It was late in the afternoon. The sky had turned a soft, burning red, blanketing the city in golden hues as the sun began its descent.
Hayashi Yoshiki had just finished his shooting practice at the secluded underground range of the winery. Dressed casually, carrying a calm air as always, he stepped out into the amber light of the streets.
A lively and flirtatious female voice rang out.
Yoshiki turned his head slightly, offering a faint, elegant smile. A girl in a modified school uniform—dyed blonde hair, flawless makeup, and a glittering phone case in her hand—stood in front of him. The kind of girl you'd call a "school idol," bold and unapologetically styled.
"What can I do for you?" Yoshiki asked politely, his voice composed.
"Uh… ah…" the girl stammered.
She had approached him confidently, but standing face to face with someone so perfectly composed and—truth be told—absurdly handsome, her momentum failed her. Her confidence drained with every passing second.
"Would you… wanna go sing karaoke?" she finally blurted out.
"I'm afraid I'm not good at singing" -Yoshiki replied with a soft chuckle.
She considered suggesting milk tea instead, but the rejection had already sunk in. With a frustrated puff of her cheeks, she muttered, "Why does a guy need a reason to get chatted up?" Then turned and walked away with a defeated air.
Yoshiki simply watched her go, then glanced at the time on his watch. A middle-aged man passed by, but he paid no attention.
"I see" -he muttered to himself.
"Although she approached me because I wrote it… it was still, fundamentally, her own decision."
He pulled out a small, nondescript notebook from his inner coat pocket—the Death Note.
On a test page, the earlier scenario had been written:
->"At 17:47 on March 28, while walking past Mika Teito Bank, a schoolgirl approached a boy carrying grocery bags.
At 22:08 on April 16, following an argument with Michiko Miyazaki, he slits her throat with a knife and flees.
At 15:17 on April 17, while being arrested, he accidentally falls from a rooftop and dies."
A simple sequence. A controlled human life—actions, emotions, behavior—all orchestrated like lines in a script.
The Death Note wasn't just a tool to kill. In Yoshiki's hands, it had become a mechanism of manipulation. A writer's ultimate pen.
He closed the notebook and walked away.
"That should be enough testing for today," he thought."The deaths of Tomoya and Michiko were orchestrated carefully. Mutual elimination, to draw less attention."
It was important not to attract too much suspicion. Accidents, misunderstandings, disappearances—those were more digestible to the public than a wave of unexplained deaths. A touch of realism helped the fiction breathe.
Just then, Yoshiki's phone buzzed.
Text Message — Sakae Yamagishi:
"Mr. Hayashi, is the detective Kogoro Mouri you recommended truly reliable?"
Yoshiki tilted his head slightly, amused by the bluntness of the message. After a moment's thought, he replied:
"Have you and Ms. Yoko already arrived at his agency?"
The reply came quickly.
"Yes, we're here now. But I get the feeling that this Mouri guy is… well, kind of unreliable."
"But Miss Yoko said you recommended him, so we trust your judgment, Mr. Hayashi…"
"Maybe that's just part of his character."
Honestly, he wasn't sure how to defend Mouri's reputation. But it was too late now.
"In any case, Miss Yoko has decided to entrust the matter to him."
"If anything happens, let me know immediately."
The exchange ended there.
Yoshiki put away his phone and looked around. The sky had grown darker. Eri Kisaki, his aunt, was working late as usual. She probably wouldn't eat dinner until midnight. He, on the other hand, needed something light.
As he entered a nearby restaurant and placed an order, his phone rang again.
Caller ID: Yamagishi Ei
"Mr. Hayashi!" the voice on the other end shouted, panicked. "There's a body in Miss Yoko's apartment!"
"Do you need me to come over?"
"Yes! Please—we're in shock! Thank you for your help!"
Yamagishi's voice was rapid and shaky. According to what he explained, after they hired Kogoro Mouri to investigate a suspected stalker, they returned to Yoko Okino's apartment to check for any break-ins.
But upon opening the door—
—they found a corpse lying in the middle of the living room.
Yoko had screamed in terror.
Yamagishi had immediately called Yoshiki—not because he distrusted the police, but because, deep down, he didn't trust Mouri.
"Yoko, Mr. Hayashi says he's on his way."
"We should call the police right now!"
Only after Mouri reminded them did they remember to contact the authorities. Meanwhile, Ran Mouri was already dialing.
At the same time, a small figure nearby crept forward.
Conan Edogawa, a.k.a. Kudo Shinichi, crouched by the body with a deep frown. He didn't need to see much—his detective instincts were already kicking in.
A scream startled everyone.
"Wha—?! Where did these brats come from!?" Kogoro Mouri shouted.
A few elementary school kids had somehow wandered into the apartment. The moment they saw the corpse, they screamed and collapsed in fright.
Ran quickly pulled him back.
Kogoro, red-faced, turned and slammed a fist onto Conan's head.
"Who's this 'Mr. Hayashi' you guys keep talking about!?" Kogoro barked.
Yoko Okino, still shaken, blinked at him. "Eh? Mr. Mouri, you don't know? We came to hire you because Hayashi Yoshiki recommended you…"
Ran sighed. "Dad, didn't you read the papers today?"
"Ah… I woke up early and had a drink—uh, no, no! I just forgot to check the news!"
"So you were drinking again?!"
"No, no! Just a little bit!"
Yoshiki wasn't even there yet, and already the apartment was brimming with chaos.
Kogoro looked at Okino Yoko with pleading eyes.
Let's just wait for Hayashi to get here.
Yoko nodded in agreement.