9

Obscurity

'In the darkness, shadows come to life,

and the absence of colours creates hidden images.'

Omar Silva

Light had said, in front of everyone, that he liked someone —in front of Matsuda, Mogi, Aizawa. In front of his father. But not yet, it hadn't happened yet. Before that…

"It's not a bad idea. Fine, all right, I'm Kira, and to prove it to you, I'll stop killing criminals from this very moment. And once you're convinced that I am indeed Kira, you'll marry me!"

A burst of static noise announced the end of the recording.

"And that's what he said," Misa sang. "Higuchi is Kira!"

But how? How had the girl managed something like that? He stared at her face —that smiling, self-satisfied face— and watched her grin widen. Everyone was stunned.

"Misa," he said slowly. "How did you do it?"

"Oh, well, the man's totally in love with me, you know? I told him I'd marry him if he was Kira." She sauntered casually around the room, resting her hand on the edge of one of the desks. "Plus, he's absolutely convinced I'm the second Kira."

"Idiot! Didn't I tell you to be careful about that very thing?"

It was good, he thought, the recording Misa had obtained was a good thing. But... as he risked a brief glance at Ryuuzaki, Light noticed that any trace of humour had vanished from his expression —not a single crumb remained. And Light understood why.

"But, Light," the girl spoke again, though this time with a little less confidence in her voice, "now that we know for sure that Higuchi is Kira, we can just arrest him, right? I couldn't just sit back when I knew I could help you with this, Light. I..." She avoided his gaze, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "I'll always support you, no matter what."

Suddenly, Light felt incredibly irritated and frustrated with the girl and her obsession with him. Would she cling to him like a leech no matter what he said? It's partly because of her and her obsession with you that Ryuuzaki is so convinced you're Kira , whispered the ugliest, most malicious part of his mind.

"This is what I call an outstanding job, don't you think, Matsuda?" Ryuuzaki remarked lightly.

"Uh... yes? Yes! Of course, yes, very well done, Misa-Misa!"

Light clenched his fists, turned his gaze away from Misa, and looked at Ryuuzaki with a frown.

"But this way, we won't know how the murders are being committed," he pointed out. "And that goes against what you wanted."

"Hm. Yes. Before we arrest Higuchi, we need to figure out how and why he's committing the murders." He arranged three macarons in the shape of a triangle and flicked one like a marble. "But of course, if criminals stop dying, that will be difficult."

Like the others, Light waited in silence. He focused his attention on the detective —on his shrunken, introspective posture, the way his chin tilted as if trying to hide or conceal something, the way he closed himself off.

"Either way, if we arrest him, it'll be after the criminals stop dying. Now, let me think for a bit."

After a moment, Light turned back towards the girl.

"Misa, you've done enough," he said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "You can leave the rest to us."

He was about to address his father and the others, but Misa pouted and grabbed his arm. With one of her delicate, cold hands, she stroked the back of his.

"How cold, Light. But that's all right, it doesn't matter. I know you were worried about me," she whispered in a velvety tone. "I'll be waiting for you, anytime, whenever you like."

Light, who had tensed at her mere touch, slowly let his gaze rest on the model once she finished speaking. There must have been something dark and dangerous in his eyes, because a part of him noticed how Misa took an almost imperceptible step back.

"I've tried to be kind, Misa," he said in a voice like a feline's fangs, "but are you so desperate that you pathetically crawl after someone who doesn't care about you? I don't have time for you or your nonsense. I don't know how else to say it so that you understand… a five-year-old... no, even someone with cognitive dysfunction would have gotten it by now..."

"Light!"

His father's horrified shout hit him like a slap. Only then did he become fully aware of the magnitude of what he was saying, and of Misa's stunned, pained expression —she had gone deathly pale.

His heart pounded in his chest. He forced himself to breathe, to regain his composure.

"I... I'm sorry, Misa. I have no right to talk to you like that."

Damn it.

How had he lost his temper like that? And in front of everyone. He wanted to look at his father, to look at Ryuuzaki, but Misa responded at that moment, and he forced himself to keep looking at her, to fix his mistake.

"No, it's fine. I understand," she said in a choked voice. Wonderful . She blinked and forced a smile. "I'll... I'll be in my room, yes... See you later, Light, everyone."

She left the room with hurried steps, as if fleeing from the devil himself, which didn't sit well with Light. He felt a knot in his stomach. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, and he could only hear, in the background, Aizawa muttering, "The girl is a bit much. Even Light's patience has limits." Then, his father was next to him, wearing a hardened expression that clearly demanded an explanation.

An explanation. Light gritted his teeth. An explanation for what , exactly? As if they weren't all fed up with the model. Hypocrites.

But no. He needed to calm down.

He had consciously relaxed his facial muscles when he turned to face the others, including Watari, who was standing near Ryuuzaki with his pastry cart. Those two were the only ones not paying him any attention.

He addressed Aizawa first.

"Thanks, man, but my father's right. I should be more mature about this and not lose my temper like that." Then he looked his father in the eye and made a decision. "I don't know what came over me, Dad. It's just... well, what am I saying, of course I know. I know it too well."

The heavy sigh that escaped his father's lips could have meant many things.

"This isn't like you, Light," he said. "This isn't what I meant when I told you to speak with her again. I understand the pressure of the case..."

But Light crossed his arms and shook his head. He was fully aware that, although Ryuuzaki hadn't turned in his direction once, he had heard everything and was as attentive as anyone else. He knew that deceptively relaxed stance, that posture of apparent indifference.

"No, Dad, that's not it. Well, partly, yes, of course. But it's not..." His hands tingled with nerves, his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly towards the chain linking him to the detective. "Actually, there's someone I like."

The metallic clang of a dropped spoon echoed through the room. When he looked, Light saw the small gap between Ryuuzaki's fingers, where the spoon had been just a second ago.

So, yes, he had said it in front of everyone. Vaguely, as he watched his father's and the others' faces crease with confusion, he wondered if he was sure about what he was doing, but he pushed that doubt aside. The silent suspicion he had sensed in Ryuuzaki's reaction to what Misa had achieved, and to how she had achieved it, stung. This felt like a way of…

His gaze met that of Watari, who still stood beside a Ryuuzaki whose neck had straightened slightly at his words but who otherwise hadn't reacted —beyond dropping the spoon. As usual, Light found it impossible to discern anything from the old man's expression. He managed to control his face to the level of a marble statue. Light could admire that about him.

Suddenly, several voices rushed in to break the silence.

"Someone...? But not Misa?"

"What do you mean?"

He looked his father in the eyes; the man seemed deeply troubled. Something loosened and clicked into place inside him.

"There's someone I like, not Misa, and I want... I want to do everything I can to make it work."

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have said it. For that, he blamed Misa.


No. It couldn't be. She couldn't have heard it right. Light's words, almost muffled by the door she had closed behind her, were like polar snow thrown into the mouth of a volcano.

Light couldn't possibly like anyone other than her.

I'm the second Kira. I am the second Kira. What other bitch could compete with that?

The slight wound caused by Light's cold attitude eroded at the edges until it became a deep, painful hole. Misa brought her hands to her chest. She squeezed. She tried to control the wet breaths threatening to escape.

She must have stood there, leaning against the door, for several minutes. The dimly lit corridor's darkness swallowed her misery. She didn't cry. Her pain, in that moment, was a dry one.

Where? she wondered as she finally pulled away from the door. Where could he have met another girl? It's impossible.

Impossible.

Impossible.

Impossible .

How dare that bitch, whoever she was, take advantage of her beloved Light's memory loss? Was it some acquaintance Ryuuzaki had introduced him to? Is that why he didn't want them to have private dates?

A feeling of betrayal overwhelmed her. But it doesn't matter , she told herself, her eyes wide open and a dull ringing piercing her head. No one could be by Light's side, by Kira's side, like she could.

She would kill that bitch. She would make her pay for coming between her and Light.

Pain and confusion devoured her from the inside, like a swirling vortex of obscurity.


Elle genuinely thought Light's father was going to have another heart attack. Fortunately, it didn't happen, though he wasn't entirely convinced it wouldn't if he found out the whole truth.

The man looked defeated, and rightfully so. He probably never imagined that after the conversation he had with his son the night they were chained together, Light would still be keeping such a secret from him. In any case, Light responded stoically and obligingly, confirming that, yes, she was the girl with the hickey. But no, they hadn't gone out that many times —just a couple of dates. And they had gone for a drink ("with Elle third-wheeling, of course"). But Light didn't want any pressure, as he was only just getting to know her. Elle glanced at him from the corner of his eye. If he hadn't known the truth first-hand, he might have actually believed Light's story.

That's how well he lied.

He blinked and looked again at the cameras monitoring the movements of the various Yotsuba members in their homes. As unexpected as Light's actions were, he didn't have time to dwell on his intentions now —though perhaps he should. Misa worried him more. Her behaviour wasn't the same; there had been a slight, almost imperceptible shift since her infiltration into Yotsuba. To put it mildly, something smelled fishy, and Elle didn't like it one bit.

He nibbled on his thumb nervously, analysing dozens of scenarios that might allow him to arrest the current Kira without losing the opportunity to learn the method he had been using to kill —presumably the same method used by all the Kiras. As he did so, he noticed Light's insistent glances. He ignored every one of them.

He couldn't forget who he was.

After a while, he spun around suddenly and activated the communication channel with Wedy. The abruptness of his movement caught the others' attention.

His first step was to ask Wedy to install cameras and microphones in Higuchi's cars as well as his house.

"Do you have any idea how many cars that man owns?" the woman complained on the other end of the line.

Elle paused just before taking a bite of one of his macarons.

"Six, if I'm not mistaken."

"And I suppose you want me to monitor each and every one of them?"

"If you'd be so kind."

The second step was to explain the plan to the rest, its core revolving around the Kira Special that Demegawa was still airing every Tuesday on Sakura TV. Three hours of programming. That's what they would offer the ambitious director, with the condition that he promise the audience a spectacular finale for the show: the revelation of Kira's identity.

"We'll make him specify that Kira's name starts with an H, just to add a bit of intrigue," Elle added.

Aizawa didn't seem convinced.

"And you think Higuchi will fall for something so obvious?"

"He will," Light interjected seriously. "He will if during the broadcast he thinks someone might expose him. Higuchi will want to take out the individual before they reveal any crucial information about his identity, of course. And his desperation..." Elle noticed the university student looking at him, but he refused to meet his gaze; he needed to stay focused for now. "His desperation will give us the chance to catch him while also learning how he carries out the murders."

"For that, of course, the guest in question has to be someone Higuchi knows for certain could know his identity," Elle added, just in case it wasn't clear.

Apparently, it wasn't, because Matsuda asked:

"But who could that person be?"

Suddenly, all eyes in the room turned to the young policeman, whose face drained of colour by the second. He stammered something incoherent and visibly lost his initial enthusiasm for catching Kira on a television show. He was the only one who could do it. Meanwhile, Namikawa, the businessman Light had contacted pretending to be L, would be tasked with informing Higuchi about what was being aired on Sakura TV.

Looking again at Matsuda's dull expression, Elle couldn't resist. He adopt a thoughtful look, wriggled his toes and said:

"The only problem I see with this plan is that if Higuchi can kill like the second Kira, Matsuda could end up dead."

Elle had seen corpses in better shape than Matsuda at that moment. But Light decided to spoil the little fun he was having, given the circumstances.

"That won't happen. If that were the case, Higuchi wouldn't be so desperate to marry Misa," he pointed out. "It's clear he doesn't have that power and believes Misa does."

Elle stood up, hands in his pockets.

"In any case, we're speculating. This will only happen if criminals stop dying between now and Tuesday. It's Thursday. You have time to think about it, Matsuda, no one's going to force you to take the risk."


It was past eleven at night when they closed the door to the room behind them, enveloped in a heavy silence. He preferred it that way. It was easier, more comfortable than dealing with the mental chaos his feelings for Light unleashed every time his rational side screamed at him, reminded him of what he already knew about Light's true identity. Even if it hurt —and it did, for Light too, to the part of him that wanted to trust— he could see how the brightness in those golden eyes was gradually souring and darkening as he kept the wall between them firmly in place. And Light, who was many things but not a fool, recognised it for what it was.

Light's confession in front of everyone, with all its ambiguity, didn't make it any easier to calm the howling storm within him, a storm that neither howled nor raged, because in his mind, everything was a series of cold, calculated thoughts, measured to the finest detail, and no sound could disturb that.

Or so he liked to tell himself.

They were both in bed. Elle with a book whose pages had turned into incomprehensible gibberish, Light with a closed, distant expression.

It was fine. More than fine. There was no need to break the silence. Ah, but there really wasn't any reason for anything that happened between them.

"You shouldn't have said that." Elle winced internally at the sound of his own voice. Slaves to our words.

Light's breathing was steady; his tone equally calm when he finally responded:

"I thought you didn't care if others suspected. I thought I was the fool who worried about those things."

Light had caught on instantly, and out of respect, Elle remained silent. He was right. He wasn't going to argue when Light was right; there was nothing to say. Light understood everything.

There was nothing to say, but Light often found nuances and shades that he refused to leave unsaid —a trait Elle both hated and loved.

"But that's not what this is about, is it?" Light said, his tone so soft, so very soft. "It's not about you or me, Ryuuzaki. It's about Misa, it's about Kira." A sigh. "It's always about Kira. Do you have any idea what…"

He didn't say anything more and turned his gaze away. His voice had cracked on the last word, so Elle didn't found out what he was supposed to have an idea about.

After a moment of reflection, Elle decided to be honest, even if redundant.

"You've noticed too, Light. I've seen echoes of it since I locked you both up: sudden changes in behaviour. Don't tell me you haven't noticed a change in Misa, and now this, the confession from the current Kira, as if it were nothing." Elle lifted his gaze to search Light's eyes, to find the truth there. But instead of the wall he had expected, he was met with something open and tender. Light waited, and Elle added, "I also think this: even someone as foolish as Misa wouldn't cling to you without a good reason, not after all your many colourful rejections. There's something driving her, something keeping her waiting."

Something open and tender: Light's patience, Light's vulnerability. He was trying not to ask questions, not to invade, trying to rein in his temper and his volatile nature.

"You'd be surprised at the power of love in the hands of a woman," Light said with obvious disdain. The word 'love' dripping with sarcasm, as if it were an insult.

That brought a faint smile to Elle's lips, though it didn't last long. " There's someone I like, and I want to do what I can to make it work " were the words that echoed in his mind. Elle found it hard to believe them. He would've struggled to believe them even if Light weren't the prime suspect as Kira. But if it was all an act, Elle didn't have the tools to uncover the lie; and if it wasn't... well, the whole thing was poetic.

"Even so," Elle said, glancing towards the window. The snowstorm had turned the night into something blurry and confusing. "I'm not about to play the fool. You're not asking me to, are you, Light?"

A pause.

"No," Light replied. "I suppose not. I suppose it's just a matter of time, and there's nothing I can do."

He didn't expect Light to suddenly lean over and press a modest kiss to his lips. It caught him so off guard that he didn't react, and before he knew it, Light had already turned away, the shadows in his eyes — real or not — now hidden from view.

He could have apologised, could have lightened the mood with just a few words. But he had decided to be honest, even if redundant, and he would stick to that promise.

There were no words that could lighten this —and if there were, he wasn't capable of finding them— and they both knew it. So he mastered his emotions, unfortunately human, and, curled up against the headboard of the bed, sought refuge in silence, in obscurity, and in the countless gears of his mind.

He had a lot to analyse.


Sayu watched, captivated, as her cousin showed her different photo slides on the TV screen. Dinner with her aunt, uncle, and cousin had gone smoothly. Light had only come up briefly, to explain his absence, and other than that, the conversation had mostly revolved around the cultural differences between Russia and Japan, as well as their similarities.

During dinner, Sayu had spent most of the time observing the incredibly beautiful features of her aunt and comparing them with those of her uncle, Hiroaki Inoue —her mother's brother— and how such an unusual, exotic mix had resulted in someone as perfect as her cousin Sascha. She didn't like drooling over guys, really! She didn't do it often. But her cousin was even better looking than Light, and surely he had to be more of a flirt than him.

And on top of that, he spoke with such sensitivity! Not at first. At first, he had seemed cold and distant, not talking much or showing any particular interest in being pleasant to his hosts. However, that had changed when he had the chance —at Sayu's request— to show his work as a photographer.

There was a sparkle in his eyes, Sayu decided, enchanted, as if they were smoky glass pearls, shining even more than his photographs.

"Wow! And this? It's gorgeous…" It was an immense meadow, a vibrant green, with huge sculptures of saxophones seemingly sprouting from the wild grass. They were made of thousands of super-thin sticks. "How did they make all that? It's amazing!"

The hint of a smile curved her cousin's lips.

"It's a village in Russia," he said in perfect Japanese, though his voice had a noticeable accent. "Nikola-Lenivets. It's known for an annual surrealist art festival. There are some pretty impressive pieces."

They continued looking at some of the shots —incredible, wild moments captured in time. But for Sayu, what she enjoyed most was seeing the small signs of happiness in her cousin's otherwise reserved expression. Why hadn't she met him until now?

Meanwhile, her uncle was the only one who didn't seem particularly interested in his son's work. Instead, he was trying to read a Japanese newspaper after years of barely practising kanji. Judging by the grumbles he let out from time to time, some of them were proving quite tricky.

It wasn't until later that the Yagami father finally arrived home. Sayu jumped, pulling her attention away from her cousin and his photos for the first time. Finally! she thought, watching her uncle get up first to greet him. Although she was dying to ask him for news about Light and L, she bit her tongue and, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, waited for the others to finish exchanging greetings.

Five whole minutes. That's how long she managed to hold herself back. Then she dragged him by the arm into the kitchen, where his portion of dinner was waiting, and launched her attack.

"Dad, how was work?"

Her father gave her a tired smile and said it was fine, thanking her for asking. Sayu sat backwards in a chair beside him, resting her arms on the backrest, and whispered:

"And Light? How is he? Have you noticed anything different about him?"

"Why would that be?" He took a bite of his food, chewed, and then looked at her with suspicion. "Sayu, you know I tell you everything I can. But there are certain things that are confidential." He rubbed his temple and let out a heavy sigh. "Things seem to be progressing well. We might have Kira."

"Really?" A wave of happiness washed over her, but after a moment, she forced herself to exhale and calm down. She didn't want to get her hopes up. "That's great, but… I'm not talking about the investigation. I'm asking about my brother. How is he? Does he seem strange or, I don't know, different?"

"Sayu, darling, go back to the living room and let your father eat in peace," her mother's voice came through the doorway before she did. Glancing at the clock on the wall, her mother added, "Isn't it time for you to go bed? You've got school tomorrow."

Damn it! She supposed she had already dodged bedtime enough, using the excuse that the Russians had just arrived. But still… When she turned back to her father, she found him frowning, a conflicted expression on his face. He was so lost in thought, whatever those thoughts were, that when her mother asked him how his day had been, he looked almost startled.

So they sent her to bed, and she went, having only managed to get a standard, scripted response from her father that Light was the same as always and that she shouldn't worry. She didn't roll her eyes out of respect —her mother hated it— and because her father genuinely looked worn out, but she had no doubt he wasn't telling her everything. Before she walked down the hall to say goodnight to Sascha and her aunt and uncle, she heard her mother say to her father:

"One of these days, you should invite that young colleague of yours, Matsuda, right? He was very pleasant the last time he came over, and he seems to think highly of you. Besides, we owe him for driving you home these past days."

"You're right," she heard her father reply from afar. "I'll tell him."

Already in bed, Sayu lay wide awake, a mix of curiosity, sadness, and anger swirling inside her. She thought about Christmas, about her brother, about how he was the kindest, most wonderful person in the world. And, as always happened when her thoughts drifted in that direction, her resentment towards L resurfaced; more subdued now, yes, more settled since Light had told her those words.

Friends. Are they really becoming friends?

Still, the darkness of her room at midnight wasn't nearly as deep as the obscurity threatening her family —an obscurity that, without fully realising it, she somehow sensed.


No deaths the next day. A general sense of foreboding loomed over the investigation headquarters. Why? Light didn't know. It was good that there hadn't been any deaths; it meant that, if things continued this way, they would catch Kira.

He had to repeat that to himself over and over throughout the day just to get through it with at least a trace of optimism and normalcy. The conversation from the previous night with Ryuuzaki was a whirlwind in his mind and had already put him in a bad mood first thing in the morning. He felt stupid, foolish, and exposed, and knowing that he'd wandered around headquarters like a ghost —distracted and apathetic— didn't help him feel any less pathetic because of it.

Despite understanding Ryuuzaki's position and reservations conceptually, part of him, the proudest part, was furious with the detective. The peak of his frustration came when, on his way to make a coffee, he was so absorbed in his misery that he tripped over the chain that bound them and fell flat to the floor. His neck and face burned with embarrassment. His father and the others had called out his name in surprise. Light could almost read their thoughts: "We're making progress, aren't we? Shouldn't he be happy?" or "Why is he so quiet? He should be the most upbeat of all of us." And his father, in particular, kept giving him odd looks. All of this made his blood boil.

At times, he thought he had regained the calm of the previous day, but it slipped frustratingly through his fingers, and the feeling of helplessness returned, inevitable as fate.

He had done it for him. For Ryuuzaki. Purely and exclusively for him.
He had said that humiliating, revealing thing in front of everyone only for him. To prove… what? It didn't even matter. He could have saved himself the trouble. It wasn't as if Ryuuzaki could be moved by his efforts or emotions, it wasn't as if anything could erase the silent threat of Kira hanging over them; nothing except time and, maybe eventually, the investigation.

The day passed and night fell, and the headquarters emptied as usual with the setting sun, leaving only the three of them. The flames of his anger had dwindled to mere embers, replaced by a feeling of defeat, much like the night before.

"Dinner is ready," Watari noted, attentive. If he sensed the tension, he gave no sign of it.

"No rush, Watari," Ryuuzaki said. "We'll be a little while yet."

After a moment, Light watched the old man give a brief nod before leaving the room completely. Silence coiled around the walls like a third presence, taking up too much space. Ryuuzaki's face was turned towards the computer screen, and a few slightly wavy strands of hair obscured part of his expression.

"We'll be a little while?" he asked, neutral.

The only response he received was a shrug. Something hot, very much like anger, twisted inside him. He was about to break the silence again. But he didn't. He considered that he had already given enough. It was Ryuuzaki's turn.

Light was counting the minutes when his phone rang. He sighed, checked the time, and frowned. Who was calling at this hour? When he saw it was Ken Murata, the same colleague who had asked him about chess tournaments, he almost didn't answer. But then he felt a flicker of unease. It's unusual, he thought, and picked up the call. A crackling, unpleasant sound like static filled his ear, followed by deep breathing and a crash. In the background, a car horn blared.

"Murata? Are you there?"

Nothing. Then, quick footsteps. He called his colleague's name again. Ryuuzaki had raised his gaze, alert, his eyes narrowed; Light noticed, but kept his focus on the phone.

Finally, a distant, uneven voice:

"No, no… please, don't… Oh, my God…"

A scream bled through the receiver, chilling his blood. Light jumped to his feet as if on springs.

"Murata?" he asked again, fully aware of the apprehension in his voice.

But the call had already been cut off. It took him a few seconds to react, his heart pounding, the phone still pressed tightly to his ear. It was Ryuuzaki's voice, steady and unshaken, that spurred him into action.

"Light."

"Let's track the location of his phone first." He bit his lower lip in thought as Ryuuzaki quickly opened the tracking programme. Light provided all the necessary information and added, "It's unlikely he called me voluntarily again. I gave him all the information about the tournaments. I think someone was chasing him, he panicked, and in his desperation, he might have dialled his last call. I spoke to him just last night, so it's very likely."

The detective glanced at him, just for a millisecond; more than enough for Light to know they were both thinking the same thing: that scream. He had heard it too.

It took them about five minutes to tap into Murata's phone remotely. Fortunately, the device was still on. In the meantime, Light tried to call his colleague a few times, but to no avail.

"Nothing," he said, pocketing his phone. He leaned forward on his hands and studied the movement of the tiny dot representing Murata's phone on the map. "It's moving fast and on roads. He's in a vehicle."

Ryuuzaki nodded, actively biting his thumb.

"Ten twenty-eight p.m. Passing through Akihabara."

Light slammed his fist against the desk, drawing the other's attention.

"There's a chess club nearby, The Knight and the Rook," Light explained, pointing to a spot on the map. He lowered his arm. "Yesterday, I suggested he go there one Friday night. It's a great place to get started in the chess tournament scene. He seemed really keen to go as soon as possible. Today is Friday." He paused, then added, as if that explained everything, "But he's going in the opposite direction."

"Then let's not waste any more time," Ryuuzaki suggested, springing to his feet. "We'll take the helicopter."

That made Light stop, confused. Only for a moment.

"You have a licence?" Almost instantly, he realised how dumb his question was, a smile flickering across the other man's lips. "Why am I not surprised? Come on, let's go." And as they made it to the roof: "Won't it attract too much attention?"

Without stopping, Ryuuzaki made a thoughtful noise. His eyes glued to the phone screen, where he continued tracking Murata's phone.

"They're leaving the city." He pocketed his phone and opened the rooftop door. "Don't worry, we'll keep our distance. The night is on our side."

A blast of cold, paralysing wind hit them like an avalanche. For a moment, Light thought his face might freeze off. He huddled into the coat he had grabbed in haste and followed the detective with quick steps. He had to stop abruptly when Ryuuzaki did, just before getting into the helicopter. Ryuuzaki tilted his head back, his obsidian hair blending into the shadows in contrast to his pale skin. He said:

"Let's hope the phone is still with him," and climbed the ladder.

Light could only think: indeed, before following him up.

Ryuuzaki's long, bony fingers brushed against Light's knuckles and Light felt himself relax. They took off.

How simple it was to slip back into being them when the situation demanded it; no issues, no unspoken words, just them , connected and opposed, but them nonetheless. It was something wonderful, something Light was increasingly unsure he could afford to let go.


Suspended in the sky, the night was something opaque and formless. A painful darkness that enveloped everything, above Light, around him... except below; below stretched the sea of flickering lights that was Tokyo until, as they left the city limits and headed into the mountains, it split open to reveal increasingly dominant shadows. At another time, Light would have delighted in the helicopter's controls, the set of gears, switches, and signals; but now his attention remained fixed on the screen showing them the location of Murata's phone. And, hopefully, Murata himself.

Their target kept moving farther and farther away from civilisation.

After a few minutes of following at a safe distance to avoid detection —better safe than sorry— Ryuuzaki called Watari hands-free, informing him they had "gone out for some small checks." Light had no doubt this would be enough; L's old protector would understand.

"We'll leave your father and the others out of this for now," Ryuuzaki said after hanging up. "Hopefully, we won't need more help than our own."

Light hoped he was right.

The next three-quarters of an hour passed with a monotony that did little to dispel the tension in the small space. They flew in silence, identifying the vehicle they were following as a light-coloured truck shortly after it veered off onto a national road, and briefly discussing possible destinations. Mount Takao, Light had said, and his deduction was becoming more plausible by the minute. It was climbing the curves without bothering to slow down. Light didn't know much about Ken Murata's life, but it didn't seem like it involved transporting goods up Mount Takao late on a Friday night.

They spoke no more, and Light found himself at a loss for what to do with his hands, his thoughts drifting towards the man sitting beside him and everything to do with him. The airtight silence became suffocating. He fidgeted with his seatbelt and cracked his back.

He had resigned himself to the silence, which is why it surprised him when Ryuuzaki broke it.

"There are two more," he said, apropos of nothing.

Light waited for him to continue, but he didn't. His gaze remained stubbornly fixed ahead.

"Two more?"

"Coins," Ryuuzaki responded. "There are two more coins, apart from the ones you've seen. There were four of us; we met during childhood and adolescence. I don't know why we had them made… as a keepsake, I think. Yes, he wanted us to remember."

It took Light only a couple of seconds to process that, but disbelief mixed with hope must have shown on his face. Damn Ryuuzaki and his infuriating timing. Even so, Light's heart stumbled, a bit like a newborn foal, shaky and unsure. He had to lick his lips, suddenly dry.

Ryuuzaki went on:

"We were all orphans, you see. Not friends, exactly, but we were in the same place at the same time. I suppose they were the closest thing to friends I've ever had." His voice did something strange, as if it cracked, and Light looked at his sharp, pale profile outlined against the shadows, finding him as enigmatic as ever. "The last of us died, that was her coin, the one Watari brought me. Well," he gave a strange, alien smile, "it's just me left, for now."

While Kira doesn't kill me, hung unsaid in the air.

"I'm sorry about your parents," Light whispered, moved by how much Ryuuzaki had revealed about his past. "And about that girl. Auri?"

He saw Ryuuzaki blink, then nod and shrug at the same time.

"I don't remember them. My parents, I mean. I was very young."

An awkward pause followed. Light considered saying something like, thank you for telling me, but the words twisted in his chest, feeling pathetic and shallow.

The light-colored truck continued its course along the winding roads of Mount Takao, and there was no longer any doubt it was climbing it. Ryuuzaki performed a series of manoeuvres to adjust their direction and altitude.

"'A' died of an illness not long after we had the coins made. His death was inevitable, and we all knew it," Ryuuzaki, surprisingly, had more to say. Light relaxed and allowed himself to be lulled by the soft, masculine cadence of his voice. "'BB'... they were quite close. He couldn't handle it, lost his mind. Only he would know what he did with his and 'A's coins."

"How did 'BB' die?"

A breath.

"Kira killed him."

Kira killed him . Light closed his eyes. Ryuuzaki must have sensed his turmoil because he repeated:

"As I said, he lost his mind."

The air inside the helicopter became still again, and silence settled back in. Light gazed at the high, undulating peaks of Mount Takao, the reddish sand and rock now appearing like ink blotches darker than the sky. The tall fir trees would have made it difficult to keep track of their physical target, but the truck's taillights glimmered like fireflies in the dark. Light followed the glowing point, lost in thought.

He had said he wanted things to work out with Ryuuzaki, just yesterday. But it had been an abstract idea in his head. Had he been speaking of the present? Their current situation, just as it was? There was no doubt he wanted to hold onto what they had now. Everything felt like a dream —or a nightmare sometimes—, in any case, something inconsistent, ethereal. His present had strange, blurry edges; it was an unreality, a bubble that could pop at any moment, and when it did, he would return to his real life. In that life, he would marry a girl, have a family, be successful, and no one would accuse him of being Kira. So, did he really want things with Ryuuzaki to work out in the future? Something hard and solid twisted inside him, sinking his stomach. He felt deep unease at the prospect of a future like that, with Ryuuzaki by his side. Could he dare to desire it? Him and Ryuuzaki, together, in the real world?

For the first time since all of this had started, Light admitted to himself that it terrified him. It terrified him, indeed, to want it; it terrified him to face his parents' disappointment, the weight of whispers and sidelong glances from society, the alienation he had always felt, the abyss. Everything he had fought for, tarnished by something… trivial. Expendable.

Expendable.

He looked at Ryuuzaki.

Damn it.

"Why?" he croaked, in an attempt to escape his thoughts. Ryuuzaki shot him a sidelong, questioning glance, and Light cleared his throat. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Why, indeed," Ryuuzaki replied. "I have a bad feeling, Light."

"About?"

Light raised a hand and placed it there, on the side of Ryuuzaki's face, cupping his cheek as he had done before. He felt the tension in his jaw. But that was the end of their conversation, perhaps for the best. Ryuuzaki didn't speak again for several minutes, and when he did, it was only to say:

"He's stopped. We're going to descend."

On the navigator, the dot had stopped moving. Outside the window, below, amidst the sea of black trees, there was no light to give away the truck's position.

Ryuuzaki clumsily landed in a small clearing they found not far from where their target had presumably stopped. It was tricky trying to stay unnoticed in that vast, deafening silence. When the engine gave its final sputter, the feeling was as if they were alone in an infinite, empty world.

"Do you think he's realised he was being followed?" Light inquired.

"Ah, let's hope not."

A desolate chill hung in the air. Light landed on a bed of dry leaves and brittle branches. After a few steps, his foot sank into something soft and even colder than the air around him, and he cursed the snow and the winter. A whine echoed from the depths of the forest.

He squinted into the devouring darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. It was more sensible not to turn on any lights, just in case…

Something lightly brushed one of his shoulders, and when he turned... bathed in a glaring light, a cadaverous face appeared before him, black eyes like abysses with deep, dark shadows...

"For fuck's sake, Ryuuzaki," Light hissed, grabbing his face. "Would you turn off the light?"

Ryuuzaki's phone light went out. Plunged back into the gloom, Light blinked several times.

"I'm not so sure you're so easy to turn off."

"Cheeky." Light said, unimpressed.

"That's me. Cheeky."

Light looked in his direction; he could make out no more than the outline of his slightly hunched silhouette, the suggestion of a presence. They began walking quietly, following the map on Ryuuzaki's phone. They did so for several minutes, weaving through tree trunks, mounds of snow, and sharp-needled brambles that climbed and created barriers between the trees; they also crossed a small stream that appeared out of nowhere, and Ryuuzaki slipped on a stone, almost causing Light to lose his balance as well. The chain between them pulled tight and jingled. Even the mountain air smelled cold and sharp, of snow and vegetation.

"We should let Watari know, we're not exactly five minutes away," Light suggested after a while.

From a distance, Ryuuzaki announced, "I think I've found it."

Visibility was even worse where they were now, as the treetops blocked out the faint starlight. Feeling his way around a thick trunk, Light followed the pull of the chain and the ghostly glow of Ryuuzaki's phone until he reached him.

He was holding something in his other hand: a red metallic Samsung. Murata's phone.

Light frowned. Perhaps it was time to call the police. He wasted no more time, pulling his own phone from his coat pocket and searching for his father's contact. To his left, slightly away, Ryuuzaki was absorbed in staring at the spot where, Light assumed, he had found the device.

Light stopped what he was doing, recognising something in that slightly absent expression.

"Light, this friend of yours, what do you know about his…?"

Too late. He saw it all in slow motion: Ryuuzaki's sudden jerk as if pricked, his big eyes wide and hidden behind the fluttering of his eyelids, and the worrying wobble of his body as he reached into one of the back pockets of his jeans before his legs gave out beneath him. Light called his name and rushed forward to catch him.

A dull, sharp pain exploded in the side of Light's head. He saw bright spots in the darkness, his head spun, and a shrill ringing filled everything. One last thought flashed through his mind: his father's contact still open on his phone, now buried in grass, mud, and snow.

Then, he lost consciousness.

Then, the true obscurity appeared.