Chapter Fourteen: The Case of the Drowning of the Woman Living Alone

“Sorry, young Uesugi, but with the money we have, we can’t treat you to kaiseki cuisine, traditional set meals, or any fancy Michelin-starred restaurants. We can only afford to buy you this kind of okonomiyaki.”

After several hearty servings of okonomiyaki, everyone felt somewhat full. Uesugi Munesetsu quickly stuffed stir-fried beef udon into his mouth. Only then did Tanaka Roto awkwardly say, “After all, we’re civil servants and don’t have much money. Last time at Sukiyaki Garden, we truly got the short end of the stick. I promise I won’t bring it up again.”

“That’s alright. Do you really think the main family eats traditional Japanese meals or dines at Michelin or ryotei restaurants every day? You’re imagining too much,” Uesugi Munesetsu shook his head. “At home, I just eat regular meals. I actually like places like Yoshinoya, Sukiya, Matsuya, or Saria. Come to think of it, I thought your so-called get-togethers would be at an izakaya, where everyone orders a 1,000-yen skewer platter with draft beer and drinks until eight or nine at night.”

Japanese salarymen especially enjoy going to izakayas after work. Yet, the vast majority are not overweight because their izakaya outings usually involve just a large mug of draft beer and three to five grilled chicken skewers over one or two hours, all while chatting and joking. They probably consume less alcohol than the amount of saliva they produce, so how could they gain weight?

“If you like, next time I can treat you—no problem,” said Section Chief Sudo with a smile. “It’s even cheaper.”

After speaking, the chief called to the bar counter, “Thank you for the hospitality!”

Immediately, the bar owner, a woman wearing a headscarf, came over holding the bill. Section Chief Sudo pulled out a 10,000-yen note. The owner expressed her deepest gratitude while giving back change.

The four had spent just over 8,000 yen, not even reaching 10,000.

Just as they were about to leave, the izakaya’s television began playing the commercial that Tanaka Roto and Uesugi Munesetsu had seen before. Their goddess, senior student Mai Shirakawa, was participating in a cosmetics campaign.

The screen was filled with a captivating pure white—Mai Shirakawa’s radiant smile was as pristine as a plum blossom blooming in the snow. Her skin was flawless, free of any blemish or unnatural pallor; instead, it was the pure, creamy white of porcelain or jade, like a baby doll’s complexion. She wore the simplest pale sky-blue dress that perfectly complemented the youthful, blossoming figure of a young woman. Her tender yet mature, exquisitely sculpted body was like a finely crafted work of art placed on display within the television screen. The glow from the cosmetics she held was completely overshadowed by her own allure; what remained etched in viewers’ memories was solely her impeccable visage.

The senior proudly displayed her unparalleled beauty. Her long, straight black hair flowed like luxurious silk over her shoulders, reflecting a gentle sheen like water. Her elegant, slender figure and luminous skin shone brilliantly. Every curve was breathtakingly beautiful, her graceful posture like a lotus emerging from water, naturally flawless and capable of captivating all admirers of beauty.

“Oh? That’s the superstar actress Mai Shirakawa from Soul Agency. I see her again,” Tanaka Roto winked at Uesugi Munesetsu. “My daughter is a huge fan of hers!”

“My kid’s the same,” Section Chief Sudo said, grabbing his suit jacket.

“Mine too!” the owner of KAKA Inn laughed. “The kids go on and on about Mai-san all day long!”

“Me too!” “Same here!” The majority of the office workers in the izakaya joined in the commotion.

“I am too!” Asako Kuwahara straightened her back excitedly, refusing to blend in with the crowd and insisting on showing her genuine admiration: “Absolutely adorable Mai-san! The ideal woman on earth!”

Uesugi Munesetsu chuckled softly. He rarely smiled, but recalling that this senior was his high school alumna, he couldn’t help but hum quietly, tacitly admitting he liked her too.

“Not only that! Young Uesugi and Mai Shirakawa even went to the same high school!” Tanaka Roto immediately spilled some juicy gossip. “Kuwahara, with you around, I see no chance, only someone from a prestigious family like young Uesugi can hope to win her favor, right?”

“Forget it,” Uesugi Munesetsu shook his head repeatedly. “She graduated from Tokyo University’s Department of Arts and Culture, and she probably hasn’t thought about dating anyone these past few years.”

Japanese actresses, especially female leads, have very short prime periods. Typically, a legitimate actress starts as a child actor around age thirteen or fourteen, appearing in TV dramas and films. By sixteen or seventeen, after their voice changes, they must strive to land leading roles in series, because once they pass twenty, they no longer fit adolescent roles.

If an actress hasn’t become famous by then, she must seriously consider marriage by age twenty-four at the latest. Otherwise, it becomes difficult to marry. While modern society doesn’t require marriage to fulfill one’s value, what use is it for an actress who neither rises to fame nor marries to linger in the entertainment industry?

If she becomes famous, her career can last longer, but even then, by age thirty-two she must transition to different roles. Beyond that age, continuing as a lead means playing motherly or workplace drama roles, narrowing her range and cutting her off from traditional romance, youth, or manga-adapted dramas because society won’t accept it.

Male actors differ; men in their forties who remain unmarried can still find social acceptance.

Life in Japan can be harsh like that.

During this precious prime, an actress must resolutely keep romance at bay.

Senior Mai is one and a half years older than Uesugi Munesetsu, twenty-three this year, right in the best period for an actress. Now is hardly the time for her to consider love, and even if she did, her agency would never allow it. This prime period is so short, and after painstakingly cultivating her into a top star, how could they not rush to make money?

There have been several cases where newly popular actresses quickly found boyfriends, causing their commercial value and role opportunities to plummet, leaving the agencies helplessly crying.

“By the way, young Uesugi, from noble families like yours, what kind of woman do you prefer?” Section Chief Sudo asked with interest.

“A woman who has nothing,” Uesugi Munesetsu answered thoughtfully as they stepped out into the street, the drizzle still falling, the rain mixing with streetlights into a hazy glow. “One without dreams or plans of her own, who sees her husband’s life as her own, manages the household well, and fully supports her husband’s ambitions and career.”

Women who graduate from Tokyo University might seem untouchable goddesses to ordinary people, but aristocratic families like the Uesugi clan and influential political and financial circles quickly shy away from such highly educated women. The so-called strong-strong alliances society talks about simply don’t happen.

What about marrying down?

For example, Eri Kisaki, the wife of Kogoro Mouri, is the ultimate nightmare for highly educated women. After sacrificing her studies and career to marry down, she found no happiness. Mouri is an alcoholic, gambler, womanizer, and money-grubber. Though occasionally showing a caring and just side when sober, those moments mean nothing over the long course of marriage, which eventually ended in separation.

“No wonder many Tokyo University women now prefer to claim they graduated from Tokyo Women’s College,” Section Chief Sudo said smugly, shaking his head. “So, Tanaka, there’s no need to send girls to too prestigious universities. What’s the use? You only make 5.5 million yen a year, and four years of college costs you three years’ worth of not eating or drinking. They graduate and still can’t find a husband, right? Burp~”

“Makes sense.” “Exactly.” Tanaka Roto and Asako Kuwahara nodded repeatedly, wearing expressions that said, “That’s why you’re the chief, you see right through it.”

Uesugi Munesetsu gave these three wiseacres a sidelong glance and sighed. No one was going to convince anyone else—everyone was an adult. Life’s meaning isn’t solely marriage and children.

Before leaving, Section Chief Sudo slipped an envelope with 50,000 yen into Uesugi Munesetsu’s hand. “From now on, count on you, young Uesugi!”

“Leave all corpse-related matters to me!” Uesugi Munesetsu accepted the envelope, nodding slightly. The aura of Fudo Myo-o’s Buddha-light shone upon him, and even under the umbrella in the rain, his strong confidence was unmistakable.

The detectives at the precinct all felt an inexplicable surge of trust.

Yes, this little rookie is truly remarkable!

With him, our precinct is saved!

———— Line separating “Our precinct is saved!” ————

Several weeks later, in June, summertime arrived in Tokyo.

As usual, there was another case requiring an autopsy and death certificate. Tanaka Roto personally drove to pick up Uesugi Munesetsu from Tokyo Medical and Dental University Hospital.

This had happened several times already. Both sides were familiar with the routine—no words needed—meet, get in the car, leave.

The Otsuka Police Precinct stands in a five-story building in the eastern part of Bunkyo Ward. As a relatively central precinct in Tokyo, its facilities are decent. The precinct is fully staffed, with 230 employees in total, including 25 in the detective division. Through the transparent windows, people came and went. The large golden cherry blossom emblem beside the precinct gleamed brightly in the late spring sun. Inside, the officers wore crisp uniforms; badges and leather shoes shone, backs straight, full of vigor.

Male officers in uniform were sharp and upright; plainclothes officers wore impeccable suits and ties. Female officers wore deep blue uniform skirts, police hats, standard flesh-colored stockings, and patent leather heels—though these were mostly office or traffic officers.

The moment Uesugi Munesetsu stepped out of the car, all eyes turned to him. The air seemed to cool with his presence. The young intern doctor adjusted his fitted suit, smoothing out wrinkles and strode into the precinct with complete disregard for his surroundings.

Only Tanaka Roto felt a bit embarrassed, jogging alongside him, greeting everyone while quickly leading the way. “This way, young Uesugi, this is the detective division; that’s the traffic division!”

They reached the third floor detective division and opened the door. Inside was silent and empty, save for the previously mentioned clutter and piles of documents. Two iron chains hung from the ceiling, each holding a plastic sign: “Violent Crime Investigation Unit 1” and “Violent Crime Investigation Unit 2.” On the wall hung a framed motto:

“Investigate immediately, swiftly, accurately, with careful thought.”

“Where is everyone?” Uesugi Munesetsu asked Tanaka.

“They’re in a regular meeting. Wait a moment.” Tanaka made a call.

Soon, Chief Inspector Kuwahara and Inspector Kosaka arrived. “Section Chief Tanaka.”

“Let’s go!”

The four piled into a patrol car. Kuwahara drove, and Tanaka handed the case files to Uesugi Munesetsu.

“The deceased is Yoko Kurosawa, 65 years old, living alone. Found drowned in her bathtub at home. The door was locked from the inside with no signs of break-in or theft. No obvious external injuries. No signs of struggle.”

Uesugi Munesetsu nodded. “So, she accidentally drowned while bathing?”

“Yes, but…” Tanaka said, his expression puzzled. “All doors and windows of her residence were locked tight. That means a solitary elderly woman died in…”

“A locked room?” Uesugi frowned. “Maybe she lacked a sense of security? After all, she lived alone.”

“Exactly, so we need you to check whether it was suicide or homicide,” Tanaka said repeatedly. “Thanks for your help.”

————

“I see.”

Uesugi glanced at Officer Kosaka in the front seat and understood why she was there. During investigations or arrests involving female suspects’ residences or bodies, it’s best to have a female officer present to avoid unnecessary trouble.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived.

The deceased’s home was an ordinary two-story apartment, but the building was old and sparsely occupied. The scene was cordoned off with yellow tape. As usual, local officers maintained order.

Inside, just as Sergeant Tanaka had described, the interior was typical of a solitary elderly person—neatly cleaned, all doors and windows locked. In the bathroom, beside the old wooden bathtub measuring about 1.5 meters long and 80 centimeters wide, lay the recovered body of an elderly woman.

Without hesitation, Uesugi began the autopsy while Tanaka and others started examining the scene.

Examining the body, Uesugi refrained from rushing to conclusions and began his forensic analysis.

The body showed no signs of decomposition. It was June, so the time of death should be recent.

Yes, the estimated time of death was within one day.

He examined the palms and soles, which showed signs of immersion dermatitis. Opening the mouth, he found fine white foam.

Undoubtedly, it was drowning, with death occurring between the previous night and early morning.

Uesugi calmly applied his professional knowledge.

“How is it, young Uesugi?” Tanaka returned after his inspection. “What’s the situation? Estimated time of death?”

“Yes, drowning, estimated last night,” Uesugi nodded.

“Really?” Tanaka looked surprised. “But…”

“But what?”

“But it doesn’t match our investigation.” Tanaka pulled Uesugi to the doorway. “Look at this.”

At the apartment door hung a milk delivery box containing three bottles of milk.

“Milk is delivered once daily. Even at the most generous estimate, Ms. Yoko Kurosawa hadn’t left her home for at least two days,” Tanaka stroked his chin. “What does this mean?”

Hmm?

Uesugi frowned, realizing he might have overlooked something.

Returning to the bathroom, Uesugi invoked the power of the blue sapphire.

After a moment, he emerged with a serious expression. He understood.

“This is not a suicide, Section Chief Tanaka.”

“It’s a homicide!” The young forensic doctor’s face was as cold as water. “The killer deceived us all!”

“Ms. Kurosawa drowned in the bathtub, but it wasn’t hot water she was soaking in.”

“It was ice water!”