Every human has a name.


Two Hours Later

A piercing ray of light shone through the translucent window, striking a man sitting before a set of monitors. He swiveled his neck to see the source of the beam peaking over the horizon and turned back to face his computer. More light pooled around him, confining the man within the blinding spotlight.

The man picked up his cup of tea, allowing the light to illuminate the liquid a bright scarlet red. He turned on the speakers. Immediately, a voice spoke out.

"Good morning, Master L. I'm sure that you've heard about the incident in California last night."

He set down his cup of tea and turned on the microphone.

"Yes. I've received the material you sent me."

"Have you come to any conclusions, Master L?"

"Surprisingly, I have, thanks to a clue I believe was left intentionally." He opened up a picture that featured a slip of paper with a series of poorly written letters. "According to Miss Misora during her investigation in LA a year ago, the killer had left behind a series of Roman numerals after the murder of Believe Bridesmaid as a lead to the next victim. When translated, the Roman numerals reveal a sequence of numbers that exactly match the one left in the hand of an officer who suffocated to death in a car crash a few miles from the prison."

The man took another sip of tea. "The man who drove in the car did not suffocate from the airbags, rather surprisingly, he strangled himself to death prior to the car accident. No sign of the man struggling was seen in the car, unlike most people when suffocating."

"Do you suspect him, Master L?"

"There isn't substantial evidence to suspect him yet. Nevertheless, he is the only escapee who left any trace of his existence after the incident. Also, the chances that someone has knowledge of this number sequence is low. Say, around 0.1 percent. For now, I will ignore this possibility."

More tea. "With no leads on "who", we must attempt to answer the question "how?". If the prisoners rallied and made the escape effort together, that would explain their disappearance and their ability to murder eight patrol teams in less than 2 hours." He loaded up another report.

"However, the patrol paths of all eight patrol squads were designed to leave no blind spots within the prison campus. Even if we were to assume that, perhaps, the patrol teams were not following protocol during those two hours, it would be impossible to take out all eight teams before one realized the situation, especially the team located on the watchtowers. This is further supported by the fact that nothing close to being a potential weapon was found during cell searches throughout the past six months. In addition, we know that this was not the case, as no signs of struggle were found anywhere on the prison campus." The man quickly scribbled down his ideas and continued speaking into the microphone.

"This leads my next idea. According to every report I've received so far, every officer who died on campus during those two hours died from some form of suicide like the man in that car; no evidence of any external forces causing this was found. A possibility for this could be the result of an elaborate staging by the missing inmates, but the amount of time required would be ridiculous in order to reach this level of detail. Security camera footage would have confirmed or disproved this argument completely, but whoever destroyed the camera systems had enough foresight to prevent me to actually see how the officers died."

"One piece of evidence, however, completely invalidates this possibility, the one I find the most disturbing. The officers manning the watchtowers suffered the same fate as their colleagues even though the watchtowers' doors were never opened during the two hours. All of them died by their own hands in some disturbing way. It's almost as if..."

The man took another sip of tea.

"As if what, Master L?"

He unceremoniously set the cup down, sending little drops of brown liquid staining his white shirt.

"...as if the killer didn't need to be present at the victim's location to kill."

"Kira...it seems you can kill people without being there in person."

"You believe that Kira was the perpetrator, Master L?"

The man scribbled once again onto the sheet of paper. "Possibly, but I cannot think of any reason as to why Kira would decide to help a hundred inmates at a Californian prison escape. What troubles me more is that he is among the missing inmates, which makes the likelihood of Kira knowing about his connection to me very high."

He nibbled his thumb as he clicked through the reports. "Fortunately, I willing to treat this possibility the same as the likelihood of a copycat." He opened up a file and scrolled further. "Yet, none of the officers died from heart attacks. If we were to assume that Kira could also control the cause of death..." The man drew a few diagrams and scribbled a few words down.

"...then the assumption that Kira is the culprit is very likely to be correct so far. He destroyed the camera system to prevent me from seeing how he kills, he manipulated lightning into striking the technician as...I suppose...a cause of death, he forced the officers to kill themselves, and he caused the one car to crash."

The man took out his eighth sugar cube and held it between his fingers.

"According to the prison however, the shifts of the patrol teams are determined during the evening before. Kira, based on our current observations, is a student living in Japan." The man started to fiddle with the sugar cube. "While he does probably have a connection with the Japanese police, how would he have gained access to information orally transmitted between and only between law officials?"

The sugar cube spun faster. "Therefore, I conclude that Kira is not the killer. In fact, I believe- no, I am certain that Kira probably has no awareness of this incident at all. On the other hand, we can now assume that Kira's power allows him to control the cause of the deaths."

The cube was now a blur in the man's hand. "Before I finish, there is something odd that I have noticed during my investigation. During the days before the incident, the number of Kira victims in the prison-in-question increased substantially, causing me to suspect Kira in the first place. In addition, the murders were similar to how Kira killed in the early days of the investigation, but in a less "cleaner" way. As if he was experimenting again."

"That is all for now, Watari."

"I will send you more once a thorough police search is completed."

Click.

A swift pinch sent clouds of white dust quietly drifting into the the murky pool of darkness.

Could it be... that Kira's power has manifested itself in another?...

He took a third sip of tea.

...B?

It tasted bitter. The man gazed out the window at the sun, rising above the mountains to flood the city below with its blood.

A crimson sunrise.


"Why do humans want to live in those tiny things?" The shinigami raised up a fat finger at the shabby, worn-down apartments that towered over both sides of the filthy alley the two were passing through. Beyond paid no attention to the creature behind him as he continued to walk forward, hunched over and half-smiling.

"Hey, what's wrong with you? You've ignored me for the last hour and a half!"

The narrow alleyway gradually opened up until it led to a poorly lit parking lot overshadowed by dense trees. The parking lines were so faded that it was practically indistinguishable from the dark, cracking cement. A sole, gray van sat in the darkest corner, cloaked by the darkness of the night. The broken lights casted long shadows from the ground beneath Beyond's feet across the lot, constantly appeared and disappeared out of existence. He gestured at the dark reflections and then at the ground below the hovering shinigami with a silent sneer.

The shinigami watched Beyond crawl underneath the car. "Ooohh...I see."

A loud, metallic crash came out from underneath the car, followed by Beyond, who held a small key in his hand with a grin. "It's quite a surprise that the police haven't towed away this car, considering the fact that its registration sticker is expired by two years." He opened up the driver's door and shoved the jar of jam into the darkness, crawling after it. The shinigami followed suit, squeezing into the van's interior and getting stuck in an uncomfortable position.

"I never got this...why did you leave that note behind if you killed off all those humans back at the prison to cover up your trail? And what was up with the wiping stuff?"

Beyond crunched on his thumbnail as he groped around in the darkness, searching for the light switch. "What would happen if the LAPD knew that the Wara Ningyo killer murdered hundreds of officers in a 2-hour timespan? Would I even last a night in a game of hide and seek against possibly the entire U.S. miitary, every law enforcement agency, and..." He cackled at the idea. "No, shinigami. I will have been shot seventeen times before I could even raise the pen."

"Yeah, you're right, I guess."

He clicked the light switch on the ceiling, flooding the small space with light. A small laptop sat in the far left corner on the black carpet next to a couple bags filled with various grocery items. At the farthest end of the van laid dozens of empty glass jars, some crusty from the drops of jam left over. To Beyond's right laid a couple spare pieces of clothing, some worn out and some looking as if they were just bought from a store.

With an unnaturally wide smile, Beyond said, "As for the little clue I left behind...a game wouldn't be fun if no one knows that they're playing." He crouched in front of the laptop and powered it on.

What have you been up to for the last sixteen months, Naomi Misora?


When Beyond first encountered L's representative on that fateful day, he had tirelessly obtained a list of every FBI agent currently employed in the FBI, along with Naomi Misora's FBI profile, including her accomplishments and personal information in order to better understand her level of intellect.

Now, to Beyond, this list seemed to most logical place to begin his search. Beyond opened up the page and began to scroll down.

T. Misker...

C. Mismering...

P. Misnil...

K. Misqure.

The shinigami, with one of its left hands hovering over the laptop screen, made an "O" shape with its gigantic mouth. "It seems like your human is missing...huh."

CRUNCH

A dull fingernail fell unceremoniously onto the van's floor, followed by a few crimson drops of blood that splattered around the fingernail, speckling it with dark red dots. The pain caused Beyond to lose his balance in his crouch, falling through the shinigami and splattering more blood around the enclosure.

He narrowed his eyes. "Unhhh..."

He sat back up and slowly scrolled through the list one more time, eyeing the names closely in case he somehow missed it on his first try.

Are you dead, Misora bitch?

Beyond loaded up a photo of Naomi Misora, who's bright, red name and lifespan still floated over her head, just like how they did at their first meeting a year ago.

"No...?"

So you left the FBI...?

He stood up and took out a makeup kit from underneath the floor mat and slapped on a pair of gloves. The shinigami stretched its arm closer to inspect the new mysterious artifact he had yet to understand.

You will die, Misora bitch. Soon. Very soon.

"It seems that we will have to stay here for a little longer than I anticipated, shinigami."


5837861

Beyond walked past a group of college students, chatting and laughing as they took large swigs of beer.

67946

A couple shouted and cursed at each other across the road, the man's face filled with fury and the woman's face plastered with disbelief. He paid them no attention.

4567878

A bright convenience store illuminated Beyond as he shuffled past. A nervous man, obviously a shoplifter, took a couple of quick glances to his surroundings and took off.

3456866

He saw men, but he didn't see them.

7856467

For his focus was entirely directed on the numbers amidst the red sea.

687645

Red numbers.

567872

Red numbers.

6787654

The truth.

Beyond's gaze fell upon a young woman dressed in a white turtleneck jacket and grey slacks hurrying down the street, attempting to draw minimal attention to herself.

He grinned. A very wide grin.


Red.

All he could see was red. He looked at his knife with wide eyes, almost glowing under the dim street lights. It was red. A drop of blood slid off the blade, plummeting into the sewer. It was red.

The woman's jacket was red.

The sky was red.

Red.

Huff.

Huff.

Suddenly, the red vanished. The shinigami looked on with hands outstretched, curious.

"Wow... so that's how humans kill one another-"

"No."

The shinigami scratched its head. "Well, she's dead because you did... whatever that was."

With a few strokes, Beyond took the purse off of the corpse's shoulders and began to rummage through it. "I didn't kill her, shinigami. She died."

"I don't get it."

"Her lifespan stated that she will die at 3:02 today. One minute ago."

The shinigami frowned.

"But you still killed that human."

Beyond pulled out a couple of paper bills and stared at them with blood-red eyes piercing through the shadows covering his eyes. "Men attempt to flee from the horrifying truth when it floats right above their heads." Clouds of redness danced in his eyes. "Every second in this world reminds me that nobody, no matter what they do, can run away." A smile grew on his face as he turned around to face the shinigami.

"So I don't. I don't run, because everyone will die regardless." He looked up. "If you insist on calling my virtues "killing", then I suppose that I am killing people. I like killing. It makes me very happy."

Well, that didn't clarify anything.

Beyond flicked his wrist sharply, sending the remaining blood that coated the dagger flying everywhere, and slid the knife and the stolen money into his pocket. In a barely audible voice, he whispered:

"I always wondered how Misora bitch would die. Now, I've got a pretty good clue."

He walked away laughing hysterically into the night.


"Is this all, Mr. Bailey? You should try out the rasberry-pineapple jam they stocked in last week! The look on Mr. Brown's face when he saw the new products was priceless!"

Beyond faced the woman at the cash register and grinned. "Strawberry tastes just fine." The girl grinned back and looked down.

Katie Hopkins

664793

He had met her during his first days in LA while aimlessly wandering around the city. Befriending this energetic and innocent woman proved to be incredibly useful later on, as she would swipe makeup tools, gloves, and knife sharpening kits through the scanner without asking awkward questions. She probably thought Beyond was some sort of artist, or some kind of secret agent. A secret agent who was in love with strawberry jam. Unaware that the very items she was selling to his man was being used to conceal the serial killer who stood before her.

While the woman was busy placing his groceries in his bag, Beyond watched the shinigami inspect every little item in the story, poking and prodding around and gasping like a child in a toy store.

"Mr. Bailey, here's your stuff. Come back soon! Maybe a mad scientist will concoct a new condiment the next time you come!" She waved and smiled widely as Beyond grabbed his stuff. His eyes momentarily focused on the string of numbers bobbing up and down above the girl's head.

January 2nd, 2004. 11:29. He wondered why he never noticed that before.

"Why? Why are you do this?"

But she didn't look back.

Because he already knew the answer.

Because there is no running away.

Beyond shook the long-forgotten memory out of his head as he walked out of the building, the shinigami close in-tow.

She waved and smiled.


18:13

Raye Penber observed waves of people rocked back and forth, flowing in and out of the tight trains and up and down the stairs. Everywhere, people hurried to their respective destinations, eager to rest after a long day.

He had just finished his last day monitoring the boy whom L had ordered him to. After a week of observing, recording, and more observation, he was finally done. Once he was back with Naomi, he would have to face a far greater terror than Kira.

Meeting his hopefully-soon-to-be parents-in-law.

The very thought made him shudder, and he chuckled. Soon, his days of putting his life on the line would be over, and he would devote the rest of it to building a family with his fiancee. Maybe he should get off the field and go into a less extreme department, like forensics.

He couldn't do forensics.

"Mr. Raye Penber."

What?!

It wasn't any of the FBI agents - he knew all of their voices by heart - Naomi's parents? Even Naomi only knew as much as Raye had been willing to disclose during their conversations at home, and he never mentioned the station he planned to board the metro nor the time he planned to head home. He began to turn around to see who else on Earth would know his name, much less his whereabouts, and instinctively reached for his gun.

"I'll kill you if you turn around."

His eyes widened as he gasped in disbelief.

"I am Kira."


It is impossible to alter the date of death without the usage of a Death Note.