Here is your regularly-scheduled Saturday update!


The killing of criminals resumed in November, and that was when I decided to become an active participant in the online discussions regarding Kira. Most forums hosting such discussions were hosted by those who claimed to be followers of some sort, so I claimed to be a supporter playing "devil's advocate," and my debate was welcomed with open arms. It was more likely that they intended to convert me, though as much as I loved a good argument, I thought it would take more than that to draw me into something like that.

I left messages on forums in the morning and would check for replies when I returned home from class, and these long-distance debates filled the gap left by Light and Hideki. The latter had been on my mind frequently, as the topic most often argued was, in fact, ethics. It was very relevant where Kira was concerned. The people who worshiped Kira were aware that he was a murderer though still equated him with a deity, and their reasons for doing so were almost all identical; put simply, the principle of utility.

The principle of utility is, at its most basic level, the greatest good for the greatest number. The Kira cult was quick to point to this as a defense of their god, as they believed that this was his motivation. My responses, too, became less varied the more I heard this answer, until I was constantly asking, "But how do we know what Kira really wants?"

Most claimed that it went without saying; why eliminate criminals who do wrong to others if not for the purpose of making a better world? I didn't have a good reply formulated quite yet, but I was still unconvinced. Kira's godhood was not something he himself had claimed, but something that had been ascribed to him.

Omnipotence, omniscience, and most importantly, benevolence.

Nobody had ever seen Kira before, but he was certainly real; his actions were proof of that. But to elevate him to the level of a god seemed, to me, unnecessary.

At school, Kiyomi was obviously distressed at Light's prolonged absence, but her worry was accompanied by what seemed to be frustration, and it only grew with each passing day. Finally, she approached me during lunch in the study room, knocking on the door before letting herself in. "Could you give these to Light?" she said, holding up a packet of what I assumed to be the notes she'd been taking for him.

"Yes," I said, "But aren't you...?"

She only shook her head and left.

I glanced at the pile of papers. The notes were neat and meticulously organized, and I thought she must have worked hard on them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kiyomi still standing outside of the glass walls of the study room and looked up to see if she still needed something.

She was talking to Light.

I tried to pretend I didn't even notice them, feeling a mix of excitement that he was back and empathy for Kiyomi. Although her back was turned to me, her posture was rigid; she stood up straight with her shoulders square and her arms stiff at her sides. They spoke for a minute or two longer-Kiyomi gestured back to me at least once-before she nodded and walked past him without looking back. I kept my attention on my textbook when the door to the study room opened again and feigned surprise when I looked up.

"Light," I said, and my enthusiasm was genuine, "It feels like forever since I've seen you here. How are you?"

My smile faltered at his expression. Shortly before disappearing, Light's face had constantly been marred with what I interpreted as stress, even when he smiled. It was only the last two times we'd seen each other at the investigation headquarters that he'd seemed different; less burdened, maybe. Whatever it was, unease or concern or some kind of secret, it was visible again.

"Did something happen?" I asked, and Light was quiet for a long time, looking back at the stack of papers beside me. "Oh, these are your notes," I said and slid them across the table, "Kiyomi made them, she just left them with me."

"I see." He smiled to himself, small and bitter. I didn't need to ask.

"I'm sorry," I told him, and he shook his head.

"No, you have nothing to apologize for. I've just had better days, that's all."

I thought about asking after Misa, then thought better of it, and silently studied his face for any clues. I had seen Light in all possible moods, but had yet to see him look quite so disappointed. "Well, how is Hideki?" I asked, figuring that would be a safer topic. "I haven't seen him yet today."

I waited. Light said nothing.

The silence became oppressive, mournful.

"Wait," I said, "You're not..." I swallowed a lump forming in my throat. "He's not..."

Light couldn't meet my eyes. "He's dead." The words were so quiet that I would've missed them if I hadn't been listening for them.

"But...but that's..." I covered my mouth with both hands. Hideki was dead. It hit me hard, like a punch to the stomach. "Was it...you know..."

"Yes."

I thought about Hideki and all of his eccentricities, the debates we'd had, the times we'd sat together and he watched me stare across the room at Light.

"I'm sorry. Light is correct. I don't suspect you." Those had been his last words to me. I had thought that he had been lying and was so upset with him that we hadn't spoken again for the rest of the evening.

My shoulders shook and I wiped my face with the backs of my hands but I couldn't stop the tears. It didn't seem real. How could he be dead? We were all still young, still just students, undergraduates, even. We didn't think about dying, not so soon. How would I have acted if I had known that night that I would never see him again? I thought of Hideki as what I had been reluctant to call him-a friend-and I started to cry.

Light had come around the table and was standing next to my chair, his own eyes shining with sympathy as he held out his arms, and I didn't hesitate to accept his embrace this time. I held onto him tightly, like Misa had, like I was afraid I would drown without him, or that he, too, would die if I let go, and I cried into his chest. And Light didn't say a word; he just held on tightly, a silent anchor to keep me from drifting away.

I think I missed the following class, but I didn't care.


Any doubts I'd had of Light were promptly forgotten, partly because Hideki had been a friend to both of us, and partly because I couldn't bring myself to even think about it. At the end of the day, I'd just gotten myself together but took a shaky breath when I caught Light's eye. "Let me walk you home," he said, and I didn't argue with him.

I had been to Light's plenty of times before, but had never had him over at my residence. My dorm wasn't anything special-it was a little cluttered as of late, but I wasn't emotionally stable enough at that moment to worry about what he might think. I cleared off some space on the table and offered whatever I had in the refrigerator, but he declined.

"I wanted to ask you," he said carefully as I sat down across from him. "If you've heard much about Kira these past few days."

I bit my lip. "Why?"

He hesitated to answer. "The truth is," he began, meeting my eyes, "The investigation has come to a complete halt, but we're probably going to pick it back up soon. I'll be back at school, but I'll still be working with them."

"Still?" I asked, choking on the word, "Light, you could die."

"I know that," he said softly, "But I made a promise to myself that I would avenge Hideki. If we never catch Kira, then what did he die for?"

I took another shaky breath and he held his hand out over the table. I reluctantly took it and he squeezed reassuringly.

"People defend him through utilitarianism," I muttered, "An act is morally just depending on its outcome, not on the act itself. They say that Kira's acts have a positive outcome in the end, so he's justified."

"And what do you think?"

"Hideki is dead." I took a deep breath. "I try not to be ruled by emotion rather than logic, but I've never lost a friend before. Right now, I don't think all the arguments in the world could convince me that Kira is right." I wiped my eyes with my free hand and looked up at Light. "I'm not going to tell you not to help with the investigation. I know that law is what you want to go into. But please, please be careful, Light. I don't..." I had to look away. "I don't want to lose you, too."

"You won't," he promised. After that, he decided to change the topic to something lighter, but he didn't let go of my hand. "I've got time to meet over lunch again."

"Good," I said, "It's been boring without you. I still tutor Sayu, too, so I might run into you from time to time at home."

Light paused. "Actually, I'm not going to be there anymore." I nodded. "I'm moving in with Misa." I nodded again, slower this time, and began to pull my hand back, but his grip tightened. "Temporarily," he added.

"You need to tell that poor girl the truth," I said, heightened emotions making me a little bolder.

"And what's that?"

"That you don't really love her." Light's gaze became a little more intense and I began to regret saying anything. "I'm not...I'm not trying to be rude. It's your business. But I think you need to be honest with her. She loves you so much."

"I know," he said, "Have you been thinking about it?"

"About what?"

"About your answer, if I ask you again."

I was confused for a minute before I remembered our tentative, still undefined relationship, and I pulled my hand away completely, earning a frown. "I haven't thought about it at all," I said, "And I won't, until you have yourself figured out. I know you, Light. This thing with Kiyomi and Misa was either some kind of experiment, or some kind of...cover for something. I'm not interested in that."

"If you know me," he said, "Then you know I've been interested in you for a while now." I hadn't expected to hear him say it so bluntly. "I think you haven't been honest with yourself."

"Don't turn this around on me," I argued, but ended up laughing. "It's terrible. We're so much alike."

"Are we?"

"Yes. I can always see why you do the things you do, even if I don't agree with them. You make sense to me. I think, if I had your charisma, I would also do what you do."

Light considered my words silently for a moment. "Then give me a little more time," he said, "And I'll have myself figured out."

I smiled. "I'll wait for you." He stood to leave, and I stopped him, asking, "Wait. Is there anything else?"

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"No. Never mind." I nodded. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah." Finally, he smiled. It was small and not as warm as I'd hoped, but it looked genuine.

When he was gone, I reflected on the last time I'd seen him at the investigation headquarters, when he'd held me and told me that he had something he wanted to tell me. He'd looked so confused just then, though, and I thought, with disappointment, that he must have forgotten all about it.