notes - I was totally winging this, never read an english detective novel in my life, and this is set around the 1920s in an alternate japan (where the military police weren't in power), and this was written super casually; if none of that deters you I hope you will enjoy reading this, thank you very much! I will write more serious stuff after this semester is over!

you and mystery

(1)

"Hold it!"

The man turned around, the painting tucked snug under his arm. His expression turned thoughtful as he continued to run. "Well, I am!" he finally answered, gesturing to the stolen art piece.

What an incredible amount of cheek. Mayaka couldn't find an appropriate answer that didn't involve firing a barrage of expletives at him. She didn't feel like replying to begin with since she was so out of breath. She was a detective, not an athlete! Those were two very different things! Still, her feet didn't stop pounding against the pavements as she gave chase.

"Stop with the pleasantries and just turn yourself in!" she shouted.

The thief looked over his shoulder with a wide smile. "That would be boring."

Mayaka's jaw tightened as they rounded a corner that led down yet another alleyway. There were criminals who did what they did because of uncontrollable greed, calculative revenge, vicious hate, twisted morals, or a sum of all of them. Satoshi Fukube was just bored.

She gave an inward sigh of relief as the alley ran to a dead end. Finally. She'd been on the Fukube case for a month and had finally managed to catch him in the act - she hadn't expected him to be such a young man, but that didn't change a thing - he wasn't about to get away from her. Mayaka caught up as Fukube gradually slowed from a jog to a merry, taunting sort of gait as he neared the end of the alley.

"Fukube, give it up!" She pointed at him as he turned on his heel to face her. He seemed to be about her age, in his early twenties, and with such a friendly disposition, it made it hard to believe that he was a thief. Behind that too-cheerful smile was someone who had stolen three art pieces from private collections in the last month. She was about to stop him from chalking a fourth to that score.

In response to her exclamation, Fukube held one hand up, like a student preparing to ask a question in class. Mayaka was thrown off by that, and her confusion seemed to delight him as he asked, "May I know your name?"

"Mayaka Ibara," she said without hesitation.

He seemed bemused as he shifted the painting from under one arm to the other. "Miss Mayaka, are you intending to get me to return the painting? I'm afraid that's not going to happen, at least, not tonight. There would be no suspense in that."

"Suspense?" she repeated in disbelief. "How can that possibly be a motive?"

Fukube's mouth was agape. "It's rather cruel for you to put it that way."

Mayaka planted her feet firm on the ground and stared him down. "I'm not trying to be nice."

He began to laugh, but Mayaka refused to be distracted. She slipped a hand into her coat pocket as Fukube adjusted the brim of his hat and suppressed his laughter.

"Of course, of course. You're right. I'm sorry for laughing. You're just very honest," he said, bowing in an apology Mayaka didn't believe.

"Anyone would be honest compared to you, Fukube," she pointed out. "Now, come quietly."

"I understand... " Fukube said as he stepped closer to her. Mayaka was surprised that he was being so cooperative - well, from the crimes he'd committed, he didn't seem to be one of the more complex criminals. He'd been cautious the first three times, stealing paintings before anyone could notice, but his inflated ego had coaxed him to try stealing the fourth art piece right from under the nose of its owner. That was the only reason Mayaka had been informed and had arrived to the scene in time to spot him and give chase.

She took the handcuffs out of her coat pocket as he held his wrists out to her.

" - but I've got places to be!"

The handcuffs had clicked shut, but Fukube's body was lurching away and it was then that she realised that the handcuffs were on her.

"Fukube!"

"Bye, Miss Mayaka!"

(2)

"You're not going to give up on this case, are you?"

She spared the man one icy glare. Mayaka wiped the hair out of her eyes before returning to the documents and case files piled open all over her desk. "Of course not. I'm not like you," she said. Statistically speaking, Oreki had a perfect record of solving cases, but he always went on about how if a case got too troublesome to handle, he'd pass it over to someone else. That was what irritated Mayaka the most about him - which wasn't to say that that was the only thing she found irritating about him.

"You make it sound like being me is a bad thing, Ibara," Oreki muttered into his cup of coffee.

"That's my intention," she said without missing a beat. Mayaka groped around under the clutter for her own mug as she read a police report. When she found it, she thrust it in Oreki's direction. "Since you're not doing anything, help me refill it."

Oreki only hesitated for a second. He sighed as he took the mug and trudged across the office to the pantry. On his journey there, Sawakiguchi requested for him to help her refill hers as well. "Oh and get some biscuits if you don't mind! I'm feeling peckish," she sang out.

By the time Oreki returned to Mayaka's desk, he was visibly withered down.

"Much obliged," she said, content that she now had a cup of coffee filled to the brim and a tormented Houtarou Oreki.

She shifted her attention back to the map of the city and the prominent art collectors in the area. She still couldn't figure out where Fukube was going to strike next. He didn't seem to show favouritism between paintings or artists, but she knew better than to assume that Fukube was stealing paintings off the top of his head. But the more she pictured him in her mind, the more convinced she was that he was like a child who played with one toy until he was bored of it and simply moved onto the next one that had happened to catch his attention.

Oreki leaned against her desk and studied the details. After awhile, he tapped his index finger on one of the markings she'd made. "There."

She inspected the coordinates but wasn't able to figure out how he came to that conclusion. "How do you know?" she asked.

The man pulled at his bangs. "He's doing it in order."

Mayaka stood up, thinking that it would provide her with a better view. She even shooed Oreki away so that she could stand at his spot and look at the map from his angle. On the tips of her toes, she still couldn't make sense of it. "... What order?"

"They're all primes," Oreki explained. That was when Mayaka realised he was referring to street numbers. Fukube only stole from art dealers and private collectors who were on prime-numbered streets.

Prime numbers. She thought about it as she grabbed a marker to circle out all the narrowed possibilities, grudgingly thanking Oreki.

(3)

Fukube entered the room through the open window with practised ease and a pleased grin. When he saw that she was waiting for him, he sounded not surprised but happy of all things. "Miss Mayaka! Fancy meeting you here!"

She tugged on the lapel of her coat, determined not to be toppled off guard this time. "There's nothing fancy about it," she said from one corner of the room. The room was dim, the only source of light coming from the line of street lamps outside and the crescent moon. As she walked forward, she had to manoeuvre between the outlines numerous statues and complicated art pieces of Haba's collection. These were all valuable works of art he'd imported from the West - and yet, Fukube was ignoring them and inching closer to a painting on the wall.

"I didn't expect you to be one step ahead," he said.

Mayaka sighed. "You're not a terribly difficult person to understand. Don't give yourself so much credit."

"I don't," Fukube answered curtly. "But aren't you being just a tad too brutal?" he chuckled.

"Do you realise what position you're in now, Fukube?" she reminded him.

He folded his arms. "Miss Mayaka, you never let up, do you?"

"Not really," she said, shrugging her shoulders as she moved to in front of the window to block his escape, knocking against a wooden stand. She steadied the flower vase resting on it before it could fall onto the floor. The sunflower's petals were soft against her fingers. "Most people don't like that about me."

"I like that about you," Fukube said, " - Mayaka."

She couldn't believe this person. "Don't call me that! We're not friends!" If he thought he was going to get away with sweet talk, he was gravely mistaken. Mayaka had long outgrown any desire to be liked or be complimented by others. She couldn't depend on empty words to give her value or make her happy. It'd been a long time since anyone had called her by her first name, and a long time since she'd felt genuinely happy about anything.

She looked back at Fukube, and there he was, smiling away. Her fingernails pressed against her palm.

"I suppose not," the young man agreed as he unhooked the painting with a composure Mayaka had expected from him. "But, I don't think we're really enemies either."

She didn't have the luxury or patience to contemplate grey moralities. "If that's how you think, then turn yourself in now and we can talk about it on our way to the station."

"That makes sense," Fukube hummed.

She leaned against the windowsill and massaged the knot between her eyebrows. "I don't understand you at all, Fukube," she said flatly.

He chuckled once more.

"'Know what, Mayaka? Neither do I."

(4)

Oreki examined the broken vase on the floor of the room. "Fukube seems like a violent person," he commented.

"I was the one who broke that," Mayaka said with a shake her head.

"Ah. Everything makes sense now."

Mayaka glared hard at the man, who shrank back in response. "Investigation. I was referring to the investigation," Oreki mumbled, sniffing because of the cold winter breeze the open window was letting in.

She harrumphed and crossed her arms. Haba hadn't been pleased to find out that not only had one of his paintings been stolen, but a pricey flower vase had become a casualty in the process. She'd apologised, but frankly, Haba creeped her out. Who in their right mind would display all his treasures in one room, anyway? Show-offs just made the job for people like Fukube easier.

Oreki cleared his throat. Mayaka raised her eyes from the carpeted floor and nodded at him.

"You cornered Fukube, but he was being difficult. You broke the flower vase to distract him, but that backfired when he capitalized on it as a chance to escape. Probably when Haba heard the sound and came to unlock the door." Oreki had a hand on his chin.

"I'll get him next time," Mayaka said. She took a deep breath and tried to expel all her frustration as she exhaled. No good, she still felt a knot in her gut. "If you hadn't been so lazy and agreed to come and help me, maybe things would've turned out differently," she added sharply.

Oreki seemed to consider this. "I'll help. Fukube has piqued my interest."

Mayaka picked up the lone sunflower on the floor. It felt cold and sticky in her hands.

(5)

"G'morning, Ibara!" Sawakiguchi greeted her as she arrived to work one morning. "We just got a call - looks like another painting's turned up. It was found near a bakery this time. I'll write down the address for you."

Mayaka didn't understand what Fukube was doing. Instead of selling off the paintings, he left them lying around a month or so after he stole them. His actions made no sense.

"Oreki!" she called out to him as she approached his desk. He blinked vaguely at her, stuck in a drowsy state of being. He only ever seemed to be properly awake after ten in the morning. "Can you go and fetch the painting this time? I've got work to do."

The man grunted. Mayaka assumed that was a 'yes', and even if it wasn't, Oreki didn't have much of a choice. She unpacked the contents of her briefcase and began to formulate the next stakeout.

(6)

"It appears you have me all figured out," Fukube said with a candid smile. Their third meeting was below the open window of an art dealer's shop.

Mayaka felt the frustration bubble and froth in the middle of her chest, and she clung hard and tight to her composure. "I didn't expect you to actually to turn up. Wouldn't a seasoned criminal know when to change patterns?"

"I suppose I'm stubborn like that," Fukube said with a carefree wave of his hand. "You're an awfully stubborn person too, Mayaka."

He spoke as if he knew the kind of person she was, and the thought nibbled at Mayaka more than it was supposed to. She shook it off and advanced towards him. Fukube backed up with every step she took, holding the painting behind his back. "Fukube, you're smarter than this." As unhappy as she was to admit it, it was the truth. "Why're you here?"

Fukube's happiness didn't dissipate. If anything, he seemed more eager than ever. "What if I said it was because of you?"

"You're a terrible liar."

"And you never pull any punches."

Mayaka checked the time on her wristwatch. Not yet. She had to stall him.

"Let's make a deal," she offered.

That seemed to catch Fukube's attention. "You're going to have to offer up something hefty if you want me to return this," he referred to the painting.

"That's not what I want," Mayaka told him simply. She revelled at the shock that took over Fukube's expression for a split second, it was a tiny victory after what seemed like a neverending succession of frustrations and failures. She straightened her back, confidence renewed, if only a little. "I want you to tell me why you're doing this."

Fukube scrunched his eyebrows. "I thought we ran through this before," he couldn't help but chuckle at the joke. Mayaka sighed disapprovingly.

"Life is boring. I'm just trying to add a bit of colour into it. I don't want to lead a boring, grey life." He gazed at the painting in his hands. "I'm drawn to colours and beautiful things." As he finished saying this, he stared at her. Mayaka turned her head away, deflecting whatever meaningful look he was attempting to show her and glancing at her watch.

"So, have I won your sympathy?"

"Not even a little."

"I'm not surprised," Fukube said, "So, what do I get in return for baring my soul?"

"I'll let you off this time," Mayaka told him.

"Pardon?" the man took a few steps closer to her, and she edged away in response.

"I said I'll left you off! You don't need to come so close!"

Fukube retreated back with a short laugh. "This is unexpected, Mayaka. You've always been so tough on me," he said.

"Then you shouldn't be testing my patience," she warned him.

The corner of Fukube's lips twitched up. "I know how to pick my battles. Well, I'll leave you for tonight, then. Farewell, Mayaka!"

Mayaka waited. She smirked as Fukube turned the corner, unsuspecting.

"Got you."

(7)

When she saw Oreki walking up from the other end of the alley empty-handed, and Mayaka felt a cold dread wash all over her.

"Where's Fukube?" he asked.

Mayaka was alarmed. She gripped his arm with both her hands and shook vigorously. "I should be asking you that! I sent him your way just like we planned!"

When she grew tired of shaking him and relented, Oreki shook his head as he adjusted his collar. "He didn't come that way."

"You were late, weren't you? Or are you just too embarrassed to admit that Fukube outsmarted you?"

If Oreki was offended, his numbed expression didn't show it. "I wasn't," he informed her.

Whatever the reason was, Fukube had now managed to get away with his sixth piece of stolen art. Mayaka clutched the sides of her head with her hands and lowered herself into a squat along the side of the street. She still didn't know what it was about Fukube that made her so riled up, didn't understand why Fukube had even showed up tonight, and couldn't see how Oreki could have missed him.

She knew at least one thing, though.

"Irisu-san is going to be so mad."

"Good luck with that."

(8)

Irisu's back was facing her as she entered the office. Mayaka stood still and refrained from fidgeting with the sleeve of her shirt. The room was neat and spotless with a few awards of merit and recognition pinned beautifully against the wall, a reflection of its owner. Mayaka's own desk was flooded with newspaper clippings, blurry photographs, and crumpled documents. She wondered what that said about her.

"Ibara, the Fukube case still hasn't made any progress," Irisu said as she turned around and gestured for her to take a seat.

"Not yet," Mayaka admitted, lowering her gaze. "- But trust me, it will soon!" she insisted, gripping onto the armrests.

Irisu didn't laugh or roll her eyes at this, but her nonchalance was just as unsettling. She sat down and took a sip of tea. "You know what kind of reputation we have here, don't you?"

"Yes, Irisu-san. No cases have been left unsolved for the last five years." Mayaka had only been here for a little over a year, but she knew that Irisu's family had gone through great pains to boost the reputation and status of the agency. Though most crimes were still handled by the police, the Irisu Detective Agency had had its share of action over the past few years. Apart from private requests, the Fukube case was one of several other minor cases the police occasionally threw at them to deal with. Still, because most of their employees were women, they had their fair run-in with difficult clients and obstinate policemen - Irisu seemed bent on mowing those prejudices aside. Mayaka admired that about Irisu. It was one of the few things Irisu showed emotion about.

"Right. So, we're going to need some changes," as she said this, Irisu retrieved a file from under her desk. It took Mayaka a moment to realise that it was the file for employment and working records.

Mayaka was quick to react. "Irisu-san, I know I haven't been up to par, but let me try. I haven't given up on the case yet," she said as she clenched her hands on her lap. "I... I won't ever give up on it." There was something exceedingly frustrating about Fukube - she couldn't explain it, but, this was a score she had to settle and a mystery she had to solve no matter what.

Irisu tilted her head, her facial expression shifting only slightly. Mayaka wondered if that was how her boss looked when she was surprised. "Oh, no, I'm not taking you off the case. Don't be mistaken. Fukube likes you. You're the only one he's ever engaged contact with. It would be unwise me me to remove our main lead to him," Irisu said as a matter of factly.

Mayaka didn't know how she felt about being likened to bait.

"I was intending to assign our new detective to help you."

She blinked. "Oreki's replacement?"

Speaking of Oreki, Mayaka was still upset by his sudden decision to quit his job. Sure, a character like him was never suited for any sort of work, but she had to grudgingly admit that his brain was as smart as it was allergic to hardwork. Last week, he stopped turning up to work for three days straight, and just when they considered paying him a home visit, in Oreki stepped on the fourth day with a cardboard box to collect the clutter on his desk.

He handed in a withdrawal form, said a monotonous goodbye to the office, and walked out as sluggishly as usual. It was such a sudden departure. In the secret privacy of her thoughts, Mayaka knew she was disappointed that she hadn't gotten to bid a proper farewell to him. Not to mention how conveniently he'd forgotten all about his promise to work with her on the case - the nerve of him, who did he think he was? Next time she saw Houtarou Oreki, she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

Irisu found the resume she was looking for in the file. "Yes. Here, this is her."

Mayaka leaned forward to get read the person's name.

"... Eru Chitanda."

(9)

Chi-chan was a godsend. A refined, cheerful godsend. She overcompensated for Oreki's absence just by being who she was. She was a diligent woman who was as equally new to the business as Mayaka herself. She was the type of person who wrote reminders on the palm of her hand and nodded her head as you talked and she made the warmest, most calming tea Mayaka had ever tasted.

"Maya-chan, are you tired?" Chi-chan asked her late one night. "Perhaps we should continue in the morning?"

Mayaka rubbed the heel of her hand against her eyes. "I'm almost done with work." She scanned the office. The only desk lamps on were the hers and Chi-chan's. The rest of the agency had clocked out three hours ago. "You didn't need to stay with me," Mayaka said sheepishly, twiddling her thumbs.

Chi-chan smiled in that graceful, kindly way of hers. "It was my pleasure. Besides, I've managed to catch up with the Fukube case." She waved the file she held in her hands as evidence. "We only managed to get so much information on him because of you, Maya-chan. I'll try my best to help you! We'll catch him together!"

Her energy and optimism was almost contagious. Mayaka leaned back against her chair and hoped for the best. "We will."

(10)

The ring of the telephone woke Mayaka up from the unplanned nap she'd been taking on her work desk. She staggered across her living room, wiping her mouth against the back of her hand. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was just past midnight.

"Maya-chan!" Chi-chan's voice was loud through the receiver, startling her. "It was just as we thought! I saw someone sneaking into Juumonji-san's private gallery! Quickly now! It'll take them at least ten minutes to retrieve the painting. Juumonji-san is very meticulous about her possessions."

She wanted to ask what Chi-chan was doing there in the first place, but that could wait. "I'm on the way!"

Mayaka grabbed a coat off the hanger and dashed out of the apartment.

(11)

She crept up quiet street, finding Chi-chan sitting in a tiny black coupe.

"He's still inside," she whispered as Mayaka sat down beside her.

"That's good - but what were you doing here?" Mayaka asked her. "We thought that Fukube was going to strike next week."

"I was... curious. I wondered if maybe he was going to break his pattern," the woman was abashed as she spoke. "And you've been working late the past week, Maya-chan. I didn't want to trouble you."

She rapped her knuckles lightly against Chi-chan's forehead. "We're a team. I wouldn't have minded."

Her partner smiled. "You're right. And now that there's two of us, we'll get him this time!"

Just as Mayaka nodded in agreement, she noticed movement on the other side of the road. Fukube was out, and he had a painting with him as usual. "Don't start the engine. It's too noisy," as she said this, Mayaka got out of the coupe. She cursed when Fukube, who had been looking in a completely different direction, snapped his eyes towards her and broke out into a run.

"Fukube!" Mayaka yelled before charging off in the direction he was headed.

"Maya-chan! There's someone else!" Chi-chan called out from behind her, Mayaka looked over her shoulder but didn't stop running. She saw that a second figure was escaping the opposite way. "I - I'll go after t-!" The sound of the coupe's engine roaring to life drowned out the rest of Chi-chan's words.

Mayaka kept her eyes pinned on the strange accomplice. Her eyes widened as she recognised the slouch of his back.

"Oreki?"

Not looking where she was going, Mayaka's foot caught against the kerb. She stumbled forward and closed her eyes on instinct, bracing for a nasty fall.

"- hey!" she squeaked when a hand, gentle but steady on her waist, stopped her from falling over. Mayaka caught her breath as she was flipped over, and before she could regain her bearings, she was staring up into familiar eyes. It reminded her of a night with a broken vase and someone's hand over hers, asking her if she was hurt, how close he had been then, and how she hadn't been able to slam the handcuffs on him even though it would have been effortless. Mayaka froze. Her heart pummelled against her ribcage, and the more she forced herself to face it head on, the more she understood.

For the first time since this entire case started, Mayaka had finally figured something out.

Fukube smiled at her.

"Greetings, Mayaka."