Sakamoto, a detective in his late fifties, was idling away the time in his office as usual, scouring YouTube videos for the truth behind the Honno-ji Incident.
He sat deeply reclined in his chair, leaning heavily to the left with his legs crossed, his right hand rhythmically clicking the mouse. It was a familiar sight.
Though he’d had a sharp mind since his student days, his artistic temperament and loathing for sales talk meant he looked far from a high-earner. Not that he was the type to keep himself busy with work anyway.
He fancied himself a man of style, wearing well-tailored suits with a calculated roughness, yet he never quite looked well-maintained.
However, the moment he touched the core of a case, his eyes would turn as sharp as a hawk’s hunting its prey.
Today, though he remained blissfully unaware, a magnificent tuft of bedhead stuck out from the back of his head.
Those around him had long since given up on pointing it out.
On the bookshelves, Sherlock Holmes novels and volumes of the Detective Conan manga were shoved in haphazardly.
In the background, Tanabe, a university student working part-time, was engrossed in a volume of Conan. Beside him, Asakawa, a part-time housewife, was listening to the endless grumbling of a female caller—likely a consultation about her husband’s suspected infidelity.
The woman on the phone insisted that while she lacked hard proof, there was simply no other possibility.
Asakawa spoke into the receiver.
"Hold on a second, let me ask Sakamoto-san."
She put the call on hold and, without even turning around, asked over her shoulder:
"Sakamoto-san, remember Mrs. Yamaguchi who called the other day? If she can get her husband to confess, she doesn't need physical evidence, right?"
"Hmm... Under the current judicial system, even without direct evidence like murder weapons or eyewitnesses at the scene, there are cases where a logical accumulation of facts leads to a confession and a guilty verdict.
But a confession alone is weak. You have to be able to explain the logic—that there is no other conceivable conclusion—and do it in a way anyone can understand..."
Asakawa, having heard all she cared to hear, clearly lost interest before he could finish. She was already back to the caller.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
"Well, infidelity isn't a crime in the first place, anyway," Sakamoto muttered to himself.
Asakawa was doing her best in her own way to turn the call into a formal request.
"Ma'am, it might work without evidence, but a case is always stronger with it. If you leave it to us, we might just find that one smoking gun. No matter how smart your husband thinks he is, he's bound to slip up once. We are professionals, after all..."
(But a murder where no 'body'—no evidence—is found is always treated as an acquittal or an 'unfortunate accident.' My job is to trace the marks left by those who erased them...)
Listening to the conversation, the detective knew this wouldn't turn into a lucrative job.
"If only the absence of evidence... could be the evidence itself..."
He murmured this while continuing to watch his video. It was the usual fare: Who was the mastermind behind the Honno-ji Incident? The Hideyoshi theory, the Ieyasu theory, the Jesuit theory, the Imperial theory, the Chosokabe theory from Shikoku... Every video spoke with absolute confidence, yet upon closer inspection, they all lapsed into ambiguity, lacking a decisive blow.
(Wait. The absence of evidence is the evidence? Was the proof... intentionally suppressed by someone?)
In that instant, the gears in Sakamoto’s head began to grind.
He immediately called out to Tanabe.
"Tanabe-kun, you said you were interested in history, right?"
"Yes. I love the Sengoku period."
"Who do you think was the mastermind behind the Honno-ji Incident? The one who instigated Mitsuhide Akechi."
"Well, there are so many theories, but the truth remains a mystery..."
Sakamoto’s eyes suddenly became those of a 'hawk,' and his words began to flow with newfound fervor.
"That’s exactly it. But consider the possibility that someone intentionally and perfectly suppressed the evidence while manipulating Mitsuhide—and ultimately reaped the rewards."
"Then, in terms of who gained the most, would it be Hideyoshi Toyotomi or Ieyasu Tokugawa?"
"Exactly. That’s the simple way to look at it. But men like them wouldn't leave such obvious tracks. If we narrow it down to who was actually capable of pulling this off... doesn't the list get very short?"
"What? Then who? The exiled Shogun, Yoshiaki Ashikaga?"
"No, I don't think so. Yoshiaki didn't have that kind of power anymore. The Shogun’s prestige had already hit rock bottom by then."
"Then... the Chosokabe clan in Shikoku?"
"The Chosokabe theory? It’s a strong 'gray,' but... I’m bothered by the fact that the body was never found. If it was the work of someone aiming for the Shogunate next, they wouldn't be so clumsy. In those days, the head was everything."
"Oh, right. That’s true."
"Without evidence, it’s just a hypothesis. But what if... while someone was manipulating Akechi to attack Honno-ji, they used that window to spirit away Nobunaga’s body? It would be the 'Cover-up of the Century.'
A person who left no trace, controlled Mitsuhide, and pulled off the lightning-fast 'Chugoku O-gaeshi' that stunned the world and led Hideyoshi to supreme power... This mastermind must have been incredibly brilliant. At least more so than Hideyoshi himself."
"Wait... if we're talking about someone that brilliant, there was someone, wasn't there? Hideyoshi’s strategist... what was his name..."
Sakamoto stood up. His fly was unzipped, but he didn't notice. Tanabe’s eyes flickered toward it for a split second, but he wasn't surprised, nor did he intend to tell him. He just listened.
Sakamoto took a sip of coffee, staring intensely at the tea stains crusted at the bottom of his cup. He whispered the man’s name.
"Kanbe'e...... Kuroda......"
Sakamoto continued. His thoughts were becoming sharper by the second.
Translated and edited with the assistance of Gemini (AI).
