August 28, 2026. 6:40 AM. Shinjuku Washington Hotel. Room 1203.
A refreshing morning. I was slowly sipping hot coffee while eating my room-service breakfast. On the large flat-screen TV, the morning news was playing.
“In our next story: Yuna Hamano, a third-year student at St. Alsard Girls’ Academy High School in Shinagawa, Tokyo, has been reported missing since…”
(These kinds of incidents are becoming more common in Japan lately…)
After finishing half of my warm coffee while watching the news, I headed to the washbasin in my gown to wash my face and tidy my hair. My deep chestnut-colored hair, which I’ve grown out to my chest, was straight and glossy—my pride and joy. I tied it back quickly and prepped my skin with toner and lotion.
Following a recommendation from the FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation), where I had been stationed until August of this year, I was to be transferred to a certain agency. I had only just arrived in Japan the previous night.
(This city has changed quite a bit while I was away…)
The view of Shinjuku from the hotel window… Perhaps they had booked me a high-floor room, as the view was spectacular and the breakfast was lavish. Even the coffee served was Blue Mountain—a thoughtful touch. The sky was clear and sunny, with white cumulonimbus clouds visible in the distance.
(—I’ll finally get to see you, kamikura.)
I picked up my smartphone from beside the bed and gazed at an old photograph. It showed the two of us standing side by side in suits. There was me, and there was him—tall and handsome, though he looked rather grumpy in the photo, as if he hadn’t been in the mood for it.
(Even so, I think he was trying his best to smile for me… Right?)
Smiling in spite of myself, I pulled a brand-new ID card from my bag and stared at it intently. A staff member had delivered it to me late last night.
UCIA – Unknown case Criminal Investigation Agency – Special Agent: ASAMI HIMEMIYA
A well-taken headshot was printed on the top right of the ID card. To be honest, I’ve rarely been seen as an investigator. I know I have an attractive appearance, but I suppose it doesn’t quite fit the scene of a criminal investigation. In other words, I have the kind of looks that people tend to underestimate.
—There was a man named kamikura, a childhood friend I had spent my life with since we were kids
. Following in his footsteps, I joined the FBI a year after he did. About a year after I finally achieved my dream of being partnered with him…
kamikura suddenly vanished from the FBI, and all contact was cut off…
Though I desperately questioned my superiors, I couldn’t get a single piece of information out of them other than the fact that he had been transferred to a certain agency. No one around me knew where he had gone.
Since then, a gaping hole had opened in my heart, and I spent my days unable to focus on work. Just as I was finally starting to recover, my boss recommended a transfer to an agency I had never heard of: the UCIA.
The reason I decided to transfer to the UCIA Japan Branch was because, to my astonishment, the name Hisamune Kamikura was on their staff list.
I wondered if it might be someone with the same name, but apparently not. It seems the superior who recommended the transfer knew of kamikura’s presence and had negotiated with personnel on my behalf.
It’s been a year and a half since we lost contact… There are mountains of things I want to ask and talk about. Part of me wants to be angry… but more than anything, I was simply overjoyed that we could meet again.
I carefully applied my makeup and finished getting ready. Then, I headed toward the UCIA Japan Branch located within the same ward.