That night, 9:17 PM.
Haruki arrived at the familiar, nondescript training facility. As he approached, a black sedan parked outside flashed its high beams once. Walking over, he saw Gin's impassive face through the lowered passenger window, those dark green eyes slicing over him in the dim light.
"Get in."
Haruki opened the rear door and slid inside.
Gin's beloved Porsche 356A was a two-seater, but today they were in a four-door sedan.
"New car, Gin?"
"…Big brother's car is in for maintenance," Vodka, seated in the driver's seat, answered with unexpected candor, glancing at Haruki in the rearview mirror.
Gin merely took a drag from his cigarette, offering no comment.
"The reason for calling me here?"
"I hear you're planning to become a detective," Gin said, his gaze locking with Haruki's in the mirror.
"The thought has crossed my mind."
"Heh…"
Gin's lips curled in a faint, predatory smirk, seemingly satisfied with the answer, though he didn't press the topic. "Drive," he instructed Vodka.
The engine purred to life, and the car pulled smoothly onto the night-shrouded street.
The black sedan moved with a quiet efficiency through the city. The rhythmic pulse of streetlights washed over the interior. It was Haruki's first time riding with Vodka at the wheel; the man's driving was surprisingly steady.
Yet, one detail nagged at Haruki…
Vodka, focused on the road, would occasionally check the rearview mirror. Each time, he found Haruki's gaze fixed on him. Unsettled, his grip on the steering wheel tightened.
"Why are you staring at me?" Vodka finally asked, unable to suppress his unease.
Haruki's method of killing—the one even Gin couldn't decipher—meant his observational skills were undoubtedly razor-sharp. Why was he studying his driving habits now?
Gin's eyes lifted slightly, listening.
"Your sunglasses are completely opaque, Mr. Vodka," Haruki remarked, his tone mild. "I was simply concerned about your visibility."
"…I can see the road perfectly clearly. I won't crash."
"Good to know."
Seemingly placated, Vodka returned his full attention to driving, releasing a subtle breath.
Silence reclaimed the car. Gin offered no further explanation for the summons, and Haruki didn't ask. Instead, he observed their route while retrieving a notebook and pen from his pocket.
"What are you doing?"
"Working on a story. Care to see?"
"Boring."
Gin's disinterest was palpable. He held nothing but contempt for mystery novels and detective theatrics. Killing was simple: a bullet, a body left behind. Why complicate it?
Haruki continued to note their surroundings.
"This direction… we're not headed to the aquarium from last time, are we?"
"Yes," Vodka confirmed, ever cooperative.
A gentle, knowing smile touched Haruki's lips. "So, it's another traitor or rat to deal with?"
"Your mind works quickly," Gin conceded, his tone flat.
"It's a relatively remote area. Few people at night." Haruki kept his tone light. "There aren't many suitable execution grounds in Beika."
The term 'execution ground' seemed to amuse Gin; a sinister curl appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Good.
He'd likely deduced their destination correctly. Gin wasn't one for pointless deception in such matters.
From their current location, the aquarium was roughly a thirty-minute drive. That meant the Organization's 'rat' was likely lured to that street for a 10:00 PM meeting.
Haruki mentally scrolled through the dossiers of known low-level criminals active in the area on the Organization's internal network. He quickly isolated a candidate.
He turned to a specific page in his notebook—one interleaved with paper from the Death Note. With Gin present, this was the perfect opportunity for a test.
> *Tsukida Taku*
> *Starting at 9:46 PM on April 13th, he will begin committing roadside robberies via motorcycle in the vicinity of the Beika City Aquarium.*
> *During his first two attempts, he will successfully steal a total of 23,601 yen in cash.*
> *At 10:09 PM, after forcing a new target vehicle to halt, he will be shot in the forehead by a man in the passenger seat wielding a handgun during the attempted extortion. He will then be immediately stabbed in the neck with a knife, resulting in death.*
Haruki reviewed the entry. The Death Note could, to a degree, function as a "script." This test served two purposes.
First: "During his first two attempts, he will successfully steal a total of 23,601 yen in cash." If the stolen amount precisely matched this figure, it would confirm the Note's power to dictate specific, causal details.
Second: the "target vehicle" and the "man in the passenger seat wielding a handgun." Previous experiments had shown limits. He'd once scripted a death involving an RPG on a main street, but the subject had simply died of a heart attack. The Note seemed to reject overly convoluted or fantastical external causes. This scenario, however, was grimly plausible. He needed to see if it would hold—and if the "man in the passenger seat" would, in fact, be Gin.
The previous RPG experiment had failed because, while physically possible, it was logically absurd—no ordinary pedestrian on that street would be carrying such a weapon. The Death Note, it seemed, demanded a veneer of plausible cause and effect.
His current test was more nuanced. While Haruki hadn't explicitly written that Tsukida Taku would target this specific car, the condition of being "shot in the forehead by a man in the passenger seat wielding a handgun" strongly implied it. In this scenario, Vodka's sedan was the most likely candidate.
And then, the third variable: Gin. He was a man of brutal efficiency—a clean shot to the head was his signature. He didn't indulge in post-mortem stabbings. Haruki wanted to see if the script's final, grisly detail would override that ingrained habit.
Right on schedule, under Vodka's steady control, the black sedan glided into the vicinity of the Beika City Aquarium just before 10 PM.
It was the same location: the mouth of the second alley beside the aquarium.
As they neared, Vodka's vigilance heightened. His eyes, hidden behind the opaque lenses, flickered between the flickering neon signs of nearby buildings and the newly repaired, stark white glow of the streetlights. The entire stretch of road felt unnervingly desolate—
"Hurry up."
Gin's voice was a low growl of impatience.
Vodka had no choice. He tapped the accelerator gently, easing the car to a stop directly in front of the lone figure standing beneath the cone of light at the alley's entrance.
The passenger window slid down silently. As the man—Tsukida Taku—took a step forward, perhaps to speak, Gin's arm was already extended, the barrel of his handgun a cold, unwavering line.
**Pfft.**
The silenced shot was a soft, wet punctuation. The bullet tore through the man's forehead. A dark spray misted the air in the stark light.
**Thud.**
The body collapsed heavily onto the pavement, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet night.
For a moment, there was only the hum of the idling engine and the faint, distant sounds of the city. Gin made no move to retrieve the weapon, his expression one of cold, detached completion. The script's first act had been followed to the letter.
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