You wake up on Sunday, the 8th of August, with the sudden knowledge of what had been bugging you about the Kira kills since his two week break. There's less of them. Kira used to average five kills a day, and since the break, you'd say it's more like four. A close enough difference it wasn't obvious at first, especially with day-to-day variations going as low as three and as high as six or seven, but now that you've noticed it, you can't believe it took you this long.
So the question is, you think… why?
If L is Kira, maybe it's because he can't get as much time alone as he used to. Although… when it comes to that… you being handcuffed to him the way you are, and the security in the building, does as good a job of proving he can't be Kira right now as it does at proving you can't be Kira right now.
Is he right about Kira's ability to pass along the power? you wonder. You hate to admit it, but at this point it's the only logical possibility. Whether you were Kira (which you weren't) or whether L was, and is lying about it… neither of you can be acting as Kira now. It has to be a third actor.
In which case… you really are starting from scratch regarding his pattern, and even his motives.
Strangely enough, you find this a bit invigorating. Chances are, a third Kira won't be on the level of Kira-L or even the hypothetical Kira-Light. He'll be easier to catch, because if L didn't set up the power with someone easier to catch, L couldn't be assured enough that the task force would be able to pin it all on the Third Kira.
It makes perfect sense.
Of course… maybe there really were only two kiras, and there still are… two kiras with no personal connection to the task force but some kind of even greater telepathic power which allows them to spy on and frame whoever they want. Occam's razor says that's unlikely, and even if it was the case, they would really be impossible to catch, because they could be anyone. The same goes for if there was only ever one Kira, who has all the powers of the "first" and "second" but who's made it look like there's two or more in order to throw the police off the scent.
Sure, it's possible, but it just isn't even worth considering, because in that case all your abilities and all the casework in the world would be useless. In that case, you might as well throw in the towel and declare you're up against a god who has it out for you.
No.
The most logical option—the only option worth acting on—is that L is Kira. Or was. But then he shared the power with another who he set up to take the fall. The "sharing the power" idea has to be true, then—because unlike when he framed you, he can't be performing the kills himself. It's just not feasible… it's technically possible, you suppose, depending on what the limit of his power really is, but again—unlikely.
The real question in that case then becomes… does L remember it? Well, why wouldn't he? He was the one who brought up the concept of "amnesia" the moment the airtight case against you fell apart. There's been no evidence that Kira can cause amnesia in his victims, it's just a theory based upon your and Misa's strenuous insistence that you don't remember killing anyone. Amnesia is L's only recourse.
But it's probably a lie.
/
The one-and-only First Kira, and the greatest detective in the world, L, is sitting in his fancy bathtub, playing with a rubber duck.
You couldn't help but glare at the sight when Ryuzaki showed up with it and carefully set it afloat on the water. Its cheerful yellow body and orange beak, bobbing along as though to say, really? This is who you suspect to be Kira? Are you kidding me?
When Ryuzaki notices your reaction, he says seriously, "Light-kun can have a rubber duck too, if he wants."
"I don't want a rubber duck," you grind out.
"Okay," Ryuzaki says, with a look that says I don't believe you, but keep fooling absolutely nobody. "But if you change your mind, just tell me."
"Ryuzaki," you say, "seriously. I don't want a rubber duck. It's fine."
"Or we can share if you like."
He pushes the duck gently, and it floats over to the side of the bathtub, bumping against the edge. You stare at its small round head from where you're sitting on the floor and imagine reaching into the bath and pushing it underwater. But, A: trying to drown a rubber duck is both stupid and pointless, and B: that's probably something "only Kira would do."
Ryuzaki sinks backwards under the water, his eyes open, until the only thing on the surface is the floating swirl of his hair. He stays under for almost two minutes, before suddenly surfacing with a splash, and even though you lean back, a bit of water slops over the edge of the tub and onto your socks.
You grimace. "Just wash your hair and get out already." (It's already kind of gross for him to wash his hair in the tub instead of in the shower, but you're pretty sure you can't blame Ryuzaki for that one, since you know it's a common thing in the west.)
"But I haven't finished," Ryuzaki says, reaching for the rubber duck to herd it from one side of the bath to the other. He's all elbows and knees, sitting completely unselfconsciously in his usual crouch, and when he leans forward you catch sight of the knobs of his spine under the pale skin. He should look like he's wasting away, like he's drowning in this high-class luxury—but instead he chivvies the duck this way and that, smiling in delight. His delicate fingers ripple through the water, creating waves like he's the god of his own miniature world.
Is that how he thinks of it when he kills? you wonder. Is that how he reconciles it?
He has no intention of hurrying up. In many ways, Ryuzaki is a hypocrite, and this is no exception. He never fails to tell you when you've been in the shower for "too long," even if he insists he's only reminding you of how long it's been so you know. But there's no clock in the bathroom and you're not wearing your watch anywhere near Ryuzaki and a large body of water.
Next time you should bring something to read.
You're zoning out when Ryuzaki starts shampooing his hair. He squeezes a miniscule amount onto his hand and then drags it along his hair, then squeezes another miniscule amount onto his hand and drags it along his hair, doing all this with the greatest concentration. You're pretty sure he's not going to be done for years.
You're also pretty sure he's taking longer than usual, just to be petty.
"Oh, for—give it to me, I'll do it," you snap, as you watch a tiny droplet of shampoo land in his palm. How does he even manage that?
"Hm?" he asks, glancing at you. You hold out a hand for the shampoo bottle and gesture him to the side of the tub. He shuffles over with a look of vague curiosity to sit with his back to you against the side, and you put the shampoo bottle down to roll up your sleeves.
Are you really doing this?
You pick up the bottle of shampoo again and squeeze a big glob right onto the top of his head.
Apparently so.
"I don't think you need to use that much," Ryuzaki murmurs.
"I'm just being thorough," you say. Because maybe you know how shocking it is to get a whole bunch of cold shampoo doused over your head. And maybe you wanted him to suffer just a little.
You run your fingers against his scalp, scrubbing vigorously until he's entirely covered in suds and bubbles, trying not to realize that this is the closest you've been to him—well, ever. There's something odd about knowing you're actually touching his head, feeling the coarse hair and the slippery shampoo and the curve of his skull—you're pretty sure friends don't do this.
Are you even friends?
Maybe kidnappees do this.
You do this, anyway. You are doing this. You'd tugged a couple of times just to make him wince, and you'd been quite businesslike and rough at first, getting it over with as quickly as possible, but now you're just swirling your hands around and pushing his hair into increasingly odd, gravity-defying designs. You stifle a laugh.
"Should I be worried?" Ryuzaki asks drily. He's sunk down deeper into the water, and his eyes are closed.
"You look stupid," you say.
"Oh, how shall I ever get over it," Ryuzaki quips.
You reach into the bath, cupping the water in both hands and bringing it up over Ryuzaki's face and hair, one handful after another washing the bubbles away, into a film over the surface of the water.
"Okay, you're done," you say at last.
Ryuzaki sinks down again then, and then pops up, shaking his head once and splashing you with an entire torrent. You give him an unimpressed look.
You always prefer to act once you've gathered all the evidence possible. Once you've sorted through and discarded every wrong move. And in another situation you would never even consider taking such liberties with anyone—you wouldn't even want to. But it isn't another situation.
Perhaps it is actually a blessing that L is "depressed." That he's refusing to work on the case. Because, the quicker it moves towards its conclusion—the closer you and the task force get toward the "Third Kira"—the sooner the question arises, who was the first?
And if L decides to pin it on you…
There is absolutely nothing you can do about it.
You don't know enough about Kira's powers, about how it passes from person to person, and most crucially of all, how the killings actually work. Can Kira just will it? Maybe—possibly—you don't know.
You don't know enough, and so there's no argument you can make to save yourself.
L has the upper hand; he holds all the cards.
Still, you have to search for Kira, because if you don't you're letting him drive the entire case, create the entire story, and that is something you can't trust him with.
It's a terrible situation, because you can feel a sense of creeping doom down every avenue.
There will be a small window when the Third Kira is caught. A miniscule window where, if you're very lucky you can manage to swing things in your favor through the goodwill of the others on the task force. If, and only if, the evidence exonerates you enough.
That 'enough' is the issue.
If this is L's game—and it has always been L's game—then he will know how to destroy you, but also how to let you go free.
Of course he will never let you go free.
You know too much.
You are too dangerous to him.
You know this already, knew this from the moment he announced, when you were still in that car and shaking with fear, that he would stay by your side 24/7. So L must come to believe that you do not want to be free. He must come to believe that you are completely satisfied with a third option—a turn of events where you stay beside him forever. This is the only possibility that doesn't end in your death.
So it's a good thing that this case is taking a long time, but you can't count on it. At any moment your time could run out, and then—then L will need to decide whether he would rather have you alive or dead.
You must manipulate someone who can see through your every act, who is smart enough to follow your thought processes and even outplay you. It's exactly what L wants you to do to Misa, and which you had refused to do because it was morally abhorrent to you. But this—this is different. Your life is at stake; it would be ridiculous for anyone to suggest you just sit back and allow it to be taken. It is different because you aren't taking advantage of him. You just need to find a way to give him what he wants, and then you'll both be happy, right?
Exactly.
It grates that you've been reduced to this. Simple gestures of human affection, crude and obvious. You cannot argue your way out of this one because L will turn it into a game if you do.
You cannot argue your way out of this one because you still feel like you've forgotten how to speak.
Is this fear? Uncertainty? Whatever it is, it puts you off balance in a way that you hate; and all you can hope is that you figure out the correct moves in this hangman's game before he's able to spell out your complete name.
/
It's only one thirty in the morning when Ryuzaki declares he's going to bed and drags you along with him. You are even more surprised when, at two thirty when you've finished getting ready, instead of getting in bed or even messing around with his laptop, the detective settles onto the floor with his legs crossed and announces, "just a moment—I am meditating."
"You're what?"
You couldn't be more aghast if he'd announced he was going to do cartwheels. No, actually, that would probably surprise you less.
It doesn't fit with your image of Ryuzaki at all.
"Why?" you ask.
He cracks one eye open to look at you with amused condescenscion, and says, "that does require I save dialogue until after."
You lie down on your side of the bed and watch him sitting on the ground. This would be the perfect time to fall asleep, but of course you can't. The chain slopes gently from the edge of the bed down to his arm, faintly glimmering in the dark, looking like a cable connecting a dock to the prow of a great ship. Ryuzaki is quite still.
Even his hands are curled up in his lap, his usually-restless fingers interlaced in one another as though to stop them from wandering. His posture could still be better, but… he seems unusually serene, like a different person altogether.
Is this a trick? you think, as your gaze rakes over him from head to toe. It must be. It's some kind of act. But what? He must be trying to unsettle me. He's doing this so I start to doubt myself.
You won't. You know exactly what you need to do, and no petty decision of Ryuzaki's will change it.
Is this Kira? Maybe he's killing people right now! That's an even more outlandish thought. Not only would that be ridiculously easy to verify, you can't imagine that Kira can kill just by sitting around and breathing deeply.
You really should try to fall asleep. For once, Ryuzaki isn't typing away beside you, or tossing and turning and pulling at the blankets. And that's exactly the problem! What's caused this sudden change in personality? Did he notice what you're doing? Did something else happen?
Today Matsuda brought him a cup of coffee but surely that doesn't explain this complete change in aspect!
To your utter mortification you find that, as though to make up for Ryuzaki's unusual stillness, you're feeling itchy and restless in your own skin. Your breaths are coming shorter and faster, and you couldn't pull your gaze away from Ryuzaki if you tried. The distance in the room is spinning wider than ever, and you seriously consider pulling the chain just to watch him topple over, to break this weird spell, but no—no, that's stupid. It really, really is. So Ryuzaki meditates sometimes. Big deal. You can't get weird about it, and you don't even know why you are.
Without thinking, you're pressing the cuff against the inside of your left wrist. You're aiming only for a feeling of pressure, not to actually hurt yourself, but you must have miscalculated, because with a sudden sharp fizz of pain a thin red line breaks the skin.
Damn it!
You let up on the pressure just a bit and move the cuff to a slightly different part on your wrist.
This time you manage not to cut yourself, though when you finally let up your hand and the cuff slides away you see an irritated imprint where it had been pressing down and you know it will add to your already worrying collection of bruises.
You're still looking down at it, feeling an uncomfortable, sick feeling in the pit of your stomach and trying not to make anything of it when the chain jangles and tugs a little, and when you look up at Ryuzaki you find that he's crouching again and is staring at your wrist with no expression at all in his wide, dark eyes.
He's not going to mention it.
Good.
Because if he doesn't mention it, it didn't happen.
You pull the cuff of your nightshirt between your skin and the cuff so the metal is sitting against a barrier of fabric. It covers everything up—the unsightliness, the lack of control. Already you feel calmer.
Ryuzaki climbs onto the bed from your side, crawling over your legs to do so and then flopping onto his side, pulling the covers this way and that as he tries to get comfortable. The rain sounds playing on his computer are almost drowned out by the tug of sheets and the creaking of the mattress as he tries to settle down.
"Why do you meditate?" you ask at last, nonchalantly, as he finally stills and comes to rest curled up on his side, his thumb pressed against his lip. You're not whispering, but your voice is hushed, as though you're almost afraid of making too much noise.
"It helps me go to sleep," Ryuzaki says, also quiet.
"You haven't done it before," you say, pointing out the obvious because—because otherwise you would have to say something else, or you would have to say nothing, and you can't bear the thought of either.
"Well," Ryuzaki says wryly, "I was a little distracted." He sighs, something long, drawn-out and tired.
For a long time you just stare: at the ceiling, at the drapes, at him, curled under the covers.
"You said you were framed by Kira," Ryuzaki says at last, lazily. It's a soft sound, almost hidden under the hush of false-water, white noise pressing against your ears. "I believe you."
"What?" you say blankly. You turn on your side to face him fully.
Ryuzaki makes a small shrugging motion, barely visible, and says, "it's like I said. Kira was possessing both you and Amane, using you for his own ends and stringing me along with breadcrumbs before jumping to someone else. It's not how I wanted the case to go. You know what I would've preferred… if the person I thought I was getting to know all this time was who he seemed to be." He chuckles softly. "But we were both played for fools, weren't we, Light-kun?"
"It's not like that," you say heatedly, but in a low whisper. "Ryuzaki, saying this is as bad as saying that you think I'm actually Kira."
"But this way, you're innocent," Ryuzaki says nonchalantly. He stares at you, and his eyes are deep chasms. "Don't you want that?"
"It's not about what I want," you say quietly. "I am innocent. Not just in mind but in body. I don't know how long I have to repeat that to convince you."
"As I told you once," Ryuzaki says, almost kindly, "it's not your job to convince me of anything."
It's on the tip of your tongue. To actually say it, to tear away all the dissimulation and say, I know you're Kira. Don't try to hide or lie to me.
But what would that accomplish?
Better that he begins to forget you'd ever accused him.
"I know," you say.
Ryuzaki breathes out against his thumb, a soft absent hiss, and he pulls his hand away from his mouth slightly, curling his fingers up on the pillow beside him. "You're so agreeable," he says. "Perfect Light-kun. Is that what you think I want?"
"Some of us actually have manners," you say.
"And yours are so very interesting," Ryuzaki says. "Well… no matter. If you truly have nothing to hide, it'll be an adequate enough diversion."
"From actually doing your job?" you retort.
Ryuzaki smiles. The barest quirk of his lips; but you feel the reverberation of that smile in your spine, like it's crawled under the collar of your shirt when you weren't looking and stuck to you.
He is lying.
This is another test.
But to what purpose? …And why are you so unsure if you've passed?
.
.
.