Prologue - Untimely Demise

BREAKING NEWS: SOCIAL MEDIA INFLUENCER & POLICE DETECTIVE, YUI KATAGIRI, KNOWN AS @YUI_ONEESAN, HAS PASSED AWAY.

The announcement was blunt, loud and clear, colouring any media platforms vividly.

 "Today's breaking news confirms the death of Yui Katagiri, a social media influencer & police detective. Her family released a statement on her social media, followed by the Tokyo Police Department’s own confirmation: she was indeed a well-reputed police detective."

The public, already captivated by @Yui_Oneesan, now grappled with the jarring revelation of her other life. Her sudden death sent shockwaves through both worlds.

On Insta, her final cosplay reel became a digital wailing wall, flooded with grieving replies from a legion of stunned fans.

"As you can see here," the reporter’s voice continued with a slight somber, a new graphic appearing on screen, showcasing a mock-up of an Instagram comments section.

"Her last post, a cheerful cosplay reel, is now overwhelmed with messages of disbelief and sorrow. Let's look at some of the most prominent ones."

The screen zoomed in, displaying a few selected comments:

@QueenSera22: N WAY! YUI ONEE-SAN!!! this has to be some kind of sick joke or prank, right??? pls tell us you're okay 😭😭😭

@Miyu_Soleil: my gurl, is this fr?! yui, this can't be happening right??? NOOOOO 😭

@Anime_XX88: my heart just stopped. @Yui_Oneesan was one of my biggest inspirations. she brought me so much joy to life. rest in peace, legend. 💔

@EuroBeats234: wait, what? POLICE DETECTIVE?! what is going on? did I miss news or something? #YuiKatagiri

@JusticeWarrior177: A detective… and an influencer? Unbelievable. What a great life. We just lost a true hero in many ways.

The image dissolved, leaving the reporter’s somber face. "

The sheer volume of replies is a testament to the community she built to satisfy others," 

The anchor concluded, her voice softening.

The scene shifted, a stark contrast from the vibrant social media display. Now, a grim-faced Superintendent Tanaka, flanked by uniformed officers, stood before a wall of microphones at a press conference. The Tokyo Police Department seal loomed behind him, heavy with official gravity.

"It is with immense sadness that the Tokyo Police Department confirms the passing of Senior Detective Yui Katagiri," Tanaka's voice resonated, devoid of inflection, a practiced mask over evident sorrow.

"Detective Katagiri was a fifteen-years veteran of the force, renowned for her unwavering dedication and exceptional intellect. Her contributions to countless high-profile cases, her tireless pursuit of justice, and her commitment to public safety were unparalleled."

A reporter's voice cut through the solemnity.

 "Superintendent, can you confirm her other identity as the social media influencer, @Yui_Oneesan as it's been rumoured previously by a lot of others?"

Tanaka paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he nodded.

"Yes. We can sincerley confirm that Senior Detective Katagiri maintained a private life as a public figure. While unusual, we never interfered her personal interests due to her performance. She served the city of Tokyo with distinction until her last moments. The department has lost one of its brightest stars in its history. Our thoughts remain with her family during this incredibly difficult time." 

* * *

The cameras flashed, as if not caring whether a lot of people were mourning.

From her family, friends, and fans. Everyone gathered for her last ever sleep.

As the air in the funeral hall hung thick with the scent of lilies and unspoken grief.

And on the center of it, thereby lies Yui Katagiri, comfortably on her deathbed.

Meanwhile, Yui's young son, Kaito, stood by the open casket, his small hand clutching a worn, faded plushie. He looked up at his grandmother, tears tracing clean paths down his snot-stained cheeks.

"Grandma," he whispered, his voice thin and reedy.

"Mommy’s sleeping, right? Why is everyone crying? Is she going to wake up and buy me pudding? What about my breakfast and lunch? Will she do it for me too?"

His grandmother’s own face was a mask of sorrow, silent tears streaming down her weathered cheeks. She knelt, her body shaking almost imperceptibly, pulling him into a tight embrace. Her voice, choked with emotion, broke even as she tried to be strong for him.

 "She… she isn't sleeping, darling," she managed, her words a raw whisper.

 "She’s… she's gone to a very peaceful place."

"But... who will tell me stories about catching bad guys? And who will watch anime with me?" 

Kaito’s voice hitched, burying his face in her shoulder. His small hand gripped her dress. 

"Mommy said she was the best detective. Did she already catch all the bad guys, Grandma? 

"Is that why she’s resting on the bed right now?"

His grandmother pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her own welling up afresh. 

"Oh, Kaito, my sweet boy," she choked out, her voice a ragged sound. 

"She was the very best. She jailed so many bad guys. More than anyone. And yes… yes, she's taking a rest now because she worked so hard, harder than anyone could imagine, to make the world a safer, better place. And also for you, my darling." 

A fresh wave of tears tracked down her face, but she squeezed his small hand, trying to convey a strength she didn't feel. 

"She'd want you to remember her stories. Every single one."

"So, never forget about her and remember what she said to you, okay?"

He only nodded in-silence, not understanding what's going on.

"Good boy."

A stir rippled through the hushed mourners near the back, a sudden shift in the solemnity.

 A figure emerged, Yui’s ex-husband, Kenji, standing awkwardly by the entrance.

 His dark suit, ill-fitting and creased, did little to disguise the tremor in his frame. His eyes, swollen and haunted, darted across the room, seeking, landing on the stark white of the casket, then on the small, trembling form of Kaito beside his grandmother. 

A flicker of something raw—remorse, regret, perhaps even a desperate plea for forgiveness—crossed his face as he took a hesitant step forward.

But Yui's younger sister, a woman carved from the same stern determination as her older sister, moved with a predatory grace.

She stepped directly into Kenji’s path, a wall of rigid defiance, utterly eclipsing her view of the front of the hall.

"You have no rights to be here, Kenji," she hissed, her cold voice cut throughout the mournful quietness like a blade of ice. 

"Not after all these years you left her behind. Not even now. And never."

Kenji flinched, as if struck.

His hand twitched, raising slightly, a pathetic, half-assured gesture of protest.

"I just… I wanted to see her. For Kaito," 

He stammered, his voice cracking, a desperate plea in his eyes. 

"He needs to see his father here, grieving with him."

"His father?" Yui's sister scoffed, a bitter, humorless sound that twisted her lips into a sneer. Her voice rose, though still controlled, carrying enough for nearby mourners to turn their heads. 

"You abandoned him! You abandoned her! You abandoned both of them! Left them to fend for themselves while you chased whatever new fleeting pleasure came your way! Don't you dare stand here, polluting this sacred space with your crocodile tears!"

Kenji's face crumpled further, a flush creeping up his neck. 

"That’s not fair! We had our problems, yes, but I still cared for Yui, for Kaito."

"I just came here out of respect!"

"Respect? What respect?" Yui’s sister took another step forward, forcing Kenji to recoil.

"Respect would have shown when she were alive! When Kaito needed you the most, or when she worked herself to death to provide daily needs for him!"

"You've chosen your path, Kenji. Now just live through it. And get out. Never show your face ever again."

"You’ll only taint her memory even more with your unwanted presence." 

Her arm gestured sharply towards the exit.

Kenji lingered for a beat, a man utterly broken, then turned, retreating from the hall as quietly as he had arrived, a pariah in a place of shared, sacred sorrow.

Her passing was too abrupt for someone who seemed she could've done more.

Meanwhile, Yui never expected any of this. 

She would've never expected the news reports, the trending hashtags, the digital outpouring of grief, or the private anguish of her son. Let aone her own clumsy end to become such a public spectacle, the ultimate tragic, ironic twist in a life spent chasing the hidden truths.