"So I'd been captured? So I was starving?Did that mean I had to shrivel up and die?I could still slither. I could still hiss. Nothing had been stolen from me except my freedom.What I needed was a new plan."
Patrick Jennings, We Can't All Be Rattlesnakes

-o-

Shika looked at herself in the mirror and straightened her scarf. Her eyebrows came together in a worried frown. She combed her fingers through her poorly cut hair and shifted self-consciously at herself. Clothes were strewn about the room, and she stepped around them to get out into the cramped hallway. Pictures on the wall were primarily of her and her father. A few nicer frames had been set on the mantle in the living room, and Shika stopped to look at them briefly. A pretty woman in her mid-thirties flashed gleaming, dimpled smiles out at her. Two dates were written on one of the frames. The second date was almost a year previously. Shika thought her mother was beautiful.

Shika stopped before she put on her shoes and called over her shoulder.

"Dad, I'm going to school now." There was no response. "Daaad?" She whined.

Back into the house she went, and peeked inside her father's room. If possible, it was even messier than hers. Empty beer cans were tossed about the floor amidst dirty clothes and plastic ashtrays of cigarettes. Shika went inside and shook her dad's shoulders. "Dad, get up. It's almost time for me to leave. It's my last day of the school year

His balding head poked out from under his sheets. "What time is it?" He grumbled.

"Almost seven thirty. I made toast."

"Thanks, honey," He patted her arm and looked up to smiled tiredly at her. Shika drew back at the strong smell of liquor. "Are you going to school?"

His daughter sighed. "Yeah. Can I have money for the bus?"

"What're you talkin' about?" Someone else stirred next to her father. Mom was what she wanted to be called. Shika did not think that she was beautiful. She thought that she smelled like smoke all the time, and wore distasteful make-up. Although she was ugly, she did not gamble like Shika's father did. However, she also didn't stop him.

Her father drowsily patted the bedside table, fumbled his pockets under the sheets, and eventually mumbled, "Sorry, kiddo. I don't have anything." His face sank into his pillow. "I'll get some more tomorrow, I promise."

"What?" Shika let out a despairing groan. She ran out of his room, pulling on her shoes and snatching up her bag. "I'm gonna be late!"

She slammed the door behind her and ran down the street, pleated skirt flying. It took her less than a full block to get tired, out of shape as she was, and she puffed to a walk. Although scrawny, she couldn't do much physically, and she ended up trudging along the road, panting and wheezing. Barely holding her book bag, she bit back bitter tears and tried not to lose her temper. She didn't have a bike because her dad couldn't afford one, and she could barely catch the bus every morning. It was a thirty-minute walk to her school from her house, and the first bell was in ten minutes.

A car pulled up alongside her, glossy black with tinted windows. Shika walked a little further from the curb, leery. One of the dark panes slid down without a sound to reveal the face of a young man, in his twenties somewhere, with a nasty scar down his left cheek. "Hey, hi!"

Alarms went off in Shika's head, and she picked up the pace. The car simply moved slightly faster to stay level with her. "Wait, wait! Are you walking out here by yourself?"

"Um…" The girl cast a wary sideways glance. "Why?"

Ignoring her question, he asked, "Your name is Shizuka, right?"

Shika blinked hard. "Yes. Wait, no, it's…" She frowned. "Why?"

"Koizumi Shizuka, right? Your dad is Koizumi Keiichi?" The man was nearly leaning out the window so he wouldn't have to yell at her, as she had moved further from the car.

"Um…" His questions were making Shika very uncomfortable, and the name he had called her confused her. It was almost her name, and it was definitely her father's name, but…

The man looked over his opposite shoulder to say something to someone else inside the car. All at once, the vehicle came to a sharp stop, and he and another man jumped out. It wasn't frenzied; they moved with the smooth, precise, businesslike conduct of experienced professionals. One had a length of thin rope in his hands. Shika only realized what was about to happen instants before it did. A foot from one of the men swung under her ankles, knocking her face down on the pavement when she whirled to escape. Her cheek cracked against the stone ground, hard, and blood burst like a fountain form her nose as it shattered. Reeling and nauseous, she distantly registered her wrists being tied together tightly and briskly, and she was tossed into the trunk of the car. Light from the early morning was blocked out with a final-sounding thump when the trunk was closed, leaving her in silence. The carpeting inside smelled musty and old. Her cheek throbbed painfully where it rested against the car.

"This is an uncomfortable position." Ryuuzaki said, curled up in the dim trunk on the other side. "But I'm sure if they had put you in the back seat, you would have tried to escape."

Shika blinked and nodded. "Yeah. Would they have killed me?"

"Yes." He nibbled on a sweet wafer. "You were lucky to have survived this ordeal, Shizuka."

"But I have night terrors now." Shika sat up. "I can barely sleep without waking up in a horrible state."

L moved his rook three spaces down the chessboard. "Considering what could have happened, I would say you escaped relatively unscathed." He murmured.

Shika looked around and pulled her hoodie in close. "This is a dream. I was dreaming about…that was when it first happened. I'm dreaming."

"I suppose you are." He observed as she numbly moved a knight forward. "You actually are very good at this game. It's an admirable talent."

"Ryuuzaki," She set her hands on the coffee table. "I'm scared. I don't want to die. There must be some way you can help me."

"Hm, well, I can't tell you anything you don't already know." He said.

Shika's eyes burned, and she scrunched up her face and bowed her head to keep from crying. "I know," She whimpered. "But I'm so confused. I don't know how to feel about anything anymore, especially you.

"Please don't cry." Ryuuzaki picked through a bowl of candied cherries. "I'm not used to emotional attachment, but you are. I'm certain you'll find an acceptable compromise."

"Are you as confused as I am? Sometimes it seems like you are."

"I couldn't say." Ryuuzaki mumbled, fingers in his mouth after putting a cherry there. "After all, I'm just a figment of your imagination. Quite frankly, you are not very imaginative. I only know as much as you do. But I think I am very confused, and I think that your presence has become a distraction. But, as I said," He sighed. "I'm sure you'll find a compromise that will make everyone happy."

Shika pulled her legs up to hug them, resembling Ryuuzaki's usual position. "I don't want to wake up. I'm not ready."

"We rarely are." Ryuuzaki curled up next to her in the trunk again. "Please try to keep in mind what I said."

-o-

Shika jolted awake, and nearly pulled her arms from their sockets; her hands were bound together behind the chair she was sitting in, which by extension kept her shoulder blades pressed hard into the wooden back. Rope dug into the skin of her wrists, but it didn't feel like they were bleeding. Even so, she wasn't going to try pulling on them quite yet. Even if she could have somehow gotten free, her right hand was still very much broken. They apparently hadn't bothered tying her feet, but supernatural feats of agility to escape using such were well beyond her ability. The back of her head also ached horribly as a result of her rolling pin.

The room where she found herself was something like a fine sitting room. The chair she was tied to was high-backed and had embroidered, cushioned seats. Across from her, a table against the wall supported a round, painted vase filled with chrysanthemums. A polished wooden coffee table sat between her and it, and on either side were fine couches. Large windows stretched almost the full height of the room, partially covered by flimsy cream curtains. Although not fully covered, the sun shone in too brightly to allow her to see where she was.

A quick rush of movement as something fell in her lap made Shika gasp. No, not fall—jump. "A cat…?" She muttered. The animal regarded her with contempt and sat. It was silky white, with a jeweled collar and a tag that she couldn't read.

Both her and the cat snapped to attention when the door opened. A suited man in his mid-thirties stepped inside, tugging at his tie. A faded scar was advertised across his cheek. The next two men who entered were Tattoo and Shades, from her apartment. "Good afternoon." The first man said. "Untie her, why don't you. Some hospitality."

Shades casually flipped out a knife and cut the ropes tying her wrists. Shika leaned forward and rubbed the deep red marks, already turning purple in places. "Who—" She stopped and looked closer. "Don't I…know you?"

"You do, in fact. You're kind to remember." The man unbuttoned his jacket and sat on one of the couches.

Shika cradled her broken hand against her chest. "Isao, right?"

"I'm pleased you remembered." He flicked out a cigarette. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

Dazed, she put a hand to her forehead and sat back. "It's your house."

The heavy silver lighter clinked as he flipped it open. He inhaled, exhaled smoke, and said, "So, here we are again. Interesting how these things work out, don't you think?"

Shika gently probed the back of her head and checked her hand for blood. "How much does he owe? I assume this is because of my father."

"Correct." Isao hummed. "It's quite a lot, actually. We've been generous this time. He has a grace period of a week, beginning yesterday."

"O-Oh, I see." The two bulky kidnappers were looming behind Shika's chair, and the noticeable presence made her uneasy. The cat on her lap stretched languidly and rubbed up against her. She set a nervous hand on its head. "Is this your cat?"

"Yes, his name is Kaito. Nice little thing, isn't he?"

"He's…quite pretty."

"Speaking of which," Isao gestured in a circle with his cigarette. "You've become quite a looker. Last time I saw you, you were just a stringy kid."

Shika hunched her shoulders forward. "Don't beat around the bush." She mumbled. "What are the rules?"

"Oh, we'll just kill you." He said simply. "If we don't hear anything from him for a few days, we'll send him one of your toes or some such. You have…oh, I think one phone call should be enough." He laughed, smoke oozing from his mouth and nose to create a low cloud around his head. "Twice is quite a track record of kidnappings for one person, don't you think?"

"...I suppose." Shika pulled herself in closer to stop herself from shaking.

Her kidnapper leveled a sharp, clever stare at her. "No need to be afraid. There's not really anything you can do, so just accept that this is your life for the next six days. How about this, I'll even let you have two phone calls." He held up the corresponding amount of fingers. "Since it's your second time here."

"…Why are you giving him a grace period?" The words came out more bitter than she had intended.

Isao rubbed his chin. "Considering the amount of money he owes, I thought it would be nice of me to allow him a bit of time. I rather like Keiichi. He's so willing to fall right back in with 'the wrong people'." After putting amused air quotes around the words, he reached into his jacket and removed a gleaming silver handgun. Even from where she sat, she could sense the heavy, cold weight of it. "However, if you like, I can simply kill you now and have it over with."

Shika faltered and looked down at her lap. "Isao, are you Kira?"

The gangster scoffed, then tipped his head back and laughed. "What an utterly idiotic question!" He chuckled. "Why in the hell do you think I'm Kira of all people? Do you know how much I hate that guy?"

Surprised by his response, she blinked and said, "You hate Kira?"

Isao ground out the end of his cigarette into the crystal ashtray on the coffee table, and lit another. "Yeah. I know a lot of people that died in prison because of Kira, a lot of my men. If I ever get my hands on him, he'll wish he'd killed me, too."

"But he must be killing people you don't like, too." Shika rubbed the edge of Kaito's soft ear.

"I guess, but you're looking at this the wrong way. I really don't care who this Kira guy kills. There are gang wars all the time, and thinning the crop here and there is no skin off my back. But when I heard it was my men dying, I started to have a problem with it. Well…it's not like we can do anything. I have no idea who he is. What a coward." As though coming out of a trance, he looked up at her and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. "Oh, would you like one? How rude, I almost forgot to offer."

"No…no, I don't smoke."

"Suit yourself." The cigarettes disappeared into his jacket and he stood. "Tie her up again."

Shika sat up. "Wait, why? I'm not going to run!" The thugs behind her seized her shoulders to start pulling her arms back. "At least leave my right hand, it's broken, please! I promise I wo—!"

A quick snap of fingers, and someone struck her across the face. The punch was such a surprise that she didn't cry out. She coughed and slumped back in the chair. A drop of blood oozed off her busted lip and onto her shirt.

"Sorry, but I can't know you won't just endure it to escape." Isao waited patiently. Shika yelped when her broken hand was wrangled against her other. The thugs slipped out through the door ahead of their boss, who stuck the cigarette back in the corner of his mouth and smirked around it. "Have a good day."

-o-

-Isao is going to be really fun.

-This is something like an extra arc I've included…at this time, elsewhere in Japan, Light is in Aoyama with Matsuda, getting seen by Misa for the first time.

-Bear with me during this bit! I'm hoping to make it a fun read, and I'll be keeping it relevant to the Kira case, if everything goes as planned. Don't forget to drop a review!