"At 2 o'clock this afternoon, at the traffic light near Beika Park, the renowned detective Narusawa was shot and killed by an unknown assailant."
"The murderer remains at large."
"The National Police Agency has deployed additional officers and established an investigation headquarters at the Beika Police Station."
It was a gloomy, rainy day.The drizzle had lingered from morning till night, and the humidity weighed heavily in the air.
While waiting for the red light on a street corner, Gin and Vodka watched the news report on a massive screen.
"A cop got killed. It's like someone kicked a hornet's nest in the face,"Vodka grumbled a cigarette clamped between his lips.
The bullet wound on his arm was finally healing—it no longer ached as much, except during certain movements. Otherwise, he was fine.
The formation of a special police task force and the increased patrol presence were now interfering with their operations.Recently, Gin had been eliminating members of hostile organizations—mostly nobodies, though a few were professional killers from unknown origins. But the sniper who ambushed them that day had not reappeared.
Peripheral operatives of the Organization had also been targeted and killed.Not just in Beika Town, but across neighboring cities—and even outside Tokyo—there were reports of slain Organization members.
Despite this, the Boss remained silent.But Rum, his second-in-command, was livid. He had mobilized many agents to gather intel on the hostile groups—intent on retaliating with a decisive strike.
All Gin could do was wait for more actionable intel.
A chilling sense of danger tugged at Gin's instincts.A cold smile crept across his face as his eyes snapped toward a rooftop in the distance. There, he spotted a faint flicker—a muzzle flash.
A bullet whizzed past his head and struck the pavement, leaving a shallow dent.
Gin didn't even flinch.
"Pathetic aim at under 400 yards. That's not our sniper," he muttered coldly.
"Chianti, target's at your seven o'clock, rooftop of the white building."
"OK~" Chianti replied with glee. One more head to pop.
"Several suspicious targets near the structure," Cohen's voice chimed through the headset.
"Kill them all," Gin ordered without hesitation.
Seconds later, both assassins confirmed the job done through the earpiece.
Vodka pulled up to the scene with Gin.Peripheral operatives had already confirmed the kill.The sniper's skull had been crushed—Gin showed no reaction.
"Master Gin, there's a note in his pocket," one subordinate reported.
"Hand it over," Vodka commanded.
The agent obeyed and offered the note.
As Gin unfolded the paper, his pupils shrank.Without hesitation, he pulled out his gun and shot the subordinate directly in the forehead.
Blood splattered through the rainfall.
"Brother!?" Vodka gasped in shock as the body collapsed, a gory hole in the head.
Was Gin losing it? Had the madness taken hold after Cointreau?
But seeing Gin's expression—eyes like icy razors, killing intent radiating from every fiber of his being—Vodka bit his tongue.
Gin clenched the note tightly in his gloved hand.
Only one thing was written on it:
They knew.The enemy knew the true identity of that man.
Even Gin was shaken now.
He immediately took out his phone to report directly to the Boss.
Hayashi Yoshiki flipped through the pages of the Death Note.
Ever since Gin began using bait to catch the sniper, Yoshiki had been planning for this exact moment.
To be clear—Yoshiki never actually knew where Gin would be.
But that didn't matter.
All he had to do was write "shot by a sniper rifle" as the cause of death for several individuals.Statistically speaking, it was highly probable that Chianti or Cohen, brought in by Gin, would be the ones to fire.
To ensure safety, Hayashi Yoshiki also wrote down the actions of a peripheral Organization member positioned on a rooftop.
Though Gin's name never appeared, the sequence of events would inevitably pull him in.
After all, only Gin would murder his own subordinate just for glimpsing a name like Karasuma Renya.
The identity of Karasuma Renya was a well-guarded secret.Only Organization veterans and top operatives like Rum and Gin knew the truth.Even Vodka, his closest aide, was in the dark.
Karasuma Renya had hidden himself for decades.Only a vague silhouette had appeared in the canon plot. There were no photos, no portraits.As a tycoon from half a century ago, he left behind no visual traces.
This is why—even if Hayashi Yoshiki wrote his name in the Death Note, it would be useless.
Moreover, the Death Note cannot kill anyone older than 124 years—and Karasuma was already over 140.
(The waters must be muddied...)
If Karasuma Renya discovered his identity had been compromised, he would undoubtedly go berserk—obsessed with uncovering the mastermind behind the enemy organization.
Should Hayashi Yoshiki manage to trace that chaos back to the other organization's boss, he might just steal it from within.
Of course, this was the ideal outcome—a bit too perfect, maybe.
Still, it would definitely heighten tensions between the two syndicates and allow Yoshiki to thrive amidst the confusion.
What also pleased him was this:Despite never writing Gin's name, he'd managed to orchestrate a scene that roped Gin in with precision. That confirmation meant everything.
After a final review of the paper, Hayashi Yoshiki lit it with a lighter, letting the flames consume the evidence.
He returned the Death Note to his coat, then turned his gaze to the wedding invitation on his table.
"About half a month from now?"