Chapter1

Safety

So begins what remains of my story…

Little more than a year and a half had passed since I boarded that aircraft from England. After all that time, I still had no knowledge or comfort regarding L. Was he alive? Had my deranged fiancé been apprehended and imprisoned or executed? If either of them had survived who would find me first? These questions continued to haunt me daily as I absentmindedly searched for answers on the Internet; I learned nothing, my lack of television and money to buy one helping nothing.

Besides the ghosts of my past, I had a great life in Japan. Since I had received most of my final year in high school at Wammy's House-which went by a different name on the paperwork- I became a successful 21 year old journalist for one of Tokyo's most well-known magazines.

My usual topics were national-level crimes and other issues that affected Japanese lifestyle; on occasion, I wrote opinion columns… especially when Kira began to execute criminals.

That's not important though… what matters is March 27, 2004. My boss had left a list of topics to be covered for the month lying on her desk. It meant nothing… until I glimpsed "Wammy's House" listed as one of the topics. I felt a lump in my throat as I stared in disbelief… and my boss nearly ran into me. "Kita-san!" I jumped violently and turned to face her.

"Taiyo-sama! What do you need?"

"What are you doing?"

"I just happened to notice…" I paused.

"Yes?"

"You have Wammy's House listed as a topic… I know a good bit about the place and I was wondering if I could cover it for this week's issue."

Taiyo thought for a moment. "No one even knows the location of the place. How would you…?"

"I know someone who lives there!" Damn… I'm not sure if he's alive or not but I need to keep L's secret safe.

The Queen B of the editing department glared at me as if she had read my mind. "All right, Kita-san," she said with an I-Challenge-You smile, "you can try and crack this case. It might be your big chance." Then she frowned. "Don't blow it." Taiyo-sama started to leave but stopped and turned to face me. "Oh and put the list back." She hurried away.

***

At about five that evening, I left work in a great mood. I had begun concocting my bogus story about the location of Wammy's House; I had done more thinking to come up with believable lies rather than writing, however.

In order to reward myself for my securing the assignment, I decided to stop at a local Western-style diner to relax and enjoy some coffee. It was about 7 or 7:30 pm so the restaurant wasn't filled with a suffocating crowd or the cigarette smoke that comes with it.

Upon entering, I couldn't help but notice a man a few years older than me sitting at a corner booth by himself. I hesitated about going over to speak with him; after all, Brandon… but the poor guy seemed so sad and alone, that compassion won over fear. I cautiously made my way back to his table, and sat in the bench across from him. At my approach, he quickly averted a hypnotized gaze from his coffee.

"Uh…hi," he stammered nervously. "Do you need something?"

I shrugged and spoke casually. "I just thought you looked down and maybe wanted someone to talk to."

"Oh… well thanks." He gave me a small smile, which I returned.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just a little stressed out, is all. But thanks for asking." Seeming a little less gloomy, he took a small sip of his steaming coffee. He suddenly scratched the back of his head and smiled at me again. "Forgive my rudeness, miss. My name is Touta Matsuda.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Matsuda-san," I said with a small dip of my head. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you upset? Bad day at work?"

Matsuda-san hesitated. "I guess you could say that. I work for the NPA. You?"

It was my turn to hesitate, concerning my assignment. Once again, I gave in. "I write for a magazine here in Tokyo. I have a big assignment this time around so I understand your stress."

"What do you usually write?"

"Ordinarily, I cover local stories like music and crime. This month I'm researching something international."

"Do you mind if I ask what, Kita-san?"

His curiosity was so intense it was almost funny. I sighed to hide a giggle. Matsuda-san blinked in anticipation. I finally responded, lowering my voice to a whisper. "I'm researching a place called Wammy's House."

My new friend's expression became thoughtful. "I have a pretty intelligent colleague who would probably…" he trailed off as if he regretted speaking.

I propped my head in my hand and watched him intently. "Go on. I'm listening."

"I'll talk to everyone else on the team first," Matsuda-san said quickly.

"Tell you what," I replied. "I'll give you my number and you call me when you find out." Matsu pulled a pen and a piece of paper from the pocket of his black suit and handed them to me. I wrote down my apartment and cell phone numbers in case I worked late.

Late… I checked my watch; 7:54. I had to be at work by five am.

Matsuda-san and I left the diner together and parted ways at a nearby intersection. I walked back to my small apartment in a daze, fatigued from a long day's work, when I realized something: so much for coffee.