Teaching Kendo in Tokyo 1980

Detective Inspector Shiratori casually brushed off his colleagues' congratulations as he returned to his desk, setting down the teacup the division chief had just handed him.

Muttering to himself in a voice only he could hear, he grumbled, "What's there to celebrate? It's not like I'm getting a promotion."

Realistically, a feat like this should've earned him a promotion and a raise. But Shiratori's career had already hit its ceiling. Without a prestigious academic background, a field-hardened detective who'd clawed his way up to inspector had already slammed into the department's invisible glass ceiling.

Sure, in theory, he could climb higher—but that would be a long shot, something that might only happen right before retirement.

Yes, there were a few ways to break through: an internal promotion through the First Investigative Division, since tradition dictated that its division chief had to come from the field. But moving further up from there was notoriously difficult.

Another route was through public security—but Japan's Public Security Bureau, though technically under the National Police Agency, was a full-fledged intelligence agency.

There was also the route of serving as an Imperial Household security officer—an SP. That path could vault a field officer beyond the glass ceiling.

Aside from those rare channels, it was nearly impossible for a career field detective to advance further. Even seizing a firearm and taking down a third-tier yakuza boss wasn't enough.

Still... at least Detective Takayama might get a promotion out of this. So it wasn't all for nothing.

Yes, not entirely for nothing, Shiratori thought with self-deprecating humor.

He rose and called to his colleagues, "I'm heading to the division chief's office. Keep an eye on the phone for me."

"Got it!" came the cheerful reply. "You're buying drinks tonight, Shiratori-kun!"

"Oh, of course! But only at one of those lantern-hung dives."

In Japan, the type of lantern hanging outside a shop told you a lot. The fancier the lantern, the higher the prices—like an unspoken menu of status.

A lantern handcrafted by a famous artisan, bearing the shop's prestigious name? Expect a bill that could scare you senseless.

But a battered old lantern with an impressive-sounding shop name? That often meant an unpretentious place with good value.

Shiratori left the main office and walked down the hallway to the division chief's room.

As soon as he opened the door, his eyes were drawn to the bold calligraphy on the wall: "A Clear Mirror, High Suspended."

At the MPD—much like in the yakuza—such plaques were almost always written in full Chinese characters.

Ideally, they also carried a bit of Chinese cultural weight, often straight-up borrowing Chinese proverbs.

Behind the plaque sat a visibly plump Chief Superintendent Katō, cradling a phone receiver.

Seeing Shiratori enter, Katō smiled—a rare sight—and gestured for him to sit, pointing to the phone.

Shiratori nodded and settled onto the sofa, waiting for the call to finish.

Katō soon wrapped it up, hung up the phone, and personally poured a cup of tea for Shiratori.

As he tilted the teapot, the gold watch on his wrist gleamed.

Shiratori caught a glimpse—an unmistakable marker of the MPD's special track core members. Those who could wear such a custom gold watch were not to be trifled with inside the department.

He pushed the thought aside and smiled. "Second time today I've been served tea by a superior."

"Hahaha, Shiratori-kun, you've earned it," Katō said warmly, setting the teapot down and taking a seat directly across from Shiratori on the sofa.

Normally, Katō preferred to remain seated behind his desk to maintain authority. Even Shiratori, seasoned as he was, had rarely seen this more relaxed side of him.

"Tsuda Masaaki is dead," Shiratori said, setting down his tea with a serious expression. "And from the looks of things, he didn't tell anyone anything."

"Excellent." Katō nodded. "Frankly, you should've let that high schooler finish the job. Fewer loose ends. Fewer people on alert."

Shiratori had intended to simply nod along—but the words came out of him almost involuntarily: "That high schooler plans to join the MPD."

Katō's eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh? Sounds like you know the kid well."

"Just heard a few things from friends," Shiratori replied smoothly.

"And now you're feeling protective, eh? I understand. I'll make sure the police academy clears his application if it comes through. But if he's good enough to dismantle a gang solo, his kendo must be formidable. He'd probably get in through the regular admissions anyway."

Shiratori shook his head. "No—he's aiming for the University of Tokyo first. Plans to join the MPD after graduation."

Now that piqued Katō's interest. "Really? Now that's intriguing. Todai, eh? That'd make him my junior. But Todai's no easy pass. From what I've seen of his academic scores, he's nowhere near qualified yet."

"Which means, if he does pass, he'd be an extraordinary talent, wouldn't he?" Shiratori countered.

"Very true." Katō nodded repeatedly. "Very true. I've got a good picture of things now. Well done, Shiratori-kun. You've done excellent work."

Shiratori nodded and added, "I'll have Takayama finish the firearm discharge report today."

"Perfect. Takayama-kun's reports are always top-notch—often better than those from the professional admin staff," Katō praised sincerely.

Shiratori's tone shifted. "And... Chief... about that matter..."

"Ah, don't worry about that. Mitsubishi Heavy Industries' police equipment division has suddenly opened up a police consultant position. I've already submitted your file."

"I'm confident that your extensive field experience will help them develop excellent gear for the capital's riot squads. You'll just need to visit them on weekends."

Shiratori placed his hands on his knees and bowed deeply. "Thank you very much."

"You've earned it. And with two such promising sons, I really envy you."

At the mention of his sons, Shiratori smiled—this time, a genuine smile from the heart.

After all, having both sons accepted into prestigious private universities was rare even across the entire MPD.

Once they graduated, the Shiratori family would have truly entered Japan's upper circles.

Until then... it would take a lot of money to support them.

If only one son had gone private, Shiratori could have managed with his savings. But two? That was a different story.

So... compromising his principles at this stage wasn't something he could avoid.

That was how Shiratori consoled himself.

Katō rose and gave Shiratori a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't overthink it. Tsuda Masaaki was scum of the worst sort. If we'd arrested him, he might've walked anyway—Shirahō-kai can afford some very expensive lawyers. What you did was justice."

"Is that so... Yes." Shiratori nodded and stood. "Then I'll take my leave."

"Good. And make tonight's celebration lively. It's been a while since your division has had a win—boost morale a bit. Mitsubishi should be sending a few people over too. They'll probably give us a discount on the bill."

Shiratori took a deep breath and nodded. "Understood."

At that moment, he thought, Well, one foot's already in... may as well go with the flow.

Katō returned to his desk beneath the "Clear Mirror, High Suspended" plaque and began going through the day's paperwork.

Shiratori bowed once more, then turned and left the spacious office.

Katō watched the door close behind him, a thoughtful look on his face as he idly stroked his gold watch.

(End of Chapter)