Rain Code : Eye of the Storm

Case 1 - Bullets of the Past

As they meandered through the vibrant chaos of the Neon Market, Shinigami, ever capricious, insisted they indulge in a bit of shopping-or rather, she chopped through Yuma's actions, given her intangible nature. Despite the heaviness that hung over him like the ever-present clouds, Yuma found himself drawn into the activity, if only to appease his ethereal companion. They paused at stalls overflowing with mechanical oddities and cybernetic enhancements, the air thick with the scent of oil and metal mingling with the rain. Shinigami floated excitedly around a collection of vintage hologram projectors, her form flickering with each pass.

"Yuma, these are like...super cool! Don't you think one of these could spice up the agency a bit?" she mused, her voice echoing strangely amidst the cacophony.

Before Yuma could respond, a sharp, discordant sound cut through the market's din. It wasn't the usual clamor of commerce or the incessant rain; it was something far more sinister-a gunshot. Even for a place like this, it was definitely worrisome.

The crowd's reaction was instantaneous. A mixture of fear, curiosity, and that ingrained indifference born of life in the Ward surged through the throng. Yuma, detective instincts kicking in, moved toward the source of the disturbance, with Shinigami trailing behind, her usual levity replaced by an eerie silence.

They found themselves in one of the Neon Market's more shadowy recesses, where the neon glow barely penetrated. A small crowd had gathered, their faces a mix of curiosity and shock, forming a loose circle around something-or someone-on the ground. Yuma edged closer, his heart racing, not with fear but with the anticipation of uncovering a new mystery.

Lying in the narrow alley, illuminated by the flickering light of a nearby neon sign, was a man. His eyes stared blankly at the sky, unseeing, as the rain washed over his still face. In his hand was clutched an antique firearm, its intricate engravings catching the light. Yuma's gaze shifted from the gun to the man's face, a sense of recognition dawning slowly. It was Dr. Hideo Fujikawa, the renowned cyberneticist, his name synonymous with innovation and reclusion in equal measure.

Yuma stood there, momentarily stunned, as he took in the scene. The position of the body, the gun in the doctor's hand, the lone bullet wound that marred the otherwise serene expression on his face-it all painted a picture, but the story it told was incomplete, a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

Dr. Fujikawa, despite his contributions to science, was a stranger to the public eye, his face known to Yuma only through the occasional media appearance. The realization that the man before him was the cyberneticist took a moment to settle in, a moment in which Yuma's mind raced through the possibilities.

There was no sign of anyone else, nothing to suggest a motive, nothing but the rain and the neon and the lifeless form of a man who had once promised to revolutionize the world. The crowd's murmurs grew louder, speculations and rumors swirling like the storm clouds above. Yet, amidst the noise, Yuma stood silent, his thoughts a whirlwind of questions with no answers.

It was only when Shinigami floated closer, her form less cheerful than he was used to, that Yuma realized the gravity of what lay before them. This was not just a case of a man dead in an alley.

For now, though, all Yuma could do was watch, listen, and wait. The truth, like the rain, would eventually reveal all, washing away the layers of deceit to expose the heart of the matter. And as the detective in him slowly took over, Yuma knew this was where their investigation would begin-in the rain-soaked alleyways of Kanai Ward, with a dead man and a gun as their first clues.

As the crowd's murmurs swelled into a cacophony of speculation and unease, Yuma turned to Shinigami, his decision clear despite the uncertainty that shadowed his mind. "I need to take this case," he declared, a newfound determination steadying his voice. "This... this isn't right. There's more to this than what meets the eye."

Shinigami, floating beside him with an intensity uncommon to her usually whimsical demeanor, nodded. "The Peacekeepers will be here any minute, Yuma. We don't have much time. You need to gather as much evidence as you can before they sweep in and muddy the waters."

Yuma took a deep breath, steeling himself against the task ahead. Turning to the gathered onlookers, he announced with as much authority as he could muster, "I'm a detective of the WDO, and I'll be taking over this investigation. Please, I need everyone to step back and give me some space to work."

The crowd, taken aback by the presence of a detective in Kanai Ward-a rarity in a place where the Peacekeepers' word was law-slowly began to disperse, their curiosity tempered by surprise and a lingering fear of getting involved. With the area now clear, Yuma knelt beside the body of Dr. Hideo Fujikawa, his mind racing through the procedures he'd read about but really didn't have time to assimilate.

The antique firearm in the doctor's hand was the first anomaly that caught his attention. Gently prying it free, Yuma examined it closely, noting the lack of gunpowder residue on the doctor's hands-a detail inconsistent with a self-inflicted gunshot. Shinigami hovered closer, her presence a silent support as Yuma continued his examination.

Next, he inspected the wound, a single bullet hole that painted a stark picture against the backdrop of the doctor's lifeless form. The precision of the shot was unmistakable; the bullet had pierced the heart with surgical accuracy, leaving no doubt as to the cause of death. But it was the trajectory of the bullet, straight and unerring, that hinted at the skill of the shooter. Following the path with his eyes, Yuma found where the bullet had lodged itself into a wall behind the body, a silent witness to the deadly accuracy of the shot.

The bullet itself, once extracted, confirmed Yuma's suspicions. Its caliber was specific to the antique gun, a relic of a bygone era, its presence here in Kanai Ward as much a mystery as the murder itself. The uniqueness of the ammunition suggested a deliberate choice, a message perhaps, or a signature left by the murderer.

As Yuma stood, his initial examination complete, he felt the weight of the investigation pressing down on him. The lack of gunpowder residue, the precision of the wound, the specific caliber of the bullet-all pieces of a puzzle that pointed to a murder meticulously planned and executed with chilling efficiency. Yet, for all the evidence gathered, the motive remained as elusive as the identity of the murderer.

Shinigami, sensing the shift in Yuma's resolve, broke the silence. "What's our next move, detective?" she asked, her voice a mix of encouragement and solemnity.

Yuma glanced at the scene once more, his mind already sifting through the clues, searching for the thread that would unravel the mystery. "We start by understanding Dr. Fujikawa's last days," he said, determination firming his voice. "There's a story here, hidden beneath the surface. And we're going to uncover it, no matter where it leads."

With the Peacekeepers' arrival imminent, Yuma and Shinigami set off, the investigation into Dr. Fujikawa's murder officially underway.