Naomi Misora is haunted by the life she could have had.
She wakes up in screaming agony and reaches for a gun that isn't strapped to her hip and a bullet wound that was sewn closed a long time ago. She runs her fingers through the ridges on the skin of her stomach and suffocates, remembering a time when she was choking on her own blood and spit in the middle of a metropolis.
Naomi has laid waste to murderers and rapists alike, has lived through the downfall of crime lords and has broken up smuggling rings. And she is afraid of the future. Terrified of it, in fact.
Her familiarity with the sharp crack of flying bullets and acrid cigarette smoke pouring out into the street will only serve to hinder her in her attempts to become used to a regular, civilian lifestyle. She closes her eyes and tries to remember the seating arrangements for her upcoming wedding, but can only think of sleepless nights spent ensconced in tactics and the pressing need to continue searching for clues.
Her husband, dead to the world in his restful slumber, hums softly in response to her sudden movements and Naomi breathes in sharply. He grumbles and shifts, pulling her closer. She lets herself relax in the crook of his arms.
Naomi Misora is a regular civilian. She has a wedding to plan and thousands of other things to consider. She will build her new life here from the ground up if she has to. For Raye. She can't allow her job to take over her life the way it did before.
Naomi turns her head and her ring glints in the light of her buzzing cell phone. She huffs a sigh at her phone screen. It's completely blank. not even the words 'unknown number'. There is only one person in the world who know how to contact her using this number and successfully bypass all security and tracking protocols along the way.
She considers her husband's hopes for her. A safe office job and a family that sees each other in more than just increments every few months. She flashes back to wedding preparations and resumes sent over for several nine-to-five jobs.
Naomi Misora picks up the phone anyway. It was always a losing battle.
"Hello, L."
Author's note: Naomi Misora is a bad-ass and you can't tell me otherwise. Also consider this part 1 of a fic i will never write where Naomi was brought into the investigation from the start, before her husband's death.