Mogi
Showing no more emotion than usual, Near studied me, unblinking and refusing to miss anything, and I gazed back at him, trying to clear my vision as I pressed the ice pack Lidner had brought me against the back of my skull. In the darkened room, with only the natural light of evening filtering through the curtained windows, he looked like a small ghost crouching on the floor, all white, with eyes like wells of ink.
After what had happened, we'd had no choice but to check into a hotel, but for all his collectedness, Near had dismissed the others as soon as we'd reached the suite. He must have something vital to say to me.
All my attention should be focused on this meeting, but my mind kept wandering, attempting to make sense of the day's events.
I can't believe Matsuda hit me.
In my entire life, I couldn't recall ever seeing him hit anyone for any reason. Of course not. Civilized people solved problems with words, and Matsuda was nothing if not civilized, with his expensive haircut, perfectly manicured nails and suits he couldn't really afford, the type who'd be reluctant to hit anyone if only because he didn't want to get blood on his shoes.
That isn't the point, I reminded myself, but the thoughts all felt foggy, and my head throbbed, though Lidner insisted it didn't seem to be badly injured. I hadn't quite lost consciousness, and I'd likely sustained only a mild concussion.
Near spoke at last, quiet voice filling the room and making my ears ring. "I'm sure it isn't lost on you how very serious this is."
"No," I agreed, equally soft, though I was still scrambling to grasp the true nature of the situation. Matsuda had taken the notebook. Rester and Gevanni tried to rescue it while Lidner and I were down, but according to them, Matsuda had escaped into a helicopter, and they hadn't been able to follow him.
Just now, it felt too much like an action film for me to really get my mind around the details—like how Matsuda of all people had evaded Commander Rester, or who was flying the helicopter in the first place.
Hazily, I remembered the wire he'd been wearing. I'd assumed it must be Aizawa and Ide on the other end. Perhaps, though, it had been a more clandestine party.
But why would he hit me?
Matsuda wasn't like Ide, who had a habit of hitting people's shoulders out of playfulness, annoyance, or frustration. Any time I'd seen him punch Matsuda, Matsu only ever whined and rubbed his arm, not even seeming to think of hitting back.
And again, Ide, if he became too hyped up on sugar, adrenaline, or high spirits, tended to start scuffles. To this day, if he pushed him—really pushed him—he could get Aizawa to exchange a few mock blows with him, just until Aizawa remembered his age and rank. In order to keep fit, they did still occasionally visit the training dojo, but that may have changed since Aizawa's promotion. Matsuda, though, as far as I'd seen, couldn't be coerced into such rough play, and Ide had often sneered that it was because he'd grown up without any brothers, though Matsuda insisted he'd been in martial arts club as a teenager and…
All of that is neither here nor there.
Near sighed, and I realized we'd been sitting in silence for a very long time. "As a member of my team, you swore to protect the notebook at any cost."
"I did." I rubbed my forehead, finding that the pain had expanded from the base of my skull all the way to the pits of my eyes, with no sign of wearing off, and frankly, I didn't expect it to. He hadn't simply struck me, he'd pistol whipped me.
During the Reaper case, he'd gotten into a fist fight or two, but, for the most part, his instincts for violence, even as a measure of defense, were dull.
Of course, he could, I had no doubt. Aizawa had told us how Matsuda tried to beat the life out of Akki Toyoshi during their final showdown, but that was a matter of survival, following a saga of psychological and emotional torment.
None of that answers the question of why.
"Not only did you fail to protect the notebook," Near explained, "you actively prevented Rester and Gevanni from taking action."
That hadn't been my intention at the time, but it had been the result.
"They would have shot him," I murmured.
Near nodded. "As part of their duty to protect the notebook. Do you mean you allowed emotions to interfere with your own duty?"
Stepping between Rester and Matsuda had been more reactionary than anything, and, at the time, I'd merely thought there was no call to shoot him. But now that seemed stupid.
Not only did he steal the notebook, he'd attacked Lidner, he'd taken her weapon, and, prone to violence or not, Matsuda with a gun was one of the most dangerous things I'd ever seen, insofar as he was capable of incredible crack shots; instinctive, raw, and operating on muscle memories built over years of honing that skill, possessing such levels of speed and precision, he could have killed most of us while we were still reeling.
Getting in the way must have been an emotional reaction.
Rester could have outgunned him, for all I know, and then Matsuda would be dead.
"It's just that," I blurted out, "he's Matsuda…" but I barely understood the words, and I assumed they must have been born out of the pain in my head and the haziness of my thoughts.
Matsuda could never really hurt anyone… Well, one or two special instances aside. He was so small and scattered and jumpy. He didn't have the capacity for cold-blooded murder.
You know that's not true.
Once, Aizawa had even confessed to me how afraid he was to accidentally push Matsuda to become a killer.
He isn't, though.
"I see," Near mused. "You feel protective of him."
"I…" I faltered, thinking that I never would have described it that way myself, but it wasn't untrue either. "I suppose… I must."
After all, why not? He'd been injured. When I met him in the road, he was angry and in clear distress. Someone had kidnapped him and done horrible things to him—things he could hardly remember or stand to think about—and besides, ever since he'd shot Light, he'd been so far off the rails, so unequivocally reckless, and at risk, it would be strange to not feel at least a little protective of him.
"Do you think," Near wondered, plucking at his hair, "Chief Aizawa knows you feel that way?"
If anyone was truly protective of Matsuda, it was Aizawa, and overbearingly so. In all likelihood, that sentiment had existed for some time, but I'd watched it grow more and more persistent ever since we'd found Light's corpse. Matsu fell apart, Aizawa jumped in out of instinct, and there was no return from that awkward, almost maladjusted relationship they'd built following the Kira case.
Ide, too, felt that way, though he hid it best. Being comparatively logical, he'd insisted there was no sense in worrying ourselves sick over a coworker, but then, adversely, Matsuda was more than a coworker to Ide. Even before Kira died, they'd had a more personal relationship, constructed out of a shared enthusiasm for going out to lunch nearly every day and Ide's better-balanced sense of humor and social skills, which Aizawa and I lacked. Obsessed with appearances, though, he rarely let on to his true feelings for even the people he felt closest to.
I'd seen worry on his face, from time to time, when he thought no one was paying attention, and I suspected his sentiments toward Matsuda were even brotherly.
Mine were also, I supposed, if I had to label it, and I'd felt that way a long time. In fact, days when I hadn't thought much of him were fuzzy to me now, and, always, if I bothered to consider it, I found myself pondering the night he'd infiltrated Yotsuba by himself.
Chief Yagami had hidden his concerns, carefully, but I'd known him well enough to detect them. More distinctly than that, even, I remembered standing on that balcony, waiting to catch him with the mattress, and the feeling of my heart riding in my throat.
There'd been very little time for reflection, but I did recall mulling over that Matsuda had achieved an odd type of friendship with me, in that, he spoke casually to me, and yet still made me feel unexpectedly special, without showing any hint of jealousy or resentment. On the contrary, he always made me laugh, drawing me out of pessimistic thoughts, and he made me feel as though my being on the task force mattered, not because I was such a good detective, but because I was me, and, evidently, he liked me.
That was the night I'd first realized and admitted to myself that losing Matsuda would rip a hole in my life.
"Mogi," Near prompted, though he almost never disrupted my train of thought on purpose.
"Yes," I said finally. "I'm sure Aizawa knows I would do anything in my power to protect Matsuda."
Obviously, he must, otherwise he would have been much more reluctant to let Matsuda out of his sight with no one to back him up but me. The four of us trusted each other.
Near studied me a moment longer and then announced, "Then it appears you've been betrayed."
Not understanding, I blinked my burning eyes at him, wondering if the blow to the head might have muddled my thinking.
We trust each other. Matsuda would never hit me.
After six years of noticing the admiration in his eyes when he spoke to me, the eager way he'd always welcomed me back to HQ, the slow days spent listening to him ramble, confiding his hopes and fears in me, and the long nights that had found him, exhausted and passed out next to me on the couch, it seemed impossible that he'd want to hurt me.
Surely there's some mistake.
"I don't understand, sir," I admitted, after enduring another long, expectant look.
"I think it's obvious Chief Aizawa sent Mr. Matsuda to take the notebook."
Dumbfounded, I nearly dropped my ice pack, and instead wound up placing it on my knee, where the cold immediately began melting into my slacks. "Near… That is more unlikely than you even realize."
"What other explanation can there be for what just happened?"
"Aizawa would never send Matsuda for something like that…" I rubbed my bruised head and then checked my fingers for blood.
He did hit me. There's no way around that.
How unlike him.
Remembering how scared he'd been made it difficult to believe as well, but then, Aizawa sending Matsuda in with a wire didn't exactly profess trust in me. Matsuda had said it was a precaution in case anything went wrong, but what exactly did Aizawa expect to go wrong?
"I've known Aizawa more than fifteen years—there's no reason for him to want the death note."
"No," Near agreed, "but Chief Aizawa is merely a cog in the NPA machine now, a man who follows orders; trusting him and trusting the police is not the same thing." He cocked his head to level an analytical, black eye on me. "You know how the NPA has behaved in the past when it comes to Kira."
Conflicted, I sat a while, turning the ice pack over in my hand. Stubborn to no end, Aizawa would never compromise the notebook even if he was commanded to, but then I couldn't say with one hundred percent certainty that Aizawa was insusceptible to corruption, coercion, and black mail.
Even if he had been black mailed, though, Ide and Matsuda wouldn't help him steal the death note… Would they?
Suddenly, it did seem suspicious, more so than ever, that Matsuda had been kidnapped and that Aizawa had seen fit not to inform me; it seemed suspicious that they'd contacted me so abruptly to warn that the death note might be compromised. Now the death note was gone.
Matsuda admitted that the criminals who abducted him could try to use him against me.
Did that very thing happen under my nose this afternoon?
As much as I might want to deny it, Matsuda—and therefore Aizawa—was responsible.
"Rester mentioned a helicopter," I said faintly, licking my dry lips. "Do we know who was on it?"
"Specifically, no. Judging by the way things played out, though—criminals. Possibly the same criminals who abducted Mr. Matsuda in the first place."
"Then you believe he really was abducted?"
Near didn't so much as incline his head one way or the other. "At this point, I need much more information." His eyes narrowed. "My primary concern for now is to determine whether or not you were involved in the operation."
"M-me?" I stammered.
"You vouched for them," he reminded me coolly, "and in the end, you did help them take the notebook from me."
Astonished, I could do nothing but stare. Convincing Near to trust them hadn't been especially difficult since, as he'd pointed out, we'd all worked together to bring Kira to justice. To some extent, he'd trusted them without my affirmation, and it wasn't like him to assign blame so readily.
"Near…" I said finally, "if I erred in judgment, it was only out of emotions. As I said. Lingering feelings of loyalty toward a man I worked with—"
"Protecting the notebook from criminal hands takes precedence over everything else," he cut in, and I didn't think I'd ever heard him interrupt before. "Now, thanks to your misplaced loyalty, criminals have the notebook, and I have no doubt they intend to use it to advance their own agenda."
"We'll retrieve it," I said automatically. "Whoever these people are, they're not Light Yagami. Getting it back shouldn't be difficult."
"No, I doubt it will. I expect the NPA should be able to handle it, seeing how they may even be working with the criminals."
"I don't think they are."
"I'm not inclined to trust your judgments at this particular time." He got up from the floor, and despite the difference in our sizes, I felt very small just then.
"You can trust me," I assured him. "I'm not involved in any plot to misuse the death note."
Black eyes stared me down with unrelenting scrutiny.
"Please believe me."
"Then you want to fix this?"
"Yes. Yes, I'll do whatever it takes to fix it."
Near nodded slowly. "I do believe that." He looked out the window, pulling and twisting his hair more aggressively than normal. "The NPA will either pursue the criminals, or they'll lead you to them. Given your touching loyalty to Aizawa and his men, I have no doubt they'll let you join them."
The unforgiving iciness in his voice took my breath away, and though I opened my mouth, no words came out.
"If you want to regain my trust, in the meantime, you'd better get the notebook back, and bring it to me." This time, the look he leveled on me was almost fierce. "If not, I don't want to see you back here again."
I drew a deep breath. "Near—"
"That's all I have to say."
A while longer, I sat, wanting to protest, knowing it would do no good, and then I got up as well, practically stumbling out of the room in a daze. Rester and the others were gathered in the hall, listening despite what they'd been told, and the three of them stared at me, but I only paused a moment before shambling on my way.
Aizawa… I thought, as I wandered out into the twilight, barely thinking of where I should go. You…complete jackass… If you betrayed me…
Even if he had, what could I do? There was no going against an NPA chief. And unless I could get the notebook back, somehow, my job was lost, leaving me horribly displaced.
Anger began to grow in me as I walked. I'd left my entire life behind to join Near. The only people I hadn't cut off completely had been my old taskforce colleagues, but I never would have expected that to be a mistake. I never would have thought Aizawa would use my connection to Near against me. And to use Matsuda to do it…
On the night he'd jumped from the balcony, neither the chief nor I had managed to admit out loud how relieved we felt at having him back safely—neither of us had ever been good at such things—but I'd put my hand on his shoulder, momentarily. I'd never forgotten the way his round, hazelnut eyes had stared up at me, startled, or the small, pleased way he'd smiled. I'd never forgotten how shakily he'd laughed, "I'm all right."
That night, without words or grandeur, I'd shown him he meant something to me.
Now, as I rubbed the back of my wounded head, I couldn't help wondering, did he even realize what he was doing? He must have. Originally, Aizawa had expected to walk into the yellow box in person and take the notebook by his own hand, but when he'd learned he wasn't allowed, he must have instructed Matsuda to do it. He'd known I wouldn't let the kid get hurt.
That's very low…
This was the man I'd once called captain and chief.
No point in questioning Ide's interests. He had his sense of justice, yes, but he was an underachiever, comparatively, who craved an easy life filled with plenty of free time to pursue his varied interests. He'd been piggybacking off Aizawa since the day I'd met him, confident that slow and steady Shuichi would eventually make his way to success, self-entitled to his friend's victory. Aizawa wouldn't have to try very hard to convince him to join him in this venture, and since Ide believed in his partner more than he believed in anything else in existence, he'd defend him to the hilt and enforce whatever he said as law.
And Matsuda. Of course, he'd do whatever Aizawa told him; even if it was only on the basis of the flimsiest reasoning, he'd never disobey his chief, and he'd have no reason to distrust Aizawa. He'd known what he was doing.
Stomach turning, I remembered the horrible look on his face as he'd beaten Lidner down and stolen her weapon. Oh, yes, he'd known exactly what he was doing, and he'd been committed to it. He'd wanted to take the notebook.
Why?
I paused at the road, barely aware of the rush hour traffic.
Best case scenario, there was some excellent reason for what they'd done, though it was hard to picture what that might be.
Worst case scenario…they really had turned against me to carry out some nefarious purpose.
Asking directly was the only way to find out, and just now, I had no idea where to find any of them.
I'm still a detective, I reminded myself, shuffling forward. I'll find them.
And then, no matter where they'd cast their lots, I would find the notebook.
Sayu
Directly following my evening class, I rode my bike to an obscure part of the campus, to an old willow tree, where Tachi had asked me to meet him. Dusk had started to settle, and the air smelled like rain, my favorite kind of evening. I tried to enjoy the feel of the wind in my hair and down the front of my top, but my anxiety wouldn't leave me alone, and all through class, I'd barely been able to pay attention. When class was dismissed, I'd been in such a hurry, I'd forgotten my backpack and had to go back for it. In fact, I would have left it there if it hadn't been for my laptop.
I can't go on like this much longer.
Easygoing stillness blanketed the campus as I flew along the path. Exams were coming up soon—everyone was holed up in their rooms or at the library, studying—I should be studying.
What poor timing. Last spring, after Touta and I started dating officially, I'd felt comfortable with finally getting back to school, and I'd expected smooth sailing from there on out. Touta had seemed to be doing so well with his undercover work; Mom and I were getting by, and she'd said I should focus on college instead of picking up a job. There hadn't been any reason for me to expect a catastrophe of this magnitude, and now I found myself wondering how I could possibly finish my academic year strong.
No one would think twice if I left school again.
Even if they had no idea my fiancé had been abducted, no one would say anything, after all I'd been through. Not to my face, at least, but behind closed doors, I knew they would whisper, poor Sayu. She's been through so much. I guess she'll never be the same.
Filled with shame, I clenched my handlebars, tightly, and hopped up onto the grass, pedaling hard to the base of the willow, where Tachi waited already. Dressed in the same cool, dark suit and white shirt he'd worn earlier, he looked casual, hands in his pockets, collar open. Breeze fluttered through his feathery hair, and he watched the passing students with mild interest.
I leapt from my bike, all but throwing it on the ground as I trotted toward him. "I'm here. Sorry if I'm late."
"Oh, hey, Sayu-san." His teeth flashed like lightning in the twilight. "No, I'm early."
"Thanks for meeting me, Tachibana-san," I said, automatically, but without my mother hovering, expecting me to be polite, I could finally speak my mind with this guy, and I intended to.
"Please call me Tachi," he asked, in the same tone he'd used earlier, as if it didn't really matter to him one way or another. "Tachibana is such a mouthful."
"It's your family name, isn't it?"
"Yes. I don't like my own name any better. Tachi will do."
He eased away from his tree, taking a few casual steps toward me, and I quickly scanned the area out of habit, making sure there were still people around, and a safe place I could get to.
Nearby, a group of guys played with a Frisbee, and the library stood in running distance. I'd be okay. I had my bike.
"That's not your real name, though, right?" I asked.
Tachi smirked. "No, of course not."
"My mother has no idea you're undercover, right? Otherwise she never would have tried to set me up with you."
"That's true. She's told me all about how worried she is that you've gotten involved with a police detective."
I rolled my eyes. It was bad enough she kept pestering me about it without complaining to everyone she knew.
"Really, that was just a front to meet you. Dating you would be a conflict of interest for me."
I nodded, and even though I hadn't necessarily been worried about that, I felt a little relieved. "Will you ever tell her?"
"No," he said immediately. "Part of being undercover is that no one can know—ever." And then he tilted his head, letting soft hair fall all to one side of his face. "You understand that, though, being that your fiancé does a lot of undercover work."
"I understand," I agreed, "I just feel bad for my mother that you deceived her."
At last, Tachi frowned. "Oh. Well." He ran his fingers through his hair, an action that reminded me all too much of Touta. "I apologize for that. We don't think of it that way, I suppose, it's simply part of the job. At the time, I needed to find a natural way to get into contact with you."
"You could have told me more about what was going on when we met at the diner."
The way he studied me, I got the feeling he hadn't been expecting that, but in the end, he simply shrugged. "That was a special situation. I never would have let on that I'd been watching you if you hadn't put yourself in danger."
"Then you're supposed to be keeping an eye on me."
"Yes. I'm assigned to watch over you and your mother, for a time."
"In that case, I don't understand why you've suddenly decided we need to be in touch."
Tachi kicked at the ground, explaining, vaguely, "Things have changed."
"All right. So you're really a detective. What's your real name?"
Smiling thoughtfully at the sky, he took a moment and then decided, "It might be best if you keep calling me Tachi for now."
Although the answer frustrated me, and I would like to know more about who he was and what his assignment involved exactly, he had a very laidback and likeable way about him, from his casual demeanor to his unwavering smile. I agreed that would be all right.
Besides, it was obvious Aizawa had asked him to tail me and Mom, to keep me out of trouble. The only question was, when had he decided that, and why? Mom acted as if she'd known Tachi for several months, so he must have been given his assignment even before Touta went missing.
Did Aizawa know something might happen?
If he had, possibly, Touta had known also. He tended to be pretty straightforward with his thoughts and feelings, but I guessed he could have hidden his concerns from me.
"No offense," I said, "but I hope you can tell me something more, even if it's not your name."
In a reassuring voice, Tachi said, "Not to worry. I do have something important to tell you."
Anxiously, I drew closer. "Is it about Touta? Do you know where he is?"
"No. Sorry. As I said earlier, there isn't much I can tell you about Sergeant Matsuda."
"I see." I stared down at my shoes, feeling discouraged. Rushing over to meet him would be a waste of time if he didn't have more info about my missing fiancé. Maybe I'd have better luck phoning Aizawa again.
After the way Ide brushed me off earlier, acting like he barely knew who I was or what had me worried, it had become apparent that neither of them wanted to talk to me at all, let alone tell me anything.
If I wanted to move forward, I'd have to think of a different route.
"You have to be careful about trusting the NPA," Tachi announced.
Startled, I looked up at him again, finding that he'd fixed an incredibly serious expression on me, and his perpetual smile had transformed into a bothered, tight frown.
"What are you talking about? Aren't you with the NPA?"
Tachi sighed. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this—your family has been an important part of the force for generations; you're part of the NPA family by extension—but you deserve to know."
"Know what?" I demanded, after he'd paused a second.
Still, he hesitated, checking over his shoulders and watching the Frisbee players a moment before murmuring, "My superiors would be furious if they knew I'm telling you this." His sincere gaze met mine again, bright even in the dusk. "The NPA has been compromised considerably since we lost your father, Sayu-san, and corruption has slipped in, but it's impossible to say who's trustworthy and who isn't. I'd advise you not to trust any of them."
My heartbeat quickened at the words. While Dad was in charge, I'd known most of the men working under him, at least a little, and I'd always been received warmly at the precinct. It had never occurred to me before that that could have changed so drastically.
"What's any of that have to do with me?"
"Probably nothing." He mumbled under his breath, "Outside the fact that your fiancé went missing inexplicably."
My ears perked up, and my chest tightened. "Wait. Are you saying maybe the NPA is behind that? As in, maybe they kidnapped Touta themselves?"
That just couldn't be true. All those men and women had sworn to protect the peace and defend the community. At the very least, they'd never compromise the safety of one of their own.
Once, Touta had mentioned that things had gotten weird since the Kira case ended. I supposed that all had to do with Dad being dead, as well as with the notebook and Kira's identity.
Damn you, Light.
"I'm not sure," Tachi explained, hesitantly. "I don't have enough information on what exactly happened to Matsuda, I just find it odd no one could find him, not even with the chief himself on the investigation."
"Aizawa and Touta are friends," I said immediately. "He wouldn't kidnap him."
Gravely, Tachi nodded, but said, "Again, I'm sorry, because I know you have personal feelings regarding the NPA, but the fact of the matter is, it remains to be seen… Only Matsuda can explain where he was for five days, and…" With another long pause, he averted his gaze, and then practically whispered, "If they took him away the second he turned up, like you described, it's possible they didn't want him to leak something."
"That still doesn't make sense to me," I insisted. "Why would anyone abduct Touta in the first place?"
"Matsuda has some very dangerous information, Sayu," he said, all the more seriously. "Information about Kira and the notebook."
Gasping, I stared hard at him, barely believing what I'd heard, but it couldn't have been a slip of the tongue. "You know about the notebook?"
He jerked his head, stiffly. "A bit."
Dazed, I watched him speak. Knowing anything about the notebook—even knowing it existed at all—wasn't a privilege everyone shared in. For being so young, he must be a really valuable detective, possibly some sort of secret agent. The kind Touta wanted to be.
"What's important," Tachibana continued, unaware of how he'd impressed me, "is, until this gets sorted out, I'd be very careful about who you speak with at the NPA. Some of those people could be enemies."
What an unfamiliar word, enemies. Most people didn't have enemies—not the way Tachi meant, anyway. Sure, I'd had run-ins with kids in high school, kids who didn't like me, and I would have called them enemies, but this was a different kind of enemy. A true threat.
Touta, though, had enemies. Serious enemies. He'd downplayed that fact, tirelessly, since the Reaper case ended, and I'd tried to ignore it, but I hadn't forgotten that some people wanted to see him dead.
Swallowing hard, I said, "I can't just hide, Tachi. Not when I know Touta might be in danger."
"Oh, right." Tachi sighed. "I apologize for not making things clearer." He met my gaze, sharply. "I'm not sure you can trust Touta either, Sayu."
The hammering of my heart stopped.
"No way," I argued at once. "I know him. If there is corruption, it's impossible for him to be involved."
"Are you sure it's impossible, Sayu?" Tachi asked, softly.
Toying with my necklace, I thought about it. Touta had had his moments, so I knew he could hold his own. He'd shot my brother, and—
No. I shook my head, clearing the thought away, like I always did. I can't think about that.
Tachi went on. "It's improbable, I'll give you that, but it's certainly not impossible. I just can't get over how strange it is that the chief himself couldn't find Matsuda—he had more than a dozen officers on the case."
"But not you?" I confirmed. This guy didn't know anything about Touta or what he was capable of.
"No. I've been busy with my own directive." Tachi leaned back against his tree, hands in his pockets, and whispered, "It's scary to think about what could become of Light Yagami's family in the midst of all this chaos."
He must know Light had been Kira also.
My heart softened toward him. Even if he didn't know Touta well enough to realize he couldn't possibly be involved in anything bad, at least he seemed genuine in wanting to protect my mother and me.
"And…you really believe I can't trust Aizawa or Ide?"
"I can't say one way or another, I'm simply advising against it." Heaving another weighty breath, he spent a few moments staring at the ground, clearly troubled by the idea. Gently, he instructed, "If someone from the NPA contacts you, please keep me informed. Don't take any risks, just use your discretion, and tell me what they say. Especially if Matsuda contacts you again."
"He hasn't contacted me at all so far," I admitted, bitterly.
Tachi looked up, mouth hanging open as he stammered out, "O-oh, I'm sorry… I just assumed he would have."
He absolutely would, so why hasn't he?
"They won't let him," I murmured, in an effort to console myself.
"That's suspicious," Tachi remarked. "Not being allowed to contact your own fiancée after being abducted. He's practically best friends with the chief; you'd think he'd be able to…" Suddenly, he broke off, running his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath, as if to compose himself. "Excuse me, Sayu-san. Of course, I have no idea what his situation may be like. I'm only saying, if I were him, I'd do anything it took to get a message to you." Tentatively, he flashed a quiet smile. "I guess, maybe, I'm just young and stupid." He laughed under his breath.
I stood, staring into the distance, mulling it over, and feeling unwelcome doubts nag at my mind. With his new responsibilities, Touta had grown much more cautious, and yet, I still believed he would do anything—break any rule, breach any protocol—to let me know things were going to be all right.
Either he really can't, or he doesn't want to at all.
Each sounded equally terrible.
Tachi took my hands between his, drawing my attention to his spectacular green eyes.
"I want to help you," he husked. "God knows it's not what I'm supposed to be doing, but I admire your love for Sergeant Matsuda. I promise I'll do whatever I can to help you figure out where he is."
"Thank you," I whispered, raggedly, trying to hide the tears welling in my eyes.
"I'm sure everything will turn out all right." He released my hands to go and pick up my bike for me. "We'll keep in touch and put together as many pieces as we can. Until then, try not to worry." Wearing a warm, reassuring smile again, he turned to me, and I told myself I was lucky that at least one person wanted to help me.
After that, Tachi exchanged numbers with me, insisting it would be okay to call him at any time of the day or night, especially if I felt uneasy about something, or if the police contacted me, but that it would also be fine if I simply wanted to talk or felt alone.
Telling me he wouldn't want my mother to worry, he urged me to get home as quickly as possible, and then simply turned and walked away.
I watched a moment, as he faded into the twilight, and then set out slowly, pushing my bike and thinking.
Over the course of the Reaper case, I'd gradually come to understand that Touta was more or less at the center of all that, but it hadn't been until Aizawa explained to me about the death note that the full implications had hit me.
Honestly, I hadn't wanted to hear from either of them ever again, but Aizawa had showed up at my house, asking for just a few moments of my time, promising, in his cantankerous way, that he didn't have a lot of his own time to waste with me. Possibly, that somewhat rude candor had been the only thing that kept me from shutting the door in his face, but I'd never forget how very serious he'd looked as we'd stepped outside, where my mother couldn't overhear.
"There are a few things you need to understand," he'd said, "about this whole thing with Matsuda and your brother."
"I don't want to understand," I'd retorted, at once.
"Bullshit," he'd grumped, and I'd known then that he'd taken the gloves off before coming over. He didn't care that I was a woman. He didn't care that I was young. He didn't even care who my father was. "You do want to understand, and once you understand, you're free to do whatever the hell you feel like, but until then, just listen to me."
"I don't see what there is to understand," I'd sniped back, determined to be just as rude. "That dick shot my brother. That's simple enough."
"No." Even now, I could see him shaking his head, expression unusually contrite. "It's not that simple. And if you'd shut your smart mouth a second, you'd see that."
Finally, I'd decided hearing him out would be the quickest method to get him to go away, so I'd listened, but I hadn't been prepared for the strange things he'd told me about Light and his shinigami, Ryuuk, or the deadly notebook, which, Aizawa believed, had warped my brother's mind.
"I don't know who your brother was before he picked that thing up," Aizawa had sighed, scraping his fingers across his goatee, "other than he was Soichiro's boy, and everybody liked him just as much as they liked your father. I don't even know how he got the damn thing, exactly. But by the time he was through with it—or it was through with him—I wouldn't even say he was Light anymore."
"That's still no excuse," I'd told him. "Matsuda didn't have the right to kill him."
"I agree. Matsuda had no right. But I was there, Sayu, and no, I won't insult you by trying to justify his actions, but I will say…Matsuda had a reason for what he did, and it's very likely he even saved someone's life." He'd leveled one of his dead serious, no nonsense looks on me. "If anyone ever pushed me, I'd tell them Matsuda acted out of self defense, and no one could argue."
"Well, he still killed my brother. And there is no justifying that to me."
"He didn't kill your brother," he'd rumbled. "That's what I came to tell you. He shot him, yes, but Light survived. The shinigami I mentioned is the one that killed Light. He wrote his name down, and Light died of a heart attack." At that point, he'd thrust a handful of papers at me. "I brought you the autopsy report, in case you're interested."
I hadn't known if Aizawa had access to that kind of information or how he'd gotten it, but he wasn't a deceptive sort of man, so I'd perused it. Nevertheless, I hadn't been able to stomach looking at it for long. The cause of death had been recorded as a heart attack, despite the multiple gunshot wounds.
"Why should I believe this?" I'd demanded. "Shinigami? Death note? Come on. Nobody would believe a thing like this."
"Life is like that, Sayu," he'd explained, gravely. "Bizarre things happen, and you can choose to believe them or not. All I care about is that you understand that Matsuda did not murder your brother, and you don't have any reason to hate him."
At the time, I'd told him Matsuda shooting my brother was reason enough, and it had taken a lot of thought for me to change my mind. Likely, if I hadn't already loved Touta so much, I never could have gotten past that fact, but what Aizawa had said helped.
Wiping my eyes, I pushed those thoughts away. Even now, if I thought too hard about what Touta had done, contempt might creep in, and it could turn into hatred.
No. I could never hate you now. You mean too much to me.
In some ways, I had to leave the old Matsuda behind, separate the man who'd shot my brother from the man I loved, and keep going.
Before Aizawa had left, he'd gone on to explain, "Today, I told you something really dangerous—something I've tried very hard to hide. No one is supposed to know Light was Kira. We decided that to protect you and your mother. And no one can know that Matsuda shot him. If they find that out, it's possible they'll be able to uncover Kira's identity. But also…" He'd sighed, looking disturbed. "I'm afraid of what could happen to him. The Reaper wanted him dead, and whatever's left of his gang still does. I have no idea what the NPA or anybody else would do with that information, but I seriously doubt the shinigami will matter to them any more than it does to you right now. So keep all this to yourself."
"Fine," I'd muttered.
Sternly, he'd glared at me. "I trust you're smart enough to do that."
"Who would I tell?" I'd sniffed. "Nobody would believe that screw-up had the guts to shoot Kira in the first place."
His eyes had narrowed with irritation, but he'd merely grunted.
Since then, that conversation had rattled at the back of my mind, constantly reminding me that my boyfriend was, in a way, in terrible danger. Despite the blithe, oblivious way he conducted himself, driving me around town, taking me on dates I wasn't sure he could honestly afford, the fact that he'd assaulted Kira hung constantly over his head, a black cloud, threatening to burst and smother him.
Now it seemed as if that very thing could have happened, if Tachibana thought Touta had been abducted because he had information on Kira, or if the NPA had turned against him. For all I knew, the leftovers of Reaper's gang could be behind it.
I'd been afraid of that, but to hear someone say those things out loud froze me to my core.
Not being able to trust the NPA, though, was a new kind of bleak. I didn't want to think that could really be possible, but Tachi seemed convinced. Why else would an NPA detective take time out of his day to warn me against his own organization?
Apparently, he'd been ordered to keep tabs on my mother and I because the NPA had been compromised, but that made me wonder who had given him that assignment in the first place. Originally, I'd assumed it must be the chief—he had a personal interest in us—Tachi hadn't made it sound that way, though. He must be working for someone higher up.
It could simply be a different bureau of the NPA. The whole agency couldn't be corrupt, could it?
For all I knew, the prime minister himself had ordered that the matter be looked into after the previous commissioner, Oshima, started working with criminals.
Either way, I got the feeling if I called up Aizawa and asked him about Tachibana, he might not even know who he was.
I can't even get a hold of him, I reminded myself, angrily, and then I checked my phone, just to be sure I hadn't missed a call from him. Nothing, as usual.
Both he and Ide really seemed concerned when Touta went missing, and they'd really seemed to be looking for him, day after day, putting their own lives on hold, and no matter how distraught I'd become, Aizawa had always taken the time to reassure me. I'd never thought to doubt him.
How, though, could he have failed?
As Tachi had said, a matter that captured the undivided attention of the chief himself should have wrapped up differently.
Maybe I can't trust them.
With my fiancé's life on the line, I didn't dare make a mistake.
Still, even if the NPA was corrupt—even if Aizawa was corrupt—I just couldn't believe he'd betray Touta.
Again, I reviewed the day Aizawa came to my house; I hadn't made it easy on him, and he'd gotten impatient with me after a short time, told me he couldn't control what I thought or did, but that he'd wanted me to know the truth, and that was all.
As he'd walked away, I'd suddenly felt the urge to call after him, "Why did you tell me any of this? Why does it matter to you so much?"
"Because." He'd faced me. "He's been through enough, and so have you, and you care about each other." He'd sighed, anger fizzling into frustration. "I…don't want whatever you have—had—to be just another thing Kira tore apart. He's dead, and we all deserve to move on."
Those words, I'd taken to heart. Shinigami and death notes were just footnotes to me in a life destroyed by Kira, but Aizawa's words had let me know that I had a decision to make, and whether or not Kira continued to ruin and control my life, was completely up to me.
The man who'd said those meaningful words didn't seem like he had it in him to be a traitor. I'd known him since I was a small child, and I trusted him.
So why won't he call me back? Why won't anyone let me talk to Touta?
As much as I didn't like to think about it, not telling me where Touta was did seem to hint at some kind of surreptitious activity. The real question was, who was actually behind it, and what did they want?
Tears welled in my eyes. Is it possible…he doesn't want to talk to me? Is it possible…he doesn't even care?
Pausing on the side of the road, I stared up at the moon, drifting upward in the east, unreachable and mysterious.
Talking with Tachibana had only raised more questions.
