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"Fujihara-kun, what… what are you doing?"
Kayako sat on the steps, her heart racing and her face glowing with joy as she watched Fujihara Toru return from his nightly run, holding a convenience store bag.
However, this time, in addition to the food he bought for her, Fujihara handed her a 10,000-yen bill.
"I have some matters to attend to over the next few days, so I might not be able to come running for a while—three days at the shortest, a week at most. I probably won't see you during that time."
"Take this money. Buy yourself something to eat, and get some good cat food for Kuro, okay? What's with that look? Not enough? If it's not enough, I can give you more."
As Fujihara spoke, he pulled out his wallet and retrieved another 10,000-yen note.
"No, no—it's not that! It's just… I can't take your money, Fujihara-kun!"
Kayako waved her hands frantically, trying to refuse.
Compared to the 10,000 yen, what truly troubled her was the thought of not seeing Fujihara for several days.
Unable to hold back, she asked, "Does Fujihara-kun have something important to do?"
"Yeah, it's a bit troublesome, and I don't have much time, but it should be resolved in a few days."
"Don't refuse the money. Look how thin you are—you're malnourished. You need to take care of yourself. Even if you don't care about yourself, think about Kuro, okay?"
"But make sure your family doesn't find out about this."
Fujihara firmly shoved the money into Kayako's arms.
This little troublemaker needed to be taken care of, and he couldn't risk anything happening to her.
Over the next few days, Fujihara had plans to prepare and execute an operation. After seizing control of the research institute, dealing with the aftermath would also be a headache.
There was no way he could visit Kayako every day during this period.
Upon reflection, he realized he'd already ghosted Yukinoshita Yaha for nearly a week. He had claimed he was participating in club activities, but he hadn't shown up even once.
In Fujihara's mind, completing the mission assigned to him took precedence over everything else—even Kayako and definitely Yukinoshita Yaha.
Things had to be prioritized based on urgency and importance.
The 10,000 yen Fujihara gave wasn't a large sum, but to Kayako, it was significant.
She had never personally held a 10,000-yen bill in her life.
Kayako stared blankly at the money in her hands, wondering if this was what the girls at school whispered about secretly—"sugar daddies." Was this what they called a "daddy's game"?
Some of them earned money this way.
No, no—that wasn't it. Fujihara-kun wasn't like that. And besides, she wasn't attractive. Fujihara-kun must not mean it that way—he was just… just concerned about her.
Thinking about Fujihara's concern made Kayako feel as though honey was melting in her mouth, sweet and warm.
Hehe, Fujihara-kun cares about me. He cares about me…
Fujihara glanced at Kayako's dazed expression, unsure what she was thinking but feeling certain it wasn't anything wholesome.
This little troublemaker really was a headache. She absolutely couldn't get into any trouble.
He'd figure something out later—eliminate all the problematic factors around her to ensure her safety.
Two days later, in the study of Fujihara's Western-style mansion in Tokyo, a machine inside a box was humming softly.
Within less than a minute, a lifelike mask emerged from the transparent glass chamber.
Fujihara opened the machine, carefully placed the mask aside, and then stored the device away. He selected a special outfit from his wardrobe.
After finishing these preparations, Fujihara left the house and hailed a taxi on the street.
The taxi didn't take him directly to his destination but dropped him off at a relatively deserted subway station. After paying and getting out, Fujihara entered a nearby public restroom.
Inside a single-stall bathroom, he put on the lifelike mask and removed his jacket, turning it inside out.
When Fujihara emerged from the restroom, his appearance had completely changed. He now looked like a European man with short blond hair.
Thankfully, this was the Detective Conan world, where surveillance cameras were scarce on the streets and in shops. This made Fujihara's disguises incredibly convenient and less likely to raise suspicion.
If there were too many cameras, many of Conan's detective methods would be useless. The police could simply review the footage and solve countless cases without needing a detective.
Once fully disguised, he hailed another taxi and, speaking broken Japanese, directed the driver to a detached house near the pharmaceutical research institute.
"Ring-ring—"
Fujihara pressed the doorbell, and a cautious voice came from inside: "Who is it?"
"Pizza delivery."
"What kind?"
"Pineapple."
"…"
The door opened, revealing a burly European man dressed in tactical gear, holding a silenced pistol.
"Come in."
After Fujihara entered, the man carefully checked the surroundings before closing the door.
Inside the Japanese-style house, six members of a small team were gathered, all inspecting their weapons: HK MP5 submachine guns, HK416 assault rifles, and one man checking an M24 sniper rifle.
These individuals were former special forces operatives from NATO countries who, unable to adjust to civilian life, continued working as mercenaries around the world.
They were vultures, doing anything for money, reckless and fearless.
"My equipment?"
"In that box."
"Is everything ready?"
"Ready. The mission is to eliminate everyone we encounter, right?"
The burly European man who had opened the door asked coldly.
Fujihara donned a Kevlar tactical vest and inspected the weapons in the box. "Eliminate everyone we see, but keep this person alive."
He handed them a photo of Miyano Shiho wearing a lab coat.
Shiho had been legally employed by the company, so obtaining her official photo hadn't been difficult.
If Shiho happened to still be in the research institute when they arrived, Fujihara didn't want her killed prematurely—it would ruin his plans.
The six-man team passed the photo around, memorizing the target's appearance.
As former elite operatives, rescue missions and extracting targets were part of their training.
"Understood!"
They didn't ask for further details. As long as they were paid, they carried out the job.
"If you understand, let's move out. The security here isn't strong, so there's no need for stealth. Charge in and eliminate everyone alive."
With a wave of his hand, Fujihara led the seven of them to the garage, where two armored Hummers were parked.
It would have been impossible for these mercenaries to smuggle such heavily armed Hummers and weapons into Japan on their own.
But Fujihara, as their employer, had prepared everything for them, indicating that a nation's resources were backing this operation.
Though they didn't know Fujihara's true identity, they could roughly guess he was an intelligence operative from some country.
Whether KGB or CIA, their job was simple: take the money and complete the mission.
The two Hummers roared down the streets of suburban Tokyo. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at their destination.
The research institute of this renowned pharmaceutical company in Japan had security measures in place—and secretly, it was also a base for the Black Organization. The guards inside were illegally armed.
An iron gate blocked the main entrance, with a security booth stationed outside.
The Hummers stopped at the gate, drawing curious looks from the two security guards.
They had heard that higher-ups were sending people over. Could this be them?
Before the guards could approach the vehicles, the windows of the Hummers rolled down, and two silenced pistols extended outward.
"Whoosh—whoosh—"
Two muffled gunshots rang out, and blood immediately burst from the guards' heads as they collapsed to the ground.
The Hummers revved their engines, smashing through the iron gate with a thunderous crash and storming into the institute's courtyard.
Since their employer had ordered them to leave no survivors, they were going to cause chaos in Japan!