Kill All Your Friends

The blindfold was removed from Light's eyes and a steady pressure in the middle of his upper back—one of the guard's hands—ushered him into his new cell, the metal door clanging behind him.

He took a moment to survey his surroundings. The cell was much like the previous one, except that it was separated from the adjacent cell only by metal bars, rather than a cement wall. The security camera was also positioned differently, in the far right corner of the door side of the cell instead of right in the middle; angled that way, no doubt, so that it would capture his cell as well as part of Ryuzaki's side. A quick glance revealed the security camera in Ryuzaki's cell to be in a mirroring position, so that it would capture part of his cell as well.

He crossed over to the cat and sat down. His ankles were still cuffed, but his hands had been moved in front of him, so they were no longer craned awkwardly behind his back.

It looks like Ryuzaki will still be getting some preferential treatment, despite now being locked up as well—at least now I'll be subject to the same preferential treatment. I'll have to rub that observation in Ryuzaki's face; it would be suspicious if I didn't.

There was nothing to do now but wait for Ryuzaki to arrive.

And when he does, I can finally start doing something about this predicament, Light thought. As things stand, there's a possibility I might not make it out of this case alive, and that won't do. If I'm Kira, I'll probably be executed—and if Ryuzaki is Kira, he still might find a way to kill me and the rest of the Task Force and get away with it. I need a way to increase my chances of survival for either case.

And Ryuzaki handed me the solution himself, didn't he? "Light-kun is my first-ever friend." I'm sure it wasn't true, when he said it—he never says anything without a purpose, and he certainly would never admit anything that could be any kind of weakness. He only wanted to see how I'd react to that statement. If he really felt friendship towards me, he wouldn't have said so. That he's never had a friend before, though, sounded like the truth—and it was a clever thing to admit in such a way, since, if I was Kira, it would have informed me that there was no way to get to L through anybody else. He has nobody who could be used to hunt him down or hurt him.

That works in my favor now, though. Because if I can actually become his first friend—if I can get close to him and, if not make him trust me completely, at least make him genuinely like me and value our friendship beyond any value he's previously placed on any kind of human relationship—then I can make it so that, no matter which of us is Kira, it will be very, very hard for him to kill me.

The challenge is going to be figuring out what he wants, and needs, most in a friend—and then making sure I become that for him.

It certainly won't be an easy or simple task, especially since he's so suspicious that he'll be constantly suspecting me of an ulterior motive—but it wouldn't be fun if it were easy. And if he's constantly looking for an ulterior motive, he'll never see what my real one is. So I just need to prove that I have no ulterior motives, and truly just want to be friends with him. He'll have no choice but to think of me as a friend at that point.

His closed his eyes, took a breath just slightly slower and deeper than his regular breathing; not enough difference to be noted from the security camera.

Honestly, befriending him had been my plan as soon as he told me he was L at the college entrance ceremony, although admittedly my intentions at that point were to make him trust me so he'd bring me in on the case and I could get more information. But then it turned out that doing so was unneeded. Still, I suppose it's somewhat ironic that things have come back to this.

It's just as well, I suppose; I know him better now, and have a better idea about how to go about befriending him.

Opening his eyes he glanced down at his left wrist, wishing, not for the first time, that he still had his watch. It was disconcerting not to know how much time passed him by. He didn't even know whether he'd been confined for thirteen or fourteen days, at that point.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd slept, either, but he could feel the weariness starting to manifest in his eyelids. He pressed his fingers into his palms, his fingernails, which hadn't been cut since he'd been detained, pressed stingingly into his flesh. He didn't want to accidentally fall asleep and be unconscious when Ryuzaki arrived.

At least he didn't currently have a headache, and the suggestion of one that was lingering tacitly behind his eyes didn't appear to be in danger of worsening; he'd need all his wits about him when talking to the detective.

Ryuzaki spent the blindfolded trip to the cell taking careful breaths in through his nose and then exhaling slowly through his mouth, focusing on keeping the rise and fall of his lungs deep and steady, the tenseness from his shoulders, his mind blank.

The car he was transported in smelled new, and like it needed to be aired out. With his eyes covered, he found himself hyper-aware of the hum of the car's motor through the seats, every bump in the road beneath the wheels. To think you've forced me to do this, Light Yagami. I would be more upset if I were not so impressed.

The car hit a pothole, or something of the sort; the jolt shoved him hard against the car door.

Ryuzaki let out a slow, controlled breath as he righted himself, lowering his shoulders from where they'd stealthily crept up towards his ears. Though that's not to say I'm not still upset by having to go through this…

The prison, when they finally arrived and he was escorted inside through a security checkpoint, was just slightly cooler than most people would likely find comfortable, and the footsteps of the guards echoed through the halls. The worn, rubber-soled sneakers Ryuzaki had been obliged to don did not echo, though the ends of their untied lies clacked on the floor. He couldn't wait to get the abominable things off his feet.

He tried to memorize the turns that they took on their way to the cell, but the pressure in his chest became increasingly more difficult to quash down, and doing so soon required enough of his attention that he didn't have much to spare on memorizing rights and lefts, the distance of straight-a-ways and the numbers of shuffling, ankle-cuffed steps. The guards escorting him, aside from the constant pressure of their grip on his arms and the continuous clacking of their boots, may as well have been nonentities; but they were nonentities who'd seen his face.

(Each step was another flash of a child's face in a one-way mirror, another glimpse of a shadow crossing the line of light beneath a white door, another glimpse of blood trickling its way over the hardwood floor, another pair of suspicious eyes he could feel watching him from above lips twitching on the verge of sneering.)

The kids at Wammy's would be disappointed if they knew that something like this made 'the great L' so anxious—to know that I'm actually that human, even further from the invulnerable force of justice they'd so foolishly imagined me to be.

He thought of the eagerness of their expressions as they watched the screen, the white background and black L reflected in their wide eyes, the questions they'd pelted at him and the way their faces had twisted with hurt and despair at he continued to speak:

"It's not a sense of justice," he'd told them. If any of them were to be his successors, they needed to understand that. "Figuring out difficult cases is my hobby. If you measured good and evil deeds by current laws, I would be responsible for many crimes. The same way you all like to solve mysteries and riddles, or clear video games more quickly… for me, too, it's simply prolonging something I enjoy doing. That's why I only take on cases that pique my interest. It's not justice at all."

There were two in the back, silent, watching; the only ones who didn't look like they were about to cry. He was watching them through the camera as he continued: "And if it means being able to clear a case, I don't play fair. I'm a dishonest, cheating human being who hates losing."

The blond boy had smiled slightly, a mean smile; the white-haired boy's expression was calculating, a Rubik's cube held still and forgotten in his pale fingers. Maybe they had the necessary streak of nefariousness do whatever was required to solve a case. But their motives, he could see, were all wrong; nobody who wanted to be L in order to be the best, or to carry on a legacy, would ever have what it took to be L.

He'd told Watari it would be one of them, to get him off his case, but he didn't have much faith in either of them.

It was fortunate, then, that he didn't plan on dying anytime soon.

Pretending to trip, he forced the guards to hold him upright as he used the opportunity to kick off the uncomfortable sneakers, leaving them lying haphazard in the hall behind him as he continued the rest of the way in bare feet, leaving silent, ephemeral heat-images of his footprints on the cold concrete floor.

When the police escorts finally stopped walking and removed the blindfold from Ryuzaki's eyes, he turned to see the joined cells connected only by a row of bars, not far enough apart to stick more than an arm through. In the other cell, Light Yagami looked delighted to see him.

Ryuzaki shuffled barefoot across the cell and curled up on the cot. It wasn't as comfortable as the armchair at the hotel, but that was hardly unexpected.

"Hey, Ryuazaki," Light said, once the masked police escorts had left. He was smiling. "It's good to see you again. You're doing well, I hope?"

Ryuzaki turned his head, resting the side of his jaw on his knees as he looked at the teenager. "No worse than you are," he said. You manage to appear delighted by every aspect of this case, Light Yagami, even when you're confined in a cell as the prime suspect. If you were Kira at this moment, it would be too suspicious, and you would certainly not give yourself away like that... But since you cannot possibly be Kira right now, it doesn't make any sense why you should be so pleased about this.

"I'm glad," Light smiled. There was a knowing glint in his eyes, a smug quirk of his lips, and he held up his cuffed wrists. "This is your doing, I suppose?" he said, and chuckled slightly. "I appreciate it. It will be nice to not have to eat with my mouth like a dog anymore." He was watching Ryuzaki out of the corner of glinting eyes.

"You are obviously bitter, Light-kun," Ryuzaki said. At least, you are either bitter and pretending to be enjoying yourself, or enjoying yourself and pretending to be bitter. It will be interesting to see which is actually the case. "I am sorry, you know. But I am sure you understand why you had to be confined like that. And you did ask to be confined, after all."

"I know.," Light said, and sighed, leaning back against the wall. "That's why I can't really be upset with you, no matter how much this sucks." He paused, staring at his cuffed hands. "I really am glad my hands are now cuffed in front of me rather than behind me, though. I feel more human, and I should get fewer headaches now." He glanced over at Ryuzaki again, lips twitching upwards. "I just found it rather coincidental that my hands were cuffed behind me until now, when you've been confined with me."

"I can see why," Ryuzaki said. It is true that I was not going to let myself be confined without laying down a few conditions. But it is highly doubtful that Kira could kill from here any better with his hands cuffed in front of him versus cuffed behind him; and it would be more suspicious if I did not use what authority Light and the Task Force know I have to make a few arrangements that will make my confinement a slight bit more comfortable. Light knows I am not selfless; there is no point in pretending to be.

"And I suppose prison food will now be including cake and other desserts, as well," Light added, with a little grin.

"It might be," Ryuzaki acknowledged, letting his lips curl slightly upwards.

Light laughed. "Another reason to be grateful you're here, then," he said, taking on a tone that was almost teasing, like the one Ryuzaki had heard him use with his younger sister during the week the Yagami household had been bugged. "The food I've been obliged to eat so far has left something to be desired."

"I can imagine," Ryuzaki murmured; they were sitting close enough to the center of their cells that they were only a few feet apart, and didn't need to speak very loudly to hear each other. What is your aim here, Light Yagami?

Light had narrowed his eyes at him. "You didn't seem particularly sympathetic before you were confined here, too," he pointed out, tone accusing.

Ryuzaki glanced up at the ceiling for a moment. Why the test, Light? If you are trying to get me to lie to you so you can call me out on it, you are going to have to try harder than that. Or this might just be innocuous banter to get me to lower my guard. I may as well play along and let him think he's succeeding. He looked back at Light, acknowledging easily: "No, I suppose I wouldn't have been."

Light blinked, as if slightly surprised. His lips twitched upwards. "Well, you have my respect for not attempting to deny it."

Ryuzaki looked at him. Ingratiating, now? "You have my respect for continuing to analyze the situation rationally, even after being confined for this long," he replied.

Light laughed wryly. "But that just makes me more suspicious, doesn't it?" His tone was more resigned than bitter.

I am still convinced that you were Kira, Light Yagami. I just have to figure out how to prove it… "Not any more suspicious than I am," he said.

"I suppose that's true, at this point," Light said, sounding like he actually believed it. He was looking up at the ceiling, almost languidly, his eyes seeming to be tracing lazy patterns along the concrete.

Ryuzaki lay his the side of his face on his knees so that he was looking at Light sideways. You're acting like you don't care which of us is Kira, Light, but I can't believe that is actually the case. Shouldn't you be protesting your innocence more?

"That aside, though," Light said, turning to look at him again, voice and expression softer, almost bashful, "I really am glad you're here, Ryuzaki…"

Ryuzaki blinked at him.

Light laughed slightly, ducking his head. "Not just because it means the suspicion against me has decreased and the food will likely improve," he said quickly, "though there is admittedly that, too." He glanced back at Ryuzaki and offered him a little grin. "But I really do enjoy all our conversations. It's…" he looked away again, down at his hands, laying his fingers carefully over his knees. "It means more to me than I can say," he said quietly, "to have someone who can hold conversations on my level… I've never…" he laughed again, without humor, and looked at Ryuzaki with brown eyes that were uncharacteristically self-conscious. "I've never had anyone I could really talk with before, you know?" There was an raw quality to his voice that Ryuzaki hadn't heard from him before.

Ryuzaki looked away, gaze resting on the gray concrete of the floor, black hair cutting jaggedly across his vision. "Believe me, Light-kun," he said quietly, "I understand perfectly. I feel the same way." His arms were pulled to his chest, the metal cuffs pressing on either side of his sternum. "I did say that you are my first-ever friend, didn't I?" Admittedly I said so because I wanted to see how you'd react…

"You did," Light said, and laughed slightly. "You really surprised me when you said that, you know. Up until that point, I didn't think you saw me as anything more than your prime suspect."

Ryuzaki glanced over at him. "Well, you're still that," he pointed out.

"Yeah, I know," Light said, meeting his gaze, a wry a smile on his lips. "What a situation we've gotten ourselves into, huh?"

"Indeed," Ryuzaki said, watching him.

"So how does it feel, Ryuzaki?" Light asked. "To be accused of being Kira?" The wry smile was still on his lips, but his eyes held no malice. "Now that you actually have been."

Ryuzaki looked back down at the floor. "It feels even worse than I thought," he murmured. I was so close to proving that you were Kira, Light Yagami… It stings that I did not foresee your accusation that I just as easily could have been Kira, and that I have no way to prove that your theory false, even to myself.

"Yeah…" Light said, trailing off. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and even, lacking inflection. "You kinda reach a point where it simply can't hurt any more, though, so it kinda… stops. Hurting, I mean. In fact," and here he laughed slightly, the sound laced with irony, "it's almost kinda flattering, now."

Ryuzaki turned his head quickly, looking over at him. "Flattering?"

"Yeah," Light said, meeting his gaze with tired eyes and a lopsided grin. "The fact that you all think I'm capable of pulling off what Kira has—killing so many criminals without leaving any evidence, reducing crime to such a degree, killing the FBI agents he shouldn't have been able to know about—not to mention that according to your theory I was able to keep killing criminals even while under surveillance…" He laughed. "I mean, when you think about it, that's a rather high order for an eighteen-year-old college student. Seventeen-year-old high school student, even, when the killings started…"

Ryuzaki stared at him, and Light's smile became more sardonic, that knowing glint returning to his eyes like he knew that Ryuzaki was trying to analyze what he was up to and was almost fondly exasperated about it.

"Don't get me wrong, I know I've always been somewhat exceptional," Light said. "But still, that I'd be able to pull off something like this?" He shook his head, the wry grin remaining on his lips. "It's something that had never occurred to me… I couldn't help but laugh when you first told me you suspected me of being Kira; me, of all people? Capable of that?" He laughed and shook his head again. "At the time I thought it was either a back-handed compliment, since I'd also gotten a perfect score on the entrance exam—or else you were trying to throw me off the case for some reason; I was afraid you'd figured out that I'd been researching the case on my own."

Light's expression sobered, and his eyes moved to the floor, staring sightlessly at the gray cement. "The gravity of being accused of being Kira didn't hit me till later, when I realized you were really serious about your suspicion of me…" His face twisted in a slight wince. "That's when it really started hurting, that you thought I'd be capable of being a mass murderer…"

Ryuzaki hadn't stopped staring at him, and Light met his gaze again, the sardonic quirk returning to his lips. "But after all these days in a cell, I can't help but find it kind of funny again," he said. "Gallows humor, maybe…." He let his head fall back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, a gentle light in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips. "But to think that it places me on the same level as you, the great detective L—someone I admire so greatly and who has solved countless of the world's most difficult cases… getting to work alongside you and having this chance to be a real detective, like I've wanted to be for years…" he looked down again, hair sweeping across his face as he shook his head, laughing slightly. "This has all been embarrassingly like a school boy's dream."

Ryuzaki's eyes were stinging dryly from having forgotten to blink, and he closed them for a moment before looking at Light again. "I don't think many school boys dream of being locked in a cell under suspicion of being a mass murderer," he said.

"No," Light laughed, "I suppose not." His grin, when he looked at Ryuzaki, was almost self-deprecating. "It's pretty stupid, isn't it? That I'm enjoying a situation like this so much… no, it's almost disgusting. People have been dying, and it could be my fault… and yet here I am, and the only thing I'm thinking about is how much fun it's been to work on this case with you."

So that's why you've been so pleased about all this, Light Yagami? I suppose it makes sense… what you're saying feels like the truth—at least the underlying perspective, anyway. You can't think I would buy the schoolboy act; that's no doubt for the benefit of the Task Force. After all it would be to his advantage to get them to believe that, despite his genius intellect, he's still just a naive teenager—one who couldn't possibly be capable mass-murder.

But you already know that my hobby is solving difficult cases and that I only solve cases I'm interested in. Rationally, therefore, I can't find you suspicious for enjoying these events since I've been enjoying working on this case, as well, and it could also be argued that, because the cases I solve more often than not involve a series of murders, I get my enjoyment from the death of others. And I can't find you suspicious for enjoying this case even when you're detained as the prime suspect when I've enjoyed working on this case even when I was afraid I would be killed at any moment.

And you know all that, don't you, Light Yagami? And you know that I know it, and that I know that you know that I know that you know that I know it—etcetera etcetera, until it it sounds like some kind of inane children's argument. But we're both childish and hate to lose, aren't we? And we both know that.

Ryuzaki glanced at the ceiling for a moment. "I'm flattered that you admire me and have enjoyed working with me thus far," he said. He looked back at Light, and added childishly: "It didn't stop you from accusing me of being Kira, though, did it."

Light sighed, slumping back against the wall like he'd been expecting the statement. "I don't want you to be Kira, Ryuzaki," he said, almost dejectedly, and made a vague gesture with his cuffed hands. "But logically you easily could be—and I mean, I don't really want to be Kira, either." He tilted his head, meeting Ryuzaki's gaze out of the corner of his eyes. "But feelings have no basis getting in the way of the facts, now do they?"

Pathos and logos, indeed. You're really covering all your bases, aren't you?

"Indeed, they do not," Ryuzaki agreed. He looked away, certain discrepancies niggling in the back of his mind; pieces of the puzzle that didn't quite fit and which he couldn't quite put into words. He poked them around for a while on the gray surface of the ceiling, turning them this way and that, before concluding that, wherever they fit, the rest of the pieces around them were missing and he would not be able to find them in this cell.

"Say, Light-kun," he said, disturbing the snowfall-silence that had settled over them and glancing over at the college student who blinked at him with drowsy, half-lidded eyes. "Once the killings start up again and we are back to working on the case, there is some older material I would like to take a second look at with you."

Light smiled at him sleepily. "Gladly."

Ryuzaki nodded and looked back at the ceiling, starting to shove the jigsaw pieces around again. Filling in those gaps will have to wait. But there's probably some progress I can make while I'm in here…