Contents | The Rome Gelato Mystery
Table of Contents
1
It all began with a newspaper. It was followed by another newspaper, and another, and another, then for some reason led to a cookie.
Basically, what happened was this. One winter day, after returning from school, I opened the newspaper for some reason. I skimmed through the social section, sports section, and the next section without finding anything particularly interesting, and when I opened the local news section, there was a headline in the corner of the page that read “Kira City Native Wins Art Exhibition Award.” It said that a local artist, Shima Taiga, had won the Black Bear Award at the San Francisco Biennale with his work “Gaze and Shell”.
On the article, it was written that Mr. Shima graduated from Funado High School in this city and was 47 years old. It did not explain what “Gaze and Shell” was or how prestigious the Black Bear Award was. There was a photo of him, and he had a gentle smile that was completely unrelated to the sternness one might associate with an award-winning artist.
At first, I couldn’t decide how to react to this information in a petit bourgeois way. On one hand, I thought it was small-minded to completely forget about something that had nothing to do with me, while on the other hand, I felt it was quite appropriate to take pride in the success of a senior from my high school who was recognized worldwide. I couldn’t come to a conclusion on this dilemma, and without feeling the need to conclude anything, I forgot about the article at that moment.
After half a month later, I encountered the name Shima Taiga again. When I arrived at school, there was a school newspaper on every student’s desk with the headline “Our School Graduate Wins Art Exhibition Award” written in large letters. It seems that the newspaper club had chosen to take pride in Shima-shi’s award.
According to the article, the Biennale is an art exhibition held every two years. It mentioned that the Venice Biennale and São Paulo Biennale are world-renowned, and then explained that the San Francisco Biennale is an honor next to the highest award, the Gray Bear Award.
As expected, there was no photo of the award-winning “Gaze and Shell”, but it was understandable that the school newspaper club had been unable to obtain it. Instead, they used a photo from the graduation album, which appeared to be a face shot of him in a school uniform. Since Shima Taiga was 47 years old, this would be a photograph from nearly 30 years ago. I couldn’t help but wonder if they had obtained permission from the artist to publish his photo.
The third time I encountered the name Shima Taiga was during the fifth period of that day. As soon as the class started, Hirata-sensei, the Japanese history teacher, held up the school newspaper with a beaming smile and said:
“Everyone, have you read this?”
Hirata-sensei was a teacher who usually had a stern face on. He would lecture us about the regency government structure while lamenting indignantly about the Fujiwara clan’s hegemony1, and would teach the Kamakura period while choking up about the fates of Yoriie and Sanetomo2. After staring at the school newspaper for a while, he continued with words full of emotion.
“Shima was a classmate of mine. He never attended alumni gatherings, so I always wondered what he was doing, but it turned out he has become quite successful. It’s probably hard for you to understand, but at this age, it’s just nice to know that someone you’ve been out of touch with is alive and well.”
Since Shima-shi was 47 years old, Hirata-sensei was probably around the same age. In fact, I thought he was a bit older. Hirata-sensei continued with a beaming smile.
“He was in the art club. As they say, ‘Sandalwood is fragrant even as a sapling,’ those who are destined to succeed are different when they’re young. However, not all those who are different at a young age will become successful. There are also those who were ordinary in their youth but grow up later. This is about math. Are you all good at math?”
Watching Hirata-sensei, who was more talkative than usual, I was thinking about the right to be happy. Hirata-sensei joyfully spoke of Shima-shi’s global success as if it were his own, and his tone when talking about their relationship was even somewhat boastful, but I didn’t find it unnatural. So, if I were to take joy in Shima-shi’s success in the same way and act boastfully towards someone else, would that also make sense? Wouldn’t the thin relationship between Shima-shi and me create an ugly situation like a fox borrowing the ferocity of a tiger? Hirata-sensei slapped the school newspaper with the back of his hand.
“He was a strange guy. I remember he was fast. Yes, he was quite fast. It’s nostalgic. But I’ve never seen his works. Koumura-sensei, the art teacher, is also in the same grade, and I’ve seen Koumura-sensei’s paintings, but I don’t remember seeing Shima’s. What a pity.”
Where would the threshold be for being allowed to rejoice in someone else’s success as if it were your own? Did I have the right to rejoice in the success of a fellow alumnus like Hirata-sensei? While thinking about this issue, I listened to Hirata-sensei’s story. In the afternoon of the fifth period, lulled by the warmth of the heater, I was absentmindedly pondering such things.
Also on the following Friday, I encountered the name Shima Taiga again. The name was mentioned by Doujima Kengo from the newspaper club, and the location was in the hallway on my way home. However, it wasn’t that Shima Taiga’s name came up all of a sudden. When Kengo saw me, he exchanged a standard greeting and then scratched his head a bit awkwardly before saying:
“Hey Jougorou, I don’t know if it’s okay to ask you this, but…… could you introduce me to Osanai?”
There was always a certain level of tension between me and Doujima Kengo.
Kengo thought of me as a roundabout deceiver, and I pretending not to notice that truth was probably an act of kindness from him. I couldn’t really say we got along very well. It was quite unexpected that Kengo would ask me to be an intermediary between him and Osanai-san.
“To Osanai-san?”
I asked, my voice a little shrill.
“Is there something you need?”
Osanai-san, or Osanai Yuki, was just a normal student in the school. At least, she aspired to be that way and lived a much more inconspicuous school life compared to me. There shouldn’t be many people who knew about her original personality that she wished to discard.
And Kengo was one of those few people. Last spring, due to unavoidable circumstances, I’d told Kengo about what kind of person Osanai-san used to be. However, it was hard to say whether Kengo believed it or not.
Kengo was completely serious. “I want to consult her about something. She helped me out before, remember?”
Osanai helped out Kengo…?
“What was it?”
“You forget about other people quickly, huh? It was about the painting. The most refined painting in the world.”
“… Ah.”
Of course, I remembered.
That also happened in spring. The issue was whether to continue storing a painting left in the clubroom by a graduated art club member or to dispose of it. Due to certain circumstances, the newspaper club got involved in this issue, and I was also dragged into it.
“It was Osanai who solved the mystery of that painting. I want to borrow that wisdom again.”
Indeed, that case was solved by Osanai-san. In reality, it was a joint effort between me and Osanai-san, so it was understandable that Kengo’s phrasing of “she helped me out” didn’t quite resonate with me. In other words, Kengo’s evaluation that I forget about others quickly was incorrect. Anyway, the fact that he wanted to contact Osanai-san in relation to that case meant…
“Is there another strange painting?”
Kengo hesitated in his response.
“Rather than strange… well, I suppose it is strange… but it’s also a bit serious.”
“I can’t imagine a painting left at school becoming a serious problem. Unless it’s a cursed painting that eats people or something.”
“In a way, that might have been more comfortable.”
Kengo looked around as if to guard against eavesdropping and lowered his voice even more.
“There’s a painting by Shima Taiga left behind. Do you know Shima Taiga?”
“Of course.”
It was good to be able to answer that. If I hadn’t remembered the name Shima Taiga, which was prominently featured in the school newspaper, Kengo from the newspaper club would have felt a little depressed.
“He won an award at the San Francisco something, right? If that person’s painting was found, it would be a big discovery.”
“Well, that’s true.”
Kengo said this with a bit of hesitation and scratched his head again.
“… I think it’s better to see the actual thing. Jougorou, come with me.”
Perhaps I should have politely declined, especially when I could see that a troublesome situation was unfolding. But I couldn’t do that. Kengo had started walking without waiting for my reply, and I’d missed the timing to decline. That too was certainly a fact.
But I had to admit, I was somewhat curious about what kind of painting could cause such a “serious” problem that would make Kengo want to rely on Osanai-san.
2
It was a gray painting.
The top was painted gray, probably depicting heavy, overcast clouds. The bottom was painted gray as well, likely representing a dark earth. Something resembling a white box occupied the space between the sky and the earth. I had no knowledge of art. I was so unfamiliar with paintings that I couldn’t even remember if Takahashi Yuichi3 painted “Salmon” or “Shark”. Still, I understood that this painting was extremely gloomy and lonely. At first glance, it felt desolate, and as I stared at it… it felt even lonelier.
“It looks somewhat scary.”
I said, and Kengo nodded silently.
The painting was in an empty classroom near the Art Room. Desks had been moved to create space, and an easel had been set up in the middle, with the horizontally long painting leaning against it. The painting was framed, and its surface covered with a transparent sheet. This sheet was probably some kind of vinyl to protect the painting, but due to the passage of thirty years, it had yellowed overall, giving the entire painting an aged color.
“Scary, huh. I see.”
I heard a voice from the corner of the classroom. Since we entered this classroom, a tall adult with distinctive round glasses had been watching us. He was thin, with curly hair that reached his shoulders, and he wore a long jacket. He was probably a teacher, but I didn’t know him. He continued speaking without introducing himself – then again, I’d never seen a teacher who spoke to students only after introducing themselves.
“Scary is a very straightforward and honest impression. That’s great.”
He probably meant that it was a simple impression. I just nodded to him without saying a word, then turned to Kengo.
“It does look amazing, but it doesn’t seem to have any problems. This is a painting by Shima Taiga, right?”
“That’s right. There’s a name on the back.”
Kengo said that with a grim face, then slowly took out a book from his school bag. It was large and looked heavy. A sticker with a barcode was stuck on the cover, indicating that it was from the prefectural library. Kengo opened it to a page where a bookmark was inserted.
“Now, look at this.”
Large letters read “Nicolas de Staël,” with a photo of the painting occupying most of the page. I glanced at it and understood what Kengo meant by “problem.”
“I see.”
I compared the framed painting with the one by Nicolas de Staël. “They’re the same.”
“That’s right. No matter how you look at it.”
On the book, the title of the painting is written as “The Square Fort in Antibes.” I wonder how to read it…….
“An-ti-bes?”
The man standing in the corner of the classroom smiled and spoke.
“That’s pronounced ‘An-teeb.’”
“Isn’t that a vegetable?”
Still frowning, Kengo replied.
“That’s ‘Andive.’”
Thank you, I was waiting for that word. By the way, who is that person? I asked Kengo with my eyes. Doujima Kengo, who was hopelessly slow to catch on in middle school, now immediately understood that request.
“Koumura-sensei, where is Antibes?”
Thanks to him, I learned that person’s name. He was Koumura-sensei, the art teacher that Hirata-sensei had mentioned. Now that I thought about it, he did look like an art teacher, perhaps even excessively so. Koumura-sensei glanced away a bit and said,
“In France.”
I intuitively thought that this person probably didn’t know where exactly Antibes was in France or what kind of place it was, but I wasn’t so far gone from the petit bourgeois oath to say it out loud.
I looked at the painting that Kengo wanted to show me again. It still didn’t seem like there was anything particularly serious about it.
“But what’s wrong with this? A high school student Shima Taiga copied a painting by the artist Nicolas. Isn’t that a normal thing?”
There’s nothing wrong ethically or legally with copying for study purposes. The person might be embarrassed that the copy remained at school, but I couldn’t see any problem beyond that.
Kengo glanced at Koumura-sensei, but the teacher said nothing. Eventually, Kengo let out a small sigh.
“Sorry, it might be hard to understand because I didn’t give you all the details. Let me explain properly. Actually, we’ve received an interview request from a TV station.”
“Wow.”
“They’re producing an art program, specifically a feature on Shima Taiga, so they asked the school for an interview. They wanted to know if there was anything that could show what Shima Taiga was like as a high school student. So I looked into it, and here it is, just as you see. When I told the TV station, they were overjoyed and asked if they could film it.”
I raised a hand to stop Kengo.
“Wait a second. You seem to know a lot about it, but it wasn’t you who was asked by the TV station if there were any items related to Shima Taiga, right?”
“No, actually, it was me.”
Kengo scratched his cheek.
“To be precise, the TV station asked the school and me. The fact that the club wrote an article about Shima Taiga reached the TV station, and I was interviewed as a reporter. During that time, they casually asked if there was anything related to Shima Taiga. If such a thing really exists, we can’t overlook it as a club. So I looked into it and found this painting.”
“Oh, that article was written by you.”
“…The name of the person who wrote it is at the end of the article.”
Oh, I got caught not reading it properly. Kengo didn’t seem to mind much and glanced at the painting.
“At first glance, I thought it was amazing. I don’t understand what these abstract paintings are about, but I thought it was great. But at the same time, I felt like I had seen it somewhere before. So I traced my memory and reread a book I’d picked up before……”
Kengo placed his hand on the library book.
“And then I found this.”
I was quite surprised.
“So, you were the one who noticed that the paintings were the same?”
“…Uh-huh.”
“I thought you were going to the bookstore’s manga corner to study because you didn’t understand art when you first entered school?”
Kengo raised his eyebrows.
“Hey. There’s something called a samurai’s mercy. Don’t dig up such old stories.”
“We’re not samurai…….”
“Admittedly, I was of no help at all in the spring incident. So I studied a bit to at least be able to do some work for the newspaper club.”
To be honest, I was impressed. I never thought that Doujima Kengo had been honing his skills like that in the past nine months. I didn’t expect it at all. Let me apologize in my heart.
That aside… Kengo’s story was still confusing.
“From what I’ve heard so far, it seems that after informing the TV station about this painting, you realized it was a copy. So, if you just say it was a copy, wouldn’t that be enough? Whether they want to film it or not is up to the TV station.”
Koumura-sensei, who had been listening to the conversation, interjected from the side.
“Well, it doesn’t work that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“You could ask Doujima-kun.”
He didn’t answer. Why was this teacher event here…
When I looked at Kengo, he said,
“Jougorou. If this is just a copy, don’t you think it’s strange that it was kept for thirty years?”
“Well, that’s true.”
“This isn’t a copy. Well, it is a copy, but…”
…Ah. I might have understood it somehow.
As I was about to voice that thought, Kengo lowered his voice and said exactly what I was thinking.
“This painting was exhibited.”
Right.
Indeed, just as Kengo had said, it was a bit of a serious problem.
That Shima Taiga won the Black Bear Award at the San Francisco Biennale was a nationwide news story, albeit a small one. I didn’t know if it would be on terrestrial or BS TV, or how much time it would take , but it seemed to be valuable enough for a TV interview. Of course, it was a rare piece of good news for both this city and this high school—even though neither had done anything for Mr. Shima.
It was unsettling that Mr. Shima Taiga had submitted a copy as his own work to an exhibition. That was plagiarism. Even if it was a thirty-year-old story, his reputation could be ruined, and if the TV station has already been informed about the painting’s existence, it couldn’t be undone now.
“Alright, let’s burn it.”
“You idiot.”
That was a quick retort.
If the painting was made public, it could indeed become a problem for Shima Taiga. However…
“I know it sounds cold, but I don’t think it’s something you should worry about, Kengo. If Shima Taiga committed plagiarism during his time as a student, it’s up to him to take responsibility.”
“It’s indeed cold. Well, I thought you’d say that. But actually…”
Rarely hesitating, Kengo slightly lowered his gaze.
“It was me who informed the TV station about the painting.”
…I see.
“I only found out later, but the school told the TV station that there were no items related to Shima Taiga, and even if there were, they couldn’t hand them over without the person’s permission. That’s reasonable. But I, on the other hand, was happy to find the painting that when they asked me if I found anything during the second call, I ended up telling them about this. I realized it was the same as de Staël afterward… I was an idiot.”
Koumura-sensei spoke.
“Doujima-kun. As your friend said, even if you informed the TV station about the painting, this is not your problem but Shima’s. He’s an adult who can take responsibility for himself. You don’t need to worry about it.”
“You might be right, but…”
Kengo turned to him.
“I’m suspicious about whether this painting is just a copy or not. If it were a copy, wouldn’t he have tried to retrieve it? I think it’s strange to leave it in the school for decades.”
“That’s not strange.”
Koumura-sensei seemed indifferent.
“A school is something you cut ties with after graduation. Even if Shima cared about this painting, he might not have had a way to retrieve it.”
Indeed, I don’t even think about going back to my middle school. But Koumura-sensei’s argument seemed a bit strange.
“Um, Koumura-sensei, you were in the same grade as Shima Taiga at this school, right?”
I didn’t miss the slight frown on Koumura-sensei face when I asked that.
However, he quickly regained his composure and said,
“You know well.”
“Hirata-sensei from Japanese History mentioned it.”
“Ah, I see.”
“If Shima Taiga wanted to retrieve the painting in these thirty years, he might have contacted you.”
But the art teacher smiled wryly and shook his head.
“I haven’t been in touch with him. He probably doesn’t even know that I’m working at this school.”
It was a plausible situation. At least, there was no evidence to say that it couldn’t be the case.
Kengo turned his back to Koumura-sensei and said to me.
“In other words, what I want to ask Osanai is about this painting. If it stays like this, I’ll end up exposing Shima Taiga’s scandal. But if this painting isn’t a copy and was created with some intention, then the story changes. I believe there’s a hidden meaning in this painting. I want Osanai to see it and at least give me her thoughts.”
It seemed that Kengo had the wrong impression of Osanai-san. Besides, there were other things that should be done first.
“Wouldn’t it be better to contact Shima Taiga first?”
“Of course, I understand. But Shima Taiga is overseas, and I can only contact him through his Japanese agent. The TV station people were also having trouble because they couldn’t reach him directly. Even if I ask the agent to contact him, I can’t say that I want to consult with Shima Taiga because there’s a suspicion of plagiarism. I’m at a dead end here.”
“Then that’s unavoidable, but Osanai-san isn’t an art appraiser. This is different from the spring incident. I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t think Osanai-san can do anything about it.”
“To be honest, I don’t completely trust that Osanai can do anything. But I’m drowning. I want to grab onto a reed. Please, Jougorou. Can you at least talk to her?”
Hmm.
I couldn’t just say to Kengo that I had absolutely no intention of passing the message to Osanai-san. It would be unnatural, and even if I refused, Kengo would probably find another way to contact her. Unreasonable as it may be, it seemed that I had no choice but to accept this request.
I looked again at the painting that Shima Taiga had drawn in his youth. It still seemed like an unsettling painting. Suddenly, one thing caught my attention.
“By the way, does this painting have a title?”
Kengo looked up at the ceiling with regret.
“Damn it. Right, I didn’t mention that. The title is one of the reasons I suspect this painting isn’t just a copy. There’s a piece of paper with it written on the back of the frame.”
I went around to the back of the painting. Similar to the sheet covering the painting, there was a yellowed paper with letters that appeared to be written with a sign pen. At the bottom of the paper, “Shima Taiga” was written in small letters. In contrast, the title was written in large letters and read:
“The Sight and the Outer, or Fortune-cookie”4
Fortune cookie?
I didn’t get it.
Though I did at last understand that what was depicted in the painting was not a cookie.
3
Winter days are short, so it was already dark when I reached home. I contacted Osanai-san at that time.
The story wasn’t that complicated, but it was hard to share subtle nuances over the phone. Thus we decided that it would be better to talk directly, and arranged to meet at a family restaurant along the bypass.
It was past eight o’clock, and if I were to be found by those entrusted with upholding law and order, I could be given an official reprimand. As a petit bourgeois, one must not commit the folly of being caught wandering around at night. The thing that proved useful for getting around that problem was my school bag, which allowed me to insist that they are just returning home from cram school if questioned, even if the bag was empty. It’s a great contradiction that cram schools are open until a time when high school students could be reprimanded for loitering, and contradictions should be exploited.
It was a cold night. As soon as I started pedaling on my bicycle after leaving home, my ears began to sting painfully. I’d only put on a windbreaker for warmth, which was a bit reckless. If I tried to speed up to get there quickly, the wind hitting me would be unbearable. So I ended up heading to the meeting place slowly.
The family restaurant had a variety of customers. Since it was after dinner time, there were no families enjoying their meals. There was a man with his head bowed as he munched on carbohydrates, a woman who was on her phone and wasn’t looking at the food in front of her, a group of college students chattering excitedly about something, a person working on some documents, someone studying… and a small girl in the back of the store, sitting primly with a scarf wrapped around her neck despite being indoors. Of course, that was Osanai-san.
A waitress cheerfully greeted me.
“Welcome. Are you here by yourself?”
“No, I am meeting someone here.”
I answered and moved towards Osanai-san’s table.
Osanai-san was not only wearing a scarf but also earmuffs, and she was still in her fluffy down jacket. Indeed, the seat was by the window where the winter chill was creeping in, but her appearance, as if she had just returned from a ski resort, made me chuckle a bit. Osanai-san, who had been cradling a mug with both hands, looked up and glared at me.
“Why are you laughing?”
Because you’re all bundled up indoors.
There was cocoa in the mug that Osanai-san was holding. It looked warm, and I wanted to order the same, but cocoa could only be ordered as a single item. The all-you-can-drink option was cheaper, so I chose that. When I returned to the table with hot oolong tea, Osanai-san asked without any preamble.
“So, what’s the matter?”
I understood why Osanai-san hadn’t taken off her warm clothes in this cold seat. I also started the conversation while wearing my windbreaker.
“Doujima Kengo wants me to introduce him to you.”
“I do think he’s a good person, but I have to think about whether he’s my type.”
“And what sort of person is your type?”
“Hmm.”
The answer that finally came after a while was:
“Catherine the Great…?”
Why?
Anyway,
“It’s not about introducing you romantically, but rather that he wants me to act as an intermediary. Basically, it all began with a newspaper…”
I started explaining about Shima Taiga’s award, and considering that Osanai-san had solved the mystery of the refined painting last spring, I conveyed Kengo’s request to determine whether Shima Taiga’s painting was truly just a copy. During this time, Osanai-san didn’t say a word and just stared at the cocoa in her mug. The cocoa was probably already cold.
“And that’s how it is.”
I concluded my story.
“If I refuse, Kengo will probably come to you directly. I think he went through me as a step to be considerate. In summary, Kengo wants you to see the painting and, if possible, he wants to grab onto a reed. That’s all.”
Osanai-san continued to stare at the cocoa, tilting her head.
“Strange.”
“What’s strange about it?”
“The cocoa in this kind of shop doesn’t form a milk film on the surface. I wonder why…”
“It’s the action of proteins.”
I wasn’t wrong, but it was a useless remark that didn’t help at all. After taking a small sip of the cold cocoa and placing the mug down, she finally looked up and stared at me directly.
“As for Doujima-kun’s story…”
She started, then continued.
“I don’t want to.”
Well, that was understandable.
I leaned back deeply in my seat. Osanai-san and I had formed our reciprocal relationship to escape from such complicated matters. To avoid danger, we used each other. Last spring, when Kengo asked me if I wanted to know the identity of the strange painting, Osanai-san took on the task of solving it precisely for that reason, but it turned out badly, and she was misunderstood as someone who was knowledgeable about paintings. From her perspective, she wished to avoid any incidents that would further spread that false name.
“Well then, what should we do?”
“Since Doujima-kun is a good person, if he hears that I don’t want to, I don’t think he’ll force me.”
“Probably. But if he asks you why you don’t want to, how would you answer?”
“Well…”
Osanai-san paused and thought deeply.
“…I can’t say that it’s because I’m not confident about it, right?”
“I don’t think it’s impossible, but Kengo was giving off the vibe that he didn’t want to put psychological pressure on you, Osanai-san. If you take that into account, it might be better to have a different reason.”
“Then, um…”
Osanai-san stared at the simple mug from the family restaurant for a while. I suddenly glanced outside the window. In this February night, there was no snow in the street, and trucks loaded with goods necessary to sustain society sped east and west.
“Kobato-kun.”
“Hm?”
“What should I do? I can’t think of a reason not to see the painting.”
…Indeed.
Of course, if it turned out that the painting wasn’t a copy, Kengo would breathe a sigh of relief and be able to sleep peacefully. It was true that Osanai-san had no obligation to accept, but it was actually hard to come up with a reason to refuse such a small request. If she refused too categorically, Kengo might think that she harbored ill will towards him. According to our spirit of mutual assistance, I should be Osanai-san’s shield in such situations, but even so, I had no idea what to do this time. For now, I asked a question.
“By the way, to put it bluntly, why don’t you want to?”
“Because I don’t want to be relied upon.”
Without hesitation, a clear answer came back. After a moment, she added,
“And if I really understand Shima Taiga’s intention, I’ll end up like a high school appraiser.”
Would a teacup be sold for a million yen just because Osanai-san glanced at it and said “Hatena”5…?
I also answered back.
“Putting aside the bit about being an appraiser… Not to criticize you, but you didn’t seem to mind being relied upon by Kogi-san.”
Kogi-san was a middle school student living in Nagoya, and we got to know each other by chance. When Koji-san was embroiled in a troublesome incident, Osanai-san went to Nagoya to solve it. By the way, I was also taken along at that time, and I think I was somewhat helpful.
Osanai-san released her hands from the mug, looked down, and put them in the pockets of her down jacket.
“I’ve never thought that I want to be fair to everyone.”
“…”
“Kogi-san is a friend. I didn’t choose for it to be that way, but in the end, we became friends. I did as much as I could because Kogi-san, who was crying, asked for help. Even when Kogi-san herself said halfway through, ‘It’s fine, please stop.’ But I don’t intend to do that for everyone.”
Osanai-san suddenly looked up.
“Kobato-kun, what about you?”
“Me?”
“Doujima-kun is your friend, not mine. If the word ‘friend’ doesn’t resonate with you, it can be an acquaintance or anything else. Do you want to do something for Doujima-kun?”
Do something for Kengo, huh.
As Osanai-san had carefully added, Kengo and I couldn’t be called friends. But it would be a lie to say we had no connection with each other. When Doujima Kengo, with his mouth in a frown, said he was the one who informed the TV station about the painting’s existence, and that he was drowning, did I just think, “Oh, that’s tough,” without any further thought?
…I might have thought exactly that.
On the other side of the full-glass window, trucks continue to rush through the bypass. As Osanai-san shrank her body from the cold, I took a sip of hot oolong tea.
“How about this?”
I said something to buy time.
“It’s hard to refuse to see the painting. So, out of obligation, you’ll at least take a look. Then you’ll say it’s beautiful, but nothing else comes to mind.”
Osanai-san let out a small sigh.
“I also thought that was the only compromise. But, Kobato-kun.”
Dark eyes looked at me sharply.
“Just in case… I’m saying this just in case, but if you find a clue and start deducing, that would mean you used me as a decoy.”
Osanai-san’s words were indeed reasonable.
Osanai-san and I used each other. But it must be with mutual understanding. A little mischief was fine, but using someone without their consent was not acceptable. If I dragged Osanai-san out to pretend to take a look, but as a result noticed something and conveyed it to Kengo, that would be disloyal to Osanai-san.
I suddenly found it amusing. We, of all people, didn’t even consider the most likely possibility that we wouldn’t be able to make any progress on the painting’s mystery from the start. Wasn’t that ridiculous and foolish?
Chuckling a bit, the stiffness in my thoughts melted away. Now I understood what we should do.
“Osanai-san.”
“What is it?”
“I want to help Kengo a little because he’s in trouble. But I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, so I want you to be my decoy. Even if I find something, I’ll be careful about how I convey it so that you don’t become famous as an appraiser.”
Osanai-san nodded.
“Then I understand. I owe you for helping with Kogi-san’s problem, so this will be even.”
“Sorry for asking you to do this.”
“Then, as a down payment, please give me another cup of hot cocoa.”
Why did it turn to me treating her to cocoa when it was supposed to be even? When I her that, Osanai-san hugged herself and shivered. That was probably an appeal for cocoa because it was cold.
Or perhaps it was a gesture saying that she had contracted malaria.
In my view, the facts in this case first needed to be organized.
For that, we needed to strategize a bit more in this family restaurant, so Osanai-san had to endure the cold, which meant we needed to add cocoa. Just as I was about to press the button to call the staff, Osanai-san reached over and pressed it herself, ordering her own cocoa. I couldn’t help but stare at her face.
“Didn’t you want me to buy it for you?”
“…That was a witty petit bourgeois joke.”
Not exactly a joke that was easy to get.
I also stood up, went to the drink bar, and poured more hot oolong tea. By that time, a new cocoa had also been served, and Osanai-san was happily cradling the mug with both hands. The night was getting late, and it was past nine o’clock. It was getting dangerously late for high school students to be wandering around.
“The information Kengo shared about Shima Taiga’s painting was concise, and that’s precisely why it was insufficient. I don’t have the sensitivity to read anything just by looking at the painting. I need more accurate information.”
Osanai-san nodded silently.
“So, what was insufficient about Kengo’s information? What should we ask in detail?”
“Everything.”
A very clear answer.
“…Specifically?”
“What do you think, Kobato-kun?”
Well, it’s true that this matter was originally a request for Osanai-san’s cooperation, but I found it a little unsatisfactory for my question to be thrown back at me. Then again, it was reasonable for me to raise questions as a starting point.
“First, Kengo said that Shima Taiga’s painting was left in school. Where was it? Second, who found it?”
“Hold on.”
Osanai-san released her mug and stopped me.
“How many are you going to list?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’ll definitely forget later, so write it down.”
That was true, but I didn’t have paper or a pen on me… Just as I was thinking that, a notebook appeared in Osanai-san’s hand. No way.
“Huh? Where did that come from?”
“Where, you ask…”
Osanai-san twisted her body a bit, showing me that she was wearing a thin backpack. It seemed that the notebook had been pulled out from over her shoulder from inside the backpack. While I was surprised by her dexterity…
“Why are you wearing a backpack inside the store?”
“Why, you ask… it’s to prevent getting cold from the back…”
She gave me a look that seemed to say, “Why are you asking such an obvious question?” Was I really being senseless there…? I didn’t think so, though…
Whatever the case, a notebook appeared, and then a ballpoint pen came out of the backpack. I took the pen and started listing the vague points from Kengo’s story as they came to mind.
1. Where was Shima Taiga’s painting?
2. Who found it?
3. Was it found by chance, or was it being searched for? If it was being searched for, who suggested that it might be there?
4. Who is Nicolas de Staël?
5. Why was the found painting placed in an empty classroom? Although I feel like there might not be a significant reason for this.
6. Was Kengo the only one who noticed that the painting was a copy of Nicolas de Staël’s painting?
7. What kind of exhibition was the painting displayed in?
8. How did Kengo know that Shima Taiga’s painting was exhibited, even though it was thirty years ago?
9. What kind of evaluation did it receive at the exhibition?
10. Kengo pointed out that it’s strange that Shima Taiga hadn’t collected the painting for decades. I pointed out that it’s strange for a student’s painting from decades ago to still be in the school.
11. Does Shima Taiga not know that it exists? If he did, why hasn’t he done anything about it?
12. What does the title “The Sight and the Outer, or Fortune-cookie” mean?
After adding some points and crossing others out with double lines, it ended up like this.
The painting Shima Taiga had left in school was undoubtedly a copy of Nicolas de Staël’s, but there were many unclear points surrounding it. However, they should all be easy to find out.
“If I ask Kengo, it seems like many of these things can be found out tonight. It’s already late, but I’ll call him later.”
Osanai-san lifted her mug and drank some cocoa, but then looked up at me and said,
“Ok.”
Just to be sure, I asked.
“Osanai-san, do you have any other points you want to know?”
Then Osanai-san tilted her head and gestured for the pen. When I handed her the pen, she put down the mug and wrote in a slightly peculiar handwriting,
13. Are fortune-cookies delicious?
4
It was a bit of a shame that we had to cut our meeting at the family restaurant short. We agreed that it was probably not a good idea to be out past ten o’clock, even if we joked about a little night wandering being the charm of a petit bourgeois. The cold on the way back was unbearable. Osanai-san, who was sensitive to the cold, rode her bike home in full winter gear, but I couldn’t stand the headwind in only my windbreaker and ended up pushing my bike home.
After taking a bath to warm up, I lay down on my bed in my room just before midnight. In the dark room, relying on the moonlight, I studied a sheet of paper. It was a photocopy of the page where I had written my questions.
Calling someone at this hour would be rude. The saying “Even among close friends, there are manners to observe” should be respected. But after a moment’s thought, I concluded that it would be fine if it were Kengo, and I picked up the phone. Since we weren’t close friends, that idiom probably wouldn’t apply.
After dialing his mobile phone number, the call connected immediately. Considering the time, Kengo’s voice was suspicious and distrusting.
“…What is it?”
That made me want to ask what he meant by “What is it?”
“About this afternoon’s matter…”
“Ah… Sorry for asking too much.”
It wasn’t that unreasonable of a request. I just had to ask Osanai-san to look at the painting and give her opinion.
“I talked to Osanai-san. She said that since she’s not an appraiser, she can’t understand the painting’s meaning. But even if she might not be able to do anything, she’ll try her best to look at it.”
“Is that so?”
From the mobile phone, I could hear a sigh.
“That’s helpful. I’ll be a bother to Osanai too.”
“She seemed troubled by the sudden request, but didn’t say it would be a bother.”
This was a lie. Osanai-san did look bothered. But there was no need to convey that to Kengo.
“I hope so.”
Kengo’s words were few, and his voice lacked strength. He’d seemed troubled this afternoon, but hadn’t looked weak. As I was waiting for the right moment to ask the thirteen questions I’d discussed with Osanai-san, Kengo spoke up first.
“Jougorou. I want to ask you something in general.”
“In general, to me?”
“Yeah. You think it’s ridiculous?”
I didn’t think so.
“…When I found Shima Taiga’s painting, I thought it was a great discovery. Honestly, I didn’t think of anything else. Even when I noticed the similarity to de Staël, I was just proud that I was the first to notice something no one else did.”
So Kengo had found the painting himself. This afternoon, he only mentioned that the newspaper club was looking for it, so I assumed that someone else had found it. At that time, he probably didn’t want to say he was the one who found it.
I lay on my back and looked up at the dark ceiling.
“Well… I guess that’s usually how it goes.”
“Would you too?”
“If it were me…”
I thought for a moment and decided to speak my mind.
“I think I would have been even prouder.”
I felt Kengo laughing on the other end of the phone.
“I’m not sure about that. You hide your pride.”
I paused for a moment. I thought I heard the sound of wind on the phone.
“The TV station wants to feature ‘the up-and-coming artist who won an award at the San Francisco Biennale’. Even if they find out that a thirty-year-old forgery was found in the corner of the school where this artist came from, they probably won’t broadcast it. But the truth will leak out and spread. That painting will become Shima Taiga’s Achilles’ heel. One day, at the right moment, that painting might trip Shima Taiga.”
I remained silent. I had nothing to say other than “I guess so.”
“You said that the one who painted that picture is Shima Taiga, so it’s also Shima Taiga’s responsibility. I want to ask you in general.”
Kengo repeated the same words.
“Does that mean I’m the one who made him take responsibility?”
“…I’m not sure.”
I had no intention of encouraging or comforting Kengo. I was just stating what I thought was true.
“All you did was find the painting.”
“And I told the TV station about it… I was happy that a school senior was recognized worldwide. I was supposed to write an article saying, ‘Look at this amazing senior!’ and that was it. I never intended to trip Shima Taiga.”
“To me, it seems like you just drew the short straw. If you hadn’t found it, another club member would have. And that person would have probably told the TV station.”
“That might be true, but…”
“Kengo, the way I see it, you don’t regret bothering Shima Taiga. What you really regret is…”
“…What is it?”
I barely swallowed my words.
“Never mind. I’m sorry, I don’t know. I just had a feeling.”
What I was going to say was that Kengo regretted being happy about being the first to notice the possibility of forgery, after finding Shima Taiga’s painting and then realizing that it was the same as de Staël’s painting. That probably hit the mark, but a little citizen should not hit the mark in people’s hearts.
I passed the phone to my other hand.
“Kengo. Osanai-san wants to know the situation in which the painting was found. I just heard that you found the painting. So, where did you find it? Did you know it was there?”
Kengo must have realized that the conversation had shifted. But he seemed relieved and answered in a slightly more composed voice.
“It was in the Art Preparation room. I heard that Koumura-sensei said he thought he saw Shima Taiga’s painting when he did a big cleanup of the Art Preparation room before, so we searched it as a club.”
“Was there any special reason for displaying the found painting in an empty classroom?”
“No. I thought it would be better to display it like that for multiple people to see, so I consulted with Koumura-sensei, and we, the newspaper club, moved it. The Art Preparation room is small, after all.”
I didn’t take art as an elective subject, so I didn’t know Koumura-sensei’s face, and I didn’t know that the Art Preparation room was small.
“And, were you the only one who noticed that it was a copy of de Staël?”
“That’s right.”
“Amazing.”
“…Do you want to ask anything else?”
“Actually, I do.”
I checked my notes.
“You said that the painting was exhibited. I want to know how you know that and what the name of that exhibition was.”
“Is that related to the identity of the painting…?”
Kengo’s suspicious tone was audible, but he quickly dismissed it himself.
“Well, I shouldn’t have doubted your question when I’m relying on you. Sorry about that. I think you can guess, but Koumura-sensei knew about it. Koumura-sensei and Shima Taiga were in the same year and both were in the Art Club. It seems that when they were in their second year, Shima Taiga submitted that painting to the prefectural exhibition.”
I’d never heard of a “prefectural exhibition,” but I suppose such an event would exist.
“I wonder why it was in the second year. I thought it would be submitted in the third year as a culmination of three years.”
I said it without thinking, and Kengo’s voice was tinged with disbelief.
“That’s up to the person. If I had to guess, the prefectural exhibition is held in fall. I think it would be difficult to devote the summer vacation of the third year to producing an art piece.”
Ah, because of entrance exams. That made sense.
“Also, you said that the painting was kept for thirty years because it was an exhibition piece, right?”
“Did I say that?”
“I think the exact wording was different, but you said something like that.”
From the other end of the phone, I heard Kengo muttering something regretfully.
“That’s not accurate. To explain in order, when Koumura-sensei and the others were in their second year, Shima Taiga submitted that painting to the prefectural exhibition, and it was displayed. Koumura-sensei graduated from university, became a teacher, and has been at this high school ever since. After he started working here for a while, he found that painting while cleaning the Art Preparation room. It seems to be treated as a forgotten item of a graduate. Normally, he would contact the owner to retrieve it or dispose of it with the owner’s permission, but he had already lost contact with Shima Taiga at that point. It’s a painting with memories, so he couldn’t bring himself to dispose of it until now.”
I’d found it strange that a graduate’s work was kept for thirty years just because it was displayed in an exhibition, but now I could understand the circumstances after hearing the explanation.
“One last thing, then. Does Shima Taiga know that the painting still exists?”
“I don’t know.”
Kengo answered in an uncertain tone.
“I don’t know if the TV station told Shima Taiga’s agent.”
“That’s true. I understand.”
Glancing at the clock, it was close to one o’clock.
“It’s getting pretty late.”
“Still, I’m glad you contacted me early.”
“You’re welcome. Since it’s a matter of discussion, I don’t know if this can be a help… for Osanai-san.”
“Like I said at school, I’m not expecting much. Sorry for being rude. See you.”
Right before hanging up, I noticed that there was one more item left on my notes.
“Ah, wait! I wanted to ask one more thing.”
Kengo seemed to have already moved the phone away from his ear, so his reaction was slow.
“…What is it? Is it important?”
“I don’t know, but Osanai-san wants to know.”
“Ask me anything. It’ll be perfect if even a small thing can be a hint.”
“You’re right, so I’ll ask.”
“Go ahead.”
“Are fortune cookies delicious?”
It took a while for his answer to be transmitted over. I think Kengo was probably wondering whether to be angry, laugh, or take it seriously. But his voice was serious to the point of austerity.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any information on that.”
5
Before going to sleep, I briefly summarized my conversation with Kengo and sent a message to Osanai-san from my mobile phone. When I woke up the next morning, I received a concise reply from Osanai-san.
“Art museum? Library?”
It was a Saturday, but it Osanai-san apparently intended to proceed with the investigation. She really was quick to act whenever she decided to do something.
Osanai-san’s message means this: From the conversation with Kengo, we learned that Shima Taiga’s painting was exhibited in the prefectural exhibition. Since it was exhibited in his second year of high school, we can almost narrow down the year. If we want to investigate the records of that year’s prefectural exhibition, would the art museum or the library be more appropriate?
I thought for a moment and replied.
“Library.”
Thsy way, we could access a wider variety of materials, and more importantly, it was closer to my house than the art museum. After a quick breakfast and getting dressed, I headed to the prefectural library on my bicycle. Based on yesterday’s painful experience, or rather, the painfully cold experience, I chose a lined jacket for additional warmth.
We’d agreed to meet at the main lobby of the prefectural library. I arrived about four minutes before the appointment, but Osanai-san was already there. Her face was buried in a scarf, her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her duffel coat, and she was sitting on a long bench near the entrance, observing people coming and going. When our eyes met, she nodded slightly.
I didn’t think a greeting would be necessary, so I started with a question.
“Do you want to investigate right away? Or would it be better if I told you more about what Kengo said?”
Osanai-san’s reply was brief.
“Latter.”
Then she turned her head and glanced at the corner of the lobby.
“It’s sunnier over there, so let’s move.”
“Alright… You could have waited over there. Not in such a windy place.”
“Good idea. I wish you told me that earlier.”
She had probably positioned herself where she could see me coming in. Osanai-san was sometimes strangely conscientious, and I didn’t really understand when that conscientiousness would come into play.
The prefectural library was a space that used plenty of glass, creating a sense of openness. It was so open that it felt hot in summer and cold in winter, and had received great praise from patrons for allowing them to feel the changing seasons on their skin. The interior also featured an open-concept design, so it felt anything but cramped, but was also impossible to efficiently heat or cool. The long bench that Osanai-san chose was bathed in the warm winter sun, and was indeed much warmer than any other spot in the library. I asked if she wanted something to drink since there was a vending machine nearby, but Osanai-san shook her head side to side.
I took a sheet of paper from my bag.
“I’ll tell you about what Kengo said again, even though I lightly mentioned it in the message.”
Then, I looked down at the copy, recalled Kengo’s answers, and conveyed them to Osanai-san. She only occasionally nodded slightly and didn’t interrupt with any questions. When I finished speaking, she said “Hmm” with a slightly cold expression.
Now it was Osanai-san’s turn to give her report.
“Nicolas de Staël was a Russian who was exiled from Russia because the revolution. He painted in Paris and eventually committed suicide. I don’t know the reason.”
So Kengo knew about the exiled Russian’s painting? Again, in a word, that was surprising.
“The prefectural exhibition is held every fall, usually at the end of September or the beginning of October. The eligibility to exhibit is for residents of the prefecture and those who have had an address in the prefecture for a certain period of time. This point probably isn’t strictly enforced, so in practice, anyone can submit a work.”
It was good that we’d chosen a warm seats, but with the sun is directly in front of me, it was dazzling, even in winter. Osanai-san lowered her face and shook her legs a bit.
“It’s divided into general and youth categories, and adults cannot submit to the youth category, but youths can submit to the general category. The judging criteria weren’t written anywhere, but not all submissions are displayed, and those that go against public order and morals…”
Against public order and morals, huh.
“It seems that those that simply don’t meet the level for display are rejected.”
Which meant that Shima Taiga’s “The Sight and the Outer, or Fortune-cookie” was exhibited in either the youth or general category. Kengo had clearly stated that the painting was exhibited, so if there are no mistakes in his story, it shouldn’t have been rejected.
“Just in case…”
Osanai-san pressed on.
“The exhibition is divided into seven divisions: Japanese painting, Western painting, sculpture, crafts, photography, calligraphy, and modeling.”
“Amazing. You can list all seven divisions without looking. Say it again.”
“Japanese painting, Western painting, sculpture, crafts, photography, calligraphy, and modeling.”
“Amazing, amazing.”
Osanai-san remained expressionless and slightly arched her body. She might have intended to puff out her chest, but because of the thick duffel coat, her movements were hard to discern, and she just looked like a person facing up.
Shima Taiga’s painting is a Western painting. That gave us a rough idea of where to look.
“Shall we start, then?”
I said and stood up from the long bench.
“Shima Taiga is now forty-seven years old. Since he exhibited the painting in his second year of high school, the most likely possibility is exactly thirty years ago. Depending on what month his birthday is, and considering the possibility of repeating a year or failing an entrance exam, it would be best to check the Western painting category for about two years after that.”
“Then, I’ll leave that to you, Kobato-kun. I have something else I want to investigate, so let’s meet in front of the lending counter in an hour.”
Investigating separately? That’s fine, but…
“What do you mean by ‘something else’?”
“It’s a secret.”
“…You aren’t investigating the taste of fortune cookies, are you?”
Osanai-san also stood up from the long bench, smiled for a moment, and without saying anything more, entered the reading room. Well, she probably had something in mind, so I should do my part.
After asking the librarian, I easily found the catalog for the prefectural exhibition. The first exhibition was held exactly forty years ago, so I should look for the tenth one. I took out the catalogs from the shelves, including those from subsequent years, and carried them to a table for reference. Most of the tables were occupied by students studying and elderly people idly sitting around, and it seemed that not many people were reading library books.
I immediately started looking at the exhibited works of the tenth prefectural exhibition, youth category, and found the total number of submissions and displayed works written at the beginning of the catalog. According to that, about ten percent of the submitted works were rejected. Curious, I also checked the general category, and it seemed that the judging was stricter there, with about fifty to sixty percent being rejected.
The award-winning works were displayed with photos in the catalog, and I hoped that Shima Taiga’s painting would be among them. As I flipped through the pages, I found that the grand prize-winning work in the youth category of the tenth prefectural exhibition was titled “Myself”, which was an abstract painting with dancing pinks and reds. There was some information on it: 130 cm x 194 cm, board, oil paint. I looked at the excellence and encouragement awards, but “The Sight and the Outer, or fortune-cookie” was not listed. It apparently didn’t win an award.
The complete list of exhibited works was at the end. I checked each name of the exhibitors and their exhibited works, which were written in small letters.
“…Not here.”
Shima Taiga’s name and the title of the painting couldn’t be found. I checked the list of Western paintings in the general category, but again, neither name was found. I wondered if Shima Taiga was a pseudonym and if there was a different real name, but the painting I saw in the empty classroom had a piece of paper with “Shima Taiga” clearly written on it.
Then, could it be that he repeated a year or something? I checked the catalogs for the eleventh and twelfth exhibitions. First, I looked at the award-winning works with photos, then the lists, carefully tracing both the youth and general categories with my finger to avoid missing anything.
“Hmm?”
I let out a sound.
The names still couldn’t be found. I double-checked, but Shima Taiga’s name was nowhere to be found. Were there multiple exhibitions called the prefectural exhibition? I didn’t think so, but just to be sure, I went to the reference counter and asked the librarian, and the answer was, “This is the only prefectural exhibition we have information on.”
This made the statement that “Shima Taiga’s painting was exhibited in the prefectural exhibition” become suspect. If the painting wasn’t displayed in any exhibition, then it was just a copy or a study, and there was nothing to feel guilty about. The statement that “the painting from thirty years ago was stored in the Art Preparation room because it was exhibited in the prefectural exhibition” was denied in my phone call with Kengo, so even if the fact that it was exhibited ceased to exist, there would be no contradictions.
Could it be that it was submitted but rejected? ButKengo clearly stated in last night’s phone call that it was submitted and exhibited.
No, I should investigate the materials at hand before doubting the source of information. For example, that painting might be classified as a Japanese painting rather than a Western painting in the context of the exhibition. I checked the pages for Japanese paintings.
…Not there.
It couldn’t be considered a0 photograph or calligraphy. So, is the information distorted somewhere? Kengo’s information that the painting was exhibited in the exhibition should have come from Mr. Koumura. Since it was thirty years ago, could Mr. Koumura have misremembered? While thinking about this, I flipped through the pages, occasionally checking the time. I thought I had to go to the promised meeting place when I caught a glimpse of the string “fortune-cookie” at the edge of my vision while looking at the list of names and all exhibited works. But in the next moment, my finger flipped several pages at once.
Ah, I involuntarily let out a sound again. The cold gazes of the people around me pierced through. Feeling apologetic, I focused my eyes back on the catalog. What page did I just see?
For the next few minutes, I continued flipping through the catalog in search of the text I had seen. Eventually, I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. When I looked up and turned around, Osanai-san was standing there. She spoke in a hushed voice.
“You didn’t come.”
Sorry.
But I just found it. I placed my index finger on the text and showed it to Osanai-san. She didn’t seem particularly impressed. She probably thought that I’d found the name that should be there as a matter of course. I slid my finger over the catalog and stopped at the top of the list. Seeing the words written there, Osanai-san widened her eyes a bit. It read “Youth Category, Modeling Division.”
“Modeling division…?”
Tilting her head, Osanai-san muttered. This required a bit of consideration, but no matter how quietly we speak, discussing it here would draw disapproving looks. As a petit bourgeois… no, even if I wasn’t, I wanted to maintain the tranquility of the library. While I was thinking about what to do, Osanai-san suggested,
“There’s a good place on the second floor.”
As guided by Osanai-san, we arrived at a small table for one person surrounded by bookshelves, in a dusty, quiet, unfrequented area without sunlight. I was impressed by how she could find such a hidden spot in the public library on a Saturday when all the tables were close to filled.
I placed the prefectural exhibition catalog, and Osanai-san placed a large magazine on the small desk. There was only one chair, so Osanai-san sat down, and I stood next to her, looking around. Here, it seemed safe to speak in a low voice.
“Modeling division…?”
Osanai-san repeated the exact same words with the same intonation as before. I opened the list of exhibitors in the modeling division of the tenth prefectural exhibition catalog again. “Shima Taiga, ‘The Sight and the Outer, or fortune-cookie’, 165 cm x 102 cm, canvas, oil paint”.
“What does ‘modeling’ mean?”
I asked, and Osanai-san tilted her head as well.
“Making shapes… but it shouldn’t be the same as sculpture.”
There was a separate sculpture division, so it should be different. But we didn’t need to ponder over it. The catalog had photos of the award-winning works. By looking at the modeling division’s photos, we could immediately understand what it referred to to.
The grand prize in the modeling division of the tenth prefectural exhibition was some thing titled “Cage”. I didn’t know how else to describe it. It was a combination of iron rods and boxes, all of them rusted, and gave off an ominous feel. The excellence award went to “Beyond Time”, which was shaped like an egg with wings. The encouragement award was for “Shape of Growth”, which could be described as a strange shape resembling a mushroom writhing in abdominal pain. I didn’t know the exact definition, but seeing all the works together allowed me to get a sense of their atmosphere. Basically, the modeling division was…
“An other, free division, maybe…”
Osanai-san used a more appropriate term.
“Perhaps it’s for objets6…”
While looking at the modeling division page, I asked.
“What does it mean that Shima Taiga’s painting was exhibited in the modeling division?”
“That it’s neither a Western painting nor a Japanese painting.”
Osanai-san answered.
“To be precise, it means that it was more a work of the modeling division than a Western or Japanese painting.”
I hadn’t believed Kengo’s words that about the painting having a hidden meaning until this point. I thought it was a somewhat uncharacteristic escapism for Kengo, a way to turn away from the fact that he had become the starting point for spreading Shima Taiga’s plagiarism to the world. I wanted to do as much as I could, and while I thought I might be able to uncover whatever this “hidden meaning” was if it existed, I also believed that such a thing probably didn’t exist in the first place. But the winds had shifted. There was something to that painting… no, that objet.
As I had that realization, a strange points began to emerge.
“Osanai-san. This ‘165 cm x 102 cm’ is the size, right?”
“Yes.”
“Is it vertical by horizontal or horizontal by vertical?”
Osanai-san and I checked the other modeling works. Comparing the numbers before and after the multiplication sign, for vertical works, the first number was larger, while for horizontal works, the second number was larger.
“Vertical by horizontal.”
Osana-san answered. But that led to a contradiction.
“You haven’t seen it yet, but the painting found at our school is horizontal. The width of 102 cm isn’t strange. I think it was about that size. But the height…”
It was hard to imagine that the work was meant to be viewed vertically, since the original painting by de Staël was horizontal. Osanai-san nodded and pointed to part of the list.
“There’s a list of materials. ‘Cage’ is made of iron and aluminum, ‘Shape of Growth’ is made of plaster and feathers. Kobato-kun, was Shima Taiga’s work made of wood?”
“…I wonder.”
There were wooden parts, but not all of it was wood.
“The frame was wooden. It might be beech.”
“You know…”
Osanai-san said.
“I think this work was in the shape of ‘a painting leaning against an easel’.”
A bold deduction, but the evidence for that was weak.
However, it hit me when I heard her suggestion. If it were an easel, the height would be just about that. Or even if it didn’t have the shape of an easel, the de Staël copy might have been placed on some kind of decorative stand made of wood—maybe in the shape of a box of oranges or a vaulting horse. I was almost certain of it. The dimensions in the catalog were for that state.
“Do you think Shima Taiga’s work only made sense when combined with the easel?”
When I asked, Osanai-san tilted her head.
“I can’t say for sure since I haven’t seen it, but… I don’t think so. Because the painting found in the art preparation room had a paper with the title stuck to it, right? So, that painting alone was sufficient as a work. Even if the easel provided the vertical length to the entire work made of wood, it might have been part of the work, but I don’t think it was inseparable.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
But even if that painting was part of an objet rather than a painting, it didn’t mean that we’d found the “hidden meaning” Kengo was looking for. There was something to the objet. But what was it?
Out of nowhere, Osanai-san closed the catalog.
“By the way…”
She said, and showed me the cover of the magazine she’d brought. It was the March issue of a magazine called “Art Shinsou7.” Since it was February now, it must have just come out. The phrase “Pre-Raphaelite” was written in big letters as the month’s special feature, and in the corner of the cover were the words “Shima Taiga Interview.”
“Wow.”
A sound of admiration slipped out louder than I intended. Quickly covering my mouth and looking around, I confirmed that there were still no people, then spoke in a low voice.
“Good find.”
“I thought there might be something. I was hoping to find something in old articles, but I thought that the latest issue would have the award interview.”
“Have you read it yet?”
“I only saw the photo at the beginning. The interview wasn’t that long, but I thought it might be rude to skim through it.”
Let’s get started, then. Osanai-san opened the pages of “Art Shinsou”.
A photo took up the entire first page of the article. Depicted in it was something that was hard to put into words.
If I had to describe it, it looked like a Western-style ghost statue covered with a sheet. The statue was much larger than the adult man standing next to it. What was it made of, I wondered. The sheet was rippled and wrinkled in many places, and torn in others, revealing something underneath. One wrong step could turn it into a horror movie monster, but when I first saw it, I thought it gave off the feeling of loneliness. It felt lonely, yet somehow scary. When I thought that, I realized that the impression I got was the same as the one I got when I saw the copy of Nicolas de Staël yesterday after school.
The title was “The Gaze and The Shell”. Gaze and Shell. Was this the work that won the Black Bear Award at the San Francisco Biennale? And… it wasn’t a painting, but a three-dimensional work?
Osanai-san spoke.
“I thought it was necessary to see this photo. I don’t know much about art, but I know that many artists find a theme and continue to pursue it. The one found in the art preparation room is titled ‘The Sight and the Outer, or fortune-cookie’, right? Then ‘Gaze and Shell’ should be its advanced version.”
I momentarily lost the line of reasoning. Why was it necessary to look at this current work “Gaze and Shell” to question the true meaning of the thirty-year-old work “The Sight and the Outer, or fortune-cookie”? Just because many people pursue a single theme doesn’t provide much basis for that.
Seemingly noticing my confusion, Osanai-san added a brief explanation.
“Gaze means sight.”8
“Oh…”
I felt my face turn red. How could I not have noticed the connection between the past and present works, which were so blatantly connected, until it was pointed out to me? I was speechless at how foolish I was.
“Osanai-san.”
I attempted a futile resistance to protect my self-esteem.
“Did you know the word ‘gaze’?”
If she knew it, it would be a matter of knowledge rather than observation or reasoning. But Osanai-san shook her head.
“Except for the fortune cookie, I thought maybe it was the same because of the way the title A and B is given, so I looked it up. I kind of knew about ‘shell’.”
Then, there was almost no difference in knowledge between me and her.
“As expected of Osanai-san.”
Osanai-san arched her body again. Could it have recently become her favorite gesture… I should tell her someday that it didn’t look like she was puffing out her chest.
Thus, we both turned our eyes to the magazine page at the same time, and started reading the interview.
†
- Congratulations on winning the Black Bear Award. Please tell us your feelings.
Thank you. This is my tenth time exhibiting at the San Francisco Biennale, and most of the works I thought were “amazing” have usually received either the Black Bear Award or the White Bear Award (editor’s note: the award for the most votes from visitors). So, when I am told that my work falls into that category, it feels strange.
- You are the first Japanese to win the Black Bear Award for an objet. What do you think is the charm of objets?
Actually, I am not particularly attached to objets. Every time I think about what to do, and when I create something thinking that this is the only way, it ends up being classified as an objet.
- It is a work that stimulates the viewer’s imagination and is very exciting. I always want to see the hidden parts of your work, Shima-sensei.
That’s right, imagination is important. It is an important part of my theme.
- The title “Gaze and Shell” has been used several times.
Indeed, it is a bit of a one-trick pony (laughs). Including the old ones, this is probably the fourteenth work. If I don’t get the number 14 right, I might lose track myself. Well, some people make their works “Untitled”, so mine is kind of like that.
- What was the first “Gaze and Shell” like?
Oh dear. It was an embarrassing sketch. The essence of what I’m doing hasn’t changed much from now, but the method was crude. I don’t have it on hand either.
- What kind of attachment do you have to the “Gaze and Shell” series?
I am often asked this, but… I cannot explain it well. Sometimes I talk about it, but when I was a child, I lived in San Francisco and often went to Chinese restaurants with my family. After the meal, we would get fortune cookies. Have you ever eaten fortune cookies?
- No, I have not.
I see. They are innocents things which you break open to see the fortune inside. It is fun to read the fortune, but sometimes you come across a poetic line that takes your breath away. Apparently, it originated from that city. I still remember a place called Red Dragon near my house, and their fortune cookies were delicious.
- That memorable?
Yes. They had a hint of coconut, but that was not all. Unfortunately, the store is no longer there, so I can never taste it again. It left a deep impression on me as a child. Fortune cookies are meant to be broken open to see the fortune inside. If there are a hundred people, a hundred people only care about the fortune. I do too. Yet, the people at that store thought about how to make the cookie outside everyone’s consciousness delicious. I think they went through quite a bit of trial and error. The taste changed sometimes, so they must have continued improving their recipe. I cannot say it well, but it made me think that there is something that makes this world worth living in. I feel like my reason for continuing with art is to turn that intuition from back then into a shape.
- The shell is the outer shell, right? Then what does gaze, sight, mean to you, Shima-san?
Things that caress the surface. After all, human eyes can only caress the surface. So if you want to convey something to others, you have to present your spirit on the surface. Whether it is something you love or something you hate. But is that surface the same as the inner depths? No, it is not that simple. Nothing is simple.
- What kind of things do you plan to create in the future?
I am not sure, but I think I will ultimate only have one theme, which is the fortune cookie.
- Finally, please say a word to the Japanese readers.
It is getting hotter every year. Please be careful of heat stroke.
- Thank you very much.
(From the San Francisco Atelier)
†
I couldn’t help but look at Osanai-san. She had a face like a pigeon that had just been hit by a peashooter. When she noticed my gaze, she shook her head vigorously.
“I didn’t know.”
I hadn’t said anything yet. But I spoke anyway for posterity.
“So it turns out that the question of whether fortune cookies are delicious is a significant one.”
“I didn’t say it with knowledge of this.”
“Then?”
“It’s all coincidence, not superpowers or prophecies.”
I wondered why she was so adamant about it.
Deciding to put that aside, I looked at the sheet monster that won the Black Bear Award and said.
“I think I understand how Shima Taiga wanted that painting to be seen.”
Osanai-san nodded.
“I think I’m ready to see the painting.”
“The problem is the width and depth.”
“Yeah. And the fortune cookie.”
In a deserted corner of the library, we whispered to each other.
6
The “appraisal meeting” was arranged to be held on Monday after school.
After classes ended, the school building began to be enveloped in the noise of students leaving and doing club activities. The sounds of music clubs and the shouts of sports clubs could be heard near and far. It wasn’t necessary for me to be present while Osanai-san looked at the painting, and Kengo hadn’t asked me to come either. But I chose to go anyway. I just might be able to provide some assistance.
For the time being, I was go to pick up Osanai-san in her classroom and guide her to the empty classroom where “The Sight and the Outer, or fortune-cookie” was placed. As we walked down the hallway, Osanai-san didn’t seem particularly tense or relaxed, but she had a slightly annoyed expression on her face.
The empty classroom was unlocked. Just like on Friday, the desk and chairs were moved to create a space where the copy of Nicolas de Staël, or Shima Taiga’s sculptural work, was framed and placed on an easel. Doujima Kengo was standing there with a serious expression, and in the corner of the classroom, the art teacher Koumura was standing with a somewhat smiling face.
“Sorry for asking you to come here, Osanai.”
Kengo called out, but Osanai-san didn’t respond, and instead hid behind me. I spoke to her over my shoulder.
“Osanai-san, if you hide, he won’t be able to see you.”
Osanai-san nodded and took one step forward. First, she bowed to Koumura-sensei who was in the corner of the classroom and said in a voice that seemed like it would disappear.
“Hello.”
Apparently not expecting a greeting, Koumura-sensei replied with a puzzled “Ah, hello.” He then turned to Kengo and said,
“Is she the one you said is knowledgeable about this?”
“I don’t know if she is knowledgeable, but she has helped me before.”
“I see.”
Kengo spoke as if he had made up his mind.
“I am sorry to take your time during club activities. We are just going to look at the painting, so…”
“Is it okay if I’m not present? That’s not how it works. Anything that happens to the important painting cannot be undone.”
I’d actually wondered why Mr. Koumura was here. So it was for management of the artwork, huh.
“Alright. Then, I’ll leave it to you.”
Kengo bowed his head.
During this brief exchange, Osanai-san was standing front of the painting and measuring its width with a tape measure she had somehow obtained. It was a remarkable feat that took advantage of the psychological gaps of everyone present. Osanai-san whispered into my ear.
“114 cm.”
That number was 12 cm longer than the dimensions we’d found in the catalog of the 10th Prefectural Exhibition. Osanai-san showed no signs of agitation at the increased width. In other words, she had already anticipated it.
What was the identity of the additional 12 cm? Of course, it was the frame. When this painting was exhibited at the Prefectural Exhibition, it was probably not framed. If Osanai-san’s prediction of “a painting leaning against an easel” was indeed the complete picture of Shima Taiga’s sculptural work, then it would be strange for the painting to be framed. That was probably done for the sake of preservation after the Prefectural Exhibition ended.
Meaning that the painting’s current state was different from that of thirty years ago.
Osanai-san turned to Kengo.
“Doujima-kun. I want to remove the frame.”
“The frame?”
Kengo showed his confusion.
“Won’t it damage the painting?”
“I’m not sure… but I want to remove it.”
Amazing. Without giving any reason, and not even looking at Kengo’s face, she timidly made her request. If Kengo said he couldn’t do it, it would be the best outcome for Osanai-san as an excuse.
But unfortunately, Doujima Kengo was the type of person who would do anything to help if you ask him to push through. He answered shortly with “Understood” and spoke to Koumura-sensei.
“I am going to remove the frame. What should I do to avoid damaging the painting?”
Kengo was also quite impressive. He didn’t say “May I remove the frame?” but rather “I am going to remove the frame.” Koumura-sensei put on a serious expression, but perhaps seeing that Kengo wouldn’t back down, he sighed and said,
“We can’t have anything go wrong. I’ll do it.”
As he said that, he stepped in front of the painting.
“There’s no taping. That makes it simple.”
As expected of an art teacher, he flipped the frame over and removed the canvas, propping it back up on the easel in no time. The colors that had been hidden behind the yellowed plastic sheet emerged after thirty years.
Osanai-san glanced at me for a moment and nodded slightly, just enough for the tip of her chin to twitch. I suddenly exclaimed.
“Koumura-sensei, please let me see that frame!”
Kengo and Koumura-sensei both looked startled.
“Jougorou, what’s with this all of a sudden?”
Ignoring Kengo’s protest, I approached Koumura-sensei. He looked at the frame in his hand and said,
“It’s just a cheap one.”
He then handed it to me.
It was quite an old frame, and as Koumura-sensei had commented, it wasn’t particularly impressive. After the Prefectural Exhibition, Shima Taiga had probably framed it himself. It might have even been handmade by Shima Taiga; if so, the frame might have some value. However, my serious examination of an otherwise ordinary frame must have looked a bit comical to Kengo and the others. Kengo and Koumura-sensei’s attention was drawn to me.
All of a sudden…
“Ah.”
A voice came up. It was Osanai-san. What happened? Just when I’d drawn their attention away from her, she raised her voice herself. Looking closer, Osanai-san was pointing at the bottom of the painting.
“There’s something written there.”
“What?”
Kengo hurriedly leaned in to look at the painting, and Koumura-sensei bent down to bring his face closer to the painting. I followed the tip of Osanai-san’s finger from behind the two.
There were thin black letters that read, “Originate from The Square Fort in Antibes by Nicolas de Staël. I love him.”9 The letters were written right at the bottom of the painting — until just now, they had been hidden behind the frame.
“What!”
Kengo sighed.
“In the end, it was a study! Shima Taiga properly labeled the study so that it would be recognized as a copy and submitted it to the Prefectural Exhibition.”
Koumura-sensei adjusted his glasses, which had slipped down because he was looking down.
“But the Prefectural Exhibition should only accept original works…”
“That is a problem with the judges who overlooked it. Shima Taiga did not submit someone else’s work as his own. That’s great! Osanai, I can’t believe it! I never thought it would be true… amazing!”
Kengo looked like he was about to jump for joy. He praised Osanai-san and bowed his head, and if Osanai-san hadn’t been a girl, he would have picked her up and thrown her in the air. On the other hand, Osanai-san’s embarrassment was pitiful to see.
“Um… well, I just thought that it might not be visible through the plastic, and it was just a coincidence… if you take it out of the frame, anyone would have noticed…”
“The idea of taking it out of the frame didn’t even occur to me! You really helped me, I owe you one.”
“I didn’t do anything… I’m just…”
Osanai-san stepped back as if to escape from Kengo and naturally moved to hide behind me, like water flowing to a lower place. Kengo exclaimed, “Oh right!” and brought over a paper bag that was on a nearby desk.
“Let me give you a small token of gratitude. This is delicious.”
“Eh?”
Osanai-san’s voice brightened up.
“What is it?”
Osanai-san leapt out from behind me and took the paper bag from Kengo. She should definitely be careful about getting lured away by a bad person with candy or something. Kengo said with a rare, beaming smile.
“There’s a German bread shop nearby. They serve Berliner Pfannkuchen, which is basically fried bread. Don’t be shy, take it!”
7
The sun was already starting to set on the path back home. The winter solstice had passed, so the days should be getting longer, but it didn’t feel like it at all.
The road we were taking was a narrow path lined with old houses on both sides, avoiding the usual bypass. The bypass had heavy traffic, making it difficult to hear each other’s voices over the sound of passing cars. Osanai-san was holding the paper bag that Kengo had given her, and she occasionally sniffed it or lifted it up to look underneath, as if she were wary of it being poisoned.
Since the road was narrow, there weren’t many cars passing by, and there were few pedestrians. I took the opportunity to speak.
“I can’t believe there would be such words written. It was completely out of my expectations.”
“…Yeah.”
Seemingly giving up on inspecting the fried bread, Osanai-san replied with a sigh.
“In the end, it turned out that I solved it.”
“I’m sorry. There was nothing I could do.”
“I was the one who said there were words written on the frame. It’s not your fault, Kobato-kun. But that aside…”
Osanai-san buried her face halfway into her scarf and looked at me with a resentful expression.
“I’ll make you pay for this.”
There was nothing I could do, but the debt seemed to be getting bigger.
I clasped my hands behind my head and looked up at the winter sky.
“It should have gone smoothly…”
The original plan was like this. Osanai-san would look at the painting, but claim that she couldn’t think of anything at all, then call it a day, letting things take their course. I’d intended to proceed according to the plan we’d made at the family restaurant.
This plan, if executed, would have left Kengo tormented by guilt for a long time. But in the end, everything should have gone well. Because Shima Taiga’s sculptural work “The Sight and the Outer, or fortune-cookie” was not a forgery.
The credits clearly stating the original made Kengo understand that the painting was a study. However, that was a hasty conclusion. If he’d read the interview and looked at this year’s San Francisco Biennale’s Black Bear Award “Gaze and Shell”, he would have understood.
That painting was a fortune cookie.
“Hey, Osanai-san. You looked at the painting, right?”
Osanai-san looked a bit angry as expected, but she nodded clearly.
The reason I’d asked Koumura-sensei to show me the frame was to draw the attention of both him and Kengo. By approaching him, I would Osanai-san from his view. And while I was pretending to examine the frame, Osanai-san should have touched and examined the painting.
“Did you find anything?”
“I found something that you probably expected to find.”
“A cut.”
“Yup.”
That painting was a fortune cookie. The visible part was the outer cookie, and inside it was a hidden message.
The outer layer was a copy of de Staël. Shima Taiga put what he loved and chased after on the surface. Inside it was the subject of love, the innermost part of Shima Taiga himself. To put it simply, the canvas was double-layered, and there was another painting inside the first one. In a single work, he expressed both what was on the surface and what lay deeper. This was probably Shima Taiga’s “The Sight and the Outer,” the theme he had been pursuing.
The fortune cookie must be broken to take out the message.
That painting was an interactive and one-time work that revealed the second layer by tearing apart the first layer of de Staël. The reason de Staël remained unbroken for thirty years was either because no one understood Shima Taiga’s intention or because, even if they did understand, no one was willing to go along with that idea.
Some day, would there be someone who wants to tear apart de Staël and see the inner Shima Taiga? To be honest, I thought that to be dubious. No one will tear apart the first layer, probably forever. Because… the innermost part of a person is something that doesn’t matter. No one would do that, risking the crime of property damage.
Anyway, if the intention of the work was to have someone tear apart the first layer, it wasn’t hard to imagine that there would be a cut to psychologically and physically encourage that.
“How was the cut made?”
“In the middle. I checked to see if it was there, but it was long enough not to miss it. About twenty centimeters, I think.”
“Did you see the inside… the cut? The inner painting?”
As I asked, Osanai-san suddenly looked up at the sky. Night was approaching, and the sky was turning a deep blue from the east. Shivering slightly, Osanai-san replied.
“Yes.”
“What was it like?”
“Hmm… I guess I was a bit surprised. But looking back, it might have been surprisingly ordinary.”
That wasn’t very clear.
“Don’t beat around the bush. What was drawn there?”
“…I don’t know. If you want to see it, Kobato-kun, go see it yourself. What I can tell you is that the painful truth is closer to us than the expression of the sculptural work. For example…”
Osanai-san searched for words, tilted her head, glanced at the souvenir from Kengo, and said in a whisper that seemed to be carried away by the wind.
“Be careful of Koumura-sensei. He said he didn’t realize that Shima Taiga’s painting was a copy of de Staël. I think you also realized it, but that’s a lie. He can read French, but he doesn’t know where in France Antibes is, and he didn’t realize that Shima Taiga’s painting was de Staël’s painting of Antibes. That’s a lie.”
The moon was already out in the sky.
“He thought that Shima Taiga had committed forgery, so he kept it for thirty years. He didn’t know it was a sculptural work, but he kept it to shoot Shima from behind at the right moment. It’s a wonderful plan. But Doujima-kun, Kobato-kun, and I shattered it to pieces. I don’t think that means something will happen, but be careful. Well, my house is over there. Goodbye.”
Contents | The Rome Gelato Mystery
- The Fujiwara clan dominated Japanese politics for over two centuries during the Heian period through strategic marriages and ruthless elimination of rivals.
- Brothers who were installed as puppet Shoguns by their maternal relatives, and soon after assassinated by them.
- The first “Western painter” in Japan who learned full-scale oil painting techniques and was active from the late Edo period to the middle of the Meiji era. His best-known painting is a salmon hung up to dry.
- “The Sight and the Outer” is in Japanese, while “Fortune-cookie” is written in English here.
- Hatena’s Rice Bowl, a Rakugo (Traditional verbal Japanese storytelling) story that follows the comedic misunderstandings and cultural mishaps centered around a special order of a unique Japanese rice bowl.
- Short for objet d’art, which translates to “object of art” and describes a small, three-dimensional item of some artistic value. Paintings and large sculptures are not included.
- “Shinsou” translates to “the heart of the matter”. There’s also a “Shinsou” magazine in Hyouka, so I decided to leave the word untranslated.
- “The Sight and the Outer” is in Japanese, while “Gaze and Shell” is in Katakana using English borrowed words, and “The Gaze and The Shell” is in English.
- This is written in English.
What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t think I was able to read these uncollected stories so soon. Thank you so much for translating them.
Very cool mystery. I like the concept of a layered painting that can only be fully portrayed once.