L Lawliet wasn't accustomed to associating everything with brighter colors. Black, white, and grey existed outside of a rainbow spectrum, as the presence of all colors, a lack of all colors, and a mix of the two. He enjoyed those three shades as they were an easy comparison for the world around him. Anything outside of those three simply didn't exist.
Either things were wrong and, therefore, black in shade, or they were just and, as such, coded as white.
Even recently, he was discovering the in-between shade of gray where things weren't specifically just, but they weren't exactly wrong.
The Kira case, as much as he spoke of its wrongs, was one of those things that fell into the gray shade.
There was the fact that, yes, he killed people- something that was dictated as wrong, however, he killed only criminals. Those that had already been dubbed evil. So, was eradicating them pure?
No, he had decided.
There were those who had been treated unfairly through the system, therefore unworthy of being judged in a simple live/die situation- they required the due process of law. Instead, a single entity judged whether or not they deserved to live, without any form of leeway.
So, he had decided- this case was to be perceived as unjust, and he would be the one to bring light to it. Even if he had taken the case for the mere thrill of solving it by himself, he'd gotten horridly attached to it and its complexity. Whoever was 'Kira' definitely was on par with him, intelligence-wise. So, he'd called for a task force to be assembled.
And this would be when his world came into shocking, bright color.
L had a rather wide vocabulary, and an even greater plethora of synonyms for various words, so, when she first walked into the room, he noticed the bright blue of her uniform. In contrast to her fellow male police officers, she wore an azure blazer and a pencil skirt, and she kept her fingers splayed against the front.
There was a sixty-seven percent chance that her hands were sweating. An eighty-five percent chance that, if they were, it was from nerves.
As the whole of the task force went around introducing themselves and showing their badges to him, she remained quiet. She'd laced her fingers and smiled, watching her male coworkers attempt to remain calm in the face of the famous 'L'. And, as he performed his little stunt in showing them how trusting they were to have shown their names in faces, her smile only grew wide.
"Instead, let's value our lives." He said, looking directly at her. "Now, what name do you want to be addressed by?" He addresses her specifically, and she blushes, ducking her head away.
"I value my life, so you can call me whatever you'd like." Her smile has turned sheepish. "I'd come to the same conclusion about Kira, but I'm not creative enough to come up with a good fake name."
L fits his thumb in between his lips, regarding her carefully. "If you're smart enough to have deduced his necessities for killing, I suppose you would also be smart enough to think of a decent name." Thirty-seven percent. That was a hefty enough percentage for someone to be anything, but her intelligence and nervous nature was enough to make him suspicious. Considering she was a part of the police, as well- well, this was a decent case against her.
"O- Hmmm..." She thinks to herself, her head propped up on her fist. "A-Aimi? I guess that's cute enough for a decent name." Beside her, Matsuda chuckled. She rolled her eyes at him, nudging him back with her shoulder.
Twenty-two percent. She seemed too hesitant to be able to make solid decisions, nonetheless over life or death. "Aimi it is, then. You can make up a last name whenever it's required of you, in this case." He resumes addressing the group and, when he leads them away, finds that she's the only one in the room without a cell phone.
What an interesting character, that woman was- if anything, she seemed to stand out in a room as much as he did. He had to wonder if it was because she was a woman in a room full of men. But a hunch told him that it was far more than that- especially with her hunched, soft mannerisms. She laughed at inappropriate intervals- he wasn't sure as to why himself being 'childish and hating losing' would make her stifle giggles, but it happened and it seemed to lighten her mood for the rest of the meeting.
When he came to the solo investigations, 'Aimi's' good mood remained, and her gentle mannerisms were shown through her answers. She enjoyed baking, but was horrible at cooking. Her house was clean, she was twenty-four, she attended college online, and was a believer in the traditional justice system. To be blunt, she didn't fit Kira's profile, despite her on-par deductive skills and above-average intelligence.
She was last to be interviewed and, even though he'd dismissed her, she remained seated. "... You can leave now." He replied, one foot crossing over the other.
"You think I'm most likely to be Kira, out of all of them." Fifty-five percent. And his eyes almost bugged out of his head. All of the questions he'd asked were of the standard that he'd asked the other seven task force members. "... You kept leaning forward over your desk, whenever you'd ask a question, even though I've been speaking in a relatively normal tone of voice. And you had a slight accusatory tone whenever you'd follow-up a question."
"But you're not denying the accusation that you may be Kira." He had to admit, it'd been a long time since he'd felt like an intellectual equal to someone.
"I don't need to assert my innocence. Hard evidence will prove the contrary." She nods after the last sentence, her nose wrinkling in the slightest.
...
Seven percent.
Considering her self-assured mannerisms and her words corroborating with previous statements she'd made about herself, it was mildly unlikely that she was Kira. Especially since she didn't immediately take offensive when he implied confirmation to her accusation.
"... I trust that you're not Kira." Well, not completely, but enough to keep her on the task force. "You are dismissed, now."
Aimi nods, her head bobbing up and down as she bows slightly. "I'll take my leave, then."
He watches her walk out of the small room, the light faintly burning her retreating image onto the back of his eyelids. Grinding a fist on top of a closed eye, he wonders if it was strange to wonder if your coworker would enjoy chocolate cake or pancakes more.
Aimi seemed to be the pancake type.
Note: This story will not be word-for-word with canon, considering I've added 'Aimi' into the story. It will also not completely address events within the Death Note canon timeline, but will most likely have summaries. Parts that have been changed due to Aimi's presence will be described in detail.