ATTENTION: I am giving readers the opportunity to name the protagonist. Whether it's Yu Narukami, Souji Seta or something completely different, please leave a review and tell me what I should name him! Even if you don't care, just please take a few seconds to leave a suggestion. It would really help! Thank you!

-Purple

(6/8/13) I had to change some things in order to make it a bit more accurate, as well as fix a few mistakes.

September fourteenth.

I was off the case. Off. The. Case. It had taken me a very long time to be able to comprehend this. When I was finally able to accept the fact that I had been discarded, I made my decision. I was going to continue investigating, even if I wasn't an official part of the case. I am a detective. Detectives do whatever they need in order to find the truth. The truth itself is my only needed reward.
It was raining. It had been raining all day. The wind blew against the window in front of my desk, splattering it with rainwater as I looked through my countless investigation files. I had convinced my grandfather to let me stay home for the time being, insisting it was best for the case. After going through the previous kidnappings over and over, to try and find any other possible factor they may have shared, I finally identified something. In fact, I shunned myself for having been so careless as not to have seen this before. After staring at the pictures, articles and documents I had taped to the wall next to my desk, confined in my dark room with my laptop as my only light, it hit me. My eyes widened, actually, however sunken they were from my lack of sleep, as I stood up from my chair and inspected all these articles.

"Yes," I said, my voice sounding raspy, "Of course... Why have I not noticed this before?" I peered closely, unmoving, at the scribbles of katanaka written in black and blue ink in my own handwriting, on sheets of paper covering the wall.

Yukiko Amagi...April 16, reported missing from home by her mother...said to have been helping out at the Amagi Inn at the time...
Kanji Tatsumi...May 17...reported missing by his mother..."leaves home all the time without giving notice"...
Rise Kujikawa...June 22...reported missing by her grandmother...said to have "stepped out" while working at Marukyu Tofu...

Yes. This is what I was looking for. "The past three kidnappings," I said, "They all took place from the victims' homes." I groaned. "The first two did not, and those victims were the only ones to be killed, with the exception of Morooka, however irrelevant he may be in this matter." I was beginning to completely neglect Morooka from the case. His death most likely wasn't related to the kidnappings, since the apparent tactics in his murder were so different from the rest. I was so deep in thought that my head began to grow sore, but I didn't care. "I wonder if this may play an important part in the case..." In this case, if the perpetrator was kidnapping the victims from their homes, my intuitive decision to stay home would prove beneficial, if I wanted to lure the culprit to myself.

It was nearly midnight, I observed, as I glanced at the quietly ticking clock hanging on my wall. My eyelids were heavy as if they were made of lead. I hadn't slept the previous night, being so hung up on the case. Glimpsing at my reflection in the mirror on the left side of my desk, I felt disgust well up in me. Dark circles enveloped my eyes, and my hair was a mess from running my fingers through it all day. I looked revolting from all the stress I'd been putting on myself. I yawned, stretching my jaw to its limits, and rubbed my sore eyes, which were beginning to fog up with tiredness. I desperately needed sleep. I was too tired even to move. Without another thought, I rested my head on my crossed arms and fell asleep at my desk. It felt just as comfortable as my bed, it seemed.

Not long after, I was brought back to half-consciousness by the sound of flickering static behind me. My eyes opened slightly, and I caught a blurry view of what looked like the TV screen behind me turning on. Barely awake, I noticed that the picture was extremely unclear, but I could see a very vague silhouette standing in the center. Was this the fabled Midnight Channel I had heard so much about from the locals of Inaba? "...Hm?" I grunted quietly, feeling myself slip back into slumber, "Who is that...?" The TV slowly flickered off, and I regarded it as the illusion of a half-conscious dream. Too exhausted to stay awake any longer, I closed my eyes and let myself sleep.

September fifteenth. My grandfather had been concerned for me before he left for his job. He was worried about my grades, but I insisted to him that this temporary leave of absence would be best for the case, and that I was already overachieving in all my classes. I was beginning to grow edgy. I could stay home for the time being, but I couldn't stay home forever. Eventually I would have to return to school, whether the culprit presented themself or not. I stared at the clock, alone in my dark room, waiting for some type of break-in, or any suspicious activity at all. I jumped at every creak of the house, every time I heard Yakushiji-san get up from his desk downstairs, and every howl of the wind outside. It was still raining. In fact, the rain had begun to come down harder against the roof and windows. I waited in silence, with the pounding of the rain and the ticking of the clock as my only ambience. Yet again, the night drew near. This was agonizing... I just wished something would happen!

Lightning suddenly flashed outside. It illuminated the mirror beside my desk. Peering into it, I was struck yet again with a sense of disgust. The person who stared back at me, curled into a ball on the desk chair beneath them, bore an expression of pure hatred on their face. The expression somewhat scared me, but it more prominently stoked even more hatred inside of me. I uncurled myself and stood up from the desk chair, walking toward the mirror. I stopped in front of it, staring coldly into the empty eyes that stared back. I looked at my own face for a long while, my insides growing hotter and hotter with each progressing moment. I hated this person who dared to look back at me from the other side of the mirror. I hated them with all my heart.

"Look at you," I said as lightning flickered in the distance, "You are pathetic. Look at you!" I gritted my teeth, and the image in the mirror did the same.

A lump grew in my throat yet again. My eyes began to water, but I would not let such foolish tears escape them. "It's no wonder the police don't want you around. They never will. They only see you as a child, and God forbid anyone ever sees you as a girl." I began to tremble with anger. My chest felt unbelievably tight, and I felt like I was filled to the brim with white-hot fire. The face looking back at me in the mirror grew even scarier, and I curled my fingers into a tight fist. Unable to hold in my rage any longer, I let out a furious cry and smashed my fist into the mirror. "I'M NOT A CHILD!" A crack ran across the glass, and several others spiderwebbed from where my fist landed. I felt a sharp pain, and a small amount of blood leaked from the side of my palm and trickled down the mirror. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything.

The dark face in the mirror was now shattered in two parts, but continued to stare at me. For a second, I could have sworn the eyes glowed an ominous gold. "You're such a disgrace," I cried out, "You don't even deserve the title of Shirogane! You don't deserve to belong to this family! You don't deserve ANYTHING!" Lightning illuminated my room, and thunder crashed, ricocheting throughout the mountains in the distance. "You are nothing," I hissed, my nose wrinkled in hatred, the eyes in the mirror as cold and heartless as those of a snake.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

The sound was so sudden, I jumped. I hadn't expected it at all. Why would someone be here at this time of the day? The only one home was Yakushiji-san, and my grandfather wouldn't have rung if he had simply come home early... Maybe he was locked out? In any case, I should let Yakushiji answer it... Wait. Something didn't feel right about this. My eyes widened. What if this was my chance?

"I'll get it, Yakushiji-san," I called down the stairs as I hurried out of my room, trying to force all of my previous anger out of my system. He didn't reply, so I assumed he might have been in my grandfather's study. Suspense built up inside me. Time seemed to be passing so slowly. Who could have been at the door? What if it was just one of the neighbors? What if it was just something unimportant? No... My instincts told me that this was strange. This was something different. I swallowed hard, my palms beginning to sweat nervously, and neared the front door as the rain continued to pound against the windows, lightning flashing throughout the sky. Someone was on the other side of that door. I had no dea who it was, or what their intentions might be... But I knew that something was not right. I froze, inches before the door, and raised my hand to grab hold of the door handle, shaking violently. Finally, I fastened my fingers around the handle, and after a moment of hesitation, I summoned all the courage in my heart and pulled it open.

"Mr. Shirogane," I heard, "Please forgive me."

Before I could even see who the person was, something covered my mouth, and I could smell the foul scent of some kind of chemical. My face collided with fabric and my entire body was enveloped. I cried out in surprise and struggled to break free, but soon everything was shrouded in a pitch-black darkness as I heard the sound of a zipper closing up whatever material was encasing me. After squirming around inside this prison so that I was lying on my back, I saw that I had been shoved into some kind of duffel bag. My immediate instinct was to cry for help, but I forced myself to keep calm, and began questioning the culprit instead, managing to slip out of the chemical-covered material over my mouth. "What is the meaning of this?! Why are you kidnapping people?!" I recieved no response. "Ack!" I felt myself being dragged down my front steps, my shoulders colliding heavily with the stone masonry with every fall. I was then lifted into the air and felt myself collide with the perpetrator's back as he carried the bag over his shoulder. "Answer me!" He still did not reply. In fact, he said nothing, leaving me to assume that he was working alone. He carried me a short distance, which I guessed to be the distance of my front lawn, before stopping in his tracks. Everything was silent.

"What are you going to do with me?" I asked, feeling myself grow faint and drowsy from whatever substance he had tried to incapacitate me with, "I demand an answer, post-haste!" My heart was beating rapidly. Every inch of me was stricken with fear. I was panicking, but refused to let myself crack. I had to stay somewhat calm. I had to keep my grip on things, as all detectives must. However, what happened next alarmed me more than anything. I felt myself be lifted up, and then I suddenly collided with something hard, as if I had been thrown into a wall, but then the feeling of that wall soon melted away, as well as all physical contact with anything, and I experienced a bizarre falling sensation. It didn't feel so much like I was actually falling out of the air, but I felt as if I was floating, though my stomach dropped as if I had been free-falling. I cried out in fear, losing my grip on my sanity and plunging into full-blown panic. I didn't know what was happening. All I knew was that everything was dark, I couldn't see a thing, and there was no one there to help me. My screams went unheard as I felt myself plummet through space, and then everything went numb, and I passed out.

"Ace Detective Naoto is on the case!" the voice kept repeating in my head. "It's time to conduct a full-scale investigation!"
I ran around my old house sporting an oversized deerstalker hat and a classic magnifying glass, inspecting everything in sight, as I often did. I always acted like I was on some kind of over-dramatic kids' show on TV, examining petty mysteries usually left by my grandfather or the multiple secretaries we had had over the years. "Today I'm going to solve the mystery of who took the last cookie!" My long, blue hair trailed softly behind me as I raced all over the house, inspecting every nook and cranny and dusting the "scene of the crime" for fingerprints as my grandfather had taught me to do. I was only seven years old, but I had already picked up some tactics from my grandfather and the other men in his department. One day, I was going to be like them. While the other kids in my elementary school would be playing with each other and their numerous toys, I would be sitting off to myself, reading detective novels far beyond the reading level for my age. I wasn't good at making friends, so I didn't bother with the others. I had my books and my aspirations, and didn't need other people in my life. My imagination was wild. One day I'd be solving "The Case of the Century: Grand Theft at the Shirogane Estate" and the next it would be "The Case of the Missing Slipper," and other things along those lines.

"Now, let's see," I said, dramatically scratching my chin, "I've gone through all the clues. There are four main suspects who could have possibly taken it. The first one is... Grampa!" I looked through the magnifying glass straight up at him as he fixed his tie, standing at the counter in the kitchen while brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

"What's the matter, Officer Naoto?" my grandfather said, beaming down at me.

"I'm going to have to take you in for questioning!" I said, aggressively pointing my finger at him.

"Oh no!" Grampa said, "Did I do something wrong, Detective?"

"Earlier today around two o'clock PM," I said, "There was a plate of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies laid out on the table! All of them were eaten but one remained, and someone stole the last one!"

"Oh dear," Grampa said, playing along as he continued to adjust his tie, "That sounds terrible!"

"I know," I said, "So, did YOU take it?"

"Oh, no, Detective," my grandfather said innocently, "I would never do such a thing, you have to believe me."

"Hmm," I said, eyeing him suspiciously, "Alright, I believe you. You're off the hook... For now, buddy."

"Thank you, Officer Naoto," he chuckled.

"Then," I said, "The next suspect is you!" I turned to our secretary at the time, a young woman named Aki Nomura, who was probably in her late twenties or early thirties. She had been rather nice to me, as my grandfather had informed her that my parents had died in an accident during an investigation. She had been a bit of a mother figure to me at times, though I mostly kept to myself when I got upset. I didn't remember very vividly what it was like to have a mother...

"Me?" Nomura-chan said, also playing along.

"Yes," I said, "Did you steal the last cookie?"

"I couldn't have," Nomura said, sitting down at her desk, "Don't you remember? I was out at the time, taking care of things at my house. I just got here a little while ago."

"Huh," I said, squinting and sounding unconvinced. "I'll believe you just this once, then. But in that case, who could it be? Was it... YOU?!" I looked through the magnifying glass, peering down at the old, lazy bloodhound my grandfather had, a long retired police dog. It was silent, and then let out an ugly snoring sound. Its face was old and saggy, with empty eyes covered with wrinkles, and dark brown fur dusted in grey. I lifted up its top jaw and peered into its mouth before dropping it back down. "Nope, you're clean."

I stood up and looked around the room, and then paused to scratch at my chin again. "Well, it seems I have no leads as to who the culprit really is. But fortunately..." I took a pad of paper out of my pocket, which was scribbled on in black ink. "The test results for the fingerprints I found came in!" I squinted at the scribbles, and then gasped. "And it seems like my detective's intuition was right! The real culprit turns out to have been my last suspect all along: Detective Naoto Shirogane!" With that, I whisked a cookie out of my other pocket, holding it triumphantly into the air. "What an amazing plot twist!" I victoriously took a bite, and then grinned brightly. "And it's a quite tasty one, as well! Case closed, ladies and gentlemen!"

At that moment, there was a knock at the front door. I cheerfully frolicked over and opened it, looking up at the big man that stood in our doorway. This was my grandfather's partner. "...Hello," I said shyly.

"Good evening, Naoto-chan," the man said, looking down at me. "Is your grandfather here?"

"I'm right here," my grandfather said, approaching from the kitchen with a mug of coffee. "Is there a problem at the station?"

"Nothing big," the man said, "Just a stick-up at the local convenience store. The rest of the department's busy at the moment so we're needed to go arrest the guy. They have him locked in."

"Of course," said my grandfather, turning to Nomura, "Aki, will you be able to watch over Naoto for the time being? I won't be gone long."

A stick-up? This struck me with excitement, and I smiled hopefully. "Grampa, can I come?"

Grampa looked down at me apologetically. "I'm sorry, Naoto... But you should-"

Grampa's partner chuckled. "You? Come with two experienced detectives to arrest an attempted burglar? You're just a little girl."

My smile fell. "B-but, I've been working really hard on my cases, and I want to be able to handle a real case..."

"Cases?" he sneered, "Look, your little games are nothing compared to the real deal. We even try not to let adult women partake in our cases, let alone children. Wait a few more years, and then

maybe you can find your way into being a real, genuine detective."

Tears began to well up in my eyes. Never before had I felt so crushed. Yes, the other children at school would always say things like "You want to be a detective? But you're a girl!" and "Solving crimes is a boy's job," but never before had I heard it so bluntly from an adult. I was heartbroken.

My grandfather sighed as the two of them turned to leave. "I'm very sorry, Naoto-chan..." The door closed behind them. Distraught, I ran straight across the living room and down the hallway into my grandfather's study. It was dark, and the walls were lined with bookshelves. I had read a countless number of these books, mostly detective novels. I took out all of my favorites and climbed into the big armchair my grandfather would read in, and flipped through the pages of each one of them. Tears filled my eyes as I desperately skimmed through each one, reading off the names of all my favorite detectives... Sherlock Holmes, Kogoro Akechi, Phillip Marlowe... Every cool, hard-boiled detective in all my favorite crime novels, Japanese, American or English, were all men. Of course, I had always noticed that before... But I didn't want to admit it.

"No," I whimpered to myself, "I want to be a detective... Like in the stories..." I quivered, gripping my favorite copy of "The D Slope Murder Case" close to my heart. "I want to be like them... I want to be like my Grampa and my mom and dad... And everyone before me..." A tear began to trickle down the side of my cheek, but then, I became angry. I wiped away the tear, the foolish little thing... It was only a symbol of my immaturity. It only reinforced the fact that I was a child. I didn't want to be a child. I wanted to be an adult. Adults didn't cry, and crying would solve nothing. I wasn't going to give up trying to be a detective; it was my dream, and I would one day live it no matter what, even if I had to completely change my image. I didn't want to be a little girl anymore. I hated being a little girl. Suddenly, a glistening pair of scissors resting on my grandfather's desk caught my eye. I eyed the scissors thoughtfully, but before I could even think against it, they were already in my hand, and I stood in front of the full-sized mirror standing against the wall in my grandfather's study.

I gazed into the mirror, looking at the disgraceful thing I was: a young girl. This would no longer be. I had to change myself. I had to become a different person, a better person. Without hesitation, my fingers began to move rapidly, and I snipped at the long, navy blue locks, carving a new image for myself. It was a very hasty and messy job, but it was enough. After a few minutes, the person I saw as I stared into the mirror no longer looked like a young girl, but a little boy. I was breathing heavily, partially with the shock of seeing myself with a new face, and partially out of excitement. This was the new me. Before me stood a little boy with short, dark blue hair, with intelligence greatly advanced for his age and the ambitions of a hard-boiled detective. This was me, and this was to always be me.

I heard the front door slide open. My grandfather was home. I froze, my oversized deerstalker hat held firmly in my left hand, the scissors in my right, and locks of blue hair littering the floor. I was worried about how he would react. "Sorry about that, Nomura," I heard him say, "Where did Naoto run off to?"

"I think she's reading in your study," Nomura replied, standing up from her desk.

"I feel bad for leaving so suddenly," Grampa said, "So I'll make it up to the both of you. How about we all go out for dinner?" I whimpered, terrified.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Nomura chuckled, "I'll come with you; my jacket's hanging up in your study."

My grandfather's footsteps neared the door to his study. My heartbeat quickened, and I could only brace myself for what he would say. I swallowed hard, and faced him as he walked in.

"Naoto-chan, do you want to go out for- NAOTO!"

"Naoto," my own name echoed in my ears as I noticed my face was pressed against a cold, flat surface. I opened my eyes slightly, but everything looked as if it were spinning. I placed a hand on my head, which hurt with a searing pain. "Naoto," the same, oddly familiar voice repeated. My eyes shot open, and I sat up immediately, though I regretted it soon after, as a wave of vertigo washed over me.

"Where am I?" I said weakly, looking around and taking in my surroundings. I nearly gasped when I saw where I was. I hadn't expected in the very least that I would end up in a place like this. All around me were metal walls, decked with numerous lights, buttons, wires and computer screens. There were several red banners decorated with a golden falcon design, and the room was filled with a thick, disgustingly yellow fog. This looked like some place out of a superhero movie, or some science fiction police film. It deeply resembled what looked like a military base, and in the center was a metal table of some sort, surrounded by some kinds of surgical equipment, which looked entirely gruesome and were splattered with blood.

"You mean you don't know?" the familiar voice said again. I turned around in surprise, expecting the culprit to be behind me, but when I saw who it was, I gasped. Standing before me, in a bright turquoise shirt and yellow necktie, draped in an oversized lab coat and wearing the same dark blue newsboy cap atop short, navy blue locks of hair, was another me. It chuckled darkly, each deep laugh resonating in a sinister manner from its throat. The voice was the same as my own, though it was warped, and it sent chills down my spine. "Greetings. My name is Naoto Shirogane."