it’s been a long enough time since kira has replaced kosaku, and hayato doesn’t have any hard evidence yet, but he’s absolutely certain that the man sitting at the dining room table is not his father
it’s been bothering him for a while. something subtly off. it’s not like the mushrooms, or the shoe thing. when he’s sitting down and trying to eat he keeps getting distracted by something so minuscule that he’s sure he’s just making it up at first.
on a particularly lazy night, where his guard has only somewhat dropped against the man eating at the table, he finally notices it. a scent. a peculiar one, one that may have made sense if there had been any meat on the table that night. but there was none.
and yet, the thin, faint stench of rot and blood is unmistakably coming from that man’s hands.