Chapter 78: All the Chocolate in the School Belongs to You

On television, the introductory variety show had long since ended, and as commercials played before the main event, Ye Zhao swallowed a bite of sandwich and casually asked, “How’s the training course going?”

Yukiho Nakama thought for a moment. “It’s a little tough, but really interesting. Feels just like club activities. Yesterday during acting class, the teacher told me, ‘You need to be more natural!’ So after I got home, I spent ages in front of the bathroom mirror acting by myself.”

“Acting by yourself? What were you performing?”

“Nothing particularly interesting. Do you really want to hear it?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“Hmm…” Nakama considered. “Miss Rinko and Mr. Matsubara are a couple. One day, while strolling along Takeshita Street, Miss Rinko accidentally sees her good friend Miss Kaoru holding hands and laughing with Mr. Matsubara. Later, Miss Rinko confronts Miss Kaoru, and after a huge argument, they decide to confront Mr. Matsubara together and make him choose between them. But at that moment, they both discover that Mr. Matsubara already has a fiancée—Miss Mako…”

“Hold it right there!” Ye Zhao’s mouth twitched. “Who came up with such a bizarre story?”

“I did. I wanted to add more conflict… Is it really that strange?”

“Of course it is. I can’t believe you thought of that. And you really acted out all four roles in front of the mirror in the bathroom?” That’s creepier than a horror film…

…

After the opening sequence, the television screen gradually darkened, and the brooding tones and cinematography unique to suspense dramas set the stage for the special episode of “The Kindaichi Case Files.”

This particular special adapted the “The Seven School Mysteries Murder Case” arc, in which Kindaichi and his childhood friend Miyuki Nanase enroll in the private Fudo High School, a place haunted by seven terrifying legends. Invited by upperclassman Reiko Sakuragi to join the school’s Paranormal Phenomena Research Club, Kindaichi sets out to unravel these mysteries. However, after a phone call from Sakuragi claiming she’s solved the puzzles, she is found hanged in the school’s biology classroom. Driven to find the truth, Kindaichi embarks on his journey of deduction.

…

“So you’re the famous Kindaichi! I heard that among the new transfers was the grandson of Kousuke Kindaichi, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Reiko Sakuragi said as she crossed her arms and strolled up to Kindaichi and Miyuki Nanase.

With her delicate features, Reiko Sakuragi prompted Kindaichi to enthusiastically raise his hand and introduce himself, “I’m Kindaichi Kousuke’s grandson!”

Miyuki Nanase stepped forward, blocking the eager Kindaichi behind her. “Senpai, it’s true his grandfather is Kindaichi Kousuke, but he’s just a doofus. He doesn’t have a shred of deductive talent,” she said, making an exaggerated cross with her arms.

…

“Yusaka is so cute, with such a nice figure and fair skin. I wish I could be as tall as her,” Nakama said with clear envy. “Have you met Yusaka before, Ye Zhao?”

“I saw her once at a production meeting. She really is cute, and she’s got a great personality—the kind of classmate everyone likes. When it comes time to split into groups, I bet everyone wants to be her partner.”

“Just a popular classmate? I’d say she’s the kind of girl who’s famous schoolwide—like on Valentine’s Day, she’d have to bring a paper bag to carry all the chocolate she gets, or else she’d never fit it all… Isn’t that more accurate?”

“That sort of thing doesn’t happen in real life,” Ye Zhao laughed. “And while Yusaka is adorable, she’s not as over the top as you’re making her out to be. Actually, because she’s so approachable, people don’t get overly worked up about her. If anything, she’s not the type people want to give chocolate to—they want to receive chocolate from her.”

“Oh? So you want Yusaka to give you chocolate, is that it?” Nakama teased.

“If your literature teacher heard that interpretation, she’d cry,” Ye Zhao retorted. “By the way, aren’t you pretty popular at school too? Did you get a mountain of chocolate on Valentine’s Day?”

“Funny you mention it—I actually did once get chocolate from everyone in my whole school on Valentine’s Day,” Nakama said, surprising him.

“Seriously? That’s not just a plot from some shoujo manga?”

“Of course it’s true. It was back in elementary school,” Nakama finally couldn’t hold back her laughter. “My first elementary school only had ten students, and six of them were my relatives. So on Valentine’s Day, everyone would bring homemade chocolate from their moms and trade with each other.”

“Ten students? Are you serious?”

“Of course…” The answer was cut off as Ye Zhao’s phone died right then. So whether it was “Of course it’s true,” or “Of course I’m kidding,” remained an unsolved mystery.

“Tch.” A little disappointed, Ye Zhao looked at the dark screen, shook his head, and turned his attention back to the television.

In the restaurant, after watching Ms. Asano walk away, Kindaichi asked, “Does she have a boyfriend now?”

“Not at the moment, though she’s a real beauty,” Miyuki Nanase replied, casting a displeased glance at Kindaichi, who was clearly daydreaming.

…

Coming out the south exit of Shimokitazawa Station and walking less than two kilometers, one would find a nondescript building standing by the roadside. Entering through a narrow door, taking the elevator to the sixth floor, and walking down a corridor of moderate length, a sign reading “Shimada Theater” marked the entrance.

This little theater was used for everything, from underground singers to second-rate comedians and even low-tier rakugo performers or amateur magicians. Its daily schedule was crammed with a motley assortment of acts.

At ten o’clock in the evening, after the final performance ended and the audience gradually left, the staff didn’t clean up and prepare to close as usual, but instead retuned the sound system to welcome a special group of performers.

…

It was Yuuki Uemura who had arranged for the use of this theater. The purpose: to record a performance video for Kazuyo Kawamoto. Ye Zhao believed that rather than simply sending a demo tape to record labels, it would be better to stage a live performance and showcase Kazuyo Kawamoto’s abilities in all dimensions.

The fledgling ZYE naturally lacked its own film crew and equipment, but since this was just a simple performance video, there was nothing too technical about it—a few art students would do. At his direction, Hiroshi Nanjo booked a five-person team from the university’s film club at Tokyo University of the Arts—equipment included.

At this time, the university didn’t yet offer film or television majors, so all five were actually art and design students. Though not formally trained in film, they had already collaborated on several short films together, so shooting a straightforward performance video wouldn’t be a problem.

When it came time to negotiate, the film club’s vice president and the team’s director, Naoki Morita, represented the group. He was tall and skinny, with thick glasses and a face full of acne, wearing an out-of-fashion plaid shirt and slacks. Before the handshake, he kept nervously wiping his hands on his pants. Seeing how anxious he was, Ye Zhao tried to reassure him. “Don’t worry, we just need a simple live video. It’ll be as easy as making rice balls for you.”

“But I don’t know how to make rice balls,” Morita answered honestly.

Ye Zhao broke out in a cold sweat. “Anyway, we’re counting on you.”

…

Once everything was set up, the five members of the film club took their stations, and Kazuyo Kawamoto took the stage with her band. She played rhythm guitar herself; the other musicians were session players hired for the occasion.

“Ready?”

“All set here,” the band replied. Kazuyo glanced down at her guitar and then said quietly, “Ready.”

Ye Zhao sat in the audience and gave her a thumbs-up.

…

For this performance, Kazuyo Kawamoto would sing eight songs in a row—about the length of a full set in a small theater. As for the setlist, Ye Zhao and Kazuyo discussed and agreed: four covers of other artists’ songs, and four originals—three of Kazuyo’s own compositions, and one brand new song Ye Zhao provided.

The new song was titled “The Talent for Love.” If not for Ye Zhao’s involvement, Kazuyo Kawamoto would have debuted in 1996 through a Sony audition, and her debut single would have been this very song. Though she was a singer-songwriter, her debut track was actually written by another composer—the man who penned it was Yasuyuki Okamura.

Yasuyuki Okamura’s life could only be described as extraordinary. At just nineteen, he joined Sony as a composer, writing for many top artists. Later, while helping Misato Watanabe in the studio, he started dancing out of boredom during a break. The producer saw him and decided that he “shone” when he danced—so Okamura was recruited as a singer.

Okamura’s solo debut was a huge success. He released a string of meticulously produced albums and was even hailed as “the Prince of Japanese R&B.” In 1992, though, he retreated from the spotlight after his close friend Yutaka Ozaki died and his own voice began to fail. He went back to working behind the scenes, and in 1996, wrote this debut song for Makoto Kawamoto—Kazuyo’s real name.