Chapter Seven, The Legendary Policewoman?

At the end of April, the weather in Tokyo remained chilly. On a gloomy, rainy day at the start of the new week, Assistant Inspector Tanaka once again arrived at the Department of Forensic Pathology at Tokyo Medical and Dental University.

The old man always seemed perpetually exhausted, as if he hadn't bathed in ages. The relentless, overcast drizzle outside reflected the dim and desolate atmosphere of the forensic pathology lab; Tanaka’s arrival, however, brought a faint glimmer of vitality to this isolated, reclusive sanctuary.

Professor Okochi could spend an entire day without uttering a word, fully immersed in his research. Uesugi Soseki had also been quite idle during this period. Leaving surgery meant leaving the front lines of medicine—no more waiting for emergency calls, no more rushing passionately through hospital corridors for rounds, no more endless cycle of surgeries, no more bottomless pit of emergency patients, and no more acting as a perpetual scapegoat.

The pediatric department, in particular, had previously indicated that if Uesugi were willing to transfer, he could remain in clinical medicine without needing to complete the standard residency, moving straight into a permanent position. But Uesugi Soseki found children to be his greatest source of misery and annoyance. He felt that facing hundreds of emotionally unstable "alien creatures" every day was a fate worse than death. Not to mention that pediatrics was a disaster zone for overtime; many pediatricians couldn't finish their work even by daybreak. It was the most grueling, taxing, and litigation-prone department, where medical malpractice was easily triggered by the difficulty of gauging dosages and types of medication for children. Many major hospitals would simply abolish their pediatric departments if not for administrative mandates, retaining only emergency services.

Of course, leaving the front lines also meant leaving the fast track for promotions, substantial research funding, and the additional income from surgeries.

During this time, Uesugi Soseki had summoned the grit of a "small-town exam-taker," obsessively memorizing all sorts of forensic knowledge. He was eager to test his skills. Seeing Assistant Inspector Tanaka finally arrive, he was the first to stand up and greet him: "Got a case?"

"I’m afraid I have to trouble Professor Okochi and young Uesugi again this time." Tanaka wore a suit overcoat—as usual, one could go a year without seeing a detective in an actual police uniform. "We’ll talk about the details on the way."

Professor Okochi didn't react immediately. He finished writing his research report, took off his reading glasses and hung them around his neck, then nodded at Uesugi Soseki. "Let's go."

Once inside the police car, Uesugi Soseki was already itching for action, and Assistant Inspector Tanaka began to describe the situation.

"Two victims. The location is a residence in Yamabuki-cho, 1-chome. The husband, Masato Ishizaka, is 79; the wife, Hiroko Ishizaka, is 75. The cause of death is currently unclear. According to neighbors, the couple had a good relationship and showed no suspicious behavior."

"Two days ago, neighbors began to smell a stench. They assumed it was the sewer or garbage, but the smell persisted all day without fading. Someone called the police, and patrol officers from the *koban* (police box) came to investigate. They found the couple dead in the house. The situation is a bit strange, so we’ve asked the professor and young Uesugi to take a look."

Tanaka’s introduction was concise. Professor Okochi remained silent, so Uesugi Soseki took the initiative: "Is this a civil matter or a criminal case?"

His underlying question was whether the police had determined if the deaths were suicide or potentially criminal.

"It could be a criminal case," Tanaka concluded.

Uesugi Soseki’s interest was piqued. He wanted to ask more, but Tanaka didn't have any concrete answers; the first responders were the patrol officers from the *koban*, and some things would only become clear once they were on-site.

In Tokyo, the police structure is generally divided into three tiers: the *koban*, the police station, and the Metropolitan Police Department. While a rough analogy would be a neighborhood station to a municipal bureau to a state agency, that division is a bit imprecise. The Japanese *koban* is far less significant than a typical local precinct; it is usually just a small, one- or two-story building on a street corner, staffed by three or five patrol officers who monitor the surrounding area. These officers are often low-ranking patrolmen or sergeants, riding bicycles through alleys and possessing no real investigative authority.

To describe the *koban* in one sentence: "They are great at helping with small things and useless for big ones." You could often see them making a huge fuss over a lost cat or dog, or sweating profusely to help an elderly woman cross the street. For most queries regarding directions, policies, or lost property, they were warm and helpful.

However, when faced with a real "case," the only thing a *koban* could do was report it; they could do nothing else and were often unwilling to try.

Even at the police station level, passing the buck was common. If the victim's place of residence, the site of the incident, and their temporary address fell under different jurisdictions, stations would often bounce the case back and forth, hoping to avoid the hassle.

So, this meant the crime scene would be crawling with *koban* officers and other police from the station? Uesugi Soseki grew excited, wondering if he would finally see a legendary female police officer.

"So, who is on the scene?" Uesugi pressed.

"Well, there's Station Chief Ito, Kuwabara—you know him—and another Sergeant named Naito. Oh, and Officer Kosaka is there too," Tanaka said, not suspecting a thing.

A real female officer! Uesugi Soseki nodded to himself. Although he had no intention of getting involved with public servants, having a female officer on-site was a bonus. Uesugi harbored a deep secret—he had an intense obsession with uniforms and stockings. Aside from a few ex-girlfriends, no one knew this, as he kept it very well hidden.

...

At the end of the residential street in Yamabuki-cho, 2-chome, Bunkyo Ward, yellow tape marking the danger zone had been erected. The police car pulled up to the entrance of an apartment building, where several officers were talking.

"Is Tanaka-san okay?" Station Chief Ito was fifty, with graying temples, a middle-aged paunch, and sagging cheeks. He held a baton in his hand.

"Yes, Tanaka-san has gone to fetch Professor Okochi and Uesugi-san." Sergeant Kuwabara was the busiest, managing the scene, dealing with neighbors, and answering the Chief. "Uesugi-san is that super-talented new forensic expert from the aristocracy we mentioned to you last time!"

"Oh? He's from the aristocracy? Why would a noble become a forensic pathologist?" Sergeant Naito, who had shaggy hair and a lean build, asked. He was under thirty, a fresh force in the police. "They say medical school is for the children of the wealthy, but do the wealthy become forensic pathologists? It’s smelly, low-paying, and exhausting—a typical '7K' job. It’s exactly like us police officers!"

"Naito?" Station Chief Ito squinted with a broad smile. "We are still on duty!"

"Ah, sorry, sorry!" Naito apologized, though he thought to himself that the old guy wouldn't get much further in his career, while he still hoped to get promoted a time or two.

*Don't let anything go wrong, just close the case normally.*

"Hey, Kuwabara-san, have you met that forensic doctor? What’s he like?" asked Officer Kosaka, the only female officer on the scene.

Female police officers were rare in Japan, and even rarer on the front lines, especially at *kobans*. In such situations, women were usually treated with extra care. Sergeant Kuwabara gestured dramatically. "He’s super handsome and stylish, right? Young, calm, and from a prestigious family—I mean, truly prestigious! He’s tall, good-looking, and extremely professional."

"Really? Really?" As expected, Kuwabara’s words instantly piqued everyone's interest. He decided to recount the whole story: "Let me tell you, Tanaka-san insisted it was a suicide at first because we see so much of that, and he was almost fooled. But then the righteous Uesugi-san shouted that it was a homicide, and Tanaka didn't believe him, so they made a bet..."

Sergeant Kuwabara recounted the scene vividly. When he got to the part about Tanaka being "humbled" by Uesugi, the other officers, including the Station Chief, let out satisfying sighs, unable to help but chuckle.

*There are still good people in this world!*

Just as he finished, the car arrived. The officers stopped whispering, and Sergeant Kuwabara rushed to open the door for Assistant Inspector Tanaka, saying enthusiastically, "Thank you for your hard work!"

"Professor Okochi, Uesugi-san, I’m sorry to trouble you again." Tanaka opened the door for the Professor.

"A solitary death?" Professor Okochi stepped out and understood the situation with a single glance.

At that moment, another young man in a white lab coat stepped out. With his cold, sharp features, tall stature, and eyes as piercing as blades, he possessed a temperament as clean and surging as a mountain waterfall. Under the gloomy sky, Uesugi Soseki looked radiant and untouchable.

*So handsome!*

*Handsome! That guy in the lab coat! So handsome!*

Among the crowd of onlookers, the middle-aged women were the first to shriek, followed by the only female officer, Kosaka.

*Is this what a noble is like? So dashing!*

*He’s leagues above these stinky middle-aged uncles!*

She was already mentally calculating how to get Uesugi's phone number.

However, Uesugi, upon seeing the only female officer on the scene, felt deeply disappointed. Her looks—small eyes, wide forehead, round face, and square chin—were at a level he wouldn't even glance at twice. And the uniform he had imagined—a narrow skirt, stockings, and high heels—was completely absent. The female officer was wearing a standard duty uniform with trousers and leather shoes, a tight blue shirt, and a thick tactical vest with four pockets containing a notebook, a radio, a baton, and a whistle.

The only thing remotely "uniform-like" was the police cap on her head.

*So disappointing.*

In short, there was neither the intense allure of a uniform nor any "feminine charm," which left Uesugi Soseki feeling deeply let down.

Tanaka immediately read the expression on Uesugi’s face and pressed a hand on his shoulder. "Disappointed, are you? You brat, being able to meet a female police officer on patrol is already a stroke of luck. *Namu San!*"

"I heard your ranks were filled with beauties," Uesugi asked naturally.

"There are plenty of beauties, but they’re all in administrative roles. Besides, we’re field agents; having a woman here at all is a miracle. Do you think this is a TV drama?" Tanaka smirked, looking greasy. "There are plenty of beauties inside Sakurada-mon (the Metropolitan Police headquarters), but having one with us... sorry to disappoint you, young Uesugi. And I advise you, don't try to make a move on a female officer. I assume you don't have any plans to get married soon, right?"

Japanese police are divided into two types: field agents and administrative staff. The former participate in patrolling, case handling, tracking, and surveillance; the latter are bureaucrats who handle management and paperwork. Field agents make up less than 40% of the 380,000 police officers in Japan (the scale of the police in this world seems even larger), while the administrative staff exceeds 50%.

"Marriage is hell. If I could, I'd rather never marry," Uesugi replied, feeling that the old man wouldn't understand. He added, "Marriage is too heavy; I still want to fly freely."

"Then you’d better not make a move on a female officer!" Tanaka laughed. "You don't want to be forced into marriage by the entire police station, do you?"

"Forced marriage?" Uesugi blinked.

Seeing they had some time while the fire department prepared their equipment, Tanaka chatted with Uesugi.

Female field officers were notoriously hard to marry off, for reasons that were obvious enough to anyone who thought about it. Consequently, many would lie at mixers, claiming to be administrative staff or just "civil servants." To help their female colleagues get married, the entire station would pull together. Once a relationship became stable, the Criminal Investigation Division would collectively summon the boyfriend, confront him with the intensity of an interrogation, demanding to know if he was serious and telling him he had to "take responsibility."

Such forced marriages almost never failed. If a man dared to dump a female officer, the station wouldn't let it slide; they might even take it up with his company or family.

"That's why I never touch public servants," Uesugi squinted. "As I thought, it's too much trouble."

"You’d better not," Tanaka said with malicious intent, thinking of the two-ten-thousand-yen meals Uesugi had swindled out of him, which had led to his wife scolding him and forcing him to eat soy sauce and seaweed over rice for three days. "I can tell you've changed women plenty of times, Uesugi. If it comes down to it, count me in on the forced marriage!"

The old man and the young man locked eyes, both seeing the malice in the other.

*Drop dead, you old geezer.*

*You'll die before me, you little brat!*

"Hehehehe..." "Humph humph humph..."

The first round ended in a draw.

The idle talk ended as the firefighters finished preparing the protective gear. Tanaka signaled that it was time to begin. As they approached the apartment, an indescribable odor surged into Uesugi Soseki’s nose. He instantly frowned—a thick, overwhelming stench of rotten eggs, viscera, feces, and a sweet, bloody decay hit him head-on.

*The smell of a corpse!*