Prisoner's Conviction (Yandere Detective x Reader x Yandere Heirs)

Chapter 33: The Battlefield

 Hotaka hadn't slept. He hadn't eaten, hadn't focused in class, and was barely able to keep his eyes open. The only thing he felt was helpful to keep him on his toes was his training regime. He was currently thinking only of (Y/n), wondering how he could have abandoned her when she needed him most. There was no news from Kenko about whether she had attended classes that day. He wasn't even sure if she was alive.

The purple-haired male trembled as he lifted his chin over the pull-up bar, drawing the eye of his mentor. The man, a rather muscular individual with - what appeared to be - a worn-in body, was easy to note due to his short, dyed navy hair. With scars littering his body and even fresh wounds, he resembled what an ideal soldier was supposed to be. Laying down on a tire used for other training exercises, the man took in a big breath of...not a cigarette. He'd been trying to quit. Or rather, his daughter was harping on him about living a more healthy life.

"These damn substitutes. I don't taste the addiction."

The man paused as silence took over, the only sounds audible being the grunting Hotaka would do. He glanced over at the kid, narrowing his eyes. Usually, he would have encouraged him to use the substitutes and denied his complaints about other solutions. However, he was silent. The sight of his typical smile was nowhere to be seen either. The man threw his substitute cigarette away, crushing it out with his foot. He then stood in front of the kid before pausing. When he didn't respond to him, he simply put a weight on his right leg, then his left, continuing to go until the purple-haired male was unable to hold himself up any longer.

"The hell's up with you, kiddo?"

"Sorry...Major."

Humming, the man grabbed tightly onto the boy's arm before pulling him up to his feet. Still, the purple-haired boy was rather out of it, not able to focus. Even when his mentor asked him to perform a chokehold, he only did it half-heartedly. It was only when the man went for the jugular did he snap out of it, trembling. Hotaka had managed to, in some ways, fend off the attack, but his reaction time was too late. Coupled with the fact his mentor was far stronger than him, he could not use his own strength to push him off. Instead, he gave a look of concern, trembling as if his life was being threatened.

"Geez," the Major panicked, letting go of the boy as soon as he could, "You look like a shaking kitten. Can't bring myself to continue this. Let's take a bit of a break, huh?"

Hotaka didn't respond verbally, only bobbing his head slightly as he followed along with whatever his mentor had planned for him. Inside the metal building, the lights turned on with each step they took. It sure was a top-notch facility, one in which thousands of dollars were spent on, solely to train the purple-haired male. The Major all but huffed. Sure, he was great, but only when he was into it. And sure, he was always into it, but that day was one of those where he wasn't. It was probably a first. The man began to think about how he'd first been introduced to the kid.

He remembered first the gossip going around his base; about some genius who was legendary. After the discovery of 15 serial murders was announced to have been done by a "professional", no one could figure out the culprit. They were always quick to flee the scene, and quicker to get rid of the evidence. They left no calling card, no note, no trace of their work aside from the continual use of suffocation as a means of killing. Though countless individuals renowned in their fields of forensics, criminal psychology, or even the aptest detective could not unravel the mystery.

As such, the case had been closed, the only thing the city was able to do was warning people of the killer's existence. And yet, in just a week's time, someone came forward to declare who the culprit was. It was no witness or even a would-be victim, not even someone that knew the murderer personally. Rather, peeking over the top of the desk of the police chief, a small boy had pushed forward a giant folder of evidence before grinning wide and walking away. At first, it was taken as a joke. No mere child could have uncovered the secrets of "The Strangler of Ediasa" themselves.