The University of Tokyo was a somewhat familiar name.
Ichijō Mirai thought back a little, remembering his own experience of going back in time a few times, and then looked at the introduction of this dean a little more, and realized that he didn't have much of an impression.
However, the dean in [Police Academy Newcomer] did seem to be this one.
He answered, "Oh."
Then he said slowly, "Did Calvados compile this information?"
And muttered to himself, "If it was Calvados, I'll have to check it again to make sure there are no obvious holes before I hand it over to the police."
"If it was compiled by another member of the organization, like Rum..."
Never mind, let's take a look around, why don't we go to the police station and ask some of the Inuo officers to have a meeting to discuss how to come up with a reasonable 'truth'.
Karasuma Renya: "You have a big problem with Rum."
"Of course," Ichijō Mirai admitted openly, "if you spend half an hour cooking, only to find out that your partner is taking his time, entertaining himself, and cooking for more than ten hours, not only delaying him, but also dragging you down with him, you'd have a problem with that, too."
Waste, can.
Waste enemy, can.
Waste teammate, absolutely can't.
"If he was 100% incompetent and really needed to spend ten hours or so cooking, it would be frowned upon, but it would be acceptable," Ichijō Mirai added, "but he's a cheeky bastard who can cook in a few hours and drags me down with him for ten hours or so."
"It's unbearable."
If Rum hadn't talked, how could he have shot his dear target?
It was a rare one-shot kill!
It's like a single shot of gold, don't you know that!
But because of the damnable Rum, he had to read the file in sadness, and he was left with no sense of humor at all.
"..." Karasuma Renya, "I see."
He paused, watching Ichijō Mirai absently examining the data, and then suddenly added, "This is not the only unsolved case the police and Division 1 have had over the years."
"There are many major cases that have not been labeled as homicides."
"Do you need information?"
Do you want to help the police figure it out one by one? Or do you want to pick typical cases, or cases related to 'Officer Ichijō'?
Ichijō Mirai glanced strangely at the red light camera, "You're weird, wanting to help the police solve cases."
"No."
"I'm not on the police's payroll, so why would I want to solve a case."
This question, in fact, is still indirectly asking: why do you want to investigate this case, and organize the evidence that can be given to the police?
After being asked directly and indirectly once, it is clear that Karasuma Renya does care a little bit about the issue, and Ichijō Mirai replies, "Some people think that I care."
In Police Academy Newcomer, all the officers who know Ichijō Mirai's true identity think that he cares, that he's obsessed with the unsolved case of his parents' deaths, and that he wants to investigate it.
So, Matsumoto Kiyonaga promises to solve the case.
Ichijō Mirai doesn't really care.
But when everyone thinks he cares, his not caring will appear to be premeditated, and some of the high-ranking police officers will panic and keep probing because they can't see through Ichijō Mirai, and will try to find out 'Ichijō Mirai's real purpose' and 'weakness'.
It's too much trouble.
Why don't we just go ahead and admit: "Yes, I care a lot, not only about the unsolved case of my parents' deaths, but also about all the cases related to my parents."
By giving an obvious weakness, the high and mighty police officers will breathe a sigh of relief and continue to be arrogant in their smugness.
The undercover case hasn't happened yet.
Although three terrorist attacks had definitely made the organization think, 'Let's send this demon away,' it hadn't happened yet, so Ichijō Mirai simply explained the general idea.
He flipped through the file, making sure there weren't any holes in the information that could have been found by just reading the text, and then he packed it up and reassembled it, and went back to organizing and reassembling the thick file.
There were a few photographs peeking out from the layers and layers of information.
Ichijō Mirai pulled them out and looked at them.
It was probably a portrait of a newcomer, and it showed the two Ichijō officers, both dressed in the most gentlemanly and elegant way, one in a nice black suit and the other in a white fishtail saree.
In the background is a cliff with a newborn sun, and the black suit is looking intently at the fishtail dress, while the fishtail dress is a bit absent-minded, not seeming to be interested in the photo shoot, but looking at the sun with a smile on her face.
The sun warmly framed in their bodies, and flowed out of the fluorescent blue handwriting.
The field of vision was almost entirely filled with fluorescent handwriting, and for a few moments, Ichijō Mirai had learned to automatically block out irrelevant and unfocused hints, photo hints being among the less important ones.
He ignored them and looked at the photos themselves, deciding that while Mr. Ichijō was fond of his wife, Mrs. Ichijō was not necessarily fond of her husband.
The rest of the photos were mostly everyday shots, of them having a rare free moment together, going out for a romantic candlelight dinner, both faces a little haggard in the candlelight, either from a serious illness or from an overtime-intensive profession like a doctor or a police programmer.
The photos were taken by Mr. Ichijō, and the focus is always on Mrs. Ichijō, who is always wearing a light, friendly smile.
A few pictures later, there's a twist, and for the first time Mrs. Ichijō doesn't smile politely; she's half-lying on her desk, drowsy from research, and doesn't even react to the flash of light.
On the back of this photo is written in small letters: [one month].
Huh?
Ichijō Mirai scrolled down and soon found the reason for the note: Mrs. Ichijō was pregnant.
A second photo with a note soon appeared, a note in English, Japanese, numbers, and a heart design, with a heart drawn at the top of the back of the photo, filled in with diagonal lines, and next to it was the bold English word [love].
On the bottom line is the time in thinner letters: [six months].
In the photo, Mrs. Ichijō's belly is already visible, almost as if she's in labor, and she's holding one hand on her lower back with a smile on her face, not a friendly smile but a fake angry one, complaining that her husband is taking pictures of her at a time like this, and that he's really out of line.
Ichijō Mirai looks at it and decides: 'six months' is not the time when Mrs. Ichijō was pregnant, but the time when they really fell in love.
It was when Mrs. Ichijō was about to give birth that she fell in love with her husband.
Instead of just one or two people, a child begins to appear in the photographs that follow.
There was a picture of the wife sitting on a hospital bed, staring blankly at the baby in her arms, and a picture of her in police uniform, holding a child of about three or four years old, who was still frowning slightly.
It was probably because of the organization, and her child's abnormality.
Ichijō Mirai looked at the photo a bit more, rubbing it with his fingers, "A photocopy."
The photo was not plasticized.
"Most of them are originals," Says Karasuma Renya, "and some are photocopies."
Including [six months], two photographs of a child with Officer Ichijō somewhat downcast, none of them are originals.
"The originals of these photos are in the police archives."
Ichijō Mirai: "Oh."
He quickly became disinterested, not caring much as he organized the information and smiled at the red light camera, "You're so kind to me, I'm so touched."
"Let's talk about my salary treatment, my dear Boss."