Small transparent plastic bags drifted down like bizarre snowflakes.
Their gentle flutter turned heads, as if the bags themselves were smirking.
This was Akihiko's masterstroke.
He'd woven a trap for the real killer.
And unwittingly, every witness had stepped into his carefully laid snare.
By his own admission, the bag held only skin fragments from Mahime Kawakami's corpse—no direct proof of the murderer.
Yet here they were, pawns in his intricate design.
The true culprit had taken the bait.
Remarkably, Akihiko had seized control without a shred of conventional evidence.
Officer Megure's jaw remained slack with astonishment.
Surrounding officers exchanged awed looks, as though wisdom itself had struck them down.
The weight of that realization eclipsed even Shinichi's trademark cool.
Shinichi turned, eyes fixed on Akihiko, older by mere months yet wielding power of mind.
His heart pounded with a mix of respect and bewilderment.
Across the bridge, conditions had seemed dire—yet Akihiko had overturned them, time and again, until victory emerged.
Ordinary suspects buckle under police scrutiny.
Few could face arrest calmly, let alone reframe the entire investigation.
Most crucially, when proof vanished, Akihiko uncovered the murderer in moments.
Silence blanketed the scene for a heartbeat.
All gazes found Akihiko, cloaked in unflappable confidence.
He was Teitan's celebrated prodigy—top grades, chiseled features—and now, they'd glimpsed his other talents.
Methodical, precise, step by step… a hunter unmatched.
"Ran-chan, Akihiko's unbelievable—I feel like an amateur next to him."
"I swear, he's destined for Nobel-worthy science," Sonoko murmured, awestruck.
Ran's mind swirled with admiration and childlike awe.
Meanwhile, Keiko Kato—the true architect of death—offered a slow, rueful smile.
"You truly are remarkable, Akihiko. Just as I admired."
"Indeed?" he asked softly.
Akihiko's voice carried cool steel. "Your mistake was provoking me."
Kato-sensei stiffened.
Megure's eyes probed Akihiko. "How did you deduce it was her? No proof, no witness."
"Two words: process of elimination."
"Elimination?" Megure frowned.
Akihiko glanced back at Maeshima-sensei, still trembling.
"Kudo said only classmates or staff could stalk the bridge at night—few others visit."
"And the murderer must observe the investigation, so they'd linger at the scene."
"Combine those criteria—bridge visitor and present at the cordon—and only Ms. Kato remains."
Shinichi rested a hand on Maeshima's shoulder.
"You saw Mahime's body and froze," he noted. "When Akihiko mentioned SM scars, you panicked."
"So I suspected you," Shinichi admitted with a nod.
He turned to Akihiko. "Yet you pinpointed Ms. Kato. What clue did you conceal?"
"I revealed it earlier." Akihiko's reply was calm.
He held up the evidence bag. "Mahime's tears mixed with her flesh—female tears. Only a woman could have torn at her in that rage."
Shinichi's lips parted.
Megure inhaled sharply.
Ran gasped.
Even Sonoko's eyes widened to saucers.
In that suspended moment, comprehension bloomed.
Akihiko's autopsy had unveiled more than Maeshima's ticket—it unearthed the killer's gender.
And gender, combined with opportunity, named a single person.
Keiko Kato's mask of kindness cracked.
She shrank back, caught at last.
Shinichi offered a respectful bow.
"Brilliant deduction, Akihiko."
Megure stepped forward, resolve hardening.
"Ms. Kato, you're under arrest."
Under the silent arch of the bridge, the final piece settled into place.
Justice, guided by science and intellect, had prevailed.
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