Vol 2 Chapter 2: Las Meninas

It was now autumn in the city of Kyoto, meaning comfortable temperatures, clear blue skies, and gradually reddening maple trees. It was also the harvest season, so foods using the abundant local crops and Japanese sweets made with chestnuts were trending. You might say that autumn is Kyoto’s most attractive season of the year, and clearly tourists thought so. The shops on Teramachi Street and Sanjo Street were getting busier.

I looked out the window as I leisurely cleaned the store. Lately I’ve been able to sense whether passersby are tourists or not, and there were definitely a lot of them at this time of year. These tourists would walk right past our shop, not even bothering to look at it.

Yep, as always, this shop is so quiet that you wouldn’t believe how bustling it is outside. The grandfather clock continued to tick as if matching the rhythm of the relaxing jazz music playing in the background. Holmes was sitting at the counter with the account book open in front of him. As usual, he was checking it, pen in hand.

Now that I think about it, what is he always checking so intently? I stealthily peeked sideways at him without stopping my dusting. Then, I realized that he was only pretending to check the accounting. He was actually doing schoolwork.

“Holmes, you’re doing schoolwork?” I exclaimed, surprised.

He looked at me sheepishly and said, “You noticed? Sorry, I have an assignment due.”

“O-Oh.” You don’t have to apologize, I mentally added.

“Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I’ll confess that I sometimes work on my studies while pretending to be doing the accounting.”

“Really?!” No wonder he always has the account book open.

“You’re free to work on your own homework too, if you want.” He looked embarrassed, and I couldn’t help but giggle. I don’t think he has to feel bad about it. There’s nothing strange about watching your grandfather’s store and doing schoolwork on the side.

“No, I’m a hired employee. I couldn’t possibly accept money for not working. I might do a little bit of studying if I have to come in before exams, though.” Usually I’d ask for time off when I had tests, but there were occasionally times when they really wanted me to come in. If I’m allowed to study at the shop when that happens, then that’s okay with me.

“In that case, I’ll check your homework for you.”

“Really? That’d be great!” I leaned forward, moved by his kindness. Getting tutored by Holmes? I couldn’t be happier!

Suddenly the door chime rang.

“W-Welcome!” I flipped around in surprise. Standing at the door was a thin, lanky man. He had an androgynous look, with long hair tied back in a ponytail. He looked to be in his late twenties.

“Hello, Kiyotaka,” he said, smiling weakly.

“Ah, Yoneyama.”

“Long time no see. Sorry for showing up in the middle of work.” He shrugged.

“It’s not a problem. As you can see, I’ve just been doing miscellaneous tasks. Please have a seat. Aoi, you can take a break too. I’ll make coffee,” Holmes said, standing up.

He says “miscellaneous tasks,” but he was doing his own homework. I sat down on the sofa in front of the counter.

“Hello there, nice to meet you. Are you Kiyotaka’s girlfriend?” Yoneyama asked me with a feeble smile.

I hurriedly shook my head. “N-No, I’m just a part-timer.”

“Oh, I see. It looked like you two had something nice going on.”

Something nice? My heart skipped a beat.

“My name is Ryosuke Yoneyama. I currently work at an art gallery.” He handed me his business card even though I’m only a high school student.

“I’m Aoi Mashiro.” I accepted the card with both hands and was immediately captivated by its artistry. “This is a wonderfully designed card.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and stooped over, scratching his head. Judging from how pleased he seemed, he must’ve designed it himself. It also seemed like he was hoping for praise when he offered it to me. He’s kind of cute.

As I was staring at the card, Holmes came out from the kitchenette carrying a tray. “Here you go,” he said, placing the cups in front of us. The rich fragrance enveloping us soothed my heart.

“Thank you,” Yoneyama said, bringing the cup to his mouth and smiling appreciatively. “Your coffee’s truly the best, Kiyotaka. Oh right, I brought sweets for you. They’ll go with the coffee, so let’s all eat them together.” He excitedly took a box out of a paper bag and placed it on the counter. The box had some complicated characters on it.

I squinted at the text. “How do you pronounce this?”

“This is pronounced ‘Ajari mochi.’ They’re fairly famous sweets in Kyoto, produced by a well-known store called Mangetsu, or ‘full moon.’ Thank you for bringing them, Yoneyama.” Holmes handed me one of the individually wrapped packages.

“Thank you.” I opened the package, and inside was a round roasted rice cake. I took a bite. It was springy on the outside, and the filling was very rich. “Th-This is really good.” It was so good that I broke out into a grin. Holmes and Yoneyama nodded, looking pleased with my reaction.

“It is, right? It’s a popular dessert in Kansai, but since it only has a shelf life of five days, it’s not well known in the rest of the country,” Holmes explained.

“Oh, I see.” If you have to eat them within five days, then not many people would be able to bring them home as souvenirs. It’s such a shame that there aren’t more people who know about this delicious treat! I took another bite of the Ajari mochi, savoring it and grinning again.

“I heard that Mr. Yagashira recently discovered a counterfeit at a museum. Apparently it was a really elaborate one,” Yoneyama mumbled, as if talking to himself.

“Yes. I’ll be joining him on his next museum visit. To be honest, we were talking about how we never would’ve expected a greater counterfeiter than you to appear after only a few years.”

Wait, what? A counterfeiter? I looked at Yoneyama in disbelief, and he smiled weakly.

“Ah, you must be surprised. I’m actually a former counterfeiter. I washed my hands of the business after Seiji Yagashira exposed me.”

“I-I see.” I didn’t know what else to say, so I gave him a vague smile.

“You wouldn’t have expected it, right?” Holmes asked.

I nodded and replied honestly, “Right. I imagine someone more brazen.” It was hard to believe that this feeble man was a counterfeiter.

“Nah, I think you’d be surprised how many are like me. I used to be an art student. I was confident in my skill, but I never won any contests. One day, I was looking at a famous artist’s work, and I figured, ‘I can draw something like this too!’ So I copied it, and it really was a masterpiece.”

“You can’t call a counterfeit a masterpiece,” Holmes said coldly.

Yoneyama shrank away. “Sorry, sorry. Anyway, a bad friend of mine noticed my imitation and told me I was a genius. I wasn’t used to being flattered, so I was really happy and got addicted to making copies.”

That’s so irresponsible… I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

Holmes looked sideways at him and sighed. “Despite how he looks, he’s a sly man.”

“Sly?”

“Yes, in the way he created counterfeits. He bought paintings by obscure artists from the seventeenth century and scraped all of the paint off. Then he dissolved the paint and used it to create a new picture on the same drawing board. That way, he could produce colors that could only exist from that time period, and even the rust on the nails in the frame would be authentic.”

“W-Wow.” That was amazing.

“He was also the possessed type, or rather, he made copies when he was in a unique trancelike state. So, his counterfeits didn’t have the unpleasant aura of wanting to deceive others,” Holmes said nonchalantly.

Yoneyama gave a self-derisive smile. “But you know, as I kept going, I started wanting people to look at me.”

“You wanted to be seen…?”

“Yeah. I wanted to say, ‘This wasn’t painted by a famous artist. It was me!’ That’s how I got found out. You see, Mr. Yagashira went out of his way to visit me. He said, ‘I don’t want to say this to a counterfeiter, but you’ve got skill. You deserve better than to be in the shadows, so atone for your crimes and start over. I’ll help you out if you do.’ That was the first time anyone had seen me that way, and I was so happy that I broke down weeping.” He rested his chin in his hands. He must’ve been recalling that memory, because his eyes glistened with tears.

“Come to think of it, did you have business with me today?” Holmes asked gently.

Yoneyama looked up, coming back to his senses. “Ah, yeah… Actually, I have a favor to ask you.” He fidgeted and drew away.

“What is it?”

“How do I put this? I want to ask for an appraisal.”

“Sure, of course.” Holmes immediately put his hand in his inner pocket to take out his gloves, but Yoneyama hurriedly held up his hands and said, “No, it’s not here right now.”

“Is it something large?”

“Yeah, well, kind of. Actually, the other day, I had Mr. Yagashira look at it, and he told me to show it to you…”

“My grandfather said that?” Holmes frowned. Even he seemed baffled. It certainly was strange. Why would the owner call on Holmes even though he’d already looked at it first?

“What exactly is this item?” Holmes asked.

“It’s…a painting that I drew.”

“Huh?” Holmes and I both froze.

“You want me to appraise your painting?”

In other words, he wanted Holmes to judge how much his work was worth? Holmes may have an exceptional discerning eye, but assessing a modern painting didn’t seem like it was in his jurisdiction.

“My life kind of depends on this,” Yoneyama said, shrugging again.

“Could you tell me more?” Holmes gave him a serious look.

What did he mean by his life depending on it? I nervously waited for him to start telling his story.

Yoneyama spoke slowly, “The other day, I was at an industry party, and…”