Naoto's Notebook: Entry 1
My grandfather doesn't want me to be a detective anymore.
But it's too late. I am already on the train, enduring my long trip to Inaba.
Since I am going to be here for quite awhile, I decided to write about my past. It might clarify something.
I used to always be home alone. My parents - dead from a car accident while investigating a case - left me to be alone. Their greatest gift to me was my name: Naoto, the truth seeker, and Shirogane, which represents a lineage of four generations of detectives. Now five.
My grandfather and guardian was a detective himself, so he was always gone. Hired hands clothed me, tutored me, and fed me. The solitude eventually led to a major emotional meltdown, so devastating that my grandfather dropped a case to take care of me. It must have made an impact on him, since he never again left me alone for extended periods. Instead, he took me to work with him.
The police used to be kind to me. They mistook me for a boy, which earned me the name "boy detective." To pass my time, the officers gave me children's serialized mystery novels to read. As my grandfather worked, I asked him strings of questions, which he asked right back at me. Soon, I was answering them myself. And later, I gave my grandfather new perspectives on his own cases.
As a boy detective, the police gave me small jobs. They encouraged me to find lost pets and collect rewards. I conducted interviews and invented my own gadgets. Today, I still have the cat-shaped pet tag given to me when I solved my first case.
At age 12, I met a female detective who gave me my first adult case. Her name was Touko-san, a tall, authoritative, curvy woman. "What a cute girl," she squealed upon meeting me. Before then, I never kept secrets, but I was used to the police calling me by male pronouns. It became how I thought of myself, and when I lounged at the station with my detective books, I imagined myself as the protagonists. When Touko called me a girl, I felt embarrassed. So I decided to keep being the boy detective.
As I advanced into my teen years, the police grew meaner. They treated me like a nuisance and told me to play with my friends. Some of them knew I spent my life at the station and thought of them as family. I couldn't go "play with friends." I had no friends to begin with.
Despite discouragement, I kept receiving contract work. On the case, however, detectives no longer wanted to cooperate. I annoyed them when I was right. Though only a couple years ago, they were proud and smiled.
My grandfather eventually took the side of his co-workers. He told me to quit working and start playing and to remember why I started doing this.
During one bitter battle, he hid his face and declared "I've made a monster. Your parents would be ashamed of me."
But it was he who failed to understand. I was only being exactly who my parents hoped I would become. At Inaba, investigating a serial murder, I can become the protagonist at last.