Warnings: Language, possible ooc, future yaoi, content that may disturb.

Disclaimer: Pink Feline does not own Death Note.

Damned

The steaming cup was placed on the corner of the desk, it's place marked by new and faded rings of coffee residue from previous nights. The desk was simple wood, unadorned and uncluttered. On its surface was but a notebook and a pen, an overall impersonal collection of items that did little to liven up the space.

The desk was placed in the corner of the room, as far away from the window as the room's dimensions allowed. The room was bare of other furniture, apart from the simple wooden chair that was used in conjunction with the desk. The room was the very appearance of a cell, empty and bare of light, life and comfort.

It suited Jirou just fine.

This room was his sanctuary, his safe haven. Here he could not be disturbed, nor interrupted. The likelihood of either happening was non-existent, but the atmosphere was as he wanted it. It was the mere promise that he could not be touched in this room that made it what it was.

In this room, Jirou was safe.

In this room Jirou was god.

Pulling the chair out, Jirou let himself sit for the first time in hours. The only sound was that of creaking wood as it was forced to accommodate his weight. He sat unmoving for a long time, eyes closed and head tilted back. His breathing, erratic from his ordeal with the crowds, gradually calmed into a slow rhythm. The tenseness in his muscles slowly started to ebb.

Slowly and sluggishly at first, names began to take shape in his mind's eye. The Japanese character for colour, 'aya' and following that the gentle lines of flower, 'ka'. Ayaka. A beautiful woman with a beautiful name that hid the face of a selfish bitch. Jirou could even now imagine the luscious shine of her ebony hair, the sweet blemish free caramel skin of her face and large almond shaped chocolate eyes.

Her lips, oh heavens, her lips were perfect. Small heart shaped, adorably pouted. There was no doubt as to her beauty, no doubt at all.

Her beauty did not fool Jirou though. Whenever she looked at him, he could see the ugly creature she truly was. Her eyes expressed her scorn, her disgust and in so revealing the very shallowness of the woman's soul.

Ayaka.

She would be more beautiful in death when those eyes, those traitorous eyes, were blinded in death. In death, all the darkness would leave her body making her pure and beautiful.

Leaning forward, Jirou let the pen settle comfortably between his fingers and flipped the notebook open. Slowly and with great care, Jirou began to write.

Ayaka – damned for her selfish beauty.

Tsubasa – damned for his arrogance.

Momoka – damned for her ceaseless noise.

Yuuta

Kichirou

Haruki

He wrote each of their names in full, marvelling at the sheer beauty of the characters that gave them their meaning. It was one of the rare instances of beauty that Jirou could honestly enjoy. The beauty of the written word, each complicated stroke that gave it shape. To think that such meaning could be achieved within a few strokes of ink, untainted, honest and stark against the page.

Masaru

Toshiaki

Shinji

Daiki

Madoka

Tomio

Nao

The page had filled up quickly, but with more than just names. He sat back to admire his work, reaching out for the cooling coffee while keeping his eyes firmly trained on the writing. The contrast of black ink against the white of the page was shocking, thrilling, but night was starting to creep in. The darkness in the room seemed to increase tenfold until the room was as black as the ink Jirou used.

The darkness did not bother him.

Even though the notebook was now taken by darkness, Jirou could still see the characters on the page. Each name, beautifully written, and the passages that followed. There was one constant character, written with more care than any other that occurred after each name.

'Tsuki'

---

L woke with a jerk, limbs automatically splaying out to help maintain his balance. Looking around, L found himself very much alone, Light no where in sight.

Another dream then.

The thought gave L no comfort. Settling himself again he tried to relax.

Observations and connections were shooting through his mind erratically and without his control, forcing him so consider all that has happened in the last month. Looking at the computer screen, L found that Misa had yet to return from work, and would not do so for another couple of hours at least. He curled up once more, thumb to lips. Good, so he had some uninterrupted time to think.

Light's murder had occurred roughly a month ago, in his home by the looks of things. His throat had been cut by a sharp, clean blade and drawn slowly over his flesh. The blood splatter had been minimal, taking in consideration the angle of the cut and the natural pressure driving the blood out. The killer had managed to kill Light without his ever-present mother or little sister being aware of it, and had taken his time doing it as well. Light was then placed on the bed, probably straight after his throat was slit, which seemed a somewhat strange action but not uncommon. There were no signs of struggle, and no items were missing apart from the desk drawer. No items of value were taken at all; therefore this was no simple robbery. The killer had been specific in what he wanted, and Light appeared to have managed some kind of safeguard before death. That could only mean that Light was well aware of the potential dangers of whatever he had placed in that drawer.

This leads on to the appearance of the Third Kira. Third Kira had appeared not a week after Light's death, marking each death with the Japanese character 'tsuki'. That meant that the desk drawer had contained the source of Kira's power. Light had been Kira. He had been right. The question now was what was the object? What was Kira's source of power?

Whatever it was, Light's killer now had it in his possession.

An important question to consider would then be - how did the killer know that Light was Kira?

L turned his eyes up in thought, thumb pushing against his bottom lip.

Amongst the Kira victims, there were two that did not fit the pattern. Kyosuke Higuchi and Arayoshi Hatori. Both were high-ranking Yostuba Corporation managers, neither fitting into the criminal category that Kira seemed to favour. There was the possibility that Kira had somehow been tipped off that these two men were caught up in some kind of criminal activity. Considering the strange coincidences that surrounded the Yosuba Corp employee's deaths however, another theory was presented.

According to the data collected, Yotsuba Corp had been enjoying a stead rise in share prices, aided by the death of rival company employees. These 'accidents' however ceased shortly after Higuchi's death, causing Yotsuba shares to drop slightly and their rivals to rise. After this point there did not seem to be any more suspicious events involving Yotsuba or associated and rival companies.

It was plausible therefore that Higuchi was a Kira, for however brief a time it may have been. Arayoshi Hatori's death did not seem to hold any meaning or purpose, unless perhaps Hatori had tried to expose Higuchi in some way. Somehow L did not think that Hatori's death held any significance.

So who killed Higuchi?

That was events as they stood currently. Two Kiras dead and two more still running free.

Watari's voice cut through his thoughts, the gothic 'W' taking over his computer's screen.

"Kira has been killing again. I am sending you the list and profiles of each victim now. None of the deaths have yet been announced."

A folder popped up on the screen, filled with various files and documents. Misa was not due to return for another two hours at least, so L decided to start skimming over the files. Watari's words had been brief, but his last statement had held an ominous quality. Soon enough L understood why.

None of the victims on the list were criminals. From their profiles and records the victims were, to all knowledge, civilians.

L felt his blood run cold.

Kira's focus had apparently shifted from killing criminals killing innocent civilians.

Photos were provided for each death and sure enough they were each marked with 'tsuki' on their foreheads, Third Kira's signature.

These deaths would create absolute chaos amongst the people. So far people had been living in the comfort that Kira's attentions were solely on criminals. To expose such naivety would only create panic and disorder.

This also put the investigation under a whole new load of pressure. Their progress had been slow thus far, but they had to speed it up. These thirteen deaths could be covered up for the time being, but if Third Kira were going to continue killing amongst the population then sooner, rather than later, it would be exposed. The level of outrage that it would generate could have dire consequences that could cripple the country.

A clue to Kira's identity could possibly be derived from whatever connection these thirteen victims had with each other. They would definitely start there.

There was also the possibility that Misa had a part in this…

Someone out there was laughing at him.

L was sure off this.

He had barely finished his previous thought when L had been alerted to an incoming call.

Matsuda was on the other line. A very panic stricken Matsuda.

"Misa's gone!"

---

Misa slipped quietly into her apartment, frowning in dismay at the stale air inside. A thin layer of dust coated everything, and the drawn curtains allowed very little light inside. Misa cast a mournful eye over what had been her home. She could not stay long, that she knew. No doubt Matsuda had alerted the spider detective of her absence. Guilt settled at the pit of her stomach. She felt bad that she was getting the man into trouble, he had been so nice to her after all. She had a promise to keep though and she only hoped that Matsuda-kun would not get into too much trouble.

Stepping lightly, Misa walked to her bedroom, Rem shadowing her movements. She moved over to her wardrobe, crouched down and reached into it's shadows. She pulled out a shoebox, its surface decorated with sparkling heart and star shaped stickers. Settling the box in her lap, she removed the lid and left it on the floor at her side. The box contained three different wigs; each made of human hair in different styles and colours.

She pulled out the short black bob and left it on the lid. She had worn that wig the one time that she had gone to Note Blue in order to catch sight of Kira. She did not know if she had been caught on any photos that day, but she could not risk being noticed and connected with that day. She had to try and remain as anonymous as possible.

She took out a long dark auburn wig with a long thick fringe. It was longer in length than her natural hair by about an inch, and the fringe would cover her forehead while stopping just above her eyes. She carefully put the wigs into a bag before putting the black haired wig back into the box and replacing the lid. She returned the box to it's hiding place and went over to her vanity.

With careful and expert consideration, she selected out of an assortment of make-up and added them to her bag. With that done, Misa went into the kitchen and pulled out a broom and a rag. She quickly set to work on sweeping the floor and wiping all the surfaces, erasing her footprints and handprints from the layers of dust. If the detectives were to search her apartment it would be obvious she had been there, but they would not be able to mark where she had walked and what she had touched. It was not fool proof but it was something.

Misa giggled softly to herself. She felt almost as if she was playing a part in one of those 'James Bond' movies that was so popular in the western countries. She knew this was a serious matter and if she was caught she could well die, but it was all so surreal.

With that done she exited the apartment, locking the door behind her. She slipped into the crowds outside easily enough, carried by its flow until she came to a clothing shop. She entered and examined the layout of the store and walking to the back, found what she was looking for.

Sophisticated dresses, skirts and blouses were displayed in various subdued shades. Misa chose a long beige skirt, white blouse and brown jacket. Considering the items she took a few more assorted items before moving to the counter to pay.

Before Misa had gone to her apartment she had withdrawn a tidy amount of cash. Her credit cards could be traced and so to minimise the risk of being found she had come up with the idea. She felt a bit vulnerable with so much money in her bag, conscious that she would be in trouble if it was stolen, but she had to risk it.

From the clothing store she proceeded to look for a ladies bathroom that she could slip into. It took a good couple of minutes but she eventually found one and entered. There were two other girls, chatting excitedly with each other as they fixed their make-up. Misa entered a cubicle and closed the door, completely ignoring the girls and hoping that they would not recognise her. Taking out one of the outfits she had just bought, she quickly undressed and changed into the new items. The clothing was not what she was used to, preferring her short skirts and tops to the long skirts and blouses. The opening of the bathroom door and the fading voices of the two girls indicated that Misa was alone.

Pulling out the wig, Misa stepped out of the cubicle and faced the mirror. The clothing made her look older, hiding her slim legs and figure. She wasted no more time though and pinned her hair up before putting on the wig. She spent a minute adjusting it until it sat and looked natural. From her bag of items she took out the make-up and began applying it. Misa had learned a couple of tricks from the make-up artists during her photo shoots and modelling. Using what she learned; Misa proceeded to change her face into an illusion of being different.

The Misa that stared at her from the mirror was not one she recognised. She looked older and held the semblance of a teacher or even a simple housewife. Perhaps a bit young for that, but she did not look herself in any case which was the purpose of all this preparation.

The door opened to another woman who joined Misa at the mirrors, her hands digging through her purse. The woman looked frazzled and barely acknowledged Misa which was fine with the model. Packing her stuff, Misa slipped out of the bathroom feeling like a whole different person.

She drifted with the crowd for some time, aimless and finding comfort in her shinigami's presence. Rem had been quiet ever since telling her to destroy the mirror and had not taken her eyes off Misa the entire time. Misa had simply decided to ignore her shinigami's staring eyes and continue undisturbed. She had a feeling that Rem would tell her to destroy the mirror again and she was not in the mood to hear it.

It was getting well into evening now, the creeping darkness making the girl feel isolated. She had to find a place to spend the night, a place where no one would inquire as to who she was.

Her hand drifted to the bag at her side once more, reaching in to feel the cool hard surface of the bronze mirror, her one connection to Light.

He had asked her to trust him, to do as he said and she had agreed. She did trust him. Even in death she trusted him.

TBC

Review!

AN: It's quite funny, after I wrote Jirou's section I decided to find out how many words it came up to, something I do with every chapter. To my surprise, Jirou's bit came up to 666 words. I almost fell out of my chair it was so unexpected. Heh. Well my apologies for the late chapter, it has been a bit busy lately. Hope you enjoyed this chapter though!