note: lots of quotes from chapter 14 here


#004. 2004年1月01日 {Misora Naomi}


"Why do you know so much about this investigation?" you ask. For a second, Light looks shocked, before an abashed look crosses his face.

He looks down, pensive, and then explains, "well… okay. I suppose I've got no choice. It's because I'm a member of the task force myself."

"What?" you're shaken—how old is this child, really? And part of the investigation? "You, a member of the task force?" It doesn't seem true and yet (you've seen yourself how capable of damage even a child can be; the gun held in your shaking hand as you fail to shoot; you blink the image of that young killer away, try to see only what's in front of you)...

"Yes," Light reveals. "This investigation is being led by L."

"Yes, that's what I thought." Of course L would take a brilliant mind no matter what form it came in…

"Well, the task force has lost a lot of members…" Light says. "Detectives have been quitting in fear of their lives, and L was concerned we didn't have enough people. It's true I'm still in high school, but I've helped the NPA solve two other cases in the past. So L agreed to let me join the task force on a flexible basis. I go in whenever I have the time. The task force today is a small team of trusted, highly qualified people… and all of us have been hand-picked by L."

It's true that you feel relief. "So by talking to you, I've spoken to a member of the task force… and that's as good as speaking directly to L… that's good enough for me. If it means my insights will be passed on to L, that's all I care about." If you feel something like a burning spark; a mix of sour resentment and envy… it's certainly not the first time; and it is barely noticeable at all under the raging fire of your anger at Kira.

He glares at you; you try to explain yourself; after everything—funny, to feel you owe Light an explanation after only talking a few minutes… still, you want him to have the right impression of you. "I worked with L myself, two years ago." (It isn't bragging. It isn't clinging by the tips of your fingers to your legitimacy as though you feel shown up by a child. It isn't.) "That was in a case in the U.S. of course, he was just a voice that came through the computer. But I know from that experience that I can trust him a hundred percent. And that he really can solve any crime, including this one."

"You worked with L?" Now Light is shocked; the bright flare of satisfaction makes you smile, and you say drily, "I was an FBI agent until just three months ago." Being underestimated doesn't surprise you. The real surprise is the few times you haven't been.

"You… were?" Light catches himself quickly. "Well, that explains it! No wonder your actions and your determination to catch Kira were so… professional. I was really impressed by your sharp analysis, but also your caution… your prudence." You have the feeling Light is popular with his teachers in school. He knows just the right way to flatter, and just the amount of long words to pepper in. It should feel fake, even mocking, but there's a passion, a vibrancy in his manner that he can't disguise.

"With regard to this case, I decided it would be dangerous to trust the police, and even the task force," you admit. "But… L has my complete trust. I thought if I went to the task force office and had them verify my identity, they would let me speak to L directly."

You'd been so sure of it that when they'd refused you'd… you hadn't thought you were capable of feeling slighted, of feeling petty things anymore; not when Raye was dead. The shock of finding yourself suddenly cut out of any information network you trusted—the only one you still trusted—it was true, you hadn't felt slighted. You had just, all of a sudden, felt very small.

If you weren't trusted to work; even by people who knew your background… somehow, you'd been buoying yourself for days by thinking about presenting all your facts to L. You'd known, just known, that the moment you were able to speak with L, everything would be okay. He had this way of completely taking over a conversation where you knew that he'd already thought of every possible eventuality; that he was, in fact, prepared to face dangers that others sank under the weight of. That he did it every day.

"I see," Light says slowly. "But then, why did you tell me what should have been for L's ears only?"

You look down, ashamed. After a week straight of hopping from hotel to hotel, catching a few hours of haunted sleep and waking up to the icy knowledge that Raye was still dead, shoving yourself into the same pair of clothes and walking back into a cold city sunk into flurries of snow, after nearly two hours of arguing with a belligerent receptionist who was unsubtly thinking look at this crazy bitch I've been saddled with, after trying, and trying, and trying your whole life to get ahead, not because you wanted to win but just because you wanted to feel like you were capable, "I was upset they wouldn't let me through to the task force," you admit. "And then, someone saying he's the son of the task force chief shows up… and that person—" listened to me. Without knowing anything about me, other than a fake name. Asked me questions about my theory, instead of about if I was feeling all right, if it wasn't grief addling my mind, if I shouldn't go back to my parents, maybe calm down, let the good old boys handle it.

Believed me.

"Reminded me of L…" you say. "I feel that you and he are similar, somehow."

You can tell that startles and pleases Light, you'd hoped it would. It's true he is similar to L; similar to Ryuzaki, too, in the way the conversation had flowed between you so naturally, but without that constant undercurrent of disgust you always think of when you're forced to consider Ryuzaki's existence. Being compared to a serial killer, even if this polite young man knows the name Beyond Birthday, is not the kind of compliment you're intending to give.

After a small pause, Light says in a rush, "would you like to join the investigation?"

"What?"

"Why don't you join the task force?" Light says eagerly. "If you do that, you can work directly with L. Not just that… you can personally bring Kira to justice."

You don't understand—why would they want you? They have your theory already…

"I got to join the task force because of my father's recommendation, just because I helped solve a couple cases before," Light adds, a little self-deprecating, but with wry humor. "That's how short of people they are. But they can't take just anybody. You're exactly the type of person we need. Why stop at providing this information? With your career background as an FBI agent, you'd be perfect. And you've even worked with L before. He already trusts you! All you need to join us is proof of your identity, the recommendation of a present task force member, and L's permission!"

You could… join the case? You'd sworn to find Kira, but you'd always known that would end with you giving your information. And then… what? Dealing with the burial for Raye, going back home… or staying here, maybe following leads fruitlessly on your own, an 'unprivate detective' that even Ryuzaki would pity. To get looped into the inner circle like this, it feels like the first good thing that's happened to you since Raye died, like an unlooked-for act of kindness. You want to cry.

"It's got to be some kind of fate that we met like this today," Light says happily. "I'll give you the recommendaiton you need to join the task force!" Then he pauses, presses his hand to his hair with a rueful grin. "Oh… excuse me. I got kind of carried away…"

"Not at all…" you say, with a half-smile of your own. The thought that anybody, even a kid, would be so excited to have you on his team that he got carried away like that is… it's nice.

Light puts on a serious expression and continues, "even if you joined on a flexible basis like myself, I realize you must have other commitments. Plus," he adds drily, "I gather you live in the United States."

"I was supposed to move there permanently this spring, after we got married," you admit. "But now that my fiancé's dead… right now I really don't know what I'm going to do…"

"But you're still a beautiful young woman," Light adds, a little abashed. "And this really is a very dangerous investigation…"

"No!" you shout. Oh, how can you make him understand? "I have nothing left to lose anymore. I want to get Kira! It's the only thing that matters to me anymore!" What do you care about being a beautiful young woman? The only person who ever turned that into a triumph was Raye; you are sick and tired of being told no by well-meaning people who think you'd be better suited, always better suited, to something you're shit at. Anyone can be a beautiful young woman; it was your high-school sweetheart who told you you're such a beautiful girl, Naomi, while he fucked your mouth; I can't believe I'm the one who found you first, like you were a fucking prize, one that would get less and less shiny the more it was touched. And you'd been perfect then, and after… after, you'd left and you'd sworn to yourself you wouldn't be a beautiful girl anymore, you'd be a bitch.

But the truth is, you're shitty at that too, and you know it.

It would be nice… just once… to get to be a person.

"Please let me join the investigation," you beg.

"Gladly," Light says. "If you could just show me some form of identification?"

You glance aside, embarrassed, your arms clasped around your middle. "Oh. Um."

"Yes?"

"Well, the name I gave you earlier… wasn't my real name… I'm very sorry."

"What?" Light looks thrown, but only for a second. "That's okay. In fact, it's better than okay. I should've done the same—you were ahead of me there. If you weren't taking any chances and keeping your name a secret, I'd say that's even further proof of your eligibility."

You smile quietly, reaching into your purse; "is a Japanese driver's license good enough?"

"Yes."

You hand it to him. "When were you in the FBI?" Light asks, taking out a pen and a small scrap of notebook paper.

"From September 2001 to October 2003," you say. He writes something down. It takes the young man some time; perhaps he's writing your theory or an entire recommendation letter. It's okay, you can wait. When he's done, Light glances down at his watch again; it's a strange quirk for someone to have and at this point, you finally indulge your curiosity about the matter.

"Um…" you say. "Why do you keep looking at your watch all the time?"

"Oh, my watch?" Light says casually. "That's because…" he glances down at the face again, and then says very quietly, but distinctly, "I am Kira."

"Huh?" For a second, you hear the words, but—the meaning lags behind. Is this a joke? Is this… "what do you mean?"

But you don't wait for his answer. You can't. You're turning around, hit by a sudden heaviness. The leaden, dull grey day, the snow, pulls down at your soul. Raye is dead, and you will never be able to speak to L again, you know this now. Life… life really is over. There's nothing here for you.

"What's the matter?" Light taunts you.

You speak to him in a thin voice, without turning around. Your steps echo off the pavement like a slap. "There's something I have to do."

You've lost. You were a failure, just as he always implied; you're such a pretty face, Naomi, but you're an idiot, he'd said, one too many times, before you left—but he was right.

You'd fallen for Kira's trap after a little bit of blatant flattery. You can hear, suddenly, the dark amusement in the young man's voice, the malice dripping off his tone. Light's phone opens with a snap, you can hear it though you're walking away, leaving him and all your possible futures behind. "Hey!" Light calls out. "My father's phone is back on. Didn't you want to talk to him?"

It doesn't matter anymore. Your life is useless… it's over; you should have killed yourself long before. You don't know what's been stopping you for so long.

"No. I have nothing to say to him."

The snow is falling thicker, now; it has blotted out the entire sky in a white haze. For the first time in your life, you are as silent as a woman should be.

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