A/N::: GUYS! I made some pretty new cover art for this with L holding Jack and Nox's eerie form in the background. Just wanted to point it out, cause I'm pretty excited about that sketch. I think it's symbolic with the cord of her headphones wrapping around them. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!
L
L gripped his knees so tightly he felt like his fingers were going to break. There was a nest of snakes writhing in his gut, biting deep into his insides and pumping his veins with venom. Ukita was dead—dead because of him. If L had never asked for these officers to risk their lives and join the task force, Ukita just might still be alive. He had no idea how Kira managed to do kill the officer.
And now, on top of all that, Jack had taken off and was on her way to Sakura station.
L knew that Jack was fit—he saw her work out and knew she exercised before bed every night she could. However, he hadn't been prepared for her to be so damned fast: fast enough to outpace Aizawa and Matsuda. They'd returned to the hotel room crestfallen and telling L that she managed to get a cab. That had to be why she spoke English on the phone.
Damn that stupid girl.
Did she not just see Ukita die? There was the possibility that Kira had a list of the names of all the officers, since he'd had access to the task force's files before. Perhaps he was holding on to them for emergencies; But there was also the potential that he had another ability—a new ability. He could kill someone with their face alone now.
Which meant that the moment Jack showed up at the station, she was dead.
"We shouldn't just be sitting around watching television," Aizawa barked. "Nina might have the right idea on this one. We need to get those tapes! We need to get to Ukita!"
The officer's voice fractured when he spoke his comrade's name.
"Aizawa, please, I thought I convinced you outside," Matsuda begged. "You saw how Ukita just died like that... if we go, we're dead too."
"So then that means Nina's as good as dead," Aizawa pointed out. "But it's okay for her to run off?"
"We tried to catch her!" Matsuda argued. "Aizawa, seriously, calm down."
"Calm down?!" Aizawa bellowed. "You realize what this means, don't you? The fake badges didn't do shit! Kira has our names!"
"Not necessarily," L said.
His sudden interjection took the officers off guard. They both looked to him.
"If Kira had the names and faces of all the members of the task force, what is keeping him from killing all of us?" L purposed. "Nina and I deduced that Kira needs a name and face to kill them, but after seeing this... it is possible he only needs a face. All I can say for certain is that Ukita died because he went over there. Kira is either inside Sakura, or somewhere where he can see people entering Sakura. There's also a possibility that he set up a surveillance camera beforehand."
"Well if Kira is there, all the more reason for us to go!" Aizawa countered. "Or are you just going to let Nina go in there by herself and possibly get killed?!"
L got out of his chair, movements so abrupt he nearly lost his footing.
"Ryuzaki, you can't mean to go after her, can you?" Matsuda asked, eyes wide. "You just said it yourself, Kira might only need a face to kill!"
To be honest, L didn't know. He stood there, conflict striking his heart with blades of all kinds. He knew how incredibly dangerous it would be to pursue Jack. He would not be able to catch her before she reached Sakura TV. If anything, he'd be arriving just outside the station to most likely receive the same fate as Ukita.
L knew all of this, but at the same time, his body was straining to sprint out of the room the same way that Jack had. His leg muscles twitched and his hands clenched. What was she thinking? Why would she just take off like that? He knew she and Ukita bonded somewhat during her time on the task force. Did her emotions overwhelm her to cause her to run off?
But no. L had spent nearly four months with Jack. He knew there was something deep and wild and almost inconceivable within her. From the truths she had divulged to him, L understood that she had been through a lot. When she spoke of being adopted—of the family that took her in—there was a new gleam in here eyes, a new tone to her voice. When she was speaking to L seriously, when she was telling him her truths, she was like a completely different person.
It told L that Jack was very good at keeping her emotions under control. It told him that Jack was used to working with a storm whirling within her. She would not just snap like that. Which meant that if Jack didn't run off based on fury and rage alone, she knew that she was going to be safe. She was too smart to go and get herself killed.
Jack was hiding something from him. L always knew that. Her actions had something to do with what she refused to—or couldn't—tell him. All this time, L was getting the impression that Jack truly wanted to tell him everything, but there was something stopping her. Something that was possibly even threatening her.
"He's not happy I told you about him."
Those were the words Jack used when she confessed to him about Nox. She had been smiling somewhat. She seemed amused. But when she first mentioned Nox, she had looked... scared. Her eyes were downcast and her hands were worrying the fabric of her jacket.
Was it possible that this monster she was seeing—this Nox—was the one keeping her from telling L the full truth? She said that she knew what Nox was. One would think she was implying she knew that Nox was just in her head; just a part of her illness. Yet the way she worded it... L couldn't help but wonder if she believed Nox was something more.
Just when L thought he was piecing Jack together, something else happened to make her even more complicated; and now, she was sprinting head first into perilous danger.
"Ryuzaki?" Matsuda called his name again, stepping into his line of sight. The officer looked concerned. "Ryuzaki, you can't rush off too. Everything you said was true."
"I know," L finally said. He looked at the TV again. "I know..."
The detective sat back into his chair, perching carefully on the edge and gripping his lower legs with trembling hands. He stared at his toes as they curled around the cushion.
"Please understand, Aizawa," L murmured. "If you go there, you will be killed."
"No, I don't understand!" Aizawa barked, gripping L by the shoulder, bunching his shirt in a fist. "Ukita might have been murdered by Kira! I thought we were risking our lives to catch that bastard!"
"Risking your life and doing something that could easily rob you of your life are complete opposites!" L snapped back, not looking at him. "I understand your feelings, but please, try to control yourself. Ukita is dead... Nina has gone after him... we can't lose you too, Aizawa."
The trembling got worse. Aizawa must have felt it, for he released L as if he'd been shocked by lightning. They weren't used to seeing him like this. Vulnerable. Emotional. Ukita's death was enough. But if L lost Jack too... or anyone else on the task force...
He went into this knowing that people could lose their lives, but he hadn't expected it to sting this horrifically. He clenched his jaw, determined not to show any further weakness. He had to be strong for them. He could hardly tell Aizawa to control himself if he was on the verge of sprinting out the door after Jack.
"What do you think Nina was thinking?" Matsuda breathed. "I thought she was more collected than this..."
"She is," L said, finally raising his eyes to the TV again. "It could be that she has some sort of plan."
"So it's okay for her to go?" Aizawa demanded.
"It's too late to do anything about that now," L pointed out. "Believe me, if I had any control of the matter, she would have never left. I didn't... I didn't expect her to do something like this either. So we just have to hope she has something up her sleeve."
And hope that they weren't going to see Jack die just like Ukita.
Jack
The cab driver let me off two blocks away from Sakura. I didn't argue with him and gave him five thousand more yen. Once I was out of the cab, I ensured my face was still effectively covered nose down and pulled up my hood. Music pumped in my right ear from my ear bud, fast-paced electronic. I might have been imagining it, but it made me feel like I was running faster.
Nox kept with me, flying just behind as I ran down the street for the station. I'd never been there myself, but I recognized it from what I just saw on TV, and... and by the sight of Ukita's motionless form laying just outside the doors.
Some part of me hoped that it hadn't been a heart attack—that Ukita had just passed out—that he was still alive. I ran to his side, and my legs gave out on me the moment I was within reaching distance. My knees hit the pavement hard; I would at least have bruises, if not some scrapes. With shaking hands, I gripped Ukita's shoulder.
"Uki," I breathed, my voice slightly muffled by the lower half of my shirt. "Uki, come on."
I wanted to pretend like I didn't notice how stiff his body was. How his eyes were wide and staring, glassed over with nothingness.
"Uki, you stupid moron," I rasped as a sob convulsed through my body. "Why would you just take off like that?"
"You aren't really one to talk," Nox drawled from beside me.
His words angered me, but I didn't dare speak out to him or acknowledge him in any fashion. I knew that at least the news cameras were on me, and quite possibly Kira's eyes.
"KIRA!" I bellowed, jumping to my feet and glaring around. "You son of a bitch, you're DONE, you hear me?!" I was yelling in English by default. Probably not the best idea, but too late. My fury was already flooding my head to the point where I didn't care about my own well being anymore. It wasn't like Kira could ever get my real name anyway.
It was then I heard it.
There was an engine—a large vehicle, like a truck or trailer or—
An armored vehicle.
There was an armored vehicle the size of a freaking bus tearing down the road at full speed right for the front doors of Sakura. The doors that I was standing directly in front of.
"Piss it," I breathed.
Of course I could get out of the way in time, but some part of me was horrified at the thought of Ukita's body being mutilated by this oncoming missile of a vehicle. I ran over to him and gripped his arms, pulling with all my might. I ended up twisting my torso around in an attempt to sort of fling Ukita out of harm's way.
It worked, but it still left me standing in the path of the huge slab of metal on wheels. I saw the lights growing brighter and consume the whole of my vision. My body was leaping to the side. All I could hear was the engine's bellow and the tires screaming against the pavement.
For a moment, I was suspended in mid air. I closed my eyes, uncertain if I was going to clear being struck down. Regardless, I braced myself for some sort of impact, be it with the ground, the vehicle's front bumper, or both.
Oddly enough, the pain didn't come first: it was the jolt—the sudden and abrupt sensation of my fall coming to a halt and something snapping in my arm. It was almost like cracking a knuckle, except the sensation came from the center of my ulna bone. It was a place where there was no natural place to bend or for a joint to possibly pop.
Then my body was rolling—a rag doll tossed to the ground from an angry child's hand. I rolled and rolled until I finally hit the wall that curled around the entrance to Sakura. Even still, I just felt jumbled. Confused. My head was stuck living the sensation of rolling, making my eyes unable to focus. I began to push myself up, and then, at long last, the pain hit me just about as hard as that armored vehicle would have.
See, the thing was, I managed to escape being struck by that huge monster of an automobile. However, the wild leap I took to the side had led me to land awkwardly on my arm—and by awkwardly, I mean that there was blood beginning to seep through my sleeve and my arm was bent in a way it should not have been. Definitely the ulna bone.
"Aahh-ha-ha-ow, shit-butt-twat-weasel," I rasped as the full pain of the busted bone swooped in.
My eyes started to water and I wanted to scream. Warm blood slowly slid down my sleeve, dripping off my fingertips.
"Douche-canoe-ass-butter!" I wimpered.
I tended to just splurt out a lot of random curses and words when I was under intense trauma. Austin always referred to it as the "Fuck My Life Chant."
I lifted my head, breathing through clenched teeth, to see I hadn't noticed something rather insane during my arm-breaking episode. The armored vehicle had plowed straight through Sakura's front doors. Glass was scattered everywhere, glistening like fallen stars all over the ground. Ukita's body was safely out of the path of destruction, so at least I wasn't enduring excruciating pain in vein.
From around the vehicle came a familiar figure rushing toward me.
"Y-Yagami?" I managed to rasp.
Chief Yagami stood before me, looking exhausted and weathered. However, the only reason I could see his face was because I was on the ground. Yagami had taken a jacket and wore it over his head and around his face like a hood. He was panting, clearly exerted by his actions.
"Nina, is that you?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
I nodded, managing to sit up and grip his extending hand with the one on my uninjured arm.
"I am so sorry," Yagami said. "I thought you would move faster but... you wanted to get Ukita."
"Stupid move, maybe," I said. My entire body was tight with pain and sweat was forming on my brow. "I'm glad you realized showing your face is a bad thing."
"It was the only thing that made sense," Yagami replied. "We need to get you something to splint that arm—and it needs to be set back in place."
Those words alone made me feel ten times more nauseated that I already was.
"First thing's first," I said. "We need to stop this broadcast. We need those tapes."
"Nina, you're bleeding and I can see you're in a lot of pain," Yagami stated.
"It can wait!" I insisted. I turned my head and saw there was a security guard gaping at us. He was clearly startled by a whole freaking bus crashing into the building. "You! Where's the station airing the Kira video?" I demanded.
He flinched and pointed deeper into the building. "S-Second floor!" he stammered.
"Let's go," I said, and ran into the building.
"Nina!" Yagami yelled after me and followed suit.
We didn't have time to worry about my stupid arm, as much as it hurt. Adrenaline was flooding my body, and I needed to use it while it lasted. We had to stop the broadcast. We had to get those tapes. And with luck, we had to find where Kira was hiding around here.
L
She was resilient, L had to give her that much.
When he saw Jack appear in front of the doors at Sakura station, his heart had jumped slightly.
"Someone else has arrived outside Sakura station," the reporter said as Jack knelt by Ukita and shook him slightly. "We cannot make out his face. He appears to be a young man wearing a mask and hood."
Young man? Well, Jack was a touch small in the chest department, and L saw that the mask she was wearing came from the lower half of her shirt. He's never seen her mid-drift before, but it appeared all her exercise gave her some defined abs. He supposed it was easy to mistake Jack for a male right then.
Covering her face though... that was smart. If it turned out it was true that Kira could now kill with only a face, then hiding her features was the best thing she could do here. That was why she knew she could survive this.
It was entirely plausible that she deduced that on her own, but L could not help but think she had more knowledge than she was sharing. After all, she stated her father was killed in the same method that Kira used to murder his victims—but it wasn't Kira. It implied she'd faced something like this before and won.
Jack's form was trembling. She raised her head and began to scream. L could see the strain in her shoulders and the fabric around her face moving slightly as she did so.
"He appears to be angry—we have no idea who this boy could be or why he's here—he seems to have some attachment to the officer that collapsed," the reporter said.
Then, there was sudden light on the screen. Since the camera was angled to look at Sakura from the front, L could not tell what the source of it was. Jack's head whipped around for a moment before she desperately grabbed at Ukita's limp form and began pulling him to the side. The lights were growing brighter, and L concluded it had to be a vehicle right before Jack managed to fling Ukita out of harm's way.
For a split second, Jack was out of sight and all that showed on the screen was a huge vehicle. It then crashed straight through the front doors of Sakura station. L felt his entire body seize up. He gripped his knees tightly, leaning forward in his chair. Jack—had she been struck? He finally spotted her form laying motionless against the wall near the front doors. His heart gave a resounding thud in his chest. His gut's contents were replaced with lead.
She couldn't be... not like that, not after how damned resourceful and stubborn she was.
And she wasn't. Jack slowly sat up, body shaking. She held out her arm awkwardly. L could see that her sleeve was darkening. She was alive, but she wasn't unscathed.
"An armored vehicle has just crashed through the front of Sakura station!" the reporter was exclaiming. "It appears to be a police vehicle—I repeat, a police armored vehicle has just crashed into the building!"
"That's one way to get into the building without showing your face," L murmured, his heart finally starting to relax now that he saw Jack was still able to move. "But if he got Ukita, Kira might be in the building. If he's in the lobby, this could prove very risky..." He pushed a thumb to his mouth, biting hard on his nail. In that moment, he didn't care about the little nagging voice that Jack had managed to nurture telling him to stop. She wasn't out of the woods yet, and that armored car...
A figure got out of the car and ran over to Jack. It appeared to be a man and he was wearing a jacket over his head like a hood- hiding his face from almost every angle. Clever. Jack took the man's hand without any hesitation, and then the two of them ducked inside.
L had a good hunch as to who that man was.
Jack
A few years ago, I worked a case that I got personally involved in, much like this one. But unlike this one, I never once told anyone I was actually Jack. Then, I was Alice Shire. Yes, it was obvious it was an alias, but the people I worked with always believe I was what Watari is to L: Jack's spokesman. His right hand man—or woman in this case.
I had been tracking and trying to expose a sex trafficking ring in Atlanta Georgia. I hated the heat there—the humidity and stickiness of the air. Not to mention, big cities in the US were typically just unpleasant to be in- at least for me. The bustle and rudeness of the crowds, the stench that hung in the alleys and streets in the low income sections. All it was enough to make me want to bathe in hand sanitizer for a week.
The idea was to use myself as bait. I know, incredibly reckless idea. There was a hefty number of horrific things that could have happened to me. But I had training from Austin. I was skilled at hand-to-hand combat and could outrun almost anyone. I was convinced that I could defend myself against these people, and had every intention of catching them red-handed.
I had been working with a small team of police personal that focused on stopping these kind of things. I used my normal tricks to get their trust as Jack, then introduced Alice as Jack's on site detective. They were not keen on me playing bait in the least. But this particular ring of sex traffickers had been evading them for almost two years now. They had next to no leads when I first took the case, and were desperate for something, anything to catch these sick assholes.
So there I went, stalking the streets where they got tips that girls would disappear. Sticking to neighborhoods where the most victims had been snatched from. I dressed slightly risqué, with skinny jeans and a tight tank top. But I made sure to still make myself look young and innocent at the same time. Proving that I had a bod, but there was a good chance I was unspoiled goods. Ugh. Just thinking like that gave me shivers of disgust.
It was around ten at night, the sun was long gone, and I strode in and out of the glowing radius of the street lights. There was a button attached to my belt, and if I pressed it, it was going to send my GPS signal to my team. They were parked all around the neighborhood, and would dive in on my location. It was my eleventh night trying this crap and finally a car approached from down the road. As it went by, it suddenly gave out. The person behind the wheel pulled awkwardly to the side of the road across the street from where I was walking.
Then, out stepped a woman. Not just any woman—but Dianna Wheeler, one of my team's key informants on the culprits we were after. Now, Dianna knew Jack was involved in the case, but she'd never seen Alice. She wasn't even privy to the fact that Alice was a part of the team. It was part of Jack's stipulations- I ensured my team was the only ones who saw me as Alice and knew I was working with them.
Dianna, from what I had gathered, was a sweet, middle-aged woman with two daughters and a son. Her husband had passed away some time ago, but left his family with a hefty amount of cash. She was well off, and as an upstanding citizen, she was able to gather a lot of information for us from the abundance of people she knew.
"Oh, well this is just great," she muttered as she glared at her car and placed her hands on her hips. "I'm going to be so late..."
I felt myself hesitating, looking toward her. Of course, I couldn't tell her who I was. But part of me felt inclined to help. The other part couldn't help but wonder why in the hell Dianna Wheeler, a wealthy soccer mom, was doing in the run down low class neighborhood I strode in.
"Oh—oh, miss?" She had spotted me and waved in my direction. "Do you have a phone I can borrow?"
Dianna didn't make a move to approach me. Instead, she smiled in my direction, awaiting me to go to her.
My spine tingled slightly. This was way beyond dangerous. I began to walk across the street, my footsteps seemed too loud in my ears.
"Yeah, I have a cell," I said, digging into my purse. "What happened?"
"Oh, the battery has been acting up the past few days," Dianna sighed. She had a slightly lined face with long brown hair done up in a prim bun. Her face seemed gentle; kind. "I knew I should have just listened to my husband and get it replaced."
It had taken all I had within me not to freeze in place. Dianna's husband was dead—why would she say something like that? Of course, I came to the correct conclusion within a heartbeat. Dianna had been feeding my team false leads- she was a part of the people we were after. She was asking for my phone so I couldn't call the police. But she didn't know about the belt.
"Sucks," I said, taking out my small flip phone and handing it to her. "I wish I knew how to help. Do you think you'll have to get a tow?"
Dianna flipped open my phone. "Oh, no, probably not."
The back door of Dianna's car suddenly flew open, but I had been anticipating it. I pressed the button on my belt and took off just as a big burly man lunged for me. He missed my by mere inches. For a moment, he didn't give chase; perhaps they knew how risky it was to run after a girl out in the open like this. However, Dianna must have sensed something was wrong. Perhaps it was because of how prepared I was for the attack, or how fast I could run... or it was because the wallpaper on my phone said, "GOTCHA."
"Code Blue, Samuel!" she snapped. "Do not let her get away!"
So then the big'un began to sprint after me.
I knew my belt was giving off my location to my team. I just had to keep clear until they showed up. I wanted to keep to open streets because someone might see and try to assist- or even call the police. But at the same time, despite Dianna's orders to the man, I didn't trust that he wouldn't run off should witnesses show up. So, doing something that probably seemed idiotic to the giant chasing me, I darted down the next alleyway.
As my legs pumped under me, I realized that skinny jeans were probably not the best choice to have worn for this. The skin around my joints were getting rubbed raw by the denim. I managed to put a good amount of distance between me and Samuel. But then, as I turned to go down another section of the dirt alleyways, my runners skidded on the gravel. I shot out my arms to catch myself, but I was at such an odd angle, I ended up landing very, very awkwardly on my left wrist.
Pain erupted almost instantaneously, along with a loud CRACK. I couldn't move my hand without it sending thousands of stabs through my arm. But Samuel's footsteps were coming hard and fast behind me. I shoved myself to my feet, and forced myself to look beyond the pain. To just focus on my legs flying beneath me- of my body shooting forward to the end of the alley where I hoped beyond hope my team was waiting for me.
Samuel was nearly on my heels because of my spill, and despite my raw determination and the adrenaline now fueling me, I wasn't as fast as normal. If I let up—even for a single heartbeat—it was over. I told myself over and over, Just move. Just move, move, MOVE!
I finally broke from the alleys and into a next to abandoned neighborhood. My feet thudded hard against the sidewalk as I tore down it. I could take a left up here and head toward a busy street. Even at this hour there were cars coming and going. But I couldn't risk letting this guy ditching. I had to have him caught- I had to expose Dianna.
So, with my crippled wrist cradled to my chest, I took a right. My legs scrambled slightly at the sharp turn. Samuel tried to grab me. I felt his fingertips brush the back of my shirt. My eyes were beginning to water from the nauseating pain in my wrist. It was already swelling. But I couldn't stop. Not just for my own well being- but to ensure this asshole was caught.
But my luck only ever ran in spurts. With each step, I was slowing. What Samuel lacked in speed, he outdid me in endurance. I was the cheetah, he was the gazelle. Funny. Usually a cheetah wouldn't be scared of getting caught by a gazelle. Yet when a large, strong hand gripped my upper arm, I felt my heart rocket around in my ribcage pinball style while my blood iced over.
He began to bring a cloth toward my face. I brought up my other arm, the one with the busted wrist, and slammed it into his elbow, and holy shit, did that hurt. It took a lot not to scream in pain, but it forced him to drop the fabric to the ground. I then put my foot over it, but his grip on me was still unrelenting.
"Slippery one," he grunted as he tried to yank me closer to him. I thought my arm was going to come out of its socket. "But certainly cute. I don't know why D thinks you're with the pigs. You're too young." He grinned. He was actually a rather well kept man: neat hair (despite the slight sheen from sweat from the exercise I forced him to endure) and clean shaven. He wore a black track suit that looked new. "Even if you are with them, you'll fetch a nice price."
Gross. Gross, gross, gross. Disgust and rage consumed me, and the pain in my wrist was forgotten.
"You know," I said. "I hope that if time travel is a thing, I come back to this moment, just to watch myself do this to you over and over again."
I then punched him in the throat, and as he released me in surprise, wheezing out a cough, I kneed him in the groin—hard. Samuel fell to his knees, letting out a small squeaking sound. It was only then did the agony of my wound came flooding back. The hand I used to punch him was the one with the broken wrist.
"Shit-ass-butt-babies!" I rambled, clutching my arm to my chest as my eyes watered relentlessly.
That was when there were flashing red and blue lights, and two vehicles showed up at the same time on the street, one from each direction. A third arrived shortly afterward. My team had come along just in time to get Samuel in cuffs and get my ass to a hospital.
Later I discovered they managed to snag Dianna before she could make her escape. She'd been making money off that sex trafficking for years. That had been where her wealth came from, not her dead husband. We managed to save a lot of young women and men—even girls and boys—when we got those sick pieces of shit incarcerated.
The point was, I had dealt with being in extreme situations with extreme pain before. In a way, the one with Dianna and Samuel was even more dangerous than me running through Sakura TV station with Yagami. I knew Kira couldn't kill me, and he wasn't intending on selling me on the black market. Here, I had the advantage. It was other people that were in danger in this case.
My busted arm was still causing me an intense amount of discomfort. I kept it close to me, much like I had done with my wrist years ago on that night running from Samuel. The adrenaline seemed to make the pain more rounded, like it was a consistent heavy ache rather than a sharp, stabbing bite.
Just move. Just move, move, MOVE!
The same crap I spewed to myself as last time, but it helped. I pushed on. I kept up with Yagami, my breath making my fabric mask flutter.
We finally reached the studio. Yagami burst through the doors, his jacket falling off his head as he did so. "POLICE!" he bellowed. "Stop this broadcast immediately!"
Part of me was concerned for Yagami's face being exposed, but I didn't think Kira would be in here. I stepped in after him, heart hammering. There was a camera crew along with the reporter. They all looked at us, startled but mute.
"I said stop the Kira video NOW!" Yagami shouted, storming forward.
Man. The Chief could be scary when he wanted.
"Just wait a minute, detective," one of the men begged. He was portly and had a short bowl cut of black hair. A mustache hugged his upper lip and glasses were perched on his nose. "If we stop the video, we'll be killed!"
"I don't care!" Yagami spat. "An innocent man is dead!"
"Do you guys want to be responsible for Kira increasing his power?" I demanded. "Killing criminals is one thing. Sure, a lot of people can say that no one will miss them—that they deserved what they got—but that man out there..." I began to trembled from more than just pain. "He was just doing his job. He was trying to save people!"
"Uh... um, today's video just finished," another man murmured.
We were too late. All this—Ukita dying, me risking my hide, Yagami risking his—all of it was for nothing? No—there had to be a chance Kira could still be nearby. If we could just find him...
"So it's you, is it?" Yagami set the portly man in his sights. "You're the demegawa who's been playing up the Kira case for all it's worth, putting out all those specials despite the warnings we issued? You think this whole thing is very funny, do you?!"
The man was speechless. He stared at Yagami, slack jawed and eyes wide. Finally, he found his voice. "I had no idea it would end up like this," he said, sweat beading on his forehead. "I swear it. Please, go easy on me, sir, ha ha..." His laughter was tight with nerves.
"That director that Kira sent the tapes to, that was you, was it?" Yagami demanded.
"Yes," the man replied hesitantly.
"We need those," I said. The adrenaline was slowly fading now that I wasn't running. My arm's pain began to sing its song of agony ever louder. "If you'd be so kind to hand them over in a nice little basket or something, that'd be swell."
"We need those tapes, she's correct," Yagami said. "The entire package, exactly as Kira gave it to you."
"But..." The man shook his head. "It's like I said, if I do that, we'll all be killed."
Yagami's hand was a blur as he whipped out something from his side. It took me a moment to realize it was a gun. The Chief aimed it at the portly man's chin, his eyes like ice as he glared at him.
"Hand it over!" he ordered. "Do that, and you don't have to worry about dying this instant!"
Hoo boy, I had to remind myself not to piss Yagami off. Even Nox let out a low whistle.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" the man gasped, taking a wary step back. "Are you insane?"
"This is the direct result of you putting out all those stories and making Kira like some kind of star," Yagami snarled. "If you ask me, you're reaping what you sowed."
"You should just shoot him," I said. It caused even Yagami to glance back at me in surprise. "He clearly did this for the views. He says it's because Kira threatened their lives, but let's look at the big picture, shall we? You're a sleaze. A piece of garbage. Ukita died because of you!"
I began to stalk forward, but Yagami held out an arm to stop me. "Let me handle this," he urged me under his breath.
I continued to glare at the man for a moment before pushing a cup of pens off a nearby table and on the floor. When all else fails, be a pissed off cat. Yagami shook his head and returned his attention to the man.
"Should I follow my friend's advice?" he asked in a tight voice. "Or will you hand over the tapes? If, after watching all the tapes, I decide it's safe to air them, I will return them to you."
"All right, all right," the man rasped, turning and going over to one of the drawers.
I leaned against the wall, gritting my teeth and squeezing my eyes shut. The pain was really getting to me now. My breath came in heavy huffs through my nose. My mask fluttered over my mouth.
"Is he okay?" one of the other men asked.
He huh? Fine, whatever, I'd roll with it. It would be better if no one knew who I was in the least.
"Peachy," I replied dryly. "Chief, I'm going to do a quick sweep of the area."
"What?" Yagami's head snapped around to look at me. "No, that's crazy- you're hurt. You need to sit down and rest until we can get you medical treatment."
"I'm not letting the chance that Kira is around here slip by," I said, pushing myself off the wall. "You've got this part covered. I'm going to find the bastard that killed Uki."
I knew that Yagami wouldn't leave the studio- not without the tapes and any copies the staff of Sakura TV made. I was the best one to go against Kira head on if he had the Shinigami Eyes. Even if my mask fell, he wouldn't see my name. So with this in mind, I ran out the door, doing my best to ignore the pain raising in my arm and threatening to consume me.