A new name was steadily gaining traction on the killer platform.
The codename? Kira — meaning simply, "killer."
But unlike other newcomers, this one stood out immediately. Kira executed every contract with ruthless efficiency, and with a striking diversity in methods. 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 aimed at a thick branch on the left.
Thwack!
The arrow punched into the tree.
Without pause, she reloaded and fired again—this time into the banyan on the opposite side.
A nearly invisible line of kite string, shimmering 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 screamed.
Then—confusion. There was something reflective ahead in the beam of his high beams. It shimmered—but he had no time 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 meters before finally collapsing in a heap.
His head bounced and rolled across the mountain road.
Seconds later, Reiko Shimizu emerged 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 message 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 name had been written in the Death Note. The moment the task was accepted, the outcome had been secured.
Still, he logged in using Reiko's credentials.
"Welcome back, Kira."
That familiar black screen flickered momentarily, 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 management, he needed to elevate Kira to the same status as legends like Spider—a killer so deadly and precise that even the Zoo's boss might reach out personally.
Which meant: 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 name and photo of the next target. Then he logged off.
Just then, his phone rang.
Caller ID: Kisaki Eri.
"Yoshiki!""Ran—Ran's memory is back!"Her voice trembled with joy.
Yoshiki's eyes lit with genuine warmth.
"That's wonderful. Should I come 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 memory, 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 remember these moments...But they make me 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 remember. 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. Something 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 memory returned like a tidal wave.
She stared down at the photograph again, trembling.
"When I remember it... give me the knowing smile you should have now."
Those were his words.
And now, she understood exactly what they meant.