Koushounin Wa Damaranai

Chapter 1

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t.i.tle: Koushounin series 03Koushounin wa Furikaeru [交渉人は振り返る]
Chapter: Prologue
Page: 009 – 018
Author: Eda Yuuri [榎田尤利]
Ill.u.s.trator: Nara Chiharu [奈良千春]
Publisher: Taiyō Tos...o...b..>Year of Release: 2009

Disclaimer:

Eda Yuuri is the original author of this work, and this is a fan translation. Feel free to re-post this elsewhere if you like but please credit this site. I did buy the original copy of this book, along with the rest of the series, so it"ll be great if you can support her by buying her books.

By the way, this work contains BL, or h.o.m.o-eroticism.

Note:

I have been a big fan of the Koushounin series by Eda Yuuri ever since I got my hands on the BLCDs for the first and second installments of the series, and have been waiting patiently for the BLCDs for the third installment onward… to no avail. It has been 8 years since the sensei published Koushounin wa Furikaeru, and I am beginning to accept that there might be no BLCD after all.

Nevertheless, the fujoshi doesn’t give up. The following is my attempt at the English translation of the rest of the series.

Prologue

Horikawa Masayoshi was feeling nervous.

To put it a little more accurately, he was a bundle of nerves, and his heart was pounding in his chest.

A year had pa.s.sed since he started kōban duty in Kikukawa District One. He was now used to patrolling the area, giving directions, and processing lost items. Countless of times, he has had to take care of drunks and carry on his back elderly people who had become unable to walk halfway through a stroll. It seemed to him that up to now, he had done everything he could to ensure that the residents in that area were able to go about their daily lives with peace of mind. Due to his efforts, the residents slowly began to remember his face and his name. Even kids from the neighborhood primary school have taken to half teasing him by calling him "Seigi the policeman". In truth, the characters in his name were read as "Masayoshi", and not the alternate reading "Seigi", which means "justice".

Naturally, this name was given to him by his father, who was a former policeman.

His father, who pa.s.sed on early, had no affinity for career success and had remained a.s.signed to kōban duty for a long time. Detective themed TV dramas were popular when Masayoshi was still a child, thus he had inadvertently lied his friends on one occasion. “My father is a detective!” he had said. Of course, he was almost immediately exposed and they had rebuked him firmly for his lie. “Isn’t he just a regular policeman?” they had taunted him, and he was so embarra.s.sed, so mortified, that he went crying to his father, asking him: "Why aren"t you a police detective?" He remembered that his father had laughed, but he also remembered getting a proper beating from his rather short tempered and old fashioned mother.

But now, he understood.

Being a detective might be cool, but there is no way in which being a policeman on kōban duty will be uncool. Both professions are just as important as the other. The only difference is that one usually ended up being depicted in TV dramas and movies, and one did not. There is no doubt that his father had taken pride in his job.

Masayoshi, too, is satisfied with his current job.

For the past year, the area under his kōban"s jurisdiction had not seen major cases such as murder cases. s.n.a.t.c.h thefts using bicycles, however, were frequent and were causing a problem, and Masayoshi paid special attention to cyclists during his patrols. Even fatalities due to traffic accidents, up to now, has been zero.

"I… I will definitely put him under arrest," said Masayoshi, in a voice that was shrill from nervousness.

He has been to crime scenes before, but most of the time the crime had already taken place. This was his first time on the front line, at a place at which a crime was about to happen.

"Un un, please arrest him," said the man fiddling with the toolbox beside him. He spoke nonchalantly, in a voice that was in contrast with Masayoshi"s jittery one.

Masayoshi was with that man in the dressing area of bathroom; a narrow s.p.a.ce, surrounded by a washing machine, a washbasin and a shelf containing towels, among other things.

Thirty minutes ago, he received communication with the Criminal Investigation Dept. of the main branch office. They told him that a seventy-two-year-old lady who lived in his a.s.signed area had reported an incidence of alleged wire transfer fraud.

It seems that she had received a sudden phone call from her grandson, whom she had not met for many years. Her grandson was nineteen years of age and the person on the phone managed to introduce himself using the correct name and also named the university he was going to correctly. She also felt that his voice was similar to her grandson"s. Despite all these, she felt that something was off.

In a brisk, lucid tone that belied that fact that she was past seventy, she explained that he had claimed, half crying, that he had broken highly priced chinaware while doing his part time job, and since he was not a full time worker and was not covered by company insurance, he was in immediate need of two million yen as his employers had demanded that he compensate for the loss.

Isn"t it a little strange that a part time worker would be made to pay compensation? This has to be a scam, she thought. She did think of hanging up on him, but then again recently one of her friends had been deceived by the same, and feeling angry for this friend, she pretended to fall for his trick.

Thereupon, the person on the phone pretending to be her grandson shamelessly said: "Right now, there have been cases of wire transfer fraud, haven"t there? I don"t think you should transfer the money at a bank or a post office. Even though I am not scamming you or anything, the people at those places can be really persistent and annoying. Tell you what, I"ll provide a motorbike courier, so just pa.s.s the money to him. I think this is the fastest and the most reliable way of going about it."

Banks and the police are already on the lookout for the modus operandi of giving instructions over the phone and having the victim go to the bank to transfer the money. The con-men are aware of this too, and have conspired to use motorbike couriers instead. They may either send one of themselves dressed up as a courier, but there are also cases in which legitimate bicycle couriers are used.

However, in this case, the courier he specified did not exist.

Originally, this was a situation in which the Criminal Investigation Dept. should send their men. However, it so happened that the department was caught up in other investigations and lacked manpower, thus Masayoshi, who was on duty in the area"s kōban, was requested to fall in as reinforcement.

Two detectives from the Criminal Investigation Dept. were also present and were hiding in the kitchen, which was beside the living room.

"Really, I can"t let these guys off…" Masayoshi muttered. The man went, "Precisely!" while holding against the wall some sort of device which resembled a remote control.

"… Excuse me, what is that?" Masayoshi asked.

"This? This is a stud sensor. This allows you to know what structure lies within the walls. I can"t drive a nail into a wall which doesn"t contain a wall stud, can I?" the man explained with a smile.

Judging from the half built wooden construct next to him, Masayoshi surmised that he was about to install a wooden shelf on the wall. However, he didn"t look like a contractor from the way he was dressed in a business shirt and a tie. The man looked like he was in his thirties, with genteel features and a pleasant voice.

"Sayuri-san said she wanted a shelf here to put towels on, and well… there was that fraudulent phone call, too. Anyway, I had acquired some wooden planks, and I wanted to finish making it by today."

"Oh…kay. Are you a relative of hers or something?"

"Nope. A colleague."

"I see."

"Ah, no, that"s not quite right. I am, after all, her boss… but I often get scolded by her instead. Even though I am her boss…"

While muttering to himself, he started to make markings on the wall using a red pencil. Masayoshi couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.

"Nevertheless, these money wiring scams are troublesome, aren"t they?" The man said in earnest.

"Erm, yes." Masayoshi agreed, before continuing,"If you compare the overall number of cases, the numbers show a temporary decrease… Even so, the number of victims remain high. Furthermore, the schemes the scammers concoct are steadily getting more and more ingenious."

"That would seem to be so. But then again, to use a fake motorbike courier would have been riskier than using a dashiko. There are quick witted people like Sayuri-san around, after all."

"That is true. Erm… are you a.s.sociated with the police in any way?"

A dashiko referred to the person in wire transfer scam who is in charge of withdrawing the cash from the bank account. Masayoshi learnt this term in the anti-wire transfer strategy meetings back in the station, but he wondered if this term had slipped into everyday usage, that even civilians would use it.

"Certainly not." The man answered him smilingly, as he remained standing in front of the wall.

Then what is he, exactly, was what Masayoshi was about to ask when the sounds of a motorbike engine drew near. “He’s here.” said the two detectives in the kitchen via wireless radio to him, and Masayoshi answered: “Roger.” before moving to stand right outside the sliding door.

The man put away his tools and moved quietly elsewhere in order to not be a hindrance. When he met Masayoshi"s eyes, he raised a balled fist, as if to send a wordless yell of "do your best!" and Masayoshi bobbed his head in reply. He then opened the sliding door a crack wide in order to be able to see the corridor.

The sounds of a motorbike engine died, as anxiety bloomed inside of him.

The doorbell rang, and the owner of the house, Murai Sayuri, replied, "Yes?" over the inter-phone.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting. This is Kakeashi Motorbike Courier. I have come to receive the package."

"Ah, yes yes. My apologies, it seems that the pain in my back is acting up today… the door at the foyer is unlocked, so would you come up into the house on your own?" said Sayuri in a frail voice, as per the plan to lure him into the house. The performance she put on was masterful.

What a lady, Masayoshi marveled, as he regulated his own breathing. The door at the foyer swung open.

"Sorry to interrupt you." It was the voice of a young man.

The floorboards in the corridor of the old wooden house creaked. That young man, whom he could see through the gap in the door, did not remove his full face helmet. Surely it was to hide his face.

Masayoshi p.r.i.c.ked his ears. He could hear rather clearly the conversation taking place outside.

"How should I do this?"

"Erm, the package, please."

"Before that, don"t I need to write anything for you?"

"Uh, right. Erm…"

It seems that he has not gotten used to his job yet. There was a sound of rustling paper while he seemed to be searching for something, after which he said "Please sign over here." After a short while, Sayuri could be heard saying "Here you go." She probably signed on the doc.u.ments and returned them to him.

"Please be careful. Two million yen is a large amount of money." she said.

"Yes, I will hold on to this."

Secure him—went the wireless radio. The man had received the cash.

"Wha, Wha, What?"

"Be quiet and take off that helmet…! "

"Hey, stop there!"

The man started to put on a reckless struggle. He was unexpectedly strong… it was almost as if he was skilled at hand to hand fighting. With one kick, he sent a detective with a Judo black belt flying and sank his fist into the stomach of the other. In the face of such brute strength, both detectives collapsed soundlessly and was unable to pick themselves up.

The man then made use of that opening and broke into a full force run that was headlong in Masayoshi"s direction. On top of oozing murderous intent, he also had a large build. He was above a hundred eighty centimeters in height and, clad in rider"s jacket, looked as solidly built as an American football player.

It was terrifying.

Yet Masayoshi, despite his shaky knees, braced himself. He cannot allow the man to leave the house. "Stop right there!" he yelled. However, no matter how much he yelled, Masayoshi, with his small stature, could never hope to become much of a breakwater. He was easily thrust aside, and he landed hard on his bottom in the corridor as the man ran out of the foyer.

Both detectives picked themselves up, groaning. One dialed for a.s.sistance, and the other grabbed his stomach in pain and attempted to start walking.

The person who managed to get outside quicker than any of them was the gentle mannered man who was building the shelves.

Masayoshi brushed off his behind and tried going outside to where the road was, only to find that the man racing determinedly after the man in the helmet. His feet was in female sandals, probably because he did not have the time to put on his own shoes. The man in the helmet was barefoot. He was frantically trying to run away, but he wasn"t going very fast.

"Wait…!" The gentle mannered man called out sharply. This was immediately followed by an "Whoa whoa whoa whoa!" The sandals were so small for him that he had been running on tiptoes and just as Masayoshi thought that he was about to catch up with the man in the helmet, he flew forward.

It was a magnificent leap… Not.

If he had to say it, it would be that the man was in a situation in which he, caught in the momentum of a stumble, had no choice but to jump forward. In other words, he more or less flew.

And then he grabbed on firmly onto the man in the helmet. It would be more accurate to say that he held on to him for support rather than catching him. If the man in the helmet hadn’t been front of him, he probably would have fallen flat on his face.

"I"ve… I"ve got you!"

The man shouted, while falling onto into a tangle with the other man on the road.

The man with the helmet once again tried to escape by putting up a violent struggle. The gentle mannered man, despite being kicked at repeatedly, clung on to him in a last ditch effort to prevent his escape.

Just as Masayoshi was about to run towards him to rescue him, three pa.s.sers-by appeared. The three pa.s.sers-by who looked slightly taken aback to see two people rolling about on the road while kicking and struggling were of… a rather peculiar sort.

One was casually dressed and in gra.s.s slippers. The other two were in sweats.

They had one thing in common—they all weighed a little over a hundred kilograms each and had their hair pulled back at their temples.

"Erm, Mebuki-san?"

"It really is Mebuki-san. Why are you doing sumo training in a place like this?"

"Is okurikake going to be your finishing sumo technique?"

From what these three people were saying rather noisily, Masayoshi heard the gentle mannered man"s name for the first time. Apparently, he was called Mebuki. Mebuki, who looked like he was not going to let go of that man"s belt at any cost, lifted his face. "I"m not doing sumo training! This is a state of emergency!" he yelled. "This person is a con-man! Help me hold him down!"

The sumo wrestlers" eyes grew round.

Immediately, all three of them simultaneous nodded their head in agreement and flung away the convenience store bags they had in their hands. From the inside of the bags different types of snacks and ice-cream began rolling out onto the road. Amongst them was the Yukimi Daif.u.ku Mochi that Masayoshi liked.

The sumo wrestlers thundered against the road as they charged towards the duo.

No matter how good a physique the man in the helmet had, he was definitely no match for three sumo wrestlers. It was like being hit by gigantic meats buns raining down from above. He was pinned down in no time at all.

The detectives, who finally caught up with everyone else, wasted not a moment"s delay to put handcuffs on the wrist that was barely sticking out of the pile of bodies.

"We arrest you for suspected fraud!" the detective announced in a ringing voice. The sumo wrestlers, with the two men still squashed under them, went "Whoa, awesome." "It"s like in those detective TV dramas." "We did something really good, didn"t we?" and so forth while beaming at each other. The three sweaty sumo wrestlers, in their freshly steamed meat buns state, gathered together and started praising each other for their brave efforts.

In the midst of all these, a feeble voice could be heard. "N… No." it said.

That voice was so hoa.r.s.e and weak that it sounded as if its owner"s lungs were being crushed. From right behind Masayoshi, Murai-san, who had hurriedly gotten out of the house, murmured: "Oh dear," in a troubled sounding voice.

"No… That, is my hand… Urgh." the voice said.

It was a tragedy.

On top of getting handcuffed, the brave civilian was also, together with the criminal, groaning in pain underneath those wrestlers.

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