Sorry for the long delay friends, IRL Stuff happens and these fanfics priority takes a hit. Hope you still enjoy them.
[~1600 Words]
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Tokyo streets, late afternoon
Kudo Shinichi strutted down the street with the confidence of a man who believed destiny had finally smiled on him.
After hours of obsessively retracing footsteps, interrogating witnesses, and cross-checking clues, he had cracked the case.
At last, he would defeat Fujiwara Takuya.
"Hahahaha! Got him!"
Passers-by edged away.
A salaryman whispered to his friend, "Isn't that the high-school detective? Looks like the pressure finally broke him."
"Yeah. The Heisei Sherlock Holmes, right? Why is he laughing like that?"
"He probably snapped. Poor kid. Ever since Inspector Fujiwara showed up, he hasn't been relevant for months."
Shinichi's laughter died instantly.
The words stung worse than a slap.
Six months.
That's all it had taken for Fujiwara Takuya to eclipse the "Heisei Sherlock Holmes."
For the first time, he truly heard it; the public's shift.
His fame was fading, replaced by another name.
"No… no, I won't let him take everything from me."
He whipped out his phone and dialed Inspector Megure. Straight to voicemail. Of course.
Fine. He'd march into headquarters himself and drop the solution like a bomb.
Metropolitan Police Department – First Investigation Division
Shinichi burst through the doors, chest heaving.
"Inspector Megure! The toy-company murder—Ken Nakamori did it! I've got the whole trick!"
Megure turned slowly, expression somewhere between pity and second-hand embarrassment.
Takagi beside him suddenly found his shoes fascinating.
"Uh… Kudo-kun," Megure said gently, "Nakamori's already in holding. We wrapped that up two hours ago."
Shinichi blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"What…?"
Faces around him shifted in uncomfortable sympathy.
Shinichi froze. "You're kidding."
"Afraid not. Fujiwara-kun glanced at the file, pointed out the real killer, and we made the arrest. Clean confession and everything."
The room went quiet enough to hear the air-conditioning hum.
Shinichi's voice cracked. "That was fast."
Megure patted his shoulder like a coach consoling a benchwarmer. "You're still brilliant, kid. Really. It's just… Inspector Fujiwara on another level. Maybe take the evening off? Focus on your studies?"
Shinichi's eye twitched. Another level. That phrase was starting to feel like a personal curse.
Shinichi swallowed, throat tight.
He tried again.
"Inspector Megure, then give me another case! I'll solve it in two hours!"
Megure sighed.
"Shinichi… the second case was solved too. Just now. By Officer Fujiwara."
The words hit like a punch.
Shinichi felt something inside him crack.
He had barely solved one case, and Takuya had already solved two. Effortlessly.
Megure sighed. "Already solved. Fujiwara-kun took that case personally. He will head to the estate right now to make the arrest."
Shinichi felt the floor tilt under him. Three cases. Three swing-and-miss swings in a single afternoon.
He swallowed hard, pride burning in his throat. "I'll… I'll solve it anyway. Just to confirm."
Before Megure could protest, Shinichi bolted.
Meanwhile, Takuya stepped out of the office, coat over his shoulder.
Originally, he planned to give the Suzuki case a few hours before intervening. The result was already obvious to him. But now that Shinichi was involved…
He wouldn't allow the boy a single opening.
"Inspector Megure," Takuya said calmly, "prepare the cars. We're heading to the Suzuki Group. The murderer is already identified."
Megure's eyes lit up.
"As expected of you, Fujiwara-kun!"
Sato Miwako followed close behind, expression warm.
Whenever Takuya spoke decisively, she felt a quiet pride. Her privilege of receiving credit with her lover was strongly envied by observers.
A small crowd of female officers watched them leave, practically sparkling with longing.
"If only I could be Officer Fujiwara's girlfriend…"
"I wouldn't mind solving cases all day with him…"
Dreams.
Fantasies.
None of them were Miwako — the woman who actually had his attention.
Suzuki Estate
Suzuki Shiro sat on a leather sofa, newspaper open but unread. His mind churned.
Ten days. Ten days to find a purple-gold aura and convince his wife—beautiful, elegant Tomoko—to sleep with a stranger so he could shave years off his lifespan.
He had received the system's mission.
Find an S-level talent.
Have the man produce a child with his wife, Suzuki Tomoko.
Gain youth in return.
The very idea made his soul crawl.
A household system?
More like an NTR system.
But with his lifespan now hanging by a thin thread, he had no choice. If he wanted to live longer — even just a year more — he needed to complete the task.
He was seriously considering classified ads at this point.
The butler knocked. "President, a young detective named Kudo Shinichi is here about the maid's murder."
Shiro perked up. Sonoko's classmate. Famous prodigy. Maybe he was the S-level talent he needed…?
"Let him in."
Shinichi entered, practically vibrating with determination. Shiro looked up—and deflated.
Golden aura. Strong gold, sure, but not the imperial purple-gold the system demanded.
Close, but no.
"So he's just A-rank… Same as me," Shiro thought bitterly. "Useless for the mission."
Still, he forced a polite smile. "Kudo-kun, the case is yours. Find the truth, whoever it points."
Shinichi's eyes lit. "Leave it to me, sir!"
Shinichi was thrilled — an opportunity to prove himself.
But then—
Another knock. "President, the police have arrived."
Which meant only one thing.
Shinichi's pupils shrank.
"Inspector Fujiwara Takuya…"
Shiro waved permission.
The doors opened and Fujiwara Takuya stepped in, coat draped over one shoulder, Sato Miwako a half-step behind like a queen's guard. Megure and a small entourage followed.
Shiro's vision exploded into blinding light. And he nearly fainted.
Purple-gold. Radiant, overwhelming, the kind of aura ancient emperors supposedly wore into battle.
Jackpot.
For a moment Shiro forgot how to breathe. The man standing in his living room was literally the only S-level talent in Japan.
And he was handsome. Tall, sharp features, easy confidence. Perfect genes for the next Suzuki heir—or three.
This was the man the system wanted.
This was the man who could extend his life.
This was the man he must — somehow — offer his wife to.
Shiro swallowed hard, his mind racing:
- Should I drug him?
- Take her away afterwards so he never knows?
- Lock them in the wine cellar "by accident"?
- Fake a business trip and leave them alone for a weekend?
He could already picture the system notification: [Ding! Three children with S-level bloodline achieved. Reward: ten additional years of life.]
Tomoko would understand. It was for the family. For science. For his cholesterol.
Shiro was spiraling, completely overtaken by desperation and greed.
Takuya recognized the look immediately — the feverish shine of a man with a system task involving women.
He sighed inwardly.
"Of all the people… why did the system give Shiro this power?"
Still…
He couldn't help but be excited by the idea of the sophisticated and graceful Suzuki Tomoko finally becoming his.
"Officer Fujiwara," Shiro said quickly, adjusting his glasses, "I leave this case to you."
Shinichi flinched. 'Once more, I've been disregarded.'
He stepped forward.
"President Suzuki, trust me instead! I won't disappoint—"
Shiro didn't even look at him.
Takuya met Shiro's stare and smirked—he knew exactly what that manic gleam meant. The old man had seen the aura, read the writing on the wall, and was already selling his wife's womb for youth points.
Takuya didn't mind. Tomoko was stunning, and free real estate was still free.
Shiro cleared his throat, voice steady despite the internal cackling. "Officer Fujiwara. Perfect timing."
Shiro didn't even look at him.
"I'll let both of you investigate," he said politely, "so may the better man solve it."
A competition.
A duel.
Shinichi's heart burned.
Takuya remained calm, voice steady and cool.
"There's no need for competition," he said. "I already know who the murderer is."
Takuya inclined his head, all polite professionalism.
"What…?", Shinichi's breath caught.
Shinichi, standing forgotten to the side, felt his soul leave his body.
"You—what? Already?"
Takuya didn't even glance at him. "The fiancé staged it to look like the distant cousin. Insurance policy, secret lover on the side, hidden passageway behind the library bookshelf. We'll take him in quietly. No scandal for the family."
Shiro's eyes sparkled. Quiet, competent, and packing emperor-tier DNA. This man was a walking cheat code.
Shinichi opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "But I… I was just about to—"
Shiro finally remembered the teenager existed. "Kudo-kun, thank you for coming. The police have it from here."
Translation: Get out, golden boy. The purple-gold adult is speaking.
Shinichi stood there, fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white, as Takuya calmly laid out the entire solution in thirty seconds flat.
When the officers led the handcuffed fiancé away twenty minutes later, Shinichi still hadn't moved.
Takuya paused on his way out, finally acknowledging the high-school detective with a lazy smile.
"Better luck next time, Kudo-kun. Though… there might not be a next time."
He tipped an imaginary hat and left.
Shiro watched the doors close, already drafting the invitation for Takuya to "consult on family security matters" next week.
Preferably overnight.
With his wife.
And a locked bedroom door.
The Household System pinged cheerfully in his head.
[Ding! S-level talent located. Mission progress: 10%. Three Months Return. Keep up the good work, host!]
Shiro adjusted his glasses, expression serene.
For the first time in years, he was genuinely excited for the future.
A very long, very youthful future.
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