses to the story, although it was still incredibly shocking to see people precisely identify which high school the protagonist went to. It was almost like they had graduated from the same school. Maybe some were even my fellow classmates. They would know more than well enough just how painful it was running up that hill to avoid being late for school.

Some of the things that appear in this story are real while others are not. I also wrote this in the previous afterword, but all of the books that appear do in face exist. In the same vein, the locations mentioned in and around Kamakura are also real.

Some of the shops and establishments that the characters visited were modeled after real places, while others were not. Just like with the school Daisuke went to, people familiar with the area were surprisingly adept at figuring them out.

Although the characters themselves are completely fictional. That is to say, they aren’t based people living out there somewhere. There’s a clear distinction as far as that’s concerned.

There were many things that I had to research for this volume so first, I would like to thank the people of Kobundo Books in Kamakura for graciously helping me collect information.

I would like to extend my gratitude to the readers as well. We’ve finally reached the main story.

I would be delighted to meet you again in the next volume.

-Mikami En

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## 03. Volume 3 - Miss Shioriko and the Lasting Bonds ( PDF/ePub from Nanodesu )

### 001. Chapter 1 - Robert F. Young "The Dandelion Girl" (Shueisha Bunko)

The series is still ongoing in Japan with volume 7 getting released on February 25th this year.

There is a drama version that adapts some of the stories from the first 4 volumes (I think). This chapter was covered in episode 8 of the drama.

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### 002. Chapter 2 - A Children’s Book with a Tanuki, a Crocodile, and a Dog?

Ah again thanks for the completed chapter, erebea! I really like how the author’s way in conveying emotional moments. The riddles may be easier, but what perplexed me is how much I can feel about the emotional feelings of each characters despite of the straightforward writing style. It’s like how wonderful Goura as a storyteller and I can feel how much care he feel about Shioriko. I’ve been thinking, maybe Shioriko is actually more aggressive in pursuing Goura than she and he thought. I just like how Goura was able to read her silent expressions and act accordingly, just like a cute couple.

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### 003. Chapter 3 - Spring and Asura

Thanks a lot erebea!

Btw, a typo in ” Chieko gave my father a call and asked if he would be interesting in buying a first print of Spring and Asura. ”

interested in, not interesting in

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### 004. Epilogue - "The King Has Donkey Ears" Part II (Poplar Publishing)

I swear I was suspecting her. I wondered who was leaking the info about Daisuke and Shioriko. So she was the culprit all along.

I just love how the author revels the answers bit by bit

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## 04. Volume 4 - Miss Shioriko and the Two Faces

### 001. Chapter 2 - The Boys Detective Club

BTW, I found a drama for this novel but a lot of things are different and that’s sometimes so annoying. Like… instead of Shioriko having a younger sister called Ayaka, she has a younger brother called Fumiya I guess, and yeah, Shida’s living with the two siblings and doing the housework for them instead of Ayaka. Moreover, they changed things and Shioriko wasn’t hospitalized and such. Whatever, I’m in the 4th episode so I don’t really know, but, I like the novel more than the drama.

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### 002. Epilogue

thank you for translating this. Well, there’s always another side of the story. Was Chieko actually looking for that Ranpo book then? We’ll never know. Anyway, I love how you translated this. This reads so smoothly.

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