STORY SUMMARY: Being reborn into a Japanese story was bad enough. Being reborn as the twin sister to a certain notorious mass murderer, was another thing entirely. Told in a series of drabbles. Warning: Mild incest themes.

Rating: T (Subject to change)

GENERAL DISCLAIMER: It's not my sandbox. I'm just playing in it.

AN: Hey everybody, new chapter! :) Enjoy! As always-thank you all so much for all your follows, favs, and reviews. I never dreamed that DSS would receive so much recognition so quickly. I can't tell you how happy I am! :) Please keep it up.

Destroy She Said

Chapter Twenty-One: Close

The camera panned sideways—and there, a reasonably handsome man with lengthy black hair and equally dark eyes was holding my gaze from the other side of the screen. He parted his lips, and the show began.

"I head up an International Police Task Force, which includes all member nations. I am Lind L. Taylor—otherwise known as L."

For a whole four seconds my brain produced nothing but white noise—and just on an unrelated note: I'm pretty sure that's exactly what oblivion sounds like.

"What's this about?" Light muttered, thumbing the volume up.

As I rose to my knees, inching closer to the television platform, I tried pretending like my esophagus wasn't sucking at it's job by cutting off my air supply. Although, I was paying less attention to the broadcast and more attention to the top right draw of Light's desk. I didn't think he had the notebook out already—and he definitely wasn't dense enough to try retrieving it with me in the room. But who was to say he didn't have a spare page hidden amongst the clutter of his work station? Were we even far enough in the timeline for him to have that sort of knowledge—how much had I already altered just by simply existing?!

"Criminals around the world are being murdered by a serial killer—"

Light's fingers twitched.

"Must be about Kira." I replied tonelessly.

Suddenly his orbs, tinged with maroon, flashed over to me, as if only now recalling that he had a spectator. His 'Light Yagami' mask was immediately reinstated. Strangely, I hadn't even realized that it'd slipped in the first place, but then again, I was rather preoccupied with my own predicament. I didn't have the luxury of moderating my brother's pseudo-expressions right now, especially when his future outside of prison (minus one heart attack), quite frankly, depended on me not screwing up screwing him up. If that made any sense…

"Kira—I am addressing you. I have a pretty good idea what your motivation is, and I can guess what you hope to achieve. But do not fool yourself. What you are doing—is evil."

With those two words, it was like a mental switch had been flipped; Light's reaction was instantaneous. While he didn't surge to his feet or start yelling at the television, he did become deathly still—with the exception of his fingers. No longer did they twitch aimlessly, now they tapped a steady tempo against his top thigh, progressively gaining speed with each denunciation Tailor targeted towards Kira. His other hand was positioned beneath his chin, one knuckle clutched between his teeth, while angling his head towards his supposed adversary. It was with eyes fluctuating between boiling ice and artic fire—that he glared.

For the briefest fraction of a moment, my own flickered away to observe the shinigami hovering behind Light's chair. Unlike my brother, his focus was directed solely on me, blackened lips widening under my attention. I was hasty to advert my attention once more only to note the plain, ball-point pen that had somehow materialized within Light's grasp. (Insert expletive of choice)

The instrument had only just grazed what appeared to be an ordinary piece of loose-leaf (though it was likely anything but), as I hastened to usurp one of Brother's house slippers from beside his bed.

My makeshift ammo bounced harmless off the conjoining bookshelf sitting above his desk—the disturbance garnering Light's attention with ease. Though immediately upon doing so, I almost wished I'd hadn't because Light's current disposition was better suited for a glacier; I resisted the urge to shiver. Instead, I shot for a casual grin, which fell several miles short of it's mark and came off more wishy-washy then intended.

"Can you believe this stuff?" I asked, nodding to TV monitor. I absently noticed that Mr. Tailor was presently wearing his best shit-eating-grin and I had to hand it to the guy; for an inmate on death row, he was certainly committing whole-heartedly to his designated part. "L seriously can't be all that great if this is his idea of a tactical approach."

I knew choosing this method was a risky decision on my behalf, but options were limited, as well as my time frame. The goal here was to trigger one of Light's many character flaws—which in this case would be his anal retentive propensities towards anyone more intelligent than himself.

Translation: I was going to mess with his OCD.

If Light could be lead to believe that he was missing something vital, something obvious enough for even me to catch, he'd double think placing Tailor's name on his to-die list quite yet. Though, in all fairness, I estimated that this spur-of-the-moment plan had less than ten-percent chance of succeeding; but I was trying really hard not to think that.

When Light paused, rearranging his legs in order to turn towards me, I nearly screamed hallelujah.

"What do you mean?"

"Uh, this broadcast. Doesn't this whole thing smell a bit—" I stopped, tapping my chin thoughtfully, "orchestrated?"

Another pause—but Light's lips were tilting downwards this time. Whether in deliberation or suspicion, I wasn't entirely sure.

"Explain."

Somewhere in my cerebral cortex, a whispering voice that sounded an awful lot like every person Kira had ever killed ever was warning me to tread lightly. Duly noted.

Wiping my palms on my jeans, I began.

"Well, it's kinda weird that they'd be broadcasting an international message on a network that caters strictly if not mostly to Japanese communities. I mean, I think CIC has a couple towers in South Korea—but that's where their scope ends. And more importantly there's the fact that this guy is speaking Japanese. That's just impractical. I have a hard time believing that any sort of message that's intended to be viewed worldwide wouldn't be in English, or at least have English subtitles. If I didn't know any better I'd think L was trying to smoke Kira out. But then Kira would have to be pretty dimwitted to fall for this menagerie."

Throughout my impromptu deduction I'd dutifully kept my eyes glued to the patch of empty wall adjacent to his mattress; but when my conclusion only met silence, I slowly directed them back to Brother. His knuckle was back between his teeth and he was giving me an indecipherable look. I wasn't a very religious person but right about then, I had no reservations about sending up a prayer or…twelve, to whoever the hell bothered listening.

'Please please please let this work.'

Light eventually released his digit, allowing it to fall and begin tapping against his pants encased leg once more.

"I hadn't even considered that," he deadpanned, which was honestly making it a loads trickier to guess whether or not he was considering the possibility of being played. Of course, there were about a hundred-and-five counter arguments that could just as easily be utilized to shut down each one of mine, but that seemed like the furthest thing from Light's subconscious as he gently lowered his pen and returned his attention to the television. I waited on a bated breath while Lind L. Tailor repeated his catch phrase about five more times, until fake L finally got the heck off the screen and the same news anchor from earlier gave a brief overview of what had just gone down. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little shell shocked—had I really pulled it off?

Neither Light or I spoke for a long while, but when Tailor didn't make a reappearance, he finally lifted the remote and pressed the glowing red power button.

After another minute the inflated quiet became too much to bear and I shattered the muteness with a awkward laugh. "That was intense, huh? That guy probably came this close to going into cardiac arrest." I said, using two fingers to illustrate out just how tiny that measurement was.

Light didn't even look up.

"So—are you going to help me finish dissecting that book or not, 'cause I've got a whole paper to write and I'm not above Gentleing all the answers."

Still nothing. I began chewing on my finger nails.

"Hey, Light—I think the girly's talking to you."

When he continued to offer no response, I got to my feet and cautiously advanced my brother. From my position, I didn't have a clear view of his face, but the stiffness in his shoulders hinted at his agitation. Reaching out, I planned on grasping his shoulder, but before I reached my mark, Light swiveled in his seat, his face absent of any tension and his smile just as sickeningly attractive as per usual. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like for now, Light's deviant alter-ego had vacated the building. But I knew better than to trust that; the tightening around his jaw betrayed his innermost thoughts—and from what I could tell, they were sweltering. It took every one of my guts not to retreat by several paces. In lieu of my apprehension, I tried to concentrate on the charming, toothpaste white grin he seemed determined on blinding me with.

"Actually, sorry Minori, but I think I should get back to studying for a while. I'll continue helping you with the translation tomorrow after night class. Here's your copy," he said apologetically, handing over my Jap Lit. book while leading me towards the hallway.

Unsure of how to proceed, I settled for nodding my acceptance as he shut and secured his door. I remained frozen, frowning at the white oak—but then the previous fifteen minutes caught up with me and I heaved an enormous sigh of relief. Maybe it was too soon to tell, and I didn't want to jinx it, but from where I was standing—things looked like they were maybe heading in a relatively safe direction…for now. Tucking my volume of At World's End under my armpit, I trotted back to my own room; it was time to break out the flow chart.

AN: I'm going to be honest, there are likely heaps of grammar errors in this one. Oops. Please leave a comment, and tell me what you thought. :)