Kamisama no Memochou:Volume 6 Chapter 1

"Who knows? Maybe we still feel things, after our death. I’d like to rest, considering that ‘rest’ is the right word, in that little cave up on the tall mountain, overlooking Verrières."

'Le Rogue et Le Noir' Stendhal/ Translated by Kobayashi Masaki

Chapter 1

The protagonist of the story I am going to say next was a man who really amazed me.

To be honest, I am not too familiar with this man, and I never met him and talked with him. Moreover, the little information about him was all rumors. The most ridiculous thing is that he practically never appeared in this story. Even so, this is still a story that belongs to him.

His nickname was the “Bear Punch” (Bare Knuckles), and it was said that he earned this ridiculous nickname because he once beat a bear to death with his bare hands. However, that was what everyone called him as, no matter whether he was in Afghanistan, Yugoslavia or Congo. Perhaps that is because Japanese names are harder to pronounce?

He used to be a mercenary that went through many countries, but retired once when he was in his thirties, the age of his physical prime. That was because, when he returned to his hometown of Japan, he met a woman, and fell in love.

Nobody granted their blessings for this romance, but they still conceived a girl. He could not engage in illegal acts while raising a child, so he decided to wash away the stench of cigarettes and the stains of blood as he settled down in Tokyo.

Nobody knew why they chose to run a ramen store. Perhaps there might be some sort of significance to it. The history of Japanese ramen was that it inherited the essence of Chinese ramen, came over from the mainland, from the seas, but the soup absorbed the food cultures from all kinds of different countries, and finally became an authentic Japanese cuisine. Unexpectedly, this matched the background of the daughter both of them had.

However, after his wife died earlier, he abandoned his daughter and the ramen shop on a certain day and went back to the battlefield as the “Bear Punch” again. The only proof of him staying in this peaceful country, running a ramen shop, was the shutters of the shop.

His actual name was Hanada Masaru.

It was said that when he thought of using his own name as the shop’s name, his wife complain that it was too ‘primitive’, and got rid of the ‘da’ and ‘sa’. .

—“Ramen Hanamaru”

The story of Hanada Masaru began and ended here, at this shop with that name.

In any case, though I had forgotten about it recently, I was a high school sophomore, about to turn 17. I only recalled that when chatting with my classmates in the classroom. This is ridiculous. Do I have a psychological disorder.

Anyway, the conversation was as such.

"So Fujishima-kun, one month later, please come help out too. Don't spend too much time on your part time work in October."

The bell indicating the beginning of lunch break started, and I heard to voice of a girl. I lifted my face, and saw a short haircut, feisty eyebrows and friendly looking eyes. It was Ayaka. I was sleeping throughout the morning classes sleeping, and my head was in a daze. Thus, I could not understand completely what she was saying, and also, the reason why Ayaka and the other girls gathered around my desk.

"...One month later?" Will something happen?

"Listen to what I say! You were sleeping during homeroom period again, didn't you, Fujishima-kun? Why do you always come to school just to take a nap?"

I'm tired from all the troubles recently,, I tried to retort, only for the girls to interrupt.

"Doesn't look like it's a nap anymore when he's been sleeping since morning, right?"

"Sometimes, he sleeps till 7pm, after school."

"I heard he sleeps through PE too."

"Really? That's amazing! How do you do that?" I want to know too. That's quite some exaggerations from you guys."

"Fujishima-Kun's really talented when it comes to sleeping"

For some reason, Ayaka raised her chest proudly.

"There was once when we had a conversation while he was sleeptalking."

"You should have woken me up!" I retorted inadvertently, as if it was about someone else. "Erm, back on topic, next month? Is there something?"

The girls' eyes immediately descended into the ice age, and I shunned them by looking at the table, desperately trying to remember.

Today's the last day of September right? Erm, if it's one month later, in October...the end of October...

"Oh, my birthday."

"I didn't know that!" "Yes yes congratulations." "How old are you? Looks like you're an old man with onset dementia, are you seventy-seven-years-old?"

Why are they ganging up on me now?

However, thanks to that, I remembered. I would be seventeen soon. Come to think of it, I'm still a High School student, right? Merely a year had passed since I transferred to this high school.

It's a long story, but I'm doing a part-time work to a private detective agency, serving as an assistant. Looking back at the case files that I myself wrote, it seemed that over the past year, I was involved with more than 10 disputes that would have been required prosecution. There's still half of my high school life to go. Looking at this pace, I estimate that I'll be involved in another 15 cases or so before graduation. I'm starting to feel dizzy about this. What would I do if I graduate into life before I graduated high school?

However, Ayaka brought her face to me, dragging me back to reality.

"It's not about you, Fujishima-kun! It's about the 3rd of November. Do you know what that day is?"

"...A day of good birth?" The san in お産, osan, can be read as 三, or three

"It's the culture festival! I guess you aren't sure when the public holidays are held anymore because you're on holiday all year long like a NEET." "I don't have the right to forget a little anymore...?" "But you don't remember when the culture festival is!"

Eh, culture festival?




The detective agency that employed me was located in the same building as the ramen shop where Ayaka worked part-time. To the east of a massive station where the JR, the private railways and the subway intersected, I head past a park filled with stragglers, to a backalley that was sparse in numbers. The shop itself was located at a diminutive, unimpressive gray multi-tenant building. The landmark here was a red curtain with amazing embroidery, unraveled at the front of the first floor. The words "Ramen Hanamaru" were written. There were only five counter seats in this small shop. The owner, Min-San, had her hair tied in a pony tail, a black apron over her a tank top, and a sarashi wrapped around her breasts. She was a dazzlingly, healthy older sister.

"Ayaka said she would be a little late these days because of the preparations for the Cultural Festival. So Narumi, why are you here so soon after school?"

I showed my face at 4pm, and Min-San asked me from behind the counter.

"Is it because there's no place for you in class?"

"Th-that's not it! I raised my voice anxiously. "What the class will do was decided when I was sleeping, they told me that I didn't have to do anything, and my table's used as a cutting table. That's why that's not the case!"

For some reason, there are tears coming out. Is that because of the onions Min-san was chopping?"

"There's no use of you staying in my shop either. If you're not going to order, scram. You're interfering with my preparations."

Why are you saying this to me when I'm an ex-employee? But But I can't leave just yet.

"Eh-eh well, you see, I'm here today with a request for the Cultural Festival, Min-san."

"For me?"

"Our class is doing an Ice Cream Shop."

Min-san stopped the hand holding the chopper.

"Hanamaru" was a strange ramen shop, famous for its ice cream dessert rather than its ramen. I heard that before her father disappeared and she inherited the shop, Min-San had been training hard to become an ice cream maker.

"Well, it'll be reassuring if Min-San will teach us how to make ice cream, that's what the girls in class said."

"...I don't have such time available. What about the shop?"

Min-San said with an exasperated look, and the sound of onions being chopped echoed again.

"No, won't it be fine if everyone went to "Hanamaru"?"

"Are you an idiot? That's the same thing. If I'm stuck with dealiing with a bunch of brats, who's going to make the ramen?"

"E-erm, then I'll do it--"

"What are you saying? What are you going to do, Narumi, when your specialty is dropping and breaking a bowl every thirty minutes?"

"I'm sorry, please forgive me. I won't say anything else."

Right. I knew that it would end up like this. She's not pulling any punches.

In other words, this was the one job I was assigned with for our Culture Festival preparations. Convincing Min-San.

"Anyway, our shop has always been a ramen shop, not not ice-cream shop. I do have some pride as a ramen shop owner, you know? It's done. bring this to Alice."

Min-San poured into the bowl a dash of chopped green onions, and pushed the bowl to me. All I could see in the bowl were cooked beansprouts and onions added in. This was always the case, but Min-san would always explain it to me.

"Onion miso ramen without noodles, soup, roast pork, bamboo shoots, or miso."

"There goes your pride!"

I got beaten up.

This Alice would be my employer, and she stayed on the third storey of this building. The door of room 308 had a signboard of it that read 'NEET Detective Agency'. Recently, I had been entering the room without knocking on the door, for I started to think of it as a hassle. The heat of late summer was about to end, yet the air conditioning in the room was chilling to the bone. I passed through the right, a narrow corridor in the kitchen, and inside there was a little room.

"Alice, I brought food."

"Wah! Wahwah!"

I brought the tray with the bowl on it into the room, only to hear a flustered voice from the bed. What's she doing?

The three walls of the bedroom were crammed with shelves, and the computer equipment on the shelves covered everything to the ceiling, while most of the floor was occupied by the bed. On the bedsheet were cute bear, dolphin, cat, capybara dolls, stacked in a hill. A petite girl was sprawled on the bed, trying to backtrack into this pile of dolls. We exchange looks, and the pale face under the black cap was instantly flushed red.

"N-next time, don't just come in so suddenly! I do have personal privacy to be respected too!"

"Eh, a-ah, sorry."

I nearly toppled the tray in my hand, and hurriedly turned my back on the bed as I return to the kitchen.

This little girl was the private detective who employed me--Alice. She was always living in this room, dressed in pajamas, but I had a peek at the clothing she was wearing just now...and for a moment, I was in disbelief.