Part Two

The Paths of Glory lead but to the grave.

-Thomas Gray

-Day One-

Why did I feel nervous? It's not like I'd never spoken in front of a large crowd before. And most of these people were my friends anyway. Or they had been before. But ever since the Kira case had begun I felt like I'd been put into a box with the other guys who'd been on the task force. Other members of the NPA treated us differently all the time, almost like they didn't realize it. That was probably why they were thinking about promoting me to chief.

Now I had to go in front of them, pretending to know what I was doing, and tell them that we had made a decision, hope that they would be willing to stick to it as well. I tried to have faith in my fellow NPA officers, but I was already pretty sure I knew how they'd see it. They'd see it as the four of us banding together, putting our importance over the whole NPA.

"Mogi." I hissed. He was standing right beside me, and that made me feel a little better, "This might not go over well."

He just shook his head.

"What do you think is the chance of their seeing it our way?"

"Small." He answered.

It was the damn notebook that was complicating everything. If only it were as easy as just one of us killing Kira.

"This is the right thing to do though, right?"

Mogi only hesitated for a second, but I noticed.

I wasn't sure either. We'd explored all our options and had decided together that this was the best. Had we missed something? It didn't feel like we had…but maybe there was something we should have been doing instead.

Watching the other NPA officers file into the room, coffees in hand, chatting casually, I cleared my throat and went over the speech I'd written down-if it could even be called a speech-hoping it sounded all right. I'd pulled it together over night, so it wasn't flawless by any means. But I felt like if I could just say the right thing to get them on our side at the very beginning it would be all right. I started to read it over.

"Aizawa," Matsuda hissed, distracting me, "what do you think the chief would do if he were here?"

I didn't have to ask who 'the chief' was, naturally. It had been years since Soichiro Yagami had lost that title-even before his death-and Matsuda hadn't stopped referring to him like that. For a while he'd given it a rest and called him the deputy director, but since Light died it was the chief again. "How should I know what he'd do? I just know he wouldn't sacrifice one person in hopes of making it all go away."

Matsuda didn't answer. He was staring at the far side of the room, thinking about God knew what.

Hopefully he'd keep thinking about God knew what so I could focus on my speech.

I looked at the first line again. It seemed hokey for some reason, now that I was thinking about our old chief. He'd been someone who'd always seemed to know what to do, who'd done the right thing no matter what it entailed for him personally. Was I like that? Could I ever be like that? I liked to think I'd be able to set aside my personal safety and judgment for the greater good, but in the end I just had a lot to protect. Hopefully it would never come to that.

Irritated, I skipped the first line and went straight to the second. As you all know we've been called upon to make a decision, and the one making that demand is a murderer who as the potential to be just as cruel as Kira. He has demanded that we give up one of our own as a blood sacrifice so that he can stave his own vengeance, but I tell you now, we will not negotiate with this terrorist. No matter how many lives it takes…

That seemed a bit more like something Soichiro would say. Or I thought it did anyway. Maybe. Would he give up an individual to protect the whole NPA? Maybe it would depend on who it was.

None of us deserve to die for killing Kira—Kira was a murderer, and he had to be stopped at any cost; and never doubt there were sacrifices…

Light… Light had been the sacrifice to Kira. We'd lost him, and that had been the price of being rid of Kira for forever.

My hands shook as I thought about Light's last moments, how hysterical he'd been, how different he'd seemed from the Light I'd known, panicking when we put the handcuffs on him.

It was a violent image: Matsuda shooting him, screaming at him through tears, blood spraying, so bright and red. Light flying back. How he'd writhed in a pool of his own blood. How he'd cried out, raging against fate itself. Gunshots and screaming, blood and death. Darkness and cold around us, the horrible, rock-heavy feeling that we'd all been betrayed by someone we had each loved.

A shiver sped through me. I hadn't considered that moment for a long time. In fact, I'd done my best to block it out. I hated to think about what had happened to Light. I hated the memory of Matsuda shooting him. I hated the memory of seeing him bleeding and screaming and desperately begging for someone to kill us all—his friends. I hated the memory of him lying dead.

Suddenly I felt sick to my stomach.

Soichiro…you'll never know…

Good.

"Aizawa?"

"What now?"

"We're gonna' be pretty hard-pressed to wrap this case up by next Thursday, huh?"
"Of course we are. Why do you even have to ask?" I snapped.

"I've been thinking about that shotgun shell I found. I still have it, you know…"

"What about it?" Didn't the kid realize he was distracting me? There had to be a better time to talk about this.

"If we found that gun…it would be a pretty huge lead, wouldn't it?"

The forensics officers had found blood in the upper room and matched it with a man called Nishi Yamaguchi, but that would only be useful if Yamaguchi was alive, and chances were, he was dead, killed by the shotgun. I'd have to check around later, and if we could find the man who'd used that shotgun to kill him…

"It would be a really huge lead." Why was he asking me these stupid questions right now? He already knew the answers.

When he didn't answer, I looked at him.

His eyes were hard and he was grinding his teeth. I'd seen that look very few times, but I knew that it meant he was thinking very hard about something extremely important. In light of that, I left him alone. Matsuda wasn't usually the one to figure things out, but if he could think of a way for us to get our hands on that shotgun then more power to him.

It looked by this time that the whole NPA had gathered. There weren't very many people left—between the Kira case and this new mess, we'd lost a lot of men, and the force was nowhere near as big as it had been six or seven years ago. I saw the commissioner nodding to me, and I knew it was time to begin.

I stepped forward so that I was standing in front of my three friends, clearing my throat and adjusting the microphone so that it was the right height. Whoever had used it last had been a lot shorter than me.

"Good luck, Aizawa." Mogi whispered.

Ide added, "We're right behind you—if things go bad, we're here."

Comforting as that was, I knew it didn't matter very much.

One last time, I looked at the first line on my paper, decided that I'd better toss it out. It wasn't going to win anyone's heart or mind anyway. It was bullshit.

Again, I cleared my throat and then began, "I'd like to thank you all for coming this morning, inconvenient as it is. As you all know we've been called upon to make a decision due to a vicious demand, and the one making that demand is a murderer who as the potential to be just as cruel as Kira. He has demanded that we give up one of our own as a blood sacrifice so that he can stave his own vengeance, but…we can't do that."

There were some murmurs in the crowd, and I saw a few angry faces.

"Aizawa," someone near the front snapped immediately, "You're just saying that to protect yourself and whoever's responsible."

"No, you're wrong there, we've made this decision because-"

"Give me a break—you four have been cliquish ever since that damn case got started."

Cliquish.

"We spent a lot of time together investigating—it was a long case, and I admit certain attachments were made throughout the group, but we would never sell out the NPA for one man. What I'm trying to convey to you is that the NPA is above negotiating with terrorists, and I don't want this decision to go to just us. This is about all of us—the NPA as an organization. This is not a sacrifice the four of us are willing to make, and I don't think it's one the NPA should be willing to make either. Sacrificing one man just to appease a terrorist shows cowardice and-"

Someone else spoke up, "It's not a matter of cowardice for us, Aizawa. No one wants to sacrifice anyone for any reason, it's inhumane, but we all have things we want to protect too."

"You all know me. I'm a family man; I understand that as well as anyone."

"Just listen to him!" The guy near the front shouted out again, "You're a candidate for being chief so you think you can just tell everyone what to do, Aizawa? You think the four of you are more important than this organization."

That got another murmur from the crowd, louder this time, and I shifted my eyes through them. Not very many looked angry, but I could see that most of them were unhappy and scared. I sighed.

"If you would just let me finish I think things would be a lot clearer."

"All right, all right." Commissioner Oshima called, "That's enough everyone. Let the man speak."

The lull died down and I cleared my throat again, "Thank you, commissioner. As I was saying… this is a decision that the NPA has to make as a whole, it can't really be left up to four men, because in a way, maybe we are biased. A moment ago, I had a different speech ready for all of you, about justice and never backing down, even in the face of terrorism, and it reminded me of someone we all knew and trusted and believed in: Soichiro Yagami. He was a great leader to us all, and for the four of us he was even more than that."

As I'd expected, mentioning Soichiro made the whole room quiet.

"He was a man with an incredible sense of justice-we can all agree on that-but even so, he put his family and his friends and his loved ones above all else, and that's why I'm imploring all of you to side with us in our decision. That's what being a police officer is about—protecting others, and above all, protecting our own.

"Ever since Kira emerged, the NPA has been tried and tested and pushed to its limit. We've seen the worst of ourselves as an organization, and we've seen who our real friends are, the men who are really prepared to fight and die for justice.

"I understand if no one wants to die just because the four of us won't reveal who killed Kira, but we are not going to give each other up, and all we're asking is that you have faith in us, trust us, and support us in our investigation."

A man I'd known a long time stood up, speaking politely, "You're appealing to our best nature, so I think I speak for us all when I say that no one in this room wants to hand over a fellow officer to a terrorist, but what we do want to know is what our alternative is? Surely it's not okay to sacrifice just one person, but when we considered what will happen if we don't…well, Aizawa, I'm sure you understand. And I, along with many other officers feel like we aren't fully involved in this decision, particularly because you refuse to disclose what happened on January 28th in the first place? How can we as a group make a decision if only you four know the truth?"

"That is a problem, but I think you can identify with why. After all, there might be people among us who are desperate, and if we did disclose the events of that day there's no guarantee someone wouldn't sell the information."

"The truth comes out!" The man up front cried. "You don't trust us! Your own comrades!"

The commissioner glared at him, "Officer Hokashi, that's enough! One more outburst from you and I'll have to ask you to leave the room!"

Hokashi. He was a new cop, one I didn't know very well. I'd have to remember him if I became chief. Uncooperative and ill-tempered.

But his cry was enough to make other people start shouting as well, demanding to know why we didn't trust them, why we were being given the power in this instance-a thing even I didn't really understand-and I could feel the situation escalating to dangerous, the meeting spiraling out of control.

"We worked for over five years on one case, with the same men, something not every officer has experienced, but you have to try to understand, that after almost six years of working together, day after day, being forced to trust each other, it's impossible for us to just give each other up.

"Back when Kira first appeared, he was considered a monster throughout the entire world, but as time progressed he became a savior. Somehow, he made people believe he was a hero, and that we-" I indicated to myself and the three behind me, "were the evil ones. All we wanted was to protect our families, our friends, each other…the world. We were fighting for this whole pathetic world, even when it is full of cowards and fools." I could feel my temper breaking as I thought about what I was saying-really thought about it-and realized just what the four of us were up against. "Now you tell me, should we die for that? We were fighting, risking our lives, for all of you when you were too afraid to even come out of the shadows and standin the face of Kira! We were the ones who stopped him, we fought the fight to the end, we vowed to never speak of that day, and that's why this decision is ours, because we were the ones who made the sacrifices and lost the loved ones and nearly died. You were all perfectly willing to enjoy the peace we brought back to you, but you won't respect this decision to protect one another."

They were quiet again. I guess I'd gotten their attention somehow—the speech was utterly gone, and I was just telling them exactly how I felt now. I could tell that even my comrades were breathless.

"The man who shot Kira…to be honest, I can't believe he did that, even to this day. He's here now, and maybe what he did was stupid, and impulsive, and I would have never done it myself, and I might not have agreed with it then, but it had to be done. The Kira case had to be investigated, and Kira had to be taken down. The man who shot Kira did a noble thing, the right thing, and it's because of that that I'll never give him up to this psycho. None of us will. Even if he were willing to give himself up for our sake.

"I don't think we're heroes anymore than anyone else who's in this organization, but the fact of the matter is that Kira would rule the world right now if it weren't for us. No one would be safe, not even the righteous. He had to be stopped.

"So we won't negotiate with this new enemy, we won't back down when he steps up, we won't bow to his wishes and spill the blood of a fellow officer, and we're simply asking all of you to join us in this new stand against evil. Just trust us, give us the time and the resources we need, and I promise you we'll find this man and stop him before he can kill anyone. We're officers too, just as likely to be killed as any of you are, and we have nothing to gain from doing this.

There was more mumbling. A lot of people were disgusted, but I could see a few nodding their heads in agreement. We had won a few anyway.

Do you think you can find him?"
I nodded, "We found Kira."

Another officer sneered, "Will it take another six years?"

"I don't know how long it will take for sure, but I know it would go faster if we had more help. Honestly, you guys don't think letting one of the four of us die would end this, do you? You should help us."

The mumbling was louder this time, and it took me a moment to regain control, "I'd like to take this opportunity to put this to the entire force. Are you going to hold true to your titles as police officers and give us the time we need to bring this criminal to justice, or will you continue to live your lives as cowards and kill one of us to save yourselves?"

Immediately shouting erupted throughout the room. People got to their feet, cursing at me. Someone threw a piece of crumpled up paper and it hit Mogi in the head. Others started to come forward, like they were going to attack me. The commissioner demanded order, but they ignored him. This whole case must have really been messing with their minds.

Before I knew what was happening, Yoko took the microphone from me. I didn't even realize she'd come up beside me, "Awe, siddown, all of you!"

She was so loud and so forceful it startled them and some of the commotion stopped.
"Officer Aizawa is right—it would be cowardly to kill one man just because you're all afraid of someone, someone who can be caught and tried like a regular man. This isn't Kira we're dealing with, it's just a man, a Kira super fan. Besides," she smiled, "how are you going to know which one of them shot Kira? They're never going to tell—if one admits the others will deny him and say that they were the one. Are you going to kill all four of them? Take a good look—these men are your comrades and your friends. Could you live with yourselves if you killed all of them?"

That made some of them stop and think, and I saw a few exchanging glances.

"Commissioner," I said, "would the NPA condone using murder to fight murder?"

All eyes turned to the commissioner, and he looked visibly uncomfortable, but he shook his head, "No. You're right. As afraid as we all may be, we all know that it would be unexceptable to sacrifice you four just to protect ourselves. However, if the man responsible for Kira's death is willing to come forward and admit to what he's done, give himself up, that would be a different matter."

I nodded. We'd have to make sure that didn't happen.

"One week, Aizawa." Declared the commissioner. "That was all the time this terrorist has given. If in one week he has not been caught he'll start killing police officers until he's satisfied."

"Very well, sir, one week it is. We'll work around the clock to find out who this person is, and if we fail we'll decide what's to be done next. Thank you everyone."

With that, I turned and started to march down off the stage and toward the door. The rest of the force resumed chattering.

Hokashi laughed as I passed him, "Just be honest, Aizawa, it was you wasn't it? You killed Kira."

"No." I muttered, but they still heard me, "I didn't shoot Kira. And I'm glad it wasn't me, because the man who shot Kira…will likely never be the same again."

I thought as we lef the meeting room. One week. Just one.

So far, things weren't looking good. No leads, not one, and in one week, no matter what the commissioner said, if things got too bad, it might be the four of us against the whole force. We might all die. All because of a stupid notebook.

"Well, sir," Yoko caught my attention, smiling at me, "that was some speech you gave. Very riveting. I just hope it helps."

"Me too."

Her eyes crinkled in a smile again, then she bowed and turned away, "Excuse me, Aizawa."

I watched her go. I couldn't figure that girl out. She'd worked with Mogi before, but I didn't know much about her. What was she trying to accomplish? Why had she come up and helped me like that? She had a very clear, precise way of speaking, a bluntness that made people listen. But her actions made me think that she knew more than she was supposed to.

"Well," I said to the others, "we've only got one week, starting yesterday. We'd better get to work.

"What are we going to do, Aizawa?" Matsuda asked, as they followed me out of the room; his voice was hushed, "We don't have any leads, or any way to figure out who this guy is. And there's no way to get any more evidence until he kills again."

I growled, "I know that. But I've got an idea anyway."

"You do?" He sounded honestly stunned. "What is it?"

"We'll discuss it in my office."

"Okay."

We walked a ways further, and when I was sure that it was only Mogi, Ide Matsuda and I, I turned around.

"By the way." I stopped him, "I just wanted to reiterate one thing. Even though you are the man who shot Kira, you are not the man who killed Kira. You know the difference, don't you?"

He nodded.

"So even if it feels like giving yourself up to that guy to make sure no one else dies is the noble thing to do, just remember that it isn't. It won't solve a damn thing. Got it?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Great. As long as you keep that straight, we'll be okay." I resumed walking, Mogi going around Matsu to walk beside me.

"Hey, um, Aizawa, about the shotgun-"

"God, Matsuda, forget about the shotgun, okay? It would be great if we could find it, but the chance of that happening really isn't that great, so just drop it for now."

I heard him sigh pretty heavily, "All right…sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry—we all just need to focus on something we can actually use, that's all."

"What might that be?" Mogi asked, speaking for the first time in a few minutes.

"The evidence that's already in our possession. I think that if we can figure out as much as possible about the seven victims that have died so far there might be some similarity between them, or at least a reason why they were together, and hopefully that will lead us to the killer."

"What about the envelope that guy gave me?" Matsuda asked. "Wasn't there any evidence on it?"

I shook my head, "No. There was some of your hair, but no trace that anyone else had touched it before that. It's a dead end. But, keep in mind, we still don't know what the five fakes were doing at the Prince Hotel the other day. If they were really meeting for some reason, or if there was supposed to be a sixth person meeting them, that could be a really helpful clue for us. That's what I think we should focus on."

Mogi nodded, and then asked, "How exactly will we be focusing on that?"

"There were seven victims, there are eight of us. We'll go and interview their family members and friends and whatnot, see if there was anyone they owed money to, if they were in some kind of trouble with someone-the usual stuff-and the eighth person will go talk to Nishi Yamaguchi's family."

"Who's Nishi Yamaguchi?" Matsuda asked.

"Remember where you found your precious shotgun shell? Nishi Yamaguchi is the man whose blood forensics found in the second-story room at the bar."

"Ohh."

"Any priorities?" Mogi was taking notes on something. Maybe he was planning to be the one to talk to Yamaguchi's family.

"Yes…the first thing we need to do is figure out what the five fake NPA officers were doing at the Shinjuku Prince. Someone somewhere must know—that's the first step, and after that, I think the rest will fall into place easily. Also, Mogi, did you get a hold of Near?"

"No, but I got Commander Restor's voicemail. With any luck we'll hear back from him in a few days."

"Luck." Matsuda mused, clasping his hands behind his head, "Boy we could really use some of that right now."

Matsuda

"Matsuda?"

She sounded nervous.

"Yeah?" I gripped my steering wheel a little tighter.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I feel fine. Why?"

"You just seem a little out of it?"

I looked past Sayu at the bar. "I just didn't expect to wind up here."

We'd been sitting in the car a while now, because I was thinking. It was the same bar Aizawa, Yoko and I had checked out the other day—I hadn't expected the address Koli gave me to bring us back here. It was looking more and more likely that the shotgun was going to be a major lead, regardless of what Aizawa thought. After all, what were the chances that a shotgun that had nothing to do with the case was bringing me back to the scene of a murder that had involved a shotgun? I was sure this was an important clue.

"I have a lot on my mind." I told her with a sigh. "Hey, do you think maybe you should stay out here in the car? This guy-if he's here-could be pretty dangerous."

Sayu shook her head stubbornly. Something about the look in her eyes made me think of Light when he'd argued with L about how to go about the case. "You might need me, partner."

"And I might not. I'm a police officer, you know."

"I'd feel better if I were with you."

A little insulted, I couldn't help looking angrily at her. "Sayu, I'm not a kid; I-"

"Not because of that." She said solemnly. "I don't want to be left alone. That's all."

It stopped the words immediately, and I felt stupid. It seemed like I was always saying things without actually thinking them through. "I'm sure you'd be okay. I won't be gone long."

Sayu looked up at me desperately, lower lip trembling just slightly, "Oh, come on, Matsu—please don't leave me here."

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. I couldn't say no when she asked like that. It just wouldn't be right. Besides, I'd feel better if I had someone with me. "All right, fine. Let's go, I guess."

She smiled, slightly, nodded, and we got out of the car and headed inside together. I checked the paper again. This was definitely the right address, and now all there was to do was to find Hiro Miyami. I tried to form a plan in my mind as we walked. I'd ask Miyami casually about the shotgun, acting interested in buying it, question him a little about how he'd gotten it in the first place, and if I had to, keep an eye on him for the rest of the night.

A bell rang when we entered the bar. I didn't remember it from the other day, and it seemed strange for a bar to have one in the first place. Inside there were very few men, playing pool mostly, and drinking. There was a mist of cigarette smoke in the air, and the bartender, who I remembered from the previous day, was watching me warily from behind the counter.

"Woah. This place is really dead for a Friday." I said.

"Maybe everybody's spooked by what happened the other day." Sayu suggested, pressing close to me. I felt her clinging to my clothes. "Let's just try to hurry, okay? I don't like this place."

I nodded, and stepped determinedly up to the bar. Hopefully the keeper wouldn't remember me; or maybe he wouldn't recognize me at all.

Just as long as he doesn't blow my cover.

"Hey."

The bartender looked at me with disinterest and continued polishing the glass he held in one hand, "What can I get for you, Junior?"

"Nothing for me." I smiled as politely as possible, "but she'd like a soda."

He cocked an eyebrow at me.

Sayu hit my arm, following my lead to act like a casual young couple, "Matsuda, you're so horrible! I'd like some sake, please." She grinned at him, that perfect smile.

It didn't faze the man at all-maybe he was gay too-and he started to get the drink while Sayu and I sat down. I leaned over to him and said sort of quietly, "By the way, I heard that an old friend of mine comes in here a lot. I was wondering if you could tell me."

"'Lotta people come in here, kid." He was mixing something that didn't look very much like sake. "How am I s'posed to know?"

"His name is Hiro Miyami. Know him?"

The bartender slammed Sayu's drink down on the table, "Drink up. Should I give the bill to your boyfriend?"

"Of course." Sayu smiled up at him.

I didn't have time to worry about that—I needed to know about Miyami. "Well?"
His eyes hardened slightly, "Yeah, I know Miyami. You say you're a friend of his?"

"An old friend. Haven't seen him for years."

"Well, if he comes around, I'll tell him you were looking for him. Matsuda…?" There was a weird, twisted smile on his lips and it made me feel nervous. He already knew part of my name—if he found out the rest it could mean trouble. What should I do? Give him an alias? Was there even any point?

"Oh, no, that's all right. I'll just look him up later." I tried to smile, but it came out sort of nervous and shaky. Damn. I was really bad with this covert op stuff. "Um, just when was the last time you saw him?"

"I'd say," he checked the clock on the wall, "about five minutes ago."

"Really? That's great! Hey, is he still around here?" no one was there to curb my enthusiasm, so the words just gushed out one after another. "It be awesome if I could talk to him!"

"As a matter of fact," he smiled at me, large and generous. It distorted his whole face so he almost looked like a different person, "ya' just missed him. He was going to his car."

"Just now?"

"Just now." The bartender nodded. "In fact, I'll bet if ya' hurry, you can catch up to him."

It was all too perfect—just in time. If I caught Miyami at his car then I wouldn't even have to worry about other people overhearing our conversation.

"Thank-you very much." I tipped my head to the barkeeper, and then turned to run out of the bar.

Sayu shouted after me, "He-ey! Matsuda! Wait for me!"

"This will just take a second." I burst through the door, setting the bell off again.

I heard her come out after me, "No way, I'm going too! You said it yourself-this guy could be dangerous!" Sayu nearly ran into a man who was going into the bar. "Oh, sorry, sir."

"That's exactly why you should wait in the bar." I paused on the sidewalk and looked up and down the street, searching every shadow for any sign of a car. The left led back to the main road, and there were very few cars parked in that direction. The few that were there didn't have anyone near them. On my right it was a little darker, leading back into the apartment buildings and other bars and clubs that were nearby. Would he have parked back there?

It was my best bet, so I went to the right.

"This was all my idea, so I'm not waiting in some bar."

"Oh, come on, Sayu." I begged, "You promised to behave as long as I let you help."

"Yeah, but I didn't promise to obey your every order." From the sound of her footsteps, she was right behind me, and when I turned to look at her, her face was determined and relentless.

I'll never be able to convince her to just go back.

"Fine, but stay close. It's dark over here."

She teased, "You scared of the dark, Matsu-chan?"
"Matsu-chan? Since when do you call me that?"

Sayu giggled and we kept walking, getting further and further away from the bar. "What, don't you like it?"

"No. I mean, no, there's nothing wrong with it…but can't you just call me Matsuda, like everyone else?"

"I've heard Aizawa and some of the others call you Matsu."

"Not very much though."

"Well, I think it's a cute nickname."

"Cute?" I glanced back at her, cheeks getting a little warm.

She laughed again, but she was walking closer to me now.

It was really dark back here. I didn't see anyone about to get into their car, and a lot of the streetlights were out. Even though it wasn't very late, no one seemed to have their lights on in their apartments. We kept walking though, looking for any sign of a car.

After a while longer, Sayu said, "You sure he parked over here?"

"No. But where else could he park?"

"Maybe he already left."

"Maybe."

"Then we should go back."

"Let's just make sure—maybe the bar was more full when he came here and he had to park further away."

Sayu didn't answer.

I put my hand on my gun and snapped my head to the left when I heard the tinkling of glass. Just a cat.

"Matsu… hey, Matsuda, let's go back. There's no one here."

We were only a couple blocks from the bar, but I still got this strange sense of foreboding and darkness. Maybe we had come too far. I'm an NPA officer—there's nothing to be scared of.

This is my only chance to find a lead—we're running out of time, and if I don't hurry and find out as much as I can it might be too late.

"Matsuda." Sayu stopped walking suddenly, just stood right there in the middle of the road. Her voice trembled a little, "It's cute that you're being so brave and everything, but this is ridiculous. He's not here—we'll just have to try something else."

But I wasn't trying to be brave. I'd spent hours at a desk all morning and most of the afternoon, doing what Aizawa said and trying to find clues in the information we already had, but there weren't any. The others had returned empty handed as well, and if we didn't start to get somewhere fast we might all wind up dead. I had to do this. No one else was going to take the shotgun seriously unless they heard what Sayu had told me, and she couldn't tell anyone else, because they'd turn her in for withholding information.

"Matsuda…I'm scared."

Finally I stopped and looked back at her, "Don't worry, Sayu, it'll be okay."

Her eyes darted back and forth, nervously, "How do you know?"

"I'm not going to let anything happen." I smiled and held out my hand, "Here. Hold my hand."

Sayu bit at her lower lip and her left hand tugged at her necklace; slowly she reached out with the other one and intertwined her fingers with mine. Her touch was soft and smooth, very feminine, and her skin was warm. For just a few seconds I was totally absorbed by the sensation of her flesh touching mine.

We smiled at each other a second, and I saw her relax. I felt a little better too. It was nice to have someone with me.

Behind her, I noticed some movement. A cat? Maybe it was Miyami coming out to his car. Maybe he'd stopped to talk to someone and we'd gotten ahead of him.

There were footsteps. But something was wrong—it was more than just one pair. It sounded like there were two or three people approaching. No. It sounded more like a whole group. I thought I heard someone chuckle. Miyami? An enemy? I touched my gun with my free hand again.

"So…" a gravelly voice spoke up. "Matsuda, am I right?"

Sayu gasped and turned around, clearly surprised, and six men emerged from the darkness, stepping into the dim halo of light from a weakening streetlamp.

How does he know my name?

The guy out in front was a good head or two taller than me with long hair, and he was smiling, but something about the way his mouth was turned up made my stomach harden with fear. The five he had with him had a similar demeanor, and they had punkish haircuts. All six of them were wearing what looked like gang paraphernalia, leather jackets with a red English letter K on the breast pocket. Kira?

Instinctively, I stepped in front of Sayu. "Who are you?"

Now the man in front was standing fully in the light, and I saw that he was holding a long, lead pipe in one hand, slapping it into his palm over and over like he was itching to hit someone. The other punks had their own weapons: chains, clubs, knives and crowbars.

"The name is Troy. Just Troy."

It's an English name—an alias.

"What do you want?" Already I was getting a bad feeling about this. Random guys with street-fighter weapons and aliases appearing out of nowhere and calling me by name…it was just too weird. It couldn't be anything good.

"We don't want anything; in fact, we're just hear to deliver a message."

I felt like I was trying to swallow a rock, and all I could do was listen, hoping that it wasn't anything too bad.

"We don't like your style, Matsuda."

Style? What in the world does that mean? Who are these guys?

"Style?"

"That's right. In fact, looking at you, I'm pretty sure your don't have a stylish bone in your body."

All this from a punk who still dresses like he's in high school? I glanced down at my jeans and t-shirt. I looked normal enough, not at all like a cop. No, they weren't going to beat me up for something I was or wasn't wearing; this obviously had a different meaning.

Troy came forward, pipe ready, and the others circled around us. He spoke to Sayu, "Girly, unless you want to see your boyfriend get his teeth busted out you'd better beat it."
Sayu didn't answer him, but clung to me a little tighter.

"Wait a minute. What's this all about? I didn't do anything to-"
"Don't play innocent with me, Mr. Policeman." Troy was right in my face now, grinning with yellow teeth. "I know you're a member of the NPA, and we don't tolerate cops around this part of town."

How did they know? Was it that obvious? Did something about my appearance just scream 'law enforcement'? I couldn't believe that. They had to have some kind of external source. Maybe the bartender really had recognized me. If so, he'd done a good job of hiding it.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not-"

"Shut up, bitch!" Troy shouted, spit flying in my face. "We ain't here to debate it—we're here to put you in your goddamn place."

His fist flew and I barely managed to get out of the way in time, his knuckles just barely brushing the edge of my jaw as I ducked away. In the process, I stumbled into Sayu and almost knocked her down.

"Matsuda!"

"Get out of here!" I yelled at her. I couldn't let something bad happen to her. There were six of them, so chances were I was going to get my ass whooped unless I used my gun. But if she was standing there I was wide open to anything, and there was no way I was going to let something happen to the chief's daughter.

"But Matsu-"

I managed to duck another fist. "I said run!"

Whether or not Sayu listened to me, I didn't notice. I was suddenly busy trying to get around the attacks Troy was throwing. As a member of the NPA I had been trained in hand-to-hand combat, and even though I'd never been a very skilled fighter, my militaristic training far out-matched Troy's street-fighter, punk style. His friends kept us inside their circle, shouting and cheering him on, but none of them got involved, even when I kicked him so hard he fell down. Instead they just helped him to his feet and pushed him back to the middle of the circle.

He looked angry as he attacked again, throwing fist after fist, but only a few actually hit me, and even when they did, I knew how to take a punch so that it didn't hurt so bad. I got through most of his mad attack and punched him back, a lot worse than I'd gotten from him. After just a few minutes had gone by it was obvious I was winning. This was ridiculous though, and my heart wasn't in it. I didn't know what the hell I was fighting for.

That's the problem with me. I realized, as I socked Troy in the abdomen and felt his gut cave around my fist. He looked strong, but he wasn't made of muscle—in fact a lot of him felt soft. I can't just fight because I want to…I have to be motivated…

Like with Light. I'd shot Light because I'd been angry and feeling betrayed. This was a different situation. But at least I was holding my own.

"C'mon, Matsu." Sayu cried from the sidelines, "Knock this guy dead!"

Right. Easier said than done.

Troy came at me with the pipe, and I side-stepped it, letting it woosh by, elbowed him in the back as he went past me. He coughed and heaved, swung at my head again and missed. "You stupid bastard!"

Now I had to be more cautious. If I got hit in the head with that thing it was going to put me into non-REM sleep, and if I took it in the arm or shin, it would probably snap my bones. I jumped back as he tried to bring the heavy weapon down on my skull.

His knee caught me in the side, but I let the discomfort wash off and rammed him with my shoulder, knocking him on his back. I felt my shoulder pop and some pain flooded through my upper arm, but it wasn't bad, so I ignored it, stood over him as he coughed and writhed.

My personal, one-girl pep squad cheered. "Yeah, Matsu! You've got him on the ropes!"

It was like she didn't even get what was going on. The other five could get into the fight at any given moment, and there was no way I'd be able to survive that.

"Come on, man, give it up." I said, taking a step back, watching Troy clamber to his feet with the help of his friends.

Troy just wiped his lips and swung again.

I took his fist in my cheek and reeled backward. Sayu screamed my name. But I kept my balance and went right back at him, hitting him a couple times in the stomach and chest. I was smaller than he was, and faster. Still, it felt strange to be winning…almost like it wasn't real. I hadn't been in a fight since high school-not a fight like this one-but I distinctly remembered getting the snot kicked out of me. Had being part of the police force changed my abilities that much?

Warily, I watched his movements, trying to mirror them and avoid any subsequent punches and kicks. Even though I was a more polished fighter than him, Troy was younger than me, and he was resilient. His stamina was probably better, and I had to give it to him—he was tough. If I don't watch it, he could turn it around.

He feinted back, pretending to retreat, and when I went after him, he dodged forward, punched me square in the face, and I felt the familiar pain of a blow to the nose. I felt it start to bleed, but kept fighting, shedding my jacket as I ran at him. It was starting to make me angry, this pointless fight. I just wanted to know who the hell this guy was and where he'd gotten the guts to attack a police officer.

I launched myself forward and hit Troy with all my weight. We both hit the ground hard and rolled back and forth a few minutes, struggling to gain the upper hand. I managed to sit up and punch him a few times in the face, and Sayu cheered for me like a high school cheerleader. His nose broke under my fist, blood sprayed on my shirt. It made me feel sick. The same feeling I'd gotten when I'd shot the chief's son. If this fight didn't end soon, I was getting my gun out.

If they know I'm a police officer they must know I'm carrying a gun. So why would they attack me like this? It doesn't make sense.

Now that I think of it…this feels an awful lot like a trap.

I had the thought exactly two seconds too late, because right after that, the others closed in around me. I tried to fight them off, but there were too many. They twisted my arms behind my back, clenching me in their hands. Somebody kicked me right in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me, and I doubled over. Another punched me in the face. My eye throbbed.

"Matsuda!" Sayu screamed, rushing forward, but they restrained her too.

Troy got up, spitting blood, eyes on fire with rage, "Well, well, well. You're a lot stronger than you look, copper." He backhanded me with his open hand, which didn't do much other than sting and make me feel humiliated.

"You actually had me there for a while." The second blow was harder, a punch in the jaw that knocked a few of my teeth loose. I felt blood dribbling down my lower lip and tasted it in my mouth.

"Too bad no one told you there's safety in numbers."

He kicked me in the stomach a few times, punched me in the face. Someone grabbed my hair when I tried to pull away, jerking my head back so I was forced to take his hits one after another.

"You'll get it now though—that's just one less dirty cop we have to worry about."

Troy hauled back and hit me with his elbow so hard that I actually lost vision for a moment, and then I felt dizzy so I could barely stand. Everything was just a blur. I saw a flash of a street light, heard Sayu screaming-it sounded like she was begging-felt another punch, but it seemed far away, and through it all, the only thing I could think was If I could just get to my gun…

What would I do if I got to my gun? Would I shoot this punk? Would I kill him?

I imagined his head on Light's body, screaming in pain and rage.

No. Never again. I hated the way it felt then, and I'll never do it again.

Even if I could get to my gun how could I use it?

The punks threw me to the ground, and I landed right in a puddle leftover from the rain. My shirt was torn and stretched already, and when I hit a new hole was ripped in the knee of my jeans. I felt the asphalt tear away a patch of my flesh, but that was the least of my worries.

Troy stood over me, a sharp, black shadow being thrown across my path of sight. He was just a silhouette against the streetlight behind him, but I saw the glint of the pipe as he raised it in the air. So that was it then. He was going to beat me to death like a dog.

Furious, I struggled to get up. I had changed my mind. I'd shoot him if I got a chance—I was angry now. Angry at the thought of being killed for nothing, angry to think about Sayu having to watch him hammer on me until I was dead. If I got half the chance I was going to blow his head off. I reached for my gun, which was carefully tucked into the ankle holster I was wearing.

One of the gang members kicked me in the back and I was on my hands and knees again. Another put the toe of his steel-toed boot in my ribs.

Wheezing and gasping, I hit the ground, held my abdomen and sucking air in a futile attempt to breathe. I stared up at Troy. The blow was coming. There was no way to dodge it. There wasn't even time to close my eyes. It would be one fell swoop—his lead pipe hitting my skull, and then my head would bust open like a watermelon.

Sorry Sayu.

There was the screeching of tires and a sudden flare of bright, white headlights. Some of the punks screamed and tried to shield their eyes.

Troy shouted, "What the fuck?"

I took the opportunity to get up again, kicking him hard in the back of the knees so that he fell face down; still controlled by anger, I cocked my fist back to pummel him.

A car door slammed. "What the hell are you kids doing? You'd better get out of here—I've got my cell phone, and I'll call the police if you don't beat it!"

"Holy shit! It's Hiro!" One of the punks screamed.

"No way, that ain't him!"

"Yeah it is, dumbass! I'm outta here!"

There was some more screaming, and I was distracted long enough for Troy to scramble to his feet, throw his pipe in the general direction of the headlights, and run. Just a few moments later, the punks had vanished down an alleyway, Sayu had slammed into me and was holding on tight, and a man in his late fifties had come up to us, looking on with a stern look.

I was so stunned I just stood there with my fist still raised.

Sayu

I had never known Matsuda to drink so much. He wasn't drunk or anything, but as I watched him down beer after beer I realized that he was brooding. It was American beer too, right out of a longneck, brown bottle. He wasn't even bothering to pour it into the frosty glass he'd been provided with by the barkeeper.

Concerned, I watched him. His eye was starting to blacken, the skin around the socket bruising. His shirt was ripped down the side so I could see that his abs were bruised too, and the collar was stretched so bad that it fell off his left shoulder a little, where I saw a fairly serious scrape. He hadn't put his jacket back on, and his hair was hanging disheveled in his eyes; he'd cleaned the blood off his forehead, chin and nose, but there were still scratches and cuts on his cheek and the corner of his mouth was purplish-red. The look in his eyes was scary—a blend of real anger and humiliation. Men hated to be beaten in fights, I knew. And they hated even more to receive any kind of help—or so I'd been told. I just couldn't imagine it being true.

My heart was still pounding like a drum, and I was holding the hand he wasn't using to drink with between my own. Probably more for my comfort than for his.

Hiro Miyami sat across from us, and we were back in the bar, in a booth way in the back where it was quiet and dark, and no one would bother us. The waitress brought Miyami some sake, and Matsuda beer after beer—on Miyami's tab, apparently.

Miyami laughed, "So kid, how'd ya' feel? Looks like you're gonna' have a nice shiner to show off to your friends."

That irritated me for some reason. It was like he thought Matsuda was some kind of college kid running around getting in trouble on a Friday night. But I reminded myself that it wasn't his fault—Matsu looked pretty young.

For an answer, Matsuda took a slug from his current bottle of beer.

That only made Miyami laugh more, "But seriously now, what was all that about exactly?"

I started to answer, but Matsuda spoke first, voice quiet so that I almost couldn't tell how angry he was, "Nothing. Just a little misunderstanding."

"I see." Miyami looked out the window and adjusted his glasses. He looked way different than I had expected him to, wearing a dress shirt open at the collar and some nice, black slacks. He was attractive, even for an old man. "Those punks hang around this part of town all the time—they don't seem to have jobs, school, or even families. The worst kind of scum."

"The kind Kira should take care of." Matsuda agreed.

I almost gasped out loud when I heard him say that, but I realized a split second later that he was going to pretend to be a Kira supporter to gain Miyami's trust; after all, this was the man who'd tried to sell a shotgun the other day. He looked easy-going and domestic, but we didn't know what he was hiding, or what he was capable of.

That seemed to catch Miyami off guard, but then he smiled, "So you're a Kira supporter, huh? Good for you. I am too. I think the world would be much better off if the Kira investigation were set aside and Lord Kira were allowed to work."

Matsuda didn't reply, but took another swig of beer.

"I'll admit, when Momo told me a kid named Matsuda was in here looking for me, I was worried. Thought you were a cop or something."

"Why would you think I'm a cop?" Matsuda looked at him innocently. "Are you in trouble with the NPA?"

"No, not me per say, but I have a few friends who are on the wrong side of the law at the moment."

"Everyone's on the wrong side of the law right now. That's why we need Kira to make a come back." Matsuda answered tiredly.

"You're right." Miyami nodded and took a sip from his glass. "I've always believed in the mercy of Kira, even way back when he was considered a common criminal. It has always been my understanding that as long as you live a good, peaceful life no trouble will come to you. Don't know about you, Matsuda-san, but I'm an honest man. I make an honest living and try to run an honest household."
That interested me. Was this guy a family man? Maybe we had the wrong Hiro Miyami or something, because he seemed legit, and kind. Then again, trying to sell a shotgun doesn't make you evil, it's just that it's not legal in Japan.

"It's the people who try to defy Kira that are in trouble. Like this investigation team that's always chasing him, and that L character. You know, I actually heard rumors that L is dead and that the man calling himself that now is L's protégée."

I'd heard that rumor too, but I had no way of finding out if it were correct or not. Even Matsu probably wouldn't tell me if that were true.

"They also say Kira's dead." Matsuda said.

"But he's not. Lord Kira is a god—no mortal man could kill him. No matter what weapon he chose to fight with."

"I agree." Matsuda said, setting his bottle down. "Kira's making a comeback-I can feel it-that's what all these murders are about."

"Murders?" Miyami looked genuinely interested.

"Haven't you heard? A lot of people have been killed lately—I don't think it's Kira himself, but whoever's doing it has been leaving messages behind. It's always the same message: 'Kira lives.'"

Obviously Matsuda was trying to prove that this man had something to do with the murders, otherwise he never would have brought them up. I watched Miyami expecially carefully as he answered.

"Is that so? Well, I don't watch very much news, so I haven't heard about it. Were the victims criminals?"

"No." Matsuda shook his head, eyes harder than ever, "NPA officers."

It was a terrifying reality. Even after Dad and Light were dead, my connection to the NPA still felt so strong…I didn't want to think of any police officers dying. I had friends in the force. Matsu and Mogi and the others…they were all good, honest men. But they were at risk as much as anyone else now.

I was surprised when the words that disgusted me so much brought an actual smile to Miyami's lips, "It's about time."

Matsuda looked at him, puzzled, but I couldn't tell if it was his honest, natural denseness, or an act, "Time?"

"Don't you know, kid? Kira has been promising to punish the NPA for a long time, and this is the first step."

"I've never heard Kira promise to punish the NPA." I snorted. Matsuda could pretend all he wanted, but I wasn't even going to act like a Kira supporter. I hated him too much.

Miyami looked at me seriously, "He's promised to put an end to all who oppose him, and he's never had greater opposition than the police. Even when they promised to abide by his rules and collaborate with him they still had that goddamn 'task force' out hunting him, working with L, pretending to be heroes."

"That was a special force." I argued. "It had nothing to do with the police."

"The police acted like they weren't working together, but they obviously were. After that one officer shot Kira all four of them were accepted back by the police force like none of it had happened. It's disgusting how hypocritical the police have been."
Miyami probably didn't notice how Matsuda's brow shadowed, or how his jaw moved as he ground his teeth, but I saw, and I knew he was trying not to show anger. "Still, does that mean they'll be punished soon? It's not Kira doing these killings—it's someone else."

"Believe me, kid," Miyami tilted his head back to take a sip of sake, "they'll get theirs soon. That's part of what Troy and his gang of misfits stand for in the first place. The Paradise."

"Paradise?"

"Yes. A world without police or government officials. A world where Kira is the sole ruler—the god of everything. It's coming soon, and the fact that NPA officers are being targeted-even if it is by just one, brave citizen-proves it. I'm sure of it—The Paradise is not far off."

Unbelievable. How could anyone believe something so ridiculous? Miyami looked like a sensible, level-headed man, and something about him even reminded me of Dad, but how could he honestly believe in something so farfetched and ridiculous? How could he not realize that what Kira had done was evil, and what was happening to the NPA now was wrong?

"Soon," he continued, "very soon, we'll see dramatic changes in the world." A bright grin lit up his face, and he even lifted his hands a little. The Shinigami will find the man responsible for shooting our god, Lord Kira, and once he's spilled his blood, Kira will be able to return to earth and continue passing judgment as he did before, until the world is as clean and pure as it was when it was created."

It sounded like a bunch of stupid babble to me, but Matsuda suddenly choked and had to slam his beer down, coughing and gagging slightly.

"Matsuda?" I looked at him worriedly, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." he cleared his throat, voice sounding tense like he couldn't quite breathe, "I just swallowed wrong."

Miyami leaned forward, "Sure you're all right? Is it possible those punks broke one of your ribs?"

Matsu shook his head earnestly, "I'm fine. Really. What's this stuff about a Shinigami though?"

"The Shinigami. The Reaper, if you prefer. He's Kira's hand-chosen messenger for the time, although his existence is very underground, and few people know about it." Miyami furrowed his brow, "That reminds me, Matsuda-san, just what is it you were looking for from me? Momo said you were an old friend, but I'm sure we've never met before."

"Oh?" Matsu looked surprised and even a little clueless. "Momo must have gotten it wrong. I never said anything like that."

"I see." Miyami was quiet a moment, then his eyes narrowed, "But you were looking for me, right?"

"Yeah, I was."

"Well, I'm sorry that you couldn't find me earlier, but I had to run an errand out of the blue. We can discuss whatever you like now."

Weird. It's like he just avoided the whole conversation about the Shinigami. Maybe he doesn't trust Matsuda as much as he's pretending to. I sensed a trap.

"Never mind, oji-san, I wouldn't want to bother you."

Miyami's mouth crinkled in a smile, "Oji-san?" then he laughed, "It's no bother, I feel like we're already friends. I'll even buy you another drink—just tell me what's on your mind."

"It's not important really. I should probably go home."

"Please," Miyami leaned forward, still smiling, all but clasping Matsu's free hand, "you came here seeking me out and were nearly killed for it. I insist."

Does Matsuda notice how weird this is? Miyami seemed too eager to know. Matsuda wasn't always on the ball, but he wasn't a total idiot, so he had to notice it too.

Finally, Matsu shrugged, "I heard you have a shotgun you might be interested in selling. I'd like to buy it, if it's still available."

For just a split second, Miyami's forehead wrinkled like he was concerned, and his mouth frowned, but then it immediately went back to normal and the grin was even bigger, "Oh, so you heard about that did you? A shame. I was hoping to keep it a secret."

"Some men at Blue Heaven were telling me about it. Semi-automatic, right? I'd really like to buy it from you."
"Hm. Does anyone else know about it?"

Matsuda shook his head slowly, pointed at me, "Just me and her. Is that a problem?"

"No. Of course not. I just don't want the NPA to find out about it."

"Well, we'd never tell them, right, Sayu?"
"That's right." I agreed methodically. I wished this meeting would end already—the lying bothered me.

"That's good to hear. Unfortunately, Matsuda, I no longer have the shotgun."

"You sold it?"

"Yes."

"Are you serious? Dammit! To who?"

Miyami hesitated, "I'm not sure…I don't remember."
"Don't remember? Are you sure you can't even think of his name?"

Be careful, Matsuda. If he acted too disappointed, Miyami might get suspicious and figure out what we were doing.

"I'm sorry, Matsuda-san, but I wasn't personally acquainted with the man, I just sold him a gun. In black market business it's better not to know real names anyway."

Matsuda stared down at the table for a moment, and I knew he must be feeling frustrated. If we couldn't locate the shotgun then all of this would have been for nothing. Him getting beat up, and hit on by that other guy and everything, it would have been just a huge waste of time and energy.

We both waited for him to say something, but he didn't. It looked like he was paying attention to something completely different.

Miyami waited a while, then politely cleared his throat, "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, uh," Matsuda suddenly looked at him again and scratched the back of his head, "no, nothing. I just thought I heard someone say my name. Well, anyway, that's too bad about the shotgun. Guess I'm out of luck." He laughed a little. To me it sounded fake.

"Yes, I'm sorry I can't be more helpful."

"Who knows, maybe I'll stumble across one like it some day." Matsuda said brightly.

Why was he acting so strange all the sudden? Maybe he'd just thought of something major. It would have to be something really important to just omit all the disappointments we were having.

"Maybe."
"Where did you get it anyway? Is there a place I can buy one?"

He was really pushing the innocent youthfulness now. Good thing it came to him so naturally.

Miyami laughed heartily, "I'm sure there is, but I wouldn't know where to start with that. See, I never wanted the silly thing to begin with. I found it."

"Found it?"

I felt just as shocked as Matsuda sounded. Where would he have found an illegal weapon? "You mean…somebody gave it to you?"

"No. I really found it."

"Where?"

"Right outside this very building actually. In the dumpster in the alleyway."

The dumpster. Could it be the same alley and the same shotgun? That seemed almost too good to be true.

Matsuda sat back, pulled loose of me and folded his arms, "Oh, come on, Miyami-san, you don't really expect us to believe that you found something like that just laying around."

"Well, I realize it sounds strange, and I can't really prove it to you, but it's the truth. Someone must have needed to get rid of it right away and couldn't bother selling it." Miyami checked his watch, "At any rate, I'm sorry I couldn't help you, Matsuda—you really could have used it tonight."

"Right. I kept thinking that if I just had a gun I'd put those kids in their place but," Matsu shrugged, "I'm just glad you came along when you did."

"I have to get going now," Miyami rose and placed a hand on Matsuda's shoulder, like they'd known each other all their lives, "I'd love to stay and chat, but my wife will worry if I don't get going. But if you two are going to stick around a while longer just tell Momo to put anything you order on my tab. In fact," he suddenly raised his voice, "Hey, Momo! This young man here is a very old, very close friend of mine—take care of him for me."

Momo smiled, revealing that he was missing a tooth, and called back, "Okay, Boss!"

"That should make up for any injuries Troy gave you." Miyami grinned kindly. "So both of you have fun, and come by again any time you like. I come here a lot."

"All right, oji-san, thank-you for everything."

"Thank-you." I echoed, dipping my head.

Miyami patted Matsuda on the shoulder, and then he picked up his briefcase and left, pausing by the bar to talk to Miyami again. I saw the bartender look at us out of the corner of his eye, and then he looked away and nodded, his mouth moved but I couldn't tell what he said. Miyami smiled back at us, then hastened out the door.

The moment he was gone, Matsuda sighed and lowered his head to the table.

I looked at him, touched his back and found that it was warm, "Hey, are you okay? You really had me scared for a minute there--I thought that guy was going to kill you."

"I'm okay. Let's just get out of here while we still can."

"Do you think it's safe to go outside?" I kept imagining Troy and his gang surrounding the bar and jumping us again.

"We'll be okay. I just want to go home."

"'Kay." We got up nonchalantly and nodded to Momo, who was watching us not so subtly. It made me feel afraid all over again, but Matsu walked confidently, jacket slung over his shoulder like he owned the place.

"Good night, Momo."

Momo seemed surprised, but nodded.

Then we were back outside, and the air felt really good. It was fresh and clean and cool, just like nights from my past, before everything had gotten so horribly strange.

Just once before the door closed, I saw Matsuda look over his shoulder, that hardness returning to his eyes momentarily, and then it was gone.

I walked just a little behind him, watching him without speaking. He was such a strange man. Nothing at all like the Matsuda I had known before Light died. I really didn't know what to think of him these days. It was like he was Matsuda, sweet and frivolous and sort of silly, but at the same time, some vital part of his nature, some cheerfulness, was completely absent, and I had no idea what the real cause of that was. Only one thing was certain—Matsuda was extremely unpredictable. I hadn't even been able to tell who was leading who on during his conversation with Miyami. He had seemed so clueless and dense then, but Miyami had totally believed everything he'd said about being a Kira supporter. I felt like I had missed something, and I wished I were as smart as Light had been.

As if to distract me from thinking about my brother, I noticed Matsuda's shoulders shaking. It struck me as odd. Was he cold? If so, why didn't he just put his coat on? A moment passed, and I kept watching. I thought I heard him sniffle, and when I saw that he was holding his ribs, I was sure that he was hurt bad and had been hiding it all this time.

"Matsuda-chan!" I grabbed his arm and turned him around.

To my surprise, Matsu had a huge grin on his face, and he was obviously straining to stifle a laugh.

"What?"

He didn't answer, just kept laughing quietly like an idiot.

"What's wrong with you, you moron?"

Without warning, he burst into laughter so loud and so genuine it startled me, echoing off the buildings around us, and a few lights in a nearby apartment came on. I just stared at him as he stood there, laughing and covering his face and straining to breathe. That laugh…it was real, like how he'd always laughed before, not hiding anything, not forced to look genuine, but a true, sincere, Touta Matsuda laugh.

"Did you see it, Sayu? Did you see how amazing that was?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? The fight! I totally had that guy on the ropes! For a while there, I thought he was just letting me win or something, but even he said that I'd beaten him! If it hadn't been for his buddies, I would have totally kicked his butt!" Matsu suddenly pumped his fist, "Whoo! It was a great rush—I haven't fought someone like that since I was a kid! And I've never won a fight before in my life!"

"But you didn't win."

"I know, I know. Not technically, but that's only because I was outnumbered. If it had been fair I definitely would have been the champ. And on top of that, Miyami totally fell for my act! He actually believed that I'm a Kira fan!"

I looked at him skeptically, "Are you sure? He said something to Momo on the way out."

"Maybe he doesn't totally trust me, but he believed me, and that's all that matters. Maybe all that time hanging out with L and Light actually paid off—I had him eating out of my hand."

Incredible how happy those simple things had made him. Boys are so strange. "Not meaning to be a downer or anything," I said, after he'd laughed a little more, "I mean, I'm glad to see you're happy and everything, but you didn't exactly get the shotgun. Doesn't that mean this was all a waste of time."

"I never needed the shotgun to begin with." he said importantly, "All I really needed was to find who owned the shotgun and I did it."

"Yeah, well…Miyami did own the shotgun, but that doesn't mean he had anything to do with the murders."

Matsuda started to gush. The more he talked, the more excited he sounded, and the more excited he sounded, the happier he looked, and soon his happiness started to spread into me, "Oh, come on, Sayu—you heard all those things he said. He found a shotgun? Who goes digging through dumpsters? Especially outside of bars. Especially when there was just a murder there in that alley. I can't believe that it's just a coincidence that a semi-automatic shotgun was there, so that means it had to have been the same gun, and that means he would have found it just yesterday. Am I supposed to believe he found and sold an illegal weapon all in the same day?

"All of that added to how much he hates the NPA seems like proof enough to me. Random Kira fanatic finds a shotgun-likely story-he's got to be involved with the case. He's got to be the man who fired the shotgun in the upper room and killed the first guy! It's a huge lead!"

"You're losing me."
"Oh, sorry—I forgot I'm not supposed to discuss the case with you. Working with you like this makes me feel like you're a part of the investigation. Anyway, it's a huge lead, and now all we have to do is tail Miyami until we have solid proof that he was there that night then, BAM!" I jumped. "We got 'im! That means I did it—without Aizawa or Ide or Mogi, or anyone!"

I chuckled as he pumped his fist again and did a brief victory dance. Just like the old Matsuda. All wound up and rowdy. It's cute…

"But even if that wasn't enough to get me psyched, I totally found another lead to follow while we were sitting there talking to him!"

That startled me more than anything, "Really? You did? Wait, when? How?"

"Unh-uh," he wagged his finger at me teasingly, "I can't tell you yet, partner—I'll tell you tomorrow when I pick you up."

My heart skipped a beat like I'd just been asked on a date, "Pick me up? You mean…you want me to keep working on this with you?"

"Of course I do, Sayu! Don't you get it? I never could have done all this without you! You found the lead in the first place, and you stuck by me through the whole thing, even when it was dangerous—I'd have been totally lost without you! You were like…like…like the Misa to my Kira!"

I didn't get that either, since obviously it was something only Matsu understood, but I didn't have time to worry about it, because suddenly he threw his arms around me and swept me up, spinning in a circle so my hair flew out behind me, laughing like a madman the whole time.

And after a second, I was laughing too, laughing in a way I hadn't laughed since before my kidnapping, laughing like nothing mattered and everything was fine—like Daddy and Light were at home with Mom, worried sick about me, like the only thing I had to worry about was who to hang out with over the weekend or what to wear tomorrow. I was laughing like I was fifteen years old and in love for the very first time. It made me feel like my heart would burst.

The next thing I knew, Matsuda had stopped spinning, and he was holding me close, my arms around his neck, my legs straddling his torso, and somehow our faces were pressed together, our lips locked in a kiss. I could taste the alcohol on his tongue, but something about it was sweet, and his mouth was warm and inviting. I loved how it felt to have him holding me. I loved the security and the pleasure of it.

It wasn't a very long kiss, but when it was over, I felt breathless, staring into his tender, brown eyes, feeling his breath on my neck and chin. I didn't even know if I had kissed him or if he had kissed me, but I felt completely love struck—dizzy and floaty, like I'd taken drugs.

"M-Matsu…"

He set me on my feet immediately, facing away from me, "S-sorry Sayu…I shouldn't have…"

"It's okay…I don't mind."

Matsuda looked back at me shyly, face sort of pink, but the smile was still in place, and his eyes were still shining. "Come on, let's get you home."

I took his hand, and we walked to the car with our fingers interlaced. I felt braver than I had in my whole life, like I could fall from a cloud or walk across the ocean or even fight Kira himself and win. The darkness seemed totally gone. And before long, we were back on the main road, heading for my house.

Matsuda parked outside as usual and said goodnight to me.

"Are you sure you don't want to come inside and let my mother take a look at your injuries?"

"It's late." He smiled, "I don't want to worry her."

"All right. Just make sure you take care of them yourself. Okay?"

"I promise."

"Good night."

I fought the urge to lean in and kiss him again.

"Good night, Sayu."

He squeezed my hand briefly.

I didn't remember going inside or saying hello to mom or even climbing the stairs to my room. I didn't remember passing the door where Misa had died. All I could think of was Matsuda, from the moment I left him, to the moment I was asleep in bed.