Chapter 1 part 4

“You were amazing again, Holmes!” I exclaimed excitedly after we left the temple.

Holmes gave a strained smile and said, “You exaggerate, Aoi.”

“It’s not an exaggeration! The first thing that surprised me was when you figured out he was a manga artist by the callus on his finger.”

“Ah…that was actually something else.”

“Huh?”

“I knew he was a manga artist because of the screentone traces in his hair and on his forehead, but it was awkward to tell him that. When I looked at his hands, I saw a writing callus and made use of that,” Holmes said with a shrug.

So it was traces of screentone. That would make it easy to identify a manga artist. He really does have a keen eye though; I didn’t notice them at all.

“But how did you know that his father was against his career, or that he’s selling well now?”

“As I said before, it was because he didn’t seem to want to admit his profession. People who are like that often have parents who are opposed to it. From his accent, I sensed that he’d lived in Kanto for a long time. And the fact that he had screentone on him despite returning to his hometown meant that he was still drawing manuscripts even in these circumstances. In other words, he was in demand.”

“I-I see.”

That’s Teramachi-Sanjo’s Holmes for you.

“Also, the facts regarding Ninsei Nonomura’s seal are something that everyone in this industry would know, so it came to mind immediately,” Holmes said as though it were nothing.

“I thought the part after that was great too, though. About cherry blossoms being popular with everyone. You read so deeply into Kishitani’s and his father’s hearts.”

“However, I have no conclusive proof.”

“It was convincing, though.”

“It could’ve been that that really was what his father wanted to convey, but it also could’ve just been my wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking?”

“Yes. As I said before, if you only create the things you like, you can’t call it professional work. It’s only a hobby. I believe that being a professional means creating what the public wants while trying to express yourself as much as possible.

“Even Beethoven and Chopin were frantically trying to compose songs that would please the aristocrats that sponsored them. In any era, professional creators are fated to create what people are looking for. This is because art has to catch the eye,” Holmes said, looking at the five-storied pagoda towering over the grounds. It was an elegant, imposing work of art. Together with the cherry blossoms, it looked like something out of a painting. This tower must’ve also been built with the intent of catching the eye of renowned people and pleasing them.

The spring breeze gently blew between us.

“Isn’t it a nice scene? The five-storied pagoda towering beyond the cherry blossoms. I’m truly happy to be able to see something so beautiful,” Holmes said with a serious expression.

Even though I had gotten used to it, it still felt strange hearing such refined words come from the mouth of a young, attractive guy, and I almost laughed. He was right, though. It was beautiful.

“Oh yeah, there was a poem like this, right? Let me die in spring, under the cherry blossoms, during the full moon of the second month. It reminds me of you, Holmes. I can imagine you saying it under the beautiful cherry blossoms and the moon,” I said with a giggle.

Holmes looked me in the eye. “That’s incorrect, Aoi. The poem goes ‘under the flowers,’ not ‘under the cherry blossoms.’”

“Wuh?” I accidentally made a weird sound.

“Let me die in spring, under the flowers, during the full moon of the second month. The poem is by Saigyo Hoshi. He admired the Buddha so much that he wanted to die during the full moon of the second month—in other words, February fifteenth, the same day that the Buddha died. Unfortunately, he passed away on the sixteenth of that month. He missed it by a hair.”

I was lost for words.

Wait, I’d gotten it completely wrong.

“O-Oh, so it wasn’t about cherry blossoms and the moon. It was about yearning for the Buddha.”

That was embarrassing. It’s time to stop showing off my lack of knowledge in front of actual scholars.

“However, in the world of poetry, the word ‘flower’ indicates cherry blossoms, so I don’t think you were wrong. The second month also refers to the lunar calendar, which would set the poem in spring now.”

“S-Sure.”

“And your version of the poem was nice, too. It’s dreamlike.

“Let me die in spring, under the cherry blossoms, during the full moon of the fourth month. A modern form would sound like this, I suppose? It’d certainly be fulfilling to breathe your last under the cherry blossoms in full bloom and the light of the full moon, after burning many beautiful sights into your memory.”

Holmes smiled warmly, and I felt my cheeks grow hot. He’d said that immediately, knowing that I felt awkward.

How do I put this? He seems kind, but the way he does these things so easily makes it feel like I’m being teased.

“Holmes, you’re kind of mean, huh?” I said with a pout.

Holmes looked surprised. “Mean?”

I couldn’t say anything in response. How was I supposed to answer if he asked why? He’s actually being really nice, after all.

Holmes chuckled. “Forgive me, Aoi.”

“Huh?”

“…Kyoto men are wicked, you see.”

It was the first time I’d heard him speak in Kyoto dialect.

He lifted his index finger and grinned mischievously, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

“Shall we get going?”

With his usual smile, Holmes began to walk, and as I looked at him from behind, I murmured, “Kyoto men… I might be a fan.” But don’t tell anyone I said that.

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