Akira woke up choking.
For a moment, he didn’t know where he was.
His throat burned. His chest felt split open. He tasted iron.
He rolled sideways off the bed and collapsed to his knees, coughing violently. His fingers clawed at his neck as if he could still feel the blade pushing through.
Blood.
There was no blood. But he could taste it. Thick. Metallic. Swollen in his throat.
His stomach lurched.
He staggered into the bathroom and dropped to the toilet just in time to vomit. Nothing but bile came up. He gripped the porcelain and trembled.
He remembered dying. Not abstractly. Not like a dream.
He remembered the blade entering him. The way it extended. The sound in his ears when blood filled his lungs. The helplessness.
His reflection in the mirror looked pale. Alive. But pale.
Behind him—
“You’re handling it better than most.”
He didn’t turn immediately. He rinsed his mouth. Spat. Then looked over his shoulder.
The Goddess leaned against his bedroom wall casually, arms crossed. The scent of rain on asphalt filled the small space.
“You came up with that wish surprisingly fast,” she said.
Akira wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I just remember thinking…” His voice was hoarse. “I want one more try.”
She laughed softly. “Another chance.”
He stood slowly. “Isn’t that what this whole thing is?”
She tilted her head. “Yes.”
He walked back into his room and glanced at the calendar on the wall.
His breath stalled.
Akira hoisted himself up and he walked over to check the date.
He expected it to be the first day, for Aira to come running up asking if he was going to make her wait. He already was thinking of the excuses in his head, maybe to sound cool this time around.
When he looked at the date. It was the same day. Not the first day of school. The same day after Aira & Kaito bodies were found.
“…What?”
He stared harder.
He turned toward her. “Why is it only today?”
“You’re not a god. Your wish only carries the same weight of a mortal.” She replied like this was the only expected outcome.
“Then why… Why not just do it yourself? You knew exactly what I wanted.” Akira was trying to hold back from screaming, having his parents overhear.
“I said I’d listen to your wish. Not mine. It’s a blessing. You carry it until you’re taken out of the game now.” Dismissive, no, factual. That’s all she was. Stating the facts of the rules Akira had agreed too.
So this was his blessing.
Die. Return to the start of the day.
I can still use this.
“He wasn’t just killing,” Akira muttered. “He was devouring her identity.”
The Goddess did not confirm or deny.
“My power… It can’t fight him head on..” Akira remarked
“Correct.”
“So I’ll simply use the one advantage I do have, information.”
“Now you’re thinking like a player.” She replied with a small grin starting to form.
Akira attended school. While he was late. He knew repeating yesterday was a fatal ending.
As he arrived Shinobu and Hayate immediately raced to him.
“Did you hear!” Hayate, couldn’t miss her if you wanted to with that voice.
“I know…” Akira remarked.
“I’m just happy it wasn’t any of us…” Shinobu added softly.
Akira frowned… Not at the selfish thought… It was that she didn’t know it was one of us.
Aira, the crown jewel of their group. Now gone. Forgotten. Devoured… By Ren.
“Oh Akira! I’m so glad to see you’re healthy.” There he was. Like the world had a spotlight right on him…
“Ren…” Akira couldn’t help but snarl at hearing his voice. The pain in his heart, stomach, and the reminder of where his mortal wound was just moments ago from his perspective.
“It seems we may need a moment alone ladies.” Ren waived them off like they were simply maids whose service was no longer required.
“So… Did you like the scene I set for you?” Ren was holding his hand over his face to try to hide his smile, his nasty grin. The one you make when you’re trying to hold back the punch line of a joke so you don’t laugh before sharing it.
“Did you know about Kaito?” Akira didn’t hesitate. He came for one reason only.
Answers.
“Kaito? Oh the guy on the field? No idea. Honestly just good timing on his part. I was getting a bit annoyed at having to keep you on a leash nearby.” Ren just wanted to gloat about good fortune.
“Why them? How many coins did you get from them?”
“Coins? What are you even on about? I chose them because they had potential. Also it was just easy to manipulate them. They would go with you wherever. I mean who wouldn’t? The hot dude finally notices you, it’s straight out of a romance movie don’t you think?”
“You don’t even–”
“I see… No further questions.”
“Great. I’m happy you made this so easy for me, Akira. For all its worth. I think we could’ve made great friends.”
“Likewise.”
Akira didn’t even fight back.
One cut is all it took.
Detective Shun Tachibana stared at the report in his hand.
Matsuda Kaito. Male. Third-year.
Everyone remembered him. Unlike the others.
The lab results had come back. DNA under the fingernails of the girl from the concert bathroom matched Kaito.
Not partial. Not inconclusive. Match.
Shun leaned back in his chair. That meant one undeniable thing.
Kaito killed her.
The so-called “Mist Killer” didn’t erase that one. The body had been fully present. Documented. Processed.
Kaito had blood on his hands.
Which meant these murders were not consistent. Not clean. Not singular.
He stood and walked down the hall to the chief’s office.
“Sir.”
Chief Takahara didn’t look up immediately. “Yes?”
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
“Kaito was a murderer.”
The chief finally lifted his eyes. “Explain.”
Shun placed the folder down. “DNA match. He killed the girl at the concert.”
The chief skimmed. “And?”
“And he was killed shortly after.”
The chief folded his hands. “So?”
“So this doesn’t fit the Mist Killer’s profile.”
“Perhaps it does.”
Shun frowned slightly.
“Kaito could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the chief continued calmly. “The Mist Killer may have been preparing another victim. Kaito intervenes. Things escalate.”
Shun considered it. It was plausible. Annoyingly plausible.
“But the others—”
“Different situations. Same predator.”
The chief leaned back. “You’re very good, Tachibana. But don’t chase complexity for ego.”
It wasn’t condescending. It wasn’t sharp. It was reasonable.
Which irritated Shun more.
“Yes, sir.”
He left. But something didn’t sit right.
At home that night, he spread the files across his table.
Kana: erased. Yui: erased. Concert girl: fully present. Kaito: present.
If Kaito was a killer… was he mimicking someone? Was there two? Was he covering for—
His mind drifted.
Akira Orimoto.
Always there. Always first to find them. Always emotional. Always involved.
He froze.
No. That was too convenient. Too obvious.
His phone buzzed. Unknown number. He opened the message.
Akira: We need to meet. Off the record. Discreet.
Shun stared at it for several seconds. Then typed:
Shun: Location?
The reply came almost instantly.
Akira: School rooftop. 50 minutes.
Akira stood on the rooftop before Shun arrived.
He had already died once today. He wasn’t afraid of dying again.
Akira kept his hands visible.
Not because he wanted to look innocent.
Because he knew how this looked.
Footsteps. The metal door opening.
Shun stepped through the access door.
“You wanted to talk.”
Akira bowed his head slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
Shun blinked once. “For what?”
“If I had told you about Kaito sooner… maybe Aira would still be alive.”
Shun watched him carefully, face unreadable.
Akira inhaled.
“I killed him.”
The wind kept moving.
Shun didn’t reach for his cuffs. He didn’t move at all.
“You’re confessing.”
“Yes.”
“Say it again,” Shun said quietly.
Akira didn’t flinch. “I killed Kaito.”
Shun held his gaze.
Not anger.
Not disbelief.
A kind of controlled calculation.
“And why,” Shun asked, “did you kill him?”
Akira’s mouth tightened.
Shun stepped closer, voice sharpening.
“Don’t give me a speech. Don’t tell me it was ‘necessary.’ Why him.”
Akira’s throat worked.
“I thought he was the Mist Killer,” he admitted.
Shun’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You thought.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t know.”
“No.”
Silence pressed down.
Shun’s voice dropped colder.
“You executed a kid on suspicion.”
Akira’s jaw flexed.
“I executed a predator who was hunting prey,” he said.
Shun’s expression didn’t change.
Akira continued, faster now, as if momentum was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.
“I tracked him. I found evidence. The green jumper. The sign-in list. The footage. I convinced myself it had to be him.” He swallowed. “I was wrong.”
The wind hit harder for a second.
“And if you were wrong,” Shun said, “then Kaito was—”
“A victim,” Akira finished quietly.
The word tasted bitter.
Shun watched him for a long moment.
Akira forced himself to keep eye contact.
“I know what that makes me,” Akira said.
Shun’s voice was flat. “Say it.”
Akira’s fists tightened at his sides.
“A murderer.”
Shun didn’t react, but something in his gaze shifted.
Not sympathy.
Recognition.
A first crack.
“Good,” Shun said. “Because if you can’t say it, then you’re already lost.”
Akira exhaled shakily through his nose.
“I didn’t want it to happen like that,” he said. “I was desperate. I was angry. I thought if I ended him, everything would come back. The names. The memories.”
Shun’s brows drew together slightly.
“And did it?”
Akira’s answer was immediate.
“No.”
Shun looked away toward the city for a moment.
“That’s the part you don’t understand,” Akira said quietly. “It wasn’t just killing. Something else is happening. Something that doesn’t care about the law or evidence or proper process.” He swallowed. “I thought I was stopping it. But I made it worse.”
Shun turned back.
“Do you know how many cases I’ve seen where someone says, ‘I had no choice’?” he asked.
Akira didn’t reply.
“They all believe it,” Shun continued. “Every one of them. And then they start believing it for the next thing. And the next.” His eyes hardened. “That’s how monsters justify themselves.”
Akira met his gaze, voice low.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good,” Shun said. “Because I don’t.”
Silence.
Then Shun spoke again, slower.
“But Kaito…” He paused, as if the word itself irritated him. “Kaito was a murderer too.”
Shun’s mouth tightened.
“Lab results,” he said. “DNA under the nails of the concert bathroom victim matched Kaito.” His eyes didn’t leave Akira’s. “Kaito killed her.”
Akira’s breath caught.
Shun watched his reaction closely, as if measuring whether it was real.
“You were still wrong, don’t twist this into absolution.”
Akira swallowed hard.
“I know.”
Shun exhaled through his nose.
“This doesn’t change what you did,” he continued. “It changes what I have to do with it.”
Akira didn’t answer.
Because for the first time, he understood what Shun meant.
Shun wasn’t deciding whether Akira was innocent.
Shun was deciding whether the system could handle what was happening at all.
Shun’s voice lowered.
“I don’t trust the way this case is being handled,” he admitted.
Akira’s gaze sharpened.
Shun looked away again, toward the city lights.
“There are too many… convenient explanations,” he said. “Too many rushed closures. Too much pressure to stop asking questions.” His jaw flexed. “And now you’re standing here telling me you killed someone because you believed the system couldn’t stop him.”
Akira spoke quietly.
“It couldn’t.”
Shun’s eyes snapped back.
“Careful,” he warned.
Akira didn’t back down.
“I’m being careful,” he said. “I’m telling you the truth. I’m telling you I’m stained. I’m telling you I don’t deserve your trust.” His voice hardened. “But if you’re still trying to solve this like a normal case, people will keep dying.”
Shun stared at him.
Then, slowly, he said:
“If I let you walk away from this…”
Akira waited.
“…it’s not because I agree with you,” Shun finished.
Akira nodded once.
Shun’s voice went colder.
“It’s because I’m choosing the lesser disaster.”
The words hung between them.
“And you listen to me,” Shun added, stepping closer now. “If you become a monster… If you start killing because it feels easy…”
Akira met his gaze.
Shun’s voice was quiet, absolute.
“I will be the one to put you down.”
Akira didn’t flinch.
“Fair,” he said.
Shun held his gaze a moment longer, then looked away as if disgusted with himself for saying any of it out loud.
“So why tell me?” Shun asked finally. “Why confess now?”
Akira looked out over the city lights.
“Because I’m going to do it again,” he said.
Shun stiffened.
“With the one who actually deserves it,” Akira continued. “The real one.”
“You’re certain?” Shun asked.
Akira didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
“How?”
Akira’s eyes didn’t move.
“Everyone will know soon.”
Shun stared at him, feeling something shift again.
This wasn’t panic.
This wasn’t revenge talk.
This was intent. Sharp, controlled, premeditated.
Akira stepped closer and handed him a folded note.
Shun opened it.
A date.
A time.
A location.
Shun looked up. “What is this?”
Akira met his gaze calmly.
“I’m going to give him the spotlight he wants.”
He walked past Shun toward the door.
Shun turned slightly, watching him go.
“Akira,” he called.
Akira paused without turning.
Shun’s voice was low.
“If you’re wrong again…”
Akira’s answer was immediate.
“I won’t be.”
Shun stood alone in the wind.
And for the first time, he didn’t feel like he was chasing a killer.
He felt like he was standing on the edge of something much bigger.
Back on the roof later that night, alone.
Akira looked at the city.
He whispered into the wind.
“Ren.”
And somewhere below.. The game had truly started.
