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Shuichi Saihara had never understood the appeal of mystery novels. He'd always known that what he saw in books and shows was a romanticised version of what it would actually be like to be a dectective- a version that portrayed everything in a clichè in order to appeal to the masses. They told tales of adrenaline-fueled chases and teens who lived in the spotlight because of their intellectual ability, because the way that they perceived the world allowed them to put things together and notice and understand things no-one else could. Shuichi always knew that the idea he had in his head from what he'd been shown his whole life was nothing more than a glorified ruse, childish and cartoony in it's absurdity. He knew, but he never completely *understood*. He should have properly realised earlier; his uncle was a detective, but the small glimpse into the life of an overworked and burnt out man had done nothing to deter Shuichi. In fact, it was a case his uncle gave him to look at that got Shuichi to where he was now. It was a cold case, untouched for years, so it didn't seem like anything would come from Shuichi seeing the case. When he'd solved the case that so many had worked on for years with no results in a mere three days, everyone looked at Shuichi as some kind of prodigy, some kind of child genius; but Shuichi had met so-called prodigies and he was nothing like them. His one and only friend, Kaede Akamatsu, was the perfect example of someone who held that title. She'd told him of how every night, before she'd fall asleep, she'd hear the haunting sound of her father playing music on his old, out of tune piano downstairs. Even though the notes were sharp and wrong, it was almost charming in a way, and when he had left, Akamatsu only played piano in order to fill the silence that always lingered at first. Though, she soon realised that it was something she instantly found a passion for- she won competition after competition, and her music was enchanting. Most of all, Akamatsu loved playing piano, more so than she did anything else. Shuichi, however, didn't have a love for solving other people's problems. He didn't choose to look at a murder case. That was chosen for him, it was something Shuichi had no control over. His uncle, the man he looked up to more than anything, was a detective. Shuichi thought that might be why he was so desprate to prove that he could solve that stupid case once he'd first looked over it. But that didn't mean that was what he wanted to do with his life. Especially not after seeing the hatred in the eyes of the first man who was arrested because of him. Shuichi would never forget the pure, unrivalled anger- so many terrible emotions that were directed at him. The man was seeking revenge against a terrible person, and regardless of whether it were morally correct, Shuichi could never move past the thoughts that stemmed from that interaction, the thoughts that told him he would always be a talentless nobody and he was wasting his time. Clearly, he was not just some nobody, as many people certainly knew who he was, and recognised him for his "talent". That's why he was here. Because Kyoko Kirigiri, the famous detective who everyone had heard of, yet who never showed her face, recognised *him*. Much like his uncle was to him, Kirigiri was an idolized being to the general public, an inspiration. She was the kind of person who every teen wanted to be, so of course Shuichi couldn't turn her down when she offered him a place working under her. She was famous, after all, and he was just a boy. Just a boy, and yet so much more and so much less simultaneously. Shuichi wouldn't be the first to acknowledge his own inferiority complex, but yet people still looked up to him from the moment they found out he was a detective. It was infuriating; they acted as if they knew him better than he did himself, and as if his life must be perfect. Shuichi just decided that it was likely because some people have an odd desire to want their lives to seem more unfortunate than that of the people around them, despite however much love and care they may receive. Shuichi also assumed that's why he likes Akamatsu so much. She's his best and only friend, but he likes to tell himself that it's because she's the only one who doesn't assume things about his life or have ridiculously high expectations for him, but there's probably a few other more obvious reasons, one being Shuichi's terrible social skills. Akamatsu doesn't seem to care though, she treats him like she would anyone else. Still, he knows that he can never truely stand next to her- after all, she is a prodigy. Akamatsu is talented, she's passionate, and he only cares for the income and the look on his uncle's face when Shuichi solves a particularly difficult case, when he sees that him and his nephew at least have something in common. However, when Shuichi started getting home later and later, and he started leaving him room less, it was undeniable that the look on his uncle's face slowly morphed from that of pride to one of sadness instead. One of guilt. He saw the way that Shuichi slowly started to change, the way that he isolated himself from the world and his work started to consume his life. Shuichi didn't even come to eat dinner with him and his wife anymore. Not that it mattered anyway, since whenever Shuichi's uncle made an attempt to talk to him about anything other than his detective work, he couldn't find anything to talk about. Maybe that's why he couldn't bare to look at his nephew anymore; because he felt like he was the reason that Shuichi didn't have any interests. He's the reason why Shuichi didn't leave his room, why Shuichi only ever focused on his work, despite it making him just as misrable and worn-down as he was. The reason why Shuichi couldn't look him in the eyes, either. Shuichi told himself that was why his uncle in turn felt like a ghost lingering around fhe house, why they never had more than a few words of praise and their interactions were so robotic,

INTO JAPANESE

最原修一はミステリー小説の魅力を全く理解していなかった。彼は、本やショーで見たものは、実際に探偵になるのが好きなもののロマンチックなバージョンであることを常に知っていました-大衆にアピールするためにすべてを決まり文句で描いたバージョン.彼らは、アドレナリンを刺激する追跡と、生き残った十代の若者たちの物語を語りました

BACK INTO ENGLISH

Shuichi Saihara didn't understand the appeal of mystery novels at all. He always knew that what he saw in books and shows was actually a romanticized version of what it was like to be a detective - a clichéd version of everything to appeal to the masses.

INTO JAPANESE

最原修一はミステリー小説の魅力を全く理解していなかった。彼は、本やショーで見たものは、実際には探偵であることのロマンチックなバージョンであり、大衆にアピールするためのすべての決まり文句のバージョンであることを常に知っていました.

BACK INTO ENGLISH

Shuichi Saihara didn't understand the appeal of mystery novels at all. He always knew that what he saw in books and shows was actually a romanticized version of being a detective, a version of all the clichés to appeal to the masses.

INTO JAPANESE

最原修一はミステリー小説の魅力を全く理解していなかった。彼は、本やショーで見たものは、実際には探偵であることのロマンチックなバージョンであり、大衆にアピールするためのすべての決まり文句のバージョンであることを常に知っていました.

BACK INTO ENGLISH

Shuichi Saihara didn't understand the appeal of mystery novels at all. He always knew that what he saw in books and shows was actually a romanticized version of being a detective, a version of all the clichés to appeal to the masses.