The night was unnaturally silent as if the earth itself was holding its breath. Clouds hung motionless in the giant expanse of the darkened sky, and only a few stars had managed to pierce through, but even their glow seemed dim. For a few minutes, Soichiro stood as he regarded that endless veil encompassing his world as the pervasive quality curled about him like snake, but the he sighed as he started towards his house. The gate creaked loudly, slicing through the air with the precision of a sharpened blade, and he winced slightly at the sound. Fortunately, there were no sounds emitting from his darkened home so it appeared that everyone was still fast asleep. He let out a slow breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding as he mentally added oiling the gate to the list of chores he needed to complete once he got the time. That list was already very long. His career may put food on the table, but he so rarely got to enjoy the food with his family.

As silent as the night, he unlocked the door and slipped into house; his eyes hardly needing to adjust to the gloom he knew the layout so well. Taking off his shoes and putting his jacket in the closet, he walked into the kitchen. Just as he had expected, there was still rice in the steamer and the rest of his food had been placed on a plate in the refrigerator. Sachiko was really too good for him at times, and he felt a twinge of guilt trickle up his spine and tease his brain. She certainly didn't deserve an overworked officer like him for a husband.

Leaving the food where it was for the moment, he stealthily made his way upstairs. His wife was asleep in the bed with a book lying open on her chest and a strangely sad smile on her otherwise peaceful face. She was probably worried about him, as usual, and the guilt only increased. He walked over to place her book back on the nightstand and to turn off the lamp. She didn't even stir so he decided to let her sleep without interruption.

After leaving his bedroom, he walked to Sayu's room and listened for a few minutes outside of the closed door. He wife would tell him his daughter was growing up and needed her privacy, but he hated that closed door between them. After hearing nothing inside, he cracked the door ever so slightly to peek inside. Sayu was asleep, twisted about in some odd, animal-like position. Her nearby computer was on, and the slightly blue light illuminated the room and highlighted her form as if she was some sort of angel who had simply decided to take a nap before returning to Heaven. Seeing her resting peacefully allowed him to relax slightly before he closed the door and moved on to his final destination.

Light's door was also closed, but Soichiro hesitated longer than he had at his daughter's door. Light was everything anyone could ever want in a son: smart, dutiful, studious, and obedient. He had never given them any trouble, but there were times that Soichiro still felt distant. He loved Light with all of his heart and was proud beyond the ability of words to express, but he still couldn't help but feel that there was almost a barrier between them. Trying to shrug off the feeling, he opened the door to see Light sleeping quietly. His room was perfectly neat and orderly just as it always was, and Soichiro didn't think he hardly looked like a teenage boy's room. Truly, Light was one of a kind. Carefully, he closed the door as he returned downstairs.

Instead of going to the kitchen, he walked to his office and locked himself inside. Flipping on the switch so that the light flooded the room, he sat down heavily in a chair as he retrieved a special scrapbook. Memories consumed as he read all of the old newspaper articles about Tsuki Yagami. He had been an amazing detective, a superb role model, and a considerate big brother - and today was the anniversary of when he and his wife had been killed by a criminal he had gotten a bit too close to catching. Today was the anniversary of when they had left this world leaving behind their tiny son Light with no parents.

Soichiro remembered all too well that day. Only minutes after learning his only brother had been gunned down, he found that this tiny, helpless child needed someone to love and nurture him. It wasn't a hard choice to make. He and Sachiko had been trying for a child already, but they had been told that it was nearly impossible for them to conceive. (When Sayu came along a few years later, they had simply accepted it as a miracle.) He knew the moment he learned that the child needed a family, he would take him in and raise him as best as he could. Light wouldn't just be a nephew, he would be his son. Light was his son.

Light did know the truth. He had found out about Tsuki's death through a program on television and had asked who he had been. Sachiko and him and talked about it many times, and knew they had to be honest with him. They had told him about his parents and how he had come to live with him. He took it in that quiet way that he had, and the news had barely seemed to faze him. His only real response was to announce that he wanted to join the police force one day so that he could punish all the criminals, just like the ones who had killed his parents. At the time, the response had seemed cute, but Light had wavered from his decision to become a detective. Soichiro knew that he would be a fine detective with his sharp mind and deductive skills. He could even surpass the legendary and mysterious L, but still he was worried.

Tsuki had always had the tendency to see things as black and white, and Light was very much like his father in that regard. For all of their intelligence, sometimes the simplest matters seemed foreign such as looking at the reasons why someone might have done something rather than the act itself. They also seemed to be able to disregard even their own feelings when they wanted to get something accomplished.

Yawning slightly, Soichiro stood up and scratched the back of his head as he left the room, flipping the light off behind him. As he started to the kitchen to eat his late dinner, he couldn't help but think more about Light. He was his nephew by blood, but since the day he had stepped foot in this house he had been their son. He didn't have to follow the footsteps of his biological father.

Pausing in the hall, he looked up as if he could stare through the ceiling and into Light's room. He only hoped that his son would never let his zeal for justice blind him to the beauty of mercy.