Chapter Text
November 3rd, 2004
November felt unbearably empty.
We all could sense something was off.
The news had not covered Kira in a while; in fact, the murders had seemingly ceased. We had not heard anything about him since summer. I thought, for sure, this meant that L had caught the killer. With no one discussing Kira throughout the fall, perhaps the criminal no longer stood as a threat. Maybe Roger relayed to me the wrong information.
It could have just been Mr. Wammy's fear or momentary doubt in L's abilities that led him to conclude that the chase would take a turn.
Or maybe it was another one of his tricks... maybe he was making me spread fearmongering statements, so that the boys could be tested once again.
Yet, Near and Mello were on edge this month, as if they could feel the warnings of an impending rapture that was about to crash down.
The two of them fought more often than not. The fights we witnessed were more brutal than I had ever seen them before.
Linda theorized they were undergoing the effects of seasonal depression. She supported this theory by claiming they were a lot more harsher to each other during the cold months, as opposed to the warm ones. As compelling as her reasoning was, I knew that wasn't it.
I had reason to believe their attacks were more territorial. They were trying to make their mark on top again. Now that there were less external matters to worry about, their goals of being number one were first on their priority list.
They wrestled each other with their studies, pushing harder and harder and harder and harder.
I worried constantly that they would break. Linda and Matt both told me to let it be, but my stress never vanished.
The last warm weather of the year occurred today. The sky was vacant, letting the sun freely give the remainder of its heat to us. It was comfortable jacket weather outside, so the orphans were allowed to have a brain break and relish in the final good day.
I walked with Tibbett, Marty, and Linda. We passed by the lounge where Near was working on his white puzzle.
His brows furrowed as he connected the pieces rapidly. I could tell that his mind was preoccupied on another thing. Building his puzzle was helping him connect his own thoughts together. That's why I knew it wise to not disturb him.
Linda, however, did not have the same approach. She paused her walking and glared into the room. The yellow ball braid ties in her hair clicked with the movement as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pink hoodie.
"Near, why don't you come outside for once?" she scolded.
He did not look up at her.
"No, thank you," he replied dryly.
His white hair fell over his face, scuffled and untamed from the stress he was putting himself under. Last week, Mello scored the same as him on one of their tests. It seems like this affected him in some way.
"Forget him, Linda," Durab vocalized, butting into our conversation.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, before he pushed his way through all of us. I gasped as his shoulder shoved mine. Holmes followed his trail, squeezing his way through the gaps that Durab created.
"You're in the way," he snidely said, before exiting the front door.
Linda wore a despondent frown.
"I wish Kira would kill them," she mumbled, stepping outside.
Marty, Tibbett, and I exchanged looks at her rather dark comment. Those comments were coming out more frequent than they should...
"Linda, you should really stop saying things like that," Marty addressed.
"Why? It's not like I'm serious or anything," Linda defended. "Besides, he's a total buttface."
We walked down the steps and into the sunlight. Everyone was preoccupied in various activities. Some children were drawing chalk pictures on the sidewalk. Fifi oversaw them, preoccupying herself by pushing the dead red leaves from a nearby oak out of their way.
They were Natalie's age... she should be out here too. I wonder what she would have drawn... maybe her Littlest Pet Shops would be lined up with her... I tried to compartmentalize that thought, feeling the familiar pain of her passing hurl itself at me once again.
I felt it best to reground myself by intentionally remaining in the present. I scanned the yard.
In the far right corner, I noticed Ximena and another girl- I believe her name is Esther- jump roping together. Ximena chomped on her gum while she counted Esther's jumps aloud. My view was obscured by some orphans running, playing a game of tip.
"Would anyone want to play four square with me?" Tibbett confidently asked, pointing at an empty section of the yard.
A kickball had been tossed there and was briefly hidden in the leaves of a burning bush.
"Totally!" Marty exclaimed. She glanced at Linda, "Are you down?"
My best friend eyed the chalk, then the kickball. I watched her contemplate her choices, debating on company versus activity.
She sighed and nodded her head. "Yeah, I'll play."
Marty turned to me. "Y/N?"
"You go on ahead. I'll catch the second round."
They didn't argue with my answer and promised they'd wave me down after the first game. The three of them darted off to retrieve the kickball. I watched them relocate to the pavement and took mental note that this is where I should meet them later.
In the meantime, I journeyed over to the large tree at a far section of the yard.
Matt and Mello were kicking a soccer ball back and forth with each other in front of its trunk.
Matt kicked the ball and it soared over Mello's head. He let out a wheezing laugh.
"You idiot!" Mello griped, before chasing after the ball.
The soccer ball fell just a foot or two in front of me. Mello's run slowed down as he watched me pick the ball up for them.
I smiled and tossed the ball over to him. My athletic skills, of course, made the throw awful. Mello had to take a few awkward steps forward to catch it. I even tripped over my own feet and had to rebalance myself.
How humiliating...
"Y/N!" Matt greeted from behind him. "Come to play football?"
"I came to say hello!" I replied.
Matt walked over to where Mello and I stood.
"What are you up to?" he added, adjusting his goggles.
I shrugged. "Nothing, really. Linda, Marty, and Tibbett asked me to play a round of Four Square with them. You can play with us, if you'd like."
"No thanks," Mello intervened. "We have another game to play."
He lifted the soccer ball, implicating that they were going to continue with football.
"Yeah," Matt agreed. "We're tied and Mello's too much of a sore loser to end the game."
Mello glared at him. "No, I'm not! You're a cheater! You keep stepping out of our boundary lines!"
Matt arched his eyebrow at me and shook his head.
"See?" he exemplified. "He just makes things up. It's all a drag."
Mello's face reddened as he threw the ball at Matt. Matt caught it and then quickly switched the subject before an argument broke out.
"I got an idea. Why don't you be our referee, Y/N?"
I took a step back immediately. "Oh... that's sweet of you to offer, but I don't really know how to play. I think I might have to pass."
The last thing I wanted to do was stand between them and choose sides.
He shrugged and muttered, "Fair."
"Perhaps Near could be your referee?" I posed.
Matt snorted. "Bloody hell, we aren't that desperate."
"I don't know... it's just a thought... he looks lonely in there..."
"What do you mean?" Mello questioned.
His gaze flickered briefly over to the house, as if he could somehow peer at Near through the windows. His expression was indecipherable.
"He's been doing puzzles alone," I told him.
"Yeah, because he's lame," Matt answered, dribbling the ball on his knees.
"He's got something on his mind," Mello commented. His voice came out soft, like he was talking to himself.
I nodded, surprised Mello understood him as much as I.
There was a slight change in his expression, but it was too quick for me to understand. His face dropped back into a scowl while he rolled down his sleeves.
"Whatever, it's not our problem," Mello grumbled. "Alright Matt, toss up."
Matt got ready to kick the ball off and commence the game.
A light breeze ruffled through Winchester. It fluttered the grass around us, kicking up some leaves. By the tree trunk, I caught a glimpse of an almost ivory- like color kick up in the wind and dart into the grass.
Curiously, I trailed over to it.
"What's that?" I asked aloud.
Mello rushed past me at an alarming speed. He quickly picked up the item and tucked it back underneath the uprooted root of the tree, secreting it within the dirt and torn up grass.
"It's nothing," he lied. "Forget it."
I couldn't.
I caught only glimpses, but I knew exactly what it was. The problem was, I didn't know why he had it out here.
It was a newspaper. The bold letters I saw spelled out a date that twisted my gut.
July Fourth.
It was the newspaper that spoke of Natalie's death.
Why did they have it? And why hide it under the roots?
Mello's jaw clenched as he gazed at me.
"Drop it," he demanded.
I blinked. "Hm?"
He tilted his head down and gave me a pressing stare. "You're thinking about it. Stop."
I peeked over at Matt. His smile had vanished too. In his expression, I could tell that he shared the same sentiments as Mello.
It left a weird feeling. What was so secretive?
Regardless, I nodded in compliance. I didn't know why they had it under the roots, but the two clearly had their reasons. It wasn't right for me to squeeze my way into something they wanted to keep between themselves.
"We're starting the game," Matt announced. "You can join, watch, or go about your business. Your choice."
He smiled like none of that had never even happened. I should be used to how quickly Matt can switch his moods. I should be used to the way he whips me around in an emotional rollercoaster all the time. And I should understand that he is a walking enigma.
But I always forget... so I just stood there with my jaw agape.
Luckily, I didn't stand there stunned for long.
Linda's voice hurled my name from across the front yard.
I turned around to spot her, Marty, and Tibbett waving at me from the pavement. It appeared that my game was about to start.
"Looks like you're up," Mello stated. "Don't let them win, riff raff."
I said my brief goodbyes to them and trailed over to my friends, who were now huddling and talking amongst themselves.
A blue butterfly flew past me on the way. I was distracted by its sapphire wings. They glistened beautifully in the warm November sun.
I was too focused on its beauty that I didn't notice the danger approaching from my left.
"Did you have a nice trip?" a voice inquired in a patronizing tone.
Tate journeyed up to me, Jeremiah and Calvin at his sides.
I froze instinctively.
"You were gone for a while," Tate continued. "It was pleasant around here for those few weeks. It was as if the IQ in this place increased."
He tilted his head, a sinister glower shadowing over his features. "One would wonder why you would even come back?"
I didn't know what to do, so I thought the best thing was to walk past them. I attempted to take steps forward, but Jeremiah and Calvin blocked my path. Their tall bodies formed a wall, blocking me from seeing past their cotton shirts.
"I am trying to get to my friends," I said, wearily pointing in the distance. "They are waiting for me..."
"Oh, but it's rude to leave a conversation," Tate objected. "Weren't you ever taught that?"
"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, confused.
"I want to know where you went."
I didn't want to tell him. I knew I shouldn't. He caught onto my shock and hesitation.
Tate's eyes lit up with fervor as he implored, "Tell me."
"I- I don't have to," I objected.
Tate gave me a wicked smile.
"Is that how you're going to be?" he wondered. "Well, perhaps I can persuade you..."
He snatched my hand. I gasped as he held out one of my fingers.
"For every minute you don't tell me, I will snap your fingers," he threatened.
I tried to wiggle my hand out but his grip just got tighter. It was like a boa constrictor: the more you squirmed, the tighter the bond.
"You can't!" I yelped, pathetically.
He wouldn't. There was no way.
"Can't I?" Tate asked. "It's in L's methods of persuasion... did you know that the Successor Program has a lesson specifically on getting information out of people? There's a whole session that L designed on his preferred torture. I'm sure breaking fingers barely scratches the surface."
I blanched, my knees feeling weak.
"L wouldn't torture people..." I denied.
Tate snorted, "He would. He has."
"Stop! I will tell on you!"
"I'll deny it. What would they believe more? My story or yours?"
I stuttered.
"I have two witnesses over there who will back me up," Tate elaborated, motioning to Jeremiah and Calvin. "Our story is that you tried to punch me and broke your fingers. Simple and effective."
Fear plagued my heart. I remained silent, trying to find a way out.
"That's one minute," Tate darkly said.
Just before he could twist, Fifi shoved her way through Jeremiah and Calvin.
"What is going on here?!" she pried.
We both stood in shock.
She reached over and pried our hands out of each others.
"There is no holding hands or romance allowed," she informed us. "You know the rules!"
Both Tate and I had a visceral reaction to that statement. He looked like he was about to vomit from hearing those words. I felt equally sick and relieved that Fifi removed us.
Fifi glowered at the boys and ushered her hands at them. "Off you go! For shame!"
Tate looked like he wanted to slap her, but obeyed. The three of them trailed off. I felt my heartbeat pulsate in the finger that Tate might have broken. It was a nauseating feeling.
Fifi gave me a look... I recognized it. It was the same type of worrying expression she gave to Near during the League Tournament.
"Are you alright?" she wondered.
I gulped and nodded.
After a few more reassuring remarks, Fifi departed back to the children on the sidewalk.
I was still shaken but at least now I could see three of my friends in the distance.
Linda peaked behind her shoulder and spotted me standing in the grass.
"What's taking you so long?! Hurry up!" she shouted, a giggle erupting from her urging.
I resumed walking, taking deep breaths to slow my heartbeat down. It began to work...
That is, until my whole body tensed up hearing a loud hammering sound.
I jolted my head in the direction of the noise, as did everyone within earshot.
A soccer ball hit the ground at Tate's feet.
He stood, holding his hand on his forehead in agony.
He bent down and retrieved the ball. As he did so, he briefly removed his hand from his forehead. It was red and a large welt was already appearing on it.
"That hurt, Mello!" he bellowed angrily.
I heard his laughter before I saw him.
Mello ran the opposing way, towards the tree that Matt was waiting for him at. His chuckles reverberated out, teetering on the edge of just pure mockery.
Matt wore a mischievous smile as he took in the scene, leaning against the tree trunk.
"Toss it back, will ya?!" he yelled out to Tate.
My bully angrily reclined his hand, before whipping the soccer ball at Mello. Unlike Tate, his reflexes were quick. He easily caught it and gave him a taunting grin.
Tate was furious, the veins in his neck popping out.
"Thanks," Mello cheekily said.
As guilty as I am to admit, I kind of felt a little bit happy that Tate got hit... what a strange coincidental accident.
I had been frightened of Tate and his threats... as I witnessed Mello kick the ball over to Matt, my heart warmed.
Thank you for being brave for me.
December 5th, 2004
The rain hit the concrete.
My mother pled to Mr. Wammy.
"Please, we don't have much time. How much money would you want?"
"It's not a manner of cost, it's... well, the occupancy right now is at capacity. Are you sure that-?"
His voice was consumed by the thunder rattling the sky.
My breath caught in my throat, as I took in the scene around me.
I knew what was going on now... I knew what would happen once she left. They would kill her.
I needed to stop her from leaving!
"Mum!"
She didn't seem to hear me. I put my hand on her shoulder. She didn't seem to feel me. It was as if I were invisible.
The sounds of humanmade splashes pivoted my attention.
I blinked, watching a little girl trudge through the puddles towards the black vehicle.
That was... me.
The car shifted.
"Doggy?" little me whispered.
"Where is she?!" My mother yelped.
I gasped and turned to see my mother staring at me. Her eyes were full of fear.
"Back away from there!" Mr. Wammy's voice ordered.
"Y/N, you have to wake up..." my mother told me.
She could see me. She could see me!
"Mum?!"
"Wake up!" she yelled again.
I was confused.
"I am up. Please, listen to me. You need to stay with me. They are going to kill you, they-"
She screamed louder, "WAKE UP!"
"Come on, Y/N...! Wake up!"
I gasped and shot up.
Tibbett arched over me. His eyes were wide and full of alarm.
He had been shaking me, trying to pull me back to reality.
The bells outside tolled.
I glanced around me and realized I had fallen asleep in the art room. My canvas spread out on the table in front of me. The brush I had been holding was on the floor. It had rolled across the floor and stopped at the leg of my stool.
Tibbett quickly stood all the way up, his eyes darting around nervously.
"What's wrong?" I asked, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.
"Th...Th...Th.. Rog...Th..."
His stutter was acting up with his high emotions. I watched as his face furrowed with frustration, as he tried helplessly to get the words out.
"It's okay," I tried to coax. "Take your time."
"Rog... Roger... th... M... Mell..."
"Roger and Mello?"
"N.. Near..."
"Roger and Mello and Near."
My hands shook in trepidation, as my mind began to piece it together. I knew it before he finished...
"Mello... leaving."
I jolted off the stool, my heart hammering. The seat clattered onto the floor as I rushed out of the room.
The bells tolled again, as Tibbett raced after me.
They were loud. It was like I was chasing time, knowing that I only had a few moments left to catch them.
Dong... dong... dong...
I ran through the corridor, feeling my heart practically leap out of my chest.
“Y/N! Y/N, wait!” Tibbett called.
The sound of his voice was drowned out by the rushing in my ears. I don’t know what kept my body darting at this speed. I didn’t know anything. I couldn’t think. My feet were moving faster than my mind. What was I doing?
I felt my body leave the ground, as I rapidly descended down the wooden staircase that led to the front lobby.
I stumbled on the last few steps and used my lack of balance to propel me to the front entrance. I felt my body slam into the door, forcefully stopping me.
My legs and hands shook violently as I searched for the knob. Once I found it, I pushed the heavy oak doors open as if my life depended on it.
A cold breeze slammed against my bare skin; the sensation was comparable to being stabbed with a multitude of knives. It took my breath away, causing me to momentarily freeze.
No, I can’t stop. Please, go!
Not wasting another second, I sprinted out the door and onto the outside entryway steps. I shouldn't be out here. My feet caught from under me and I buckled, stumbling down the stairs.
I gasped as my knees clashed with the ground.
The world spun.
I heard the scrape of cement, followed by a pain in my elbow.
My vision rattled as my chin hit a hard surface.
A pain in my skull.
And then… stillness…
Pain soared through my body, but was numbed when my adrenaline returned.
I opened my eyes to a cloudy, gyrating sky. Snow had started to fall, twirling like a hurricane in my haze.
After a few seconds, my eyes stopped spinning, and I was able to push myself up. My palms screamed at me when I applied pressure on them, having been unfairly damaged.
After gaining back my footing, I continued running towards the gate.
My knees yearned to give out with each step, but I pushed further, ignoring the hurt. I’d face it later.
I kept going… the snow crunched beneath my shoes... keep going…
My heart leapt.
There they were, at the iron gates.
“Stop!” I called out.
My voice weak was too weak from both my intense emotions and from the lack of oxygen in my breath. They didn't hear me.
I couldn't lose them.
“PLEASE!” I tried again, projecting my voice even louder.
Upon hearing this, the two boys halted in their steps and turned around to face me.
“Y/N…” Matt breathed.
I met them at the gates.
"Don't go," I pled, my voice breaking through my pants.
"Jesus Christ, riff raff," Mello hissed, stepping forward.
He glowered and brushed his fingers under my chin. I winced at the pain.
"You look like you just got beaten," he scolded. "What were you thinking running out here with all this ice?!"
"You can't leave..." I begged again, gripping onto his hand. "Please stay."
His eyes hardened. Mello's hand pulled away from mine, leaving me with nothing but a cold sensation between my aching palms.
"Go back inside," he ordered. "Have Fifi bandage you or something."
The surge of panic hit me again when I recognized he was not planning on coming with. I shook my head. "No. No, not without you."
He stubbornly gripped tighter on his bag.
"I'm not going back."
"Then take me with you," I desperately asked.
Mello's eyes narrowed, a stern resolution shadowing his face.
"No."
Tears fell from my eyes at his rejection. Mello turned away, his jaw clenching.
"You are better off here," he dismissed.
I don't know why he thought he could tell me where I was better off. It was my own life. I could make my own decisions. The choice was simple. I didn't want to spend my final years at The Wammy's House without them. They protected me and I wanted to protect them too. I couldn't live here peacefully knowing they were walking out into the scary world alone.
"I am better off with you!" I argued.
"Y/N, stop."
"I won't stop! Please. Please, don't leave without me. I won't go back there without-"
"L is dead."
I choked on my next words, the shock of his statement trembling me to my core.
Impossible...
L wasn't dead. He couldn't be. He was the Greatest Detective in the World.
I shook my head in denial.
Mello's face twisted in frustration as he gripped onto my shoulders. I could tell he was agitated that he couldn't get through to me. His desperation poured out while he tried to make me understand.
"He was killed! Do you get it?!" he implored. "It isn't safe out there! And where I'm going..." his voice trailed off, his eyes growing scarily distant for a mere few seconds. I caught a fear in them, as he let go of my shoulders. "I don't want you coming with me! Okay?"
There was an agonizing shift in my existence.
The pain of my wounds... the harsh bite of the cold wind... I felt none of it anymore. I was numb.
Mello took a few steps back, his gaze retreating over my shoulders.
He couldn't even look me in the eyes.
"I don't want you, Y/N."
My body let out an aching, shuttered breath.
"Mello..."
"Go back inside."
He turned around and began to walk away.
I desperately turned to my other friend, who would be pulled away with him. Matt's eyes were full of sorrow, guilt, and resolution.
"Matt..."
He shook his head slowly and I felt my heart plummet.
"Sorry, Y/N. I agree with Mello."
My lip quivered and I made myself say it. "But if you leave, you'll never come back..."
There was a silly small part of me that hoped he would deny this. That he would tell me I wasn't seeing them for the very last time. That they would come back, even if it was just to visit.
"Yes," he morosely confirmed.
I tried to stop my sob. My body betrayed me and out a strangled sound, as I worked hard on keeping my tears contained. I was breaking faster than I could fix.
Matt's eyebrows arched inwards as he quickly closed the distance between us.
He grabbed me and pulled me into an embrace. Once again, I felt the familiar feeling of his skinny arms clenching me close. I sank into it, trying to shake the thought away that this would be the last time I ever feel it.
"I'm sorry that we can't take you," he told me. "But you knew it was going to happen one day."
"It's too soon... you're not even eighteen."
This was too early. If Kira murdered L, what chances did they have? How could they survive against a serial killer who outsmarted the man we studied under? I could not stop the terror that shrilled through me at the fact that they might die too.
Matt let go of me and glanced down. He grinned at me. This would be the last time I saw the small gap near his pearly white canine tooth.
"Don't worry, Y/N. I'm going to look after Mello. I promise on my life I won't let anything happen to him."
"But who will look after you, Matt?"
A chilly breeze severed between us. Matt peered over his shoulder and glanced at Mello. The blonde boy was paused at the curb, his back towards us. He was waiting for Matt, but refused to watch our goodbye.
"He will," Matt affirmed.
The pain in my chest was torpefying, as he patted my head.
"Take care of yourself, will ya?" he farewelled. "Work on not being clumsy."
Matt tugged the scarf over his mouth and turned to walk away.
"Matt!" I called out.
He froze.
"I'm going to miss you... I'm going to miss both of you... thank you for everything!"
He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes crinkling with a smile that was hidden under the yarn of his scarf.
"Ditto."
As he journeyed to join Mello, my grief grew heavier.
There had been tears in his eyes.
I don't recall the moments leading up it.
I don't even remember telling myself to do it.
With sheer urgency, my heart made me sprint back into the house and towards his room.
Near stared out of his window. The snowfall dusted its shadows over his face. It carried a melancholic resemblance to teardrops, as if he were weeping with me.
“You’re leaving too,” I managed to say.
My voice was hoarse from my cries. It felt wrong... everything felt wrong.
Near didn’t turn away from the window. His gaze was still fixated on the snow.
I didn’t need a confirmation. The suitcases next to his feet indicated the truth.
A lump arose in my throat as I peered around his empty space. I could see the floorboards of his room now. They were no longer littered with towers and clothes. The shelves were unbearably empty, the figurines that used to sit on them were displaced.
Even the dust in the room had vanished.
There was no trace that Near had ever existed here.
"Why are you going too?" I asked.
His voice was calm and came out like silk, which dualled the harshness of mine.
“L died before he chose one of us to take successorship,” Near revealed. “We share his unfinished case.”
“If you both are the successors, why didn’t you go with them?”
“Mello didn’t want me to.”
Near peered down at the floorboards. There was an unreadable expression on his face.
“I don’t get it,” I admitted. “You’re supposed to work together, right?”
“If you don’t understand why Mello didn’t want to work with me, then you don’t understand him.”
Near met my gaze and attested, “Besides, he doesn’t seem too invested in avenging L. There’s a high probability he will be focusing on another objective than Kira for the first year.”
"If he isn't going to work with you, then who will?"
Near stared at the floorboards.
"I am going alone."
"Near, you can't... It's too dangerous."
"I can keep myself safe."
"Let me go with you, please."
Near smiled and retorted, "Not many people would willingly choose my company."
"I'm serious," I choked. "I don't want you to be alone."
Near tilted his head. "But I won't be. I am connecting myself with powerful agents who will be useful to me."
I shook my head, tears filling my eyes.
Near's posture relaxed slightly as he deciphered, "That's not really what you wanted to say."
"I want to stay with you," I told him. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"That's why you need to stay here."
"But..."
"I can't take you with me."
"Why?"
Near's face softened as he expanded, "You make me... feel things. When you disappeared, you occupied so much of my thoughts that I no longer had space to find logical thoughts. It is a distraction. I cannot be distracted if I want to win against Kira."
He sighed, "I... like you. I want you to stay here, so I don't have to think about you."
My tears fell onto the floorboards below.
"Don't say I never warned you," Near continued. "I told you we would leave. I warned you it would hurt. So, shout. Cry. Scream. Do whatever you want to process this. Please."
I did what my emotions told me to do.
I marched up to him.
And embraced him.
Near tensed up in my arms. Slowly, I felt him hug me back. The scent of cotton hit my sniffling nose, as I cried into his chest.
He held me tighter and did not pull away until I did.
Near stared at me, his eyes appearing a melancholy grey.
"When I thought of this day, I did not imagine you crying for me..." he admitted. "It is... conflicting. I feel both happy and sad. Is that strange?"
I shook my head and he sighed, presumably in relief. His lips twisted as his fingers twirled in his hair. His eyes flickered back and forth between mine, portraying too many emotions for me to process. He turned away, his face going blank.
"I need to go," Near dismissed. "Before I continue feeling more conflicted."
A greedy part of me wanted to stop him. Wanted to try to convince him to stay.
But as he picked up his suitcases, I knew better than to get in his way.
I knew this day would come whether it was now or in the future. Whether I wanted it to or not.
L's successors had to play their part.
Kira needed to be stopped.
I backed away from Near, giving him space to exit his room.
He stepped out of the doorway. When he got into the corridor, he turned around and stared at me. Then at his empty room.
I thought he was going to say something...
He didn't. Instead, he left.
I fought the urge to chase after him. If I did, I would break.
I waited in his room for a while. I don't know how long it was. Minutes... hours... time was vacant to me.
At some point, I heard the bells again and the sounds of children running through the halls. The floors creaked with their steps. Their laughter filled the empty space.
I felt no joy. I felt no fullness.
Near never came back.
I left the room and opened Matt's.
Nothing.
Mello's.
Nothing.
I let my feet lead me up to a secluded space. To the hidden room in the attic.
I stayed in this dark, isolated room and found solace in making myself disappear.
I sobbed. I sobbed. I sobbed.
Eventually, a light broke through my darkness.
"I told you she'd be here, Linda."
"Awe, Y/N..."
My body felt the warmth of my best friend's embrace. I then felt another pair of arms. Then another.
Linda, Marty, and Tibbett were surrounding me, having discovered my hidden spot.
"Tibbett told us what happened," Linda whispered, sensitive to my feelings. "It's going to be okay..."
"They will be fine," Marty soothed. "They're strong."
I yearned to believe them, but it was difficult to.
Everything was going to change.
*** BONUS ***
November 5th, 2004
Numbness is a strange feeling to have.
What a paradox it is to feel so full of emptiness.
What motions should I do... now that I know everything equally matters and doesn't?
Like clockwork, I spin the silver spoon in the teacup, letting it hit the rim four times for an even distribution. It clinks each time, filling this empty room with a new sound. It was arguably more thrilling than the buzzing of these monitors.
The sugar cube on the bottom dissolves. I add another.
I spin the spoon three times...
I stop on the fourth.
I was hoping I would feel something by it. Perhaps, I would experience that irk I get when my order is disarrayed... or feel the sheer annoyance of an uneven sound.
I felt... nothing.
The tea in my cup spins slowly, disorienting the reflection of my curious gaze.
Tussled in liquid or not, humans were never designed to see their reflections. I, therefore, did not stress or care about what I looked like. I only cared about what I could do.
Perhaps that is why I feel the way I do... for the first time, I did not know what I could do.
I am trapped. For the very first time, I have been cornered.
I now must wait.
A groan escapes my lips.
Waiting is not my favorite.
Especially when I am still so perplexed on what I am waiting for.
Almost instinctively, my body moves to find some sort of stimulus. My first motion is to grab the half eaten donut next to me.
My jaw ticks and a bitter taste fills my mouth. Not even the sugar in this pastry would subside it. My stomach feels overly acidic at the simple thought of even trying to consume it.
I feel outside of myself.
I am at a loss.
If I cannot rely on my own deductions, then I need guidance from someone else.
There is only one person I trust.
Watari's face does not mask his shock of my unannounced visit well.
I admit I had not seen him physically in some time. For both our safety and sanity, I have kept our communications digitally. Witnessing me in the flesh came as a surprise.
It felt selfishly right to stand in front of him now.
The monitors behind him displayed vital sources of information on each screen, all of which I instructed him to oversee. Seeing him surrounded by the very things I surrounded myself with brought a strange sense of comfort... I guess, it simply reestablished that I was not alone in this.
Watari's close proximity rips through my numbness. A strange feeling sits heavy in my chest at the sight of him.
His chair spins slightly and he calls out to me.
"Ryuzaki... is something the matter?"
That name... why must he call me it now... when it's just him and I in the room...
Watari's eyes soften behind his glasses. He is looking right through me, answering his own question presumably.
He spins his chair around to fully face me and suddenly I feel as though I am a child again. His body relaxes into the chair and a nostalgic smile filters on his face. It is one of informality that I have not seen for a long, long time. Not since the orphanage.
It is the smile he always gave to the little version of me... to little L.
The feeling in my chest hits me harder. This is exactly what I need. The counsel of an old paternal figure.
His tone comes out invitingly warm, "What's the matter?"
He knows, yet I tell him anyways.
"I'm trapped."
He hums at me. "Why don't you tell me more... what makes you feel trapped?"
I know this psychological move. He is accessing my awareness and attitude over my own perceptions and thoughts. I have already asked myself this and a part of me feels irritation at the fact that I must begin again at square one.
I let out a sigh and comply. I do so with the hope that he might bring a new epiphany to help me identify what is beneath the numbness I feel.
I let him in on the obvious. I tell him about my thoughts on Amane being the second Kira, and my anxieties of Light going back under Kira's possession. I inform him more about the notebook and the Shinigami, and how something is off about the rules.
Watari remains silent, giving me simple nods here and there.
Not to appear weak or simple minded, I quickly conclude, "I will continue interrogating the Shinigami. There is some truth behind what it says, even if I must peel behind its lies."
"I think that is a wise decision," Watari affirms.
I know this confirmation should bring me some sort of closure, but I am still left with a void.
"There's something else on your mind," he investigates.
"Time," I tell him. "I feel like I am running out of it. I have played Kira's game and now he has flipped the board on me. My ego is preventing me from leaving, even though I am aware he is moving pieces unknown to me. The statistics of me winning this have lowered dangerously, and yet I must see it through."
Watari exhales and I see despair creep up on him. I remind him to process this news logistically. It is the only sane way to do it.
My own heart flips watching that old friend disappear from his demeanor. It is now replaced by that formal, stern expression of my right hand assistant.
But there is no time to feel what we wish to feel. If we let ourselves process these emotions, I know he will try to convince me to give up.
And in a cowardly and emotionally rational way, I would.
"Your successors..." Watari positions. "Have you selected one?"
I let out a verbal sound at the mention of them, that information igniting a new feeling within me. It is yet another unfinished business of mine.
"Admittingly no," I tell him. "I am still undecided. My source has not made it easy on me."
Watari's face rightfully showcases his confusion. I probably should elaborate.
"An orphan has been filling me in on their successes and failures. I asked her to keep me updated on the boys' development."
I never told Watari about O's letters, despite utilizing his name instead of my own. Besides, I feel like this selection is now my obligation. Watari and Roger let me down with their previous selection and I do not like being disappointed.
"What have you learned?" Watari asks me.
"Their generation is different," I inform him. "They have more... joy. Roger is still the same, the professors have not changed... but yet, these children have. It is peculiar."
"I am curious. Do you believe they are unfit?" Watari queries.
"No. They are monsters. They might one day have the capacity to outwit even me with the right motivation."
At my mention of the word 'monsters', a smile finds its way to my lips. O's letter comes to mind.
What had she said in her first letter to me?
Ah... my successors were "more human than monster."
How innocent.
"This makes me happy," Watari admits to me. He adds, "You will favor one out of the three of them."
"Two," I correct. "It is now just Near and Mello."
Watari does not ask why one fell out, not that I expect him to. Unlike others, he puts faith in my reasoning. That's one of his attributes I learned to cherish the most. I appreciate it more now that I work alongside police who are so behind they think they are first.
I watch his hands fold together as he implores, "I oversaw the institution's evaluative judgment of Near and Mello's intelligence. Their adequacy in inferring and measuring empirical evidence and theoretical rationales are quite impressive." His eyebrow arches. "Especially Near's."
His not-so-hidden implication that Near should be my number one choice does not surprise me. Afterall, his aptitude in analyzing and memorizing patterns is equivalent to none. From my own observances and- with verification from O- he is not so easily rattled... which makes his obsession with solving complex enigmas all the more terrifying.
Much like me, Near will never give up until he sees results.
I am intrigued by his calmness and stability. Rather childishly, I cannot help but wonder what it would take to make it break. If we were ever to pair up together, who would hold out longer?
Watari clears his throat and pulls me from my thoughts.
"Perhaps, the decision might be obvious," he preludes.
His voice drawls and vocal fries into silence. He is seeking my verification that Near should be selected.
"Not quite," I reply. "Quite honestly, I am fond of Mello."
The boy is hungry. There is a fire in his eyes that I cannot forget. Unlike myself and Near, who are more naturally gifted, he works hard to keep himself on the top. I am fascinated that he has yet to slow down. Others would simply give up underneath the crushing pressure of exerting all their efforts every second of every day. Matt, of course, being a prime example.
But Mello never tires. On the contrary, he only gets stronger.
I relate to him... he is fueled by the need to satisfy his ego and thirsts for victory. He is useful in many ways.
"If I may be so blunt," Watari intercepts. "The boy has been reported to have caused disturbances."
I grin at him. "As did I."
He releases a lighthearted groan in recollection of my early troublemaking.
"If I were a criminal, I would hate to find myself being hunted by either of them," I attest.
I rely on the information that other sources give me. My analyses of their characters are rooted in other people's perceptions...
Near is a keen observer. When given a case, it is highly likely he will patiently watch his prey until he understands it better than it understands itself. Every movement, every adaptation, every strength, and every flaw will be collected. He will strike with clean precision. Mello will be a frightening opponent. He is a boy who acts on his own accord. Therefore, he will strike whenever he pleases. His strategy to take drastic risks are confusing. His targets will be forced to falter, rendering them prone and weak for his fatal blow.
I pause and raise a thumb up to my lip, pressing my next words as I think them through.
I then conclude, "I will choose them both for now. My source tells me they do not get along, but with a common goal they will find a way."
"Who is your source, if I may ask?"
"Yes, it is right for you to be curious. Do you remember the night we visited the orphanage? It was years ago, after the Wara Ningyo Murders."
Watari vocalizes an affirmation from his throat. "Yes. It was the night you met your successors."
"I am referring to the other occurrence that evening."
He widens his eyes and remembers the woman begging at the gate.
"The little girl," he guesses correctly.
I sense uncertainty in his tone. It is not because he believes he guessed wrong, but rather he is uncertain of why I chose her. His apprehension is well grounded.
"I am aware that she is the lowest scorer," I inform him. "I feel I must remind you that she was brought into The Wammy's House unconventionally."
"I did not forget, Ryuzaki. Nor did I forget that it was you who convinced me to foster her, despite my better judgement."
I smile. "She was cute."
"As much as I would like to believe that was the reason, I believe we both know the truth."
"I was won over by the adorable way she thought I was a dog."
"You felt bad for the mother."
I envision the crying woman from that evening. She never stopped peaking over her shoulders. I couldn't be troubled back then to interfere with a simple case that the local police was already solving.
Yet it is a shame that she died. She seemed kind.
"Perhaps," I answer.
"You selected her instead of a gifted student to be your source," Watari presents to me. "I am sure you have your reasons, so forgive me for not understanding them."
"On the contrary, I think you do not give her enough credit. Y/N is quite gifted in her own way. What she lacks in intellect, she makes up for in cognitive empathy."
I scratch my foot to my leg, not quite used to being stationary for this long. Watari watches this unfold. His disposition tells me that he is feigning patience. He puts faith in my reasoning, but that does not mean he likes being held in the dark. That is one attribute of him that I find a little annoying.
I sigh. "Roger conveniently placed her in a position where she could oversee Mello interpersonally. Matt has a codependency on the boy, which made getting close with him simple. Of course, Near was alerted of this disruption in the normal occurrences of The Wammy's House. His curiosity drew him into my source's sphere, as I predicted it would. I asked her to send me letters informing me of their successes and their failures. Rather, she sent me letters discussing their personalities and emotions."
Watari frowns and retorts, "So, she did not give you what you asked."
"No. But I think what she gave me is better. My successors are drawn to her. I can see why. Her optimism, though naive, is quite contagious."
I did not elaborate further on this. He did not ask me to.
I decide to tell him about a decision I finalized earlier this morning. It is half the reason I made the trip to visit him privately. Seeing as we were talking about my successors, now would be an optimal time.
"I have an order for you, Watari."
He straightens up, indicating he is ready to hear what I must say. He will not like it.
"If something strange happens to you, press the kill- switch."
His face contours in pure shock. "But Ryuzaki. That would-"
"Delete all data at Task Force headquarters."
He swallows his protests in compliance, but his face blanches.
"Very well."
I leave the room, feeling less stressed now that we have settled this.
If Watari dies, I will have died too. I know this to be true. Roger will receive a delayed message, informing him of my death. My successors will be required to start this case with nothing to go off of, besides what they already know. I have faith that they will find other outlets to collect the evidence and clues I found.
Some might think that I am irrational for erasing all of my progress. They would argue that it makes more sense to have my successors step in where I left off.
They have not seen the unpredictable supernatural forces plaguing these headquarters. They have not felt Kira's deranged stare as his unhinged mind desperately works to unravel his opponents.
I do not put it past him to alter my data before it gets to them, falsely leading them down an artificial route. He could also use it to harm my successors. To harm the others, like Y/N.
There are too many disadvantageous predictabilities that I cannot allow.
It is best to delete all traces.
I saw the change in his eyes.
The shattered remnants of the brilliant boy I could honor were tossed in the thrilling glares of the manic Kira. Not even the Shinigami I interrogated could cause the shiver his gaze projected onto me.
I wash the shivers away by bathing in the storm outside.
Thunder rolled and the rain brutally slashed the pavement. From the top of the building, I could hear the echoes of the storm's roar ricochet through the city. What an ordeal.
"What are you doing standing out there by yourself?"
I had a suspicion he would find me. He has been trailing after me like I was a dog on a leash. He refuses to let me out of his sight, as I had to him.
So this is what it feels like... it's rather irritating.
I turn and witness him standing under the shelter of the roof. He is half way covered in shadows, so his expression is unreadable.
I desire to draw him out.
I wish to see his eyes again.
Childishly, I cup my ear.
I know he is frowning and I feel a small sense of joy from inconveniencing him. He leans forward, cupping his hands over his mouth, and shouts out to me.
"What are you doing standing out there by yourself?!"
I'm not quite satisfied. I momentarily take my hand off my ear, but then put it back. I relish in this taunt, instigating Light. He does not smile back at me, but I get what I want.
He covers his head with his hand and steps out into the rain. He walks towards me, but ceases his steps at the drain that separates us.
I turn my gaze from him and watch the water collide off our bodies and slip into the drain.
Light sighs and asks, "What are you doing, Ryuzaki?"
The inquiry changed. He no longer acknowledges that I am alone, since he now stands in the storm with me.
Of course, I never was alone. Not quite.
It is the one thing I have to dangle over him. The chess pieces I have yet to place on the board. The ones he does not know about and is too egocentric to even consider.
I stare at the satellite in front of me. It points upward, ready to send the message whenever I request it. Back to Winchester, where they stay waiting.
"Oh, I'm not doing anything in particular… It's just…I hear the bell."
I wish to see his face, so I glance over to him.
My chest flutters at witnessing the momentary confusion cross his demeanor. I rattled him.
"The bell?" he asks.
"Yes. The sound of the bell's been unusually loud today."
Light turns to the direction I was looking, scanning over the satellite completely. He is looking for a bell tower, presumably.
He won't find it here in Japan.
He meets my stare again. "I don't hear anything..."
Frustration leaks through his tone. I know it is a bitter thing for him to admit. He does not understand my mind right now, nor the clues I am playfully taunting him with. It delights me to have this power over him once again... even if it is just for a few minutes more.
"Really?" I mumble. "You can't hear it? It's been ringing incessantly all day. I find it…very distracting. I can't stop thinking about it."
The bells from the Winchester Cathedral echo through my mind. The vibrations from their resounding tolls could put the very thunder in this storm to shame. It is a nostalgic sound... O mentioned it to me in her letter this May, when her and the successors witnessed a wedding from the church. When she reminded me of the rings, I felt almost homesick.
I hear it now, once more, as my past, present, and future meet each other at their crossroads.
"I wonder if it's a church—maybe a wedding, or perhaps a—"
Light interrupts me, "What are you getting at, Ryuzaki? Come on, cut it out—let's get back inside."
He lowers his hand and now the rain washes him too. We stand, once more, as equals.
I stare at the cold, far gone look in his eyes.
I hunch my shoulders, letting go of the pretense that Light and Kira could be split apart.
"… I'm sorry. Nothing I say makes any sense anyway," I sigh. "If I were you, I wouldn't believe any of it…"
I see his head tilt in my peripheral vision. I have him thinking now. I fight back a smile, knowing that this will haunt him later. He is the only one who could possibly dissect my thoughts. We are similar intellectually.
I am overcome with a strange grief.
How horrible fate is. I finally found someone who can keep up with me, but we cannot coexist with each other. Either he will end up killing me or I must kill him. Kira cannot reign in this world.
I peer at the ground again. My reflection is a shadow in the rain puddles, overpowered by the mirroring of a red light beaconing from a neighboring tower.
A soft laugh escapes from his throat. " … You know, you're right, Ryuzaki. Most of the things you say aren't true. There'd be no end to my troubles if I actually took you seriously all the time… I probably know that better than anyone."
"Yes, I suppose that's true, Light-kun. But…I could say the same about you."
A faint surprise hits him. He straightens up. "Hm? What's that supposed to mean?"
I smile at him, peering right through his facade of being my colleague.
"Tell me, Light, from the moment you were born, has there ever been a point when you've actually told the truth?"
I catch him then. Time seems to stop, while we glower at each other. Light's expression falters and I see- what I can only discern- the battle between lies and truths.
I wonder, for a moment, if he will admit that he is like me.
"Where's this coming from, Ryuzaki?" he interrogates defensively. "Certainly I lie every once in a while, but surely no one can be truthful throughout their entire life? People aren't that perfect. Everyone lies. But, even so, I've made a point of not telling lies that will hurt others… That's my answer."
He answers with a lie.
"... I had a feeling you'd say something like that," I tell him.
We are both monsters who are real nuisances to the world.
He stares at me in silence, letting the lies hang truthfully in the open.
Another terrible paradox.
"Let's go back inside," Light motions. "We're both soaked."
"... Yeah."
The rain itself will not purify us now.
Light sits at the top of the stairs. The inside of the building is dark, but he somehow found the ideal spot in the center of the lightwell's glow.
His wet trainers are set out to dry on the steps below him. Light runs a towel through his hair, covering his face again.
I walk over to him, leaving the towel on my own head. I cannot be bothered to dry it.
"That was quite a storm, wasn't it?" I converse.
Light tiredly replies, "It's your fault for being out in that downpour."
"True. I'm sorry."
His complaint sounds so immature. His tone is exhausted and disgruntled.
He sounds like a boy his age.
And he is acting like a boy his age.
For a brief, rare moment, I am speaking to a bright student named Light Yagami.
I trail to him while he towels his hair. He opens his eyes and gasps, alerted that I am now sitting in front of him on the steps.
I look up at the young adult, my hand on his foot.
He drops his towel, his eyes widening. "What are you doing, Ryuzaki?!"
"I thought I'd help. You seem to be drying yourself with quite some fervor."
"It's fine. You don't have to do that."
I am well aware of this fact.
"I'll throw in a massage?" I persuade, before quickly adding, "At least allow me to atone for this. I'm not at all bad at it, you know."
Light pauses and contemplates my offer, before sighing. He avoids my gaze.
"Do as you please."
"Okay."
I pick up my own towel and scrape the water off his heel roughly.
Light jumps and tenses up, "Oi!"
"You'll get used to it quickly."
I can do no more for him now, besides wipe away the residue of the storm I made him walk through. No storm I ever unleash on him will ever touch the horrific impact of the storm he has chosen to endure with Kira.
The young boy ruined his life the minute he acted on his childish idealities.
He must face the wrath of an equivalent justice. I might be the one who finally enforces that consequence. The one who will end his life...
I stop my wiping. Two distinct rain droplets fall from my hair and land on his ankle.
If not me, then them.
Light moves and suddenly I feel a sensation on my head. I realize that he has picked up the discarded towel from the steps and is now drying me off.
He wipes his storm off of me.
I am rendered motionless, surprised by his actions.
"You're still wet," he said softly.
He acts fairly and charitably. I did not ask for anything in return, but yet he gives me an equal exchange.
A stalemate.
" … I’m sorry…" I whisper.
I wish I could have stopped Kira's repossession. I wanted to save him from that maniacal life. I desired to find the loophole out of that notebook. I never did.
And now our ends are creeping closer. Neither of us are getting out of this alive.
Light doesn't say anything, as I dry his foot until no trace of water is left.
I lower the towel.
"I'm... sad."
Light blinks. "Huh?"
A smile ghosts my lips as I stare at him.
"You'll understand soon."
When the bells send them your way...