Oracle: Special Crime Countermeasures Division

An Unwilling Reunion1

　Hiroto Sakuraba stifled yet another yawn, adjusting his slightly drooping arm. He had the nagging fear that the binoculars might leave impressions around his eyes.

　What he saw through the lens was a serene river. The morning sun pierced the thick canopy, shimmering on the calm water below, while the earthy aroma of dew-soaked soil filled the air.

　Shifting his binoculars slightly, Sakuraba's gaze landed on a placard on the opposite bank. 'Preserve nature. Tanizawa Ravine Park', it read, accompanied by a charming illustration of a boy chasing a butterfly.

"Hey, Sakuraba, are you truly paying attention?"

　The soft voice of an old man next to him, also wielding binoculars, broke his contemplation, hinting at Sakuraba's possible distraction.

"What would you do if you missed the moment?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Noda."

　Sakuraba murmured an apology, refocusing his binoculars.

　Yosuke Noda, aged 73. Five years ago, he lost his wife, with whom he had weathered life's many storms. Now, living alone in an urban residence, his passion lay in the game of Go. A daily visit to Tanizawa Ravine Park, a mere 10-minute walk from his home, was a steadfast routine.

　A soft bird song serenaded from above Sakuraba. Leaves, taking on the first hues of autumn, whispered in the breeze. Immersing himself in nature had its perks. Sakuraba drew in a lungful of crisp air, though his mind wandered.

　I wish this assignment had started after nine.

　A glance at his wristwatch showed half-past six in the morning. This meant they'd been ensconced in the brush for over an hour. The strain on his knees from crouching was evident, but dirtying his suit by kneeling felt far more grievous.

"Drat, it's still not here."

　Noda muttered, retrieving a bread roll from a plastic bag at his feet. With the binoculars cradled against his upper arm, he deftly opened the bag, producing a pronounced rustle.

"That made quite the noise."

"We're on the lookout for a Kappa, after all. Noise isn't a concern."

　Noda's determined pursuit was of a Kappa—a creature deeply rooted in Japanese lore, infamous for its mischievous antics. Of course, to the contemporary Japanese populace, Kappas belonged solely in tales of old. The 'Kappa' Noda spoke of surely bore a more plausible explanation, but identifying that remained a task. Mainly because Sakuraba hadn't personally glimpsed this elusive 'Kappa.'

　Three weeks ago marked Noda's first encounter. During one of his routine strolls in the park, he alleged to have seen a shadowy figure diving into the river. Initially dismissed as perhaps an exotic bird, a repeat sighting five days later led him to alert the authorities. This was Sakuraba's third visit to the spot.

　After quickly consuming his bread, Noda fetched a bottle of tea. As he indulged, a robust sneeze erupted from him, splattering some tea.

"Caught a cold, Mr. Noda?"

"No. My physician thinks it's allergies. Aren't they typically from consuming the wrong foods?"

"Allergies aren't exclusive to food—could be pollen, dust, and more."

"Do you suffer any, Sakuraba?"

"Only minor hay fever."

"How 'minor'?" Noda chuckled.

"My late wife had hay fever. Our home was littered with tissues each spring. Was a runny nose part of your symptoms?"

"Yes. It's oddly relentless.""Sounds familiar," Noda mused, reminiscing. A wistful smile played on his lips.

　Such a genuine reflection on a cherished memory might seem mundane, but it bore profound emotion. Noda must've cherished moments with his wife, bidding her adieu with peace. He did have a son, who, with his family, visited Noda sporadically.

　Sakuraba resisted inquiring about Noda's solitude. Offering platitudes seemed trite, and he refrained from delving into personal matters.

　Their vigil persisted, but by seven, the kappa remained elusive. The duo vacated their hideout and stepped onto the street, encountering neither traffic nor locals. Noda, with a hint of disappointment, mentioned, "I'll be in touch," making his way home for an imminent Go session with friends.

　Dusting off his shoes, Sakuraba rang his superior. Nine tones later, a connection formed.

"Sakuraba reporting on the Kappa surveillance, Boss Kamikura."

"Any success?""Trust me, you'd have sensed my enthusiasm had I sighted it."

　Kamikura let out a languid yawn, "Fair point."

"I'll be at the office soon. Got my car, so I'll make it by work hours."

"Just don't get sidetracked capturing any stray kappas," Kamikura jested before concluding the call.

　Sakuraba glanced skyward, beholding the expansive cerulean above.

　He could faintly hear the stream nearby. Perhaps, now free from human disturbance, the kappa might venture out, frolicking in the waters. Entertained by such whimsy, Sakuraba settled into his parked vehicle.