The latest MWPSB case had brought Division 1 downtown to an upscale arts district near the city center. Nestled between a museum dedicated to natural history and a modern art gallery, the Kurouma Theatre stood out on the street with its mahogany facade and crimson doors. Kogami was left with the impression that it had simply been carved from a single piece of granite. Burnished gold door handles and doorways led to a dimly illuminated vestibule with blue lights and a mosaic tile floor that depicted the deep ocean, complete with waves, colorful, saltwater fish, and coral.
The narrow girth of the vestibule opened into a large foyer with a coatroom, umbrella stands, and elegant granite counters where patrons could purchase merchandise or refreshments before the show. Much like the exterior front of the theater, the interior was also black with gold and crimson accents throughout the semi-circular room.
Preserved and protected behind security glass, relics from the theater’s storied past lined the walls. Mounted bronze plaques beside each display explained the artifacts and their unique connection with the theater. Like honor-bound sentinels, life-sized mannequins wearing Gosuko armor from the late 16th century stood vigil in the chamber. The flamboyant red armor was a stark reminder of a more decadent, volatile time, well before the Sybil System was in place.
“Your interest in the theater’s history is delightful, Mr. Masaoka. It’s rare that I get to share the full breadth of this company’s diverse history with anyone outside of investors or museum tours when the company is on holiday.”
“It’s always a pleasure to see places like this still in business,” Tomomi Masaoka said. “How long have you run the place, Director Nagano?”
“I was named director when my father retired ten years ago, but the Kurouma Theatre has been in operation under my family name for over 300 years. You might say theater is in my blood.” Dressed in a simple business suit vest and pants, Nagano rolled up his sleeves and then tied back his silver hair in a ponytail. “My ancestor, Daiko Nagano originally purchased the theater, which was nothing more than an inn and taproom. He later converted it into a playhouse for stage work. Believe it or not, he traded a black horse to buy the deed. That’s how the theater got its name.”
“You don’t say,” Masaoka said. Discerning eyes swept the length of the walls and the artifacts on public display.
“His daughter, Asura Rai Nagano, was the lead actress for most of the productions. She was in love with a young playwright named Kurnan Kazuya, who lived at the inn and played piano for the productions. He also coordinated the music for all of the theater’s shows. Here’s an original playbill, hand drawn from that era.”
The back of the program showed a young man and woman bowing to an appreciative audience. Dressed in a black waist coat of the era, Kazuya carried a French-cocked hat beneath his arm. Instead of regarding the audience, he was looking at the young woman beside him, who was dressed in a simple white gown. Her long black hair was tied back with a ribbon woven into a prominent love knot.
“Nice looking couple,” Masaoka said. Scrutinizing the picture, he scratched the side of his head. “You know, she looks a lot like—“
“Yes,” Nagano whispered, “the resemblance to your Inspector Tsunemori is astonishing, don’t you think?”
“And Kazuya looks like...” Masaoka paused, noticing that Kogami had rejoined them.“Well, speak of the devil himself.”
“Thanks, pops. The feeling’s mutual.” As he walked by, Kogami stared at the playbill at the center of their attention. Preserved behind tempered glass, its crinkled pages showed only minimal signs of decay. The image rendered appeared as fresh as it might have on the day it was printed. The resemblance between Kazuya and himself was uncanny, even he had to admit. It was as if he was staring into a mirror.
“Good, you’re awake,” Inspector Nobuchika Ginoza said. “You certainly slept long enough.”
“Not long enough for you to solve this case without me,” Kogami said. “We’re still here. What’s it been? An hour?” Ignoring the Senior Inspector, he hunched his shoulders and stood in the shadowy alcove in front of the main auditorium doors.
“Is it true that Kazuya was a highwayman?” Yayoi Kunizaka asked. She inspected her reflection in the glass and straightened her tie.
“The rumors about Kazuya are true,” Nagano said. “It’s how my ancestor was able to keep this theater operating during some of the greater hardships of that time period.”
“What can you tell us about the Kurouma Curse?” Yayoi asked. “Is there truth to that, too?”
Taken aback by the bold question, Nagano maintained his smile with deliberate effort. “A shameless bit of notoriety that neither my family nor my company can escape. No matter how hard I try.”
“I was unaware of any curse,” said Ginoza. “I would think that kind of talk would affect your Sybil authorizations. If the public was concerned about a curse, their psycho passes could become clouded.”
“All of our productions are well within the boundaries of good taste, Inspector Ginoza, as well as the mandates of the Sybil System.” The director’s friendly face fell away and was replaced with a stern, taciturn expression. His transformation reminded Kogami of the theater masks representing comedy and tragedy.
“Is that so?” Ginoza crossed his arms over his chest.
“The Kurouma curse grew out of the tragedy that claimed the lives of Asura Rai and Kazuya. Misfortune comes to anyone who tries to produce the one and only play that Kazuya wrote before his death. Any time the piece goes into production, some mayhem ensues. Stage equipment fails. Fires start. Props go missing. Minor mishaps that would prevent the show from going on.”
“I don’t exactly call what happened to your piano player a minor mishap, Director Nagano. The man is being treated for internal injuries after falling from the piano platform,” Ginoza said. “You and your company claim there was no one else with him at the time.” Activating his wristcom, he scanned the updated medical reports and forwarded them to the other members of Division 1.
“Inspector Ginoza, I was standing down in the orchestra pit with my tech crew, while Yoshi was running through a few numbers with our lead actress. There was no one near the platform.”
“Members of your tech crew report a spike in temperature about the time the accident occurred. One of them even attributed the accident to Gorou. Care to explain?” Ginoza deactivated the holo and met the director’s eyes with cold skepticism.
“Gorou’s been dead over 300 years, Inspector. He was the village blacksmith and lived in the community. While respected, he was not well liked due to his heavy hand with animals and people.”
Hands behind her back, Akane read the inscription beneath a metal etching of the theater from the time period. “This etching was donated to the playhouse by Gorou.”
“At the time, he was one of their best patrons, but his motives were far more sinister than altruistic, ” Nagano said. “He was in love with the Asura Rai, but she had eyes for another.”
“The piano player,” Masaoka said with a grin. “Gets the ladies every time.”
“Kazuya was a brilliant pianist, one of the best of his time, if not the best. He was destined for greater things, but fate had other designs.”
“What happened to them?” Akane asked.
“This is one of those rare moments, where life imitates art,” Nagano replied. “It’s believed that Gorou reported Kazuya to the Emperor’s soldiers. They came to the playhouse in the middle of the night while he was out on a robbery. Asura Rai was waiting for him at their bedroom window, just above this chamber.” He pointed to the level above them. “The soldiers held Daiko and Asura hostage in their own home. They toyed with her, tied her up to her bed, and then bound a musket to her breast, forcing her to watch through the window for Kazuya to return.”
“That’s awful,” Akane said.
“Indeed, because by the time she heard her lover’s horse approaching,” Nagano said, “she had worked her hand to the trigger of that musket and pulled it to warn him of the danger. Not knowing what had happened to his love, Kazuya rode away into the night unaware that she was dead. But when he got word of the tragedy the next morning, he rode back to the playhouse to exact revenge. The soldiers shot him down just a few yards from the entrance of this building, and he died in the street like a common dog.”
“A fitting end for a criminal,” Ginoza said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“That’s not where the tragedy ends,” Nagano said. He pointed to the detailed etching. “Gorou’s betrayal was meant to get Kazuya out of the way, so that he could have Asura Rai for himself. Her death and his guilt reportedly drove him mad. He broke into the theater three days after the tragedy and set fire to it with hot coals from his own forge. Once the inn was consumed in flames, he hung himself from the rafters above the stage.”
“A vengeful phantom?” Kagari slapped his hands together abruptly, causing Akane to jump. “This is a great ghost story!“
“And a curse that has plagued my family for ten generations. Father to son, we’ve tried to break it unsuccessfully. But that, my friends, is the heart of theater, where reality blends with illusion, and illusions become reality.” Nagano pushed open the auditorium doors and extended his hands to either side as he led them into the chamber. “And this is where the magic happens. Welcome to the heart of the Kurouma Theatre.”
The theatrical chamber was colossal with four sections of seats that were divided and angled to prove the best possible view for audience goers. A wide center aisle with white carpeting dividing the room with two smaller, parallel aisles that further divided the seating sections.
Expensive, brown leather seats were arranged on both sides of the main aisle. The smaller wings were comprised of cloth seats, beige in color. Above the polished, black granite floors and its carpeted walkways, the ceiling was painted a deep blue, the imitation of a night sky depicted with stars. Kogami wondered if it was a real ceiling mural or a hologram.
In the center of it was a six-foot deep, inverted well, and suspended within it was an elaborate crystal chandelier. The extravagant fixture was certainly real, he surmised, because of the way the light refracted from the quartz and onto the wall.
“This place is like the Coliseum in Rome!” Kagari said in awe. “How many seats?”
“We can hold 1,500, about 900 here on the first level, 400 on the second level, and another 200 in the balconies.” Nagano grinned with pride. “A far cry from a humble inn with an adjoining tap house and a stage, wouldn’t you say?”
“Director Nagano,” Ginoza said. “I’m certain there is a logical explanation for what’s been happening here the last few weeks. Once we can get your company out of the building, we can do a thorough examination of the building and find evidence that will lead to a solid reason for the trouble and bring resolution.”
“That won’t be possible, Inspector Ginoza,” Nagano said sternly. “I’m five days from opening night on a production plagued by mishap after mishap. My company cannot miss anymore rehearsal time. You’ll need to conduct your investigation around our activities. I can’t possibly send the troupe home without rehearsing.”
“Director Nagano,” Ginoza protested.
“No, Inspector, perhaps Mr. Kurosawa was not clear when he petitioned the MWPSB for assistance. The show will go on. The show must go on. Are we clear?”
“Understood,” Ginoza relented. “Kagari and Kunizaka, unload the necessary equipment we need and get a surveillance hub set up. With the exception of this one, leave the drones outside. I think we can handle this on our own. Enforcer Masaoka, you’re with me. We’ll see what we can find backstage and in the orchestra pit. Inspector Tsunemori?”
“Sir!”
“Take Kogami. You can start by investigating where the piano player fell during the rehearsal this morning. Keep your Dominators on you at all times.”
The drone’s inner mechanisms whirred, and with the hissing of pressurized air, it opened its lid to reveal an arsenal of Dominators. Kogami reached for his weapon. “Dominator Portable Psychological Diagnosis and Suppression System has been activated. User authentication: Enforcer Shinya Kogami. Affiliation: Public Safety Bureau, Criminal Investigation Department. Dominator usage approval confirmed. You are a valid user.”
“Keep your wits about you,” Ginoza said in parting. “Someone clearly doesn’t want this production to happen and will do anything to prevent it.”
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