L, of course, did not seem surprised by my arrival. Obviously, Uncle Soichiro had informed him when he'd called to get us picked up. "Welcome to headquarters," he said, unruffled as ever.

"A hotel room?" I asked, feigning confusion. "You have . . . an entire police station at your disposal." I paused. "Ah, right, there are cameras there."

"Precisely," L said, unfazed. "Additionally, by changing the location of our headquarters frequently, it makes it harder to narrow in on my location."

"I see," I said slowly. I would make a point about not having known about him moving between hotels, but that's probably irrelevant to mention . . .

A cursory glance showed that Watari wasn't there. Right, there's no way L would trust me enough to reveal the face of Wammy's House, regardless of whether or not I'm meant to know about it . . . Besides, if he sees me as someone who "associates with Kira," he has even less of a reason to do so.

Watari walked into the room.

Turning towards him, I tilted my head, then spoke in English: "May I ask who you are?"

"This is Watari, my assistant and representative." You forgot to mention 'caretaker', but sure.

"I see," I just said, noting the slight change in his expression as he saw me. Can that really just be surprise from seeing someone new?

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Watari said, his thick British accent and intonation reminding me somewhat of Mum.

"The pleasure's mine," I said automatically.

Uncle Soichiro cleared his throat and looked straight at L. "I'm sorry about taking things into my own hands like that, Ryuzaki . . . I let my emotions get the better of me."

"That's fine," L said bluntly. He wasn't looking Uncle Soichiro; he was still staring at me, his facial expression somehow relaxed and unreadable at the same time.

I found myself thinking that I didn't trust L as far as I could throw him.

Rather than having L try and peel apart my existence with his eyesight alone, I cleared my throat and handed over the paper bag which held the tapes. "The videotapes, the envelope they came in—it's all here."

Finally, L took his gaze off me, instead focusing his attention on the Sakura TV bag. Taking that as a dismissal, I took out my phone to switch it back on so I could call Light to update him, but Watari fixed me with a steely gaze and shook his head. No phones, huh . . .

". . . yes, yes . . . The chief is here with us. He's resting right now, but he's all right. Yes, he's fine." Matsuda (probably the only officer in the room whom I'd met in person before), who appeared to have gotten the go-ahead from L was already on the phone, presumably to Aunt Sachiko. I didn't bother listening to the rest of the conversation.

L, on the other hand, had just asked Aizawa to take the tapes to the forensics lab.

"Sure," Aizawa replied. "I know a lot of the people there. I'm sure they'll do a great job—fingerprints for sure, if there are any, and if the stamps have been licked, they'll get DNA from there. They'll find out where this envelope and the tapes were sold, and even what model camera was used. They might even be able to get other information from the images. Of course, I'll make them study the tapes without the sound, so they don't hear what's said."

Huh. So that's how it works. But even so, won't they be missing a good chance to analyse the sound files to identify the voice . . . ?

L exhaled in a huff, seeming satisfied. "Great, thank you. While you're doing that, I'll watch these copies to find out what's in them."

I turned to leave the hotel room, so I could go back home to have Light chew me out and just get it over with, but just as I was about to slip into the corridor—

"Yamada-san, I don't believe you were excused yet."

Why, why, why me? "Oh. Um, yeah. Can I go? I have to go home, since I have to—"

"No."

I slumped my shoulders, then turned to face him, looking L in the eye. "Why."

L, unfazed, said, "I would like to talk to you in the next room."

Oh, no. I definitely hadn't planned for this. Hell. No. "Sure," I said, following him into what had been a bedroom at some point, but had already been transformed into a study.

L locked the door behind us, and I could feel my eyes widen with alarm. Narrowing my eyes again, I said, "I wasn't expecting you to leave them unsupervised. I'm surprised you trust them that much."

"Watari is there in my stead, and besides, I have made sure to allow only the most trustworthy officers to take part directly in the investigation."

When in reality, everyone else just ditched. "If you say so. So, uh, what did you want to talk about?"

This time, when L met my eyes, I could see some kind of clarity that wasn't there before—or maybe, I 'd been too dismissive of him to notice it before. Regardless, it was there.

"You are aware that I do not suspect you of being Kira directly," he said, in English this time. English now? To hide our conversation from the other investigators? So much for "trustworthy" . . .

"Directly," I repeated. "You think I'm in league with Kira, then."

"Perceptive. Though you're digging your own grave."

"I'm aware of that, but what else can I tell but the truth?"

"You have a way with words, too. Just what I'd expect from . . ." L stopped his musing there.

Expect from what? A friend of Kira? "And because you think that Light is Kira, you think I'm helping him, because I spend so much time with him that I would easily notice a change in his behaviour. Not only that, but I wouldn't want him to get caught."

"Yes, that is correct."

"But me telling you all this makes you just suspect me of that even more, because the more information I have, the more likely it is to be true."

"Absolutely. However . . . Kira is not the only reason for my audience with you."

Huh? "It . . . isn't? But what else—" I frowned. I hadn't done anything out of the ordinary, had I? Well, other than getting shot . . .

"Are you aware of your parents' backgrounds?"

Now that wasn't something I'd been expecting, but—

Beyond Birthday. He'd mentioned he'd had a history with Dad, hadn't he? That Dad had broken him out of jail, that they'd known each other.

Of course, it wasn't like I could tell L I knew all that. That would be tantamount to admitting I'd willingly sheltered someone who I knew was a serial killer.

Instead, using my raised guard to my advantage, I said, "Are you referring to what happened to my father?"

L's eyes hardened marginally. "Explain."

My throat tightened. "A few months ago, my father was killed"—red everywhere, get it away, get it away, off the walls, off the carpets—"by a man whom you had arrested: Beyond Birthday, according to the investigator who came."

"So, it runs deeper than I thought . . ."

"Wait, what?"

"While you've certainly given me interesting information"— OH MY GOD HE DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT DAD —"I was referring to the identity of your mother and her own relations to L."

What. "What?"

"So, it seems you truly were unaware. In that case, let us resume our previous conversation about Ki—"

"You cannot just drop a bombshell like that on me and expect me to just switch topics like that!" I protested.

"Do you not think that you would have been told had this been information intended for you?" L asked, and despite his tone having no inflection, it felt like a punch to the gut.

Mum and Dad had been hiding a lot from me, I'd known that much—but for L to know all this stuff—for them to be things relating directly to L —what the hell was going on? What kind of relation did Mum have to L, of all people? And . . . and why didn't I know?

I had to remind myself that Mum and Dad didn't know that I knew about L, about Wammy's, or about Death Note, and that all of those things weren't exactly things that they could mention in the open.

"So," L said, a little more firmly this time, "you appear to be fully aware of Light's situation."

"Not really," I said, still pretty aggravated. "All I know is what I've heard and pieced together. You said yourself at the hospital that you suspect Light of being Kira, and you've clearly expected me to have some kind of reaction to finding out your identity . . ."

"But you seem to have been unsurprised for any reason other than having learned my identity. Either you're being entirely truthful, or you're a better actor than I gave you credit for. Or, of course, Light's told you all that's transpired between the two of us."

He was beginning to piss me off again. "What reason would I possibly have to act ? And, for your very kind information, Light hasn't told me jack since you came along. He's been doing nothing but fretting about his dad since Uncle Soichiro collapsed, and that was barely a few days after the entrance ceremony."

"A sound alibi," L mused, his thumb over his lips. I was about to get into what probably would have been a long winded argument when L interrupted, "that isn't to say that it isn't plausible. But from my standpoint, there are too many coincidences here for them to truly be such."

"Look, Ryuga— "

"Ryuzaki."

"Look, Ryuzaki. What you need to understand is that I've been left almost completely in the dark about everything here. You've clearly been trying to string me along because of whatever secrets my parents were hiding, Light's shutting himself away and hasn't been telling me anything about what's going on since you came along, Uncle Soichiro's trying to usher me away from all this, and everyone seems to expect me to know a hell of a lot more than I do! But guess what? No one's explained a damn thing to me, and I'm getting pretty sick of everyone expecting me to be on the same page when I am not!"

There was a slight change in L's expression, but it was enough for me to be able to tell he was at least slightly taken aback. Of course, my frustration was genuine—with the new infodump I'd gotten on my parents, plus the pressure of Kyoko and her constant messaging, and not knowing how much of what I knew was safe to reveal—all of it was aggravating. And, of course, L's better-than-thou attitude was grating on me more than I wanted to admit.

I pushed past L, unlocking the door. "I'm going."

I was halfway out the door when L said, "I expect you here again tomorrow at eight in the evening."

I nodded, but didn't turn back to acknowledge him, even as I left the hotel and headed home. I was only a few blocks away from home when I was tackled.

"Wh—the hell?—get off me!" I hissed, about to shove as hard as I could, when I recognised the scent of Light's cologne and relaxed. Then, thinking better of it, I whacked him lightly on the side of the head. "Don't scare me like that, you idiot," I breathed, hugging him.

Light pulled away after a moment. "I scared you?" he asked in disbelief. "Do you have any idea how much you and Dad scared me ?"

I shuffled my feet awkwardly. "He would've gone on his own if I hadn't gone with him," I said quietly. "I didn't want him to push himself too far, and he's at headquarters now."

Light sighed, his hands on my shoulders. "I'm relieved you were with him," he admitted, "and since you were, I figured you were both safe." His voice was soft, unassuming, but incomplete. A moment later, he continued, "But that doesn't change that what you guys did was dangerous. I know you wouldn't have been able to stop Dad once he'd made up his mind, but . . ."

"But you were still worried because you didn't know what could have happened," I completed for him. "Come on, let's go home. My place this time, okay?"

Light nodded, and we were both quiet until we reached my house and were both on the couch.

"Tell me what happened," Light said, and I did.

I told him about having seen Uncle Soichiro leaving his room, and that I'd followed him until I confronted him in the carpark, where he'd decided it would have been easier to take me along than convince me to leave. About how we hid from the cameras and threatened Demegawa into handing over the tapes. Leaving out the part about meeting Misa, I told him about how L arranged for our getaway from the TV station, and how I'd been formally invited to task force headquarters by L himself.

"Oh," Light said, summarising it perfectly. He frowned. "Does he think he's going to get me to tell him I'm Kira by bringing you into this? Just how far is he willing to go?" It was clear that Light had intended for his question to be phrased casually, but disgust seeped through his tone.

"With the sheer number of cases he's solved . . . do you really think he's willing to play by the rules, Light?" I mumbled. "He's already orchestrated a public execution and had the FBI stalk us, only for them to be killed . . ." And we're, what, three volumes in?

Light ruminated over that for a moment. "In that case, it'll be safer if you don't tell me anything that happens while you're with the Kira investigation team," he said.

That wasn't what I expected to hear. "Oh?"

Light brought a hand to his chin, his second finger curling over his lips. "If you tell me what happens over there, there's a good chance he'll catch on, and that'll get both of us into trouble. He'll suspect we're conspiring in some manner, and you'll definitely lose credibility with the other members of the team as a detective."

"Ah, you're right . . ."

"And besides, it's not like me not knowing yet will put me at a disadvantage. I was planning on taking up L's offer to join soon anyways." A pause. "And furthermore, it isn't like I have anything to lose in this matter. After all," he said, meeting my eyes and smiling softly, "we're on the same side, right?"

My heart squeezed as I shifted closer to Light and hugged him. "Always," I whispered, smiling even as an ugly pit of guilt pooled in my stomach.

Light relaxed into the hug, his hands finding my hair and combing through the strands lightly. "I'm just happy you're here with me, Mikko," he said quietly. "It's . . . nice to have someone that I don't need to pretend in front of. It really does feel like I can just be me around you, you know?"

"Yeah," I said, and I was suddenly relieved to not be making eye contact with Light. "It's like I can tell you anything at all without needing to worry about the consequences."

We stayed like that for a long time.