Glug, glug, glug!
Wakamatsu Toshihide chugged half a can of beer, tilting it back fiercely—
Then let out a satisfied belch.
Nothing beat beer!
He swiped his arm across his mouth.
He hadn't drunk his fill at the party.
Partly to impress Mouri Ran, partly because things went south too fast.
"Jerk, what's so great about him?!"
Wakamatsu downed the rest, crushed the can, and hurled it at the corner.
It clattered into a pile of empties, rattling loudly.
Still fuming, he cracked another.
He'd been sure he'd win Ran over—
Even if she wasn't into him, Wakamatsu's confidence never wavered.
A buff guy like him? Peak manhood. Pretty boys with nothing but looks? Useless vases.
Didn't matter if a girl wasn't interested—just keep at it.
Wakamatsu was a pro at this. His thick skin always worked, and a bit of intimidation from his size often shut down rejections.
—If not for that smug bastard!
The thought still burned.
As he grabbed the remote to distract himself with TV, a faint noise from the door stopped him.
What was that?
Wakamatsu perked up.
It grew clearer—someone was tampering with his apartment's lock!
Realizing it, his buzz faded fast.
The fiddling outside turned impatient, louder now.
"Who's there?!"
He leapt up, shouting.
He hoped his voice would scare them off, but the noise only got more frantic.
A vague dread surged through him.
"Damn it…"
Glancing around his messy room, he spotted his workout dumbbell and grabbed it.
The door swung open—
A plain-looking man in black stood there, vaguely shady, holding a knife. He stepped right into Wakamatsu's apartment.
"Hey! What do you want?!"
Spotting the glinting blade, Wakamatsu tensed. "Get out!"
"Hand over your cash! Now!"
Ignoring him, the man barged in, brandishing the knife.
His sudden rush rattled Wakamatsu, who, in a surge of panic and rage, hurled the dumbbell.
His bulk wasn't for show—the twenty-pound weight flew like a football. The man dodged, but it pissed him off, charging with the knife.
The blade came straight at him. Wakamatsu stumbled back, grabbing anything nearby to throw. As the man blocked, Wakamatsu lunged for the knife—
The man slashed.
A shallow cut grazed Wakamatsu's arm, but he clamped both hands on the man's wrist, using his bear-like frame to pin him down.
"Jerk!!"
The man roared, thrashing to break free. "Wanna die?!"
"You're the one who's dead! Drop it—!"
"I'll kill you!!"
Wakamatsu, panicked and furious, gripped the wrist tighter, trying to wrestle the knife away.
The man felt his wrist nearly snap, howling in pain. His free hand pounded Wakamatsu's arm—useless as steel—then switched to hammering his head—
Adrenaline dulled Wakamatsu's pain. Frantic, he yanked the knife free, taking a fist to the brow that left him dizzy.
His head buzzed—
He barely heard his own ragged breaths. Blood from his brow blurred his right eye, but when the man lunged to grab the knife back, Wakamatsu's rattled brain reacted—the blade in his hand plunged into the man's stomach.
"Urgh—!"
"…Huh?"
The warm blood on his hand jolted Wakamatsu. Trembling, he let go of the hilt.
The man staggered back.
Staring at his bloodied hands, Wakamatsu panicked.
"Hey… you okay?"
His voice shook. The guy looked bad—really bad. He stepped forward instinctively.
But then—
"Help!!!"
The man let out a piercing scream.
Under Wakamatsu's horrified gaze, he shrieked like a madman:
"Wait!! Spare me!!"
"Someone, anyone—save me!!"
"He's gonna kill me!!!"
"What?!"
The desperate cries threw Wakamatsu into a tailspin.
Especially when he realized his apartment door was wide open. He lived in a multi-unit bachelor pad with thin walls, and at this hour, neighbors were definitely awake.
As he moved to silence the man, his blood ran cold—the guy yanked the knife from his stomach and stabbed it into his own throat.
"Gurgh… gurgh…"
A wet, choking sound gurgled from the man's throat.
Then his body hit the floor.
---
Death is terrifying, sure.
But living can feel like a slow torture too.
The Death Note was a tool to control death.
After multiple tests, Hayato Masaki confirmed it could dictate who killed the named target. That sparked another idea.
—Framing.
Outside cold-blooded killers like Gin, modern society rarely let murderers slip through legal cracks.
Control the named victim to die by a target's hand, then let the police take over.
Near Nishizaki Apartments in Beika Town 6-chome, Hayato stood by a vending machine, smiling faintly at the crowd and flashing police lights in the distance.
He was just watching the chaos when someone approached.
"Hey, you alone?"
"Nah, I'm out with my girlfriend."
"Oh… she's not around? Wanna swap numbers…?"
"Sorry, that's not cool."
Brushing off the well-dressed office lady, Hayato turned and left.
Most folks had gathered under the apartments to gawk.
Walking alone, he pulled out his notebook, flipping to a page and tearing it out.
Yokogawa Naotani
February 14, 8:34 p.m., arrives at Nishizaki Apartments, Beika Town 6-chome 72. After scoping the place, decides to rob Room 203, 7th floor.
During the break-in, meets resistance from the resident. In the struggle, gets stabbed in the abdomen, causing heavy bleeding.
Then shouts at max volume: "Help!" "Wait! Spare me!" "Someone, anyone—save me!" before stabbing the knife from his abdomen into his throat, completing suicide.
Ding!
With a flick of his lighter, the page burned to ash, scattering in the breeze.
Perfect.
Yokogawa Naotani was one of the two targets Gin assigned—a gang member, noted in his file as a skilled lockpicker.
***
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