"A prince that is diligent in times of peace will be ready in times of adversity; thus when fortune turns against him he will be prepared to resist it."-- Machiavelli's The Prince

…………………………

He could make out the tail end of one of the gashes in the mirror across from him, and turning away from the tiled-countertop, Raito looked over his shoulder to closer inspect the damaged tissue.

Healing was progressing along, but not as quickly as he wished it to. It would be awhile until he could remove the stitches; sleeping on his back was out of the picture for a few more months; and he'd have to continue wearing bandages under his clothing until it completely healed.

But these were all minor complaints in comparison to the mess of forming scar tissue that swiped in two arcs across his shoulder blades. The scalpel to which that motherless prick had used on him had cleanly cut away at flesh and nerve endings, and now the skin around that area of his back was stretching and contorting itself to cover what had been lost.

Both dull and detailed memories of that moment flashed over his mind's eye: the sounds of discordant breathing; the wet, opened-out feeling of blood trickling down his back; and the pulsing pain that made him hurt as much as the intrinsic ache of knowing something was missing.

The deathnote had not made him forget one minute of being tortured and being scared. Like holding a photograph over a lighter, certain memories were frayed at the edges, leaving intact his ability to recognize overall situations, despite the faulty perceptions that came along with it. He had genuinely believed, upon waking a month ago, that they were holding him there on suspicions of being Kira.

But then L had shown up and had brought with him a book.

Looking at the first page Raito quickly realized it was journal. But not just of some stranger's life. It was written in his handwriting and expressed very personal thoughts and feelings that he had never shared with another living soul.

He was then made to read the case files L had accumulated over the span of this investigation, and watch tape after tape of "conversations" they had during the last three months. The detective finished by giving further explanations, even though at that point it was unnecessary.

Raito knew himself. He knew inside and out of what he was cable of and how passionately he felt about certain things. Analyzing this case from an objective standpoint: Kira's methodology of consistent attacking and the obvious derision behind it; the moralistic philosophies that seemed to prompt and in turn be influenced by each strategy; and more importantly the fact that he had shown up at precisely the right time during L's investigation and had gotten extremely close to him without having a clear-cut idea as to why he had pursued the detective the way he did.

He remembers intensely wanting to join the Kira case. He linked it to a desire to catch the person sullying his reputation, but in reality, he had suddenly come into this investigation because he needed to get closer to L. He needed to watch his every move and be sure that the detective was doing the things he wanted.

Move in and kill -- that was the idea behind it. That was the idea behind everything he had done during the past two years.

God, the deaths of all those people…

Raito felt an intense wave of nausea hit him.

It went without saying that he was shocked, that he was horrified by what he had read. It was unbelievable really…

…but the longer he had sat there in his cell, contemplating each event in context to what Kira had been trying to do -- what he had been trying to do -- the easier justifications seemed to come.

He had killed…but was it so bad when the dead were killers themselves? He must have done it to save people. He must have. Even the deaths of those FBI agents…

There was a strange transformation taking place within him, one that made more sense the longer he was left to sort out his thoughts, the more information he was fed in order to prove his existence as Kira.

He had a number of memories linked to intense emotions in concern to L, where the image in his head and the feeling he was experiencing did not quite match up. And out of all the emotions he had been subjected to during that the course of that time, frustration and hate had been the predominant.

Raito might feel like there was nothing in which he could place his trust in, but he would believe in those feelings, in those instincts, and in the single word that had ended his journal:

"Survive."

……………………

"Princes have not only to watch out for present problems but also for those in the future, and try diligently to avoid them; for once problems are recognized ahead of time, they can be easily cured, but if you wait for them to present themselves, the medicine will be too late, for the disease will have become incurable. And what physicians say about disease is applicable here: that at the beginning a disease is easy to cure but difficult to diagnose, but as time passes, not having been recognized or treated at the outset, it becomes easy to diagnose but difficult to cure."

………………………

Raito looked both ways and stepped out into the hallway quietly.

He absently touched his stomach.

In exchange for alone time yesterday he had skipped out on dinner, so it was no surprise he was hungry. He supposed it also had something to do with his appetite coming back.

Descending the stairwell, Raito found himself in familiar territory as he faced the corridor that led to the front entrance. There was another hallway, this one also directly opposite of the staircase, the outer wall that lined it broken up by large, arched glass-windows.

By the smell of it, the kitchen was in this direction.

There was a good chance he'd run into L there. He should attempt to talk to him; at least find out what he had planned. Raito did not enjoy being in the dark, and there was only so much he could learn from second-hand accounts before it became necessary to check with the source. It was bothersome, but he would have to put aside his feelings and make an effort at 'getting along' with the detective. If he put-off this problem for any longer, it would turn into a considerable pain in the butt, one that would make things between them even more strained, as fun as that sounded.

Deep in thought, Raito walked past the kitchen area. He stopped, turned around, but did not go in and instead waited outside the door. Like he had guessed L was in the kitchen, but he was not alone. That blond boy was with him, not to mention another boy he did not recognize.

Leaning against the wall, he decided to wait for his chance to approach, and fortunately for him L was as quiet as he was subtle, so he would have no problem listening in on their conversation and finding the appropriate time to cut in.

"Everyone saw the Kanto broadcast between you and Kira. We couldn't stop talking about it, even weeks after. It was really cool how you called him out."

"I am glad you liked it," L answered, noisily chewing.

"Yeah, we all did, especially the part where you announced you would reveal his identity for the world to see." There was a pause, like he was getting up the nerve to ask a question. "I was wondering why you never announced who he was. I guess it would cause problems if it became public knowledge, but you can tell us, right? I wouldn't say anything. Matt wouldn't say anything either, right?"

"Tell me when to put my hands over my ears." Beeps and other sound effects that could only be coming from a handheld game filled the room.

"Yes, I know you can all keep a secret, but that is still confidential."

"But you always leave your case files open for us."

"Yes, but for now, I would like to return to our discussion on both your and Matt's progress, not on what I've been up to for the past two years. It is old news to me."

"But not to us," the blond said, voice climbing up a scale.

"Are you experiencing that stage of rebellion that is common for children your age?" L bluntly asked.

"No," the boy answered, there was an obvious pout in his voice.

"Then let us talk about something else. Roger tells me that you have a taste for Wolfgang Borchert and Richard Fariña -- the depressing and then the moderately humorous depressing."

"I don't really. He just likes to sneak up on me when I'm at the library. He's nosy."

"It is in his job description to be that way. He also told me that you like to creep out of your room at night and walk around town like a stray cat, with another night friend that would rather finish his game than listen to what I have to say."

The beeping noises stopped.

"You only turned down the volume," L pointed out. "Is there any way that I can hold your attention without kicking you?"

"You could introduce me to that girl with the handlebars," the other boy suddenly replied." I saw her walking down the hallway with Roger this morning. She's awfully cute. Is she your girlfriend or something?"

There was a long pause. "Minako-san is off-limits. Please turn your hormonal attention towards a girl that is within your age range."

"So she's your girlfriend," he heard the boy say, disbelieving. "Man, if you can get a girl like that then there's still hope for the rest – ow."

"What have we learned today?"

The beeping noises turned back on. "That I'm better off not talking to guys twice my size, or I should just point them in Mello's direction so he can beat them up with his freakish strength."

"That is not the answer I was going for. It is good to know how to defend yourself, but I would rather if Mello learned to reason things out instead of using his peers as moving punching bags."

"But um…you just hit me."

"You are remembering the wrong things," L said, and Raito felt like rolling his eyes. "For that I will give Mello a pat on the head. Would you like a pat on the head, Mello?"

"I'm not a kid anymore…" the blond replied. "…but I guess it doesn't hurt once in a while." He then laughed when, Raito assumed, L patted him on the head.

"Roger's always lecturing me about this and that, but he always treats Near better than me, so I'm glad you're back."

"I do not necessarily think that is the case; however, you are entitled to your opinion, especially when that opinion sees me in such a positive light. Another pat on the head for you."

There was more laughing, and more general chatter before not too long Raito could hear the clinking of silverware, the occupants of the room appearing to have finished with their conversation. However, that boy named Mello cleared his throat, implying that he was far from done.

"Did you come here to…choose your successor?"

"Partly," L answered, masticating away like a cow. "But that will only happen when I am ready and since I am not at the moment you will have to be patient. It is a hard decision picking between the two of you." Raito could hardly tell what the detective had just said, his bad habit of talking with his mouth full to thank for that.

There was a pause before the boy answered him, evidently he could make sense out of people while they had a glob of cake in their trap. "If you're going by test scores then it should be easy to decide." His tone had angry resignation written all over it. Raito could not help but think how easy he was to read.

"Test scores are test scores," L replied. "Being successful in the field does not always follow a number on a piece of paper. In the future I would like the both of you to remember that, especially you, Mello. Now please run along to your morning classes, Kiyoshi and I have some things to discuss."

Raito cursed under his breath, annoyed that L had known he was standing here all along. How exactly he even knew in the first place beyond him.

Smoothing out his expression, he stepped from behind the wall and walked into the kitchen. "Was I that obvious?" he said, trying to appear casual for their pubescent onlookers.

"No, but I can smell your cologne," L answered, tapping his nose.

How the hell…? He could hardly smell anything, and he was the one wearing it.

"C'mon Matt," the blond said, hoping off his stool, and at the same time interrupting his thoughts. Raito quickly noticed that he was glaring at him, while his friend much too busy with his handheld did not even bother to look up.

"Right behind you," the other boy replied, eyes still preoccupied with his game. He slid out of his chair and followed after Mello, and as he passed him on his way out, he finally noticed the shadow of another person in the doorway and glanced up to see Raito.

"Whoa mama…"

Fortunately for this "Matt" person, Raito ignored the comment.

When the blond and his strangely-attired friend left, the atmosphere between L and him quickly reverted back to the unpleasant tension of the past few months. L was sipping tea -- quietly for once -- and not making any moves to fill in the silence.

It aggravated Raito to think that the problem between them was easier to leave alone than fix. After all, he had come down here to talk, not stand around and become part of the scenery. But if L wanted to be that way, then he could just as easily ignore him, his hunger was making itself known so he was not in the mood to pay it no attention.

After rummaging around, Raito brought his spoils with him and slid into the neighboring stool from L. He had to admit that this kitchen was stocked, the salver in front of him with its slices of ham basted with spicy grape preserves and very much untouched by grubby hands attested to that.

There were loaves of baked break in a basket across from him, and catching a woven edge, he dragged it across the countertop towards him. Searching around next for a butter-knife, he found one on L's side of the table and reached over his arm without hesitation for it.

"Can you hand me that?" Raito asked, pointing towards a jar of mustard.

L stared at him and then pushed it over to his side. "You will ask me to retrieve mustard, but other than that I cannot get a word out of you."

Raito cut the loaf in half. "I didn't realize you were trying." Punctuating the sides of one of the pieces with the dull tip of the butter-knife, he sliced it edgewise and carved it open, repeating with another loaf until he had four halves neatly lined on a plate. "Well then, what is it?"

L tapped one of his fingers on the countertop. "You are not making this any easier for me either."

Raito unscrewed the top off the mustard jar and began to slather each slice of bread. "Then I don't really know what to tell you. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel uncomfortable right now, but that's only natural -- knowing what I am and knowing what you are." He stared L right in the eyes and the detective stared right back. "If you want it to stop, you can just as simply order me to –"

"Like a robot," L interrupted, eyes never once leaving him. "I'm sorry, but I am trying very hard to reason things out with you, not tell you what to do. When I am tired of you being indirectly spiteful then I might ask you to cut it out."

"Do you really want to start an argument with me here?" Raito frowned at the words that had suddenly jumped out of his mouth.

"No, that would be counterproductive." L scratched his arm. "Let us not talk about this anymore – it's annoying and I have something else that I would like to discuss with you, but in private."

A group of children ran by the door, some continuing on and others trickling inside the kitchen.

"Take your time, I will wait," L said to him, before turning towards the adolescents that were greeting him, their noisy presence lifting the awkwardness away from the room.

Giving up and simply leaving it at that, Raito went onto finish his breakfast.

………………………

"For men do harm either out of fear or hatred. And anyone who believes that new benefits make men of high station forget old injuries is deceiving himself."

………………………

The library spanned one wing of the building, but it did not even come close to the sheer magnitude of some of the libraries he had gone to in Tokyo. Though space seemed to be used more efficiently here – maybe a little too efficiently, as the bookshelves were arranged closer than should be permitted.

L was still walking briskly ahead of him, hands shoved in pockets and hunched back making his gait appear slower than for the person following behind. He climbed the winding staircase leading up to the second floor, where a thin iron banister, with coiling grates like double helixes, enclosed a balcony area and winded along half the perimeter before being enclosed itself into a sturdier, concrete barrier that made up the other half of the upper deck where the shelves were kept.

Raito looked over the railing at the library underneath. He could smell the dust and old paper odor that was present in every library, but was incredibly overpowering in this one. Obviously this library had been around for a while, so it felt sort of out-of-place to watch L walk up to a keypad in the wall and start punching in numbers.

After waiting a minute, with L still inputting numbers, Raito felt his patience waver.

Geez, how long was his password.

Attention not up to finding out, Raito glanced around, noting a globe and a chest-high bookshelf propped against the wall; and eyes skimming over the bindings of each book, he suddenly realized what he was looking at.

L was still dialing in a password that for how long it took might as well have been a novel, and leaving him to it, Raito went over to take a closer look at the bookshelf.

It had airtight glass surrounding it, and with good reason too, because every book behind that casing was very expensive.

"That would be Roger's collection," L commented. Raito suddenly heard a loud clicking sound, the heavy bolt lodged in the impression in the wall most likely slamming itself back into the keyhole and finally unlocking the door. "But please pull yourself away from it; I would like to show you something." L held the door open for him and Raito walked in without a word.

The first thing he noticed was the desk pushed up against the wall; its very use made void by its backwards arrangement. The chair that most likely sat behind it was alone in the middle of room, seemingly abandoned; a single laptop connected to multiple peripherals, like cameras, speakers, timers, and so on, also stationed in the middle.

The room was sparse, the hardwood floors smelling of varnish and nothing more. It was probably not an assumption to think people were never brought in here.

L made a gesture towards the laptop and Raito took a seat in the chair, watching as the detective sat on the floor.

"This is where I keep all the contact information used for various networks, as well as another back-up system for my case files. There are many setups identical to this one in various countries, so it is as the many others like it -- very expendable.

"Since you'll be working for me I see it as a bother to hide the way I do things, and since you can probably hack into my system and figure it out yourself, I will leave you to it."

Raito stared down at the detective.

He wanted him to do what?

L stood up and pointed down at the vacated seat. "I'm giving it to you, so do with it whatever you like."

Raito continued to stare at him.

It was unbelievable that L was allowing him access to his files, more than that, the chance to manipulate them in whatever manner he chose. There had to be a monitoring system in the laptop that he would not be able to access as easily. It could be that he was testing him, but it was such an obvious test. However, he could not write-off the possibility that when L was not lying his ass off, the other half of the time he actually had a pretty straightforward personality.

"Later then," L drawled with that low voice, hands casually sinking back into his pockets. He halted in front of the door, appearing to be turning something around in his head. "If you would like…I could probably get the key from Roger for his book collection."

"You don't have to," Raito said mindlessly; concentration already on what was happening on the screen as his fingers glided over the keyboard. By the looks of it hacking into this was going to take more than an hour. It might even take him the entire day. Not that that was officially a bad thing, especially with the first-stage of gaining access built around such interesting security measures. L's intrusion detection system was anomaly-based, but unlike some application software running on the same principle of set mathematical formulas that synchronized with "normal activity" but could not specifically define "deviations" that would constitute attacks, it seemed like the detective had hacked into a basic security program and configured alongside the implemented heuristics element, complex algorithms that covered a vast array of bug, viruses, and potential loopholes.

There was even a virus that would immediately start attacking the computer itself when it detected in a breach in the --

Raito felt L's gaze on him and he finally looked up from the monitor. Maybe he should have been paying more attention. "Like I said, you don't have to," he repeated.

L's words had somewhat bothered him in that, yes he'd been staring at the bookshelf, but he did not need to offer to get him the key. Even though Raito would not have terribly minded looking through them -- that was still not the point. He was given enough and he did not appreciate L trying to give him any more. To some extent, he felt a little insulted by the gesture, even if there were good intentions behind it, Raito would rather not be further indebted by whimsical niceties.

…………………

"Without a doubt, princes become greater when they overcome difficulties and obstacles that are imposed on them; and therefore Fortune, especially when she wishes to increase the reputation of a new prince, creates enemies for him and has them take action against him so that he will have the chance to overcome them and to climb higher up the ladder his enemies have brought him. Therefore many judge that a wise prince must, whenever he has the occasion, foster with cunning some hostility so that in stamping it out his greatness will increase at such."

……………………

Raito glanced down at his watch as he left the library; it was five minutes past ten.

In the middle of hacking into L's laptop, he had been confident that he could wrap things up in an hour or two. An erroneous assumption, as he had reached that conclusion at about noon, and now it was ten at night.

Maybe he should have used his time more wisely. He had actually taken a break at three and had moved L's furniture around, simply for the fact that his butt had started to complain and he needed better support than the floor. He really had no idea how L could just sit there and ignore the desk and chair.

Raito had also done some rearranging of his own on the database he had broken into, reworking most of the instructions, and more importantly, changing the passwords so that only he could gain access to the information from that terminal.

He did not mean it as some slight against L, but he had told him to 'do whatever you want with it' and Raito had a habit of readjusting things to suit him more than conforming. It was not only more practical, but there was something very enticing about breaking down L's construct and rebuilding his own in its place. He tried not to think too hard about that thought -- which was not difficult at all, his stomach more than successfully distracting him.

Raito swung by the kitchen on his way to his room and made up for the skipped meals. He was actually trying to gain back his weight.

Seventeen-year-old him had been about 120, which was healthy for a boy his height, but which was not the case anymore. Fortunately his clothes hid the weight loss, but it did not take away his awareness of frailty, the fact that he felt exhausted right now, even though it was only ten at night.

Raito absolutely hated that feeling.

He could not do anything about it now, but if he continued to eat and started exercising regularly, he would be able to return to his previous weight. He supposed this vacation-whatever was as much of a necessity for him as it was for L. His mind might be strong enough to handle whatever was thrown his way, but his body had its limits, and right now, it needed rest and nutrition to build itself back up again.

Climbing the first step, Raito stopped midway as he noticed the light on in one of the classrooms down the hall. The children at Wammy House must have a curfew, but it was probably more of a suggestion than an enforced rule. Not caring one bit, he resumed up the stairwell, ready to turn in for the night, but suddenly a loud crash made him halt.

He looked back at the lit classroom.

Raito had always known that his curiosity, when peaked, was hard to dissuade from a course of action, so it was no surprise when he found himself in front of door.

Scattered over the white floor of classroom were colored blocks, which were most likely the culprit behind the loud noise. The boy that Raito had been introduced to as "Near" was sitting at the center of the chaos. He had an airplane in his hand.

Well what did we have here?

Raito put on his "concerned" face as he approached the boy. It had not been his intention to stick around if he had walked in on some kid simply being clumsy, but now that he knew it was Near, his opinion was quick to change.

From L's conversation with that little blond boy this morning, he had learned that this one was actually at the head of the pack. The detective had never distinguished, upon introductions, who exactly his immediate successor was. He had presented them both as "front-runners" but Raito had wanted a specific number, not a grouping.

Yes, test scores were sometimes inaccurate in judging a person's abilities, but to him it was the best way of determining success. He disagreed wholeheartedly with L's little speech about numbers not mattering, for it made a huge difference when you were in second place.

"Are you okay?" Raito asked, feigning worry. "I heard a loud noise, so…"

"I'm fine," he answered tersely, and whizzed the airplane over the wreckage of colored blocks.

"That's good to know. That noise actually startled me."

"Okay," he said, eyes not once leaving the airplane.

Good god, this one actually had worse conversational skills than L. Frankly, he had never expected to meet someone that could challenge L in how oblivious he appeared to the world around him, but here it was, sitting in front of him and making airplane sounds.

Raito would have laughed, but there was a good chance he would not be able to stop once he started. It also, more importantly, might not help with drawing conversation out of this tacit little boy. He wanted to at least grasp a part of his personality. Near was L's successor – he might not be anywhere close to them in intellectual prowess, but that did not mean Raito was not intrigued by finding out his potential.

Crouching down so he was at his level, Raito looked around at the toys scattered on the floor.

There were multiple fighter-jets lying about, all plastic and cheap imitations, most of their colors not even attempting to match up with the genuine article.

Although there was one, a model-type by the looks of it, painted in grays and dull blues, a splitting image of a Boeing Harrier II, with even two Royal Air force pilots in the cockpit. Unlike the rest that were carelessly set aside, this one was arranged on its wheels, looking as if it were ready to take off at any moment.

"…a GR-7A – it looks just like the real thing. It even has all the armaments: the Aden cannons, gravity bomb, maverick, rocket pod…" Raito stopped listing and gave the toy a closer look, "…but I don't see the Joint Reconnaissance Pod anywhere."

Near looked up.

Raito smiled at him. "I guess it doesn't matter. It can do with or without it, especially if you're trying to replicate the older versions."

When he was six, his father used to buy toy models for him constantly, but like everything else that had come before it, he had quickly moved past that phase and was later more interested in the telescope he had received for Christmas that year. Raito had gone through many phases in his life, so he would like to think that he had a bit of knowledge about everything.

Near had seemed to have forgotten about the aircraft in his hand. He dropped it to the floor without flinching at the noise it made upon impact, and instead turned his attention to the fighter-jet in question. He picked it up, the plastic used to simulate the glass over the cockpit now at eyelevel so he was staring directly at it.

He glanced back at him, furtively; curls of hair shading the voids of his eyes. He suddenly out-stretched a pale hand, the fighter-jet grasped in the palm of it.

"Here."

Raito felt a vague déjà vu come over him. "That's okay," he said, hands up to refuse the offer.

Near did not seem to understand and dropped it in his lap without another word. Raito stared down at it, somewhat confused as to what had just happened. It could be that he was irritated that someone had pointed out a mistake, and because of that, he did not want the toy anymore. Though that did not explain why he was suddenly giving him another one…

Well, L did say to "play nice" but he didn't think he meant it literally.

"No, you keep that one," Raito said, placing the toy gently back in the pile. He seriously had no idea what he had done to trigger this, but he supposed it was better than getting the cold shoulder. "It's Near, right?" he asked belatedly, an attempt to establish more familiarity between them.

The boy nodded and oddly began to play with his hair, the circular motion of index and thumb causing ringlets to form out of the white strands. Raito noticed he had glanced over to the grandfather clock in the corner, his pointer finger ceasing, and in one encompassing motion he stretched out his arms and scooped up all the toys he could carry, standing awkwardly with the bulk before toddling off.

There were still plenty of toys strewn about that he had not bothered to pick up. Raito wondered if he was going to make a second trip or if he would simply leave them there for someone else to clean up; and observing his terribly slow pace and how he occasionally dropped a toy on his way to the door, it was highly likely that the second of the two was going to happen.

Sighing, Raito began gathering the remaining toys together. He did not make it a habit of cleaning up after people since they would expect it of him on a regular basis. In spite of this, he had occasionally found himself picking up after L and fussing at him for no apparent reason, even though his intentions had been to leave it alone. He supposed the detective just bugged him on multiple levels.

It took a while to reach Near's room, his door, the last one down the hallway. The white-haired boy walked in and dropped his toys on the floor, again not caring about the loud noise it made, or the fact that it might startle someone awake in a neighboring room. Upon seeing the interior of his room, Raito now understood why he was so careless with his things.

Toys took up the entire floor space; the bed was even acting as a shelf for all his playthings. It was so bad that Raito was certain he could drop the burden in his hands anywhere he wanted and it would make no difference.

"So you work for L?" Near asked, unexpectedly.

Raito, frankly too surprised at the mess in front of him, did not immediately reply. He placed the toys close to the inside of the entrance, because there was no way in hell he was stepping into that room. "That's right."

Somehow navigating a way through the maze of his playthings, Near climbed onto his bed, knocking toys off in the process. "How old would you be?" he inquired, finger returning to twist around in his hair.

Raito smiled at the question. Apparently, he wasn't the only one that wanted to know a little something about the other. "How old do I look?" he asked.

"Eighteen."

Good guess. "Nineteen," he corrected. He did not see the point in hiding his age when it was written all over his face. "And how old would you be?" They might hide their real names and identities, but Raito doubted anyone at this institution hid their ages.

"Thirteen." Near let go off the strand caught on his finger, turning it into a spiral. "You're really young to be working for L." He looked away from the lock of hair twirled around his finger and towards him.

'This coming from you,' Raito felt like saying, but smiled instead.

Obviously this had nothing to do with age, and more to do with the fact that L had suddenly hired, or taken someone in, that was in no way affiliated with this institution. It was normal for everyone to be curious and question it, especially the children at the top. Being suspicious was most likely second nature for these kids. After all, L was the patron of this little freak show. Raito was only surprised that no one had approached him instead of the other way around.

"Did you help him with the Kira case?"

Though this one was more than making up for it. To think, Raito had actually believed he was shy. He had certainly come out of his shell as soon as they reached his bedroom.

"It goes without saying," he answered, since L had been speaking to Misa in Japanese. But this kid already knew that. He was simply building up to ask him more personal questions.

"It was rough," he lied. "L really needed all the help he could get. But I'm sorry, I don't think I should be talking to you about any of this. It's confidential, so L might get mad," he said, somewhat cutely.

That ought to shut him up.

Near did not say anything, switching hands to tug at the other side of his grayish locks.

Inevitably -- if Raito had let this conversation continue -- Near would have asked him under what circumstances he had met L. A college freshman, right out of high school, meeting the world-class detective, L? How exactly would that come about?

Well, there was really only one answer. You got the world-class detective's attention, not by any of your outstanding merits, but by sticking out as a suspect, because realistically, L would have never allowed an outsider into his investigation unless he wanted to keep an eye on him. If anyone thought about it, they'd reach this conclusion. It was that basic.

But even though such a conclusion was simple, these kids had no reason to suspect him of being Kira. The chances were 1 in one million. It was probably a fraction of that, simply because L had brought him here of his own volition. To an outside (and inside) perspective, Kira was L's enemy, so it made absolutely no sense that he would bring such a hated foe to a place that should have been kept secret from him. If anything, Kira was the last person that anyone would think to be staying here.

Raito was completely safe, or to put it more accurately, "Kiyoshi" was completely safe. Raito Yagami, on the hand, no longer even existed. Any trace of him had been erased from record, so that the only place he was remembered was in a three-bedroom, two-story house in Tokyo.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't answer your questions, but if it's any consolation it was nice talking to you." The bland look Raito was met with definitely made it clear that there was no consolation going on here.

Turning to leave, Raito heard the sound of creaking. Near was climbing down from his bed and meandering towards him. He reached down into the toy pile that Raito had carried, taking out the fighter-jet that he had given to him earlier.

"You're forgetting this," he drawled, tossing it over to Raito, who caught it on reflex.

"You can return it to me tomorrow," Near said, heading back to his bed.

Oh, so that was why he was so persistent in giving him this toy. He wanted an excuse to make small talk with him so he could pry.

This little smartass…

It seemed he was not the only one who had piqued the other's interest. Raito thought about dropping the toy in the hallway and dashing any hope of a next encounter, but it would be unwise to be hostile right off the bat.

He was no longer his own person and doing anything to jeopardize the fragile situation he was currently in would be foolish. He would have to be careful around these children, but he would especially have to be careful around L.

Speaking of which, Raito thought, as he left Near's playpen and came back to his own room. L was slouching in front of his door and had only minimally straightened when he saw him approaching.

"I see you have finished."

"About an hour ago," Raito said tersely. The detective looked like he wanted to know what exactly he'd been up to for the past hour. The fighter-jet in his hand seemed to answer that question for him.

"You are getting acquainted with Near?"

Well, he could put it that way. Raito thought of it more as feeling out the stock. "I guess…"

"Then would you mind giving me your first impression of him."

Raito glanced over at the detective. Why L was standing in front of his room was beyond him. It could be that he wanted to know the results of his hacking endeavor. Though it should be a given that he would be able to break into it, despite how long it took.

"I didn't talk to him long enough to ascertain anything."

"That toy in your hand says otherwise," L replied.

Raito took out the key to open his door, ignoring what L was implying. At least these rooms afforded some privacy, despite the paper-thin walls guarding it.

The tinkling of sound made him look up from unlocking his door. L was holding a key in front of his face and shaking it back and forth like bell. "I was planning to give this to you free of charge, but now I am slowly changing my mind."

Raito eyed the key. "What's that?"

"It opens the lock in Roger's bookshelf. I will trade you it for a brief impression of Near."

Raito eyed the key again. "I didn't realize you were having such a difficult time choosing between your successors," he said bluntly, cutting to the root of the problem. "Are they that close in ability?"

L stopped jingling the keychain. "They excel at different things, but this institution unfortunately will not be able to test the scope of those abilities. There are many limitations when it comes to an environment such as this, and however much I try to compensate for it, I cannot get the results that will make my decision any easier."

"Then my opinion won't matter much."

"That is not what I want to hear," L told him, shaking the key again. Raito had an urge to snatch it from him and chuck it at his face. "You're very good at sketching out the personalities of those around you, so I think I would like you to help me with my choice. It's one of the reasons why I brought you here. You see, contrary to what everyone thinks, it is not Mello that gives me problems. He is polite and very hardworking."

Raito wondered if by "polite" L meant likes to glare a lot.

"He has a temper, but can be very mild-mannered when no one provokes him, or Near is not within his vicinity. I can handle Mello, but Near is not as open to my presence, so getting him in the mood to talk is difficult and therefore I cannot judge his character as accurately as I would be able to with Mello. I blame his reticence more on apathy than I do on any sort of intentional hostility. I feel that he respects me, but that does not necessarily translate into 'enjoys the company of.'"

You're kidding, Raito thought, finding it a bit humorous, but not letting it show on his face. "So you want me to tell you what your little protégé and I talked about?"

"Yes, please. Details would be nice." He jingled the key again, and Raito wished that L would just stop shaking the damn thing at him for one second.

"He kept asking me questions about myself. Then he gave me this," Raito lifted the aircraft, "so I could return it to him tomorrow. It looks like he wants to have another chat, and it all seems harmless enough, but I think you telling them that I'm working for you is going to cause unnecessary complications in the future."

"Yes, it will," L said, completely unperturbed by that thought. "But you were saying…"

Raito narrowed his eyes at the man across from him. "I'm kind of tired, so I think I'll finish telling you tomorrow." He opened his door, but looked back at him. "Unless it's that important, then I'll just invite you in."

"Ah…no," L said, backing off rather quickly at his proposition. Raito felt the immediate change in his actions. "That's okay. I should go now," he mumbled and turned around to leave.

Well, that was new. Usually L had a problem giving up on a topic when he was middle of it. Stubborn ass that he was, Raito was surprised at how easily he had let it go.

Though it could be that he had spoken too soon, Raito thought, as he watched L turn back around, his movements a little awkward this time. "The key," he said, scratching his arm, "I forgot to give it to you."

Raito felt a frown creasing his mouth downward, but he held out his palm nonetheless. "Thanks" he said, too tired to decline L for the second time that day.

"I should go," L said, looking around, and appearing suddenly very ill at ease. "Good night."

Raito did not return the words with any of his usual faked politeness. Instead he remained silent, watching L rather openly. He supposed it was his stare that was causing the detective so much discomfort right now, but Raito did not feel the need to look away out of consideration.

When he thought about it, he no longer had to act a certain way in front of L. There were many times during the investigation in which forced courtesy had governed his behavior more than he would have liked. And things that he had generally wanted to say were curbed by things he thought would sound good coming from him.

But surely that did not need to be the case anymore.

A/n: Argh, still feels like transition chapters to me, which is again, not much fun to write because things have to adhere to a certain slow pacing and unfolding, and everyone's so damn moody in comparison to the children that are generally happy to have L back home, safe and sound. And I suppose me constantly quoting from "The Prince" is not helping the mood either. But isn't there just something inherently princely about Raito? I'm surprised that Obata didn't just cut to chase and in one of those egotistical thought-bubbles that Raito tends to have when he's plotting, draw him with a crown and a scepter, maybe sitting pretty in a throne. Really, I'm flabbergasted it never happened. Truly and utterly flabbergasted.

The Prince (1532) – a political treatise by the Italian diplomat, Niccolò Machiavelli. It advices a prince or an aspiring prince on how to ascend the throne and effectively maintain his power in concerns to his kingdom, his people, and his enemies. Its tactics are known to be especially shrewd, hence the term for which it spawned "Machiavellian" or deceitful. It emphasizes that the Prince should be willing to do anything, however cruel or inhumane, in order to keep his power and keep the peace within his kingdom.