Chapter Twelve

Haunting Love

Light and Ryuzaki had met a few more times since the fake birthday party. But their meetings became shorter and farther in between.

Ryuzaki's work had been keeping him busy, and he often had to cut their nights short, much to Light's displeasure. Ryuzaki didn't seem much more excited about it either. What ever his work was kept him stressed, and with each passing day he looked grumpier (it was hard to tell but he was getting better and better at telling the difference between one blank face and the next).

Light did his best to aid in stress relief, whether it was by entertaining him with jokes and riddles, or by means of a more intimate nature. While these remedies for Ryuzaki happiness worked in the moment, his stressed grumpy face would come back on instantly as soon as he got a phone call from work and Light had to leave.

This secretly worried Light for more reasons then just one. Firstly, he was worried for Ryuzaki's health, though he was not one to judge how unhealthily someone lived their lives. Secondly, he worried over how much more time he and Ryuzaki had left to do… whatever this was.

From the beginning Light knew Ryuzaki was here on a business trip, and that he would only be in Japan for a limited amount of time. He wondered just how much more time he would be here.

Usually just before the end of a project, things get a lot harder and frustrating, so maybe that meant his time here was almost up.

Light wasn't sure why but the thought of it made him feel angry.

Each time their meetings were cut off with a phone rings he stormed out. When Ryuzaki would call to invite him to the next meeting they would dance around the issue. The tension was hidden away in the back of Light's head, along with everything else. He was beginning to feel bleak.

It seemed like the whole world seemed bleak.

The infamous Kitchen Killings graced the front of every newspaper. The number of victims rose to ten, despite all the police precautions, and the public feared for their lives. There was talk of a curfew being instigated, but in the metropolis that was Tokyo it was unrealistic.

The streets were emptier each night. Nobody wanted to be the next victim. It made Kira's job easier. Less people, less crime.

But it was weird… even though the streets were emptier, Light somehow felt overcrowded. He had this peculiar feeling that he was being watched, but whenever he looked around, no one else was there.

This had been going on for since the night of the same fight, too.

Perhaps that blonde girl, Misa, was stalking him still, but he had been extra careful to be as evasive as possible on any attempts to follow him. So in more crowded areas it may have made some sense she might be somewhere, there, watching him, but when he slipped into the shadows and walked the quieter streets, the feeling didn't go away.

So anyways it seemed Ryuzaki wasn't alone. Light had stress of his own.

Light, despite the shame Misa had made him feel, had gotten no further in the Kitchen Killer case then he had been before. If one killing was premeditated, perhaps they all were. And when Light looked through the pictures of the victims, looking for some sort of connection, their eyes seemed to burn, judging him silently.

Tonight Light felt rather miffed. Ryuzaki had canceled on him the night before and he had yet to get any word from him. After work at the bookstore, Light decided to go home and do some casework for the smaller cases that were being swept aside.

On his way home it started snowing. He stopped to observe the small flurries as they were bathed in the golden light of the street lamps, taking a moment to consider how weird science was, that each snowflake could be so different yet look the same, and that they were all frozen water, yet the snowflakes floated down as if they were cotton fluffs.

It was starting to stick, covering everything in a moderate dusting of what looked like powdered sugar. His book bag was speckled with it. Maybe if it snowed again tomorrow it would get deeper…

Wait. Why the hell was Light thinking about snow? It was such a trivial thing to think about when there are many more important things to think about. He needed to focus. Why has his mind been wandering so much, lately?

Light was brought out of his musings by a snowball to the head. His hand flew up to cover the spot on the back of his head where the snowball had hit. The ball had been packed tight and left his skin stinging.

He sifted his eyes from side to side, looking for the culprit who threw the damn thing. A glimpse of hair disappearing behind a wall drew his attention. It must have been some kid. Curious Light wandered over to the wall and glanced around it, were he saw a narrow alley he had passed a thousand times.

He saw the silhouette of a girl with dark hair. Before he got a good look at her she threw another snowball and dashed away again, cutting across the street on the other side. Light dodged the ball and ran after her.

The girl was quick but Light managed to keep up with her and eventually catch her. He grabbed her shoulders spun her around. What he saw shocked him.

Shiori stood there in front of him, a worried frown on her face. She pushed him away and started running again.

That couldn't possibly have been her. Shiori is dead. Dead. Light thought, his mind racing. It went back to the last time he had seen her alive. He heard her scream from the past and felt the warmth and soft skin of her neck as he tried in vain to search for a pulse. She was dead. She was dead. It couldn't be her. The cheek bones weren't quite right and her eyes… they were a shade too dark… weren't they?

Her face had been ingrained on the back of his eyes but now it was fading fast.

The mystery Shiori had gotten a ways away. Light picked up pursuit again. The girl glanced back and saw he was following. As Light followed Shiori her scarf fell off. She didn't even seem to care but kept sprinting. She rounded another corner, and when Light did he saw her entering a taxi that promptly drove off, as if it had been waiting for her.

Light just stood there and watched, knowing he'd have no chance of catching up. The girl glanced back at him one last time before disappearing.

There was nothing he could do, so he decided to go back and pick up the scarf. The scarf lay where it was dropped, it's black and white checkered pattern standing out against the snow. As Light bent down to pick it up he felt a strange pull coming from the alley the scarf had fallen in front of.

It was if time slowed down when he turned his head to look down the alley, and nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

A dead body lay strewn across the ground, staring at him with unseeing eyes. He was young, sixteen at the oldest. Beside him lay a tennis racket bag, and both it and the body covered in a dusting of snow. The snow directly around the body was stained red from blood. The horrible metallic scent of blood filled the air.

The teen had been stabbed many times, judging by the stains and holes on his shirt. His face still had an expression of fear, pure fear. The body was fresh.

He stared at the body, paralyzed by shock. The more he stared at it the more it began to change.

It was no longer the teen, but a middle-aged man wearing glasses. Where a nameless kid once laid Soichiro Yagami lay.

Suddenly Light was a child again, the snow turned to kitchen tile, the alley walls into a kitchen counter with blood-flecked curtains half covering the window over the sink. The pool of blood seemed to grow deeper and deeper with every coming second.

Run. He wanted to run. But his feet would not move.

The blood was up to his knees now, but already he was choking on it. He was suffocating as he stood. The snow fell on top of the rising blood then seemed to melt into it, only making it rise faster. Just as it was about to swallow him whole the feeling in his legs came back and he found himself stumbling backwards. His bag slipped off his shoulders and he tripped over it, falling to the ground and banging his head.

The pain shot though him; startlingly clear in the confusion of the moment. His hand became wet with something warm and sticky, but he didn't have time for that now. He had to flee. He got up and ran again, just needing to get away.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

His apartment was his last safe place. He took refuge in it, locking himself in from the outside world. The shades were down and the lights switched off. Only the glow of the computers remain, but they were untouched.

As soon as Light had gotten backs and safely shut himself away he ran to the small kitchen and opened a drawer full of utensils. He spilled them out onto the floor as he lifted up the false bottom to reveal his treasures from a past he tried to forget.

Two cell phone charms sat on top of the real wood bottom, their strings barely touching. A can of coffee next to a rice ball. They were in near pristine condition, having never been used but for a few hours. The phone that they were once attached to had long ago been destroyed and disposed of. But Light could never have brought himself to rid himself of these useless pieces of plastic.

Now he was grateful for that, as he picked them up and held them together wrapped in the palm of his hand. They had been gifts from Mikami for him and Shiori. Light couldn't even remember how he had managed to be holding onto Shiori's phone, but at the end of his last Light Yagami he reached into his pocket and her phone with her charm already on it. His own phone had been left back on the bus, but the charm Mikami had given him had been still in his pocket next to his wallet.

He brought the hand holding the coffee can and rice ball charms to his chest and cradled it there. With his other hand he pushed away the silverware so he had room to lie down and press his head against the cold tile floor.

He had no idea how much time had passed when his phone first began to ring. He felt the vibration as it buzzed in his back pocket. With out checking the caller ID he knew who it was, but for once he had no desire at all to pick up the phone.

Eventually the ringing stopped. Sometime later it started up again. And then again. The forth time, Light picked up the phone and threw it. The sound of it cracking when it hit what ever it hit was satisfying and at last Light had what he wanted.

To be alone.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

It seems like things only got worse and worse for L.

The case was still unsolved and more people had died on his count.

There was Luke Adams and Gill Deux, the foreigners. Luke the first killing and Gill the eighth. Luke had been living here and going to a local school, but Gil had been here on vacation and had only been in the country for a few days and was set to leave in the next two.

Izaya the NEET and his almost pitiful end, the second death, followed by Gouki, the loving mother type who had so much to live for in comparison. Hana Wagu, a rising chef, the fourth. Toshi Souji, a old lawyer, the fifth.

The greatly mourned Yoko Hari, a fashion model whose death was being turned into a marketing ploy for the designers of Harajuku who she had worn their labels and walked in shows for.

Ari Inoue, the seventh killing, a member of a gang. It had been suspected that his killing was a copy cat killing done by a rival gang in hopes that the Kitchen Killer would be blamed, but after some detective and forensic work L was able to prove that it was an authentic killing.

The ninth and tenth killing happened within hours of each other but on opposite side of the city. Akiko Tanakoshi and Migumi Yamashita. Akiko was a grocer. Migumi was a school girl.

Ichiro Yamashita was also in high school, like Migumi. Though they didn't go to the same school L found the fact that three different high school student from three different schools had all been chosen. All the other victims were too varied, but the first and last two killings all being students of the same age and in school was very suspicious.

It was possible that the murders were being done by a fellow student. Maybe one connected with the three that died, or just one of them. Or someone who had a certain fixation with his high school years.

It was also very unsettling how easy it was to discover the identity of each victim. The killer made no attempt to hid it, leaving faces and wallets untouched. And every victim had their identification with them.

Ichiro had just been discovered an hour ago. L was watching the scene now with cameras Watari and the other detectives had placed so he could see the investigation, when his bad day just got worse.

The team had discovered two book bags near the body. One bag belonged to Ichiro. The other belonged to Light.

When he had seen the second bag it was like a cold shot of reality to his face. The bag belonged to Light, he was sure of it. He had seen it only a few times but already had the sight of it imprinted into his memory. When he asked Watari to search the contents his mood only sank as the bag's ownership was confirmed with each item that was pulled out. There was a can of the brand of coffee that L had noticed Light drank, and several books he knew Light was reading.

There was no wallet or store ID in the bag so no one but L could have known whose bag this was. L felt burden by the knowledge.

There was blood near Light's bag, and until DNA tests can in there was no way to tell who the blood belonged to. But even if the blood was Light's, not Ichiro, nothing would link the DNA to Light. His DNA was not in the database, having never committed any crimes before. L knew because he had tested it during Light's fever stay at the hotel, when he was even more of a mystery then he was now.

L knew that he was a salesperson at a book store and that he had not gone to university after completing high school, despite being an L-certified genius. He lived in a small apartment alone and had no criminal record, but other then the time he spent with L he had no idea what he did. And what had Light done before he and L met?

That was not that long ago, and on their first meeting L was sure Light was suicidal. He found the young man about to jump off a bridge in a monsoon.

And then there was now, his bag found at the scene of a murder, the first murder of which had occurred on they very night L had saved him from jumping. L had been suspicious that he was a criminal from the start, but had pushed back that thought. Had L saved a killer? And not just any killer, but one of the most disturbing ones he had seen since B?

Though he never let it show, not even to Watari, B, his once successor-to-be, had shaken him when he had left the orphanage and turned to such a life, all because of his obsession with L.

L needed answers. And he needed them soon.

He had called Light twice before that night, when his schedule had been more free, but he got no answer. He called twice more, each time getting to voice mail. The third time he called it said the number he had been calling was no longer available.

This did not bode well. L dialed the phone one more time, and this time it was answered right away.

"Yes?"

"I need you to detain Light Akino under suspicion of murder. Bring him here, and don't let anyone else know what you are doing."

"As you say." Watari responded.

Annnnnnd Cut!

Okay That's a wrap! Thanks for reading the story, I hope you have a great life!

…..

Just kidding.

But wouldn't this be a great way to end the story? Heh.

Please review and give me your thoughts!

I finally got rid of that nasty electrical charge I've been carrying. I'm ex-static!