And Thus Diogenes Pondered (2)

Akiha sat at the head of the long table, the exalted spot normally occupied by Haruhi, with her legs crossed and a copy of the Kamijousaki-zaka spread out in front of her. Her long lashes flitted delicately as Haruhi and I entered the room and, when no answer was forthcoming, the former repeated herself.

“What are you doing here?”

“Read this,” Akiha said, placing a piece of paper on the table and then pushing it towards us.

Haruhi picked up the piece of paper and examined it. “Request denied,” she said eventually. I had been reading over Haruhi’s shoulder and saw that it was an application form for the New Wave Mystery Society.

“It’s already a done deal, Miss Vice President,” Akiha replied with haughty candour. “I’ve already gotten the President’s permission.”

“President Sawamura was here?” Haruhi looked surprised. “When?” she asked, a sense of urgency had crept into her voice.

“Just now,” Akiha answered nonchalantly. As though it were an unimportant tidbit, she added: “His girlfriend was here too. You know, the foreign one.”

“Maya-senpai,” Haruhi whispered, but not to anyone in particular. The names were somewhat familiar; after all, it was only last week that the other members of the New Wave Mystery Society were described to me. If I recalled correctly, the President and Maya-senpai were busy directing a short film for the former’s film school application.

Truthfully, I was unhappy with the fact that this aspiring fifth member met the President before me. With every intention of airing my grievances I opened my mouth to speak when the door slid open again and Kazami strolled in, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

As he approached, I noticed that his hair was still dripping wet. The maroon tracksuit he was attired in seemed to be more comfortable than flattering. “I got your text, Tanizaki,” he said, as he flung his duffel bag onto the table.

Haruhi had been giving Akiha the evil eye, a look that screamed “I’ll deal with you later!” but shifted her attention entirely to Kazami as soon as he entered. It was almost as though Akiha’s presence had caused her to forget our earlier ordeal with the Robotics Club but, just like that, she was back in detective mode.

“What’s her problem?” Akiha whispered to me, but I could only shrug in reply and promise to catch her up later when I had the chance.

“Are you acquainted with a third-year student called Fujiyama Yoshio?” Haruhi accosted the new arrival, who almost shrank back in surprise.

“Fujiyama… Fujiyama…. Yoshio?” Kazami rolled the name off his tongue a few times as though to test for familiarity. “Nope, I don’t know anybody by that name,” he concluded.

“He’s a member of the Robotics Club,” Haruhi said. “Does that ring any bells, Watson’s friend?”

Kazami’s features were distorted for a second, but whether that look was one of recognition or not I could not say. It could very well have been a subtle grimace, a reflection of the revulsion any promising student athlete would feel at the mention of the Robotics Club’s name.

“Why are you asking someone like me about the Robotics Club? The name doesn’t mean a thing to me,” he remained unconvinced.

Dim as he was, Kazami was a person who was aware of his own strengths and weaknesses. I still couldn’t see Haruhi’s logic in wanting to question him about something like the Robotics Club either, so the fact that he was called at all was a mystery to me. If you included Akiha as well, then the stage was starting to feel awfully cramped.

“You know,” Kazami turned to me this time, and spoke, “if it’s the Robotics Club, then maybe you should ask Yonemura?”

“From our class?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “He’s the treasurer, I think, or the secretary, something like that. He’s got a job with a lot of responsibility anyways. If you’re looking for a member of the Robotics Club, then he’ll be able to help.”

“Damn, and we’re pretty good friends too,” I murmured bitterly. “I never knew he was some bigshot in the Robotics Club.”

“Well, we didn’t know you had joined the Mystery Club either,” Kazami laughed, as he patted me on the back with his beefy hand. “And I’m pretty sure he did tell you. The same time he told me, in fact. You probably weren’t paying attention because you had your head buried in some book.”

That sounded plausible, I thought, but opted to keep quiet.

“Not the Mystery Club,” Haruhi cut in, irritably. “We’re the New Wave Mystery Society. The Mystery Club is full of posers.”

Behind her, Akiha was rolling her eyes. I stifled a laugh.

“OK. The, you know, whatever it is that you said club then,” Kazami grunted, taking out his phone and holding it up. “So should I call Yonemura or not?”

“Hold it,” Haruhi said before I could give him the go-ahead. “Let’s all go back to the Robotics Club’s room. If there’s nobody there, then you can call, OK?”

She added in a whisper that only I could hear: “There won’t be anyone there though. Fujiyama will probably be gone too.”

Eager to conclude the mystery, our club’s Sherlock flew out of the room. Her hasty retreat must have triggered some sort of primal, athletic instinct in Kazami since he hurried after her as though they were engaged in some kind of race.

The New Wave Mystery Society’s newest member seemed to have a bit more common sense, and we were able to leisurely make our way down to the ground floor. By the time we descended the first staircase, I had already caught her up to speed with the mystery of the day.

“Seems like the vanishing club and the Robotics Club are one and the same,” she said at the end of my explanation.

“At the very least, they’re linked somehow, that’s for sure. To tell you the truth, I’m not too sure what Haruhi is trying to do…” I muttered.

“Speaking of Haruhi,” she began, “you two aren’t dating, right?”

“What are you saying all of a sudden!?” I reddened slightly. “No, of course n-not! I mean, we were on that Ferris wheel together, but we don’t know each other that well yet…”

Akiha whistled. “But that girl seems like the jealous type, you know? Like on Saturday when she pulled you away from me,” she said.

“We’re all different people on Saturdays,” I replied. “Like you, for example. Weren’t you meant to be the standoffish sort?”

“Before today, you’ve only ever seen me at work,” she smiled. “Well, let’s not talk about that. Can I make a prediction?”

“A prediction?” I asked, as we reached the ground floor.

“A prediction,” Akiha nodded. “As soon as we walk through that door, your girlfriend is going to make a sarcastic remark about us.”

“Not my girlfriend,” I corrected, but I was still curious about what she had to say. “Do you have some kind of deductive reasoning behind that prediction?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “Call it intuition. If used properly, it’s even more useful than deductive reasoning and logic.”

“Don’t let Haruhi catch you saying that,” I warned her jokingly. “That sort of thing is anathema to detectives…”

In the Robotics Club’s clubroom, Haruhi and Kazami were already waiting for us. As the former had predicted just a few minutes earlier, Fujiyama-senpai was nowhere to be found; indeed, all traces of him, including the tote bag loaded with goodies, had disappeared entirely. Other than that, the room was as we had left it.

Haruhi’s gaze shifted to us, the newcomers. “Flirting again, are we? Well, whatever…” she turned towards Kazami and gesturing using her thumb and little finger - the universal sign for ‘phone’.

“I’m calling Yonemura right now.”

He tapped on his phone and then pressed it against his ear. Haruhi beckoned us to hush, and for a second or two, there was only silence.

Then we heard it.

It was the opening theme song of a very famous anime series that has been running since at least the early ‘80s. If you were middle aged, it might even have evoked a certain sense of nostalgia. For us students, however, it was a hit or miss in terms of recognition. I recognised it anyways, but Kazami and Akiha looked incredulous.

Of course, that wasn’t important. The main thing is that the sound was coming from somewhere in this room and that, although it was faint, we could hear it. As our ears adjusted to the sound, our eyes primed on the five-foot robot pressed against the wall, which had begun to tremble slightly.

If the rest of the room were not deathly still, one might even have entertained the possibility of an earthquake. The robot suddenly shot out from the wall, as though it were a door being violently flung open. Behind it, a small cavity was revealed, roughly three feet in height. The robot’s torso had been obscuring it!

To the accompaniment of the ‘80s anime tune, which had become louder and clearer, two people made their way out of the hollow; one of them was holding up his phone, vibrating relentlessly, and I recognised him immediately as my brainiac classmate Yonemura. The other person was a stranger to me, but his uniform indicated that he was a third-year student.

At the very least, it wasn’t Fujiyama Yoshio.

“Mamiya Junichi,” he promptly introduced himself. “The President of the Diogenes Club. Ah, I suppose the colloquial name would be the vanishing club?”