In Kyoto’s Teramachi-Sanjo district stands an antique store named “Kura.” There, you can find a mysterious and unique individual, not yet a Kyoto man but a “Kyoto guy,” nicknamed “Holmes” because of his exceptional eye for observation and appraisal.

“No, Aoi. I’m called ‘Holmes’ because my surname is Yagashira.”

Right, his surname has the character for “Home” in it.

“Wait, you’re still saying that?”

Set in Kyoto, these are the graceful case files of Kiyotaka Yagashira a.k.a. Holmes and me, high school student Aoi Mashiro.

Prologue: At Summer’s End

Heading south into the Teramachi-Sanjo shopping district from Oike Street, I arrive at a small antique store. The sign has a single word on it: Kura, meaning “storehouse.” This is the name of the store where I, Aoi Mashiro, work part time.

The store’s interior is a blend of Japanese and Western aesthetics, reminiscent of the Meiji and Taisho eras. The antique sofa and counter bring to mind a Western-style manor’s drawing room. It’s almost like a retro-modern cafe. A smallish chandelier hangs from the modestly high ceiling, and a large grandfather clock rests against a wall. Further inside the store are many rows of shelves adorned with antiques and miscellaneous goods.

The owner’s grandson—Kiyotaka Yagashira, nicknamed “Holmes”—is looking after the store today. He is pale-skinned with a slim build and slightly long front bangs. A handsome young man with refined features.

“Is something the matter, Aoi?” Holmes asked as the grandfather clock gonged, indicating that it was 1:00 p.m. He didn’t look up from his bookkeeping—apparently, his senses were so good that he didn’t have to see me to realize I was staring at