#1, Meito! Who are you?

Prologue

The Beginning of Chaos

Meito had always been the type to jump before thinking. Life, in his eyes, was a game. There were challenges, sure, but nothing he couldn't handle with a grin and a bit of luck. At sixteen, he had the confidence of someone who'd never truly faced the world's ugliness, still wrapped in the bubble of high school banter and video games. That was until he stumbled across an online government job listing. It was meant to be a joke—something to brag about to his friends.

"Yo, what if I became a detective? Solving crimes and stuff. How sick would that be?"

Click. Apply.

The whole thing was a blur. His details filled out on autopilot, and Meito, being Meito, didn't read the fine print. To him, it was all a meme, a dare he'd given himself on a random Saturday afternoon.

But then... the letter came. Official. Government seal and all. At first, he thought it was a prank. No way they'd accept a teenager. He hadn't even bothered to prepare. Yet, there it was, stamped in bold, undeniable letters:

Congratulations, Meito Yagami, you have been selected to join the National Detective Agency.

"What the—? Dawg, no way." He stared at the paper for a long moment, half expecting someone to jump out with a camera and yell, "Gotcha!" But nothing. Just silence, and the reality sinking in.

The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the towering N.D.A. headquarters, the sun blinding him as if mocking his disbelief. "Bro... I really did it. I'm a freakin' detective."

The first day? Absolute chaos. Meito strutted into the agency in his usual getup—hoodie, sneakers, and a grin plastered on his face like he owned the place. The reality of the situation hadn't sunk in. He'd imagined detectives as cool, mysterious figures in trench coats, like something out of an anime. Instead, the office was bustling with serious-looking adults typing away at computers, phones ringing off the hook, and bulletin boards plastered with crime scene photos.

"Yagami! You're late!" a stern voice barked.

Meito whipped his head around to see a woman—tall, glasses, looking like she hadn't slept in days. Her nameplate read Inspector Arai.

"I-I just got here!" Meito stammered, half-laughing as if to break the tension. "You know, first-day jitters and all."

"No time for jitters, kid. We've got work to do," she snapped, pushing a thick file into his hands. "Since you're so eager, here's your first case."

Meito blinked, flipping through the pages without really reading. "Yo, so like, what's the vibe here? Lost cat? Stolen purse? Ya boy can handle that, no prob."

Inspector Arai's eyes narrowed. "It's a serial killer case."

Silence. Meito's heart skipped a beat. He laughed, but it came out awkward. "Wait... for real? Like... someone's out there actually murking people?"

Her deadpan expression didn't change. "Welcome to reality, rookie. The case has been open for months. Multiple victims, no clear pattern. We've lost two detectives already. This is your assignment."

Meito's world tilted. His palms got sweaty, and for the first time, the weight of his decision to become a detective hit him. He wasn't playing anymore. This wasn't some online detective game or a TV show. This was the real deal. Real deaths. Real stakes.

But still, Meito being Meito, he couldn't help but smile, albeit nervously. "Alright... let's catch this guy then. I mean, how hard can it be?"

In his mind, he was still that kid who could tackle any challenge with sheer determination and a bit of dumb luck. But deep down, as he stared at the gruesome photos of the victims, a chilling thought crept in.

Maybe... just maybe... he was in over his head.

---

That was the day Meito Yagami, the 16-year-old rookie detective, took his first step into a world far darker than anything he had ever imagined.

Dangerous Games

The atmosphere in the National Detective Agency was tense. Meito sat at his desk, staring at the case file before him. The photos were worse than he had imagined—images of mutilated bodies, drained of blood, left in public places as if mocking the police. It was the work of a mastermind, someone who knew how to hide and toy with the system. Meito wasn't laughing anymore.

"He's killed five people so far. And that's only what we know of." A deep voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Meito looked up to see his new partner. Nodo Sei stood there, his tall frame blocking the light. Sei had a way of commanding the room with his presence—loud, brash, but sharp as a whip. He walked with a cocky swagger, eyes scanning Meito like he was sizing him up.

"You ready for this, kid? I don't play games unless I win."

Meito raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

"Nodo Sei. You'll remember the name." He tossed a stack of Uno cards onto the desk with a flourish, smirking. "These? They're not for fun. Try me in the field, and I'll show you what real power looks like."

"Uno cards?" Meito blinked. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Dead serious." Sei flipped through the cards, revealing how each one had a distinct glow. "These bad boys do more than just skip turns. Reverse, draw four—every card has a different effect. Play your cards right, and you'll stay alive. Mess up? Well, you won't get a second chance." His grin widened.

Before Meito could process this, another figure appeared in the doorway—calm, quiet, but with an air of control. Kishimata Lan, the fastest martial artist in the country, moved like a shadow. His presence was understated, but there was something about him that made the room feel smaller. He didn't need to speak to demand respect.

"I see you've met Sei," Lan said in a smooth, almost indifferent tone. "He's loud, but useful."

Meito looked between the two of them, feeling like he'd just stepped into a bizarre alternate universe. "So, you guys are my team?"

Lan gave a small nod, adjusting his gloves with precise movements. "That's right. I'm Kishimata Lan. Speed is my thing. Don't bother trying to keep up."

"Yeah, yeah, Lan's all about that 'silent warrior' life," Sei cut in, tossing a card in the air and catching it again. "But trust me, kid, between us, we've got enough firepower to take down anyone. Including this psycho killer."

Meito swallowed hard, trying to match their confidence. "Right... I guess we should start by figuring out where this guy is?"

Sei leaned over, pointing at the map laid out on the desk. "We've got a lead. Last sighting was in the industrial district on the outskirts of the city. Guy's smart, though. He's been slipping through our fingers for months."

Lan added, "The killer is meticulous. He doesn't leave evidence. But his last victim was different. There was a mark, a symbol, carved into the body."

Meito glanced at the symbol—a strange, twisted design that sent a chill down his spine. "What does it mean?"

"We're still trying to figure that out," Lan replied. "But it's a clue, and it's more than we've had in weeks. If we move fast, we might be able to catch him before he kills again."

Sei's eyes gleamed. "Fast? That's Lan's specialty."

Lan didn't respond, but his silence was answer enough. His reputation preceded him—stories about how he could move faster than the eye could see, striking down enemies before they even knew what hit them.

Meito tried to shake off the unease that settled in his gut. "Alright. Let's do this. What's the plan?"

Sei chuckled, flipping a "draw four" card into his palm. "We go in loud and fast. You follow our lead, rookie. Don't try anything stupid, and maybe—just maybe—you'll survive."

Lan gave a small smirk. "Stay close. The killer won't be playing by the rules."

---

The industrial district was as grim as Meito had imagined. Dilapidated warehouses, rusting metal, and the faint stench of oil filled the air. It was a place where secrets could hide in plain sight, and it was no wonder the killer had chosen it as his hunting ground.

Meito's heart raced as they approached the entrance to one of the warehouses, a looming structure with broken windows and a sense of abandonment that felt all too fitting.

Sei cracked his knuckles. "This is it, kid. You ready to catch a killer?"

Meito tried to suppress the trembling in his hands. "Yeah... let's get this guy."

Lan moved forward with silent precision, his speed unmatched even in the dead of night. "Stay behind me. If things go south, I'll get you out."

But as they stepped inside, Meito couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking straight into a trap. And for the first time, he realized just how dangerous this job really was. The killer wasn't just some random thug. He was calculating, cold-blooded, and now Meito was right in his crosshairs.

This wasn't a game anymore.

The hunt had begun.