The morning after seeing that poster, Kirishima Kotoha stopped at the entrance to the shopping street. The cork board was still there. "Detective Appears! Consult Your Troubles with Kotoha-chan from Hakobell Delivery!" — handwritten letters, and a photo of her own face looking displeased. Yesterday, she'd lost the energy to take it down and left it as is. Today, she'd definitely remove it. With that resolve, she approached— Three people were there. Standing in front of the poster like they'd been waiting, three shopping street residents. Kotoha was about to make a U-turn. But she was too late. "Kotoha-chan! Perfect timing!" The vegetable shop Maruta's auntie — Tamura Sumiko — called out in a loud voice. She was wearing an apron with her sleeves rolled up. Solid build, eyes full of intensity. "My sales money disappeared! I definitely had it last night, but when I opened up this morning—!" A voice came from the right. The dry cleaner Cosmos's proprietress. "We've got something to ask too! The noise from the neighbor's place is terrible, wakes me up every morning. Can't something be done?" On the left, the tofu shop owner was pulling out a notebook. "Actually, I need an infidelity investigation…" Kotoha checked the Hakobell GO screen. The first job had come in. Nakamaichi Shopping Street, C Area, reward 450 yen. There's work. There is work. I am a delivery person. "I can't do infidelity investigations," She answered immediately. The tofu shop owner deflated. Having said that much, Kotoha turned toward the dry cleaner's proprietress. This one seemed like it would be quicker to resolve. That's when an electric bicycle slid around the corner from the alley. Navy blue rear box with the Hakobell logo. C-009. "Ah, I'll listen to what you need!" Long legs touched the ground along with a bright voice. Thin ash-brown hair swayed in the wind. Tall — around 182 centimeters. Hair with a light wave, bright green eyes. Fingertips of the gloves were cut. Dressed as a delivery person, but somehow had an outsized presence. "Kiryuu Souta, senior delivery person. C Area coverage! If you've got any troubles, I'll listen to anything!" His smile was dazzling. Really dazzling. He'd completely ignored Sumiko and turned toward the dry cleaner's proprietress. Kotoha's eyebrows narrowed slightly at the word "senior." He seemed older than her, but was he really okay like that? "When you say the neighbor's noisy, what kind of sound specifically?" "Heavy footsteps in the early morning, boom boom." "I see! Then wouldn't moving be faster?" Kotoha's eyes narrowed. The dry cleaner's proprietress's eyes went rigid. "…Huh?" "No, moving's the quickest solution, isn't it! If it's a rental, you can find—" "This is my own house! I've lived here thirty years!" Bad. The situation had gotten three times more complicated. Souta was starting to panic with "Oh, right." Kotoha let out a small sigh. "…Just close the windows during the six o'clock hour," She said it low and fast. "Huh?" "Neighbor noise is loudest in the early morning six o'clock hour. If you just close the windows then, the wall soundproofing will cut the volume to less than half. Zero cost compared to moving." The proprietress blinked. "…Oh, that's it? That's all?" "Probably." The proprietress readily agreed with "Well, I'll try that!" and headed back toward her shop. Thirty seconds, done. Souta was staring at Kotoha with a dumbfounded expression. His bright green eyes had gone round. "…Something was spinning really fast there." "Don't do unnecessary things," Souta wasn't discouraged at all. "But I did listen properly, didn't I!" he insisted. Kotoha thought in the back of her throat that telling someone to move wasn't the same as listening, but didn't say it aloud. "We're C Area buddies, aren't we! Let's go together!" Souta started running alongside her bicycle. Somehow it had happened naturally. Kotoha classified him as a natural enemy. --- Going back to Tamura Sumiko's story, the situation was this: The safe at vegetable shop Maruta — the sales money of 23,000 yen that should have been locked in last night had completely disappeared. When Sumiko opened it this morning, it was empty. The safe itself wasn't broken, the lock was fine. No signs of anyone breaking into the shop. "Let's investigate together!" The moment Souta said it, Kotoha tried to slip away. Too late. Sumiko's hand had grabbed her arm firmly. "Please! Kotoha-chan!" Her escape was slow. This was her biggest weakness, Kotoha thought every time. She had no choice but to go inside vegetable shop Maruta. Souta moved right away. "I'll ask around!" he said, dashing out into the shopping street. He was sociable. She'd admit that. He called out to every shop, listening with a smile. He was back in less than five minutes. "Two people saw someone suspicious last night! But one said 'a young man,' and the other said 'I think it was a woman.' And 'it was dark, couldn't see well' from three places. Oh, and one witness saw a cat crying in front of Maruta." Kotoha organized it in her head. Five contradictory testimonies. "…Did you verify them?" "Huh?" "Did you confirm whether those testimonies were actually true?" "Oh… I didn't." Kotoha put on her glasses. She looked around the shop. The register was against the back wall. The window faced south. Good sunlight during the day. The safe was installed on the floor beneath the register drawer. The lid was slightly raised — not completely closed. When she asked Sumiko, she said "it's always been a bit hard to close." And three cat hairs. On top of the register. "Where is Chako?" "Huh? Our cat? I think she's sleeping somewhere," Sumiko tilted her head. "Could you call her?" When Sumiko called "Chako!" a calico cat emerged slowly from a cardboard box under the register. Rust-colored cat. White, brown, and black patches. Estimated four years old. Sleepy eyes. Kotoha looked at that cardboard box. Directly under the register. South-facing, good sunlight. The warmest spot. "Excuse me for a moment," She crouched down and peered into the box. Chako stepped back, annoyed. At the bottom of the box was crumpled fabric. A cat's bed. She lifted it. It came out. Seven folded thousand-yen bills. And one receipt. "…" Kotoha counted the seven bills. Sumiko had a "what?" expression. Souta had an "eh?" expression. Chako started grooming herself, unbothered. "Some cats have a habit of pulling shiny things in," Kotoha slowly stood up. "This Chako's favorite napping spot is on top of the register, and the safe lid was slightly open. The bills were wrinkled, so it seems she pulled them out through the gap and carried them here. The remaining 16,000 yen is probably hidden in some other location. Ask Chako where." After three seconds of silence, Souta burst out laughing. "Chako's the culprit!?" He pressed his mouth with his cut-fingered gloved hand, but the laughter wouldn't stop. Sumiko was looking at Chako saying "Is it… is it really you…" and laughing and crying. Chako continued to look unbothered. Kotoha muttered while watching the air in the room sideways, "Logically, this possibility was high from the start." In a voice so small no one could hear. --- The remaining sales money was eventually excavated from three of Chako's favorite spots. Under the register, in the gap of a cardboard box in the back of the shop, and on top of the refrigerator. 23,000 yen total, not a single bill missing. "I'll make sure to close the safe properly from now on…" Sumiko said weakly. They left the shop. Outside, the air was early autumn afternoon, slightly cool against the skin. Through the gaps in the shopping street arcade roof, a thin strip of blue sky was visible. Souta opened Hakobell GO. "Let's go to the next delivery!" he started to say, when something caught his eye. At the end of the shopping street, an elderly man in his seventies was there. Holding a large cardboard box in both hands, standing stranded. Small build, the box was almost the same size as him. His footing was unsteady. Kotoha saw him too. But she looked away. She should head to the next job. Souta checked the app. There was time until the next job's deadline — or so he thought, but it was a job that would be canceled if not completed in the next thirty minutes. A detour would make it cutting it close. He didn't hesitate for a second. He stood up the electric bicycle's kickstand and ran out. Toward the old man. "Let me carry that," That's all he said, taking the cardboard box. "Where to?" he asked, and started walking in the direction the old man pointed. Slightly outside the shopping street. If he came back, it would be completely cutting it close. Kotoha was left behind, watching Souta's back. Carrying the large cardboard box lightly, walking at a slow pace to match the old man's. His height was so great he was quite bent over. But not a hint of reluctance on his face. She could hear his voice from a distance, talking. Laughter mixed in. The old man was laughing too. (…What is that?) Kotoha realized she couldn't look away from that direction, and tilted her head slightly. It felt strange. Her recognition that he was the complete opposite type of person hadn't changed. But something wouldn't settle neatly. Souta came back. His breathing was slightly elevated. "Timing-wise it was rough, but oh well," He smiled. Really, like it was nothing. Kotoha looked away from that smile and gripped her electric bicycle's handlebars. Something in the center of her chest touched something. She didn't know how to process it, so she left it as is. She resumed delivery. The two of them rode side by side through C Area of the shopping street. There was no particular conversation. When they passed under the arcade roof, autumn wind came from the front. She pedaled. Electric assist pushed her back. After a while, Souta stopped in front of a convenience store. He went in and came back out. He was holding two canned iced coffees. Without a word, he put one in Kotoha's bicycle basket. Kotoha looked at it for a second, then rode off. She didn't say thank you. But during a red light, she opened the pull-tab. One sip. Two sips. Slightly bitter, and just the right temperature. --- In the evening, on the last delivery route, she passed in front of flower shop Tsubaki. "Kotoha-chan! Souta-kun!" A woman with silver short bob hair waved from the flower shop entrance. A memo pad hung from her neck. Tsurumi Yoshiko — sixty-seven years old, owner of flower shop Tsubaki. Her bright amber eyes were smiling. Fast-talking, loud voice. "I'm the one who put up that poster! Sorry about that! But you really were a real detective!" Kotoha lost the energy to take it down. She was too carefree. She couldn't even muster the energy to be angry. "…I see," "That's right! It's already become a rumor, all through C Area!" Yoshiko continued on to Souta without changing her tone of voice. "Souta-kun, I heard you used to be a gym trainer, but you became a delivery person because you wanted to meet someone you like — is that true?" "Yoshiko-san!" Souta's voice came out flustered. Kotoha's gaze naturally turned that way. For just a second. Yoshiko continued talking completely unaware. "Because everyone in the shopping street knows! When a young person starts working as a delivery person, it's either for money or something like that, right!" she laughed. Kotoha, expressionless, moved her bicycle forward slightly. But she didn't pedal. (Because he wanted to meet someone he likes) That phrase played once in her head. She tried to think about what it meant, then stopped trying. It had nothing to do with her. Why a delivery person started working as a delivery person didn't affect the quality of their work. Yoshiko was still saying something. Souta was trying to deflect skillfully. Kotoha pedaled. When she entered the residential ar