Chapter 1 part 2

As always, I calmed my breathing outside the shop before opening the antique door. As the door chime rang out, I spotted two men sitting at the counter.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Aoi,” said the first one, Kiyotaka Yagashira, also known as Holmes. He was the one who had offered me this job.

“Good morning, Aoi.” The second one was Holmes’s father, Takeshi Yagashira. He had a slim build and wore glasses and a vest. His gentle smile was similar to Holmes’s.

“I’ll do my best today,” I said with a bow.

It’d been a while since I started working here, and I’d finally gotten the hang of it. Back when Holmes offered me the job, I’d assumed he was a young shopkeeper, but it turned out that the real owner of the shop was his grandfather. Apparently that grandfather of his is known as a legendary appraiser, and being a nationally certified expert, he travels all over the country and even around the world performing his services. While the real owner is away, Holmes and his father take turns managing the shop in addition to working hard in their main professions.

Holmes’s father’s main profession is—I glanced at the counter in front of him. His right hand held a fountain pen, which he was using to write prose on Japanese grid-style writing paper. That’s right: his father is an author. He writes things like historical novels and columns, and he’s always writing while tending to the store.

Oh, and by the way, Holmes’s main profession is being a student, as you’d expect.

Perhaps having noticed I was looking at him, the father looked up from his work and smiled warmly at me, saying, “Your presence brightens up the shop, since we didn’t have any girls around before.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I said shyly, hastily putting on my apron.

According to what the regular customers have told me, there are no women in the Yagashira family. The owner was a free spirit and he had divorced his wife long ago, while the father’s wife—in other words, Holmes’s mother—passed away due to illness when Holmes was two years old. So, the Yagashira family only consists of men. Since the three of them have the same surname, the grandfather is called “Owner,” the father is called “Manager,” and Holmes is called either his nickname or “Kiyotaka.”

It’s rare to see father and son together, though. Usually only one of them was at the shop.

“Oh, I’ll be heading out soon. My father will be in charge today,” said Holmes, looking my way with a smile. I choked on my breath in shock.

“C-Can you please stop reading my mind already?”

“Ah, my apologies. You seemed curious because you were looking back and forth between us.”

Holmes possesses an extraordinarily keen eye. He doesn’t actually read people’s minds, but he can infer things that are unspoken from their words, actions, and behavior.

“Reading minds? You’re ever the exaggerator, Aoi,” he continued with an amused chuckle.

My face stiffened. His constant, unexpected guesses about my thoughts sure seemed like mind reading to me. I definitely wasn’t exaggerating. The way he responds to my inner thoughts is seriously bad for my heart.

“Oh right. Aoi. Come to the second floor with me,” said Holmes, getting up from his seat.

“Ah, okay,” I replied, slightly startled.

When Holmes calls me to the second floor, it’s always to show me something. I climbed the stairs feeling somewhat anxious. When we reached the top, he removed the keyring at his waist and unlocked the door there with a click, revealing a plain room with a small window and a ventilation fan. Products and boxes were stacked on the shelves. As its appearance would suggest, this room was called the “storeroom.”

Holmes cut straight through the storeroom and stopped in front of a door on the opposite wall. The first thing that caught my eye was the padlock. There was nothing else special about the door, but it was locked. On the wall next to the door was a cover pretending to be a power outlet, and opening that cover revealed a number pad. It was a digital lock with a numerical password.

Holmes deftly entered the password and then unlocked the padlock. At a glance, it was simply a small room at the back of the storeroom, but that wasn’t all. It had a high level of security.

The door finally opened. Holmes turned on the light, revealing a small, clean, windowless room that was kept cool with an air conditioner. In the middle was a table, and something lay on top, completely covered by a sheet.

“My grandfather brought this home with him last night,” Holmes said, swiftly putting on his white gloves and removing the sheet. Underneath was a box around fifty centimeters tall, wrapped in cloth. Holmes skillfully unwrapped the cloth, revealing a simple wooden box. He opened the lid. Inside was a vase, around forty centimeters tall. The vase was painted with broad, smooth curves, and it had a wide body that gradually narrowed towards the bottom. The cobalt blue pattern on its white body was breathtakingly elaborate.

“Wow!”

Was the pattern a grapevine? It was drawn beautifully and cleanly, all the way to the tips of the leaves.

“It’s…amazing.” Curse my limited vocabulary. But that was all I could say.

“It’s Chinese porcelain known as ‘blue and white pottery.’ This one hails from the Yuan dynasty.”

“How is porcelain different from earthenware?”

“They’re similar, and there isn’t a strict boundary between them, but when unglazed, porcelain is white and translucent, and it makes a metallic sound when you tap it.”

“I see. Is this genuine?”

“Yes, a Kyoto department store will be having an exhibition soon, and this piece is being borrowed from overseas. They asked my grandfather to appraise it beforehand.”

“So the department store requested for the owner to appraise it?”

“Yes, even though they’re borrowing pieces from other countries, it’d still affect their reputation if they were to display a counterfeit.”

Since the owner was a nationally certified appraiser, he’d sometimes receive requests like this and bring rare antiques here, the likes of which a commoner like me would normally never be able to see up close. And whenever such an amazing piece was here, Holmes would always show it to me.

“This cobalt was brought over from the Islamic world. It’s a beautiful, deep indigo, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it really is lovely.”

“The shape is very uniform and feels balanced. It has a beautiful form, developed to perfection all the way to the brim. And most of all, this pattern. Isn’t it stunning?” Holmes gazed fondly at the vase, describing it passionately as if it were his own pride and joy. I was charmed by his genuine love for antiques, but I could also understand where his passion came from. Even an amateur could tell that this vase was amazing. But, as a lowly commoner, what I wanted to know was…

“Around how much is this worth?”

“Let’s see… In the past, I saw in the news that a piece of Yuan blue and white pottery went for 3.2 billion at an overseas auction.”

“Th-Three billion? For this?”

“Not for this specific piece, but it means that there’s someone out there who would value it that highly,” Holmes answered happily.

“I-I see.”

This world was so foreign to me that I couldn’t keep up. Some people have their hearts stolen by money or jewels, but others are charmed by antiques. As an antique collector, my grandpa must’ve been one of them.

“Holmes, if you were rich, would you want this vase badly enough to pay a large sum for it?”

“No.”

I looked up in surprise at his swift response.

“Oh, really? But you love antiques, right?”

“Yes, I do. However, I don’t have the desire to own them. I’m happy being able to see such wonderful pieces, and I want to see as many as I can during my life. To that end, I’m willing to go anywhere in the world. But I don’t want to own them. I’m satisfied as long as I can look at them like this and store them in my heart and memory,” Holmes replied, placing his hand to his chest with a gentle smile on his face.

“I…see.” I nodded hesitantly. His answer was unexpected, yet appropriate.

“In my case, it’s not just pottery and scrolls that appeal to me. I also love temples, shrines, and foreign castles and towers. Those are things I’ll never be able to own, let alone decorate my house with, right?”

Holmes grinned mischievously. I smiled too, saying, “You’re right.”

“The staff will be coming to retrieve this soon, so I’m glad I was able to show it to you first.”

Holmes put the lid back on the box and wrapped it securely in the cloth. We left the room together, and I watched him absentmindedly as he locked up.

I knew he was being careful, but was it really okay to put something worth 3.2 billion here? Perhaps it wasn’t my place to judge, but I couldn’t help but worry.

“Don’t worry. Our security is tighter than you think,” Holmes said, key in hand.

I choked on my breath again. “I-It’s seriously bad for my heart when you read my mind.”

Holmes laughed cheerfully at my stiff expression.

We descended the stairs, and I spotted Ueda, one of the regulars, lounging on the sofa in the cafe area.

“Hey there, Holmes and Aoi!” The instant he saw us, Ueda waved with a big grin on his face.

“Welcome, Ueda. Did you come to see my father?”

Apparently Ueda was college friends with the manager, making him a Kyoto University alumnus as well. He works as a management consultant in Osaka, and developed an interest in antiques due to the Yagashira family’s influence. When he finds something that might be good, he comes to Kura to have it appraised.

“Uh huh. I bought his new book today and I wanna get it signed.”

Ueda took out a book from his bag titled Women’s Quarters. I instinctively leaned in. “Wow, is that the manager’s book? I keep asking him what kind of books he writes, but he always refuses to answer.”

I looked at the cover and got excited when I saw the author listed as “Takeshi Ijuin.”

“Your pen name is Takeshi Ijuin, huh? It’s very nice.”

The manager brought his hand to his forehead as if troubled. “Uh, Aoi, feel free to forget what you just saw.”

“Huh? Why?”

“This guy’s shy, Aoi,” said Ueda. “Here, I’ll even give it to you, so read it thoroughly.”

“Thank you, Ueda! I’m so happy.” I accepted the book and held it tightly to my chest.

The manager averted his gaze and said, “It’s extremely difficult to read, so I can’t recommend it.” His cheeks were faintly tinged with red. It was kind of cute.

“C’mon man, you’re a veteran author now. Hurry up and get used to it!” Ueda slumped his shoulders, exasperated, and the manager looked away.

“An insensitive Osakan man wouldn’t understand.”

“Pfft, I don’t wanna hear that from a guy who brags about being raised in Tokyo. You’ve got Kansai blood flowing through your veins, but you sold your soul to Tokyo.”

Right, Ueda had told me that the manager was born in Kyoto, but raised in Tokyo. The owner got divorced when the manager was still young, and he was too busy to raise a child by himself, so he sent his son to his relatives in Tokyo. The manager didn’t come back to Kyoto until he started university, and that’s why he usually speaks in standard Japanese. Maybe that’s why Holmes uses standard Japanese, too.

“I’ll make coffee,” said Holmes, heading towards the kitchenette in the back.

“Thanks, pal. There’s something I wanted you to take a look at too, when you’re done with the coffee.”

“Certainly. I had a feeling that was the case.” Holmes chuckled and went into the kitchenette.

“Saw right through me, huh? That’s Holmes for you.” Ueda shrugged and then looked at me with a grin. “Didja know, Aoi? It was me who nicknamed him ‘Holmes.’”

“Huh? Wasn’t it because his last name has the character for ‘home’ in it?”

“That’s what he tells other people, but the truth’s something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was back when he was in early primary school, I think? He came to my place to play and said he wanted to solve riddles.”

“Ahh yeah, young children like that kind of thing.” My relatives’ kids always want to do quizzes or play word games too. It never ends.

“I know, right? So, I gave him some problems, but he was a smart kid and solved ’em right away. No matter how many questions I gave him, he kept asking for more, and it got really annoying, so I went, ‘All right then, how many stairs does my staircase have?’ and he instantly answered ‘Fifteen.’ I was surprised and accused him of making up an answer, but he said, ‘I didn’t make it up. I know because I climbed them once.’ And then when I counted, there really were fifteen. Aoi, do you know how many stairs your house has?”

I was at a loss for words. Thinking about it, even though I go up and down those stairs every day…I don’t know how many steps there are.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Right? Don’t look so glum. It’s normal not to know. Anyway, when that happened, I thought ‘This kid is Holmes.’”

I tilted my head. “But why?”

The manager chuckled, saying, “That’s the kind of person Sherlock Holmes was made out to be. When he sees a staircase, his brain even observes the exact number of stairs it has.”

“I-Is that so? Wow.” I was impressed from the bottom of my heart.

“It’s something you have to be born with,” he continued. “If everyone is looking at the same thing, most people will overlook part of the information, but Kiyotaka takes everything in and processes it.”

“That’s why he can do appraisals, right? Is the owner like that too?”

“No, my father… It’s a bit different. He has the unique ability to determine authenticity.”

“And you’re hopeless at it,” Ueda piped in immediately.

The manager grinned snidely and said, “Well I’m sorry for not being able to help.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Ueda replied, with a similarly snide grin.

As I was anxiously looking between the two of them, Holmes appeared, accompanied by the scent of coffee.

“I’m glad you’re getting along, but you’re making Aoi uncomfortable.”

There were four porcelain coffee cups, one of which was café au lait. That one was mine.

“Thank you.”

It was delicious, as usual. I really love Holmes’s café au lait.

“Thanks. So, this is what I wanted you to look at.” Ueda gulped down his coffee and hurriedly took a box out of a paper bag. “One of our clients, their director had this in his house. Caught my eye, so I borrowed it to show you.”

“Understood. Allow me to examine it.” Holmes donned his white gloves again and gently opened the box. Inside was a small vase made of white porcelain with a blue pattern.

“…Well then.”

“It’s blue and white pottery, right? From the Yuan dynasty?”

“This is…quite the coincidence.” Holmes smiled in amusement and glanced at me. “What do you think, Aoi?”

“Huh?” Bewildered by the sudden question, I looked at the vase. This is the same type as the one I just saw upstairs, right? I gulped and took a closer look. If it’s worth the same as the one upstairs… No, this blue wasn’t as beautiful. The one I’d seen before was a very beautiful cobalt blue, but this one was obviously just “blue.” And what’s more, the pattern—the one upstairs was extremely elaborate, drawn as though there were nerves reaching all the way to the pointed tips of the leaves. This one didn’t have the same tension. The same went for the shape: the curve around the upper brim was a bit concerning.

I could tell that this vase was trying to imitate the other one, but there was no hiding its faults. The one upstairs had a mysterious, overwhelming something to it. Compared to that, I didn’t feel anything from looking at this one. To be honest, it was really shabby.

“Umm, I think it’s a fake,” I mumbled, and Holmes nodded in response.

“Correct.”

Ueda’s eyes opened wide. “Whoa now, does Aoi have an eye for this too?”

“Indeed. Aoi has good eyesight, and most importantly, as long as she’s seen the genuine article beforehand, she can identify forgeries well.” Holmes looked towards me as though seeking my agreement.

“Y-Yes, just a little while ago, he showed me one that’s going to be used in an exhibition.”

That’s why it felt so different. If I’d only seen the one that Ueda brought, then I might’ve thought it was amazing.

“My grandfather always said, ‘Try to only look at genuine articles whenever possible.’ That way, when you see a fake, you’ll sense its low quality.”

I see; I can totally relate.

“Everyone is blessed with the opportunity to see the real thing, because wonderful works of art are always on display at museums and galleries. I want people to make use of those facilities. It feels like such a waste that they pass up the chance to see beautiful works,” Holmes sighed.

Ueda laughed. “What are you, a secret agent?”

“I might be.”

Everyone giggled at Holmes’s shameless admission.

“But man, this is a fake? Well, I guess Yuan blue and whites aren’t something you see every day. Shouldn’t have gotten the guy’s hopes up.” Ueda looked disappointed as he put the box with the vase back into the paper bag.

“It’s not a bad piece, though.”

“How much, then?”

“About fifty thousand, perhaps. How much did he pay for it?”

“Don’t ask,” Ueda said, slumping his shoulders. I felt my expression stiffen too, assuming that the price must’ve been missing a digit or two.

“As long as he likes it enough to keep it in his collection, that’s what matters most. In cases like this, the value is up to the owner to decide.” Holmes smiled merrily, then looked at the shop’s grandfather clock. “Ah, it’s time. I’ll be leaving now, Dad.”

“All right.” The manager nodded, then looked at me. “Oh right, why don’t you go with him, Aoi? You might learn something.”

I looked back at him blankly. “Um, where is he going?”

“I’m going to Ninna Temple. It’s the best time to see the cherry blossoms. Since my father suggested it, shall we go together?” Holmes answered with a smile.

I nodded eagerly. “Yes!”