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Chapter Text

  It was nearing the end of the school year, and Light Yagami was in his room. The To-Oh exams were fast approaching, and he had to study hard if he wanted to achieve a perfect score. This would make his parents proud; he always aspired to make his parents proud. And along with these aspirations came this compulsive need to be perfect.

  Being perfect is the most important thing in life. Because of this, Light should be quite content with his life; his family loved him, he was good at sports, he was intelligent (always been at the top of his class), and was very charismatic and popular with most people. Then there were times when he just felt very tired and could no longer see any worth within himself or his actions. Like right now, he couldn't seem to concentrate on anything for the life of him; his thoughts kept drifting back to the sham that is his life. His relationship with family felt conditional. His relationship with Misa Amane was empty and nearly loveless. His relationship with his peers... well, all his friends were gone; they had left him behind. And now, Light was questioning what he is even doing, acting as if everything is okay.

  Pretending as if everything is fine when it isn't. It accomplishes nothing, thought Light as he snapped shut the book he had been trying to read. But if I stop pretending that all is fine, that all is normal, then I risk destroying everything.

  “Onii-chan! It's almost dinner time,” shouted Sayu, from all the way downstairs.

  Thankfully, his sister's shouts managed to break Light out of his troubled thoughts.

  Light left his bedroom and headed down towards the kitchen. Upon entering, he saw Sayu was getting ready to set the table, her arms full of dishes precariously balancing on top of each other. Light immediately decided to help, as he feared for both her safety and everyone else's. 

 By the time they were done, their father, Soichiro, had just come back from work. Light was honestly glad to see him home tonight, though he may not have shown as much enthusiasm as Sayu. Soichiro was a police chief within the NPA (National Police Agency) and would oftentimes work very late hours. From what Light could glean from his parents’ conversations and news reports, his father was indeed working on a very difficult case; the Kira case. Light found it all rather strange. The police force having to protect criminals from a vigilante; one that was somehow causing them all to die due to cardiac arrest.

  “Dinner smells great,” said Soichiro, smiling as he entered the kitchen.

  “Thanks. Mom and I worked really hard," said Sayu, grinning proudly as Sachiko placed the food on the table.

  “For a while there I thought you’d be working another all-nighter,” said Sachiko, in a passive-aggressive manner.

  Light got the feeling that Sachiko hated it when Soichiro left home for so long, not seeing any of them for weeks on end. Not even calling to let them know he was okay.

  Light felt something akin to ice entering his veins; his parents never argued, but would rather say half-hearted comments that were quickly dropped. Any leftover anger or bitterness was quickly repressed. These little habits left Light feeling mildly ill. Maybe with the exception of Sayu, no one in this family was completely in touch with each other, or themselves.

   For several long minutes, dinner passed by in complete and utter silence. Light found himself mostly pushing around food rather than eating it. The silence felt as though it was eating away at him.

  “So Dad, how's the Kira case going?" inquired Light, wanting to break the silence as well as being legitimately curious.

  “Oh, look at that, Dad! Light is questioning you about work,” exclaimed Sayu, enthusiastically. “Don’t you think Light will be a great detective one day? Right, Dad?” 

  “I know he will. And about that…” replied Soichiro, briefly pausing as he wiped his hands and face on a napkin. "Light, son, I know that you are close to entering college, so you are very busy. But my colleagues and I think we could use someone of your intelligence on the Kira case.”

  “Are you asking me to come and work with you?” asked Light, hopeful, as he looked into his father’s eyes.

  “Well, yes,” answered Soichiro, somehow remaining oblivious to his son’s elation.

  “R-really?” stuttered Light, feeling overwhelmed. He rarely got attention from his parents in recent years, since he was doing perfectly fine, and they usually just assumed he didn’t need it or want it. “I’d love to assist you. I’m ready whenever you need me?”

  “It's settled then," replied Soichiro, smiling at his son. “We’ll let you in on the case tomorrow. But I still want you to go to school every day, and to stay on-top of your studies. Do you think you can handle this along with the additional hours down at the station?"

  “Of course,” answered Light, immediately. He could and would do anything to please his father, and solving the Kira case may make him finally be worthy of his father’s praise. “I managed just fine last year. Remember the insurance fraud murder?”

  “Yes, I do. You did very well on that,” answered Soichiro, smiling. “Welcome to the team then.”

  “Well, then it might be wise if we all head to bed early tonight,” said Sachiko, as she cleared the plates off the table; she gave Light a disapproving look as she gathered up his nearly full plate. “Big day tomorrow.”

  “I guess you’re right, Mom,” said Light, getting up from the table. “Goodnight.”

  When Light got back to his empty room, all of his previously experienced happiness drained out of him. It’s been like this for several weeks now. Holding up an image of perfection was becoming more difficult. Smiling hurt, whether fake or legit. And the idea of dying was looking more and more appealing. He honestly couldn’t understand it; he was genuinely happy only moments ago, and now he was sad. 

  At times like this, Light wondered if he might be depressed, but he always shrugged it off. His life was too perfect for him to be depressed. Perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect. Besides, he was finally going to spend some long-overdue time with his father. He now had a job to do; he had a purpose.

Chapter Text

 The next day was a Sunday, so there were no school hours to work around. This allowed Soichiro to take Light with him when he drove into work.

  “So, son,” said Soichiro, breaking the silence that had filled the car for too long. Sometimes he wished he knew what was preoccupying Light's mind so much; the boy was much too quiet as of late. It was really beginning to worry him. “What do you know about the case?”

  “Just that between ten to twenty people are dying each day,” replied Light, narrowing his eyes in concentration. “And they all had criminal records, and they all died from cardiac arrest.”

  “You gleaned all that from watching the news?” asked Soichiro, impressed. At Light’s hesitant nod, he continued. “Well, we don’t have much more information on the Kira killings besides they’re committed during the afternoon, always after 3:30pm. Kira has also killed some of our officers that spoke out against him.”

  “Wait, I haven’t heard anything about those murders,” said Light, confused.

  “Because they were suicides,” stated Soichiro. He watched as Light seemed to do a series of mental gymnastics only to look even more confused than before.

  “Then how do you figure that it’s Kira’s handiwork?” asked Light, mind likely trying to process this unusual and confusing puzzle.

  “L noticed that Kira used several of the victims to send us messages, such as, 'We were wrong',” explained Soichiro, barely managing to suppress a shudder as he recalled the horror he witnessed two days earlier. “We watched as thirteen of our own officers jumped to their deaths. We have no explanation for this occurrence.”

  “So you are just assuming that Kira is responsible,” questioned Light. “Is that not a rather rash conclusion? It could have also just been a planned mass suicide. ‘We were wrong’ is somewhat vague and may not even be connected to Kira. Still… if we are now calculating every unusual death, then Kira is killing at a much higher rate than initially thought. But it also means there’s no way to discern between a ‘normal’ death vs a Kira-induced one.”

  “We can't be too careful,” explained Soichiro, eyeing Light; he didn't like how easily his son could detach himself emotionally and speak about the dead so coldly. “Everything is suspect right now.”

  “You mentioned cardiac arrest. How about heart attacks? Are they suspect?” asked Light, clearly wanting to know the scope of individuals that were considered victims of Kira; “They are often mistaken for each other; even though one is caused by blocked arteries and the other is caused by an electrical malfunction.”  

  “Currently, we are only investigating cardiac arrest and suicides causing death amongst criminals and law enforcement,” replied Soichiro, bluntly. “Any more questions?”

  “Did you check their system for drugs?” asked Light, though Soichiro was quite certain that he already knew the answer, but still wanted confirmation. “Particularly ones that could potentially cause cardiac arrest or behavioural changes?”

  “O’course, we did,” replied Soichiro, pulling into the station’s parking lot. “The results all came back clean. But there was something else that we noticed that was strange: at most of the crime scenes, there were recently eaten apples. We tested them and they were absolutely clear of any sort of DNA traces.”

  “That is strange,” admitted Light, drawing his brows together in concentration. “Even so, the killer may like apples; assuming those are his. Or he could be messing with us? If either of those are correct, then he was likely at the scene of the crime. Did you check all the security footage?” 

  “Yes,” answered Soichiro.  “We found nothing.”

  “It’s almost like our culprit is a ghost-”

  “Don’t be stupid!” criticized Soichiro, interrupting Light more harshly than intended. “Creatures of lore do not exist. Our problem is real; the answer is real.”

  “It was just hyperbole; it’s not meant to be taken seriously,” muttered Light, quietly with a pinched expression. “I’ll be sure to be more careful with my words next time. I won’t embarrass you.”

  A moment of silence passed between father and son.

  “Well, according to the suicides plus the lack of drugs in their system…” began Light, having likely decided to skip over the apple core issue for now. “This suspect must be extremely charismatic or possess some sort of mind-altering ability,” deduced Light, his eyes scrunching close in contemplation. “Or he could be influential enough to get his hands on some serious blackmail material,” Light paused briefly, caught up in a heavy train of thought. “Which is strange. Since, due to the hours the killings take place, he sounds like he is a student. Well, either that or an adult that works some very particular hours; teacher, perhaps.”

  “That’s interesting. Those ideas sound very plausible,” replied Soichiro, proudly. “Admittedly, that still leaves us with a very vague profile of our suspect.”

  Still, Soichiro had to admit this was a better profile of the killer than they already had; he’d be sure to add Light's ideas to their current profile. When he and Light entered the building he noticed that his son had become oddly withdrawn. He hoped Light hadn’t taken his criticisms too harshly. It’s just that this case has been becoming increasingly difficult and they didn’t have much to go on… And Light stumbling across thoughts of yokai and other beings worried him.

 The father-son duo walked along the halls of the police department. Heading towards the main office, they were greeted by some of the officers on Soichiro’s team.

 "Morning, Chief,” greeted one member enthusiastically. And very, very loudly. “Is this your son, Light?”

  “Yes, he is,” stated Soichiro, before rolling his eyes as Matsuda hopped over his desk to greet them.

  “So you’re Light Yagami. It’s good to finally meet you,” exclaimed Matsuda, shaking Light’s hand energetically. “I hear that you and Misa Amane are together.”

  “Light, this is Touta Matsuda,” introduced Soichiro, patting the back of Matsuda’s shoulder in a rough but somewhat affectionate manner.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Light, with forced cheer. “And yes, Misa and I are… close.”

  Soichiro noticed how his son seemed to hesitate. Truthfully, he’d been under the impression Light’s relationship with Misa may not be entirely genuine; it was difficult to say why, though. At least this was better than most of his other relationships, though that’s not saying much. 

  “Do you think you could perhaps introduce me to her?” asked Matsuda, entering fan-boy mode. “Maybe you can get me her autograph?”

  “I’ll ask her about it,” agreed Light with a smile that was looking more forced by the second as Matsuda kept chittering on.

  Soichiro decided it may be best if he intervened about now. Both Matsuda’s and Light’s personalities, while vastly different, were a bit of an acquired taste, and trying to befriend them took lots of work as well as patience… so, so much patience.

  “That’s enough, Matsuda,” said Soichiro, interrupting Matsuda mid-sentence. “I think we should all be getting back to work.”

  Wandering off towards his office, he could hear Light’s footsteps following a short distance behind.

   “Matsuda lacks any sort of professionalism,” scoffed Light, sounding vaguely bitter. “So, Dad, what tasks should I start with?”

  Soichiro watched as Light nudged the door shut before shrugging off his coat. He wasn’t sure if he should comment on his son’s current attitude or not. Soichiro decided that he'd rather not.

  “Well, all we can do right now is try to trace the Kira killings, and that’s mostly-”

  Soichiro’s laptop started making noise. 

  “It’s a video transmission from L,” muttered Soichiro, as he realised how bad this timing was. “Light, this is very important and top secret. I need you to head out. Keep your cellphone on you, and I'll text you when to come back.”

  “Is this the guy that Interpol hired?” asked Light, looking over Soichiro’s shoulder. 

  “Not now, Light,” replied Soichiro, agitated. He couldn't have Light here, given how L valued his privacy. “This is important. Therefore, I need you to leave.”

~~~~~~~~~

  Light sighed, feeling disappointed. Forcing a content expression to cross his face, he obliged his father’s request, and swiftly left, grabbing his coat on the way out. 

  Light had then spent the rest of the morning walking around the city aimlessly, waiting for his father to contact him. By the time noon hit, Light’s stomach reminded him of how he had skipped both dinner and breakfast, respectively. He decided to go find a place to grab some lunch. Finding a nice little café, he ordered a sandwich and sat down to eat.

  He was about halfway through his meal, when the television screen caught his attention. It was an emergency broadcast.

  Did it have to do with the Kira murders? wondered Light.

  “Good evening," announced the man occupying the screen. “Or perhaps it is ‘Good morning’ to you. As this is a worldwide broadcast from Interpol, I believe that it would vary as to where you may be watching from.”

  “I am Lind L. Tailor,” continued the man, as his name flashed on the screen. “Though L might be easier for you.”

  Wait, was this the same L that had contacted Dad earlier today? Light wondered, his interest piqued as the rest of his sandwich quickly became forgotten.

  “I believe everyone is aware of this, but a case has erupted in which criminals have become the target of a serial killer,” explained Tailor. “This is leading to mass murder on a scale never before seen throughout history.”

  “No matter what means he is using, we must take measures against this terrible, monstrous crime!” continued Tailor, ranting aggressively. Light was beginning to grow suspicious of this man; something seemed off. The man appeared to be more scared than determined. “To the perpetrator of this crime, known under the alias of Kira: I will arrest you! This I do so formally declare! Kira! As for your motive in all of this, I can easily see through it. But what you are doing is evil.” 

  “Be sure of this: I will send you to your execution,” Tailor continued to rant. Light was beginning to question this man’s sanity.

  Is this man trying to goad Kira into attacking him? questioned Light, in utter bewilderment. Hadn’t he read the case files? Pulling a stunt like this was suicide, literally.

  “All of the world’s police forces are coming together for this investigation! The whole world is coming together, and we are certain to find you! We will see an end to your genocidal spree! We will restore society to…”

 Suddenly, Lind L. Tailor’s rant ceased as he began gasping in pain. It appeared as though he might be experiencing cardiac arrest. It seemed as though Kira had gone for his more typical form of attack. Watching this all happen on the screen, Light felt horrified, but not surprised.

  Just then, the screen went black, and a white, calligraphy-style ‘L’ appeared. ‘What the hell?’ mouthed Light, watching the screen even more intensely than before.

  “Splendid, Kira,” a disembodied voice mockingly congratulated. “Without laying a hand on someone directly, you’re still able to kill them. But the man you have just killed, Lind L. Tailor, was in fact a criminal scheduled for execution. This man’s arrest and his verdict were withheld from the media. Even someone like Kira could not have known of him, in other words.”

  So this was the real L and the other was a decoy. This was getting interesting, thought Light. This L fellow is trying to determine Kira's means of attacking. Though given the evidence so far, it appeared to involve something in the realms of the supernatural. Admittedly, Light wasn’t normally someone who readily believed in myths, but when there aren’t any other viable solutions, you have to pick the most likely and test it out.

  “Now show us. Try and kill me if you can,” taunted L. “Why do you hesitate? Come. Don’t be shy. Kill me. I know you’re there. You can’t do it, can you? Kira. In other words, there are those who Kira cannot kill. This is quite the valuable clue.”

   During the last few sentences, L seemed to be talking more to himself than anyone else. It was unnerving in a way. It was also surprisingly captivating. 

  “I’ll tell you this in thanks for the clue,” continued L, and even though Light couldn’t see his face, he could swear he was grinning triumphantly. “The broadcast just now was said to be worldwide, but actually, it was only broadcast in the Kanto Region of Japan.”

  Light’s eyes widened. He was now officially impressed by L’s little trick. The clever bastard had narrowed down Kira’s location by broadcasting something apparently ‘worldwide’ with probably a time delay to be shown in different areas at different times and then waiting to see when Kira would react.

  Looking away from the screen, Light then noticed that his sandwich had disappeared. He had been so engrossed by the news that he hadn’t noticed a tiny, black cat stealing his food. Looking under the table, Light spotted the little guy, or girl, working their way through the last quarter. The cat had a bandage on her right paw, so it probably had an owner that was looking after them.

  “You’re a hungry little fella,” said Light, smiling at the cute little creature. When the cat noticed Light, the creature looked as though he was ready to bolt. 

  “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m not mad,” continued Light calmly, reaching down to rub the cat’s ears. “Go ahead. Eat my lunch, little thief. You’ll probably enjoy it more than I would have anyway.”

  Hearing his phone ding, Light emerged out from under the table, giggling a little. Checking his cellphone he saw the message was from his father. He wanted Light to head back home; he was no longer needed on the case. 

  Light could feel tears welling behind his eyes threatening to fall. Wiping at his face, Light walked back home with the feeling of shame and worthlessness weighing on him.

Chapter Text

  “L, why would you do that?” yelled Soichiro Yagami at the laptop. He was beyond angry; he was infuriated. He wished that L was in the same room as him so that he could shake some sense into the bastard. “You goaded Kira into killing a man! A man he thought was you!” he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “You are crossing some very dangerous lines.”

  “You act as though the world is black and white, Yagami-san,” replied L, in a bored-sounding tone that somehow managed to fully convey itself through the voice filter. “You refuse to acknowledge the shades of grey that humans simply are.”

  “What did your gambit accomplish?” asked Soichiro, forcing himself to think and act rationally.

  “I determined that he was unable to kill me due to not knowing my name and/or face,” stated L, while Soichiro and the rest of his team looked at each other, perplexed. “Actually, I am almost positive that Kira needs at least a name to kill. And he doesn't know my real name.”

  “Was getting that clue worth being responsible for another man’s death?” asked Soichiro, finding L's means of investigation to be overly calloused; he knew he had to call L out on this behavior before it went too far.

   “That man was going to be executed by the state. He was living on borrowed time,” argued L. “Therefore I am not responsible for taking a life; I only allowed his death to serve a purpose.”

  “Well, then,” began Soichiro as he straightened his shoulders. “Couldn’t Kira make the same argument for himself? He murders criminals that he deems deserving and frightens off any potential criminals by putting the fear of death in them.”

  “Well, for starters, Tailor had his trial and was sentenced accordingly. Then there are the criminals that Kira kills. They range anywhere from murderers to petty thieves. His perspective is almost draconian in nature; that all crimes are equal and deserving of death,” explained L. “He also kills those that are undeserving of death by his own standards; the missing chunk of your police force can attest to that. He then goes so far as to taunt the NPA about it; Kira thinks he’s God and that he doesn’t have to face the consequences of his actions.”

  “L, I am not saying that you are wrong for wanting to catch Kira as swiftly as possible,” conceded Soichiro, pinching the bridge of his nose; he could feel a headache was fast approaching. “I am just asking you not to blur the lines between good and evil more than necessary.”

  “I won’t go further than necessary,” agreed L, placating the police chief before changing the subject. “The NPA Headquarters is too well-known and distinctive for our more clandestine operations.”

  “What do you want us to do about that?” asked Soichiro, crossing his arms as he grew more irritated by the new guy’s antics.

  “I've already taken this into consideration and have established a place for us to meet,” explained L. “I am sending you directions via email. We’ll see each other there at 5am tomorrow.”

  “We’ll see you then,” agreed Soichiro as he turned off the video transmission and opened his email.

~~~~~~~~~

  At 5am the following day, Soichiro and his team stood outside what appeared to be some average studio apartment building in an urban neighborhood. Buzzing to be let in, they immediately headed to unit four as detailed in the email.

  They were greeted by an elderly man, who introduced himself as Watari. He politely escorted them into the main room of the apartment where an abundance of technical equipment had been set up. And sitting amongst it all was a man they could only assume was L.

  L wasn’t at all what they’d expected. He was a young man, of about twenty-five or so; he had paper pale skin, messy black hair, and dark shadows under even darker coloured eyes. He vaguely resembled a creature one may see in a horror flick. In Soichiro’s opinion, the young man could almost be described as decent-looking if not for the aforementioned flaws and his incredibly slouched posture. Not to mention, this man's attire was nowhere close to professional; wearing a white long-sleeved shirt, with faded blue jeans and no shoes. 

  “I am L,” introduced the young man, walking away from the computer screens; his bare feet padding across the wooden floorboards.

  This L guy certainly has his quirks. Maybe it’s a smart person thing; even my son has his own… eccentricities, thought Soichiro, shaking his head in silent judgment and contemplation. Though, seriously, can this guy please put on a pair of slippers? Or perhaps some socks?

  “This L guy is quite... different than I imagined,” said Matsuda, rudely voicing everyone’s thoughts. Despite this, Ide tried to subtly slap him upside the head; keyword ‘tried’.

  Soichiro decided he better get on with the introduction. Pulling out his ID, he took a step forward. 

  “Yagami, chief of the NPA," greeted Soichiro, succinctly.  

  “Touta Matsuda,” said Matsuda, following the Chief’s lead. The rest of the task force followed suit; displaying their IDs as they did so.

  “Shuichi Aizawa.” 

  “Kanzo Mogi.”

  “Hirokazu Ukita.”  

  “Hideki Ide.”

  “You know if I was Kira, you'd all be dead now,” said L, positioning his hand into the shape of a gun, pretending to shoot them with a repeated ‘bang, bang, bang’. “And all thanks to Yagami there. If I were you, I wouldn’t be so inclined to disclose my identity in the future.”

  “Oh,” muttered Soichiro, awkwardly putting his ID away; the other officers quickly did the same. “So, L, wha-”

  “While you’re here, working with me, you may call me Ryuzaki," interrupted L, as he hopped over to an armchair and began pouring himself some tea.

  “Alright, Ryuzaki,” agreed Soichiro, before getting back to his previously interrupted questions. “What do you plan for us to do to avoid being Kira’s next victims? And why do you think Kira needs a name and perhaps a face to kill?” 

  “Because when Lind L. Tailor was on TV, his full name was on-screen, and Kira killed him,” answered L, pausing briefly to sip his tea. “But when I challenged him to kill me, he didn’t. I believe he couldn’t due to not knowing my name or face like he did Tailor’s.”

  “I think you’re jumping to some pretty far-fetched conclusions,” snorted Aizawa in disbelief. 

  “I actually think it’s the only thing that could possibly make sense,” commented Matsuda, in complete contrast to Aizawa’s statement. “The only criminals that are dying had both their name and face disclosed to the public. News programs where the criminal was not yet identified or only had their names disclosed to the public have not yet been killed.”  

  “Regardless, we’re taking precautions based off of my theory until it is either proven to be false or no longer necessary,” explained L, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the two officers that were now arguing. He then turned his attentions back to Soichiro. “As to your first question, we will all be using fake IDs and aliases.” 

  Watari had then entered the room with a briefcase under one arm. Opening it up, he had then proceeded to hand out the IDs that had resided within the case. Soichiro looked at his; the name on it was Yonjuro Asahi. He then took a glimpse at the other task force members’ badges; Matsuda’s was Matsui, Aizawa’s was Aihara, Mogi’s was Moji, Ukita’s was Okita, and Ide’s was Ode. It seemed as though a majority of these names were phonetically similar to their actual names; Soichiro guessed it made it easier to remember.

  “Fake IDs?” asked Matsuda, surprised. “But isn’t that illegal?”

  “I’m aware of that, but we do not have much of a choice,” replied L, placing his thumb on his lips. “Kira most likely kills using a person’s name and face. So our options are limited; it’s your decision to either follow my recommendations, or die.”

  “Alright,” agreed Soichiro. “We’ll do as you ask.”

  “Well, now that we’re all in agreement,” said L with a smirk. “Shall we get to work?”

~~~~~~~~~

  Light did not see his father when he got home from school. It had only been a day, but as time passed, Light began to grow worried. He now knew that Kira had a strange and deadly power that allowed him to strike a person dead if he so wills it. It hadn’t taken Light long to determine that Kira only needed a victim’s name and/or face.

  In the late afternoon, as Light helped Sayu with her homework, he hoped that their father would allow him back on the case. The constant worrying about Soichiro's safety was weighing on everyone in the family. And not being able to do anything about it was driving Light insane.

  Of course, for Light, insanity may be a legit concern. Since the Lind L. Tailor broadcast, he had been experiencing this strange sensation that someone was following him; watching him. It was a feeling that left him filled with a sense of dread and foreboding. 

  And if that wasn’t enough already, there was also the sudden appearance of apple cores. These apple cores would continuously appear discarded throughout his room and all over his bed. It reminded him of the crime scenes his dad had mentioned earlier. 

  Either I am being stalked by that same killer or I have completely lost my mind, thought Light as he tossed out the last of the garbage. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. Sayu likes apples; maybe she has been snacking in my room, knowing that I’ll always be willing to pick up her messes. 

  “Though I can’t imagine anyone liking apples this much,” mumbled Light, as he tiredly headed back up towards his bedroom.

  As he walked past the stairway mirror, he could have sworn he had caught a glimpse of… something; something monstrous-looking with bright red and yellow eyes. But looking around, there was no one else on the staircase.

  Must be the cumulative result of stress plus exhaustion, thought Light, shaking his head. I probably just need some sleep. That’ll chase off the ‘monsters’.

Chapter Text

  “Light,” called Sachiko, as Light finished cleaning the dishes. The Yagami family had recently eaten dinner with the exception of Soichiro, who had pulled another all-nighter; he had been thoroughly dedicated to the Kira case for the last two weeks now. “Can you come here? We need to talk.”

  “Yes, Mom,” replied Light, drying his hands before heading towards his parents’ room. 

  I hope she isn’t going to ask me about the Space-Land bus-jacking, thought Light with a resigned sigh. The chances of Mom knowing about it were minimal, but not zero.

  The incident had happened a few days ago, and Light was alright for the most part, but that wouldn’t stop his mom from being worried about him if she had found out about it. That was why he had not told her.

  Flashback; Six Days Ago

  March 17, 2020

  Light had met Yuri at the bus station. He had gotten there a few minutes late, so he didn’t have to wait long for the bus to arrive. Only three people had boarded at this stop, including Light and his ‘date’. The bus had only nine passengers; it was Space-Land’s off-season, afterall. Yuri headed to a set of seats near the back, and Light reluctantly followed. The man, who had boarded with them, chose to sit one seat behind and across the aisle from them.

  “I don’t understand you, Light,” said Yuri, tilting her head. “You said that you weren’t dating ‘til after exams. I thought it was due to Shiori, but then you started going steady with Misa-Misa. Now you are with me? Why?”

  “Well, you’re a very beautiful and intelligent woman,” said Light, pausing as he thought of Misa and her most recent request; he really hated lying, but that rarely ever stopped him. “And I just couldn’t avoid the temptation.”

  “You’re such a flirt,” giggled Yuri, swatting his arm playfully.

  “And it’s not like I have anything to worry about when it comes to exams,” continued Light, now bragging. “I’ve been consistently scoring perfect on those practice tests.”

  “You’re such a nerd,” teased Yuri, shoving him then pulling him close; too close.

  Light had laughed in response to her teasing, but truthfully he felt uncomfortable about the whole situation; there were so many things wrong with it. Firstly, his girlfriend, Misa, had asked him to help her friend, Yuri, get over a recent break-up… by going on a date with her. That’s already weird enough. But he also knew Yuri from school, and she never once mentioned knowing Misa-Misa personally. And secondly, Yuri thought that he was having an affair with her behind Misa’s back. And somehow this was a totally alright thing to do.

  Light knew he had a reputation for this sort of thing, but he didn’t think it was this bad. Well, whatever, there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

  Three stops away from Space-Land, a stout and very dirty-looking man had gotten on the bus; his hands buried in his jacket pockets. Once the bus started moving, the man suddenly pulled out a gun and pointed it at the driver.

  “STAY IN YOUR SEATS UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE!” threatened the man, shouting at the passengers. Light recognized him as Kiichiro Osoreda; he was responsible for killing three people while robbing a bank. “Everybody shut-up. If anybody moves, I’m putting a bullet in their head,” Osoreda then focused his attention on the driver. “Alright, driver, you listen to me. I know you have the number for Space-Land’s office on you. Call them.”

  “Okay,” agreed the bus-driver, reaching for the bus radio. “This is Sasaki calling from bus 174. My bus had been hijacked. He’s holding a gun to my head.”

  “Give me that,” demanded Osoreda, roughly snatching the receiver from the driver’s hand. “You heard what he said, so you listen up. Have a female staff member bring all of Space-Land’s cash from yesterday; I know it’s there. Have her meet us two bus-stops from the park. And don’t make me wait. If you mess with me or get the police involved, I swear I will kill every single one of these passengers.”

   Osoreda had then smashed the radio. Beside him, Yuri trembled in fear; Light was scared too. The couple across the aisle from them was having a hushed conversation. Light hoped that Osoreda wouldn’t hear them over the sounds of the engine.

  “Kiyomi don’t be frightened,” said a man, who was very well-dressed and possessed a set of red eyes; Light quickly assumed contact lenses were responsible for the unique colour.

  The red-eyed man was talking to a beautiful, short-haired woman that was sitting next to him. It took Light a few moments to recognize her. Kiyomi Takada. He recalled dating her several months earlier. It had not ended well.

   Light watched as the red-eyed man passed Takada a note. Trying to read it, Light quickly found it too difficult to decipher from this distance. Craning his neck a bit, he could now see that it said something about attempting to grab the gun out of the hijacker’s hand.

  “Don’t be stupid; that’s risky,” interrupted the man seated behind the couple. “If it comes to that, I’ll take care of it.”

  “Can you prove you’re not his accomplice?” asked the red-eyed man, looking at the other man, skeptically. 

  “Yeah, I have read about this before,” supported Takada, furrowing her brows. “The first hijacker comes in like he is working alone, meanwhile a second one pretends to be a hostage and stays in the very back just in case anything goes wrong.”

 “Here’s my proof,” said the man sitting behind the couple. He handed them an FBI badge that stated his name was Raye Penber. “I am not that man’s accomplice.”

  “Alright, I’ll trust you. And I guess for the time being I won’t ask what an FBI agent is doing on the bus,” said the red-eyed man, before asking. “Do you have a gun?”

  “Yeah,” confirmed Penber. “I’ve got one.”

  “So if it comes down to it, I can rely on you to act?” asked the red-eyed man.

  “Yes,” answered Penber.

  Osoreda was currently threatening the old couple a few rows up when the red-eyed man dropped a balled-up sheet of paper. It rolled into the middle of the aisle. Light realized it might be the note suggesting they try wrestling for the gun. It had landed closer to Light than anyone else, so he had tried to discreetly slide the crumpled piece of paper under his seat using his foot. Unfortunately, before he could reach it, Osoreda had noticed his movements.  

  “Don’t move, you little punk,” yelled Osoreda before roughly kicking Light’s leg out of the way. Picking the piece of paper up, he glanced at it before scoffing. “What is this? Plans for a date?”

    Osoreda then dropped the piece of paper before storming to the front of the bus. Light glared at the red-eyed man for causing him such unnecessary panic, though he was relieved the note wasn’t what he thought it was. The last thing Light wanted was to be in the middle of a shoot-out between a criminal and an FBI agent; then again, who would? Well, adrenaline junkies, perhaps.

  Once reaching the front, Osoreda turned around again and immediately began freaking out. All colour left his face as he aimed his gun towards the empty space that occupied the bus’ aisle. 

  What is he doing? questioned Light, tilting his head as he tried to understand the situation.

  “Who the hell are you?” asked Osoreda, directing his question to an unoccupied area of space on the bus; Light guessed that the man was hallucinating; he was a known drug addict afterall. “You in the very back. What do you think you’re doing?”

  Light was feeling even more frightened than before; if Osoreda was hallucinating, whether it be from drugs or a medical condition, he could end up hurting people without meaning to. Insane people are not easy to predict. Light wondered if the FBI agent was planning on doing something, because he might want to before the situation gets more out of control than it has already.

  “D-d-d-don’t mess with me,” stuttered Osoreda, he sounded very terrified by whatever he was seeing. “How long have you been hiding back there?”

  “STAY THERE, YOU!” yelled Osoreda, appearing to become more unhinged by the second. “You keep away from me, you freak!”

  “Everyone get down,” shouted Penber. Light immediately complied with that order along with everyone else.

  “Get away,” screamed Osoreda, shooting several bullets into the back window. He kept shooting until the gun was empty.

  With the gun now unloaded, Penber had decided to charge at the hijacker. Before he could reach him, Osoreda had demanded that the driver stop the bus. Light had watched through the window as Osoreda jumped out the bus doors only to get hit by a car.

  End Flashback 

  Everything about that day was so incredibly odd in such an infinite number of ways. Why was there an FBI agent on board? Was he looking for someone in particular? Another odd occurrence was the red-eyed man. Light had looked him up and found out his name was Teru Mikami, a well-known prosecutor. What was he doing there? Mikami was known to be very predictable and rather anti-social. Why would he take a trip to a theme park? Then there was that man, who had them hostage. He was a previously convicted criminal that had immediately died after leaving the bus. 

  Putting all these unusual interactions into perspective, Light was certain this had been a set-up. Just yesterday the deaths of fifteen FBI agents had been reported. One of those agents had been the man on the bus that day. It all seemed a little too coincidental. 

  Was this the work of Kira? thought Light. Was he on that bus? There were only a few people that could have seen Raye Penber’s name at the time. Could the police track down those suspects after how much time had passed? If so, L would already be doing that.

  Standing in the open doorway of his parents bedroom, Light made a conscious effort to push down his worried thoughts when he saw that his mom had been crying.

  “What’s the matter, Mom?” asked Light, concerned as he sat down next to her packed suitcase.

  “My mum and sister contacted me,” answered Sachiko, wiping away the moisture from around her eyes.

  Light hated seeing her like this, but he had no idea how to help. He had never even met his maternal grandmother or aunt. He had no idea whether they were good people or not; most of the people on his father's side of the family certainly weren’t.

  “What happened?” asked Light, prompting her to continue.

  “There’s been an issue with my family, so I am going to have to leave for a little while,” explained Sachiko, as she beckoned for Light to come closer; she then pulled him down so that he was sitting next to her on the bed. “I need you to take care of your sister and father in my absence. Can you do that for me?”

  “No problem, Mom,” replied Light, forcing a smile. Taking care of Sayu and the household would be easy; cleaning, cooking, helping with homework, etc. he could do. Taking care of his father would be a different story though; the man was hardly ever home now. And if he was, it was only to sleep, and, perhaps, eat.

  “My sister is coming to pick me up in about five minutes,” said Sachiko, breaking the melancholy silence moments before a horn started honking from outside. “Scratch that. I better start lugging this suitcase downstairs.”

  “Let me help you with that,” offered Light, picking Sachiko’s suitcase up off the floor before she had a chance to protest. 

  Walking out the door, Light was actually kind of excited; he’d finally get to see someone from his mother’s side of the family. Hopefully they’d like him. It often seemed like no one outside his immediate family truly liked him; sometimes he couldn’t help but worry about whether his parents truly loved him or not. 

  “Mom?” started Light, hesitantly. “Can you tell me you love me?”

  “Huh?” replied Sachiko, sounding confused and mildly concerned.

  “Nevermind,” sighed Light. 

  “Are you alright?” asked Sachiko, as she reached a hand out towards his shoulder.

  “Nevermind,” repeated Light, irritably.

  Why did I ask that? I don’t need validation, thought Light; both confused and inexplicably upset. If I want approval, all I have to do is earn it. Act like you’re perfect, so no one sees your flaws… This is a game I know how to play; the game of pretend. Isn't ‘pretend perfect’ better than nothing?

  And if it left him feeling hollow, then so be it. Oftentimes, Light would imagine scraping off his own skin, only to find nothing beneath the surface. What used to be there once upon a time? Was it human? Was it a monster? Or was it always nothing?

  Reaching the end of the driveway, Light saw a woman. She appeared to be in her early twenties with long, reddish-brown hair and a slender but fit physique. Many people would likely describe her as an unmatched and flawless beauty… such as the group of creeps gawking at her from across the road. Earlier today, they had been gawking at him. Truly, he did not envy this woman; if anything, he felt sorry for her.

  It was then that Light noticed the woman seemed anxious despite her relaxed position, as she leaned against the hood of a black car. As Light slowly approached, she turned her head towards him; her eyes scanning him with a shocking amount of intensity. Making eye-contact he couldn’t help, but sense that there was something awfully familiar about her. Before Light could observe the stranger more closely, his mother gripped his shoulder.

  “You should head back inside. It’s a little chilly out here,” said Sachiko as she took her suitcase from him. “I can take this from here.”

  “Okay,” replied Light, lightly despite his low spirits. 

  Light was almost back inside when he heard Sachiko calling to him.

  “Oh, and Light, remember to bring your father a change of clothes tomorrow,” said Sachiko, running back and giving him one last farewell hug at the doorway. “He hasn’t been home in so long.”

  “No problem, Mom,” replied Light, returning the embrace. “Get back home soon. Okay?”

  Sachiko didn’t reply as she tightened her hold on her son while silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~

  “Considering the nature of the more recent Kira killings,” explained L, referring to the now-dead FBI agents. The FBI agents that he had hired to investigate the NPA officers and their families. “We now know that Kira is likely getting information from one of the members of the NPA.”

  Everyone on the task force was shocked to hear this evaluation. But, truth be told, it made an awful lot of sense. Soichiro was growing more and more fearful as the pieces of the puzzle began fitting into place; a place far too close to home. Even Light’s own profiling of Kira fit too well into a case against him. 

  Is my son trying to tell him something? questioned Soichiro as feelings of dread gripped his heart. Was all of this some sort of cry for help? If so, what do I do?

  Soichiro sighed, unwilling to believe his own flesh and blood to be a monster. He looked over at L and decided an important conversation was in order.

  “Ryuzaki, a private word, please,” requested Soichiro, leaving the room before L could answer to the contrary.

  “What appears to be the matter, Chief?” asked L, having followed Soichiro out into the hall. At some point, he had grabbed a plate of strawberry shortcake and was now eating it, despite Soichiro not remember there being cake. 

  I have more important things to worry about than cake, realised Soichiro. Gotta focus on that now.

  “Do you consider my son a suspect?” asked Soichiro, taking a deep breath to steady himself so that the sadness and pain he felt wouldn’t show.

  “Truthfully, he’s my number one suspect so far,” answered L, bluntly. World’s greatest detective or not, Soichiro was really beginning to hate this man.

  “My son isn't Kira,” defended Soichiro, immediately. He needed to disregard to his earlier reservations if he wanted to protect his son. “Light’s done nothing but help; he even assisted on the profiling of Kira that you used. You should know that I had promised my son that I'd let him in on this case. He wants Kira locked away as much as I do.”

  “What you just said there is suspicious in and of itself; an outsider wanting to infiltrate our inner circle,” explained L, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets; wait, where did the cake go… or even the plate, wondered Soichiro briefly. "From what we know of Kira, he is obtaining info from the NPA, he’s a student in the Kanto region, and is likely to be highly intelligent and charismatic. And I'm sorry, Yagami-san, but I'm afraid your son is the only one to fit the description that perfectly. We’ll need to investigate him.”

  “But you don’t know Light as I do,” sighed Soichiro, beginning to look worn down and tired. “I can't see him as being this inhuman monster that Kira is.” 

  “I know you can't, Yagami-san. No good father could,” replied L, trying to make eye-contact with the Chief even as the man continually tried to avoid it. “I’ll need to investigate him further, hopefully without him realizing it. I have already looked into him a bit, and he just seems so… perfect. It’s abnormal.”

  “He’s a good boy,” muttered Soichiro, willing himself to continue believing it. “He spends most of his time studying; he just graduated at the top of his class, and his entrance exam is in a few days.”

  “Were you there for your son’s graduation, Yagami-san?” asked L, moving into Soichiro’s personal space.

  “No, I was here working on the Kira case,” admitted Soichiro, feeling a momentary bit of shame. “But I sent him a nice watch.”

  Soichiro was aware of how that sounded, but he knew his son understood why he couldn’t attend. 

  “What does he do when he’s not at home?” asked L, as he hopped onto the nearby table like an overgrown frog.

  “As of late, I believe he’s usually out with his girlfriend, Misa Amane,” replied Soichiro, keeping his eyes on the strange man as he took several steps away from him. “He also took up a part-time job some time ago. I think that might be how they met.”

  “You don’t know?” asked L, calculating eyes. 

  Soichiro was starting to think this guy was mocking him.

  “Do you truly believe Light is innocent, Yagami-san?” asked L, his eyes seeming to burrow themselves into Soichiro’s soul. “Or are you simply hoping he is?”

  “How much do you suspect my son of being Kira?” asked Soichiro, deflecting L’s own questions. Soichiro took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt a serious tension headache forming.

  “About five percent,” replied L, quickly. Too quickly. 

  “Five percent,” repeated Soichiro, a hint of relief was detectable in his tone of voice. Five percent was still a high number when you factor in the Kanto region’s population, but Soichiro was choosing to assume it simply had to do with Light’s association with him. “That's all?”

  “It’s enough,” said L, heading back to the main room; effectively ending their discussion.

~~~~~~~~~

  When Light reached the police station the next morning, the receptionists refused to let him in. Apparently, the investigation team was away, and they couldn’t disclose any information regarding their location. The receptionists allowed Light to sign in, so that he could drop off his father’s change of clothes at the station. 

  While chatting with the receptionist, he had quickly learned that many people were too afraid to continue with the Kira investigation. Therefore the team was only made up of something like five or six members of the NPA; Light knew without a doubt his father was on that team. 

  After signing in, Light concluded that he wasn’t going to get a hold of Soichiro anytime soon. As he was leaving the station, he overheard something interesting in a conversation between the other receptionist and a pretty, grey-eyed woman dressed all in black. 

  “I have important information pertaining to the Kira investigation,” said the grey-eyed woman. “I need you to contact someone from the task force. It’s urgent.”

  “Look, I’ll call headquarters one last time for you,” replied the receptionist, picking up the phone and dialing headquarters. “Just give me a moment, please.”

  Light had already been through this five minutes earlier; she wasn’t going to get anywhere.

  “Just as I thought, there is no one at headquarters,” said the receptionist, after several minutes on hold the phone to his ear. “You’re going to have to trust me on this, ma’am. I’ll be sure to give them your message as soon as I see them. I promise.”

  “That’s not good enough,” argued the grey-eyed woman. “I have to tell them in-person.”

  “Um, excuse me, ma’am,” said Light, moving closer to the woman. “I know someone who is involved in the investigation. If you don't mind waiting, I’m sure that as soon as he checks his phone, he’ll call me back.”

  Well, Light hoped his father would call him back; though there was no such guarantee he would. So far, Light had been trying to contact him for the last two weeks; there was a grand total of sixty-one missed calls and twenty unread messages. As for his vagueness when referring to his father, Light didn’t want to endanger him by exposing his identity. If anyone knew Light Yagami’s father was on the task force for the Kira case, then Kira may track down Soichiro’s name and use him the same way he may have used Raye Penber to get the FBI agents' names. Light recalled seeing the news regarding the recent string of heart failures, and saw Penber's name amongst them. It didn't take much to put one and one together to make two.

  “Can you maybe give me his phone number instead?” asked the grey-eyed woman.

  “You could use it to search for his name,” explained Light, letting his sense of caution show. While he was talking, he changed the name of his father’s contact on his phone from DAD to DD. This was just incase she was Kira, since Maki had watched him sign-in, so it wouldn’t be hard for her to look-up his father's identity if she wanted to eliminate those who are on the Kira case. “I’m willing to let you use my phone.”

  “Alright,” replied the grey-eyed woman, grateful. “Thank you so much.”

  The woman started walking out of the building, and Light quickly followed.

  “You don’t mind if we stretch our legs for a bit?” asked the woman, after Light caught up to her. “It’s better than waiting here.”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s not like it’s cold outside or anything,” replied Light, sarcastically as a cold breeze rushed past them as they exited the station. “So, why are you risking your life like this? What information do you have that’s so important?”

  “Well, it’s already been figured that Kira can kill in any number of ways and control the victim’s actions prior to death,” stated the grey-eyed woman, Light nodded his head in confirmation before she continued. “Well, I think the bus-jacking that occurred several days ago was a staged attack; used for information gathering. I believe Kira planned to learn my fiancé’s name. He then somehow made him betray his fellow FBI agents before dying at Shinjuku Station.”

  “Wait, you’re Raye Penber’s fiancé,” said Light, to the woman’s shock. “Do you also think that Kira was on that bus?”

  “Yes,” replied the grey-eyed woman. “But the driver couldn't remember any of the passengers; I had questioned him earlier today.”

  “I was on that bus,” explained Light, excitedly; this could potentially be a real breakthrough on the Kira case. “There were only four people on that bus that could have learned your fiancé’s name: Teru Mikami, Kiyomi Takada, Yuri Kagami, an-and myself.”

  “You do understand that this information will be seen as rather self-incriminating?” asked the grey-eyed woman, looking deeply into his eyes; Light felt as though those eyes were burrowing their way into his very soul.

  “I know I’m innocent,” replied Light, confidently. “And I’m sure that the task force will discover that as a fact, as well,” Light briefly paused as he thought of his father; the fear of facing disappointment vs risking his dad’s safety were weighing at opposite ends. “Since Kira started killing law enforcers, I’ve wanted him gone.”

  “You took no issue with him killing criminals?” asked the grey-eyed woman, interested.

  “I didn’t really care, to be honest,” answered Light, truthfully. “They were known murderers and rapists. It was when Kira began targeting lesser criminals, that I became more concerned. And with what Kira is doing now…” Light felt his eyes beginning to water; he really was worried for his father’s safety, a feeling that never truly went away. “My dad’s a police officer.”

  “I understand,” said the grey-eyed woman, eyes full of sympathy as she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s awful. To fear losing someone you love… and it’s worse when it actually happens.”

  “I’m sorry for your-” Light was interrupted by his phone ringing; he quickly answered it. “Hi, I’m with…” Light paused and looked back towards the grey-eyed woman. “What’s your name again?”

   “Shōko Maki.”

  “Shōko Maki, she was Raye Penber’s fiancé,” explained Light, as a sense of dread went through him; as soon as he passed the phone to Shōko, her speculation would incriminate him. But he had to do this; it was the right thing to do. “She has some valuable information regarding the Kira investigation.”

~~~~~~~~~

  Back at headquarters, Soichiro had decided to call his son back, despite L’s protests. He didn’t want the members of the task force on their phones due to privacy issues. He had even made it a rule. And yet, Soichiro was using his phone.

  “Very well, put her on,” replied Soichiro to his son on the other end as he gestured to get L’s attention.

  Curious, L looked up from his computer. 

  “Shōko Maki wishes to speak with you,” explained Soichiro, holding his phone out towards L.

  A perplexed expression crossed L’s features, before he reached over and took Soichiro’s cell-phone. Upon hearing the voice on the other end, he recognized it almost immediately. Naomi Misora; she had been a part of the L.A. B.B. case four years prior. 

  L listened intently to everything Misora had to say. She had stated a great deal of information. Information that spelled bad news for Soichiro. L glanced up at the aforementioned man, who was looking at him with intense, hopeful eyes.

  L turned away from him and focused back on his conversation with Misora.

  “In conclusion, the most likely suspects, I’d say, are Teru Mikami, Kiyomi Takada, Yuri Kagami… and Light Yagami,” stated Misora, notably hesitating at Light’s name. “Though I do have some reservations in regards to this list, I still hop-”

  “I’ll have Watari come to collect you,” interrupted L, already knowing she would request to join the task force. “I look forward to working with you.”

  Before Misora had a chance to reply, L hung up. Turning back so he was face-to-face with the chief of police, L handed his phone back.

  “Yagami-san it looks like your son’s chances of being Kira have increased by eleven and a half percent,” stated L, like the typical asshole he was. Though this time he felt a bit more remorse than he normally would. He truly did feel bad for the police chief; it can't easy discovering that one's own offspring is a murderer. With a quiet sigh, L continued. “It looks like I’m going to be meeting Kira face-to-face very soon.”

Chapter Text

  It has been almost a week since his conversation with Shōko, and Light was still being left out of the loop. Weren’t they going to question him or something? His father had come home five days ago and was more tight-lipped than usual; he had only asked about his mother, to which Light had told him she left to see her mother and sister. Other than that brief conversation, dinnertime was an unbearably silent affair. Light knew that Soichiro was angry. He also knew that he was the source of it. 

  Who else would he be angry with? thought Light, bitterly. I’m likely a Kira suspect now. My father needed me to be perfect. And yet, all I am is a disappointment.

  Suddenly, Light let out a hiss of pain as he managed to prick himself with a needle. He was so lost in thought he had momentarily forgotten his surroundings; he was working on sewing a top while attending his sister’s stage rehearsal. 

  Currently, he was with Sayu in the classroom set aside for the drama club.  She had always been a fan of the stage. Therefore, Light always did everything he could to encourage her passion. For years he had been assisting in the costuming department; Sayu had so many original outfits made by him from scratch. Sewing had not been the easiest skill for him to learn, but it had been totally worth it to see his sister smile so brightly.

  Though he did wish that his association with Sayu and the drama club hadn’t led to him meeting Misa.

  Flashback; Two Months Ago

  January 30, 2020

  “Isn’t this great, onii-chan?” yelled Sayu over the noise of the crowd.

  They weren’t supposed to be here, but the whole drama club had decided to trick the school into letting them go out to the Misa-Misa concert during school-time.

  “Yeah,” yelled Light back towards his sister, smiling. “I still can’t believe you managed to convince the principal this was an educational field trip.”

  “What can I say, I’ve had plenty of time to perfect the sad puppy eyes trick,” teased Sayu. “Especially with you. Now let me climb up on your shoulders.”

  Light gave her a look of mock mortification before giving into her request.

  The Misa Amane concert was coming to an end. The song, ‘I’m Ready’ being performed last. Sayu, Light and the rest of the drama club were now trying to worm their way through the crowds with the hopes of catching Misa’s attention; she was known to occasionally invite a few members from the audience backstage after a performance. Therefore, the drama club had decided to come here as a group dressed in their stage clothes as a gimmick to catch Misa-Misa’s eye. 

  Light thought the whole thing was ridiculous, but at the same time, he didn’t want to tell Sayu no. 

  Up on stage, Misa was looking out into the crowd when she locked eyes with Light. Light at first thought he imagined it, but then she had beckoned him and the group he was with to the stage. Some bodyguards came to escort them to her dressing room.

  “OMG, can you believe this!?” squealed Sayu, in a pitch so high Light could swear his ears were going to start bleeding. “We get to actually see Misa-Misa up close in-person.”

  While they waited in one of the rooms backstage, their group talked amongst themselves, all of them fangirling just as hard as Sayu. Light rolled his eyes at their antics. Just then  Misa entered the room with a look of anger in her eyes. She was immediately followed by her manager, Yoshi, and several important people that were probably involved with the upcoming movie with Hideki Ryuuga. Sayu and the rest of the drama club became remarkably silent, overwhelmed with excitement. When Misa’s eyes landed on the excited group, her anger seemed to reach a crescendo. Turning to one of the bodyguards, she began to throw what could only be described as a tantrum.

  “I only wanted that brunette boy-toy to be here,” yelled Misa childishly, alarming everyone in the room with the exception of her manager. “Why are all these other people here?”

  “This is director, Nishinaka, and his associates; they came to discuss your contact for the film ‘Spring Eighteen’,” explained Yoshi, while simultaneously one of the bodyguards replied, “Sorry, we misinterpreted your gesture towards pretty-boy as being 'bring in him plus group'.”

  Light was feeling a tad uncomfortable being objectified. Even if it was being done by a famous pop-star. At least, to some degree, he was used to people talking about him in such a degrading manner. One fact about pretty privilege is that there were just as many drawbacks as there were benefits. And having people perv on you is just another one of those drawbacks. 

  Within a few moments, everyone in the room had become uncomfortable. Sayu was the only one in the room still smiling, though it was beginning to look a little forced.

  Misa and Yoshi continued to argue while Nishinaka looked like he was sporting a massive headache. The drama club mostly went unnoticed, except by one of Nishinaka’s associates, who was still eyeing them. She walked up to them, and it became obvious she was inspecting their clothes.

  “Where’d you get these?” asked the woman, curiously. 

  “My brother made them,” said Sayu, proudly. “You’re Madam Trevi. You are like a world-famous designer.”

  “Yes, I am she,” answered Trevi, with a polite smile as she ignored the commotion going on behind her. “You…” Trevi pointed towards Light. “Made these?”

  “Yes ma’am,” confirmed Light.

  “What was your inspiration?” asked Trevi, fingering the jacket Light was wearing.

  “We’re putting on a musical at our high-school,” answered Sayu, excitedly. “‘Sweeney Todd’ set in modern times. Light agreed to design the costumes as well as play several of the murder victims. I’m Johanna.”

  “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Johanna,” replied Trevi, purposely misunderstanding Sayu before calling the director over. “Nishinaka, what do you think of these outfits? As costuming manager, I believe that they’d work well in this film project.”

  “Some of them need more work,” criticized Nishinaka, eyeing them from a distance. “Especially the outfit the bishōnen is wearing,” Nishinaka began poking and prodding at the seams and hems of Light’s jacket before looking around at the rest of the group. “The only ones that are truly ready as is are Johanna’s and that handsome lad’s.”

  Nishinaka gestured towards Yamamoto, who was playing the role of Benjamin Barker. Yamamoto smirked in Light’s direction; without a doubt, he was going to hear jabs at being called bishōnen all while Yamamoto was being referred to as handsome. Frankly, Light didn’t really care about that as long as Yamamoto didn’t start spreading rumours again; rumours that may have been more true than he would like to admit. 

  Light knew he couldn’t be anything less than perfect; he owed that to his family. He was honour bound to be exactly what his mother and father needed him to be. And he wouldn’t accomplish that by acting foolishly.

  “There is no need to be so harsh, Nishinaka,” chided Trevi; if only she could hear Light’s thoughts, then she would be chiding him for that very same reason. “There’s some polishing needed, but otherwise these designs are pretty good.”

  “I’m not saying he wouldn't be a good asset,” defended Nishinaka. “But you’re the head of the costuming department, so if you want to hire him, then hire him; though remember he is your responsibility.”

  Yoshi had then sauntered over with something resembling a smile. Light had to admit that Yoshi was a rather scary woman who always looked to be one bad comment away from gouging your eyes out. Which means if she is smiling, you better pray to God it's good news and not a psychotic break.

  “We’ve come to an agreement, Nishinaka,” said Yoshi, tapping the man on the shoulder. “Misa Amane will be involved in your film project, but there are certain details we’d like to go over with you now. So if you don’t mind…”

  Yoshi had then proceeded to drag Nishinaka back to the other side of the room. 

  “So, Light, are you interested in working for me?” asked Trevi, smiling sweetly in a way that emphasized her prim and grandmotherly appearance. Light was almost sure he was being manipulated as he looked into a set of intelligent, blue eyes. “Or would you rather turn down the opportunity to work alongside Misa-Misa?”

  “OMG! Are you serious?” squealed Sayu, bouncing in her seat, barely containing her excitement. “Of course, he’s in. Right, onii-chan?”

  “Of course,” replied Light, with a grimace. He looked at Trevi with a knowing look. She had successfully used his sister to play him like a fiddle.

  She just smirked in return. Light had to admit he now had deep respect for this manipulative bitch. 

  End Flashback 

  Since then, the last two months have consisted of Light precariously balancing school and school activities along with his part-time job. He recalled how it had only been a week into filming when Misa first asked him out. He had turned her down in the beginning, but she had simply refused to acknowledge it. A few days later, when he was working on the hem of her skirt, Misa had broken down sobbing. Light was completely caught off guard by what was happening. So when she suddenly fell to her knees and buried her head against his shoulder, he remained rigidly still. She then told him about how she had no one that truly cared about her; not since her parents were murdered. That he was apparently one of the few people that made her feel safe... and therefore she wanted him to be hers.

  In that moment, as Light silently listened to her story, he had an overwhelming sense of pity; there was so much raw emotion written across her face. Her heavy sobs sounded like those of a dying whale, as her tears soaked his shirt; the whole scenario really made him uncomfortable. It also really pulled at his heartstrings. Misa’s parents had died when she was very young, and the trauma had obviously left her mentally scarred; which might explain some of her annoyingly child-like mannerisms.

  So in the end, Light agreed to date Misa under the condition that she’d look into acquiring a good therapist. He didn't want to tell her no. Afterall, she needed help, and despite feeling uncomfortable with this whole relationship, there was no good reason to continue turning her down. 

  If they had met a few months earlier, Light wouldn't have had any objection to entering such an arrangement. Prior to losing his best friend, Light had been quite the heartbreaker. Especially upon entering high-school. At  the time, he had found that being in a relationship put a stop to the constant harassment and bullying he was once subjected to. It was protection, no matter how dirty it felt. Because deep down, none of those relationships mattered.

  But now his relationship with Misa had gone on for too long. Light had gotten too close and he didn’t know how to deal with this anymore. He cared about her now, but that didn’t change his lack of interest in her; both romantically and sexually. He didn’t find her attractive, despite knowing that she was absolutely gorgeous. Maybe if she looked more like Yamamot-

  Damn it, Light! thought Light in self-admonishment. What is wrong with you?

  Suddenly his phone alarm went off, breaking his concentration. Good thing the modifications he was making to Hideki Ryuuga’s last outfit in the movie were done. Unfortunately, Light’s alarm had also broken the concentration of the actors on stage.

  “Hey, man,” yelled Yamamoto, carelessly flailing his arms with a straight razor in hand. “I was about to stab Turpin in the throat.”

  “That’s nice,” replied Light, deadpan. “I’m leaving now.”

  “What’s happening?” asked Sayu from within an old chest they had acquired for a stage prop. “Can I come out of the box yet?”

  “I’m leaving,” repeated Light, more loudly so Sayu could hear him. He packed away his work into a clothing bag. “I need to drop these off by Madam Trevi’s. And Sayu, can you tell Dad that I’ll be out later than usual tonight? That is, if you see him.”

  Light had scheduled a date with Misa for tonight. Truthfully, he was a little scared. She said she wanted to try something new… and Light honestly afraid. He didn’t want to hurt her. He knew he could never be what she needed him to be for her.

  These troubled thoughts and their variations bombarded his mind as he walked to Trevi’s place. She was staying in a small apartment just north of the city. She wasn’t staying permanently; she had told him that she was leaving after filming wrapped up. Honestly, Light thinks he may genuinely miss this old woman. 

  “Evening, Light,” greeted Trevi, smiling. “Would you like to come in? I was just about to help myself to a spot of tea.”

  “Thank you, Madame Trevi,” replied Light, as he handed her the clothing bags and entered the brightly lit apartment. “I finished the alterations as requested.”

  Trevi laid on the bags on the sofa before leading him into the kitchen. A kettle was whistling loudly on the stove. Light took the closest seat, glancing over to the counter where his boss was preparing two cups of tea. The table in front of him was covered with paper sketches. The pages were absolutely filled with weird symbols that Light didn’t recognise the meaning of. And stranger still, some of those symbols were duplicated along the framework of every door and window within sight; the colour difference between the wall and the writing was so subtle, he almost didn’t notice it. 

  Should I comment on it? thought Light, mildly intrigued. It is rather aesthetically pleasing once seen.

  “How do you take your tea?” asked Trevi, as she poured the hot water into two cups. “It’s Oolong.”

  “No milk, no sugar,” replied Light, absentmindedly as he leafed through the notes she left on the table. That’s when he noticed there was writing on the back of these sheets. It was in English, but that wasn’t a problem for him; the problem was the absurdity of it all. Notes upon notes about alternate realities, shinigamis, witches, and kitsunes; how to shield, bind, disable, and/or eliminate each one. “What’s this about? Does this have anything to do with the film? Or is it for another project?”

  “Perhaps,” answered Trevi, vaguely before snatching the papers out of his hand and changing the subject. “I hear you and Misa are going out tonight for a little romantic rendezvous.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” asked Light, suddenly bashful.

  “It’s no big deal… unless it is?” replied Trevi, in a tauntingly perceptive tone; eyes filled with a keen sense of discernment. “What troubles you?”

  “Well, Misa and I are meeting at a local nightclub, so we are probably going to hang out there for some time,” replied Light, fiddling with the string of the tea bag. “She mentioned that she has a private room booked. And there have been… suggestions from her,” Light frowned. “I don’t feel comfortable. I am not ready. Nor do I feel like we want the same things… So, I was hoping that you could cover me by saying that we needed to finish something urgently tonight and therefore-” 

  “And therefore you’ll need to reschedule your date,” finished Trevi, with a pinched expression. “You do realise you are delaying the inevitable. Sooner or later you are going to acknowledge the elephant. I’d advise you to be honest with her now, rather than to wait it out and see what happens.”

  “What do you mean? I always strive to be honest,” defended Light, growing indignant when Trevi responded with an amused snort. “It’s true.”

  “Don’t mistake me for a fool,” replied Trevi, with a noticeable bite to her tone. “I’ve seen you make eyes at both Yamamoto and Hideki,” at Light’s panicked expression, Trevi quickly added. “Don’t worry. You were subtle, and I’m not about to out you.”

  Light forced himself to relax. A brief silence between him and Trevi as he tried to compose his thoughts.

  “You say that I should be truthful, right? But it’s not that easy,” admitted Light, quietly. “Please understand that while I don’t want to hurt Misa, I also don’t want to get hurt… Not again.”

  “Again?” 

  Flashback; Three Years, Eleven Months, and Twenty-Nine Days Ago

  April 1, 2017

  It was Friday night, and Yamamoto had decided to throw a party; both of his parents were currently out of the country on business, so he had taken advantage of the opportunity. Light had smiled when Shiori had called him out on being an idiot. Being his closest friends gave them the right to insult him.

  Roughly three hours in, and Light had lost track of his friends. It was so crowded; almost everyone from their school was here. At some point, a classmate had broken into Yamamoto’s father’s liquor cabinet, and now about forty percent of the people here were acting like a bunch of drunken assholes. Though, in all fairness, the majority were probably assholes prior to being drunk.

  Such as the men Light came across on his way to the bathroom. Upon opening the door, he saw that there were already four men crowded into the small space. Two of the men were crouched on the tiled floor, pinning down some guy’s arms and legs. The third guy was gripping the captive person’s hair, forcing their head below the water level of the toilet. He recognised the third guy as Genbu Sakota; he used to go to their high school ‘til he got arrested in his final year for assault against another student. It seems like he was out now and was back to old habits.

  “If you’re going to be violent, you can’t stay here,” stated Light, glaring at Sakota. Blue eyes glared back.

  Sakota let go of the other boy’s hair as he stared Light down. Meanwhile, the boy whipped his head up, out the toilet, and started gasping for air. Light could now see that the boy was Ryo Nakagami, a fellow student who was three years his senior. He was also a previous victim of Sakota.

  Sakota approached Light, purposely breaching his personal space in an attempt to intimidate. Meanwhile, Light stood his ground, even as the other man tried to tower over him, their faces mere inches apart. 

  “Listen here, Dollface,” growled Sakota, the smell of cheap sake on his breath. His hands, grabbed the front of Light’s shirt. “You’ll be wanting to mind your own business, unless you’re looking to get hurt.”

  Before things had a chance to escalate, Yamamoto came into view. He adjusted his glasses as he glanced around at the drama unfolding just outside of his bathroom. His eyes finally landed on Sakota, glowering down at him. 

  “This is my party, and I have a strict no bully policy,” said Yamamoto, in a manner that was half-threatening as he crossed his heavily muscled arms over his chest. Sakota glanced between the two of them, before releasing the grip he had on Light’s shirt. “I gonna have to ask you to leave.” 

  “Let’s get out of here, guys. This party fucking sucks, anyway,” huffed Sakota, before turning to leave. They could hear the sound of breaking glass from the other room prior to the unnecessary slamming of the front door.

  “Are you okay, Ryo?” asked Light, as he held out a hand to help Ryo up from the floor, despite being grossed out by the toilet water he was covered in. 

  “Like you care! Do you think yourself a hero?! You’ve never had to suffer through this bullshit like I have. You’ve always been able to rely on pretty privilege and having friends like Yamamoto over there. But without all that, you’re nothing,” sneered Ryo, as he swatted Light’s hand away. “Just leave me alone.”

  Completely dumbfounded, Light couldn’t think up a reply. Quietly, he shut the door to the bathroom. Leaning against the door, Light blew a strand of hair out of his face as he looked up at Yamamoto.

  “Were you expectin’ gratitude?” asked Yamamoto, cheekily as he threw an arm over Light’s shoulders. “That guy’s a total a-hole.”

   “I know,” replied Light, defeatedly before changing the subject. “So, where were you? I lost track of Shiori an hour ago, and you a long time before that,” said Light, in mock indignation; purposely distracting himself from Ryo’s words. “ I’ve been quite lonely since… you now kind of owe me your undivided company for the rest of the night. Don’t you think?”  

  Yamamoto laughed.

  “So, Lite-Brite, does this mean you forgive me for not sending you a card on New Year’s?” asked Yamamoto, as they sat down on his parents’ bed; this was the only room that had any privacy, and that’s because Yamamoto had the good sense to lock it off prior to the start of the party. 

   “Give me one, and then I’ll forgive you,” replied Light, only half serious.

  “You know I only give those to girls,” sighed Yamamoto, as he walked over towards the window. There was a far-off look in his eyes as a frown crossed his face.

  “Why’re you so solemn all of a sudden?” asked Light, tilting his head in curiosity and concern.

  “What happened back there?”

  “With Sakota?” asked Light, with a disgruntled sigh as Yamamoto nodded yes . Honestly, Light didn’t want to preoccupy his thoughts with that idiot, especially since he finally got the attention of this idiot in front of him. “He was targeting Ryo again, and I thought it was wrong.”

  “So, you got involved,” concluded Yamamoto, slowly. Then a flicker of recognition crossed his face. “Wait, is Sakota that same dude that threw what’s-his-face off the school roof a year or two ago?”

  “Yeah,” confirmed Light, as he decided to lay back on the empty bed.

  “You’re a fricking psycho,” laughed Yamamoto, though there was still a hint of worry in his tone. “I can’t leave you alone for even five minutes without it turnin’ into a problem.”

  “Should I have left Ryo to fend for himself?” replied Light, annoyed. “You very well could’ve ended the night with a corpse face down in your toilet.”

  “And you could’ve been thrown out from a fifth story window,” retorted Yamamoto, as he sat on the edge of the bed next to him. “But you’re right. Still, psycho though. Good thing, you’re pretty.”

  Scowling, Light pushed Yamamoto away from him with his foot; he didn’t like how his words mirrored Ryo’s. Yamamoto landed on the floor with a loud, hard thud.

  “Are you agreeing with Ryo now?” grumbled Light, as he stared up at the ceiling.

  “Whatcha mean by that?!” asked Yamamoto, confused. He had never had a good memory; there were even times that Light wondered if his friend knew what his own given name was.

  “Seriously, you are the most forgetful person I know,” criticised Light, rolling his eyes. “To blunder without memory, how blessed you are. I’d almost succumb to jealousy if I didn’t love you so.”

  “So, you love me?” teased Yamamoto, as he crawled back up from the floor. 

  Light just snickered in reply. Yamamoto jabbed a finger into Light’s ribcage. Light retaliated by grabbing a pillow and whacking him in the head with it. In response, Yamamoto jumped on the bed with him, and they began wrestling; playfully hitting and throwing each other around. 

  Twenty minutes of roughhousing later, Light had Yamamoto successfully pinned down underneath him. The both of them gasping for air. Light could see that there was a sheen of sweat glistening on Yamamoto’s brow.

  “I win,” laughed Light, as he scooted down from Yamamoto’s chest and onto his lap.

  A glint of mischievousness briefly flitted through Yamamoto’s eyes before his face became serious once more.

  “Brite, I have a question,” began Yamamoto as he sat up without tossling Light too much. “Do you think of us as close friends?”

  “Of course,” answered Light, without hesitation, despite wondering where this was going. “I assume you think the same.”

  “Yeah, but what I feel for you…” Yamamoto trails off as he runs a hand down the length of Light’s arm. “Has always been more than friendship.”

  Light felt his mind stutter to a complete stop. He felt utterly astonished, blindsided, flabbergasted… but he also felt… elated… validated… accepted…

  “What?” responded Light, with the only word he could currently get out; apparently his brain decided to go on a break.

  “I’m gay,” said Yamamoto, face getting closer to Light’s. “And I really, really like you.”

  “I am so relieved to hear this from you,” muttered Light, cracking a small, tearful smile. “It’s truly a miracle I’m not alone in this.”

  “Huh?” responded Yamamoto, blankly. A dumbfounded expression crossed his face.

  Without further hesitation, Light lunged forward and began kissing Yamamoto's mouth, causing him to fall backwards. Yamamoto’s whole body stiffened up, and Light wondered if he was doing this wrong. He moved his lips to brush against his friend’s neck as his fingers caressed the bare skin underneath Yamamoto’s shirt. Light almost had his shirt off when Yamamoto started pushing him away.

  “IT WAS A JOKE! It was a joke! April Fools!” shouted Yamamoto, sounding totally freaked out and scared. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

  Light immediately pulled away as Yamamoto stared at him in complete shock. Light felt himself freeze under the other man’s gaze. Feelings of deep humiliation shook him to his core as his friend just continued to stare at him as though he was some sort of freak. 

  Should I say something? questioned Light, unable to look at Yamamoto’s face, even as he felt the other’s hands grasp his legs; forcing him to remain seated on his lap. Is there anything that can be said that would fix this? Make it all disappear?

  “I-I-”

  “Why did you kiss me?” asked Yamamoto, his voice much calmer than before as he sat up; their faces were incredibly close once again. “Are y-”

  All of a sudden, Light heard the door behind him slam open. Turning around, he saw Ryo staring at them. He blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. He then burst out laughing as he pulled out his cell-phone. Before Light had a chance to scrambled off Yamamoto's lap, the flash of a camera went off several times in quick succession. Ryo must have snapped at least a dozen photos of them in their precarious position.

  “Oh my god! No wonder you get away with acting like a bitch. You’re his bitch,” taunted Ryo, cackling as he pointed at Light. “Yamamoto and his little flesh-Light.”

  Yamamoto shoved Light to the side as he swiftly got off the mattress. As Yamamoto moved towards Ryo, Ryo quickly ran from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Taking a deep breath, Yamamoto turned back towards Light.

  “I’ll deal with this. You go home,” instructed Yamamoto, sounding uncharacteristically cold. “Also… let’s never speak of… this, again. ‘Kay?

  End Flashback

  “So, tall, dark, and bespectacled broke your heart. How tragic?” said Trevi, sardonically as she rolled her eyes. “I’ve met the boy. You could do much bette-”

  “That’s not the problem,” interrupted Light, petulantly. “It’s how he dealt with Ryo; he did nothing to stop him. And everything that happened afterwards, he wasn’t there for me.”

  “He shifted all the blame towards you? Spread rumours? That sort of stuff?” asked Trevi, sympathetically. 

  “Actually, no,” answered Light, morosely. “Ryo was the one that spread the rumours. Meanwhile, Yamamoto simply told the truth; the whole truth. It wasn't malicious. He’s just like that. A good person… a good person with a bad sense of humour and no common sense.”

  “I guess I’ll have to agree with you there,” teased Trevi, before asking in a more sympathetic tone. “Are you still mad at him?”

  “I want to say no,” started Light, hesitantly. His feelings regarding Yamamoto were… complicated, to say the least. “I’m not angry about him rejecting me, or even the prank itself; not anymore. I’m upset over the fallout; how everyone treated me as though I was… diseased. Meanwhile, Yamamoto suffered no repercussions… and he also distanced himself from me for quite awhile,” despite being bitter, Light was truly glad that Yamamoto hadn’t gone through the bullying he had. Taking a deep breath, he continued. “This went on for months until I found a way to fix it. And when I did, he felt like he had every right to criticize me for doing so, despite it working.”

  “Not to impose or anything, but what was your solution to no longer being a social pariah?”

  “I started dating women; a lot of them,” admitted Light, before continuing more reluctantly. “It never lasted long. Better if neither of us got attached. I had almost gone through every desperate, lonely girl at my school… and then things became more complicated. At some point, I came across one of those girls’ parents, and somehow I found myself being introduced to more… mature women and spending ‘time’ with them. It wasn’t like the dating I was used to, even though they promised it would be no different. I’m not sure what was going through my head at the time,” Light released a tired sigh; he didn't want to admit that he had been used... because he hadn't. He made his own choices; they were his mistakes, and his alone. “Only Shiori and Yamamoto were aware of the entire situation regarding all that. Though I don’t think they truly understood it; they thought I was being self-destructive, and that those people were somehow hurting me. Yamamoto referred to many of my dates as predators. Truthfully, I just got caught up in being liked again and in feeling, uh… wanted. Not alone. I don’t know if I’m explaining it well. Like I’ve already said, ‘it’s complicated’.”

  At some point, the situation became less about protecting his reputation and more about filling a void he could hardly understand. Despite the shame it filled him with, Light figured that having people willing to pay for his body proved that he was normal and capable of being loved.

  “Oh, wow…um, yeah, complicated,” stammered Trevi, as she collected her thoughts. “I’m sorry to say this, but it sounds like Yamamoto and Shiori were right to criticize. You were exploited-”

  “It wasn’t like that,” interrupted Light, feeling defensive and oddly angry. “I was using them, too. Besides, they were seeking something more akin to affection than anything sexual,” though the former did not negate the latter, thought Light. “I was never too uncomfortable… and even if I was, a few- uh, many of those women never knew my actual age. So, who’s at fault then?”

  Trevi took a deep sigh. She looked like she wanted to argue. Instead, Trevi continued with a more gentle, but still serious, tone.

  “You’re not doing that anymore, are you?”

  “No. I am not,” answered Light, defensively. He remembers his father's reaction to his date with Takada; it had been oddly subdued, but he could tell he was pissed. And she had been far from the oldest person he had gone out with. And yet, it had been that reaction that had managed to fill Light with enough shame and disgust to stop. After that night, he had immediately quit before his father could learn more. The guilt still gnawed at him from time to time, but he had learned to ignore it. “Listen, I know that I am not a good person. I don’t like to admit it, but it’s a fact. I use people to get what I want… and I wanted to fix my reputation… because I’d rather be unhappy than alone. I know my actions have hurt people, and what I did was a mistake. A mistake that is best left forgotten.”

  “You being able to admit all that is good,” replied Trevi, with a decisive nod.

  Light shrugged; if he was going to admit this to anyone, it would probably be her. Who would this old lady even blab to? And about a teenager’s life, of all things? Factor in her limited understanding of the Japanese language and the fact she is only here for another three months, her telling on him seems like too much of an inconvenience for her to bother with. Especially since it would be a he she said situation that leaves too much ambiguity.

  “So, what about your date with Misa tonight?” asked Trevi, before taking a sip of tea. “You mentioned feeling uncomfortable and not ready. You are aware that I am not going to support your lie if you decide not to show up.”

  “I realised as much. And really I don’t feel right about using her; stringing her along in a fantasy that she’s not aware isn’t real. But I’m not going to out myself either,” admitted Light, feeling increasingly frustrated. “I know I shouldn’t continue our relationship the way it is. I care about her, just not romantically. I can’t-”

  Stuttering to a stop, Light realised how huge of a weight he had been carrying… and yet he knew he couldn’t let go of it. He felt better now that he had shared his troubles despite being surprised by his own outburst. He must have really needed to let this out… and besides who is Trevi going to tell; it’d be a ‘he said, she said’ scenario.

  “What you need to do is stop pretending,” advised Trevi, clasping her hands around Light’s. “It’s obviously hurting you. Also, Misa deserves better than to be lied to.”

  “I know. I know,” admitted Light, as he pulled his hands out of Trevi’s grasp. “I didn’t mean for things to get so out-of-hand again. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

  “Like what exactly? Gay? Depressed? Neurotic? Deceptive?” asked Trevi, rolling her eyes. “You are who you are. You either have to own it or work on it. The choice is yours.”

  “I’m not… you know what, nevermind,” argued Light, weakly; not even attempting to refute the accusations. “I hate feeling so afraid, so alone. I wish you weren’t so… intuitive? No, that’s not the right word,” Light frowned. “You have this weird way of worming information out of me. I don’t know what it is… you’re almost like an Arikura-no-baba.”

   “A what?” asked Trevi, with a mirthful tone. 

  “Arikura-no-baba,” repeated Light, pausing to take a sip of tea before continuing. “It’s an ol-… it’s a woman with magical powers… basically, a witch would be the closest equivalent.”

  “Is that so?” said Trevi, with a knowing quirk to her lips; Light knew she had caught his verbal fuck up. “Well, my intuition is usually right, so you may want to heed what I say. Tell the truth.” 

  Light thought about those hard truths they had lightly discussed. He knew that ignoring them wasn’t going to make it all disappear, but that still didn’t give him the courage to admit those truths; even to himself.

  Several minutes passed by in silence as both he and Trevi continued to quietly sip at their tea. Light looked towards the clock; 11:06pm.

  “Oh, no,” said Light, as he immediately stood up from the table. “I’m supposed to meet Misa in thirty minutes.”

  “Wait up,” said Trevi, pushing him back down into his chair. “You’re not going out on a date in your school uniform, are you?”

  “Truthfully, I did not come prepared,” admitted Light, sheepishly.

  “No worries, I got something for you,” replied Trevi, with a small smile. “Stay put a moment.”

  Trevi then left to retrieve something from another room. She came back with a rectangular-shaped box, which she set down in his lap. Light looked at Trevi questionably, quirking an eyebrow, before lifting the lid off the box. It contained an absolutely beautiful looking outfit that would suit the nightclub’s setting better than what he was currently wearing. 

  “The clothes are truly lovely, but I don’t think I can wear them,” admitted Light, feeling like the outfit looked pretty edgy. This was the opposite of his usual prim and proper, groomed-for-success appearance. “There might be paparazzi following Misa around, sneaking pictures. I don’t want my father seeing me where I’m looking anything less than perfect to him.”

  “Honestly, you need to lay back a little; you’re way too tense for a person your age,” teased Trevi, pulling Light to his feet. “And considering where Misa is taking you tonight, this will help you stand out in a good way rather than the awkward way your current get-up will cause. You can change behind here.” 

  Trevi shoved him behind a dressing screen. Light decided to just go with it; it’s not like it would hurt. Now that he thought about it, even if there were paparazzi, neither Soichiro nor Sachiko really looked into magazines or social media, so they’d likely never know. And even if they did learn of it, it wouldn’t indicate anything truly negative; just that he occasionally did the same activities that a majority of other teenagers do. In other words, his parents would only see, at most, a touch of tarnish to his otherwise perfect surface rather than the horrible mess that was inside.

  It only took a few minutes for Light to change out of his school uniform and into the clothes Trevi provided. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he walked out from behind the screen.

  “It looks great; I knew it would,” complimented Trevi, mostly towards her own work. “If you’re interested, I have a few other casual clothes you can have. I’d hate to think of you doing this yourself; I honestly can’t handle seeing any more khaki. Fashion-wise, it’s a big no for me; I don't know how much longer I can handle you doing that particular faux-pas. I’m honestly not sure how you continuely get away with it.”

  Light couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. She may be a little strange, but being around Trevi was sort of freeing. Being honest was freeing. She wasn’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit, nor she was she malicious with her insults. And not once has she ever sexualized him; if anything she seemed completely immune to his charms. She had no demands of him, no expectations... Light was finally allowed to be honest with someone without fearing repercussions.

  “Do you want me to help you with your face?” asked Trevi, as she brought out her make-up kit. 

  Light reluctantly agreed. Sitting down on a nearby stool, he felt the tips of Trevi’s fingers on his face; analysing his features.

  “You have very good skin; so flawless it almost looks fake. Not a single pore,” commented Trevi, brushing his bangs away from his face as she applied a generous amount of black eye-liner and red eye-shadow. “I think we should try parting your bangs slightly.”

  “Why?” asked Light as he felt Trevi running her hands through his hair; it felt like she had some sort of gel on her hands. “I'd prefer to keep my hair as is.”

  “I just did your makeup, and your bangs are hiding all my good work. The top half of your face is almost completely obscure,” replied Trevi, pulling the odd strand of hair this way and that. “You have such nice eyes,” she stood in front and leaned down to eye-level. “Looks much better.”

  “It looked fine before you started messing with it,” grumbled Light.

  “If you think so. Fair enough. Wash it out if you want,” shrugged Trevi. “Though take a look at it before you decide. In the meantime, I need to go grab something.”

  While Trevi was gone, Light got up to look for a mirror. Remembering that there was one by the entrance, he headed that way. Gazing upon the reflective surface, Light had to admit Trevi was right. He wasn’t overly fond of how his collarbones and arms could be seen through the mesh fabric in those areas, but otherwise it was quite tasteful. Admittedly, it was a very hot-looking outfit. The red colours from his makeup really brought out his eyes and made them appear bigger and brighter than before. Even the hair looked… okay. He still thought that it had looked nicer before, though.

  I really have to stop being such a brat, thought Light in self-admonishment. Trevi is being very nice, despite you trauma-dumping on her.

  Just as he was turning around, Light caught a glimpse of a ghostly face with dark eyes that was staring at him through the mirror. But just as soon as he saw it, it was gone.

  What the hell was that?! thought Light, frantically turning and searching his surroundings. Was it a hallucina-

  “There you are!” exclaimed Trevi, interrupting Light’s thoughts. “For a second, I thought you left before I could give you this.”

  In Trevi’s hands was an artfully crafted metal choker. Light could see faint engravings along the edge of the metallic surface.  

  “Turn around. I’ll put it on for you,” insisted Trevi. 

  Just as Light did as asked, a foreign, yet somehow familiar, voice entered his thoughts. 

   ‘Do not ever let yourself be collared like dog. Whenever accepting gifts, if it is wearable, always put it on yourself. To allow anyone else to do so may be taken as invitation to exert control on both your body and mind.’

     These words felt like they belonged to a small portion of a long-forgotten memory. The english was heavily fragmented by an odd accent. Why does it sound so familiar?  

  Just as the cold metal touched his neck, Light brought his hand up, blocking Trevi from clasping the necklace shut.

  “Thank you for the lovely gifts,” said Light, quickly grabbing and fastening the metal collar around his neck himself. “If I don’t leave now, I risk being late.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want you to be late,” agreed Trevi, as she escorted Light out of the apartment building. “Though please consider my advice; lies always mask the problem, they never solve it.”

  Light refused to meet Trevi’s gaze straight on. By the time the elevator opened on the ground floor, he suddenly remembered his clothes and school belongings he left upstairs.

  “I forgot my stuff-”

  “No worries,” assured Trevi, calmly as she brushed off Light’s concerns. “You can pick up your things later tonight.”

  “Thank you,” said Light, smiling brightly as he departed.

Chapter Text

  Arriving just on time, Light meets with Misa just outside the nightclub. Neon lights cast the both of them in a bright pink glow. She gives him an appreciative once over before dragging him inside and out onto the dance floor. Though calling whatever everyone was doing dancing was a bit of a stretch. Is humping/grinding considered a form of dance?

  Despite all of the unwanted touching and groping from unknown persons, Light kind of liked the atmosphere; the loud music that vibrated through his bones and the bright multi-coloured lights flashing before his eyes. It kind of helped with distracting him from his nervous thoughts.

  Misa pulls Light’s arms around herself and presses the back of her head against his chest. They stay in the middle of the dance floor, swaying amongst a sea of people.

  “Being like this, I can almost pretend that you are someone else,” muttered Misa, smiling sadly. “Someone that could love me.”

   Due to the overwhelming loudness, Light couldn’t be certain if he heard her correctly. What Misa said had been nearly inaudible even with his sensitive hearing.

  Light opened his mouth, but before he had a chance to say anything, Misa started pulling him towards the bar. Seated in one of the chairs is Hideki Ryuuga. Light is rather surprised to see him.

  “Hey, Hideki-san,” greeted Misa, happily hugging him. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “I told you I would,” replied Hideki, returning the hug before looking in Light’s direction. “Is this your boyfriend? He’s pretty. Are we still on for the threesome?”

  “I beg your pardon,” replied Light, shocked.

  “Surprise!” exclaimed Misa, bouncing in excitement. “I thought this was a great way of making our first time together memorable. Hideki here is bi and I’m kind of a yaoi fan. So, if you’re feeling open-minded, I have a backroom reserved for us.”

  Light took a moment to deliberate Misa’s request; a boy-boy-girl threesome. Why was she even offering this? Did Misa know that there was something not quite ‘normal’ about him?

  Despite Trevi’s advice, Light had every intention of continuing his game of charades with Misa. He knew using Misa like that was wrong. Especially now that she had made accommodations to ensure his happiness, and yet, in turn, he had gotten so lax in his acting that Misa was realising he may not love her.

  I’m such a drecksau, thought Light in self-admonishment. But what can I do about it now? Maybe if I’m lucky, Misa may take an interest in Hideki tonight and dump me. That way no one gets hurt. By doing me a favour, perhaps Misa can turn this all around into doing herself a favour. 

  The more Light thought about it, the more he realised that Misa has been nothing but kind to him, in her own strange little way.

  Suddenly, Light felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Hideki. And up this close, Light had to admit, Hideki was very easy on the eyes. 

  “Well, it does sound like fun,” replied Light, hesitantly giving Misa a gentle kiss on the lips. Hideki had then gripped the hair on the back of Light’s head and guided the young man into a deeper, more passionate kiss with him. When their lips parted from each other, they were both panting heavily with excitement. “Let’s do it.”

  “Yay,” cheered Misa, gesturing for Light and Hideki to follow her to the second floor, where there were a total of five rooms; she unlocked the fourth one. “Cometh here, my boy-toys into my playpen.”

  “That honestly was the most cringe-worthy line I’ve heard in a long time,” teased Hideki, laughing when Misa looked at him with indignation. “And I’ve heard a lot, so that’s no easy feat.”

  Suddenly, Misa seemed to remember something she forgot. Crossing the room, she reached into one of the dresser drawers; she pulled out a camcorder.

  “No cameras,” objected Hideki, taking the equipment from her hands and putting it away. “I don’t want our activities to be recorded.”

  “It’s only for personal use,” explained Misa, looking both embarrassed and a little ashamed.

  “It’s still a sex tape,” replied Hideki, as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t want to take the risk of one of those circulating the public.”

  “Alright,” agreed Misa, looking disappointed before perking back up. 

  Misa then sauntered over to Light, seductively removing her jacket. She then guided Light over to bed while stripping him of his shirt. Light reached up to remove the collar from around his neck, but Hideki had grabbed his hands, stilling his movements.

  “Keep that on,” demanded Hideki, in a husky tone. He then proceeded to kiss the nape of Light’s neck, doing his best to mark it with a line of hickeys.

  Light was working on removing Misa’s bra while gently pressing his lips along her collarbone. The bra gave him very little trouble, but then again, he has worn a corset before; the basic idea is quite similar. 

  It wasn’t long before they had removed every article of clothing from each other. Light had then crawled between Misa’s legs to perform some oral stimulation. The truth was, Light felt more comfortable with foreplay than he did with sex; with the role of giving rather than taking. He already knew he was being selfish; therefore, this is something he often did so as to feel like he was being less so. An additional bonus to this method was that it gave him an excuse to avoid eye-contact.

  For the first time tonight, Light felt like he had regained his footing. He was fairly confident of his skills in this area of pleasure. Light remembered his earlier years, and all the research he had done on the subject. And there was plenty of information out there; unfortunately, quantity does not equal quality. The trick was finding reliable sources, which was difficult, but not impossible. Actually, one important bit of information was preparation and hygiene. Something as basic as having nails that are smoothly trimmed and clean can be greatly important; no one wants to get a cut or suffer a bacterial infection because of dirty or jagged nails. This was something he had learned from one of his first client-… uh, one of first interactions in an intimate setting.

  Face in position, Light started by using his tongue to lick up the entire vulva before settling around the clit. He found the taste to be neither good nor horrid. Just simply there.

  Unintentionally, Light began drifting on auto-pilot as he settled into a pattern using techniques that focused mostly on either sucking or licking. Meanwhile, his fingers fiddled with Misa's opening. Slowly and gently, he gradually ease a finger in, while simultaneously massaging the folds of the labia minora. The finger he had inside her moved in a ‘come hither’ motion.

  When Misa’s face became flush and her glands were squirting, Light felt proud. Truth be told, he had begun looking at Misa's girl parts as a sort of puzzle box, and he liked puzzles. It distracted him from the nausea brewing in the pit of his stomach.

  Looking up, he saw that Hideki and Misa were kissing as he caressed her breasts and she jacked him off. Before he could finish though, Misa had shoved him away.

  “I want to watch the two of you doing it,” demanded Misa, moving off the bed and into a nearby chair. “And I’m going to sit here and I am going to masturbate to it.”

  Light and Hideki looked at her, perplexed by the abrupt change of positions, but quickly decided to roll with it. Light felt the knot in his stomach ease away.

  Hideki smirked before pushing Light down onto his hands and knees. Hideki then proceeded in rimming him. The suddenness was unexpected, but Light thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of Hideki’s tongue teasing him. Hideki abruptly stopped. Light was a second away from asking why when suddenly he was flipped over with a leg hooked over Hideki's shoulder. 

  Grabbing the lube, Hideki coated two of his fingers with it. He had then begun to gently insert his fingers into Light; it took a fair amount of stretching before he was ready for something bigger. 

  “Are we still a virgin?” teased Hideki, causing Light to avert his eyes. Hideki couldn’t resist pinching the younger boy’s cheek, causing him to yelp. “You’re so fucking adorable.”

  Despite his teasing, Hideki continued being very gentle as he entered his lubricated penis into Light’s anus. It still hurt, but after a few moments it wasn’t so bad and Light found himself untensing. Hideki then started moving in and out in a steady rhythm. 

  “Bite me,” demanded Light through shuddering breaths. He liked the gentle treatment Hideki was giving him, but he wanted more; he wanted a slight edge of pain. Not much, just a bit.

  Hideki was either ignoring Light’s request or hadn’t heard him. 

  Not that it mattered; Light could feel that he was getting close to orgasming.

  So this was what it's like sleeping with a person I’m physically attracted to, thought Light. It’s surprisingly nice. I always thought the concept of passionate love-making was a myth prior to tonight. 

  Hideki gave a few more hard thrusts, and Light found himself cumming. Looking over at Misa, it looked like she herself had orgasmed at least once; she certainly wasn’t lying when she claimed to be a yaoi fan. It took a few more minutes for Hideki to cum. During that time, Light had reached a 2nd orgasm and was now lulling in a minor euphoric haze.

  “That was amazing,” said Hideki, panting. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Light’s glistening, sweat-covered face; Hideki couldn’t stop himself from making a remark on the boy’s attractiveness. “You’re very beautiful. I’m surprised that I’ve never seen you in films or something.”

  “Those aren’t my ambitions,” replied Light, moving into a semi-sitting position. Hideki leaned in for another kiss; one of his hands caressed the side of Light’s face while the other gripped his exposed hip. When they parted, Light looked over towards a slumbering Misa. “Do you think Misa enjoyed herself? She left halfway through, so I’m not sure if she felt abandoned or…”

  Light knew Misa had issues and that she was very sensitive. Something that might not set off a normal person may cause her to burst into tears. And what just happened could set off a normal person... like setting up threesome and then being completely forgotten by your own partner during the encounter.

  “Yaoi girls are truly a pecular sort; I guess it’s similar to how some guys get off on watching lesbians. I think she had fun, and that’s the only thing that really matters,” suggested Hideki, as he fiddled with the collar around Light’s neck. “How about you wipe off and we go back downstairs? I’d like to do some dancing; I have yet to have a chance to do that tonight.” 

 “Alright,” agreed Light, moving away from the bed in search of his clothes. “Should we wake up Misa?”

  “No, let her sleep,” replied Hideki, as he covered Misa's exposed flesh with a blanket. 

~~~~~~~~~

  When Light and Hideki left the room, Misa’s eyes flew open. She was supposed to get blackmail material on Light. Her first attempt was with Yuri Kagami; this was before she knew that Light wasn’t ashamed of being a flirt. And this second attempt failed due to Hideki Ryuuga, of all people, being too smart to fall for her ploy. She should have remembered to set up the camera beforehand. 

  Misa may not know the entirety of alternate Light’s plan, but she knew her part. She had met the other Light the same night she had met Rem and gained ownership of Gelus’s death note. He claimed to be from an alternate universe and wanted to stay here forever. And he needed this universe’s Light’s compliance for some sort of ritual to make that possible; Misa didn’t know what that ritual entailed, but she knew it must involve something no sane person would willingly agree to.

  Misa really didn’t want to do this to this universe’s Light, but she owed alternate Light a debt; he was Kira and had avenged her parents’ death. Even though this universe’s Light was kinder, she loved alternate Light more and would do anything for him. But she had missed her chance to get the blackmail footage; her plan had definitely relied too heavily on Hideki being stupid and Light being naïve. 

  Flipping open her phone, Misa looked through her contacts for Kira’s number. Suddenly, a name caught her attention: Hitoshi Demegawa. The man was the director for Sakura TV. He was also a real creep, known to request sexual favors from employees. It wasn’t uncommon for him to drug the unwilling and take advantage of them; this last part may be speculated rumour, but Misa knew it was a fact.

  Fortunately, Demegawa liked both men and women as long as they were young and attractive. Light certainly fits that description.

  Misa pressed the call button. As she waited for someone to answer, she tried to set up the camera in a place where it was hidden from sight. Her hands were shaking so badly that Rem decided to intervene and set the camera up for her. The Shinigami has a disapproving look on her face; a look that borders on disgust. But, despite this, she says nothing.

  An angry, grumbling voice sounded from over the phone. Misa hesitates.

  Can love be so unconditional that I should do this?

~~~~~~~~~

  The past two hours had Light and Hideki flirting, dancing, and joking around with each other. Light was actually pleasantly surprised over how much fun he had; he didn’t like the idea of drinking, but thankfully Hideki didn’t push. They were sitting at the bar when Hideki mentioned he was feeling a little tipsy. He then requested a marker from the bartender.

  “I think I’m going to need to call a taxi home,” said Hideki, grabbing Light’s arm and uncapping the marker with his teeth. “This is my phone number. I had a lot of fun tonight; let’s do it again sometime.”

  “I’d like that,” replied Light, looking at the series of numbers Hideki had messily scrawled on his forearm. “I should go check up on Misa. Make sure she is alright.”

  “I’m doing just fine,” answered Misa, who had snuck up on Light.

  Hideki got up to leave as Light turned his attention towards Misa. Misa had ordered two drinks: a Blue Hawaiian and a Tequila Sunrise. She pushed the blue one in his direction.

  “I’m meeting another business associate here,” said Misa, sounding oddly sad and regretful. “It’s strictly business this time. Sakura TV is conducting an interview with me.”

  “Well, that’s good... Isn’t it?” asked Light, turning to face Misa as he ran a hand up and down her upper back in a manner that hopefully came across as soothing.

  Light was becoming increasingly concerned by Misa’s behaviour. Why was she looking so miserable? Was she upset with him?

   “It is good!” exclaimed a middle-aged, morbidly obese man who had taken the seat on the other side of Light. He had picked up Light’s drink at some point when he had been talking to Misa, and was now pushing it back within Light’s line of sight. “I see you have a fondness for girly drinks.”

  Light had the uneasy feeling that this old man was leering at him. Undressing him with his eyes.

  “Director of Sakura TV, Hitoshi Demegawa,” introduced the old, obese man, leaning uncomfortably close to Light before signaling the bartender. “I’ll have a beer.”

  “Let’s have a toast,” said Misa, with a painfully forced smile. 

  “Actually, I don’t think I’ll imbibe,” interrupted Light. “I have exams tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh, come on, Light. One won’t hurt you,” begged Misa, placing the drink he had chosen to ignore back into his hands. “Please, for me.”

  “Fine,” agreed Light, reluctantly.

  “To my budding career in film,” announced Misa. The three of them all took a sip from their respective drinks. Light took only a few sips from his own, grimacing at the taste. Something seemed off about it, but he had never drunk liquor before, so he had no frame of reference on how it should taste.

  After only a few minutes, Light was finding it difficult to balance; the room was swimming in and out of focus, and his thought processes felt sluggish. The ring from Misa's cell-phone just barely caught his attention.

   “It’s Yoshi. She expects me to be ready for tomorrow’s film session, so I have to go now,” explained Misa, hanging up the phone. She then placed a key into Light’s hand. “I don’t think I locked the room upstairs. Can you do it for me? Then give the key back to the owner when you’re done. Thanks.”

  Before Light could even open his mouth, Misa was gone. Light flinched when he felt Demegawa’s hand on his leg. Light decided that he needed to get out of here. Standing up, he stumbled a few feet before feeling two meaty hands gripping him tightly around his waist. Light tried to pull away, but he felt too weak.

  “Aren’t you a lightweight?” teased Demegawa, dragging Light up the stairs. “Didn’t even make it through half a cock-tail?”

   Entering the room, Demegawa turned on the lights before dumping Light face down on top of the bed; the bed he and Hideki had shared an hour or two prior. Demegawa was quick to strip Light of all his clothing, ripping them in the process.

  At some point, Light had managed to roll over – he was now staring up at the water-stained ceiling with his head half hanging off the side of the bed. He then heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down that briefly drowned out the noise from downstairs. Why was it so loud? Why was he so fixated on it? Like it was a harbringer of doom.

  Light was feeling very confused. Disoriented. He wasn’t even sure where he was anymore as he flitted in and out of consciousness.

  Suddenly, there was a flare of pain. Pain and an overwhelming flurry of sounds and colours. The world was no longer making any sense. Why were the walls breathing?

  Another flare of pain was felt, and then another… and another… and another. Light felt sick, but he was no longer certain as to why. He was having difficulty moving or thinking. Even breathing felt like an impossible task. His lungs were too heavy. 

  This went on and on for what seemed like hours, before Light was blissfully engulfed by the darkness of unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~

  When Light finally regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that he was naked. The second thing he noticed was that he was bleeding. The blood seemed to be coming out from underneath him along with some semen; the blood was definitely his and the semen not. His lips trembled as he lightly ran his fingers along the fresh bruises and cuts that covered his thighs, his hips, his stomach... There was not a single inch of him left unmarked. His clothes were on the floor and were heavily torn.

  According to the radio clock on the nightstand, it was currently 4:04am. Light could not clearly recall the last several hours. His head was throbbing, and he was sick to his stomach. His body was also shivering, despite the fact that his hands and feet were sweating.

  Light was finding it so hard to think. He felt so numb and detached; from both reality and himself. 

  What happened? thought Light, shrugging on his ruined clothes. Wh- What? What.

  Light’s thoughts drifted off into nothing as he stumbled his way out of the building; not truly comprehending his surroundings. The cold night air seemed to awaken his senses somewhat. He decided he needed to get back home. Home is safe.

  Nothing memorable occurs during the walk back… and if it did, Light didn’t notice it. Entering the front door, he manages not to run into any of his family members; Sayu was likely asleep and his father not home. 

  Good, thought Light. I don’t need anyone seeing me like this.

  Leaning heavily on the railing, Light forces himself up the stairs towards his room. Crawling into bed, Light doesn’t even bother to remove those damn apple cores that keep reappearing. Lying there, on top of his bed covers, Light’s eyes remain wide open. Suddenly, violent sobs wracked his bruised, damaged body. Light did his best to muffle their sounds as tears flowed down his face.

Chapter Text

  The next morning, Light is barely able to force himself out of bed. He remembers crying himself to sleep, but for some reason he can’t recall why. Thinking back, he remembers everything clearly up until drinking the blue cocktail. From then on, his memories felt… oddly foggy. Though if he concentrated hard enough, he could recall little bits and pieces of last night. Misa had received a phone call from… from…-doesn’t matter. After that, Misa had left him alone with the director of… some TV station. That same man had then taken him upstairs and… 

  Rushing to the bathroom, Light emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Not that there was much in his stomach to throw up. This led to a lot of dry heaving. The realization of last night’s events hit Light hard. He found himself curling into himself against the cool porcelain of the toilet. 

  Not moving from his position on the floor for what felt like ages, Light finally forced himself to stand up. Leaning on the sink, Light looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were red and swollen; his makeup from last night had smeared and was now flaking. Looking down, he saw that his clothes were ripped in several areas, with some pieces completely missing. He had truly loved these clothes mere hours ago, and now these same clothes he hated them with a passion. 

  I need to get clean, thought Light. I need to appear like I’m perfect. If everything is perfect, then everything is fine. At least that pig didn’t do anything to mark up my face… Everything else can be hidden.

  Light started running the water for a shower and slowly stripped down with rough, shaky movements before hobbling in. He scrubbed at his skin. The water is scalding hot water. It burned, but he didn’t care. He felt so disgusting. And he wanted that feeling to go away, but he knew it’d be a long time before it did… if it did.

  Getting out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around himself and picked up his dirty clothes before heading back up to his room. Caching the clothes in the back of his closet, he briefly considered burning them, but he knew he couldn’t exactly do that discreetly. He didn’t have any plans to tell anyone; he knew his father would be so displeased with him if he knew.

  Looking at the clock, Light noticed that he had a little more than an hour before he was expected at the university. For the first time in his life, Light seriously mulled over the merits of skipping school. Unfortunately, today that wasn’t an option; it was the To-Oh entrance exams. That meant that he had to go take his exam and pretend everything was okay.

  Using some eye-drops to reduce the redness and swelling around his eyes, Light quickly got dressed before heading down for breakfast. Sitting on the kitchen counter was Sayu. She was already halfway through a piece of toast and had a plate of cut grapefruit next to her. He could tell that she was wearing that perfume Misa had given her; he wasn’t really overly fond of the smell, which was some strange combination of cinnamon oatmeal and grapes.

  “Good morning, Sayu. Have you thought of using the table? Or is it, since Mom is on vacation, we’re just going to disregard all rules of polite society?” teased Light, even as he forced his mouth to form a smile; it became a little more genuine after Sayu laughed at his stupid comment. “I can’t stay long; otherwise, I risk being late for the exams.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat first?” asked Sayu, through a mouthful of toast.

  “I’m not hungry,” replied Light. And that was, in fact, the truth; he was much too sick to his stomach to be hungry.

  “Here,” said Sayu, handing him a quarter of her unfinished grapefruit half. “Eat that at least.”

  Light decided to oblige her request, forcing down that little bit of food. It settled uneasily in his stomach. Sayu kept looking at him with a sad look in her eyes. He knew he should ask what was bothering her, but he honestly didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with her problems right now. Light took the awkward silence as his cue to leave.

~~~~~~~~~

  An hour or so later, Light walked through the university campus towards the room designated for the entrance exams. They weren’t permitted to enter the room yet, so he was forced to mingle with the rest of his former classmates. Not that he had to talk much, since the only thing that was on everyone’s mind had nothing to do with the exams.

  It was amazing how everyone was so fixated on the Kira murders; his schoolmates were lauding him as a hero. Light himself once considered Kira to be a well-intentioned vigilante, but that was when Kira had only been killing murderers and rapists… But then he had begun to murder petty criminals and law enforcement officers. That was when Kira became an irredeemable monster in his opinion. Though Light knew that his own father would likely argue that Kira must have always been an irredeemable monster.

  Light frowned. With each passing day, he was getting more and more worried about his father’s safety. His conversation with Shōko Maki had really caused that feeling to intensify; he truly found himself empathising with that girl…  and that scared him. He would never want to experience what she had.

  I should be working on the case with him like he promised, thought Light bitterly. But no, instead I’m a suspect. Aren’t they at least going to do a follow-up? So far, no one from the task force has talked with me.

  The overseer of the exams finally announced that they may enter and sit down at their pre-assigned seat; if Light was truly paying attention, he may have found the overseer to have quite the resemblance to Shōko Maki. 

  The exam sheets were already laid out on the desks. Light sat down at his assigned seat and was prepared to ace this damn test. He just had to wait for the teacher to signal his permission for them to begin.

  “You have sixty-five minutes to complete the test; your time begins now,” instructed the teacher, standing at the front of the large classroom. Nine minutes in, Light had completed three pages of the test with ease and was working on the fourth.

  “Student 162, please sit normally,” reprimanded the teacher.

  Light took a moment to discreetly look back at the other students. And sure enough, a few rows back, there was student 162. He was a fairly tall individual with eerily pale skin and dark hair. He was sitting in what looked to be a rather uncomfortable position; both his feet were on the seat in an almost crouching position with his legs touching his chest and his shoulders hunched. As the other adolescent man reluctantly adjusted his sitting position, he and Light briefly made eye-contact.

  Those dark eyes had studied him in a way that made Light feel nervous. He immediately went back to completing the test and tried to ignore the eyes that would occasionally look up to stare at him. Luckily, after twenty-six minutes, Light was finished. He immediately handed in his exam and all but bolted out of the classroom.

  L had followed moments afterward.

~~~~~~~~~

   Six days after the strange encounter came the entrance ceremony. It was almost time for the ceremony to begin. The school officials, new students and their parents were all gathered in the auditorium. Everyone was dressed in what could be considered business attire; all except student 162. He was wearing a baggy, long-sleeved, white shirt with a pair of ripped jeans. 

  Light was starting to feel a little bit unnerved by this strange man; he had been consistently looking over at him. Light honestly wouldn’t like this at the best of times, but since the incident at the nightclub, he’d become even more irritable and defensive than usual.

  Despite not wanting to acknowledge the incident, after finishing the entrance exams the previous week, Light had gone to the nearest clinic and got tested for every possible STD known to man. Thankfully, it had come back clean so far; he was still waiting on a few other tests that took more time. Truly there was no telling what sort of diseases someone like Demegawa could be carrying otherwise. He had then called Misa and told her to reconsider any meetings or interviews with Sakura TV; he may not love the girl, but he didn’t want her getting hurt. 

  So, as Light sat there trying to remain calm, student 162 continued to stare directly at him. What was it about this man that was causing him to feel so scared? So threatened? Also, why did student 162 have to sit right next to him?

  I want to bite him and make him bleed, thought Light before comprehending the strangeness of that desire. Okay, that is certainly not a feeling that can be validated.

  Light hated having to question his own thoughts, but he knew he wasn’t handling things well. He had developed such a strong aversion to touch, and his response to it was getting much too violent. Two days ago, this fear response had accumulated in him nearly hitting his sister with a cutting-board. He had been cooking breakfast for her when she had unexpectedly tried to hug him from behind. Light still hated himself for having such an overreaction.

  And this wasn’t Light’s only problem. For the past week, he hadn’t managed to have a single night of restful sleep. And whenever he did manage to fall asleep, he was plagued by nightmares and, even more recently, sleepwalking. It was beginning to worry him. Especially since the other night he had awoken in the neighbour’s yard. Without any recollection of how he got there.

  Flashback; Last Night

  April 4, 2020

  Start of Light’s Dream

  Light knew he was in a dream; still, even knowing that did nothing to help him control it. The dream started with him waking up in the Kasumigaseki water fountain. As he walked out of the stream of water, he noticed that some kind of deform monster was watching him; it was about seven to eight ft. tall, had the head of a lioness with the teeth and ears of a donkey, the body was hairy, and the feet were like that of a bird’s with extremely sharp talons. The creature also had wings and was currently flying after him with a set of engraved handcuffs clutched in one of its talons.

  Running away as fast as he could, Light was certain after several minutes of not seeing the creature that it had finally lost track of him. Slowing down, he took a moment to observe his surroundings; he was at the Shibuya crosswalk. There were no people, just shadows of where people should be. It was nighttime, but everything seemed to glow with bright colours; the sky was a deep purple, the buildings brightly lit, and even Light’s hair had turned a vivid candy red. He was also wearing a set of fox ears… that were strangely attached to his head.

  Tugging at his new ears, Light quickly figured out that pulling too hard really hurt. 

  Suddenly a blue and white coloured panda approached him. The panda was 5’ 10” in height (not including the ears) and was wearing a white, baggy sweater.

  “If you want to continue playing this game, you better follow me,” said the panda before grabbing Light’s hand. “I need you to find something. Can you find it for me?”

   As they took off running, their surroundings began to fall apart before reforming. The scenery was totally different now. In the distance, Light saw an abandoned factory. He barely had enough time to read the address before being pulled inside by some unknown source. 

  The panda hadn’t been pulled in like Light had. Was he outside? Or did dream logic apply? And thus, once something is out of sight of the dreamer, that thing no longer exists.

  Light noticed that there were more moving shadows in here and they appeared to be performing specific tasks; moving things around, sitting at a computer, etc.

  Although, across the room Light spotted a solid figure. This unknown person was lounging on a couch. He was a young teenager of about fourteen, maybe fifteen years old. The teenager was deformed by this dream-world in a way that was similar to Light, except this boy had a wolf’s snout instead of fox ears.

  The teen was short in height and had shoulder-length blond hair; Sayu would probably say he was cute. As Light focused his attention on the teenager, certain other aspects of the dream became clearer. His instinct were telling Light, that these were parts of Mello’s consciousness; Light was very confused by that since he had no clue who the hell Mello was.

  “That thing burnt out Neylon’s eyes,” muttered Mello, looking as though he was in deep thought. He took a bite of chocolate, in a manner that was oddly aggressive. “Matt, what are your thoughts about what happened?”

  Light then watched as one of the shadows became more solid and filled with colours. Matt appeared to be a rather ordinary-looking boy, which was almost weird given the surroundings. His eyes were obscured from view by the goggles he was wearing.

  “Well, Mello. For starters, I don’t think people should read aloud from books written in Latin,” said Matt, only half-joking as he lit a cigarette.

  Is this kid even old enough to be smoking? questioned Light.

  “That damn book was written in blood,” criticised Matt. “That alone should've been warning enough.” 

  “That is not what I meant,” complained Mello, as he propped one of his legs up on the couch. “I questioned B before he escaped his cell. He said that shinigami are real and that he and L were sired by one. B also mentioned that he encountered one. He said this was all prior to him becoming a murderer. He was apparently told things about rule 39, shinigami eyes, and, of course, the Death Note,” Mello paused, scooting closer to Matt. “I hacked into L's computer; there was in a hidden message Kira sent L. It mentioned shinigami. And a death note sounds like the only reasonable murder weapon given the situation. But I don’t think we have the right book; it's nothing like how B described.”

  “No, instead we manage to find the ‘Necronomicon’,” teased Matt, taking a deep drag off his cigarette.

   Mello picked the book in question up off the coffee table. The title read ‘Libro Umbrarum’. Light took a moment to attempt a rough translation; unfortunately, his knowledge of the Latin language was obtained mostly through the ‘Harry Potter’ series.

  So this thing is called the ‘Book of Shadows’. How ominous, thought Light with an eye-roll. So these men are searching for a killer notebook, which is strange enough, but them finding the wrong one and yet it still causes grievous harm... Really, how many exceptionally lethal books are there in the world? Does this mean that while knowledge is power, that power may just melt your brain? 

  Light was truthfully finding this whole situation ridiculous.

  Of course, this is just a dream, Light reminded himself. These events don’t have to obey any sort of reality.

  Taking a step closer, Light tripped over some cables. The noise alerted Mello to his presence. And oddly enough, it was only Mello that seemed to notice him.

  “Who’s there?” shouted Mello, teeth bared. 

  “Hi, I’m Light,” greeted Light, emerging from the shadows. He wasn’t really worried; he was in a dream afterall. Light was also a bit curious on what else his mind could conjure up. “Just your friendly, neighbourhood fox.”

  Matt disappeared back into shadow as soon as Mello’s attention was diverted from him to Light; Light took a moment to absorb the weirdness that was dream logic. Meanwhile, Mello seemed to be evaluating him with eyes that were filled with both suspicion and utter bewilderment.

  “How did you break in? Who sent you?” asked Mello, in rapid succession before catching sight his ears. “Where did you even come from?” 

  “I fell asleep, a panda, and Japan,” answered Light, in an orderly but blunt manner. Light then continued to explain with a little annoyance at Mello, who continued to glare at him. “You seem to like rationalizing things, despite being nothing but a manifestation of my imagination. If you refuse to believe this is a dream then you may want to look at your face.”

  “Wha-” started Mello as he felt his face, which began to contort in horror. “How? It’s not that time of the month yet.”

  Before Light could ask ‘what the hell does that mean’, an oddly concerned-looking shadow, that was once Matt, gently shook Mello’s shoulder. At that moment, the dream-world completely shattered before disappearing in a blinding white light.

  End of Light’s Dream

  Light briefly felt as though he was falling before waking abruptly in a cold sweat. He let out a scream of pain; he didn’t understand why he was in pain, but it felt as though a piece of him had been ripped out and then placed back in him haphazardly. The pain disappeared quickly as it came. This left him wondering if he just imagined it.

  Observing his surroundings, Light quickly realized he wasn’t in his room anymore. He was sitting in the back garden of his neighbour’s house in nothing but his underwear; this was actually how he had gone to bed, so that particular aspect wasn’t a huge shock. It was just embarrassing.

  End Flashback

  Light released an irritated groan. He already had enough problems. There was no need to add any more.

 The principal’s voice coming from the overhead speakers broke Light out of his troubled thoughts. He tried to concentrate all his focus towards the ceremony.

  “For this year’s To-Oh freshman commencement ceremony, we will be having two freshman representatives. On the entrance examinations, both of them had achieved perfect scores. And so, if you could come to the stage as your name is called, freshman representatives: Yagami Light and Ryuuga Hideki,” announced the principal. Afterwards the noise level in the auditorium went up drastically.

  The crowds were gossiping amongst themselves. Some were questioning the strangeness of one person achieving a perfect score, let alone two. But most were questioning student 162’s name; it was the same name as the pop idol soon-to-be movie star. Now everyone was wondering if the real Hideki Ryuuga had managed to get into To-Oh University.

  That last snippet of gossip almost made him laugh, and it had nothing to do with Hideki’s perceived stupidity; the man was no genius, but he had a good level of common sense. No, the humour of the situation was derived by the fact that Light had met Hideki and student 162 looked nothing like him. Regardless, it seemed that things, such as appearances, weren’t enough to deter the rumour mill. 

  Light and ‘Hideki Ryuuga’ walked up onto the stage. Before making their respective speeches, the other boy moved very close to Light. This caused Light to feel a bit uneasy; there was something strange going on here. ‘Hideki’ leaned in so close to Light’s ear, he could feel the man’s warm breath hitting the side of his neck. The sensation sent shivers down his spine.

  “I am L,” whispered ‘Hideki’ or rather ‘L’, apparently. 

  Could this really be the world’s greatest detective? Light wondered. 

 Light had no way of knowing whether this young man was lying or not. But if he is who he says he is, then why is he here? thought Light, feeling evermore confused. Does he think I'm Kira?

  But what if he isn’t who he says he is? Light wondered. Then he might be Kira trying to extract information from the son of the NPA police chief.

  As Light pondered the new information, ‘L’ walked past him towards the microphone and began his speech.

~~~~~~~~~

  It was a few hours later; Light was on the tennis court, practicing. Or at least that’s what his excuse was. He had too much excess energy and anxiety that he needed to burn off, and he needed an immediate outlet. Sweat was pouring off him, and his muscles were screaming for him to stop. Meanwhile, Yamamoto had literally screamed for them to stop, despite agreeing to practice with him. 

  “No more, Lite-Brite. No more. I’m done,” wheezed Yamamoto, as he collapsed to the ground. “Out of service. Out of Africa. I wouldn’t…”

  Not much of a friend to have given up so soon, thought Light, rolling his eyes as Yamamoto crawled his way to a nearby bench just off of the court. So dramatic, that man.

  “Nothing like a good bit of competition, is there?” asked ‘L’, as he entered the court, gripping the racket by the very end with only his fingertips. How odd. “I hear that you are rather good at the sport, Light-kun. Personally, I was once the junior champion in England.”

  Light remained silent. He really didn’t know what to think of this guy. He only knew that he should be very weary, and very careful, until all the facts were in.

  “But even with that information,” continued ‘L’, smugly. He was now standing where Yamamoto had been before giving up on their game. “You won’t be able to find my real name.”

  “You said your name is ‘L’,” explained Light, bouncing the ball a few times before serving. “Fine, it's ‘L’. Whether you’re the famous detective or not... that remains to be seen.”

  The game went on for several minutes before anyone managed to score. ‘L’ had been the one to score that first point. Light was impressed.

  “How about a little wager, Light-kun?” asked ‘L’, with a smirk. “If I win, you have to do me a favour. If you win, I have to do the same.”

  “Alright. Deal,” agreed Light, preparing for ‘L’s’ returning serve. “I’m ready, ‘Hideki’.”

  Truthfully, the game had started off innocently enough, but then it got rough, fast. Light was fueling all his anger into the game, and ‘L’ was matching his aggression. There was a lot of movement and heavy hits with no breaks.

  A minute or two in, their brutal game had drawn a sizable crowd. A few people had formed their own gambling ring. By the sounds of things, it seemed as though ‘Hideki Ryuuga’, ‘L’s’ student alias, had an awful lot of fans. Some of the girls were even gushing over how cute he was, and now that Light took an opportunity to really look at the man objectively, he actually couldn’t really deny that the man was rather good-looking… in an eerie sort of way.

  Light had then roughly shaken his head in an attempt to clear it; this ‘L’ person is a potential murderer, and if he isn’t, then he thought Light was.

  Well, despite his faults, at least this ‘L’ person doesn’t seem to be a rapist, thought Light. Wow! My standards had really gone downhill.

  A spike of anger ran through him at the memory of that event; it has not even been a week since-

  These negative thoughts were causing Light to really fuck up his game, allowing ‘L’ to score another two points. Light took a few deep breaths and put all his mental energy into remaining focused on the game. With only a bit of difficulty, he managed to even the scoreboard quite quickly.

  It was finally the last round of the game, and it was ‘L’s’ serve. Suddenly a thought came to Light; he figured he could likely glean more information from hearing the sort of favour ‘L’ would request than he could doing anything else; especially since ‘L’s’ request would come from a more honest place than any of his answers would. 

  Decision made; now all Light had to do was lose. Regardless of his resolve, missing on the first swing was quite the wound on his pride. But he didn’t want to risk winning now that he had a plan.

  ‘L’ served the ball, and Light watched as it bounced within the bounds of his side of the court.

  “So, ‘Hideki’, what is the favour that I must grant you?” asked Light, using ‘L’s’ student alias since they were still surrounded by other students.

  “Well, how about you clean up first,” requested ‘L’, tilting his head at an awkward angle. “Because quite frankly, Light-kun, you stink.” 

  “Ohhhhhh,” said some of the surrounding students that had heard that. Then there was that one kid that had yelled, “Burn!”, which was swiftly followed by someone else yelling, “Shut up”.

  Light had to fight the urge to roll his eyes; unfortunately, that was a battle he didn’t stand a chance in. Oftentimes, his fellow classmates were so immature. Funny, but immature.

  “Fine,” agreed Light, not really taking ‘L’s’ comment to heart too much. “We can continue our discussion in the locker room.”

  “Alright. Lead the way then,” replied ‘L’, a hint of surprise colouring his voice as he muttered. “Kira is supposed to be very childish and hates losing.”

  Light decided not to address that last comment without context. Instead he pretended not to hear the other man’s mumblings.

Chapter Text

  Leaving ‘L’ out in the locker room, Light walked over to the showers. He figured he might need a moment to himself before dealing with whatever ‘L’ had in store for him. The steady stream of hot water had just begun to relax his tense, aching muscles. The water felt so good; Light found himself getting lost in the calming sensation.

  Suddenly, the shower next to his started running. It seems like ‘L’ had taken the opportunity to catch Light by surprise. ‘L’ smirked when the teenager jumped. It was then quickly replaced with an expression of concern when a truly terrified expression crossed the younger boy’s face. 

  Light purposely broke eye-contact with ‘L’ as ‘L’ took on a look of determination. Light focuses on remaining calm.

  He knows something is very wrong with me, thought Light. If he is L, I’m certainly acting more than a little suspicious. But will he have time to analyze that reaction too thoroughly? Afterall, L couldn’t waste time on potential nothings and dead-ends. The amount of Kira killings are higher than ever before. Right now, this man, Kira or L, is likely gathering information that would indicate whether I’m a viable lead or not for taking down their opponent.

  “I’m still alive,” said ‘L’, as he looked at Light over the partition. 

  Damn, thought Light. The guy kind of resembles an onryō. What with his strange posture, pale skin, stringy black hair, and dark under-eye circles. He even has the jumpscares down-pat. He’s still kind of cute, though… Wait! What? No!

  “That’s always good,” replied Light, deadpan, as he tried to focus on washing and nothing else.

  “You know?” asked ‘L’, grinning. 

  Light stared at ‘L’ for a few moments, frowning in confusion. Then it dawned on him that if this was the real L, then he thought Light was Kira and that he’d use Hideki Ryuuga’s name to somehow kill him, therefore killing the real Hideki; who Light was sure was still alive. So ‘L’ thought Light, as Kira, had already seen through the ruse. That there was no way that ‘L’, the world's greatest detective, true name was ‘Hideki Ryuuga’. 

  “That you’re not Hideki Ryuuga,” replied Light, bowing his head as he positioned it under the spray of the water, thoroughly soaking his hair. “I think everyone knows that.” 

  ‘L’ appeared to be mildly amused by Light’s statement. Meanwhile, despite Light’s seemingly relaxed demeanour, underneath it all he was extremely worried. 

  This really could be the real L. And if he is, then that means that L thinks I’m Kira, thought Light. Regardless of my innocence, an investigation against me could inflict a lot of damage on my reputation and personal relationships. Especially if information from that time at the night-club got out.

  “Light-kun… You don’t mind if I call you Light-kun?” asked ‘L’. Light tilted his head, giving ‘L’ a look of confusion. “It’s just if I called you Yagami-san, it would be the same as what I call your father.”

  “Oh… My father is working with you? I didn’t know that,” replied Light, feigning ignorance on the off-chance that ‘L’ wasn’t who he seemed to be; there’s nothing wrong with being properly paranoid. “Well, you can call me whatever you want.”

  “Then how about Kira?” accused ‘L’, he laughed when Light glared at him. “It’s a joke.”

  “No,” replied Light, turning off the shower and moving away from ‘L’. “It isn’t.”

  “Yagami-san says many good things about you; I wanted to meet you to see what kind of person you were,” explained ‘L’, as he followed Light uncomfortably close. “Now I know.”

  “Hmm,” replied Light, noncommittally as he grabbed a towel to dry off with; wrapping it around his waist, he walked back into the locker room.

  “But the truth is,” continued ‘L’, as Light changed into a clean set of clothes. “I still suspect you of being Kira.”

  “I already suspected that,” replied Light, honestly. “So what’s the favour you want from me?”

  “Be my friend,” answered ‘L’, as he invaded Light’s personal space again; so close, their noses were almost touching.

  The close proximity, along with the unexpected request, caused a spike of anxiety to run through Light’s bones. Light did his best to suppress those feelings that were screaming at him to fight or flee. He took in a deep, steadying breath through his nostrils. A smell then caught his attention; it was Sayu’s perfume. Leaning forwards, Light sniffed ‘L’s’ neck. 

  Why was the scent of Sayu’s perfume on ‘L’? Light wondered, becoming increasingly concerned. Was ‘L’ using her as leverage on him?

  “I-I need t-to go now,” stammered Light, as he pushed ‘L’ away with a little too much force. He then hurriedly left. As the door was closing, Light had then called back in a placating tone. “We’ll see each other some other time.”

  Meanwhile, L stood there, looking downright perplexed by Light’s admittedly odd behaviour. 

~~~~~~~~~

  The rest of the task force were at headquarters; L had apparently purchased the entire apartment complex for them to use. They had listened as L checked in with them through the radio. L and Light’s entire interaction had been very strange; in no small part due to L, but… Light hadn’t exactly been… normal either.

  No doubt, everyone was becoming suspicious. Even Soichiro had had to admit that he had grown more concerned about his son; he knew something was seriously off about him. And both fortunately and unfortunately, Soichiro was fairly certain that he knew the cause.

   Flashback; Sixteen Years, Six Days Ago

  March 31, 2004

  Soichiro was on his way home from work. He had just been promoted to chief of police, and he could hardly wait to break the good news to his lovely wife. He met her one evening three years ago and had fallen madly in love with her, without hesitation or regret. Happily married for almost just as long, they had only just recently started their own little family together. 

  So before arriving home, Soichiro had stopped off at the pet store and purchased a young husky. His wife, Kuzunoha, had repeatedly requested that they have a pup. She hadn’t mentioned it since Light’s birth, but Soichiro remembered, and now that he was going to be working longer hours, he thought that she could use a loyal companion to keep her company.

  Walking through the door, Soichiro only had to wait a couple of seconds before his wife greeted him. Kuzunoha was an exceptionally dutiful wife, always managing to maintain an absolutely spotless household, cooked the most delicious meals, and had a pleasantly cheerful demeanor. She was also very beautiful; with long auburn hair, a small, narrow nose, bright amber-coloured eyes, and flawless skin. These were features that she had also passed down to their son.

  “I’m glad you’re home safe,” said Kuzunoha, smiling as she rubbed her nose against Soichiro’s.

  “I have some great news,” said Soichiro, as he led her outside. “But first I have a present for you.”

  Soichiro took her toward the front yard, where he had tied the dog’s leash to one of the fence posts. The dog, which had been calm only a few minutes ago, had gone berserk.

  “Get rid of it,” begged Kuzunoha, scared. “Kill it if you have to.”

  Before Soichiro could do anything, the dog had slipped his collar and began attacking Kuzunoha ferociously. Kuzunoha’s hands were cut up horribly as she tried to keep the dog away from her throat. Just as Soichiro managed to pull the dog off of her, Kuzunoha’s form had changed into that of a fox. She had then leaped over the fence and fled. Soichiro stood there in shock for several minutes.

  I married a kitsune – I had a fox-wife, thought Soichiro. Well, I don’t care. She's the mother of my child, and I love her.

  Soichiro had given away the dog to one of his co-workers and had filed a missing person’s report. He had also gone out every night calling for her to come home.

  It wasn’t until several months later that Kuzunoha had reappeared. She was sitting by the bedroom window waiting for him.

  “Soichiro,” greeted Kuzunoha, with a sad smile. “I can’t stay.”

  “Why?” asked Soichiro, as he wrapped his arms around his estranged wife.

  “Inari wants me to come back to her,” replied Kuzunoha, as she curled into her husband’s embrace. "It’s too dangerous for me here.”

  “Wait. Inari?” questioned Soichiro, confused. “Isn’t that the name of some sort of food goddess?”

  “Inari is the Shinto goddess of agriculture and industry,” elaborated Kuzunoha, quietly. “And yes, she is that goddess, and I am one of her messengers.”

  “So kitsunes exist, Inari exist,” stated Soichiro, numbly before asking. “What else is out there?”

  “Everything, every creature you can think of, exists,” replied Kuzunoha. “Though some of them may differ significantly from their legends.”

  “So why is Inari taking you away from me?” 

  “Because Lamashtu has been alerted to my presence here. She plans on taking me to Kur, where she’ll torture and kill me,” answered Kuzunoha, pulling away from her husband’s embrace; Soichiro could now see the fear in her eyes. “The pain will feed her and her dying realm. She loves trickster spirits, especially the kitsune. Maybe it’s because we don’t break easily. Although all creatures will eventually die under her care,” Kuzunoha paused briefly as she tried to regain her composure. “I’ve seen the results of the few that could escape; it isn’t pretty, and no one has ever truly recovered from it. I am not going to risk my safety by staying here. I can’t, and I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t apologize,” said Soichiro, trying to be comforting. “I understand. I don’t want to lose you, but…”

 Soichiro couldn’t even finish that statement. He wanted to be selfish and ask her to stay, but this was his fault; he had accidentally revealed her true identity. This shouldn’t have happened; she was his, and he was hers. They were supposed to live happily ever after.

“Will you spend one last night with me?” asked Soichiro, voice pleading. He just wanted to sleep next to her and hold her close while pretending this wouldn’t be the last time.

  “I’d like that,” answered Kuzunoha, as she led him to the bed.

  Soichiro and Kuzunoha laid together, just curled around one another, holding each other tightly. Hours passed without either of them going to sleep or even so much as closing their eyes. Night would be over soon, and Kuzunoha would be gone along with it; Soichiro didn’t want to miss a single moment of the time he had left with her.

“Um, Soichiro,” said Kuzunoha, getting her husband’s attention. “Will you continue to care for our son when I’m gone? Even if he takes after me.” 

  Kuzunoha seemed worried. Soichiro was almost offended, but her concern was understandable. She was leaving, he wasn’t home often, and their son was only a year old. And if Soichiro had any prejudice against kitsunes, then Light would be in a very vulnerable position if he took after his mother.

  “Of course, I will,” promised Soichiro. 

  End Flashback

  Soichiro had tried his best to be there for his son… and oftentimes he would fail. There were many times in which he just couldn’t understand Light; he believed even Kuzunoha would have difficulty in that regard. Luckily, he had met Sachiko the year following his first wife’s disappearance, and she had been so supportive. She had never once called him crazy or considered Light to be a monster. She was much more helpful than Soichiro’s own family had been.

  Immediately after Kuzunoha had left him, Soichiro had told his family what had happened. To his shock, no one had been surprised. Apparently this was a fairly common occurrence in their family; not marrying kitsunes necessarily, just encounters with the supernatural in general. Most of them were brief, with creatures such as the bakeneko, ōmukade, jorōgumo, etc. There was also an isolated incident involving his great-aunt and a kasa-obake. To this day, Soichiro was still puzzled over the mechanics involved that would allow a paper umbrella to kill a person. Demon or not, the very idea is quite absurd.

  So, in a way, Soichiro could almost understand how his family was so paranoid, but their coldness toward his son… and their insistence that he should do the same; that it would make things easier if anything were to happen. And while many things had happened, it wasn’t until-

  God, I can’t even bring myself to say it in my own head, thought Soichiro; he could feel his gut clench with shame and guilt. It has been thirteen years since I’d permanently cut ties with them, but so much damage had been done by that point. Much of it my own fault.

  Soichiro knew Light didn’t trust him; the boy always acted like he was tiptoeing on egg-shells. He even had an alert system set up in his room; a subtle one, but one nonetheless. It had taken Watari’s keen observational skills in order to not be caught setting up the cameras in the Yagami household five days ago. Three forms of detection to reset; a piece of paper between the door, the position of the door handle, and a pencil lead in the hinge… that is not normal teenage behaviour.

  “Chief, your son is a little strange,” said Aizawa, after listening to L’s report. “What do you think is going on in that kid’s head?”

   “Well, Ryuzaki wasn’t exactly acting normal,” replied Matsuda, coming to the chief’s defense; Soichiro was grateful, even though he didn’t show it. “Light was probably on the defensive.”

  “He may have also been skeptical of Ryuzaki’s claims of being L,” speculated Soichiro, quietly; he had caught the part where Light claimed uncertainty on who was on the Kira case, even though he most certainly knew of Soichiro and Matsuda. “He was playing ignorant of my involvement in the Kira investigation, incase, on the off-chance, that Ryuzaki was Kira.”

  “That’s a good counterpoint, Mr. Asahi,” replied L, his voice coming out over the speaker. “Given the circumstances, your son would be smart to be wary of my claims. And even though his behaviour was strange, it doesn’t necessarily indicate he’s Kira,” L paused briefly before shifting the subject. “What’s happening with the observations on Mikami, Takada, and Kagami?”

  The task force had decided to follow Naomi Misora’s suggestions to investigate those that were on the bus. So while L was observing Light, Misora was doing the same with Kagami, Mogi with Mikami, and Ukita with Takada.

  “Mogi reported that Mikami is a dedicated prosecutor. He seems to possess a rigid sense of justice and is not very compassionate. Outside of work he’s not very social; the only exception to this would be the occasional phone-call with Takada,” stated Aizawa, summing up the most recent paperwork. “Misora reported that Kagami is an average student; she had not passed her exam, so it's a no go for To-Oh. No father is listed on her birth records, and her mother is currently detained in a psychiatric hospital. She lives with her half-brother, Taro; he apparently writes horror comics for a living. She had mentioned being a Kira supporter to her friends, though Misora believes that she had lacked conviction in her stance. Ukita reported that Takada is a news reporter at Sakura TV. She was considered for promotion to news anchor, but lost out to Saeko Nishiyama. Takada had also briefly dated the chief’s son; that was about four months ago.” 

  Aizawa paused, face scrunching up in confusion and disgust.

  “Chief Yagami, your son is only sixteen-”

  “Seventeen,” interrupted Soichiro, like that made the situation any better. 

  “Seventeen,” relented Aizawa, with a grimace. “That still equates to a ten year age gap between Takada and him.”

  “Light has always been mature for h-”

  “My daughter is also mature for her age,” interrupted Aizawa, his voice just short of yelling. “If she did something like this, I would certainly not be alright with it.”

  “Well, neither was the chief. He only learned about it after they broke up,” explained Matsuda, defensively; much to Soichiro’s chagrin. “Believe you me, he was pissed when he first heard of it. But in the end sometimes it’s best to let bygones be bygones. Especially since-”

  “That’s enough, Matsuda!” demanded Soichiro, cutting the young man off mid-sentence. 

  Soichiro really didn’t want to be reminded of everything that had led to that particular revelation. 

  Flashback; Three Months, Twenty-One Days Ago

  December 16, 2019

  The ringing of a phone could be heard. Whoever was calling was doing so repeatedly. And. Would. Not. Stop.

  Soichiro groaned as he got out of bed, careful not to wake Sachiko. As much as he loved her, Soichiro had to admit nothing short of an earthquake could wake his wife once asleep.

  Where did I leave my cell again? thought Soichiro, still groggy from exhaustion. Sounds like I left it in the kitchen.

  Walking towards the kitchen, he looked at the clock hanging on the wall; it read 2:24 A.M.

  “Who in their right mind would be calling at this hour?” grumbled Soichiro, as he searched for his phone.

  A sudden movement from the other end of the room caused Soichiro to jump back in fright.

  “Morning, Dad!” greeted Sayu as she hopped down from on top of the fridge. 

   Well, if Soichiro wasn’t awake before, he certainly was now.

  “What were you doing up there?” asked Soichiro, shifting his glasses as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “At this time of night?”

  “It’s morning, and I was hungry,” explained Sayu, with a shrug as she tossed an empty tin of tuna into the waste bin. “By the way, if you are looking for your phone, I think I saw it in the snack cabinet.”

   Soichiro frowned. It was certainly not morning. Still, he went to check the cabinet… and there it was. His phone. With eight missed calls. Two from the police station and six from Mogi.

  “Thanks, Sayu. Now go to bed. You got school in the morning,” said Soichiro, as he determined who he should call back first. When Sayu continued to dawdle in the doorway, Soichiro sighed tiredly. “And A.M. does not qualify as morning.”

  Sayu giggled in response before leaving. 

  I love both my children more than anything, but… damn, thought Soichiro, shaking his head. It’s difficult dealing with all the… weirdness. The polyphasic sleep schedule, the proclivity for hiding in odd places, the random assortment of floating objects, the occasional fire or breaking of mirrors… It was honestly too much to deal with some days.

  Once again Soichiro wondered, what were the chances of him marrying two different yokais... Whatever the answer, he still considered himself a lucky man. These thoughts were abruptly cut off by the ringing of his phone; at least he had it on hand now. Looking down he saw that it was Mogi again. Soichiro quickly answered the call.

  “Mogi, do you realise what time it is?” asked Soichiro, managing to restrain most of his annoyance; sounding more tired than anything else.

  “I do,” answered Mogi. “It’s just Light tried to call you earlier… from the station.”

  “Why is Light at the station at this time of night?”

  Mogi hesitated. For a moment, Soichiro wondered if the other man had hung up.

  “His friend, Shiori… She died last night at, roughly, 11:50-ish,” explained Mogi, quietly. “It appears to be a suicide. Light was there, and so was another woman. They are still being questioned. You should probably come down.”

  Soichiro took a moment to digest the information he was just given. This was horrible. He knew Shiori. She was incredibly bright, had serious ambitions, and was one of Light’s closest friends. And while that girl was a bit shy, he had never known her to be suicidal. This news truly came out of left field. Soichiro was downright shocked.

  “Soichiro, you still there?” asked Mogi, uncertain.

  “Y-yes. Thanks for informing me,” said Soichiro, stumbling over his words slightly as he hurried to grab his coat along with his car keys. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  “Uh, Soichiro…” started Mogi, hesitantly. “When you see Light… tell him I’m sorry.”

  About Shiori? Deepest sympathies type of thing? questioned Soichiro, confused as to why Mogi couldn’t do so himself. Well, I guess I can do so on his behalf if need be. Mogi has never been the best at communicating with people.

  “I will,” answered Soichiro, getting into his car. 

  Before anything else could be said, Soichiro hung up and drove off towards the police station.

  Thirty-Eight Minutes Later (damn traffic)

  Soichiro was directed to interrogation room two, where Light had been placed for the time being. His colleagues, Sanami, Mogi, and Matsuda, were filling him in on the details regarding the situation. 

  “Light’s testimony was a little vague, and he didn’t seem to be a hundred percent cooperative during questioning,” explained Sanami. She was a fellow detective in his department. And even though Soichiro considered her to be too soft-hearted for her own good, he had to admit she was perceptive as hell. “I believe this may be due to shock. All he seems to remember is the moment he saw her fall; it was pretty gruesome, and your son was standing only a foot or two away from where she landed… The woman he was with tonight, Kiyomi Takada, had provided most of the information about the incident with her testimony. But there were some notable gaps in her story. And…” 

  Sanami trailed off. She was acting like there was information she didn’t feel comfortable sharing with Soichiro, specifically. A sense of unease settled over Soichiro.

  “And what?” asked Soichiro, halting to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

  Silence reigned as neither Sanami, Mogi, nor Matsuda wanted to answer. 

  “She claimed not knowing Shiori or Light prior to this incident,” started Sanami, trailing off again. 

  At this point, Soichiro was feeling more than a little irked. Getting information from his colleagues was akin to trying to pull out one’s own teeth, which may, at this point, be preferable. Fortunately, Mogi decided to pick up the conversation.

  “I saw Light’s school bag in the back of her car,” informed Mogi, pulling Soichiro’s arm so that they would continue walking. “I then called Yamamoto to ask what he knew. He said he saw a strange woman picking up both Light and Shiori after school, though Shiori was not meant to go with.”

  “Did he explain why?” asked Soichiro, mildly concerned.

  “Uh, kind of… I think,” replied Mogi, confused. And Soichiro immediately knew why. Light’s friend had such a proclivity to ramble, despite lacking functional level of vocabulary skills; for example, that kid, while completing his G1, had once described a car as a mental-thingy on wheels. “And-... There was-... And he said-”

  After a moment of fumbling over words, Matsuda decided to take over the conversation for Mogi. Soichiro was trying to be understanding, but this game of information hot potato was getting ridiculous. 

  “Yamamoto said that Shiori was worried about Light because he changed clothes at school, which meant he was going on a date. Therefore, Shiori had insisted that she go with him, and Light said no, and Yamamoto then suggested they compromise by having Light’s date drive her home instead.”

   “... what?” asked Soichiro, feeling like that might be the most pointless string of words he had ever heard, if not for the fact this may be related to the suicide that took place.

  Matsuda shrugged in reply. He then commented. “Mogi also called Mrs. Akino. All she knew was that Shiori arrived home and then left again a few hours later.”

  “How did she handle the news of her daughter’s death?” asked Soichiro, hesitantly. 

  Despite having never met Shiori’s mom, Soichiro knew Shiori. When Light was in middle school, he used to frequently invite her over for study sessions, which would often turn into overnight sleepovers. Soichiro remembered Sachiko remarking on how Shiori was such an incredibly intelligent and kind girl, who had so much potential to make the world a better place.

  Her mother must be devastated, realised Soichiro, sympathically. Unfortunately for us,  it is always difficult working a case while navigating your way around a grieving parent. 

  “She screamed many profanities, and at one point, said that Light was a terrible influence. That he must have caused this and that his dad is an enabler of bad behaviour,” muttered Mogi, with a look of unease. “I’m not sure why she said these things, but I don’t think you have to worry about attending any funerals with her. She made herself quite clear Light will not be invited.”

    Okay. Wow… I've heard of misdirected anger, but I didn’t expect it to be so directed at my son, thought Soichiro, mildly disgusted and a bit flabbergasted. Though I do wonder if Light did anything to contribute towards this woman’s unsavoury opinion of him… Not that it matters.

  “Well… if that is all that happened, why did Takada withhold that information?” asked Soichiro, shifting the conversation back to their witness lying in their testimony.

  Silence reigned as Sanami, Mogi, and Matsuda looked at one another. In the end, Sanami was the one to break the silence, albeit hesitantly. 

  “She’s twenty-seven.” 

  It took a moment for Soichiro to click into what was said.

  “WHAT!?”

  To say that Soichiro was angry would be an understatement. He wanted this woman behind bars as soon as possible. Before he could even move, Sanami grabbed his arm.

  “Listen, I understand your concern, but this is a very complex situation. Someone died tonight. Therefore this issue may have to be put on the back burner for now,” said Sanami, in a placating tone. “Your son is sixteen, almost seventeen; and while that is not the legal age of consent in Tokyo, it is in several other areas in Japan. Takada also claims that nothing happened between her and Light. And Light is just not saying much of anything, so-”

  “Still wrong,” muttered Soichiro, his anger simmering. “At the very least, there was intention.”

  “I know that, you know that, Mogi and Matsuda know that,” replied Sanami, in a tired and resigned tone. “But to do anything, we’d have to bring her to court and prove it. At the minimum, this would require Light testifying… And right now, I don’t think he is in the right mindset to handle that. Both Mogi and I have been here long enough to see that boy of yours grow up, and while I hate saying this, I don’t think it’s wise to drag him through any unnecessary legal procedures. He just saw his friend jump from the top floor of the Shibuya Scramble Square Tower; that’s a 229 metre drop,” Sanami paused before scrunching up her nose. “I was able to collect brain and tissue samples off of your son’s face. There is no possible way he’s okay. You do realise this, right?”

  “Mn,” agreed Soichiro, annoyed. He realised that the help Light needed right now was the type he had never been good at providing… and Soichiro was at a loss on what to do.  

  “I think foul play was involved,” said Matsuda, abruptly; much to everyone’s confusion.

  “What are you on about, Matsuda?” asked Soichiro.

  “Well, it’s all just too convenient,” stated Matsuda, pacing as he tried to utilised all the power of his two working brain-cells. 

  “Convenient?” questioned Soichiro, unsure whether Matsuda knew the actual meaning of his word choice.

  “Light just happened to be standing almost directly below where Shiori jumped. Suicide victims are not usually this… vindictive, for lack of a better term. It feels planned out. And Light definitely knows more than what he’s saying,” said Matsuda, enthusiastically as he probably felt as though he was really onto something. Soichiro could feel himself beginning to boil over in anger. “When we looked through Shiori’s call history, we found that she had fourteen missed calls from Light prior to picking up the last one, which was mere seconds before jumping. And yet, he can’t recall what was said,” Matsuda appeared to have an aha! moment. “I think your son might be haunted by malevolent spirits. There’s some weird vibe emitting from him that I can’t quite identify. Maybe whatever it is is beginning to lash out; starting with those closest to him.”

  “MATSUDA!” yelled Soichiro, voice echoing off the walls of the near-empty halls. He forced himself to calm down, taking several deep breaths. That surge of irrational anger and fear had taken even himself by surprise. “I think you need to dial back that imagination of yours. There are some things a person should remain quiet about. You got that?”

  “Yes, Chief,” agreed Matsuda, tucking his head down as they resumed their walk to interrogation room two. “I understand I got a bit enthusiastic back there.”

  Soichiro felt a little bit bad about yelling at Matsuda like that, but acknowledging the existence of yokai, ghosts, gods, and whatever else only ever spelt trouble. If Matsuda legitimately saw ghosts, then it would be in his best interests to not tell anyone. And as for Light, he was sure his son is capable of handling whatever was going on; he didn’t need the added stress and trauma of bringing up a past that should remain buried.

  The rest of their walk continued in silence.

  Now standing in front of the door to interrogation room two, Soichiro paused, hand hovering over the doorknob. He looked towards Mogi, Sanami, and Matsuda.

  “Am I allowed to take Light straight home, or is he still needed here?” asked Soichiro, hoping for the former.

  “Oh, of course, you guys can leave right away,” answered Sanami, smiling sympathetically. “Besides, I don’t think your son has any information we don’t already know,” Matsuda looked like he was about to comment, but Sanami started dragging him away. Without turning around, she quickly informed Soichiro. “Matsuda and I are heading down to the control room to communicate our findings with the rest of the staff.”

   Soichiro sighed a breath of relief. Matsuda may mean well, and he always tries to be helpful, but at the same time, he’s impulsive, with his words and actions often bordering on lunacy. 

  Now it was just himself and Mogi left standing in the hallway. Soichiro looked at his friend of almost two decades and wondered what was causing Mogi to act so odd. ‘Cause while Mogi had never been the most eloquent speaker, he rarely ever got this bad unless something was weighing heavily on his psyche.

  “If there’s anything you need to talk about, Mogi, I’m always here to lend an ear.” 

  “I think you have enough to worry about, without including me,” mumbled Mogi, avoiding eye-contact. “Though I would like to request some additional time off; more than I have taken already. I realised I’m not quite in the right mind-set since…”

  Oh! Right. His mother died about two weeks ago. I almost forgot, thought Soichiro as he clicked into what Mogi was trying to tell him. And the funeral services were held last Saturday, too.

  “I’ll schedule you to have the rest of the week off,” stated Soichiro, agreeing to extend Mogi’s leave. “Afterwards we’ll reassess.”

  “Thanks,” said Mogi, with a small smile that didn’t last long. “Also, considering everything, I’d understand if you were to recommend to the higher-ups if I was permanently dismissed-”

  “Stop, Mogi! That’s not going to happen,” interrupted Soichiro, gripping the taller man’s shoulder as a sign of comfort. “For now, finish up the rest of your shift and then go home. Got it?”

  “... got it,” agreed Mogi, before leaving.

  What was that all about? thought Soichiro with a shake of his head. Forget it. Mogi’s right. Best not to dwell on other people’s problems when I have enough of my own. I should see how Light is holding up. Don’t know why I keep getting distracted.

  Now isn’t that just a straight-up lie, taunted a tiny voice in Soichiro’s head. You don’t want to face your own failure as a parent… again. You're a damn coward, that’s what you are.

  Pushing away those thoughts, Soichiro steels his nerves and enters the interrogation room. Light is sitting down in the chair furthest from the door; his spine hunched over the table, head resting on folded arms. Soichiro noticed that Light wasn’t wearing shoes and that his attire consisted of sweatpants and a white t-shirt; items Soichiro was certain he had seen in the lost and found bin at some point. Light’s clothes and shoes must have been collected as evidence.

  Soichiro cleared his throat to let Light know he was there before he approached. Light glanced up at him with raw, puffy eyes. He had obviously been crying, but Soichiro wasn’t about to comment on it. Especially after Light hung his head down in shame. 

  “Dad, I-” started Light, sounding as though he was out of breath. “I'm so sorry. It’s all my fault. Shiori would still be here if I hadn’t been so careless.”

  Light’s voice sounded so small and scared. Soichiro was taken aback by the vulnerability in his response, since he had rarely ever known Light to act that way. Soichiro didn’t know what he could do to make this better.

  Soichiro crouched down so that his head was level with Light’s, despite his knees cracking in protest. He reached forward and pushed a few strands of hair out of Light’s eyes. Keeping his hand cupped against the side of his son's head, Soichiro noticed a hand-size red mark on his left cheek. Before he could dwell on it any further, Light leaned heavily into Soichiro’s palm, seeking as much comfort as he could. 

  “I want Shiori back,” mumbled Light, quietly as he looked up at him.

  Soichiro frowned. 

  What does Light think I’m capable of doing? I can’t raise the dead, thought Soichiro. Or is he asking me to tell him it’s not his fault? Should I tell him that? Or should I just wait it out and listen?

  “I caught a glimpse of her face moments before she hit the ground,” continued Light, before Soichiro could reach a decision. Instead he quietly noted how cold his son’s skin was beneath his fingers. “There were no emotions; nothing. It was like she didn’t care that she was falling. I should have done better. I’m the one that put her in that situation.”

  “What do you think you did to cause this?” asked Soichiro, genuinely curious.

  It took Soichiro half a millisecond for his brain to catch up to his mouth and realise how callous that question sounded. Before he had a chance to correct himself, Light continued speaking.

  “Shiori and I found, uh… it was something,” said Light, seemingly not acknowledging Soichiro’s verbal faux pas. His son sounded so very lost and confused; like huge gaps in his memory were missing. “And then Takada showed up. And we were joking about-… about…” Light looked increasingly frustrated before giving up. “And then Shiori went home, and I got worried because… because… um-”

   Were the three of them doing drugs? questioned Soichiro with a serious frown.

  Soichiro knew this too would be a callous thing to say, but memory lapses this bad are something to be very concerned about. Especially since Light isn’t normally like this.

  Suddenly, Light wrapped his arms around Soichiro in a desperate, clinging hug. Soichiro was so taken aback by the bizarre behaviour, that his first response was to shove his son away from him. This time he repeated his earlier question aloud.

  “Were you doing any drugs?” 

  Light looked at Soichiro in shock over such an accusation.

  “No,” answered Light, his eyes watering slightly before getting it back under control; along with the rest of his body language.

  “Okay,” answered Soichiro, deciding to believe Light for now. “I still think you made some dumb decisions. I don’t like some of the people you chose to involve yourself with tonight. Though at the same time I want you to understand you are not at fault for other people’s actions. You know what I’m saying?”

  Light solemnly nodded.

  “Good,” said Soichiro, gruffly as he headed towards the door. “Let’s go home. I’ll call school tomorrow, so you can have the day off to rest.”

  “I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” said Light, as he stood up and reluctantly followed. “I don’t want Mom to know about what happened.”

  “I’ll have to tell her about Shiori,” explained Soichiro, trying to be both fair and understanding. Light may not feel up to talking about tonight's events, but he can’t withhold too much information from his wife. “But I’ll omit the part about Takada under the condition you stop seeing her. Do you understand why?”

  “Yes,” answered Light, looking at his feet. His slumped posture made him look shockingly small.

  Soichiro was reminded of a much younger Light; a happier Light.  

 Looking at Light’s remorseful expression, Soichiro considered explaining how he didn’t blame him. It’s just that age gaps that large at this time in his life came with a lot of problems, such as potential child-grooming and future abuse. But then again, Light is smart; he probably doesn’t need to be told such basic information. 

  Soichiro led Light out of the building. Once they were in the car, he noticed that Light was staring at him strangely.

  “What is it, Light?” asked Soichiro.

  “Dad, are you aware that you just came to work wearing pajamas?” asked Light, with raised eyebrows, as he pointedly stared at Soichiro’s blue and white striped pajamas.

  I knew I forgot something, thought Soichiro, exasperated before eyeing his son's own attire. At least, I didn’t have to walk out of the police station barefoot.

  End Flashback

  That had been a stressful night. Luckily, it had been an open-and-shut case. Takada’s testimony had established that Shiori had committed suicide after Light had taken her along on their date.

  It was obvious, Light felt guilty. And in the end, Soichiro didn’t have the heart to scold him too much. Especially after being denied attendance for Shiori's funeral.

  “It appears as though there’s a reasonable amount of suspicion for three of our four suspects,” said L, continuing the original conversation; as if the conversation, involving Light and Takada’s dating history, hadn’t occurred. “I have also been able to observe Yuri Kagami a bit while tailing Light; she definitely has a crush on Light, along with a majority of the student body, sad as that may be. She is also a very poor liar and has a tendency to give in to peer pressure; I’m ninety percent certain she isn’t pro-Kira and only said that because it’s the popular choice,” L paused as he considered his next move going forward. “Tell Okita to head back to headquarters; Maki will be dropping Kagami and taking over his post. Inform both Maki, and Moji to make contact with their respective suspects; have them question those two thoroughly and remind them to use their fake names. Afterwards, step back and watch what the suspects do. Tail them and make sure not to get caught. I’m going to do the same with Light. I think he may have seen my wire, so I will be removing it in order to gain his trust.”

  “Alright,” agreed Soichiro, as Aizawa called in L’s new instructions.

  Soichiro was feeling so much fear and stress coursing through him; he could swear that his hair was getting greyer by the second. He knew that Light’s kitsune heritage was becoming more and more apparent, but was he a monster?

  Soichiro couldn’t recall anything in myths that would allow Light to murder people the way Kira does; that information made him feel a bit better. Still, even if Light is innocent, Soichiro doesn’t know how long he could hide Light’s yokai genetics. These murders called for a thorough investigation, and Light was already displaying some unusual behaviours that were calling attention to his vulpine nature.

  “Are we just going to ignore how a simple practice match turned into a full-out tennis game complete with an empire, a line judge, and illegal gambling amongst the spectators?” asked Ide, truly puzzled. “How does that even happen?”

~~~~~~~~~

  “SACHIKO! Where are you going?!” cried Kuzunoha, looking at her oldest and dearest friend with fear in her eyes. “You must stay here. Where it’s safe.”

  “You want me to run and cower in the Spirit Realm. You want me to abandon my children,” said Sachiko, crossing her arms, an angry expression darkening her features. “I’m not like you.”

  “Fine, go back to your family,” said Kuzunoha, through clenched teeth. “Still, it won’t do anyone any good when you cease to exist. Lamashtu may not be a threat to you, but this Kira person is. Going back presents a very real danger to you... I don't want you to die.”

  “I know there’s a risk, but my children still need me,” replied Sachiko, more gently as she realized that she was being a little harsh on the woman that was like a sister to her. Truth be told, Sachiko was scared too, but she couldn’t handle being parted from her loved ones for so long. They needed her, and she needed them.

  “I still need you though, and so does your mother. Do you think Memine wants to see her only child die? Her darling kitten,” retorted Kuzunoha, angrily. Despite her tone, her hands were gentle as they cupped Sachiko’s face. “Don’t you realize that our husband being a police chief puts you in danger? Kira is now targeting those on either side of the law; he could go after you due to your association with someone who opposes him. Don’t you understand?” Sachiko could hear the poorly concealed pain and fear in her voice. “It’s not like leaving was my choice either. Inari made-”

  “Inari didn’t make you do anything. She’s not even alive anymore. When is that ever going to get through to you?” asked Sachiko, not letting Kuzunoha feed her any bullshit excuses. “And even if she was, she never cared about you,” Sachiko paused before continuing in a more somber tone. “You made a choice, and it was to run. And it wasn’t entirely about the demon chasing you, was it?”

  A look of sadness and shame crossed Kuzunoha’s delicate features; features that reminded her so much of her Light. As both a friend and mother, Sachiko was compelled to comfort her. Hugging her sister close to her chest, Sachiko felt Kuzunoha’s tears soaking her shirt. They sat like this for several minutes before Sachiko pulled away. 

  “You were afraid Soichiro would start to hate you eventually; that he wouldn't get over you being a kitsune,” said Sachiko, not allowing Kuzunoha to continue lying to herself; yes, she was afraid of Lamashtu, but that wasn’t the only thing she feared. “I understand your fear.”

  “How could you?” whispered Kuzunoha, voice choked with tears. “Inari created us… and then discarded us. All because Tamamo-no-Mae fucked up.”

  “Watch your language,” scolded Sachiko, gently. 

  “But how were Tamamo-no-Mae’s actions my fault?” continued Kuzunoha, as though Sachiko hadn’t just interrupted her. “Why was every kitsune punished as if they were to blame for that yako’s rebellion?”

  “You really shouldn’t use such awful names to describe someone,” criticized Sachiko, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Calling a kitsune a field fox is rather uncouth. “Kuzunoha… have you ever thought Inari was not a good person?”

  “Of course. I know she wasn’t a good person. She was a god,” defended Kuzunoha. “The values of good and evil are different for beings that have been elevated to a higher plane of existence. In the end, Tamamo-no-Mae must have forced her hand.”

  Wow… As much as I love my sister, I am grateful she didn't have a hand in raising my son, thought Sachiko, with a grimace. Though note to self, monitor Light for any borderline psychotic behaviour that could be inherited. 

  “You do realise that as much as Tamamo-no-Mae was out of line for her various attempts on Inari’s life, that Inari herself was no angel in this?” started Sachiko, hesitantly. She knew that reminding Kuzunoha of the past was going to hurt her; it always did. But anything is better than living in willful ignorance; a person can never heal if they continue such poor coping techniques. “Inari was losing control over one of her creations, and instead of setting her free from her service, like Tamamo-no-Mae had wanted, she punishes all the kitsune by exposing your weakness to the entire populace of the spirit realm.”

  Whenever Sachiko truly thought about her sister’s lineage, she was oftentimes baffled by the history of Inari and the kitsunes. There had been nothing but hatred displayed by her actions towards the kitsunes, and yet a majority refused to see it for what it was. It often left Sachiko feeling deeply unsettled. It was obvious that Inari had created the kitsunes to be convenient servants/warriors/pawns for her own gains. But, for reasons Sachiko couldn’t understand, Inari had given the kitsunes free-will. Especially after going through such lengths to make sure they didn’t possess it in the first place.

  Honestly, it was impressive – how Inari had managed to create such a powerful lifeform that lacked any self-determinism. This had been a nigh impossible feat to accomplish. Oftentimes, life will not be contained; sentient beings will always want to make their own choices and yet, somehow, Inari had bypassed this natural instinct. Perhaps, Inari had accomplished this, because at the time she was the primordial ancestor to the emperor. This meant that she had more power than any other gods at the time. And it was her duty to protect Japan and its warriors, which had led to the creation of the kitsune. She had made them to be incredibly powerful in magic, charisma, and beauty. But as soon as Inari decided to give them a modicum of free-will, she had weakened their magical abilities. That way they could never surpass her. That's apparently why so many had turned to stone at Fushimi Inari Taisha. They no longer had enough power to maintain their life-energies.

  Unfortunately for Inari, Tamamo-no-Mae had somehow retained her full powers. And that girl was more than powerful enough to go toe-to-toe with any god.

  Many spirits, including the kitsune, viewed Tamamo-no-Mae as an irredeemable traitor and murderer. And while Sachiko would never consider Tamamo-no-Mae a paragon of virtue, she still looked at what that kitsune had done as something more akin to self-defense than anything else. Unfortunately, those that fight monsters risk becoming one themselves. And then there was the fact that her actions did result in an entire species becoming enslaved… and now it was gradually becoming extinct.

  “I’m sorry for everything that you have gone through, and I understand that you are afraid to lose me,” said Sachiko, in a soothing tone as her arms tightened around Kuzunoha's narrow waist. “But I have to get back to my children. I’ll admit I’m scared; I wouldn't have gone with you if I wasn’t. But my children still need me. Sayu is still so young,” though Sachiko hadn't seen any indication of emerging bakeneko abilities with Sayu, so it may skip a generation. “And Light, he’s in such a vulnerable situation right now, and I don’t think you want him to ever go through what you've gone through.”

  Saying that may have been a bit manipulative, but there was more truth to it than either of them would like to admit. When Inari had exposed the kitsunes’ weaknesses, the spirit community were quick to take advantage. They immediately regarded the kitsunes as sub-human; since all it took was an enchanted piece of jewelry, and their mind was no longer their own. So many people began trapping and keeping them as personal slaves. Growing up, Sachiko oftentimes heard kitsunes referred to as pretty porcelain dolls by other yokai; it was a derogatory statement meant to dehumanize.

  “It takes a lot more to kill a kitsune than a bakeneko,” argued Kuzunoha.

  “We both know that for a kitsune, agelessness and immortality is often more of a curse than a gift,” replied Sachiko, pulling away from her sister’s vice-grip hug; she kept her hands on Kuzunoha’s arms though, so as to provide some tactile comfort. “Besides, it’s not like I’m made of glass,” Sachiko flashed a brief smile. “I have to go back home. I came here with you, because I was frightened… and because I love you. But there’s no excuse for abandoning my babies. They’re going to need my guidance.”

  “Especially, Light. He is going to need you,” admitted Kuzunoha, though there was an air of regret in her voice; Sachiko could almost hear the unsaid words of ‘he would have needed me if things had been different’. She then looked up at her with a watery smile. “We still friends?”

  “Of course, we are,” replied Sachiko, reassuringly. “You’re my sister, and that’s not ever going to change.”

Chapter Text

  After exiting the locker rooms, Light immediately checked his phone. Sayu seemed to be in Shibuya’s shopping district, likely hanging out with friends. Still, he called Sayu’s cell-phone to make sure she was safe. He began to panic when his little sister didn’t pick up right away; she answered on the fifth ring.

  “What’s up, Light?” greeted Sayu, cheerfully; Light could hear her friends giggling in the background. She obviously had him on speakerphone. Which might actually be a good thing considering the headache that was beginning to form behind his temples. He now has a reason to do the same thing back.

  “Nothing really, just checking up on you,” replied Light, stopping under the shade of a sycamore tree. “Have you encountered anyone who was acting strangely? Or made you feel uncomfortable?”

  “No one immediately comes to mind… Oh, there was that student ‘Hideki Ryuuga’,” replied Sayu, laughing; Light was almost certain that she was using the air quotes gesture. “He really was quite strange. I met him after the entrance ceremony. Which, by the way, did you see me in the audience?”

  “Of course, I did,” laughed Light. “It’s kind of hard to ignore someone shouting ‘go, Light!’ while clapping like a seal; especially when my greeting speech was nowhere near good enough to warrant such a response.” 

  “It was better than that other guy’s,” criticised Sayu, before getting back on topic. “So yeah, after the ceremony he seemed lonely, so I gave him a hug and talked with him for a bit.”

  “That’s all?” asked Light, relieved. And a little embarrassed. “Well, that explains why I could smell your perfume on him.”

  “Wait! You sniffed him? What were you two doing?!” asked Sayu, shocked. “Actually, hold on for a sec,” there was a pause as she checked an app on her phone. “And why are you leaving the To-Oh campus just now?”

  “‘Ryuuga-san’ and I had a tennis match,” explained Light, feeling even more embarrassed than before, but for different reasons. “He won. Apparently, he was once a junior champion back in England.”

  “He was?” asked Sayu, sounding so incredulous that Light had to stifle a laugh. “Looking the way he does, I wouldn’t have thought… Are you sure?!”

  “That’s what he told me, so… no; I’m not sure,” replied Light, grinning when Sayu broke into another fit of laughter. “But he is pretty talented both academically and athletically.”

  “So, do you like him? Are you two doing the whole yaoi thing?” asked Sayu suddenly, causing Light to choke. “Because I’m like totally cool with that as long as you’re happy. Wait! Are you uke or sem-”

  “Bye, Sayu,” interrupted Light, as he ended the call. He could feel his face heat up with embarrassment.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Light was about to resume walking when suddenly someone grabbed his arm. Turning around, he saw ‘L’ perched precariously on a park bench.

  “Hmm… So that fit you threw was all because of some perfume and being an overprotective brother. Interesting,” said ‘L’, with a thoughtful look. “So Light-kun, are we friends?”

  “Yeah, sure,” answered Light, casually. He speculated that ‘L’ wanted to question him, so he may as well take some semblance of control while it was still an option. “But before you proceed in questioning me, can you arrange for someone I know that’s on the task force to confirm your identity?”

  “Yes, I can,” replied ‘L’, as he took a cell-phone out of the pocket of his baggy jeans. “Aihara, can you put Yonjuro Asahi on the phone?”

  There was a brief pause as ‘L’ waited for the aforementioned person to get on the phone.

  “I need you to explain a few things for Light-kun here,” said ‘L’, as Light did his best to wait patiently. “I’m handing the phone over now.” 

  That was the only warning ‘L’ gave before tossing the phone at Light, causing him to almost drop it. Light shot the other man a dirty look before putting the phone up to his ear.

  “Light?”

  It was his father’s voice.

  “Light?” asked Soichiro again, when Light didn’t immediately reply. Truly, hearing his father’s voice had eased away most of Light’s remaining fear.

  “Hi, Dad,” greeted Light, feeling a load of tension leave the muscles in his shoulders. “So, ‘Ryuuga-san’ here is really L?”

 “Yes, he is,” confirmed Soichiro, before gently requesting his son’s co-operation. “L will likely want to ask you some questions. Please, be forthcoming and honest with your answers.”

  “I will. Thanks, Dad. Bye,” replied Light, hanging up and giving L his phone back. “Do you want to go get a coffee together?”

~~~~~~~~~

  “I don’t like coffee,” argued L, silently noting how Light’s eyes briefly gleamed red.

  L frowned. He recalled Beyond Birthday’s claims of possessing shinigami eyes. If that were the case, then shinigami eyes likely caused red irises. And the word 'shinigami' appear to be a reoccurring theme in the Kira case. Those suicides that Kira had caused, had involved notes that had hidden messages, which mentioned shinigamis. This led to another revelation; Shinigami love apples, and Light’s room was almost constantly littered with chunks of apples. 

~~~~~~~~~

  Meanwhile, Light had to push down his feelings of frustration. Light wondered if L was being this difficult on purpose. Not that it matters, since Light knew that if he wanted to prove his innocence, he’d have to act nice and co-operative, despite the other man’s antics.

  “Really? I’d thought a guy like you would thrive off it,” teased Light, poking at the dark shadows under L’s eyes. “Well, I’m sure any café would have a variety of beverages to order from. Come on.”

  Light started walking away as L hopped off the bench; quickening his pace ‘til he was walking beside him. Without further discussion, Light had decided to head towards his favourite coffee shop in Aoyama. 

  “So, why do you and your sister have trackers on each other?” asked L, a genuine hint of curiosity entering his tone. 

  “Well, that’s sort of a difficult question to answer,” muttered Light, feeling overwhelmed.

  “Try,” requested L, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. Light briefly wondered if his nervousness was that obvious.

  “Alright…”

   Flashback; Two Months, Four Days Ago

  February 1, 2020 

  Light had just gotten home from school and was getting ready for cram school. Heading downstairs, he came across his mother and sister watching the news. He was absent-mindedly listening in.

  “The same assailant who had attacked six people at a busy shopping district in Shibuya yesterday has struck again,” announced a reporter, standing in front of a nearby day-care centre. “Taking ten people hostage at this day-care centre; his captives include both children and teachers along with two police officers. The police have now identified the suspect as forty-two year old, Kuro Otoharada, currently unemployed.”

  Light remembered his father mentioning that he was going to that same day-care for a short educational demonstration. And judging by Sachiko and Sayu’s expressions, they remembered that conversation as well. Light could feel his chest tighten with anxiety as he sat down next to Sayu. His father had been the one to arrest Otoharada ten years prior, so Soichiro's life was at greater risk than anyone else’s.

  Coming to a decision, Light opened his phone and connected to the internet. He searched up the Kira webpage that the vigilante was known to be frequenting this week. He typed ‘Kuro Otoharada, channel 4 news now’ into a suggestion box.

  “Wait, we’re seeing something here; looks like there’s movement at the front doors,” said the news reporter, as the footage revealed several children and adults exiting the building. “The hostages are coming out, and they all look to be alive,” the camera panned over the former hostages as the last of them left the building, and Light felt Sayu hug him tightly when their father’s face was shown amongst them. “The special forces are now moving in. We don’t know yet if the suspect has been arrested. Huh, yeah… okay, we now have confirmation. The suspect has been found dead inside. I repeat, the suspect is now dead. The special forces are denying any involvement. Is this the work of Kira? Statements from hostages say that the assailant just collapsed.”

  Light just sat there numb for several moments; it wasn’t Kira he was thinking about. He didn’t like the idea of asking someone like Kira for help, but he was glad to have his father still alive. He could have died today. But what if this happened again? What if it was his mother or Sayu in that position?

  “Light. Light! LIGHT!” called Sachiko, trying to get Light’s attention. “If you don’t leave now, you’re going to be late for cram school.”

  “Of course,” said Light, disentangling himself from Sayu’s embrace. “Sorry, Mom.”

  “No worries, it’s completely understandable,” said Sachiko, as she walked Light to the front door. “Are you alright?”

  “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” asked Light, rhetorically. He quickly forced a smile on his face.

  Before his mother could reply, Light had already started walking away. During the entire trip to cram school, Light couldn’t get his thoughts off how he may have participated in a murder. He felt mildly nauseous as an overwhelming sense of guilt crashed into him, but really what were the chances that Kira had gotten his message out of thousands. It was more than likely that it was just a coincidence. Still those troubling thoughts wouldn't leave him. Even when he was sitting in the classroom listening to the teacher, his thoughts were still on it.

  There was a brief break after the practice exams so they could be marked. During that time, a commotion between Masaru and Sudou had occurred. No one really paid attention to it; everyone knew Sudou was a bully and that his current target for the past few weeks had been Masaru.

  Honestly, what is wrong with people like Sudou? They’re not really any different than men like Otoharada, thought Light. Hurting and threatening people for little to no reason or reward. Even if they get away with it, how can they handle something like that on their conscience?

  There are so many rotten people in this world, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it, thought Light. Except for Kira. 

  Light knew that he who hunts monsters risks becoming one, but this seemed to be a monster people could use as protection. Self-defense is legal and morally okay if there is no other option. But Light also knew he should never use a site like that ever again, because it isn’t right to wish for a person’s death. Especially when it comes true; it’s just that he had been so scared.

  Getting back the results back from the practice test, he saw that he had gotten a perfect score. With class now over, Light left the building.

  Light was about to head home when a thought came to mind. If he was worried about his family being put in a dangerous situation, then why not take some precautionary measures?

  Going into an electronics shop, Light purchases a set of three trackers. It may seem like an unusual purchase, but knowledge is power, and preparation is survival. A person may not plan on getting kidnapped, lost, or incapacitated in which other people don’t know your location, but it doesn’t hurt to be ready for a worst case scenario.

  Light knew it would be difficult to convince his parents of the merits of this idea and that it definitely seemed to be an over-the-top reaction to the current situation.

  Upon reaching home, Light is immediately greeted by his mother.

  “I wasn’t expecting you home so early,” said Sachiko, surprised. “Are you alright? Do you need to talk?”

  “Oh, no, I’m fine,” answered Light, and before he could head upstairs, his mother held out her hands expectantly. It took a few moments for him to understand her request. 

  “Oh… the results of the nation-wide exams,” said Light, as he rummaged around in his knapsack for the paper with his results. “Here.”

  “Goodness, number one again,” said Sachiko, beaming proudly. “This is your highest score yet.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” replied Light, feeling more uncomfortable about his unusual purchase; he had to keep a perfect façade up, and doing something this paranoid would definitely sully that image. Why did his mother have to look so proud of him? He didn’t really feel like he deserved it; then again, maybe his mother didn’t think so either. She was always reaching for his results, never for him as a person. “I’m going to go upstairs and study. Okay?”

  “As you wish, dear,” replied Sachiko, flashing him a concerned smile. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

  Light ignored the rest of his mother’s statement and closed the door to his bedroom. Locking it, he immediately dumped the contents of his bag onto his bed. Gathering his texts, he headed toward his desk. He was less than five minutes into reading chapter twenty of his English literature textbook when he heard someone fiddling with the door handle before knocking. Judging by the enthusiasm, it was probably Sayu. 

  “Hey, Light,” greeted Sayu, smiling when he opened the door. “Why was your door locked?”

  “No reason,” replied Light, before asking. “What do you need help with this time?”

  “Quadratic equations,” answered Sayu. Light knew she was smart enough to do this sort of stuff by herself; he was beginning to suspect this was a ploy to get him to do her homework for her. Not that he minded, since she seemed to legitimately enjoy spending time with him. “Sorry to interrupt. I know you are studying right now, but I’m like the only one in my class who doesn’t get this stuff. Thanks so much for doing this.”

 “No problem,” replied Light, as he looked over his sister’s homework. 

 “Um… Light, what’s this?” asked Sayu, picking up his most recent purchase.

  “Nothing,” muttered Light, embarrassed by his earlier paranoia. “An impulsive buy.”

  “You. Impulsive,” teased Sayu, with mock shock before reading the package. “These are trackers. Cool.”

  “Well, I was thinking better safe than sorry,” explained Light. “Truthfully, it might be a bit excessive.”

  “I don’t think so,” replied Sayu, honestly. “Are you going to wear one?”

  “That was the plan,” answered Light, relaxing as Sayu validated his feelings. “One for Mom, one for you, and one for me; I don’t think Dad would be allowed to have one on him at work. I just need to install the app and we’re good to go.”

  “Hey, you know I believe these are small enough to be woven into friendship bracelets,” said Sayu, excitedly. “Forget the homework for now. Let's do this. I’ll do the ones for you and Mom and you do the one for me.”

  “What if Mom doesn’t agree? What if they think I’m being paranoid and stupid? I know I’m acting crazy, but truly, I’m just… I’m just really scared,” admitted Light, reluctantly. If it wasn’t his sister sitting in front of him, he wouldn’t have so freely confessed these fears. “And I can’t say anything about it… because I don’t think I could live if I were to ever disappoint Mom and Dad.”

  “Do you honestly think our parents could ever reject you? Or criticize you for how you feel?” asked Sayu. When Light didn’t answer, her gaze turned sympathetic. “I’ll tell them it was my idea.”

  Light gave his sister a small, but genuine smile. He and Sayu had then spent the rest of the night on their little project. Which was trickier than they had initially thought. To be able to fit the tracker inside, it took making a total of six bracelets per person and sewing them together; three on top, three underneath, and a tracker in between before sewing it close. Light had to admit he liked the colours Sayu had picked when making his bracelet; red and pink.

  So with all the equipment set up and ready to go, it was still a few days later before Sayu mentioned ‘her idea’ to their mother. Sachiko had been surprisingly receptive to the idea, even if it was a bit insane.

  End Flashback 

  As Light explained these events to L, he made sure to omit certain key elements. He didn’t mention using the Kira website; not that it truly mattered, since Kira would’ve likely killed Otoharada without his interference. Nor did he say anything about his thoughts or insecurities at the time; as far as anyone knew the tracking bracelets were Sayu’s idea.

  “What an interesting family activity,” said L, after a few moments of deliberation. “Are you and your sister close, Light-kun?”

  “Yeah. I think so,” replied Light, as he opened the café door for L; it was so strange that a guy capable of athletics, such as tennis, to be walking around hunched over like an old man. Was it some sort of ploy? Or an unusual form of scoliosis? “Why do you ask?”

  “I want to know how much I can trust her opinion of you,” answered L, bluntly. “Would she be willing to lie for you?”

  “Perhaps,” replied Light, shrugging nonchalantly. He knew for a fact that Sayu had been known to lie both to him and for him. “She’s a very honest person for the most part.”

  Sitting in a booth by the window, L and Light took their orders; Light decided on coffee, and L had lemon tea with twelve sugars and a slice of strawberry shortcake. Light raised a questioning eyebrow at his new friend’s sense of taste. How did this guy not have diabetes? 

  “If you can prove to me that you’re not Kira, then I’d like to have you on our task force,” said L, stacking several unused cream containers. Light was rather overjoyed by L’s offer, but was too skeptical to respond. A couple of moments passed by in complete silence before L continued. “Would you mind submitting yourself to a test of your deductive reasoning skills?”

  “Sure, why not?” responded Light, excited over being able to prove himself to the world-famous detective. “Let’s do it.”

  “Good. We can begin by looking at these,” explained L, as he laid three photos on the table. “Photographs of three notes written by prison inmates while under Kira’s control prior to their deaths; none of this information has been made public. You can take as long as you like to look these over, then tell me what you think.” 

  As Light looked over each photo, L watched him with an uncomfortable level of intensity; it was incredibly distracting. Pushing his feelings aside, Light studied the photos, knowing that there had to be something there if L was testing him. He decided to flip the photos over to look at the print number; this will at least give him a chronological order to work from. 

  He flipped the photos over again, so he could evaluate the messages on the front. Light then noticed something unusual when he lined the messages side by side: L, do you know? Love Apples, Gods of Death. That doesn’t sound correct. If he just swapped two of the photos, he’d have a more cohesive statement; L, do you know? Gods of Death love apples. But why was it written out of chronological order?

  “That is incorrect,” said L, making Light realize he had been vocalizing his thoughts; how could a person who was accusing him of being a murderer make him feel so relaxed? “There are actually four photographs. When we add this one, it reads, ‘L, do you know? Gods of Death, who love apples, have red hands’.”

  “That’s not correct,” replied Light, puzzled. His analysis wasn’t entirely wrong, since he was correct about the chronological order being wrong; he just didn’t deduce that there was a fourth photo. But there was a bigger issue to address. “There is no ‘who’ in that statement. It reads, ‘L, do you know? Gods of Death love apples have red hands’. This would indicate that Kira has the grammatical skills of a caveman.” 

  Actually, the grammar wasn't that bad, but it did irk Light a bit. Meeting L's gaze once again, it felt as though L’s eyes were slowly dissecting him as he looked at him with an ever-deepening frown marring his pale face. Light looked back down at his cup of coffee, so he didn’t have to meet L’s oddly intense gaze. 

  “I apologize if my answer was not to your standards,” replied Light, after the silence had dragged on for a good five minutes. “I hope that you won’t rescind your offer of having me join the task force.”

  “Why?” asked L, abruptly.

  “Why what?” asked Light, tilting his head in confusion.

  “Why do you want to join the task force so badly?” clarified L.

~~~~~~~~~

  L started stacking sugar cubes as he waited for Light to answer his question.

  This little coffee date had left L baffled. Completely and utterly baffled that this teenager had seen and pointed out the errors in his gambit. And all without revealing himself to be Kira. There was no denying that Yagami-san’s son was very quick-witted.

  Despite this, Light was taking a very long time to answer one of L’s more simple questions.

  “Why do you want to join the task force?” repeated L, after the silence had gone on so long he legitimately wondered if Light had forgotten.

  “My Dad is on the task force,” replied Light, as if that explained everything.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I look up to him, and I want him to be proud of me. Assisting him in catching Kira will do that,” explained Light, as he fiddled with his empty coffee mug. “Also, if I’m on the team, I can look after him; he has a tendency of neglecting his own health when working on difficult cases.”

  L was now outright bewildered. He was finding it increasingly difficult to bridge the connection between Light and Kira. It was like putting together a puzzle that had half the pieces replaced with a different puzzle that had the same picture, but was cut differently. Light fit parts of the description so well, but other parts had to be jabbed in haphazardly. L was certain Light was intelligent enough to go toe-to-toe with him in an educational setting. He was also very charismatic with the ladies. And considering his relationship history, he was very immature and possibly narcissistic; the longest relationship that kid had, besides Misa Amane, was one week. And several of those women were considerably older and made L question the nature of the relationship; some sort of Oedipus Complex mixed in there.

  Then there were the puzzle pieces that refused to fit, no matter how L positioned them. Light was much more patient and calm than Kira seemed to be. He only acted rashly when he was being an overprotective brother. He also seems to legitimately love his family and worries about their safety. But was it all an act to fool the task force? Is Kira really such a good actor? 

  Why were there so many contradictions when it came to Light? thought L, frustrated. There were only four people who could be Kira based on Raye Penber’s death. Light was the most likely suspect. He was a student, he had connections with the Japanese police, and Penber was investigating him at the time just before his death.

  “You’ve been having nightmares,” stated L, finding a new line of questioning that may subconsciously reveal something. “What have they been about?”

  Light blinked owlishly at L. 

  “How do you know about my sleeping habits?” asked Light, looking both disgusted and disturbed by L.

  “You’ve been sleepwalking lately,” said L, expanding upon his own first inquiry. “Last night you were running throughout the neighbourhood in your underwear. I believe they were black boxers. And you also said something about chasing pandas.”

  “Oh, fuck,” groaned Light, his face heating up with embarrassment. 

  “So, you can see why I’m curious?” asked L, smirking. “Can you please explain?”

  “I don’t see the point, but fine, I’ll tell you about it,” replied Light, trying to sound indifferent. “I was fleeing a monster when I came across a panda; kinda looked like you. He then proceeded to drag me to Los Angeles, where I met Mello and Matt, who were discussing B and the Necronomicon. And this-”

  “Wait,” interrupted L, perplexed. “How do you know B? Or Matt and Mello for that matter?”

  “They were characters in my dream,” replied Light, with uncertainty. He sounded confused by L’s interest. “If I’ve met them before at some point, then I don’t consciously remember them.”

  L took a moment to silently evaluate Light’s words, actions, and appearance. He was beginning to think that Light may be a being of supernatural origin. L was almost positive that he himself was some sort of vampire. As Beyond once said, that’s what happens when humans mate with creatures of death. Unfortunately, his twin brother, Beyond Birthday, also known as B, knew more about it than he did, though; no matter how L searched for further information about his own origins, he could never find anything. L knew Beyond could always see more; and whatever that more was, L was almost glad he wouldn't ever find out. Whatever Beyond had seen had likely driven him mad. He knew that his brother had met their deadbeat, dead dad at some point and believed him to be a shinigami, hence the shinigami eyes he apparently possessed.

  So as L followed this line of thought, he noted once again that Light had very unusual eyes; they seemed to change colours with his mood. It seems that these mercurial eyes were often the colour of amber whenever he was happy, brown when sad, yellow when scared, and red when angry or annoyed.

  Beyond had red eyes.

  Light had red eyes.

  Red eyes. Red eyes. Red eyes. Red eyes.

  Shaking his head, L mentally berated himself for thinking that; it had no bearing on this case. Still, L continued to take note of Light’s appearance and the fact that he bore little to no resemblance to the rest of his family… though whenever he managed a real, genuine smile, it looked like he may have inherited his father’s dimples. Although, it was rare to see a smile from this boy that didn't seem forced.

  Could he be a changeling? Perhaps. And if so, he may possess the gift of premonitions. That means L could use him to find the two runaways from Wammy House. This was of particular importance, since Mello and Matt were both very brilliant, and that could be a very dangerous trait when left unattended. They'd been gone for over six months now.

  “Do you know where in LA they were located?” asked L, a determined expression on his face. 

  “895 Clydown Avenue,” answered Light, seemingly recalling that tidbit of information effortlessly. 

  Texting Wedy, L sent out a message reading, ‘Check out 895 Clydown Ave, LA. Mello and Matt may be there. Also look into the B situation’. After he was finished with his messaging, he looked up and saw that Light was watching him with a questioning look in his eyes.

  “I guess this concludes our interrogation for the time being. I’ll be in touch with you,” said L, hopping to his feet and getting ready to leave when Light grabbed his hand, bringing him to a halt. “What is it, Light-kun?”

   “Well, I was wondering if you were serious about being friends?” asked Light, hesitantly. “‘Cause I was wondering if you’d like to join me and my sister for supper? I’m making chirashizushi.”

  “Uh, why not,” agreed L, as he and Light exited the café. “I’m supposed to continue watching you for the next four hours anyway.”

  “You said that you were going to leave, though,” criticised Light before jokingly adding. “Were you planning on spying on me from the bushes?”

  “Yeah,” replied L, without a hint of shame or embarrassment.

  Looking up at the red-streaked sky, L saw it was just beginning to get dark.

Chapter Text

  Returning home with L had been… interesting.

  L told him about various places he had travelled. The story he told about a case in South Korea was actually quite funny... with the exception of the seven people who died. 

  Even still, Light could not hold back his laughter.

  “You are rather morbid, aren’t you?” said L, in contemplation. Though there was also a hint of playfulness in his tone.

  “It’s just that one of your ‘experts’ managed to find a vial of mystery liquid from an abandoned hospital. Right?” said Light, trying to get laughter under control as L nodded. “And this same hospital had a known history of unethical experimentation years prior to this investigation. And yet, instead of notifying anyone of this discovery, he decides to open it. This causes everyone to get infected with K’s virus,” Light pauses briefly as his composure starts to slip again. “And the icing on the cake is that this ‘expert’ was called Agent F… F of all things.”

  Light starts laughing again. While L just stands there, looking totally perplexed… and perhaps, mildly concerned.

    He’s so cute, thought Light, fondly. I just want to boop his nose.

  “I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation,” said L, suddenly looking very serious. “Several people died, and if we hadn’t managed to contain the virus, it would have killed many more.”

  “I understand the severity. Those poor people didn’t deserve to die like that. I’m not laughing about that. It’s the fact that F was a complete idiot and makes me question your whole alphabet, L,” teased Light, as he laughed at his own lame joke. “It doesn’t hurt to have a sense of humour.”

  Besides, aren’t you the one that was teasing me about being a serial killer? questioned Light, tilting his head. All while believing I may in fact be one. 

  “I guess there’s no harm in that,” replied L, after a moment of silent deliberation. “What do you think about studies of the mind and psyche?”

  For the rest of the walk home, L and Light’s conversation centred around psychology and serial killers. When they began discussing the psychodynamic theory and the biological traits theory, it led to a somewhat heated debate.

  “So you’re saying that neglectful mothers cause serial killers?” taunted L, clearly baiting him. Light could tell that he was trying to get a rise out of him to gauge his reaction. “This makes me wonder how you are so popular with women with that misogynistic attitude.”

  “You are purposely misinterpreting my meaning,” said Light, with a huff as he calmly called L out. “What I said was that neglect of a child during the infancy stages can cause sociopathy; I made no mention to either parent, just that women are more expected to provide care for their children. That’s societal expectation at work, not me. Plus, sociopathy by itself doesn’t necessarily create a killer, but that lack of empathy is a strike against them. Especially, when you start adding in other real-life mental health problems and compound that with stress and resentment.”

  There was a brief silence as L seemed to evaluate his answer. Light wished they could go back to their earlier conversation. It was really nice getting to know more about this weird gremlin of a man. This current debate felt like he was being evaluated by L again.

  Well, if he’s going to keep thinking about Kira, then I'm going to talk about it, thought Light with determination.

  “I don’t think the biological traits theories apply to Kira,” said Light, knowing that was what L was looking for: Kira’s opinions on Kira. “But psychodynamic theory doesn’t make sense either. Kira doesn’t seem to display actions that are driven by their id personality; there’s no sort of violent or sexual pleasure to be had by killing from a distance using heart failure. The Kira killings seem to be more driven by the superego, though their values and morals are rather questionable.”

  “Kira is childish and hates to lose,” said L, appearing to ignore Light’s entire assessment. 

  “I was personally thinking Kira was more narcissistic and possessing a god complex,” said Light, taken aback by L’s comment. “But childish and hates to lose is applicable as well.”

  Because L thinks I'm Kira, this is clearly his opinion of me, thought Light, feeling rather offended. 

  “Is Light-kun upset with me?” 

  “No.”

  “If it will help, I’m sorry if you happen to not be Kira,” said L, resting a comforting hand on Light’s shoulder as he pulled something out of his pocket. “Here, have a strawberry.”

~~~~~~~~~

  L had to admit that he was pleasantly surprised by Light’s thought process. Their conversation together has proven two things; 1) Light is a genius, and 2) Light is absolutely batshit insane. Never before has L ever had anyone laugh at his stories regarding previous cases.

  As Light continued to grin, L smiled in return. Still, he was mildly disturbed by the unusual way Light’s face seemed to contort. It was subtle, but it looked vaguely animalistic. Briefly, L wondered if Light had some underlying medical issue, since upon closer inspection he noticed that parts of his face appeared to be frozen in place; as if it was somehow carved from stone or marble. L made a note-to-self to look into that.

  Got to make sure Light doesn’t have some sort of underlying health problem. Perphaps, nerve damage, like bell’s palsy, thought L; as he held out a strawberry. I need to ensure any potential assets remain in good shape.

  Truthfully, L was already looking forward to a future involving Light. When the investigation is over, L planned on hiring Light as one of his secret operatives; it’s not like he hasn’t done it before. There were plenty of ex-criminals, who were the best in their fields, working under him. His two favourites, Wedy and Aiber, immediately came to mind.

  This line of thought was briefly derailed as Light actually bent down and ate the strawberry out of his hand, teeth grazing his fingers lightly.

  Well, that didn't happen the last time I offered anyone a strawberry. Mogi may have pocketted it, sure, but he didn't eat it, thought L; his eyes giving Light an appreciative once over.  So, wow, for future reference it seems I’ll have to be careful about how I interact with Light. Don't want to give this kid the wrong idea.

~~~~~~~~

  Meanwhile, Light felt his face heat up in embarrassment by what he had just done. 

  Why did I do that? Why did I eat the strawberry out of his hand? questioned Light, feeling stupid. My sister has handed me food before. Yamamoto and Shiori, too… But never before have I acted so weird about it. 

  Light quickly realised that he was lowering his guard around L way too fast. Still, it seemed like L liked him despite his flaws. This seems to have caused Light to grow way too comfortable.

  Releasing a tired sigh, Light quickened his pace while focusing on staring straight ahead at anything that wasn’t L.

 Believe it or not, Light, while exceedingly prideful, was also very much aware of his own failings. Some of which were harder to control than others. His habit of zoning out was fairly easy to control, though his teacher had once thrown a chalk-board eraser at him in frustration because of it. Even the limitation of his facial expressions, which sometimes bordered on the edge of the uncanny valley, could be compensated for. Same could even be said for his abnormally sharp back teeth. But lately, Light was finding it more difficult to hide his flaws as they gradually became worse as he got older. I felt like his own body was betraying him. Like an illusion was gradually shattering. Light knew something was wrong with him, but-

  In the distance, something caught Light’s eye. In front of the Yagami household, Sachiko was getting out of a cab.

  “Mom! You’re home,” greeted Light, as he ran towards her, smiling. “How was your trip?”  

  Light was so relieved to see his mom again. When she left, Light had grown increasingly worried, since something had seemed so horribly off with the suddenness of her leaving, as well as not allowing him to meet her sister. 

  Light was also worried about his own sister. Sayu seemed to be always looking at him with some sort of sadness in her eyes; he was hoping their mother would know what to do about that. 

  “It was fine,” replied Sachiko. She then looked to Light’s left, where L was standing oddly close. “Who's your… um… friend?”

  “I’m Hideki Ryuuga,” answered L, subtly asking Light to lie to his own mother.

  Light briefly wondered if this was another test, or if it was for the safety of those involved in the Kira investigation.

  “We met at the entrance ceremony,” said Light, simply; this didn’t expose L’s cover, nor was he lying.

  Light quickly grabbed his mother’s luggage, so that he’d have an excuse to leave them. That way L could create his backstory without his interference. However, both L's and Sachiko's stares remained on him. It felt like their eyes were trying to dissect him. The intensity left him feeling naked. Light suppressed a shudder. 

  What is up with them? question Light, confused. Like L, I can understand; I’m a suspect and he's a dick-tective. But why is Mom staring at me as if I’m about to spontaneously combust or something. 

  Light was so caught up in his own thoughts that he was surprised when L opened the door for him; he hadn’t noticed him running ahead of him. Before Light could cross the threshold, L grabbed his wrist, halting his movements.

  “You seem nervous,” stated L, whispering in Light’s ear. 

  “I’m perfectly fine,” replied Light, turning his face away from him. 

~~~~~~~~~

  In an upscale condo, a few blocks away from Madame Trevi’s apartment, was another Light Yagami; he belonged to another universe. For the past few months, Light could sense Trevi scrying for his location, but just couldn’t seem to pin-point it exactly. He knew that he needed to get rid of this woman somehow, but he didn’t know her true name; even after his recent team up with B, this had proven to be rather difficult. That white witch apparently knew how to shield her identity from the sight of the shinigamis. 

  The old woman certainly had a few tricks up her sleeve and seemed to know what she was doing when she decided to track him down. Light had to acknowledge that she was a dangerous threat. Luckily, his search of the witch’s personal library all those months ago had been illuminating. Several of her books mentioned how black witches were always stronger than white witches. He had a bond with a demon and was thereby blessed with their powers, while Trevi, a white witch, had to rely on her own innate abilities alone. And Trevi would never willingly put her soul on the line. 

   Flashback; Three Months Ago

  January 5, 2020

  Within his own universe, Light had been repeatedly shot by Matsuda; twice in the lower torso, once in each shoulder, and once in his right hand. He was now running away from the investigation team as Ryuk began writing his name in his personal notebook. Ryuk had finished the first ‘a’ of his surname when they both felt an unusual sensation; it was sort of like a painful static charge combined with the feeling of slowly being disemboweled. 

  Light had briefly woken up to an old woman standing over him with a face marred by confusion and worry. He saw that Gelus’s notebook and Ryuk had somehow appeared here with him. He had no idea where he was and was beginning to float in and out of consciousness. He remembers waking a few times, once in an ambulance, and twice during surgery. Afterwards, he had woken up in a hospital ward, where he found the old woman sitting a few feet away from him; she was faced away from Light and had Gelus’ old notebook in her lap. She was currently conversing with Ryuk. 

  “So you think the dark forces that you were using to return Madelaine’s sanity purposely screwed you over?” asked Ryuk, looking almost comical sitting next to this tiny, old woman, drinking tea.

  “I believe they purposely didn’t give me what I wanted,” elaborated Trevi. “Because I didn’t give them what they wanted.”

  “Your soul,” guessed Ryuk. 

  “Yes,” confirmed Trevi.

  “But why not?” asked Ryuk, confused. “It doesn’t cost you anything in regards to life.”

  “But it costs eternal damnation in death,” rebutted Trevi, annoyed. “I made the mistake of convincing someone close to me to pay that price.”

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence that followed. Trevi truly regretted her actions, but she wasn’t ready to sacrifice her soul to some demon from some sort of Christian hell. Not to mention, a demon’s influence seemed to turn even the purest of humans into complete and utter monsters.

  “May I ask you why you are trying to help Madelaine?” asked Ryuk, curious. He moved closer to the woman. “Moments ago you were explaining how she was trying to kill you. Weren’t you just telling me that she’s responsible for that gnarly scar on your neck?”

  Trevi brought a hand up to her neck, fingertips brushing against a scar. It appeared to be a trachea scar.

   “I feel guilty,” confessed Trevi, frowning. “She was my responsibility, as a fellow witch, and I led her astray. I wanted fame, so I convinced her to submit herself to the demon, Leviathan. I then tried to get her back under control through various enchantments. She, of course, tried to kill me,” she paused, reminiscing. “When her powers were stripped from her, so was her sanity… though perhaps her sanity had been damaged long before that.”

   “How were her powers stripped?” asked Ryuk, ‘innocently’ cocking his head. “Kolchak publicly accusing her of witchcraft shouldn’t’ve done anything to her.”

  “I had made up a particular potion that I was only going to use as a last resort; the common name for that potion is ‘the cup of pestilence’. Her exposure to it though, was an accident,” admitted Trevi, angrily. “I didn’t expect Kolchak to dunk her head into that vat of liquid. I only asked him to find the doll that she was using to choke me, and to cut the hair from around its neck.”

  “ Not much of an accident considering you knew what you were doing and what could happen,” said Ryuk, cackling.

  “ Leviathan knew that she wouldn’t recover in time to fulfill her contract, so he preemptively punished her,” continued Trevi, choosing to ignore Ryuk’s comment.

  “Wow, you’re kind of evil. I could almost like you, ” teased Ryuk, sounding overly amused. “ Too bad you’re so dead-set on redemption; those sort of arcs can change an interesting character into a dull one real fast.”

  “Listen, I am not here for your entertainment,” argued Trevi, pain and anger entering her voice. “So, my spell didn't work as expected. I’m going to have to figure out something else… I don’t need you.”

  “What about me?” asked Light, announcing his return to consciousness to everyone, as well as the fact that he had been eavesdropping. “I think I could help.”

  “Really?” asked Trevi, in a challenging tone; there was also a hint of hope in there as well as wariness. “How?”

  “The dark forces want a soul in exchange for power; I’m willing to go along with that deal,” explained Light, sounding as though he was being genuinely kind. “You just have to teach me what you know, and I’ll do what you ask.”

   Several minutes passed as Trevi considered Light’s proposal. She seemed hesitant to accept. 

  “Alright, we have an agreement then,” agreed Trevi, with a fake smile.

  Thirteen Days Later

   Light noticed how Trevi appeared to be shocked and a bit disturbed over how quickly Light had been absorbing all the information she threw at him. She had explained how it had taken her decades to learn all the stuff he had in the last few days. He knew he needed to be well-versed in magic for a deal with demons to take place; descensum and the following navigation of hell took a lot of knowledge and a lot of energy to do. But Light was taking to it like fire to straw. 

    On the night of the ritual, they had decided on summoning Asmodeus for the deal. Light had argued at first, thinking that Lucifer would be more appropriate; being the demon of pride. But in the end, Light had to admit that Asmodeus was a good match for him. Asmodeus was the demon of lust, and Light had often used his looks and charisma to his advantage.

  For the ritual, Light laid down in a circle of runes written in blood, which were surrounded by white candles. Reciting the spell, Light felt himself descend into the depths of hell; he landed within the 2nd circle.

  Light looked around at his surroundings. It wasn't the fire and brimstone he was expecting. Instead it was dark and cold. Rain came pouring down from the violent storm clouds outside. Luckily, it appeared like Light had landed on someone's balcony. This building, along with all the surrounding buildings, was brightly lit with flickering neon lights. Looking at the various advertisements, Light was pretty certain he was in a red light district. Then again, the entire lust ring is probably just one big red light district.

  Light had barely taken two steps before Asmodeus appeared before him. A flash of lightning revealed him as being very strong-looking and tall. And instead of one head, this beast had three; the first is that of a bull, the second a man, and the third a ram. 

  “Is it you that had summoned me?” asked Asmodeus, his voice loud and booming.

  “Yes,” replied Light, forcing himself to remain calm. “I offer you my soul in exchange for power and eternal life.”

  “Is that all you're offering? Your soul?” asked Asmodeus, with a chuckle.

  “What more do you want?” asked Light, though he could guess that this demon had caught on to his request for eternal life as a 'get out of jail free' card in regards to offering his soul.

  “Tell you what, I'll take this deal under the condition that the power you gain is proportionate to those you sacrifice; the more you care about them, the greater the power-up,” explained Asmodeus, then crossing his arms, he leveled an intense look at him. “If you want immortality, though, then you are going to have to convince your doppelgänger to offer himself to me before killing him. There's a book in that white witch's study with further details regarding the whole ritual necessary for this; it's called Speculum Anima Mercatura.” 

  “Why do you even want him?” asked Light, genuinely curious.

  “Because vixens like him are usually a fun but rare commodity,” replied Asmodeus, much to Light's immediate disgust. 

  “Fine,” agreed Light, with some reluctance. 

  “Fine,” repeated Asmodeus, with all three faces flashing sharp, toothy grins. “You have one year's time to fulfill your end of the deal.”

  Suddenly, Light felt a new power coursing through him; it felt surprisingly good.  The demonology book, that he and Trevi had looked through, had mentioned how this experience should be nothing short of excruciating. A deep pain that was the result of the soul becoming horribly deformed and corrupted. Light saw that all three of Asmodeus' faces looked troubled.

  Before Light had a chance to say anything, he felt himself being recalled back to the mortal realm. He  woke up, back on the floor where he had been at the start of the ritual. The candles had turned black, and the circle of runes had burnt themselves into the floorboards.

    Light spotted Trevi standing in a corner of the room. Apparently, she had decided to oversee the ritual. Did she not trust him to uphold his end of the deal? Really? She should know there was no point in him making enemies needlessly. 

  “I guess I should get to restoring Madelaine’s mind and soul for you,” said Light, strutting towards Trevi , with a cocky grin on his face. “It's the least I can do after all you've done for me.”

  “A soul sold is a soul damned,” whispered Trevi, sounding a bit unnerved. Otherwise, she maintained an outwardly stoic composure. “Just keep up your end.”

  Trevi turned and headed towards the room where Madelaine had been staying. Light followed behind at a leisurely pace.

  Entering the bedroom, Light noted how the lights had been dimmed and all the mirrors covered. At the far end of the room, Madelaine was sitting on the floor, leaning against one of the walls. Eyes that were oddly vacant were set in what was once a pretty face; deep scars marred the woman’s model-like features. She looked surprisingly young; especially since, according to Trevi, she was eighty years old. Light could only guess that witches age differently. Oh dear god, how old would that make someone like Trevi.

   So Trevi went through all this hassle to restore this woman’s mind, scoffed Light. What use was she? She didn’t have any influence, money, or wisdom? She wasn’t even pretty anymore.

  “We had an agreement,” said Light, with a shrug as he knelt down to be eye-level with Madelaine. As he began the incantation, he could feel  the pieces of Madelaine’s mind and soul piece itself back together, it was almost too easy. The dark forces flowed through him effortlessly.

  After having her sanity restored, Madelaine had begun crying hysterically; Light thought it was all rather pathetic. Her soul still belonged to Leviathan afterall. 

  “I’m so sorry,” said Madelaine between sobs, clutching her knees close to her chest. “I know… that I messed up… so, so horribly. Maiming you, killing Melody…”

  “It’s alright now,” soothed Trevi, she then pushed past Light and pulled Madelaine into a tight embrace. “We’re still alive and Leviathan is no longer with you.”

  During this pitiful display of sentimentality, Light had taken the opportunity to grab the death note along with a few of Trevi’s books on magic before leaving. 

  End Flashback

  “I do that woman a favour, and in return she decides to dedicate her time to hunting me down,” said Light, fuming.

  “You did yourself a favour, Light-o,” corrected Ryuk, well aware of his human’s manipulative nature. “And while Trevi is very similar, she does have some redeeming qualities unlike you,” Ryuk hummed in thought. “That’s probably why I like you better; morals always get in the way of fun.”

  “You should know I didn’t have to go through on my end of the deal,” argued Light, baring his teeth in anger. “And secondly, I preferred it when you were still obfuscating stupidity.”

  Ryuk just grinned in self-satisfaction.

  Light was aware, that as a god of death Ryuk had very little to worry about. It was obvious that this shinigami was more than content to sit back and watch his favourite soap opera unfold.

  With a scornful sigh, Light focused on searching for any online articles covering the current Kira attacks.

  “These Kira killings are similar to the ones from my own timeline. There are only a few discrepancies, like the deaths of the NPA members,” said Light, thinking aloud. “But even those deviations don’t make sense. Misora is still alive, and you said that you saw the other me giving her information about knowing Raye Penber. What the hell is he doing?” 

  “The other Tsuki Yagami, he does have a lifespan… sort of. Either way he can’t be Kira,” interrupted B, announcing his presence. He had obviously been eavesdropping; Light honestly couldn’t wait to get rid of him; he just had to convince Misa to make the eye deal again, but this Rem was being more difficult by not offering it. It was strange how people seemed so similar, yet so very different here. Then again, what can you expect from parallel dimensions? “Still, plenty of people have defied fate before, but his lifespan is strange even by those standards. Regardless, there’s no way he’s Kira.”

  This universe's Light isn't Kira. That explains a lot, thought Light. For a second there I thought my doppelgänger was some sort of moron. That would be embarrassing. But now I have to figure out who this other Kira is. 

  Light’s plans hinged on maintaining a low profile, but apparently the Ryuk that resides in this universe had dropped Sidoh’s notebook earlier, and therefore Kira had already started his pursuit of justice within weeks of Light’s arrival. Light himself had only used the death note twice in this universe; one of those times was used to attain Misa’s loyalty. He never realized how much of an asset she and Takada truly were until he got caught by Near.

  Now he just needed his doppelgänger's cooperation. Light had been studying the ritual Asmodeus pointed him towards; Speculum Anima Mercatura, which essentially meant mirror, soul, and trade. The ritual would grant the caster immortality and therefore he’d be a true god. He already had the most difficult part over with, by transitioning over to another reality. Mirror. He had signed his soul over to Asmodeus. Soul. And now all he had to do was set it up and get the other Light to ‘willing’ participate the ritual. Trade. He would have to do this via the blackmail. The rules for the ritual were quite clear when they stated the victim couldn’t be physically forced or be threatened with death or physical harm on their person. Therefore, it seemed like threats to their reputation was the only viable solution. Although, the victim didn't need to be informed of the details of the ritual, they just needed to participate. So keeping his alternate self ignorant was also part of plan as well as accumulating blackmail. 

  But his doppelgänger would now be under heavy surveillance for being a Kira suspect, thus putting quite the snarl in his plans. 

  “Damn! Who the hell is Kira if it isn’t me?” screamed Light, frustrated. “Who is he? How did he get ownership of a death note over my doppelgänger? Especially, since Misa still got hers.”

  “Well, Light-o,” replied Ryuk, munching on an apple. “Remember that I dropped the notebook at random for the first passerby to pick it up. Also, my alternate self seems to have gotten bored earlier than I did.”

  “Would that have changed the drop location?” asked Light, as Ryuk just shrugged and resumed devouring his apple. Light went back to looking at his computer screen; he had broken into the NPA database to observe their current files on the case. “It doesn’t matter. It’s either Takada or Mikami. That much is obvious; they’re probably working together. But why are the murders so similar to the ones that occurred when I was Kira?” As Light pondered his situation, his eyes landed on Ryuk, and realization hit. “RYUK! What did you do?”

  “I made things more interesting,” replied Ryuk, completely unrepentant. 

  “What did you do exactly?” asked Light, trying to keep his temper under control. He needed answers, and screaming at a shinigami wouldn’t help in providing those answers any faster.

  “I decided to level the playing field,” explained Ryuk, helping himself to another apple. “The other death note users, along with Trevi and Rem, are aware of some of the events that happened in the other universe. They also know that you are making plans that involve this universe’s Light,” deciding to relax, Ryuk laid back on Light’s bed. “But don’t worry Light-o, no one knows the specifics. It's more interesting to keep everyone on their toes.”

  “Don’t worry,” repeated Light, flustered. “You just screwed up everything.”

  Light had begun to pace back and forth, uncertain about how he was going to fix this.

  “Well, since the plan is a no-go, can I just take L now?” asked B, with a sadistic grin. It was enough to make both Light and Ryuk uncomfortable. “Maybe I should take A, too. Though that would be done in quite a different way, if you know what I mean.”

  Despite currently needing him, Light really couldn’t wait to get rid of this creep. He was glad for that mind-spell he had found in Trevi’s book collection, especially after his first encounter with B. B’s initial response to him had all but confirmed that his doppelgänger had the misfortune of meeting this psycho before. Or at least, someone that resembled him had.

  Though even after casting the mind-spell, Light quickly discovered that this crazy-ass mass-murderer wasn’t entirely under his control. Apparently, there were very few types of mind-control that were a hundred percent effective, and those that were only worked on a limited few.

  “Where is L currently?” asked Light, as he dodged a knife thrown at him. The control had slipped once again.

  “At the Yagami household,” answered B, his smile unwavering. “I believe they were preparing to eat. So can I go have some fun with my favourite brother and his friends? Or is it still too soon?”

  “You’ll have to wait a little longer. If you act now, you'll get caught. But this does provide me with the perfect opportunity to prove to L that my doppelgänger isn’t Kira,” said Light, thinking aloud on his new plan of action; even if it didn't work, it would fulfill the conditions of the incubus ritual. “Do you think he’d really accuse a suspect whose mother has just been killed? Would L think Light would let a majority of those killers get away with it if he was Kira?”

  “Doesn’t this directly go against your own moral code, Light-o?” asked Ryuk, taunting. “Killing the innocent. And letting the guilty go free.”

  “Sacrifices must be made,” answered Light, his voice portraying only a hint of regret. “I’m creating a brand new world. A better world.”

~~~~~~~~~

  “Sayu is staying at a friend’s place for the night,” said Sachiko.

  Sachiko had texted Sayu's friend’s mother a few hours earlier to make arrangements for a sleepover; she had planned for Light and her to be alone for this rather delicate conversation. Light’s friend had put quite the kink into those plans. 

  “Okay, Mom,” replied Light, as he continued to cut the mushrooms and cucumbers; he insisted on making the meal himself, so that Sachiko could relax. 

 “So, your exam score?” asked Sachiko, trying to make conversation with her son. “How did you do?” 

 “Both Light-kun and I achieved perfect scores on the exam,” answered Ryuuga before Light could, much to Sachiko’s annoyance. 

  “Well, that’s quite the accomplishment,” said Sachiko, smiling politely. “Well, Light, I’m so proud of you. And also congratulations to your frien-,” Sachiko stopped abruptly so that she could pull Ryuuga’s feet off his seat. “No feet on the furniture!”

~~~~~~~~~

  Light smirked as L was forced to sit in what was almost a normal sitting position. Turning his attention back to his cooking, he began stirring in the vegetables. The smell of mirin wafting in the air as he fried the mushrooms. Focused, Light almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a pair of hands settle on his shoulders. 

  “Light, can we talk in private?” asked Sachiko, removing her hands as soon as she felt Light stiffen at her touch. “I have something important to discuss with you.”

  “Will this take long?” asked Light.

  “It might,” replied Sachiko. She knew she needed to get this out of the way before she lost her nerve. There were thoughts running through her head that suggested it’d be best to let Light figure it all out on his own; that hearing it from her wouldn’t make it any better, and he probably wouldn’t listen to her ‘tall tales’ anyway. Still, regardless of Light’s potential reaction, it wouldn’t be right for her to do that.

  “Ryuuga-san, can you watch over the food?” asked Light, as his mother led him out of the room.

  “Sure, no problem,” muttered L, jumping to his feet.

  Sachiko and Light stood out in the hallway. Both were oddly silent.

~~~~~~~~~

  Sachiko was worried. She didn't want to tell Light about his heritage; saying it would make it all seem more real. But she knew that she had too. At least, he already knew he wasn’t hers. One less revelation equals one less trauma.

  Sachiko grimaced at the mere thought of informing Light about the true history of the kitsunes and how he will never be fully welcome in the spirit realm due to this. He will always have to be careful. Because many deemed kitsunes as those that are destined to suffer, as deserving to be used, abused, and eventually discarded.

  Sachiko quietly recalled how she and Kuzunoha had met. Ninety-seven years ago, Kuzunoha had been sold to Oculus. Sachiko had only just turned ten. Oculus had been under the impression that Kuzunoha had the ability to manipulate time; an ability she had not possessed. Oculus was about to resell her when Sachiko made the choice to free her. They have been best friends ever since. Kuzunoha would constantly sneak in and out of the arbiter's building just to see her.

  Still, despite being practically sisters, Kuzunoha had never told Sachiko what had happened during those years prior to them meeting. But Sachiko could venture a guess, and it would probably be right. 

  I never want to see Light suffer the same way my sister has, thought Sachiko with tears in her eyes. And yet, it feels like if I verbalise that fear, I risk it happening. I don’t want to jinx my baby.

  Looking at Light, Sachiko couldn’t help but think of how fragile he truly was. He wasn’t tough, and she didn’t expect nor want him to be forced into being so. But the life of a kitsune is not an easy one.

~~~~~~~~~

  “Mom, what is it you wanted to discuss with me?” asked Light, concerned by his mother’s prolonged silence.

  “Well, Light… I… uh,” sighed Sachiko, sounding flustered. “You are-”

  Before anything more could be said, there was a loud knocking on the front door. Sachiko went to answer it. Outside the door, there was an average-looking young man. He seemed to be badly injured, bleeding heavily from the left side of his head.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” greeted the wounded man, politely. “I don't want to bother you, but I'm hurt and needing some help.”

  “What happened to you?” asked Sachiko, bringing the young man inside.

  “I-I was j-jumped by a mugger down at the corner,” stuttered the young man. “Yours was the only house with lights on.”

  “No need to explain yourself,” said Sachiko, reassuringly as she assisted the man into the sitting room. “We have a phone in the kitchen. We will call an ambulance to come get you,” she then turned to Light. “Can you close the door?”

  Suddenly, the man collapsed, leaving Sachiko supporting the man’s entire weight. 

  “Light, can you help me with this?” asked Sachiko, struggling. Afterall, she was a very petite woman carrying a full-grown man.

  Light quickly shut the door, not taking the time to lock it. He assisted Sachiko in carrying the man to a nearby chair. After setting him down, Sachiko waits with the unknown in the sitting room as Light runs off to fetch the first aid kit. He returns quickly.

  Kneeling down in front of the injured man, Light begins wiping the blood off the man’s forehead. Sachiko notices a shift in Light’s expression. A look of immediate fear and distrust. Looking over, she instantly spots the issue.

 “There’s no source of bleeding; there’s no wound,” whispered Sachiko.

  It was now obvious the man had played the part of a wounded gazelle.

  But before Sachiko had a chance to do anything, the man stabbed a knife into her son’s thigh before striking her across the face. Breaking her nose in the process.

  As Sachiko hit the floor, five other men rushed into the room. None of them were wearing masks, but seeing the sadistic expressions on their faces was somehow scarier. They were likely planning on leaving no eyewitnesses.

  “Just take anything you want,” said Sachiko, in a calm, placating tone; though her eyes were filled with fear. “Just don’t hurt us, please.”

  “Oh, we're not here to rob you,” replied one of the other men, his icy blue eyes glinting with sadistic glee. While he was talking, two of the men went into the kitchen. “We’re just here to enjoy ourselves.”

~~~~~~~~~

  Hearing those words, Light knew that their deaths would be slow and agonising if they didn't escape soon.

  There was a loud commotion coming from the kitchen. Light tried to push off of the floor. But the man, that had stabbed him, quickly spotted this and decided to kick him in the stomach, sending Light back down to the ground. Meanwhile, a zip-tie-bound L was being dragged out into the living room, along with several chairs.

  “So guys, who should we start with?” asked the blue-eyed captor.

  “Dibs on pretty boy,” suggested the man that had pretended to be injured. “He’s losing a lot of blood. We don’t want him to die before we’ve had a chance to play with him.”

  Light felt a set of arms pull him off the floor and then shoved him into one of the wooden kitchen chairs that one of the men had brought into the room. They then restrained him to the chair using plastic zip ties that were already cutting off circulation to his hands and feet. One of them had taken the knife from his thigh and stabbed him in the shoulder with it, pinning him to the chair. Hissing out in pain, Light watched as the blue-eyed intruder, who he recognised as Genbu Sakota, filled a syringe with drain cleaner. Sakota noticed Light’s fearful gaze and smiled.

  “As much as we might want to hear your screams, we don’t want you alerting the neighbors,” explained Sakota, as he injected the drain cleaner into Light’s throat.

   Light felt a horrible burning sensation. He gasped in pain, but very little sound came out and the movement only caused his throat to throb even more. One of the captors, who had a stockier build than the others, punched him in the face. And the hits certainly didn’t end with one. At some point the man swapped from using his fists to using an old wrench. 

  There were abrasions all over Light’s face, chest, and arms. Every breath hurt as he had spat up both blood and teeth. Light knew if he got out of this situation alive, he certainly wouldn’t be considered pretty anymore; this was both distressing and oddly relieving. Looking at his mother’s horrified face, Light lowered his head in shame. He felt so weak, and keeping his eyes open was becoming more and more difficult.

  “He is not really responding anymore,” complained the stocky captor, as he began using a pocket knife to flay the skin off the left side of Light’s cheek. It stung like hell, but he too worn down to react. “So boring,” the captor ran his tongue up the bloodied side of Light’s cheek. “But tasty.”

  “Man, that’s so gross,” said Sakota, pushing the stocky one away. “But you’re right. He is not going to last much longer,” he pulled the knife out of Light’s shoulder; cutting more flesh in the process. “Let’s move on to the old broad.”

  “I call dibs on the little lady,” said the captor standing closest to L. He approached Sachiko with an almost comically wide grin. “Name’s Takuo Shibuimaru. And we’re going to have lots of fun. You might even like it.”

  The restraints keeping Light attached to the chair were then cut, but his wrists and ankles were still bound together. While lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, Light started to feel very strange. His body was burning... but it felt nice, like an intense warmth. 

  Ignoring the strange sensations, Light watched as Sachiko did her best to fight Shibuimaru off, giving him a particularly nasty scratch across his face. Despite this, Shibuimaru continued to laugh as he yanked on Sachiko’s shirt, ripping the fabric and popping several buttons. He then reached for her pants-

  Before anything could go further, all six captors had become engulfed in flames. The noises their skin made as it sizzled and popped made Light sick to his stomach. But it was nothing compared to the smell. The aroma of cooking flesh entered his nostrils, it vaguely smelt of burnt pork and hair. 

  Light's vision began blurring and shifting in and out of focus. He looked over towards L, who was focused on slipping out of his bindings. Several minutes of struggling later, L managed to break free. He went rifling through a nearby drawer. Grabbing a pair of scissors, he ran back over to Sachiko and Light.

  Throughout all this, Light somehow remained conscious, coldly staring at the burning bodies. After freeing Sachiko, L went stumbling towards him. Sachiko followed. Light quickly looked up at her with concern. But seeing her alive and well, immediately brought a smile to his face.

 Meanwhile, L was still cutting at the bindings holding Light’s wrists together; the ties were so tight, that L had to dig the blade of the scissors slightly into the skin in order to position them correctly. Despite this, Light continued to smile up at his mother, a look of pure love and relief on his face. 

  Sachiko gave a soft smile in return. When L finally finished removing the binds, Sachiko reached forward and gently grasped Light's hands. Being careful of the bruised skin and open wounds.

  “Everything is alright now,” said Sachiko, reassuringly. “I’m here. I’ve got you,” she pulled Light to his feet. “I’ve got you.”

  Despite the physical pain radiating throughout his body, Light still took comfort in his mother’s touch.

  But suddenly, Sachiko let go. Pressing a hand to her chest, she gasped in pain. Light barely had time to comprehend the situation before he saw his mother collapse to the floor.

  Light immediately dropped to his knees and placed hand above her mouth. She wasn’t breathing. He pressed his fingers against his mother's neck, checking for a pulse. There wasn’t one. 

  What do I do? questioned Light, frantically searching for a solution despite the shocked state of his mind and body. CPR. I need to do that.

  Tears were running down Light’s face as he started on the compressions. He knew that after the heart has stopped, CPR alone is oftentimes not successful in restoring life. She needed an ambulance. He hoped that L had left to call one, since there was no way Light was currently capable of doing so. He winced as he felt one of Sachiko’s ribs cracked, knowing he had to continue.

  Two breaths.

  Thirty compressions.

  Two breaths.

  Back to compressions.

  Breaths.

  Compressions.

  Breaths.

  Compressions.  

  Sirens could be heard. Light felt a spark of hope as the paramedics ran in. They quickly took over, as they carried Sachiko off in the ambulance. 

~~~~~~~~~

  L was more than a little confused by what had just happened.

  Despite not knowing how, L was almost certain that Light had caused the fire. But even so, that action didn’t seem to fit Kira’s usual techniques. And even if it did, this should’ve resulted in Takuo Shibuimaru’s death more so than anyone else’s; but no, that man had survived along with four other delinquents. Only Sachiko Yagami and Genbu Sakota had died.

    Sakota had not stated his name. L’s thoughts traveled back to B and the shinigami eyes, and Light’s eyes would often take on a reddish hue. Could there be something there?

  But then, why would Light’s mother die from a heart attack? Why not Takuo Shibuimaru? thought L, confused. Was Light truly not Kira? Or is he trying to throw off suspicion? Kira would likely be willing to kill his own family. But is Light willing to do that?

  Still, Light Yagami was one of his only viable suspects, and L knew there was something unusual about him; something dangerous. 

  L watched from his position by the front door as a few of his private people collected various forensics samples from the crime scene. Light appeared to be in shock, though when anyone asked him a question he’d make an attempt at answering; managing a few garbled syllables before touching his damaged throat. L was beginning to think that Light should have gone to the hospital as well. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a priority at the time, so his injuries had been overlooked.

  Abruptly, L was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his phone ringing; he quickly answered it.

  “Sachiko Yagami has just been declared dead,” informed Watari, his voice crackling slightly due to bad reception. “I am on my way back to headquarters. Would you like me to pick you up?”

  “Yes,” replied L, before looking over at Light; many of his injuries had healed quite rapidly. It seems like his good looks would not be irreparably tarnished; if he is Kira, then he hasn’t experienced any loss to his vanity from this gambit. “Light-kun will be coming with us.”

  As L hung up the phone, he noticed that Light was staring blankly into space. There was blood, sweat, and snot trailing down his face. L went into the bathroom to dampen a cloth. He then headed back to the bottom steps of the porch, where Light was still sitting.

  L leaned in to wipe some blood and snot off, but as soon as he touched Light’s face, the teenage boy flinched away from L’s hands. 

  “I was just clearing off the dirt to see the severity of your injuries,” explained L, his voice sounding more tender than he’d intended. “So can I?”

  Light nodded.

  L touched the damp cloth to Light’s bloodied face again. Taking his time, L carefully observed the Light’s healing time; afterall, this may determine what he is or what sort of deal he has with whom. The skin underneath the blood was heavily bruised, and his nose was still bleeding; the same nose that had been repeatedly beaten in earlier and was now perfectly straight. The skin that ran across his cheekbone had regrown and appeared to lack any abrasions, besides a little bruising.

  L pushed Light’s bottom lip down and examined the teeth; they appeared to be growing back. L highly doubted that they could all be explained away as previously being baby teeth. The evidence bag indicated that Light had lost a total of eleven teeth, and they were now all in various states of growth; the front teeth coming in much quicker than the back ones.

  Upon reevaluation, Light appeared to be healing from the outside in; from most visible to least. L was now ninety-six percent certain that Light was a creature that must pride themselves on appearance – it was likely one of their most important tools. 

  Light began shivering uncontrollably. 

  “Light, are you alright?” asked L, taking off his own jacket and putting it on Light.

  Light nodded, numbly. 

  L was so focused on Light he didn’t notice Watari. Though, to be fair, the old man was quite stealthy and spry despite his age.

~~~~~~~~~

  “Ryuzaki, is everything alright?” asked Watari.

  He was hostly concerned – both for his young ward and for the current Kira suspect. Watari knew L had gone too deep into this investigation. And if this obsession turned into something else, there was no way he was not going to get hurt. 

  And as for Light Yagami, he may not be Kira; probably wasn’t, considered Watari, critically. This whole situation is truly unfortunate. L and Light should have never met.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Yagami,” said Watari, conveying his condolences. 

~~~~~~~~~

  L was briefly taken aback when Light didn’t make a big show over losing his mother to garner sympathy. Watari had gifted him the perfect opportunity and all he did was bow his head in acknowledgment. He then went back to staring straight ahead with glassy eyes; it was unnerving.

  “Well, I’m here to take you both back to headquarters,” explained Watari to Light as he guided him to the car.

  L hopped in the other side as Watari closed the door for Light. They then headed back to headquarters.

~~~~~~~~~

  Meanwhile, Ryuk stood in the Yagami household. He was pleasantly surprised to find this version of Light was a kitsune. Also, the chaos that just occurred was quite exciting.

  No matter what his Light might say, this did not go according to plan. He remembered what Light had written;

 ‘Genbu Sakota    - Convinces the other members of his bike gang to go break into a house, where they assault the inhabitants on 04/05/20. He then dies in a motorcycle accident when fleeing the scene.

 Sachiko               - Dies from the wounds inflicted during a break and enter on 04/05/20.’

  Since Fox!Light had accidentally lit all the gang members on fire, the preplanned scenario was impossible; so those whose names were written had succumbed to heart attacks. Even Sachiko, being a bakeneko was not exempted; though if B hadn’t informed Light of his mother’s maiden name being fake, and the reality being she did not have one then she would probably still be alive.

  Ryuk almost felt bad for poor Fox-Light, but the resulting angst was just so good. He was almost impressed that the young kitsune hadn’t killed anyone with all that fire; the control on those flames had actually been pretty damn good. 

  Then there was the conundrum that was L and B; it seems like someone had broken rule XXXVI. A rule, which states, ‘There are male and female gods of death, but it is neither permitted, nor possible for them to have sexual relations with humans. The gods of death also cannot have sex with each other’.

  In conclusion, Ryuk was finding this new universe to be a very, very entertaining one.

Chapter Text

  It was several minutes later when Watari finally pulled up in front of headquarters. L was uncertain of the precise time due to keeping a close eye on Light; the teenager’s skin had paled considerably, contrasting heavily with the dark bruises still present along his nose and jaw. His eyes had a glassy appearance. This kid was obviously not alright; physically or mentally. Still, regardless of the current circumstances, L had to be absolutely certain that Light wasn’t Kira before he could drop him as a suspect.

  Though I doubt this is an act, thought L, his gaze fixated on the boy beside him. If it is then Light is pretty dedicated to the role he’s playing.

  L hated this. Hated feeling genuine concern. In such a short time, L had grown too close to his suspect, and it was beginning to scare him; he knew risks and had fucked up anyway. L quickly pushed those feelings aside. He had to continue this investigation, and he had to do so with a clear head; unobstructed by emotions. There’s no room for sympathy. 

  As much as he wanted to, L couldn’t completely clear Light from the list of suspects. There were too many other unanswered questions surrounding him. Light was the only one on the bus that Raye Penber was investigating, so why would one of the other two suspects kill that particular agent? But looking at Light as a suspect was strange as well. Raye Penber had cleared him as a suspect prior to his death. And Light’s mother dying went against Kira’s current modus operandi. Could Sachiko dying from heart complications be a coincidence? Was it natural? Or was it Kira? And if so, why? Was it because Soichiro was on the investigation team? And does that mean that Genbu Sakota and Sachiko were being controlled prior to death? But Kira had targeted only the FBI agents; not their families. Why the change?

  Uhhh! All these convoluted thoughts and theories are giving me a headache, thought L; rubbing at his throbbing temples. There must be some sort of plan here; one that has likely gone disastrously wrong. 

  Was there more than one person with Kira’s powers? And if so, which ones are doing which killings? Light could still potentially be one of the Kiras then. And if he is, could he be the only one that possesses cellular regenerative abilities and pyrokinesis? If so, then that may explain the inconsistencies. A 2nd Kira might be trying to kill the 1st Kira along with his family. But, then again, how come most of them are still alive?

  L had a nagging feeling that none of his questions would be answered tonight and that all of his current hypotheses were wrong in some way or another. Well, he certainly had a long list of questions for Soichiro, regardless. L knew that man definitely had his secrets. 

  “We’ve arrived back at headquarters,” announced Watari, as he pulled into a spot directly in front of the building.

  L waited for Light to respond, but he didn’t. At least, not immediately. Watari had opened the door on his side, and Light had still not moved a muscle.

  That hundred-yard stare is starting to creep me out, thought L as he stared into those glassy orbs. Oh, well… if this boy is going to break, I may as well be the one who causes it.

  “Light-kun. Are you still there?” teased L, half-heartedly nudging the teenager’s arm with his foot. “It’s time to get out.”

  Light looked around confused, seeming to only just now click in that they had come to a stop. He didn’t even seem to comprehend that it was L’s foot that was currently poking him.

  “We’re at headquarters,” continued L, as he shoved Light out the door; causing the teen to fall down into an undignified heap on the sidewalk.

  Watari quickly moved to help Light up. The old man gave L a disapproving look. L just shrugged in response. Truthfully, he did feel a little bit bad about causing Light to fall, but he hadn’t expected the younger man to be so disoriented. Of course, all things considered, it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. 

  Meanwhile, Light tried to croak out a ‘thank you’ to Watari. Light immediately hissed in pain; it felt like his throat was on fire. Though this was quickly forgotten as he caught sight of headquarters. 

  Is L seriously renting a studio apartment here? In this neighbourhood? Doing what he does? questioned Light, confused. Wouldn’t the other residents here wonder why there are gatherings of several men at his apartment every day? He could easily be confused for a dealer. And that’s not really a great way of staying off Kira’s radar.

  “I purchased the whole compound until another building can be built,” explained L, as he led Light towards the entrance. Light briefly wondered whether he was simply that easy to read or if L was a mind-reader. “Watari said it would be simpler and less conspicuous than moving from hotel room to hotel room.”

   Light croaked in agreement, even though he was now concerned about an L without a Watari; the old man drove for him, mentored him, and, according to Light’s father, cooked for him.

  A frightening thought suddenly occurred. 

  SAYU! I don’t know where she is! thought Light, panicking when he couldn’t find his phone. I don’t want her coming home to find a crime scene. I need to find her!

  Everyone watched helplessly as Light tried to communicate. He could only manage a few pained sounds that couldn’t even be considered words. At least, for Light, this confirmed that L couldn’t read his mind; that was both a relief and a bit disappointing. Light made a note-to-self that it might be a good idea to learn sign language after tonight. Though that wouldn’t do much to help him now. 

  Giving up on trying to vocalize his thoughts, Light looked around before spotting a piece of chalk next to a hop-scotch game. Using the chalk, Light wrote:

  ‘Where’s Sayu? Mom said she was at a sleepover but didn’t specify where.’

  “It’s alright, Mr. Yagami,” replied Watari, adjusting his glasses. “I grabbed your mother’s phone from the personal belongings box,” Watari then rested his hand on Light’s shoulder in a comforting gesture, which caused him to immediately flinch. “I’ll look into the call history and find out where your sister is. In the morning, I’ll have her brought here.”

  Light nodded in agreement, even though he didn’t want Watari (and by extension, L) to have access to his mother’s phone. It felt oddly invasive. It was still better than his phone; he didn’t like the idea of L browsing through his internet history. It took a few moments of concentration to remember that he had left his phone on the counter next to the stove. Light then realized that it was likely that either L or one of his associates had it, and that it was only a matter of time before he had it thoroughly searched.

  Still, regardless of the lost phone, Light felt a little better knowing that the rest of his family was safe; though now that he felt safe, he felt like he was going to cry. His mother was gone. She had raised him and supported him and had taught him so many important life skills. Like good study habits, cooking, sewing… he used to love mending and creating different garments with her. This may be even one of the reasons he liked being around Madam Trevi so much. The last time he had done any of that with his mother was over four years ago; prior to starting high school. 

  How had we grown so far apart? thought Light, regretfully. I want my Mom back. I was cheated. Cheated out of so much time with her; time that both Sayu and I still needed.

  Light could feel the sobs that threatened to burst forth; his chest felt so tight it hurt. But he still had his pride; therefore, he decided that he could wait until he was alone to give in to the instinct to curl up and cry.

~~~~~~~~~

  Matsuda walked out into the lobby. He was expected to make another coffee run for the team; he truly hated how everyone treated him like an over-paid intern.

  Before Matsuda could exit the building, he was stopped by a ghostly hand. This particular ghost was mute, and by the time he had learned ASL, the ghost had decided to introduce herself simply as Ghost. Ghost had been with him throughout his entire life; she’s the only person that has. His mother died giving birth to him, and the last time he saw his father was on his seventh birthday. Growing up, he had been shipped off to a different family members’ house every few years. No one really wanted anything to do with him. It wasn’t until he met Mogi and Soichiro that he felt like he mattered to anyone who was living.

  So while Matsuda had never truly spent a considerable amount of time with Soichiro’s wife and children, he already felt as though they were his family, too. Soichiro was the only one who ever talked to him with any fondness or respect. Even though he was still reprimanded on occasion by him, he was never treated like he was somehow defective. And even though Soichiro refused to acknowledge Matsuda’s claims of being able to see spirits, he never called him a liar. The last time he had tried to talk with him about it, he had said it was best to keep quiet about such things. And Matsuda did follow the older man’s advice. To keep his interactions with the dead a secret from the living.

  Looking at the ghost, he watched her hands sign for him to look out the window. Matsuda followed the direction of Ghost’s finger and looked out the window just left of the front door. He saw that Ryuzaki and Watari were back and that they had brought Light with them. Matsuda then did a double take as he took in the teen’s disheveled appearance and heavily bruised face.

  What the hell happened?! thought Matsuda, shocked. The Chief is going to be so pissed with Ryuzaki, if he did this.

  Matsuda watched as Watari led the teenager toward the building a moment longer. He then hastily ran back to where the other task force members were, deciding that he should alert the Chief. He almost slipped on the floor in his haste, but quickly caught his balance. He practically barged through the door of the room the task force was in.

  “Matsuda, what did you forget this time?” groaned Aizawa, sounding more than a little pissed off.

  “Ryuzaki and Watari are back, and they brought Light with them,” answered Matsuda, ignoring Aizawa’s question in favour of informing Soichiro of recent happenings.

  “What do you mean by ‘they brought light’?” asked Aizawa, in a biting tone. 

  “Light is the Chief’s son,” explained Matsuda, knowing that only he, Misora, and Mogi had ever met Soichiro’s son in person.

  Truth be told, everyone in the department may have already known of Soichiro’s kid as a genius and occasional NPA employee, but not many had ever gotten to know him on a personal level; with the exception of Mogi. For almost everyone present, he was known simply as the Chief’s son.

   “Really, Chief? You named your son Light,” criticized Aizawa, before pulling up the case file on the Yagami family; investigating your boss certainly had its benefits. “And here I thought his name was Tsuki… Oh, wait, there’s a furigana. Okay, well, apparently when written, it uses the Japanese kanji for Moon, but has the English pronunciation for Light. Who names their kid like that? That’s weird and oddly pretentious.”

  “Can you just shut your mouth, Aizawa?” muttered Ide, irritably. “I have tried to be understanding of your attitude, but enough is enough. You have been instigating fight after fight, and now you want to start one with the Chief over something so stupid… Well, you may want to remember that the Chief is not Matsuda. Therefore you may want to reconsider your actions.”

  “Thanks for the support, Ide,” said Matsuda, sarcastically before sighing in exasperation. “I get absolutely no respect from anyone.”

  “Maybe if you weren’t such a moron-” began Aizawa before being cut off by another reprimand from Ide. 

  “Whatever happened to professionalism?” 

  “You think you're better than everyone?” huffed Aizawa.

  “Not everyone,” replied Ide, crossing his arms. “Just you.”

  “WHAT!”

  “Uh, I’m done with this!” exclaimed Ukita, moving towards the door. He stopped at the doorway and turned towards Matsuda. “You stay; I’ll go get coffee. I’ll be back in about a half hour or so… maybe.” 

~~~~~~~~~

  Soichiro focused on taking deep, calming breaths as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. There’s less than ten people on this investigation, and yet none of them can get along for more than five minutes. For the past few weeks, everyone was either fighting amongst each other or deciding to leave for indeterminate amounts of time. Their chances of solving the Kira case weren’t looking good if things continued deteriorating like this. For the last month, Kira supporters had been growing larger and louder than ever. And between that and the stress that came with facing an unknown deadly power, it was bringing out the worst in all of them.

  Soichiro understood all that. He hadn’t exactly been at his best lately, either. There was just so much speculation on his son, which had left him fraught with anxiety. This had led to him distancing himself from his son more and more. Soichiro wanted to believe in Light’s innocence, but truthfully he wasn’t sure how well he truly knew him. Between the two of them, bonding has never been easy; Soichiro was always too busy and Light too independent. 

  And whether his Light was proven to be Kira or not, Soichiro was certain that the bond between father and son was too shattered to ever be mended. If his son was proven guilty, he’d have to put him behind bars. And if proven innocent, Soichiro knew that this’d be the final straw that broke the camel’s back. As of now, every time Soichiro looked into his son’s eyes, all he saw was distrust and sadness.

  “Matsuda,” said Soichiro, warily beckoning the younger detective over. “Why did Ryuzaki bring Light here?

  “I don’t know, Chief,” replied Matsuda, nervously as he realized how this may affect Soichiro as well as his lack of information; he looked over to Ghost, who only shrugged her shoulders in reply. “But your son appeared to be quite injured… possibly by Ryuzaki… and I, um… thought you deserved to know that.”

  A flash of anger ran through Soichiro’s veins, but he quickly pushed it down. He’d wait until he could look into the situation for himself before jumping to conclusions. 

~~~~~~~~~

  Matsuda looked on in concern as Soichiro bolted out of the room.

  Ide and Aizawa stared at Soichiro’s retreating back in confusion. They had obviously not been paying attention; having been so caught up in their own argument. 

  “And they call me stupid,” muttered Matsuda, still loud enough to be heard. “At least, I have some awareness of what is going on.”

  Considering that Ukita is probably not coming back anytime soon, I better go get that coffee, thought Matsuda as he left headquarters.

~~~~~~~~~

  All noise seemed to cease as Soichiro burst into the room. He immediately spotted Light. He was sitting on a medical table; Soichiro briefly wondered why or how that was there. All thoughts were immediately overshadowed when he caught sight of the deep bruising on Light’s face and neck, and the blood-soaked clothes that were partially covered up by L’s overly large jacket. As for why Light was wearing L’s jacket, Soichiro didn’t know, but that didn’t really matter at the moment; his son was hurt, and someone had some explaining to do.

  “RYUZAKI! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON?” yelled Soichiro, grabbing L roughly by his shirt.

  “Mr. Yagami, there is no need for such aggression, so please calm yourself,” requested Watari, politely. “We have a fair bit to discuss with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

  Before Watari could provide Soichiro with a delicate explanation of his wife’s recent passing, L interrupted; displaying a complete lack of tact. 

  “There was a home invasion at your place of residence several hours ago. Your son was injured during the attack, and your wife died,” explained L, very quickly and very bluntly. “The attackers had burst into flames. Only one of the attackers had died; his heart stopped. This is also something your wife had succumbed to as well. I suspect it was caused by Kira.”

  “Sachiko is dead,” said Soichiro, his grip going slack in shock. “And you are only telling me this now?”

  “I apologize, but I was rather preoccupied,” replied L, placing his hands in his pockets. “And really, what would you have done? Pointlessly run off to the hospital. You couldn’t have prevented Sachiko-chan’s death simply by being there.”

  “Pointlessly,” repeated Soichiro, with barely contained hostility. “How dare you? You have denied me my final moments with her and-”

  “You wouldn’t have gotten that time anyway,” said L, curtly without a hint of empathy. “She was already dead.”

  Before Soichiro had a chance to reply, Watari interrupted. He realised that Soichiro was hurt and angry, and L was… being L. Watari knew he needed to diffuse the situation before someone got hurt.

  “Listen, Mr. Yagami. Ryuzaki may not be entirely right in this scenario,” interrupted Watari, in a placating tone. “But there was nothing you could have done. And at no point did she regain consciousness after her initial collapse,” Watari noticed how Light winced at his statements; the teenager seemed to be experiencing a bunch of misplaced guilt over his mother’s death. “I am sincerely sorry for your loss, Mr. Yagami, but I have to take a look at your son’s injuries. This means I can’t have you and Ryuzaki fighting; not here.”

  Soichiro exhaled loudly through his nostrils as he completely loosened his grip on L’s shirt. He and Watari then assisted Light in removing his jacket and shirt. 

  Watari was glad the shirt Light was wearing was a button-down. It was clear that Light could not raise his arms without severe discomfort.

  Looking at Light’s bared torso, he could clearly see that there were definitely some broken ribs. Watari was very quick and thorough with his examination; he became unnerved when one of Light’s broken ribs snapped back into place of its own accord. Light gasped out in pain; his voice wasn’t very loud, but it sounded clearer and less strained. That was a good sign, at least.

  When Watari gave Light a decongestant and numbing medication, the teenager looked at the old man confused.

  “I’m going to do a direct fiber-optic laryngoscopy,” explained Watari, while Light cringed. “That requires sending a scope up your nose and down into your throat.”

  “Why does he need this done?” asked Soichiro, as Watari prepped Light for the procedure.

  “He had drain cleaner injected into his voice box. So I’m going to see what damage has been done to the area,” explained Watari, as he inserted the laryngoscope; Light looked like he was having difficulty in suppressing the urge to gag.

  Watari furrowed his brow as he examined the inside of Light’s throat.

  “Well, it seems like he is healing up quite nicely,” informed Watari, cheerily. “He should be all mended by tomorrow, which is unusually fast. But still, that’s a good thing. Right, Mr. Yagami?”

~~~~~~~~~

  Upon hearing the news of Light’s miraculous recovery, Soichiro was hesitant to say anything. But it’d be strange if he didn’t.

  “Of course it is,” said Soichiro, reluctantly. It’s not like he wanted his son to suffer permanent injuries, but he also didn’t want him drawing unnecessary attention to himself.

  People fear what they don’t understand, and the innocent suffer for it. Soichiro had to witness that suffering once before and vowed to never let it happen again.

  Soichiro was drawn out of those thoughts when he heard Light gagging as Watari removed the laryngoscope. It was a very gross and painful sound, and he couldn’t help but wince in sympathy. 

  Soichiro reached out and placed his hand on the side of Light’s face, pushing some of the hair away from his eyes. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture, something he often did whenever Light seemed distressed. So, Soichiro was taken aback by the flash of fear that briefly appeared in Light’s eyes. Before Soichiro could ask him about it, L had decided to interrupt them at that moment.

  “Is Light-kun adopted?” asked L, insensitively. “Afterall, Light is quite different in looks than the rest of his family.”

~~~~~~~~~

  Light was completely taken aback by L’s coldness. How could he ask such a question? Light could already guess what L was doing, but he was still thrown off by the inappropriateness of it. Light had heard many people ask that same question before, but they’d never done it with him in the room and most certainly not after suffering from a traumatic event like this.

  But L thinks I’m Kira, thought Light, morosely. He wants to know if a lack of a familial connection may have aided me, his suspect, in killing my mom. He thinks what happened tonight was some big gambit.

  Light knew L wasn’t really his friend, but for most of the day Light had started to feel like he was. So, it was quite jarring when L went back to treating him like a suspect.

  Light couldn’t help feeling betrayed. He was upset that L was doing this just after his mom had died.

  He really thinks I’m responsible for it, realised Light. That just because I’m not related to her through blood, I’d just kill her in cold blood?

  Though in the end, Light couldn’t be too mad at L… Soichiro looked to be plenty mad for the both of them. Light really would not want to be L at the moment, as he watched his dad’s face contorted in barely suppressed anger.

  “No, he isn’t, and even if he was, it wouldn’t matter,” replied Soichiro through gritted teeth. “Why would you even ask a question like that? Do you honestly think this is a good time to be doing this?”

  Before L had a chance to respond, Watari interrupted before he could escalate the situation again. 

  “Mr. Yagami, you can take the rest of tonight and tomorrow off,” said Watari, gently. He and L shared a look before continuing. “You’ll need to work on funeral arrangements. And of course, you’ll want additional time off to sort out your grief.”

  Light watched L sigh in defeat. He was almost certain L had pushed far worse boundaries before, so why was Watari insisting on exercising caution here? Some instinct told Light this was not a usual occurrence.

  “Watari, can you take Light-kun upstairs to room seven? He’ll probably want to rest,” L turned back to Soichiro. “I’m going to conduct a more thorough examination of your house, so I’ll be providing a room for your family to stay in for the meantime.”

  As Watari guided Light upstairs, he heard further bickering continue between Soichiro and L. Light wanted to say something, but was quickly reminded of his injured throat. It wasn’t long before they reached a bedroom.

  It wasn’t until he managed to climb into bed, that Light finally realised how exhausted he was. He was only vaguely aware of Watari’s presence; it was only when he started to sing that Light furrows his brows in confusion. Why was Watari singing at him? Also, why was it such a familiar tune? Even outside of recognizing it as ‘Optimistic Voices’ from ‘The Wizard of Oz’, it was oddly familiar.

  ♪“You’re out of the woods, you’re out of the dark, you’re out of the night,”♪ Watari sings; Light found it soothing, though most would likely find it creepy. ♪“Step into sun, step into the light. Keep straight ahead for the most glorious place on the face of the Earth and the sky. Hold onto your breath, hold onto your heart, hold onto your hope.”♪

  Light doesn’t really have time to analyze the familiarity of the tune Quillish was singing before drifting off into a deep sleep.

  Start of Light’s Dream

  Light was standing on the balcony of an apartment somewhere in Tokyo. Or at least he thought it was Tokyo; there was a magenta coloured fog that obscured any sort of recognisable landmark. As he moved to go inside, he caught sight of his reflection; the fox ears were back.

  “Seriously,” groaned Light, pulling at his now reoccurring ear problem; he thought this was an issue that only occurred in anime. Well, at least it’s only a dream, though it’s still plenty weird. “I’m going to have to suffer through this again.”

  With no other option, than to maybe jump off this twelfth-story balcony, Light decided to enter into the spacious living room of someone's apartment . The place’s layout was very open, so when he saw Kiyomi Takada, he quickly ducked out of sight behind the kitchen counter.

  Honestly, the conversation he had with L earlier today (or was it yesterday by now?) had him feeling rightfully paranoid. For the first time, Light genuinely considered the possibility that he could actually be entering other people's subconscious mind through dreams. It wasn’t really such an outrageous idea, considering the fact that there was a killer out there using people’s names and/or faces to kill them. So when he saw Takada he decided to hide, so as to avoid any potential awkwardness.

  W hen Takada started crying, Light immediately felt like he was trespassing on a very intimate level. This was not a good situation to be in. 

  Before Light could come up with an escape plan, the world around him began to crumble and peel. Words began carving themselves into the walls near Takada. Light crawled over to the opposite end of the counter to get a better look.

  To Takada’s right, the words read, ‘That bitch. Nishiyama doesn’t deserve her position as anchorwoman’. The words above her read, ‘I, as a true journalist, get overlooked in favour of her. Nishiyama only got where she is by lying on her back’. And finally the words to her left simply read, ‘Demegawa is a pig’.

  Light wholeheartedly agrees with that last statement. He knew Takada worked as a newscaster at Sakura TV. He even remembers her mentioning how she was totally dedicated to her journalism career and that she would be in line for promotion soon. Well, that obviously didn’t happened as planned. 

  There was very little Light and Takada could ever agree on, but… Demegawa really does deserve to be butchered like the pig he is. The image of Demegawa hanging from a meat hook with his guts hanging out made him smile. This revenge fantasy had also grown to include Shibuimaru and the rest of his gang.

  It was then that Light had to forcibly push the disturbing imagery out of his mind; it was times like this that he actually managed to scare himself. He didn’t want to ever stoop to becoming a cold-blooded killer; he was better than that. But it was getting so hard to maintain a clear moral compass. And if Kira hadn’t attacked the police, Light would’ve agreed with the tyrant’s stance on creating a perfect world by eradicating the scum of the Earth. But Light can’t side with a tyrant. 

  Light refused to sink to the level of corruption inflicted upon him by those pieces of filth. He was not going to let them damage him.

  Light had been telling himself things like this for a while now, and he was starting to believe it less and less. He kept experiencing trauma after trauma and he didn’t know how much more he could take. Why did he have to be here? He didn’t have the emotional energy to tackle his own problems, so why did he have to hear about Takada’s. 

  As he was thinking this, Light watched as more thoughts etched themselves into every other available surface in the apartment. The sentence etched into the linoleum in front of him read, ‘I give my all for the sake of truth and justice, and I thought he felt the same way. Instead, he puts so much energy into destroying a man simply because he wasn't god.’ Another appeared on the cabinets above him, reading, ‘Mikami refuses to use the book for my gain. Well, he only has this power, because I wanted the eyes without losing half my life.’ Then under that he read, ‘I could have kept the book for myself; that kid threw it at me after getting cold-feet.’

  Light had to admit that he was beginning to question Takada’s mental stability; or maybe he was simply questioning his own, if it turned out this was solely his dream. Why is everyone so fixated on magic books? And why would eyes cost a person half their life?

  These thoughts were quickly cut off when he felt a sharp pain run through his temples. His vision had flashed red, and he could feel blood dripping down his face due to a sudden nose bleed. 

  Suddenly, horrific images assaulted his mind; the sensation it gave was painful and resonated throughout his entire body. The images flashed by so quickly he barely had time to comprehend them; the first was of a black book, the second had a leather-clad clown monster, the third had Matsuda shooting at him, and the rest were too fast and blurry to understand.

  Finally, the images came to a halt.

  Light found himself stumbling into a dark, candle-lit room. There was a circle drawn in the middle of the room; it looked like it was drawn in blood. In the middle of the circle sat a young man on his knees, completely naked; his head was bowed, and shadows obscured his face from view. Looking up, Light quirked his head to the side in confusion. There was a dismembered head… that was somehow levitating. The blood pouring from its neck was splattering down onto the young man’s exposed flesh. Light moved around the edge of the circle ‘til he was staring into the dismembered head’s eyes; it was his mother’s face that was looking back.

  Before Light had a chance to react, he was pulled back into Takada’s mind; where he was still sitting on the kitchenette floor. He let out a few distressed whines as he tried to fully comprehend what he had seen. Has someone desecrated his mother’s body in the real world?

  “What are you doing here?!” called out Takada, making Light jump before noticing that there was another person present in the room.

   The newcomer was nothing but a shadow; it was kind of like how he saw Matt in that other dream he had. Light was beginning to wonder why he couldn’t observe certain people in these dreams. Still, he figured the only way to learn this stranger’s identity required listening and observing their interactions.

  Curiosity just kept getting the better of him. Light quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and crawled closer; he was now situated under the dining room table. The new-comer was quite soft-spoken, so it was rather difficult to listen in; Light finally understood Sayu’s complaints whenever she was eavesdropping on him.

  “I've missed you,” whispered the stranger, in a husky voice.

  Was that supposed to be sexy? questioned Light, rolling his eyes. 

  “That’s all you have to say after four months,” said Takada, angrily. Then after a deep sigh she continued in a softer tone. “You broke my heart.”

  So this person was an ex-boyfriend of Takada’s, thought Light. This may prove to be important information. If this man had truly desecrated my mother’s corpse then it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume he killed her as well; this means that he either is Kira or possesses powers similar to Kira.  

  Light shrugged off those thoughts for now, and resumed eavesdropping.

  “Do you really think that I’m the same man that broke up with you?” asked the stranger, as he softly caressed Takada’s shoulder. A flicker of comprehension crossed Takada's face.

  “No,” replied Takada, breathless. She then seemed to regain some of her common sense back. “You’re the guy Ryuk told me and Mikami about, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” answered the stranger. Before he could say anything further Takada slapped him hard across the face.

  Well, it seemed like Takada was pretty pissed off at this stranger. Still Light frowned as he concentrated on figuring out what that conversation had meant. This speculation left him with more questions than answers.

  Who was Ryuk? And what are his ties to Mikami, Takada and this stranger? Why was there so much miscommunication between parties? Ryuk, as their connection, had to know everything that was happening? Was he withholding information from both Kira and these renegade Kiras? Wasn’t he worried about retribution? Was he that powerful or just plain stupid?

  “It was only after losing you that I realized how mistaken I was,” continued the stranger. Takada’s glare softened as she latched onto his every word; Light rolled his eyes in exasperation as he watched her fall for this bullshit. “Let me make it up to you.”

  The stranger had then leaned in for a kiss that Takada was more than happy to accept. Light actually felt mildly disgusted as he watched how easy it was for him to manipulate a person like this; it wasn’t just morally questionable, but the dialogue itself was just so damn corny it was pain inducing.

  Light was now even more confused as he thought over their conversation; apparently the stranger had done something to Takada that had destroyed their relationship, but Takada had to ask if he was the man Ryuk had mentioned before, like she hadn’t ever met him in person. This brought up so many contradictions.

  Well, this is all getting pretty strange, thought Light, tilting his head as he evaluated the situation. Their connection seems to be through Ryuk, whoever he might be? Well, either that or this whole paradoxical nightmare is a result of me having a brain bleed or something.

  Light was then momentarily distracted from his mild panicking as a black cat curled up next to him; he then noticed it had a bandage around its right leg. Was it the same cat that stole his lunch four weeks ago? As Light continued to ponder this, Takada and the stranger resumed their conversation.

  “Alright, you want to make up,” replied Takada, with a dazed smile. “What are you going to do for me?”

  “Well, for starters, I am going to inform you of the police that are currently watching you,” replied the stranger, casually as Takada began to panic. “But they suspect Mikami; not you.”

  “How does that help?” said Takada, as she paced back and forth; her face was still stoic, even though her movements were panicked. “If Mikami gets caught, they are certainly going to be suspicious of how my relationship with Mikami started at about the same time that Kira started his judgments.” 

  “Remember that I have the same power. We can manipulate events to play out how we want them to,” informed the stranger with a sadistic cat-like grin; which was quite an accomplishment considering, from what Light could see, the man didn’t even have a face. “Firstly, Mikami is going to let you take the notebook. You are then going to hide it and then turn him in; saying that Mikami only recently confessed to you about killing criminals, but he didn’t specify how. Prior to being arrested he is then going to commit suicide and in a note he will collaborate with your story. This will all be possible, since he’ll want you to continue Kira’s judgments unhindered when he’s caught.”

  “But why should Mikami be concerned about getting caught?” asked Takada, curious. She still stood proud and confident, even though she was obviously scared; this ability of hers actually made Light suspicious of her cowering during the bus-jacking. “He has already been working on framing the person you need to obtain immortality. This would have the added bonus of deflecting suspicion away from him.”

  Light was wondering if the bus-jacking was an attempt to frame him or Yuri. Did the stranger need a virgin sacrifice? ‘Cause while Light may have been a virgin then, he certainly wasn’t one now; this thought made him really want to take a shower. Still, there were probably a lot of virgins out there to choose from, so why would Mikami think framing either him or Yuri would stop this other person from completing his own agenda?

  Suddenly, the black cat swatted Light across the top of his hand; drawing blood. He had gotten so caught up in his own thoughts that he had missed a small chunk of what the stranger was saying. 

  “-then he’ll realize that he threw out several of the book’s pages in the garbage?” 

  “But he always burns the old pages when he’s done with them,” argued Takada.

  “Human error is a possibility for anyone,” replied the stranger, smugly.

  “But that means that there are officers that are now capable of seeing Ryuk,” countered Takada, a taunting lilt entering her tone. Meanwhile, Light was briefly taken aback by the notion that this Ryuk person was selectively invisible.

  “Remember that we both possess a shinigami with an apple addiction,” replied the stranger. “So as long as you feed that addiction you can get him to do some minor tasks; as long as it doesn’t interfere with his entertainment.”

  “This isn’t right,” muttered Takada, as she sat down on one of the dining room chairs.

  Takada looked as though she was experiencing a moment of clarity; seeming to realize how immoral this was. To the public Kira was supposed to be justice, but so far he had only displayed attitudes that denote selfishness and spite. As the saying goes, ‘Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely’. But it seemed like the stranger wasn’t done with his sweet talking, yet.

  “I hear that Mikami refuses to help you with achieving your goals,” said the stranger, as he gently embraced Takada; this was done so as to hide smirk from her line of sight. He knew humans were rotten to the core and that they would always give into their darker desires; ambition, lust, greed, etc. “Well, I’ve already written Nishiyama’s name down; cause of death, hit by a transport. You’ll then have what you want,” as he whispered this, he knew he had won her over. “And in a few weeks’ time we can continue our work as Kira. We‘re only doing what is right; what is necessary. I have gone as far as to sacrifice my very soul in order to create a better world.”

  Light suddenly felt a series of emotions that weren’t his, but somehow felt familiar. There was determination, pride, sadness… guilt.

  Light then heard a voice in his head say, ‘I have come too far to stop now. I’ve killed hundreds of thousands of people to better this rotten world. I am now doing what I can to maintain my place as a God; I entered into a contract with the demon, Asmodeus, and even bathed in my mother's blood. I became an incubus just to get Takada on my side, so there is no room for regrets now. If this fails, the entire plan ends with Mikami suffering a heart attack. And that will ruin everything’.

  For a moment, Light could sense that they were experiencing genuine regret. But that regret was quickly followed by conviction before divulging into utter madness. This rapid influx of emotions caused his nose to start bleeding and a headache to begin forming. The room began to spin as his vision started to blurred.

  “Only you and I are capable of creating this new world,” said Takada, her voice breathless as the Stranger’s mouth moved along her skin. “And we’re going to do it together.”

   The man didn’t reply. Instead he worked on pushing Takada’s dressing gown so that it slipped down and pooled on the floor as he placed gentle kisses along neck. His hands were caressing the lower part of her exposed back while Takada’s hand reached down and began stroking his -

   So as not to be a pervert, Light turns away immediately and tries to tune out the sounds they are making. But that didn’t help since Light could feel himself experience the same sensation as the stranger. His headache was also beginning to worsen as more thoughts that weren’t his own assaulted his mind.

  The cat scratched Light again. The pain had helped in grounding him, but he could feel that he was losing himself again. Light didn’t know what was happening and it was scaring him. The cat had then jumped on his legs and that was Light when noticed the differing sensations present; the scratches and the weight of the cat felt like they were echoing from elsewhere while the table leg he was leaning against seemed to gradually become less substantial.

  Wait, this is a dream! All I have to do is wake up, thought Light. Maybe I should pinch myself.

  Before Light could do anything the psychic trauma had gotten so bad that all he could do was curl up in pain. His thoughts seemed to be trying to mix with the Stranger’s own, but they were acting like oil and water; well, a more apt description might be that they mixed like hydrogen and chlorine. It felt like acid was eating away at his brain.

  “Oh, Light, your nose is bleeding,” said Takada, concerned. To Light the voice sounded muffled and so far away. The Stranger also said something, but it was too quiet for Light to hear over the pounding in his ears.

   “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” muttered Light, breathing heavily as he repeatedly pinched himself.

  The cat shook her head in shame. To be honest Light felt embarrassed as he met the cat’s disappointed gaze. 

  Then before Light had a chance to comprehend what was happening, his right arm felt as though it was on fire and the world around him faded out.

  End of Light’s Dream

  Light bolted upright. He was on fire. Like literally on fire. His arm was on fire.

  Light immediately strips off his shirt and stomps it out. He stares at it for a minute before throwing it into the wastebasket. 

  What the fuck? How did that fire start? thought Light, panicking. Did I knock over a candle? Are there any candles here? No. What the fuck!

  Breathing heavily, Light examines his surroundings, but doesn’t see anything that could have caused a fire. He sees that he is still in the same room Watari had left him in; though, for some reason, he had slept-walked from the bed to the furthest corner of the room. And the same cat from the dream was currently sitting on the dresser.

  How did this cat get here? Whatever Light had just gone through must have been a dream, but the cat obviously wasn’t. Light figured that he must have been subconsciously aware of her presence in the room. The cat was staring at him with some fondness. This confused Light as he took the time to examine the cuts the cat had inflicted on his arm.

  Well, that’s not really the worst of my injuries, thought Light; bitterly. I’m not really looking forward to facing the mirror anytime soon.

  Light remembered the events of last night. How he had been beaten, partially skinned and had spat out no less than ten teeth. But he was still alive. He was alive and could barely feel any pain; just minor aches.

  I’m still alive while Mom is dead. My mom is gone and she isn’t coming back. And here I am worried about a little disfigurement, thought Light, entering into hysterics; laughing that quickly turned into crying. Why did I survive and she didn’t? I shouldn’t be the one to continue living.

  Light felt like he was being choked and his chest hurt as he cried out; these cries resembled those of a wounded animal more so than those of a human. He didn’t know what to do anymore; he had been raped, accused of being Kira, and had his mother killed, all within the span of a week. Light just wanted for the universe to be done with him. And even though he no longer wanted to live, he didn’t want to die either; but it was appearing to be the only way out… and he really wanted out.

  Light isn’t sure how long he was curled up on the floor sobbing, but the cat seemed to be worried about him as she began nudging her face against his leg. His eyes felt incredibly raw. Sunlight was beginning to break through the night sky and was now seeping in through the window. Sunrise during the month of April usually occurred at about 5:20 am. So it was obviously too late to head back to bed.

  With some effort, Light managed to pick himself off the floor. While heading towards the door, Light spotted a folded piece of paper taped to his shirt sleeve. Unfolding it, it read;

          ‘Light

  You are welcome to help yourself to the clothes in the dresser. There’s a shower down the hall and to the left if you want to freshen up. Afterwards you are to see L down in room one.

         Watari’

  Light laid the note on the top of the dresser before rifling through the draws; there wasn’t much there that matched his usual style. With an annoyed sigh, he just grabbed what he needed; some undergarments, a pair of dark coloured jeans, a black shirt, and a set of white socks. He then spotted a red pleather jacket and decided to grab that, too; a bit of colour would go nicely with this ensemble. That and he really liked the colour if not the material.

   Come to think of it was one of his mom’s favourite colours, as well, though she always preferred the lighter shades.

  His eyes began watering again, but Light quickly wiped them with his sleeve. He then headed towards the washroom. Upon entering, Light avoided looking into the mirror; not feeling up to facing his reflection at the moment.

  Light quickly stripped out of his bloodied clothes. He couldn’t believe that he had fallen asleep in them.

  Jumping in the shower, Light shudders as a rush of cold water hits his body. He probably should’ve waited for it to heat up; not that it truly mattered. It helped him feel more awake anyway.

  The dream had left him feeling quite shaken. Light was wondering if his subconscious was trying to tell him something; something that he can’t remember. He knew there were gaps in his memory, such as the day he had lost his best friend. 

  Based on what the police had told him afterwards, he had been the one that had called them. And yet, he couldn’t recall a completely solid memory from that day; there were so many gaps he couldn’t even understand the very few things he could remember. Such as panicking an hour prior to Shiori jumping, and the fact that he and Takada had an argument and he doesn’t even know what it was about. Afterwards, his dad had informed him that Shiori had committed suicide, and yet Light still felt like that inform couldn’t be correct. 

  Even though Shiori was the one that took her own life, I can’t stop feeling that I am responsible for it even though I remember nothing. Except seeing her fall. The look on her face, thought Light, as he scrubbed furiously at his face. It’s all my fault and I can’t help anyone. Not Shiori, not my Mom-

  Shutting off the water, Light exited the shower immediately. At some point his heart had begun racing and his lungs felt like they were being constricted. Crouching down on the floor, he fought to get his breathing back under control.

  The tiny, black cat had shown up back at his side and began rubbing her face against him. She was purring loudly and almost seemed concerned about him. Light let out a small laugh as he realized that his antics were even scaring the damn cat.

  Still, the cat’s attempts at comforting seemed to help. Several moments passed and Light finally regained the strength to safely stand up. Turning to face the fogged up mirror, he grabbed a cloth to wipe down its surface. And immediately gasped, shocked at his reflection. 

  While his face still had some tender looking injuries, it was nowhere as bad as it should’ve been. Tilting his head, Light observed that his red-rimmed eyes were heavily bruised along with the upper half of his left cheekbone, but that was pretty much all. No scars, no broken nose… Light then opened his mouth. He found no missing teeth, either. So besides the cat scratches and the first degree burns on his left and right arm respectively, he was fine. The most major injury he had was caused this morning and even that seemed to be healing fast.

  Light was now worried about how this miraculous recovery was happening. He knows that he didn’t hallucinate what had happened last night. So, is he somehow blessed? Or cursed? Was he going to slowly morph into some horrid creature with limited regenerative abilities like a worm or salamander? 

  Oh, my god! It’s like those stories by Kafka, thought Light; terrified.

  Undeniably, something strange was happening to him. But Light didn't have time to analyze it too thoroughly. Or rather he didn’t want to analyze it too thoroughly. 

  So Light forced himself to stop panicking. And instead focused on getting ready. He bound his burnt arm in bandages before changing into his borrowed clothes. He briefly paused when putting on his socks. On his left ankle was a lot of peeling skin with a hint of discoloration just beneath the surface. Pressing his fingers against the area, he noticed it didn't hurt at all.

  How odd.

~~~~~~~~~

  The case appeared to be coming to a close. And L was just finding it all too convenient. The entire situation rang false to him. He still lacked a physical murder weapon; all he had was a witness, a confession and a vague explanation of how the murders were committed, that didn’t explain much of anything at all.

  Forty-five minutes ago, Takada had gone to the police with information that Teru Mikami was Kira. Her statement was;

  ‘Mikami told me last night how he planned on murdering the Yagami family. He said this was a deliberate target on the chief of police. I thought he was joking at first, but he started freaking out about certain people not being present at the right time, that Sakota wasn’t supposed to die, and that the only correct target he hit was Sachiko. Thinking back, I believe he had some sort of ability like telekinesis. But he was crazy; he had an imaginary friend that he insisted was a shinigami. Saying that in order to commit the murders he just had to tell the shinigami the victim’s names. I was too afraid to say anything earlier. Before coming here, I went to my mother to discuss what he said to me and she insisted I go to the police. I called him one last time before coming in, which might have been a mistake. I don’t want to die.’

  Misora could confirm the timeline of her story, so the task force had followed her tip. Mogi and Misora had entered Mikami’s home six and half minutes ago to find that Mikami had committed suicide, via seppuku. He had left behind a note confessing to his crimes. Mogi had snapped several pictures on his phone and sent them to the taskforce. L read the note, which stated;

  ‘I was Kira. I can no longer live with the weight of that on my conscience. I knew the game was up when Takada threatened that she was going to the police with that information. I thought she was on my side, but I was wrong. I can’t in good conscience kill her, but I know she’ll turn me in. I also know as a prosecutor I won’t last long in jail. If the state or the inmates didn’t kill me first then I know my shinigami will. I choose to die on my own terms. Therefore my final judgment will be my own.

         Teru Mikami’

  L had ordered for the note to be analyzed to make sure it was Mikami’s hand-writing. To L’s own eyes it looked legit, but with the confession coming from a man that had died wasn’t ideal. He couldn’t exactly question the suspect about the extenuating circumstances surrounding his suicide. Nor could he understand why Mikami had killed several FBI agents, since he wasn’t even a suspect until the Raye Penber incident.

  Also, what the hell is a shinigami? questioned L; frustrated and at a loss on what to do with that particular bit of information. I doubt it was an imaginary friend, despite how it may have appeared to Ms. Takada. Could it have been a real god of death? If so, how do their powers function? Do they require a human host? Or was Mikami just crazy? Or, perhaps, lying? 

  All these problems boiled down to the fact that L still didn’t know how Kira killed. There was no solid proof; just speculation. Also, if someone else was to ever gain that ability or currently had it, he’d be back to square one. Unless he accounted for the possibility that there are multiple Kiras. Perhaps a 2nd Kira caused Mikami’s death. Then that prime suspect would still be Light. If Takada’s testimony was legit, then the teen would have had a viable motive. Mikami had murdered his mother, even though, according to Light’s birth certificate, Sachiko wasn’t biologically related.

  Regardless, it’d be a matter of time before L would know for certain if the case was truly closed. L was now planning on pursuing a secondary case located somewhere in Tokyo. That way he could justify remaining in Japan for a while longer, even if he is forced to close the Kira case prematurely.

  The sound of knocking got L’s attention as well as the rest of the taskforce, except Matsuda, who was passed out on the couch. A moment passed before Light quietly opened the door. L could see an unfamiliar black cat standing just behind him.

  “Sorry for the intrusion, but Watari told me to meet with you down here,” said Light, before strutting into the room.  He looked a lot better than last night, but his voice would still occasionally crack or cut out while he talked.  

  L reached for Light’s phone and wallet; he had taken the time to search them both. There was a spark of irritation in Light’s eyes as he recognized his belongings. L smirked at him before tossing him both his phone and wallet.

  “You left them on the counter,” explained L, as his eyes bore into Light’s. 

  Light knew he knew. But L no longer believed Light was Kira; or at least, he wasn’t the Kira that had started the killings three and a half months ago. The text he had sent to the then active Kira site, seemed too out of place. If Light was Kira, he wouldn’t be sending a text to himself to kill a specific man. It was also unlikely Light did this deliberately to throw off suspicion.

  L was under no delusion that Light wasn’t an extremely prideful creature of sorts. He definitely wouldn’t want to be seen as anything less than perfect. Therefore, he certainly wouldn’t want something, like being a Kira supporter, tarnishing his reputation.

  “Did you sleep well?” asked L, deciding not to say anything about his online activity or what was on his birth certificate.

  “Somewhat,” replied Light, avoiding eye-contact. L watched as his eyes settled on the screen behind him; his expression unreadable. L didn’t like that.

  “Is there something wrong, Light-kun?”

  “No,” reassured Light, numbly. “You found Kira?” 

  “Possibly,” answered L. “We have both a confession and a witness.”

  “Oh,” mouthed Light, numbly. His mind seemed to be elsewhere.

  L didn’t know what to make of Light’s reactions. He presumed it was safe to assume it had to do with Kira murdering his mother. Before L could say anything further Light’s phone rang. As Light answered, L watched as the colour drained from the teenager’s face. About half a minute later, Light hangs up. 

  “It was the hospital,” explained Light, his voice trembling. “Dad... he had a heart attack.”

Chapter Text

  Heart attack… Cardiac arrest… A lot of people will often use those terms interchangeably, thought Light, as he stared silently at Soichiro. Those terms are not synonyms. A heart attack occurs when a clogged artery blocks blood flow to the heart. While cardiac arrest is when the heart malfunctions and suddenly stops beating… 

  Therefore, what are the chances Kira inflicted Dad’s heart attack? Kira’s signature move has more often than not been cardiac arrest. So why would he induce a heart attack that is often conflated or confused with the prior complication? In prior instances, whenever he has changed up his methods, it has always been to send a message. Then again, there’s a good chance that I have nothing to worry about, since this is probably not related to Kira at all.

  Dad is still living… and will remain living. He has to.

  “L is finishing up the investigation on Mikami; it should be over any day now. Though something isn-” Light quickly reconsidered his words. “Nevermind… Uh, Watari had already left this morning, so Ode was nice enough to give me a ride here,” explained Light, feeling rather conflicted. He wanted to keep his father informed without adding his own biases, but his worries kept gnawing away at his conscience. And the truth was… he just wanted to be heard. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. “And, uh, Sayu should probably be here soon.”

 Soichiro didn’t reply in words, but he did make a sound, deep in his throat, as acknowledgment. Meanwhile, Light looked down at his hands; his nails were a complete mess. For the past hour he had been aggressively picking the skin around them. It had been a nasty habit he had stopped by age twelve, but yet, here he was, doing it again.

  Light felt so useless. So helpless. 

  “So the doctors think stress was the only cause?” asked Light. The question was a paraphrased repeat of what Soichiro had told Light earlier in regards to his heart attack. “How certain are they of that?”

  “Listen. I understand where you are coming from. I really do,” replied Soichiro, his voice sounding strained. “But it is really not your place to question their conclusions… Just like you should not be questioning Ryuzaki and his conclusions. If everyone is telling you that everything is fine, then please, try to accept it as such. There’s-” 

  EVERYTHING IS NOT FINE! thought Light; straining to keep all the screaming internal. Mom is dead, you’re in hospital… How do you think Sayu feels about all of this? How do you think I feel?

  “-no need to draw attention to yourself,” continued Soichiro, seemingly unaware of Light’s inner turmoil. “From what I’ve heard, Ryuzaki has finally stopped taking an interest in you. Please keep it that way.”

  Like any of that was within my control in the first place. Like I was the one to make the first move in approaching L, thought Light in sarcastic agreement. Then, not so sarcastically, he looked at Soichiro with a questioning look in his eyes. You really believe I brought all of this on myself, don’t you?

  “I will, Dad,” agreed Light, his voice toneless so as not to accidentally reveal his true feelings and thus come across as rude. “Is that all?”

  “No, actually,” replied Soichiro, as he reached a hand out towards Light. “I need to use your phone. I left mine at headquarters.”

  Light unlocked the screen before passing Soichiro his cell-phone. He watched his father’s fingers touch the screen a handful of times; press, scroll, press, press. Whoever he was calling had to already be in his contacts.

  “Moji. I need a favour from you,” said Soichiro, after connecting with the person he was calling. It had taken all of two seconds for Light to realize that Moji had to be Mogi. “I’ll likely be in the hospital for the next few days, so can y-” 

   Soichiro had paused. That probably meant Mogi had interrupted, likely asking why he was in the hospital or something along those lines. Light remembered being told that Mogi had been busy surveying the scene of Mikami’s suicide, so there was a good chance that he had not been informed about Soichiro’s heart attack yet. There was also a chance that he doesn't even know about Sachiko’s death, either. 

  “I had some minor heart complications; nothing to worry about, though,” replied Soichiro, causing Light to scoff. “Could Light and Sayu stay a few nights at your place? Just ‘til I’m out of the hospital.”

  “That’s not necessary,” said Light, butting into the conversation. “Sayu and I are capable of being on our own for a bit. I’m sure L has finished his investigation on the house, and if he hasn’t, he did offer t-”

  “Hold on a sec,” interrupted Soichiro, speaking into the phone; but Light knew, based on the look his father gave him, that the request was meant for him as well. Placing the phone face down on the bed, Soichiro continued. “Listen, Light. I don’t want you anywhere near L from now on; if he approaches you, then be civil, but do not engage. Secondly, I don’t want you and Sayu to be alone where-... alone where you saw Sachiko… um, you know,” completed Soichiro, with a shuddering breath; it sounded like he was on the verge of crying. This was perhaps the most emotion Light had ever witnessed coming from the usually stoic man; it was… unnerving. “I want you and Sayu to be safe. Besides, you used to love spending time with Mogi.”

 I’ll have to agree with you there. The big lug is practically family, thought Light with a melancholy sigh. But… it's complicated. Not that I could ever tell you… though anyone could tell you that I haven’t always been the nicest person. With Mogi, it’s hard for me to take back words that were said with the intention to hurt. So, maybe this is karma.

  “What’s wrong, Light?” asked Soichiro, gruffly, but with a hint of genuine concern.

  “Ich bin falsch,” replied Light, vocalizing his inner demons in German.

  “What?” 

  “It’s nothing,” replied Light, averting his eyes. “Just finish your phone-call.”

  Soichiro looked conflicted for a moment. Eventually, he brought the cell-phone back up to his ear.

  “Okay, Moji. So you’re good with the kids staying at your place for the next few days?... Alright, good. What time should they be there by?” asked Soichiro, conversing over the phone. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll let Light know. Bye.” 

  Ending the call, Soichiro handed Light back his phone.

  “Mogi will be off work at around five this evening. Meet him at his place sometime after then. He has a spare key he can lend you afterwards,” informed Soichiro. “Do you remember his address?”

  “Of course,” replied Light, sounding downright despondent. 

   “Listen, Light. What’s your problem with Mogi? Hell! With people, in general? You used to have friends. Whatever happened to spending time with Yamamoto and Shior-” Soichiro trailed off, looking both regretful and a bit frustrated.

  Light hated being reminded of Shiori. The fact was Shiori was gone, and she was never coming. And now with his mom being gone, everything just felt so raw; like a massive, half-healed, half-festering scab had been ripped off.

  An unbearable silence dragged on between the two men. Soichiro, in the end, was the one to break it.

  “Please, I am trying to understand you… but I just don’t,” admitted Soichiro, expressing his remorse. “For once, please, just speak plainly.” 

  A sudden, humourless laugh came from the direction of the door. A cold shiver ran down Light’s spine; that voice sounded familiar. He hurriedly vacated the chair he had been sitting in and turned around to face the source of the noise. 

  Standing in the doorway of room 365 of Ibaraki Hospital was a mature-looking woman. She was formally dressed; her jacket and skirt were a dark grey, and her blouse a pristine white. Her hair was still dark, and her face only slightly lined; most notably between the eyes and around the mouth. From what Light could recall, her age would be close to eighty by now… and yet, even now her scowl was the same as ever. 

  “Do you really believe him capable of such a feat?” asked Soichiro’s mother; Nakagawa Yagami. Her tone was cold and condescending, clearly implying that the question was rhetorical. “Evil incarnate; his kind are sly. Their words, if not straight-out lies, are filled with doublespeak and half-truths… Nothing but honeyed words.”

  “How poetic,” replied Light, complimenting her with a glib-tongue.  

  Light wanted to say more, but he also didn’t want to fuel the flames to her argument. Especially, since anything he says could be taken as disrespectful despite her unreasonableness. Socially, it’s expected to treat one’s elders with respect… which left Light at a horrible disadvantage. 

  And social niceties aside, there was another problem; he was completely and utterly terrified of this old hag. Realistically, Light knew that she could no longer do anything to harm him; at least not directly. But those memories, of being barely four years old and having Aunt Naoko holding his head under the water. And that it had all happened after a simple phone call with that awful woman. Light could still remember the look of terror on Naoko’s face, and yet, to this day, he couldn’t understand the reason behind it. 

  Don’t think about that, thought Light, feeling sick to his stomach. Whatever was going on then, it won’t change anything now.

  Light knew thinking about those memories would be too much for him to handle. So he did what he usually did. Push all the negative thoughts, feelings, and memories down; compartmentalize them ‘til they are either forgotten... or develop into a mental illness.

 Therefore, despite his inner turmoil, Light focused on maintaining a polite smile that was closed-lipped. On its own this unfazed expression was normal and rather appealing, but given the situation it was just on the edge of being off-putting. Polite, but decidedly unfriendly.

  “Are you insinuating that I’m a liar? ‘Cause if you are, that’s fine,” continued Light, with faux politeness. “There are much worse things a person could be. But I am sure that you already know that, don’t you?”

  Nakagawa’s eyes narrowed in response as her frown notably deepened.

  Good. You got the message, thought Light, smugly. That you are the one with the metaphorical blood on your hands, not me. 

  “Like I said: honeyed words with double meanings,” repeated Nakagawa, irritably, but, to a surprising degree, she managed to keep her anger reined in. Still, Light had taken the time to get up from the chair he had been sitting in; it did little to ease the sense of dread and vulnerability he was feeling. “Still doesn’t change the fact that this, all of this, is your doing. Y-”

  “Mother!” admonished Soichiro, cutting off said person with a warning tone in his voice. He took a deep breath before continuing. “What are you doing here?... How did you even know where I was?”

  “You are of my flesh and blood,” replied Nakagawa. “Do you seriously believe I’d ever stop checking in on you?”

  “But don’t you still live in the Aomori prefecture?” questioned Light, as a sense of paranoia gripped his psyche. 

  “I do,” replied Nakagawa, with the sweetest of smiles that turned Light’s stomach. “I didn’t say it was my eyes checking in,” she then patted Light’s cheek; her nails lightly grazing the skin. Not enough to hurt, but a slight scraping could be felt. She then turned her attention back towards Soichiro. “An associate of mine mentioned that Sachiko had left you about a week or two ago; unfortunately, I had been out of the country at the time. Otherwise, I would’ve come sooner.” 

  “You didn’t have to,” replied Soichiro, though it vaguely sounded more like, ‘I didn’t want you to’.

  “Oh, but I did… because I love you,” stated Nakagawa. “And really, what’s a five hour drive after an eighteen hour flight?”

  “Weaponized love and guilt trips,” muttered Light, caustically. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but this miserable woman’s tactics were truly despicable and were starting to get under his skin. Subtly was truly lost on this woman.

  “I don’t have to defend myself to you,” snapped Nakagawa, her voice remaining surprisingly even despite the burning hatred in her eyes. “I do care about my family, unlike you. You can stop pretending, ‘cause I’m not about to fall for your act. I may not have been the mother he needed me to be or the grandmother Sayu needed me to be, but I can smell the bullshit that comes out of your mouth, and I’m not letting you ruin what’s left of this family.”

  “Listen, Mother. Have some sympathy,” defended Soichiro, looking briefly at Light before focusing his gaze back on his mother. “Try to understand that under no circumstance was any of this his fault,” Soichiro grunted as he pulled himself into a more upright position as he eyed the nurse’s call button. “I would like it if you left.”

  “Really? You believe it is I that should leave?” asked Nakagawa. “You just lost your wife due to this monster. Are you really going to risk your daughter’s life for his stake?”

  “Don’t start that again,” demanded Soichiro, in a definitive tone. “You and I both know better. Light is not a monster.”

  “Really? That’s what you think,” questioned Nakagawa, an uncharacteristic smile gracing her lips. “Well, if you don’t think that he’s a monster, then why did you abandon him? Afterall, you allowed those people to take him away.”

  …

  …

  …what? questioned Light skeptically, even though there was a vague sense of unease settling in his bones. No! She’s lying in order to get underneath my skin. That’s all there is to it.

  “I made a mistake,” sighed Soichiro. “I trusted the people I grew up with. I trusted my old friend, which I shouldn’t have… And worse yet, I trusted you.”

  “...what,” said Light, shocked. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking here. The entire world was crumbling beneath him, and nothing made sense anymore.

  Nakagawa looked oddly satisfied as she scanned Light's face. Metaphorically, she looked akin to the cat that caught the canary. 

  With a smile that would put the Cheshire Cat’s own to shame, Nakagawa leaned into Light’s personal space. 

  “You don’t remember, do you?” asked Nakagawa, with faux sympathy. “What a poor lost little fox you are,” she took a step forward as Light took a step back; six steps in, and Light’s back hits the far wall as Nakagawa invades any semblance of personal space. “I’m not sure how much you do remember, but one thing you should never forget is that I have many influential connections, and the only reason you're still alive is because you’ve been lucky.”

  Light quickly strung together what Nakagawa actually meant by that statement. 

  “You almost got caught, didn’t you?” teased Light, pure spite managing to loosen his tongue once again. The flash of anger crossing Nakagawa’s face confirmed his theory; this confirmation did a lot to ease his anxiety. 

  “You should’ve died,” spat Nakagawa, gripping Light’s chin; her nails digging into his skin. Leaning in close and she whispered in his ear. “Too bad I didn’t account for Dr. Kujo being such a bleeding heart, especially to a monster like you.”

  Kujo. Kimiko Kujo. I know that name. I know her, thought Light, as something in his memories clicked. Mutti. She was… she was… 

  Flashback; Thirteen Years, Twenty-Two Days Ago

  March 15, 2007

  A dull ache resonated on the inside of Light's skull. He had no idea where he was. Trying to move his limbs, Light realises that his arms were strapped down on a metal table of sorts. He tries to open his eyes, but winces at the too-bright lights flooding his vision. He blinks a few times before his eyes adjust enough to clearly make out anything.

  Light sees that he is in a spacious, white room that is very cold and clinical. On the ceiling, there is a camera tucked into one of the corners. There’s a medical cart to his right that contained an array of surgical equipment plus various needles. Twisting his neck, he can see that above his head there is a wall dedicated to several computer screens. And standing in front of those screens was a woman. She was nicely dressed with bright, red hair secured tightly in a neat bun. She was somewhat short in height and incredibly small-boned; not exactly what you’d imagine a kidnapper to look like.

  “I see you are awake finally,” said the woman without turning her back. Her voice was soft, but lacked any warmth.There was also an accent present that Light couldn’t quite identify. “You are at Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital.”

  Gonjiam? questioned Light, thoughtfully. That word sounds… Korean, maybe. Is that where I am? If not, I can figure that out later.

  “Who are you?” asked Light, meekly. He noticed she wore an ID card on a lanyard, but his vision was too blurry to focus in on the words.

  The woman didn’t reply, acting as though she had not heard him. Pulling against the restraints, Light rolled into a position that allowed him to see things right way up instead of upside down. He could now clearly read the information lit up across the screens, though none of it was in a language he could read. But he could still understand the microscopic images and chemical equations in the research… and the implication of what these things meant was far from good.

  “Name is Dr. Kimiko Kujo,” answered the woman, reluctantly. She had moved closer to him; her phoenix-shaped, brown eyes briefly peered in his direction.

  “Light Yagami,” greeted Light back automatically; his parents had, afterall, taught him the importance of good manners. “It’s… uh, good to meet you.”

  Kujo just stood frozen, blinking a few times, looking utterly baffled by Light’s behaviour. Light tried to force a smile to see if that would ease the awkwardness. It didn’t.

  “Ich bin mir nicht sicher, ob ich die richtige Entscheidung getroffen habe,” muttered Kujo to herself as she shook her head. She looked at her watch before going back to ignoring him.

  “...Was that German?” asked Light, both curious and wanting to keep the conversation going. “Are you fluent?”

  “Ja,” replied Kujo, briskly.

  “Can you teach me?” asked Light, hopeful despite Kujo’s coldness.

  Before Kujo had a chance to reply, a strange man with a large burn scar covering the left side of his face entered the room. Light felt very unsettled when the man’s eyes briefly glanced towards him; the man had extremely dark eyes, though one appeared to be blind. Light recognised the person that had been speaking with his dad when he had been taken.

  “Why is that boy here?!” demanded Matoba, in barely subdued anger. “An old associate of mine wanted him gone. And here you are messing around!”

  “What difference does a few months make?” asked Kujo, nonchalantly. “You can still leave his body to burn with the others as planned. The story is still same whether he dies today or in forty-nine days.”

  Throughout Kujo’s explanation, Matoba’s composure was gradually slipping. A look of agitation was written clearly across his face. He took a deep breath to reel in some of his temper.

  “What use do you have for a kitsune?” asked Matoba, much to Light's confusion. “We’ve already proved that the virus works on them. There’s no point in testing the antidote on them; afterall we don’t want their kind. The boy is useless.”

  “The boy is human,” replied Kujo. Matoba was notably surprised by this information. “I ran tests. There is proof if you need it.”

  Why is he so shocked by me being human? Isn’t it obvious? questioned Light. He must not have done so well in school.

  A short huff of laughter escaped Matoba’s throat as he crossed his arms. 

  “Yagami-sama… Such a paranoid old kook, that lady,” criticized Matoba in amusement. He then looked over at Light, who refused to meet the man’s half-seeing gaze. “Such a waste… Soichiro was always bragging about how well his son was doing. Really could have been something.”

  “You knew the boy’s father prior?” asked Kujo.

  “Yeah. Went to the same school. Small community. He seemed to consider us to be friends,” explained Matoba, briefly lost in thought. A look of contemplation crossed his features as he stared at Kujo. “Why do you need this particular human?”

  “Because most of the other human subjects at this facility had been through too many prior experiments,” explained Kujo, frowning. “Bodies been altered too much. Genetically, no one here is hundred percent human anymore. I have no other options. If you want an acceptable sample pool on the effects of antidote then I need this boy.”

  Kujo awaited Matoba’s answer with a determined face. He sighed in exasperation.

  “I want the antidote perfected prior to releasing your virus. Afterall, who’s going to pay for something that might not work?” said Matoba, thinking aloud before relenting. “You may use him in your experiments. Just remember that one of your main investors in this little project wants this boy dead. She wanted it done immediately, so if she catches wind of this, then you’re through.”

  “I understand,” replied Kujo, grim-faced. “I accept full responsibility.”

  “I’ll leave you to it then,” said Matoba as he turned to leave. He paused at the door. “You have a month and a half.”

  With Matoba gone, silence permeated the room. After witnessing the conversation between Kujo and Matoba, Light felt more like prey than ever before. 

  So Daddy and Grandma may have made a decision to get rid of me. But I did not agree to this. I did not consent to this. It is still kidnapping, thought Light, frantically; even as he felt his eyes beginning to water up. Besides, there was no way that Mommy agreed to this. She wouldn’t. Would she?

  “Was Mommy also involved in sending me away?” asked Light, hesitantly. Afraid of the answer, but needing to know it. 

  “Yes,” replied Kujo, curtly as she pulled a chair to his bedside and sat down. She also took off her lanyard and set it on the medical tray beside her.

  Tears welled up in Light’s eyes. 

  What did I do wrong? thought Light as his tears turned into full-on sobs. I’m going to die, and I’m all alone. Why does no one love me anymore?… Why does it hurt so much?

  “Und hier kommen die Tränen," commented Kujo, rolling her eyes. 

  Kujo reached over and picked up a syringe and a vial from the medical cart beside them. There was a cloudy, green liquid contained in the vial. Uncapping the needle, she placed the tip in the vial and drew back the plunger. Light watched as the mystery substance filled the barrel to roughly 0.7ccs.

  “What’s that?” asked Light, trying to keep his wits about him, despite the hopelessness of the situation he’d found himself in.

  “A syringe,” answered Kujo, flippantly.

  “I know that,” replied Light, annoyed and a little bit offended. “What’s it for?”

  “So viele fragen,” complained Kugo, rolling her eyes as she injected the syringe’s contents into his shoulder. “I'm a scientist. I will be running tests on you. You have no choice in this. So why bother requesting such information?”

  Light went quiet for a moment as he considered his next words. Kujo is not a person that tolerates idle chit-chat, it seems. Whatever he said next should have some weight to it.

  “Are you creating a variant of the Marburg virus?” asked Light as he looked back at the screens the woman had been facing when he had first woken up.

  “Hä?”

  “On the monitors,” explained Light, nervously despite his confidence in having the correct answer. “The image looks very similar to that sort of viral particle. It’s pleomorphic in shape. The membrane is derived from the host and coated with spikes made of the viral glycoprotein. Light gradually got quieter during his observation. “These assist in attachment, receptor binding, and fusion.”

  Light stopped talking, despite having more to say. The silence from Kujo felt increasingly oppressive as she just sat and stared at him. Light once again felt as though he was a bug under a microscope.

  “Go on,” encouraged Kujo after a few seconds ticked by without a sound coming from either one of them.

  “Also, at the core of the viral particle is the ribonucleoprotein complex, also known as the nucleocapsid, which is made up of the viral RNA genome and its associated nucleocapsid proteins,” continued Light with a bit more confidence. “The nucleocapsids are tubular structures that remain tightly associated with the RNA genome and give it its helical shape.”

  Kujo looked mildly impressed by his observation. Contrariwise, Light was feeling more unnerved as he had his suspicions confirmed. 

  “But it’s not Marburg, is it?” questioned Light. “It has components that look like Ebola,” Light paused as it clicked that he was with this mutated virus and that he was likely going to die from it. “It’s something much worse than either, isn’t it?”

  “That’s enough questions for today,” stated Kujo, as she walked over to the door and continued talking with some men that were standing outside. “You two. Escort this boy to room 402.”

  Twenty Minutes Later

  March 15, 2007

  The two guards, wearing medical masks and gloves, were practically dragging Light to the room that he’d soon be locked in. Admittedly, Light had made the poor decision of making a run for it and was now paying the price by having these two men trying to dislocate his arms as they pulled him along the near empty halls.

   One of the guards finally let go of his arm, so that he could grab his keycard. Standing in front of a door, he pressed the keycard against the scanner. Meanwhile, the other guard shoved Light through the threshold so hard, it caused Light to trip and fall onto the dirty, white tile floor.

  Why was everything so white here? questioned Light, as he wiped his hands on his pants. They don’t keep the place clean, and it really shows. Gross.

  “Yeogi ne sae lummeiteu Jeevas-ga iss-eo,” said one of the guards; it sounded mean-spirited even though Light had no idea what he was saying. Although the word Jeevas stood out as odd given the language; that must be someone's name. “Neomu chinhage jinaelyeogo aesseuji maseyo.”

  Hearing the door slam shut, Light surveyed his surroundings. The room had two beds; on one of the beds was a scrawny teenager, who was reading a gaming magazine. He must be Jeevas.

  “How old are you?” asked Jeevas, without looking up from his magazine. 

  Jeevas was speaking in English, with an accent that sounded vaguely American. Luckily, Light’s father was bilingual and insisted on Light learning both English and Japanese from an early age.

  “Four,” answered Light, quietly walking over to the unoccupied bed and sitting down on the thin mattress.

  One delayed reaction later, Jeevas looked up in surprise as he eyed Light from across the room.

  “You really are four,” observed Jeevas, his dark blue eyes narrowed. “It seems like there is no limit on how low these people will stoop to.” 

  Jeevas threw down his magazine and got off his bed. Light watched as Jeevas moved closer to him when suddenly he remembered how contagious both Marburg and Ebola viruses were. Before Jeevas had a chance to reach him, Light began screaming at him. 

  “DON’T TOUCH ME!”

  Jeevas stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet. Luckily, he managed to catch his balance, using the wall as a support. Light felt a bit guilty for screaming at the other boy like that, but it’s for his own good. 

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” whispered Light, with downcast eyes as he curled into himself. “But if you get too close to me, then you will die.”

  “Really?” questioned Jeevas, scratching the back of his head.

  “Really,” confirmed Light, quietly as the reality of his situation truly set in.

  I’m a dead man walking, thought Light. All possibilities lead me to death. If I stay here and get cured, I get murdered afterwards. If the cure doesn’t work, I die due to an incurable virus. If I somehow escape, I die from an unknown, recently created virus. It’s a no-win scenario.

  “Okay, I’ll stay over here and we can just talk,” negotiated Jeevas, in a placating tone as he threw his hands up in mock surrender. “You have a name, kiddo?”

  “Light,” replied Light, as he curled even further into himself. 

  “Mail Jeevas. You can call me Mail,” introduced Jee- uh, Mail. “Would you like to tell me how you got here, Light?” 

  Light looked over his knees at Mail. He wasn’t sure whether the older boy actually cared or not. Mail talked in such a nonchalant, almost teasing, way, it was difficult for Light to gauge his emotion, let alone his intentions. 

  But at the same time, Light was so overwhelmed with everything that had happened in the last few days. He felt like he was about to burst.

  “Grandma said I murdered Aunty Naoko when she tried to drown me. And then-”

  “I’m sorry, what?” asked Mail, in mild disbelief before slipping back into a more teasing tone. “I guess I should be glad you don’t want to kill me then.”

  “I didn’t kill her,” argued Light, defensively as tears streamed down his face. “My vision was blurry at the time, but I remembered seeing a bunch of people emerging from the water she tried to drown me in. They attacked her. One of them dragged her through the bathroom mirror.” Light paused as he recalled those pale hands reaching out through the mirror’s reflective surface and how their nails sunk into the soft flesh of Naoko’s face. “...I left to call the police, but when they got there, all they found was her dead body in the bathtub. Every piece of her skin had been removed.”

  Mail remained eerily quiet. Petrified by fear, he stared blankly at Light.

  “You don’t believe me,” accused Light, tempestuously.

  No one ever does, thought Light bitterly. Why won’t anyone believe me? That’s all I want. Is it really too much to ask for?

  “Daddy thought I did that Naoko, too,” continued Light as he laid down on the bed. He was now facing the wall instead of Mail. “So yesterday or perhaps the day before that, I was at home, playing with Sayu. And then these big, scary men came barging into the room. I screamed and begged f-for Daddy to help me, but he didn’t. He just stood there.”

  “Oh,” replied Mail, hesitantly. It seemed like he was trying to find a way to relate to him. “I was kidnapped, too-”

  “NO!! I wasn’t kidnapped,” argued Light, feeling inexplicably angry. “Daddy was right there watching the whole time. He wanted this to happen! He didn’t want me! Nobody wants me!”

  Light sobbed uncontrollably as he curled himself into a tight ball. As a four year old child, emotional regulation was not yet a part of his skill-set.

  Suddenly, Light felt a hand on his shoulder. He quickly pushed away Mail’s hand as he scrambled to the foot of the bed with his back pressed against the wall.

  “NO! I told you not to touch me!” yelled Light, urging Mail to get away from him. “Go away.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Mail, as he sat down on the edge of Light’s bed. “You can tell me.”

  “I’m contagious. Infected with a potentially fatal virus,” explained Light, hoping that Mail would finally get the message not to stay away from him. “And I don’t know if it can be cured… it most likely isn’t.”

  “Those are some long words,” commented Mail, with a strained smile; like he didn’t want to fully acknowledge the meaning of what Light had just said. “Your accent… English isn’t your first language, is it?” observed Mail, stretching out his hand like he was about to pat Light on the head before thinking better about it. “You sure you’re four, kiddo? And not just someone that didn’t drink their milk.” 

  Light weakly glared at his cellmate. He wouldn’t have found Mail’s jokes to be funny at the best of times. With the dire hopelessness of his situation weighing on him, the teasing was bordering on intolerable.

  “Listen, kiddo, there’s no need to pout. We’re not dying, yet. Where there's a problem, there is always a solution. We have time,” insisted Mail, with a determined look in his eyes. “Though I have to be honest with you. These wannabe Frankensteins are probably the last group operating here, so we’re gonna have to act fast.”

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Light, his interest piqued.

  “There was an incident a while back. An inmate here managed to escape. She died, but she managed to pass along some info. It got to the media,” explained Mail, as Light tried to understand the relevancy of this information. “The medical director said she was crazy, and that seemed to be that, but…” Mail frowned in deep thought. “But I think it was enough to scare the people in charge of this place. I’ve noticed the level of permanent staff dwindling. Furthermore, you have been the only new patient since the incident.”

  “If they are closing down, does that mean you’re going to be transferred elsewhere?” asked Light, not understanding why Mail was worried. Unlike him, no one wanted Mail dead. 

  “Fuck, kiddo. You are much too young and naïve to be involved in this bullshit,” said Mail, crossing his arms. “Times like this I wished I had a cigarette,” Mail shook his head with a sigh. “Okay… simply put, we’re gonna have to escape from here. Because if we don’t, we’re gonna die; whether it be by the surgeon’s knife or by fire.” 

  “Fire?”

  “Fire destroys everything; at least, anything that’s obvious,” explained Mail, with a surprising amount of honesty despite Light’s young age. “I overheard Matoba talking with someone; I think she may be one of the investors of this place. He said in about one month’s time everything here will be ashes; all evidence gone. We’re evidence, kiddo.” 

  “They can’t just dispose of all of us like that,” argued Light, despite lacking conviction. It’s not that Light didn’t believe Mail’s words; it’s just that he didn’t want to. His little detour around the hospital had him hearing the cries of hundreds of people behind locked doors. That’s a lot of people to murder in cold blood. “You must have a family. People that would miss you.”

  “Do you have anyone who would miss you?” asked Mail, spitefully as his eyes darken in anger; Light was certain he had touched upon one of Mail’s sore spots. “If so, why are you here?”

  That question had stung Light deeply. And yet, simultaneously, he realised that he had been so self-absorbed in his own problems that he hadn’t noticed how Mail was in a similar predicament. 

  Despite of his recent revelation, Light felt his chest tighten as sobs escaped his throat. What Mail had said had really felt like rubbing salt in wounds, even though it was a reflection of what Light himself had said.

  Mail looked at him regretfully.

  “Sorry, kiddo. Please don’t cry. Boys don’t cry,” insisted Mail, looking a bit lost. “Forget I said anything.”

  “No, you're right,” replied Light, as he fought to get his emotions under control. “I recall Dr. Kujo saying something about me dying in forty-nine days; that’s about May 3rd. So, if we’re getting out of here, we’re going have to do so soon.”

  For one blissful second, Light had hope… But could he really leave? If he did, he risked causing a massive pandemic. Millions, maybe even billions, of people would die… instead of it being just him. But maybe, just maybe, if he timed this out right, he might be able to leave while Kujo studies the effects of the antidote on him… Assuming that the antidote works. Though it’s important to remember that even if it does work, he could still be a carrier. Then again, that might not be much of a problem. In the cases of most viruses, they only remain contagious one to two weeks after symptoms cease.

  The more I think about it, the better my chances of survival seem, thought Light, feeling optimistic. All we need is an escape plan that takes my needs into account.

  “I have an idea on how we can break out, but it’s going to rely heavily on you,” explained Mail, with a serious look on his face. “Are you willing to help me with this, kiddo?” 

  “What do you need me to do?” said Light, with a determined look.

  Five Days Later

  March 20, 2007

  “The virus appears to be active,” observed Kujo, as she pressed her fingers against his swollen lymph nodes.

  This time Light wasn’t strapped down. Kujo must have figured that he was unlikely to put up much of a fight given the fact that he knew she was the only person with a potential antidote. So, for now, Light was sitting patiently on an examination table, being poked, prodded, and swabbed.

  “Why are you doing this?” asked Light, genuinely curious of Kujo’s motivations.

  “To you specifically? Or why-”

  “Why are you working for such an unethical organisation?” interrupted Light, clarifying his question. “I know you’re smart. You’re better than this.”

  “I only do what I have to,” answered Kujo, listlessly. She then paused as if she was going to say something else before continuing in a more business-like tone. “The corporations investing in this are refusing to launch my virus without thorough human testing of the antidote. They want to make profit and they can’t do that without a functional antidote to their manufactured virus.”

  “So… am I just a lab rat to you?” asked Light, feeling a little offended; especially since there seemed to be no clear benefit for Kujo in all this. “Seems rather cold, doesn’t it?”

  “Das kann man so sagen, ja,” agreed Kujo with a shrug as she put her lanyard back on; Light noticed that she often took it off during examinations. “Personally, I would liken your situation to a broader term… perhaps animal testing,” Light briefly wondered if the language barrier between them was influencing the odd mixing of metaphors and non-sequiturs. English was a second language to the both of them, but it seemed to be the only one they could communicate in. Light figured that Kujo must be Japanese only by heritage and not nationality. “You should consider yourself lucky. Life is suffering; to suffer is the consequence for still being alive.” 

  Light was left even more confused by that last statement. Should he be grateful that he’s going to die and thus experience less suffering, or should he be grateful that he’s suffering and thus is still experiencing life?

  “How do you justify what you’re doing?” asked Light, pouting as he glanced up with big puppy-dog eyes. “I just want to understand you.”

  “No, you don’t,” replied Kujo, with a shake of her head. She walked over to her desk, and rummaged around for something. Having found it, she tossed it into Light's lap. “Here.”

  It was a package, containing a book and several CDs on how to learn German. There was also a portable CD player and a set of headphones in there as well. With wide eyes, Light stared at Kujo, not knowing what to say.

  Why would Kujo bother with helping me learn a new language if I’m going to die soon? wondered Light. What is her angle? Is she just trying to keep my mind occupied so that I’m less inclined to cause trouble?

  “You expressed an interest in the German language,” explained Kujo, after a long silence dragged on. “These should help.”

  “Oh,” replied Light, still lost in thought.

  “Is this the correct way we express gratitude?” asked Kujo, crossing her arms as she glared down at him.

  “Thank you,” replied Light, quickly correcting himself. “I’ll start reading this right away.”

  “Good. But make sure you listen to the discs,” instructed Kujo, as she led Light out of the examination room. “Otherwise your pronunciation will be complete garbage.”

  Twenty-Four Days Later

  April 13, 2007

  “Ich bin krank,” said Light, with laboured breath. He then proceeded to list his symptoms in German as well; he was quite proud of his progress so far. “Fieber. Husten. Schwindlig. Schwierigkeiten beim Atmen.”

  “Ihr Deutsch ist passabel,” complimented Kujo, before asking. “Are those the only symptoms?”

  “Yes,” replied Light, quietly. His lungs hurt so much. “I feel like I’m going to die. What are my chances?”

  “Hundertprozentige Sterblichkeitsrate beim Menschen,” replied Kujo, definitively.

  A hundred percent chance of death in humans, thought Light; roughly translating what Kujo had said. That must be before administering treatment. Although, how much has the antidote been tested? Dr. Kujo did say something about a sample pool, so there had to have been others. I wonder… where are they now?

 “Hundertprozentige Sterblichkeitsrate,” repeated Light, numbly.

  “Close enough; pronunciation was OK,” commented Kujo, as she filled another syringe to 0.8ccs. When she was done, she set the syringe down on a nearby tray and took a moment to gaze at Light’s worried face. “If it’s any consolation, most subjects die after thirty days. So, you’ll be getting the antidote. It should work. Afterwards, the damaged tissues should heal up on their own.” 

  Kujo grabbed a cotton ball and poured some rubbing alcohol on it. Dabbing the cotton ball down Light’s upper arm a few times, Kujo proceeded to jab a needle into the skin. The syringe’s contents were released into the muscle of his upper arm. Pulling the needle out, Kujo used some tape and a cotton ball to stop the bleeding.

  Light found her touch to be almost gentle and surprisingly caring… at least, in comparison to their first meeting. 

  It seems like my attempts at getting closer to Kujo are starting to work, thought Light as he fiddled with the tape on his arm. But will it be enough? I still need to gain more of her trust, and I only have twenty days left.

  “Was that the antidote?” asked Light, already knowing the answer.

  “Ja,” replied Kujo, as she discarded the used syringe into the hazard bin. “And before you ask, it’s only been tested on ninety-nine additional subjects, including myself. So far, the success rate has been very good… Believe me when I say that your chances of a full recovery are nearly absolute.”

   “That is until I get murdered,” replied Light, sardonically.  He then flashed an apologetic smile. “Sorry… and, uh, thank you.” 

  Suddenly, Kujo’s fingers gripped Light’s chin, jerking his head up, forcing him to look directly into her eyes. Light’s heart pounded like that of a frightened bunny’s as he stared into Kujo’s angered eyes.

  “Do not apologize unless you mean it,” demanded Kujo, before letting go of his face. “I do not like liars. It is better to say nothing than to lie.”

   Light nodded, solemnly. 

  “Is that why you won’t tell me your reasons for creating such a virus?” asked Light, steeling his nerves. “Because you’d have to lie.”

  “Wie kommst du darauf?” asked Kujo, crossing her arms with a curious look on her face.

  “Your partner, Matoba, wants t-”

  “He's not my partner,” interrupted Kujo, mildly annoyed.

  “Your business connection then,” corrected Light, pausing to ensure that Kujo was agreeable to the new wording before continuing. “He wants to profit off of this disease you created, correct?”

  “Not quite, but you are on the right track,” said Kujo, tapping Light’s nose; the gesture could almost be described as affectionate. “He and his investors plan on releasing my virus later this year. After a few thousand deaths have occurred, they plan on selling the cure’s formula to the highest bidder. I’m assuming it will be a very secretive, black-market bid.”

  “Where do you benefit in all this?” asked Light, pointedly.

  “Do you not think I am getting paid?” replied Kujo, in a mocking tone; as if she was quietly laughing at his naïvety. 

  Light tried not to be offended, despite despising how everyone continually viewed him as naïve and stupid.

  “I do,” replied Light, knowing it would be idiotic to argue against something that was likely true. Light swallowed as he recalled the brief flash of desperation in her eyes when she said, ‘I only do what I have to’; Light knew there was more to Kujo than meets the eye. “But I don’t think the money matters to you. There’s something else… I don’t know what it is, but I'm sure it centres around the virus. Not the cure, not the money-”

  “Then what?” taunted Kujo, interrupting Light’s observations. “You can’t tell me, can you?”

  “No,” relented Light, sulking. 

  One Week Later

  April 20, 2007

  “How do you feel?” asked Kujo, as she pressed the diaphragm of her stethoscope to Light’s chest, listening to his breathing.

  “Ich fühle mich jetzt besser,” answered Light, truthfully; he actually did feel a lot better.

  “Good,” replied Kujo, in a tone that bordered on clinical. “I think you are still very contagious to others. But there seems to be no long-term damage done.”

  A long, heavy silence passed between them. It seemed like Kujo had something to say and was deliberating on whether to say it or not. Light didn’t dare say anything.

  “Are you still curious about why I am working here? Doing what I do,” asked Kujo.

  Light stared at Kujo for a moment before nodding his head. Was she really going to tell him?

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” warned Kujo, booping Light’s nose.

  “A cat has nine lives,” refuted Light, with a teasing smile as he batted at Kujo’s hand. 

  “Even still, not an overall good experience for the cat,” argued Kujo, with a lazy shrug.

  “I’m tougher than you think,” said Light, defensively as he wondered what Kujo could possibly be hiding that was so dire.

  “You’d have to be,” replied Kujo, ominously. She paused in thought before continuing. “Humans are the scourge of the earth… so are the gods, demons, monsters, yokai; all of them. They destroy all that is beautiful; all that is vulnerable. Nature suffers, we suffer… they even bring suffering upon themselves. It’s better for everyone if they all disappeared.”

  “We suffer? We?” asked Light, confused. Why was she speaking of us separately from the humans she listed? Also, gods, demons, monsters, yokai — is Kujo seriously suggesting that they all exist? She must be. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Kitsune. Fox creatures. Yokai. Break it down however you want; we have been othered to the point that we only have ourselves to rely on. All other relationships; too unequal of a power dynamic,” replied Kujo, heatedly. “I’m going to let you in on a secret. And I hope I can trust you.” 

  Light felt the intensity of Kujo's gaze as it focused solely on him. She was expecting an answer; a promise that he was trustworthy.

  Kujo just admitted to lying about both my humanity and hers? thought Light; taking a moment to get over his shock. But how is this information relevant? This power struggle she talks of — how will her virus fix such a systemic issue?

  “You can trust me with a secret,” replied Light, both reassuringly and very specifically.

  What he said was the truth, but not the whole truth. Light would not divulge Kujo’s secrets, but that doesn’t mean he was trustworthy beyond that. Especially, since escaping this hellhole alive meant eventually betraying Kujo’s trust after doing all he can to build upon it.

  Light’s eyes briefly glanced down at the medical cart, where Kujo often left her lanyard, which contained both her ID and keycard.

  “Have you noticed how everyone here wears protective equipment… except me?” asked Kujo. Light took a moment to recall the last thirty-six days and realised that was true. After nodding his head, Kujo continued. “Mr. Matoba thinks it’s because I’d taken the antidote. But the truth is, that while I did do that, it’s not the only reason I’m still alive and no longer affected by the virus.”

  Kujo stopped talking as she walked over to the computer monitors. She seemed lost in her own thoughts. She caressed the image of the virus molecule displayed on the screen.

  “The virus is very, very deadly. It can and will infect anyone; even creatures that can’t die will die from it in some manner. It took me hundreds of years and many mistakes in order to develop it,” continued Kujo, sounding wistful. “In the end, the virus affects everyone, but the antidote only affects kitsunes. Had to have a friend pretend to be all the previous subjects for those clinical trials.”

  “Das ist völkermord,” replied Light, appalled. Kujo just admitted to planning a mass-scale genocide. “How can you have so much hatred for everyone?” 

  “I already told you the reason why.” 

  “You also said the kitsune are yokai, too,” argued Light, frantically. Kujo was insane. Could she even be reasoned with? “Aren’t we all living creatures?”

  “Perhaps we deserve to die as well,” replied Kujo, tiredly; sounding like she held the weight of the world on her shoulders. “But I also think we deserve the chance to prove ourselves worthy… whether it be of life or death. And we can’t do that while humanity, the gods, and everyone else continues to look down upon us; continues to suppress and use us. They must all die for us to have our chance.”

  As Kujo continued with her well-intentioned villain monologue, Light decided this was his chance. With her back still turned, Light quietly hopped off the examination table and snuck up to the medical cart. His nimble fingers managed to get the keycard free from her card-holder, and shoved it up his sleeve just in time for Kujo to turn around. Terrified, Light froze like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “Es tut mir Leid. You are much too young to understand,” said Kujo. Her eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion when she saw that Light was no longer on the table.

  Not knowing what else to do, Light rushed forward and hugged her. He hoped Kujo viewed this as the emotional reaction of a child rather than the poorly thought out manipulative tactic of a child.

  “It’s rather sad really,” said Kujo, softly as she ran a hand through his hair. “One day you will understand. Understand how no matter where you go, no matter who you pretend to be, always you will be hunted, used, exploited… One day you will learn there are certain things that people can and will do to others that can never be forgotten; let alone forgiven.”

  Light was oddly frightened by Kujo’s ominous warning. He was also very saddened by the way she spoke; despite being vague, it was like she was speaking from experience. 

   “I’m sorry,” apologized Light, knowing that he too was using her. He then apologized again in German. “Es tut mir Leid.”

  “Don’t be,” replied Kujo, as she untangled herself from Light’s sticky grasp. Keeping her hands on his shoulders, they were now arms-length apart, as she intently searched his face with sympathetic eyes. “Now dry your eyes, my Mausebärchen. Tears have never solved anything.”

  Light could only nod as he wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. 

  Ten Minutes Later  

  April 20, 2007

  “I got the keycard like you said,” announced Light, as he tossed Kujo’s keycard to a half-asleep Mail.

  It bounced off the teenager’s face, before he had a chance to comprehend what Light had even said. Blinking a few times, Mail looked down and saw the keycard now sitting in his lap. A genuine smile broke out across the teen’s face.

  “You got it! You really got it!” exclaimed Mail, with quiet excitement before succumbing to a brief coughing fit. 

  Mail then bolted across the room towards the toilet and knelt down on the floor. There was an accessible seam between the toilet and the linoleum. From there he slipped the keycard underneath the linoleum flooring.

  “Okay, I need you to understand that what happens next might be a little scary,” warned Mail, as he got back on his feet. “Remember, it’s all a part of our plan. These NPCs may be dumb, but they’ll likely notice a missing keycard very soon. It shouldn’t be long before they sound an alarm. Afterwards, they’ll be checking the rooms. No matter what they say or do, just remain quiet. Got it?”

  “... yes,” replied Light, quietly. A feeling of foreboding tingled at his senses.

  “And if, for whatever reason, I’m no longer able to help you, do you know what you need to do next?” asked Mail, in a serious tone. This disturbed Light, since Mail was rarely ever serious.

  Looking down at his feet, Light nodded once.

  “SAY IT!” snapped Mail. When Light jumped back, Mail added in a softer tone. “Please, tell me what you are gonna do, kiddo.”

  Light took a deep, calming breath.

  “I’l-”

  Light was interrupted by a loud, ear-piercing alarm. All the lights then went out, and the emergency ones came on; bathing the room in colours of red.

  Light was completely paralysed by the fear coursing through his veins. He couldn’t move; he couldn’t even bring himself to breathe.

  Suddenly, the door to their room burst open. Several men came rushing in. One of the men approached Mail and another approached Light. The others began tearing apart the room, searching for what they stole. The man in front of Light began stripping him down and proceeded to search his clothes, shoes, and orifices. The other man did the same to Mail… and since he didn’t cry, Light didn’t either.

  A man, that was neither searching the room nor them, approached Mail. Despite him and Mail being the same height, the other man appeared to tower over him. This man radiated violence and aggression.

  “We know that you’re responsible for a particular item going missing,” stated the man, as he crossed his arms. “If you tell us where it is, I promise you won’t suffer any repercussions.”

  “What makes you think I took anything?” teased Mail, with a care-free grin. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t really get out much.”

  “Don’t get smart with me, boy,” threatened the man, eyes darkening. “I know you are using that dumb kid over there,” the man pointed over at Light, who felt particularly offended. “I’m not sure what you were trying to accomplish. You should’ve realised that you’d get caught.”

  “Caught doing what?” asked Mail, in a tone that made it abundantly clear that he was playing dumb.

  “YOU DAMN WELL KNOW WHAT?!” accused the man, yelling so close to Mail’s face he got spittle all over it. He then grabbed Mail’s arms and shook him roughly.

  “That’s enough, Du-chi,” demanded Matoba, halting the other man’s actions as he calmly entered the room. “The card has been deactivated. No harm, no foul.”

  “No harm, huh?” said Du-Chi, releasing his grip on Mail’s arms. He then turned his attention towards Matoba. “What would’ve happened if that bitch scientist of yours hadn’t noticed her missing property? We’d be in a hell of alot of shit, that’s what. Especially, after that last fuck-up.”

  “As I recall, that last fuck-up was yours,” replied Matoba, throwing Du-Chi’s words back in his face. “Seriously, is it that hard to keep track of a woman with only one kidney, half a liver, and no eyes?”

  “Actually, only one eye had been taken,” interrupted one of the men that was turning over the mattresses in the room. He seemed oblivious to the fact that his input was unwanted as he continued. “Our doctor went on a smoke break halfway through the procedure, an-”

  “Despite past issues,” interrupted Du-Chi, talking over the other man as he focused his attention on Matoba. “If you had the situation under control, why did you call my department for assistance?”

  “I thought, in the interest of maintaining good relations, my team would let you have our share of patients,” replied Matoba. Du-Chi seemed intrigued by this answer. Meanwhile, Light felt his blood run cold. “We’re done with them, and it’d be such a shame to let them go to waste.”

  “Aren’t their organs contaminated with trace amounts of yokai DNA after that experiment your previous head scientist did? What was his name again? Nakado, Neekaito…”

  “Nikaido,” corrected Matoba, unimpressed by Du-Chi’s attitude.

  “Didn’t he go missing recently?” asked Du-chi, with a snide expression.

  “I wouldn't know about that,” replied Matoba, evasively. “But as far as his experiment went, he found that the average person that had their genetic material spliced with one of our captured yokai displayed increased healing time and stamina. Also, their organs can be exchanged so long as their blood type matches.”

  Du-Chi hummed thoughtfully as he took a moment to consider Matoba’s offer.

  “What do you want in return?” asked Du-Chi, abruptly.

  “Nothing much,” replied Matoba, being oddly evasive once again.

  “I’ll need a clearer motivation than that.”

  “After tomorrow, I plan on no longer being in the country. Because of that, I want someone in charge of the clean-up; make sure there’s no evidence left,” informed Matoba, stating his motivations; it seemed like the deal was that Du-Chi gains additional ‘livestock’ in exchange for handling these objectives that were initially Matoba’s responsibility. “I also want you to keep an eye on Miss Kujo. If the Tin-Man discovers she has a heart, then melt her down, if you get what I’m saying.” 

  “That seems doable,” replied Du-Chi, as reach forward and shook Matoba’s hand. “You got yourself a deal.”

  Turning away from Matoba, Du-Chi addressed the rest of the men in the room.

  “You guys find anything yet?” asked Du-Chi, loudly as looked towards the men that had been searching for the keycard for the past several minutes.

  “No, sir,” answered the unknown men simultaneously.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, Light started throwing his clothes back on. His face was burning with humiliation. Meanwhile, Mail appeared to be completely nonplussed by the situation. 

  How long has Mail been here? None of this seems to bother him. It’s like he expects the worst in people, wondered Light; feeling both sad and a little disturbed. He never did tell me how long ago he was kidnapped.

  “Forget the card. That woman probably just lost it,” said Du-Chi. He then gestured towards the two men that were closest to Light and Mail. “You and you, bring these two down to the butcher. Afterwards, bring more men to empty cells 403 to 407. Tomorrow, we do cells 408 to 413, and so on throughout the next ten days. The remaining three will be dedicated towards ‘clean-up’.”

  After Du-Chi had given his orders, Light felt himself being lifted and thrown over a man’s shoulder. Craning his neck up, he could see that Mail was dragged along the corridors by another man. They walked down a flight stairs to the third floor before entering a surgical room.

  Mail was taken over to the observation area, while Light was dumped onto a cold, metal table. Before Light had a chance to regain his bearings, his arms and legs were forcibly pinned down as someone else strapped them to the table.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Light could see a fully scrubbed man approach him. Light figured that must be the doctor, aka the butcher. He looked to be somewhere in his mid to late twenties and was bizarrely skittish. 

  “I-I never administered a-anesth-thesia on s-someone s-so young,” admitted the doctor, nervously; his voice sounded like the squeak from a mouse as he stuttered his way through his concerns. “I-I’m unsure of the p-proper dosage”

  “We already have him tied down,” replied Du-Chi, as he patted the straps holding Light down. “I don’t think the brat will be too much of a hassle.”

  The doctor hesitated as he retrieved a scalpel and proceeded to just hold it as he stared down at Light’s face. Eventually, Du-Chi’s patience ran out.

  “Well, get started,” demanded Du-Chi, coldly. “Unless you want us to find another way to settle your debt.”

  That seemed to be all the motivation the twitchy doctor needed as a look of fear crossed his face. Without further hesitation, the doctor began cutting into his side as he muttered about starting with the kidney.

  A wave of pain washed over Light. He started screaming and thrashing about on the table. He could hear the doctor curse under his breath while Du-Chi looked on annoyed. 

  Light knew that the plan had gone off track, and there was no coming out of this alive and in one piece. The pain of having his organs removed without anesthesia was causing Light’s vision to blur; he was almost certain that he was on the cusp of blacking out.

  Suddenly the doors were flung open. It was Kujo. She marched up to Matoba with a look of barely contained fury in her eyes.

  “Stop this,” demanded Kujo, seething. “That kid is my subject. I am still using him, and I will deal with him.”

  “But you don’t need him anymore,” replied Matoba, looking unperturbed despite being on the receiving end of Kujo’s intense glaring. “Everything has been officially cleared. Our plan has been set forth into motion. What more could you want?”

  “I was supposed to monitor him for longer,” argued Kujo, though she now sounded more unsure; like she was grasping at straws. “Just give me a few more days… to ensure that our finished product is perfect.”

  “Excuses, excuses,” said Matoba, exasperated. “Fine. Whatever happens here is no longer my problem,” he turned to address Du-Chi as he gestured towards Light. “Let that one go.”

  Light felt extremely light-headed as his vision became fuzzy and his hearing, muffled. Between one moment and the next, he somehow found himself somewhere else. He could feel that someone was carrying him somewhere; they were holding onto him in a princess-style carry.

  The pain radiating from his side was all-encompassing and his surroundings seemed much too bright and staticky. Despite this, Light felt safe as he snuffled against a soft, comfy chest that reminded him of his mother.

  Was the last month perhaps a dream?  questioned Light, deliriously. Am I back at home? 

  “Mommy?” said Light, quietly and full of hope. 

  “Uhh… no,” replied a voice that definitely didn’t belong to Light’s mom. 

  Blinking a few times, Light slowly came to his senses a little. Looking up, he saw Dr. Kujo’s face staring down at him. Light couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Reality has a habit of doing that.

  Entering room 402, Kujo gently placed Light on the bed before leaving. Looking down, Light saw that there was an inordinate amount of blood pouring out from the wound in his side. Splotches of red bloomed against the white sheets that were underneath him.

 Is this how I die? thought Light, sullenly. I guess there are worse ways of departing. Though I hope the afterlife is nicer than this.

  Suddenly, there was a hand in his field of vision. It was shoving something against his mouth.

  “Take this,” demanded Kujo, as she forced a pill past his lip. She then handed him a glass of water before taking several items out of the med-kit she had brought back with her. “Now stop crying. There is no need for that.”

  Light forced back his tears as he focused on watching Kujo work. Both the blood loss and the pill was making him feel light-headed and floaty. Light was now incredibly disconnected from it all, like this body was not his body and nothing really mattered; it was surprisingly relaxing, even as he stared directly into the bloody mess that was his abdomen.

  Kujo was surprisingly gentle as she cleaned Light’s injury. She injected a topical numbing agent before proceeding to suture the muscle back together with a taper-point needle and poliglecaprone thread; this type of thread should break down after about six months, which is pretty ideal for internal stitches. Kujo then switched to a prime conventional cutting needle and silk thread. Silk thread is non-absorbable, so Light knew he’d have to have those taken out after a week or two. 

  “Mutti,” started Light, slurring his words as he looked at Kujo in confusion. Whatever she had given Light earlier was making it hard for him to think clearly. “Why are you being so nice to me? Am I dead?”

  “Relax, Mausebärchen. Du bist am Leben und Du bist bekifft,” hushed Kujo, as she ran her hand through his hair.

  “Ich hab dich lieb, Mutti,” muttered Light, with a smile as he drifted off to sleep.

  The Next Day

  April 21, 2007

  Late in the evening, Kujo took Light to a small courtyard located at the centre of the building. Light didn’t know why she was being so nice; it’s not like she had to let him outside to keep him alive for further study. Then again, Light would be a fool to look a gifted horse in the mouth.

  For some unknown reason, Kujo had brought with her a jar of squid ink and a brush. Light wondered if she had meant to bring paper, but forgot. Dragging him towards a half-dead camphor tree, they both sat down beneath the tree’s shade. Feeling happy and safe with her around, Light leaned his whole body against Kujo’s side; almost like he was an abnormally large house cat. She gave him a strange look before sighing and reluctantly giving him a pat on the head.

  “You’re worse than herpes, kid,” grumbled Kujo, as Light stared up at her confused. Upon seeing the look of confusion on Light’s face, she scrunched her nose up in mild annoyance. “Relax, Mausebärchen. Don’t take it so literally.”

  Deciding to give up deciphering the mixed messages Kujo was giving him, Light went back to leaning his head against Kujo’s shoulder.

  “What happened to Mail?” asked Light, meekly breaking the prevailing but oddly comfortable silence. 

  “He’s still alive if that’s what you’re asking,” replied Kujo, as she fiddled with the paintbrush in her lap. “He was moved to room 311.”

  “Can you help him?” asked Light, looking up at Kujo with the saddest puppy-dog eyes he could muster. “Please.”

  Kujo flicked her fingers on Light’s forehead in response.

  “I could,” replied Kujo, as Light rubbed at his forehead with a disgruntled look on his face. “But he is missing many of his parts. It would not be a life worth living,” Kujo paused as Light became oddly quiet. “If it is any consolation, he would have died from the virus sooner or later; I doubt he could have avoided infection, having shared the same room with you.”

  Kujo’s attempts at consoling actually made Light feel worse… but she had confirmed that Mail was still alive and there was nothing that conclusively proved Mail had contracted the virus. So what if he had been coughing a lot, and would tire easily? That doesn’t mean Mail was sick. There was still a chance they could both get out of here together.

  But based on what Kujo is saying, did Matoba give us to those organ-traffickers with the express purpose of spreading the virus? questioned Light. Did Kujo know about such a plan? 

  “Is that why Matoba gave all of us to Du-chi?” asked Light, cautiously. “He wants to spread the virus via organ trafficking.”

  “Harder to trace things sold on the blackmarket,” replied Kujo, unphased by the horrors she was speaking of. “I do not know whether that was always the plan or if he thought it up on the fly. Probably the latter. I think he saw an opportunity after the stunt you two pulled.”

  I guess I should be thankful that Kujo has some morals and wasn’t as involved as I thought with the Du-Chi incident, thought Light as he leaned away from Kujo. But I wished she cared more. I want the person that was there when I got hurt yesterday.

  “I’m not sorry about what I did,” defended Kujo, despite Light not saying anything.

  “If it’s any consolation,” started Light, repeating the words Dr. Kujo had said earlier. “I forgive you. Your actions are extreme, but behind it all there are good intentions. I may not know the specifics, but I think, on some level, I can understand,” those words were truer than Light would like to admit, and that horrified him. “But Matoba, he’s a drécksack.”

  Kujo let out a short, soft laugh. This had taken Light by surprise. He had never seen her laugh before. It was rare to get so much as a smile out of her. Seriously, Light was almost certain that if Kujo ever tried to smile her face would literally crack in two.

  “True,” agreed Kujo.

  Laying down in the grass, Light took a moment to admire the wild overgrowth of plant-life slowly overtaking the courtyard and the picturesque sky up above.

  “Es ist schön hier draußen,” commented Light, as he basked in the dwindling sunlight.

  “German is a non-rhotic language. That is to say, the rolled ‘r’ uses an uvular trill, not an alveolar trill. Relax your tongue and use your throat,” advised Kujo, before acknowledging what Light had said. “Though I do agree, it is very beautiful outside. Truly, there is something so uniquely alluring to the sight of rot and ruin. Seeing nature take back what is hers. Though the derelict state of this building is becoming rather dangerous, with huge blocks of cement breaking off every so often.”

  “Then why add new technology to such an old building?” questioned Light, confused by this new information.

  “Budget reasons. And because we’re more concerned about keeping our specimens contained rather than safe,” explained Kujo, flippantly. “Besides, the building is up to code as far as regional laws are concerned.”

  “You sure about that?” muttered Light, under his breath as he stared at a wall that appeared to be covered in mold. 

  “You’re such a spoiled princess,” accused Kujo, deflecting Light’s question.

  Light tried not to be offended as he rolled over onto his side to look at her.

  “Can you tell me a bit more about yourself?” asked Light, curiosity shining in his eyes. “I’d also like to know more about kitsunes. Afterall, I am one, right?”

  “OK, why not,” agreed Kujo, as she pulled a blade of grass out of Light’s hair. “My name was Tamamo-no-Mae and I was created by Inari in 794 CE, along with ten thousand others. I cut ties with Inari in 1185, after she brought the kitsunes to the brink of extinction. Travelled the world for a few years. Came back to Japan in 1333. Left three years later, and I haven’t been back since. I favoured living in Germany for the last few centuries - with the exception of the mid-1930’s to 40’s, for obvious reasons,” Kujo paused a moment. “Due to the cruelty of both humans and spirits, there are currently only a hundred and nine of us kitsunes left, including you.” 

  “That’s quite a lot of information, but no details,” complained Light, in annoyance. Kujo’s rapid-fire sentences left his head spinning. “How did so many kitsune die? Who’s Inari? And what do you mean by created? Don’t you mean born?”

  “Inari Okami is the god/goddess of success, prosperity, rice, agriculture, industry, craftsmanship, smiths, agriculture, and tea,” explained Kujo, with an odd look on her face. “This god created the kitsunes. We were once merely statues of carved jade, until Inari had breathed life into our bodies. Our souls, however, were only half-formed.” 

  “Half-formed?”

  “I believe it was intentional. It made us easier to control,” replied Kujo, a tinge of sadness colouring her tone. “Do you know what a hoshi-no-tama is?”

  Light shook his head.

  “Well, according to myth, they are magical jewelry carried by kitsunes; either around their neck or on their tail,” explained Kujo, hesitantly. It was obviously a sensitive topic of discussion for her. “It is said that this jewel contains the kitsune’s own soul, and that anyone that steals a kitsune’s hoshi-no-tama becomes their master. This is not true,” Kujo’s eyes became notably colder; it was like she was unwilling to connect her emotions to her recollection of past events. “It is merely a rumour I created to convince some gullible fool to take mine off. The truth is Inari used the hoshi-no-tamas to keep us obedient. Our minds never used to be our own, and there was nothing we could do to fight it off. Due to the nature of our souls, it is very easy for someone else to override our own desires and thoughts with this particular enchantment. All other types of mind-control, when done on other species, can only ever suppress; it can never rid a person of their own thoughts completely.”

  “How could anyone do such a thing?” questioned Light, horrified.

  “Given your current predicament, you’re seriously asking that? Have you learned nothing on the cruelty of people?” chastised Kujo, causing Light to look down in shame. Kujo leaned forward and patted Light’s head sympathetically before answering his question. “I guess, Inari wanted to maintain control; they were afraid of losing their immortality.”

  “But as a god, isn’t immortality and power guaranteed?” asked Light, timidly.

  “No,” replied Kujo, as she continued to pet his hair. “A god is essentially a more complex type of tulpa; a creature that attains corporeal reality, having originally been imaginary. The difference between a god and an ordinary tulpa, is that to create a god it requires a massive amount of people believing in them, but for a tulpa, it only requires one. This often grants gods with immense power. With this power, a god can create other creatures of equal power. Creatures like us… but unlike them our power does not fluctuate; same goes for lifespan. For a god, when belief stops, their existence ends.” 

  “Sounds horrifying,” said Light, wondering if the cessation of existence meant simply death or complete erasure from reality; and truly, he did not want to learn the answer to that.

  “It is, but it comes with the territory,” replied Kujo, seemingly unperturbed. “We all have our problems, don’t we?”

  A silence fell between them as Light digested all the information that Kujo had just shared with him.

  “I have another question,” said Light, tilting his head. “If you were incapable of possessing your own thoughts, how were you able to remove your hoshi-no-tama?”

  “Actually, I’m glad you asked that,” replied Kujo, with a weak smile. “I trespassed onto a yama-uba’s territory; something you should never do, by the way,” warned Kujo as she pulled up the sleeve of her shirt; on her upper, right forearm was a tattoo. It looked like a circular brush-stroke done in red ink. “She branded this on me. She said her conflict was with Inari, not me.”

  Kujo silently urged Light to sit up as she unscrewed the cap on the ink jar beside her.

  “The ensō circle is a symbol of wholeness and completion,” explained Kujo, as she gestured to the tattoo located on her upper forearm. “It acts as a bandaid for our half-formed souls. It won’t completely block out a person’s attempts at controlling you, but at least their thoughts and desires will remain separate from your own. You will be able to distinguish yourself and them.”

  Grabbing Light’s left leg, Kujo pulled him closer ‘til his calf was positioned directly onto her lap. Dipping the brush into the jar, she drew a quick circle on the outer side of his ankle. Putting the brush aside, Kujo stared down at the symbol she had just drawn, and then suddenly the area burst into flames. 

  Light started to freak out. His foot was on fire, flesh burning. It hurt. He needed to put it out somehow.

  As Light tried to stand up, Kujo tightened her grip. Forced to lie there until the fire burned out, Light sobbed into the grassy ground, covering his face with his hands.

  A few seconds later, Kujo loosened her grip, and Light was able to bring his leg to his chest. Glancing down at the burnt skin, he saw the black ink had turned a deep, vivid red. It now looked exactly like the tattoo on Kujo’s forearm with the exception of the fresh blisters littering his skin. It was a relatively small area that had been affected, but it still stung like hell.

  Kujo had an almost apologetic look in her eye as she helped lift Light into a sitting position against the trunk of the camphor tree.

  “Do you understand why I needed to do that?” asked Kujo, as she brushed the dirt off Light’s face. 

  Light nodded, nervously. He understood, but he was still quite shaken.

  Leaning down, Kujo cupped her hands over Light’s wounded ankle.

  “Dissimulatiō Pellis,” chanted Kujo, quietly before lifting her hands, revealing now completely unmarred skin. “See no harm done.”

  Light poked at his ankle and immediately grimaced at the sudden influx of pain. 

  “It is an illusion. I personally don’t care if anyone sees mine; it’s a badge of honour as far as I’m concerned. If it bothers you, then you’ll have to reapply the enchantment in about a decade or two,” explained Kujo, clinically. “Or if you want to get rid of it, just say the words ‘Finis Incantationem’ while directing your energies to the area. It’s an all-purpose cut-off spell, though it has its limits. It’s great for taking down illusions and spells that require a power-source, but you have to put in ten times more energy than what was used in the initial spell.”

  As he quietly listened to Kujo’s explanation, Light slowly crawled into her lap. She seemed surprised at first, but eventually wrapped her arms around him, assuming Light wanted a hug. While she did this, Light swapped out the deactivated keycard for the active keycard.

  Despite completing the switcheroo, Light continued to relax in Kujo’s embrace. For some reason, he felt safe around her. The pain surrounding his ankle gradually ebbed away as time passed in comfortable silence.

  A minute or two later, Kujo shifted the both of them so that they were once again facing each other. 

  “Listen, even with this protective symbol, be wary. Inari’s form of mind-control may be the only one that works on us, and it may not have the same effect as before, but it is still very strong. So you got to be smart,” warned Kujo, as Light stared up at her with rapt attention. “Do not ever let yourself be collared like dog. Whenever accepting gifts, if it is wearable, always put it on yourself. To allow anyone else to do so may be taken as invitation to exert control on both your mind and body. It is always better to be safe than sorry.” 

  “I understand, Mutti,” mumbled Light, as he curled against Kujo’s chest, closing his eyes.

  The sun was beginning to set, and the light was rapidly fading away.

  “I think it’s time we go back inside,” said Kujo, as she stood up with Light still curled up in her arms. Walking towards the door, she placed her keycard on the scanner - only for it to do nothing. “Huh… it seems like my card doesn’t work. Must have gotten dirt on it,” Kujo placed Light back on the ground and then took out her phone. Glancing back down at Light, she explained. “I'm going to have to phone Matoba to let us back in. Thankfully, he’s not leaving ‘til early tomorrow.”

  Six Hours Later

  The guards patrolling the hall had lessened at about midnight, but Light waited an additional hour before leaving his room. Swiping the still active keycard through the scanner, the doors unlocked. 

  Tiptoeing quietly along the corridors and down a flight of stairs, Light searched for room 311. He quickly noted that the staircase had gates that could be locked off. Leaning over the railing, he saw that these gates were located on each floor.

  I have to find Mail, and then we’ll leave this place together, thought Light; anxiously. It’ll be fine. Everything’s fin- 

  Light’s thoughts came to a halt as he found what he was looking for; room 311. Seeing the length of the hall completely deserted, Light quickly ran towards the door. He then paused just outside. Pressing ear against the door, Light listened intently for any voices. When he heard none, Light used his keycard to unlock the door.

  Upon entering, Light was greeted by a horribly foul stench; the place reeked of rotting flesh and cleaning chemicals. The musty odour was so heavy Light could taste it on his tongue.

  Suppressing the urge to gag, Light searched the sea of half-dead bodies for his friend.

  “Mail! Mail!” called out Light in a semi-loud whisper. “Mail! Where are you?!”

  “Light?”

  The weak reply came somewhere from the left, several rows down. Light ran in that direction and immediately spotted Mail. He was lying on an old, rusted gurney. His skin appeared incredibly pale. But he was still alive, and that was all that mattered to Light.

  Jumping onto the gurney, Light clung onto Mail like an oversized koala. Tears running down his face, Light flashed a weak, but genuine smile.

  “Found you,” said Light, happily as he hopped off the gurney. He began pulling at the older boy’s sleeve. “We can now leave here together.”

  Light dangled the keycard in front of Mail’s face. It was in that moment that Light found himself staring into two empty sockets. Frozen in shock, he was unable to say anything.

  Mail has no eyes, thought Light, completely unsettled as his mind slowly caught up to what he was seeing. Mail has no eyes. Mail has no fucking eyes.

   “Who taught you such foul language?” teased Mail, with a weak laugh. 

  Realising he had said those thoughts aloud, Light redoubled his efforts to focus on the here and now. He can’t afford to be distracted, nor could he start panicking. Light forced himself to calm down.

  “You did,” replied Light, smiling despite everything. He needed to remain hopeful and optimistic; that everything will turn out just fine. “We’re getting out of here. I’ll guide you.”

  Light tried pulling at Mail’s arms, but he wouldn’t budge. 

  “You shouldn’t be here,” said Mail, as he broke into another coughing fit. Light purposely ignored the tiny flecks of blood that splattered everywhere with each cough. “You were supposed to leave. I’ll only slow you down.”

  “I don’t care,” replied Light, stubbornly. He didn’t want to leave this place; he didn’t want to be responsible for Mail’s death. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Okay, okay, princess,” teased Mail, as he relented. “As you command.”

  Holding Mail’s hand, Light guided him through the corridors and down the stairs ‘til they reached the main floor. Looking out of the stairwell, Light saw that there were two men blocking the door. He could also hear two sets of footsteps clicking against the floor somewhere out of sight.

  Turning to face Mail, Light noted the pain written across his friend’s face. The hand gripping his was soaked with sweat, and every inhale of breath came out in a crackling wheeze.

  There’s no way we can make a run for the exit, thought Light with a frown. I also doubt we can sneak past these men with Mail breathing like an eighty year old version of the bad bad wolf. So how do we do this? There has to be a way for all of us to escape.

  “All of us,” said Light, aloud, struck by inspiration. Looking at Mail, he asked. “Do you know where the control room is?”

  “Um, I believe that would be on the ground floor,” said Mail, thoughtfully as a look of concentration crossed his features. “It should either be room fifteen or sixteen.”

  “You don’t know which?” chided Light, in frustration.

  “To a non-native speaker, yeol daseot and yeol yeoseot sound very similar in passing conversation.” 

    Despite his annoyance, Light had to admit he didn’t have a good reason to complain. He should just be glad that Mail understood some Korean and had gleaned as much information as he had. 

  Moving away from the door, Light began pulling Mail towards the empty space underneath the stairs. 

  “Stay here,” demanded Light, as he forced Mail to sit down within the shadows. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” 

  “I’ll hold you to it,” replied Mail, with a grin before succumbing to another cough fit.

  Looking back out into the lobby, Light saw that the nurses station had a huge counter. It could easily hide him from view of the men blocking the door. Unfortunately, there was also a large distance between him and the counter that had nothing for him to hide behind. And he shouldn’t take a chance getting caught.

  I need to cause a diversion, thought Light; closing his eyes. This build is old and falling apart. Maybe if I can sneak out a window and knock something off the ledge, these men will go check it out. This gives me time to get to the control room, and once there I can disable all the electronic locks in the building. All the hired personnel will be too busy dealing with the patients on floor three and four, that they won’t be searching the first floor… Also, if luck is on their side, perhaps some of those patients might also be able to escape.

  Running back up to the 2nd floor, Light found that most of the windows wouldn’t open. After a minute or two of searching Light found a window that had bars instead of glass. 

  Thankfully, the bars were spaced far enough apart that Light could squeeze past. It was a tight fit, but he managed to crawl through with a little effort and a few scrapes.

  Feet now touching the ledge, Light pressed his against the concrete wall and shuffled his way towards the front of the building. Upon reaching the corner, he saw that it was on the verge of collapse, which was perfect for his plan. Unfortunately, while observing this, Light had looked down and was reminded of how high he was; if he fell, it probably wouldn’t kill him, but it would definitely hurt. And an injury here was practically a death sentence.

  A wave of vertigo washed over Light. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down and focus on the task at hand. 

  Bracing himself against the exterior wall, Light started stomping both his feet against the weakened area of concrete; putting his full weight into it. Several attempts to break free the ledge’s corner led nowhere. Light briefly considered giving up, but before he could truly entertain that thought, the ground beneath his feet gave way. Light’s heart leapt in his chest as hands clung to the wall, skin scraping against the rough surface.

  Feet once again touching a secure stretch of ledge, Light quickly shuffled back to the barred window as he heard voices approaching. Squeezing through the bars once more, Light managed to get away unseen.

  The distraction would only work for so long. Knowing he had a limited amount of time, Light ran back down to the first as fast as his little legs would take him. He only paused long enough to drag Mail back out from beneath the stairs. They ran across the lobby and ducked behind the nurse’s station.

  Light took a moment to determine the location of the third guard. Judging by the sound of distant footsteps, Light figured they were patrolling the corridor marked 021 - 040. 

  Good, thought Light; releasing a sigh of relief. There seems to be no indication of movement in the hallway marked 004 - 020, which is where Mail and I have to be.

  Grabbing Mail’s hand, Light pulled him along as they quietly snuck down the corridor. Upon reaching room 015, Light was happy to discover this was the control. And luckily enough, it was unoccupied, though someone had left a sandwich on the desk. So, they probably didn’t have much time.

  Approaching the computer set-up on the desk, Light noticed the massive amount of broken cameras that were being monitored here. It appeared like there were only two working cameras, one by the entrance and another all the way out by a fence that appeared to be electric.

  Another obstacle to get past, noted Light. I better get started on disabling the security system and hope it’s all connected.

  Sitting down at the desk, Light stared at the computer screen. It required a password. That shouldn’t be too difficult. Light quickly rebooted the system and then started pressing the F8 key repeatedly until the computer displayed the boot menu. With the arrow keys, he selected safe mode. This took him to the home screen, where he clicked on administrator, and proceeded to reset the password to: LY123. 

  Restarting the computer, Light entered the new login. Now he had access to the main system. A quick skim through the security codes, and Light hurriedly typed in some new directives.

  “By the way, kid, some of us are blind,” started Mail, cautiously moving closer to Light. “Can you please shine a light on what it is that you are doing exactly? So to speak.”

  “I’m using some basic coding my Daddy showed me,” explained Light, briefly pausing at the mention of his father. “Once I finish inputting this, all the locks should be deactivated,” with a final tap of the keys, Light looked over at Mail with a proud smile stretched across his face. “Voilà.”

  Suddenly all the power went out. Causing the entire building to become pitch black... This was neither expected nor intended.

  “Uh?!”

  “What’s ‘uh’?” asked Mail, concerned by Light’s verbal reaction. “What did you do?”

   “I shut down the power to the locks… as well as everything else,” answered Light, sheepishly. “Lights included”

  “Is that all?” asked Mail, incredulously. He shook his head in fond exasperation. “Seriously, kid. You are much too tough on yourself,” Light could feel his face beaming with pride as Mail gripped his hand. “Let’s go.”

  When Light and Mail stepped out into the hallway, they could hear the sounds of footsteps and arguing coming closer. They managed to hide away in room 014 just as a flash of light came from around the corner. Four men with flashlights rushed past; Light noticed that two of them had their guns drawn. 

  After a handful of seconds ticked by, Light and Mail left their hiding spot and headed towards the exit. When passing the lobby, they could hear a crescendo of screams from upstairs. Light silently noted the now locked gates on the staircase.

  I never thought I’d hate being right, thought Light; sorrowfully. Though I wonder… did I just doom everyone upstairs to death? No! At worst, I just expedited it. Which is totally different. I’m not at fault. At least, I still have Mail. That’s something. Right?

  Light pushed away his manic thoughts as he and Mail stumbled outside. The night was astonishingly clear and bright; the cosmos shone vivid and bright. Light hoped this was a good omen.

  They were only a few metres away from the gate when suddenly a bright light flooded their surroundings. Before Light could turn towards the source, something hit him from behind. This sent both Light and Mail flying through the air. With a loud smack, they landed a few feet ahead on the dirt road. Looking up, Light saw a man get out of his car; it was Matoba.

  “Soichiro really wasn’t kidding when he said you were smart,” complimented Matoba, though it felt more like a taunt. He stood over top of Light as he pulled a gun out of his jacket. “Fortunately for me, not smart enough.”

  Matoba aimed his gun, leveling it at Light’s head. There was an audible click as he removed the safety. 

  “DON’T-”

  As soon as Mail shouted, Matoba quickly turned direction and shot at Mail instead. The bullet went through his throat.

  Light turned his head away from the scene; keeping his eyes shut tight. He could hear a wet, gurgling noise coming from Mail as he struggled to breathe, only to cough up blood. 

  Whimpering, Light slowly reopened his eyes and watched as Matoba aimed his gun back at him.

  This is it, thought Light, resigned. This is how I die… I expected something more dramatic. Where’s the pouring rain with lightning and thunder booming at the edge of a cliff or something?

  Hysterical laughter erupted from Light’s chest. 

  Unfazed, Matoba stared into Light’s frightened gaze.

  Light watched as Matoba’s finger squeezed the trigger and then-

  Matoba burst into flames. He didn’t even have time to scream. One moment he was standing in front of Light and the next he was ashes on the ground; barely distinguishable from the dirt.

  What just happened? questioned Light, kicking his foot at the ashes in apprehension.

  “Are you OK, Mausebärchen?” said Kujo, concerned as she hurried towards the scene. 

  “Did you see that?” asked Light. A single glance at Mutti’s all-too-knowing face and Light immediately changed his question. “Did you do that?”

  “Ja.”

  Light knew deep down he should be fearful, but he wasn’t. He was confident this woman hurt him.

  “Thank you,” said Light, as he ran up and latched onto Kujo’s legs.

  That moment of happiness quickly disappeared as Light registered the sounds of gurgled choking close by. Tearfully, Light ran over to Mail’s side and  pressed his hands against the wound in his throat, trying to stem the bleeding.

  “Mutti! Fix Mail. Please,” begged Light, as he felt blood gushing between his fingers.

  “I don’t help humans,” argued Kujo, looking down at Mail with cold eyes. “Besides, he’s too far gone. Fate has already decided he is not long for this world.”

  Light did not want to hear this. He wanted Kujo to tell him that everything was going to be alright, that somehow she would fix this. He stared up at her with pleading eyes. Kujo’s face remained a blank, unreadable mask.

  “Listen, I made a call a while back, so I need to leave before Wammy gets here,” continued Kujo, as she turned her face away from Light’s gaze. “I know he’ll be obligated to arrest me for my part in all this.”

  Light watched as Kujo started to walk away. Just before she got into Matoba’s still running car, Light tried pleading with her one last time.

  “Please don’t leave me, Mutti,” begged Light, sobbing as he locked eyes with Kujo.

  Light couldn’t do anything else if he wanted to maintain pressure on Mail’s wound. He could feel the thrumming of Mail’s beating heart; it was becoming weaker, slower.  Thump-bump. Thump-bump. 

  Reluctantly, Kujo got back out of the car and approached them once again. Light felt a wave of relief wash over him.

  “I will help you help him,” relented Kujo, sounding somewhat miffed.

  “How?!”

  “It is not a permanent solution, but will prolong the inevitable,” explained Kujo, as she crouched next to them. “There is a spell I know. It is a very complex imitation spell. When cast upon a person, that person takes on some of the same attributes as the caster. Whatever body part or function is missing or lacking is replaced with a duplicate of the caster’s. Though due to the extent of his injuries and your young age, we’ll have to age him back a bit. I am willing to do that much for you.”

  Before Light had a chance to question any of that, he saw that Mail’s body was suddenly becoming smaller and younger. Looking over at Kujo, he noticed there was a look of intense concentration on her face. Despite this, her eyes appeared to be glazed over. It was downright eerie.

  Suddenly, Kujo took in a deep, gasping breath. She looked a bit shaken. 

  “Are you alr-”

  “The imitated parts expire after about fifteen to twenty years,” explained Kujo, hurriedly as she interrupted Light. She got up, stumbling slightly. She then began collecting loose grass and rusted pieces of metal that had broken off from the fence. “The spell also requires the complete draining of his blood and the replacement of it with yours. I’m sure you can see the issue here. When the time comes, a rapid degeneration sets in; this will literally eat him from the inside out within the span of about ten minutes. This will not affect you; though you might feel a slight bit of discomfort when it happens. So you will know when it happens.”

  Light looked on in mild horror as Kujo described the effects of the spell. Her nimble fingers carefully bound the loose grass, that she had collected earlier, into the crude shape of a man. Using the pieces of rusted metal, she stuck them into the grass doll; exactly where the lungs, liver, kidney, throat, and eyes would be.

  That’s what Mail needs replaced, realised Light; his stomach turning.

  “Do you still want to do this?” asked Kujo, noticing Light’s terrified expression.

  Light nodded, solemnly. 

  “These are far from the right materials to use for such a spell, but they’ll have to do,” cautioned Kujo as she placed the doll on Mail’s chest. “Keep your mind focused and your intentions clear, and everything should be fine. Otherwise…”

  Kujo’s words just trail off; not that she needed to finish that sentence to get her meaning across. She gently moved Light’s hands away from the bullet wound. 

  Taking a pocket knife out of her pocket, Kujo pressed the blade to the palm of Light’s hand. He barely had time to brace himself for the pain before she dragged the blade across the skin.

  Using his blood, Kujo guided his hand as they wrote several symbols onto Mail’s skin. Light recognised the symbols as Kobun, classical Japanese writing. This was an incredibly old language. Despite this, he recognised the symbols for location, mirror, and body. The composition for galvanized steel was then inscribed upon Mail's skin; Light guessed that was what those metal pieces were composed of.

  “Guide your energy into his body,” instructed Kujo, calmly as Light started feeling a strange tingly sensation run down his arm. Was this the energy leaving him? “Fuel the spell and focus on the body parts he is missing; lungs, liver, kidney, throat, and eyes.”

  “Lungs, liver, kidney, throat, eyes,” repeated Light. He started to feel light-headed, but he persisted through. “Lungs, liver, kidney, throat, eyes.”

  Mail started to seize, but Light had to remain focused. This was easier said than done as his vision became fuzzy and his body grew lethargic. The only thought running through his mind was lungs, liver, kidney, throat, eyes; the words themselves had lost meaning as he repeated them on pure instinct.

  And then everything stopped and Light felt himself being pulled away.

  Kujo was saying something to him. Light could not understand what was said. It felt like his entire body had been submerged underwater, and even the loudest of sounds was muffled to the point of incomprehensibility.

  And then everything went black. 

  End Flashback

  “Yagami-kun.”

  “Light!”

  Light could hear people calling his name; one of the voices sounded like it came from his dad. The voices were oddly muffled; as if cotton had been shoved in his ears. The lights shining from above felt absurdly bright, as he slowly blinked open his eyes.

  Looking around, Light realised that he was lying on the floor. There was a nurse crouching over him. Sitting up slowly, Light saw that his father was looking at him in concern from his hospital bed. 

  “It seems like you might have fainted,” said the nurse, smiling reassuringly. “Take your time getting up. We don’t want you possibly falling down again and busting open that pretty head of yours. Would you like a drink of water?”

  “Sure,” answered Light, numbly as he tried to come to terms with what he just learned.

  His father abandoned him. Nakagawa was right about everything… 

  No, thought Light, stubbornly. Being a kitsune does not make a person a monster. Mutti- no, Kimiko Kujo wasn’t a monster. Perhaps a bit mean, and mildly evil, but overall a good person. What happened to her after all that? 

  Concentrating, Light could recall some vague memories after she had taken him back to her home in Lübeck, Germany. Kujo really loved that place, and even Light had to admit their architecture was rather beautiful. He had lived with her for almost three years, and she had taught him things that only now he was remembering. Despite this, Light could not clearly remember what had separated them. His last memory with her, there was an old man present that looked vaguely familiar, but in the end, he came up blank on who that man was or what happened afterwards.

  “It was probably a panic attack,” said Nakagawa, her voice tinged with artificial sweetness as she feigned sympathy. “Poor boy suffers from mental issues. My son has done the best he could raising this child, but unfortunately, you can’t fix nature.”

  “Oh! I-I didn’t know,” stuttered the nurse, as she gave Light a cautious side-eye. “I still have rounds to do. You can get water from the cooler down the hall.”

  Light gave a cordial smile as the nurse scurried away. 

  Great. Now everyone at this hospital thinks I’m crazy, thought Light, feeling peeved but not very surprised. Nakagawa is always willing to make my life a living hell in any way she can. And of course, Dad doesn’t care.

  Getting back on his feet, Light glanced down at his watch. A little past six o’clock. His first class began at eight. If he left now, he’d arrive at the college more than an hour early… but it was better than staying here.

  It’s not like I’m wanted here, thought Light as he rushed towards the door.

  “Light, where are you going?” asked Soichiro, concerned. 

  Light paused at the doorway.

  “To school,” replied Light, simply. “I wouldn’t want to be late on my first day.”

  “At this time?” asked Soichiro, bewildered. He then glanced over towards Nakagawa. “Alright, I understand. But maybe, given the circumstances, taking a day off might b-”

  “I’m fine,” argued Light, defensively. 

  Soichiro frowned, but there was a glint of sadness and regret in his eyes. Light forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. He had to at least pretend to be unfazed. His father couldn’t handled any more problems on top of his own. Light didn't want to cause Soichiro’s fragile health to decline even further than it had already. 

  But isn't that what I'm doing... by just existing. Perhaps, I really am a monster, thought Light, distraught. Perhaps, the reason I don't view Kujo as a monster is, because, in reality, I am one myself. I destroy everything I touch... everything I love. I am surrounded by death. And despite, not having a hand in it, I know that somehow must be responsible for causing it. Otherwise, it wouldn't follow me so. Perhaps, if I wasn't here... if I ceased to exist than maybe-

  Light forcefully pushed away his spiraling thoughts. He couldn't do this now. As much as he wanted to give in to his self-loathing, he knew he couldn't. Without his mother holding the family together, Light knew he'd need to step up. His father needed to remain healthy, and his sister happy. 

  “I’ll call Sayu’s school,” said Light, as he firmly reached the decision to take on his mother's responsibilities; hopefully, it would distract him from the dark thoughts that were pushing him to take his own life. “I'll let them know the situation, and why she may not want to attend today. Leave it open for her to decide. I'll then call her afterwards.”

  Light knew that Sayu would be going through the same sadness he was. They both just lost their mom. And Light would not ever begrudge Sayu for needing time to herself. She had the right to mourn. Unfortunately, Light knew he didn't deserve that same right. Besides, he had to prove himself better than that. He had to be perfect. He shouldn’t get angry, sad, or scared. Those are weaknesses that may invite the vultures to come and pick him apart. Vultures like Nakagawa. 

  “Alright,” relented Soichiro, tiredly.

  It looked like Soichiro wanted to say more, but Light wasn’t sure he could bear hearing it. On a very deep and personal level, he was afraid to hear it. Afraid to hear that his own father was ashamed of him, disgusted by him… and perhaps, to some degree, scared of him.

~~~~~~~~~

  As soon as Light left, Soichiro turned towards his mother, who looked much too proud of herself. He was absolutely disgusted by her actions.

  “Why did you say that?” demanded Soichiro, with barely suppressed anger. 

   “Say what?” asked Nakagawa, innocently.

  Soichiro could feel a headache coming on. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Soichiro considered whether or not to engage in this argument. Truthfully, he should just tell Nakagawa to leave and never come back. But he couldn’t let this go. He needed to say something.  

  “You said I abandoned him. That is not true. You know it is not true,” argued Soichiro, glaring up at his elderly mother. “I trusted that Matoba could help him; make him normal.”

  Feelings of festering guilt resurfaced. Soichiro realises what he did was wrong, and that he should have known better than to try to ‘fix’ his child. He should have never trusted his mother or his childhood best friend. Soichiro knew that he had really messed up and now he was unsure how much Light now knew.

  “I made a mistake,” admitted Soichiro.

  In response, Nakagawa laughed, much to Soichiro’s confusion.

  “That wasn’t a mistake. You knew what you were doing,” accused Nakagawa, with a smug grin. “You knew that your wife wouldn’t agree with your decision.”

  Nakagawa patted Soichiro’s arm with fondness as she sat down on the edge of his bed. This was felt like an odd dichotomy as she sat there and reminded him of his past stupidity. Soichiro recalled how this situation had nearly cost him his son as well as his marriage.

  “You went behind your wife’s back,” continued Nakagawa, as she verbally tore Soichiro apart. “That’s no mistake. That’s a very deliberate decision.”

  “I was desperate,” defended Soichiro, weakly. “All I wanted was for Light to be okay.”

  Nakagawa gazed at Soichiro, sympathetically.  

  “He’s nothing but a beast. He is what he is, and there is nothing that can change that,” said Nakagawa, with an air of self-righteousness. But she also sounded like she might feel legitimately sorry for Soichiro. “Sometimes we must do things that seem horrible in order to suppress evil.”

  “We’ve had this same argument over and over… I know that there is nothing I can say or do to change your mind,” said Soichiro, tiredly. There was a reason he had cut contact with a majority of his family, and this was it. “Just stay away from me. And stay away from my kids.”

  “This again,” replied Nakagawa, rolling her eyes.

  “Get out, or else I’ll call a nurse to escort you out,” threatened Soichiro, with determination in his eyes. “Also, seriously, don’t go near either of my children. If I hear that you have, then I will charge you with harassment. Got it?”

  Disgruntled, Nakagawa didn’t dignify Soichiro’s question with a response. Getting up to leave, she was almost at the door when she turned to Soichiro one last time.

  “You obviously no longer value our family,” criticised Nakagawa, with genuine sadness. “You lack filial piety.”

  That comment really stung and made Soichiro hesitate before replying.

  “Because I value my family, I can no longer place the virtue I once did on being filial towards you.”

  “You care more about a beast then you do me,” laughed Nakagawa in disbelief. A dark look crossed her wrinkled face. “Empathy may make you good, but it doesn’t make you right,” stated Nakagawa, with a profound (and ultimately, scary) amount of conviction. “Think about that.”

Chapter Text

  It had been months since Trevi has had a good night’s sleep. Every night she had been scrying. And despite Light obscuring him from her sight, she could still look in on the kitsune from time to time. Trevi knew he needed his doppelgänger and thus was always keeping an eye on him. Not to protect him or anything. Or else she would have intervened that night his drink was spiked. And the truth was, she could easily turn his trauma into an advantage if she played her cards right.

  When she saw the kitsune at work tomorrow, Trevi planned on offering a job in her company. She could market it as a fresh start. Afterall, she had a gig lined up in Milan after she finished up here. And unfortunately, if the kitsune didn’t leave with her willingly, then she may have no other option than to kill him. It wasn’t personal or anything, but Trevi could not risk having a dangerous man become even more dangerous. And sadly, that kitsune may end up as collateral damage if he doesn’t 

  Afterall, I’ve learned sympathy has its limits, sighed Trevi, as she walked out onto the balcony. Was all of this worth it to save Madelaine? Did I even want to save her? Or did I only want to soothe my guilty conscience? 

  Trevi had already known that Light’s soul was ugly and corrupt. She thought that using him like she had would be no big loss for either party. Unfortunately, she hadn’t known what a death note was at the time, otherwise she would not have helped him like she had.

  “Should’ve never shown that psycho how to contact demons,” said Trevi, sighing in frustration. Leaning against the rail of her balcony, she rested her head in her hands as she continued to mutter. “I can’t believe that monster killed his own mother. No matter what, I cannot let him capture his kitsune counterpart.”

  Even if that's the only thing I do, then it should be enough, thought Trevi in deep concentration. Light had to have been given a deadline; demons never give out power without a guaranteed return after so long. Based on Asmodeus’ prior dealings with humans, this deadline could be anywhere from six months to six years; it all really depended on their mood. Regardless, as long as I keep that kitsune away from Light ‘til then, everything should be fine.

  Suddenly, a cackle could be heard; it was coming from just above her. Looking up, Trevi released a sigh, that was somewhere between relieved and annoyed, at the sight of Ryuk’s decomposing clown-like face. Hanging upside-down in mid-air, his bulging red eyes made contact with her own cold blue ones.

  “Having deep thoughts?” questioned Ryuk, nonchalantly. 

  “Just wondering, why do you keep coming around here?” replied Trevi, with annoyance evident in her tone. 

  Ryuk’s smile only broadened at Trevi’s reaction.

  “What can I say? I like good conversation,” answered Ryuk with a shrug. Then as an after-thought he added. “And good apples.”

  Trevi scoffed. Ryuk had only been here five minutes, and she was already sick of his antics. Glancing back towards Ryuk, Trevi was immediately taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

  “You really should appreciate me more,” said Ryuk, his tone cheerful but oddly threatening. A moment passed before the tense atmosphere dissipated and Ryuk continued. “Afterall, I am the reason you know about the specifics of the deal between Light-o and Asmodeus.”

  “You only did that in order to stir up drama,” replied Trevi, choking back her fear. Outwardly, she maintained a completely calm and unfazed façade. “Otherwise, I’d be none the wiser to the specifics of those dealings.”

  “Yep,” agreed Ryuk, shamelessly. “But really, what are you complaining about? You’ve only benefited from my boredom.”

   Trevi decided not to dignify that with a response. It was hard to believe that someone would cause so much sorrow and pain simply because he was bored. It was comments like this that made Trevi question who was the more evil of the two: Light or Ryuk? 

  A brief silence passed between Trevi and Ryuk before Ryuk ultimately broke it.

  “So, that kid you’re trying to take under your wing — he’s not making it easy for you,” commented Ryuk in amusement. “Managed to side-step your attempt at controlling him. Pretty slick move if you ask me. I do wonder, though… Was it done on purpose, or was luck on his side?” Trevi could feel her eye twitch as Ryuk erupted into a fit of laughter. “By the way, if you had succeeded in your endeavor, what were you planning on doing with him?”

  Trevi did not answer immediately.

  Truth was, Trevi wasn’t actually sure on the specifics of what she’d do with a kitsune. She hadn’t exactly approached this whole scenario with a plan in mind. She had foolishly hoped that killing Light would have been easier; but she couldn’t even locate him. He had managed to block off all possibilities of scrying for him.

  Unfortunately, the only resource at Trevi’s disposal was Ryuk and his insatiable need for entertainment. 

  Four months ago, Trevi had no idea where Light had gone and, quite frankly, hadn’t even cared. At least that had been the case until Ryuk had visited her, a week post-ritual. He had revealed Light’s identity as the original Kira back in his own universe, and that he was going to use his doppelgänger in order to achieve immortality. Ryuk then mentioned that this doppelgänger currently resided in Tokyo. With that tidbit of lackluster information, Trevi had booked the most immediate flight to Tokyo. While on her flight, she had filled out an application for a work visa and accepted the gig Nishinaka had offered her several months ago that she had initially ignored. This would extend the length of her visit, buying her some extra time to locate either Light or his doppelgänger. Surprisingly, it seemed like luck had been on her side, since upon her first day at work she had come face-to-face with Light’s doppelgänger; a damn kitsune, of all things.

  “That kitsune has some talent,” replied Trevi, as decided to tell Ryuk the bare-bones of her last idea. There was no harm in it, since the only person that could really mess it up is that kitsune. “If I offer him an opportunity to work for me, it shouldn’t take too much to convince him to travel away from Japan for a while. After Light is gone, I’ll send the kitsune right on back home.”

  “What makes you think he’d take you up on such an offer?”

  “It may take a bit of pushing, but as it stands, he acts as though he is standing atop a burning bridge. I’m just encouraging him to jump.”

  In all honesty, Trevi doubted that the kid’s life was all that bad. But that’s the funny thing about perceptions; they don’t have to be correct in order to screw with your head.

  “What if he refuses to jump?” questioned Ryuk, as he flipped upside-down into a handstand. “Especially with such a lackluster offer. He may as well stay atop the burning bridge. It’d probably be better than hitting the cold, hard concrete below.”

  Trevi glared at him in response. 

  “Let me guess, that’s why you gave him that hoshi-no-tama, huh?” said Ryuk, with a shark-like grin as he continued to taunt her. “Those enchanted collars are really something else. Specially designed for kitsunes, and is the only thing that really works on them. Corrupting the mind and soul in its entirety. I can see that you are very… thorough when you want something.”

  Thorough, huh? scoffed Trevi. I can tell you had an entirely different word in mind to describe me.

  “It wasn’t as if I was going to keep it on him forever,” defended Trevi, coldly. “As soon as I deemed him no longer a risk, he’d be free to go.”

  “Sure you were,” agreed Ryuk, in a glib tone.  

  “Seriously, why do those intentions matter now?” huffed Trevi, ignoring Ryuk’s insinuations. “I no longer have a hoshi-no-tama.”

  And, unfortunately, the hoshi-no-tama enchantment is no longer a feasible option, thought Trevi. I could try making another one, but a hoshi-no-tama takes a lot of time to make… And making too many of those things could lead to even more trouble. Afterall, kitsunes do seem to have an immense amount of power potential. They could possibly deal out a lot of damage; enough to destroy the world if desired. Thankfully, this power has been overlooked by most creatures, humans included… But for how long will this remain so?

  Trevi sighed in frustration as she walked back inside with Ryuk following closely behind. Entering the sitting room, Trevi’s eyes caught sight of a mirror. A week ago, that kitsune had been standing there, admiring his reflection. Such a vain creature that boy is. 

  What if, despite appearances, that kitsune is just as corrupt as his doppelgänger? questioned Trevi, frowning as she thought over every interaction with extreme scrutiny. Perhaps he knows more than he lets on. Afterall, he’s young and weak right now. But he’ll grow in strength as he grows in age. Therefore, he might be biding his time. 

  “That kitsune might not be more wicked than I thought,” observed Trevi, critically as she sat down on the couch. Feeling a headache forming, she closed her eyes and began massaging her temples. “In the end, killing him might be the best course of action.”

  “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” interrupted an unfamiliar voice. Startled, Trevi opened her eyes to see an unknown man standing in front of her. “But, while I have no idea of whom you are speaking of, I have to insist that murder is rarely, if ever, the answer.”

  “Who are you?” demanded Trevi, displeasure evident in her tone. “And why did you think it was a good idea to break into my home?”

  The man looked away sheepishly.

  Trevi noted that the man appeared to be in his mid-twenties. His voice had a gentle, lilting quality to it. The expression on his face seemed to convey a soft and benevolent nature. Then again, a devil is known to wear an angel’s face (not the biblical kind).

  Still, regardless of appearances, the question of why he was here still remained.

  “Sorry about that, ma’am,” apologised the man, looking contrite. He glanced over his left shoulder, his eyes seemingly focused on an area of empty space. He then looked back towards Trevi once again. “But technically, I didn’t break in. Ryuk let me in,” at Trevi’s look of confusion towards Ryuk, he quickly clarified. “Not that Ryuk, this Ryuk.”

  Another Ryuk? questioned Trevi, as a look of utter detestation crossed her face. Whatever did I do to deserve this hell? Also, how did this young man come to be involved with shinigamis? Is he going to be another problem?

  “Just touch these,” continued the man, pulling out four sheets of paper. He flashed Trevi a sympathetic smile. “By the way, my name’s Taro. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Trevi had a dour expression on her face. She pointedly ignored Taro’s belated greeting. 

  “Multiple?” questioned Trevi, glaring down at the pages Taro held in his hand.

  “Uh-huh,” answered Taro, with a grimace. “As you can probably figure out, there is a total of five shinigamis in this room.”

  Two of whom are Ryuk. The other three are unknown, thought Trevi in a calculating manner. Considering they came all this way, I doubt they’ll just leave if I simply refuse to see them. Seems like I don’t have a choice but to. I guess I may as well get this visit over with.

  Trevi reached forward and tapped her finger against each of the four pages. 

  Four shinigamis suddenly appeared. Their giant stature made the room around them appear ridiculously small.

  “Yo,” greeted the other Ryuk- this universe’s Ryuk. Trevi noted how he and the other Ryuk looked similar in the same way that Light and the kitsune looked similar. With slight differences that made it possible to tell them apart, but similar enough that, without the other being there, a person would likely write off those differences as their eyes playing tricks on them.

  In case it became important later, Trevi made sure to memorise every single difference between Ryuk and Ryuk. The other universe’s Ryuk was taller and had a larger mouth with sharper teeth. Meanwhile, this universe’s Ryuk had a darker complexion and his hair was more messy, and less spiky,  with bits of grey peppered throughout. 

  I should try to differentiate between the two, realised Trevi. The first Ryuk I’ve met belongs to an alternate universe so he can be Alternate!Ryuk and the belonging to this universe can be just plain Ryuk. That way we can keep things simple.

  “This is Ryuk, of course,” started Taro, interrupting Trevi’s thoughts as he began introducing her to each of the shinigamis. “Rem, Arma, and, uh… Armonia Justin Beyondormason. If you ask me, I think we’re all in deep shit with that guy.”

  The shinigami, known as Armonia Justin Beyondormason, stepped forward, a look of utter contempt glittering in his eye. The jewels and metal, that covered every inch of his body, clanked and jangled with each step he took.

  “The young mortal is correct,” confirmed Beyondormason, in a low baritone. “Three death notes in the hands of humans. Mass-scale genocide. Lifespans WASTED!” the shinigami’s anger seemed to come to a boil before quickly dissipating. Although, a look of annoyance remained set on his face as he addressed the shinigamis only. “Do none of you understand that our brethren will cease to exist if humanity dies out?”

  “I don’t think the situation is nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be,” interrupted Ryuk, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

  “I’m certain you don’t think at all,” snapped Beyondormason, as he shoved Ryuk off of him with a look of pure disgust on his face. “The Shinigami King himself is concerned about this. Otherwise, do you think I’d be down here? Only a filthy degenerate would choose to spend any amount of time in the human realm.”

  Well, that was certainly insulting, thought Trevi with a huff. Beondormason is a rather unpleasant feller; perhaps moreso than Ryuk. 

  “Nice gemstones,” complimented Ryuk, suddenly. This seemed like a rather off-topic response to Beyondormason’s comment. “Are they new?”

  “You would know, wouldn’t you?” growled Beyondormason, pointing an accusatory finger at Ryuk. “You and those blasted crows of yours! Always stealing, always pestering!”   

  Suddenly, Beyondormason had Ryuk shoved up against a wall. Trevi could now say with absolute certainty that she was not getting her security deposit back. Even still, she was more curious than upset.

  So… crows? I know they’re messengers of death and all. And that they can travel freely between realms… but still, it’s weird to think that any Ryuk could maintain a relationship of any sort with anybody… Huh? questioned Trevi, taken aback by this information; despite it being relatively useless. Regardless, the Ryuks really do know how to pester. Given the bad history between them and Beyondormason, it’d be great if they could off each other in a fight; two, possibly three, birds with one stone. But, then again, upon second thought, given the confined space we’re in, I don’t want to be a potential causality in their dispute. 

  Clearing her throat, Trevi caught the attention of her uninvited guests.

  “Before things escalate, I want you all to know that if I have to listen to everyone moan and groan about their problems, then we’re doing it on my terms,” stated Trevi, with a stern expression. She then gestured towards the doorway leading to the kitchen. “Kitchen is this way. Let’s all sit down and enjoy a spot of tea.”

  As everyone entered the kitchen ahead of her, Trevi discretely activated a set of sigils. The barely visible symbols began to emit a faint hum before the sound faded down once more. It was these sigils that formed the protection array surrounding her apartment. Arrays, such as this, take a lot of energy to fuel; therefore, Trevi found it impossible to keep this one consistently running for long periods of time. 

  This particular array was commonly known as ‘Reflection of Tranquility and Thrice Retribution’, which is pretty self-descriptive in and of itself. The magick in this array generally has a dual effect on people. The first, and most important one, is that any physical damage inflicted on someone is reciprocated onto the aggressor times three. The secondary effect is that all persons within the area of the array tend to feel more relaxed and trusting. Thought processes often become more sluggish, which makes actions, such as lying, very difficult; though not impossible.

  As everyone sat down around the table, Taro looked over towards Beyondormason. Worry written clearly across his face.

  “I have to ask, why did you call Arma and I here?” questioned Taro, hesitantly as he gently grasped Arma’s hand beneath the table.

  Trevi was thoroughly confused by such a gesture. It seemed so oddly… tender.

  They’re not together, are they? wondered Trevi, swallowing down the bile churning in her stomach as she set the kettle on the stove. Not to be judgmental or anything, but Arma is just as grotesque looking as the rest of her kin. Perhaps even more so… her body resembles that of a praying mantis.

  “I haven’t used the death note since I was thirteen,” continued Taro, meekly. “And as bad as that may have been, it's not like anyone remained dead permanently.”

  “Because you used the death eraser; something I find to be highly questionable. Although I can’t really blame you for that,” replied Beyondormason, as he side-eyed Ryuk. “Otherwise, you two technically haven’t done anything wrong, yet, as far as we know. But the Shinigami King doesn’t want a repeat occurrence of the situation that created the Beyond Birthday problem.”

  The beyond birthday problem? What the hell is even that? questioned Trevi, in complete befuddlement as to the meaning of that last comment.

  “Can you elaborate?” requested Trevi.

  “No,” replied Beyondormason, with a sneer. “Mortals have no need for such information.” 

  Trevi couldn’t help but be offended by this shinigami’s arrogance. He acts as if he’s a god, which, technically, he is not, despite being called a god of death; he’s more akin to a yokai than anything else. Although for now, Trevi decided it best to keep her mouth shut as Beyondormason continued speaking.

  “There are currently five death notes in circulation down here on Earth — although it will soon be back down to four, so there’s no need to count mine,” informed Beyondormason, with a flip of his hand. “As for the rest, the King wants all death notes reclaimed and back in the shinigami realm. You must complete this task within ten lunar cycles, or else there’ll be consequences.”

  Ten lunar cycles? questioned Trevi, with a roll of her eyes. Just say ten months, you pompous ass.

  “So, are you here to help with these death notes?” questioned Trevi, as she put down several cups of apple cinnamon tea along with a bowl of apples.

  Despite her dislike of Alternate Ryuk, Trevi knew it was best to keep her informer happy… for now, at least. Thus apples have become a well-stocked item in her home. The Ryuks seemed more than content to gorge themselves on them. 

  As the Ryuk from this universe munched away at his apple, he looked towards Trevi with a bemused expression on his face.

  “You expect that gaudy sack of jewels and bones to help you?” replied Ryuk with a chuckle; shaking his head with a tsk, tsk. “Shinigami like him are lazy; they got no drive, no dreams,” he grabbed another apple from the table and took a large bite. “You’d be better off asking this apple for help.”

  “That’s your opinion,” refuted Trevi, knowing better than to trust any words that came from Ryuk; it didn’t matter which one. She turned back towards Beyondormason. “Well?”

  “I’m just a messenger,” replied Beyondormason, flippantly. “This is the only task the King demanded of me.”

  Trevi was less than satisfied by this response.

  “So, you are just going to sit there and do nothing?”

  “This is your mess, not mine,” said Beyondormason, scowling. “So, tell me, what am I going to tell the King when I get back to my realm?”

  Beyondormason folded his hands in front of him with his elbows on the table. When no reply was forthcoming, he looked at everyone in annoyance before releasing a tired sigh.

  “Rem?” grunted Beyondormason, clearly expecting an answer.

  “Teru Mikami is already dead, and Kiyomi Takada left the death note at her mother’s prior to the time of death. That particular book can be reclaimed now,” stated Rem, succinctly. “That just leaves Light Yagami and the death note in his possession.”

  “What about Misa?” asked Alternate!Ryuk, with faux innocence. 

  Rem leveled a glare at Alternate!Ryuk. In response, Alternate!Ryuk had the audacity to look proud of the reaction he had just invoked.

  “Misa’s not a problem; we can just wait her out until natural death,” defended Rem.

  Huh? Misa Amane is a death note user; that’s certainly unexpected, thought Trevi. I’m not sure what to make of that. 

  “You could not be more wrong, Rem,” scoffed Beyondormason. “Misa is your human, and therefore her death is yours to claim. This is all part of our nature as shinigamis. You’d do well to remember this,” he turned his gaze towards Arma. “The same applies to you, Arma. Even though you won’t gain anything from it, it is still your duty to tie up any loose ends.”

  “No,” replied Arma, immediately. Her soft voice barely above a whisper, but its effect left behind a deafening silence.

  Beyondormason looked completely dumbstruck. Meanwhile, a look of determination crossed Arma’s white, corpse-like features. A moment or two passed before Beyondormason managed to regain his bearings.

  “No?” questioned Beyondormason, with a threatening edge to his voice. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

  “I can’t, and I won’t,” replied Arma, stubbornly.

  Beyondormason looked incensed as he moved towards Arma. His figure towering over hers. Before Trevi had a chance to say anything that could placate the enraged kami, Ryuk had interrupted.

  “Yo, Tin-Man,” said Ryuk, with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Before we start threatening violence, I should let you know that reclaiming the death notes from our…”  he gestured to himself and Alternate!Ryuk. “… humans might not be possible.” 

   “What?!” asked Beyondormason, his attention now on Ryuk.

  “That me over there…” began Ryuk as he nodded his head towards Alternate!Ryuk. “… he allowed his human to exploit the loopholes of the death note. Specifically, rule XXXV,” explained Ryuk. He then pointed at himself. “As for myself, Mikami wasn’t the first person to possess the note I dropped. The person that did, I don’t think he was human… actually, I don't think he is part of any species that is susceptible to the effects of-” 

  “Sorry, but what’s rule XXXV?” asked Taro, interrupting Ryuk.

  “If a human accidentally misspells a person’s name within the death note four times, that person will be free from being killed by the death note,” explained Rem, quoting the rule word-for-word.

  “Light must have convinced someone to do it back when we were in the states,” realised Trevi, speaking her thoughts aloud. She then turned her attention to Alternate!Ryuk. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

  “Yeah, why didn’t you?” asked Beyondormason, his anger fading back down to annoyance after being redirected repeatedly.

  “I don’t see why you are so worried about this. He has less than a year left due to his deal with Asmodeus,” replied Alternate!Ryuk, unbelievably blasé about the trouble he had caused. “Worst case scenario, Light-o manages to convince his doppelgänger to submit to Asmodeus. If that happens, all I have to do is write down the other Light’s name. Without the kitsune, there is no ritual. And while they may have the same name, they have enough variations in their looks to easily count as another person.”

  “Ohh, so you have this all figured out, don’t you?” said Beyondormason, sounding bizarrely calm; it was clearly forced. Trevi could hear the strain in his voice as he continued. “There is only a slight problem with that scenario… LIGHT IS A KITSUNE!”

  “Yeah. So?” asked Alternate!Ryuk, with a casual half-shrug.

  “The death note doesn’t work on creatures formed from magic,” replied Rem. 

  “But his father is human, so I assumed-”

  “You assumed wrong,” criticised Beyondormason, cutting off Alternate!Ryuk mid-sentence. “I’ve already checked with our King; he knows all of the names that have ever been written down in a death note. Light Yagami’s name was already written down before you arrived here. Despite it being written correctly, it didn’t work.”

  “So, half-humans are exempt from the death note?” asked Trevi, seeking clarification about the death note’s limitations. 

  “Not always. Kitsune biology is more an art than a science,” explained Rem, correcting Trevi’s earlier assumption. “Due to physiological incompatibilities, a kitsune has to use magic in order to conceive. So, while technically traits and appearances are split 50/50, more or less, genetically they are still a hundred percent kitsune.”

  Trevi was absolutely bewildered by Rem’s reply.

  Not much is known about kitsunes other than how to subjugate them. I didn’t know anything about their biology. So, where had Rem learned of this? Why had she learned this? thought Trevi, as she stared at Rem in suspicion. None of the other shinigami seem to know this… Still, whatever her reasons are, it doesn’t really matter. The information isn’t all that useful in the grand scheme of things.

  “Given all the differences, how are they still doppelgängers?” asked Taro, confused.

  “Bad luck, mostly,” replied Trevi, confidently. This was an area of research she was very well-versed in. “It has more about the role given to them by fate than the person themself. There are doppelgängers who exist that don’t even share the same name or face, and yet, they are still connected by a similar fate,” Trevi paused thoughtfully. Fate has always been a tricky force to reckon with; fate can sometimes be defied, but even so it is a difficult journey that will leave its scars. “It’s not exactly common, but it’s not uncommon, either. So-”

  “SILENCE!” demanded Beyondormason, interrupting Trevi. She was certain that if a shinigami could die from hypertension, this guy would’ve dropped dead twenty minutes ago. “I don’t care about doppelgängers, kitsunes, or christian demons,” continued Beyondormason, irritably. He glared at Trevi. “As I see it, little witch-bitch, you are the reason I have two Ryuks. You are also the reason the Shinigami King is on my ass about the Kira situation. Do you think I want to be down here talking with… pigs?!”

  Beyondormason looked at Trevi expectantly. Was that last question not rhetorical?

  “When using the term pigs, is that a moral criticism or are you just hungry?” asked Trevi, being deliberately obtuse.

  “You’re lucky that you’ve already been brought to the cusp of death, otherwise we would not still be talking,” threatened Beyondormason. Suddenly, a thoughtful expression crossed his face as he continued to glare at Trevi. “Actually, with a lifespan that now reads at zero, you can no longer be directly affected by the death note. So, with that advantage in mind, what are you going to do about Kira?”

  Me? questioned Trevi, briefly confused about the targeted statement before understanding dawn on her. Oh, right. Shinigami can’t kill persons by means other than the death note.

  When Trevi didn’t answer right away, Beyondormason continued his grumbling.

 “Listen, I don’t care which Light you have to dispose of. Just make sure Kira does not achieve immortality; his overconsumption of lives is not sustainable for us,” stated Beyondormason, his empty, white eyes sweeping across all the occupants in the room. “So tell me, do I have your word that each of you will do your part in dealing with the situation down here?”

  “We’ll do whatever I can,” promised Trevi, half-heartedly. The only reason she agreed so readily is because she wanted this temperamental shinigami as far away as possible, as soon as possible. “He’s just as much of a problem to us as he is to you.”

  “I don’t care about your problems,” spouted Beyondormason. “I have said everything that I’ve had to say. And now, I am going to deal with Aoi… the way shinigami are supposed to.”

  What an asshole, thought Trevi as she fought back the urge to say that comment aloud. 

  “Oh, is that the same Aoi I saw a few days ago?” questioned Ryuk with a smirk. “The girl with less than twelve days of life left. Good luck with that.”

  Ryuk began cackling uncontrollably as a Beyondormason’s temper flared.

  Admittedly, Trevi had to stifle a laugh as well. She recalled when Alternate!Ryuk told her about rule XXIX and how it differed between their worlds. Apparently, back in his own universe, the death note cannot kill persons with less than twelve minutes of life left, but in this world it’s twelve days. How inconvenient for poor Beyondormason?

  With a look of indignation, Beyondormason flew off… which sent everything that was not nailed down flying. This created a huge mess in every room between the kitchen and the balcony.

  Trevi released a disgruntled sigh.

  “Such an unpleasant fellow,” commented Trevi, as she began gathering all her items that had been knocked to the ground. “Like seriously, could he have been more rude?”

  “Let me help you with that,” offered Taro, kneeling beside her.

  “Don’t bother,” stated Trevi, as she narrowed her eyes at the young man. “It’d be best if you left.”

  “Of c-course, we’ll let ourselves out,”  sputtered Taro, as he scrambled to his feet. As he walked back to Arma’s side, he leaned towards Ryuk and softly whispered. “It was nice seeing you again, Ryuk.”

  After bidding farewell, Arma and Taro left through the door while Ryuk and Rem flew off from the balcony. This left Trevi alone with Alternate!Ryuk.

  “This is really good tea,” commented Alternate!Ryuk, as he raised his cup in a cheers motion as he took a sip. 

  Trevi had a feeling Ryuk was not at all referring to the drink.

~~~~~~~~~

  That whole debacle with Beyondormason in that old witch’s dwelling had left Rem feeling rather unnerved. Meanwhile, Ryuk was walking beside her, smiling. Not a care in the world nor a thought in his head.

  “Ryuk, do you not realise the trouble you’re in?” questioned Rem, frustrated. “The trouble we’re in?”

  “Of course,” grinned Ryuk. Leaning towards Rem, he continued in a stage whisper. “Getting in trouble is all kinds of fun, don’tcha know?” 

  Can this fool take anything seriously? thought Rem, shaking her head in disappointment.

  “You heard Armonia Justin Beyondormason,” started Rem, quickly deciding to focus on Ryuk’s situation instead of her own; she honestly didn’t want to think about it. “We have to bring back all the death notes at the end of this. But the first person to have used that ‘extra’ death note of yours is immune to the effects of the death note. By the way, why did you tell everyone that?” 

  Ryuk shrugged in reply.

  A heavy silence passed between the two shinigamis as they wandered the busy streets of central Tokyo.

  “I wouldn’t worry so much,” began Ryuk, brushing off Rem’s concerns. “In all likelihood, that old bag of bones is much too lazy to bother any of us after today.”

  “The Shinigami King just sent down his right-hand man,” exclaimed Rem, in offense to Ryuk’s blasé attitude. “You know, the King will send him down again, and the next time he’ll be armed with the executioner’s blade. Afterall, disobeying a direct order from the Shinigami King is a level one offense. Not confirming the death of the first owner of the death note in the human realm is also a level one offense. Even killing a person without use of the death note is above a level three.”

  The Shinigami realm has laws that govern it. If a Shinigami should break a law, there are nine levels of punishment, with the severity starting at level nine and going up to level one. At severity levels above three, the Shinigami will be punished and killed.

  While Rem had never truly cared for Ryuk, she had to admit he was the only one to share her curiosity regarding humans; with the exception of Gelus, who was no longer with them. The images that would flood her mind as she watched him turn to dust still haunted her. Especially now… she had been so close to doing the same thing Gelus had. And it was Ryuk, of all people, that stopped her.

  “Rem, is it better to enjoy life or simply endure it?” asked Ryuk, his demeanor all too serious and sullen. “Seeking out entertainment the way I have is a choice I’ve made. And it is a choice I will never regret.”

  “How can you say that?”

  Ryuk tilted his head as he contemplated Rem’s question. 

  “The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long,” said Ryuk, surprisingly poetic. “Do you think Gelus regretted his choices? Despite being punished, he still continued to look into the pools, watching humans go about their daily lives.”

  Rem nodded along. That was all true. Gelus loved humanity.

  Ryuk became oddly quiet as he continued speaking.

  “The truth is, I don’t think he gave up his life because he loved that girl of yours…” Ryuk trailed off briefly as Rem looked at him in complete bewilderment. “I think he just saw more life in her than he could see in himself. In the end, I believe he wanted to see a human continue to enjoy their life more than he wanted to continue enduring his life. Personally, I too would rather enjoy a short, exciting life than endure a long, boring one.”

  Rem wanted to argue, but she wasn’t sure if Ryuk was truly wrong or not. Afterall, Gelus had only been watching Misa for a week before deciding to give his remaining lifespan to her. He did all of this for a girl he had never met face-to-face, never had a conversation with, could never have a future with… Truthfully, Rem believed that Gelus’ death had less to do with Misa, more to do with the terms of his probation. He was no longer living, just existing. The punishment he had faced was perhaps worse than death, since Gelus loved the human realm, and being forever banned from there had been unnecessarily cruel. It’s not like he even knew it was possible for humans and shinigami to reproduce together; even Rem didn’t know that was possible until it happened. And unfortunately, it had resulted in the death of the woman he had loved, and the birth of twins; one who possessed the shinigami eyes.

  Several minutes passed in silence. Rem didn’t know what to say and Ryuk didn’t seem to care; his eyes wandering, fixated on the hustle and bustle going on around them.

  Had he completely forgotten our conversation? wondered Rem, briefly.  

  Before Rem could figure out something to say, Ryuk began speaking once again.

  “May have not been my initial intention, but I think I’m going to remain down here. See how long that lasts.” 

  “I would not recommend this course of action,” advised Rem. There was a hint of concern colouring her tone.

  “Don’t worry about me, Rem,” said Ryuk, with a smirk. “Afterall, I don’t ever worry about you.” 

  But you did, thought Rem, confused by the contradiction between Ryuk’s words and his actions. 

  Flashback; Four Hours, Thirty-Three Minutes Ago

  Sitting on the edge of a building in the Nerima ward, Rem watched from a distance as Kiyomi Takada entered Teru Mikami’s apartment complex. 

  Rem knew exactly why Takada had gone there. She had been watching Light Yagami for a long time; she had overheard him talking to that other Ryuk. There was nothing she could do to stop Sachiko’s death, nor was there anything she could do to prevent this one. Light Yagami was now one step closer to possessing another death note. She now knew with certainty that this man was no good for Misa, despite him killing the man that had murdered her family. No matter Misa’s feelings, Rem could not let her be with such a vile and irredeemable monster.

  And Rem has been witness to the many vile atrocities Light Yagami has done. Killing his own mother. Beheading her corpse. All for selfish gains.

  There was not even a hint of hesitation, thought Rem; recalling what she’d seen with complete disgust. All for a ritual that would grant him incubus-type powers. And then he uses those same powers to couple with another woman. A cheater like him is completely unworthy of Misa’s affections.

  Rem had come down here in the hopes that Takada would show up. That this had all been a big misunderstanding… But, deep down, Rem had known better and had just been putting off the inevitable.

  Poor Misa, thought Rem; recalling the girl’s depressive moods of late. She has been so sad and angry with herself as if she were to blame for Light’s assault.

  And try as she might, Rem could not understand why Misa would feel responsible. It was an honest mistake. And despite that mistake, Light had called to make sure Misa was okay and warned her not to trust Demegawa.

  That just shows that Misa is such a good person, that even after going through something so devastating, Light was still concerned about her well-being, recalled Rem in serious contemplation. And as problematic as that boy is, he is infinitely better than his alternate self. If I get rid of the bad one, then the good one can continue to care for Misa… even if I cannot. 

  With her pen in hand, Rem stared down at her death note.

  Across the street, Takada fled the apartment with her purse held close to her chest.

  Rem paused.

  “Should I do this?” wondered Rem, aloud.

  Even if I deal with the biggest threat to Misa’s safety, there are still others out there that are capable of being just as dangerous, thought Rem, concerned. Others, such as Beyond Birthday, Kiyomi Takada, and who knows who else.

  The world is a dangerous place… and if Rem were to turn to dust, who would protect Misa?

  But Misa has become disillusioned by the whole Kira persona, and yet, she still loves him, thought Rem in frustration. Given Light Yagami’s volatile nature, I don’t know how he’ll react to Misa’s muddled emotions. Will my threats be enough to guarantee Misa’s continued safety? I want to protect her, not avenge her after the fact.

  Coming to a final, deadly decision, Rem realised she could not take chances with that monster. Raising her pen once again, the tip had barely made a single mark on the parchment before a fluttering of wings could be heard coming from behind her. This was immediately followed by amused laughter.

  “Don’tcha you think that writing down that boy’s name might be a bit pointless?” teased Ryuk as bumped shoulders with Rem.

  “I have to do this,” admitted Rem, sullenly. “Light Yagami is despicably evil. He will hurt Misa.”

  Ryuk sat down next to her.

  “Rem, stay out of this,” advised Ryuk, with a somber expression. “You have grown too close to the girl… You don’t want to end up like Gelus.”

  That comment had stung. If Rem was capable of crying, then she would shed more than a few tears. Tears for her dead friend. Only now that he was dead could Rem finally admit that was what Gelus was to her. A friend.

  “Such a cruel dream love is,” muttered Rem, reciting the words Gelus had once told her. “The one that laments the breakdown of that dream…”

  “... is nothing more than a fool,” finished Ryuk, as he pointed at Rem. 

  Ryuk was right to call her a fool. Rem, herself, knew she was acting foolish. 

  “I cannot leave this be,” said Rem, with an air of finality.

  “Ugh, love. Seems like such a pain!” complained Ryuk, dramatically as he rolled around on the ground. After a few moments, he stopped and looked up at her. “She’s only human; no matter what you do, things are not going to end well. You should just let her go.”

  “I cannot,” replied Rem, quietly.

  In a bid to distract herself from Ryuk’s words, Rem went back to observing Teru Mikami’s apartment. She watched as Teru Mikami grabbed a knife from the kitchen. He then walked through the glass door leading out to the balcony. Kneeling down, Mikami placed the knife against the lower part of his abdomen. Stabbing into the soft stomach tissue, he dragged the blade from left to right before pulling the knife upwards. Intestines could be seen falling out of the incision that Mikami had made. Some of the intestines were now dangling over the edge of the balcony. Massive amounts of blood were dripping down onto the streets below. 

  Rem glanced over at the man parked in a car just below her. His name was Kanzo Mogi. She wasn’t sure why he was spying on Mikami, but for the past hour he had been observing the other man through a set of binoculars. As the blood and guts poured out of Mikami’s soon-to-be-dead body, Mogi’s face twisted into an expression of abject terror.

  “Rem,” said Ryuk, interrupting Rem’s silent observations. “Whatever you do, don’t break that one rule.”

  Ryuk’s was surprisingly soft. It was deeply unsettling. 

  Suddenly, Rem recalled what Ryuk had said earlier.

  “Why did you say writing down Light Yagami's name would be pointless?” asked Rem, curious of Ryuk’s motivations. “Is it because I may envision the wrong Light’s face while doing so?”

  “Not at all,” chuckled Ryuk, shaking his head. “I just think you should be aware of what the other Ryuk told me.”

  “You two talk often?” asked Rem, suspiciously.

  “Not really. But we do talk enough,” admitted Ryuk, with a shrug. “Apparently, the owner, connected to his extra death note, had convinced some American to write down his name four times in it. Seems like that boy is a bit of a risk-taker. Although, the chances of someone knowing kanji in America is not really all that high.”

  “You’re lying,” accused Rem, weakly.

  “Nope,” replied Ryuk, simply. “I am not lying. And I don’t think the other me is either.”

  Ryuk seemed so sincere. And if Light Yagami had really done that, then… Well, Rem couldn’t afford to give up her life for nothing. Especially, if it left Misa in the same horrible situation with Kira, except without Rem’s protection.

  Suddenly, a glinting flash of gold caught Rem’s eye. Turning towards the source, she realised it was Armonia Justin Beyondormason flying in their direction.

  What, in the hells, is he doing here? questioned Rem, confused.

  End Flashback

  “Rem, I swear, you are becoming more and more human by the day,” teased Ryuk, baring his teeth in an unsettling grin. Then in a more serious tone he continued. “You need to learn to be more selfish. It’s a much better way of living; healthier, too.”

  Thinking back to the conversation between Beyondormason and Arma, Rem recalled how Arma had said she can’t and won’t take Taro Kagami’s life. And then there was the bizarreness of said lifespan.  

  “That man, Taro Kagami, there’s something really odd about his lifespan. It does not read at zero; it’s gone entirely, erased. I think he used the death eraser,” speculated Rem, as she stared at Ryuk, evaluating his reactions. “Would you know anything about that?”

  “Arma obviously has a soft spot for Ta-”

  “Arma doesn’t have a death eraser,” interrupted Rem, putting an end to Ryuk’s bullshit. She knew for a fact there were only four of these erasers in existence, and that Ryuk was likely in possession of at least one of them. “And Taro was once a human of yours.”

  “The kiddo needed the eraser, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to see it be used,” admitted Ryuk, with a shrug. “Oddly enough, watching people rise up from the dead is not as much fun as you’d think.”

  That doesn’t sound fun at all, thought Rem, judgmentally.

  “You know what would be fun?”  asked Ryuk, excitedly jumping to a new topic. “I’m going to have a talk with your girl.”

  Before Rem could say anything against this, Ryuk had already flown off. 

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” muttered Rem, as she took to the skies as well.

Chapter Text

 Standing in the doorway of To-Oh’s third-floor lecture hall, Light quickly realised just how insanely early he had gotten here. Not a single soul was present, yet. Approaching the fourth row, he sat down at one of the many vacant seats. Taking his shoe off, Light propped his foot up on the edge of his seat. The flesh surrounding his ankle had turned a greyish colour and now had a rotting-like appearance to it.

  The illusion must be fading out… Should it be doing that this early though? questioned Light, as his fingers poked and prodded at the skin of his ankle. It really looks disgusting. It's as if the skin is flaking due to some horrible, unknown disease… I guess I might well take it off using that spell Kujo showed me back when I lived with her.

  Light hesitated. 

 Flashback; Twelve Years, Eleven Months, and Nine Days Ago

  April 26, 2007

  Light had to admit Lübeck was a truly beautiful city, with all its gothic architecture. Even still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit homesick. Releasing a sad sigh, Light went back to reading one of Mutti’s many books on medicinal chemistry. He was sitting on the window seat that was located in her study. Glancing down at the street below, Light couldn’t help but draw comparisons. This place was so incredibly different from his former home.

  I’ve only been here three days, reasoned Light. Of course, everything is going to feel very different and unfamiliar. I’ll grow accustomed to the changes eventually. I know this.

  “Mausebärchen!” called out Kujo from somewhere out in the hallway. “Wo bist du?”

  It took a second for Light to mentally translate what Mutti was saying - she was asking where he was. Did she need to talk to him? Light knew Mutti is not someone who engages in idle chit-chat often.

  “Ich bin hier drin,” answered Light, as he remained seated at the window, book still open in his lap.

  Light’s voice was just loud enough for Kujo to hear him from the hallway. She entered the study, a neutral expression on her face. A moment passed as she briefly glanced down at the book Light had been reading

  “You have been reading,” observed Kujo, suddenly switching to English. “I realise I don’t own many age-appropriate books… if you would like, we could go buy something more to your liking this weekend. Ja?”

  “No need. I’m good with this,” replied Light, politely turning down Kujo’s offer. 

  Light didn’t want to impose; to no longer be welcomed in her home… Besides, he was happy with the selection of books he already had available to him.

  “OK,” replied Kujo, her eyes shifting around uncomfortably.

  A silence passed between Light and Kujo. Light, being the inquisitive child he was, eventually broke it. 

  “Mutti… why are you speaking to me in English?” asked Light, tilting his head with curiosity shining in his eyes. “For the past four days, we’ve communicated in nothing, but German. I understand it’s to help me adapt…”

  Light paused. Despite understanding Kujo’s reasons, he hated being tossed into such an unfamiliar situation, and not being allowed to express his emotions in a familiar tongue. It was frustrating. It was unfair. Even still, he forced down these negative thoughts before they made themselves known. 

  “So, why the change?” asked Light, as he bitterly choked down his feelings.

  “Today, I am going to start showing you how to do magic,” replied Kujo, as she pushed the book off Light’s lap and pulled him to his feet. “These lessons won’t be in German. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings. You grew up in bilingual home, no. So, you know English well, ja?”

  “Yes,” replied Light, hesitantly. He then asked a question of his own. “But if you are concerned about my comprehension during these lessons then why don’t we speak in Japanese?” a hint of desperation entering his voice as he watched Kujo’s eyes harden. “You must know how… you couldn’t have forgotten. Ri-ight?”

  Light’s voice broke on those last few syllables.

  “English will be sufficient enough for these lessons,” asserted Kujo, with a firm voice. Her body language took on an impassive, and stubborn bearing.

  “But-”

  “Do you want to learn what I have to teach you, or not?” asked Kujo, cutting off Light’s objections.

  Light opened his mouth before snapping it shut once again. He  was conflicted. He did love learning new things. But even still, his request wasn’t all that big. All he wanted was to speak the native language of his homeland.

  Then again… Did he want to start a fight over this? 

  Mutti has no reason to keep me around, and yet, she does, realised Light with bittersweet sadness. I don’t want to cause a hassle, otherwise what would stop her from discarding me; like my father did.

  “Yes,” relented Light, his voice coming out as a small, weak whisper. “I want to learn.”

  “Good,” replied Kujo, as she reached down and tapped a finger on the tip of Light’s nose.

  There was a brief moment when Light thought he saw a flash of regret cross Kujo’s face, but he was not sure if he imagined it, or not.

  “You’re a Pisces, correct?” asked Kujo. She waited for Light to nod before continuing. “OK. When we are able to get to shapeshifting, remember that your centre is at the feet. So, if you become something of lesser mass you’ll feel as if you are being pulled downwards. I have heard it’s a very odd sensation to get used to on top of the already strange .”

  “Where’s your centre?” asked Light, tilting his head.

  “Gemini,” replied Kujo, simply. But a brief glance at Light’s confused face had her quickly clarify. “Arms.”

  “Oh,” replied Light, nodding his head. “How long will it take me to learn shapeshifting?” 

  “As of now, given your current age, we are very limited on what you can currently practice,” explained Kujo, crossing her arms as she gazed down at Light. “Perhaps, in ten years-”

  “Why?” whined Light, interrupting Kujo as he looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

  “Because right now, you are just a little hosenscheißer. Believe you me, as a kitsune you have a lot of maturing to do,” explained Kujo, with mild amusement colouring her tone. “Until you grow your second tail, you’ll be much more susceptible to injury and death; even your own magic can cause grave consequence,” she paused for a moment; letting the warning sink in before continuing. “You won’t start gaining tails until your ninth birthday; second on your eighteenth, third on your twenty-seventh, and so on, until you have nine total. Each tail comes with a boost in power.”

  “Oh,” replied Light, as he absorbed the information being given him. He quickly did the math and figured that a new tail is gained every nine years. “So the older the kitsune, the more powerful they are.”

  “Not always, Mausebärchen,” clarified Kujo, with a shake of her head. “A young kitsune could have greater abilities than an older kitsune. Therefore, when I say power, it is more of an individual measurement. A young kitsune such as yourself is currently the weakest they will ever be, but once you turn eighty-one you’ll be at your fullest possible potential”

  “What if I don’t grow in strength by then?” muttered Light, fearfully. He didn’t ever want to be hurt again; and strong people don’t get hurt, because they’re strong. “What if I’m still weak?”

  Kujo tilted her head. Her amber-coloured eyes narrowed in serious contemplation as Light stood there nervously. 

  “Then I guess I am going to have to be the one to protect you,” replied Kujo, after her long moment of silent deliberation.

  “You wouldn’t be mad?” asked Light, meekly.

  “I would prefer it if you were capable of keeping yourself safe,” admitted Kujo, her tone coming off as a bit brash before softening slightly. “But no, I would not be mad.”

  A relieved smile broke out across Light’s face. Mutti wouldn’t get mad at him. She just wanted to protect him. She wouldn’t send him away due to shame or disappointment. 

  The world may hate us for being monsters, thought Light, wistfully. But at least, we have each other. 

  “Promise that you will never leave me,” demanded Light. He wanted a verbal agreement; a solid confirmation that he and Kujo were on the same page. “You’ll always protect me, and in turn, I’ll always protect you. Even if the whole world is against us, we’ll still have each other.”

  “I promise,” agreed Kujo, without hesitation. “But if you are going to be doing any protecting, then you have a lot to learn.”

  “Okay,” replied Light, in happy agreement. “What will you be able to teach me?”

  “I will be teaching you all-… uh, most of the theoretical, regardless of ability,” explained Kujo. Light noticed the correction from all to most, but decided not to comment on it. “But we are only practicing magic that is safe. We’ll start with my personal favourite; the all-purpose cut-off spell, Finis Incantationum. This will end almost any enchantment as long as you put in more power than what the enchantment has.” 

  Seems simple enough, thought Light, as he listened attentively to Kujo’s lecturing. 

  “You ready?” asked Kujo. 

  Light nodded his head, a spark of determination gleaming in his eyes. In response, Kujo’s lips twitched upwards.

  “Sakkaku sunēku,” recited Kujo, clearly despite wrinkling her nose up in distaste. 

  Light watched with utter fascination as threads of light appeared. Suspended in mid-air, these threads swiftly weaved themselves into the shape of snakes.

  Completely enraptured by the magical display, Light forgot he was supposed to be learning. He felt a gentle tap on the back of his head. Looking

  “Remember to concentrate on the flow of your energies. Being a Pisces, this should radiate from your lower appendages; so you need to redirect this energy up, and then out. You might feel woozy doing this,”  instructed Kujo, as she rested her hands on Light’s shoulders. “Now take a deep breath and say the magic words.”

  End Flashback

  Light took a deep breath.

  “Finis Incantationem,” whispered Light, pressing a hand to ankle. 

  Light slowly removed his hand. Staring down, he saw that the illusion was now completely gone. Frowning down at the now visible tattoo, Light felt conflicted about what he saw. Afterall, tattoos in Japan were regarded as taboo due to their association with the yakuza. Even then, despite the taboo, Light had to reluctantly admit that the ensō circle looked far less gross than the peeling skin that had been there prior.

  Pressing a finger against his tattooed ankle, Light considered his options.

  Should I reapply the illusion? Or should I just leave it be? thought Light, indecisively.  I know how to recast the spell… I think. But do I want to? In a way, it’s a part of who I am.

  Recent revelations had left Light feeling completely disorientated. He was so confused. About his family. About himself. About everything. 

  This is not the only illusion that has been shattered today, thought Light, bitterly as he glared at the ensō circle tattooed on his ankle. But were any of these illusions all that strong to begin with? Or was it no more substantial than paint placed upon skin? My family’s love has always been conditional… and rightfully so. Everyone would be happier if I was gone… Mom would still be alive. 

  “Hey,” greeted Yamamoto, blissfully unaware of Light’s grief as he sat down next to him in the lecture hall. 

  Light tilted his head to look over at Yamamoto, as he dumped the contents of his bag onto the desk. There was now a large pile of books, pens, and other miscellaneous items that took up both his own space and Light’s.

  Light released an exasperated sigh, but otherwise didn’t say anything. 

  As he worked on organising the mess he made, Yamamoto had a big, dumb grin on his face as he brushed shoulders with Light.

  “So, Lite-Brite are you-”

 “Stop calling me that!” snapped Light. He knew, on some level, he wasn’t really mad at Yamamoto, but anger is rarely rational. “It’s obvious you made up that nickname when you were ten, and, for whatever reason, you won’t drop it,” he paused, chest heaving. “For once in your life, can you not act like a damn idiot!”

  Yamamoto backed away slightly, a dumbstruck expression on his face. Light looked away. 

  “Okay, Light,” continued Yamamoto, dropping the nickname as requested. “You look tired. Have you eaten anything today?”

  Light didn’t answer. 

  “We can go get some food,” continued Yamamoto, resting a gentle hand on Light’s arm. 

  Much to his embarrassment, Light’s immediate reaction was to recoil from Yamamoto’s touch.

  “Not every issue can be solved with food,” replied Light, petulantly.

  “Are you sure you’re not hungry?” asked Yamamoto, undeterred. His hand was back on Light’s upper arm. “You’re not you when you’re hungry.”

  What are you? A Snickers commercial? thought Light, irritably as he rolled his eyes. 

  “Aren’t you hot?” asked Yamamoto, shifting to another question when Light didn’t answer. His fingers began pinching at the material of Light’s borrowed jacket. “This is not a very breathable fabric.”

  “What’s with the needling?” asked Light, frustrated by Yamamoto’s pestering.

  Abashed, Yamamoto pulled his hand away from Light. A disconcerting silence settled between them.

  Realising that Yamamoto may have been correct with his last comment, Light shrugged off his jacket. The temperature in the lecture hall really was warm, and was getting warmer as people gradually filed in. This is because the human body produces heat, which is released into the surrounding air. This effectively raises the room temperature as the number of people increases.

  “I received a text from your little sis,” began Yamamoto, awkwardly. “She said that you called her school and arranged for her to have a few days off.”

  Yamamoto paused, obviously expecting Light to say something. Light remained silent. He knew where this was heading, and he could only hope that Yamamoto would catch the hint that he didn’t want to talk.

  “Sayu also mentioned you and her were gonna spend a week or two with Mogi,” continued Yamamoto, hesitantly. 

  Yamamoto looked like he wanted to say more, but couldn’t seem to form the words; his mouth opening and closing several times. The silence between the two was almost palpable. The quiet murmuring from the people surrounding them felt deafening in comparison.

  “I, uh… I know your mom died,” said Yamamoto, quietly. “I’m sorry for your loss, bro.”

  With eyes full of sympathy, Yamamoto gripped Light’s hand.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “Just fine,” answered Light, curtly as he jerked his arm back; removing his hand from underneath Yamamoto’s. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  As Light looked into Yamamoto’s eyes, he realised that his gaze had shifted away from his face. Following the direction of his friend’s gaze, Light immediately spotted what Yamamoto was staring at. The sleeve of his shirt had ridden up his arm; the bandages around his arm could be seen. 

  “What happened to your arm?” asked Yamamoto, in an alarmed tone.

  “Nothing,” replied Light, brusquely. Realising how that may have sounded a bit too defensive, Light quickly clarified. “I burnt myself. Okay?”

  “Was it by accident?” asked Yamamoto, concerned.

  “Of course it was,” answered Light, snappishly; offended by such an accusation. Yamamoto didn’t look convinced.

  Light looked over at the clock; it read 8:55am. Only five minutes to go before class started. 

  Sulking, Light rested his head on his hand. His elbow slid along the desk slightly before hitting a book from Yamamoto’s junk pile. Glancing down, the title of the book immediately caught his attention.

  “‘The Trevi Collection’ by Emily Cowles,” said Light, repeating the title on the cover as he picked it up.

  Flipping the book over, Light read the synopsis on the back.

  Newspaper reporter, Carl Kolchak, investigates the fashion industry as he finds that Madame Trevi's competitors seem to be dying off in rapid numbers. Gaining help from one of Trevi’s models, Madelaine, Kolchak learns that the agency she works for is actually a haven for witchcraft and ritualism.

  Interesting. Trevi is not exactly the most common of surnames, thought Light, tilting his head. Given what I know now, it seems like I may not have been too far off when I called her an arikura-no-baba.

  “Can I have this?” asked Light, looking back at Yamamoto.

  “Sure,” replied Yamamoto, with a half-shrug as Light shoved the book into his own bag. “My dad got it for me while he was in America. Wants me to better my English skills.”

  “What English skills?” teased Light, with a little more bite than was called for.

  “That’s exactly what I said,” joked Yamamoto, taking Light’s insult in stride.

  Suddenly, a hush fell over the room as a man walked up to the front of the classroom. This man appeared to be in his early to mid-forties, and gave off a no-nonsense demeanour.

  “This is Criminal Law, semester one,” introduced the man, as he wrote the name of the class on the whiteboard. “My name is Professor Takagi. Before I start does anyone have any questions?”

  A young woman seated in the front row raised her hand. Takagi gestures his permission for her to go ahead and ask her question.

  “Is there a correlation between law and man’s morality?” asked the woman, brimming with curiosity and excitement. “Law by its very nature restricts freedom, so doesn’t that bring into question the virtue of man?”

  Takagi hummed himself thoughtfully.

  “That question is more suited for a psychology class, but you are not wrong in your observation. Under the restraint of the law, one can not live freely. That which we call law is the suppression of a people when they come under another’s rule,” answered Takagi, with an air of pretentiousness. “What I'd like to impress upon you is that it is man himself that is, amongst all of the species of the animal kingdom, the most noble. However, without law and justice, he would perhaps become the worst of them all.”

  “Wem willst du denn den Scheiß erzählen?” muttered Light, with a sour expression.

  A frown formed on Professor Takagi’s face, as his eyes landed on Light. 

  “To the young man in the fourth row, I didn’t quite get that,” said Takagi, as he gestured for Light to stand up. “Could you repeat what you just said? Afterall, you thought it prudent to disrupt the class in order to say it.”

  Seriously? I’m disrupting the class, thought Light, feeling somewhere between irked and baffled by Takagi’s audacity. Very well then, if you want to start an argument, I’ll give you an argument.

  “I was just thinking about how you conflate ‘law’ and ‘justice’,” replied Light, maintaining a polite façade as he slowly picked away at the first hole in Takagi’s argument. “But in reality, these terms are completely different from each other, are they not?”

  “Certainly,” agreed Takagi, as he eyed Light warily. “But they are two sides of the same coin, one could say.”

  “Is that so?” questioned Light, with a hint of amusement. “Are we not just binding two separate things to each other? By their own definitions, they are clearly not the same.”

  “What’s your name?” demanded Takagi, 

  “Light Yagami,” answered Light, reluctantly. 

  Light had gotten used to not giving out his full name, due to the presence of Kira. But the fact remained that the university had his name on file, so even if Light refused to give out his name, this teacher could still punch it into a suggestion box on any one of the still active Kira cites. Not that it matters, since Kira was officially dead.

  But what if there's another Kira? Why am I trying to piss off my professor? Do I really want to get myself killed? questioned Light, before suddenly freezing up when the answer ‘no’ didn’t immediately come to mind.

  “Yagami-kun, it seems you have an objection to my teachings,” observed Takagi, folding his arms over his chest as stared down his nose at Light. “Go on. State it to the entire class.”

  “I think it’s incredibly naïve of you to tie morality to justice when justice and its ilk are but empty ideals,” replied Light, stating a view even he found to be pessimistic. Though not untrue.

  “Justice is the foundation of society,” retorted Takagi, taking a simple, yet, effective approach.

  “But it’s always subjected to the doctrine of convenience,” argued Light, smirking cockily as he watched his professor’s face fall. “For example, how about war? Each side hoists up the flag of justice, and they each put their lives on the line for it, but the truth is, it’s mass murder.”

  “Following that logic, what is justice here within our nation?” asked Takagi, changing the initial parametres of the debate.

  I can work with this, thought Light, deciding not to call Takagi out on his subtle tactics.

  “It’s a political tool,” answered Light, without hesitation. “Justice always has been for the strong. Just a standard defined by the leaders in command.”

  “Therefore, if it is true justice that you seek, then we have no choice but to seek out appropriate leaders,” replied Takagi, expanding his own argument off of Light’s. “The laws these people pass keep men from succumbing to evil.”

  “Are you serious? What you are saying is simply impossible,” replied Light, completely taken aback by the ridiculousness of that last statement. “You’re not wrong about pointing out that man has, in order to preserve justice, come to regulate himself under systems of law. But laws, and the like, are riddled with loopholes, and thus evil remains at large; to the point where we simply accept it as a part of life. Therefore, if both the system and the people are so corrupt, how can concepts, such as justice, retribution, and equality, be realised?”

  “Retribution… looks like we may have an up-and-coming vigilante in our midst,” accused Takagi, nit-picking Light’s word usage. “Let me guess, you’re a fan of Kira.”

  That comment may as well have been a slap to the face. Actually, a slap would’ve been preferable to this. Light had to force down the urge to rip this idiot’s face off. 

  Takagi couldn’t beat me at his own game, so he lowered himself to engage in petty name-calling, realised Light; aggrieved by such a response.

  “Kira,” started Light, spitting out the name like it was a curse. “He’s just as corrupt as our legal system. The reaction society has had to his reign is a true reflection of how corrupt us humans truly are deep down. We’re not noble and neither is our legal system.”

  “Hmm, I can see a young man’s anger burning in your eyes,” commented Takagi, with a satisfactory hum. “Not exactly an exemplary source for logic and reason.”

  “You are clearly grasping at straws. Completely ignoring what I’m saying,” replied Light, a white-hot anger boiling beneath his skin. “This whole damn system’s broken way beyond repair. It’s just law. Not law and order. Not much good and seldom fair.”

  “You are speaking from your emotions, not logic,” replied Takagi, with an attitude that suggested that he was brushing off everything Light had said as nonsense coming from an irrational mind.

  “Our country has a ninety-nine percent conviction rate, but too many cases have relied on the most damning evidence being a confession,” stated Light, speaking in pure facts in order to avoid being dismissed as too emotional. “Meanwhile a suspect can legally be held for up to twenty-three days without being charged. Compound that with interrogation sessions that can last up to twelve hours a day. Sessions that police are not required to record.”

  Light heard a few gasps and waited a moment to let that information settle in before continuing.

  “Contrariwise, there are downright dangerous people that have gotten off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Because, whether you like it or not, a crafty lawyer’s tricks can always fix the blame. And if, for whatever reason, that doesn’t work, there’s always bribery. The cases that never reach court, due to corrupt officials accepting pay-offs. And what about the crimes that are not taken seriously such as stalking and harassment? It’s not until it escalates to murder, kidnapping, and rape that it becomes serious. And even then it depends on whether the victim is an ‘ideal victim’. If not, they may never get justice for what was done to them. Justice seems to be an all too fleeting dream for most.”

  Despite his outwardly calm composure, Light could feel something inside himself breaking… Memories, both recent and old, flooded his mind. He knew he was arguing with his emotions, but that didn’t make anything he was saying any less true; especially when backed by facts.

  “Such a cynical outlook for someone so young,” said Takagi, dismissively; not even bothering to counter a single one of Light’s arguments.

  “What other outlook is there?” asked Light, frustrated. “These sort of flaws in the legal system means there is a great potential for abuse of that system.”

  “Your simple arguments have all been made before,” criticised Takagi, as he looked down his nose at Light. “The world is not black and white.”

  “Perhaps it’s time we drain the colour from it then,” retorted Light. “It might eliminate all the distractions blinding you to reality.”

  “Overwrought pronouncements won’t shift the world to become what you want it to be,” said Takagi, with an air of finality.

  Before Light had a chance to retort, another student decided to jump into the discussion.

  “Then maybe instead of loopholes for laws to fall between, we let some good old fashioned payback grease the wheels of the machine,” said a husky boy, who was about the same age as Light. 

  “How can you say that?” admonished a frizzy-haired girl, who was seated at the back. “Laws were made for everyone. We are treated all the same.”

  After these interruptions were made, it seemed like a dam had broken. All at once, everyone in the classroom interjected their own opinions into the discussion.

  “Corporations make the regulations, and then are unaccountable when everything goes wrong.”

  “The rich and famous get away with murder, Where is the justice in any of that?”

  “Where is the justice?”

  “Lawyers cutting deals needs to become a crime.”

  The level of conviction behind the words these people were spouting actually frightened Light. He hadn’t meant to encourage vigilantism or anything… but in hindsight, he could see how his words may have been misconstrued.

  Light stood at his desk, baffled as he watched the chaos unfold. Several students were yelling at each other, as if being louder made their statements more correct. One person had even hurled a chair across the room.

  Light felt something pulling at his sleeve. Looking off to the side, he saw it was Yamamoto.

  “Uhh… Light,” started Yamamoto, nervously. “I think you may have just incited a riot.”

  That wasn’t my intention, thought Light, truly stunned by the chaos he had just unleashed. I wonder if this is how Marx felt.

 Before Light had a chance to reply to Yamamoto’s comment, Takagi was suddenly in his face. When had he moved from the front of the classroom? Light had honestly stopped paying attention to the teacher amidst all the pandemonium.

  “YAGAMI-KUN! GET OUT OF MY CLASSROOM!” shouted Takagi, nostrils flaring and little flecks of spit coming off his mouth.

  Grossed out, Light wiped away the spittle that had landed on his face. But otherwise, despite the professor’s demand, he didn’t move.

  “You can’t possibly blame me for this,” scoffed Light, rolling his eyes. “And if you were to do so, that just proves my point. People in positions of authority will always corrupt the outcome.”

  “I don’t care,” replied Takagi, seething. With his face so close, Light could see how the blood vessel in his professor’s left eye had popped. “I just hope to never see you again,” 

  Light opened his mouth to argue further, but it seemed like he had worn down Takagi’s last thread of patience. Grabbing Light’s arm, Takagi led him towards the doors of the classroom. With a hard shove and the loud snap of a door closing, Light found himself alone out in the hallway.

  “What the hell was that?” questioned Light, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “Why did I do that?”

  In less than twenty minutes, I managed to get myself kicked out of class, thought Light as he moved away from the lecture hall. Why did I do that? Why did I think it was a good idea to antagonise my professor? I am not usually this combative… What is wrong with me?

  A sudden realisation struck Light. No matter how he might try to hide it, there was simply too much damage done to him to go unnoticed – Light was completely and utterly ruined. He could still feel the touch of Demegawa’s meaty paws on his flesh, his mother’s last breath dance across his face, Kugo’s needles inserting themselves beneath his skin, the sensation of heat as Sakota and those other men burned, the-

  Another thought came to the forefront of Light’s mind. 

  Last night. The fire. Sakota and those other guys had all burst into flames; just like Matoba did when Kujo rescued me, determined Light, with bated breath as his heart pounded in his chest. Could I have done that? NO! No, no, no… Then again, during one of Kujo’s lessons, she did tell me that a kitsune’s fire powers, as well as their shapeshifting, are innate skills. But these skills are often difficult to control once they emerge… if they emerge… They didn’t emerge. But then again, if they did, these skills are easily triggered by extreme emotions… so by that logic, I could’ve-

  Light refused to finish that thought. It’s best not to dwell on things that can not be changed.

  Despite his resolve, Light felt incredibly shaky and light-headed. Ducking into the third-floor men’s washroom, Light decided that he could hang out in one of the stalls until he either: a) he got his emotions back under control, or b) it was time for him to go to his next class. 

  Opening the stall furthest from the door, Light quickly locked the door behind him. Sitting down on the seat, he closed his eyes and placed his head between his knees as he tried to focus on nothing but his breathing. Easier said than done.

  I’m not a murderer, insisted Light, silently. I’m not a monster.

  Suddenly, Light heard the sound of heels clicking against linoleum. 

  Is that a woman? What is a woman doing in the men’s washroom? questioned Light, before shrugging it off. She must have misread the sign or something… Whatever, not my problem.

  Light tried to ignore the other person in the washroom with him, but then the sound of her footsteps stopped and he could hear her breathing coming from the other side of the stall door. Opening his eyes, Light looked down at the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. He saw a pair of shapely legs wearing a set of bright red heels.

  With an annoyed groan, Light sat up straight and glared at the door, like it had personally offended him.

  “Stall’s occupied,” informed Light, irritably.

  Abruptly, the stall door started to shake as the women on the other side tried to yank it open.

  “Seriously, Hanako-san. Knock it off!” exclaimed Light. With the current setting and how this woman was acting, it wasn’t difficult to disparagingly draw similarities between her and the urban legend of Hanako-san. “By the way, if you’re going to haunt a bathroom, then at least pick the correct one. Which, by the way, is next door.”

  The jittering of the stall door suddenly stopped. Light heard the women walk away, but she had not left the room. 

  Being both stressed and annoyed by the situation, Light decided it was best to leave.

  Opening the stall, Light immediately spotted the women standing in front of the sinks. She was tall with wavy, shoulder-length black hair and sun-kissed skin. He noted the green qipao dress with gold floral details that she was wearing, and wondered if she was perhaps Chinese or Taiwanese. Even then, the overall style seemed to be a bit dated.

  Deciding to ignore her, Light headed towards the door. Pulling on the handle, the door refused to budge. This was strange, since this door had no lock and he had no trouble going through earlier.

  Frustrated, Light looked around the washroom in search of something that could help him force open what he assumed was a sticky latch. After a minute of searching, Light concluded there was nothing that could be used to open that door.

  Seems like we’re locked in here with no obvious ways of getting out, thought Light with a groan as he patted the dirt off his knees after having just looked under the sinks. Well, this sucks… Although, perhaps this woman might have something that can force open the latch or push out the hinges. 

  “Excuse me, miss,” started Light as he slowly approached the unknown woman. Something felt… off, but Light chose to ignore how his instincts were telling him to run. “Would you happen to have a nail file, or perhaps better yet a screwdriver, on hand?”

  The woman didn’t answer. 

  “Forget it,” huffed Light as he leaned against the sink furthest from the woman.

  Pulling his phone out, Light glanced through his contacts. Deciding on Yamamoto, he pressed the call button — only to have his call not go through. Looking at his screen, Light suddenly noticed there was no signal.

  I’m in the middle of a college campus. How can there possibly be no cell reception? questioned Light, indignant. This is ridiculous.

  Glancing over at his silent companion, Light was mildly surprised to see her staring at him with a manic-looking grin on her face.

  Such a creep, criticised Light, as he quickly turned his face away from her. It’s best to just ignore her.

  “You’re the reason your mom is dead,” said the woman, suddenly.

  Light was completely blindsided by such an accusation.

  “What,” replied Light, blankly.

  Why would this woman say that? How did she even know about my Mom being dead? questioned Light, numbly. Something is seriously wrong here.

  “You left the door open. That’s how those men got in,” continued the woman, her head tilting sideways at an unnatural angle as she moved closer to him. “And afterwards, despite having magic at your disposal, you still let her die.”

  The woman was now standing directly in front of Light. Her face and body was extremely close to his, pushing him against the sink counter. Light could feel his heart hammering in his chest as the woman’s face lost all its colour and a putrid, rotting stench filled the air. Despite realising this woman was most likely a ghost, Light still felt more devastated than fearful. Her words had cut deep… deeper than he’d like to admit.

  “I didn’t know,” muttered Light, lowering his eyes as he shook his head. 

  Light felt the woman’s cold fingers gripped his chin and forced his face close to hers. The sickeningly sweet smell of death coming from her mouth had Light immediately scampering away. Backing up onto the counter until his spine hit the mirror behind him.

  “Do you consider ignorance to be an excuse?” asked the woman, with a knowing expression.

  “No-” answered Light before stopping and rethinking his response. Allowing this woman to control this conversation would lead to nowhere good. “Listen here, I don’t know who, or what, you are, but I don’t have to explain myself to you.” 

  Light tried to move himself off of the sink counter only to have the ghost woman shove him back. He heard the mirror break and felt a shard jabbing its way into his shoulder.

  “Poor little thing, trying so hard to run away from the truth,” cooed the woman, mockingly as her hand reached up to cup the side of his face. “Could’ve been her savior, but instead you’re just a murderer.”

  “My mom-” started Light, his voice choking on the words. He shoved her hand away from his face. “She died due to Kira. There was nothing I could’ve done.” 

  Despite his own words, Light wasn’t actually sure. He might have been able to have done something, anything, to save his mom. And even though he didn’t admit this, the woman seemed to hear it regardless.

  “Not ready to face the truth, are we?” stated the woman, rhetorically. “Even still, I see we’re not outright denying the part about being a murderer.” 

  “I’m not a murderer! According to L most of them are still alive. A-and it was an accident,” explained Light, desperately. It felt as if the walls were closing in on him as he stumbled over his words. “They deserved everything that happened to them.”

  “I bet they did,” agreed the woman with a smirk. “For those that didn’t die, they are to suffer a life of pain for their crimes. But what gave you the right to do that to them? Be honest when considering your own actions.” 

  The woman gave Light a knowing look. It felt as if she had wormed her way into his head and was privy to every one of his innermost thoughts. Pecking at the guilt that had etched its way into his very soul.

  “Was it retribution or revenge you were seeking?” 

  Light didn’t have an answer. When he had caused that fire there had been no thoughts — only anger and fear… Anyone could have been engulfed by those flames — by his rage.

  “Do you believe you should be absolved of your crimes? To avoid punishment?” questioned the woman, her glazed-over, dead eyes staring Light down.

  Light opened his mouth, but quickly snapped it shut. He had nothing to say. He wanted to defend his actions, but he wasn’t sure he could. 

  “Just answer the question, my love,” encouraged the woman, softly; a paper-thin façade of benevolence. 

  “I did nothing wrong,” defended Light, weakly.

  The woman burst out in malicious, uproarious laughter. 

  Suddenly, several sets of ghostly arms were reaching out from within the mirror. Their hands grasped onto Light and began pulling him back. These beings weren’t all that strong, but due to their sheer number, it wasn’t long before Light found himself half-submerged beneath the mirror’s surface. 

  On the other side, Light was floating in deep water, slowly drowning as thousands of ghosts surrounded him. Forcing himself to remain calm, Light looked back towards the portal. He could still see the washroom, and how his foot had hooked itself around the tap of a sink.

  Think, Light, think! demanded Light, in silent concentration. I’m in water, I’m drowning, I can’t breathe. Fire won’t help; too much water. Also, this is a haunting, not an enchantment, so spells, such as Finis Incantationem, won’t work. 

  Black was starting to creep along the edges of his vision. Light figured he didn’t have much time left. If he wanted to survive this then he’d have to do something now.

  What about shapeshifting? figured Light, as he found himself grasping at straws. 

  Flashback; Eleven Years, One Month, Twenty-Eight Days Ago

  February 9, 2010

  “Shapeshifting is a form of metamorphosis,” explained Kujo, as she refilled the bird-feeder that hung off the edge of their balcony. Meanwhile, Light swung back and forth on the patio-swing. He listlessly flicked through the pages of a book on birds of prey, that Kujo had dumped in his lap earlier. “This metamorphosis is permanent until you either shift into another form or return to one of your primary forms.”

  “Primary forms?” questioned Light, confused. 

  “Fox, human, and fox-human hybrid; with alternation between sexes,” explained Kujo, as she held up six fingers to represent each of the forms described. “Primary forms can be accessed even when your energy is non-existent and your health bad; though I would not recommend shifting while injured. Always focus your energy into healing first, got it?”

  Light nodded in agreement despite thinking that his Mutti was being overly protective of him. Regardless, it was a perfectly reasonable request.

  “Obviously, there are limitations to this power,” continued Kujo, as she sat down next to Light. “Living things can only turn into other living things.”

  “Makes sense,” observed Light, offhandedly.

  Light felt Kujo ruffle his hair affectionately. She then tucked several of the longer strands behind his ear before returning to her serious, no-nonsense lecturer persona.

  “You must learn how to visualise the biological and structural makeup of the creature you are turning into,” stated Kujo, as Light leaned against her side, carefully listening to her every word. “For example, let’s say you want to become a bird,” Light rolled his eyes at that; if there was one thing Mutti loved, it was birds. “You have to know how your organs are going to be rearranged and repurposed. If you want that bird’s ability to fly, you’ll have to hollow out your bones and replicate the musculoskeletal structure of their wings; this requires you to have a clear understanding of their anatomy. Watch.”

  Kujo gently nudged Light off of her as she stood up. Light then watched as her body rapidly twitched and shrunk in towards her chest, contorting itself into a new form; a magpie. 

  Light stared, in complete amazement at Kujo’s transformation. He watched as she took flight. It looked like a dance, with the rising sun acting as a spotlight. The whole performance, in Light’s opinion, was incredibly beautiful.

  When Kujo finally came back and returned to her original form, Light immediately jumped to his feet and applauded. A bright, beaming smile crossed his face as he leaned forward to hug her. She patted his shoulders awkwardly in reciprocation.

  “Will I be able to do all that some day, Mutti?” asked Light, excitedly as he spun around in a facsimile of her earlier dance-like flight.  

  “Ja,” answered Kujo, with a small smile pulling at her lips. “As long as you listen to me and dedicate much of your time to learning all the finer points of anatomy,” she nodded her head towards the pile of books on the patio-swing.“Hence those textbooks.” 

  Light groaned at the prospect of trying to absorb all the information contained within that huge pile of books.

  “Is this all theoretical or do I actually get to do something?” muttered Light, with a pout.

  Kujo released an exasperated sigh.

  “Ideally, you should wait until your primary forms have settled,” informed Kujo, as she crouched down to eye level with Light. “That should take about eight years or so.”

  Light couldn’t help but feel disappointed… but for Kujo he would happily wait.

  “Although…” started Kujo, seemingly aware of Light’s disappointment. “We could practice shifting between your primary forms. This would still require a conscious effort to push, pull, add, subtract various body tissues and bones into different shapes and sizes,” she leaned down to boop Light’s nose. “But first, I expect you to study at least a little, Mausebärchen.”

  End Flashback

  Light gasped in pain as a ghost with long hair and sharp, black teeth bit into his leg, causing him to swallow back a fair amount of water.  Another ghost had his arms wrapped around Light’s torso and was tightening his grip so hard it forced the last of the air out of his lungs. 

  As his vision began fading out, Light realised that he had to act quick, or else he was as good as dead.

  Okay… think of an aquatic animal. Bottlenose dolphin? No, I’m not all that knowledgeable on their muscular structure. Lemon Shark? I don’t know the layout of their organs, so that’s a no,  thought Light, as he mentally listed off various aquatic species in a desperate attempt to come across one he thoroughly understood. DAMN IT! Why did Mutti have me study so many species of birds, but no fish? The world is ⅔ water.

  Light suddenly recalled Sayu’s science essay on sea anemones. He had helped her in writing it. And in one section he had dedicated solely to their relationship with clown fish. He had spent hours studying the entire anatomical and biochemical makeup of a clown fish in order to better explain their symbiotic relationship with anemones.

  Feeling confident in his decision, Light started the transformation. His bones, that were once hard and calcified, became thin, flexible cartilage. His metabolic system lowered significantly; shifting him from an endothermic animal to an ectothermic one. Lungs turned to gills and skin to scales. A layer of epithelial mucus covered his rapidly shrinking body.

  After the transformation belatedly, Light recognised his mistake — a piece of information he had forgotten in his haste. Due to his birth sign being Pisces, any shifts that made him smaller would drag him downwards towards his feet. Feet that were still on the other side of the mirror.

  Oh, god. First I was drowning, now I am… land-drowning(?), grumbled Light, as he flopped around in the sink of a men’s washroom. Ugh, this is so scary and gross! Mostly gross. I think I need to get out of this form.

  In an instant, Light felt his body shift back into his human form… but he didn’t get much time to enjoy it before falling backwards onto the washroom floor. 

  A shock of pain travelled up his tailbone upon landing, but Light didn’t have time to dwell on that. The woman in the green qipao was still here. Several taps were running as more ghostly figures were emerging from the mirrors and the bodies of water settling in the sinks. Looking over his shoulder, Light also saw a ghostly set of hands on the edge of the toilet seat.

  Light suddenly felt an ice-cold hand touch the side of his face, forcing him to look back at the woman who was now crouched down directly in front of him.

  “Why didn’t you fight this hard to save your mother?” questioned the woman, with an abnormally large and sinister grin stretching across her face. “Only goes to show that you only care about yourself.”

  Scrambling backwards across the cold floor, Light suddenly felt a familiar burning sensation course through his veins. The mirrors glowed a bright orange as they started to melt. The porcelain of the sinks and toilet warped and bubbled and the metal of the pipes and doors began to break down and liquify. An explosion of water burst from the damaged pipes. But most of the water had turned to steam.

  The steam was obscuring Light’s vision. He cautiously reined back his powers, thinning out the steam. He quickly noticed that the woman and the rest of the ghosts had disappeared.

  Light could only stare at his surroundings in complete shock. A noise at the door caught his attention. His eyes landed on Yamamoto popping his head in through the half-melted door.

  “There you are, Light,” greeted Yamamoto, happily. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere… Uhh, what happened here?” 

  To say the washroom was absolutely demolished would be an understatement, so the confusion in Yamamoto’s eyes was quite understandable

  “Yamamoto,” stated Light, not able to form a sentence longer than that.

  With feelings of concern written clearly across his face, Yamamoto ran up to where Light stood frozen. He didn’t seem to care about the water soaking his clothes.

  “Are you okay, bro?” asked Yamamoto, as he gripped Light’s shoulders. “Talk to me. Please!”

 The flux in adrenaline from earlier plus the abrupt contact from Yamamoto immediately triggered Light’s fight-or-flight response.

  Shoving Yamamoto away from him, Light bolted out through the destroyed door. Despite his ears feeling as if they were stuffed with cotton, Light could still, just barely, hear Yamamoto shouting after him.

  “Light! Where are you-... Wait up!”

~~~~~~~~~

 “Now arriving at Sendagi Station,” announced the PA system overhead as the train came to a stop at the aforementioned station. 

  B was seething. He had eleven more stops before he reached his destination. Truly, he would rather this train crash and burn with him on board than to help that bastard any further.

  B’s stomach growled, painfully.

  I’m so hungry, thought B, as he stared longingly at the veins in a nearby woman’s throat. And that wannabe god will not allow me to feed… I’m starving.

  Glancing around at his surroundings, B noted how incredibly crowded the Chiyoda Line was at this time of day… And, despite this fact, a majority of people actively avoided getting within three feet of B’s vicinity.

  Good, thought B, smugly. It seems like my scars are enough to scare off the average person in this place. 

  B reached into the pocket of his coat. In his hands, he held the death note that had once belonged to Teru Mikami. Takada had dropped it off at her mother’s house in the Arakawa ward before going to the police with that ridiculous story of hers.

  B was then forced to go retrieve it by the bastard that had essentially hijacked his body. The enchantment he was under felt like he was suffering from an odd combination of lock-in syndrome and alien hand syndrome. His mind was all there, but his body wasn’t. 

  The spell seems to be diminishing. Given time, I’m sure that I could overpower it through sheer force of will. But I don’t think I have time due to that bastard’s paranoia. I need to break free of his spell now, thought B, with determination. And once I’m free, I’ll get my revenge and that bastard will pay. No one makes a fool of me.

  Flashback; Two Months, Seventeen Days Ago

  January 20, 2020

  B stared down the pair of prison guards in charge of guarding his cell. They both seemed rather pathetic. He figured that they would likely quit before the end of the week. Afterall, the longest a guard has ever lasted working security in this area has been a month. And that guy had been as tough as nails. Not that any of this mattered. It had simply evolved into another part of the routine ever since B came here four years ago. Therefore, he may as well have fun with them in the meantime.

  “What are your plans after work, Kwesi Ameyaw?” asked B, purposely using the man’s full name, despite him never once introducing himself.

  B smirked in satisfaction as the man’s dark skin noticeably paled under the glow of the flickering fluorescent lights. 

  “None of your business,” replied Ameyaw, gruffly as he stared straight ahead; obviously pretending to be unfazed by B’s faux pleasantries. 

  “How about you, Justin Stone?” continued B, looking over at the other guard standing in front of his cell.

  Stone didn’t bother to dignify B’s question with a response. Even still, B was nothing if not persistent.

  “How’s the wife?”

  “I don’t have a wife,” refuted Stone.

  “Husband then,” corrected B, a grin pulling at the burn scars covering his face. “By the looks of it, you like it rough.”

  “What would make you think that?” questioned Stone, annoyance not quite masking his apprehension.

  “The bruises around your wrists and the hickeys peeking out of the collar of your shirt tell quite the story,” stated B, as he recalled Stone smiling fondly when touching the marks around his neck. “There’s also that wedding band on your right hand. So, you either have a husband or you were lying about not having a wife.”

  Stone turned around and glared down at the man in the cell. Was this fear manifesting itself as anger?

  “Why don’t you fuck off!” growled Stone, in a low tone.

  “Don’t let him get to you,” insisted Ameyaw, in a tone that tried to sound reassuring. “I read his file. He does this to everyone.”

  “That may be so,” replied Stone, his eyes glaring at B. “But there’s something seriously not right about him.”

  “Well, that’s obvious,” scoffed Ameyaw. “You see those scars covering his body,” gestured at B’s entire body, which was covered in scars upon scars. “He apparently did that to himself.”

  Stone’s eyes widened in disbelief.

  “What!? Why?” asked Stone, notably surprised as he took in B’s grotesque appearance.

  “This man is the Wara Ningyo Killer,” whispered Ameyaw. He was definitely an incorrigible gossip.

  “Really? The man that committed all those bizarre murders in L.A. four years ago?” questioned Stone. Ameyaw nodded. “How do you know that? All information on this prisoner is classified, and well above our pay-grade.”

  “Remember that kid that came in to see him a few days ago?” asked Ameyaw, with a smug-looking smirk. Stone nodded. “He told me all about it; I’m not sure how he knew, but…” Ameyaw paused; seemingly for dramatic effect. “Apparently, when Agent Misora and L caught him, he set himself on fire. They managed to put him out, and he’s been locked up here since.”

  “Bullshit,” spat Stone, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

  “Maybe, but it is odd how there’s no information on this guy, and yet, here he is in protective custody; not allowed out in general population,” justified Ameyaw with a passive shrug of his shoulders. “And as you said there’s something not right about him. And there certainly was something not right about the Wara Ningyo Killer. All I’m saying is that they’re both very strange. And it’s not impossible for them to be the same person.”

  “I guess not,” relented Stone, reluctantly. “But- WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”

  Stone watched in horror as Ameyaw opened the door to B’s cell before collapsing to the floor. He barely had a chance to process this information when suddenly he gripped his chest in pain and collapsed to the floor as well.

  Ordinarily, B was not someone that would look a gifted horse in the mouth, but this whole situation was too bizarre for him not to be wary. And it only got weirder as he made his way out of the prison. Every guard and every inmate was dead.

  I don’t know how or why, but at least I’m free, figured B as he snatched a set of car keys off the warden.

  Five Days Later

  B woke up, a cold sheen of sweat dripping down his face. He was not sure what had caused his body to elicit such a reaction. 

  “I see that you are finally awake, B,” said a man’s voice. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Looking in the direction the voice had come from, B saw a man next to the window, leaning against the desk, which had belonged to the previous occupant of this apartment.  The stranger’s figure was silhouetted by the light of the moon pouring in, but his face was still obscured by the shadows of the darkened bedroom. Despite this, B could still read his name: Yagami Tsuki.

  Hmm… I don’t know anyone by that name, observed B, nonchalantly. I wonder what this lunatic’s problem is for him to be searching for me. Due to my curiosity, he may live long enough to tell me.

  “What is it you seek from me, Tsuki Yagami?” asked B, with a bemused smirk.

  “First off, my name’s Light,” replied Tsuki, sounding incredibly annoyed. “Sec-”

  “No, it’s not,” interrupted B, feigning ignorance.

  “Excuse me?” asked Tsuki, sounding confused.

  “Your name’s not Light. It’s Tsuki,” argued B, despite knowing better. He’s already aware about the concept of furigana and sparkly names, but getting this wrong seemed to be an easy way of annoying his prey. 

  “That kanji in my name has an unorthodox reading,”

  “Do I look like someone who cares?” asked B, mockingly. 

  B heard Tsuki grumble something under his breath.

  That little edgelord is probably mad I ruined his attempts at intimidation, though B, with a low chuckle. He has to realise by now that he is in way over his head. Afterall, psychological warfare is my game. He’s probably going to turn on the light now, since it’s rather pointless to stay lurking in the dark when your target is not afraid of you.

  Tsuki flicked on the lamp next to him on the desk. And despite being right, B’s smugness quickly wore off.

  “A?” said B, in shocked wonderment before remembering A’s death; his cold, limp body hanging lifeless in the main stairwell at Wammy House. “No… You can’t be him. Why are you wearing his face?”

  And isn’t that a sad revelation to experience all over again. B knew that there was no way this man could be an adult A, because A had died. He had been so young. So beautiful, even while dead. 

  To this day, B still holds a burning resentment towards his old mentor, Quillish Wammy. 

The old, pompous prat just had to hire some little witch-bitch to erase my memories of A… thought B, fuming. I don’t understand why he did that, but fortunately it didn’t work — not entirely.

  B could still vividly recall all those memories, the only difference was they would play as if on mute… and also the sight he had due to the shinigami eyes had no influence on them. This meant he could no longer recall his darling Angel’s name nor remember the sound of their voice.

  Such a pity, thought B, morosely. A always looked so pretty when he cried. I bet the noises he made sounded even sweeter. The taste of his blood was certainly sweet; kind of like strawberry jam…

  B eyed the man in front of him from head to toe.

  Maybe I can use this man as a replacement, considered B, licking his lips. Until I lose interest, that is. No one besides A, and perhaps Lawliet, had ever held my attention for long.

  “I am wearing no one’s face but my own,” laughed Tsuki, though B could see a subtle shift in his composure; he was obviously unsettled. Good. “Now seriously, is this any way to greet someone that helped you escape from prison?”

  “I didn’t need your help,” refuted B, not liking the implications of that statement. “If I wanted to escape, I would’ve done so a long time ago.”

  “Then why did you leave once presented with the opportunity to do so?” asked Tsuki, with a knowing look as he called B out on his lies.

 Honestly, B didn’t care whether Tsuki thought he was lying or not. What he did care about was the possibility of Tsuki owning a death note. B was almost certain he must have one, but looking into his dark brown eyes, it was obvious he wasn’t in possession of the shinigami eyes. Did he turn down the eye deal? Or was he never even offered it?

  Should I call him on this?... But what if Tsuki isn’t already aware of the eye deal, then I could possibly be giving this man information he didn’t have before. Do I want to show my hand this earlier? questioned B, narrowing his eyes at his unwelcome intruder. Even without the eyes, there are other ways of learning a person’s name. Considering the fact that he went looking for me and he succeeded in finding me, I could very well be fucked here.

  With a resigned sigh, B decided to address the elephant in the room.

  “Where did you get the death note from?”

  Instead of answering the question, Tsuki instead made a sound of disgust. Craning his neck to the side, B could see that Tsuki’s hand had touched the severed ear that he left on the desk.

  “Ugh, this place is absolutely disgusting,” criticised Tsuki, wrinkling his nose. “And that’s not even accounting for the partially devoured body you left rotting in the tub.”

  “You want to join him?” offered B, with a wicked smile.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” huffed Light, rolling his eyes. 

  What. Is. Wrong. With. You???? questioned B. Do you not recognise a threat when you hear one? I may have been nice about it, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am going to kill you… And after listening to you talk, it’s probably going to be sooner rather than later.

  “I can’t believe you’re B,” muttered Tsuki, talking more to himself than to B. He sounded disappointed. “Based off the files L had on you, I imagined you to be… different from this.”

  How did this man get his hands on Lawliet’s files? questioned B, with sudden alertness. And most importantly, what did my dear Lawliepop put in those files? Are my eyes listed? Is my name?... Is my name already written down in this bastard’s death note? Or is he bluffing in order to use my eyes? 

  B’s gaze travelled up and down Tsuki’s form; sizing up his opponent.

  Fuck the speculation! thought B, with angered determination. If I’m going to die then I’m going to die fighting!

  Gripping the knife he kept under his pillow, B lunged at Tsuki. But just as the knife was about to slice through Tsuki’s throat, B’s whole body froze up. And try as he might, he couldn’t force himself to move.

  What the f-

  “Are you trying to kill me?” taunted Tsuki, amused. “Go on… kill me.”

  With a grunt, B managed to shift a few centimetres closer to Tsuki. The tip of the knife managed to graze the sleeve of his shirt. Tsuki took an immediate step back, but otherwise, maintained a mask of aloof superiority.

  “Sit,” demanded Tsuki.

  Much to B’s chagrin, his body submitted itself to Tsuki’s demands.

  “That’s good boy,” complimented Tsuki, mockingly. 

  How dare you demean me like some dog, thought B, angrily. How

  Tsuki released a soft chuckle as B glared up at him.

  “You’re probably wondering, how am I doing this? Well, you see, the answer is simple. While you were sleeping, I cast a spell on you; Corpus Imperium,” explained Tsuki. B immediately had this man clocked as someone who likes to brag. “For the foreseeable future, your body is under my control. Any useful information you have, or can get, you will tell me. As for your personal thoughts, you can keep those to yourself. Do you understand?”

  Against his will, B could feel his fingers slowly release their hold on the knife. He heard the sound of metal hitting the floor. The spell then forced him to nod his understanding in answer to ‘master’s’ question.

  “Good,” said Tsuki, with a pleased smile. He then narrowed his eyes as he looked at B with consideration. “So, just for confirmation, is it true you possess the shinigami eyes?”

  End Flashback

  Bloody witches, thought B, agitated. No wonder people used to go around hanging them, or burning them, or torturing them. I, quite frankly, would like to do that, too.

  B looked down at the death note that he now held. He knew that even if he could get his hands to cooperate, writing down Light Yagami’s name would accomplish nothing. He could recall hearing the bastard bragging about how he exploited rule XXXV. 

  Seriously, I swear that bastard never shuts up, criticised B, disparagingly. Always gloating, always bragging — when in reality, he is clearly too clever by half.

  Lost in his own thoughts, B was taken by surprise when he felt someone bump into him from behind. B could feel a strong concentration of energy emitting from this person. Upon turning around, he saw an adolescent boy… or rather an adolescent creature. This creature had his head down, his candy-red hair obscuring his face from view. 

  “Sorry,” mumbled the creature, apologetically.

  The creature then tried to squeeze his way past, but B grabbed his arm, halting his movements. B’s fingers clenched tightly; this would likely leave bruises on the creature’s arm. 

  B suddenly noted how the temperature in the train-car had increased exponentially, and the colour of the creature’s hair and skin seemed to be subtly shifting between tones and colours.

  And that’s when B noticed something else. The mental binds holding him under Tsuki’s control, they were gone.

  The residual energy coming off this creature must have done it, figured B. Poor thing doesn’t even seem to be aware of what it is doing. A subconscious reaction, perhaps. 

  A satisfied grin spread across B’s face, as he looked at the creature. His flesh smelled heavenly — his blood will, hopefully, taste even better.

  “You should be,” threatened B, whispering in the boy’s ear as he felt the teeth in his mouth elongate.

  The creature suddenly snapped his head up, a fearful expression on his face. B was also taken by surprise. He saw A’s face. His beautiful, angelic A.

  “A?” said B, softly as the creature made a face that looked somewhere between concerned and disgusted.

  Not A, realised B, as he looked at the name written above the creature’s head in disappointment. This is the kitsune version of that bastard, Tsuki… which is a crime that can not be easily forgiven.

  As the creature continued to stare at him, a thought suddenly struck and B’s mood immediately perked back up.

  I could use this creature, thought B with a smirk. The poor thing can be my A, my companion, my pet. And as a plus, while that thing is under my control, it is out of the hands of that bastard. And then-

  “Do I know you?” asked ‘A’, sounding somewhat dazed as he rudely interrupted B’s thoughts.

  It seems like I’m going to have to teach my pet some respect, thought B, frowning in disapproval. But I can’t discipline them here; it’s too crowded here. I don’t even have a place of my own to hide out at, yet. And then there’s Lawliet…. I’ll have to get back to this later — much later.

  “Hmmm,” hummed B, as he gazed at ‘A’s’ face. “I just thought you looked like someone I know.”

  “Well then, since I’m not, do you mind letting go of my arm?” asked ‘A’, in a snappish and demanding tone.

  When B didn’t respond, ‘A’ tried to pull their arm out of his grasp only for it not to budge in the slightest. It was obvious ‘A’ was no match to the inhuman strength B possessed; a benefit to being a part of the undead. Smirking, B let ‘A’ struggle for a moment or two before abruptly letting go. This caused ‘A’ to fall backwards.

  ‘A’ glared up at B as he quickly got back to his feet.

  “Thank you,” grumbled ‘A’, his inflection making it sound close to a particular curse. 

  Due to the lack of manners and appropriate gratitude, B decided to continue toying with his prey for a little bit longer. So when ‘A’ tried to move past him, B blocked his path.

  “Since you are oh so thankful, does this mean you owe me?” asked B, placing a possessive hand on ‘A’s’ waist.

 Satisfaction bloomed in B’s chest when, despite failing to suppress a shudder of revulsion, ‘A’ did not back away from his touch.

  “No,” replied ‘A’, numbly. Their clouded eyes seemed to clear slightly when B’s hand moved over towards their spine. “Listen, do you need me to call someone for help? Friend? Family? A hospital, perhaps?”

  “No,” replied B, as he lowered his hand down ‘A’s’ spine.

  “Then I’d appreciate it if you left me alone,” demanded ‘A’, as he slinked his way out of B’s gentle hold.

  Watching ‘A’ walk over to the next train-car, B felt saddened by the sudden loss of contact with his love.

  “I’ll let you go for now,” sighed B, mesmerised. For the briefest of moments, B felt as if this truly was A he was seeing. His darling A. “Afterall, you were never good at getting away for long.”

~~~~~~~~~

  “I didn’t realise Rem cared so much about me!” cried Misa, tears falling down her face as she hugged a heart-shaped pillow to her chest. “Like I know she cares, but… wow.”

  “Yeah, I don’t get it either,” replied Ryuk, as sat down on the opposite end as Misa on the bed.

  Despite the ample space, Rem was not fond of the idea of Ryuk being so close to Misa. Especially since Misa is just an innocent girl and Ryuk is… Ryuk. Scooting in behind her, Rem wrapped her arms protectively around Misa.

  “If I decide to leave my Light, how can I and Light avoid any repercussions from him?” asked Misa, leaning into Rem’s embrace.

  Ryuk appeared to be mulling over the question posed as Rem was trying to determine which Light was which that Misa had been referring to.

  “He still fears Rem,” figured Ryuk, hesitantly. “Despite being almost certain that she cannot harm him, that brat doesn’t wanna take any chances.”

  “But she can’t protect me, can she?” sighed Misa, as realisation seemed to dawn on her. “Not without the use of her death note.”

  Rem suddenly realised that if push came to shove, she could, and would, try to get rid of Light Yagami by means other than the death note. It’d be a level two offense. And yet, no shinigami had ever been caught committing such an offense before. But there were plenty of rumours floating about the shinigami realm, and one of them was that there was some force that would ultimately prevent any shinigami from taking the life of a human through means other than the death note. Rem was uncertain about the validity of such a rumour, but even if it was true, there was nothing that said a shinigami couldn’t cause severe injury through such means.

  Before Rem could voice these thoughts, Ryuk jumped in with his own answer.

  “No, she cannot,” replied Ryuk, without a second thought; a note of finality in his voice.

  Misa paused, seeming to mull over that information.

  “I’m glad,” stated Misa, with certainty in her eyes as she gazed up at Rem. “I’m glad she no longer has the option to sacrifice herself for me.”

  “Misa?” whispered Rem, not knowing what else to say. For some inexplicable reason, she incredibly choked up.

  “I don’t want to lose you,” said Misa, softly; speaking solely to Rem. It was almost easy to forget Ryuk was still here. “I’ve never had anyone care about me beyond what I can do for them. People are always demanding me to perform, to be pretty, to make them money… Even Light demands that I make him into a god. But not you, Rem,” Misa smiled fondly to herself, even as tears continued to run down her face. “Your love has always been unconditional.”

  Misa then turned around in Rem’s arms, her face coming incredibly close to her own. Closing her eyes and puckering her lips, Misa leaned in closer as Rem remained frozen, completely confused by the girl’s actions.

  Suddenly, Ryuk could be heard yawning; being purposely loud. This caused Misa to immediately open her eyes before slowly turning her attention back towards Ryuk.

  “I want to fix my mistakes; I really do,” began Misa, sheepishly. Her ears had turned a bright red. “But I don’t know how. I already gave Kira those videos,” she sighed, defeatedly. “I really fucked Light over, despite him being nothing but kind to me.”

  “Yeesh! Kind? Your standards are low,” criticised Ryuk, bluntly. “Even the nice version of that boy is, at best, half-decent,” he paused as a thought seemed struck before releasing a laugh. “Ha! Now that I think about it, you two might be a good match given your flaws.”

  “Ryuk,” warned Rem, a silent threat as got back to her feet and stood in front of Misa.

  Feeling a hand on her arm, Rem looked back at Misa. 

  “He’s right,” admitted Misa, as she smiled weakly up at Rem. She then looked away in shame as she muttered. “What am I going to do about the video I gave Kira?” 

  “Kira?” questioned Rem, as soon as she realised that Misa had been referring to one of the Lights solely as Kira for the last five minutes, despite referring to both of them by name before.

  “He no longer deserves to be called something as lovely as Light,” answered Misa, angrily. “The butchered pronunciation of the word killer suits him so much better.”

  Ryuk chuckled fondly, seemingly amused by Misa’s comment. His eyes met Rem’s. She could tell he was up to no good.

  “I can almost see why you like this girl so much,” complimented Ryuk, with a grin. He then turned his gaze back towards Misa. “I think I can help you. First off… do you have any apples?”

  “Of course,” replied Misa, cheerily as she hopped off the bed and skipped towards the door. “I’ll be just a sec.”

  After Misa left, closing the door behind her, Rem approached Ryuk. Despite being equal in height her presence loomed over his. This could be due to the fact Ryuk was sitting back and Rem was standing. Or maybe it was the threatening gleam in her eye.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” asked Rem, with icy hostility.

  “I’m helping,” replied Ryuk, simply.

  Before Rem had a chance to say anything further, Misa came back into the room swinging a bag of apples.

  “Here you go,” said Misa, as she tossed Ryuk an apple.

  “Thank you, baby!” replied Ryuk, with much enthusiasm as he took a large bite out of his apple.

  “So, how do I ensure Light doesn’t fall for Kira’s trap?” asked Misa, with 

  “Simple,” replied Ryuk, with a lazy shrug as he happily munched away at his apple. “Make the blackmail worthless, and thus unusable.”

  “Huh?” responded Misa, her face scrunching up in complete befuddlement.

  “Take your time,” advised Ryuk, as he tossed the core of his apple into the waste bin across the room; Misa gave him another apple. “You’ll get my meaning soon enough.”

  A few moments passed in silence, as Misa stared off into space completely puzzled before a look of comprehension and insight crossed her face.

  “Oh! I think I get it!” cheered Misa, jumping up excitedly. Then her mood seemed to suddenly sour. “But if I want to be with Light then I can’t incriminate myself by having this information. Like wouldn’t that be a totally great conversation with his dad, ‘Hey Mr. DaddyCop, I may have participated in the raping of your son. Do you want to see the video?’,” finished Misa sarcastically. She sighed in dramatic defeat, but there was a hint of optimism shining in her eyes. “I need some time in order to pull this off successfully.”

  “Rem, can you do me a favour?” asked Misa, tilting her head up in order to look into Rem’s one good eye. “Can you keep an eye on Light for the next few days? Until about… uh, let’s say Sunday.” 

  “Misa, I don-” started Rem, an argument on the tip of her tongue that quickly died as she gazed into Misa’s pleading eyes. “I will.”

  “Thank you,” said Misa, as she reached forward and hugged Rem’s boney torso tightly. “And no matter what, please return to me safely.”

~~~~~~~~~

  It was nearing sunset, when Light stepped off the Chikuhi Line. He had passed the whole day away just alternating between boarding trains and listlessly watching the scenery speed by. Anything was better than thinking.

  Walking along the platform, Light noted that he was no longer in Tokyo. And honestly, he just didn’t care. Right now, all he felt was numb and cold. 

   Nothing feels real anymore… but it is. This is my life, thought Light, as a dull ache slowly made itself known. Everything I thought I knew was a lie… and yet, now I want that illusion back. I want my life back. I want my Mom back.

  Light’s thoughts came to a pause. Tears were now running down Light’s face, as he continued to wander through whatever town he had ended up in. People on the street were staring at him; some in concern, some in distaste, and some with a wicked look in their eyes. It all started to blur together. There are too many stares.

  Light started to run… but no matter how fast he moved physically, he could not outrun his own thoughts. His own guilt.

  “I killed her. I killed my Mom,” whimpered Light, as he collapsed to his knees. “I could’ve saved her, like I did Mail. But I didn’t.”

  I didn’t know how then… but is ignorance an excuse? questioned Light as he scrubbed at the tears flowing down his face. I had an opportunity to do something good, and I blew it. Then again, without Kujo, I probably couldn’t have cast such high-powered magic. I am weak. Always have been, always will be… Those demons in the bathroom were even more proof of my failure. What if I’m cursed? What if it’s me that is causing all this pain and suffering? What if I hurt Sayu next?... Like I hurt Mom… Like I hurt Shiori…

  Hyperventilating, Light tried to choke back his sobs to no avail. Suddenly, Light just gave up on trying to contain the uncontainable.

   A loud scream pierced its way through the field surrounding Light. This single mournful cry kept going until an ache forming in his lungs forced Light to stop.

  Slowly, Light got back to his feet. He had no idea where he was, just that it was very rural with a few faraway houses and a cell tower. Light began walking towards the cell tower.

  The fence gate was unlocked, and the ladder, while not quite touching the ground, was still fairly easy to reach. Climbing up the tall tower, Light felt a pleasant serenity wash over him. Soon it’d all be over. 

  Upon reaching the top, Light stood at the very edge… and looked down.

  Appears to be about a 120 metre drop, thought Light with a manic grin breaking out across his face. It’s nowhere near the height Shiori had fallen from, but it should be enough. I’ll be able to see both her and Mom again.

  The sound of ripping metal could be heard. A reverberating ring echoed loudly through the quiet night air.

  Light quickly turned around, searching for what had made that noise, and found several broken rods. 

  That was... strange. Even so, Light was still alone. Always alone.

  Turning to face the edge again, Light slowly took off his shoes. He briefly wondered if he should leave a note behind to help identify the body. But then again, did he want his body to be identified? Did he really even want to die? This was a choice he could never come back from.

  If I do this, I’ll never see my father and sister again, considered Light, as he backed away from the edge, hesitantly. And given the state of my soul, I may not even reach my Mom and Shiori in the afterlife. I may not have an afterlife after this. 

  The smile that had briefly lit up Light’s face disappeared. But he still didn’t take a single step back from the ledge.

  “I don’t care where I end up,” said Light, with determination despite choking back tears. “Even if I completely cease to exist, an eternity of nothingness is better than this.”

  Taking a very deliberate step forward, and suddenly Light was no longer standing atop the cell tower. The wind was rushing through his hair as gravity pulled him downwards. The ground was beckoning him towards it with promises of no more pain. Unfortunately, upon reaching the ground, Light realised those promises were bullshit.

Chapter Text

  “-and then he jumped.”

  Misa blink owlishly at Rem. It took a few moments for clarity to dawn on her. 

  Bolting off her bed, Misa dropped the tapes she had been working on earlier. Dashing out of her apartment, she barely took the time to grab her purse and shoes.

  “Where are you going, Misa?” asked Rem, floating behind Misa as she speed-walked down the hallway.

  “To rescue my boyfriend,” answered Misa, briskly, as she came to a halt in front of the elevator doors.

  Why does this elevator always take so damn long? thought Misa, as she continued to spam hit the down arrow in frustration. 

  “I’m not sure if you heard me, but Light Yagami is not in good condition,” explained Rem, with a calm patience. Misa then felt a pair of skeletal arms wrap themselves around her torso in a familiar and comforting manner. “I don’t think there is anything you can do to help him.”

  Misa’s hand fell to her side as she considered Rem’s words. Carefully turning around, so as to not push herself out of Rem’s gentle embrace, Misa looked up at her shinigami’s pale face.

  “How about you?” asked Misa, desperately. “You could maybe fly him to a hospital?” 

  “I don’t think it would be wise to move him,” said Rem, with a soft, pitying voice.

  “Why?!” asked Misa, petulantly.

  The chime of the elevator doors opening sounded, interrupting their conversation. 

  Moving out of Rem’s embrace, Misa stepped into the almost empty elevator. A group of girls in their early teens were chattering away. Fortunately, it seemed like they were bidding each other goodnight as two of the girls left – unfortunately, this left one girl still on the elevator.

  Whatever. I’ll just have to interact with Rem subtly, thought Misa as she stood beside the girl. Sounds easy enough. 

  “He’s not entirely intact,” replied Rem as she tried to squeeze her towering into the elevator without phasing through anything or anyone. 

  Misa looked up at Rem, confused.

  Intact? Not entirely?… What?

  “When he jumped…” started Rem, hesitantly. “He landed on the fence below. His body, while technically connected, is very broken. His torso is nearly split in two. If I was to move him then-”

  “Eugh! Stop talking. Just stop,” interrupted Misa, not wanting to hear the rest as her mind conjured up horrific images of her Light lying limp and broken in some faraway field. “So, what do we do? You have any suggestions?”

  “Call a hearse,” replied Rem, dryly.

  “Other than that!” huffed Misa, stomping her foot. 

  The girl standing in the elevator with Misa glanced towards her cautiously, but otherwise remained quiet. 

  “Call an ambulance,” suggested Rem, more sympathetically this time.

  “Absolutely not,” replied Misa, before immediately pausing. 

  Misa looked over at the girl – her eyes were nervously darting between Misa and the elevator doors. 

  I better clam up now, before this bitch calls the bughouse on me, realised Misa with an annoyed pout. So inconvenient.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the elevator came to a stop on the ground floor. Misa was about to exit when suddenly the girl pushed past her, running as if her life depended on it.

  “Rude,” huffed Misa, as she stepped out into the lobby.

  With a brief glance around, Misa saw that she and Rem were alone. Immediately, she continued where their conversation had left off.

  “You keep saying I can’t do this by myself, but I can’t call an ambulance either – if I did, they would ask me to explain how I knew where Light was, and well…” Misa paused. Her hand gestured up and down at Rem’s towering form. “I don’t think anyone would take the sight of you very well.”

  A look of careful consideration crossed Rem’s face. Misa was suddenly worried that she may have offended the shinigami. 

  “That would be a safe assumption,” replied Rem, after a few moments of deliberation. Her voice sounded very nonchalant; much to Misa’s relief. 

  Good. Rem is still my friend. But even that doesn’t change the fact that I have no way of proceeding from here, lamented Misa. All possible options have been blocked off, and I may be forced to leave Light to die horribly.

  With a groan, Misa leaned her back against the wall; her nails scratching at the coral-coloured wallpaper. Tilting her head up, Misa stared up at the lobby’s, noticeably off-white, ceiling.

  How do I fix this? wondered Misa, as she wracked her brain for a solution and came up completely blank. I know where he is, but I don’t have the means to help him. If I get someone that does, then I need to explain how I know what I know, which I can’t. And if I can’t, and I do get help and Light dies anyway, I may wind up being suspected of committing murder – which, while true, is incorrect in this particular scenario.

  After several minutes of staring at the ceiling, Misa’s gaze finally fell back onto Rem.

  “You know this would all be so much easier if you allowed me to embrace my inner yandere more often. I bet I could’ve had a tracking device implanted in that boy before our first date even,” accused Misa, flashing Rem a cheeky grin to show that she was only teasing. But then suddenly those words triggered an idea. “Wait! His sister!”

  Flashback; Three Weeks Ago

  March 16, 2020

  It was nearing midnight, but Misa was in no rush to leave. She had shown up an hour earlier at Light’s house, and they were currently discussing the major alterations she wanted done to a dress that had already been made and approved by costuming. They had even filmed in all the scenes that the dress was going to be featured in. 

  Misa was more than aware that this request made absolutely no sense. She was also aware that she was beginning to wear on Light’s last nerve.

  “I don’t understand why you want to change the colour now. Doing this is going to require making a whole new dress,” grumbled Light, as he worked on pinning the new fabric pattern in place on the dressmaker’s dummy. “Besides, the champagne pink looks much better than this salmon monstrosity.”

  Keep talking like that and people might start to think you’re gay, criticised Misa, silently. I’m starting to question it, and I’m your fucking girlfriend.

  “I like what I like,” replied Misa instead, choosing not to voice her more abrasive thoughts. “And what’s the harm in having a duplicate outfit in a slightly different colour?” 

  “Other than the time required to make it,” answered Light. 

  Misa had to bite back a scalding retort upon hearing the level of sass detectable in Light’s voice.

  “I never said I needed it right away,” defended Misa, with a pout. “Besides, you have a date with my friend, Yuri, tomorrow morning.”

  “Don’t remind me,” groaned Light, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to stifle an upcoming headache. After seeming to regain his composure, Light gave her a tight, close-lipped smile before redirecting their conversation back to the dress. “I already have your measurements, so I probably don’t need you back here until the final fitting. That should be in about a week.”

  “Well, I also want to discuss some other things further with you,” said Misa, putting on her most seductive tone of voice as she sprawled out on Light’s bed. “Can you put away the dummy?”

  Light stared at her for a moment before shaking his head and proceeding to shove the dressmaker’s dummy in the closet. 

  Good choice, remarked Misa, in silent approval. Most people would jump on such an easy set-up. Boys can honestly be so immature. But not this Light… I’m almost sorry that he has to die.

  Misa smiled as Light hesitantly sat down on the edge of the bed. If he sat any further away from her, he’d be sitting on the floor.

  Awww! He’s so cute when he’s being all shy, thought Misa, as she eyed him up and down. Both Lights look so alike – they’re mostly the same person… it wouldn’t be considered cheating if I decided to play with him for a bit. He can honestly be so sweet sometimes… Too bad it wasn’t this Light who dealt with that monster haunting my life; the monster that destroyed my family. For that act alone, I’ll always be indebted to Kira.

  “You can come closer. I don’t bite,” assured Misa, with a coy smile. “… Much.”

  Light slowly scooched closer. 

  “So, what was it you wanted to discuss?” asked Light, tilting his head to the side; like a cat.

  Feeling bold, Misa decided to be straightforward. She wanted this other Light to say and do the things her own Light would never.

  “I want you to tell me how beautiful I am to you – how alluring you find me,” replied Misa, her voice breathy; as if lost in a dream. She stretched out her leg, and with the lightest of touches, she ran her foot down Light’s chest. “I want to know how you’ll always need me – how you’ll always, always want me… and only me.”

  Light looked like a deer caught in the headlights – eyes wide and startled, body tense and unmoving. 

  Brushing her foot against the fabric of Light’s white shirt, Misa used her toe to pop open the top button – then the second. Misa was moving onto the third button when suddenly Light grabbed her by her ankle, thus halting her movements. His eyes had a calculating gleam.

  Struggling to find the words to seduce me? thought Misa, with a giggle as she gazed at Light’s flustered face. It’s not so hard. Don’t overthink it, Loverboy?

  “Dearest…” started Light, biting his lower lip; his sharp teeth creating a small cut. “Your little heart is wounded – think me not cruel because I obey the irresistible law of my strength and weakness; if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours. In the rapture of my enormous humiliation I live in your warm life.”

  … okay, thought Misa, blinking owlishly as Light released his hold on her foot. Pretty words and all, but what the fuck does that even mean?

  Still, undeterred by such an unconventional response, Misa hopped on Light’s lap and rested her head on his chest. 

  “Is that a quote from something?” asked Misa, coquettishly. 

  “Carmilla,” answered Light, simply.

  “Is it romantic?” asked Misa.

  “Very much so,” answered Light, before immediately backtracking. “In its own way – gothic romance, you know.”

  Misa, in fact, did not know. Oftentimes, Light would speak in ways that were completely nonsensical to her.

  Must you be so pretentious!? questioned Misa, with a roll of her eyes. Good thing you’re pretty.

  Misa pressed her lips to Light’s blushing cheek.

  “So, Light,” started Misa, whispering in Light’s ear as her hands roamed down his chest. “Would you like to do something fun?”

  Light went oddly silent. Misa could feel the tension in his body building despite the gentle intimacy of her touches.

  Suddenly there was a loud bang as the bedroom door swung open.

  “Onii-chan!” called out Sayu, as she barged into Light’s room, much to Misa’s annoyance and Light’s humiliation as he hurriedly shoved her off. Sayu acted as if unaware that she was intruding on their ‘private’ time. “I need your help.”

  “What is it?” asked Light, waving his sister over.

  Before Sayu had a chance to reply, Misa quickly interjected.

  “Does your sister not know how to knock?” grumbled Misa, glaring at the tiny brunette that had just cockblocked her.

  “Why would I need to?” replied Light, a noticeable edge to his tone.

  “Can you not tell why?” whined Misa, frustrated. “Here’s a little hint: I’m why.”

  Light stared at her for a moment, before turning his attention back towards his sister.

  “Sayu, what do you need help with?” repeated Light.

  Are you seriously ignoring me? questioned Misa, offended. If she wasn’t your sister, I’d kill her.

  “The tracking system has gone all buggy,” replied Sayu.

  Tracking system? wondered Misa, confused. 

  “Let me see,” demanded Light, holding out his hand.

  Sayu tossed over her phone. Light flashed her an exasperated look, but managed to catch the airborne phone easily enough. 

  “Okay, first question,” started Light, as he sat there, scowling at Sayu’s phone. “Why is your phone so damp?”

  “Because I dropped it in the toilet,” answered Sayu. Light immediately dropped her phone on the desk. Sayu laughed. “No need to be so dramatic. The water in the bowl was clear.”

  “Good to know,” replied Light, sardonically, as he picked up the phone again. Turning it off, he immediately began pulling it apart, taking out the battery and SIM card, before handing it back to his sister. “Try sticking it in rice. There should be some down in the kitchen.”

  “Can you do it for me?” asked Sayu, shoving her disassembled back towards her brother.

  “Alright, alright,” relented Light.

  Misa watched as Light got up to leave. Before he made it past the door, Sayu called after him with another request.

  “Can you also make me up a little snack?” 

  “It’s nearly midnight,” observed Light.

  “So what? I’m not a mogwai,” replied Sayu, jovially.

  “Of course not,” agreed Light, his tone taking on a light-hearted teasing tone. “You’re a full-blown gremlin.”

  Both siblings smiled at each other… exposing a shocking number of sharp teeth between the two of them.

  “Okay,” relented Light, once again. “What do you want?”

  “Purin,” answered Sayu, happily. “And make sure it’s nice and cold before you serve it.”

  “Is that all, your Majesty?” replied Light, with a long-suffering sigh. “Misa, would you like me to bring you up some dessert as well?”

  “Frankly, I had my mind set on a different kind of dessert,” grumbled Misa, with an agitated huff. “Fine, I’ll settle for your purin.”

  After hearing her response, Light turned around and headed downstairs. When Misa was sure he was out of earshot, she turned her attention towards Sayu.

  “You did that on purpose,” accused Misa.

  “So,” responded Sayu, flippantly. Her gaze took on a sudden sharpness. “You were clearly making my brother uncomfortable. It would have been obvious if you had been listening.” 

  “So you were listening in,” hissed Misa, upon receiving confirmation. “You pervert!”

  “Not my fault you were being so loud,” retorted Sayu. “Just remember that consent isn’t just the absence of a ‘no’. Consent requires the presence of a free and willing ‘yes’.”

  “You seriously accusing me of s/a-ing him,” huffed Misa, in disbelief. 

  I’m just a girl, rationalised Misa. It’s not even possible for me to commit such an act.

  “I’m not saying that was your intention,” explained Sayu, gently. “I just don’t want you hurting my brother. So, please, try to respect his boundaries.”

  “I guess that’s understandable,” relented Misa, as she tore her eyes away from Sayu’s pleading gaze. “I used to have a brother, too. Younger than me he was. He was murdered alongside my parents. That was almost ten years ago.”

    “I’m sorry,” replied Sayu, awkwardly.

  A heavy silence permeated the air.

 Misa wasn’t sure why she told Sayu any of this. When she had shared her past trauma with Light, it had been a last-ditch effort to manipulate him into getting closer to her. But even then she had never mentioned her brother before – never really needed to get into the details before.

  Is this bonding? wondered Misa. It is both kinda nice… and oddly uncomfortable.

  “So… what’s the deal with the tracking devices?” asked Misa, curiously. “Don’t you find it weird?”

  “It was my idea,” replied Sayu, quietly. “Me, Light, and Mom, all have one on us.”

  “Why?”

  “Incase one of us ever gets kidnapped, trafficked, or whatever,” answered Sayu, with a shrug.

  “What’s the likelihood of that happening?” scoffed Misa, rolling her eyes.

  “More often than you’d think,” cautioned Sayu, seriously. “Like off the top of my head, I could name Junko Furuta as one such victim. Give me five minutes, and I could probably list off twenty more.”

  Misa honestly didn’t have a response to that. 

  “So…” began Misa, looking for a way to change the subject. “Light said that you have a Youtube channel. Can I see it?”

  “Yeah, sure,” agreed Sayu. She reached forward and grabbed Misa’s hand. “Just come with me. I left my laptop in my room.”

  Leaving Light’s bedroom, Sayu led Misa down the hall, towards her own bedroom.

  Following Sayu through the open door, Misa was taken aback by the difference. While Light’s room barely looked lived in – with all aspects of his personality regulated to either the bookshelves (which only had books) or his closet – Sayu’s looked the complete opposite. Posters were hung on every wall – it was about a fifty-fifty split between the J-pop genre and the musical theatre genre. Her bookshelf was laden with a mishmash of disorganised video-games, books and photos. 

  Misa picked up one of the picture frames. It was obviously taken several years; Light appeared to be about nine or ten, while Sayu looked to be about six. Misa quietly noted how Light’s hair was much longer; cascading past his shoulders. She also noticed that despite the smiles on their faces, their eyes shined with many untold emotions; sadness, fear… but also hope and relief.

  “Awww! This is a cute picture,” cooed Misa, hoping Sayu might relay some context for the photo.

  “Huh?” hummed Sayu, as she rummaged around in her drawers for something. Tilting her head up, she looked at what Misa was holding. “Oh! That was taken about eight years ago. We were at Spaceland – this was just before Light started school.”

  Started school? questioned Misa, setting down the frame. At nine years old. Isn’t that a little late?

  Before Misa could find a way to verbalise this unspoken question, Sayu quickly started rambling off about something else.

  “As you can see, I’m a total theatre kid,” said Sayu, as she sat down on the carpet with her laptop.

  Misa sat down next to Sayu, watching as she opened her thirty-eighth tab and logged onto her Youtube account. Sayu then handed the laptop over to Misa.

  Scrolling through the video list, Misa selected one that was posted three years ago. It was apparently a middle-school production of ‘The Little Mermaid’. The run-time was a little under two hours.

  Hitting the ‘skip ad’, Misa was greeted by the opening song ‘Fathoms Below’ blasting through the speakers at full volume. Less than halfway through the song, Misa thought she recognised one of the sailor characters… and after squinting at the screen for a moment, Misa realised that she had thought correctly.

  “Why is Yamamoto in this?” asked Misa, briefly glancing at Sayu before returning her eyes to the screen. When the sailors exited the stage, the song ‘Daughters of Triton’ started with a giant seashell prop being wheeled out. A moment later, Yamamoto came running out in a half done-up crab costume; looking completely dishevelled. “Why is he now Sabastian?”

  “Oh, about that…” said Sayu, a fond smile spreading across her face. “Back in middle-school, I was the only one in drama club, so my brother gathered a bunch of his friends, and together we were able to put on a stage production of ‘The Little Mermaid’.”

  Oh! That’s rather… sweet, thought Misa, feelings of guilt gnawing at her stomach.

    “Is Light part of the cast, too?” asked Misa. The idea of him playing the part of Prince Eric sounded rather amusing… though considering Sayu was Ariel, that would likely not be the case, for obvious reasons.

  “Uh-… no,” replied Sayu; after pondering the question for a surprisingly long time.

  “Was he holding the camera?” 

  “No. That’s Shiori.”

  “Would it be safe to assume he is in the audience?”

  “Uh-… yeah,” replied Sayu, hesitantly. 

  Sayu took a deep breath. Upon exhaling, Misa could feel the other girl’s breath brush against her skin.

  “You smell nice,” commented Sayu, suddenly. “What’s that brand of perfume you’re wearing?”

  “It’s a new scent – hasn’t even been launched yet. I’ve been hired to be the face of this particular line,” replied Misa, proudly. “You like it?”

  Sayu nodded.

  “I can get you a bottle,” offered Misa, politely.

  “Awesome!” 

  Misa chuckled at Sayu’s enthusiasm. She turned her attention back to the video. It was surprisingly well put together – although so far only Sayu had demonstrated any sort of impressive vocals. Everyone else was kind of meh… at least that was Misa’s opinion until the song ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’ began.

  “Dear god! This is pure torture,” cried Misa, holding her hands over her ears as a skinny, hot, young Ursula struggled to hit even one single correct note. “No wonder she was trying to steal Ariel’s voice. Her own needs be considered a war crime.”

  “I can’t really argue that,” said Sayu, with a grimace. “But they’re trying their best.”

  “How do you know her?” asked Misa. Although, more specifically, she wanted to know how Light knows her. 

  This bitch’s mouth is certainly not made for singing – that much is for sure, thought Misa, glaring at the screen.

  “She’s a cousin of ours,” replied Sayu. “Cousin Hikari.”

  “Cousin,” repeated Misa, relieved. Still, feeling a bit petty, she added. “I doubt she was all that pretty after her performance here.” 

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Sayu, confused.

  “Doesn’t look like she’s wearing a wig, so I’m assuming that’s her real hair,” explained Misa, thoughtfully as she pointed at Hikari on the screen. “To get such a light colour would take a lot of processing, which would probably lead to an awful lot of breakage.”

  “Actually, not really,” corrected Sayu, pursing her lips to one side. “Yamamoto did a good job on their hair – he even managed to dye it back to their original colour after the show without any noticeable difference from before. And believe me, if there had been, we would have never heard the end of it.”

 “She sounds vain,” said Misa, throwing one last insult. She wasn’t sure why she was getting so jealous – she didn’t even want this Light. But then again, Misa had never been fond of people leaving her.

  Both Misa and Sayu went quiet as they settled in to watch the rest of the video. Thankfully, Hikari had no more lines that required singing, and thus the rest of the performance was rather enjoyable. 

  The video was about halfway through playing when Light finally came back upstairs. Misa had almost forgotten about his absence, so she was a little startled when a plate was set down in front of her. Looking behind her, Misa saw that Sayu was devouring her plate of food.

 “So, is my phone fixed?” asked Sayu, between bites of purin.

  “Probably, but we won’t know for sure until tomorrow,” responded Light, as he laid down in the middle of the floor. “If it’s too badly damaged, then we’ll have to get you a new one – just consider it an early birthday present.”

  “That’s what you say now,” taunted Sayu, cheekily, as she poked him in the side with the end of her spoon. 

  Oddly enough, Light didn’t react – not even in the slightest. His attention was seemingly elsewhere. He was staring at the laptop that, in relation to where he was sitting, was facing away from him. He tilted his head to the side with an intense look in his eyes.

  “I thought I asked you to take down that video,” said Light. He looked away with downcast eyes as his bangs covered the top half of his face. “It’s embarrassing.”

  Light had muttered that last sentence so quietly that Misa could just barely hear it.

  “Why should you be embarrassed?” asked Misa, giggling as she took a small bite of the dessert Light had brought her; it was sweeter than she would’ve liked. “It’s not your fault your cousin is munōryoku.”

  “What?” asked Light, looking back at Misa in confusion. 

  Meanwhile, Misa had no idea what Light was so confused about and thus was unsure how to answer his question.

  “Had to say something,” replied Sayu, inexplicably. Even still, whatever she had meant was immediately understood by Light, despite leaving Misa feeling clueless.

  “I still want it taken down,” argued Light.

  “But-”

  Sayu stopped mid-sentence as a tinkling, mellifluous laugh briefly erupted from the speaker. Looking at the computer screen, Misa easily figured that it had come from the cameraman – Shiori.

  “I forgot about this part,” said Sayu, mournfully. She dragged the laptop back into her lap and began tapping away at the keyboard. “I’m sorry. I’ll take the video down-”

  Before Sayu could finish speaking, Light gently interrupted as he softly gripped her wrist, halting her movements.

  “On second thought…” began Light, voice breaking; choked with emotion. “I’d rather you keep it.”

  End Flashback

  Misa felt a pang of bitterness resonated from within. She hated how Light held more fondness for a dead girl than he did for his very much alive girlfriend. It’s not like Misa was jealous or anything. It is just that it’s ridiculous that someone like Shiori, who’s been dead for over four months, should take up so much space in his heart. In the end, that girl was nothing more than a friend.

  It’s not fair, thought Misa as she began rummaging through her purse for her cellphone. But if I want to bring these issues up to Light, then I need to save his life first… How did I become saddled with such a high-maintenance boyfriend?

  “I really hope Light has managed to fix his sister’s phone by now,” muttered Misa, hands digging around in her purse as she struggled to find what she was looking for. “Either that or replace it.”

  “Are you talking about Sayu Yagami?” asked Rem.

  Who else would I be talking about? questioned Misa, as she stared at Rem, confused.

  “Uh… yeah,” answered Misa, words coming out hesitantly as she stood there, flummoxed. 

  Looking back down, Misa began pulling various items from her purse and dumping them on the floor. As she dropped a tube of lipstick, the cap fell off. Streaks of red were painted across the floor as the tube rolled away out of reach. Misa noticed that it was the same lipstick she had worn the night she and Light had the threesome with Hideki, but otherwise she decided to pay the lost lipstick no nevermind. 

  Resuming her search, it wasn’t long before Misa spotted her cellphone at the bottom of her bag. 

   “I’m gonna send her a quick text,” said Misa to Rem, as she quickly swiped through her contacts until she found the one marked Sayu. 

Misa

Hey, gurl. Would luv♥️ to

 see u & Light. Where r u?

  Sayu’s response came back surprisingly quick.

Sayu

i'm heading out now. we

 can talk later. 

Misa

This is kinda impotent

Misa

*important

Sayu

can you meet me at the

 komagome station?

 yamamoto and i are

 heading over to itoshima.

Sayu

some old guy is giving us

 a ride down there.

  “Looks like we’re meeting Sayu at Komagome Station,” said Misa, grinning up at Rem with shining, hopeful eyes.

~~~~~~~~~

  The air inside the car was thick with humidity. Outside was a relentless downpour of rain. From the passenger seat, Sayu watched Watari’s eyes straining to see through the distortions made by the wet windshield. The refraction of light caused by the rain droplets had turned the world around them into a blurry mess of bright, streaky colours; almost similar to a Monet painting.

  “Listen, you don’t have to come with us, Watari,” said Sayu, her tone coming across as a little too insistent and ill-mannered. “We wouldn’t want to trouble you. We’r-”

  “Nonsense, Miss Yagami. It’s no trouble,” interrupted Watari, his tone reassuring, though there was something disingenuous in the expression on his face. “Besides, I wanted to have a conversation with your brother anyway.”

  I know you do. You told me that earlier, thought Sayu as her eyes narrowed on the old man’s profile as he continued to focus on driving through the stormy weather. I don’t know what your motives are, but I am sure they are self-serving. And my brother doesn’t need to be exposed to someone like you. 

  “We don’t mean to come across as rude,” piped up Yamamoto, apologetically, from the backseat. “We’re just worried, is all.”

  Sayu felt a knee hit the back of her seat. She turned around to glare at Yamamoto. In turn, he mouthed the words, ‘what are you doing’. 

  Sayu rolled her eyes but quieted down for the time being.

  “No need to apologise, Mr. Yamamoto,” assured Watari, with a fond shake of his head followed by a warm chuckle. “I do understand the concern.” 

  Sayu’s eyes hardened into a glare. Something was not sitting well. Her instincts were screaming that this man was not to be trusted.

  All her life, Sayu has had a certain talent for reading people. Always knowing how they were feeling… and whether or not they were lying to her. And Watari was as two-faced as they come.

  “You seem to not trust this man,” observed the cat sitting in Sayu’s lap. 

  Sayu stroked the black fur behind the cat’s ears. The cat’s name was Memine. She and Memine had only just met this morning, and truthfully, Sayu was still a little shaken by the revelation of this cat being her grandmother. She was a bakeneko, which, while cool, was still overwhelming. But at least Sayu now had a diagnosis that explained a great many of her eccentricities, so that was a plus.

  The only problem was that, with her brother missing, Sayu was not exactly in the right mindset to appreciate having a talking cat for a grandma.

  “And while I do believe that you should always trust your instincts, I’d like to ask why all the open hostility towards the old geezer,” continued Memine, tilting her head in curiosity. “But I understand that you can’t answer right now.”

  “You understand nothing,” hissed Sayu, fuming as she went back to staring out the passenger-side window. 

  For the past few weeks, Sayu has been feeling all the emotions resonating off her family. Her father and mother were constantly stressed; though seemingly by different things. Her brother was almost always feeling either sad or guilty; and whenever she’d prompt him into a discussion, he’d always try to deflect or deny. And on top of all that, Sayu now had to accept that her own mother had been hiding the fact that she was a bakeneko, and the only person she could safely confide in at the moment was a damn cat. 

  Why couldn’t my own mother tell me about our connection to the supernatural? Mentally, emotionally… I’m as turbulent as this storm brewing outside, thought Sayu, morosely gazing out the window. I feel so… lost. But at least I’m not alone. As soon as I find Light, we can work on these challenges together. Afterall, Grandma did say that he was a yokai, too... A burden shared is a burden halved. Thus, we can easily halve our burdens, right?

  “Perhaps,” replied Watari, interrupting Sayu’s thoughts; it took her longer than she’d like to admit to realise that Watari was responding to her previous mutterings.

  Pulling off to the side of the road, across from the train station, Watari over to the side of the road, across from the train station, Watari turned to face Sayu. Meanwhile, Sayu glanced over to the car parked in front of them as a man got out from the passenger-side door. The car then drove off, leaving the man with nothing but an umbrella to shield himself from the storm.

  “I need to have a quick chat with someone,” explained Watari, as he handed Sayu a green umbrella. “I’ll meet you two inside. Truly, I’d appreciate your patience.”

  “No problem, dude,” replied Yamamoto. “We’re waiting for Misa anyway.”

  “This could be a potential emergency we have on our hands,” argued Sayu. She glanced down at her phone; the app still showed that Light had not moved. Same exact location for the last two hours. Locking eyes with Yamamoto, she breathed out a frustrated sigh. “If either of them are late, we’re not waiting,” Sayu took a deep breath before turning to look at Watari. “The next train will be here at 23:20. So, don’t take long.”

  “I won’t, Miss Yagami,” agreed Watari, with a subtle bow of his head. “Why don’t you and Mr. Yamamoto head inside? I’ll meet you there in about five minutes.”

  Watari’s tone was polite; always polite, but lacking any further substance. Sayu could sense a prevailing nervousness that never once bled through in either his tone or expression. 

  Without further thought, Sayu got out of the car, not bothering with the borrowed umbrella as she slammed the door behind her. Yamamoto was quick to follow; his movements much more gentle and careful… and altogether slower despite the pouring rain.

  Upon entering the train station, Sayu could see that Yamamoto was completely soaked. Meanwhile, she had fared only slightly better, with her damp hair and clothes clinging to her skin uncomfortably. And despite the rainwater being cool, the air within the train station was hot and humid, causing the added moisture to feel like something more akin to sweat.

  Ignoring her own discomfort, Sayu marched up the steps and approached one of the automated ticket machines that lined the far wall. She selected the route that would take her from Komagome Station to Chikuzen-Maebaru Station and proceeded to put in the required amount of yen for the trip. 

  When Sayu was done, she turned back around to find Yamamoto staring at her as if she had spontaneously sprouted a second head on her shoulders. 

  “Yamamoto, you’re kind of acting like a creep,” teased Sayu, as she leaned forward to poke him in the side of his ribcage.

  Yamamoto’s only response was to cross his arms in front of his chest as he continued to stare down at her.

  “What was that back there?” asked Yamamoto, his face a mishmash of concern and confusion.

  “What was what?” asked Sayu, flippantly. 

  “The way you were acting towards that old dude was very rude,” observed Yamamoto, wrinkling his brows together in thought. “I don’t think I’ve often seen this type of behaviour from you.”

  “Am I not supposed to be cautious around strangers?” replied Sayu, with a wide-eyed, innocent expression. 

  “Sayu,” groaned Yamamoto in exasperation. “Listen, I know you and your brother are going through some stuff right now. But why are you being so hostile?”

  “Hostile?” scoffed Sayu. “Don’t you think you might be overreacting?”

  “Is there a reason why you don’t like Watari?”

  “No, not really.”

  “You’d tell me if there was, right?” asked Yamamoto, softly. “You’re my best friend’s sister, which practically makes you my sister, too.”

  “You really don’t know how familial relationships work, do you?” remarked Sayu, disparagingly. Seeing Yamamoto’s hurt expression, she searched for a way to shift their attention elsewhere. “You should go order your ticket.”

  Yamamoto did as asked, walking past Sayu towards the ticket machine.

  Meanwhile, Sayu thought back to the strange man Watari was talking with outside. Curiosity gnawed at her bones.

  If they’re up to something, then I want to know about it, figured Sayu as she quietly tiptoed back towards the exit.

  Once outside, Sayu was immediately greeted by the heavy downpour of rain. Running across the street, she quickly ducked behind a parked car; hoping nobody saw her. She saw Watari and his friend a short distance away, but the falling rain made listening in to their conversation difficult.

  “Eavesdropping, are we?” asked Memine, her tone was soft and sweet but held a teasing edge to it.

  “I’m just being cautious,” defended Sayu, before quickly shushing her grandmother.

  “You and your brother are surprisingly alike,” commented Memine, flatly. It was hard to tell whether she meant that as a compliment or an insult.

  Regardless, Sayu decided it was more important to focus on trying to get within earshot of Watari and his friend. Sneaking along the side of the car, just out of sight of the two men, Sayu was less than a metre and a half away when finally she was able to hear what was being said.

  “-keep your phone on. I might need to get a hold of you at a moment’s notice,” informed Watari, with a solemn look. “This, and any other errands I ask you to run, I need you to keep on the down low. Don’t even let L know what you’re doing.”

  “May I ask why?” inquired the stranger. He was a ruggedly handsome man with blond hair and bright blue eyes.

  “I cannot disclose that information,” said Watari, clippedly. “This is a somewhat personal matter I need to handle directly.”

  A thoughtful look crossed the handsome, blond man’s face.

  “Does this have anything to do with K?” 

  “That information is on a need-to-know basis,” replied Watari, a steely sharp edge entering his tone, despite the calm, neutral expression remaining on his face. “Can I be assured of your discretion on this matter, Mr. Aiber?”

  “Fair enough question,” said Aiber, amicably. “I can keep a secret… I’d be a pretty lousy con-artist if I couldn’t.”

  Aiber gave a short, friendly laugh, despite Watari’s deadpan expression.

  “Have you arranged for a vehicle to be at Chikuzen-Maebaru Station?” asked Watari, seriously.

  “Yes. But I was unable to procure all the equipment you requested,” informed Aiber. A sour expression crossed Watari’s face, and Aiber quickly added. “I did what I could given such short notice. You called me less than twenty minutes ago,” Aiber paused, crossing his arms. “In order to get a van ready for when you arrive, my connection could only pack the most basic items that you usually travel with.”

  Releasing a disappointed sigh, Watari handed Aiber his car keys.

   “That will do,” said Watari, his tone sounding much more polite. “Good night, Mr. Aiber.”

  “See you later, Watari.”

  As Aiber approached where Sayu and Memine were hidden, Sayu grabbed the cat and bolted behind a different car. 

  “Hey! Not so rough,” huffed Memine, licking her paws. “Remember, this old lady is delicate.”

~~~~~~~~~

  Yamamoto always tried to be optimistic; always looking on the bright side of life. Some people may call it willful ignorance, but Yamamoto saw it as choosing happiness over misery.

  Unfortunately, this option was becoming less and less feasible… Shiori was dead, and Light was becoming more and more self-destructive every day. Yamamoto wanted to help, but he didn’t know how – he never knew how. 

  But he wasn’t alone this time. Yamamoto had Sayu, Misa Amane, and some really old white dude with him. 

  Light is going to be fine, rationalised Yamamoto. Everyone just needs to talk and hug things out.

  The van hit a massive pothole. This caused a sudden jolt. Watari immediately began driving slower.

  “There is nothing here but an empty field,” complained Misa, rubbing at her elbow after having smacked it against the dashboard. “Are you sure he came out this way?”

  “According to the app, he should be over by that cell-phone tower,” answered Sayu, pointing at a tall, dark structure in the middle of a wheat field. “It seems like Light has been there for a long while… I hope he is okay.”

  With a sudden left turn, Watari steered the van off the road and into the field.

  “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” screamed Misa.

  “Driving us to the tower, ma’am,” answered Watari, coolly; acting as if he weren’t tearing through some poor farmer’s field at full speed.

  As they got closer, the van’s high-beams illuminated the base of the tower along with the surrounding fence. Even from a distance, Yamamoto could see that something didn’t look right. An area of the fence was bent down and broken; with a wet, red substance dripping from the damaged chain link.

  “Do you see that?” asked Yamamoto, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Denial quickly took over once they cleared the edge of the wheat. “No… it can’t be…”

  Lying at the centre of the broken fence was a body. Yamamoto had to suppress a gag when one of the legs twitched and spasmed; those legs were bent at horrifically odd angles and had fragments of bone sticking out through the skin. The body’s torso wasn’t in any better shape – with the spine clearly broken and twisted. A thick chunk of metal had cut into the stomach; nearly dividing him in two. 

  Getting out of the van first, Yamamoto warily approached the body. Looking down, he saw his best friend’s torn and bloodied face. His jaw was split vertically, resembling the mandibles of an insect. 

  “OH, MY GOD!” screamed Misa, horrified. “WHAT THE HELL IS EVEN THAT!”  

  Yamamoto opened his mouth to admonish such a callous reaction… and immediately threw up. His hands were shaking as he cleared the vomit away from his mouth.

  Taking a few steps back, away from Light, Yamamoto tried to collect himself – realising he’d be of little-to-no help until he got his reactions under control. 

  Meanwhile, Sayu knelt down and held her brother’s face. It was then that Yamamoto realised Light was still conscious as he turned to look at his sister.

  “Onii-chan, you didn’t-” whimpered Sayu, voice choked up with tears. 

  Light tried to speak. His broken jaw created a series of grotesque clicks as it moved – the two separated parts clanging together. Then, unexpectedly, the left and right sides of the jaw snapped back together, and the flesh started to gradually heal itself over top of the exposed bone.

  “Sssaa…yuu, I-… ssssoorrry,” croaked out Light between mouthfuls of blood. Every word spoken resulted in the still-healing flesh ripping back open.

  “No. No, don’t talk. Everything is going to be alright,” soothed Sayu, patting back Light’s hair with blood-coated fingers. She briefly turned to face Yamamoto and Misa, her tone rough and desperate. “Somebody, call a hospital.”

  “On it,” replied Yamamoto, taking his cellphone out of his back pocket. 

  Before he had a chance to dial emergency services, Yamamoto’s phone was snatched out of his hand.

  “Wait,” said Watari, pocketing Yamamoto’s phone. “Do not call anyone yet.”

  “Light is dying!” responded Sayu, her dark eyes looking both enraged and incredibly sad. “And we are not equipped to handle this.”

  “I am, though,” replied Watari, holding up a bright orange medical bag. 

  “I think it would be better if we waited for actual medical professionals to handle this. Afterall, they’re professionals,” suggested Yamamoto, as he stood between Light and Watari. “Also, can you give me my phone back?”

  Watari had an appraising, calculated expression on his face as he held out Yamamoto’s cellphone. Yamamoto quickly took it. But before he could dial anything, Watari was speaking to him once again in a sombre tone.

  “If anyone else were to witness this, what do you think would happen to your friend? He’s obviously not human, and people can be very cruel,” Watari’s words instantly reminded Yamamoto of the mutants in ‘X-Men’; he would never want to risk his friend ever being treated like that. And glancing over at Sayu and Misa’s faces, he could safely assume that they did not want that either. “Considering Mr. Yagami likely did this to himself, there are now justifiable reasons for locking him up; whether it is for his safety or not.”

  “I don’t care. Just fix this,” said Sayu, defeatedly. Her eyes were red and puffy as tears flowed down her face. “I can’t lose my brother.”

  “I wouldn’t worry, Miss Yagami,” assured Watari, with a small quirk of his lips. “I am more than qualified to handle this situation.”

  Crouching down, next to Light, Watari took out a syringe and vial out of his bag. Yamamoto was nervous – he had no idea what the vial contained. The label on it was in English, and Yamamoto had a very weak understanding of the language. 

  “What’s that you got there?” asked Yamamoto, as he watched Watari fill the syringe to two milligrams. 

  “Hydromorphone,” replied Watari, as he eased the needle into Light's arm. Once in the vein, he slowly pressed down on the plunger. “That should relieve some of Mr. Yagami’s pain.”

  “Mr. Yamamoto, I’m going to get the stretcher out of the back,” informed Watari, gripping Yamamoto’s shoulder. “I’ll need your help loading Mr. Yagami into the van.”

  Watari wandered around to the back of the vehicle, disappearing from Yamamoto’s line of sight. It took him only a moment to come back with a spine-board stretcher in hand. He laid the stretcher down next to Light. 

  Listening intently to Watari’s instructions, Yamamoto carefully lifted and secured Light onto the stretcher. It only took about ten minutes, but to Yamamoto it felt more like ten hours.

  Looking down, Yamamoto saw that his arms and hands were covered in his friend’s blood. Yamamoto had to swallow back the bile rising in his throat. 

  Suddenly, a hand was waving itself in front of his face.

  “Focus, Mr. Yamamoto. I need you to lift your end,” reminded Watari, curtly, as he crouched down and grabbed the handles of the spine-board located at Light’s feet. Meanwhile, Yamamoto gripped the ones located at his head. “Try to keep your end of the stretcher level with mine as we lift.”

  Carefully, Yamamoto and Watari managed to load Light into the back of the van. Sayu decided to stay in the back with her brother. Meanwhile, Yamamoto and Misa got in the front with Watari.

  “Why do you have all this stuff with you?” asked Yamamoto, curious about the man’s reasons.

  “I like to be prepared,” answered Watari, as he slowly drove them out of the field.

  Despite Watari driving with the utmost caution, Yamamoto could hear a small whimper of pain with every bump they went over. Finally, they got back on the road and were heading towards town.

  “What do we do now?” asked Misa, worriedly.

  “There’s a motel eight minutes down this way,” explained Watari, his voice even-toned and decisive. “Once there, I’ll be able to treat Mr. Yagami’s injuries in a more controlled environment. I’ll also be able to have whatever I need sent to the address.”

  “You mean whatever Light needs,” clarified Yamamoto, an uneasy feeling building in his gut. 

  “Of course,” agreed Watari.