Chapter Eight: Executed

When Mogi and Matsuda arrived back at the NPA headquarters, they headed straight for Aizawa's office.

"I hope he's in here," Matsuda thought, "I kinda thought he'd be waiting for us."

But when they came to Aizawa's office, the door was closed. Mogi knocked, and a moment later, the door opened, to reveal none other than Naoki.

"What are you doing in there?" Matsuda blurted.

"Crowd control," Naoki said, "Or rather…Chief control. He's crazy upset."

"What happened?" Mogi asked.

"Hey, I don't know. I just found a package addressed to the Kira Investigation Team. That's you guys, right?"

Matsuda nodded.

"Thought so," Naoki said, "So, I brought it to Aizawa, and he freaked."

"What is it?" Matsuda asked, "Let us in the stupid room!"

"Okay," Naoki said, "What's going on, anyway?"

"Ide's missing," Matsuda said, shoving past Naoki. He would later regret his behavior, but all the stress way getting to him.

Aizawa was sitting in his chair, staring out the window. A package lay on the desk behind him.

"Did you open it?" Mogi asked.

"No," Aizawa said, "I was waiting for you."

"The Kira Investigation Team," Matsuda said, "That's means Ide too, right? So he must be okay."

"I don't think so," Aizawa said, still looking away. "This was attached."

He swiveled his chair around, and handed Mogi a crumpled piece of paper. Matsuda peered over Mogi's shoulder, trying to see, without success, until the other man read the note aloud.

To Shuichi Aizawa, Kanzo Mogi, and Touta Matsuda,

Yes, I know who you are. Now, read this closely. This package contains information about your friend Hideki Ide. All the footage on the tape took place earlier today. Open the package…or you will all die without ever knowing what happened to Ide.

Matsuda gulped.

"That sounds bad."

"Yeah, that's what I said," Aizawa replied.

"We have to open it," Mogi said.

Aizawa stared at the package in utter hatred.

"I want to burn it," he muttered.

"We can't do that without knowing," Mogi said. Then he opened the package. Inside was a video tape.


Naoki leaned against the wall, watching Aizawa, Mogi, and Matsuda, while they watched the tape. It was odd that they hadn't noticed he was still there. Even odder that they hadn't sent him away. But maybe that was good. Maybe, since he wasn't so personally involved in the events playing out on the video, he could help keep them calm. But the young man couldn't help but feel horrified after he saw that video. He couldn't just sit there and not care.

At first, the screen was black, and so it remained, as someone began to speak. It was obviously a disguised voice, too squeaky to belong to a normal human.

"Members of the Kira Investigation Team. I'm sure you're wondering where your friend Ide is by this time. Well, let me show you."

The screen changed from black to an image of a room in what looked like an abandoned building. The only people who could be seen were two masked men…and Ide. He looked terrible…and sort of…desperate? Hopeless? It was hard to tell. He was tied to a chair, and appeared to be completely oblivious to the presence of his captors.

Then, the voice spoke again, as a third masked man appeared.

"Hideki Ide. I suppose you want to know why you are here."

Ide raised his head.

"I couldn't care less."

"It doesn't really matter," the voice said, unperturbed, "Your fate will be the same anyway."

The masked man turned and gestured to the other men.

"You may proceed," he said, and walked away, leaving a clear view for the observers. A clear view for them to watch as these men- men who they could not even identify to punish for their crime-raised their guns and shot Ide in the chest. Once, twice, three times, and the chair he was tied to fell backward. The fall and the shots to his chest had probably loosened the rope. But it was too late for Ide. And Aizawa, Mogi, and Matsuda could only watch as he died. And even though they knew it was too late, that somewhere, in some abandoned building, Ide was already dead, Matsuda had his hand on his gun. As if it would do any good. Because either way, with three bullets to his heart, Hideki Ide was already dead.

But what they didn't know, what they would never know, was that Ide had tried to say something. He had needed to say something, but he couldn't. Even the men who had shot him down didn't hear him whispering.

"Aizawa…I'm…sorry…"


Aizawa, Mogi, and Matsuda stared at the screen, trying to process what had happened. There was complete silence, while whatever camera had recorded Ide's death lingered on his body. Then, even though the screen still displayed the same image, the voice was speaking again.

"This is justice. I'm sure you don't agree, but this is. Kira was justice, and one of you killed Kira. You know who you are. Whether or not you choose to reveal yourself makes no difference. But be assured, one of you will be next. The penalty for killing a god-a just god-is death."


The moment the video ended, everyone in the room went completely berserk, with the exception of Naoki, who was completely shocked.

Matsuda jumped up, screaming at the screen, telling it that Kira was most definitely not a god, and not justice, and how could they kill an innocent person? When he stopped, he was crying, and he kept on repeating something over and over.

"It's my fault, it's all my fault. I'm sorry, Ide. I didn't know…I didn't think anyone would try to kill us now…"

Mogi was the first to recover from the initial shock, and when he did, he crouched in front of Matsuda, who was sitting on Aizawa's desk.

"Matsu, it's not your fault."

"It is too!" Matsuda shrieked, "It's my own stupid fault!"

"Ssh," Mogi said, "Ssh."

Under ordinary circumstances, the sight of the awkward Mogi trying to comfort Matsuda would have been ridiculous. But it wasn't. Nothing was funny right now, and Naoki knew it. He hadn't known Ide personally, but he had still been a person.

Finally, Matsuda stopped crying and climbed off the desk, where he sank onto the floor. Mogi looked up, and saw Aizawa still sitting in his chair, staring at the blank screen. And he was crying, without making a sound.