Hayashi Yoshiki opened his eyes.
After his usual morning routine—washing up, grooming, and getting dressed—he checked his phone. Monday. No new messages.
Still no reply from Gin after he reported the completed mission.
Not that he expected one.
His breakfast consisted of a simple cup of coffee and two slices of toast. Then, he headed out.
Two tasks awaited him today:
Give his statements at the Metropolitan Police Department and register as a detective.
Shop around for a car.
At the front of the Metropolitan Police Department, Hayashi was greeted right on time by a clean-cut young officer.
"You must be Hayashi Yoshiki, correct? I'm Takagi Wataru from Investigation Division 1. Please, this way."
"Thank you, Officer Takagi."
The interior of the police department was brighter and more modern than Hayashi expected. The Investigation Division's office resembled a typical corporate workspace.
"It's cleaner than I imagined," he said lightly. "I thought a crime investigation office would be full of cigarette smoke and clutter."
"That's a stereotype from too many movies," Takagi replied with a chuckle. Then he leaned in conspiratorially and added, "Though, between us… the Osaka department might fit that image."
"Really? I'd love to see that one day."
Hayashi smiled, amused.
He'd heard the rumors—Osaka's officers were notoriously intense. Loud, brash, and occasionally more gangster than the gangsters they pursued.
Takagi shuffled through some files at his desk.
"According to our records, you've been involved in three cases:
The Beika TV station case.
The Okino Yoko incident.
The Valentine's Day incident at the Minagawa residence."
"Let's go in chronological order," Hayashi said politely.
While the Valentine's incident had occurred first (February 14), and the others followed in March, Takagi still began with the TV station case, then the Yoko Okino case, and finally the Minagawa incident.
That confirmed Hayashi's theory.
In this world, calendar dates were inconsistent—time didn't flow according to the numbers on a page, but according to the subjective experience of those living through it.
I'll need to check if this temporal inconsistency affects the Death Note...
He mentally noted the need for further testing.
After recording all three statements, Takagi gathered the paperwork and stood to shake his hand.
"Thanks again, Mr. Hayashi. You've been a big help."
"My pleasure. Oh—and while I'm here, I'd like to register myself as a private detective."
"Ah…" Takagi looked uncertain. "Just a moment, please—I'll check with someone more experienced."
A few minutes later, Takagi returned accompanied by a confident-looking woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense aura.
"Hello, I'm Sato Miwako."
Hayashi shook her hand.
"Takagi's still new. I'll handle the registration," she said, pulling a form from her drawer. "You want to be officially registered with the Metropolitan Police Department as a private detective, right?"
"That's correct. Kogoro Mori recommended I do it."
"The famous Sleeping Kogoro, huh?" Takagi blinked.
He'd heard that name in the news quite a bit lately—thanks, of course, to a certain shrunken genius operating behind the scenes.
"The process is mostly symbolic. We don't exactly license detectives, but we do keep a record. That way, if someone with your name shows up during a case, we know not to treat you as a suspicious individual."
"And I assume," Hayashi said, "you'll be more lenient with methods like… tailing or minor surveillance?"
"Exactly. The police don't encourage such methods, but as long as you're not breaking serious laws, we'll usually turn a blind eye."
"And if a case becomes particularly difficult, you might even call on us for help?"
"Rare," Sato admitted, "but possible. In any case, we're happy to have skilled individuals like you registered."
In this world, detectives and law enforcement maintained an unusual symbiosis.
It was why Kogoro Mouri could be present at crime scenes, giving commentary, and occasionally guiding investigations.
Even in Osaka, Hattori Heiji, the son of a police superintendent, had authority during field investigations.
So yes—it was only natural for Hayashi Yoshiki to follow suit.
His name was formally recorded at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.
Since Sato Miwako was in charge of his file, they also exchanged contact information.
Takagi looked… a little conflicted.
Hayashi smiled warmly at him on the way out.
It was just past 10:00 a.m. Plenty of time left in the day to check out a few cars.
He'd originally wanted to wait until the world's technology caught up—something more efficient, something closer to the electric revolution. But he couldn't deny how inconvenient life was without a car.
And thanks to the Organization's steady "compensation", buying one wouldn't be an issue.