A new na was steadily gaining traction on the killer platform.
The codena? Kira — aning simply, "killer."
But unlike other newcors, this one stood out imdiately. Kira executed every contract with ruthless efficiency, and with a striking diversity in thods. Completing a hit almost every single day, the mysterious assassin began drawing attention both inside and outside the platform.
"Only one minute left?"
"Understood, Mr. Hayashi."
Early morning on a quiet mountain road, Shimizu Reiko arrived at the designated location.
It was a sharp, winding stretch nestled between heavy banyan trees lining both sides of the road. Following Hayashi Yoshiki's instructions, she leveled the crossbow in her hands and aid at a thick branch on the left.
Thwack!
The arrow punched into the tree.
Without pause, she reloaded and fired again—this ti into the banyan on the opposite side.
A nearly invisible line of kite string, shimring faintly under the moonlight, now stretched tightly across the asphalt.
In the distance, the muffled growl of a motorcycle engine echoed.
As instructed, Reiko Shimizu pulled the string taut with a custom rig, then stepped aside and waited.
The motorcycle roared closer.
Its headlight swept over the road like a blade of white. Yuta Yamagata, alone on his bike, saw only a straightaway ahead—and gunned the throttle.
Boom-BOOM!
The engine scread.
Then—confusion. There was sothing reflective ahead in the beam of his high beams. It shimred—but he had no ti to think.
In two seconds, he was already dead.
The kite string severed his neck cleanly.
His head launched skyward, separating from his body in a geyser of blood. Still gripping the handlebars, his corpse continued riding down the slope for hundreds of ters before finally collapsing in a heap.
His head bounced and rolled across the mountain road.
Seconds later, Reiko Shimizu erged from cover, calmly severed the wire, snapped a photo of the scene, and vanished into the darkness.
"Mission complete."
She climbed into the passenger seat of a nearby black car.
"Nice work." Seiran Hoshi shifted gears and pulled away.
Her job was clean up and exfiltration—any residual traces of the job, she would handle. As an internationally wanted assassin whose identity had never been revealed, Seiran Hoshi had her own set of specialties.
"Wonder if Mr. Hayashi has a reward planned for you?" she said casually.
Even while driving, she looked immaculate—every hair and lash in place, makeup perfect.
Reiko Shimizu giggled and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror.
"I got a ssage reply from him after midnight," she said, brushing the crossbow affectionately. "But if there's a reward, it should go to you, Senior. We're teammates, right?"
"Of course," Seiran Hoshi smiled, eyes drifting back to the road.
Hayashi Yoshiki didn't need Shimizu Reiko's confirmation.
The na had been written in the Death Note. The mont the task was accepted, the outco had been secured.
Still, he logged in using Reiko's credentials.
"Welco back, Kira."
That familiar black screen flickered montarily, then vanished.
He marked the contract as complete.
The platform verified the evidence, and within minutes, the bounty money was transferred into the account.
Then Yoshiki moved on—scrolling through potential new targets.
To make contact with the Zoo's upper managent, he needed to elevate Kira to the sa status as legends like Spider—a killer so deadly and precise that even the Zoo's boss might reach out personally.
Which ant: no failed missions, no delays, no loose ends.
He noticed Gin's bounty had increased by another $2 million.
Uninterested, he skipped over it and instead accepted a difficult task—one that provided both the na and photo of the next target. Then he logged off.
Just then, his phone rang.
Caller ID: Kisaki Eri.
"Yoshiki!""Ran—Ran's mory is back!"Her voice trembled with joy.
Yoshiki's eyes lit with genuine warmth.
"That's wonderful. Should I co to see her now, Aunt Eri?"
Earlier that evening...
Ran, dressed in pajamas and ready for bed, was sitting by her desk organizing photographs.
Since losing her mory, her friends and family had flooded her with pictures—old prints, new snapshots, freshly developed rolls—all tucked neatly into albums.
Her fingers lingered on a few of them.
I don't rember these monts...But they make feel... warm.
Then her eyes settled on one set in particular.
It was the group of photos from her trip to Dorobika Paradise—with Hayashi Yoshiki.
Unlike the rest, these were post-amnesia, filled with laughter she did rember. Smiles, cotton candy, Ferris wheel silhouettes at sunset.
They were the only pictures she felt connected to.
She carefully placed them on the final page of the album.
Then—suddenly—her vision blurred.
A wave of dizziness swept over her. She clutched her temples, eyes fluttering. Sothing inside her cracked open.
Images flooded in.
Her mother, poisoned, lying in a hospital bed
Yoshiki, standing beside her with blood on his jacket
An ice cream cone dropped to the ground...
His quiet voice said, "Let's find another chance to get one."
Ran's mory returned like a tidal wave.
She stared down at the photograph again, trembling.
"When I rember it... give the knowing smile you should have now."
Those were his words.
And now, she understood exactly what they ant.
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