Detective Conan: Death Note

Jodie Starling had been closely watching Kazuki Futaki for the past few days.

But it was bound to be fruitless.

He would soon die from pufferfish poisoning, and likely wouldn't make any notable moves before that.

After finishing his workout and leaving the gym, Hayashi Yoshiki glanced at his watch and slightly quickened his pace.

As he passed by a café, a young man with a cigarette in his mouth stepped out of a nearby phone booth.

Hands in his pockets, he walked past Hayashi Yoshiki.

Just as he passed him, he casually tossed a crumpled piece of paper onto the ground.

Hayashi Yoshiki stopped in his tracks.

"Honestly, littering is such a bad habit..."

He bent down to pick up the paper ball without looking at the young man and continued walking with a smile.

Unaware, the youth continued puffing on his cigarette as he strolled toward the traffic lights.

As the red light countdown ticked from 27 to 8, his face suddenly turned beet red, and without warning—

He collapsed, stiff as a board.

Walking in the opposite direction, Hayashi Yoshiki unwrapped the paper ball in his hand.

There was nothing written on it.

The Death Note requires that the user must picture the victim's face when writing their name.

Thus, it must be handwritten by a human.

Issuing a computer command to write a name—even with the person's photo displayed on the screen—would not work.

However, writing a name in invisible ink and later revealing it with heat would be successful.

This intrigued Hayashi Yoshiki.

What if person A wrote B's name in invisible ink, and then A was killed?

Would revealing the name later with heat still activate the Death Note?

After all, before the ink is revealed, the writing essentially "doesn't exist."

And when revealed with a lighter, it's impossible to picture the victim's face.

As for the young man—he was a juvenile delinquent.

When underage, he and a friend committed crimes too brutal to recount.

About that friend, Hayashi Yoshiki, deliberately knew only the name, not the face.

That way, once the invisible ink revealed the name, the judgment wouldn't fall on him.

"...We'll know the answer soon enough."

Using a lighter to expose the writing, Hayashi Yoshiki destroyed the page.

BANG!

A heavy thud hit the ground.

On the bustling streets of Shibuya, at precisely 8:11 p.m., a body completed its 28-floor free fall.

Screams erupted from the crowd.

From afar, Hayashi Yoshiki watched.

Even without witnessing the fall, the surrounding chaos told him all he needed to know.

The test was a success.

Even though person A—the one who wrote the name—was already dead, the invisible ink name still worked.

This proved that the Death Note registers the kill at the moment the name is written.

That means in the future, before killing certain people, their awareness could be used to write other names in invisible ink... and those names could be activated anytime.

Riiing~ Riiing!

"Hello, Miss Jodie?"

"What is it?"

"Have you confirmed it? Was it really just a simple case of pufferfish poisoning?"

Seated in his car, Hayashi Yoshiki listened to the sirens of an ambulance speeding past, a faint smirk forming on his lips.

But his tone remained serious.

"Sirens? Oh, yes... I'm in Shibuya. Someone seems to have jumped from a building nearby.

What's the situation on your end, Miss Jodie?"

At that moment, in front of an upscale Japanese restaurant in Roppongi, Jodie stood by as paramedics and police collected samples.

"A mistake on our part.

Yes, confirmed as pufferfish poisoning. It appears to have been just an unfortunate accident."

"Was anyone else aware of you tailing Kazuki Futaki?"

"Of course not. I can say that with confidence."

Hayashi Yoshiki fell silent.

He seemed to be considering Jodie's words... or something else.

"Let's keep watching for now... After all, just as you got close, he conveniently died. It feels a bit too coincidental."

"Then I'll continue monitoring the others on the list."

"No... please wait a moment."

"...?"

"Miss Jodie, you're currently living alone in a rented apartment, correct?

Are the other FBI agents aware of that?"

"I am living alone in a rented apartment..."

What is he implying?

Halfway through her sentence, Jodie's expression suddenly stiffened.

She recalled placing a wiretap in Futaki's study.

Was Hayashi Yoshiki implying her apartment might be bugged?

"Mr. Hayashi, I can assure you that James would nev—"

Hayashi Yoshiki interrupted her.

Jodie froze.

While she was still puzzled over what the number meant, Hayashi's voice continued:

"That was the probability I originally assigned to Mr. James being the mole—37%.

But after the last operation, that probability has increased to 43%."

"The last operation?"

"Yes—during the mission when you were chased by Gin.

The route those agents took to cover your escape... that was directed by James, wasn't it?"

Jodie choked on her response.

She wasn't shaken.

But she did think Hayashi's bias against James was intense.

"I understand. I'll thoroughly inspect my apartment."

"...Forgive me, I don't mean to dismiss your feelings, Miss Jodie."

Then, as if changing the subject, Hayashi Yoshiki asked,

"By the way, have the affairs of the agents who sacrificed themselves been properly handled?"

"Yes, their deaths have been reported to headquarters.

The compensation process is already underway, and their personal effects should be returned to their families soon."

"...Their belongings, huh?"

Hayashi Yoshiki seemed to have a sudden realization.

"Miss Jodie, have you ever thought about investigating the agents who died?"

"What do you mean?"

Jodie wasn't slow to catch on.

As soon as Hayashi spoke, she understood—

If James were truly the mole, wouldn't sacrificing his own loyal subordinates be too extravagant?

The investigation Hayashi Yoshiki suggested was likely into whether the fallen agents had been particularly close to James.

"In any case, just a suggestion. Miss Jodie, I'll leave the decision up to you."

With that, Hayashi Yoshiki hung up.

Jodie remained there, staring at Kazuki Futaki's corpse as it was carried away on a stretcher, frowning, unmoving for a long time.