Naoki woke to a dull, persistent ache behind his right eye, the pain radiating through his skull like a hot knife. He had spent the entirety of the previous day in bed, the swelling too severe to allow him even the smallest reprieve. Every attempt to open his eye had been met with searing pain that left him gasping and disoriented. It wasn't just the physical pain—something darker, more insidious, had crept into his thoughts, wrapping itself around his mind like a fog. The events of the past few days weighed heavily on him, and despite his training, despite years of numbing himself to emotions, he felt something cracking inside.

By the next morning, the swelling had gone down enough that he could partially open his eye, but the world was still blinding, the light like daggers piercing straight into his brain. Naoki grit his teeth against the pain and forced himself out of bed. He swept his hair over the injured eye, concealing it beneath long, dark strands, and made his way to school, every step feeling like a weight pulling him deeper into the earth.

Upon arriving at school, Naoki found his usual seat near the window. He had barely sat down when Ayato appeared at his side, a familiar look of concern etched on his face. Ayato had always been more perceptive than Naoki gave him credit for, and it was clear that his friend's troubled state hadn't gone unnoticed.

-Naoki, you don't look well..
Ayato said gently, his brow furrowing.
-Are you sure you're okay?
-I'm fine,
Naoki replied curtly, not bothering to make eye contact. His voice was colder than usual, but there was an underlying exhaustion that Ayato picked up on. Naoki wasn't just brushing him off—he was barely holding himself together.

Ayato hovered for a moment, unsure whether to push further. He opened his mouth to speak again but hesitated, ultimately deciding against it. He knew Naoki well enough by now to understand that there were moments when it was better to leave things unsaid.

-Alright
Ayato said quietly, though he clearly wasn't convinced. He gave Naoki one last concerned look before retreating to his seat, leaving Naoki alone with his thoughts.

The day passed in a blur of monotony, the familiar rhythms of school life offering Naoki little solace. The pain behind his eye persisted, throbbing with every heartbeat. By lunch, he could feel the exhaustion weighing down his limbs, but something else gnawed at him—a sense of urgency that he couldn't shake. He needed to talk to Mei.

But Mei wasn't at school. Her seat remained empty, her absence another weight pressing down on Naoki's mind. She had been sick recently, and it wasn't unusual for her to miss a day or two, but the timing felt off. Naoki couldn't help but feel as though the universe was conspiring against him, keeping him from the answers he sought.

Instead of dwelling on his frustration, Naoki resolved to speak to the next person he thought could help him reach Mei — Kouichi Sakakibara. Kouichi had a natural way of connecting with people, a quality that Naoki both admired and found perplexing. If anyone could get a message to Mei, it was him.

Naoki found Kouichi standing near the lockers after class, talking with Yuuya Mochizuki and Teshigawara, his usual companions. Kouichi noticed Naoki's approach out of the corner of his eye and waved a casual greeting, though he appeared slightly apprehensive.

-Muneyoshi-kun
Kouichi said, acknowledging Naoki with a polite nod.
-Something up?"

Naoki remained silent for a moment, sizing up the situation. His eye throbbed painfully beneath his hair, but he ignored it. Wordlessly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly worn envelope, its edges crinkled from repeated handling. He held it out to Kouichi, who blinked in confusion.

-What's this?
Kouichi asked, his voice tinged with curiosity as he took the envelope from Naoki.

-It's for Misaki
Naoki said simply. His tone was flat, almost devoid of emotion, but there was an undercurrent of something more—a quiet desperation that Kouichi could sense.

Kouichi looked at the envelope and then back at Naoki, frowning.
-Why me? Why don't you just give it to her yourself?

Naoki's gaze flickered for a moment, betraying a hint of discomfort. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable with the question.
-She's not here,
he said
-And...
He hesitated, his voice lowering.
-I can't do it.

Kouichi's frown deepened. He wasn't sure what to make of Naoki's sudden vulnerability, but he could tell that this wasn't something Naoki would ask lightly. There was more to the situation than Naoki was letting on, but Kouichi knew better than to press too hard.

-Why do you trust me to deliver this?
Kouichi asked, holding up the envelope as if it were a dangerous object.
-I don't even know what's in it.

Naoki's expression softened slightly, a rare crack in his usually stoic demeanor.
-You're someone she'll listen to. I'm not.

Kouichi felt a pang of sympathy for Naoki, who suddenly seemed much less like the cold, aloof figure he projected and more like someone who was struggling with something far deeper. He could see the weight Naoki was carrying, even if he didn't fully understand it.

After a moment of contemplation, Kouichi nodded.
-Alright
he said slowly.
-I'll give it to her. But can I ask... What's in it? Just out of pure curiousity

Naoki looked away.
-It's personal. he replied.
-Something she needs to read. That's all.

Kouichi sighed, but he relented. There was no point in prying further if Naoki wasn't willing to talk. He nodded again, this time more resolutely.
I'll make sure she gets it.

Naoki gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod of thanks before turning on his heel and walking away without another word.

Later that evening, Kouichi found himself pacing back and forth in his room, the letter from Naoki sitting on his desk like a silent accusation. He had promised to deliver it, but now that he had some time to think, he wondered if that had been the right decision. What if this letter only opened old wounds for Mei? What if Naoki's intentions weren't as pure as they seemed?

He picked up his phone and dialed Mei's number, his heart pounding with uncertainty. It only rang twice before Mei answered.

-Sakakibara? she said, her voice as calm and composed as ever.

-Misaki-san
Kouichi began hesitantly.
I have something for you. From Muneyoshi-kun.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Kouichi wondered if Mei had hung up. But then she spoke again, her voice quieter this time.

-What is it? she asked.

-It's a letter, Kouichi explained.
-I don't know what's in it, but... He was really insistent that I give it to you.

Mei was silent for a long moment, and Kouichi could almost hear the gears turning in her mind. Finally, she let out a small sigh.

- Alright, bring it to me tomorrow. Leave it in the basement of the
store.

The next day, Kouichi did as Mei asked. He made his way to the basement of the doll shop where Mei lived, carefully leaving the envelope in the place she had designated. There was something eerie about the store in the early morning hours, the dolls with their glassy eyes staring down at him from their shelves, their faces frozen in time. It was as if they were watching him, judging him for intruding on this secret.

Kouichi couldn't shake the unease that lingered as he left the store and headed back home. He had done his part, but he still didn't know what impact this letter might have. What had Naoki written that was so important? What could be so personal that Naoki himself couldn't deliver it?

That evening, Mei retrieved the letter and took it up to her room. She had been feeling better, though the lingering effects of her cold still made her feel sluggish. She sat down on her bed and stared at the envelope for a long time before finally working up the nerve to open it.

Inside was a photograph, worn and faded from years of handling. On the back were three names: Ayato, Misaki, Naoki. Mei turned the photo over and looked at it carefully. It showed the three of them standing together on a bright spring day, Ayato and Misaki smiling brightly while Naoki stood slightly apart, his expression distant, almost reluctant.

Mei stared at the image for a long time, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside her. It was rare for her to feel anything so strongly, but seeing her sister like this—so alive, so full of energy—was a painful reminder of everything she had lost. Misaki had always been the brighter, more outgoing one, the one who drew people in with her warmth. Mei had never been like that. She had always been on the outside, watching from a distance.

Underneath the photo was a letter, written in Naoki's familiar scrawl. Mei unfolded it carefully, her fingers trembling slightly as she began to read.

Misaki,
I hope you're doing well, wherever you are now. Ayato told me that you moved to California, or maybe somewhere else. It doesn't matter. Wherever you are, I'm sure you're still in contact with your sister. Otherwise, you wouldn't be reading this letter.

I woke up, and I realized something important. Something I should have told you a long time ago.

I wanted to thank you. You and Ayato—you showed me something I never thought I'd find. You showed me what friendship meant. What it meant to trust someone. To feel something real. I didn't understand it then, but I think I do now.

You became important to me. More than I ever thought anyone could be. And... I think I loved you, Misaki. I should have told you that in person, but I never did. I'm sorry.

I don't know if this letter will ever reach you, but I wanted to say it. Even if it's too late.

Naoki

Mei read the letter in silence, her heart heavy with a mix of emotions she didn't know how to process. She had always known there was something between Misaki and Naoki, something unspoken that had lingered in the background of their friendship. But reading Naoki's words—his quiet confession of love—it felt like something had shifted inside her.

For the first time in a long while, Mei felt a strange sense of connection. Not just to her sister, but to Naoki as well. Despite his cold exterior, his guarded nature, there was something real beneath the surface. Something that Mei understood better than anyone else.

She folded the letter carefully and placed it back in the envelope, tucking it away in her desk. Then she picked up her phone and sent a text to Naoki's secondary number.

"I trust you. At least enough to help you. But I'm sick right now, so I'll be gone for a few days."

It didn't take long for Naoki to respond.

"No need for that. Just text my regular number when you're ready."

Mei let out a small breath, feeling a strange sense of relief. Whatever was happening, whatever Naoki had planned, she was ready to see it through.

Naoki lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the past few days replayed in his mind. His right eye still throbbed with pain, but it was a dull ache now, more of a reminder than an agony. The letter he had written to Misaki had been a long time coming, and now that it was out there, he felt a strange sense of closure. Not peace, exactly, but something close to it.

When his phone buzzed with Mei's message, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He had been right to trust her. Mei was like him in many ways—guarded, isolated, but with a core of strength that most people couldn't see.

They were connected now, in a way that went beyond words. And together, they would unravel the mysteries that surrounded them, no matter the cost.
The realization settled over Mei like a heavy blanket, wrapping her in its warmth and sadness. She tucked the letter away, slipping it into a drawer next to her bed. She didn't know what to do with this information—didn't know how to process the emotions swirling inside her. But one thing was clear: Naoki wasn't the heartless person she had once believed him to be. He was complicated, scarred by his past, but he was also capable of love, of feeling.

For the first time in a long while, Mei felt a strange sense of connection. A shared understanding with someone who had also lost someone dear to them. She decided that when she saw Naoki again, she would tell him she believed him—tell him that she would help him uncover the truth, no matter where it led.

At the same time, the police investigation into the recent string of mysterious deaths was heating up. The discovery of Nobuyuki Furatani's mutilated corpse had raised more questions than answers. Chigusa Nomura, a sharp-eyed investigator with a knack for connecting dots, was already beginning to suspect that these deaths were part of a much larger conspiracy.

-Kobayashi-san, Chigusa said as she studied the latest report
-I think we're dealing with something much bigger than we initially thought. The Minazuki Company, the Hironiwa clan, these murders—there's a connection here. And I think it all leads back to the Yomiyama Group.

Akira Kobayashi leaned back in his chair, his mind racing as he considered her words.
-You think the Yomiyama Group is involved?"

Chigusa nodded.
-I do. Furatani and Kanazawa both worked for the Minazuki Company, and now they're both dead. The timing is too coincidental. And let's not forget Ria Hironiwa's death—she was part of the Hironiwa clan, even though she was just Yuukichi Hironiwa's daughter she died too.
We don't know what they are up to, and they're doing it with precision.

Kobayashi listened intently, though his expression never wavered. Behind his calm exterior, he felt a small thrill—everything was unfolding just as he intended. Ria Hironiwa's death had been a delicate maneuver, one that required flawless execution, and now the chaos that followed was only fanning the flames of distraction. It was working perfectly.

He sighed softly, a gesture of feigned fatigue, as though the case were weighing on him.
-This goes deep, doesn't it?
he said, rubbing his temples as if to mask his real satisfaction.
-We need to dig further. To find their real reason for those deaths, maybe even Ohba felt victim to them.

It was a statement meant to redirect focus away from him, to keep suspicion off his back. Chigusa, naturally trusting of her colleague, nodded in agreement, her mind still consumed by the puzzle. She was smart, but Akira Kobayashi was always a few steps ahead of her. He had to be. The strings he was pulling were too delicate to leave in the hands of others.

-And quickly
Chigusa added, her voice more urgent now.
-Before more bodies start piling up."

Kobayashi gave a slow nod, his gaze drifting toward the window as if lost in thought. In reality, he was silently calculating his next move. More bodies would certainly pile up, but they would do so on his terms. He had no intention of stopping the chain of events—he was merely redirecting the path.

His eyes flicked back to Chigusa, softening his expression just slightly. -You're right
he said, his tone calm and measured, designed to instill a false sense of reassurance.
-We'll need to stay sharp. This is getting dangerous.

It was a lie, of course. The only danger here was that his game might end too soon, that the pieces would fall out of place before he was ready. But Kobayashi was nothing if not meticulous—his patience was infinite, and so far, everything was going according to plan.

Across town, Yuukichi Hironiwa sat in his office, his hands clenched tightly on his desk as he stared at the headlines flashing across his computer screen. More bodies, more chaos. The police were sniffing too close for comfort, and the investigation was threatening to unearth secrets better left buried.

Ria's death weighed heavily on him, though not in the way a father might grieve for his daughter. For Yuukichi, her death was an insult to his authority, a crack in the foundation of the Hironiwa clan's power. If Ria had been targeted, then there was a larger game at play, one that threatened to shatter the fragile web of influence he had so carefully woven.

He had enemies—he always had enemies—but this was different. This felt orchestrated, calculated.

He pressed a button on his desk, summoning Sadao Kamiyama, his most trusted advisor. Kamiyama entered quickly, bowing his head in respect before standing at attention, awaiting orders.

-''Kamiyama"
Yuukichi said, his voice low and measured, but laced with tension.
- Get in contact with our informant in the police department. I want to know exactly what they're looking into. We can't afford to be caught off guard.

Kamiyama nodded, his expression serious.
-Of course, Yuukichi-sama. I'll gather the information.

As Kamiyama left, Yuukichi turned back to the window, watching the city below with narrowed eyes. He could feel the walls closing in around him, and the thought filled him with dread. He had always been able to maintain control—always been the one pulling the strings—but now, for the first time, he wasn't sure if he could keep his grasp on the situation.

Little did he know, the one pulling the strings was someone he had overlooked entirely—Akira Kobayashi.