Touta Matsuda sat by his window and stared at the rain. It had been three years since he'd driven Light to the point of insanity by his gun. He didn't feel regret about what he'd done. In fact, he felt strangely empty about the whole incident. He was used to that blank feeling; ever since his mother had died he'd had to keep pushing himself to be carefree and happy. He'd actually wanted to be a journalist, but the singular hope of his widowed father had pushed him to join the police force. A friend of his cousin's had given him a reference, and suddenly he'd become a detective. And then, the Kira case. He knew in his heart of hearts that he'd wanted to stop that murderer at whatever the cost, but there was always that little niggling feeling in the back of his head: what if this was the way the world should be going? What if Kira was justice? What if? When Light had revealed that he was Kira, and started to write down Near's name, he's felt that emptiness. That feeling that something was so deeply wrong. Light had been his friend, a person to look up to, for so many years, and it was all an act. It had hurt Touta so deeply that he had no idea how he would go on. So, he did what he could to survive. He cut away the diseased part and tried to move on. He shot Light Yagami.
Everybody involved in the Kira Case had moved on except him. Aizawa had been promoted, Mogi had moved to America for a while, but had come back, Ide had met a girl, finally. Matsuda allowed himself a small smile as he thought about the weeks of constant talking about her. Near had become L. As for the SPK, he didn't know. There was that Gevanni man, and Rester, and one more? Oh yes. Her. Another part of himself that he'd cut loose to remain carefree. The look in her eyes as she'd seen him shoot Light. The way she looked dignified and above whatever was happening in the Yellow Box Warehouse, without looking snobbish. What was her name? Halle Bullook, if memory served. Or at least, that's what Mikami had written down. She'd stayed in Japan longer than the others. At one point, he'd gone to a bar and seen her there. They'd spoken for a while, and Matsuda's opinions of her had increased.
"Hi," he'd said. "We've met, haven't we?"
She'd looked at him for a moment, then nodded her head, a look in her eyes he couldn't place.
"Yes, I think we have."
Then there'd been a pause. It wasn't exactly awkward; well, it was for Touta, but not for her. She'd seemed perfectly calm in the circumstances.
"I – I just thought I'd say hello," he'd said, turning to go, hating himself.
"Touta Matsuda, was it?"
She'd stopped him in his tracks. He turned around, with a smile.
"I'm surprised you remembered. Halle, yes?"
She smiled at him, and he felt suddenly happy and alive. Happier than ever.
"You bring back some painful memories, Touta Matsuda," she said, sadly but not angrily, like she knew it wasn't his fault.
"I was the cause of some painful memories. I have to live with myself every day."
She smiled sadly.
"I think I know how you feel. Every day, I wonder that if maybe I hadn't told him, he wouldn't have…"
Her voice broke, and Matsuda understood. This was about Mello, Mihael Kheel.
"We've both seen too much death."
He was surprised that he was capable of saying something that deep. He sat down next to her.
"Can I get you something?" he asked.
They just talked for a while. About their families, their lives, their fears. About nothing in particular. It was all going to well. Then Halle looked at her watch.
"Oh dear. If I don't hurry, I'll miss my flight," she sighed, her voice heavy with regret.
"Y-your flight?"
"Yes. I'm going back to the CIA today."
The precarious happiness came crashing down.
"Oh. Ok. I – I guess I'll have to say goodbye."
She smiled at him again, and he felt too sad to say.
"Goodbye, Touta Matsuda. And… thankyou."
She walked out of the bar. Matsuda stayed where he was for a long time, then finally whispered, "No, thankyou."
It all came flooding back, and he felt the pain that came with happiness. On impulse, he picked up his phone and dialled a number.
"This is Watari. Please state your name."
"Touta Matsuda. I'd like to speak to Nea – sorry, L."
Watari paused for a moment, then said, "Of course. I'll put you through."
There were a few seconds of crackling, then that childish voice came through the phone.
"This is L. I haven't heard from you in a while, Matsuda."
"Mmm."
"Can I help you with anything?"
"I – I was just wondering if you had a phone number for somebody."
"I probably do. Who is this mystery person?"
Matsuda cleared his throat, and then did something that put his life back on track.
"Halle Bullook, please."