In the heart of the Shinjuku skyscraper district, there is a place called the Triangular Plaza. Surrounded by event venues and restaurants, it is a bustling area of West Shinjuku, with the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building nearby.
The UCIA Japan Branch was located in such a place.
In a seemingly inconspicuous spot near the plaza, there is a dark passage leading underground, with stairs beyond it. With only the bare minimum of lighting at one’s feet, the atmosphere clearly discouraged ordinary people from entering.
(Honestly, it’s a bit scary without any lights on the ceiling…)
I must have descended about two flights of stairs. To be truthful, it was so dark I could barely see anything except right under my feet. The stairs seemed to end here, and a heavy elevator stood before me. Following the instructions given by the staff member who visited me the other night, I held my ID card over the control panel.
“Retinal authentication initiated. Confirmed: UCIA Special Agent, Asami Himemiya. Welcome to the UCIA Japan Branch.”
A mechanical voice echoed as if speaking directly into my head. It likely came from ultra-directional speakers installed nearby. Between the darkness and the speed of it, I couldn’t even tell where my retinas had been scanned. The announcement played the moment I held up the card; the authentication seemed instantaneous.
Upon boarding the elevator, I saw a large LCD screen on the control panel, but there was only one destination button: “UCIA Japan Branch Entrance.”
—The elevator began to move, descending further underground. However, it felt incredibly long. I couldn’t tell if the elevator was slow or if we were going exceptionally deep, but it felt as though I was sinking deep into the earth.
“Arriving at the UCIA Japan Branch Entrance.”
As the announcement played and the sensation of descent faded, the elevator doors slid open slowly with a familiar electronic chime.
(!?)
About twenty meters ahead, through large glass doors, I could see what appeared to be the brightly lit UCIA entrance. However, the corridor leading to it was dim, lit only by faint lights and flanked by men who looked like security guards, clutching assault rifles. Wearing what looked like special goggles, their faces were impossible to discern.
(—Wait a minute? What is this organization…)
The superior who recommended me said the UCIA was an agency specializing in cold cases and incidents that were logically inexplicable. Unknown case Criminal Investigation Agency. In other words, an office for investigating mysterious cases that had hit a dead end in normal investigations.
But this hidden entrance, the extreme depth of the facility, and the heavy security provided by faceless guards armed with assault rifles… This facility in the dead center of Shinjuku seemed far too out of place for an organization that merely handled cold cases.
“Hi. Welcome to the UCIA Japan Branch.”
A blonde woman emerged from the far entrance and called out to me. She had short hair that didn’t quite reach her shoulders and wore a tight pantsuit with ease. Even through her clothes, her ample bust and narrow waist radiated a mature charm. She looked to be around thirty. A very stylish woman.
“Director Hardy. Good work, ma’am.”
The soldiers on either side spoke and saluted. This must be Director Hardy Evans, whose name was on the staff list. I saluted and introduced myself in the same manner.
“Special Agent Asami Himemiya, reporting for duty at the Japan Branch.”
Director Hardy smiled slightly and returned the salute.
“I am Hardy Evans, Director of the UCIA Japan Branch. I welcome you. I have much to explain, so drop your luggage in the office and then come to the Director’s office in the back.”
—Past the entrance, the office I entered was a relatively small room. There were no partitions; instead, there were eight spacious desks, each equipped with a large curved display. The work environment looked very comfortable. The lighting was adjusted to avoid glare, completely lacking the harsh flicker common in cheap offices. It was likely an office intended for a very small, elite group.
I set down my bag and tidied my appearance. Perhaps because the Director was a woman, there was a powder room tucked into a corner of the office. I found myself liking this office the moment I arrived.
“It’s Himemiya. Excuse me.”
I knocked and entered the Director’s office. The interior was even more luxurious than the main office, but unified in a simple, gentle palette of black and white. It was about 1.5 times the size of the main office. I was guided to a chair in the guest area.
“Asami Himemiya. I’ve heard a certain amount from Kamikura. I understand you’ve been childhood friends and were together in the FBI as well.”
“Yes. I’ve been with him since we were children, and we served as partners in the FBI for about a year.”
“Harvard graduate, then served as an officer with the NYPD, followed by the FBI. Your career has been smooth… but I wonder, does your request for transfer to the UCIA have something to do with Kamikura?”
Her gaze and words were sharp. Her transparent blue eyes seemed to see right through my heart. Director Hardy continued.
“If you came here just to chase after him, you’d be better off packing your bags and going back home. This place is more dangerous than the FBI.”
Her tone dropped an octave. Given the security I had seen, her claim that this place was more dangerous than the FBI didn’t feel like a lie. Still, the discrepancy remained—why would an organization handling cold cases need such heavy security?
“—I didn’t come here just out of an emotional desire to follow him.”
I looked Director Hardy in the eye and replied. While she was more than halfway right, that wasn’t the only reason I was here. Why did Kamikura, who had been so brilliant at the FBI, suddenly vanish only to be assigned to this organization? The more I thought about it, the less it made sense.
After all, the FBI also had its own secret departments for investigating cold cases.
“—You have good eyes. I’ll see just how strong that will of yours is. Come with me.”
The place Director Hardy led me to was a training room. However, the interior was much larger than I had expected. In the center was an area resembling a judo dojo, with various training equipment lining the edges of the room. On the walls hung an assortment of striking weapons: shinai (bamboo swords), bokuto (wooden swords), staffs, and tonfas.
“Pick any weapon you like. If you can land a hit on me, or even just force me to guard, I’ll count it as your win.”
Director Hardy took off her jacket and tossed it aside. I knew she had a good figure, but even through her shirt, I could tell she was exceptionally well-trained. Seeing her like this, her shoulders were broad for a woman, and her seemingly slender arms were actually quite muscular. She took off her shoes and stepped onto the dojo mats.
She seems quite confident… but I’ve been through rigorous training in the NYPD and the FBI myself
. If forcing a guard is all it takes to win, a weapon with a long reach is an absolute advantage. Based on that alone, a staff would be the choice, but I decided that a shinai was best for its ease of handling and speed.
Feeling slightly hesitant, I took off my jacket and shoes, folded them neatly on the floor, picked up a shinai, and stepped onto the mats. Unfortunately, I was wearing a skirt today, which made my footwork a bit difficult, but it wasn’t a problem. After all, my opponent was unarmed. I should have the absolute advantage.
“My victory condition is for you to admit defeat or become unable to continue fighting. Don’t worry, I won’t aim for your face or stomach. Are you ready?”
“—I have to ask, are you sure you want to stay empty-handed?”
After a brief pause, Director Hardy spoke.
“Agent Himemiya, don’t misunderstand. For someone of your level, this is more than enough.”
A bit of anger welled up at her words, delivered with a faint smirk. But this was a cheap provocation. If the victory condition was a hit or a guard, all I had to do was make the shinai connect. I would time my step, aim for the torso, and swing from the side. That should be the move with the highest probability of hitting her.
“Here I come.”
I spoke quietly and took my stance with the shinai. Director Hardy stood with her left foot forward, in a stance resembling karate. For some reason, as I faced her, my legs trembled slightly. Was it some kind of pressure radiating from my opponent?
I can’t let myself be defeated mentally. I watched her movements carefully.
She said she wouldn’t aim for my face or stomach. Given she was unarmed, she would likely try to take me to the ground the moment she saw an opening. She probably expected me to swing horizontally. If so, I would aim for her upper body with an upward strike from an extremely low trajectory.
I made the first move. Stepping in quickly, I swung the shinai, held in both hands, diagonally upward from the lower right toward her torso.
(Got her!)
The shinai was supposed to hit. But the bamboo sword, swung with all my might, sliced through empty air. The Director had backstepped at the last possible second—and only by the minimum distance required. Now that I had swung through, I was completely exposed.
(!?)
The moment I thought she had vanished from my sight, Director Hardy, who had crouched down to the extreme, closed the distance in an instant. She wrapped her right arm around my waist, spun around using it as an axis, and took my back in a flash. Her arm suddenly coiled around my neck, holding me with incredible force.
(I… can’t breathe…)
My body wouldn’t move, and I couldn’t breathe… gradually, my consciousness began to… ah…
“—You didn’t even last ten seconds. If this were a real fight, you would already be dead.”
Right by my ear… I felt like I heard the Director… whisper those words…