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Snow had yet to fall, three days before Christmas at the MANKAI Company dorms. However, it was cold. The kind of cold winter day where everything seemed to be washed over by a pale gray light filter. Everything outside looked thin, and bleak. Like the setting for a dreary stage play where no character walked out the victor. Let alone the protagonist.
Kumon Hyodo sat in the middle of room 203, pouring over the script to one of the Christmas plays for the year. It was a great story, of course. Tsuzuru never settled for anything but the best. However, it was missing something, for Kumon’s tastes. A bit of thrill, maybe. The excitement from his last play, perhaps.
That excitement came to before long though, in the form of a knock on his door.
“Hey,” Azami walked into the room entirely unceremoniously. He leaned against the desk and looked over to where Kumon sat on the floor, surrounded by scripts and Misumi’s various triangle collections. “You haven’t seen that cake the Director bought for Muku and your brother, have you? She said she put it in the fridge this morning and now it’s nowhere to be seen.”
Kumon closed his script immediately. That cake, of course, was a limited edition Christmas cake from Fonte Chocolat . The Director wanted to surprise everyone after overhearing Juza and Muku talking about it. Kumon had seen the box in the fridge, with the label removed and hidden in the back for secrecy. For it to be missing now was…
“ Exactly what we need on a day like today!” Kumon nodded affirmatively. He shot up and moved towards the lamp on his desk, turning it on and positioning towards his previous spot on the floor. “Azami, go back outside and let me get the lighting right. Then come in and tell me all that again!”
“Why?”
Kumon blinked. It was obvious, really. However, he supposed he couldn’t truly expect Azami to truly grasp the gravity of the situation, and how this mystery could send the dorms spiraling into chaos if not rectified quickly. “It’s a mystery, obviously. You’re the frantic victim who discovered the body! Oh! Or the mysterious femme fatale who has come to seduce me off the trail of the murderer!”
Azami nearly fell in his spot, frantically trying to regain his balance and pull himself together. “Why the hell would I be any of these things?! Especially that...that last one…” He looked out towards the window, to the gray world outside. If Kumon squinted a little, he could imagine Azami being just pensive enough to seem moody.
Perhaps he wasn’t the perfect sidekick for the case. But he would do.
“Anyway, if you haven’t seen it, then I guess I’ll just go tell the Director. She’s pretty bent out of shape about it so if you see anything, let her know.” Azami shrugged, turning towards the door to leave.
However, Kumon wasn’t going to let this go that easily. Not when his own brother’s very livelihood was on the line. “Wait!” He lunged forward, grabbing for Azami’s hand as he reached for the door. He wrapped his hand around Azami’s wrist, stopping the other boy dead in his tracks. “I need you!”
Azami froze, from his movement to his very breathing, his eyes practically about to fall out of his skull. He ripped his hand away at full force, nearly knocking himself into the door. “ What ?”
“This mystery!” Kumon clarified, turning to his closet, confident that Azami wasn’t going to just up and leave. “I need a sidekick, and you’re the closest thing I have to a key witness to the crime! Of course, it’d still be better if you were playing the femme fatale but…”
“Not going to happen.” Azami ended it there, but Kumon didn’t slow down. In record time, he had pulled out his costume from Scarlet Mirror, and was already putting on the coat. He examined himself quickly, before grabbing for the hat on the top of the closet. “Here! You’re Watson this time, so you get the hat!”
Before Azami could protest, the hat was already shoved into his hands. Kumon nodded to himself with a smug smile. He was right; even just holding it, Azami made a picturesque Watson to his Holmes.
The other boy was staring at it in his hands, fixated on it. “You know, it’s not like this is a big mystery. We could just ask around if anyone know what happened to it.”
“That IS solving a mystery!” Kumon insisted. This is precisely why he needed Azami here. To point out the obvious. To keep him in line. “Both my cousin and my Nii-chan have their entire Christmas hanging in the balances of this cake! So strap up because we’re going hunting for clues! And no, you don’t have a choice.”
Azami seemed to consider this, continuing to stare at the hat before sighing. “Fine. No use arguing with a bro-con, I guess.”
Kumon grinned, not even bothering to argue as Azami placed the hat on his head. It looked good on him. Perfect, even. Kumon patted his own head, suddenly feeling a little half-hearted. “Okay, first: we get the Sherlock Holmes hat from Hisoka-san. Then we hunt for clues.”
Azami groaned, just a little, but didn’t put up a great protest. Kumon nodded to himself. It would be a long day, and a long journey. But now he knew he picked the right sidekick to carry him along the way.
---
“Hey, Azami! Oh, and Kumon too. I like your hats. Did you get that one from Mikage?” It was nearing noon when they reached the kitchen, and Omi greeted them with warm smiles as he heated up lunch. Kumon looked around, giving the smallest glance towards the leftovers with mild interest.
“Mikage-san was asleep,” Azami explained. “We had to sneak into his room and steal the hat while he was out.”
“We borrowed it!” Kumon corrected. He knew Hisoka wouldn’t mind at all. Besides, the hat looked great on him, and he was certain that he was picking up on some clues just by wearing it. He got down on all fours, scanning the area for any signs of cake, or footprints or…
Eggshells. All he found was white dust and eggshells. Nothing particularly helpful at all. He sighed. This mystery was going to be a lot more complicated than he imagined. He popped back up, adjusting his cap. “Tell me, Omi, where were you this morning?”
Omi seemed taken aback by this question, blinking a little in surprise. “I was at the grocery store, grabbing supplies for the Christmas party.” Kumon paced around the room, processing this information. “What...is this about?”
Azami was grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Someone stole Juza’s cake. We’re trying to figure out who did it.”
“ Whodunnit ,” Kumon corrected once again.
Omi chuckled a little. But when Kumon shot him a withering glance, he straightened his tune. “A cake? I haven’t seen or heard anything about it. I’ll ask around, okay?”
Kumon took a look in the fridge himself, grabbing for a can of soda before Azami cleared his throat loudly behind him. Kumon groaned. The Christmas plays weren’t even a formal event, so he didn’t see why he had to keep to the strict skin regimen. He grabbed a bottle of water anyway, hands brushing past a fresh carton of buttermilk and cream cheese. He thought nothing of it as he took a long swig, and Azami nodded in approval.
“Thanks, Fushimi-san! Keep your eyes and ears to the ground.” He thought about it for a moment. “And, be careful who you ask. You don’t know who might be out there listening, as long as the culprit is still lurking around…”
As if on cue, loud footsteps approached the kitchen with a yawn. “Heey. Whatcha got for lunch? I’m absolutely starvi-you throwing a party in here or something? Why so crowded?” Banri looked around, shoving a little past Kumon before making his way to the fridge.
Kumon wasn’t going to take that kind of behavior laying down. Especially not from a suspect. And there was no one more suspect in a case like this than Banri Settsu.
“You! One-length! Where were you between the hours of 6 and 9 this morning?” He moved even closer to the fridge, effectively constraining the Autumn Troupe leader into the corner of the kitchen. “And you better tell me the truth, or I’ll paint this wallpaper with your guts!”
“You and what weapon?! And what’s with the crappy bad cop act?!” Banri threw his hands up for a second, before rolling back his shoulders ready for a fight. He then paused for a moment, glancing behind Kumon meaningfully. Kumon wasn’t going to fall for that one. Distraction was the oldest trick in the book.
Finally, Banri sighed and looked back at the detective. “Fine. I was sleeping. Obviously. Classes are on break and Hyodo is at his dumb job. So I thought I’d get some sleep without your shitty brother there to wake me up with his teeth grinding. Whatever crime you’re solving, it doesn’t involve me, got it?”
“You take that back about Nii-chan,” Kumon said, almost on instinct. It actually made sense, and it was a solid alibi. Juza had mentioned Banri’s sleeping problems to him recently, when buying some soundproof headphones for sleeping. It was a more considerate Christmas gift than Banri deserved, but that’s just the kind of guy Juza was. “Fine. You’re off the hook, One-length. For now .”
“If you want someone who was up that early, ask Tasuku. God knows that weirdo loves waking up early to go running,” Banri shrugged and stepped passed Kumon. He opened up the fridge door and immediately grabbed for the can of soda that Kumon almost drank. Kumon glanced over at Azami, who just shrugged and took a long sip of his water.
Maybe he should have gotten another sidekick.
“Tasuku should be in the practice rooms, knowing him,” Omi supplied helpfully, wiping some flour from his sleeves onto an apron. “Maybe you two should compile a list of suspects first though. Like people who were in the dorms at the time? It could be helpful.”
“Why are you giving them ideas ?” Banri asked, and Azami raised an eyebrow in approval. Kumon looked between all the members of the Autumn Troupe, and felt a flush of embarrassment.
“Yeah,” he finally said, glancing down at his feet for a moment. He really was getting too into this. The answer was probably pretty obvious. Talking it over with someone and asking around was probably a lot more productive. He was just embarrassing himself otherwise. “Thanks for your help!” His smile felt forced even to him, as he waved towards Omi and Banri. “I’ll find out where the cake went!”
Banri scoffed, causing Kumon to pause as he turned to leave the kitchen. “Oh. It’s about that cake? Well, good luck , Detective.” His tone turned slick. “I heard that cake just disappeared overnight. It’ll take a super-sleuth to figure out a case like that. Of course, if you can’t handle it, I could probably figure it out in an hour tops. Super ultra eas-”
“You’re on!” Kumon felt the fire reignite, so brightly that he forgot it fizzled out for even a second. “If this concerns Nii-chan then I won’t lose to anyone.”
Azami clicked his tongue from right beside him. “You’re so easy, sometimes.”
However, Kumon didn’t have a second to lose, so he couldn’t ask what Azami meant by that. Instead, he just grabbed his sidekick’s hand and began to drag him from the kitchen. He had to crack this case. And he had to prove that he was the only one who could do it.
“Thanks guys!” Kumon shouted back, dragging Azami out in tow, completely oblivious to the helpless look on Azami’s face as he looked at his troupemates. Completely oblivious to the soft smile on Omi’s face and Banri’s hysterical laughter.
---
“Okay so you got the notebook?”
“Yeah?” Azami flipped past a few pages of different makeup designs. Kumon peered over a little, to see if he could get a glimpse. They looked pretty cool, and Azami didn’t like to share until they were complete. Seeing the progress shots was a rare treat. However, Azami flipped quickly, eyeing Kumon carefully before reaching an empty page.
“First we write down everyone who was in the dorms during the time of the murder.”
“Isn’t this more of a kidnapping?”
“Hmmm good point.” Kumon mulled that over for a moment. It certainly seemed as severe as a murder. There was no telling the current state of the cake, after all. However, there was still a chance the Christmas cake was in tact. The culprit didn’t leave a note for ransom though, so it wasn’t certain. He thought on it for a moment longer, before deciding that Omi was right; identifying the possibilities was more important.
“So write down Tasuku-san.”
“I doubt he’d eat any unneeded carbs right before a play, but okay,” Azami shrugged, writing down his name to the list of suspects.
“Anyone who had work today is out,” Kumon counted on his fingers how many people that included. “And Hisoka-san was likely sleeping still.”
Azami nodded, tapping the pen against his chin. “School is out for Winter holiday. So that means almost all of Summer Troupe is suspect.” He started to write down all of their names, and Kumon nearly protested. But Azami was right; he loathed to think any of his friends would try to ruin Christmas like that. But this was a hardboiled crime. So that sometimes meant it was the people you least suspected, and the ones you trusted the most…
Just like that, the lights cut out. And a crash was heard from a room over.
The lights were on a second later, and Kumon was already scrambling to his feet to investigate. Azami was right on his heels, rushing after him as they both piled into the lounge.
The room had been decorated for the holidays nearly a week ago. The mantle was decorated with tinsel, there were lights strung around the ceiling. On the coffee table in the center of the room, there had sat several little snowman figurines, and a large jar of hard Christmas candies.
Only now, the jar was on the floor, candies spilled about along with broken glass. Next to them, was a torn picture from a magazine. It was crumpled and torn, and hard to make out. But as Kumon grew closer, he could recognize it as an ad for Fonte Chocolat .
“Azami,” Kumon said, voice suddenly stern and serious. “Write down the names of everyone in the dorm at this exact second.” Kumon adjusted Hisoka’s hat on his head, for dramatic flair. “This case just got a little more interesting.”
---
Upon further investigation, there were three other important items present at the time of the second crime: Masumi’s music player, a few adult coloring books, and a pin cushion. It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was what they had. So they immediately got to work with their three newest suspects.
Masumi was a complete dead-end. He grabbed back his music player and mumbled thanks. When Kumon asked about the cake, he simply pulled on his headphones. “Don’t know. Don’t care. I left this there last night when she came back from rehearsals.”
Yuki wasn’t actually much better.
“Hah? A mystery? How would I know? I was just trying to keep that lousy actor from messing up my work. As soon as he left the room, I came back here.” He paused, looking over Kumon and Azami. “You better not mess up that jacket.”
Which left Azuma.
Azami and Kumon both stared at each other before turning back to the door. There was no telling what they would find in the room of a guy like Azuma. Tsumugi and Tasuku were both hard at work in the practice room, which meant Guy was likely there too. Azuma, however…
There was no use in pondering on it, Kumon decided, knocking on the door decisively. There was a long silence. Azami opened his mouth to presumably suggest they check somewhere else. Kumon raised his hand to try knocking again.
But then. “Oh? What’s this? Come in…”
So Kumon opened the door.
The lights in room 206 were dim. There was a single lamp hovering over the couch where Azuma sat. He was wearing a luxurious silk robe, hanging open all the way down to his navel. He was reading a book with his legs crossed over, the light illuminating the side of his face. As the two entered, his eyes fluttered upwards, and his lips turned into a small smile.
“Ah, I thought it might be you, Detective.” His voice was thick with something that Kumon couldn’t put a name to, and he shifted on the couch as he gently closed the book. “Have you come to simply return my coloring books? Or did you have something more... substantial to say to me?”
“Cut the chit-chat, Yukishiro!” Kumon adjusted his jacket. “What were you doing in the lounge this afternoon? And you best answer correctly, or my friend here will have to have a word with you.”
“I thought we were detectives . Are we mobsters now?” Azami raised an eyebrow, but Azuma only laughed.
“Is that right? Well we wouldn’t want that. I was merely coloring, I promise.” He stood up, walking over to Azami to take back his books. “But then something more interesting came up, so I left.”
“Interesting?” Kumon eyes Azuma carefully as he paced around Azami in the dark room, grabbing the coloring books before placing them on the couch next to the novel he was reading. It was a thriller, of some sort, with a mysterious looking man on the cover next to a beautiful dame, pressing herself against him.
“Oh wouldn’t you like to know, Detective?” Azuma laughed, returning to his seat with practiced grace. “And for the right price, I might tell you.”
“You see? That’s how you play the femme fatale!” Kumon pointed at Azuma, turning to Azami excitedly. “We have to get you a silk robe next time.”
Azami balked, and Azuma chuckled, pulling Kumon back into the moment.
“Tell us what you know, you lusty smoky-eyed jezebel! Justice has no price tag!” Kumon demanded. He heard Azami cough next to him, but he steadfastly ignored it. His heart was pounding, and he knew he was maybe getting too into it. But this was the exact kind of afternoon he needed.
And on top of that, Azuma definitely didn’t seem to mind.
“Chikage.” Azuma finally said, with a long sigh. “He arrived back from work early. He said he left his adorable kouhai to take care of the rest of his work for him. I simply went to speak with him about drinking plans for later in the evening. Unless you’d like to know about those too, Detective ?”
Kumon blinked a little in surprise. “N-no! That won’t be necessary,” he straightened his jacket again, clearing his throat. “Don’t think this takes you off the suspect list. Azami, do you have this all written down?”
“Every word,” Azami said with a nod. Kumon was fully aware that Azami was only drawing more makeup designs, but it didn’t matter. He could remember all of this anyway.
“We’ll be speaking to you later, Yukishiro.” He turned his back to the door, before turning his face back so that it was half-illuminated by the light. He adjusted his cap with one last look to Azuma, assured on just how cool he looked while doing it.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Azuma said with a mysterious smile, picking his book back up and leafing back to the page on which he left off.
---
“So the perverted glasses guy is a suspect too now, huh?” Azami tapped the pen against his chin before grimacing. He clearly did not like the idea of questioning Chikage. And frankly, Kumon didn’t either. He was a mystery unto himself, but not a bad person. But questioning him as a suspect…
“He is,” Kumon finally agreed. “Coming home from work early puts him in the perfect time and place to shut off the lights and knock over the dish. He could have taken the cake and disposed of it on his way to work too, and kept poor Itaru-san at work later so he couldn’t tell anyone! Dastardly…”
It was the perfect crime. As expected of the man who played the very kingpin of crime himself.
“That’s a brilliant deduction, detective,” a voice said from behind them. Chikage stepped out of the shadows, and into the hallway. He was still dressed in his work clothes, but they were impeccably clean. Not a hint of glass, candy nor icing or cake. “But you’re forgetting one little thing. My motive. What purpose would I have for a Christmas cake?”
His tone was slick, and the light of the hallway illuminated against his glasses. Kumon frowned, wanting to wipe that smug smirk off the man’s face. “Perhaps…” he thought for a moment. “I got it! You wanted to wipe out all the sweets in the entire dorm! That’s why you destroyed the candy jar too! You can’t stand seeing these sweet things around, can you?!” He pointed, for added flair.
Chikage, however, merely moved Kumon’s hand out of the way and adjusted his tie. “Without the sweet things in life, no one can appreciate the spicy,” he said smoothly, sliding effortlessly into his role as the mysterious kingpin. “You will all see, in time. And before long, you’ll have jars of spices out on the table instead.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Azami supplied, but Chikage merely held up a hand to silence him, chuckling.
“I will eradicate all the sweet things from this dorm. But when it happens, it will be by choice . You’ll see soon enough, little ace detective. ” He snarled, completely self-assured. “ But this crime? I didn’t commit. I left before the Director returned to the dorms. I saw her holding the cake as I was heading to my car. She was exhausted from staying in line all night, so she told me she was going to take a shower and head straight back to bed. If you don’t believe me, simply ask her. Ah, except she’s out shopping now, as all the grocery stores were closed when she was out. Ah well~”
Kumon did believe him, that was the worst part. It made a lot of sense. Chikage left work early, but perhaps it was only because he also arrived to work early. He wasn’t a complete villain at the end of the day.
“I’ll leave you with this, though,” Chikage said as he moved in closer. He placed a single hand on Kumon’s left shoulder, and leaned in to whisper. “I’m not the only crime leader in this dorm. And the candies? Well, there were green Christmas tree shaped ones in there this morning.” He paused for one moment. “Oh, and make sure you tell your ‘Watson’ how much you appreciate him. He’s been stressed about what to get you for Christmas all month, you know.”
He straightened himself up, smiling. And for just a moment, the smile turned warm, breaking character to look at the two boys fondly. In an instant, the criminal mastermind was back, and he straightened out his shoulders, turned on his heels, and walked away.
Azami turned to Kumon immediately. “What did that pervert tell you?!” He looked a little panicked, and Kumon felt a little fascinated by the look on his face. He did appreciate Azami, after all. He did deserve to know that. But to know that Azami got him a special Christmas present...he felt his face heat up a little. He had gotten Azami a joint gift from Summer Troupe. But suddenly, it felt like it was not enough to express just how much fun he had exploring ramen shops and playing sports and doing goofy things like this with the other boy.
“It’s nothing!” Kumon finally spat out, deciding to focus on it later. Chikage was clearly just trying to throw him off his game! He was a detective and this was a case about his very own brother’s Christmas happiness! Without that cake, everything could be ruined. He just needed to focus on the possibilities.
Like the idea of more organized crime in the dorm. “He mentioned that there were Christmas tree shaped candies in the jar…” He finally mused out loud.
“There were only red round ones when we found them on the floor,” Azami noted. He was right. Kumon blinked, the realization dawning upon him. “Christmas trees though? Those are…”
“Triangles!” Both boys said in unison, looking at each other urgently. Kumon couldn’t help but laugh at how in-sync they were in that moment. And even Azami cracked a small smile, chuckling when Kumon grinned and nodded.
“Let’s go!” Kumon said, before running back to where it all began. Back to his very own room.
----
When they arrived, Misumi was waiting for them, with a bowl of Christmas tree shaped candies in front of him. He sat in a chair with his legs crossed, a smug smile on his lips as he grabbed for one and popped it into his mouth. Behind him, stood Kazunari and Tenma, firmly at attention.
“Oh? So you’ve finally figured me out, huh?” Misumi’s voice was deep, as it got when he was playing a role. He was dressed in one of his nicer suits, and a pair of prop glasses were perched on his nose. “I’ve been running the Triangle Mafia for months now, right under your very nose. And it was only now you’ve discovered my dirty little secret.”
Kumon stiffened. A real mafia. Right in front of him. “I always knew you were up to no good with all these triangles! But to think that you’d stoop so low to take my very own brother’s Christmas cake! You’ve gone too far!”
“Besides, the cake is circular,” Azami pointed out, stepping into the room behind Kumon. “Why would yo...I mean the mafia want it?”
“Tsch,” he clicked his tongue and adjusted his glasses. “Shows what you know. Don’t you know that when you cut a circular cake using the trigonometric method according to the radius, you can create a nearly infinite amount of triangles? With proper savings, our mafia family will never be without triangles again.”
“I’m not sure your depiction of a mafia boss is entirely accurate…” Kumon laughed a little awkwardly, getting the strong impression that Misumi might have based the role off of someone that they know.
“Please, go on,” Azami said dryly. “Tell me all about the triangular benefits of pouring water into our shampoo bottles.”
Misumi ignored him. “But sadly, my useless thugs behind me couldn’t get to the cake in time.”
“Sorry, Boss! We’ll do better next time, Boss! You’re the best, Boss!” Kazunari shouted excitedly, saluting awkwardly. It was a perfect performance, and Kumon could see Azami next to him, biting his fist to hold back the laughter.
Kumon felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him, wondering how he could make Azami laugh like that.
“But don’t you worry. Once we find the culprit, I’ll get the Cutter here to take care of him.” He nodded over to Tenma, who merely looked at the two boys with a dangerous smirk. He pulled out a pair of scissors and slowly opened and closed them, menacingly.
“Aren’t those Yuki’s sewing scissors?” Kumon asked immediately, tilting his head.
Azami clicked his tongue. “He’s going to kill you when he finds out.”
Tenma didn’t break character, but even Kumon could see the small flit of panic in his eyes. “Shut up! Or you’ll be cut to triangles next,” Tenma said, the tiniest stutter of fear in his voice.
“That won’t happen!” Kumon finally said, heroically. “And you won’t get your hands on the culprit either. Once I find who did it, we’re going to bring him to justice! The right way.”
“But if you were the ones who knocked over the candy jar, then what’s with the magazine clipping?” Azami wondered, causing Kumon to break his heroic pose and blink. He hadn’t even thought of that. Azami pulled out the clipping and showed it to the suspect, who merely looked at it from over the frames of his fake glasses.
“The jar? We didn’t knock it over.” Misumi mused, grabbing for a candy and examining it. “I merely picked out the best candies and then left,” he shrugged. "The jar was still in-tact when I left. Ah, too bad we didn’t get that cake though. We could have taken off those red candies on top and replaced them with more triangles!” A little bit of Misumi’s real voice slipped through, and Kazunari gently tapped him on the shoulder to remind him not to get distracted.
It must be nice, having someone who always has your back like that, Kumon mused idly. He glanced over at Azami, and his heart picked up pace for some strange reason. He quickly turned back, trying to find his own focus.
Misumi popped the candy into his mouth and smiled wolfishly. “Those red candies really do look like the other ones in the jar. We could have replaced them and no one would have ever known. Perhaps next time. After all, you have nothing on us to arrest us, do you Kumon-kun?”
Kumon mumbled to himself. He didn’t. He had no more suspects. No more clues. All he had were a gaggle of disconnected alibis, a jar of broken red candies, and some eggshells and flour left on the gro-
He paused, thinking everything over.
“Azami,” he turned to his partner, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him close. “I know who did it! I know who the killer is!”
“I...you’re…” Azami stared at him, their faces nearly touching. The expression on his face was nearly unreadable, until he pulled away and put a good amount of distance between the two. He paused for a moment, before giving a small smile. “Good work, Detective,” he finally sighed. “Let’s gather everyone into the lounge for the big reveal.”
“Now you’re talking like a real detective!” Kumon chirped happily, pumping his fist, ignoring the way even the smallest of Azami’s smiles made his heart hammer in his chest.
---
Everyone who was present and accounted for. Even the people who they crossed off the list ages ago. Azuma, Chikage, Masumi, Yuki, the entire Triangle Mafia, Omi and even the One-Length himself, Banri. They all sat around the coffee table, the broken glass long-since cleaned up off of the floor. Everyone looked at Kumon expectantly, gathered in the room and waiting for the big moment.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I gathered you all here.” Kumon paced around, holding a fake corn cob pipe that he fished of the storage room before arriving at the lounge.
“Not really. This is the part where you tell us that once you’ve eliminated the impossible, only the possible remains, right?” Masumi said, huffing impatiently as he looked towards the door. Everyone looked at him in surprise, Kumon included. “What? Tsuzuru mumbles a lot when he writes...it’s annoying.”
Kumon sighed. He had that speech all lined up and ready to go too. Still, he couldn’t let that slow him down. He took an imaginary whiff of his pipe and continued.
“On the morning of the 22nd of December, a heinous murder took place!”
“Or kidnapping,” Azami supplied from his seat.
“Or kidnapping!” Kumon ceded readily. “A Christmas cake of the highest caliber went missing, after all the hard work the Director went through to get it for my brother and dearest cousin! A cake so tasty, this article here describes it as legendary .”
He pulled out the piece of paper, shoving it towards the small crowd, judging for reactions. No one was giving anything away from their facial expressions. It didn’t matter. Kumon already knew the culprit.
“Of course, whoever this particular copy belonged to must have known this, and must have been pretty bitter to have crumpled it and ripped it up like this…” he mused, looking at the paper before tucking it in. “But. The paper still wasn’t cut into any distinct shape, which eliminates the Triangle Mafia.”
Misumi clicked his tongue and adjusted his glasses, as though this were the completely expected result. However, then Kazunari threw his arms around Misumi in celebration, wrapping around his neck from behind and pressing their heads together. Misumi grinned, pressing his head back gleefully, breaking character entirely. Kumon supposed there were some distractions that were just too powerful; like a triangular hug from the guy you loved.
Tenma merely huffed, closing his scissors and putting them down on the coffee table with purpose. “Just as the boss told you!” He exclaimed, still holding true to his character.
“Are those my sewing scissors?”
Tenma balked, his shoulders sinking as he slowly pushed the scissors away from him.
Kumon pulled at the lapels of his jacket, clearing his throat to bring the attention back to himself. “Azuma-san simply lacks the physical capabilities to break a candy dish at that speed and precision. As does, likely, the One-Length.”
“Hey! I definit-!” Banri started to protest, before Omi nudged him in the stomach to silence him and just take the defeat. Banri sunk back into his chair, rolling his eyes as he let Kumon continue.
“And then…” Kumon paced in a quick circle. “Chikage-san said something interesting to me.” He glanced over at Azami for a second, before blinking back to focus. “He mentioned that when he left for work, all the grocery stores were closed.”
“Hmm, that’s right,” Chikage nodded, a small smirk on his face as Kumon put it all together. The detective wondered if the mastermind knew the culprit the whole time. And was just leading them around.
“So then WHAT…” Kumon paused, turning his whole body to a power stance and pointing towards Omi, “were you really doing between the hours of 6 and 9, Omi Fushimi?!”
Omi tensed up, scooting backwards on the couch. But he was between Banri and Chikage, and there was nowhere for him to run.
“I’ll tell you what you were up to! You first got up to go running with Tasuku-san, but then you saw the Director heading out early to go get in line for the exclusive cake,” Kumon began, imagining the whole scene playing out before his very eyes. “Out of curiosity, you picked up this article to learn more. But jealousy overtook you! How dare a cake be so good it be called legendary! How dare the Director value someone else’s baking over your own! Especially for Nii-chan, your own troupe mate!
“So as soon as she came home and decided to go back to bed, you sprung into action! You took the cake, tested it for yourself, and decided that you could do better. No you knew you could do better! So you got to baking. That’s why there was flour all over your apron, eggshells on the floor, and fresh baking ingredients in the fridge. You weren’t making lunch in the kitchen. You were making...a cake!”
Everyone gasped, completely on cue, and turned to Omi, who threw his hands up. “You have nothing on me, Detective. You can’t explain the candy jar and you know it.” His voice had turned dark, and Kumon was impressed; Omi really did have a lot of experience playing the villain, after all.
“Oh but I can,” Kumon thought for a moment, wondering if he actually could. He glanced over at Azami, who gestured to Kumon’s breast pocket and mouthed the words “the picture” . Kumon grinned. That was right. Maybe he could always count on Azami to have his back.
“Your cake was perfect, nearing completion. But then you noticed, on the article you so despised, that the cake had round candies decorating the top. The very same candies that we had in a jar in the living room! You only needed a few, so you figured you could sneak in and grab them with no one noticing. But that’s when Chikage-san came home from work.” He nodded to himself assuredly. “He didn’t expect anyone to be in the room, so he flipped the lightswitch, thinking he was turning the lights on. But in actuality, he was turning them off!”
This didn’t make any sense, logistically with 26 people living under the same roof, but Kumon was on a roll.
“So you made your escape in the heat of the moment, knocking over the candy dish on your way out, with the pieces you needed to complete your masterpiece in your hand!” Kumon finished. “Fess up, Fushimi. I have you all figured out!”
Everyone started clapping, impressed at the delivery of Kumon’s entire monologue. He was pretty impressed himself, but he knew he had to save the bow for later. Right now, he had a criminal to catch.
Omi looked around, nervous and caught red-handed. He cleared his throat. “That’s…” he started, before his eyes went dark again. “So yeah. Yeah I did it! My cake will be a million times better. And Juza and Muku-kun wouldn’t have even known the difference! All the glory and compliments would have gone to me , as they should have! And you still have no way to bring me to justice for it either, Detective Kumon!”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Banri said from next to him, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and police cap in one fluid motion. “I was undercover, the whole time. Good work, detectives. I’ll be taking this criminal in for questioning.” He snapped his handcuffs around Omi’s wrist, and then his own. “And after, we’re going shopping to finish up the replacement cake properly . No Christmas cake of ours is going to be a rush job.”
Kumon looked at him wide-eyed for a moment. But as Banri dragged Omi up with surprising strength, Kumon spoke up. “Hey! Wait! I’ll...I’ll come too! I still have questions! And besides…” he glanced over at Chikage, and then quickly flitting his eyes towards Azami before steeling himself. “I still have one last Christmas gift to buy…”
Everyone looked among themselves, but Banri just sighed. “I guess it can’t be helped. Come on, then. We can talk about that delivery on your final monologue while we’re at it.”
“What?!” Kumon started after him, leaving the lounge with righteous indignation. “My delivery was perfect! You try coming up with something better on the spot, One-length!” He ran after the two Autumn Troupe members, turning around once to look at all of his friends still in the room. He gave them a smile, and a wave. His own version of a curtain call. And they all smiled back, in their own way. Even Masumi gave a lighthearted sigh and a little wave.
And his eyes met Azami’s, for a long moment. Kumon grinned, mouthing a thank you that he hoped Azami saw. Azami just nodded in return, before a smile crept onto his lips. The kind of smile that he looked like he was fighting back all afternoon, but couldn’t deny any longer. And outside of the lounge window, three days before Christmas, snow began to fall.
---
“So who was the real culprit?”
Azami asked later that night, looking over his sketches from that day. The Yosei University boys all sat around in the lounge, going over their respective Winter break homework. The second version of the replacement cake was already done, and Juza was currently eating the first version by the forkful while Omi and Tsuzuru both poured over lecture notes.
“Oh? It was Kamekichi,” Omi said, with a small lopsided smile. Azami blinked, truly not expecting that answer. “I saw him when I first woke up. He took the cake to give to his girlfriend for Christmas,” he sighed. “Matsukawa agreed to pay for all the replacement ingredients out of pocket. Even the second time around with the high-end ingredients that Banri picked out.”
“This one’s good too,” Juza shrugged, his mouth full. Azami sighed; of course none of that made a difference to a guy like Juza. But at least he knows that Banri put in the effort to get him a nice cake, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not.
“So it was a kidnapping after all,” Azami concluded. He looked over one of his drawings. It was Azuma, with exaggerated eyelashes and darker features. A smoky-eyed jezebel, as Kumon had called him. He snorted to himself. The guy really let his entire chuuni out today. But still…
“Omi sent a message to our LIME group as soon as it happened. I saw it during my first break at work,” Tsuzuru looked up from his notes. “It was Juza’s idea to go along with Kumon’s game. Sakyo-san had mentioned doing a murder mystery dinner as a fundraiser in the past, so I decided to make it a writing exercise. Not bad for something put together on my lunch break, huh?”
“Besides, everyone could use a little bit of the improvisation practice,” Omi agreed. “It’s rare to see Kumon just let go and have fun playing pretend. And it’s even rarer to see you having fun with him. So everyone agreed pretty readily.”
Azami looked down at his notebook, flipping the page to the “notes” he took during the case. He was having fun. Hanging out with Kumon was fun. Even when he dragged him around and started making a total fool of himself. MANKAI made Kumon feel safe to do that kind of thing. And he felt even better when he pulled Azami along with him. His face heated up, turning the page quickly.
“Though, Itaru was pretty upset that he missed it,” Tsuzuru sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “He said he had a great idea all ready to go. I’m not sure I want to know what it was, but I guess we’ll have to include him next time.”
“Next time?” Azami raised an eyebrow, slightly terrified.
“Next time I want to be the femme fatale,” Juza said between bites of cake, completely serious.
“You will not!” Tsuzuru protested, and Omi just laughed.
Azami watched the three friends for a moment longer. It was still snowing out, even harder than before. It must have been pretty cold when Omi, Banri and Kumon were out shopping. But everything felt incredibly warm here. Homey. Still, that reminded him…
“What did Kumon need to buy? When you guys were out shopping together?”
Omi paused, looking up from his paper. He smiled ear to ear at first, excited for a second before clearing his throat. “I’m not sure I can tell you that. Especially in front of Juza.”
Juza tilted his head in curiosity. Azami sighed. So it was a Christmas gift for Juza after all. He told himself he wasn’t disappointed. Kumon was a brocon, in the end. Through and through.
“Besides, you’ll find out on Christmas morning, Azami-kun.” If Azami didn’t know better, he’d say that Omi was teasing him. He stared at the man’s warm face, smiling at him as motherly as ever. Azami never knew what to do when Omi looked at him like that, so he just turned away, beet red and trying not to think about what Omi’s words could possibly mean.
He looked out the window again, to the snow. It was a good day to spend indoors, he decided. And, though he’d never admitted, it was just a good day in general. He looked at the Watson cap, still sitting on the coffee table where he left it this afternoon, and despite himself, he smiled.