A/N: Hey there! Welcome back for the first official chapter of this story! I'm so glad those of you who've read it have been enjoying it so far, and I hope you continue to do so. Okay! So, a couple things I forgot to mention in my excitement last week.

First, before anything else, I should mention the main reason I've been so proud of this story. My brother - who is far more genius than I when it comes to storylines and such - has been a huge part of creating this story. He gave me the plot and certain themes among giving me a hand with characterization. So I just wanna give a HUUUUGE Thank you to him for all the work he put into this as well.

Second, I should probably mention that this story will get a little OC heavy starting in the next chapter. However, the others that we know and love are there too, so I hope you won't be too disappointed by that.

Anywho! Welcome back once again and...

ENJOY!

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Chapter I: Uncovered

"I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then." - Alice in Wonderland

~}(1){~

"We're almost there," Maiko promised, her voice sounding irritatingly loud and upbeat in the quiet dark street as she dragged a reluctant Kameko along with her. After a little more walking, the brunette girl with her hair tied up in a ponytail stopped in front of an alleyway, and Kameko stopped a little ways behind her, glancing around her friend and into the seeping blackness of the alleyway, her stomach giving a little clench at the prospect of actually going in there.

Right then, Kameko really wished she hadn't allowed her friend to talk her into coming. She disliked this part of Tokyo. While the city itself was magnificent – with its towering sky scrapers and bustling streets – the back alleys gave her the creeps. Perhaps, during the day, it was less menacing, but at night, even the shadows looked like they might attack her. And for two young girls like her and Maiko, there was always the worry of who might be lurking in the shadows. However, that wasn't as much of a concern as it had been in the past with the dip that crime had taken about a decade ago. So perhaps that wasn't it... Maybe her anxiety stemmed from why they had come there.

Maiko, her best friend since pre-school, had heard a rumor about a ghost haunting these parts of town and insisted they check it out for no other reason than the sake of doing so. Personally, Kameko thought that her friend just wanted an excuse to get into trouble. Of course, Kameko had hesitated to go from the beginning for a variety of reasons. However, Maiko could be persuasive at times, and she had never really been good at saying no to begin with. Swallowing, she felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Sometimes, Kameko regretted being such a pushover against Maiko.

"Maybe we could come back tomorrow afternoon?" Kameko suggested, hoping against hope.

The brunette girl snorted. "A ghost wouldn't come out during the day."

"Why not?"

Her steps never faltering, she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I read once that the Spirits attach themselves to the night because that's the time when the barrier between their world and ours is at its weakest." When she said that, Kameko rolled her eyes. She would never understand where her friend got all that rot.

"Well, couldn't we at least use the flashlight we brought?" the shyer girl reasoned, holding up the aforementioned flashlight and flicking it on, illuminating the dank alleyway for a moment. Both winced at the light.

Before either of their eyes could adjust, Maiko quickly snatched it out of her hand and switched it back off. "No way!" she denied shrilly. "If Spirits don't like the day time, what makes you think they would like flashlights? What if it won't come because of it? We're not wasting our own time."

A summery gust of wind drifted through the alley, and though it wasn't exactly cold, the girl shivered. She wouldn't exactly call it a waste of time if they ended up not seeing any ghosts.. Kameko tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her lips pulling into a thin line. "This spirit seems picky if he's bothered by a little light."

"If you were dead, you'd be too," Maiko said, steering them to the left.

Vaguely, Kameko wondered how her friend could see where they were going in that darkness. That night, the moon was only a sliver in the sky, and no light shone in the alley where they were. The glow from the city spilled into the edges of it but failed to truly pierce the darkness, instead casting eerie shadows. To Kameko, the little bit of light there made her feel more paranoid than had they been in total blackness. It distorted her surroundings, making them feel oppressive and menacing, though that could just as well have been her own mind doing the distorting.

When something brushed against her ankle, the shy girl had a moment of panic and legitimately considered bolting back to the safety of the city. Even if it was a part of town she disliked, she disliked this alley even more. However, she squeezed Maiko's hand tightly with hers and clenched her teeth. Breathing deeply, she hoped it was just a rat. Then she realized just how strange that thought was and blew out a shuddering sigh. She needed to distract herself. Talking would help. Maiko was always braver than she was anyways. Maybe some of that courage would rub off on her if they talked a little bit.

"Who is this ghost supposed to be anyways?" Kameko asked, whispering so as not to disturb any ... creatures skulking near by, not wanting another 'rat' to scurry across her feet. As soon as the words came out though, she realized it probably wasn't the best topic to keep her mind off the situation. She'd just blurted the first thought that came to mind. Too late to take the words back now unfortunately. The girl frowned at the thought.

"They say it's Shin Nakamura; he was a total scumbag," Maiko began, her voice carrying that confidence that Kameko had come to rely on. "I heard he killed his wife but was never convicted because the investigators 'mishandled' the evidence," Maiko explained, sarcasm weighing down her tone as though she was certain that wasn't the case. "I think they probably just accepted a bribe to be honest. Anyways though, he had to move to these slums because he ended up spending all his money paying for good lawyers, you see, and everyone hated him because he obviously did it." Here her voice dipped into a deeper range. Her friend was all about dramatics. "However, one fateful day, someone took justice into their own hands..." Maiko trailed off.

"Who?" Kameko asked, squeezing her friend's hand to prompt her to continue the story, and despite herself, the shy girl found herself smiling at her antics. Maiko could be an idiot sometimes, but she wouldn't have her any other way.

"It was none other than-" Maiko paused once more. Kameko rolled her eyes. "-Kira!" Her voiced echoed off the walls, disturbing the once silent night, and the shy girl didn't think she imagined the small scratching noises that came after that of something running away from them.

Even though the other girl couldn't see it, Kameko cocked an eyebrow and ignored the other sounds she'd heard. "Why is he still haunting this place then?"

"Huh?"

"Well," the shy girl began, "Kira was executed over 9 years ago... Wouldn't Shin's death have been avenged or whatever when he died? I mean, why hang around for so long?"

She could practically feel Maiko's frown, and when she spoke, her voice had taken on that huffy quality that told Kameko she was pouting at her refusal to just join in on the fun. "Because he was killed here? I don't know. I'm not exactly an expert in this sort of thing. Maybe he had unfinished business or something." With a melodramatic sigh, Maiko asked snidely, "Do you have to suck the fun out of everything?"

"I wasn't trying to," Kameko said, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand.

Maiko rolled her eyes but shot her a wry grin. "Yeah, I know. It's just in your nature."

Kameko bumped her with a hip, giggling. "Whatever. Unlike some people-" she gave a pointed look to Maiko that once again, she couldn't see. "- I actually like knowing wha-" The girl yelped as she tripped onto something in their path, pulling Maiko down with her.

"What did you do?" the brunette demanded, voice shrill.

"I didn't do anything. You're the one that made us come through this disgusting alley. We must have tripped over a bag of garbage or something," Kameko explained as she pushed herself onto her knees and winced as a dull throb shot through them. She must have bruised them, she thought with a frown.

"Eww... I just dipped my hand in something sticky."

Kameko gagged as she felt a liquid seeping through her stockings, and she tried to force the sensation out of her mind. "I think I'm sitting in it."

"What is in this garbage? This has got to be the most disgusting thing I've ever smelt. It's making me sick." Maiko's voice was all nasally, and Kameko got the mental image of her pinching her nose shut. "Where's my phone? You made me drop it. Help me find it."

"Find it yourself," the normally reserved girl grouched, wiping her now sticky hands on her skirt as Maiko began feeling around for her phone. She was not in the mood to be nice any more. Not only had she not wanted to be out here in the first place, but she was also going to get in trouble for ruining a pair of stockings... Why would someone leave a pile of trash in the middle of an alley? Kameko swore people could be ridiculous at times. Honestly, was it that difficult to use a trash can? This was disgusting.

Maiko's shriek cut through her train of thought. "It's a person!"

"What?" Kameko asked, squinting her eyes to focus on her friend.

Her breathing coming in gasps, Maiko scuttled backwards on her hands. "It's not garbage. It's a person." From where she sat on her knees, Kameko could just make out her friend's form. Pressed against the wall, she looked like a black blob in the darkness. As the alley sank into silence, Maiko's harsh breathing was the only noise Kameko heard.

With trembling hands, Kameko retrieved her flashlight. Could it really be a person? I-it hadn't felt like a person... What if.. Oh God.. Her hands were sticky.. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and flicked it on. Momentarily blinded, she blinked until her eyes adjusted to the bright light. She saw red. It covered the pavement, spattered the walls, and stained her arms and legs. Though she couldn't be certain, Kameko thought she screamed. Her mind raced too fast for her to comprehend individual thoughts. However, one kept repeating nonstop:

'I'm covered in blood.'

Suddenly, an odd sort of calm washed over her.. It wasn't something she could explain, but it was almost like she had reached the point where she couldn't be any more scared than she already was so it had just … cut off. There was a body laying right in front of her with bloody stumps for fingertips. From what she could tell, it was a man with graying hair. A few frown lines rested on the corners of his mouth, stretched open in a parody of a yawn. Blankly, Kameko noted that his eyes were probably a striking shade of blue when he was alive. Now, they had dulled to a lifeless gray, staring unseeing at Kameko. Pulling her eyes from his face was more difficult than it should have been, and she grimaced at the sight of the two deep indentations on his chest, prominent despite being concealed by his white dress-shirt. In a detached way, the shy girl wondered if they'd been there before or if ... She swallowed, throat unbearably dry. Kameko knew she needed to look away, but she couldn't convince her body to cooperate.

"My God..." Maiko turned away and wretched. After a long moment, she managed to regain herself a little bit. Wiping a hand over her mouth, the brunette spoke though she kept her back to the gruesome scene. "We- We have to do something. Call somebody."

"The police," Kameko mumbled distractedly, her eyes falling to Maiko's phone wedged under the body. "We need to call the police." It had to be done. There was no other way they could call anyone since Kameko didn't have a phone of her own. Swallowing once more, the shy girl slid the phone out from under the body, tears of sheer horror gathering in her eyes at the sensation of the weight holding it down. Her stomach did a weird flip at the squelching sound it made when she finally pulled the phone free. As she punched in the number, her fingers slipped on the buttons, smearing red on them. There was so much blood.

So much blood.

~}(2){~

Officer Shinichi Yamanasai wrapped his coat a little tighter around himself to ward off the brisk morning air. Overall, the weather was not that bad today, but the call they had received a few hours back had sent a chill through all of them. A case like this hadn't come up in a while. After nodding to the officer on guard near the edge of the alley and exchanging habitual pleasantries, he ducked under the yellow tape blocking off the area. Few reporters had arrived so far, but he knew more would come as the day wore on. They always did, and with a story like this, the force would be hard pressed to keep them at bay.

As he headed for the scene of the crime, the metallic odor of blood hit him before he even turned the last corner, and Shinichi resisted the urge to clap a hand over his nose. Although he had been on the force for a few years now, he had never managed to get used to that scent, and thankfully, with the low crime rates Japan had been enjoying for so long now, he didn't have to deal with it very often. He turned the last corner just in time to see a tall woman in sanitation gear zipping up the body bag. Behind her, Shinichi spied several blood smears on the wall and a sizable puddle on the ground, which another officer was photographing.

Seeing him approach, the woman waved and offered him a smile in way of greeting. "What have you got so far?" he asked once he was close enough.

"Not much, this time," the woman, Hatsumi Hamasaki, said. Hamasaki was a brilliant woman, he knew if a bit off at times. From what she had told him, she'd managed to get top marks in her university when she had been studying for her degree. Her mouth pulled into a grim line as she rifled through a set of papers. Setting most of them aside and handing him the ones remaining, she reopened the body-bag. "The victim's lungs were punctured with a long needle-like instrument, filling them with blood, so the official cause of death is asphyxiation," the dark-haired woman explained, gesturing to part of the hand-written report she'd handed him a moment ago.

Then, she picked up one of the victim's arms by the wrist and showed him the ends of his fingers, which had been removed. "That was done postmordim. Same as this," Hatsumi explained, pulling back the corpse's lips to reveal a lack of teeth.

Shinichi glanced around the alley with a look of disgust on his face. "I suppose that accounts for this mess."

"Nope," she told him, her voice a little too chipper for the topic of discussion, and he knew that she was actively fighting back a smile. "Most – if not all – of that can be blamed on the two that found the body. They literally stumbled onto the body." Shinichi eyed her warily as she snickered to herself over the joke, and he realized that she'd likely been planning that line all morning just waiting for someone to ask her. When she noticed his expression, she coughed. "Poor things... Moving on, in his state, his lungs burst from the force of the impact, thus explaining the alley's new paint-job."

"Have we I.D-ed the victim yet?" Shinichi folded his arms over his chest, leaning over him to get a better look at his face.

Her expression hardened, and she frowned, becoming more serious than she had been so far. And he knew that even if she joked more than she should've in such a situation, she really did consider this important and was upset when things didn't turn out like they should. "No, and we won't be getting one anytime soon." Shinichi gestured for her to elaborate, and she rolled her eyes. "Without fingertips or teeth, we have nothing to go on," the woman told him as though it should have been obvious, and he realized that maybe it should have been all things considered.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he asked, "No identification on him?"

She shook her head. "Whoever did this was thorough. They even cut out the clothing tags."

Nodding at her words, Shinichi stepped over and examined the body's hands. In most cases, when a criminal removed body parts, they hacked up the body, leaving rough chunks behind as a result. However, the cuts were smooth on this victim, surgical in their precision. Meaning whoever killed this man knew what they were doing. Carefully opening the corpse's mouth to confirm his theory, he noted that the teeth had been extracted with no damage to the gums. That would take time. It wasn't something a person could do in five minutes... Was this a planned murder? It felt like one to the detective...

"Do we know if anything was taken – aside from the obvious, I mean?"

"Like I said, the tags on his jacket, pants, and shirt. They took any credit cards and his license if he had one, but they left the wallet," Hamasaki told him with a shrug.

"Not a robbery then?" Shinichi remarked more to himself than her.

"Obviously not, considering they left the money," the woman answered anyways, shifting her weight onto one foot and planting a hand on her hip, having removed her gloves already.

Shinichi nodded to her. "Thank you, Mrs. Hamasaki."

"Not a problem, kid," she told him with a grin.

Honestly, he liked Hatsumi Hamasaki. She was strange, blunt, and carried a warped sense of humor – though he suspected that was a common trait with anyone who dealt with corpses on a regular basis – but you could count on an honest, if sardonic, opinion from her. And that in and of itself was a rare thing these days. She'd worked there long before he joined the force six years ago. Back then, she worked pretty much around the clock, same as him, so they had worked on quite a few cases together in that time. She was good at what she did, and despite her overwhelming personality, Hamasaki made a good friend and could always be counted on to back you up if she liked you. However, when she had her second kid a few years back, she cut down her hours to the bare minimum, wanting to focus more on her family, so he rarely saw her anymore – though he did run into her younger sister on occasion, who worked as a detective same as him.

Stepping around the body after Hamasaki zipped it back up, Shinichi looked over the blood-covered alley and headed over to the other officer who was finishing up on photographing the crime scene. There was a lot that had needed to be captured with the way the carnage was so spread out.

"Officer Matsuda," Shinichi said, raising a hand in greeting as the other man turned to him, fiddling with a few pieces of his camera, "find anything interesting?"

Taking a moment to switch off the device in his hands, Matsuda shook his head with a huff of frustration. "I photographed of all the blood smears, but I guarantee most of them were caused by the two girls that found this place, so I doubt they'll be of any use." Briefly, they lapsed into silence, and Shinichi found himself glancing around the alley once more. "Speaking of those two," Matsuda began, drawing his attention once more, "have you spoken with them yet?"

"No, I just got here," the younger officer admitted with a shake of his head. "How are they doing?"

"This whole mess shook them up pretty bad," he said.

Shinichi nodded. "I bet so ... I heard they fell on the body, or at least that's the rumor going around the station at the moment." To be honest, none of them had really known the details. All they had heard was that two girls had stumbled onto a gruesome crime scene, the body all messed up.

"Yeah," Matsuda agreed, and his mouth twitched in disdain, his nose wrinkling at the thought. "Apparently, they'd heard that there was a ghost around here and wanted to find it, you know, kids stuff." Here, the dark-haired man sighed and glanced over at the body bag where Hamasaki was still writing on a notebook. "Instead, they found him." He paused for a moment. "Or at least that's what they said," he added.

Shinichi frowned at the possible insinuation. "It's as good an explanation as any. I mean, it's not like they killed the guy," he defended, nodding to the corpse. "He's been dead for a few days at least if the rate of decay is anything to go by... Not to mention, the girls are only fourteen or so. You don't really think they could've done it, do you?" He had seen them before he had made his way out here. From the redness of their eyes, it was clear they had been crying, and the two had looked absolutely petrified. There was no way they could've been involved. They looked like normal, teenage girls.

"You're probably right," Matsuda told him with a shrug, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. "But then, I stopped making assumptions by appearance a long time ago," he explained, eyes fixed on some point in the distance. "You should probably do the same."

Realizing that he had stumbled into a touchy subject, he nodded. "I'll keep that in mind..." Hastily changing the subject, Shinichi asked, "Can you believe the way the killer maimed the body?" Matsuda glanced over at the body bag. "Missing fingers and teeth – it seems like a lot of trouble to go through to keep someone's identity a secret."

"Maybe, but it sure is effective. Could be, the victim got in a few scratches – he looks like a fighter. So, the killer wanted to be sure we couldn't get his DNA... Though that doesn't explain the teeth." Matsuda frowned.

"Perhaps he was just trying to throw us off the trail?" Shinichi thought about the victim. He did look like he could put up a fight. Even though he had to be in his late-forties, he was sturdy and made Shinichi think he'd do well at boxing. However, the young officer didn't recall seeing any bruising on the body, or signs of a struggle at all come to think of it. So, it was unlikely that he'd fought his killer. 'Odd,' Shinichi thought... He shook his head at Matsuda. "Clearly, the killer's trying to prevent us from identifying the body for as long as possible. He doesn't want us to figure out who this is, so it's likely he knows the victim and wants to keep us from progressing. In other words, he's trying to cover his ass," he concluded, glancing over at the other man for confirmation.

Matsuda nodded. "Well, he did a good job for the time being... Still, those cuts were precise, clean."

"I'd be willing to bet he's a surgeon or someone who works closely with human anatomy. It's strange that he also cut off the clothing tags though. Most people wouldn't think of that as a means of identifying a body," Shinichi remarked.

"It does make you wonder what he did with them."

"With the tags?"

"No, well, I guess to an extent." Matsuda caught his eye. "I was talking about the fingers and teeth. They're not exactly easy to get rid of."

Shinichi tilted his head, brow furrowed. "You think he kept them?"

"He's obviously not sane, so I wouldn't put it past him. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened either." After a moment, he shook his head. "I guess what I'm actually saying is that I wonder if he ditched them anywhere near by... From the thoroughness here, I doubt it, but it's definitely worth keeping an eye out for. If we find them, that's our key to figuring out who did this and why."

"I guess..." Shinichi trailed off, unsure and a little queasy at the thought.

"So, any ideas on who he is?" Matsuda asked, referring to the victim.

"None yet," Shinichi admitted. "But, we'll figure it out soon. There has to be something that'll help us find out what happened here. There's always something." Matsuda huffed a little laugh, a wan smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "What is it?" Shinichi asked, frowning. Had he said something funny?

Matsuda waved him off dismissively. "It's nothing. You just reminded me of myself just then."

"Oh," he said, still unsure whether he should be offended or not. Shrugging it off for the time being, he said, "I'm here to tag the evidence, so I need to go get everything from the car. I just wanted to check things out first," the police officer explained, turning from the gruesome spectacle after Matsuda gave an understanding hum and heading away from the crime scene.

Although murders still happened in Tokyo – in a heavily populated region it was ridiculous to expect otherwise – usually they were crimes committed in the heat of the moment: angry husbands killing cheating wives, business deals gone wrong, drug addicts attempting robbery. Most of the time, they weren't too difficult to solve. It was all emotionally invested crimes these days. Crime had taken a dramatic dip a decade ago due to Kira. Even though his methods were detestable, it had actually been working regardless of how many would deny that. Before Kira's execution, the world had been changing, and now... Well, anyone could see the scar he had left on Japan, the world even. It was ridiculous to even try and deny the change that had taken place. Records couldn't be ignored after all. And because of Kira, they rarely saw planned murders any more. In the first few years after the mass murderer's death, crimes more serious than jay-walking and petty theft had remained stagnant. Only recently had greater crime cases began to rise.

However, something felt different about this new case. It made Shinichi want to watch over his shoulder. Something told him that, despite the hopes he had expressed to Matsuda, this case wouldn't go as smoothly as they wanted it to. Then again, maybe Shinichi was just getting paranoid after enjoying such a relaxed crime rate for so long.

He hoped that's all it was. And yet, he couldn't convince himself to believe it.

~}(3){~

Chief Shuichi Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off an oncoming headache for the third time that day alone. He had always been an easily frustrated man – even before his promotion to police chief. When a case stumped him, he was irritable and, at times, down-right grouchy even outside of work. Or so his wife Eriko told him. It was even worse if he was working on a case and his co-workers refused to take it as seriously as he was.

After becoming chief though ... Although he liked to believe he had mellowed in some areas, gained an understanding of people that he hadn't had before, the sheer amount of frustrations he had to deal with on a daily basis had compounded. Now, it wasn't just when he was stuck on a case. When – not if, when – his officers messed up or failed to solve a case, it cast the entire department in a negative light, and that was something that had to be avoided. Especially after all the bad press they had received over the Kira incident... It had been difficult to get used to the role of Police Chief when every move you made was scrutinized and picked apart, but he could deal with that..

The public, however, was another story entirely.

At times, Aizawa wondered how anyone could ever put up with all the bureaucratic nonsense. It was like dealing with a bunch of children. None of them knew what they actually needed, but all of them shouted for the things they wanted. And if Aizawa failed to deliver those things to them, they were very vocal about reminding him. Sometimes, he thought that everyone had forgotten what the police department was actually there for... All Aizawa wanted was to put away criminals and, at the risk of sounding cliche, make the world a better place. He had never expected to make Chief. Of course, it was always a hope. However, it had been more of a laughable passing thought than an actual possibility. Yet, here he was, and occasionally, he still wondered whether that was a good thing or not.

Running a weary hand over his face, he snatched the newspaper off his desk. The headline read: "The Surgeon Still Proves to Be Illusive." The Surgeon... That was what the press had taken to calling him – using him for simplicity sake as they had yet to determine the gender of this killer. The reasoning there was that, whoever the killer was, he used a very clinical approach to killing his victims, severing the fingers and pulling teeth with a morbid precision before ending their life with a single puncture to the lungs. Then there was the idea that he likely 'put his victims under' with some sort of 'anesthesia.' So, Aizawa supposed he could see why the name had taken off.

Two months had passed since the first murder, and since then, the police department had discovered another three bodies, all with the fingertips, teeth and any identifying marks removed. All unidentifiable. All within a months time of each other. They definitely had a serial killer on their hands, and now, he needed to do something about it before things got worse than they already were. At the site of the third body, they had thought they'd picked up a lead, a trail to follow in the form of a note with several addresses scribbled on it. However, the addresses had only led them to the fourth body. More stupefying than that, the coroner's examination revealed that the fourth victim found had been murdered before the third, meaning that the killer wanted them to find his work... Yet why was he so intent on hiding the identities then? Regardless, after that, the trail went cold. They had tried matching the victims' faces to anyone in the system, but no matches showed, and the force was left back where it started with this case.

They couldn't even form a link between the victims physically. When the first three bodies that showed up were male, they had assumed that was the common trait, and even though that was a pretty wide scope, it was at least a starting point. Then that theory was dashed by the discovery of the fourth, technically third, victim – a woman. At the moment, they had yet to find a factor that presented itself in all four victims. These murders... they were calculated, cold, clever, and completely mind boggling.

So far, dozens had called claiming to know one or all of the victims. A few had even called to confess to being the killer. Again, nothing had panned out. With no evidence and no place to start, what could they do?

Now though, the press was getting antsy.

Of course, he'd instructed his officers to keep things quiet. Aizawa reasoned that anyone who used such an elaborate method to kill people were aiming to gain the spotlight, and if the press sank their teeth into it, He knew it would take center stage. Kira had done it previously, and after his execution, there had been a series of riots. Years later, the department still received calls on occasion to break up meetings of his followers. They never arrested anyone, considering they weren't technically breaking the law. However, everyone agreed that it was best to prevent anything before it might happen. The last thing they needed was a bunch of psychos going on a murderous rampage. However, now he was off topic. The point was that Aizawa was hoping to avoid another spectacle like that.

Since they couldn't make any connections between the victims, the press hinted in their papers that the entire public was at risk and that the killer was just murdering targets at random, and finally, how the Police was getting no where in their investigation and perhaps Kira would have been able to stop such a monster. That helped smooth things along. Civilians never reacted rationally when told they were at risk. Every time the majority of them – Aizawa supposed a few level-headed people beside himself had to be roaming around the city – responded with mounting anger and panic, and every time, they looked to the department for answers. Answers he couldn't give at the moment.

It wasn't good for anyone.

Earlier that day, Aizawa had finally broken down and organized a press conference. It went as well as it would expect considering he didn't have anything to tell them. Yes, anyone in the public could potentially be targeted – though it was unlikely given the nature of these killings. No, they didn't have any suspects or leads for the moment but they were working tirelessly to find some as soon as possible. In the end, he had fed them a few bullshit lines that should've been common sense anyways. Stay indoors at night. Don't go through back alleys alone. Try to contact someone close to you if you must go off by yourself. Be wary of strangers. Really, it was text book stuff. He had wrapped it all up by reiterating that the department wouldn't rest until the case was solved and that they would solve it... Or something equally flowery. Aizawa had never been good at waxing poetic.

Needless to say, no one had really walked away from that press conference feeling satisfied.

The reporters hadn't bothered to contradict his closing statements this time, but how many more people had to die before they started blaming the department – before the public lost faith in them again... It had happened before, and he knew that, given time, it would happen again. Aizawa clenched his hand. The force was supposed to protect the people. Hell, Aizawa wanted to protect the people. That this murderer could just wander around the city as a free man and do whatever he wanted was like a slap in the face. Not to mention the sting of being unable to find out who these victims were.

You couldn't save a murder victim. However, there were two things you could do for them. First, you could catch their killer. Put them away. Stop it from happening to anyone else. Second, you could learn their story and let them rest in peace, give their loved ones a chance to mourn... It was a sign of respect, and everyone deserved at least that. Without a name, though, it was hard to do either. This was getting out of hand, the dark-haired man knew.

From what he could see, there was only one viable option at this point. It was time to compile a team to put on the case. Now, the question was who. Who would be the best and how many officers should he spare for it? In Aizawa's mind, it was best to find a small group of dedicated and skilled individuals rather than use the entire department. In fact, unless it was a crisis, it seemed downright idiotic to focus all of his men on one case. It wasn't like the other criminals had politely stepped back when these murders started. No, they still had other cases cropping up even if they weren't quite as pressing as this new one. Aizawa needed officers to deal with the rest of the city's problems, and as much as he might want to work this case himself, the Police Chief needed to handle other matters.

Huffing a sigh, he paged his secretary. With the immediacy for which he had hired her, the short dark haired woman hurried through the door. Dropping the newspaper on the desk, he said, "Akuda, bring Matsuda to my office, please. I need to speak with him." With a few words of agreement, his secretary bowed her head and strode out of the room, headed for her desk with quick purposeful steps.

When she had gone, Aizawa leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment, his exhaustion from dealing with this whole mess catching up to him. The Matsuda that Aizawa had first met years ago would not have been suited for the task of leading an investigation squad. However, that was years ago, and so much had changed since then. During their time together on the force, Matsuda had matured into a competent officer – one of the department's top now, if not the actual top. And yet he had somehow managed to keep the determination and temperament that made him Matsuda, the police chief thought with a wry smirk of amusement. Occasionally, Aizawa would see a flash of the young, bright eyed detective who was still new to the force, but now he was a seasoned officer. And those flashes were little more than echoes of memories.

Matsuda had grown into a veteran of the police, and Aizawa couldn't think of a more fitting person to lead the case.

The sound of the door opening brought him out of his reverie, and he leaned forward on to his elbows, resting his chin on his clasped hands. Flashing him an unapologetic grin and asking, "What did I do this time?" Matsuda strolled into the room, closing the door behind him with a thump, and dropped into the chair across from him. He relaxed into the chair, arms folded behind his head. Aizawa bit back a grin. Matsuda was the same as he'd always been.

Unable to keep the laughter out of his voice, Aizawa raised a hand haltingly. "No, you're not in trouble or anything."

Matsuda waved him off. "Alright then.. What is going on?"

"I'm assigning the 'Surgeon' cases to you," he revealed without preamble.

The dark-haired man nodded, more serious now than when he had first entered though Aizawa could tell that he was excited about being in charge of such a high-profile case. Matsuda placed his hands on his knees, leaning forward. "Alright. Where do you want me to start?"

Aizawa sighed through his nose as he considered the question. "First, you'll need a team. Pick two or three from the department." He paused a moment to think. "Use your own judgment, you can have whoever you need."

"Thank you." Matsuda nodded. Then after a pause, he said, "You look anxious about this, Aizawa... I can handle this. It's not the first time I've led a team, you know."

"Of course I know that, and that's not what's worrying me." Pressing his mouth into a thin line, he glanced down at the newspaper once again, rereading the title in his mind. "I wouldn't have picked you if I didn't think you were right for the job. The press is what worries me. You know as well as I do that they're watching this case like a bunch of vultures." Frowning, he added, "They're going to do everything they can to hinder this case, whether they realize they're doing it or not."

"Press is the last thing this case needs," his friend agreed, taking the newspaper from the desk and skimming over it, his eyes darkening as he read. "But," he continued, glancing back up to meet Aizawa's eyes, "We've dealt with them before, and we'll deal with them again... The only reason this case is getting so much coverage is because it's the first serial killing they've seen in nearly a decade."

Aizawa nodded. "Has it really been that long?" He trailed off.

"Since the Kira case." Matsuda replied bitterly, and they lapsed into a short silence at the return of unpleasant memories. "Sometimes, it feels like none of that actually happened. Almost like it was from some horror story. You have to admit we dealt with some pretty unbelievable things."

"You mean the Shinigami?"

Matsuda snorted. "Those too, but I was actually referring to L," he clarified.

"I guess I have to give you that one," Aizawa conceded. "He was completely different from what any of us were expecting."

"Looking back, I'm not sure what we had been expecting. Someone that intelligent... There's no way he could've been normal let alone from the same planet as us." The two fell into an easy silence this time, and though there had been far more bad than good, Aizawa knew that he was glad there was someone like L out in the world – even if they had ended up disagreeing on just about everything. "I wonder where he is now."

"I've gotta believe he's still solving crimes, somewhere. There's no way he could stop working. I haven't heard anything from or about him since he disappeared after the case," Aizawa told him, shrugging one shoulder.

Matsuda's brow furrowed. "I guess the name had too much baggage for him."

Aizawa nodded. "That, and all things considered, the public would panic if they heard about L involving himself in another case. His name would speak volumes about the severity of the it after someone like him worked in the Kira Case."

"Fair enough."

"You know, my oldest just wrote a school report on him." A proud smile lit up Aizawa's face.

"Really?" Matsuda asked and smiled, inviting him to continue.

"Yeah, you've been spending too much time around her, filling her head with stories about him," he accused, shaking his head. "Anyways, she asked me a bunch of questions about him. I told her what I could without giving anything away. Now, she tells me she wants to be a detective." He directed a pointed look at Matsuda. "I hope you intend to explain to her that it's not all shootouts and eccentric geniuses."

Matsuda shrugged. "Like father, like daughter." Then he grinned again. "What can I say? Kid's got a knack for convincing me to talk about it."

Returning to their previous topic with a roll of his eyes, Aizawa shook his head. After another moment, his expression sobered, and he remarked, "Everything's so different from back then."

"There's only a handful of us left who worked at the department before it all happened," Matsuda agreed.

Aizawa snorted. "We're the dinosaurs of the department at this point." The two fell into a comfortable silence, both lost to their own thoughts.

Was there anything else?" Matsuda finally asked.

Aizawa shook his head, watching as Matsuda stood and turned to the door. "Actually... Matsuda?" He waited for his friend to turn around, "Be careful."

Matsuda nodded. "I'll stop this bastard."

~}( To Be Continued ){~

A/N: Alrighty! And there you have it! Now, we've finally set up the actual storyline for this fic. I'd love to hear any thoughts you have on what might go on if any.

I wanna also give a MAJOR thanks to everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed this story so far. It's a huge inspiration, and I'm really thankful you have all been enjoying it.

See you next week!

ONWARD!

-Alyssa