Autumn When the Bellflowers Fade

This is the final roar of a detective from a bygone era.

Surveillance cameras now blanket every street and alley; DNA technology grows more mature by the day.

People no longer have need of this once far-famed, gold-medal detective.

Perhaps he still wished to shine, but all that remained of his era was the last glow before the sun sank below the horizon. He was like a candle nearly burned to its end—its flame about to die—clutching the wick tight, straining to burn on a little longer, and then a little longer still. No one paid it any mind. A torch can still pass on people's convictions, can still be a light in the world of the spirit. But he—he had nothing at all. He had been cast aside.

He had tried to struggle on. He chased after it with all his might, unable to let go of the glory that once was his. His moods began to turn extreme; beneath the calm surface of his sea, the waves ran wild.

He was the tip of an iceberg.

But his iceberg had already laid itself bare before everyone's eyes.

His hidden portion lay beneath the surface of the sea. He was an iceberg turned upside down.

The waves kept rolling forward, knocking down both him and the last pride he had left.

The new era had no ship large enough to hold him.

Kawashima Sōsei drove his white Toyota Corolla up to the cliff's edge.

"Time to log off." He gazed at the distant forest, not knowing to whom he spoke.

He stepped down and out. Just as he had, once, the very first time he walked out of police headquarters.