Hayashi Yoshiki spent nearly five days recovering before he was finally discharged and returned to Beika Town.
He took the train back alone.
Ran and the others had originally come to Osaka just for the weekend. But because of Yoshiki's condition, Ran took two additional days off, only returning to Beika once she confirmed he was well enough to travel.
After all, Conan had school.
"Don't do anything dangerous like that again. Do you know how worried I was when I heard you'd been hurt?"
It was Eri Kisaki who came to pick him up from the station.
As she scolded him during the ride, Hayashi Yoshiki could only nod obediently.
Only when he smiled and promised never to scare her like that again did Eri calm down a little.
"Did you tell Ran you were coming back?"
"Yes, I messaged her when I bought the ticket last night."
"Good. That girl was so worried about you."
As she turned right at the next intersection, she kept her eyes on the road.
While he was hospitalized, Ran messaged him frequently. She was overjoyed when she heard he'd be discharged soon and returning to Mihua.
And it wasn't just her.
When Hakuba learned that Hayashi Yoshiki had been targeted by the killer, he felt incredibly guilty. He kept sending texts to check on him and had grown increasingly focused on tracking the murderer.
During those days, a certain dark-skinned young man also dropped by often—claiming to be helping care for the injured, but always pressing subtly for info about the case.
But Yoshiki remained tight-lipped.
"If I'd known this would happen, I should've ignored you and just dropped everything to come take care of you myself..."
"That really wasn't necessary. I could move around just fine, and the nurses were quite kind."
"You think I mean just for you?"
"...That's not what I meant."
Yoshiki fell silent, a bit flustered.
Eri Kisaki smiled at his slightly awkward expression.
Only then did she feel truly relieved. He really was okay.
"Let's have dinner with Ran and the others tonight. I'll make a reservation—it's time to celebrate your discharge!"
"Sounds great. But I should probably stick to lighter food for now," Yoshiki said, glancing at his immobilized right hand with a wry smile.
"...Though honestly, when I got off the train, I was secretly hoping Aunt Eri would bring me a nutritious McDonald's breakfast."
"Want me to book a reservation at McDonald's tomorrow morning?"
"Seriously—what's so good about that? It's just—"
Just Yoshiki being Yoshiki.
He laughed cheerfully.
As the car turned another corner and the road grew more complex, Eri focused on driving. Meanwhile, Yoshiki checked his phone.
He had received a message from Gin just after arriving at the station but hadn't had time to reply.
Gin: "The mission objective has been sent to your email."
Gin's messages lately were short and blunt.
Normally, Yoshiki would respond with something like "Okay" or "Got it."
But this time, he typed a different reply.
Cointreau: "Not this time."
Across town, Gin narrowed his eyes.
Cointreau refusing a kill?
Cointreau: "I'm injured. Doctor says I need rest."
Gin: "What happened?"
Cointreau: "I was hit by a car. There was also an explosion."
The chill in Gin's expression deepened.
He began typing with a cold glare.
The tension in Gin's shoulders vanished momentarily—replaced by confusion.
What the hell did Cointreau mean by that?
Before he could ask, another message arrived: a location, date, and time.
Without a word, Gin forwarded it to Vodka.
"Got it, big brother."
Vodka quickly set to work. He used the organization's software to pull up surveillance footage from that time and location. Within ten minutes, he had all the necessary videos.
As he watched in silence, Vodka read along. After a long pause, he muttered:
"...Cointreau... is he sick or something?"
The accident and explosion in the video were clearly Cointreau's doing.
Was he just bored and looking for thrills?
Gin shot Vodka a glare and sighed.
There was no hope for his little brother's logic.
He pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it.
Gin figured Hayashi Yoshiki had orchestrated the whole thing for some purpose—possibly to embed himself deeper in the case.
But did he really have to go that far?
One mistake could've killed him.
Not that Gin cared much. With a flick of ash, he muttered:
"I'll assign the job to Cohen and the others."
And just like that, he dropped the matter.
Meanwhile, Hayashi Yoshiki deleted the entire message thread.
He might've turned down Gin's assignment—but he hadn't stopped using the Death Note.
After all, if people were dying while he was bedridden, that only helped him stay off the suspect list.
"Are you really okay moving around like that?" Eri glanced at his right hand.
"It's fine. Nothing serious."
"Ran told me you're always trying to accommodate everyone and never want to be a burden..."
As the traffic light turned red, Eri looked over with a warm gaze.
"But sometimes, people need to rely on others. There's no shame in it."
She might seem stern, but Eri Kisaki was soft-hearted—just like Ran.
She simply didn't show it often.
"I cleaned up your place. Go rest for now. Dinner's later tonight."
"Thanks. I'm looking forward to it."
Then he added with a grin, "Could I trouble Aunt Eri for McDonald's breakfast tomorrow?"
"...You can ask Ran for things like that."
She'd made her meaning pretty clear: she wanted him to spend more time with Ran.
And Yoshiki understood that very well.
"But Ran has school tomorrow, doesn't she?"
"That girl won't mind."
Yoshiki looked out the window, thoughtful.
He was much more interested in what Conan knew about the serial killer who used "accidents" as a weapon. Hattori had been dropping hints nonstop during his hospital stay—so Conan must know something too.