It was the weekend—and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom.
Beika Park was overflowing with people. Whether it was a family outing or a date, it was the perfect place to be.
The bustling crowds also provided natural cover for pickpockets.
A middle-aged man of about forty quietly slipped up behind a tourist. With practiced ease, he slid his hand into the tourist's pocket, pinched out a wallet, and quickly walked away.
This entire scene was clearly observed by Watanabe Tetsu from the nearby lawn where he sat. The corner of his lips lifted. He popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth, stood up, dusted off his pants, and followed the man.
On a shady path, the pickpocket emptied the cash from the wallet, then casually tossed the empty wallet into a trash can. He chuckled to himself. "Good haul today. Looks like I can drink well tonight. Heh heh."
"Uncle."
The childish voice came from behind.
The pickpocket froze. Slowly turning around, he relaxed when he saw it was only a seven- or eight-year-old child. He forced a pleasant smile. "What is it, kid?"
Watanabe blinked his big, clear, harmless eyes. "Uncle, can you help me with something?"
"Help you?" The pickpocket paused, instinctively shaking his head. "Sorry, kid. If you need help, you should go find a policeman."
"What if I give Uncle a reward? Would you still say no?"
"…A reward?"
Watanabe took off his small backpack and pulled out 20,000 yen in cash, holding it out.
The pickpocket's eyes lit up, but he didn't take it immediately. He glanced around and asked, "Kid, what are you trying to do?"
"I want Uncle to help me with something."
"…What thing?"
"Act with me a little."
"Act?"
"Yes." Watanabe nodded seriously. "I'm a big fan of detectives. I've always wanted to become the disciple of a famous detective. But… my parents are already gone. I don't have a guardian. So none of the detectives are willing to take me in. That's why I thought of this: I'd find an adult outside to pretend to be my parent, and then take me to ask for apprenticeship. If Uncle is willing, I can give you another eighty thousand yen afterwards."
Afraid the pickpocket wouldn't believe him, Watanabe pulled out another wad of cash from his backpack.
The pickpocket's greedy gaze locked onto the bag in Watanabe's hand. A bold thought suddenly flashed through his mind.
"Uncle… are you thinking about robbing me?"
Watanabe exposed his thoughts immediately.
The pickpocket gave an awkward grin but didn't admit it. "How could Uncle rob you? I'm not a bad person."
"I think so too." Watanabe lifted his chin and looked at him. "There are so many tourists here. If you try to snatch my bag and I scream, wouldn't you get caught right away?"
The pickpocket's mouth twitched into an ugly smile. "R-Right… right."
"So then, Uncle, will you act with me?" Watanabe smoothly brought the topic back.
The pickpocket hesitated for a moment. Then, with a sigh, his eyes softened with a mix of sympathy and pity. "Alright. For a helpless kid with a dream… Uncle will help you. And the hundred thousand yen—don't worry about that yet. Pay me afterwards."
"Okay! Great!" Watanabe beamed.
"By the way, have you decided which detective you want to apprentice under?"
"Mm! I have." Watanabe nodded hard. "His name is Mouri Kogoro."
…
Mouri Detective Agency.
Mouri Kogoro hadn't cleaned himself up in three days. His face was covered in stubble, his wrinkled white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. On his two-meter desk sat a TV, and empty beer cans were scattered all over the floor.
A horse-racing program was playing. Mouri leaned forward intensely, fists clenched, eyes glued to the screen.
"Number Five… Number Five, you have to win! Come on! Push forward! Come on— Damn it! Lost again!"
He slumped back powerlessly in his swivel chair, staring up at the ceiling in despair.
No commissions for a long time. Household finances in deficit. He had hoped to win big on horse racing, but his terrible luck only deepened his losses.
"If Ran finds out, she'll nag me to death…" Mouri sighed.
Ding-dong—
The doorbell suddenly rang.
Mouri lazily shouted, "It's unlocked, come in."
Creaaak—
The office door opened. An adult walked in with a child and asked, "Excuse me, is Mr. Mouri here? I have something I'd like to entrust to him."
A commission?
The long-lost word stunned Mouri for a moment. Then he sprang to his feet, put on the warmest smile he could manage, and rushed over. "Hello! I'm Mouri Kogoro. What trouble can I help you with?"
The pickpocket stared at the unkempt, sloppy, borderline-sleazy man standing before him. No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't associate this person with the title of "famous detective."
He glanced back at Watanabe, his expression saying clearly:
Are you sure this guy is a detective?