BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE-

Click.

Half-asleep, Shimura had finally found the snooze button on his alarm clock, before finally realizing who he was and where he happened to be. The lights were turned off, the music wasn't playing. He rushed over to the CD player and started frantically pushing buttons. Why had everything turned off?

And for that matter, why had he even been asleep?

It was then that he realized the CD had been taken out of the player and put back into it's case. He frantically stumbled over to the window by the desk, sweating nervously and grabbing the curtains. He curled up against the wall, his eyes wide and darting across every corner of the room.

It was at that point that I figured I should come out of the wall and attempt to explain the morning's occurrences to Mr. Shimura.

"It's okay, Mr. Shimura," I said, raising a hand in a calming gesture.

"GAH! DEMON! GHOST! YOUKAI!" Shimura jumped back, stumbling over the leg of his desk chair and falling backwards onto the floor. "WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH MY REGGAE?"

"Mr. Shimura," I started, "Please calm down and listen carefully-"

"You…You're…" There was a moment of silence. He looked at me with a wide-eyed stare, a kind of mix of curiosity and fear moving across his face, until he realized who I was after a few moments.

"Listen," I started, hoping the poor, insane man would be able to pay attention to me. "My name is Raye Penber. I was an FBI agent who was sent to Japan to tail possible KIRA suspects. You watched me die last night." I said this hoping that he might understand. It seemed like he didn't know he'd ever had a sixth sense, and judging by his reaction to me, he was probably still trying to get my death off his mind.

"You…" he started, his voice shaking. "Why are you floating?" His eyes widened, bloodshot though they were. He was sweating profusely.

"Mr. Shimura," I started, realizing that getting to him was going to be harder than I had originally thought. "Allow me to explain-"

THUMP.

Before I could say anything, Shimura had passed out.

"So, what did you see when you arrived at the station?" Watari interrogated the officer. L had ordered all police and employees who were present at Shinjuku station the day KIRA killed Raye Penber and the Cafeet employee to be questioned. And, it's was Watari's job, as it typically was, to investigate all of them. It wasn't as bad as it had been other times, seeing as only about five officers had been called to the scene, and only a total of 20 station employees had witnessed either death. Still, 25 interrogation subjects was a lot, and often times when things like this happened all the interrogating turned out completely useless. Watari didn't complain, though. Having raised L, he knew L didn't like to explain things, so he always just assumed whatever L was doing had some purpose.

As soon as Watari had finished questioning the 15th employee, he got a call from L. "How's it coming, Watari?"

'Fair," he replied, looking at his notes. "I've had two security officers so far admit to having seen Yonegoro Nusumi die, but none of those officers noticed Raye or the man in the white cap in the same vicinity."

"Good," L said, processing Watari's report. "Also, can you get me the call records for calls to the police and NPA regarding KIRA? This includes all calls having to do with the deaths of FBI agents within Japan."

"Of course." Watari hung up. He was confused, but did as L asked, assuming he had some sort of purpose in mind for the call records. Or perhaps, he just wanted something to laugh at before he want to sleep.

I sat on the desk in the opposite corner of the room, trying not to move. Suguru Shimura, Head of Personnel at Yotsuba Banking Company, had clearly lost his mind after seeing me die, and had resorted to scrunching up in the corner of his room, surrounded by a large pile of random stuff from around his room. Every time I moved, he would throw something out of the pile at me. He was staring at me, shaking and whimpering.

"Mr. Shimura, have you calmed down yet?"

"NnnngghhAAAHHH!" CRASH. The coffee mug fell through my head, hitting the wall behind me and scattering fragments all over the desk. It may have gone through my head, but it was still an unpleasant feeling, so I stopped moving and stayed sitting on the desk, hoping he would eventually calm down. Talking to him was the only chance I had of catching KIRA, so I couldn't give up on him now.

Suddenly, the intercom came on with a buzz, drawing the slight attention of the spooked businessman. "Suguru?" A female voice asked. "It's me, Saya. Can you open the door?" From what I could tell, the voice came from a woman, maybe in her late twenties.

"N-no…" Shimura stammered, turning his head slightly towards the intercom, but keeping his eyes on me. "I mean, uh…I'm very sick…"

"Oh!" Saya exclaimed, taking on a more urgent tone. "Well let me in! Let me take care of you!"

"N-NO, no…" Shimura continued quickly, beginning to take his eyes off of me. "You really shouldn't come in here, no…" He was starting to let his guard down, the grip on the picture frame he had had ready to throw at me starting to loosen. Carefully, I stood up, inching towards the shelf on the back wall.

"But Suguru, you sound awful," she replied worriedly. "Are you sure you don't want me to come in, hun?" She seemed to be calming him down. In the same way Naomi made me feel more confident, it seemed this 'Saya' had an effect of making Shimura relax.

"Saya, I…" he sighed, straightening out his legs and letting his hands fall to his sides. "I just think it would be best if you came back later." He relaxed his shoulders, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall. I was behind the shelf now, waiting for him and Saya to finish up.

"Okay," she said, unsure of her decision to let him be. " I'm still worried about you, Suguru."

"I love you too, Saya."

The last buzz sounded, signaling the end of the conversation. Shimura sighed, completely letting his guard down for a moment, before finally coming back to his senses and remembering what was going on.

"Rugby star, huh?" I said, noticing a high school trophy sitting on the shelf near where my face was. "That explains the good aim."

"What?" He got up, anger and panic wavering in his voice as he grabbed a handful of pens and walked over to the front of the shelf for a better aim. "Go back!"

"Oh, now you wouldn't want to ruin such a nice shelf, would you?" I said, as he raised the pens behind his head in a throwing gesture. "Now that I can explain things properly and uninterrupted by flying objects-"

"No! Get out of my shelf!" Shimura butted in, pulling the pens back behind him further. "Get back where I can see you and tell me why you're here!" He seemed to have gotten over most of his fear, and was now experiencing an intense fit of anger.

"I've been trying to explain, but you're not listening!" I was starting to get really fed up with him, and almost left right then. But everything finally came into place after the next thing he said:

"Damn it, stop flapping your lips and actually SAY SOMETHING FOR ONCE!"

It was then that I realized why I'd had no success talking to him. It wasn't that he refused to listen, it was that he couldn't. He could see me, but he couldn't hear me. So I had to find a way to communicate with him.

As I had learned earlier after finally being able to turn off the CD player, I could only touch something if I focused and actually wanted to touch it. So, if I wanted to communicate with this man, I would have to orchestrate this very carefully. I walked out from behind the shelf, my hands up in a vulnerable gesture. Walking cautiously over to the desk and sitting down where I had been earlier, I picked up a piece of paper and pen.

Shimura lowered his arm and backed away, letting the pens he had grabbed drop to the floor. I started writing as fast as I possibly could, crappy though my Japanese was. Shimura's expression changed from scared and infuriated to curious, though he still hadn't let down his guard. When I finished writing, I held the paper for him to read. He looked at me, then the paper, then back at me. Cautiously, he reached out, grabbing the paper out of my hand quickly and turning away from me to read it. It said:

Mr. Shimura, I've been trying to explain peacefully the whole time I've been in here,

You just don't seem to be able to hear it. I'm not hostile, and I'm not here for anything

Other than a way to catch KIRA, Light Yagami, and rest in peace.

Shimura was still sweating nervously, as he had been since before I had arrived. He stared at the paper for a second, then, shaking, turned towards his desk and set the paper on a pile near the shredder. He looked as if he was trying to cover up his fear, but was doing a lousy job, instead looking as if he was a drunk looking to pick a fight. I watched as he walked over to his closet and bitterly shook out a pair of pants. "I…c-can't help you, sir," he said as he put on the pants, his back to me. "J-just…give it up. You can't expect me to help you." He reached back into the closet, grabbing a white shirt and tie.

As he buttoned up the shirt, I went over to the piece of paper I had written on earlier and started writing again. Mr. Shimura, I wrote. Please, all I need is a way to communicate with L. I held the paper up in front of him again as he finished straightening out his tie. He jumped slightly when he looked up, then read what I had to say.

"Are you nuts?" He exclaimed, his eyes widening as he finished reading. "Yeah, why don't I just call him up and tell him a ghost wants to talk to him!" He turned back towards the closet, flinging his arms out as he said it. "Hey L, how ya been? Know any dead guys?" I lowered the paper as he angrily pulled a jacket out of the closet.

"Look," he began, turning back to me and holding a finger up. "I have a really high paying job, a wonderful fiancée, a nice house…a better life than I ever dreamed of having." He stepped back, biting his lip and pulling on the jacket. "I wish I could help you. I really do. But I can't let all this go away just because I got involved in the KIRA case." He picked up his briefcase and started for the door, but stopped before reaching it, turning back as if he had forgotten something. He paused for a second, then looked at me. "What was your name?" I wrote it down quickly on the paper, then showed it to him. "Raye Penber, huh?" he gave the paper back to me, having calmed down considerably but still sweating. "I'll look for you in the news," he said, smiling nervously. "At least then I'll know I'm not hallucinating." He let slip a small laugh before turning and walking out the door, raising a hand in salute. And then he said the words I never thought I'd hear again.

"Goodbye, Raye Penber."