DN 13: Murderous Intent

"Constantly imagining murder methods and victims' final moments… hmph, that tracks."

In a dimly lit tavern, Gin and Vodka sat with little to do, eyes on the bar's TV airing All-Japan Detective Agency.

Watching Hayato Masaki hold court on the show, Gin let out a dry chuckle.

Vodka grinned. "Kid's got some serious fans. Wonder how they'd react if they knew he's a killer."

"Don't get distracted, Vodka," Gin said, his tone flat. "He hasn't killed anyone."

"…Right."

No matter how you sliced it, Hayato's two hits looked like pure accidents. Not a drop of blood on his hands.

No leverage to grab, but Gin's interest in him only grew.

A real talent…

A flicker of anticipation curled his lips.

He'd test the kid's skills again soon. For now, Hayato was drawing too much attention, so Gin held off.

"By the way, Bro, about those smuggled guns…"

"No worries. Stick to the plan—deal goes down tonight at Tropical Land."

"Got it. I told the guy to have the cash ready. He'll get the message."

They hashed out the day's scheme with casual ease—extortion.

The Organization had dirt on a company smuggling firearms. Gin and Vodka would dangle the evidence, squeeze out a hundred million yen, then strong-arm the company off their turf to build a new lab.

"That chick in the ad's not bad," Vodka said as the show cut to a soda commercial.

Gin ignored him.

At NTV's studio, the stage trio got the director's cue: "We're in commercial." Assistant host Ayako Nagai's expression softened instantly.

Takashi Matsuo, though, clutched his stomach, wincing. "Ow, that hurts…"

"Are you okay, Matsuo-san?" Hayato asked.

"Sorry, my stomach's been off since morning," Matsuo said with an awkward smile, then turned to a staffer. "Hey, could you check where Suwa-san is right now?"

"Sure thing."

The staffer nodded.

Soon, Matsuo learned Suwa Michihiko was in the fourth-floor sound room, overseeing the show. Everything was falling into place, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

You're done, Suwa.

Rage simmered in Matsuo's chest.

All-Japan Detective Agency was his and Suwa's brainchild, built on years of his sweat and passion. But Suwa wasn't satisfied anymore. Matsuo guaranteed ratings, sure, but Suwa saw a ceiling.

He wanted Matsuo out, replaced by a hot young starlet, with racier segments to double viewership.

Matsuo couldn't stomach it.

But a host had no pull against a director. Suwa had even declared this Matsuo's final episode—riding Hayato's guest buzz now, then pivoting next week.

(Just you wait, Suwa.)

Murderous intent coiled tighter.

Post-commercial, the show resumed.

Matsuo straightened, his face a practiced mask.

"Welcome back to All-Japan Detective Agency. I'm Takashi Matsuo."

"Let's pick up where we left off," he said. "Masaki-sensei, as a mystery novelist, what's the easiest crime to crack, method-wise?"

"Under equal conditions, I'd say a shooting," Hayato replied.

"Shooting?"

"Yeah. Compared to subtle traps or weapons, gunfire leaves obvious traces, nearly impossible to hide. Plus, bullet wounds are easy for police to ID. It's straightforward, cuts investigation time."

"I see…"

Hayato's answer rattled Matsuo briefly.

But he steadied himself, confident in his long-planned setup. No one would suspect him. This guy was just a talky novelist, not some ace detective.

Nagai jumped in, propping Matsuo up. "Speaking of shooting, Matsuo-san's a gun enthusiast with killer aim. They say he's near pro-level!"

Matsuo's eyes widened. He hadn't expected her to drop that now. Waving it off, he said, "No, no, I trained a bit overseas, but pro? That's way too generous."

"Eh, Matsuo-san's usually so proud," Nagai teased. "Getting shy on stage?"

"Well, I'm not quite pro, but maybe just a hair off," Matsuo said, standing and pinching a tiny gap between thumb and finger, chest puffed.

The flip got laughs from the crowd.

The show rolled into its next segment, the prize-guessing game.

"Time for the moment you've all been waiting for: 'You Are the Culprit!'" Matsuo announced.

"We'll play a four-minute VCR. Watch it, then guess the real killer," Nagai added.

As the hosts spoke, the feed cut to the video, giving the trio a breather.

Nagai led Hayato backstage to a monitor to watch the VCR.

It was a tight four-minute crime short, showing the killer's act, dropping clues, and offering four suspects—A, B, C, D—for viewers to pick.

"Pretty well done," Nagai said as it neared the end. "The production team went all out."

Hayato didn't comment, instead asking, "Where's Matsuo-san?"

"Huh? Matsuo-san?"

Nagai glanced around.

Speak of the devil—Matsuo jogged up, sweating, out of breath, one hand on his stomach.

"Sorry, here now. My stomach's been a mess all day… but I'm fine. VCR's almost done. Let's get back to taping."

***

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