Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, or any of the characters or ideas original to Death Note.

"In this world, not everything will be won by justice. If you want to win, you have to learn how to cheat."

-Ai Yazawa

December 11, 2003

11:53 P.M.

The clicking of fingers on keyboards and pens scratching against paper drained out the sound of idle chatter in the large room. Though the weather outside was reaching the season's record low, the air in the windowless office was stale and dry. It was nearing midnight and most detectives stayed late to work tirelessly on an impossible case, hours spent researching and looking for answers they didn't know the question to. Kira - an elusive vigilante who may have been murdering criminals by means of heart attacks, whose very existence was controversial.

A slim figure kicked open the door, arms full of trays of coffees. The woman wore her thick black hair tightly pulled back in a bun, revealing her pale complexion and dark circles under her eyes that no amount of makeup would conceal. She walked by the various desks unnoticed before placing the trays heavily on the conference table, spilling coffee on the rims of the cups. She looked up around the room at all of her male colleagues who seemed to pay her no mind despite demanding her to run for coffee only 15 minutes ago.

"Hello?" The woman called over the noise. "Coffee's here."

From across the table, a man scooted towards her still sat on his office chair. It was her immediate superior, Shuichi Aizawa, a tall dark man with tight dark curls piled atop his big pompous head. Takako disliked him secretly, though on the outside showed nothing but the upmost respect for all of her superiors. He raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement and without another word looked for the coffee that was marked with one creamer before veering off in his chair in the direction he came from. It was pretty common for her, a female rookie in the police investigative task force, to be regarded as the coffee maid despite her greatest efforts to distinguish herself among her male peers. A flame of anger lit inside her chest and she tried her best to maintain a calm disposition on the outside.

"Oh, thank you, Takako!" Touta Matsuda approached shortly after, his large brown eyes lighting up at the sight of the coffee. "I was about to fall asleep at my desk! These long hours are really getting to me."

"Please," she sighed annoyedly. "Call me Nakamura."

Matsuda should have been her equal in the force, they both graduated and joined the police force in the same year. Though she knew he was good natured and hard working, she couldn't understand how his goofiness and general incompetence could have still earned more respect from their superiors than her hard work and determination. Takako worked far more all nighters and sacrificed any chance at a life outside of her work to only feel it thrown back in her face. She had practically begged the Chief of police, Soichiro Yagami to allow her to attend the ICPO meeting instead of Matsuda only days prior and was declined in order to attend to mundane tasks and paperwork that awaited her at the station. She did harbour some resentment for her colleague, perhaps not so secretly.

Matsuda saw the faraway look in her eyes, he knew she would probably just walk off in a second. He needed to find a way to break the ice. "It's crazy that we get to work with this detective L, isn't it? He's the top detective in the world and no one knows who he is."

"Did you know who he was before yesterday?"

"Erm, no...but-"

"Listen, Matsuda." Takako folded her arms as she spoke. "I have been following his career and work for the past several years. I know who he is. And yes, it's amazing that he's volunteered his time and effort to help us out. But if you don't mind, I have a lot of work to do if I don't want to be a disappointment to our entire task force."

"Erm, right…" Matsuda scratched the back of his head in a sheepish manner that only made Takako's blood boil further. "Are you alright? You look quite tired."

"I'm fine, thank you very much indeed," Takako grunted as she took a black coffee for herself.

Matsuda knew enough about women to know that the words 'I'm fine' did not indicate anything positive, but he decided to bite his tongue after she briskly walked off in the opposite direction without another word. He watched as she walked towards her desk, shorter than usual strides probably because of the tight pencil skirt she was wearing. A petite woman, but still her figure was nicely curved. He loosened his tie. Her black heel connected with one of the long black wires someone was using for their computer and she tripped slightly, grabbing onto someone's desk before finding her footing and hoping that no one noticed.

Takako, now seated at a desk with two other investigators, shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She had, of course, heard talk about the detective, known to be the best in the world, and how he was to work with the NPA after he determined that Kira must have been located in Tokyo, Japan. The thought of working under, or even with, the detective known as L both thrilled and terrified her. Even potentially meeting him. How lucky she was, she morbidly thought, to be starting her career in these circumstances.

Takako stared downwards, catatonic at the mess of papers in front of her. She was to painstakingly filter through various criminals' deaths and determine when and where their identities may have been broadcasted through the media. She felt half crazed examining her notes, as if she were trying to make connections in some conspiracy theory. She still couldn't come to terms with the possibility that Kira was real, a person who could somehow kill others by means of a heart attack anywhere in the world. Even after L's theatrical performance on television where he proved Kira's existence by the death of Lind L. Tailor, she still somehow remained skeptical. Perhaps it was just her in her nature (although as time went on, it was beginning to become harder and harder to deny).

"Ms. Nakamura, I'll be leaving now. Please have your work on my desk by tomorrow morning." Chief Yagami stopped in front of Takako at her desk. He, too, looked a little worse for the wear with his eyes sunken in beneath his glasses. His tie was loose and his jacket slightly wrinkled. Takako had never seen the Chief in a less than professional state before.

Takako nodded, only taking her eyes off of her work for a second. Yes, it was true that criminals were dying more frequently now - one by one at every hour. Not just any criminals, but prison inmates whom should have been safely confined. But what could it mean? Could I be missing something? She looked back at the mess of papers in front of her, sighing now that she lost her train of thought. Not that she needed to be that focused on fact-checking, she only wished she could do some more. Something, anything to distinguish herself from the others.

Her colleague Hideki Ide sitting next to her was starting to gather his things to take home. He turned to her after he stood up, briefcase in hand.

"Some of the guys are going out for a drink now. You're welcome to join us if you want."

"I really have too much work to do. I think I'll have to pull another all-nighter, actually."

"Again? Take care of yourself, Nakamura."

Unable to focus her gaze back onto her work, she watched as Ide left followed by Aizawa and Matsuda. I didn't think they would have invited that dolt. Of course Takako knew that part of advancing in her career in the police force meant making connections and playing friendly with her superiors. After she was turned down to go to the ICPO meeting, Takako wasn't about to let Matsuda get too far ahead of her. She had no choice if she wanted to break the glass ceiling.

"Hold up! I'm coming too!"

2:43 A.M.

Several drinks later, Takako sat red faced at the bar holding onto a shot of sake she was procrastinating to drink. Her father had, in a way, taught her to drink from a young age. You'll need to hold your alcohol if you want to compete with men in the workplace, he would say as he let his 15 year old daughter nurse a flask of vodka before cram school. It seemed that years of building a tolerance for alcohol didn't mean much at all for Takako when placed with men much bigger than her. Or perhaps it was in part due to the fact that she couldn't remember the last time she ate or slept properly.

In the past couple of hours, Takako realized how powerful a tool alcohol could be in workplace relationships. She had learned a lot about her superiors who were normally tight lipped in the regular office environment. For example, Hideki Ide was bloodtype B, and Shuichi Aizawa had a young daughter at home. The two men also seemed to be close outside of the office, perhaps even best friends. Such details may seem trivial, but Takako knew this could prove ever important given certain circumstances. If nothing else, this knowledge of personal details served to make colleagues closer to friends than simple acquaintances. The only task left for her to do was to not fall over drunk, at least not until she was out of their sight for the night.

"You're always the first to come in the morning and the last to leave at night," Ide commented at one point. "Must take a toll on having any sort of social life. Don't you have a boyfriend to go home to or something?"

"Uh, no… I don't have a boyfriend."

"No boyfriend, eh? At your age? You really live for working, don't you?" Aizawa regarded Takako critically.

Takako resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course he wouldn't ask Matsuda the same thing, he's a man. But she wouldn't say anything. After all, this was just friendly banter amongst colleagues. "I suppose you're right… My career is the most important thing to me right now. And if this Kira case is going to be a thing, I won't have much time to be worried about those sorts of things."

Matsuda also wore a reddened complexion but otherwise seemed fine, if not a little giddy. His shaggy dark hair fell into his eyes as he stared at his female colleague, realizing she had been holding onto the little cup of sake for a while. A few pieces of hair had fallen out of her once tightly pulled bun, framing her rosy cheekbones as she examined the intricate details of the ceramic. He raised his glass to his colleagues. "Alright guys, bottom's up!"

Aizawa grunted and filled his glass, emptying that bottle of sake. "Last one before I go home. My wife's gonna be pissed."

"Yeah…" Ide raised his glass less than enthusiastically. "Me too. I really need to not fall asleep on my way home."

Ever the team player, Takako raised her glass finally without complaint. She downed the rest of the warm sake in one shot, the smooth alcohol warming her throat and insides. Objects in her vision were already swaying back and forth like a pendulum and she felt fortunate the night was coming to an end at last as she wasn't sure how much more she could take. "I guess we all better take off, then…"

"Yeah. At least before they kick us out," Ide said as he raised himself from his seat.

"You better get a cab, Nakamura. It's late and I shouldn't have to tell you it's not safe for women at night." Aizawa spoke firmly despite his inebriation, placing a hand on Takako's shoulder.

She brisked from the physical contact, but brushed him off. Her own movements became too fast and fluid for her mind to register in real time. Perhaps that last shot was a mistake. "I don't live far… Hic, and I'm a police officer for crying out loud. I could easily apprehend any criminal unlucky enough to try me…"

"Not in those heels." Ide let out a barking laughter.

Aizawa turned to Matsuda. "Get her a cab and see that she makes it home alright. That's an order."

Matsuda, perhaps too eagerly, nodded. Takako glowered at her superior, though she wasn't sure how menacing she could possibly look in her state. It was pointless to protest, even though the Izakaya bar was a minute's walk to her apartment. Takako followed Matsuda out of the bar after Ide and Aizawa each left, into the crisp winter night air. She shrugged her arms over her jacket, the cold air penetrated the thin material easily. She thought she saw a snowflake from the corner of her eye.

"I'll get us a cab." Matsuda stumbled onto the street, waving at the cabs passing by.

"You mean me a cab. I can get home by myself." Her teeth chattered through her words.

"I'll just see you home, Takako. Aizawa ordered me to."

"Ugh. I hate you," she spat. Matsuda smiled contritely.

A cab finally slowed down near the side of the road, the window rolled down to reveal an older man that regarded the two from behind thick frames. He nodded at them to allow them into his cab. Matsuda stumbled to the curb, opening the door first for Takako. She slid down to the opposite side of the leather seat, taking her time to secure her seatbelt with clumsy fingers.

"Where are we going?" the old man grunted.

"561 Koen Street, south tower."

The driver grunted once more in response, most likely peeved at the fact he was taking his drunken passengers a five minute walk away but started the car anyway, pulling ahead before Matsuda had a chance to fasten his seatbelt. Matsuda's head collided with the passenger seat roughly.

"Eugh… you didn't mean what you said earlier, right?" Matsuda rubbed his forehead.

Takako narrowed her eyes, both in annoyance and out of her inability to keep them fully open any longer. Her head was beginning to pound. Pre-hangover. "What? That you annoy me? That our superiors must think I'm incompetent to take care of myself, and that you're somehow fit for the task?"

"But.. why do I annoy you so much?" Matsuda suddenly took on a darker tone. "I've never done anything to you, Takako!"

"Like you would get it…" Takako rested her head on the door, closing her eyes in attempt to ride over the wave of nausea that hit her. She didn't have the energy to fight him again over the use of her first name. "Idiot…"

They rode the rest of the short drive in silence until they reached the high rise condo tower. After a moment of quarrelling, Matsuda finally let Takako pay for the cab and he exited with her.

"Thank you," Takako threw her arms in the air in an exaggerated manner, "For seeing me home! I don't know how I'll ever repay you. I'll see you tomorrow, Matsuda."

"I'll see you to your door."

Takako's face went from shocked to exasperated in a second, glowering at him with a look so

hateful he almost took a step back. She turned from him and began walking towards the front door, fishing her keys out of her bag. Her heel got caught between the small space in the concrete stone, sending her flying forwards before Matsuda jumped in and caught her arm.

"I've already come this far and Aizawa would kill me if it came out that you passed out in the lobby. Come on," Matsuda threw her arm over his head and opened the door for them. He wasn't sure if he would feel so bold in normal circumstances (ie. when he was sober), but he was still surprised to see Takako not put up a fight. She slumped her shoulders in defeat and walked alongside him with his help as they reached the elevators.

Even in her inebriated state, Takako felt an unbelievable amount of contempt for herself in that moment. She realized that for all the times she called Matsuda an idiot, he was still more highly regarded by their superiors and colleagues for reasons she could not comprehend or accept. And yet here she was, basically a damsel in distress with the worst man she could think of to come to her safety. Still, Matsuda was there, in her condo complex, helping her walk since she proved incompetent to take care of herself.

Once they reached her door, Matsuda took it upon himself to unlock the door. After a few tries, he finally found her house key and managed to push the door open with Takako in his grasp. The small flat was impeccably clean and though minimally furnished, seemed as though no one really lived there. Matsuda dragged Takako past the main area without taking off his shoes and towards the hallway he assumed led to her room. Her eyes were closed now, though he could tell she was still at least barely awake by her jagged, uneven breaths.

Matsuda heaved Takako onto her bed easily, she couldn't have weighed more than 90 lbs. Actually, he thought, she looks even more gaunt than usual. Though his vision was blurred, he managed to clumsily take off her black heels and discard them onto the floor. He wasn't sure if he would pass out or throw out first now that the alcohol seemed to be hitting him at full force.

Takako grabbed onto his arm as he was about to turn to leave, and he was easily brought down to her level in her grasp. "Matsu...da…"

Matsuda stared into her face, eyes half open and lips slightly parted. A slight shimmer of rose coloured lip gloss on her pale lips. It would be so easy to fall asleep on her bed. Matsuda listened intently, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed for what seemed like an eternity waiting for her to speak. Takako seemed like such a rigid woman in the office, barking orders at him as if he worked under her and ignoring him otherwise. Seeing her in this state, with her hair half down and the rouge tint playing upon her ivory complexion and her clothes out of order… He needed to have a taste.

His heart began to beat violent in his chest. He leaned forward more onto the bed that his torso almost lay on top of hers, hands now planted on each side of her waist. Matsuda leaned in slowly, as slowly as he could manage to give her any chance to push him away. Her eyes were still open. She didn't move at all, except for her eyes to flutter shut as his lips touched hers.

Oh dear~ Drunk Matsu and Takako… Will he spend the night? Will Takako batter him for this? If you've made it this far, thank you for reading - I appreciate any reviews and/or criticisms.