꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ masterlist… prev… a new light. ENTRY TWO: WHERE DID IT ALL GO WRONG? next … personal problems.
ᡣ𐭩 . even after all these years, detective itoshi rin has never gotten over the murder of his wife. he swore that he'd find the killer and figure out what really happened to you that night. the case ended up getting out up as a cold case, however. one day, though, he happened to stumble upon your diary while clearing up the attic to move to a new house. as he went through it, he realised that maybe it wasn't murder, perhaps something else. now with new leads, he manages to open the case again, with a new hope to find out what happened to you, but personal matters start getting in his way.
series : detective! itoshi rin! x dead! fem! reader, mentions of death, marriage, angst, rich! rin, mystery au, abuse, violence, black mail, unrequited love, threats, widowed rin, yn and rin have child named “mai” stalking ﾉ 2.5k wc. ﾉ mentions of eating disorder, yn has shitty parents, reader is said to be a personal trainer and described to have strong arms and abs.. (more could be added.)
He knew he shouldn’t have left the diary on the counter—not where Emi was, at least. He left for two minutes as he went to the bathroom.
Emi was eyeing it even before he left and wasted no time opening it. She knew she didn’t have long, so she quickly skimmed through the book, starting from the middle.
Her eyes seemed to widen at something, though—that was what Rin walked in on.
"Hey, don’t touch that,“ he cut himself off the second his eyes landed on the page she was reading.
Diary entry???? 26/11/2018 I was walking home today from work since my car was getting fixed, Rin couldn’t get me since he was at work, and Mai was sleeping at her grandparents house. (Of course Rin's parents, like I’d let her sleep over at my parents.) I felt someone following me—steps, light—the guy—or she—was light on their feet. I could barely hear it until they stepped on a stick. I also felt like I was being watched from all sides. I don’t know; should I tell Rin? I think I shouldn’t; he’ll overreact.
“Do you think... maybe, you know?” Emi averted her eyes from the boy, scratching the back of her neck.
He gulped at the thought. It was only a few minutes ago that he thought—for a moment—that you had maybe committed and made it look like murder—but now, it hinted that possibly—you had been murdered.
He was confused; he wanted answers; he wanted to get revenge on whoever did that to you.
He never told anyone what he walked into that day. His daughter sat happily in front of the TV in their living room. He thought today was just like any other day; he thought it was normal.
Until he walked into the master bedroom. You were on the floor, laying like you were sleeping in a wedding dress—it was drowning in blood, so he couldn’t quite tell if it was yours or another.
It looked like yours, though.
He remembers hearing the sirens, but it was too late. He walked in too late. He made sure his daughter wouldn’t see anything, but it wasn’t like the two-year-old would remember this.
He didn’t even get to hear your last words; no one did. Maybe the murder did.
You thought you had time to play with her, but you didn’t. You thought she wouldn’t see it coming and that you would have fun. But you didn’t; she found out. You had to kill her—they told you too; you had no choice; she’d tell her husband; she’d out your plan; you’d all go to prison; or maybe only you would. Following her wasn’t as easy as it was at first. You smiled at the sight of her in the wedding dress, all lifeless. You were a physcopath; you all were. They honked, and they told you to get out. Yet again, you didn’t get to have your fun. But it didn’t matter; another one would come soon; she’d be easier, you would have more time, and no one would know.
It took a couple weeks for him to reopen the case, but he managed.
“You think you could take care of Mai again, Emi?” He asked; she was the only person he trusted around his child; his other friends would probably teach her things she definitely didn’t need to know at the age of eight. “If you don’t have anything to do, of course.”
She nodded her head. “I know how important this is to you. And I want to know what happened to my best friend,” she smiled.
He may not like her much, but she was a big help when he needed it.
And yet again, he found himself in his precinct, staring at your case. It was late; he wished to be with his daughter, but he wanted his daughter to grow up knowing what happened to her mother and knowing the killer was locked up, serving his sentence in prison. 26-year-old female, suspected of murder. She was found on the floor in a wedding dress, drowning in her own blood. Signs of struggle. Stabbed in the chest numerous times, hand marks on the neck.
He grabbed the grey leather diary, skipping to the last few pages.
Diary entry??? 27/11/2018. I was being followed again! I don’t know, am I imagining it? I don't know. I think I caught a glimpse of the guy. I could see much since a few people kept walking past, and when he realised I knew he was following me, he disappeared, but I remember he had green eyes, slim lips, and curly hair. It seems familiar. Like that dude I dated back in sophomore year? At least before I kind of cheated on him when I kissed Rin... What was his name again? Something that starts with an S... Seiji? Seiji Takahashi? Maybe it’s not him—maybe just someone who looked like him.
He turned the page to realise that that was the last one. His last lead. He’d bring the guy in and find something out. They’re has to me something. You always recognised faces, never wrong; even from afar, it was highly unlikely you were wrong, or at least he hoped.
Yet he wondered, Who ripped out those pages? Who murdered you? Why were you in a wedding dress? Who was stalking you?
With the number of cases he’s worked on, he knew there was a possibility it was multiple people.
He continued to stare at the empty page that came after the one he’d just read. He turned it against it, being met with the hard-back cover of the diary. He noticed there was unfamiliar handwriting on it, followed by an initial.
You should’ve told him sooner. — S.
It seems like he missed a page. Now, he could bring Seiji in and put him under investigation.
For a moment, he thought about how stupid he was last year—how could he not have found this out—how did he not find your diary?
But even with those thoughts that it would be easy, he couldn’t get his hopes up. Especially because he didn’t know what awaited him soon.
He looked at the other pile of cases on his desk, then at the half-empty precinct barley filled with the try-hard officers who wanted to make detectives.
He seemed like one of them, trying to become a police lieutenant or something.
The captain would kill him if he realised that he was completely abandoning all of the cases he just to investigate one from six years ago.
“What do you want to watch, Mai?” Emi asked the little girl, the remote in her hand.
The house was empty, filled with boxes—not only that, but she was sitting on the floor since the couches were in the new house.
They only had a carpet and two layers of blankets to cushion themselves with some pillows. It was comforting—kind of.
The kid hugged, so she opted for what she always saw her watching, Bluey. Which she had to admit was a lighthearted show that entertained her in a way. She even caught Rin watching it even after Mai went to sleep.
Before she knew it, the kid dozed off.
She gutted up, fixing her pink hoodie, which she’d owned for many years now; it had stains, but she didn’t mind. It was a shirt that she got to match with you; she loved it and held an attachment to it.
Even if part of her was mad that you got everything she wanted, she knew there were things she stole from you. And you were still her best friend; she loved you. Even if you drifted apart for a while,.
She picked up the child, who, for her age, was quite heavy, or maybe she was just weak.
She stepped into her room, which still has that smell of paint after Ron painted the walls back to white after they were a pretty shade of purple for a while.
She placed her on the medication and tucked her in, walking away, leaving the light on since Mai couldn’t sleep without it.
She was just like you. She was spitting, even when it came to her fears. The dark, clowns, and loud sounds.
She really was her mother’s daughter. You’d be proud. You’d be so happy to see her like this—the same hair, nose, and fears.
In a way, she didn’t like it, but that was the bitch side of her talking, because that side of her wished to be the one with Rin's child, not you.
But her, the real her, the one that wasn’t clouded by jealousy but only love for you, she loved the fact Mai was just like you, just like how you always wanted your child to be.
She dragged her feat to the kitchen, the voices of children coming from the television since she forgot to pause it.
She scanned the half-empty fridge, looking for something to fill her hunger.
She straightened her posture. “You really have to get new groceries, Rin. Are you sure your daughter isn’t starving?” The blonde-haired girl muttered to herself, pushing back the loose strand of her bangs behind her ear.
Suddenly she heard a bunch of ruckus coming from the Rins office.
She raised her brow, grabbing a small knife from the utensil drawer. She steadily made her way to the dark wooden door as she pulled the handle down.
The room was dark, with a bunch of empty bookshelves and a stack of papers on the desk; some made their home on the floor. There were a few pens in the pen holder, and the white curtains were open, as was the window.
… It was odd; Rin wouldn’t leave it open like that. She turned her head, but a glimmering hand made its way to her mouth.
She couldn’t see, not at all. Her back was pressed against the man’s chest. She was trapped; the man was overpowering her.
His free hand grabbed the small knife from her as he began to speak. “Where’s Itoshi Rin?” He asked. His voice was muffled by the mask that covered his face. “I don’t know!” She lied. Who knows what would happen if the man were to find out where Rin was? Rin was strong, but if the man had a weapon...
… She didn’t want to think about it. The strange man released his hold of her and backed away, opening the office door and shutting it. It wasn’t long before she heard the front door unlock. She wanted to leave, but she was paralysed; she was too busy processing what just happened.
“I’m home, love.” He announced his presence, but he got no response. He assumed you took a nap. You were a personal trainer after all, always at the gym exercising. At first, it was never a career you wanted to pursue; it never even crossed your mind. But after struggling with your eating disorder, you wanted to help people achieve the body they wanted without starving themselves.
And you gained strong arms, which he found extremely attractive.
You were quite a popular one. Mostly among women, since you were always encouraging and helpful. Some of your friends were even your clients.
His daughter ran up to him, a bright smile on her face. "Where is mom?” He asked, squaring down to reach his daughter’s height. “She’s in her room,” she responded, and he gave her a pat on the head.
Mai had recently started forming full sentences that actually made more sense.
He entered the room with a rare smile on his face. Yet it quickly disappeared, his face expression morphing into one of horror; his eyes widened at the awful sight.
He ran over, the carpet stained with blood and the flowy white wedding dress stained with the dark red liquid. He gagged; he’d seen shit like this before, but it’s never been you.
It’s never been you with a wound on your stomach or your heart; it’s never been you with red hand marks on your neck; it’s never been you in this position.
Tears quickly weld up in his eyes. He knew that today would be the day he lost you.
He could only feel two emotions. Anger and sadness.
It wasn’t long before sirens were the only sound that filled the neighborhood. His daughter, tugging on his shirt with her small hands, said, “Dad, what happened to Mama? Will she be okay?" He sighed, trying to keep himself from breaking down and crying. He had to stay strong for his daughter. He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Why?” He hit his bottom lip in an attempt to stop it from trembling. “I don’t know, yet.”
He remembers how shy he became during the year that followed your death.
He fell into a state of alcoholism, constantly leaving his daughter in the care of his own parents. He couldn’t bear to look at her, not when she looked so much like you.
No one described how much he missed you. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if there would ever be a person to replace you.
He quickly snapped back from his thoughts, staring at the old pages of the diary, ones he’d not read yet.
Honestly, there really wasn’t anything of much importance there—other than your thoughts or how your days went.
Until he thought of something, assuming that you’d been stalked those following three weeks before your death, he realised that it matched some old cases.
All women from his old school, oddly. It was five cases, and he quickly went to the records room.
He grabbed one dated during one of the women’s deaths in 2017.
The case was solved; apparently, it was her ex-boyfriend, but now, with the things that matched your own case, he started to doubt it.
Hina Watanabe. She was reportedly stalked for three weeks, which they reported to the police, but they had done nothing since her stalker hadn’t done anything to her.
He took the case file and the other four that were left and headed back to his desk. He went through the cases, trying to catch any details that matched your file or anything you said in your diary.
In the process, however, he ignored the buzzing from his phone, not even bothering to check who was calling him.
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