Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Manchester — September 21, 2021 — 2:07 AM

The pool’s water was cold to Light’s skin, colored a deep red from the wounds littering his body.

He struggled against his bonds as he tried to hold his breath. His bare feet scraped at the tiles below him, attempting to break free. Still, the ropes refused to move. He pushed against them again, using all the strength he could muster.

It couldn’t end like this.

It just couldn’t.

Light choked as the water entered his lungs. The pool was filling at a rapid pace, making it harder and harder to breathe.

He gasped for air again, causing bubbles to release from his mouth, which disappeared as they reached the ever-rising surface.

In the corner of his eye, Light caught a glimpse of a shadow standing in front of the pool. Had that bastard come back to gloat? He’d got what he wanted. He’d gotten his revenge. What else could he possibly be here for? There was more blood spilling from his wounds. He didn’t have much time left—

A loud splash interrupted his thoughts. Light’s head snapped in the direction of the noise. In front of him, a figure crashed into the water with intense force, yet not the man he was expecting. Light’s eyes widened as he realized who he was. A mess of black hair was tangled around the man’s pale visage. His white sweatshirt looked just slightly too loose around his shoulders and his blue jeans were oversized, draping over his bare feet.

Light froze as their eyes met. He wasn’t supposed to see him like this. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

The man swam to where Light had been tied down, tears blurring his dark eyes as he held his breath. He reached behind Light and attempted to free him from his restraints, but Light knew deep down they would never give.

He must have been running out of time now. Thoughts and memories flooded his mind faster than the water filled his lungs.

“Do you want me to tell you what kind of person I am?”

The other man released his hands from the knotted rope, his sobs unrelenting. He gazed into Light’s eyes with more sadness than the latter had seen from him in a decade.

“I’ll love you even more from now on.”

A cool hand brushed against Light’s cheek, causing his few remaining breaths to catch in his throat. The other man was crying hysterically as he held him, drawing him closer.

“I will be good to you.”

His vision was getting darker now. He could feel himself slipping—

“After that, everything will change.”

And then his lips were on his. The kiss brought back his life and all the feelings in his body. The bliss of his love’s body on his own shone a beautiful light onto his soul that could not be replicated by any other.

“Like magic.”

Light leaned into the touch, desperate for life; to go home, live freely, and kill the bastard that left him there.

London — September 15, 2021 — 7:30 AM

Brilliant sunbeams shone through large, uncovered windows and reflected off of glass display cases filled to the brim with various sculptures.

There was a small counter separating the entrance of the shop from the work area, holding a cash register and miniature set of figurines resembling two men and a small girl.

An aging bronze record player spun a few romantic ballads in soft melodic tones. The music allowed for anyone to forget their worries for even a brief moment, including the greatest detective in the world, L Lawliet.

His husband gripped L’s waist as they kissed behind the store’s counter. L didn’t even think to resist.

L watched his free hand reach to tilt his jaw upwards, with a black-banded watch on his wrist—

“What is it?” The other man asked, noticing his husband’s gaze.

“It’s already 7:30.” L said, quickly pulling away. “I’m going to be late.”

“Can’t you stay for a little while longer?” His husband teased, playfully whining. He leaned on the counter behind him like some lovesick Disney prince. It was almost endearing enough to convince him to stay.

“You know I can’t, Light.” L said.

Light smiled and pulled himself upright. “It’s your fault for setting the mood.”

L smiled. “I need to get going.” He stated, forcing his ID over his head. He needed to shift into his work persona, as Light would say. He couldn’t be L Lawliet in public without a high risk of being murdered. “Are you dropping off Noriko or am I?”

“Could you?” Light asked. “I have a new client: a demanding one. I need to get his project done as soon as possible, so I want to try and get a head start today. I have it in my Birmingham workshop, the larger one.”

Light worked as a sculptor, focusing mostly on abstract art and statues modeled after clients. Of course, he typically catered for local clients, but attracting one with a more sizable amount of pocket change wasn’t extremely uncommon.

“I can, but it must be quite a large project if you’re driving all that way.” L began. “You couldn’t work on it here?”

He had multiple workshops scattered throughout England, which he traveled to whenever his pieces reached a larger or smaller scale. The smallest was located on the first floor of their home, but it seemed like Light was aiming higher this time around. His workshop in Birmingham had originally been a deserted garage-like building, but Light had renovated it into a proper workshop.

Part of L wanted to look through it properly as Light was working, but he knew not to disturb him in those moments. He learned that the hard way.

“That would be more convenient, but I can’t.” Light answered. “It’s far too big to fit down here. Plus, it gives me privacy to do whatever I want in complete silence. I don’t really get that in London.”

“Alright, so be it.” L shrugged and turned towards the large staircase that led to their lofted living quarters, pulling out his key from his pocket. Before he could, however, he heard a set of tiny footsteps barrelling down the stairs.

“I’m ready!”

Noriko’s chocolate brown hair was done up in two perfect pigtails with her bangs clipped to the side to reveal a pair of sparkling grey eyes. She was wearing a pair of denim overalls with her favorite striped t-shirt underneath. There was a bright strawberry-colored backpack over her shoulders, which was comically oversized compared to her body.

“Oh, there she is!” L put on a smile and turned to his daughter. “Say goodbye to your father and then we can go, alright?”

Noriko looked confused for a moment, her eyes drifting between L and Light. “Papa isn’t taking me to school today?”

“I have to…” Light’s expression softened. He focused his gaze to the small sculptures organized to his left. “take care of something.”

“A statue,” L clarified. “Your father is creating a statue.”

Noriko’s eyes lit up. “Can I see?”

Light began to cough violently into his arm, causing L to flinch. L looked over his shoulder at his husband. His eyes were fixated on L; blown wide, warning him of something. L cleared his throat. It was one of those. The projects that Noriko definitely was not old enough to witness until she turned eighteen in—L counted in his head—just over twelve years? Impossible.

“It’s very far away.” L said. “You’ll be able to see pictures of his art here.”

Noriko smiled and quickly rushed over to Light, who then gave her a soft pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek. She was growing far too quickly. She was going to be six in just over a month. None of it felt real.

His life was just so….

Perfect.

London — September 15, 2021 — 8:35 AM

After dropping off Noriko, L walked up to the large building that housed his workplace: the L Organization. His company and global reach had grown quite a bit in the last decade, with offices extending across five continents. Of course, the biggest of those offices was in London, where L resided.

The mystery of who “L” truly was had been a staple of the organization’s reputation. Of course, the only people who knew L’s face were those higher in the ranks who had earned L’s trust. Even then, only six living people—not including himself—knew his true name.

To the general public, he was Elliot Asahi, a young detective who took his beloved husband’s name.

But to those close to him, he was L Lawliet, the world’s three greatest detectives and Interpol’s biggest pain in the ass.

The only reason he had even begun to show his face in public was because of Light. When their surrogate was pregnant with Noriko, Light suggested giving Noriko a “normal” childhood. He said he never got a chance to enjoy his own, and neither did L. So, they agreed to commit to their usual jobs to maintain a steady environment for their daughter. L’s current arrangement also had the perk of giving him easier communication with each of his successors, as well as everyone who worked under him.

As L ascended the stairs leading to the building’s entrance, he realized exactly how packed the front lobby really was. There were hundreds of people, all in some sort of clump that could hardly be described as a line. They were all yelling, some speaking on the phone, and clogging up all of the doors allowing the general public inside. Of course, L had his fair share of secret entrances hidden throughout the building, but he wasn’t about to expose them to anyone who bothered to look his way.

So, he began to push through the line of people, flashing his ID card at them when they shouted at him to wait his turn. After a few minutes, he reached the front desk, where an elderly Japanese man was screaming at the receptionist.

“Where is my daughter?!” The man cried in accented English. “You promised you would find my daughter!”

Due to his line of work, L had grown used to the rage grieving parents took out on law enforcement, but this was another level.

The man turned towards L with an expression of rage and agony. He had tears brewing in his dark brown eyes and his greying hair was uneven and tangled. He pointed an accusatory finger at L, beginning to shout.

“You!” The man screamed over the chaos of the crowd. “You need to know where my daughter is!”

L did a quick double take. He knew he recognized this man from somewhere, but for some odd reason, even his photographic memory could not provide him with his name. Obviously, he wasn’t about to inform this man of his true identity, but the passion in his eyes made L feel only slightly upset about it.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” L said, lying through his teeth. “The L Organization isn’t liable for any of your losses. We don’t know anything.”

The older man paused, his rage growing with every second he didn’t receive the answers he was looking for. He examined L—taking note of his messy hair, white shirt, and faded jeans—with sheer disgust showing on his face.

“Liar.” He hissed. “You need to know. No one else can. You knew her. She talked about you so much. You gave her access to your systems. She trusted you with her life. You need to know. You have to.”

Before L could respond, he felt himself being grabbed by the wrist and forced through an employees only door. He turned towards the person who had dragged him out of that mess with a mix of confusion and gratitude.

The man stood at about 168 centimeters, donning a red and black striped sweater reminiscent of L’s own self-proclaimed businesswear. He wore a pair of yellow-tinted goggles, acting as a crown placed upon his messy auburn hair.

“Interesting morning, isn’t it?” He said with a smile.

“It’s certainly not the usual routine,” L said. “You would know better than I would, Matt.”

L had grown used to seeing Matt around the L Organization’s London branch, as he had personally given him a similar advisor-like position to what Watari, or Quillsh Wammy, held before he passed. He was one of very few successors who didn’t have a precise goal in mind for his future, so he was gifted with a role that gave him the power to both keep communication open with his friends from the disbanded successor program, as well as being one of the most central people that helped keep the company afloat.

Fifteen years ago, L would hate to admit this, but in the present day, he knew that without Matt, they would hardly have an organization at all.

“There’s been news about the Kira case,” Matt said.

His words caused L’s focus to snap back into place. The L Organization hadn’t been contacted for an interesting case in over a decade. Detective work had turned from L’s whole livelihood to a typical desk job. So, of course, he remembered the Kira Case. He hadn’t lived since then. He loved his family, of course. But it was all so… dull.

The Kira Case brought light into his life. The thrilling chase between himself and Kira brought a smile to his face. No other criminal could ever dare to surpass him. Yagami Raito was the world’s best serial killer.

And then he ran away, leaving everything in the dust.

The only remaining trace of Yagami was the mangled remains of his Death Note: his weapon. No one knew what happened to the rest of the notebook, but it was clear they were still on Yagami’s person, if not being heavily guarded by him.

“I assume it has something to do with the crowds outside?”

“Well…” Matt trailed off, looking off to the side nervously.

L rolled his eyes. “Get to the point.”

“Kira is back. The Japanese NPA wants you for the case.” Matt said. “And, uh, a few of the victims’ families are kind of coming for our heads.”

Well.

That was something.

“Do we know if Yagami Raito is behind this?” L asked. “Or is it a different person?”

Matt shrugged. “There’s no proof, but this Kira’s MO is the exact same as the original’s.”

L paused. The Kira Case was the only case L had never solved, and now he had a chance to remedy that. He had never shown his face during the original case, instead operating remotely.

The farthest he had gotten in his investigation was piecing together the evidence Kira was a student with access to police intel. It wasn’t until after Yagami fled the country and destroyed his files that L learned of his identity. Chief Yagami Soichiro withdrew from the investigation, and the entirety of the Yagami family had not been cooperative.

L had managed to question Yagami’s former girlfriend and assumed accomplice, Amane Misa, but he didn’t get much out of her either. It was painstakingly obvious the two of them had worked together, but she was insistent she didn’t remember anything about the case. Almost as if she had lost all memories of Yagami’s crimes. So, despite the clear indication they had collaborated to kill thousands of criminals together, L couldn’t do anything because Amane was seen as innocent by the general public, her coworkers, and the local police force.

Not to mention the amount of calls he had received from a few of Kira’s victims’ families. The Misora family in particular had called the task force hundreds of times, begging them to find their missing daughter. L would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit bad for ending the search for her body, but it was clear Kira had made sure to hide her body well. It wasn’t his fault that Misora Naomi’s parents refused to accept the truth.

Overall, the aftermath of the case was a mess to clean up. And they still hadn’t found Yagami. The concept of finally solving the case was thrilling, but would L be able to step up to the task— oh, who was he kidding?

“I’ll do it.” L said.

Matt smiled. “I knew you would say that.” He opened up the case file, “We were contacted by the current chief of the Japanese NPA, Aizawa Shuichi. Sound familiar?”

L nodded. Aizawa had taken Chief Yagami’s position after he had resigned. The two of them didn’t exactly have the best relationship, but he could make do. It had been over a decade since they last spoke, after all. K, one of his successors, had been stationed at the head of the L Organization’s Japanese branch for years.

“Good. He says they’ve still been trying to track down Yagami, but it looks like he disappeared without a trace. An officer by the name of Matsuda Touta—” L looked up at the mention of the name, “left the country to try and find him, but hasn’t returned or made contact since his departure. And because Kira only just started killing again earlier today, they’re assuming Yagami killed him before he could make it back. They think Kira wants revenge on the task force.”

“Why?” L asked, “If this truly is Yagami’s doing, then why would he kill Matsuda and alert the task force of his location? And how would he have retrieved the Death Note in time to kill him? Yagami never got his hands dirty. He didn’t have the mental capacity to kill without the notebook.”

Matt shrugged. “I don’t know. They did say Matsuda was last seen in London, though.”

“Here?” L asked.

“Yeah. Somehow, he tracked Yagami down to the London area. We don’t know how he did it, but his disappearance kind of proves he was right, doesn’t it?”

L ran his thumb over his silver wedding band. Kira was in London.

Kira could find his family.

“Is the task force coming here?” He asked.

Matt nodded. “They want to meet with you, or L, specifically.”

“The last time we tried to catch Kira, we failed. Miserably,” L began. “We didn’t trust each other, there was no face to the investigation, and we couldn’t find anything leading to Yagami Raito until it was too late.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’ll have to interact with the task force personally this time, as Elliot Asahi. They don’t have to know my identity, but they’ll need someone to properly lead their task force. And…” He glanced at the photo again. “I don’t want my family getting caught up in this mess.”

“Are you sure about this?” Matt asked.

“More than anything.”

Birmingham — September 15, 2021 — 4:37 PM

Light pushed open his largest workshop’s door with a sigh. The whole place was coated in thick layers of dust to the point where it was obvious it hadn’t been used in a while. This workshop had been abandoned for many years, but that was what drew Light to it in the first place.

No one could interrupt him here.

Light ripped off a large cloth sheet from above him, revealing a large block of marble. This would be his masterpiece; his tour de force.

This spectacular work of art he was about to create would rival that of past greats. His work would move anyone with an eye for skill, and if anyone had opposing thoughts, they could take them to his posing model. If he was stiff, it wasn’t his problem.

As Light grabbed ahold of his chisels, however, his silent paradise shattered.

“Mmph!”

The artist rolled his eyes. What a nuisance. His model had traveled all this way to be with him and help with his passion project. He could at least show some respect and quiet down for once in his life. He had only been in position for a couple of hours. Light wasn’t going to hold him in here forever. He was just being dramatic in an attempt to mess up his work.

“Mmmph!”

It was truly—

“MMMPH!”

despicable.

Light turned around to face the source of the noise—His model. The inspiration of what would be his best work yet. His beautiful man in the chair—and sighed.

“You, over there,” Light called out, flexing his mother tongue for the first time in fifteen years. “Do you have something to say?”

The man nodded enthusiastically. Sweat was running down his face in thick, disgusting beads, causing his dark hair to stick to his face. His hands and feet were tied to the chair he sat on, creating a beautiful picture of a man experiencing the horrors of life for what was likely the first time. He looked disheveled, yet so miraculously artistic.

Light set his tools back down and strolled over to the man as his eyes begged for mercy. He ripped off the tape that had been covering his model’s mouth roughly, “Now, make it quick,” He demanded.

The other man heaved for air as his limbs shook. He was barely holding back tears as he coughed out the bile that had built up over the past few days, coating the floor with his vomit.

“Would you like a bucket?” Light asked with a smile.

“Raito-kun—” The man cut himself off with another cough as if he was choking on air.

Light’s brow furrowed, “I go by Light now. Light Asahi.” Light Lawliet.

“We’re friends! Why are you—”

“Why were you in London?” Light spat out the question.

“I didn’t know you were here, I swear! I was just on vacation and—”

Light cut him off again. “Then explain the recording device I found in your pocket.”

This time, his hostage stayed silent. His eyes darted around the room, possibly in search of a way to escape.

“Did Yagami Soichiro send you here?” Light questioned.

“I came here alone, just please—”

Before the man could finish his plea, Light had a firm hand wrapped around his throat, “That isn’t what I asked.”

“He didn’t send me here. He resigned from the NPA when you left,” His prisoner choked out. At his admission, Light removed his hand from his throat, “I’ve been searching for Kira—”

He was cut off by a swift right hook to the jaw, to which he cried out in pain.

“Do not mention that name to me. You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Light growled and grabbed a large roll of duct tape, ripping off a large section as the man began to plead again, “You know, I think I’ve heard enough from you.”

He placed the tape over his model’s mouth again as he cried out. He was wasting his pathetic tears. This was a happy moment for Light’s career! Why couldn’t he understand? Did he not have taste?

“Now,” Light flashed a smile at the man in the chair. “Be a good model for me, okay?”

And as Light returned to his masterpiece, the other man couldn’t even bring himself to struggle.

After all, no one could escape Kira’s wrath.

Not even Matsuda Touta.

Chapter Text

London — January 22, 2007 — 8:15 AM

Light stared blankly out of the window of the coffee shop he worked at.

It was small and definitely not the highest quality, but it had become the only way for Light to make a decent income. Their coffee was shit—he was sure his coworkers spat in it sometimes—and other than their drinks, they just sold cold, shitty pastries. Miraculously, enough dense idiots bought from them to keep their heads above the water.

The bell above the door chimed as a man walked into the shop. He didn’t seem like any of their regulars, but the green coat he wore seemed to be luxurious enough that he was willing to pay an absurd amount of money for a horrible product. Although, his ragged jeans, worn white shirt and sneakers, and obviously tangled black hair discouraged that idea.

“Welcome!” Light exclaimed, making full use of his customer service voice. “Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

To Light’s surprise, the man didn’t even spare a glance at the menu, instead walking straight up to the counter and taking out his black leather wallet.

“One cup of black coffee and a slice of strawberry shortcake, please,” The man requested, his smooth accent lacing through his words. “Oh, and a side serving of sugar.”

Light paused for a moment. The order was odd, yet one he was familiar with. It was the exact same order as an older man who would come in almost every day, even down to the side of sugar. Come to think of it, this man had seemed a bit anxious walking in. Could it be they were connected somehow?

He quickly dismissed the thought from his mind. After all, he was at work. He quickly rang up the order. “May I have your name?”

If this guy wasn’t anxious before, he definitely was now. He averted his deep grey eyes from Light’s brown ones. He bit the inside of his cheek, tapping his foot on the ground.

“L…” He mumbled.

“Pardon?”

“Elliot. My name is Elliot.”

Light had to resist the urge to laugh. That was obviously not his name, he knew how to spot fake names too well to fall for it. Elliot probably didn’t have any ulterior motives, though. He was probably just paranoid because Kira had just evaded capture a mere few months ago. Plus, Light was using a fake name as well. If he were to introduce himself as Yagami Raito to this mystery man, he’d get into quite an odd situation.

“Alright, Elliot,” He eventually said. “Your total is £11.45.”

Light watched as Elliot inserted his credit card into the reader, before letting out a stifled gasp. Elliot had a Black Card: the exclusive offer-only credit card gifted only to the extraordinarily rich.

“Are you new around here?” Light asked as he walked over to the coffee machine. “I haven’t seen you before.”

Elliot shook his head and tucked his card back into his wallet. “No, I live in the area. My… father usually picks up my orders for me.”

He poured the ground coffee beans into the water, humming to himself. “So that’s why your order seemed familiar.”

“Yes, that would make sense.”

Light turned around to face his customer as the coffee began filling up the store-branded cup he had placed below the drip. Elliot was awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck, staring at Light.

“I apologize if I may be acting strangely. I haven’t been this far from home—or rather, my work—in a long time.”

“Married to the job?”

Elliot gave him a nod. “Something like that.”

Light returned to the coffee, which had now been fully brewed, “Then why don’t you go outside more?” He asked. “It could be good for you.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’m being serious,” Light said, preparing the side serving of sugar. “The way you’re living now, you could pass as a vampire.”

“There are darknesses in life and there are lights,” Elliot recited. “And you are one of the lights; the light of all lights.”

Light scoffed. “Dracula. Very clever.”

“But you are Light, are you not?”

He glanced down at the name tag he was wearing, seeing his fake name spelled out in Roman characters. Usually, being called that name by a customer would feel uncomfortable, but with Elliot, it didn’t.

“I am.” He replied, placing the bowl of sugar on the counter.

“Tell me, Light, from the moment you were born, has there ever been a point where you’ve actually told the truth?”

Light froze, staring into his customer’s eyes. He could feel some sort of connection from him, one he had never truly felt before.

Elliot’s gaze moved towards his order, an unsatisfied sigh coming from his mouth. “I believe I ordered a slice of cake.”

London — September 16, 2021 — 9:05 AM

L walked into the conference room, ensuring his fake ID was secured around his neck.

As he walked inside, he noticed four Japanese police officers seated around the table, all staring straight at him.

“I take it you’re L?” One of the officers said. He was much younger than the rest, probably somewhere around Light’s age. He wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses that disguised his age, but L could tell he was less experienced than the rest. Even so…

“I’m one of his proxies,” L responded in Japanese, closing the door behind him. “I’m Elliot Asahi. I’m an employee here at the L Organization. It is an honor to work with you.”

The young officer looked him up and down, skeptical. “Yamamoto Daiki.”

One by one, the other officers introduced themselves.

“Mogi Kanzou.”

“Ide Hideki.”

“Chief Aizawa Shuichi.”

L grabbed a chair and sat at the head of the table, allowing his knees to come up to his chest, “This position helps me think.” He said, already sensing the men’s responses.

“I’m sorry about our low numbers.” Aizawa began. “We’re here to search for a missing officer.”

L nodded. “Matsuda Touta.”

“Matsuda was close to Yagami back then. Both of their fathers were highly ranked officials, so they were pretty much raised together. For some reason, Matsuda ran off to go and find him here,” He sighed. “But he probably got killed along the way.”

“But he came here before Kira’s return was announced. He must have had some inside source of information,” L stated. “or a contact in London.”

“Matsuda wouldn’t work with Kira,” Yamamoto said. “Not willingly, anyway.”

“But there could have been a chance, especially if he and Yagami Raito were as close as the chief suggested.”

“I went to school with him and I turned out fine!”

L took note of that information and filed it away deep in his mind. He would likely benefit from spending more time with Yamamoto.

“Let’s get to the point,” Said Aizawa. “We need to prevent more murders.”

He pressed a button on a small remote in his hand, allowing a slideshow to project behind him, showing a police sketch of who L assumed to be Yagami Raito. It was a shame he had removed all of his pictures from records, but at least the people who had known him previously were able to give a description.

Contrary to what L may have believed previously, Yagami bore a striking resemblance to his mother. In the picture, his face was soft, and he looked barely eighteen years old. His hair was perfectly groomed to fit his face, and it lightly dusted over his eyebrows, leaving room to admire his sharp eyes. Yagami was the average, stereotypically charming high school boy. Well, with the added detail of being a murderer.

“Everyone in this room—with some obvious exceptions—has seen the danger posed by Yagami Raito in person and stood against him before.” He pointed at the slide. “Over 15,000 people died because of this man, and that’s only the deaths we have on record. We need to stay vigilant through this case.”

The rest of the task force nodded, prompting Aizawa to flip to the next slide: a colored image of the woman L recognized as Amane Misa. “Yagami Raito has worked with multiple accomplices before, including Amane Misa, who is the only one we have solid evidence against. As I hope you are aware,” He sent a brief glare at L. "She has claimed innocence and insisted Yagami was simply an ex-boyfriend of hers. After watching over her, we have determined she has lost all of her memories of the Death Note and anything to do with her time as Kira.”

He paused the presentation briefly, which caused the rest of the group to follow and promptly stare at L.

He sighed. “I know what a Death Note is. It’s not very becoming of you, as police officers, to underestimate me. At least assume I am slightly competent.”

Aizawa continued, “It’s obvious Kira had other accomplices, but we have been unable to find them.” He flipped to the next slide. This time, it was a picture of Matsuda, likely taken from his police I.D. “Unfortunately, given the circumstances, we must assume Matsuda Touta was one of them.”

Yamamoto began to raise his hand, causing Aizawa to sigh. “No, Yamamoto. I know what you’re going to say, and it’s wrong. You know how close they were before. They could have easily contacted each other during the original case.”

“You’re implying Matsuda-san knew Yagami was Kira before he fled Japan and cleansed his record.” L said.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “Is it that hard to believe? They spent almost every day together. It would be hard for Matsuda to not notice the literal God of Death looming over his shoulder.”

L continued to listen as Aizawa went on about Matsuda’s involvement with the case, creating a list of evidence in his head. It all made sense, almost too much sense. But if Matsuda was Yagami Raito’s ally, why would he feel the need to out his location?

It was complicated.

Extremely so.

Birmingham — September 16, 2021 — 11:45 AM

“There you go, drink up.”

Cold water forced its way down Touta’s burning throat as he gulped it down eagerly. It was horrifying how Yagami Raito could affect him this way. How he could make a small half-filled glass of water feel like a lifeline.

In a way, it was. His old friend, Raito, had kept him imprisoned here for some amount of days with just barely enough food and water to survive. He had barely been here for a week, but this much was evident; what was happening to him now was worse than death.

“Raito-kun, it’s me,” Touta began to reason. “We were best friends, don’t you remember? When you were in college?”

Raito didn’t answer. After a brief moment of stillness, his captor pulled away, taking the water with him. Without another word, he dumped the remaining contents of the cup onto the floor, out of Touta’s reach.

Touta gaped at the spilled water before him. His one luxury and privilege had been taken away in a matter of seconds while Raito just looked on and smiled. How could this have been the same Yagami Raito who would deliver spare clothes to his father when he spent the night at work? The same Yagami Raito who would invite Touta to dinner when he didn’t have anywhere to go? What happened to that sweet smile Touta knew to associate with his friend? What was this hollow shell that had taken his place?

“I’m asking the questions here,” Raito spat out the words with venom. He still remembered him, even Touta could tell his former friend hadn’t forgotten him. So why was he being so… so cruel?

“How did you find me here?” The sculptor asked.

“I didn’t—”

“None of that,” Raito interrupted, “Don’t lie to me, Touta.” Any thoughts Touta had of fighting back shattered when Raito addressed him. He said his first name. No honorifics, nothing. Just Touta. It might have been because Raito was used to speaking English and got used to not using honorifics, even if speaking Japanese. However, none of that was going to stop Matsuda’s train of thought.

“Well?” Raito prompted. He hadn’t lost his charm in fifteen years, that was for sure.

“An idol group,” Touta answered. “I found you through an idol group.”

Raito cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. “An idol group?”

“Ichigo Berry—they’re a popular idol group back in Japan, but they disbanded around five years ago—took a group trip to London a little while ago for a reunion concert. They posted a bunch of selfies and videos to their social media pages throughout the trip. I thought you would know about it, considering Misa-Misa—”

“Touta.” The other man interjected.

“Right, sorry,” Touta laughed nervously before continuing. “In one of their pictures, they were hanging out in a cafe; some kind of small business. There were a few people in the background, but only one of them stood out to me. It was you, sitting at a table with a little girl. They tagged the location, so I could find the general area where you lived.”

“And then you decided to contact me?”

Touta nodded.

Raito paused for a moment, thinking something through. He looked back at Touta with a newly awakened fire in his eyes. “And what about Misa? Where is she now?”

“I… I don’t know,” He stuttered. “The group should be back in Japan by now, but I haven’t checked their records, and I’m not sure if they were seen at the airport. They could be anywhere.”

“How much do you value your life, Touta?”

Touta gulped. “A lot?”

The killer placed a hand on his shoulder, his nails digging deep into his skin. In his other hand, he held a familiar cell phone.

“Then give me your phone password.” Raito said sweetly.

“Why—” Touta cleared his throat. “Why do you need that?”

“Because I couldn’t get your face ID to work.”

Suddenly, Touta’s thoughts were invaded with the mental image of Raito shoving his cell phone in his face while he slept, trying to get the right angle for the camera. He began to speak again, setting those thoughts aside. “What will you do if I don’t give it to you?”

Raito dug his nails further into his shoulder, making him wince. “Either I spend an absurd amount of time guessing every possible password combination… or I kill you right here and now.”

Touta gulped. “It’s 1502.”

As soon as Touta got the words out, Raito smiled and typed in the passcode, humming in satisfaction. Then, his eyes darted to the top left corner of the screen. He let out a quiet curse in English.

“I have to go now,” He said. “Behave while I’m gone, okay?”

He shoved all of his tools into a small portable kit and covered up the statue made in his abductee’s likeness. Before Touta could process what was happening, the tape was back over his mouth.

“Also, I hope you like the statue I’m making of you,” Raito forced an unsettling smile. “I’m working really hard on it.”

Without another word, Raito shut the door on Touta, blocking his path to freedom once again.

London — September 16, 2021 — 2:45 PM

Noriko stared at the fish-shaped cake in front of her, pouting and avoiding her father’s eyes.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Light asked.

“I don’t wanna eat,” Noriko whined. “You hate me. I don’t want any of your food.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yes you do!” She shouted. “You were late. You’re never late. I had to sit inside with the teachers because you weren’t on time to pick me up. You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t hate me.”

Light began to drum his fingers on the table, nervously attempting to get his daughter to calm down. “You know, I used to eat these all the time in Japan.”

She looked up at him, her curiosity replacing any past animosity. “In Japan?”

Light’s smile widened as he nodded, “When I lived in Japan, they would sell these in little stalls lining the streets. They used to be my favorite when I was your age. We would eat them for festivals,” He traced the pattern of the treat as he continued to explain. “They call them taiyaki, after the Japanese word for ‘fried fish.’”

Noriko’s eyes lit up. “Can we go to the festivals? In Japan?”

He paused—noticing his daughter’s excitement at the idea—before shaking his head. “No, not yet. You need to get a passport to be able to travel outside of the country first. Then we have to make sure your father is okay with it.”

Noriko’s look of joy morphed into disappointment, shifting her gaze back to the cake. Slowly, she took it into her hands and took a big bite, coating her face in chocolate. “It’s good!” She exclaimed with her mouth full.

Light laughed. “Remember to chew with your mouth closed, okay?”

She swallowed the rest of the bite she took, bringing her gaze back to Light. “Are you still mad at me?”

He reached his hand out to the other side of the table and rested his hand on her head, patting it softly. “I could never be mad at you, Noriko.”

After that, it didn’t take long for Noriko to run off to her bedroom to do… something. Light had no idea, but either way, he knew at that point, he only had a few chances to fully look through Touta’s phone. So, he locked the door to his and L’s shared room and entered the password he had been given.

The phone was, frankly, exactly what he would expect of Matsuda Touta. A few social media apps, a wallpaper of a cat in an anime art style, and a ton of unread texts and emails. Though, the last point could be connected to his recent abduction.

For now, he was simply focusing his attention on the emails. If there was any important information being shared amongst the task force, it would either be through standard emails or the police database, and Light didn’t have access to the latter.

A good amount of his unread emails were from mailing lists or automated messages alerting him his subscriptions to various services were meant to expire. That felt somewhat standard for a missing man’s inbox, yet Light couldn’t believe Touta had never bothered to sort his emails. It was horrific.

Though one email chain stuck out to him: one shared between [email protected] and [email protected]: Matsuda’s business email and Misa’s personal address.

Obviously, Touta came to London to do an independent investigation on Light, and found him through Misa’s social media. But how involved was Misa in all of this? She didn’t remember anything about being Kira, thanks to everything going “according to keikaku” when he was in college. Even so, the existence of this email may have disproved that.

Without giving it a second thought, Light opened the chain of emails.

Light must have read over that email at least five times before he finally allowed himself to gather his thoughts. Misa was involved in the case now? As a possible detective? He scrolled further, finding Misa’s response.

So, Misa seemed to be as dedicated to him as she was before. Though, there was an obvious, newfound wave of maturity that emanated from her. She was somewhere around thirty-five years old now, and it showed. Light scrolled again, revealing two more messages.

Light looked at the final message, the pieces coming together in his brain.

Light scrolled again to find there were no more emails: he had reached the end. He checked the date of Misa’s final email, only to find it had been sent on Tuesday, earlier that week. Coincidentally, the same day Light had brought Touta to his workshop.

Well, this put him in a tough spot. With his luck, Misa would probably—

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of a notification. He refreshed the app, and immediately found that his newly birthed theory had already been disproved.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Raito interview

To: [email protected]

Light was fucked.

He jumped up from his place on the bed and rushed to grab a pair of earbuds. He never would have thought in a million years he would have to impersonate Matsuda Touta of all people, especially to fool Misa, but there he was.

He clicked on the Zoom link, and was soon met with the welcome screen. The first things he did were turn his camera off—obviously—and look at the name attached to the profile.

Clearly, this was not Light’s phone, so he didn’t have to worry about his business account being used for this call. He had used that account plenty during the lockdown the previous year, and didn’t feel like going back to it. Also, the fact that Misa knew him as a wanted murderer wouldn’t do him any favors if he did have to resort to using that profile. Identity theft, however, was not off the table.

He left the name as it was. Considering Matsuda was communicating with Misa using his business email, he clearly didn’t have any reservations about combining his personal and professional lives, especially when faced with serial killers. Good going, Touta.

After a few moments of hesitation, he muted his microphone, took a deep breath, and hit the “join” button. It took a while to connect, but once it did, for the first time in fifteen years, he was face to face with Amane Misa.

Misa’s hair was shorter than he remembered it, resting just below her shoulders. It was her natural color of black, rather than bleached. Additionally, she was wearing a pair of thin red-rimmed glasses. When Matsuda had mentioned Misa’s retirement from idol life five years ago, Light had no idea how much it would affect her appearance, but it made sense. Misa didn’t feel like she had to impress anyone anymore, especially with Light being out of the picture for as long as he was.

She seemed… free, if Light could reasonably use that word.

He watched as Misa’s eyes lit up. She looked so ecstatic that Light almost believed she could see his face.

“Matsu!” She exclaimed, causing Light to let out a sigh of relief. “It’s so nice to see you again! Well, I can’t see you because your camera’s off.”

Light quickly typed out a message in the chat box, switching over to his Japanese keyboard for the first time in a while. Touta wasn’t the most fluent in English, even if Misa was. He had to make this act convincing.

“Oh!” Her eyes softened as she spoke again. “Yeah, of course. I hope you feel better soon.”

She sat in silence for a moment, seemingly pondering something that even Light couldn’t figure out. Part of him wondered if she had figured out he wasn’t the real Touta, or better yet, if she knew he was Yagami Raito in disguise. Though, he knew that was impossible.

“So,” Misa began again. “Did you have any specific questions about Raito?”

Light thought for a moment. What information would Touta want from Misa? What information from Misa would help his own cause? He’d have to start simple, then work his way up.

Of course, Light remembered that day perfectly. He told Misa she had to give up her notebook for a new plan, that Kira would probably be caught soon, took every picture of him from her apartment, burned them, and then he left. It was the only way Misa would actually let him go. He had no idea how she saw the situation without her memories, but it would offer him a new perspective that would help him understand who he was up against.

“He came to my apartment sometime in fall of 2006. He told me to give him… something, and I did. A week later, he was officially a fugitive. The details are a bit fuzzy.”

Oh, that was good. She didn’t remember much about how the whole thing went down. Honestly, Light was a bit ashamed of it. He was ashamed of everything he did in Japan, but his treatment of Misa was certainly up there. He typed out another message.

Misa nodded. "You're right."

The girl raised an eyebrow, “Of being Kira, or running away?” She continued before Light could even begin to respond. “It was a no to both. If I had known anything, I would have called the police, I swear! I know I was a Kira supporter, but I didn’t want Light to be a murderer, or run away to London, or anything!”

Light blinked, trying to process what she had said, before typing again. That was… an interesting revelation.

“Are you saying I should have kept sleeping with a murderer?” Misa asked. “I was twenty-one then, and I’m almost thirty-six now. I know my views have changed a lot, but I think that’s stayed constant. I love Raito with all my heart, but after everything he did, especially when he left… I spent so much time hoping he would come back, but I know he never will. I want my innocent Raito back.”

Light didn’t have the heart to tell her Yagami Raito was never innocent in the first place.

Misa froze, her brow furrowed. “No, there’s—”

Light disconnected from the call before she could get another word out. He couldn’t deal with it anymore: he couldn’t keep talking to Misa. He just knew something was going to go horribly wrong.

He took out his earbuds, put his phone into his pocket, and began to walk to his car.

He needed some fresh air.

London — September 16, 2021 — 9:56 PM

It was no secret that Yagami Raito was Kira.

Misa had been aware of that fact for fifteen years now, and she had come to terms with it. She was just a cover for him to use for his killings, he probably manipulated her for his plans, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to hate him.

Her views of Raito had caused some conflict between the people in her life. They’d ask her how she could love a murderer, but she couldn’t give them a concrete answer. She felt drawn to him, like he brought out a passionate side of her nobody else could.

Even then, she missed when he was just Yagami Raito to her. Not Kira, just Raito. But she would never get him back.

Misa had sat on the king size bed in her hotel room for hours, alternating between different news sites, trying to get some kind of clue as to why Raito came back. Of course, there was nothing useful.

She hoped speaking with Matsuda Touta would help her out, but that didn’t work either.

Matsuda was the only man she could lean on after everything happened, but even he seemed to want her to move on. How hard was it to understand she couldn’t?

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door resonated throughout her hotel room. The former Ichigo Berry members all had their own separate rooms, so it could probably be one of them. That, or their security.

There was another knock, louder and more forceful this time. It was definitely not one of the members.

Misa got out of bed and cracked open the door and took a peek into the hallway. She glanced up to see a man, somewhere around 175 or 180 centimeters, though she couldn’t be quite sure. He was wearing a solid black hooded raincoat and had a dark face mask obscuring the bottom half of his face. The only other thing she could fully make out about his experience were his eyes, which were a deep brown, and unmistakably those of a Japanese man.

The idol could feel herself about to gasp, but she sucked it back in. From what she could see of this mysterious man, he looked oddly similar to a boy she used to know.

Raito?

The man’s eyes darted to her, before he let out a soft hum. His voice was a tad low, yet intimidating in a way she couldn’t describe. He pushed the door open with a gloved hand, which caused Misa to retreat from her space behind the door.

“R—” She could hardly bring the word out of her throat. Her heart was racing to the point where she thought Kira might have gotten to her; he had gotten to her. “Raito?”

The man in the coat didn’t respond at first. He took a moment to analyze the situation, visible gears turning in his head. Then, his eyes began to crease, as if he was smiling under his mask. He opened his arms wide as his smile grew, and Misa couldn’t stop herself from thinking her dreams were finally coming true after all of those years. Raito had come for her.

Without a second thought, Misa ran into his arms, embracing him as if she had never hugged anyone before. She relished in his warmth, holding him as tightly as she could, either out of fear she would lose him again or simply out of love. Slowly, she could feel a strong arm wrap around her, keeping her in his bubble. She could feel a subtle rustling in his jacket pocket, then the click of metal against metal.

“Misa.” The man finally spoke to her, a low growl accented with native Japanese. He held her tightly against his chest as his breaths became faster, more beastly.

It wasn’t until she felt a cold, sharp blade pressed against her back that she realized what was happening.

He plunged the knife deep into her flesh, causing her to cry out in pain, yet it was muffled by the man’s strong embrace. She could feel her blood spilling on the floor, her heart slowing, and her vision blurring. Was she really going out like this?

Misa tried to push him out of the way, but he just twisted the knife in response, causing her wound to grow. She stared up at her killer, trying to decipher what was happening: why he would go after Amane Misa of all people. But what she found was horrifying.

The man was laughing.

London — September 17, 2021 — 12:53 AM

As thunder crashed outside, L sat on his couch in his usual sitting position, his laptop sitting across from him on the coffee table. He read through every possible file and article he could that had details about Kira and his fifteen-year disappearance. He had the news playing on the TV in front of him and was listening to the endless announcements of Kira’s return. He clicked through another page of useless articles and sighed.

Unsurprisingly, Yagami Raito had disposed of every single one of his files when he fled. It was only natural he would want to wipe all of the evidence of his existence before he was convicted as a murderer. Although, this created a rather inconvenient situation for the detective chasing him down.

Raito; spelled with the Japanese character for moon. A unique name one could only assign to the prodigy-turned-fugitive. A name so distinct, yet one that blended into the crowd so flawlessly.

L stared out the window, watching the rain fall.

How did he do it? How could the modern world’s most wanted man just disappear?

L groaned and closed his laptop. He knew this would be a challenging case, but this was on another level. He knew who the killer was. If he could just find him—

L was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the front door opening. His head whipped around to face the door.

A figure emerged from the doorframe. They wore a black raincoat with an unidentifiable brand, using the coat’s hood to hide their face. Raindrops ran off of their shoulders as they stepped further into the house. He noticed they were holding a bag filled with something L couldn’t make out, but he could make out a vague round shape, as well as the distinct outline of a knife located inside the bag.

“Light? Is that you?” L called out.

The figure did not answer.

“Love?”

Thunder rumbled outside as lightning flashed through the windows.

The figure took off their hood…

Chapter Text

London — March 15, 2007 — 2:10 PM

It had been quite a mediocre day for Light.

He was trying to build a new career for himself, seeing as he couldn’t continue with his criminal justice degree. He had taken some nice art-related electives in his previous life, so he figured he could put them to use and become some kind of freelancer. Specifically, a sculptor.

He knew he could analyze and remember faces remarkably well, so creating sculptures in people’s likenesses would come naturally. It would also be a nice method of letting out stress, considering that using the notebook was off the table.

Light looked at the watch he had crafted while on the run; fashioned from the cover of the Death Note in order to ensure he never lost his memories. He had a good amount of time on his hands.

He held a slab of stone in his hand and slowly chipped away at it. He had chosen a small secluded bench in a public park to do his work. He’d found peace in nature lately.

Light wanted to make it resemble his sister, or rather a Japanese teenager he had no relation to. Light Asahi had no family.

He tried his best to perfect the shape of her eyes: how they softly upturned and accented her bright smile, and the three small moles that lined her right eye like rhinestones. It was a detail few people noticed, but he could never forget.

Light carefully crafted the soft skin under her eyes, being careful not to give the illusion of eye bags. With how often the girl slept, that would be an awful mischaracterization of her.

As he worked, he could hear soft footsteps approaching him: the sound of beat-up sneakers against concrete. He looked up, seeing Elliot, the man who had been approaching him in public more than he would like to remember.

Elliot held out two drinks, both in cups Light recognized as being from the coffee shop down the street from his workplace. “I brought you a drink.” He said, handing it to Light.

Light sighed, put his project away, and grabbed the drink. He took a long sip, but promptly spit it out and gagged, “What did you put in this?” He questioned.

“Oh, that one’s mine,” Elliot quickly swapped the drinks, his expression hardly changing as he did so. “Apologies.”

The artist raised an eyebrow, but drank it anyway. To his surprise, the drink was exactly to his liking. It was a medium serving of black tea, with a bit of sugar. It almost felt like…

“I took note of the drinks you would get on your lunch break.” Elliot said. “I believe I guessed your favorite correctly.”

Stalker behavior.

Elliot squatted down on the bench beside him, focusing on Light’s piece. “Where did you learn to do that? You said you never finished school, and I assume you didn’t learn it as a trade.”

Light didn’t answer, still focusing on the coffee in his hand. He had to be careful about what information he gave out.

Elliot began to speak again. “Who were you sculpting anyways? She must be someone close to you for you to include that much detail.”

Light felt his eye begin to twitch, “Who do you think you are?” He asked. “Why are you checking my background?”

The other man said nothing, simply staring into Light’s eyes as if he had nothing better to do.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” He continued. “You’ve asked about my birthday, personality type, the foods I like and don’t. You keep observing me like I’m an animal in a zoo and keeping track of everything about me. You’re probably some kind of private investigator, right?”

“You’re amazing, Light, simply breathtaking,” Elliot began, “I am a detective, but that’s not why I’m spending time with you. You see, I…” His gaze faltered. He hesitated for a moment before tightly gripping his sugary abomination he called coffee and chugging it. Light tried to ignore how much he fixated on how his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did so.

Elliot finished his drink with a long sigh and put his focus back on Light. “I… I really like you, Light.”

Light stared at him in horror. A detective. An actual detective was attracted to him? Him, Kira, the worst murderer in modern history? That couldn’t happen. He was a criminal. He couldn’t…

He looked out into the trees, locking eyes with the only reminder of his past he had: Ryuk. He stared back at him with that same grin he had whenever something was going wrong for him. They hadn’t spoken since before Light left Japan, and Light wasn’t even sure if Ryuk was real or just a hallucination.

But he was there.

“Light?” He could distantly hear Elliot calling his name, but he wasn’t listening. “Are you feeling okay?”

“You…” Light spoke between heavy breaths. “You need to leave. Don’t talk to me ever again.”

“What?” Elliot flinched.

“Why are you still here?” Light’s gaze sharpened. “Do you want me to drag you out?”

Elliot kept that look in his eyes: that poisonous look Light couldn’t avoid.

Light had to make him leave before something happened.

He couldn’t risk more blood on his hands.

London — September 17, 2021 — 12:55 AM

“Light? Is that you?” L called out.

The figure did not answer.

“Love?”

Thunder rumbled outside as lightning flashed through the windows.

The figure took off their hood… and smiled at him.

“I know I’m late but look!” Light held out the bag in his hands, shaking it as if it was some kind of dog treat. “I got you some cake!”

L ran his fingers through his hair. “You scared me for a moment.”

“Sorry,” Light placed his shoes by the door, shrugged off his coat, and walked into the living room. “I’m just a bit tired. It’s been a long night.”

“Of course you’re tired, Light. It’s almost one in the morning. You said you would be here at nine.” L stated. “Noriko was up all night waiting for you.”

Light plopped down on the couch next to L, took the cake and knife out of the bag, and set it on the coffee table. “My new client is pretty demanding. He wants a complex pose and won’t settle for anything less than perfection. I’m going to have to go out there for a few more days at least.”

“You shouldn’t have to adjust your hours for a client like that. If he’s that insufferable, why don’t you just send him somewhere else? But I suppose,” L wrapped an arm around his husband and smiled. “if it’s perfection he wants, there is nowhere else in the world to go.”

Light yawned, “Perfection is exhausting,” He leaned his head on L’s shoulder with a sleepy smile. “I think I should turn in.”

L slowly shifted his sitting position so his feet were brushing against the rug below him, then grabbed the small cake and placed it on his lap. He stroked his husband’s hair with a caring hand and held him close. Yagami Raito could wait. For now, it was just him and his Light.

Suddenly, a news report on the TV caught his eyes.

“Kira has been consistently killing criminals at a much faster rate than before his fifteen year hiatus. Could this be an act of revenge? Or are these rotten criminals finally getting what they deserve—” As soon as the words left the reporter’s mouth, Light grabbed the remote and switched the TV off.

“Damn Kira supporters.” He muttered. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

L observed his husband’s frustration. It was in rare moments like this when L couldn’t tell what Light was thinking. Light’s thoughts on Kira were… complex to say the least. He didn’t agree with Kira, but he didn’t disagree either. He complained about “Kira’s Kingdom” solicitors, yet never threw away the flyers they handed out. He didn’t care that he was married to the man who almost caught the killer either. It was odd.

“It feels surreal to be back on the case.” L mused, putting a bite of cake into his mouth.

Light shifted away from his husband, a look of confusion plastered on his face. “You’re investigating Kira?”

“Clearly.”

The brunette froze. L supposed he had a reason to be stressed. It was known to the public that the Death Note could kill with just a name and a face. Even L himself had fears of his identity being discovered.

“Hey, Light, it’s okay,” L placed his hand over Light’s, moving the cake onto the arm of the couch. “You know how many precautions we have. I’m not going to leave you and Noriko alone.”

“You don’t understand,” Light said with a shaking tone. “Kira isn’t—”

L pulled him into a tight embrace and stroked his lover’s back soothingly. “I’ll come home to you, I swear. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Light didn’t respond, simply hugging him back instead.

“I love you, Light. I’m not going anywhere.”

“L,” Light pleaded. “if you see Kira, he’s going to—”

“Yagami can’t do anything to me.” L stated. “He’ll be arrested and then we can come home and buy Noriko as many sweets as the L Organization can buy. Well, without going bankrupt, that is.”

His husband grabbed onto his back tightly, his manicured nails digging into his back.

L cleared his throat. “That was an ill-timed joke. I apologize.”

Light let out a short laugh. “Shut up.”

“Oh, was that a smile?” L teased. “Is my beautiful husband back to his usual demeanor?”

“Don’t talk like that.” Light responded, keeping the playful tone in the air.

L hummed as if thinking through his options, “Apologies,” Before he continued, he pressed his lips to Light’s cheek. “But how could I speak any less of the love of my life?”

Light tried to hide his smile with his hands. “L…”

The detective took hold of his husband’s face, bringing it closer to him. After a moment of stillness, he brought him into a kiss. Despite it being the middle of the night, L could still taste hints of Light’s black coffee on his lips. It was a bitterness he despised for all of his life, and yet it tasted so sweet when placed upon his lover’s lips. So sweet, it was almost addicting. Light kissed him back, matching his intensity.

“Do you want to take a break from your work?” Light asked as he pulled away.

L smiled. “Of course.”

However, before Light could follow up on that offer, L’s phone began to ring.

Light raised an eyebrow. “What is it now?”

The detective grabbed his phone, immediately answering. “Matt? Why are you up so late? You’re not supposed to clock in for a few hours.”

“Why are you up so late? You’re not supposed to clock in for a few hours.” Matt challenged.

“It’s different for me.” L responded shortly. “Is something wrong? You never call out of the blue like this.”

“Yeah, well…” He trailed off. “The Japanese police sent some information for me to give to ‘L.’ It’s about Amane.”

L carefully listened to him as he explained what was happening.

“She’s…” He began, his words coming out shakily. “Is she alive?”

“Barely.” Matt said. “She’s in surgery right now. She… it’s not looking good, L.”

Before Light could say anything, L had already closed his computer and nearly bolted to the front door, putting on his worn white sneakers and forest green coat, “I need to go to the crime scene.” He said. “Send me the location immediately.”

“L, what is it?” Light asked, getting up from the couch to follow him. “What crime scene?”

His husband hung up the phone, placing it in his pocket. “Someone attempted to murder the second Kira in her hotel room.”

Light froze. His eyes widened and his breathing became uneven: a reaction L didn’t expect he would see from Light. He’d never mentioned Amane Misa to him in any context, so this was odd.

L pushed those thoughts aside and put on a sad smile, “Darling, I’ll be fine. I know we agreed on set working hours but this… this changes everything.” L gave him a short kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning, alright? Get some sleep for me.”

Light seemed to calm down as L spoke to him, smiling back at him. Though, the panic in his eyes had not fully faded. “Alright. I love you.”

“I love you too.” L placed another kiss on his cheek, then grabbed his keys and walked out to the car, leaving Light alone.

He had a case to investigate.

London — September 16, 2021 — 10:23 PM

Touta would be lying if he said he was surprised by how quickly Raito came back for him.

Judging by what he could see of the outdoors, Raito had visited him at least once a day, and that was a trend he would be keeping up for a while. At least, if he didn’t want him to die.

Raito approached him with a small cardboard box in his hands, as well as a small glass of water. After he removed the tape from Touta’s mouth, he opened the box, revealing an array of different flavors of mochi. He picked out a mango one—Touta’s favorite flavor—and held it up to him.

“Well?” Raito prompted. “Are you going to eat?”

Touta froze for a moment, then leaned forward and ate it out of Raito’s hand like a dog. It tasted more authentic than he would expect for some random place in London, but it was delicious nonetheless.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” His former friend asked. “I drove almost three hours to get this to you. I would be sad if you didn’t enjoy it.”

“I don’t care about the taste.” Touta lied. “I’m just eating to stay alive.”

“Don’t lie to me, Touta. I know you like it.” Light held out another ball, which Touta immediately bit into.

“You know, when they do an autopsy on you, this mochi will be the last food you ate before your death.”

As Raito said those words, Touta spit out what he had left of the mochi, coughing uncontrollably in an attempt to get it out of him. He couldn’t let him win.

“Raito-kun,” Touta began. “You can’t just say something like that.”

Raito didn’t pay any attention to him. Instead, he revealed a small cup of water along with a slim white pill. He crushed the pill under the cup, turning it into a fine powder.

“No, no, please,” He pleaded, though he knew it was no use. “Are you really going to kill me right now?”

Raito continued to crush the pill.

“Is it that easy for you to murder someone?”

For a few moments, they both stayed silent, the only noise in the studio being the faint sound of the drink being pressed against the table.

“Of course it isn’t,” Raito said. “You weigh around 60 kilograms, right? I don’t think you’ve changed much since we last met.”

Touta stayed silent.

“Once you’re unconscious from these sleeping pills, it should be pretty easy for me to carry you back to my car,” Raito took the white powder and sprinkled it into the drink, swirling it around as he did so. “After that, well…”

“Raito-kun, you shouldn’t talk like that.” Touta could feel beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. “This isn’t funny!”

Raito walked up to Touta as he begged for his life. He smiled down at his captive and began to force the drink into his mouth. Before anything could happen, Touta violently jerked out of the way, causing himself to crash onto the ground. The glass of water followed him, shattering on impact.

“You didn’t think I was actually going to kill you, did you? You really are gullible.” He said playfully. “I still need you to answer one more question for me.”

The captive didn’t say anything in return. After all, Raito would force him to answer no matter what.

He kneeled down to Touta’s level, never losing his smile. “What happened to those recordings you took?”

London — September 17, 2021 — 1:25 AM

L rushed into the hotel building and all but sprinted to where Amane had been reportedly attacked.

The scene was… painfully average. From the looks of things, the majority of the task force, as well as some of the former Ichigo Berry members, had already been stationed at the scene.

“It—It all just happened so quickly!” He heard one of Amane’s former bandmates say, “One minute, Misa was in her room, and the next—” Before she could complete her sentence, she covered her mouth to stifle either a sob or a gag. L couldn’t tell which.

“Asahi-san,” L turned to face the source of the voice: Yamamoto, who handed him a small stack of photos. “I have some pictures from the hospital here, if you want to take a look.”

The detective nodded and took the stack from his hands.

Amane was lying face down in a pool of her own blood, oddly right in the middle of the hallway, where anyone could witness the murder. There was a large gaping hole where the knife had pierced through her abdominal aorta. She also had very early signs of bruising in a few different areas of her body.

“It’s very odd, don’t you think?” L began. “This man likely had some sort of connection to her, given how they were able to track her down to this exact hotel room.”

“But couldn’t any crazed fan have done that?” Yamamoto asked.

“No,” L gestured to one of the photographs. “Take note of the wound. She was stabbed from behind, and yet she died in a position where you would believe she simply stepped out from her hotel room. It seems likely that she opened the door to greet the perpetrator, and was stabbed shortly after, perhaps during some sort of embrace or intimate moment. Though, she doesn’t seem to have her keycard on her.”

L turned to Yamamoto with lightning speed, feeling a revelation strike him as soon as he said those words. “Were you able to receive a copy of the keycard from the hotel staff?”

Yamamoto nodded, reached into his coat pocket, and handed the key card to L. It was definitely a spare. It was far too clean to have been constantly used by someone, especially given the lack of any visible denting from unlocking the door.

He stood up and unlocked the door with the keycard, stepping inside. Immediately, he was able to take note of two things. First, the lights were on. Second, Amane’s original keycard was set on her dresser, right next to the door. She had stepped outside for a moment, then was stabbed. But the question was: why wouldn’t she take her key with her?

L wandered into where Amane’s bed was. It was freshly made, but was slightly untidy, as if she had been moving around on it. He also took note of her laptop, which was sitting open on the bed.

The detective walked up to it, only to see it had gone to sleep in its user’s absence. He placed his finger on the trackpad and clicked, causing the screen to reveal what Amane Misa had been up to before she was attacked.

This was the perfect lead.

Almost too perfect.

The tab she had left open was one of a Zoom meeting screen, seemingly having ended right before her demise. She had a few more sites open, including a chain of emails. He quickly recognized the most recent email in the chain.

It was a Zoom link Amane had sent to Matsuda earlier that day, which meant Matsuda must have had access to his account in order to call her. That, or someone had made the call in his place in order to gather intel.

“Yamamoto-kun,” He gestured for the officer to follow. “Take a look at this.”

Yamamoto walked over to the computer and took a good few minutes reading everything over. L took note of how strangely composed he was while reading them over. He could respect that, given his previous interactions with the task force.

“So, Matsuda and Amane got on a Zoom call to talk about Kira? And then Amane got killed right after?” Yamamoto asked. “It kind of seems like—”

“Like Yagami Raito decided to cover his own tracks,” L said, cutting him off. “That was what I assumed. I take it you already investigated Matsuda-san’s hotel room?”

Yamamoto nodded. “We did, but there wasn’t really much to investigate in the first place. He was abducted somewhere outside of where we could survey.”

“I feel that with these new developments, ensuring the security of Matsuda-san’s personal belongings is of the utmost importance. I believe I should investigate, just to check that Yagami hasn’t completely disposed of him.” L began. “Chief Aizawa, Mogi, and Ide should be watching the security cameras. The killer was in clear view of the cameras, so it’s safe to say we will be able to track him down that way.”

“What about me?” Yamamoto asked.

“You have the most abstract thinking of your entire team. That’s of vital importance in a case like this one.” He said. “You’re going to come to the hotel room with me.”

As the two youngest officers embarked on their search, their seniors had begun to search through the footage of that morning.

“About 175 centimeters, slim build, black raincoat…” Ide jotted the details into his notepad as his companions kept their eyes on the screen. “And he was able to get close to Amane so easily. It almost feels like—”

“Yagami Raito is the perpetrator.” Aizawa completed the sentence for him.

“But it feels so obvious.” Mogi said.

They watched the man slip out of the building and head into the parking lot. It looked like he was about to enter one of the numerous cars there, but then… it stopped.

“You’re kidding,” Ide dropped the notepad onto the desk, frustrated. “He erased the footage? How was he even able to get into the system?”

Aizawa sighed. “Well, we know Kira has hacked into complex databases before. He was even able to get into ours. And that was eighteen years ago, so who knows how much he can do now?”

“At least we have more evidence to suggest this is the chief’s son.” Said Ide.

Mogi nodded. “Yeah.”

London — September 17, 2021 — 5:30 AM

Light sat in front of Touta’s computer. He began to type, remembering what his model had told him.

“My computer password is ‘ydkm1978.’”

He was in. He took a moment to stare at the disorderly state of the computer’s display: scattered applications almost entirely obscuring his Vocaloid wallpaper.

“There’s a locked folder in my files, the password is the same as the computer’s.”

Light typed in the password again, and was in utter disbelief at the fact that Touta would even think of reusing his passwords. It didn’t matter, though. It made his job far easier.

Light plugged in a small thumb drive and transferred the folder over, ensuring that no matter what happened, he would have access to the files. After a moment of hesitation, he decided to press play on the first video in the folder, dated as December 15, 2003.

The video showed a scene Light was vaguely familiar with. He saw his seventeen-year-old self being filmed with a shaky camera. The quality wasn’t the best, but he knew his own face when he saw it.

They were walking somewhere Light couldn’t place, but he was able to recognize his old Daikoku Academy uniform. His face was buried in a book, presumably trying to study on the go as he waited to return home to his Death Note. Touta was snacking, as he tended to do when he was younger.

“Raito-kun!” He could hear the younger Touta exclaim. “Smile!”

Light saw himself raise an eyebrow and look up from his book. “What are you doing?”

“I got myself a camera for my birthday yesterday! I’m trying to make some memories.” His friend explained.

“Why?” Light asked, clearly uninterested. “We’re just walking.”

“It’s something to look back on in fifteen years, when we’ve got families and stuff.”

The video ended abruptly, likely due to Touta’s amateur filming abilities. Light clicked through as many of the videos as he could: a few hangouts on campus, some candid photos of Light that he had no memory of, and the occasional video of Sayu and/or Misa.

Then, at last, he found the videos he was looking for: November 30, 2006.

The first started out small, only showing Touta walking around Light’s childhood bedroom. After a few seconds, he paused and looked underneath the desk.

“A false bottom?” He heard him mutter.

The next video showed Touta flipping through the pages of the Death Note, reading over every rule with a terror in his voice that Light had grown familiar with. The video ended with the sound of Light’s own voice piercing through the silence.

“What are you…” As the past version of him paused, Touta pointed the camera towards him. Light watched as his eyes formed a cold glare, then he charged at Touta. The video ended.

The final video was essentially just an audio recording. The camera was pointed towards the ceiling, and there were visible cracks in the lens.

“Raito. Raito-kun, please,” He could hear Touta begging. “I won’t tell them who you are, I promise! I just—”

“You shouldn’t bother,” He heard himself say. “I know you can’t keep this a secret.”

There was the sound of something being forced into a bag, then the slamming of his bedroom door. The recording stopped.

The killer sat back in the desk chair, trying to gather his thoughts. He’d found the videos, but he still had to—

A knock at the door.

“Matsuda Touta-san?”

Light froze upon hearing that voice. There was no way the L Organization could have tracked him down already, right? They had to be here for…

“We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Misa.

Without even thinking about it, Light snatched the drive from its place in the computer and turned it off. L would end up breaking the door down any minute. He had to be quick about this.

A moment later, he ran for the balcony, not even daring to look back.

On the other side of the door, L was waiting impatiently, along with Yamamoto.

With the cooperation of the hotel staff, it only took a few hours for them to make it to Matsuda Touta’s hotel room. It wasn’t as swift as L had hoped, but given it had been early in the morning, he could allow it.

Matsuda hadn’t answered the door, which furthered the obvious prospect that he was, in fact, missing. It was just a question of who had impersonated him.

Once again, L had managed to retrieve a spare key card and had been able to open the door with ease. Though, unlike in Amane’s case, it was clear Matsuda had carried his key with him.

“We have to be thorough, Yamamoto-kun.” L stated.

Yamamoto nodded. “I’ll check the bedroom.”

While he ran off, L decided to search the living room. It was a rather spacious hotel room for just one man: a large master bedroom, a lounge with a fireplace, a full bathtub in the bathroom, a small kitchenette, and a balcony overlooking the city. It almost made L wonder if he was paying his employees fairly if this was what the average Japanese police officer could afford.

He took note of the laptop on the desk in the living room. It was obvious Matsuda had taken it from Japan, which meant it likely held some sort of evidence. L took his phone and set it down, attempting to shift the positioning of the computer. Before he could do so, he paused.

It’s hot.

“Yamamoto-kun,” He called out to the younger man, who immediately came running. “There is likely someone else in the room as we speak, presumably Yagami Raito.”

“What makes you…” Yamamoto trailed off upon seeing where L’s hand was placed. He set his hand down on the computer as well, locking eyes with him.

“He’s here.”

L nodded. “Stay on your guard. Yagami could be anywhere in this building.”

Unbeknownst to them, however, Yagami Raito was not in the building. Just to the side of the balcony was the man they knew as Light Asahi. He gripped onto the brick wall of the building, attempting to keep his footing steady. His shadow was cast onto the balcony in a way that could be reasonably explained away from a distance. But if someone were to observe it closely? He was a goner.

L walked through the lounge, checking every place he could think of that had the capacity to hold a human body. Though, he noticed something peculiar: beside the balcony door, there was a potted plant that had been knocked over.

He crouched down, observing the plant. If it had been knocked over longer than an hour ago, room service likely would have picked it up.

As he studied it, he noticed the lighting dimming slightly. He stared out of the balcony’s clear door to see the sun covered by a large cloud, which explained away that odd phenomena.

L stood up, approaching the balcony door. That had to be it. Maybe Yagami Raito had been outside all along, relying on his dexterity to get by.

He reached for the door handle and began to open it—

“Asahi-san!” Yamamoto yelled. “Your husband’s calling!”

L rushed over to the phone, giving Yamamoto a quick thank you as he did so. “Love?”

“Hi, L.” Light spoke into the phone, attempting to hide his heavy breaths as he dangled off of the side of the building. “Do you know someone who goes by ‘Matsuda?’”

L froze, forgetting completely about what he was doing previously. Light had found a lead. But how? “Yes. In fact, we’re looking into that as we speak. Why?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you said that,” Light shuffled slightly, his limbs beginning to give out. “He walked in while I was working on a project and said he needed to get in touch with the police. I was worried he was some kind of leaker trying to get into the company.”

“Is he with you right now?” The detective asked, signaling Yamamoto to, in polite terms, hurry his ass up. “Are you working on something for him?”

Yamamoto raised an eyebrow at L’s wording. “Does your husband—”

L cut him off, beginning to speak again. “Love, can you put him on the phone?”

“Oh, actually, he uh…” Light pressed himself further against the wall. “He said he lost his phone somewhere in the general Birmingham area, so he’s been looking for it for a while. I’m going to help him out when I’m finished with this piece.”

Light took a few deep breaths as he positioned himself properly. He was not going to die like this. “Should I tell him to call you when he finds his phone?”

L shook his head. “No, tell him to meet me and the Japanese police at the organization headquarters.”

“I will.”

“It’s an urgent matter, so please make sure he comes right away.” L said.

“Okay, I will,” Light responded, a small smile forming on his face to accent his words. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

As soon as Light hung up, L and Yamamoto had already left the hotel room and began to contact the rest of the task force. He let out a long sigh. That was a close call.

Now, he just had to take care of one last thing.

Birmingham — September 17, 2021 — 8:05 AM

Light stood in front of the abandoned building he used as one of many workshops. Now that he thought of it, he had hardly gotten any work done on his statue, but how could he? There were hundreds of people tracing him and his husband was trying to sentence him to death. He had every reason to be burnt out!

But that didn’t matter, did it? He had one of his old friends tied to a chair and gagged. Also, Touta was part of the task force that chased him down all those years ago. They were about to have a meeting Touta would be required to attend. And then…

Oh no.

Light ran his fingers through his hair. He was so fucked.

He pushed open the door to his workshop. If anything happened, Light could just run away. He’d already done it once. The Japanese statute of limitations would run out eventually.

Until then, he had to focus on finally getting some more work done on his statue. His career was still incredibly important to his cover story, after all.

The art piece was turning out well in its unfinished state. The only part Light had properly completed was from the shoulders up. In his own unbiased opinion, he got Touta’s expression down perfectly.

He could have done much better in keeping the hair accurate. The part and bangs felt a bit off, but he could fix them eventually. He just needed to look at his reference. After all, he had been waiting so patiently— huh? Something moved in the corner of his eye.

Light jumped out of the way of the door, only to be met with the sound of metal smacking against the wall seconds after.

His attacker stared at him through panicked brown eyes. His shaking hands grasped the chair as he held it over his head.

“Touta,” Light panted. “It looks like you found a way out.”

Had Light made some kind of oversight? How had his model broken free? His hand inched towards his watch. He couldn’t let him escape.

Before he could grab the pin, Touta lunged forward. Light evaded the attack with practiced grace.

He ducked past a weak right hook from Touta, still attempting to grasp his watch’s pin as he went on the defense. He continued to dodge his abductee’s attacks, carefully maneuvering around his artwork as he did so. In the corner of his eye, Light could see the ruins of the cup he had brought down earlier, now shattered on the ground.

So, that’s how he got out…

Eventually, Light was able to open the compartment in his watch, the scrap of lined paper beckoning him. He grabbed the needle inside and prepared to draw blood—

“Raito!”

Touta tackled Light to the ground before he could write a single stroke, knocking the needle and paper away from him.

Light scowled. “You bastard! Do you have any idea what you’re doing?!”

Touta pinned him to the ground, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. “I’m stopping the world’s greatest serial killer.”

“I’m trying to stop him!” Light screamed. “The man you’re looking for is out there somewhere killing people and you’re still hung up on what I did eighteen years ago!”

“Because you killed those people, Raito!”

Light kicked Touta away with all the force he could muster and turned him on his back with a grunt. He wrapped his hands around Touta’s neck, feeling his breath catch in his throat.

The man whimpered under his grip, struggling to fight him off as his face went pale. His brown eyes filled with tears, and all Light could think about was keeping him silent. It almost felt… good.

Light removed his hands, pushing Touta away from him. They both lay on the ground, panting. Touta’s pained coughs echoed throughout the atelier as Light stared up at the ceiling.

Why had he been thinking like Kira again?

“Listen, Raito-kun.” Touta began to plead. “You can do whatever you want to me, I don’t mind! I’m fine with disappearing into the list of Kira victims. It doesn’t matter, just—”

Light sat up with a drawn-out sigh. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his head on his legs, defeated.

“I can’t kill you.” He said. “The Japanese police are looking for you more intensely than I thought. You’re like some kind of treasure to them.”

Touta sat up slowly, crossing his legs. “Treasure? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know the details. All I know is they’re working with the L Organization right now, so you should go to the London branch right away.” He stood up, brushing the dust off of his pants. “Clean yourself up and try to look presentable. Try to inform me of whatever the task force is doing from now on. It’s hard to work on assumptions alone and I trust that you won’t fail at something so simple.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” Touta asked. “You just tried to kill me.”

“We don’t have time.” Light gestured for Touta to get up, causing him to scramble to meet his level. He continued. “I’ll show you where the headquarters is.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell them what you did?”

Light didn’t answer. His gaze drifted to his statue as he began clicking his tongue, “I found something interesting in your hotel room,” He began. “Something that could ruin your career.”

Touta’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“Wouldn’t it be horrible if the son of Former Superintendent Matsuda was the reason Kira got away in the first place?”

The officer froze, his heartbeat almost audible from how much it was pounding in his chest. Light shot him a smile—similar to one he once gave a girl he murdered in cold blood, as much as that thought shook him to the core—and softly brushed his hair out of his face. It was an obvious manipulation tactic from Light, but one he knew would keep Touta silent.

“You can’t.” He said, his voice shaking.

“You also thought I couldn’t be Kira, but you saw how that turned out.”

Touta stayed silent for a moment, keeping his eyes directed at the floor, as if he was afraid to look Light in the eyes.

“I won’t tell a soul.”

London — September 17, 2021 — 11:10 AM

“Matsuda-san, thank you for coming in today,” A tall, black-haired man reached his hand out to Touta. “My name is Elliot Asahi. I’m one of L’s proxies.”

Touta hesitated for a moment, but took his hand anyway. Asahi wasn’t exactly who he would picture when he thought of the great detective L, or the organization rallied behind him. Yet Touta knew he didn’t fit the description of a police officer very well himself.

Even so, the name Asahi felt familiar to him. Where had he heard it before?

“I go by Light now. Light Asahi.”

Shit.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Touta eventually said, bringing his eyes to his coworkers. If Asahi was really connected to Raito, he needed to be approachable. “I’m sorry for disappearing. I just needed a break, so I turned my phone off and—”

“We’ll be asking the questions, Matsuda. There’s a lot of confusion surrounding your ‘independent investigation.’” Aizawa said.

“Jeez, Aizawa,” Yamamoto cut in. “you’re making it sound like he’s Kira.”

“Well, he might be.”

“Everyone, stop,” Asahi demanded. “Matsuda-san, please take a seat.”

Touta nodded and took a seat at the table they had been standing by. The room was a pretty standard meeting room: a projector, a round table, and soundproofing. It kind of hurt to see how the rest of the task force had been thinking about him ever since Raito had kidnapped him, for lack of better words.

Asahi was crouched down on the chair across from him with a small remote in his hand. “You said that you had your phone turned off until earlier today?”

“Yeah, why?”

Suddenly, the screen came to life, displaying what Touta could only assume were his own emails, including an unfamiliar Zoom link sent to him by Misa-Misa herself.

“It would be best not to lie to me, Matsuda-san.” Asahi said. “Though, I am interested in the contents of your interview with Amane-san.”

“Oh, um…” This was bad. Obviously, it was Raito on that call, not Touta. But Touta had no idea what happened between him and Misa-Misa. And now he was being tested on it? “We just did some catching up and talked about Kira being back. There wasn’t much to it.”

“And it was you on this call, correct?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Asahi hummed. “So, if Amane Misa were to be stabbed violently mere hours after your video call had concluded—”

“What?!” Touta rose from his seat.

“We aren’t accusing you of anything,” The proxy assured him. “However, we believe that her attacker was associated with Yagami Raito. It would make sense if during this offline period of yours, you were being threatened or otherwise hurt by Yagami, so we want to ensure that doesn’t happen. We have reason to believe that Yagami has either been tailing you, or that you have been lying to us. Given the evidence, it seems to be the latter—”

“No, he couldn’t have hurt Misa-Misa.” Touta said.

Asahi cocked his head. “Why do you say that?”

“Because…”

“It’s good, isn’t it? I drove almost three hours to get this to you. I would be sad if you didn’t enjoy it.”

There was no way he could have tried to kill Misa like that. It was impossible.

“Raito-kun never got his hands dirty.” Touta eventually answered. “He was too afraid to kill in person. That’s why he used the notebook.”

“The man you’re looking for is out there somewhere killing people and you’re still hung up on what I did eighteen years ago!”

Was Raito even lying then? Could he really be innocent after all of this? After everything that happened?

And was Touta really about to help him escape?

Again?

Asahi seemed to hesitate for a moment. “We’ll have to keep you under watch for a while to ensure that you’re telling the truth. I’m not in a position to determine your employment—”

“Well I am.” Aizawa began. “You’re telling us everything you know, whether you like it or not.”

Touta gulped. “Yeah, I would never lie to any of you.”

Well, it seemed like he was.

Chapter Text

London — March 18, 2007 — 3:25 PM

“So much for that ‘peaceful walk’ you wanted.”

Light stared at Elliot, who was panting from their sprint through the rain. They were trapped within the limited shade of the park’s restrooms. They couldn’t exactly go in due to, well, it being a public bathroom in London, so they were stuck with the small awnings decorating it.

“Yeah,” Light said, running a hand through his soaking hair. “I guess.”

“If I knew it would rain, I wouldn’t have dressed up nicely for you.”

Elliot had strayed from his usual white sweater and jeans. It wasn’t much of an upgrade, he just threw a grey hoodie over a t-shirt. His jeans were seemingly the same brand, but less ratty than usual. His shoes also seemed new. Light could appreciate the effort, even if it didn’t seem like much to the average person.

“It would be odd if I treated today like a normal day,” Elliot said, gazing into Light’s eyes with a sparkle that almost seemed unfitting. “After all, this is our first date.”

“Wait, what?” Light spluttered.

“Did I misread it?” The other man asked. “I assumed because we’re two people attracted to each other—”

“No, it’s just,” Light glanced off to the side awkwardly. “I don’t like you. I invited you out today because I felt like I treated you badly before.”

Elliot hummed. “Some of your coworkers come up to me sometimes. They tell me your eyes light up every time I enter the cafe. I’ve heard them say you started taking your drinks with more sugar, and they’ve seen you journaling about something every day on your break since we met. Even I can tell you’ve become happier.”

Light scoffed. He knew what love felt like, and it wasn’t this. It wasn’t like he was some inexperienced virgin who’d never had his first kiss. He was the most popular kid in school in his old life. He knew better than to fall for a freak like Elliot.

“Light,” He began again, grabbing onto his hand. “I think you’re the only person who doesn’t know that you like me back.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

For a while, neither of them spoke. Intense grey eyes met questioning brown. The rain kept falling, but it didn’t make a sound. It was.. quiet. Light didn’t think he liked the quiet, not when he had Elliot to fill the silence for him. Without him, it felt empty.

“How about this?” Elliot offered. “Either you tell the truth, or I push you into the rain and you get to walk home soaking wet.”

“How is that any fun for me?” Light asked. “Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna let you push me. I’ve already said I don’t like you back, so you don’t have to—”

Suddenly, he felt a hand pressed against his chest. He stared at Elliot in utter disbelief, watching a smirk form on his face. Before he could say anything, he was shoved into the rain.

Light wanted to protest, but then, he watched that once insufferable smirk turn into the brightest smile he had ever seen.

He almost felt himself smiling too. He almost forgot about being Yagami Raito, about being Kira. But then…

There was an ever-growing pit in his stomach, telling him something was horribly wrong here. His eyes widened, whipping his head around to face the creature that stalked him in the night.

Is this interesting to you?

He knew Ryuk should probably have returned to his home realm by now, given Light’s partial destruction of the notebook, but that wouldn’t put an end to his guilt. He would follow him.

Forever.

Forever.

For

ever.

“Light?” He distantly heard a voice call out to him, shaking slightly with worry. “Is everything okay?”

“I need to go.” Light forced out.

Before Elliot could react, Light bolted. He ran through the pouring rain, feeling the droplets mix with tears.

He would never do that again.

He needed an out, and fast.

Fukuoka — September 20, 2021 — 1:35 PM

“Yagami-sensei!”

Sayu turned to face one of her many students. She had found a relatively good career as an art teacher. Even if it didn’t pay her the most, she still found it enjoyable.

Sure, she was unmarried at thirty-two—outcast by society due to the fear carried by her surname—with no close companions, but that was alright. The school district decided hiring her could help “dispel the propaganda.”

It did no such thing.

The student, Hayato, held up a small drawing. It was messily sketched with colored pencils and showed a stick figure clad in a blue cap and yellow badge, smiling. Above the figure, in bright red marker, read “When I grow up.”

Sayu smiled, trying to hide the pang in her heart she felt. “Do you want to join the police, Hayato-kun?”

Hayato nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! I’m going to be just like my dad.”

She felt it again: more painful, draining this time.

“That’s great, Hayato-kun.” She forced herself to keep smiling. He was only six, she couldn’t say anything.

“I’m going to solve cases, just like he does!” The child said. “Like the um… ki…”

Kira.

Did he know? Was that why he made an effort to talk to her? Or was he just an innocent kid, discarding the uncanny resemblance to the brother she used to know?

Before Sayu could say anything else, she felt her phone begin to vibrate in her pocket. Who would be calling her during school hours?

She quickly excused herself and stepped outside for a moment. She looked at the caller ID, and raised an eyebrow. Unknown caller. Ignoring all of the warning signs, she answered the phone.

“Is this Yagami Sayu?” An electronic voice spoke to her, slightly faltering in its Japanese, yet still sending chills through her body.

“Yes,” She said. “Who is this?”

“This is Matt, reaching you from the L Organization’s London branch,” Sayu raised an eyebrow. She had been contacted by L many times due to her brother’s actions long before the formation of the L Organization. But why London? “I know it’s been a while since we’ve reached out, but would you be willing to—”

“I don’t know anything about Raito.”

“Ah,” The man—Matt, as he called himself—began. “That’s unfortunate. Do you recall any mentions of traveling to London from your brother? Or perhaps Amane Misa?”

“I said I don’t know anything,” Sayu gritted out. “And you need to get Misa’s name out of your mouth. You let her get stabbed in your godawful city and are barely dong anything to help her recover. It’s sick.”

“You’re being pretty defensive.”

Sayu scoffed. “Of course I’m being defensive. You reached out for no reason. It’s, what, five in the morning in London right now? You have no reason to be questioning me right now.”

“You know, Yagami-chan,” He spoke again, disregarding her accusations. She was really starting to hate the way her surname sounded on his tongue. “You almost seem to be hiding something. Perhaps you know more than you’re telling us.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sayu hung up the phone and shoved it in her pocket. She wasn’t going to be lumped in with whatever rumors the organization dug up. She was sick of it.

Sayu walked back into the classroom, plastering a smile on her face.

She was not her brother.

London — September 20, 2021 — 9:30 AM

To put it simply, Matsuda Touta was terrified of returning to the task force.

Not only was he being monitored like a criminal, but he also had to keep working with Raito, the actual criminal they were chasing, in order to keep his livelihood intact. Then again, Raito said he wasn’t killing anymore. There was apparently someone else killing criminals.

But still, Misa’s situation put a wrench in things. Raito couldn’t have done it, but who else would want a Kira supporter—or as she was privately known, the second Kira—dead? He’d have to wait until Misa was discharged to figure it out. L had pretty much put her hospital room on lockdown, so he heard. It was kind of confusing, if he was being honest

He brought his attention to Elliot Asahi, who was apparently one of L’s proxies. Touta didn’t know if he was lying about his status in the company, or was just horrible at dressing the part. Either way, he was his current boss. And even after a somewhat restful weekend, he needed to be attentive.

“Yagami Sayu is still refusing to cooperate.” Asahi stated with a sigh. “We made contact with her early this morning.”

“The Yagamis stopped looking for Kira,” Aizawa said. “They’re not gonna help us.”

“I requested that the organization put out a public announcement requesting information about Yagami, but without his family on board, we have fewer resources than I thought.”

Touta didn’t allow his eyes to leave the front of the room. He bounced his leg nervously. “Well, if anyone knows something about Raito-kun, it’s her.”

Ide raised an eyebrow. “You were around him just as much as she was.” He stated. “Also, what’s with the honorific? Aren’t you over that by now?”

“Oh, yeah.” Touta said, feeling drops of sweat running down his forehead. “I should be taking this more seriously.”

Asahi’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it seemed like he knew everything. His deep grey eyes were clouded in a way Touta couldn’t read. He just seemed so determined to catch Raito.

“It’s quite alright.” Asahi said. “After all, you seem to remember quite a bit about Yagami Raito.”

“I—” Touta gulped. “I do.”

“Then I doubt you would mind helping us with a facial composite. We were planning to involve Yamamoto-kun as well, but if you’re willing to…”

Wait, what?

Touta’s eyes darted back and forth between Asahi and the task force. Years ago, Touta would have jumped at the chance to be helpful. But now, he needed to protect both himself and his friend.

“I, um…” Touta began to speak nervously. “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Without a second to waste, Touta ran out of the meeting room and into the hallway. He turned right and headed into the men’s bathroom. He locked himself into the furthest stall from the door and dialed the number of his first emergency contact.

After some of the longest seconds of his life, the phone connected.

“Raito-kun?” Touta called out.

Raito sighed over the line, his annoyance joining the sounds of stone being hit with a hammer. “What is it? I’m working.”

“The L Organization is trying to make me do a facial composite for the investigation.”

“Sabotage it.” Raito spoke casually. “L will take your word over everyone else’s. They only knew Yagami Raito as Chief Yagami’s son, but you knew him for who he actually was. Isn’t it easy enough?”

“But they’re trying to get Sayu-chan’s statement.She hasn’t agreed yet, but they’re still pushing for it. I’m worried that with her…”

“Touta,” Raito said with sudden seriousness. “Sayu won’t do anything. I made sure of that. And as for the possibility of our phones being tapped, we’re safe. I have connections within the organization.”

“Like Asahi-san?”

Raito sighed. “Yeah, like Asahi.” He said. “Was that all?”

“Um, yeah.” Touta replied. “I’ll uh, get back to work now.”

“Good riddance.”

Without another word, Raito hung up the phone, leaving a dumbfounded Touta listening to the beeping sounds of the disconnected line.

Cambridge — September 20, 2021 — 12:10 PM

Chester Chesterfield sat on his couch in the living room of his house in Cambridge. His television remote dangled from his hand lazily as he watched the news with tired eyes.

Being a youth tennis prodigy had its perks. He had tens of trophies to display and flaunt, he played in several international tournaments, and on top of that, he had never lost before in his life.

Well, except for one supernatural instance.

That dumb bastard cost him a fortune in scholarships back when he was sixteen. All of his full-rides and opportunities to join professional teams were squashed by one person. It wasn’t like he lost the opportunities, there was just no point to it. He was no longer unbeatable. His status was gone.

At the very least, he was able to use a good amount of his prize money to purchase a nice house in Cambridge and pay his bills… for a time. He wasn’t exactly doing well, now that he was in his thirties. That Japanese guy was probably living it up in some big city where no one knew who he was. The thought nearly killed him.

“...The Kira case came to an end about fifteen years ago, but now with Yagami Raito making his return, more information has come to light.” Chester’s head snapped up attentively at those words. He listened closely to the news broadcast, paying more attention to it than he ever had before.

“The L Organization has teamed up with the Japanese Police to find Yagami, who officials say has been located in the London Area.” Chester felt his eyes widen. No way. It couldn’t be. “Police are experiencing difficulties with the investigation, as Yagami destroyed all known pictures of himself and wiped his information from the internet back in 2006. If anyone in the general public has any photos of him, L would greatly appreciate—”

Chester scrambled off of the couch, and knelt down to the bottom shelf of his bookcase, where he kept his photo albums from his glory days. He pulled out a thin maroon album, coated with dust and lined with gold accents. He blew the dust off of the cover and flipped through the pages frantically.

“2002… 2002…” Chester would never be able to scrub that year’s tournament from his mind. The day he lost; the day he learned he wasn’t the best.

“There!”

He stared at the picture he had found. It was a photo of all of the Japanese players, as they had won the tournament that year. Yagami Raito was standing near the center with a gold medal around his neck, and those dead eyes Chester hated with a burning passion. The picture was marked up with angry red marker, reminiscent of some kind of Burn Book, all pointing to Yagami. Or rather, Kira.

Finally, he would win.

London — September 20, 2021 — 11:19 AM

Touta, Yamamoto, and Ide all gathered around a large computer monitor, where a thirty-something blonde woman sat with a drawing tablet and stylus.

“I think this is pretty accurate.” Yamamoto said.

Touta looked at the police sketch in front of him.

It portrayed a young-looking Japanese man with monolids and a soft nose. His hair was tucked behind his ears, with a few loose strands falling in his face. He had thin, straight eyebrows and his mouth was drawn as a deep frown framed by perfect unchapped lips.

It looked just like Raito.

“It’s not exactly what Raito-kun looked like.” Touta said. “It looks more like if Raito-kun had a long-lost son.”

“Matsuda,” Ide sighed. “Are you sure you even remember what he looked like?”

“I’m positive, Ide.” Touta began. “His nose was bigger. I remember that clearly.”

Yamamoto’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about, Matsuda? It looks exactly like him.”

“His eyes were smaller too. The balance of his features is way off.”

The woman nodded and selected Raito’s eyes with the lasso tool, making them smaller. She squinted, then moved his eyes slightly so they were evenly spaced. Then, she selected the nose and sized it up.

“Is this better?” She asked.

Touta nodded, “It looks just like him, but he had a scar right here,” He pointed to a space on his cheek next to his right ear. “Could you add that?”

“I don’t remember him having a scar.” Yamamoto stated.

“Well, I remember it like it was yesterday.” Touta lied. “We were biking when Raito-kun was around sixteen. Then, he fell on his face and a rock cut the side of his head open. You couldn’t notice the scar if you weren’t looking for it, but it was super prominent to me. I used to tease him about it.”

The artist quickly drew a thick line stretching vertically near the top of Raito’s ear.

Ide snickered. “You teased Yagami Raito?”

Before Touta could respond, a ringtone filled the room. Everyone, minus the girl, quickly checked their pockets. Then, Yamamoto sighed and picked up his phone.

“Asahi-san?” A beat. “Are you sure?”

The others sat in silence, staring at Yamamoto.

“That’s great!” Yamamoto exclaimed. “Okay, I’ll tell the others to call it off.”

He removed his phone from his ear and hung up. “We don’t need the police sketch anymore.” He said. “We found someone who has a picture of him. We’ve scheduled a meeting.”

Touta gulped. “Where is it?”

“He lives somewhere in Cambridge. The details are on the task force database.” Yamamoto replied. “I need to drive Asahi-san there after the typical work day ends so we can guarantee he’s at home.”

“Why do you have to drive him?” Ide questioned.

Yamamoto shrugged. “I’m the favorite.”

Touta slipped out of the room and rushed into the closest meeting room he could find: one without security cameras. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Raito’s number in a panic.

Once again, he heard the pounding of a hammer against… something. Raito sighed. “Mhm.”

“Raito-kun, listen to me.” Touta began. “There’s someone in Cambridge who has a picture of you, possibly one of many.”

Raito stayed silent, stopping his work. Touta heard him dropping the tools he was working with.

He continued on. “But there’s even worse news.”

“What?” Raito questioned darkly. “What else is there?”

“The L Organization is going to get that picture after the normal employees’ shifts end.” Touta said. “Your husband is going to grab the photo.”

Raito sighed, his breaths growing heavy. “Well, is there any good news?”

“There is.” Touta stated. “The good news is I’m going to help you get to it first.”

London — September 20, 2021 — 5:10 PM

Touta sat in his organization-provided car. A recording device sat in his hand, produced by the same manufacturer as the one he had originally brought with him to London.

He stuffed it into his breast pocket. No matter how much he cared about Raito, he still needed a way out.

As soon as he hid the device, Raito shuffled into the passenger seat, rapidly bringing his seatbelt over his shoulder. “What took you so long?” He asked.

“L has set working hours for us and his proxies,” Touta grumbled as he started the car. “I couldn’t skip work to do a favor for a murderer”

“Right, because you’re the epitome of a good hardworking person who would never hurt a fly.”

Raito glared daggers into Touta, looking him up and down as if they hadn’t known each other for over twenty years. “Well?” He prompted. “Aren’t you going to drive?”

Touta began driving, headed north as his GPS—and Raito—demanded. His hands were planted firmly on the steering wheel, almost as if he was trying to prove something. His eyes darted to his phone, where their ETA was displayed.

“9:10…” He read with a shaking tone. “The planned meeting time is 9:15. Do we have enough time to get the photo?”

Raito rested his head on his hand. “It’s more than enough time. We’ll have much more freedom than you think.”

Touta raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

“Because it’s the task force.” Raito said. “They’re going to obey strict traffic regulations. My father drilled that into them.”

Touta’s eyes drifted towards Raito nervously, causing the latter to groan. He gestured for him to accelerate, but he chose not to obey.

Raito grabbed his hand and placed it on the stick shift. “Just drive.”

Touta kept staring at Raito for a moment, waiting for him to say sike and let him drive the speed limit the whole time. Back when he was Kira, Raito would have killed speeders in cold blood. But obviously, that wouldn’t be happening now. He sighed and accelerated.

They kept driving, ignoring the blaring warnings coming from the GPS. Touta stared down at his phone and read the time again.

“Apple Maps still says we’re not getting there until 9:10. I don’t know if this was the right call.”

“Maps are for brain-deads.” Raito said.

Touta gripped the steering wheel so hard his hands began to shake. He just needed to keep driving. No distractions.

He managed that for about two minutes before speaking again.

“You know,” Touta cleared his throat. “It would be awesome if we catch the killer first. The Japanese police’s ‘dumbest officer’ and um… an innocent sculptor catching a murderer would make headlines! Especially if we catch this new Kira.”

Raito didn’t even bother to react, his eyes focused on the road. It was clear that he wasn’t even bothering to listen to him. Touta would have to draw the information out himself if he wanted proof he was Kira.

“Hey, Raito-kun.”

Raito’s eyes sharpened. “What?”

“How did Yagami Raito become Light Asahi?”

Raito sighed and shifted his body so he was fully facing Touta. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I mean, I’d understand if it was someone else, but how did you fool the L Organization?”

“Touta.” Raito said firmly. “My husband doesn’t know anything about me. He doesn’t know my past and he doesn’t know about my problems. He’ll never know anything and he’ll never ask questions. I made sure of that.”

“You really don’t feel anything towards Asahi-san? Even now that you have a family?”

Raito paused. His eyes drifted back to the road, calculating the perfect response. “Elliot Asahi is essential to my act. I can’t be Kira around him. The Death Note, Shinigami, everything… I don’t feel drawn to it when I’m with him.”

The car fell silent. Touta kept staring at Raito, trying to look for any signs he was lying. But for once, everything seemed normal.

“What are you talking about?” Touta blurted out. “That’s kind of freaky.”

“I’ll promise you one thing, Touta.” Raito reached his hand over to the driver’s seat and patted him down. After only a moment of searching, he reached into Touta’s pocket and retrieved the recording device.

“Oh, wow… haha…” Touta laughed. “How did that get there?”

Raito held the device out of Touta’s reach with a blank expression on his face, almost like he had expected it. He pressed a few buttons on the voice recorder, deleting all of its data.

The killer turned back to him, the blank device still in his hand.

“If there ever comes a day where my husband learns the information you know,” Raito began. “that might be the day when I finally kill you.”

Touta’s eyes nervously drifted between Raito and the road ahead of him, trying to smile.

“Wow, Raito-kun,” He gulped. “You’re not great at making jokes, you know. You always sound so serious.”

“I am serious.”

The upper corner of Raito’s mouth twitched. He brought the recording device back to Touta, placing it neatly in his suit pocket and patting it for good luck.

“Just don’t pull that stunt again.” He said.

Cambridge — September 20, 2021 — 8:55 PM

Light hardly remembered anything from his tennis days. The entirety of his childhood was filled with monotonous extracurricular activities he used to create a better image of himself.

He became the junior tennis champion at twelve years old. It was all a blur to him. Serve, bounce, hit, bounce, hit, score, et cetera. He would win every game, and when he did, he would earn respect from his peers. Whenever he won a tournament, he would win a hug from his sister, a kiss on the cheek from his mother, and a pat on the head from his father.

It was no wonder he developed so many issues later in life.

But even so, he had no idea how much resentment had brewed within the hearts of his opponents. Or rather, Chester Chesterfield. Light seriously doubted he did more than simply bruise the egos of any others.

And yet, there was no way he hadn’t hurt anyone else. He was a man with intentions of becoming a god and a mind belonging to a monster. He had hurt several people in each of his lives.

He needed to atone eventually.

Touta handed him a black baseball cap, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Here. You should get ready.”

Light stared out the window and at the town they had found themselves in. It was quiet, unsettlingly so. He stared down at the hat Touta held out for him. The shadow of it would surely obstruct any possible view of his face, and yet…

He dismissed the thought and took the cap out of the officer’s hands. “Eyes on the road, Touta.”

“Right!”

Light quickly put it on. He tucked a few pieces of his hair into the hat, covering up possibly the most recognizable part about him. There weren’t many fully Japanese people in England with his hair color.

The car rolled into a narrow street lined with small cottages and large gardens. Behind one of the houses lay an expanse of elevated forest holding trees with blends of green, yellow, and orange, separated from the residentials with a short stone wall.

Touta parked the car right beside one of the houses and squinted his eyes to read the address.

“Yep, this is it.” He said. “Do you think everything will go according to plan?”

Light stayed silent, focusing on the layout of the home. Where was the shed they planned on hiding him in? Where were the possible escape routes? How many things had a chance of going wrong?

“So, the plan is,” Touta began. “I go in and ask this guy about his tennis wins and how great he is. I use that to get him to show me his photo album, then text you where he keeps them and what page your picture is on. Then, I bring him outside to talk to Asahi-san and the others under the guise of me being an idiot who couldn’t do my job. While we’re out, you grab the photo from the album and slip out of the house undetected. You’ll head into the forest and then—”

“What happens if Chesterfield doesn’t show you the picture? Or if you can’t keep him and the cops distracted?” Light questioned. “Do you really think you can charm him for twenty minutes?”

“It’ll work out.” Touta said. “Trust me, Raito-kun.”

“Stop calling me that.”

The pair exited the car and began their mission.

Touta pointed towards the garden shed, located near the side of the house. “Hide in there!” He whisper-shouted. Light rolled his eyes, but hid anyway.

As Light shut the shed door, he peeked through a small square hole in it, resembling a window. From there, he saw Touta giving him a thumbs up and cheeky wink, like a dork.

The officer approached the red painted front door of the house and began to knock. “Hello?” He called out in fragile English. “Chester Chesterfield? This is Officer Matsuda. I work with the L Organization.”

He paused for a moment to give him a chance to respond, but heard nothing. He began again. “Hello?”

As Touta waited for a response, part of him felt as if something was… off. The door was loose in its hinges, and the property was silent. Surely someone as boisterous as Light had described would find comfort in noise. He brought his hand to the door knob.

The door opened.

“Hello? Chesterfield—” His attempts to reach the prodigy were silenced by a deafening scream; one Touta hardly believed was his. In front of him, he saw an Englishman with sandy brown hair laying on his side in the middle of the living room, bleeding profusely from his neck.

Touta ran to the man, screaming his name at the top of his lungs. He knelt down to his body, and attempted to feel for a pulse on his wrist. He felt a faint thumping against his fingers, causing him to let out a sigh of relief.

“...ful…” He heard a faint male voice speaking to him, to which he raised an eyebrow.

“F—Full?”

“...your back…” Chesterfield muttered.

Before Touta could even think of what he meant, he felt a strike of pain in the back of his neck, causing him to let out yet another scream.

He backed up into the bookshelf behind him. If he hadn’t just been assaulted, he would look for the album in there. But now…

Touta stared up at his assailant. He wore a black raincoat over a dark hoodie. The top half of his face was cast under a shadow from the brim of his black baseball cap, and the lower half was obstructed by a face mask.

The man’s brown eyes narrowed into slits, and then everything went black.

Cambridge — September 20, 2021 — 9:15 PM

Light stood in the garden shed with his back against the door. Touta had been speaking with Chesterfield for just over fifteen minutes. How long was this going to take?

He sighed and pulled out his phone, turning the brightness down as much as possible. He looked down at his lockscreen, hoping to see a notification.

There were no messages, just a picture of his family celebrating Christmas the previous year. The lockdown made it difficult to properly celebrate, but he remembered the joy on his daughter’s face as they decorated the tree. The only catch was that it collapsed the following night.

Speaking of collapsing…

What’s taking him so long?

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he heard a large crash from inside the house. Light turned, looking out the shed window from where he stood. Then, he gasped.

A man jumped out from an open window, wearing nearly the same getup Light was, with the addition of a black face mask and raincoat. Oddly, the raincoat was the exact same as the one Light had recently purchased.

The man sprinted past the house and headed towards the road, where Light assumed he had a car hidden. But then, he turned back. He ran behind the house, almost as if he could feel himself being watched.

Light, without a moment of hesitation, swung the shed door open and chased the man. He seemed to be in a hurry, dodging between trees and bushes in an attempt to make it out of Chesterfield’s property.

The man placed one leg over the stone wall that led to the forest, but Light grabbed him by the hood of his coat and dragged him down.

Light stared into his eyes, not letting his guard down for even a second.

The man grasped a rock from the pavement below, got up from where he was laying, and swung it wildly at Light, almost like something registered in his mind and told him to kill.

Light dodged every attempt the man made to hurt him, trying to steady himself.

Eventually, Light grabbed the man’s coat, preparing to drag him down again. Before he did so, he shrugged the jacket off of himself, allowing him to escape.

Light grunted and threw the raincoat to the side.

He charged the man as he attempted to escape. Light wrapped his arms around his torso, turned him around, and forced him against a tree, moving his grip to his throat.

Light felt the man struggling, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. With no time to spare, he ripped the other man’s mask off.

The man was older than he expected, with wrinkles in several places that were hidden by the mask. He was very clearly Japanese, having narrow dark eyes and a relatively straight nose. Overall: he was certainly not who Light was expecting to find in Cambridge. Even so, part of him felt like they had met before.

“Who are you?” Light questioned. “What do you want?”

At the sound of his voice, the man smiled. “Yagami Raito.”

“What,” Light began to seethe. “do you want?”

“Where is my daughter?” The man began to question him with a sharp glare. “What did you do with my daughter?”

“How would I know anything about your daughter?”

“You know, Yagami Raito!” He screamed, gasping for air. “January 1, 2004! I’ve been waiting for seventeen years! Seventeen—”

“January 1, 2004?” Light averted his eyes from the man for a moment, hoping to not induce more rage than he was already feeling. January 1, 2004… What happened on January 1?

“Why do you keep checking your watch?”

All of a sudden, Light remembered. He was so stupid! He knew what he wrote. He knew she…

“I am Kira.”

She would never be found, no matter how hard they searched.

“Misora Naomi,” Light muttered, half in disbelief, half disgusted by his own actions. “You’re—”

“My name,” The elder let out a sharp cough, splattering blood onto Light’s shirt. Blood? Light hadn’t hurt him to that extent, had he? The man’s glare didn’t relent, staring into Light’s eyes. “is Misora Mashiro.”

Light said nothing in return. He had to be careful. After all, this man—Misora—had made an attempt on Misa’s life with no remorse, and had been tracking him down for years. If Light made a single wrong move, everything would be over.

“Well?!” Misora shouted in an attempt to provoke him. “Where is she? Tell me where she is or kill me right here! You have my name, so make up your mind!”

“I don’t know where she is.” Light spoke with as much empathy as he could muster towards Misora. “She died in a specific way that guaranteed she would never be found. I don’t—”

“Like hell you don’t!”

In that moment, Light saw nothing but pitiful rage in the man’s eyes. He had been searching for him for so long, and yet there was a hint of defeat in his face. Did he think he would die, or did he simply realize Light truly couldn’t help him?

“Listen, Yagami Raito,” Misora said, lacing the name with venom. “There’s a nice bed and breakfast not too far from here, just a forty minute walk, four minute drive. It’s towards the north. I’ll pick you up there, alright?”

Before Light could respond, he heard the sound of footsteps getting louder. He whipped his head around to face the source of the noise, causing him to lose his grip on Misora.

Light realized his mistake almost immediately, and Misora’s generic black raincoat flew towards him and covered his face, obscuring his view. With a grunt, he ripped the coat off of his face and threw it onto the ground where Misora had just stood.

He looked up at the elevated forest he knew Misora had fled into, separated by a mid-length stone wall. Light placed his hands on the top of the barrier—

“Yagami Raito!”

The world stopped.

He knew that voice.

Light almost gave into his impulses to turn and stare into his husband’s eyes, but he knew he couldn’t. The only way L would be safe was if he never knew his husband was Kira.

Light vaulted over the wall, sending himself sprinting into the deep woods just past the quaint cottage. He vaguely registered the sounds of L screaming his birth name, but he couldn’t find it in him to listen. All he could do was run, that’s how his life had always been.

He needed to catch up to Misora.

They ran for what felt like hours, abandoning the winding forest and running along a narrow street.

Light’s feet burned against the concrete, but he couldn’t afford to stop. L was hot on his tail, to the point where he heard him breathing.

Then, he saw a small building come into view. It was overcome by nature, with plants obscuring it from one’s typical view. This was perfect.

He ducked into the building, preparing his next play.

Cambridge — September 20, 2021 — 9:40 PM

L ran into the abandoned warehouse Yagami had led him into.

He reached into his pocket, grabbed his phone, and turned on the flashlight. He began inching forward, holding his phone out. He needed to be ready for anything.

L walked towards a stocked shelf full of metal tools and reached for a wrench and held it in his hand with a firm grip. That would be helpful.

As the detective walked further into the warehouse, he noticed a small pull switch hanging from the ceiling. He approached it carefully, then pulled it, allowing one remaining light fixture to flicker.

Suddenly, a large hammer was thrown towards the lights.

Sparks flew in the air, and the lights began to swing and crash into each other violently, causing L to flinch. He wouldn’t allow himself to scream.

Then, out of nowhere, a man dressed in black approached him, holding a large blanket up to shield his face.

L readied his stance and prepared to kick him away, but before he could, the blanket was draped over him, and a pair of strong arms held him in place.

He tossed and turned erratically, trying to look at his assailant through the thin fabric, but it was no use. He backed into Yagami with all his strength, grunting as he did so.

L made an attempt to run, but dragged Yagami along with him, crashing the both of them into a large shelving unit. L brought his leg up and attempted to kick him again, but failed.

Yagami wrapped his arms around L’s neck, to which he swiftly pulled away. His survival instincts were too strong to let him get away with that. L’s defense caused Yagami to freeze for a moment, giving him enough time to break free and kick his attacker in the crotch.

An eye for an eye.

“Damn it.” He heard Yagami hiss.

His voice seemed… familiar.

L shook the thought from his head. He needed to get out.

He tried his best to escape from the blanket, but immediately felt himself being tackled by Yagami.

L screamed and kicked him again, scrambling to safety and the chance to finally arrest Kira after eighteen years.

He began to take the cover off again, more confident this time, until he felt the levels of the floor shift.

The detective yelped, rolling his ankle and falling down around five inches from where he stood previously. He leaned up against a shelf to catch his breath and recover, but deep down, he knew he wouldn’t make it out of this.

The shelf swayed from the movement, and he heard the sound of different metal tools hitting against each other. He could feel the shelf tip and held his hands over his head to brace for impact—

He felt himself being pushed to the side, embraced tightly to protect him from harm. A barrage of metal tools fell from the shelf and hit the other man’s back, but he didn’t let go of L for a second.

As the rain of tools began to relent, a shaking hand grabbed L by the wrist, causing him to scream. He felt the handcuffs stored at his waist being taken from him, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Let me go!” L screamed, mentally begging the universe to allow Yagami to regain the empathy he seemed to have utilized seconds before.

Yagami grabbed the handcuffs and attached one cuff to L’s right wrist, causing him to cry out again. He felt the other cuff snap into place and trap him against the shelf.

“Get off!” He screamed again.

L felt Yagami let go of him, and finally took the blanket off after what seemed like an eternity. He threw it off of himself, panting. He looked around, but it was too late.

“Yagami Raito!” L cried out, praying that he might turn around so the detective could see his face. “Stop!”

L used his free hand to search frantically along the warehouse floor for his phone, before eventually finding it with the flashlight still on. He reached desperately for it, grabbing it in his sweat-soaked palm.

Oddly enough, before L could call for help, the phone began to ring.

Yamamoto.

He answered the phone, holding it with his free hand. “What happened?”

“I’m talking to Chesterfield. He didn’t have any life-threatening injuries so I interviewed him and—” Yamamoto panted, out of breath. “He said—he said his attacker wasn’t Yagami Raito.”

L froze. How was the culprit not Yagami Raito? Who else would have a motive to eliminate “fake Kiras?” Who else could possibly have attacked someone simply because they had a picture of him?

“Do you have any idea who the attacker was?”

“It was an older guy. He wanted to take the picture of Yagami because—” He cut himself off and took a long breath. “He mentioned something about having a missing daughter who was killed by Kira. He said he needed to track down Kira and eliminate him.”

L paused. His eyes widened in terror. There was no way. He thought back to every development he could remember of the case:

“Liar.” He hissed. “You need to know. No one else can. You knew her. She talked about you so much. You gave her access to your systems. She trusted you with her life. You need to know. You have to.”

It couldn’t be that obvious.

The Misora family in particular had called the task force hundreds of times, begging them to find their missing daughter...

The man who hurt Amane Misa and several others…

It wasn’t his fault that Misora Naomi’s parents refused to accept the truth.

The killer was Misora Naomi’s father.

“I know who we’re looking for.” L stated. “We need to leave right away and track Misora Mashiro down. He must have hacked into the organization database. He knows our every move and we need to take action now.”

Cambridge — September 21, 2021 — 9:50 PM

Light sat in his room at the bed and breakfast Misora had directed him to.

It was a small brown brick building, not standing out in any particular way. There was a large arrangement of flowers and other greenery by the front entrance, but it had slowly begun to wither due to the colder autumn climate.

Suddenly, his phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and stared at the contact.

Matt?

Light answered the call, realizing a bit too late that it was a FaceTime call and not just a voice call. He quickly chucked his hat across the room, eliminating any connection he had to Yagami Raito.

The call began, and he immediately felt a pang in his heart.

Noriko was holding the phone, sobbing. Matt sat behind her, his face holding a tired expression. Matt babysat for L and Light occasionally, as he had a key to their home, but he didn’t remember calling him over.

Light plastered on a smile. “Noriko, Gummy Bear, why are you crying?”

“It’s okay,” Matt leaned his head over to look properly at Noriko. “Your papa is here now. He’s safe.”

“I—I didn’t know what was going on!” Noriko said through her cries. “You and dad weren’t there when I woke up and I thought—”

Light’s smile fell into a frown. Had he and L really been gone for that long? How did Matt know Light was going to leave home?

“We both had to do something suddenly. I’m sorry," he assured her. “We would have told you if we had time.”

“So you’ll—” She hiccuped through her tears. “You’ll come back soon?”

Light held up his right hand, sticking his pinky out. “Pinky promise.”

The call ended, likely due to Noriko’s shaking hands hitting the hang up button. He had no idea how Matt had let her mess with his phone, but that hardly mattered.

Light turned back to the window, squinting to shield his eyes from the bright headlights of the rental car that pulled into the parking lot.

This was Misora Mashiro. There was no doubt in his mind.

Light walked out of his room and stepped outside, ignoring the questioning of the bed and breakfast’s owner. He looked out at the small, compact black car in front of him and made his way to the passenger’s seat.

The car was filled with the scent of air fresheners and cigarette smoke. Light pushed himself against the door without a seatbelt on to give himself an escape hatch. He could never be too cautious.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.” Misora said.

Light didn’t dare to speak. He bit his tongue to silence himself with the metallic taste of his blood.

Misora didn’t seem amused.

“How did you hide yourself so well?” He asked.

Light shifted his gaze forwards and sighed. “What do you want?”

“I want Misora Naomi.”

Light’s eyes narrowed. “I only spoke to her once. I wasn’t as close to her as you think I was.”

The car turned silent. For a moment, Light almost wondered if Misora had given up. Maybe he had realized that there was no point in chasing down Light.

“What a shame.” Misora clicked his tongue rhythmically, breaking the silence. “I spilled Amane Misa’s blood for nothing.”

Light felt a sudden wave of nausea overtake him. That was it?

“You tried to kill her,” He muttered. “just to get to me.”

“She’s a monster. Just like you are.” Misora said. “Both of you are utter scum.”

“We’re all killers.” Light said. “What matters is I’m making an effort to make sure no one else will suffer because of me. I don’t want the world to lose more innocent lives. I don’t want anyone to lose anything, including you and I.”

“I have nothing left to lose.” The elder stated solemnly. “But you’re right…”

Misora pulled down the car’s sun visor and revealed what Light had come to Cambridge for in the first place: a group photo of Light and his old tennis team, vandalized with red marker.

“You could lose everything.”

Light didn’t even humor him for a moment.

Misora’s gaze drifted to Light’s hands, “You’re wearing a wedding ring.” He said. “I wonder how your family would react if they knew who they were living with. Maybe your child—”

Light grabbed the picture out of Misora’s hands aggressively.

He ripped up all of the distinguishable details: his face, his competitors, the gold medals his family fawned over. The picture became unrecognizable, now only a collection of scraps covered in marker.

He brought his hand to his mouth and shoved the paper down his throat. The acidic taste of the faded sharpie burned his mouth, growing worse as he began to swallow.

“You have no shame.” Misora uttered, opening the car console.

“Listen, I’ll give you whatever you want: any compensation.” He said as the console snapped shut. “Just let me understand—”

A rough hand forced a square of white fabric over his mouth, cutting him off.

Light rolled around in his seat desperately, flailing his arms around until they reached the door to the passenger’s seat.

He pushed open the door and fell on the hard concrete below him with a grunt. He picked himself off of the ground and made his way back to the bed and breakfast.

The sculptor stabilized himself against the car, moving slowly to freedom. He couldn’t be this easily overpowered. He wouldn’t allow himself to be.

He felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his torso. He dropped to the ground again with a yell.

Misora’s grip didn’t relent, and he placed the chloroform back onto Light’s face, now unable to fight back.

“What are you doing to him?!” Light looked up to see the bed and breakfast’s owner screaming in English. “Let him go!”

Everything went black.

Chapter Text

London — April 6, 2007 — 1:27 PM

Light stood behind the counter, staring out the window as he did every day.

Today would be different. He was going to walk out of this coffee shop as a new version of himself, that was what he needed. He’d finally raised the money he needed to properly start up his business as a sculptor. The only thing holding him back was his current job.

He counted up the money he had earned, finding it somewhat sufficient to buy at least a few tools for himself. Just a few more minutes left.

The door opened, causing Light to quickly hide the money behind the register. Who on Earth was going to a coffee shop in the middle of the—

“Light?”

Of course.

Light stared at Elliot, taking in the thick white sweater and ratty jeans he wore, which he seemed to have returned to after their disaster of a walk all those weeks ago.

“What are you doing here?” Light asked.

“I want to talk to you.”

Light raised an eyebrow. He quickly turned his head, looking around for any employees or customers who could possibly walk in. Strangely, there wasn’t anyone.

He sighed. “Here?”

“I didn’t want to approach you outside of your working hours.” Elliot stated, moving closer to the counter. “Listen, Light, I apologize for you being overwhelmed by what I said a few weeks ago. I should have known better.”

“You’re…” Light did a quick double take. Was he serious? “You’re apologizing to me?”

Elliot nodded.

“Alright.” Light began, struggling to wrap his head around the fact that Elliot even bothered to show his face at the cafe. “Okay. Yeah. Cool.”

What the hell was he doing? Why couldn’t he speak?

Elliot smiled softly, then lowered his gaze to the corner of the counter, where a large black backpack sat. It was inconspicuous: no visible branding, damage, or anything that would hinder its worth. Almost like it was trying to become invisible.

But Elliot saw through it.

“Am I your final customer for this shift?”

Light crossed his arms, gripping his white sleeves near where they creased at his elbow. “My final customer ever, actually.” He said. “I quit.”

The other man blinked. “Why?”

“Just—” Light cut himself off. Why was he letting this guy get close to him? “I’ve realized some things are more important. My art, mainly.”

“I suppose we’re even more similar than I thought.” Elliot hummed, his eyes moving back to Light. “I did a similar thing with my career. I’ve been a detective my whole life, but part of me feels like I need to streamline it: avoid dragging too many responsibilities along. I know people have been hurt because of me, so I need to focus on changing that. It just feels like—”

“You’re the only one who can do it.”

The two men stared at each other, no further words exchanged. Light’s grip tensed further as he scratched his skin through the fabric. Elliot had an unreadable expression on his face, but part of Light felt like he didn’t have to be threatened by it.

It was weird.

“Yes, exactly.” Elliot said, his voice hardly above a whisper. “That’s… part of why I needed to speak with you.”

Light felt his heart pounding in his chest, begging to be released. I’m the only one… Those thoughts had been long-forgotten to Light. He had thrown that idea away along with his old name. And yet, Elliot seemed to understand it perfectly. They were the same breed.

“What is it?” He asked. The words slipped off of his tongue before he could think. It almost felt like he had said those words before, in some distant timeline.

“I want to tell you…” Elliot took a deep breath, somehow working up the courage to speak despite his lack of sugar. “I am L.”

Light froze.

L?

How was Elliot L? How did he not recognize him as Yagami Raito? He could hardly breathe, but he needed to keep his composure. He couldn’t draw any suspicion to him this soon after Kira went missing.

And yet, this felt familiar. It almost felt like Elliot—L had said those words before, in some distant timeline. He could sense that he was telling the truth, despite it all. But why?

“Why?” Light blurted out. “Why tell me this now?”

“I’ll explain everything, but right now—” He paused. “I believe you need to clear your head.”

Light scoffed. “It’s impossible to do that with you around.”

“Trust me.”

Light hesitated. Trust him? How was he supposed to trust the man who wanted to execute him? Still, he felt compelled to follow him.

His eyes fell to his watch. He still had a few more minutes before his shift was over. Even so, he sighed and stepped out from behind the counter, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Okay.” Light said. “Let’s get some fresh air.”

Cambridge — September 20, 2021 — 10:03 PM

L stared out of the passenger’s seat window as Yamamoto drove north, past Chesterfield’s house.

They had solid reasoning for Misora Mashiro being behind the assault on both Matsuda and Chesterfield, as well as Amane Misa’s stabbing. The only thing they needed at that point was proper evidence against him.

“We’re working on tracking down Misora.” Aizawa’s voice rang through Yamamoto’s phone speaker. “You both can keep patrolling the area.”

Yamamoto nodded. “Right.”

His mind couldn’t stray from the case: A lone figure escaping from Chester Chesterfield’s home undetected. An all-black outfit with a baseball cap to hide his face.

L would never be able to erase the image from his mind. He’d failed. Again.

But his voice…

“Damn it.”

It seemed so familiar. His subtle accent was one he had heard before, and yet…

He felt himself being pushed to the side, embraced tightly to protect him from harm. A barrage of metal tools fell from the shelf and hit the other man’s back, but he didn’t let go of L for a second.

Yagami protected him back at the warehouse. He had no reason to do that unless he cared about L. But who knew L’s face other than—

No. He refused to believe it.

It couldn’t be.

“Asahi-san,” Yamamoto began, putting the call on hold. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” L said dismissively. “Nothing important.”

“You think you recognized Yagami Raito.”

Yamamoto didn’t even give L time to come up with an excuse. He could see through him perfectly. But how? He was L. That should have been impossible.

“I know that look.” He continued. “I had the same one when I found out Yagami was Kira. I couldn’t believe that someone I knew could be a murderer.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Why are you lying, Asahi-san?” Yamamoto questioned. “Why are you keeping the truth from us?”

“I know I’m a liar.” L muttered. “You don’t need to waste your energy on conveying that fact.”

Yamamoto froze, then sighed in exasperation.

L once again focused his thoughts on the scenery, paying close attention to everything he saw from his window. He just needed to center his thoughts on something else.

The beautifully covered trees of the woods turned to vast open fields, then slowly morphed into a small town with brown brick buildings.

As L looked closer at the small town they had driven into, he noticed a peculiar sight. An aging woman stood outside of one of the larger buildings. She seemed… distressed.

“Yamamoto-kun,” L called out. “Turn left here.”

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Why left?”

“Something happened here. I can feel it.”

Cambridge — September 20, 2021 — 10:04 PM

Touta stared at the off-white wall in front of him. He swung his feet back and forth as he sat in the small clinic he had been treated in.

He hadn’t done anything to help Raito—Light prove his innocence. All he did was run into a house and get himself hurt.

Part of him wondered why he was chosen for this in the first place. Did Light actually care about him, or was he just the most convenient option?

Suddenly, he felt a hand smack the back of his head.

Touta yelped and turned his head to look at his assailant. “What was that for?” He asked.

The man behind him wore a long white lab coat, buttoned up to perfection. He had a set of rectangular glasses resting on his nose and a vaguely annoyed look in his eyes.

“You’re trying to catch Kira with that attitude?” He scoffed. “Try to take better care of that melon of a head.”

“Melon of a…” Touta shook off the remark. He’d heard far worse back in Japan. “I’m usually better than this, you know. I know my fair share of medical protocol.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow, challenging him to continue.

“I haven’t had an injury like this since I fell off my bike that one time. And that was twenty years ago!” Touta insisted. “I’m smarter now.”

“Well,” The doctor sighed. “Why don’t you get back to your friend?”

Right.

He was here for a reason.

Touta grabbed his phone from his pocket and tapped on the screen to wake it up. As soon as he did, he saw a time sensitive notification on his screen.

Chapter Text

Winchester — April 15, 2008 — 1:13 PM

“I came as soon as I heard.”

Light stood in the doorway of the hospital room, the sound of a slowly beeping heart monitor immediately alerting him to the situation.

The renowned inventor known to the public as Quillsh Wammy—”Watari” to global law enforcement—was lying in a hospital bed with an oxygen mask on his face. Light would have thought he was already dead if he didn’t know better.

Beside the bed sat L, who didn’t react. He kept his chin resting on his knees and his eyes never left the elder’s pale face.

Light was familiar with death. He knew it was difficult to say goodbye to someone you knew for your entire life, even if they had wronged you. He knew that all too well.

“They’re taking him off of life support today.”

L spoke quietly, barely louder than a whisper. His words were coated in something Light wasn’t able to read.

He grabbed a chair and sat beside his partner, trying his best not to startle him. Light placed a hand on L’s. His eyes were clouded; even though he was losing his only—albeit questionable—father figure, his mind was still elsewhere. Maybe he was trying to calculate the possibility of Watari making a miraculous recovery, or how he could possibly take care of the children who would be freed from his care.

Either way, Light needed to ground him before he did something he couldn’t take back.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

Light didn’t even register how long it had been since he had genuinely expressed those words to someone.

“I shouldn’t have—” L’s words caught in his throat. “I shouldn’t have forced you to come here.”

“L, no.” Light’s eyes softened as he brushed L’s hair out of his face. “You didn’t force me into anything. I’m here for you, not because I feel obligated. Okay?”

“I never—” L hiccuped as the tears he had held in for so long finally began running down his face. “I never want to feel like this again.”

“I know.” Light said. “I know, L.”

“I can’t let someone else leave because I—I couldn’t help them. I can’t.” His voice cracked, hurting under the strain of it all. “Promise me you won’t leave, Light.”

Light’s eyes widened, “I…” He stopped himself before he could say anything else.

Hadn’t he tried to promise that before?

He’d uttered the same phrase countless times, and yet he’d never actually meant it. He fled. He ran away. Yagami Raito was prone to hiding his true nature, but was Light Asahi any different?

Light couldn’t tell. But would he trust himself to start the cycle of lies again? With L nonetheless?

He took a deep breath, then wrapped a soothing arm around L and pulled him closer. L buried his face into Light’s shoulder, sobbing without another word. His tears soaked through the thin fabric of Light’s black v-neck. He could tell that L was trying to hold it together; he had to be strong for everyone, being in the place he was in.

Light hadn’t let himself cry in years. He learned early in his teens that tears led to eye bags, which led to looking unkempt, which was something Yagami Raito could never be. He knew all too well what L was doing to himself. Even if Light couldn’t fix his own behaviors, he’d do his best to fix his partner’s.

He squeezed L tighter, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“I promise.”

London — October 1, 2021 — 7:04 AM

Light shot out of his bed in a panic.

No, not his bed.

He looked down at the baby blue sheets, which were the same color as his… hospital gown?

His eyes drifted around the room as a loud beeping noise grew louder and louder. He moved his gaze to his arm, where an IV was stuck in his wrist.

He yanked the needle out, barely even flinching. There was a sharp pain in his head that pounded with every movement. His legs felt weaker than they ever had before.

What happened?

Light ignored the pain and rolled out of his hospital bed. He stabilized himself on the wall and pushed forward.

He stepped out of his room and slowly turned his head to look for an exit. He locked eyes with a man in a police uniform standing in the hallway.

The policeman spoke into his transceiver, not moving his gaze. “He’s awake.”

Light tried to get away, but the man was faster. He couldn’t… He couldn’t get away. He was trapped.

The officer grabbed his wrist. “Listen, it’s all over now.”

Light felt a cool pressure on his skin, almost metal-like. He stared into the officer’s eyes, breathing heavily. There was no way. How had they found out? He was going to be caught and executed and he…

“Yagami Raito.”

He couldn’t run away this time.

“Yagami Raito.” He heard him say.

It was over.

“Raito.”

“...What?” Light looked down at where the policeman gripped his wrist. There was nothing there.

“I said,” The officer began. “I can help you back to your room.”

“I’m—” Light paused. There was nothing. There was nothing and he… was nothing. “I’m alright, thank you.”

He pushed forward through the winding hallways of the hospital. He just needed to get out. There were probably several people after him. He needed to hide his face.

Light moved down a ramp, headed towards where the nearby signs designated as the lunchroom. That was a crowded area, so there had to be an exit nearby, right?

Halfway down the ramp, he stopped.

There was a man slightly hunched over. He had absurdly messy black hair and wore a thick white sweater and a pair of baggy jeans, accompanied by oddly new-looking white shoes.

He began inching closer to Light, causing him to flinch and step back.

The man moved again, increasing in speed until he was running towards Raito.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around him and rested his head on his shoulder. All of it felt familiar: after all that time, he was home. He didn’t have to worry about anything.

Light slowly brought his arms up, closer to his partner’s. He brought his left hand up to brush against his hair in a comforting motion, “It’s okay.” He said.

Light hardly knew why he was the one saying everything was fine. He was the one in danger and yet he felt responsible for this man. He needed him to know that…

“I’m okay.” Light assured him. “We’re gonna be okay.”

London — October 1, 2021 — 7:12 AM

“You came to Manchester General about ten days ago in a state of cardiac arrest, then were transferred here along with one other patient. According to your file, your previous hospital put you in induced hypothermia to keep you stable.”

Light sat up in his hospital bed. His lover stood just behind the doctor, holding a little girl’s hand.

The situation was unfamiliar. He hadn’t been in a hospital in years, considering he couldn’t put himself in the system without intense questioning. Of course, strings could be pulled, but Light could take care of himself. He wondered how his husband had convinced the staff to omit his name and face from their systems.

“In other words,” The doctor began. “When an animal hibernates, it uses less energy—”

“You don’t need to talk down to him.” His husband interrupted. “He understands.”

The doctor cleared his throat, face flushed, “Well, I just want to say that Light may experience some amnesia as a result of the process. I’ll be asking him a few questions to see if that’s the case.” He looked to Light, his eyebrow raised. “Is that alright with you?”

Light nodded. “Sure.”

“Can you give us your name and birthdate?”

“Light—” He stumbled over his name. He had to remember that his family was still at risk. “Light Asahi. Born February 28, 1986.”

The doctor took a quick note, then spoke again.“What’s your husband’s name?”

Light glanced at his husband, who was shaking and tracing his lip with his finger. He smiled, then spoke again.

“Elliot Asahi.” Light answered, his brown eyes never leaving his grey. He blinked a few times with varying pace as he spoke. Short. Long. Short. Short…

He kept blinking as the other watched him closely.

L Lawliet. His message said.

“And your daughter’s?”

“My…” Light paused and returned his focus to the doctor. “I have a daughter?”

The brown-haired girl ran up to his hospital bed, tears building in her eyes. “Papa, it’s me! Don’t you remember?”

“I—It’s alright,” The doctor assured her, kneeling to her level. “His memories will return in time.”

Light let out a chuckle, startling the little girl. Without a moment to waste, he leaned down and picked her up, letting her sit on her lap.

“Noriko Adeline Asahi.” Light recited with a smile. “Five years old. Born October 24, 2015. She attends Little Daisy Preschool.”

Noriko buried her face in her father’s shoulder, holding onto him as if she would never have the chance again.

“You’re not funny.” She whined.

Before Light could begin to relish in his renewed normalcy, he heard the door open and slam against the wall.

There was a frenzy of footsteps headed towards him. He held Noriko closer to him out of instinct.

“Ra—Light!”

Light froze. No, it couldn’t be.

Misora said—

“Matsuda-san,” L sighed. “It’s family only at the moment. We can’t let anyone else see him due to the nature of the case.”

Touta?

“This is different! We’re—” Touta cut himself off, his body tensing. “I just need to make sure he’s okay.”

L glanced at Light, and he must have sensed that something was amiss. He nudged Noriko and gestured for her to follow him out of the hospital room. His eyes didn’t leave Light.

He walked out without a word, leaving Light and Touta alone. The doctor followed suit.

“I thought—” Light cleared his throat. He was not about to act like he cared about Matsuda Touta of all people. “I wasn’t sure if you made it.”

“It was just a few scratches. Nothing too bad.” Touta assured him. “I was there when Asahi was trying to save you. I, um, I was the one who called 999.”

Light stared at him for a moment. He had saved his life, despite the amount of shit Light put him through. Light kidnapped him. He tortured him just for information about something he easily could’ve looked up himself, and yet…

“Only me and Asahi-san saw your face.” Touta stated.

“I followed the others to Manchester.” He continued. “Asahi-san said his husband was kidnapped, so I knew I had to step in. I guarded the door and didn’t let them in until the ambulance came. When it did, I covered your face with my jacket to try and hide your identity. I doubt they thought anything of it, so we should be—”

“Thank you.”

The words came out before Light even processed what he was thinking.

“Wha—” Touta spluttered. “What did you just say?”

“Thank you, Touta,” Light repeated, louder this time. “for keeping my secret.”

“Yeah,” He beamed. “It’s no problem at all! But, um…”

Light sighed. “What is it now?”

“Aizawa and the others want your deposition, so they can arrest Misora and try to capture… you as soon as possible.”

Light froze.

“You can’t be serious.” He said, half-laughing. This was going too far. “I can’t do that. They’re going to recognize me.”

“They would,” Touta began. “If I didn’t give you… this!”

Touta held out a black motorcycle helmet with a dark-tinted visor that he had shockingly kept hidden throughout their entire conversation.

“I told them you’d want to be cautious, given that you were just kidnapped because of possible connections to Kira.” The officer said. “They agreed, so…”

Light shrugged and took the helmet from Touta’s hands. He slipped it over his head, engulfing his entire face in darkness. It was an oddly smart move for someone with as few brain cells as Touta.

“What about Misora?” The sculptor asked.

“He’s unstable. That is, he’s in poor condition.” Touta said, his smile fading. “They gave him surgery for a spinal injury, but he didn’t react well. He’s conscious, but isn’t responding to any questioning we’ve tried on him. The doctors said he had some preexisting health conditions—”

“Coughing blood,” Light cut in. “He was coughing up blood when I ran into him at Chesterfield’s house.”

“Exactly!” Touta exclaimed. “Yeah, we noticed that too when we brought him in. He also had some severe pneumonia and a few other symptoms. It all adds up to—”

“Something serious, something terminal.” Light said. “Something that would drive a man to go on a vengeful killing spree because he knew he wouldn’t make it out alive.”

“Light.” Touta began firmly, causing Light to freeze. He appreciated Touta using his chosen name, but it felt wrong somehow. “Don’t tell me you’re seriously considering what I think you are.”

Light turned his head to face the window. He stared at the cool autumn scenery below: the red-leaved trees and people wearing long warm coats.

“I am.” He replied, not letting any emotion show on his face. “I need to kill Misora now; while no one will suspect anything.”

London — October 1, 2021 — 9:34 AM

“They’re going to proceed with the deposition as quickly as possible.” L said, placing a small black phone stand in front of Light’s hospital bed. “I’m sure you’re very confident in your ability to—”

“Is this something that needs confidence?” Light asked with a playful inflection.

“No.” L resigned. “But it’s a matter of how much you remember about that day. You’ll need every miniscule detail in order.”

Light smiled. “You know that won’t be a problem.”

The detective didn’t respond, his gaze pointedly aimed away from him.

Light brought his hand up to L’s face, preparing to cup his cheek. L was a stubborn person, but it was clear that he was beginning to waver in his conviction. Light inched closer to give him a sign that he was there—

L leaned backward, stumbling. His grey pupils were blown wide as his pale hands trembled.

“L?” Light called out to him. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer, his hands shaking uncontrollably and his breaths growing shorter. He could imagine how L saw Light in that moment: the monster he promised he would never be.

Light began to speak in an attempt to pull him out of the haze.

“You’re shaking.”

“Oh,” L returned to himself for a moment, his arms drifting back to his pockets. “Am I?”

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door, preventing Light from saying another word.

L rushed to open the door for the task force as Light brought the helmet Touta provided over his head, obscuring his face just as two men entered the room. It was only then when he realized just how complicated this would be.

Of course, Aizawa’s appearance was a given. Yagami Soichiro had seen him as one of the most valuable workers in the NPA back when Light was living in Japan, so it wasn’t a surprise that he would be interviewing a so-called survivor of a Kira-related attack. After all, he was both the head of the task force (below L, of course) and chief of police.

No, what shocked Light most was the appearance of Yamamoto, his old friend from school. Despite being well into his thirties, it looked like he’d barely aged. His once-short black hair was quite a bit longer than Light remembered, but it framed his face in an almost nostalgic manner. He still had the same thin rectangular glasses as well.

It was nice to see him, but Light had to focus on the task at hand.

Aizawa took out his phone and attached it to a phone stand. He then pulled up a chair and sat on the other side of it, the camera pointed towards Light. L and Yamamoto stood behind him, observing.

“Light Asahi,” Aizawa began, speaking in English. “Would you prefer this deposition to be conducted in English or Japanese?”

Light folded his hands in his lap. On one hand, most of the task force—specifically Aizawa—didn’t have very complex English vocabularies, so using their native language would lend to a smoother interview. However, if they were to speak in Japanese, there would be a high likelihood of his voice being recognized by either Aizawa or Yamamoto.

It was a high risk: a zero-sum game. He would either win a chance to keep living as Light Lawliet or lose it all.

It was a good thing he never lost.

“Japanese.” Light said, switching to his mother tongue.

Aizawa leaned forward in his chair, keeping his gaze fixed on Light. “Why was Misora Mashiro so intent on torturing you instead of killing you right away?”

The air grew colder. It seemed like the helmet had obscured any distinguishable features about him, even his voice, and yet Aizawa seemed set on proving him guilty through this interrogation.

Did he have no faith in Light, or was he simply amazing at hiding that he knew the truth?

A moment passed, causing Aizawa to elaborate, “Torture is an extreme method many criminals use to get answers from their victims.” He began. “What kind of answers did Misora Mashiro think he would find in Light Asahi?”

“Aizawa-san,” L interrupted with a firm tone. “That’s a leading question. I understand that my husband’s situation was complicated, but you’re treating this like a courtroom, not a hospital.”

Aizawa looked up at L, brows furrowed, “Listen, Asahi-san, even if you’re L’s proxy, you shouldn’t be interfering with official NPA business.” He said. “Either observe silently or leave the room. I don’t care what your boss says.”

“Asahi-san, maybe he’s right.” Yamamoto began lightly. “You’re being a bit strict.”

“I’m being too strict?” L parroted. “I am your superior. I have been directly aiding the case as well as being the only one in this room who even bothered to revive Light. I’m not sure what you believe my problem is.”

His gaze shifted to Light, softening for a moment. Both men realized one thing: L could not keep up his persona in this state.

L kept looking at Light, searching for an answer for what he wanted him to do. Light nodded slightly and flickered his gaze towards the door. L nodded.

“I should leave.” He said, moving towards the door.

L exited the room and slammed the door behind him, causing the walls to shake.

Light stayed silent, but began to silently fidget with his wedding ring. L was acting oddly, that was for sure. He was always calculated. He never had outbursts without solid reason.

He thought back to the bathhouse again. How much had L been changed by it? Was he angry at the task force for not helping him, or just frustrated by the circumstances of the case?

Every time Light tried to find the truth, another piece of evidence appeared that nullified it.

But he had to focus on—

“Well, anyways, can you restate your account?” Aizawa began. “We’ll need it on record.”

Light nodded. “Misora Mashiro began to threaten me back at the bed and breakfast. While trying to get him to leave me alone, I told him my husband was a police officer. I didn’t specify that he was a direct link to L, but that information alone was enough for him to vent his anger to me. He kept asking me why L couldn’t save his daughter; why he had given up the search. After that, I blacked out. When I woke up, I was tied to that gripping bar with water up to my chest.”

“But that’s where it gets confusing.” Aizawa said, half muttering to himself. “Why didn’t he kill you the way he tried to kill Amane? Why did he take the time to drown you specifically, when Amane had been confirmed as a former Kira in the database he hacked into? Why wouldn’t he want to vent his anger on an actual Kira instead of a faceless civilian?”

“I have no idea why.” Light lied.

“And speaking of Amane,” The chief continued. “Did you know you’re currently staying in the same hospital as her? Both you and Misora—vital people to this case—are staying in the same hospital as Amane Misa. Weird, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

“I have a theory about the torture stuff.” Yamamoto said. Aizawa turned towards him, silently permitting him to continue. “If we had been only a few minutes later, or taken too long to call 999, then he would have died. We all would have felt guilty for not saving him, and it would cause the organization to feel a similar pain to what Misora felt. If Amane had been tortured, we wouldn’t be as sympathetic towards her.”

“That makes sense,” Light voiced. “It’s perfect reasoning.” A perfect alibi.

“We don’t know any of Misora’s thoughts.” Aizawa stated. “We don’t have any evidence of his motives behind the torture and we won’t until he recovers.”

“I guess you’re right,” Light said. “But for the rest of our time together, could you please only ask me questions I know I can answer?”

“Right.” Aizawa cleared his throat. “So, in your account, you said you were at the bed and breakfast because, by coincidence, you encountered Officer Matsuda at your workshop all the way in Birmingham and decided to follow him to Cambridge. Then, you mistakenly got in Misora Mashiro’s rental car by coincidence. Then, he abducted you by absolute coincidence.”

“Is that a question?” Light began to smile beneath his tinted visor. “Or are you just restating my own evidence to my face?”

Yamamoto looked away from him for a moment, covering his mouth with a fist to stifle the noises he made. It was somewhat entertaining.

Aizawa, however, was not amused.

“Let’s call it doubt.” He said.

“Chief Aizawa Shuichi-san,” Light began, leaning forward to meet Aizawa’s level. “You seem like you’re already holding some kind of grudge against me.”

Aizawa scoffed, “How could I? We’ve only just met.” He leaned back in his chair, returning to a professional posture. “But who knows? You might just remind me of someone from a long time ago.”

Light grinned. “So, the man taking my deposition bears an unjustified bias against me.” A beat. “Do you really expect to catch Kira with that attitude?”

“In fact…” Light turned back to Yamamoto. “You seem like you’re more qualified for this position than he ever was.”

Never in his life did Light believe he would say those words to Yamamoto.

Aizawa sighed and placed his head in his hands, “Alright.” After a moment, he stood up from his chair and moved out into the hallway. “Yamamoto, you can take over.”

“Oh,” His former schoolmate moved from where he stood, heading towards where his superior had just sat. “If you say so.”

Light stifled a laugh. It was all so perfect, so easy. Everyone was just like cheap Play-Doh in his hands; fragile and easily malleable. But Light was a professional sculptor.

In other words, he had absolutely nothing to worry about.

London — October 1, 2021 — 10:05 AM

“Your husband did amazingly, you know.”

L tried his best to stay focused on Yamamoto, but it was hard to hide his frustration. The latter’s mouth formed into a thin, awkward line as he waited for L to respond.

The hallway they stood in was rather cold, L noted. It was much colder in Light’s wing of the hospital than anywhere else. It was odd.

He looked at Yamamoto, who remained silent. L sighed.

“I’m aware.” He stated blandly.

Yamamoto leaned in slightly, trying to grab the detective’s attention. “You should be proud of him, Asahi-san.”

“Should I really?”

The younger man cleared his throat awkwardly. “Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“I’d rather not.”

L hesitated for a moment, then looked back at his underling. His gaze felt strangely judgemental, like L had no right to be upset with his husband even after everything that had happened.

He was glad he was safe, but still, after that interview…

L moved to open the door. “Alright, fine.”

Yamamoto scurried out of the way as L made his way into Light’s hospital room. His tinted helmet sat on the nearby table, seemingly thrown from his head the moment the task force had left the room. Light wasted no time in greeting L with a smile.

“The interview went well after you left.” He said.

The room was silent, a cool breeze from the window causing the blue curtains to float up and reach for the ceiling. Light kept staring at L, but the latter didn’t return his gaze.

He didn’t dare look in his husband’s eyes. He couldn’t. Not then.

“What’s wrong?” Light asked. “Did something happen?”

“No.” L lied, keeping his gaze focused away from Light. “I heard good things about you from the task force. I always said you were remarkable with words.”

“L.” Light said his name firmly, as if he was scolding a child. “I know you’re lying to me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

L looked out the window as a few birds flew by. They were painted a vibrant yellow, contrasting the soft blue hues of the sky. He felt tears begin to build in his eyes. None of this was fair. He should have been happy for Light. But now…

“Please, what’s wrong?”

“I told you it’s nothing.” L insisted, shifting his weight. “I’m simply going through a bit of a rough patch with the investigation. I’ll be alright.”

“L, honey,” The pet name rolled smoothly off of Light’s tongue. “Why don’t you go home and rest?”

“How can I possibly rest at home?” L questioned.

“L.” Light pressed forward, grasping for L’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

“‘What’s wrong?!’” L snapped, ripping his hand away from Light as he watched in bewilderment. “You almost died in front of me. It was barely even ten days ago. For ten days, you were dying because I couldn’t save you from Misora in time. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

“I spent days trying to take care of Noriko. I had to tell her that her papa might never come back. Did you know that?” L continued. “It hurt. All I could think of was losing everything, losing her after you. You’re her hero, Light. I don’t know what would happen if you died, and I’m terrified because I’m supposed to know everything. Do you have any idea how it feels to look at your little girl and only imagine how she could be murdered just for being your daughter?”

Light stared at him with widened eyes. His brown pupils were unfocused, as if searching all over the room for evidence that would magically solve their problems.

L stared up at Light, angry tears streaming down his face. “You’re asking me to go home and rest? All I can think of when I go into that house is that you could die and I wouldn’t be able to do anything. It would all be my fault. Again.” L dug his uneven nails into his palms, feeling an angry red shoot through his skin. “You will never understand how those ten days felt. Even if you die and come back to life, you will never come close to understanding. If Kira—”

L paused. His eyes moved towards the ground, creating small wet dots on the hardwood floor. “All this time, you… I was…” He looked up again. He felt a newfound fire in his heart, as if he was having a heart attack. “What even are you, Light Lawliet?”

He spit his husband’s name out with venom, not even daring to let him answer the question. L already knew exactly what he would say.

“I’m leaving.” L said, turning towards the door.

“L,” Light attempted to reach for L’s hand again, to no avail. “Please, talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Before Light could speak again, L was already gone, with the door closed behind him.

L couldn’t let Light control his emotions anymore.

Not after what he had learned.

Manchester — September 21, 2021 — 4:02 AM

The steady beeping of the heart monitor rang in L’s ears. He could register that Light was breathing, but would it stay that way?

He squeezed his husband’s hand tighter, tracing his thumb along where his wedding band once sat. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine that they were back home in their bed, taking a break from the rest of the world. Light would take L’s hand in his and kiss it softly with that charming look in his eyes.

There would be no hospitals, no hypothermia, and no murderers trying to tear their family apart. Just two lovers and their daughter.

These had been the longest two hours of L’s life. Light was still unconscious, but the doctors hadn’t said how long he’d be asleep. There was a chance of him stirring, but nothing was guaranteed. They had told L that there was a chance of Light falling into a coma.

He desperately wished that wouldn’t happen.

L watched as his husband’s head shifted, drifting closer to where L sat by his bedside. Light’s eyes opened for a moment, then closed again. Then open, and the cycle repeated for a few seconds. But L’s gaze never faltered.

Light’s eyes stayed open for the first time after about eight attempts. His brown irises seemed glazed over, obscured by a strange sleepiness and lack of lucidity. He opened his mouth slightly, and he spoke.

“...for the better, Sayu.” Light muttered so softly that L couldn’t catch the full sentence. He was still paralyzed by the very idea that Light recognized that he was there. His husband was speaking softly in Japanese, which was unusual for him. Before L could think about it further, Light continued. “I need to go. I can’t stay here now that… now that Touta knows. Don’t… come looking for me.”

L held Light’s hand tighter. Part of him knew that in this state, his husband wasn’t completely lucid, but the other registered there was a very real chance that his suspicions were being confirmed not by an investigation, but through Light himself.

Light’s eyes began to water, and for the first time since he left for Camrbidge, he squeezed L’s hand back, “It’s for the better.” he said. “You deserve a good life.”

The detective made an effort to not say anything. As a husband and father, he knew that Light needed someone to stand by his side in these moments and tell him that everything would be okay. But as a detective, he needed answers.

“I’m not…” Light’s tone turned softer, and his eyes began to flutter closed once again. “I’m not going to live as Yagami Raito ever again.”

For a moment, it felt like L’s heart had stopped.

There was no way.

His husband returned to his deep slumber, letting go of his hold on L’s hand.

Light was Kira.

Fukuoka — October 1, 2021 — 5:00 PM

Yagami Sayu’s thoughts on her brother were complicated.

All she could remember was how things used to be.

Those days when he would come home and sit down at the table, barely touching his food. Raito always blamed it on his study sessions or grabbing food on the way home from school. Even when he left early to “study,” none of them questioned it. He was their perfect Raito. He wasn’t out partying, drinking, or doing whatever normal teenagers did to get into trouble.

Gods, how Sayu wished he was just out partying.

She looked down at her lap, where she held a one-way flight ticket to London.

Part of her wondered how Raito felt all those years ago when he was in this exact situation. She could never forget the look of apprehension in his eyes as he tore out all the pictures of himself from the house, and the shaking of his voice as he begged her to stay put; when he told her he had to end his life as Yagami Raito.

She was only seventeen at that time. She didn’t know Raito was Kira, why he was running from Matsuda and the rest of the task force, or why he was in such a frenzy. For the years following, she kept asking herself the same questions. What drove him to become Kira? Why did he leave it behind when he realized the risks?

She sighed and reached into the pocket of her cardigan for her phone.

As much as she hated it, there was only one way to find out.

She went through her recent calls and pressed on one in particular before holding her phone to her ear. Her call was answered in seconds.

“I’m glad you changed your mind, Yagami-chan.”

“I didn’t change anything.” Sayu replied.

Matt let out a short laugh. “That’s something you have in common with your brother.”

“Don’t make me regret this.” She huffed. “I just wanted to thank you, but I doubt that’s gonna work out.”

“Thank me?”

“For stopping that Misora guy.” Sayu clarified. “I don’t want my family to get hurt anymore. Thanks for catching him.”

“Oh, right.” Matt seemed uncertain, his tone shifting. It was odd. “You’re welcome, Yagami-chan. Can I expect any further contact from you?”

Sayu sighed, her gaze moving to the boarding gate. A soft smile graced her lips.

“I doubt it.”

London — October 3, 2021 — 9:34 AM

Light stood in the middle of a blinding white hallway. Both he and Misora had been transferred to this hospital through the L Organization, so it wasn’t hard for him to get into this wing.

He let his right hand rest on the handlebar of a metal hospital cart he’d found, with a fresh hospital gown on top of it. Light had dressed himself in a set of clean enough scrubs to play his part well. He was just another nurse; one who could be trusted around known criminals.

His left arm remained in front of him as he watched his watch tick, and tick, and tick…

It had been so long since he’d used this.

But he had to put those thoughts aside. He just needed to get this done. So, Light grabbed a baby blue face mask by its strings and prepared to cover himself—

“You’re here.”

He heard a familiar voice call out to him; high pitched and shaking with an emotion he couldn’t place.

Light looked up from the metal cart and stared out into the hall. A woman stood in front of him, donning a hospital gown not unlike the one Light had worn. Her dark bangs were sharply cut and dusted over her thin brows. Her glasses sat lightly on the bridge of her nose, framing her widened brown eyes. She held the hand grips of her silver walker with shaking resolve.

“Raito,” Misa called out, rolling her walker closer to her lost love. “Why are you here? How—”

She stopped walking, her gaze fixating on Light, like she was memorizing every detail. Light didn’t know what caused her hesitation; if it was his guarded body language or the wedding band resting on his ring finger.

Misa was the kind of person who never held back on what she wanted. She had questionable ways of getting what she wanted—that being Light himself—but she always got it, no matter the cost. Light never really liked that about her, given how she let innocents die just to prove a point to him.

But there was a softness in her eyes that he couldn’t ignore; something different from the passionate Kira supporter he once “dated.” Something had shifted between then and the present.

“I was twenty-one then, and I’m almost thirty-six now.”

Something…

“I love Raito with all my heart, but after everything he did, especially when he left… I spent so much time hoping he would come back, but I know he never will. I want my innocent Raito back.”

Shifted.

Light kept his hands planted firmly on the handle of the cart. He had to keep up his act, but Misa… was Misa. He knew she would never let this rest.

“I’m atoning.” Light finally said, letting out a breath he had no idea he was holding. “I’m catching Kira.”

“But you’re—” Misa stopped, then quickly shook the thought from her mind. “I was talking with Matsu a while ago. He was talking about you, not anyone else.”

“You were talking to me on that call, Misa.” He stated, not meeting her eyes. “I needed to know how much he told you about me.”

The idol opened her mouth to speak, then let it slowly drift closed. She reached out one hand with the other gripping her walker to keep her steady. Her arm froze in the air, then drifted down towards Light’s wrist. She extended a finger just above the black leather band of his watch and reached out to feel it—

Light yanked his arm back in a flinch. No. He wasn’t going to let her relive her years as Kira. That burden was his and his alone.

“Listen, Misa,” He began. “Matsuda—the real one—is here in London with me. I’ll get him to talk to you so you can meet up with him. We’ll figure something out. You should clear out of the hallway, before something happens.”

Misa didn’t say anything. Her hand moved positions, reaching up to cup his face. She looked both lost and found at the same time, like even though he had forsaken her, she waited for him. She always did.

She brought her palm to Light’s cheek and carefully rubbed his tan skin with her palm. He could feel his body stiffening, his hold on the cart growing so tight it was painful. It was just Misa; the same Misa he’d met all those years ago. What was he doing?

Misa seemed to take notice of his behavior. Her lips parted in a way that Light couldn’t describe, but he noted the expression. She peeled her hand away from his face, not daring to do anything else.

“Be careful, Raito.” She said.

Light stopped. Raito.

He’d forgotten how that name sounded when it wasn’t injected with hate.

He nodded without a word. He’d said enough to her for now.

Light pushed the cart through the hall, past the doors of other patients. He just had to focus on his mission.

He got to the room he was looking for, with Misora Mashiro’s hospital bed just barely visible from the window.

His mission.

Light knocked on the door, then opened it mere seconds later. He pushed his cart through the door silently, meeting the nearby detective’s eyes. Light had never directly interacted with any of L’s employees outside of his successors, so this was a nice change despite the circumstances.

He closed the door behind him, forcing a smile. He needed to look like he enjoyed this job, to play the part of a doctor who cared for scum like Misora.

“I’m here to change his dressing.” Light said to the officer.

“Right now?” The man questioned. “Nobody told me about the scheduling at this hospital.”

“They don’t tell me anything either.” Light said with a short laugh. “I guess that comes with being an intern, though.”

The policeman huffed. “This case is a nightmare.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Light lied. “But why don’t you take a break for a bit? It looks like you could use one.”

The man looked at his watch, then back at Light. He shrugged, “Shift change isn’t for another twenty minutes. I guess a smoke wouldn’t hurt.” He stood up from his chair with a groan.

Light smiled. “I’ll watch him while you’re out.”

The door closed as the man let out a laugh. Light stared at the shadows under it, trying to ensure that no one would hear anything going on within the room. After a few moments, he let his smile drop.

He stared at Misora.

“I was waiting for you to show your face here.” Misora said, his dark eyes piercing into Light’s.

Light gently took off his mask and placed it in his coat pocket. He didn’t let any emotion show on his face. He needed to be precise, calculated.

“What did you think I would do,” Light began. “that would cause you to wait for me?”

“I knew you’d come to kill me.”

Light said nothing.

“Where’s Naomi?” Misora continued, his voice breaking slightly. “Do you really not know where her body is?”

Light shook his head, “I’ve told you this more times than I can remember.” He said, his hand inching toward his watch. “She’s in a secret location, one that she would have known about while she was alive. That’s how the power works. I don’t know where that place would be.”

Misora turned his head to the side, avoiding eye contact. “I was hoping you’d tell me the truth in my final moments.”

“I don’t care if you think I’m your savior or the devil himself.” Light ranted. “Either way, I don’t intend on letting you live. It would be in everyone’s best interest to shut your mouth.”

“You tried to kill me, so I’m returning the favor. You can ruin my life and expose my secrets whenever you want, so I can do the same.” He continued. “This is justice. Not whatever bullshit people preach on your TV screens. This is how the world should work.”

“I realized something, Yagami Raito.” Misora began weakly. “I have no idea who you are. I could be completely wrong about you, and I would never know. I’ve been tormenting you and the second Kira because of your crimes, and look where that got me. There’s nothing left for me.”

Light stared at the watch on his wrist as his eyes sharpened. Misora was right. He needed to get this over with.

He pulled the pin of the watch once, then again until he’d pulled it four times in about a second. It took a bit longer than usual due to water damage, but he’d just have to fix it himself whenever he got home. He couldn’t risk losing his memories in the middle of the case. That would be moronic.

Eventually, the hidden compartment opened, revealing a recently soiled piece of lined paper. It was surprisingly dry, considering everything. He carefully picked up the miniature needle and prepared to draw blood from the pad of his index finger.

A moment before piercing his skin, he froze. Misora’s eyes remained unopened, but it was clear he was getting impatient with Light’s pace. He needed to die—he was going to no matter what—but still…

“I’m curious about something.” Light said. “How did you react when you found out Naomi was dead?”

Misora stared up at him with wide eyes. Only then did Light register exactly what he had said. Naomi.

This was personal now.

“What?” The elder asked.

Light’s eyes narrowed. “How did you feel when I tore your family apart?”

As soon as he said that, L’s words rang through his skull.

“It hurt. All I could think of was losing everything, losing her after you.”

“Why are you asking me that?” Misora’s question broke through the haze in the artist’s mind; bold and unmistakable.

”Do you have any idea how it feels to look at your little girl and only imagine how she could be murdered just for being your daughter?”

Light shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

“I wanted to die.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I needed justice.” He turned towards Light, his expression pained. “You should understand that better than anyone.”

Light nodded silently.

“Whenever people talk about Naomi, I want them to remember what kind of person she was, instead of just an unsolved case.” Misora continued. “To have your little girl, your pride and joy, be nothing more than a pile of bones people debate on… it’s a suffering too terrible to name. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. That’s all there is to say.”

“Well, in that case,” Light cleared his throat. “Goodbye, Misora Mashiro.”

He picked up the needle in his watch’s compartment and pressed it into the pad of his index finger. For a few moments, there was nothing: just the quiet humming of the heart monitor. Then, a small spot of red appeared on his finger. It grew slowly, steadily dripping down his trembling digit.

Why was he so scared of this? He’d been killing for three years before he ran away. A little break shouldn’t have affected him this much. His pulse was thundering in his neck. What the hell? It was like something inside him was vehemently against this, begging to be released from the prison that was this unholy vessel of a deluded man.

“I know who’s responsible for the recent killings.” The words escaped Light’s mouth before he was able to even think about them. He stared at the blood as it trickled down onto the paper, as if it would change who he was and who in this room had—successfully—murdered in cold blood.

His gaze moved back to Misora. “I have a piece of my weapon with me, and the rest of it is locked away securely. I also ensured that the only other weapon in this realm was destroyed. If criminals are being killed again, that has to mean that other people have been given Kira’s power, likely by the same being that gave me mine.”

“So, you’re saying…” Misora began. “There are multiple Kiras?”

Light nodded and looked him up and down. “From your condition, it’s safe to assume you have around five months left.” Light stated. “If you want to use your remaining time wisely, I’d recommend leaving my family and I out of it. Try to catch an actual active murderer. See where that road leads you.”

He turned to leave; his business now as complete as he wanted it to be. He was weaker than he used to be, but that didn’t matter. He’d die slowly, of a less supernatural cause. That was enough for Light.

“Wait.”

The artist stopped. He looked over his shoulder at the dying man, not letting any emotion show.

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” Misora asked, his voice wavering.

“You didn’t tell anyone about me.” Light said. “Consider this a thank you.”

Birmingham — October 3, 2021 — 7:34 PM

L pushed open the door to Light’s atelier with a grunt.

The room was coated in dust due to the unplanned neglect of the workshop, the tarps covering the art covered in layers of grey. He walked through the room, his eyes unable to focus on one singular piece.

He moved towards the center of the room, where a beat-up metal chair was abandoned on the floor. It had a good amount of dents in its ears. L turned on his phone’s flashlight and inspected the chair further.

The chair’s right ear had a large amount of damage done to it, with dents extending to the top rail. It seemed like it had been swung wildly at something—or someone. It was coated in some kind of debris that L couldn’t make out, and the top back rail seemed to have dried bloodstains on it.

What was Light doing in here?

L got up and began to inspect the sculptures and figures his husband had created. He pulled a large piece of tarp from a shelf, causing a large cloud of dust to be released into the studio.

The shelf contained several works, each carved precisely to create a precise image of a person’s face. The heads were placed perfectly in a line, almost uncannily. He shined the flashlight, hoping to recognize the subjects.

Before he could analyze anything, he froze.

From left to right, the shelf contained the perfect images of the Yagami family: Sayu, Soichiro, and Sachiko. Further down the line, there was an image of Amane Misa, complete with grown-out roots and a genuine smile; it was like Light was trying to imagine what she would look like in some alternative timeline.

L looked at the final sculpture.

It was him, perfectly captured at the age of twenty-eight. He had deep eyebags, bangs extending to just below his eyelids, and a focused look in his eyes. It felt odd seeing himself among the images of a serial killer’s family and accomplice, but he didn’t know if he wanted to feel honored or expel the contents of his dinner.

He moved silently through the room, finding himself in front of a covered statue: one tall enough for L to strain his neck trying to look at it.

Without a moment of hesitation, he removed the tarp.

…And promptly vomited all over his shoes.

The statue—

It was Matsuda. Tied up and gagged.

A monument of the monster his husband was.

Light wasn’t just Kira in his past. He would always be a criminal. He was still torturing and killing people for the sake of his demented views of justice.

And L was married to him.

Chapter Text

London — July 30, 2009 — 2:23 AM

It was the middle of the night.

It was the middle of the night and L hadn’t blinked once since they had made their way to bed.

Deep down, Light knew that it wasn’t L’s fault that he wasn’t sleeping. He also knew L was just… adjusting to Light’s needs. This was normal, and he was okay with it. But something about his husband’s gaze kept him awake at night, making his thoughts run wild like a schoolgirl who had just watched her favorite actor’s new television special. It was absurd.

Light sleepily looked at his lover. He reached his hand out from under the covers, slightly extending his palm closer to L’s. He kept his hand closed against the sheets, but he hoped the adjustment snapped L out of whatever thoughts he was having. If he knew anything about his partner, it was that he had to tread carefully when he was like this.

Even so, L didn’t move. His eyes were still focused on Light’s face. His hair was spread out on his pillow like a tangle of black thread from an unfinished project someone left out to rot. Though, the slight flush of pink in his cheeks and nose betrayed the rest of his expression.

“I’m going to marry you someday.”

The words didn’t register immediately. They landed like how the snow melted as winter turned to spring; as if they were back to that day in April when all of their feelings rose to the surface.

But that had led them to where they were now: sharing a bed in L’s old orphanage because he had insisted that someone as beautiful as Light shouldn’t have to live in a cramped, shitty apartment. Light argued that nobody should have to work in an empty room with nothing but their computer. L shrugged and said it was something to work on.

So, they stayed at Wammy’s for a while. It was a bit difficult to manage, but what mattered was the children. Light, of course, didn’t have much experience with the environment, but L had lived in it for almost his entire life. And from his testimonies, it had brightened up significantly since he and Light took proper control, for lack of better words.

It was like their own little family, in a way.

He just didn’t know that L was so inclined to officially take that step: making the two of them a family. At least, not yet.

Light let out a small laugh. “Is this your proposal?”

L didn’t waste another second. He pressed the pad of his thumb to his lip and smirked with that glorious sparkle in his tired eyes. “Would you like it to be?”

Light did a quick double-take, “Well,” He began. “When I think of proposals, I imagine city lights and perfect weather. I think about getting all dressed up for a night out only to be surprised with a ring. That’s how normal people do it.”

“But we’re not normal people.” 

The artist nodded. “We’re not.”

“So, in that case,” L brought a cool hand up to cup Light’s cheek. He pushed the rest of his body closer to him, feeling his warmth spread through his body, and quickly cleared his throat. “I’m getting married to you, Light Lawliet.”

Light smiled, feeling at least a portion of his mask break at those words. Light Lawliet. He let out a laugh as his fingers curled against the sheets. This was the kind of peace that he thought was impossible at seventeen: the kind he thought had to be achieved through murder.

The world wasn’t perfect, but here, in their little bubble, that didn’t matter. He could feel his once-rotting insides being revived to their maximum efficiency. He felt his heart beating without worrying about the possibility of cardiac arrest. He smiled and flashed his pearly white teeth without being terrified of their imperfect alignment.

This was the life he tried to run away from.

Why would he ever run away from this?

Light calmed his emotions, softening just slightly in order to keep his tone steady. Lawliet. Light Lawliet.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

London — October 4, 2021 — 7:43 AM

“I don’t want to intrude.”

Amane Misa stood in the entrance to Touta’s hotel room, a black duffel bag over one shoulder and a pink heart-shaped ita bag decorated with shoujo anime pins on the other. She steadied herself with a silver walker, one of many things likely paid for by the L Organization as an apology for letting her nearly be killed.

“Oh, no!” Touta laughed nervously, his hands frantically waving in front of him. “You’re not intruding at all! I’m the one who invited you to stay with me!”

“Didn’t Raito force you to accommodate me?” 

“I mean,” He leaned back on the hotel couch. “I guess.”

The model set down her bags against the desk, not breaking eye contact with Touta. “Anyways, how long have you been staying here? I would’ve thought you stayed with the rest of the task force in some fancy L Organization condo.” 

“Oh, L tried. He tried really hard, considering he knows I was friends with Kira.” Touta said. “But I insisted I wanted to separate work and my technical vacation. Plus, the L Organization is, like, a bajillion dollar company. They have cameras everywhere. And since Light’s husband is one of L’s proxies, I can’t really live with that. I think Light would kill me.”

Misa nodded, “I get it.” Suddenly, her eyes opened wide and focused on the officer. “Wait, who’s Light?”

“Raito had to change his name.” He explained. “Security and stuff.”

“Makes sense.” Misa brought her walker closer to the couch, and soon plopped down beside Touta. Her fluffy white socks pressed against the clean leather armrest as she curled herself into a side sitting position. 

She tilted her head slightly and allowed her eyes to flutter closed behind the lenses of her glasses, “Matsu,” she began. “I’m glad we can hang out like this again.”

Touta froze. She was happy to see him? Even after she knew he ditched her for her serial killer boyfriend? That was… quite possibly the nicest thing someone had ever said to him.

“Yeah.” He replied. He brought a gentle hand to her natural dark hair, running his fingers between the strands. “Me too.”

They stayed like that for only a few moments; their just-barely passable day clothes shifted into loungewear from the sheer magnitude of comfort they provided each other. Then, of course, it had to be disrupted by an absurdly loud ringtone coming from Touta’s phone.

He grabbed the device out from his pocket, letting out a quiet curse as he read out the title of this alarm.

“I have to get to headquarters.” Touta said, slowly pulling away from Misa. He brushed off his clothes and began to head for the door. “I can’t be an accomplice to a false identity and slack off at work. They might throw me in jail or something.”

Misa let out a short laugh. “Okay, Matsu.”

“I’ll, um,” Touta spluttered. “I’ll see you later tonight? We’ve got this work dinner and I really need to pull this off so they can’t—”

“Matsu.” The idol cut in. “You’re going to be late.”

“Right.” He toed on his shoes as quickly as he could. Then, he grabbed his keycard and headed for the door. As he opened it, he brought his gaze back to Misa for one short second.

At least, if this went badly, he had one former Kira he could rely on.

London — October 4, 2021 — 7:22 AM

L walked into the almost too-clean dining room of his and Light’s shared home. Beside him, Noriko had her school bag on her back with a smile on her face. 

Inside of the room, Light had set the table with three cups: two full and one empty. As his husband and daughter stepped into the room, he turned toward them with a smile on his face.

“L,” Light called out. “Are you dropping off Noriko today?”

L nodded without a word. His gaze moved to Noriko, who was smiling brightly at her father. She seemed happy to have him back at home after the incident, but clearly lacked the perception needed to tell what was truly happening.

L grasped his daughter’s hand and began moving towards the door.

“Wait, hold on!” Light began again. He gestured to the two teacups full of piping hot drinks: one with a floral pattern and one adorned with leaves. “I made you some coffee.”

Usually, whenever Light would make coffee for himself, he would opt for one of the plain mugs they had stored in a cupboard somewhere for his use. However, Light had instead chosen to serve the drinks in teacups taken from L’s own teacup collection. 

It was a kind gesture, albeit a bit out of character. L let go of Noriko’s hand and walked over to the kitchen table, where the leaf-decorated cup sat. It was the drink with the lightest color, so he assumed it was his.

Light quickly poured a glass of oat milk for Noriko and placed it next to his own seat. The girl sat on her chair, causing Light to follow. L stepped onto his chair and crouched down in his usual position.

Noriko sipped her drink happily as Light watched on. Then, after a few moments, he turned his attention to L. “I got a call from a client yesterday, saying the lock to my workshop in Birmingham was broken.”

L traced his bottom lip with his thumb, gazing into the toffee brown abyss of his coffee. He didn’t dare to drink it, given the five percent chance Light might have discovered what L knew and decided to poison him to get him out of the way.

“Really?” He replied.

Light nodded, resting his head on his hand as he brought a cup to his lips. He sipped for a moment, then spoke. “I’m going to call to get it replaced later. I don’t think anything was stolen, given the scale of my recent projects there. If anything else was taken, it’s low quality enough that I wouldn’t mind.”

“You do tend to keep your work spaces clean.” L remarked. “Incriminatingly so.”

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the clanking of Noriko’s glass as she set it down on the table. She got up out of her seat, causing L to follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to make Noriko late.” He said.

Light’s eyes stayed fixed on L, and for a moment, it seemed as if they were caught in some kind of stalemate. Then, he smiled, “I won’t keep you waiting.” He looked at his black-banded watch. “It’s already getting close to 7:30.”

“L?” L’s eyes moved back to Light’s face as he called out to him. He must have been spacing out for longer than he realized. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s only…” L began, the ringing in his ears growing unbearably loud. “I don’t want you to go out of town for work anymore.”

Light raised an eyebrow. “Any reason?”

L shrugged. “I’m feeling protective after what happened last month, I suppose.”

His husband took another sip of his coffee as he let out a soft hum, “Okay.” He placed his cup down on the table. “I can understand that.”

The silence continued forth, breaking the norms of their usual domestic bliss. L subtly shifted his weight to occupy the time. It wouldn’t be long before Light noticed—

“Do you want me to work from home?” Light asked. “It’s been a while since I did any major projects here anyway.”

He nodded and cleared his throat. “That would be nice.”

A few more moments of silence passed. It wasn’t anything L wasn’t used to, given his background. Still, this wasn’t normal. Mornings were for idle chatter, not the shared intimacy of watching his lover struggle to comprehend his own thoughts. Those times were for the night; when L’s old habits kicked in and forced him to live with nothing but static.

He felt a small hand tighten around his own. He turned, only to see Noriko bouncing on her heels, excitedly moving towards the door. L looked at his husband, then back to Noriko. He softly smiled at his daughter and placed his hand on the doorknob without saying another word to his husband.

“Have a good day.” Light called out to him, though his usual enthusiasm was accompanied by… something else. 

L walked out the door, gripping his daughter’s hand tighter.

Not another word.

London — October 5, 2021 — 11:58 AM

Light stared at the project laid out on his desk in front of him.

His client had commissioned something simple: she wanted a clay sculpture done of her boyfriend for their anniversary. The reference image she had given him portrayed a somewhat skinny guy sitting on a ledge with one of his arms resting on his knee. The other was positioned so the boy was able to rest his chin in his hand. He was looking straight ahead, seemingly unaware that the photo was being taken.

His girlfriend had told Light this was one of his favorite photos of himself, and he could see why. It fit the mysterious pretty boy vibe that so many young adults seemed to be chasing after.

Light hummed, holding his scalpel firmly in his hand as he determined where to take the piece next. The folds in the clothes were essentially perfected, and the rips in his ratty jeans seemed to finally look appealing. His v-neck hung off of his body in a way that perfectly framed his silhouette. Even so, it was missing something.

He softened his grip just a tad and moved to define the boy’s bangs. He prided himself on his realism, but worried that the overuse of circular shape language would contradict the serious expression. Therefore, a sharper look seemed more fitting. It would help the ears stand out, too. He just needed to create one deep groove and then it would come together.

Light pushed his swivel chair away from his desk and admired his work. He was right. It did make the piece look—oh.

It had only just dawned on him why he felt the need to alter his work.

The sculpture looked like L.

“Hey, Light!”

Light perked up at the sound of that familiar voice. He wasn’t expecting any visitors today, especially not him.

“Touta?” He called out, locking his eyes on his friend. Touta walked over to his desk, a slight wobble in his step. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes seemed elsewhere. Light sighed. “Touta, are you drunk?”

Touta limped his wrist dismissively. “We had a work dinner last night, nothing too crazy.”

“So you’re hungover?”

The policeman clicked his tongue, avoiding an actual coherent answer. He rested his elbows on Light’s desk and leaned forward with his legs stretched out to push himself forward. It looked like something out of a cheap porno.

Light scoffed as he brushed off his apron. “You’re insufferable.” He quickly moved the scalpel from his project to a soft mat beside it to give his old friend all of his attention.

Touta’s eyes narrowed. “You always do that, y’know? Everyone always treats me like a damn burden.”

“Did you just come here to complain? Or do you have something worthwhile to say?”

“Since it’s my lunch break, I was going to give you insight into what your husband’s been doing behind your back. You know, like you asked me to? You know, I believed you when you said you weren’t Kira, but now that his kills are spiking—”

“They’re what?”

“Oh, haha—” Touta laughed in the most pissy way imaginable. “I thought you knew. I thought you knew everything.”

“It’s not my fault my husband doesn’t talk to me anymore.”

The words came out of his mouth before he could even think. All Light wanted to do was slap his hands over his mouth to shut himself up. Talking about pointless marital spats wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“Maybe it is your fault,” Touta said, tilting his head. “Have you ever thought about that?”

Light paused.

Huh.

“That’s beside the point.” Light stated as he cleared his throat. “What matters is I need more intel on how this new Kira is operating. They seem to be located somewhere in Japan judging by the statistics of their victims, and the country’s Kira’s Kingdom program is doing extraordinarily well. It wouldn’t surprise me if this new Kira has been lurking in the shadows of the growing population of Kira sympathizers. I’ll have to keep an eye on the television broadcasts from over there just in case anything comes up. Of course, it’s not enough for just me to do that, so I’ll need someone else to gather intel from them directly, which we can easily do here in London via—”

“And let me guess, you’re gonna send me to do that?” Touta huffed, standing up straight. “You’re not the only one in danger here. My life is on the line too. But unlike you, people know who I am. They know I’m against Kira and they could easily find my name and face if they look hard enough.”

“It doesn’t have to be you.” Light began. “We could send Misa instead—”

“Misa almost died because of you. Because you decided to play God and not own up to the consequences.” The officer pointed an accusatory finger at him. “And don’t act like you’re a better person now. You’re actively sacrificing whoever you can to save your own skin. You killed people, you used the Death Note, and you can’t change that. Not like any of us would believe your bullshit excuses at this point.”

Light barely even knew where to begin with him at this point. He thought he’d been doing a good job at keeping Touta docile, but clearly that wasn’t the case. Of course he wouldn’t want to just be his friend again! That should have been obvious, despite the blackmail and whatever.

Besides, it’s not like anything he said was wrong in the first place. Light was Kira after all. Maybe his ego was blown a bit out of proportion, but it was much better than in his unbearably infuriating teenage years. He was better, if only by a small margin. 

But if that wasn’t enough for him, then maybe there was a larger issue to examine.

“Just please, Touta.” Light looked up at his old friend with a soft gaze. “Help me out.”

“Why, because you care about me? Because you could have me fired?” The officer questioned. “Or are you gonna knock me out and take me to your atelier? I was just trying to be nice, y’know, but everyone acts like I’m a criminal. You would know about that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m only,” Light sighed. Nothing was working. Touta was already a bit of an idiot, but he was even worse hungover. He held out his left hand in a pleading gesture. “I’m only trying to—”

“Trying to what? Write my name down?” Touta interrupted. His eyes were fixed on Light’s extended hand. His watch. Of course. “I’m not afraid of you.” 

“I’m not going to kill you, Touta.”

“But you would if you had to, right? I’m just another sinner to you; someone you need to blow away with whatever hurricane you think you are. Contrary to what you and everyone else thinks, I’m not stupid. I know what you’re capable of.” He backed away, closer to the door. “And I’m going to be the first person since L himself to say this: You’re evil, Kira. I can’t trust a word you say.”

Before Light could even get another word out, Touta had slammed the door behind him. 

The killer pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to process what had just happened. There was no way he could get any more work done in this condition.

He needed a new plan.

London — October 5, 2021 — 12:13 PM

Sayu stood in line at a relatively small coffee shop. 

It had been only a few days since she arrived in London, and she’d pretty much adjusted to the environment. It took a bit of effort to speak English fluently, but her education hadn’t failed her yet.

At the very least, she could order a coffee. Raito had always scrunched his face in discomfort as she dumped milk and sugar into her coffee, and insisted she should try it black. She distantly wondered if he’d changed his tune over the years.

Well, no matter what her brother thought, she was going to get a white chocolate mocha. She moved up in line and fished her wallet from her pocket. She heard the bell over the door ring, but she didn’t think anything of it. After all, it wasn’t like she knew many people in the area—

“Sayu-chan?”

Sayu froze. There was no way.

She’d been found already?

Sayu whipped her head around to see the face that voice belonged to: Matsuda Touta, her and Light’s old childhood friend. Despite her knowing he had gone off to London in search of her brother, it was still a shock to see him in person.

But maybe this could help her somehow. 

“What are you doing here?” Touta asked, walking up to her and causing a fuss from the people further back in line.

Sayu blinked, then tilted her head. “I’m getting a coffee. Maybe some pastries too, I haven’t decided yet.”

“Wha— Sayu-chan,” Touta spluttered. “You’re supposed to be in Japan. I thought you… I don’t understand.”

“What, so I can’t take a vacation?” She rolled her eyes and stepped forward in line, up to the register. She gave the barista her name and order, then handed her card to him.

Touta didn’t move and remained hovering over her shoulder. He leaned back on the dessert case, his concern shown in his trembling figure.

“Sayu-chan, don’t you know the Kira case is centered around London right now?” He questioned. You could get hurt. People are going after everyone who was involved in Raito’s—”

She suppressed a scoff. Of course. Hypocrite.

The barista stared at the pair with wide eyes. Sayu should have seen this scenario coming, right? The Kira case was mostly public knowledge, and she was obviously going to make contact with Touta, who was a huge blabbermouth. She was such an idiot.

“Do you want the entire building to hear you?” Sayu whisper-shouted. “Quiet down.”

She rapidly walked to the other side of the store; to the pick-up counter. Touta kept following her like a lost puppy. 

“You still didn’t tell me what you’re doing here.” The man said. “Are you trying to help Raito? Do you know where he is? I won’t tell a soul, I just don’t want you to get hurt—”

“I don’t need to tell you anything, officer.” Sayu huffed. “I know my Article 38 rights.”

“We’re in England.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Before the policeman could respond, Sayu’s name was called by the barista. She walked up to grab her drink, and swiftly walked out of the cafe. She chugged her drink, feeling the chocolate goodness fill her heart with joy. At least there was one good thing left in the world. She began walking along the streets, keeping in rhythm with the others walking near her.

“Sayu-chan, you can’t go see Raito.” Touta insisted, pushing through the busy crowds to stay by her side. “I tried to talk some sense into him and it didn’t work. He’d too far gone. You need to understand that. He’s Kira.”

She continued ignoring him, keeping her warm drink close to her. The investigation must have really been messing with him, or he just became a dick due to the London air. As far as she knew, Touta hadn’t had the chance to talk Raito down since 2006. Unless…

Had the organization located her brother?

“You’re his biggest victim.” Touta began. “Raito hurt you and your family because he thought he was some kind of divine being. I don’t understand how you can be so calm about this.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, moving her dark chocolate hair out of the way and stopping her movement. The crowds parted around them, allowing for a small moment of peace. “You’re nothing like him. You’re brave, and kind, and everything Raito isn’t. Don’t let yourself get bogged down by the actions of a crazy serial killer.”

Sayu’s grip tightened around her mocha. Then, without a moment of hesitation, she threw the hot coffee at him. The soft brown liquid stained the white button-up he wore under his suit, and dripped down his face, settling on his chin.

Sayu’s brow furrowed, her heart pounding in her chest, “If you really want to help my brother, you need to use your damn brain.” She said. “This Kira is not Raito. Get that through your skull.”

Touta gawked at her for a few moments before she spoke again.

“If Raito wanted to hurt us, we’d already be dead or our information would be leaked to Kira’s Kingdom.” She stated. “You’d have to be an idiot to not see through that.”

London — October 6, 2021 — 9:30 PM

L rested his head on his knees, his arms crossed in front of him to shield his eyes from the harsh light of his computer screen.

He’d been working hard lately, trying to piece together exactly how Light was able to kill under his nose for so long. It was driving him mad at this rate, but he couldn’t give up the case when he was this deep in. That would be foolish.

Of course, he’d need to lure Light in eventually to gather evidence for the case, but he needed to create a plan first. While he usually found joy in operating on instinct, he couldn’t risk tearing his family apart for the sake of the game. No matter how much his brain yearned for it, his daughter came first.

He just needed to get Light alone.

But how—

“You’re working late tonight.”

L’s head snapped up to meet his husband’s eyes. Light was leaning against the doorframe with a tinge of amusement in his eyes. There was a trench coat thrown over the usual casualwear he donned in the house.

Part of the detective wondered if both he and his husband had supernatural powers they could call upon with deities at their sides, but he knew that was preposterous. The world simply favored L and wanted him alive over any other available genius.

He allowed his head to drift back to his monitor in false annoyance. “I told Matt to not let anyone interfere with my work past 4:30 this evening.”

Light huffed. “Well, Matt thinks you’re being stupid and wants you to go home.”

L sighed and quickly thought of a response. If he played his cards right…

“Was Noriko asleep when you left?” L asked, looking up from his monitor.

Light nodded. “She’s been out for a while. I took the train here, and haven’t seen any activity on the monitors.”

“Then can you stay in the building with me? I don’t particularly feel like pausing the investigation quite yet.”

Truthfully, L had been staring at his notes for thirty minutes before Light had shown up. However, he took joy in lying.

“Sure.” Light shrugged. “Is there anything I can help with?”

L smiled. He was so thankful for Light’s predictability.

“Well,” He stood up from his desk and put his computer to sleep. “There is one subject that may require your artistic expertise.”

The detective led his husband out of the office, and through the halls of the organization. They travelled between conference rooms, exclusive labs, and winding corridors before arriving at their destination: a relatively hidden doorway guarded by an absurd amount of surveillance cameras.

“This is where we’ve been keeping the Death Note—Yagami Raito’s weapon—for the sake of the case.” L explained.

“Wait a second.” Light interjected just as L’s hand began to fetch the door’s key. “You’ve just had his weapon here? This whole time?”

“Not this whole time.” He clarified. “K had an elite team watching over it in Japan, as the task force and the Yagami family refused to let it leave the country. However, I had them ship it over a short while ago after receiving permission. I, and now you, hold the only knowledge of its exact location.”

In other words, don’t try anything.

L unlocked the door and guided a reasonably hesitant Light through the room until eventually, the mangled scraps of the Death Note could be seen. They were contained in a bullet-proof glass case, with each individual piece separated in a specific order that would prevent any unnoticed tampering.

“Because of the second Kira, we know that memories of both the Death Note and one being Kira themself can be relinquished. What we don’t know is how they do this, and how it’s ensured that they don’t forget them.”

“I’ve been thinking that due to the nature of the second Kira’s capture, it has something to do with one’s proximity to the notebook.” L continued. He unlocked the case and retrieved a small scrap of the book’s cover, brushing his fingers along the rough texture of the black leather. “If Yagami kept it on his person…”

He allowed his sentence to die as he turned to look at his husband. Light was pulling at the sleeves of his sleek turtleneck. He pushed them down to cover the entirety of his wrists. The circular outline of his watch’s dial stuck out against the thin fabric.

Light seemed to notice L’s gaze and thus grounded his expression. L could almost imagine himself being fooled by this display, but it was shattered by the beads of sweat running down Light’s face.

The sculptor didn’t break eye contact with him, his eyes wide open in a stare reminiscent of a deer in headlights; as if he was challenging L to continue.

“I believe,” L began, narrowing his eyes. He kept the leather firmly in his grip. “if my theory is correct, Yagami may have disassembled the Death Note in order to keep a piece of it with him discreetly.”

“It’s a solid theory.” Light said, a proud smile betraying what L knew his true intentions were. 

“He’d have to be very good with his hands.” The detective mused. “Maybe he took a skill class, or retained knowledge from a mandatory art course. We know how clever he is, so I assume he remembered how to—”

“L.” Light let out a low growl, like he was a scared little dog trying to defend his territory against a mountain lion.

“You’re a skilled craftsman, Love.” L looked down at the leather scrap in his hand and dismissed any and all thought of turning back. He moved toward his husband, grabbing his hand before he could dare to move away. “Tell me…”

He pressed the leather into Light’s hand and studied his expression. There were no noticeable changes, at least not yet. His hand was trembling, but there was nothing to indicate any psychological change, which had to mean—

L almost wanted to laugh.

Of course.

He brought his unoccupied hand out of his pocket and brought it by Light’s sleeve, causing the latter to flinch. He felt around the leather band of his watch, then used his other hand to place the small piece of the Death Note in his husband’s tanned palm.

“What skills would Yagami have to acquire to create something of this nature?”

As soon as the words left L’s mouth, Light jerked his arm back to his side and slammed the leather back into his husband’s hand. He was breathing so heavily, L may have had the grounds to arrest him just on that behavior alone.

Even so, Light shrugged, attempting to keep up his facade, “Probably some skills in model building. Anyone who wants to make something like that needs to know their way around different materials.” he said. “They’d need to have decent attention to detail at least and overbearing perfectionism at most. In Yagami’s case, he’d need to be an incredibly fast learner if he wanted to ensure the notebook never left his body.”

“It could never leave his body, you say.” L said with a smile. “That’s a very probable deduction.”

L slowly watched as Light’s nonchalant expression slowly melted into that of pure horror at the realization of what he had said. The former had to suppress a laugh at his struggle to keep it together.

Gods, Light—no, Kira was rubbing off on him. Was he genuinely this excited to watch his husband crumble in anguish for his crimes; to bring him to justice? What happened to giving Noriko a normal, happy life free from erratic cat and mouse chases? What happened to their marriage vows?

Stop. L needed to remind himself of who his husband was. He couldn’t let his resolve slip any further. Light had fooled him for fourteen years. Why was L so worried about the implications this had for their home life? It was doomed from the start.

“L,” Light began with a shaky smile. “Can you see me out? I think I want to start walking back to the station.”

L nearly cracked at that moment. Was he that paranoid? Did he truly think L was going to immediately handcuff him and turn him in? Or did he simply not want to put up with him?

“Do you not want to drive back with me?” He pressed further.

Light shook his head vehemently. “I need some air.”

L hummed, put the scrap of the Death Note back in its proper place, and brought Light out of the room.

He wasn’t quite sure if this was a success or not.

London — October 6, 2021 — 11:25 PM

Touta was having a pretty relaxing night, shoving popcorn in his mouth while watching a news channel Misa had put on around an hour previously before getting tired and heading to bed. But still, her favorite—thought it was beginning to rise up in Touta’s rankings as well—cinnamon-scented candle remained lit.

He was beginning to doze off when the quiet volume of the movie was overtaken by a knock at the door. Touta raised an eyebrow. Surely it was too late for room service to show up.

There was another knock, louder this time. No matter how much he didn’t want to answer, he would rather not wake up Misa. 

“One sec!” He yelled, exasperated.

Touta sighed and walked up to the door. Who the hell was knocking on his door this late at night? What kind of monster—

He opened the door, immediately understanding why this interaction pissed him off so much. Light was standing there, tapping his foot on the hotel carpeting. Touta didn’t even have a moment to take in his appearance before the killer pushed past him and into the living room.

The policeman quickly closed the door and stared at Light. This had to be related to their fight, right? It wasn’t like he needed a reason to show up when he’d already gotten blackmail material on him.

“Damn it!” Light screamed into a throw pillow, but the sound was hardly muffled. “Fucking— argh!”

He threw the pillow onto the ground with enough force to shake the nearby coffee table. He brought his hands up to cover his eyes as he continued to yell out his frustrations. Touta could only pray that the hotel staff didn’t kick him out for this.

“What’s your problem?” He asked his friend, eyes narrowed.

“L is going to be the death of me!” Light cried. “I can’t do anything and he’s pissing me off!”

“Can’t you just talk to Asahi-san? He’s in close contact with L, right?”

Light let out a bitter laugh and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, fucking Elliot would definitely side with Kira.” He began pulling at his hair, beads of sweat running down his brow. “This would be salvageable if I could just get someone on the inside of one of those Kira’s Kingdom programs, or even just get a hint that there’s a Shinigami hanging around. But there’s no way in Hell I can do that alone.”

The sculptor reached into his front pocket and received a small device encased in black plastic: a hard drive? He placed it on the coffee table and pushed it in Touta’s direction.

“There.” Light said with a tone of finality. “Now you can do whatever you want to me, and the content on that drive won’t leak. I need your help, Touta. I know you’re against being my sole informant, but without anyone else who knew Yagami Raito personally, there’s not many people I can trust. I hope you’ll change your mind.”

Touta grabbed the hard drive, turning it around in his hand. There was no guarantee that it held the videos of Light’s escape, but he had no reason to lie about it. The only thing was, he wasn’t Light’s sole informant. Misa was sleeping just a room over; Sayu was in London actively looking for Light. It wasn’t just the two of them anymore.

Misa held so much power over the Japanese entertainment industry that, if they were smart about it, she could provide them with some names and faces to look out for. As ironic as that was, she wouldn’t be in danger because of her vocal support of Kira in his glory days. And judging by how things were going with Sayu…

“Light,” Touta began, taking his gaze off of the drive. “I think I have an idea.”

The air grew tense, none of them daring to speak. Light kept his eyes locked on Touta, like he was begging him to get on with it.

The officer took a deep breath, and spoke.

“Would you be open to seeing your sister again?”

London — October 6, 2021 — 11:30 PM

L sat in front of his computer, holding the denim of his jeans in a death grip. He brought one shaking hand to his mouth and began to trace his lip.

His gaze hadn’t left the bright glow of the screen since he returned home, his focus entirely on the glowing blue dot that signaled his husband’s location.

It was astonishing that Light hadn’t noticed the tracker stuck on his watch in the time between their meeting at headquarters and the present moment. He had been so occupied with dodging L’s suspicion that he’d failed to recognize the obvious signs that he was being bugged. But L wasn’t going to complain. After all, he had a new source of evidence.

His eyes narrowed as he focused on where Light had gone: a hotel.

Matsuda’s hotel.

Was Aizawa right? Was Matsuda working with Light, trying to become a false deity while they left L alive and oblivious to their plots?

Then what of the statue? If Matsuda was the accomplice, why would Light feel the need to torture him with the image of his struggles in bonds? Unless he knew something Light couldn’t let slip; some kind of blackmail material.

He’d have to investigate.

He was the world’s greatest detective, after all.

Chapter Text

London — January 2, 2011 — 12:10 PM

Marriage was an idea Light had carved into his brain from a young age.

Back in Japan, he spent his entire life trying to be perfect and laid out his life plan to fit that standard: join the police force, find a nice woman, marry her, have kids, raise them to be like him and continue the cycle.

Once he ran away, he thought he would live a life of solitude as he tried his hardest to use his almost self-taught sculpting skills to get by. At least, until he met L, and realized romance didn’t need to fit into a perfect little box.

Their ceremony was quiet, yet involved nearly everyone who had witnessed the pair’s relationship blossom. Neither of them had any family to speak of, so the wedding had been packed with many children from the orphanage, both for their own safety and comfort.

L and Light’s marriage would be a signal to them that no dreams had to be cast aside for the sake of their “role in society.” They were sure of that.

And yet, after the two walked back up the aisle, hand in hand, L’s eyes blew wide and tremors rushed through his body. It followed them into the calm, cream-painted room where they arranged for their wedding photos to be taken.

As the photographers fiddled with the cameras and told them to be natural, Light decided to seek out what was wrong with his lover.

“Listen, L, are you sure you’re okay with this?” He asked in a hushed tone. “I know you’ve gotten more comfortable with having your face seen, but if this starts to stress you out, you can let me know.”

“It’s alright, Love, it’s just…” His now-husband trailed off for a moment before regaining his composure. “I’m afraid of losing this.” L said softly, just out of the photographers’ earshots. 

Light stared at him: this man he promised to love and cherish, yet still lied to every day. The words “I am too.” threatened to leave his throat, inching closer and closer to the tip of his tongue. His hand tightened in L’s as he rubbed his thumb on his husband’s palm for reassurance.

“I understand the feeling.” Light eventually settled on. 

“Did you mean it?” L asked, leaning his head on Light’s shoulder. His raven hair brushed against the tanned skin of his cheek, causing him to let out a soft sigh as his lover spoke. “When you said you wouldn’t leave?”

With his husband’s word alone, Light remembered the medicinal scent of the hospital room, the tear marks left on his shirt, and the thoughts he’d left behind once that man was pronounced dead.

Yagami Raito was prone to hiding his true nature, but was Light Asahi any different?

In all honesty, he could hardly tell anymore. He’d lost any possible sight of his identity to the smoke and mirrors of a false marriage to the very man who once had his heart set on executing him. He only hoped Light Lawliet would give him a clearer view for who he was. At least, more than the small scrap of paper that sat inside his watch’s compartment.

Light hummed and wrapped an arm around L. “Of course I did.”

L looked up at him with wet silver eyes. It wasn’t quite a look of adoration, but something Light was familiar with nonetheless. It was an expression of curiosity, like the moments before someone decided to poke a bear or pick up a black notebook in their school’s courtyard. As if he was daring Light to go back on his word.

“I’d never lie to you,” Light said firmly. He raised his left hand, his palm facing inwards to showcase his newly acquired ring. It was golden, with his name—his new name—engraved on the inside. There was a radiant-cut garnet in its center, with smaller gems adorning its outskirts. It wasn’t the most fancy, yet spoke to him as regal. “I’m yours forever, L.”

With those words, the tension in L’s body melted away. He smiled as a faint blush painted his pale visage. He placed his hand over Light’s, allowing both of their matching wedding rings to nudge each other in a feeling of what they would later identify as domestic bliss.

And despite it all—despite the murder, the aliases, and the lies—Light smiled back at him, ready to take on the world.

“Smile!”

The camera flashed, capturing them in their candid state.

Yes, they were definitely ready.

London — October 7, 2021 — 12:24 AM

The silence in the Lawliets’ shared bedroom was deafening.

L remained perched on his side of the bed, with a laptop open to his private investigative notes. He’d intended to detail everything he noticed regarding Light’s behavior relating to the Kira case, and yet this particular page remained empty, as if he was still hesitating to believe the words he’d heard Light utter in his anesthetic state.

Still, he needed to persist.

He had to.

Light came out of their ensuite bathroom, dressed in a full baby blue pajama set made from pure, smooth silk. His button up top remained around halfway down, revealing a portion of his chest. L couldn’t quite tell if he was too tired to maintain appearances or if he was trying to atone for his sins through sex appeal.

“L?” Light called out, a brow raised. “What’s with that face?”

The detective froze. He was making a face? A visible expression? He couldn’t allow that. He’d had that drilled into him a long time ago.

He prepared to say some kind of lie, anything that fit the monstrous person L knew he became in the shadows. But instead, something else left his tongue.

“Why didn’t you drive home with me?”

His husband blinked, then shook his head in either annoyance or jocularity. He hated that he couldn’t tell them apart anymore. What was happening to him?

“I told you, I needed fresh air.” Light said, eyes narrowed. “I didn’t want to say anything I would regret. Not after what happened earlier.”

“Well, what did happen, Light?” L questioned, moving his computer aside. “Because if I recall correctly, you were the one who agreed to help me determine what happened to the notebook.”

Light sighed. “I’m tired. We can talk about this in the morning.”

L shrugged as Light climbed onto the king-sized mattress beside him. He slipped under the covers, which triggered L to do the same. The detective turned to lay on his side, facing his own night stand. Light’s eyes stayed fixed on him.

“Can I see your face?”

“I’m not sure, Light,” L murmured into his pillow. “Can you?”

“L.”

He huffed and turned to face Light, his eyes half closed. Light showed off a slight smirk before pressing closer to L and wrapping one arm around him. Despite L’s reservations, he still melted into his husband’s hold.

“You smell like cinnamon.” L stated.

“Oh.” Light nervously laughed. Honestly, wasn’t he supposed to be a better liar than this? How did this man fool him for so long? “I stopped for a snack before coming home.”

“And you didn’t buy anything for me?”

“I was mad at you.”

L sighed. That was an extremely obvious lie. Any time they had a fight, or anything happened that dampened L’s mood, Light always stopped to pick up a strawberry shortcake. It never mattered what Light was feeling in the moment. He always got cake. No matter what.

“I’ll make you a proper breakfast in the morning, if you want.” Light said. “Your favorite.”

L hummed. He couldn’t say no to that: chocolate chip pancakes topped with whipped cream and berries. He knew Noriko would be thrilled as well. Maybe then, he could forget about his husband’s inhumanity and position as the modern world’s worst serial killer.

Light scooted closer to L, the baby blue silk of his pajamas rubbing against his ghostly pale wrist.

No. He thought.

He would never forget.

London — October 7, 2021 — 1:24 PM

The Kira task force gathered in their usual meeting room, with everyone sitting at a rounded table to discuss their ideas on where to move with the case. 

“I think we should find a way to get information from those Kira supporter societies.” Yamamoto pitched. “It’s not like they’d know all of our names and faces anyways.”

“We don’t know if Kira is in direct contact with them, though.” Ide added. “It could be a dead end.”

“Well, if a Kira-obsessed J-pop idol could be the second Kira, it’s very plausible that this current Kira is involved in his own fan clubs.” Aizawa said. “But if we’re having anyone go undercover, it would have to be either Yamamoto or Asahi. They’re the only ones who weren’t involved in the original investigation, so they’re not at as much of a risk.”

L almost wanted to laugh at what Aizawa said, but held back due to his own reservations. Light was on his level of cunning, if not better than he was. It was likely that he was reaching the same conclusion as the task force was. And if that was the case…

“We shouldn’t send anyone in just yet.” L said. “All we know about this Kira is that their motivation is almost identical to that of Yagami’s, and that Yagami is almost definitely residing in England, near or within the London area. There are several different Kira-related cults and such, so it would be quite hard to narrow it down without waiting to find a trend in the murders. Plus, we don’t have any proper leads.”

“What do you mean ‘we don’t have any proper leads?’” The chief questioned. “We have Yagami Raito.”

L shot him a quick side eye, looking him up and down. He squinted in slight bewilderment that hid his anxieties. At least, he hoped that was the case, “Yagami Raito disappeared fifteen years ago. He’s virtually a ghost.” He argued. “You simply pointing out Yagami’s involvement and nothing else proves that we have no tangible leads.”

As the words left his mouth, he heard a stifled chuckle from Mogi as Aizawa leaned back in his chair and sighed. From there, the men went quiet, exchanging awkward glances across the table.

The detective’s eyes moved to Matsuda, whose eyes seemed fixated on his lap. He fidgeted with his fingers, trying his hardest to stay out of the conversation. His movements caused L’s gaze to narrow. It was clear that he was at least in contact with Yagami Raito, but what else was there? What would cause this reaction? What was he hiding?

As if on cue, L began to feel his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. He looked back at Aizawa, who seemed to be daring him to speak, “One moment.” L said, before walking out of the conference room.

He looked down at his cell phone to see who was calling him. Unsurprisingly, it was his husband.

He held the phone to his ear. “Love?”

“Hey, L.” Light began. There was a bit of static in the background of the call, as well as the sharp sounds of wind hitting the phone speaker. It was clear he was using his car’s bluetooth capabilities, but why? Where was he headed? “I’m going out to visit a client, so I might be too busy to pick Noriko up. Can you call Matt or someone to do it instead?”

“Why?” L questioned. He was supposed to be working from home. They talked about this. What changed?

“I have a client all the way from Japan.” Light stated. “It’s gonna take me a while to meet with them and discuss shipping.”

L hummed. Japan? “I wasn’t aware you did international shipments.”

“It’s different this time.” Light insisted. There was something in his tone that L couldn’t quite place. Why would Light further seek out contact with the country of Japan when he knew it put him at risk, unless… “There’s a lot of value in this. Money, I mean.”

“I see.” L murmured. “Well, don’t be too late.”

“Alright, I love you.”

L hung up the phone without another word. He quickly swiped up on his lock screen and moved to the tracker app he had installed. As he expected, Light wasn’t going to any sort of studio as he inferred. 

He put his phone in his pocket and moved to announce the news to the task force: he’d have to leave early that day.

London — October 7, 2021 — 2:28 PM

Light walked through the halls of the art museum: the place where he would see his little sister again for the first time in fifteen years.

He never thought he’d be so thankful for Touta’s involvement in his life. He’d been lucky enough to run into Sayu and tell them to meet in a discreet, in-character location that fit everyone’s personas. Everything worked out and he couldn’t be happier.

The room he was in was filled with stunning paintings of several varieties, each framed in wonderfully carved gold. It was mostly empty due to the time, only really having tourists, elders, and anyone else who didn’t have to worry about work or school.

There was a barrel vault roof draped over the gallery and hit with stunning trapezoidal projectors, making him feel like he was among the world’s most skilled artists, so much so he was awarded this beautiful space by the Gods themselves.

He stepped forward, his feet suddenly feeling heavy the closer he got to Sayu; room thirty. Eventually, he walked through the archway, into a room painted with crimson hues with hanging Spanish portraits made to appeal to western religion. 

In the center of the room, Yagami Sayu stood pensively, staring at one of the many paintings in front of her, so entranced that she hadn’t noticed his presence.

All Light could think about was just how grown she looked.

Her hair was the same dark tone he’d remembered, cut shorter to rest gently against her trapezius. She had a long deep purple-grey skirt that stopped slightly above her ankles, revealing a pair of somewhat casual brown boots. She wore a matching toffee cardigan, draped over a soft taupe sweater. She dressed both in contrast to Light’s decades-old memory of her, yet perfectly complemented how he dreamed she’d grow up to be.

Sayu turned to face Light, gripping the golden pendant she had around her neck. She didn’t say a word and kept her eyes focused on Light: what he was wearing, every soft wrinkle that had formed, and the wedding ring on his finger.

It was a calculated look Light hadn’t often seen on his sister, but he was never surprised when it happened to come through. They were much more similar than anyone could imagine.

“I never planned on you getting involved in any of this.” Light began. He walked closer to Sayu, trying to keep his eyes focused as they began to blur with tears. “But Touta said the L Organization was looking for you, and that you wanted to meet. I thought that maybe because you have a stable life in Japan, you could be an insider into—”

In an instant, Light was paralyzed by Sayu’s enthusiastic yet solemn embrace. His sister buried her face in the shoulder of his turtleneck, staining it with tears that she kept inside for fifteen years.

“Sayu?” Light’s hands trembled, the strength of his sister’s grip shocking him out of his thoughts about the case. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. I just—” Sayu loosened her grip on Light’s shirt, meeting her big brother’s eyes with tears streaming down her face. “You should hate me. You should hate me for letting you leave like that. If I had helped you, you could have stayed in Japan, with us. I ruined that by letting you go. If I had just gone into your room earlier—”

Light hesitantly raised his arms to clutch onto his sister’s cardigan. He leaned into her and finally felt the broken and scattered pieces of his soul come together as one.

“It was my decision, Sayu.” Light said, awkwardly patting her on the back with the grace of an awkward junior-high-aged boy. “Kira can’t live a normal life.”

They stayed like that for a few seconds, their eyes closed as they imagined a world where they’d never been separated at all. Sayu’s grip on him tightened, then slowly let up as she lifted her head.

She pulled away and walked toward a particular painting hanging just beside the room’s entryway.

“I think I’ve seen this painting before.” Sayu mused. “I took a few classes on Baroque art.”

Light hummed. “I’ve always been a fan of that period.”

“There’s something alluring about this piece.” His sister said. “‘Christ Contemplated by the Christian Soul.’ It’s moving.”

Light never considered himself a religious man. Well, aside from his own cult-like rhetoric, but that hardly counted. He’d taken an interest in mythology over the last several years, but he considered himself mostly as an atheist. Even so, something struck him about Velázquez’s work. 

The painting depicted Christ tied to a column, limp and struggling to stay conscious. The markings on his skin and weapons lying on the floor showed a distressed, painful image of him being recently beaten. He had a noose tied around his neck and looked desperately to his onlookers for something Light couldn’t quite place.

There was a small boy standing on the right side of the painting, his hands clasped in prayer as he stared at Christ with empathy. An angel stood next to the boy and directed him towards the beaten image of Christ to tell him to contemplate exactly how he had been treated and to honor him.

Light wondered how it would feel if he became the god he dreamed of being when he was seventeen. Would he be beaten for his delusions of grandeur, or would his followers empathize with him and teach their children of his presumed greatness?

It all hurt to think about.

“Listen, Sayu,” Light began. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind.”

“Don’t apologize.” Sayu countered. “I should have followed you, talked to you, tried to understand why you acted how you did. But I didn’t do any of that.”

“You had good reasoning.”

“No, I didn’t! If I helped you back when you got your power, maybe something would have changed. Maybe you never would have started killing. I might have been able to help you, but I… I…” She began to tremble, pulling on her cardigan from the stress. “I gave up on you.”

Tokyo — November 30, 2006 — 3:24 PM

“Raito! I’m ho—” Sayu paused. “Where are you going?”

“I’m done for.” Raito stumbled down the stairs, ripping all of their family photos off of the wall as he did so. “I need to… I need to go.”

“What are you talking about?”

Her brother gripped his bag, clearly filled to the brim with several things from his room. “Sayu, I can’t talk right now. I’m running out of time.”

He rushed past her and into the living room, where he tore up all of his photos from baby pictures to detailed portraits. “No one can know about me.”

“Raito, you’re being weird!” Sayu cried out. “Tell me what’s going on. I can help!”

“This is all for the better.” Raito stated, tearing up the photo in his hands and shoving the scraps into his bag. “I need to go. I can’t stay here now that Touta knows. Don’t come looking for me.”

“Raito, please!” Sayu screamed. She didn’t even know why she was being so adamant, she didn’t even know why he was leaving. She was seventeen now, and he was twenty. She wasn’t a helpless little girl anymore, and yet…

Raito turned towards his sister, part of him recognizing he’d done all he could regarding his pictures. He walked towards her and placed hand on her shoulder. “It’s for the better, Sayu.” he said through his tears. “You deserve a good life.”

“I’m not…” He shook his head like he was trying to convince himself he was right in… whatever actions he was taking. “I’m not going to live as Yagami Raito ever again.”

Without another word, Raito bolted out the door. 

Sayu shouted his name and tried to run after him, begging him to stay—to be the amazing big brother she loved—but tripped over her own feet in the doorway, allowing Raito to just barely slip out of reach.

“Sayu-chan!” Sayu’s head shot up, focusing on the figure running down the stairs. It was an extremely frazzled Matsuda Touta; messy hair and crooked clothes. He ran down the steps, taking them two at a time. “Where’s your brother?”

“I don’t—” The girl hiccuped. “He just took all of his pictures and ran.”

“Did he have a notebook on him? Did he leave it with you?” The man asked frantically. Sayu shook her head.

“No, but I…” Her eyes lit up. She shoved her deep pink flip phone into his hand. “He has GPS on! Dad always wants us to be able to be tracked in case something happens, but—”

“Thank you.” Without another word, Touta ran out the door too. He got his own phone out, likely to call L or whoever his proxy was. Sayu never really listened to what he said about the case, though now she began to regret it.

Even in that moment, part of her knew that Raito was never coming back; that her final interaction with her brother was incoherent paranoid rambling. 

She prayed she’d never feel that helpless again.

London — October 7, 2021 — 2:43 PM

After their initial conversation, Light and Sayu relocated to another gallery room, this one much bigger than the last. They sat down on a leather bench, both leaning over Light’s phone.

He played several videos of his daughter: her dancing to whatever movie musical they had playing in the background, her big, bright smiles as her dad picked her up from school. 

“She’s beautiful.” Said Sayu. “I’m sure her mother must be as well.”

“Father.” Light coughed, bringing a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “My husband.”

“Of course,” Sayu chuckled. “I should have known. No straight guy uses citrus-scented shampoo and conditioner.”

“How do you remember that?”

“It took Mom a year to throw it out. She just wanted to feel closer to you, despite everything. We all did.” Sayu brought a hand to her face, catching a small tear just as it fell from her hazel irises. “Did you know we never touched your room? After they tore it up looking for evidence, at least. They were trying to keep some sense of normality. Your books are still laid out the same, and your drawer is still…”

“You know,” She tilted her head up slightly, staring at the ceiling to stop the tears threatening to run down her cheeks. “When they found that notebook and your phone in a dumpster down the road, I didn’t want to believe it. I thought it was a sick prank or something. Deep down, I knew that if you were running away it was serious, but then the names matched up, and they found your fingerprints, and just…”

“I’m sorry, Sayu.”

“You were always so perfect.” She said, her voice dropped to a whisper. “You still are.”

She glanced down at Light’s phone again, though now, it had automatically locked. Her gaze softened as she saw his phone’s background: his family’s old Christmas photo, featuring his daughter. “What’s her name?”

“Noriko.” Light said fondly. “Noriko Adeline Asahi.”

He didn’t quite know what possessed him to use the surname Asahi in front of Sayu. Maybe he still wanted to preserve what little mystery surrounded his husband, or it was a freudian slip. He wanted to use the name Lawliet, desperately. And yet here he sat, using an unnecessary alias in front of his own sister.

“Asahi?”

“It’s a fake name. Both my husband and I struggle with keeping our identities secure, so it was only natural.”

Sayu hummed, “It’s pretty.” She held the phone out to Light, who then unlocked it. She then swiped through Light’s camera roll, absorbing the last several years of his life in just a few moments. 

It was odd how much of a difference a picture or video could make in someone’s life. Light never thought much of the photos he saved, but with Sayu looking at them, it was different. Those little screenshots Light saved of old shopping lists L would send him, the candid photos of L he took after years of building up their trust with each other, several photos of stray cats or flying yellow birds he would send to his husband when work was slow… He never realized how much it all mattered.

“I wish I would have followed you here sooner.”

Light looked at Sayu, not letting his expression change, “Trust me, you came at the right time.” He said. “There’s something I wanted to mention to you today. The only problem is that it would involve essentially putting your life on the line.”

Sayu stiffened, her grasp on her brother’s phone increasing tenfold. “I want to help.”

“I knew you’d say that.” Light smiled, then crossed his arms and extended his hand in an explaining gesture. “I heard that there’s different branches of Kira’s Kingdom spread around several major cities around the globe, including London. Right now, I’m working with Misa to break in using her connections to the media, especially surrounding Kira. I need to track down someone who will give me a contact from the Japanese branch.”

“Then what do you need me for?”

“A diversion.” Light stated. “You’re my sister, so you’ll have godly blood or whatever they call it. If you offer to speak the truth to them, you’ll draw out all of the underlings to listen to you and give you some intel. Misa’s probably going to have a lot of attention on her because of the stabbing, but because nobody knows how your character has shifted since my discovery, everything should go according to plan.”

Sayu nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

“I’ll reach out to Touta about having a meeting in his hotel. It’s the only meeting place we can guarantee we won’t be listened to.”

Suddenly, he heard… something coming down the hallway. It inched closer, almost sounding like footsteps. 

“Did you hear that?” Light questioned.

The footsteps continued.

“It’s probably just some tourists.” Sayu said, preparing to stand up. “I’ll try to send them away.”

“No.” Light said firmly. “I’ll go check it out. You need to stay here.” 

Sayu sighed and nodded, albeit begrudgingly, as Light stood up to drive whoever this was away from the room.

Meanwhile, just behind a corner down the hall, L Lawliet held his hand over his mouth, using all of his strength to not make a sound.

The tracking device had led him to the art museum, and he hadn’t necessarily expected to find both Yagami Raito and Yagami Sayu in the same room. Had they been meeting all this time? Were they working together? 

He heard Light’s footsteps approaching the doorway, so he ducked into a nearby—thankfully empty—gallery room. 

Light turned his head, looking for the source of the noise. After a moment, he moved back into the room he was in before. L followed behind him, determined to find some kind of evidence through their conversations.

“Are we clear?”

Light nodded. “There wasn’t anyone. We’re safe.” He walked around the seating area where he sat before and instead moved toward one of the paintings. “You said you studied art, right?”

“Art education.” She clarified.

Light smiled, then looked at the painting again. “I’ve been doing freelance art; sculpting, mainly.”

“I guess those mandatory art credits did you some good after all.” Sayu snickered.

Her brother laughed. “So much for my unlimited potential.”

This was strange. L was expecting something far deeper than idle sibling banter from the Yagamis. This surely couldn’t be all they were talking about. There had to be something more.

“Do you love him?” Sayu asked. “Your husband, I mean.”

It seemed he spoke too soon.

Sayu’s words came naturally, almost as if she already knew the answer. L awaited Light’s response with baited breath. He gripped his ring finger, adjusting his wedding ring as if he hadn’t perfectly fitted over a decade ago. After a few moments, he heard Light sigh.

“No.” He said. “You of all people should know I could never love him, not when he’s…”

And then, with just those words, L Lawliet’s world crumbled.

Light didn’t continue his sentence, but his intentions were clear. His sister’s gaze softened sympathetically, speaking words the detective couldn’t understand over the ringing in his ears.

L brought a pale hand to his chest and clutched the white polyester of his shirt. L tried to feel his heartbeat; the subtle drumming that proved he was alive. His eyes drifted to where his hand was, wishing he had an extra finger or anything else that would prove that he was living in a nightmare and not reality.

He lied about his feelings constantly. He kept his distance and tried to narrow people’s thinking with intellectual remarks about their brilliance. He would sit them down for a meeting and shower them in truths disguised as praises. Only the best saw through the lies.

L never thought he could fall for his own trap; a false love with someone who does nothing but cause hearts to stop with the stroke of a pen.

But he had to keep his composure.

He walked out of the gallery, stepping on the balls of his feet to muffle the noise. He just needed to fix things.

This would not break the great detective L.

Birmingham — October 7, 2021 — 6:27 PM

Something within L had grown familiar with the smell of gasoline. He had buried those memories years ago, forgetting about roman numerals and former friends who were too far gone. Part of him wondered if Misora Mashiro’s rampage brought his daughter and her former un-private partner any peace.

In reality, L knew that it didn’t.

He looked down at the wooden sculpture in his hands: the carving he had found of Yagami Sayu. In present time, she looked nearly identical to this portrait, only growing sharper and more cunning with age.

L tossed the carving onto the ground, along with all of the other scraps of projects Light had created; ranging from small sculptures to large-scale plans he had for his career and the destruction of the life he had left behind. None of it would matter anymore after L was through. He would make sure of that.

He grabbed a box of matches from his pocket and grabbed the first one he saw. It was leaning against the right side of the box, sticking out slightly while the others remained bundled neatly. 

The situation struck him as odd. Surely, this couldn’t be a natural phenomenon. Then, he thought, how many matches were lit by humans simply because they remained alienated from the others? 

How often did people look for the perfect match to light, but were unable to prevent themselves from being tempted to use the odd one out? 

L sighed, lit the match, and tossed it onto the pile of art. He knew he was not immune to temptation. 

He watched as thick ribbons of orange flames engulfed the projects his husband had spent hours creating. He was transfixed by the beauty of it all: the crackling sounds and slow melting of the intricate carvings.

It was like watching Kira’s new world burn to the ground in front of him.

Fine.

The flames roared, reducing the wooden carvings to ash. L swore he could hear their screams, begging him to save them. But he knew he couldn’t save anyone from the fires he had started in his past. 

After all, the tinder had been laid out in front of him. All he had to do was set it ablaze.

I’ll let you live as Light Lawliet.

The embers fluttered through the brisk autumn air, coming dangerously close to L’s face. He didn’t even blink.

Nothing could harm the greatest detective in the world. That was how he came this far.

Still, the fire caused an aching in his chest. One he hadn’t felt since the last time he watched something dear to him burn as he did nothing to stop it.

There’s nothing I want more than to put the Kira case to an end.

The flames began to calm, leaving only a few dying journal pages to wither and turn to ash. The writing was illegible. Nothing Yagami Raito wrote would ever torture his family again.

And yet…

L walked away from the scene he had left, the smell of smoke growing unbearable. There was nothing more he could do.

He looked back at the burned pile of evidence, neither feeling numb nor feeling anything.

I can’t let Noriko lose her father.

Chapter Text

London — May 29, 2015 — 12:34 PM

“Alright.” Light’s hands rested firmly over L’s eyes. “Are you ready?"

L stood in the center of their new loft, just above where Light’s new art studio and office would be located. The walls had already been decorated with their wedding photos and other sentimental trinkets, but its status as their home was about to be made official.

L nodded, and Light removed his hands to allow L to take in the scenery.

He placed one hand over his mouth and walked around the room, taking note of the glass cabinets that held his teacup collection and the candid portrait that had been taken of them on their wedding day.

He turned back to Light. “You did all of this? For me?”

“You’ve been so busy lately,” Light began. “I thought you’d like it if I started preparing things for our next addition to the family. Plus, maybe you’ll be able to live a normal life. You know, like we talked about.”

L smiled. “The baby is going to love it here. They’ll be so lucky to have you as their father. I don’t know how I’ll ever compare.” 

Light clicked his tongue. “Well, that’s absurd.”

He pressed his tanned hands into L’s cheeks, smiling at him.

“You,” Light spoke through his grin. “are the brightest thing in my life.”

“But you’re Light.” L retorted.

That caused Light to chuckle, removing his hands from L’s face and using them to stabilize his knees as he threw himself forwards in laughter. “I thought those jokes were getting old.”

“Well, so are we.”

After a few moments, Light bolted upright, finding himself at eye level with his husband again. L took his hands in his, though not before wiping at his grey eyes.

“I never had any of this, you know.” He began. “None of the children at Wammy’s House did. And I believe that’s why you’re so special to me. You’ve shown me a new world; one that’s full of surprises I never could have dreamed of before. I hope we can help our child feel the same.”

Light blinked, his eyes still trained on L’s. “You really mean that?”

“You’re always so surprised whenever I say things like that.” L laughed. “But it’s all from the bottom of my heart. I want them to feel seen in this—”

The detective paused. His eyes left his lover and focused on a nondescript place on the wall, “This house.” He muttered to himself. “Yes, yes, of course.”

He removed his hands from Light’s, only to throw his arms around him instead. The action caused the sculptor to stumble, but his arms wrapped around his lover despite that.

“Light, I’ve got it.” L grinned into his husband’s collar. “I know how we can fix everything.”

London — October 23, 2021 — 1:05 PM

“The plan is simple.”

Light stood in front of the glass door leading to the hotel room’s balcony. He held a black dry erase marker in his hand and began to write.

“Kira’s operations are located primarily within Japan. Thanks to Misa’s efforts, we know that the head of Kira’s Kingdom’s Tokyo chapter has received donations of both funding and information on ‘sinners.’ This is a constant in Kyoto as well.” Light drew an outline of the country of Japan, then an arrow connecting it to Kira’s name. “We can only assume this also applies to other countries.”

“And London’s is the sixth most active globally.” Misa chipped in as Light quickly drew some country-adjacent blobs. “They have the highest amount of information we can get without having to smuggle Light into an airport. Plus, because all the different chapters share funding, Kira can communicate with them.”

Light drew an arrow extending from Japan to an outline of Britain, then circled it. “Which is why we’ll need to set a trap.” He said, writing that final word in capital letters inside of the latter country. “We’ll get the information we need without getting our hands dirty. That’s where Sayu comes in. Misa will be providing background checks while Touta will act as our cover from the L Organization, but Sayu will be able to draw out information using her relation to me. They’ll trust her enough to reveal their operations, which will give me an opportunity to talk to Kira personally.”

“Like a sting?” Touta asked.

“Precisely.”

With that, Light plopped down on the couch and sat beside Misa, who let out a short sound at the contact. He leaned back as his former girlfriend opened up her phone and began to type.

“We can’t lose you, Light.” Sayu insisted. “Not again.”

“Listen, we’ll definitely catch this new Kira. While we talk about that…” Touta pulled his phone out from his pocket as well. “I’m gonna order some food. What do you guys want?”

Light’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not that hungry—”

“I could go for some chicken or something.” Misa said, still typing. “Maybe if there’s a place that serves it with cheese powder?”

“Chicken it is!” Touta exclaimed. 

“You’re having too much fun with this.” Light sighed. “You keep saying you want to clear my name, despite how upset you were with me when I asked you to do simple tasks. Now you’re bowing at Misa’s feet and clearing me for her sake. You don’t need to be such a suck-up.”

Touta let out a laugh. His gaze drifted to Misa, who put her phone away. “It’s not like that!” He replied. “You know I’ve always loved Misa-Misa’s music.”

“Then speak your mind,” Sayu interjected. “And stop being fake before I throw another drink in your face.”

Light’s head whipped around to face Sayu. “Another?”

“Okay, fine.” Touta rushed out with sweat running down his brow. “I like you, Light. You’ve always been my best friend, but I’m allowed to think you’re a little crazy, okay? You tied me up in your art studio just because you thought a statue of me being tortured was aesthetically pleasing—”

“It’s not like that.” Light said, ignoring the bewildered gazes from the women in the room. “I just wanted to remember your face and vent. If that incriminates me, so be it.” 

“Oh, so that’s why you murdered thousands of people. You wanted to feel something, so you tortured me and immortalized it in a statue.” The officer stated, placing the order on his phone. “That’s really terrifying, you know.”

“I thought you were having me killed, I had every right—”

“You’ve changed.” Sayu’s voice was barely louder than a mumble. Everyone’s focus returned to her. “The last fifteen years have really taken a toll. You never cared about anything. You were so, so bored. I remember that; looking back on what could have made you turn into Kira. But now, you have something worth living for. I can see it in your eyes.”

Light paused. Something worth living for. Eventually, he nodded, “It’s my life.” He clarified. “I can’t lose my life as it is now.”

“I don’t want to be Yagami Raito. I don’t want to be Kira.” Light continued. “I need the world to know that I’m more than a monster. I don’t always know how to do it; how to be a good person. But I’m trying. And that’s why I need your help.”

“This…” Touta trailed off. “This is bigger than getting you into therapy. The task force is trying to track you down, but luckily, I’m there too. Maybe I could organize a get-together at a bar and get them to spill something. I haven’t seen Yamamoto drunk in a while, but because of his past with you, he might be enough”

“So,” Sayu began. “Turning what happened to you a few days ago back onto the task force?”

“I think it’s pretty clever.” Misa said.

The policeman set his phone down, seemingly done with the order. “It’s not much. I would do more, but—”

“Touta.” Light glared at him. “Just call him.”

“Okay, okay!” Touta grabbed his phone again and swiped past the lockscreen. “I’m doing it.”

Touta tapped on his phone app and went into his recent contacts. The rest of the group kept mostly to themselves, but Misa’s eyes lingered on Touta’s focused expression. Light had seen that look before, but still…

“Ah!” Touta’s hands shot up in the air, causing his phone to drop on the coffee table with a bang.

Light leaned forward from his place on the chair to get a better look at the screen. His eyes focused in on the call screen that had just appeared, and the contact displayed on it: Detective Asahi.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Touta began. “Let’s stay calm. Especially you, Light. Don’t even make any breathing sounds.”

Light remained silent and stone-faced.

Touta took a deep breath, coughed, and accepted the call.

“Asahi-san?” Touta began, holding his throat in his hand. His voice was shaking due to the contact, and his sentence ended with a painful huff.

“Are you sick?”

“Yeah, a bit.” He triggered an oddly impressive fake cough. Maybe Misa’s acting skills were rubbing off on him. “I might have caught something. My immune system’s not doing great.”

“I would like to meet as soon as possible.” L said. “Are you going to be available today?”

“I’m sorry, Asahi-san.” He coughed again. “I can barely move right now.”

It took L a moment to speak, “I see.” He eventually settled on. “Let’s speak again once you’ve recovered.”

“Thanks, Asahi-san.” Touta spoke with his fake hoarse voice.

With that, he hung up the phone and shot a beaming smile at the group. The expression caused Misa to stifle a chuckle, and Sayu to glance at her in response.

Not even a few seconds later, a knock sounded from the door.

“That must be our food!”

The police officer scrambled towards the front door, and threw it open to face…

“Asahi-san?” Touta’s hold on the door knob began to waver. “What are you doing here?”

“I simply wanted to stop by to see how you’ve been handling yourself. I don’t have the privilege to add surveillance cameras here, after all.” L said.

“Yeah, uh,” Touta leaned against the door frame and closed his eyes to mimic pain. “My body feels like it’s on fire right now. I’m holding up though, so you don’t have to worry.”

Before L could voice his suspicions, a man dressed in a delivery uniform walked up to the door.

“Order for ‘Taro?’” He held out a generically labeled plastic bag containing multiple boxes of food. “Two combo boxes, one serving of fries?”

“Ah, haha…” Touta scratched at the back of his neck, reaching out for the bag with his other hand. “Yep. That’s me.”

The delivery guy nodded, gave him the bag, and swiftly headed for the elevator. L eyed the bag, then Touta’s expression, before returning to the bag.

“Fried chicken?” L questioned. 

“I have a big appetite when I’m sick.”

The detective hummed, then brought his gaze to the floor. From his place in the hallway, he could see just a small portion of the entrance to the hotel room. And with it, he noticed four distinct pairs of shoes: two pairs of dress shoes, some ballet flats, and a pair of lace-up boots.

“Are there guests here?”

“Oh! Hey,” Light exclaimed as he rushed over to the door. Touta shot him a brief look of unconcealed horror. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

The sculptor allowed his eyes to linger on his husband’s appearance. Of course, he was wearing his typical outfit, but his hair seemed even more unruly than usual and his work lanyard was lazily thrown on backwards.

And, worst of all, there was no ring resting on his finger.

“What an odd situation.” L returned his gaze to Touta. “Matsuda-san, why would you hide that my husband was staying with you? After all, he would have told me anyway. He tells me everything.”

Touta let out a nervous laugh, and began to answer. Before he could get any words out, Light’s foot came crashing down onto his.

“Was this meeting supposed to be a secret, Matsuda-san?” Light asked with false innocence. “I had no idea.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Touta blubbered. “I never should have tried to hide this.”

L hummed. “Why don’t we take this meeting inside?”

Just as Light was about to answer, his husband pushed past him into the hotel room. He exchanged a brief glance with Touta, then sighed and followed L.

As L entered the room, his eyes immediately fell on Misa. His eyes narrowed, then turned to Sayu.

“Oh, Matsuda-san,” L began. “Is this a friend of yours?”

Sayu’s eyes flickered to meet Light’s. She let out a breath and put on a smile, “You must be Elliot Asahi. The one who works under L?” She inquired. “Have you been doing okay? I know how stressful this case can be.”

“Do I know you?” L blinked.

“Ah, well, not personally.” Sayu replied. “I’ve been in contact with one of your colleagues, Matt? I assumed my contact with him would be spread throughout the company.”

“Yagami Sayu?” L huffed, causing Light to glare holes into the back of his head. “I wasn’t aware that you would be joining us in London. From what I’ve been told, you made it seem as if you would be cutting contact with us. You weren’t nearly as cooperative as you are now.”

“I’m sorry, Asahi-san.” The girl bowed her head. 

“Don’t apologize. I’d be just as cold if I found out the one I cherished most was a serial killer. Even more so if I was constantly being interrogated over information I clearly didn’t have.”

The detective turned back towards Touta. “Matsuda-san, you must be gathering quite useful information for us. Not only do you have Yagami’s sister here—something even I couldn’t achieve—but you also have my brilliant husband.”

Touta beamed at the praise, as if it was the first compliment he’d ever heard. Light elbowed him.

“Asahi-san,” Sayu gestured to Touta and Misa. “I’m sure you know that these two are almost like family to me. I would do anything for them, even help with the investigation. Your husband also just wanted to help us out of the goodness of his heart. I’d hate it if you got the wrong idea from us meeting like this.”

“I’m not here to investigate.” L began. “I simply wanted to pay Matsuda-san a visit, especially given how he’s denied living with the rest of his colleagues.”

L’s eyes were torn away from Sayu, instead being directed toward the window; still covered in the ink of the dry erase markers, “What is this?” L walked towards the writing. Sayu shot Light a glance, but he shook his head. There was no avoiding this. It was just in L’s nature.

“Matsuda-san,” Light kept his tone to a whisper. “Get him one of those vanilla cappuccinos you like and add as much sugar as you can."

Touta raised an eyebrow, causing Light to glare at him.

The officer shrugged and scurried over to the hotel’s coffee machine. Light would be lying if he said he couldn’t make his husband’s coffee himself, but some innate part of him felt the need to order his friend around. 

L examined the writing with one finger drifting up to trace his lip. He was mumbling something just barely incoherent, his pupils dilating slightly.

“Hey,” Light stood beside his husband. “Am I disturbing the case by helping them? I know you wanted me to stay out of the case after—”

L shook his head. “No. It was foolish of me to assume you’d stay in the workshop after everything. You have good reason to want to help us with the investigation. Besides, you’re intelligent enough to stay out of danger.”

Light chuckled. “I’m glad you think so highly of me.”

The detective didn’t respond.

“Why don’t we assist each other? I’m interested in your operations.” Without letting them opt out, L pointed to one word in particular. “‘Trap.’ What are you planning with this?”

“Raito was smart.” Misa said before Light could speak. “From what I’ve heard, he was crafty enough to set traps around both his own belongings and people’s psyches. We were thinking that in order to catch him, we’d need to set a trap of our own to outplay him. Like how—”

“Here, Asahi-san!” L and Light turned around, only to see Touta moving towards them with a cup of milky brown coffee. “For you.”

“Oh,” A soft exclamation left L’s lips, just barely audible. He took the cup with a slight nod. “Thank you, Matsuda-san. I was just craving something sweet.”

“It’s no problem!” The other man smiled. “Just, uh, doing my part.”

L took a long sip of his coffee, seemingly satisfied with its sweetness. Even so, Light noted that his expression hardly changed, still focused on the window. Was it possible that L knew more than he was letting on, or was he just exhausted from the case?

“It was wise of you to consult others who were close to Yagami, including someone who vocally supported him.” L said. “Have you decided on how exactly to set this trap that Amane-san described? I’m sure you’ll find a way to utilize how deeply close Yagami—”

“I’m so sorry, everyone.” Sayu abruptly stood up. “But I think I should leave.”

Before she could fully make her way to the door, L set his coffee on the desk and grabbed her hand. She ripped it from his grip. 

“Right as I’m discussing your plans with you?” L questioned. “You are aware of how this looks, yes? Especially given your past attitude towards the case.”

“I don’t care. I just—” Sayu’s fists clenched at her sides. “I’m just sick of people forgetting Raito’s human too. I’m sick of being seen as a criminal because the world won’t see us as anything else.”

“I understand your distrust,” L began. “But this case is of extreme importance. If you prefer, we can speak privately in my office.”

Light watched his sister’s behavior out of the corner of his eye, then quietly moved towards where L and Touta stood. He had to be cautious around his former girlfriend. One wrong move…

Sayu turned back towards L. “How am I supposed to listen to you when all the L Organization does is make Raito—”

A crash sounded from the desk, drawing everyone’s attention away from her. A large cup of coffee coated the laptop that sat on the desk’s surface, with the cup still in motion from its contact with its assailant.

“Oh no, Matsuda-san, look what you’ve done.” Light stood up and quickly grabbed a couple of napkins he conveniently had in his pocket. “What a mess.”

“I–” Touta cut himself off, noting the glares coming from everyone around him. “This is my laptop! Do you know how expensive these are?”

“If you knew that you should have been more cautious.” Light said. 

L pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Idiot.”

“We should head home.” Light stated, soaking up the liquid with the napkins. He shot a quick glance towards Sayu, who made a beeline for the door before L could look back. “I doubt Matsuda-san wants us to stay any longer.”

L nodded. “Of course. We can talk about this at home.”

“Right. In front of our daughter on the day before her birthday.” Light scoffed.

“You can’t possibly assume I left her home alone on a Saturday.”

“Will you guys just leave already?!” Touta demanded.

L let out a sigh, “Of course.” he said, then turned to Sayu. “I look forward to speaking with you.”

“But I—”

“This isn’t a request.” The detective insisted.

Before anyone could protest, L walked out the door, to which Light reluctantly followed.

London — October 24, 2021 — 7:21 PM

L sat crouched at his dining table, watching the knife in his hands shine from the overhead light.

It would be so easy. The words rang through L’s skull. It would be so easy to do something terrible.

Was this how Light felt? The beauty of a weapon beckoning one to stay, despite the horrors he knew would come from it. But L wasn’t seventeen and he didn’t have a god complex. He may have been surrounded by death all his life, but he was no murderer.

He set the knife aside and looked at the spread in front of him. Light had decorated the dining room with shimmering silver streamers and a violet tablecloth. The centerpiece was a two-tier marble cake frosted with chocolate and decorated with strawberries and bananas. There was a candle on top of the cake in the form of an intricate purple number “6”. There were also custom-made cake toppers made by Light Lawliet himself, depicting their family.

L allowed a small smile to cross his face. This day marked six years with his daughter: his pride and joy.                                                                           

He prayed her day would be a blessed one.

As the thought left his mind, he heard footsteps approaching the room; his family was here. He kept his smile nice and falsely relaxed as Light strolled into the room holding Noriko’s hand. The girl marveled at the decorations set up just for her.

She was in a beautiful purple dress embroidered with stars representing multiple constellations. Her puffed sleeves were complimented well by how her brown hair was pinned to one side, slightly curled as if she’s been twirling it in her fingers. She had a few silver star hair clips pinning it down, making her face appear somehow even more beautiful than ever.

L gestured for Noriko to sit at the head of the table, which she did after a few moments.

They began to sing the soft, familiar tune of “Happy Birthday.” Light’s perfect pitch rang through the dining room and made L wonder where he learned to sing so beautifully. Perhaps a church choir, where he learned to sing a song of a false god.

L kept his voice low, his eyes trained on his beaming husband. As he scooted the birthday cake closer to his daughter, all he could think of was that this was a facade meant to destroy everything L loved.

The song faded, and Noriko was practically bouncing in her seat as she admired the cake L had commissioned for her.

“Make a wish.” Light all but whispered in Noriko’s ear. “Make it a good one.”

The girl nodded, took a deep breath, and blew out the candle with the biggest smile on her face. Light hummed and began clapping to match her childish joy, to which L joined in. 

“Alright,” L began, reaching for the knife. There was no way he was giving Light a weapon. “How much cake would you like?”

Noriko tilted her head and directed her gaze to the ceiling for a moment, before returning her focus to L. She held out her hands, demonstrating a width of relatively medium size.

L nodded, removed the cake toppers and candles, and cut his daughter a slice of cake.

He grabbed a fork, gingerly placed the utensil beside the cake on a fine china plate and presented it to Noriko, who promptly dug in.

L admired his daughter for a brief moment: the innocence in her eyes, the love in her heart, the lack of tension in her posture. What L wouldn’t give to have lived through a childhood like hers. 

He glared at his husband, who raised an eyebrow in response. L brought the knife higher, almost tracing the length of the cake. Light brought up a hand in dismissal, prompting L to drop the knife.

The detective sighed and walked towards the kitchen in an attempt to hide his less than professional behavior. It was as if his own mind was turning on him.

He walked towards the sink, which had a window located above it that beautifully showcased the night sky.

Moon. L thought.

Light.

“L, are you okay?”

The sound of his husband’s voice caused him to flinch. Of course he followed him. There was no way to escape Kira, not even in his own home.

Light walked up to L, his hands placed casually in the pockets of his khakis. “You keep forcing yourself to smile.”

The detective turned away from his lover, keeping his silence.

His husband sighed. “I know that look. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You don’t need to pretend.” Light responded, gripping the edge of the counter. “I thought we talked about this. You’re safe here. Nothing’s changed since—”

“My feelings have changed.” L said, lifting his head. He could see his own reflection in the window, his grey eyes wandering in some forbidden world. 

Light blinked. All the detective thought was that this wasn’t compatible with intellectual thinking. This marriage was a virus, corrupting the programming L held close. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been fourteen years since we met.” L sighed, not breaking eye contact. “We can’t stay like this forever.”

“Surely, you understand that.” The detective turned towards his husband, who still seemed dumbstruck by the conversation. It was odd. Just a few weeks ago, L would have considered him the most brilliant man he’d ever met. “Light, have your feelings for me changed?”

Light’s eyes widened for a moment as visible gears turned in his head. L’s gaze focused on his husband’s expression.

“They’re the same.” Light replied.

L scoffed. He leaned against the counter and placed his hands in his pockets. “You truly love me, don’t you?”

Light sighed and moved back towards the kitchen counter. He leaned forward with a pair of crossed arms, his legs propelling him in a way that allowed him to be at eye level with the center of the window.

“This is because of the Kira case. It’s got you stressed. You have a team, you know. It’s okay to hand it off to the others.” He turned to face L. “And besides, no one knows where Yagami Raito went. It’s going to be hard to find him and take his weapon.”

“You know, Light, I’ve been wondering,” L began, his gaze cast to the hardwood flooring beneath him. “‘What kind of life could I live without being chained to you like this?’”

“L, listen—”

“You don’t know anything about me.” L snapped at him. “I didn’t have a reason to like you. I don’t need a reason to dislike you either. L is supposed to work alone. That’s how it was before you came along. Why did I not appreciate my life before? Maybe that’s why everything came crashing down back then. I never needed anyone. The detective L can’t have anyone.”

Light stared at him with a look akin to a wet cat in the rain. L tried to speak, but he felt a small stream of water leave his eye, dripping down to the floor. 

This was wrong.

Everything about him was wrong.

“I hate you.” L began, his voice shaking despite the power he tried to pretend he held. “Everything about you makes me sick. I hate seeing your fake smile, those eyes that seem like strangers to me. I hate it all.”

“And there’s no reasoning behind it.” Light spoke with an air of questioning. “Despite everything, we’re splitting for no reason?”

“I suppose love turns to hatred when it cools.” L replied, partly unaware of the fact his mouth was moving. “There’s nothing to be done.”

“L, if you hate me,” Light brought his hand to L’s face, cupping his cheek. He used his thumb to catch a tear from his eye. “Why are you the one crying?”

“Because I can’t stand that I can’t explain this.” He stated. “You’re an anomaly.”

L turned his head back towards the window, causing Light’s grip to relent. He couldn’t meet his eyes. Not now. There was a feeling filling his body, one that hurt his heart and caused his vision to blur. 

“I want a divorce.” L said, his expression unchanging. “I can’t stand seeing you anymore.”

“L, wait.” Light grabbed his husband’s wrist, his tanned fingers brushing against the uneven skin.

“Do you know what I do at work every day?” He paused, as if to allow Light to object. After all, both of them knew damn well what L’s work was. But no words came out. “I spend hours looking at everyone Kira has killed over the last eighteen years. Every innocent person condemned for crimes they didn’t even commit, every petty thief trying to feed their family, every orphan trying to get by, even the most horrid of criminals who simply didn’t deserve to die like a dog.”

“You have no idea how guilty I feel.” Another lie. Light didn’t deserve to feel anything but guilt for what he did. L prayed the twisting of his words did nothing but stab the killer in the heart and leave him to bleed out. “I could have stopped this case. I could have tried harder. I could go on and on about how foolish I was to allow Yagami Raito to escape, but I won’t. You could never understand how it feels to have aided in the murder of thousands, could you?”

“L,” Light began, a softness in his voice. “You can’t really believe this is your fault, can you?”

“You’re right.” L’s eyes narrowed, allowing more tears to spill out. How was he still crying? In front of Kira, no less. “It’s not my fault.”

He wanted nothing more than to attack Light with a tirade of ad hominems, but he kept the words on the tip of his tongue and stormed off toward the front door.

He needed to get out. He couldn’t be here anymore. He was suffocating and all he needed was—

“Are you mad at me?”

L froze. He whipped his head around to see his little girl, the light of his life, brighter than the actual Light in his life. She was shifting her weight between her little black Mary Janes and fiddling with the hem of her dress nervously. Immediately, he felt a pang in his heart and dropped on one knee.

“Gummy Bear, of course I’m not mad at you.” He insisted, trying his best to keep the tears from slipping back out. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, I, um…” Noriko trailed off. “You and Papa have been working a lot, even though you told me you would always be here. And then Papa was in the hospital and you were really grumpy and I couldn’t tell what was going on, but I really wanted things to get better today because it’s my birthday but you’re still fighting and I just—”

L brought a gentle hand to Noriko's cheek, wiping her tears with his thumb as she began to wail. After all those years of trying to give so many children normal lives, he’d hurt his own daughter over a case. Wasn’t this why the L Organization was founded? 

He’d worried that Kira would tear their family apart, but now…

“Noriko, it’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around her shaking figure. “None of this is your fault.”

She only cried harder in response, signaling L to squeeze her tighter and sympathetically rub the back of her skull.

“Do you promise?” His daughter asked, sniffling. She pulled away, holding out her pinky.

He froze. Promise.

He never found any value in the word until he met Light; no matter how much that reputation was tainted with blood. To him, promises were empty words meant to elicit comfort until that day in April when all he could think of were canaries and the loss of the only thing left to guide him.

But Light stayed. He promised he wouldn’t leave, and that they would stay together until the end of time. Was that empty too? Did it only give L false hope? He didn’t even know what to do anymore. 

What an idea: the world’s greatest detective trapped in a prison of his own mind, who can’t even reassure his daughter without breaking down.

Even so, L nodded and interlocked his pinky with hers. “Pinky promise.”

London — October 25, 2021 — 6:32 AM

The lounge of Touta’s hotel room held tension that could be cut with a knife. Light stood facing the balcony, with both Misa and Touta sitting on the couch.

“My husband doesn’t love me anymore.” Light stated. “I’m not sure what to do.”

“You woke me up at the crack of dawn for an ‘emergency,’” The officer’s face scrunched up in an emotion Light couldn’t quite place. “and it’s just marital ennui?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Misa swatted his head with her palm, causing him to cry out. He rubbed at the back of his head to soothe the feeling, yet didn’t seem too emotionally distressed. Odd, considering his recent behavior.

“I feel more tense than ever before.” The sculptor continued, paying them no mind. “Worse than when Misora aimed to drown me, worse than when I fled Japan…”

“Gods, Light.” Touta added with a baffled tone.

“Matsu, are you just mad because you’re still single?” Misa teased, leaning on the couch’s armrest with her legs curled at her side.

“No, it’s just—” He spluttered. His eyes scanned Misa’s outfit: a red cocktail dress adorned with floral black lace. She had matching red ribbons in her hair and wore a pair of darkened tights. Her trendy outfit clashed heavily with Touta’s tousled raven hair, white t-shirt, and lavender Hatsune Miku pants. “How were you able to get dressed so quickly?”

“Light called us an hour in advance.” Misa shrugged. “You just chose to sleep in.”

“Who checks their phone at five in the—”

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door, snapping Touta out of his defense. He quickly stood up and moved to the entrance. Once he reached it, he opened the door, revealing Sayu; dressed in a soft cream blouse over slightly loose jeans.

“Where’s my brother?” Sayu asked, her arms firmly planted at her side. Her brow furrowed as her eyes drifted down to view Touta’s (un)fashionable Miku pants.

Touta noticed where her hazel eyes had drifted to and sighed. He opened the door wider to welcome her. “He’s inside.”

Sayu rushed into the lounge, waved at Misa, and approached where Light stood at the window, his back facing her, “What is it?” She questioned. “What’s the emergency?”

Light turned towards his sister, his dull expression unchanging. “My husband is mad at me.”

As the minutes passed, Light explained every word L had spoken about their marriage the previous night with biased analysis reminiscent of a pretentious child in a literature class. Sayu nodded along sympathetically, with Misa humming in interest beside her. Meanwhile, Touta remained half asleep.

“So, your relationship lost its spark?” Sayu began. “That’s a serious problem.”

“This is a tough situation.” Misa mused. She turned to face Light with a soft smile. “But I’m sure you’ll fix everything eventually."

Light paused. Fix everything? Him? He sighed and brought his gaze to an empty spot on the wall in front of him. “My husband is… stubborn. I don’t know what to do in order to make him happy.”

“Oh, now I get why you wanted our help,” Touta started. “This is the one thing you don’t know anything about.”

Light raised an eyebrow. Was he still pissy about what happened in the atelier? 

Nevertheless, Touta continued. “I think it’s obvious what you need to do: just tell him how much you love him. ‘Oh, Elliot, I would kill to be with you forever.’ ‘If I can’t be with you, I’ll die.’ Set up some candles, put on a show he likes… acts of service! Never fails.”

Misa shot him a side eye. “Matsu.” 

“You can get him a nice gift too! Maybe some clothes that aren’t just white shirts and jeans. He won’t realize how much he loves you in the moment, but soon, it’ll feel like a movie! True love. And then you’ll be together forever.”

Misa’s gaze fell to her lap. Her eyes seemed glazed over, like she was in a different world. She blinked, her leg bouncing slightly in place. 

“You’re right.” Light said. “I should get him a gift.”

The room grew silent as the sculptor’s fists clenched at his side. He was sloppy before; careless. He had a plan, he knew his friends’ strengths and how to use them to his benefit. But now, he had the motivation needed to carry it out.

“I’m going to take down Kira.” Light stated, a fire in his eyes he thought he’d lost long ago. “That will fix this. I just know it.”

“You’re gonna overcome your marital problems with a serial killer?” Touta deadpanned. “What kind of gift is that?"

“Your husband must be precious to you, Light.” Sayu said, ignoring Touta’s words as everyone so often did.

“Yeah,” A smile formed on Light’s face. He leaned back into the couch’s top cushion. “He’s very important to me. I can’t imagine where I’d be if he wasn’t here.”

“That’s not what I said. He’s not important to you.” Sayu pushed. “He’s precious to you.”

Touta raised an eyebrow. “What’s the difference?”

“If something’s important, its value will decrease in time as it becomes less cherished. But something precious to you will stay in your heart forever.”

Light let out an amused huff. “I’ve been schooled.”

“Well,” Sayu rolled her eyes playfully. “I am a teacher after all. I’d hope I could educate someone.”

“Anyways,” Light cleared his throat. “I’m going to get back to work. We’ll infiltrate Kira’s Kingdom on Thursday. It will mark one month until the anniversary of Kira’s debut, so a lot of people are bound to be gathered there.”

He looked at the other people in the room, who all nodded in agreement.

“I’ll keep in touch.” He continued. “We can’t fail.”

London — October 26, 2021 — 9:45 AM

“You want to set a trap?”

L stood at the front of the meeting room, a stack of papers in his hand. He slammed them onto the desk and kept his eyes locked on Aizawa.

“It’s the most logical way to figure out how Kira is operating.” The detective stated. “London’s community of Kira supporters is the sixth most active globally. I’m also aware of the fact that the separate chapters of Kira’s Kingdom communicate amongst each other, with the highest earning ones having direct contact with Kira. This may be our only way in.”

“How do you know all of this?” Ide posed.

“I have Japanese connections.” L said. “The details are irrelevant.”

“How would this even work with our numbers?” Yamamoto asked. “Mogi, Ide, and the chief couldn’t pass as Kira supporters, and personally, I don’t want to step foot in that crowd. Plus, we can’t even shove the work onto Matsuda.”

He gestured to the empty seat beside him for emphasis, which caused Aizawa to sigh.

“Matsuda-san has called out sick today.” L said. That was a blatant lie. He had specifically instructed the office idiot to not leave his hotel room. Luckily, it was obvious he didn’t have enough of a spine to speak out against his plans. “Our current course of action is to look into Kira's Kingdom as much as possible and gather intel to take them down with. Then, we infiltrate them.”

He turned his attention to Aizawa, whose work phone sat on the table in front of him. He seemed to be exchanging messages with someone; a person unidentified by his list of contacts. Then, Aizawa looked up.

“I’m alright with this, but only because we’re out of options.” The chief glared in L’s direction. “We need all the resources we can get, and I’m sure Asahi-san is trustworthy enough to do the job.”

L nodded. “Thank you.”

Aizawa pocketed his phone and stood up, “I just got notice of an emergency conflict out in Cambridge.” He said. “I’ll have to take my leave for now. Call me if there are any updates.”

Ide raised an eyebrow, but Aizawa quickly muttered something to him under his breath.

L’s eyes narrowed. How odd.

London — October 28, 2021 — 7:12 PM

Luckily for Light and Sayu, Misa’s intel was spot on.

According to her, Kira’s Kingdom’s modern locations typically resided in smaller churches after they’d closed for the night, around 6:00 PM on an average weekday. She’d said that many Kira supporter forums listed meeting locations that varied wildly depending on the chapter leader’s working schedule.

And as it turned out, there were groups of people entering the building with their faces hidden by hoods: the stereotypical image of a cult.

Light fastened the listening device in his ear, as his sister did the same. It was only then when he finally realized how much he’d neglected his sister’s street smarts. He’d bonk her on the head with homework packets when she said she wasn’t paying attention, but now he realized just how similar the two of them were.

“What?” Sayu asked with a laugh. “Are you nervous?”

“It’s a cult formed around my image.” Light said. “Of course I’m nervous.”

“Um,” Touta’s voice rang out in his ear. “Testing, testing?”

“We can hear you.” Sayu said.

“Listen, Touta," Light began, pressing the earpiece deeper. “If anything happens to me, I need you to promise me you’ll get Sayu out of here.”

Sayu turned to him with wide eyes. “Light, you’re going to be fine.”

“Promise me.” Light repeated.

The line went silent for a moment, with only the vague noise of static filling his brain.

“Okay.” Touta finally replied, tone wavering. “I promise.”

“Good.”

Without another word, Light took a deep breath and headed for the doors, with his sister trailing behind him. He kept his head down, focusing on the exquisite quality of the cream-colored bricks surrounding him.

Before he could push the door open, Sayu removed her hood and opened it herself.

She walked up to the gathering of people with perfect posture and a sense of grace he thought unknown to his little sister. And yet, she carried herself as many would assume a goddess would.

“Excuse me,” She addressed them with accented English, causing them to turn. She threw her dark hair over her shoulder as she continued. “My name is Sayu, do you think—”

In an instant, a young twenty-something woman dropped to one knee with a gasp. Wavy auburn hair peaked out of her hood, and the freckles on her face scattered like stars in the sky. “My lady.”

Everyone in the room went silent, whispering of her identity. Sayu took this opportunity to stare at Light for a few short moments, to which he nodded and moved amongst the crowd.

“We are honored by your presence here, especially after the attack on Lady Misa.” The woman on her knees spoke, sounding ecstatic. “We’ve been waiting for your arrival for many years.”

Sayu hesitated, “I’m not quite sure yet. Can you teach me the workings of your operations?”

With that, Light ducked out of view and quickly strode into the first door he saw. As soon as he entered this new winding hallway, he sighed and allowed himself to relax.

“She’s doing amazing out there!” Touta said over the line. “She’s such a good actor, she could give you a run for your money.”

“Can you—” Light cut himself off as the sound of footsteps moved through the corridor. He lowered his volume to a whisper. “Can you just be quiet for one second?”

Touta responded to him, but the words went in one ear and out the other. Light wandered the hallway, quickly moving away from where the footsteps came from.

He rattled one doorknob, only to find it locked. Then, he sought out another, also locked. He continued this ritual for what seemed like forever, but the sounds of these people’s footsteps grew closer, and with them, voices.

“Sir, have you heard what P has said?” Light’s eyes widened as he heard a masculine voice speak.

“Yes, yes,” An older man replied. “It would be unwise to not acknowledge Lady Sayu’s presence further. You must think me a fool.”

“Light.” He heard Touta’s wavering voice speak to him again. He could vaguely make out the sound of his fingers drumming on his desk. “You need to get out of there.”

“I’m trying.” Light whisper-shouted. 

“Not at all.” Another voice spoke as the footsteps inched closer. Light tried another doorknob, but no luck. “But don’t you think her sudden appearance is suspicious?”

One of these doors had to lead somewhere. His operation couldn’t end this quickly.

“Well,” The elder scoffed. “I’m sure there’s—”

The group of men froze, now mere feet away from Light. The artist’s hands shook and slowly reached for the doorknob beside him, which was also locked. Honestly, how many doors did this damn place have?

“Oh,” Light let out a laugh. He swore he heard Touta scream into a pillow. “I’m sorry, but I seem to be lost. Could you point me to the bathroom?”

The eldest man raised an eyebrow, then allowed a grin to form on his face, “Of course.” He said. “What’s your name?”

Light almost laughed out loud. He was Kira for three years. There was no way he was falling for that, “Tsuki.” He settled on. “And yours?”

The man's expression shifted, but he didn’t allow the facade to crumble. “You may address me as F.”

His words caused anger to rise through Light’s body almost instantly. He knew a man named F: the head of the L Organization’s Southeast Asian operations. He’d helped to assemble the former successor program into several other provided services and helped handle the younger children. 

This was very much an insult to his name.

“So, Young Tsuki,” The man began to speak again, inching closer to Light. “What brings you to our community today?”

What a joke. This was very obviously a cult. Anyone who didn’t have a brain deformation would know this was a cult. How the hell were people falling for this?

“I just want to be enlightened, is all.” Light said with a slight bow. His hazel eyes swirled with deep crimson as he glared at the man who deemed himself his prophet. “I look to you for knowledge.”

F smiled genuinely, causing Light to relax. This was easy work. With F wrapped around his finger, he’d be out in—

Suddenly, he felt two strong arms slip under his pits and lift him in the air. The sculptor reared his legs in an attempt to subdue his attacker as he grunted in alarm. The man didn’t budge.

“Your eyes are that of a stranger’s.” F stated, stepping closer to Light. “You know, there are no secrets here.”

“I don’t know what you’re—” F reached for Light’s face and grabbed him by the jaw to shut him up. He reached for his ear with a hum and pulled his earpiece out. He threw the device on the ground and promptly stomped on it with his boot.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t lie to me,” The man said. “Or there will be consequences.”

Light grit his teeth. Bastard.

F smiled wider. “I would appreciate it if we had a little chat.”

Without giving him a chance to reply, the two men standing behind F moved towards Light, blocking his way. There was no way he could get out of this.

“Fine.” He spit.

“Who are you really?”

“I told you. My name is—”

Light felt two cold edges press into his jugular. His eyes flickered downwards, confirming his suspicions: these men were armed. 

He looked back at F, who only moved closer to him. And somehow, this reminded him of what was happening just down the hall.

Sayu was here.

They could kill Sayu.

“Yagami Raito.” Light gulped, his fingers flexing at his sides. “I’m Yagami Raito."

“So, it’s true after all.” F mused. “I didn’t expect to be right.”

He gestured for the men to lower their knives, allowing Light to breathe. Though, he knew better than to let down his guard.

“I’ll need you to prove your identity.” The elder said. “After all, anyone could pretend to be God.”

“You’re asking me to kill someone.”

F didn’t respond, causing Light to suppress a laugh.

“Do you really think I’d carry my weapon around with me?” He neglected to mention that he did have a piece of the notebook on him at all times. “Isn’t me entering the building with my sister enough for you?”

“Normally, it would be.” F made a quick hand gesture, and the men immediately grabbed Light and forced him upright again. “But I’ve spoken with God myself. I find it wise to seek proof before accepting what’s in front of me.”

“So you mean,” Light began. “You’re in contact with Kira?”

“I am in contact with a person who is close to God.” F clarified. “One who has true power they can share, and does not resort to lying to get their way.”

“That’s all Kira does!” Light cried. “Kira lies, cheats, will do anything to get their way. They’ll kill their family, their friends, the one they love most just to get off on being God of the New World. I know that because I was Kira.”

F raised an eyebrow.

His gesture seemed to be enough for the men restraining him to once again pull out their blades and point them at Light, who did his best to not appear alarmed.

“Listen,” Light began to plead. “You can reach out to this contact you have. Tell them who I am, and ask for clarifying details. If our stories match, you’ll know I’m Yagami Raito and that you can trust me.”

The elder chuckled. “I doubt there is any universe where I would trust you at this moment.”

“How about the next?”

F pulled out a sleek black phone—a burner—and swiped to the camera app. Before Light could protest, he snapped a picture and seemingly sent it off to this contact he seemed so confident in. 

“There.” He said, smiling at his phone. “Now, we’ll wait for your judgment.”

Dread seeped into Light’s body as the reality of his situation sunk in. His body tensed, heart racing.

“Do,” Light panted. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

F’s expression didn’t change, but before he could reply, Light’s phone rang.

Light’s eyes moved towards the pocket of his jacket as the vibrations continued. One of the men holding him captive snatched his phone from him, then gave it to F. The man scoffed, then showcased the contact: My husband.

“Go on,” F said. “Answer.”

The cult leader’s goons released their hold on Light, causing him to stumble into a seat. 

He grabbed the phone from F and quickly swiped the green button on the screen. He held the phone to his ear, not daring to let his guard down even for a moment.

“Hey,” Light spoke into the phone. “Is something wrong?”

“Hello, Light.” L paused for a moment before answering. He sniffled, then spoke. “I only wanted to hear your voice.”

“I… what?” The artist watched as F spoke to someone who had just entered the room. They were discussing something, but before Light could focus on it, his husband continued.

“You were right. This case has been hard on me. I haven’t quite narrowed down the exact catalyst just yet, but these changes are all linked to your coma.” L said. “I need someone to listen, Light. I need someone who shares my intellect and won’t judge me for anything. You’re the only one who can fill that void.”

Light froze. L missed him.

He’d been working late hours recently, which was something they agreed from the start would only be in emergencies. They were on the brink of divorce, and yet L still needed him. The idea shot a bittersweet arrow into Light’s heart.

“I’m busy right now.” Light said. “I’ll call you back later.”

“What?” L questioned.

“I’m busy.” The sculptor insisted. He swore he saw F smile wider. “You should just get home. It’s dark out, you know. Wouldn’t want anything to happen.”

“Oh.” The response was short, yet didn’t seem as sorrow-filled as his previous words had been. The emotion was replaced with another, “Light?” He called out.

“Yes?”

Light had expected a simple “good night” or maybe even “I love you” if L’s wishes for a divorce had been dismissed, despite how impossible that seemed. He thought his cold demeanor would shake him.

He should have learned from his mistakes back when he worked in that shitty coffee shop.

“I need you to answer with only a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ from now on.” L began, his tone wavering for one split second. “Can you do that for me?”

He looked at F, then turned his gaze to the nearby wall: the tapestries, the torn commandments of a paradise he relinquished. He nodded, pressing his phone harder against his ear. “Yes.”

“Are you with someone?” L asked.

Light shifted his focus back to F for a moment, then brought it down to the papers on the table. “Yes.”

L sucked in a breath. The false god could vaguely hear him bringing a finger to his lip. Light had always tried to make him quit that habit. He spoke again after another moment. “Can you handle it by yourself?”

Light flexed his fingers around his phone.

“Yes.”

“You have one hour.” L said, keeping his tone even. “After that, I want you to meet me in Bloomsbury Square. Alright?”

Light paused for a moment. He looked at F and the four people beside him. He would prove the world wrong.

He nodded. “Yes.”

Light would find Kira.

And bring L his head.

Chapter Text

London — June 2, 2015 — 12:30 PM

The three top-ranking successors sat in the room that once belonged to Quillsh Wammy.

Once upon a time, this room was used by L when he and his husband lived in the orphanage. But since they moved out, it had been unoccupied. In Matt’s eyes, this was the first time he’d seen any part of Wammy’s be this lifeless.

But unlike the last time he’d been there, both L and Light stood on the other side of the desk.

He looked at Mello, as well as Near who sat beside him. He leaned into Mello’s ear.

“Do you think we’re in trouble?” Matt whispered.

“You’re twenty-five, Matt.” Mello replied. “We’re not in trouble.”

“Personally,” Near began, an ivory lock of his long hair twirled around his fingers. “I doubt this is anything more than an informational meeting regarding the future of the successor program, considering both L and his partner have moved to London.”

L nodded. “That’s precisely it.”

Mello threw his head back with a groan while Matt sent him a side-eye.

“We’re making modifications to the program.” Light said. “Specifically, we’re not going to be accepting anyone else as a successor to L for the time being.”

Suddenly, Mello’s expression shifted from one of disdain to one of admiration. His eyes shone with hope despite being far past the age where that was expected of a child from Wammy’s. “Are we finally getting a chance to prove ourselves?”

“Yes. Something similar.” Before Mello could start cheering, L continued. “We have decided to refashion Wammy’s House into a global organization.”

Mello blinked, then all but jumped out of his chair. “Are you kidding me?!”

“I agree with Mello.” Near said. “We’ve been kept inside Wammy’s to train to become the next L for generations. It feels quite redundant to change the program now.”

“We’re not trying to uproot your futures.” Light insisted. “We’re trying to give you a chance to explore your options. You can still work as a detective under L, but you can choose where to work from rather than be forced to stay in the orphanage. I promise you, we’re trying to keep all of the successors’ interests at heart.”

Mello scoffed. “Yeah, like you kept L’s interests at heart when you made him change his career?”

“Mello.” L began sternly. “That is not what happened and you know it.”

“If I know so much why are you tossing me and the others away like trash?”

“Mello, can we please talk about this like grown adults?” Light pinched the bridge of his nose, almost about to pop a vein.

“Oh, so I’m a person now?” Mello feigned innocence. “I thought I was a statistic: a failure of a successor.”

Light’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what we said.”

“But you sure meant it.”

“Mells,” Matt tugged on his friend’s sleeve like a lost child. “Maybe we should hear them out. What about our plan?”

“Well, clearly, I need to explore my options.” Mello yanked his shirt out of Matt’s hand and turned towards the door. “Have fun with your organization. I’m out.”

The door slammed shut, causing both of his friends to wince. L let out a long sigh, much like that of a doting mother, though he was anything but.

“Near,” He called out to his formerly top-ranking successor. “Please try to change his mind.”

Near blinked. “Wouldn’t Matt be more suited to handle him?”

Light sighed and gestured to Matt, whose hands clenched around the jeans he wore. His eyes were welling up with tears. Near’s expression surprisingly softened at this, and stood up from his chair.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He said. “Though I can’t promise I’ll return with him.”

The white-haired boy walked out of the office, now leaving Matt and the couple alone.

“They’re not coming back,” Matt murmured. “Are they?”

Light clicked his tongue, “I don’t know.” He said. “But what matters is if you’re staying, Matt.”

The boy looked up, staring at the two men who Mello had insisted ruined their futures. Though, all he saw was an idol he’d worshipped as a child and the person he bowed to. If he could help someone, anyone, wouldn’t that be enough?

Would it be enough for Matt to finally make a difference?

He nodded.

“I will.”

London — October 28, 2021 — 8:40 PM

L paced around Bloomsbury Square park, keeping his finger set against his lip. The unyielding soles of his shoes made each step uncomfortable, but he hardly cared.

It had been nearly an hour since Light had informed L of his situation. With every passing moment, the probability of Light coming out of this situation alive dropped lower and lower. 40%... 30%... 

L knew his husband could defend himself, but had no idea who he was up against. He was Kira, so he knew how to kill effectively. It was just a matter of if he was fast enough.

He hated Yagami Raito, and thus hated Light Lawliet. He had to kill Yagami, so he had to kill his husband. Kira was a monster, and so was…

L stopped.

He didn’t know what to do.

He heard the sound of frenzied footsteps rapidly approaching his location. He recognized who it was and exactly why he was there, but still…

“L!”

Without thinking, L swung his head around to look behind him. 

It was Light. There were small beads of sweat running down his forehead as he ran to L. His brown hair stuck to his skin, but his piercing eyes remained completely visible.

Light stopped running six feet in front of L. His hands rested on his knees as he panted. His eyes were pointed towards the ground, but L could imagine how they appeared behind his mask: scared.

“I—” Light cut himself off with a sharp inhale, then brought himself back to his usual perfect posture. He pointed to his black-banded watch with a dorky smile on his face. It was so unlike him that L wanted to laugh. “I took exactly fifty-eight minutes!” 

L stared at his husband, his grey irises staring at the crafted watch on Light’s tanned wrist. What was going on? 

Light’s smile didn’t fade. It felt uncanny. Why was he this happy? After all that had happened and all both of them had done to put an end to their marriage, why was he so excited to see L? They weren’t lovestruck twenty-somethings anymore. They were a detective and a serial killer. 

“I still have two minutes to spare!” Light laughed; that wonderful, stunning laugh.

And suddenly, everything that made L regret marrying him faded away.

“Light,” L began. “I lied about my feelings changing.”

“I know.” Light said.

“I never wanted a divorce. I was being foolish earlier and I promise you I didn’t mean anything I said.”

“I know you didn’t.” 

“When I told you I hated you,” L continued, his facade starting to break. “I was lying to you.”

“Yeah,” Light responded, trying his best to keep a smile on his face. “I know.”

“You’re lying, Light.” L said. “I only–”

He cut himself off by wrapping his arms around Light’s neck. His husband’s head dropped to meet L’s shoulder. L felt the small beads of sweat streaming down Light’s forehead and past his neck. He felt his husband’s invigorated pulse sending vibrations through his skin. 

Most importantly, it all felt right.

“I wish,” The detective began, tightening his grip on the fabric of Light’s shirt. “I wish you could live as me for just one day; just to feel my emotions and understand how much you being safe means to me and how much I love you.”

“If you were to know everything,” L began to choke on his words. “I wouldn’t feel like such a monster.”

“You’re not—” Light cut himself off, as if his statement was melted away by the warmth of his husband’s embrace. “There’s something going on with you.”

It wasn’t a question. Light didn’t bother explaining what he meant, but L knew what his intentions were. He held him tighter.

L nuzzled into the nape of Light’s neck, and in that moment, it felt like the world was created in their names.

The cruel, rotten world.

London — October 28, 2021 — 9:04 PM

Matt stared at the desktop computer sitting in front of him.

One of the benefits of working for L—the only benefit, actually—was that he was second in command of headquarters. He had dominion over L’s office, somehow, and was able to use it as he pleased.

Though, there was only one thing he would do every time L was away for the night.

He logged onto Zoom as his screen was filled with his initials in a harsh Cloister Black font. Then, he saw a familiar figure appear on the screen.

His blonde hair was longer than he remembered it, now landing just barely against his chest and complimenting the black jacket he wore. His bangs were cut messily and laid flat, seemingly recently straightened. His cerulean eyes contrasted against his locks and narrowed as Matt’s icon filled the screen. 

“You’re still working for L?” He asked.

Matt quickly turned on his camera with a click, which caused Mello’s expression to shift. Maybe seeing Matt’s familiar yellow-tinted goggles tamed his unease.

“You’re still offering yourself up on the black market?” Matt retorted.

That caused Mello to snort, “Jesus Christ, it’s detective work, not prostitution. And it’s just barely illegal.” He laughed. “But yeah, still making money. We’re doing pretty well for ourselves here.”

Matt didn’t respond.

“You know,” Mello began. He brought his hand out in front of him and examined his painted nails. “I would fly you to America in a heartbeat. I’m sure Nate wouldn’t mind.”

“You always say that.” Matt rested his chin in his hand, hiding his smile. He hadn’t talked to Near in… a year? He wasn’t sure. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“And you always say you’re happy being L’s sidekick, and I know that’s bullshit.”

“I’m not lying.” Matt insisted. “I’m happy in London. I love helping people and I love you guys, but I can’t just pack up and leave in the middle of a case.”

“Then how about after Kira?” Mello’s eyes projected the dreams Matt once thought lost; trapped in the confinement of a now-obsolete orphanage. “Take a vacation. You always used to rag on me for working too hard as kids, but look at you now! You’re free, Mail. Live like it.”

Matt’s hand tightened around the computer mouse.

“How did you do it?”

Mello tilted his head in confusion. He took a large bite of his chocolate bar, piercing it just barely past the manufactured lines, causing Matt to squirm, “Do what?” Mello asked.

“How did you abandon the program so easily? It was your life.”

“That’s why I left.” Mello said. “They took us as kids and raised us to basically be obedient child soldiers, then had the audacity to tell us they were changing the system, forcing us to move, and we couldn’t complain. Isn’t that fucked?”

“It is when you say it like that.” Matt sighed. “I don’t know when you got so good with words. Last time I saw you, half your words were swears.”

Mello shrugged. “Not joining a soulless organization probably helped.”

“Right.” Matt folded his hands in his lap. “The organization.”

“Listen, I’m not trying to pressure you, but…” Mello hesitated, then ran his fingers through his hair. “If you wanna take a risk, then maybe you could come to the states with us.”

“Mells,” Matt tensed. “You know I would love—”

“Asahi-san?” A woman called out from the other side of the door. “Asahi-san, are you in there?”

Matt looked back to the computer screen as Mello’s brow furrowed.

“Go on,” The blonde spoke with an indescribable look in his eyes. He brought a hand to his mouth and wiped off the chocolate residue. “Do your job.”

“It’s Yagami Sayu.” She said, her voice barely audible over the ringing in Matt’s ears. “Can you open the door?”

He kept his eyes on the screen. “Mello?” Matt called out.

The blonde hesitated for a moment, then shook his head and ended the call.

Matt stared at the screen, trying his best to suppress the tears threatening to fall. When did they get like this? When did Matt get like this?

He sighed and went to open the door. And when he did, he finally saw Yagami Sayu for the first time in person. Unsurprisingly, she looked exactly like the photos: dark hair, a soft-looking sweater, and a skirt. 

“Oh, um,” Sayu looked him up and down, one eyebrow raised. “Is Asahi-san here?”

The hacker blinked, then rubbed at his eyes. “No, actually.” He coughed. “He’s out right now.”

“Well, get him back.” Sayu huffed. “This is urgent.”

“If someone called you into work at 9:00 at night just so they could yell at you, would you listen?”

“It’s different because he made me waste my night so he could interrogate me.” Sayu walked into the room, leaving Matt to sigh and close the door. As long as L didn’t check the cameras, he probably wouldn’t get in trouble, right? “And he didn’t even show up!”

Matt moved behind the desk and sat down. He closed out of Zoom before she could question it. She began to pull out a chair as he spoke. “I know how that feels, Yagami-chan.”

Sayu froze. “You.” Her gaze narrowed and her grip on the chair tightened. “You’re Matt. From the phone calls.”

“Yeah, I’m the tech guy.” Matt rolled his eyes. “Relax, will you?”

“I’ll relax when you get my brother’s name out of your damn mouth.” She slammed the chair into the edge of the desk.

“Woah there.” He held his arms out in defense. “I’m not the one in charge here.” He’d made sure of that.

“Well then call Asahi-san for me and tell him to get into his office: where he demanded I be under threat of being incarcerated or whatever.”

“No can do.” Matt shoved his hands in his pockets. Gods, he needed a cigarette. “There’s a… family emergency.”

Sayu scoffed. “You’re such a liar.”

“What, and you know every detail about Asahi’s family?”

“It’s only fair considering he seems to know everything about mine.”

“You’re the one who found the notebook, Princess.” Sayu scowled at the nickname. “You should know that Raito was—”

“Was.” Sayu emphasized. “You have to think about this. Raito knew everyone on the task force, including me, who saw his weapon. He’d almost definitely kill us if he had the ability to.”

Matt blinked. Huh. He hadn’t considered that. It was so obvious that Yagami Raito was Kira, he didn’t bother looking into anything else, including other suspects for the breach in the database. 

“You have a lot of faith in him.” Matt said.

Sayu hesitated, but nodded. “Someone has to.”

Matt cleared his throat. “Well, Yagami—”

“Sayu.”

He stopped. “What?”

“Call me Sayu.” She said, shifting her weight. “Yagami-chan makes me sound like a child.”

His hands shook. Why was this so casual? She was being interrogated as a potential accomplice in the case. Why were they sitting in the most secure place in the building when one of them could easily harm the other?

Even so, Matt smiled. He reached over the desk and held a hand out to her.

“Nice to meet you, Sayu.” He said.

She grabbed his hand and smiled genuinely for possibly the first time in years. “Likewise.”

London — October 28, 2021 — 9:28 PM

L and Light sat in the dining room, now devoid of any reminders of the recent birthday party. 

L crouched in the chair in front of Light, a warm cup of tea and side serving of sugar sitting in front of him.

“I don’t know if I quite enjoy London anymore.” He said after a minutes-long silence. “I believe Noriko would benefit from a quieter space. We never sold the land Wammy’s was on, you know. Perhaps we can do something with it.”

Light’s body tensed. His fingers scratched against his forearms through his sleeves. “What do you mean?” 

L let out a sigh, dropped a few sugar cubes into his tea, and carefully stirred it with his spoon. “After I catch Kira, I want us to move back to Winchester.”

His words hung in the air. L took a long sip of his tea with his eyes fluttered closed and his eyelashes brushed against his impossibly dark bags.

Light let out a breath. “That’s the last thing you wanted. I thought this was about second chances.”

“There are no second chances for us” L almost mumbled, one finger reaching for his mouth. “This entire idea was built on unstable foundations. It was only a matter of time until it crumbled.”

Then, as if the detective hadn’t just destroyed the pillars of his belief system, he poured the rest of his sugar cubes into his cup of tea. He immediately chugged it as his husband watched in horror.

After a few moments, L let out a soft sigh, “I’m going to work for a while.” He said as he stood. “I’ll be in the lounge.”

Light watched in horror as L, the man he’d loved for his trust in his intuition, made the choice of throwing it all away. And for what? A case that Light started.

Second chances, He thought. His mind went to Kira’s Kingdom. Was going back to the past a good idea? He didn’t know.

Light walked through the halls of their loft. Surely there was some explanation that didn’t rest on the shoulders of the mistakes he made at seventeen. There had to be something.

He stopped walking just outside a closed door, where soft snoring could be heard from inside.

Light peeked into his daughter’s room, hands trembling as they gripped the door’s frame.

Noriko was sleeping peacefully, curled up in three thin blankets to account for the cooling temperature. Her arms were wrapped around a soft pillow that was almost larger than her. Her little legs kicked under the covers, likely in response to whatever she was dreaming about.

Light walked into her bedroom. He stood beside her bed, observing how her moon-shaped night light shone on her face. She was breathing steadily, but the bed frame shook slightly with every movement, which caused the plastic jewelry she left hanging on the wooden finials of her bed to crash against each other.

“I wanted to die.” 

Misora’s words rushed into his brain. The ravings of a near-dead man that he could never scrub from his memory.

“I needed justice. You should understand that better than anyone.”

Ignoring the thought, he plopped down on the bed, careful not to wake his sleeping daughter. He ran a soft hand up her back, feeling the expensive silk pajamas L had personally requested for her. Light allowed a small smile to form on his face.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, fingers trembling. “For what I’m going to do.”

He felt Noriko shift her position with a soft groan, her arms ragdolling as she turned in her sleep. The motion made Light flinch, but before he could change his mind, he stood up from the bed.

With brown eyes focused on his little girl, his hands found the night light.

In a matter of seconds, the beam of light that brightened Noriko’s face had vanished.

As if it was never there at all.

London — October 28, 2021 — 9:57 PM

Light was sitting in his home studio, watching the night sky as storm clouds began rolling in. He’d always been fond of the rain.

He pulled out a small flip phone from his pocket; one given to him after he had talked his way out of being murdered by his own worshippers.

“Once Kira confirms your identity, we will contact you.” F had assured him as he pressed the phone into his hand the previous night. “The call will arrive at approximately ten tonight.”

Light thought about the people helping him. Touta would probably tell him not to risk his life for this. Sayu would throw the phone on the ground and smash it. And Misa? He didn’t even know anymore. It was like she was a whole different person.

He stared at the phone. He hadn’t had one of this model since his time in Japan. He’d call acquaintances to spend a day with him just for the sake of hearing a compliment, and he’d had several of Misa’s phone numbers logged in his phone in case he had to order her to do something despicable.

He hated how nostalgic he was for those memories.

Before he could think anything of it, the phone began to buzz. He opened it and pressed it to his ear.

“We’ve received confirmation regarding your identity.” He heard a woman’s voice speak to him before he could even get a word out.

“Have you now?” Light’s eyes stayed focused on the view outside his window.

“Yes.” He could hear the admiration in her voice. He forced himself to suppress a gag. “God.”

Light’s fist clenched at his side. “I’m glad there haven’t been any miscommunications on that part.”

“We’ve been very careful.” The woman said. “And now, we’d like to renew your status as our savior, Kira.”

A gasp escaped his lips before he could stop it.

“You’d—” He cut himself off with a formal clearing of the throat. “You’d like to present me with my weapon?”

He thought back to Touta’s hotel room; how L had discovered their plan to trap Kira’s Kingdom. This would be the perfect opportunity to put Kira to rest for good. The cult likely wouldn’t give Light a full Death Note, but with even a few pages, he could trace them back to Kira. 

It was just a matter of controlling himself once he received the pages. Could he bear to have that on his conscience when he could hardly resist the urge to use the scrap currently in his possession?

“Indeed.” She said.

“I am honored to be beloved by such generous people. Thank you so much…” He trailed off. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”

“Within the church, I often go by P. I am the head of communications here, so we will meet again with absolute certainty. Thank you for recognizing me. It is a privilege.”

Light wanted to smack himself in the face. 

“Regardless, will Sunday be an adequate meeting time?” She asked. “We typically exchange our goods then. Perhaps you could join us for a mass as well.” 

Light froze for a moment, then vehemently shook his head. “No. That’s my husband’s birthday. I can’t just leave.”

Not again. His brain supplied. You already ruined your daughter’s special day.

“What matters more to you?” The woman’s tone turned deadly, sending shivers down Light’s spine. “The happiness of one man or the fate of the world?”

Light drummed his fingers on the desk. He needed to be there for L. They’d only just revived their marriage, so it would be needlessly cruel to go behind his back on his birthday. But he was Kira, wasn’t he? He was a god again, according to these people.

What would be worse for a god to do: abandon his worshippers or harm the man who made him feel mortal?

Then, it came to him.

“Alright. I’ll do it.” He said. “Anything for the new world.”

The girl hummed. “For the new world.”

And before he knew it, the call was over, and the burner was in his pocket as if it was still untouched.

Light stepped into the lounge, his light footsteps carefully avoiding the creakiest of floorboards.

He approached the couch and peered over at L. He was lying in the fetal position with his knees up to his stomach, though one of his arms was hanging off of the couch due to the lack of space. His laptop lay dormant beside him, with some kind of confidential document left exposed.

Light looked at the screen, doing his best to read it, but in classic L fashion, it was written in a cipher he couldn’t read. Of course L wouldn’t let him monitor his activity. It was only natural.

His eyes drifted back to his husband’s resting figure: his even breaths, his raven hair spread across the cushion, the ring on his—

Light paused.

L was wearing his wedding ring again.

L loved him again.

Light’s vision blurred as the room spun around him. He stumbled out of the lounge and into the bathroom just a few doors down. His shoulder slammed against the wall as he shut the door.

His gazed eyes fell upon the mirror; circular, framed with gold like a halo forcefully placed above his head. 

Light looked disheveled. His golden brown locks were wild and uncontrolled. The black outfit he wore to blend in with the shadows now appeared dirty and out of place with the lighting from the bathroom. His eyes were tired, with bags rivalling L’s. His irises had hints of crimson, glaring at him from their place in the glass.

He will destroy you, his reflection seemed to say. He loves you and he will destroy you.

He gripped the counter with shaking hands. He needed this bastard out of his head. He needed to get out of his own head. He needed to get out.

Get out.

His eyes drifted to his left hand, where his wedding band was perfectly fitted to his finger. He brought his other hand close to it, and slipped it off.

The ring clattered onto the marble surface beside the sink with a soft clank. Light felt a laugh bubbling up in his throat, threatening to escape and send him teetering over the edge.

The sound slipped past his lips. He laughed, just quietly enough to not draw attention to himself. He stifled it with his hand as the sounds he made grew more deranged.

But none of it mattered.

He had nothing to lose anymore.

London — October 29, 2021 — 10:34 AM

L stared at his computer screen, half dazed and half dead.

It wasn’t that the case was dull, the opposite actually. He had lusted so much for an interesting case that he’d manifested his husband being the criminal he’d hunted for years.

Maybe he could force Matsuda to do some of the unimportant work.

“Hey,” L turned to the officer in question. Matsuda continued. “How are we supposed to trap Kira’s Kingdom, exactly?”

L tilted his head in confusion. Was Matsuda trying to trick everyone into giving him detailed intel, or just being an idiot?

“I was thinking we could retrace our steps.” Yamamoto suggested. “There could be some clues we glossed over.”

“Aizawa,” Ide began. “You went back to Cambridge a few days ago. Did you find anything there?”

Aizawa looked back at his friend and sent him a glare. “It’s nothing.” He said. “We’ll talk later.”

“No, he’s quite right.” L spoke. “Why were you in Cambridge, Aizawa-san?”

L’s eyes met Aizawa’s. For a moment, it felt as if there were only three people in the world: L, Aizawa, and Yagami Raito.

And only two of them could exist at once.

Before anything could come of the thought, the phone at L’s desk began to ring. There were very few people who knew his—not the detective L’s—work phone. Who would bother to call this one?

He brought the phone to his ear, dangling it between two fingers. “Yes, this is Detective Elliot Asahi of the L Organization.”

“Hello, Asahi-san.” Someone spoke to him through a voice filter not unlike the one he used as L. Their Japanese was clearly fluent, but something about it felt… familiar. “I have an important tip regarding the Kira investigation.”

Their words struck L harder this time. Who would call Elliot Asahi about Kira? Matt was the one forwarding calls and handling their database, and the task force had set up their own private hotline. Why wouldn’t this call go to one of them? Unless—no.

“Apologies,” The detective’s voice began to waver. “Who am I speaking with?”

The line went silent for a moment. L drummed his finger on his desk as he finally took notice of the rest of the task force, who were currently glaring at him.

Eventually, the caller replied.

“Yagami Raito.”

The phone nearly dropped from L’s hand. Yagami Raito. His husband.

His heart beat with so much force he feared it would explode. Light was one of the only people who had this number, so it wasn’t impossible. But this was a suicide mission. Why would he do this? 

“Asahi-san?” Yamamoto called out, but L hardly registered his words. “Who is it?”

Before L even thought to answer, Aizawa took the phone from his hands with a grunt. L’s gaze remained distant; staring off towards an undetermined spot on the wall.

“Hello?” Aizawa said. “Who is this?”

After only a few moments, the irritation in the chief’s expression shifted into that of horror. 

Then, he took a deep breath and spoke away from the phone. 

“He says he’s Yagami Raito.”

“Wha—” Matsuda spluttered. “No, that’s impossible.”

“Matsuda, focus.” Ide snapped.

The task force rushed to get their speaker system together as Aizawa spoke. 

“How are we supposed to believe you’re who you say you are?” He questioned. “Do you know what number you just called? Why would Kira call the L Organization: the group of people trying to have him killed?”

He paused for a moment, seemingly to listen to whatever Yagami was saying.

“No, we’ll listen to whatever you have to say.” Aizawa glanced towards the machine, then continued. “We’re going to put you on speaker, is that alright?”

After a few seconds, Aizawa nodded, and Mogi hooked the call up to the speaker.

Almost immediately, the voice began to speak. “How many people are listening?”

“There’s six of us in total.” Aizawa replied.

The murderer hummed, “That should be fine.” He said. “Do not let a single word exchanged on this call make it to the public. I’m sure you’re aware that I’m calling you through a burner, so there’s no use in tracking me. Even if you did manage to find me, I doubt you would be able to take action against me.”

“Why call us?” Matsuda asked. L whipped his head around to stare at him. Had they not discussed this? “What’s the point in revealing yourself to us when we’re trying to catch you anyway? There’s no way to benefit from this, is there?”

“I have connections with Kira’s kingdom.” The killer stated, causing Matsuda’s eyes to widen. “On Sunday, they will be meeting in a secret location to retrieve a number of pages from the one Death Note currently in the human realm.”

L heard a stifled gasp come from behind him. The other men reacted with widened eyes as they realized the implications of this statement. This was, without a shadow of a doubt, the real Yagami Raito.

The real Light Lawliet.

After the shock faded, he filed the date away in his brain: October 31. A previously occupied night now pushed aside for the sake of justice.

“And do you know where they will receive the pages from?” L prompted. “I assume not from your previous source.”

“They come from the current Kira.” He replied. “But what I do know is if you don’t listen to what I say, the situation is only going to get uglier.”

Aizawa’s eye twitched. “Is that a threat?”

“I’m not the one threatening you. Kira is.”

“But you’re not Kira?”

“Not at the moment.” Yagami affirmed. “They intend on giving me multiple pages of the notebook at this meeting. Those are your opening. Do not take this for granted.”

“We won’t.” L said, his toes curling at the edge of his seat. “That much I can assure you.”

“Wonderful.” The men could hear the killer smirking through his words. “I’ll keep in touch.”

The line disconnected.

London — October 29, 2021 — 5:06 PM

Ide walked through the parking lot beside the L Organization’s provided housing quarters. 

The lot was not very full; only having the task force’s rental cars and a vintage red Chevrolet that Ide assumed belonged to the brown-haired guy who he saw outside smoking occasionally. It made him question if the man really had a life or was just an android L had programmed to do his work for him with minimal pay.

After his short stroll, he arrived at Aizawa’s rental car. He gently knocked on the window to signal him to open the door, to which he did.

“So,” Ide slipped into the passenger’s seat. “Why here?”

“The organization has cameras all over their provided housing, but I couldn’t find anything in the cars.” Aizawa said. “I had to make sure nobody would be able to track us.”

Ide raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Aizawa reached into the car’s glove box and revealed a sealed plastic bag. Ide’s gaze focused on the object kept inside: a small silver recording device.

“Chesterfield contacted the task force’s hotline on Tuesday. He said someone must have dropped something when we were chasing down Yagami last month.” The chief explained. He handed the bag to Ide, who took it without question. “So, I went there and found this in his garden.”

“Why would it be there?” Ide asked, keeping his eyes trained on the device. It had small cracks littered around its surface, as if it had been dropped. “Asahi and Yamamoto were the only ones who went to his house in the first place, but they didn’t even get close. The only one who did was—”

He stopped. Aizawa nodded gravely.

“I examined the prints as soon as I found it, just to make sure. There were two separate people who touched this. Matsuda was one of them. The other prints weren’t in the system.”

Ide looked up, meeting Aizawa’s eyes. “It has to be Yagami. He was the only other person there that night.”

“It’s a good thing Chesterfield didn’t contact the organization first. We got lucky there.” Aizawa gestured to the device. “This is how we find Kira, and how we figure out what Matsuda is really doing in London.” 

He continued. “The only problem is that the data was wiped. I’ll have to take it to a tech shop as soon as possible; before the raid on Kira’s Kingdom.”

“And after that?” Ide prompted. “What’s going to happen to Matsuda?”

The chief’s shoulders sank as he let out a long sigh. “I think you know.”

London — October 31, 2021 — 8:38 PM

L and Light sat at the dining table, quietly enough that they could perfectly hear each tick of the latter’s watch.

L played around with his fork in an attempt to pierce as many strawberries as he could. He’d never quite cared for his birthday, but Light had decided to make a homemade shortcake that year, so there was very little to complain about. 

Part of him wondered if the cake was an apology for what he was plotting, or a way to cheer him up and distract him from the raid happening on the night of his birthday. It didn’t matter.

Light sat across the table from him with a single wine glass and a half-empty bottle of sake. He’d neglected to have a slice of cake, which while being blasphemy in the eyes of L, was in character. He’d never been one for sweets.

“It’s a big day.” Light said, sipping from his glass.

L nodded. “It is.”

“Are you worried?” The sculptor asked, face flushed. “About getting older, I mean. Forty-two is a big number.”

“Minimally.” He stared at his husband; at those golden flecks in his eyes and shaking hands. “My worries are directed more on you, actually.”

Light blinked. “Why would you be worried? I’m fine.”

“Love, that’s your third glass of sake.” L deadpanned. 

“And that was your fourth slice of cake, but you don’t see me acting concerned.”

He gestured to the messy plate of discarded whipped cream and strawberry juice sitting in front of L. The detective’s gaze focused on Light’s left hand as he ranted, but not because of wandering eyes. No, he was focused on the lack of a wedding band around his finger.

They had just made amends after their previous spat. What could this possibly be about? His call to the L Organization? But he was the reason this case would be solved.

Light stared at his watch, and for a moment, L’s heart stopped. Instead of speaking of the device’s deadly capabilities, he simply sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go meet a client.”

“At this hour?”

His husband didn’t respond as he walked to the door, toed on his shoes, and grabbed his raincoat. L let out a breath.

“Light,” L called out. “I hope you know I forgive you.”

His husband froze with one arm stuck inside a sleeve. “For what?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” L admitted as he stepped off of his chair. “But I know that whatever you believe I hold against you is impairing your cognitive function.”

“Oh.” Light said, adjusting his coat and promptly zipping it. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. Just enjoy your birthday.”

L walked up to him and grabbed his hand. “Be safe.”

Light ripped his hand from his grip and swiftly left.

London — October 31, 2021 — 9:23 PM

When Aizawa arranged for the recording device’s data to be restored, he didn’t expect it to ruin the schedule of the raid.

It was necessary for him to book an appointment for a time when Asahi was occupied, but as it turned out, there was enough lost data to delay the pickup time.

But now, as he drove to the L Organization, he held the device in its original form.

Aizawa had it in one hand, covered by a handkerchief, while doing his best to stay focused on the road. He clicked through several personal recordings he didn’t quite feel like getting into. Matsuda was always a bit too casual for him

He clicked forward, all the way to the most recent recording. He stared at the displayed date and time: September 20, 2021. 5:10 PM. 

September 20 was the day the task force had set out to talk to Chesterfield. Though, Matsuda’s recording being set at 5:10 was mildly concerning. If this confirmed his theories, it would mean Matsuda met with Light as soon as he left headquarters.

Without taking his eyes off the road, he hit play.

Immediately, he was met with the distinctive sound of wind hitting the microphone, as well as a fair bit of static.

“Hey, Raito-kun.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. The voice was undeniably Matsuda’s, but Aizawa’s focus was on his words: “Raito-kun.”

He was right.

“What?” A vaguely familiar voice replied. Aizawa swore he’d heard it before, but where? It was clearly meant to be Yagami, albeit aged significantly since he’d last heard him. But the voice rang yet another bell he couldn’t place.

But then, Matsuda spoke again.

“How did Yagami Raito become Light Asahi?”

Aizawa swerved uncontrollably in the lane, causing a loud horn to blare from the car behind him. He quickly turned on his signal and made a break for the emergency lane. 

His mind raced, visions of the case flashing by him as he tossed the recording device into the seat beside him.

“Yeah, I would never lie to any of you.”

When he first landed in London, Aizawa had tried to convince everyone that Matsuda was Kira’s accomplice, but he’d eventually let him back onto the task force due to a lack of suspicion. What did this recording—this casual conversation of false identity and murder—do other than prove his suspicions right?

“Touta.” Yagami began over the recording. “My husband doesn’t know anything about me. He doesn’t know my past and he doesn’t know about my problems. He’ll never know anything and he’ll never ask questions. I made sure of that.”

Aizawa’s mind raced. Surely it was impossible for someone so important to the L Organization to not know his own husband was Kira.

But what he’d said about the case…

“Yagami Raito disappeared fifteen years ago. He’s virtually a ghost.” Asahi had argued. “You simply pointing out Yagami’s involvement and nothing else proves that we have no tangible leads.”

He had been so blatant, so obvious, but no one did anything. How had they been fooled again? And if that wasn’t enough, Yagami Raito had called his work phone specifically, not the Japanese police, not L himself, but Asahi. The evidence was staring him right in the damn face!

Aizawa fully pulled over and let out a loud groan as his forehead knocked into the steering wheel.

He was an idiot.

London — October 31, 2021 — 9:30 PM

Sayu was laying on the couch in the hotel room with her legs positioned vertically in the air. Misa sat on the floor near her, likely taking pictures to attach to a health update for her fans. 

Sayu, on the other hand, was talking to the woman from the previous night: P, apparently. The communications manager. 

“We are honored by your presence here, especially after the attack on Lady Misa. Have you finally decided to accept your role?” The woman had asked. “We’ve been waiting for your arrival for many years.”

Just thinking of that girl made her want to vomit.

Sayu wouldn’t have bothered with her if she wasn’t spamming her with events she would never attend. That was what she assumed P was doing during their current conversation.

Sayu’s stomach dropped, and her hands released her phone, which fell flat on her nose. 

Notebooks.

She thought back to 2006: the trashed scraps of a black notebook, the police, everything the L Organization said and did. It all revolved around notebooks, which meant this had to…

Sayu froze.

If Light’s plan involved becoming Kira again, what would that mean for her? 

What would that mean for all of them?

“Everything okay?” Misa asked.

Light was adamant on wanting to stop Kira and make sure the killings stopped. But if he was going to receive a weapon…

Sayu picked her phone up and flipped herself to sit in a normal position, “His plan won’t work.” She said. “They’re setting him up.”

Misa rushed out of her seat and plopped down next to Sayu. She stared at the message on the screen.

Several moments passed, to the point where Sayu was worried she may have broken her. Then, the idol spoke.

“I have a plan.”

London — October 31, 2021 — 9:39 PM

“As I was saying,” L spoke to the task force within their usual conference room. “We will need to move efficiently through Kira’s Kingdom. This deal will be happening at approximately ten o’clock, so we will have to storm the building as soon as we arrive in order to intercept them and retrieve the notebook pages before they reach their leader.”

The detective looked to his side, then let out a sigh. “Where is Chief Aizawa?”

Almost on cue, Ide’s phone began to go off. He began to check it, but L shot him a glare before he could.

“Um,” Yamamoto began. “Am I the only one wondering where Matsuda is?”

“There are separate arrangements for him.” L replied swiftly. “He will be meeting us there.”

It was actually Matsuda himself who had asked if he could skip the briefing. His reasoning was horrible, but it was a much better alternative to the possibility of L’s husband being slaughtered.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the door slammed open, revealing the disheveled police chief. He turned to L, eyes filled with rage.

“Get out.”

L blinked. “What?”

“As Chief of the NPA, it’s my right to restrict who assists us with our cases and I’m telling you to get out.” Aizawa seethed.

L staggered backward, his hand wrapped tightly around his company I.D. In response, Aizawa tore his hands away and trailed the detective along behind him.

“What’s going on?” Yamamoto made an attempt to pry the chief’s hands away, but Ide held him back. “You can’t seriously think this is okay.”

“He has his reasons for everything.” Ide said.

L’s eyes didn’t leave the men, not even as he was forcefully dragged from the room. Aizawa slammed the door behind them and stormed off in the direction of L’s office. Not long after, Mogi ran out of the room.

“Let him go.” He tried to run towards Aizawa, but the latter hardly noticed. 

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” Aizawa said, finally lowering his tone. His hold on L’s wrist tightened. “You and Matsuda both.”

“Aizawa-san, what do—”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” He cut in. “You know damn well what I mean.”

L’s eyes widened. His head dropped down and raven hair obscured the paleness of his visage. Aizawa sighed as the other members of the task force stood their ground.

“You lied to us, Asahi.” The man spit his alias informally. “You knew about him all along and had the audacity to lie to us, lie to the world about it. Have you no decency?”

“Aizawa, you’re out of line.” Mogi insisted, moving towards him. “Get your hands off of him.”

Aizawa didn’t relent. There were tears wetting his eyes, and his legs shook under the weight of his secret crashing down on him.

Mogi shoved Aizawa off of him, which he surprisingly didn’t fight. Yamamoto rushed to L’s side in response, using his body as a shield.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

L opened his mouth, but no words came out. The youngest man in the room placed a hand on his shoulder, but L flinched. This action alone spurred Yamamoto into action.

“What the hell is your problem?” He yelled. “You of all people should know you don’t assault your—”

“It’s not Aizawa-san’s fault.”

Everyone in the room turned to L, who now stood with his usual bad posture and monotone expression. He brought a hand to his face and wiped at his wet cheek.

“He has every reason to be angry with me.” L continued. “I deserve any and all punishment. You all should prepare for the raid and get to the church as soon as possible.”

Ide walked up to Aizawa, who had since been released from Mogi’s grip, and whispered something in his ear.

“Asahi-san,” Yamamoto called out. “Are you sure?”

L nodded. “Without a doubt.”

Yamamoto stepped away from the scene, not taking his eyes off of Aizawa until he turned the corner. The other men followed suit.

As soon as there was nobody in the area, Aizawa spoke.

“When did you find out?” He crossed his arms. “I’m not going to take any of your excuses or lies. Just answer the question.”

L swallowed. “Right after we arrested Misora.”

“And Matsuda? Where is he hiding?”

The detective hesitated. This was his problem; his and Light’s. They started this, not Matsuda. “He’s working with Raito. I can only assume they’re closing in on Kira’s Kingdom as well.”

“Right.” The chief clicked his tongue. “Does Yagami know you found out?”

“Of course not.”

“Alright. So, according to you, you had no idea that your husband was Kira.” Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve obtained sufficient proof that Light Asahi and Yagami Raito are the same person. If you want to keep yourself out of it, then be my guest. The only reason we’re here is because you didn’t think you could accept the truth.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Gods, Asahi, open your eyes!” Aizawa snapped. “Your husband is a serial killer. These feelings aren’t real! Anyone with common sense, especially someone working directly with L, should know that.”

“He doesn’t have a Death Note.” L said. “He has pieces of it, but not enough to kill more than a few people. The few pages he informed us of will be in our custody thanks to his help. The current Kira clearly cannot be him.”

“Did you forget about the original Kira case?” Aizawa questioned. “He worked with Amane. He could be controlling everything from the sidelines. What if the pages are fake? Do you honestly think he’s telling the truth?”

“My husband isn’t involved.” The detective insisted. “He can’t be.”

“Do you have proof? Not your intuition, but physical proof?”

L froze. All he could do was tremble. He felt a tear drip down his cheek.

“What about the organization?” Aizawa spat. “Is L aware you’re harboring a criminal who should be on death row?”

Monsters who tell lies. L’s mind whispered. Lying monsters are a real nuisance. 

“L knows.” He said. “The details of how and why are none of your business.”

“Why would L—” Aizawa stopped. For the first time, L thought he saw the man question himself. “It’s you.”

L’s eyes widened. Aizawa seemed to notice his expression, because he let out a quiet laugh. His hand flew up to cover his mouth as he regained his composure.

“Of course it’s you.” He almost mumbled. “You were the only person from the organization who got involved. You knew too much about Kira to be just a proxy. You’re L, and you love Kira.”

The last sentence came out as accusatory, with all of the chief’s rage boiling over at once.

“You never wanted to catch him, did you? You were going to let him kill as many people as he wanted.” Aizawa spat. “All this time, you’ve been running your own company into the ground for the sake of a serial killer.”

“I’ll resign.” L dropped to his knees, hands clawing at the carpet. “I’ll leave detective work, I swear. Just give me some time. After that, I’ll leave the organization, I promise.”

Aizawa sighed, not sparing the detective a second glance.

“Tonight, we’ll raid Kira’s Kingdom as planned. Then, tomorrow, I’ll arrest Kira for good.” He said. “Just, for the love of all that’s holy, stay out of it.”

Aizawa walked away, back towards the group of men that would be Light’s undoing. 

And L Lawliet, now left kneeling in front of a shrine of the horrors he’d lived for his whole life, prayed.

Chapter Text

London — October 24, 2015 — 1:28 PM

“She’s beautiful.”

Light peered through the window, watching the baby—their baby—squirm slightly in her bassinet. She was managing nicely in her white onesie and matching hat, which, despite being the uniform of every newborn being kept in the nursery, she seemed to stand out among them.

He distantly wondered if this was how his father had felt when he was born. When Yagami Soichiro laid eyes on the baby who was then Yagami Raito, did he sense the potential greatness radiating from him? Were there any signs that he was destined to become the perfect child, or was the conditioning of his own doing? Was he named for the light of the moon because he shined brighter than the rest? What really set those unreachable expectations in place: his name or his upbringing?

What about his own child, Noriko? She was named for law and justice. When choosing her name, did Light project his visions of who he wanted his daughter to be onto her before she was even born, just as his father had? L had agreed upon the name as well, so it may have been both of their doings. Even so, would his child feel the burdens of being named for a system that would always remain corrupt, or would she bring about a new era? 

“Love?” Hearing L’s voice snapped Light out of his thoughts. He brought his gaze back to his husband as he continued to speak. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know,” Light began, feeling a slight tremor in his hands. “I don’t know what to think.”

L took notice of Light’s behavior, quickly grabbing his hand in order to ground him. He always seemed to know what to do. “I believe Noriko feels the same way.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s only her first day alive. She’s experiencing new sensations and likely already developing opinions about it all, but she can’t voice them. It’s all new to her.”

The sculptor hummed, “That makes sense.” He turned towards his husband and squeezed his hand tighter.

“Do you think we’ll be able to handle this?” Light asked. “Can we be better for her?”

L blinked. His gaze shifted downward, thinking of a time when he thought the world was cruel to children, and there was nothing he could do. He stared into the ground with the same determination he treasured and used to push himself forward, and seemed to search for something on the floor; or something buried deep within it.

“We must.” He said, his grey eyes holding memories of blood and flames. “We’ll protect her above all else and make a world where she’ll be safe. It’s something I’ll bet my career on. She’ll never want for anything.”

“You’re confident about this.” Light mused, leaning into his lover to get closer to his face. “I’m jealous.”

L scoffed. “Well, this much I’m certain of.”

He placed one hand on Light’s cheek, a soft blush blossoming across his face.

“You’re going to be an amazing father, Light.” L said, brushing Light’s hair from his eyes. “I don’t need to be the world’s greatest detective to know that.”

London — October 31, 2021 — 9:48 PM

“L?” He heard a voice say. Then, he heard a soft snap. “L, can you hear me?”

L’s eyes fluttered open, only to see Matt snapping his fingers in front of his face.

“You doing okay?”

L looked around him to try and remind himself of where he was. He was left kneeling on the floor in front of his office, his hands running over the texture of his jeans. His black hair was tangled in front of his eyes and obscured his vision.

“Matt,” He began. “You’re supposed to call me by my alias when we have guests.”

“I tried.” Matt said. “I was trying for two minutes and you never answered.”

L blinked, like some weird little spider monkey. Then, he spoke again.

“Where are Aizawa and the others?”

“They’re about to raid the building.” Matt stated. “Without you.”

“No.” The detective murmured, as if slipping back into his dazed state. “No, I can’t let them.” He stood up and stabilized himself on the wall.

“L, take it easy.” The hacker threw an arm around his mentor, who then pushed it away.

“They’re going to arrest my husband, Matt.” L choked out.

Matt froze, “What? He questioned. “Why? What’s wrong with Light?”

“There’s no time.” L said. “I need to beat them there.” 

Without another word, he ran towards the parking lot, leaving Matt alone in the hallway.

Matt stood there for a moment, his hand barely outreached in his mentor’s direction. Of course. Why would he expect anything else?

He would always be left in the dust.

London — October 31, 2021 — 9:59 PM

“The others will be here any minute.”

Touta looked over at Light from his place in the driver’s seat of his L Organization-provided car. He didn’t meet his eyes.

“You’re sure they won’t check you for bugs?”

That time, Light sent him a glare. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing his watch, to which a listening device was attached.

“They will.” He said. “I’ll just turn it on when they’re not looking. And if I need backup, you’re here.”

Touta felt his heart swell in his chest, in a way he hadn’t felt since before Light ran away. But before he could say anything, he was already out the door and running into the church. Of course.

But shockingly, another vehicle appeared. One that was oddly familiar.

Touta left his vehicle and locked it behind him, then, he saw someone emerge from the passenger’s seat of the other car. It was a somewhat small girl who stumbled a bit as she walked into the church, and her black bangs obscured her face.

Misa?

As soon as, seemingly, Misa walked into the church, he watched—

“Sayu-chan!”

He ran towards her just as she attempted to enter the church.

“Oh, drop the honorific bullshit.” Sayu deadpanned.

Touta reached a hand out and grabbed her wrist. “You need to grab Misa and get out of here. It’s too—”

“What? Dangerous?” Sayu scoffed. “Remind me which one of us has been in this building before. I dare you.”

“You don’t understand. L’s gonna be here soon and he can’t see either of you here with Light.”

“He won’t if you just let go of me.”

Just as the words left her mouth, the sound of cars pulling into the church filled their ears. Sayu whipped her head to face them, but instead of freezing, he reached into his pocket and grabbed the keys to his car. He placed them in her palm, making her flinch.

“You need to get out of here!”

Sayu looked down at her hand, then back at Touta. And for a moment, she wasn’t just a woman he knew from a past life anymore. She was back to being Light’s little sister. Family.

She nodded and ran for the car just as the task force drove towards where the raid was set to happen. Touta ran towards them.

The raid looked exactly how he’d expected: transport vehicles surrounded by demented Kira worshippers. The task force stepped out of their vehicles, with Asahi sending him a look that clearly showed suspicion. He ignored it and began reaching for his handcuffs along with the others.

“This is the L Organization.” Asahi’s voice boomed with authority, enough where Touta understood how he and Light were so close. “Put your hands in the air."

Just as they’d expected, many of the cultists made an effort to run. The group of men followed suit.

Touta was able to wrestle a somewhat skinny guy to the ground and cuff him, muttering to tell him he was under arrest. He then looked up at the aftermath: most of the cultists were cuffed, and a few were being pinned to the ground and restrained.

Finding Kira couldn’t be this easy.

Could it?

He looked toward one of the people currently being restrained. Both Asahi and Aizawa stood over the man, with Aizawa cuffing him. If he focused intently enough, he could make out what they were saying.

“You have children at home.” Asahi pushed, as if this had been a long-running conversation. “It’s best to leave this to me so you can go back to them.”

Aizawa scoffed. “You’re trying to lecture me about being there for my kids? Whatever might happen to their lives after this case is nothing compared to what might happen to yours.”

“I don’t have a life after this case.”

His words caused Aizawa to freeze, the cuff in his hand still pressed against the cultist’s wrist. After a few moments, he shook his head and went back to restraining the man.

“L,” He all but mumbled, though Touta heard the name escape his lips. L. Was Light married to L himself? It had to be a quick slip-up, right? They were surrounded by Kira supporters. “if you don’t think you have a life, What does that mean for Yagami Raito?”

L stopped. He stared out into the distance. “I won’t know until I find him.”

Did Aizawa know?

Aizawa sighed. “I’ll give you one night. That’s it.”

Before Touta could dare to put the pieces together, he ran inside.

Their team was royally fucked.

London — October 31, 2021 — 10:00 PM

As soon as Light stepped into the meeting room, he was met by P, as well as one of the larger men who had followed F during his last visit.

P shot him a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She had a soft spring in her step as she walked toward him, one that triggered him to pay attention to her demeanor. If she had even the slightest subtleties hidden in her expressions, he’d be able to read them with ease. She seemed to be that kind of person.

The man stepped forward, and Light instinctively formed a T-like formation, to which he hummed.

Light felt himself be patted down from top to bottom, though his eyes never left P’s. She was sitting on a wooden chair with one leg casually thrown over the other. Every second seemed to take hours to pass, until finally the man stepped away from him.

P gestured for her god to sit down, to which he nodded.

As soon as he sat down, he interlocked his fingers and reached just far enough into his sleeve to turn on the recording device.

“I apologize for any inconveniences caused by this meeting.” P began. “I’m aware you had your concerns.”

“It’s alright.” Light insisted. “This is more important.”

“I’m glad you’re dedicated to our cause, especially now that you’ve agreed to join us fully.”

“Yes, I’ve been wondering about that.” Light pressed forward. “How quickly can I receive my weapon?”

“Oh, very soon.” P waved him off. “We’re waiting on a few supplies.”

“Supplies?” He asked. “I assumed I was just being given the paper.”

“Well,” She cleared her throat. “What kind of kingdom would we be if we didn’t witness the strength of our leader in person?”

Light’s ears began to ring, his vision blurring as he struggled to stay upright. They wanted him to kill someone.

It had been fifteen years. Fifteen years since he’d committed the crimes he was currently being hunted for. Did he have the strength to become the hunter himself? Or was it a weakness to turn back to the sorrowful life of a lone God?

P’s smile widened, and she reached into her pocket to reveal an elegant ballpoint pen.

And suddenly, the world stopped spinning.

His hand inched towards the pen, towards his destiny. He itched for it, needed it despite everything in him begging him to stop. P watched as his hand began to wrap around the pen. Her eyes focused on the reach of his arm.

Then, she spoke.

“Tell the transport team to place the pages in the safe, and tell F to keep his guard up.” She ordered the man standing beside her, stare fixed on Light. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this exchange short.”

He nodded and walked out of the room without a word.

Light’s posture stiffened, suddenly snapped out of the daze he had been thrown into. “Why? What’s going on?”

“You, God,” The woman let out a ghastly snarl to accompany the title, one that made Light shiver. “Are not being truthful.”

The artist felt a drop of sweat begin to run down from his brow. His hands began to tremble at his sides. “What are you talking about?”

Before he could protest, P grabbed him by the arm, causing him to wince. He almost wondered how such a petite woman could have so much strength, but he allowed the thought to fade in favor of a more potent observation.

Her fingers were wrapped around his watch: the heart of all his deceit.

“You’re very bold, Yagami Raito.” She said. “Bringing your unauthorized weapon into this meeting, especially after telling us you were powerless, was a mistake. It makes one wonder what else you’re hiding.”

Light met her eyes and swore he could see Kira’s reflection staring back at him: evil, a liar, the man he felt himself becoming. 

Then, he heard a loud crash sound from outside the door.

The sound was enough to make P flinch and thus loosen her grip. Light took the opportunity to launch himself from the chair, throw it at her with a grunt, and sprint into the hallway. Once he made it outside, he froze.

The man he’d seen before—the one meant to contact the transport team—was on the ground, unconscious with a large bruise staining his head. Standing over him, on shaky legs and shakier breaths, was Amane Misa.

Light’s mind raced. How was Misa here? Why was she here? She was supposed to be resting, helping behind the scenes as her wounds healed, both internally and externally. He’d told her to stay put. He knew her to obey orders, so why…

“Misa?” He questioned, watching P struggle to stand out of the corner of his eye. “You can’t be here, it’s too dangerous. How did you even—”

“I took your car.”

“You what?!” Light spluttered. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not stupid, Light.”

Light’s mouth snapped shut, and before he could speak, she continued.

“When a human touches the Death Note after relinquishing ownership, their memories will return as long as they touch it.” Misa recited. “All I had to do was write down what happened after I made contact with the notebook. I know everything, Light.”

The artist froze. How could he let this happen? He’d been so careful, so dedicated to not mentioning anything about notebooks or Shinigami around Misa. When did she touch the Death Note? She had to have found his watch at some point, but when?

He thought back to every interaction they had, every time they met.

Light plopped down on the couch and sat beside Misa, who let out a short sound at the contact. He leaned back as his former girlfriend opened up her phone and began to type.

Her phone…

Light looked back at Misa, who nodded.

Gods, he was an idiot.

“Misa, you need to get out of here.” Light ripped the extinguisher from her hands. “I don’t know what I’d do with myself if—"

“If what?” Misa snapped. “I already took a knife for you. I was forced to take the blame for everything you did and just had to live with it. I don’t care what happens to me anymore. What matters is you have a family to go back to. I’m as much of a murderer as you are.”

“Misa…” Light trailed off. He felt a tremor in his hands, though he didn’t break eye contact with his former girlfriend.

Before he could continue, he heard the man begin to stir behind Misa. He turned them around, forcing her to get away from him as he got into his line of fire."

Unfortunately for his plan, Misa then pulled the exact same trick.

“You need to get out of here.” She said. “I’ll hold them off.”

“How?” Light questioned. “Misa, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Misa-Misa!”

He whipped his head around to face Touta, who seemingly came through a side door. He charged in their direction, and Light took a moment to wonder if Misa would be in more or less danger if left alone with him.

Then, he remembered.

“I was there when Asahi was trying to save you. I, um, I was the one who called 999.” Touta had said. “I guarded the door and didn’t let them in until the ambulance came. When it did, I covered your face with my jacket to try and hide your identity. I doubt they thought anything of it.”

“You’re sure?” Light asked, shaking with every word he uttered. “You’ll be safe?”

Misa nodded.

He stared at Misa, at the natural hair she had grown out and the shine in her eyes he had seen so often in Japan. Then, he sighed.

“Thank you.”

He turned to run as fast as he could towards the nearest exit door. He just needed to run, before he got caught, before—

A firm hand wrapped around his arm, and for a moment, he thought it may have been his husband. Before he could even process what happened, he was dragged into a nearby room.

Light heard himself let out a scream, though it was quickly covered by a wrinkled hand. He kicked his legs backward in an attempt to get the best of his attacker, but he was quickly subdued and forced onto the ground.

He hit the floor with a wince as pain blossomed in his left shoulder. He was then kicked and rolled onto his back just enough for the man to shove his foot onto his throat.

It was only then when Light was able to see the face of his attacker: F.

Of course.

“I truly hoped you would come around to our cause.” He began. “Though, when I was informed of your betrayal…”

F looked at Light’s wrist, and for a moment, the latter’s heart stopped. His watch.

The cultist brought his unoccupied foot down on his wrist, shattering the recording device on impact, as well as the glass cover of the watch. Light let out a pained groan that sent an awful reverb through his throat.

He could feel the warm sensation of blood dripping down his hand in crimson streams disrupted by shards of glass. The man above him seemed content, almost gleeful, as he reached for a zip tie he had in his pocket.

He knelt down and began to tie Light’s wrists together as the artist did his best to ignore the stinging of his wound.

“It’s pitiful that I once thought you a god,” F said. “All you seem to do is run away. But not this time.”

“You’re a fool if you think you’ve won.” Light snarled. “If I were you, I’d grab the notebook and get out of here before things get messy.”

The elder huffed. “I believe you should focus on your own survival. The only ‘messy’ thing here is how your family may react to the news of your judgment.”

“Gods can’t die.”

“Well, you’re not quite the God of the New World anymore, are you?”

F got off the floor and began to drag Light towards a large cabinet as he kicked and screamed, though the longer this went on, the less it seemed as if he would survive.

The man threw Light roughly, then used the zip tie to secure him to the handle on the wooden door.

“You—” Light threw himself forward in an attempt to loosen his binds, but to no avail. He winced as the zip tie dug into his wrist. “You can’t do this!”

“This is God’s will, I’m afraid.” F walked across the room and grabbed his cell phone from his pocket. “I assume you know how this will end. One phone call to God, and you’ll be another wannabe serial killer for the news to mock.”

Light’s stomach dropped. In that moment, all of his efforts to escape vanished. He stared at F, wide-eyed yet fully aware of what came next to a horrifying degree. “You’re just going to kill me then? Is that it?”

“God already has your name and face,” F said as he opened his contacts. “And once I speak of your treachery, well…”

“Can’t I know who he is?!” Light screamed so loudly it made F freeze. The former killer felt sweat run down his back as he trembled from how desperate he sounded. “Just one final service for the man who gave you everything?”

F blinked for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. His finger hovered over his phone, so still he almost appeared like a statue from Light’s collection.

“You don’t know who he is.” Light said, half mumbling to himself. “You only communicate through those phone calls, don’t you? You’ve never met with Kira in person.”

The elder didn’t respond, which prompted Light to continue.

“It makes so much sense. That’s why the Japanese branches are so big. Because Kira can make personal visits to them. That’s how they get pages of the notebook, isn’t it? And you just have to ride their coat tails. That’s why you need to wait for verification from the others.” Light’s eyes focused on F’s phone. “You’re nothing without that cell phone.”

F’s eyes narrowed, “Your hubris will be the end of you, Yagami Raito.” His finger inched towards the call button, causing Light’s heart to race violently in his chest. “Mark my words.”

Light squeezed his eyes shut, simply waiting to hear the countdown to his demise. Forty seconds. That’s all it would take.

He remembered what Ryuk told him on the day they met. He was meant to kill him using his own notebook. Light assumed it would come well into his reign as God, when all crime was lowered and no threats appeared. Once he had built a utopia.

But Ryuk was gone, or at the very least stuck with the new Kira.

Light never built a utopia. He never made his perfect world. He got a shitty job and worked himself to the bone to start his own business. He met L, the strangest man he’d ever known but the only person in the world to truly know him in return. They started a life together. They bought a house. They started a global corporation. They had—

They had a daughter.

Noriko’s eyes lit up. “Can we go to the festivals? In Japan?”

Noriko.

Could his daughter stand to live without him? Could his husband? He remembered L screaming at him.

“I spent days trying to take care of Noriko. I had to tell her that her papa might never come back. Did you know that?”

A world without Light hurt him so much; hurt their daughter.

“You’re her hero, Light. I don’t know what would happen if you died, and I’m terrified because I’m supposed to know everything.”

If nothing else, he was able to do something right. He was able to live with a happy family who truly loved him. Even without a perfect world, everything felt perfect when he was with his family.

What would they do when they found him dead? Would they weep? Would they mourn silently? Would they know he was Kira? Would they care?

He allowed his thoughts to slow as he took a deep breath for possibly the last time.

Maybe they loved him enough not to care.

He kept his eyes shut, awaiting his impending heart attack—

Bang!

Light’s eyes shot open, and he let out a gasp at what he saw.

F remained fixed in his previous position, though his head whipped around to look into the hallway. Notably, his phone was no longer in his hand.

Light frantically looked around at the floor for answers, and finally found the device, though a clean bullet hole was shot straight through it.

He looked up at the doorway as he heard slow, careful footsteps approach the room. He saw the barrel of a handgun enter, then a pale hand with a finger hovering by the trigger.

Then, Light froze.

A black-haired man entered the room donning a white sweater and jeans with a lanyard around his neck. His grey eyes didn’t move from his target, not even daring to blink.

“Raito,” L began, keeping his aim steady. “You need to get out of here, now.”

Light stared at his husband in disbelief. L kept the gun pointed directly at F’s head, not a single drop of sweat visible despite the severity of the situation. L staggered closer to F as the latter’s hands began to raise into the air.

“You knew?” Light asked, panting. “All this time, you knew?”

L didn’t answer. His finger inched closer to the trigger. He had a clear shot if he wanted to take it, it was just a matter of how far he wanted to go; how much of a monster he wanted to prove himself of being.

Instead, L brought his leg up into a Ponteira kick aimed at F’s crotch. The false prophet yelped and fell to the floor, letting out a curse. 

L once again put the gun point blank at his head with a sharp glare. “Put your hands in the air.”

The man sat up, eyeing L in ways Light desperately wanted to erase from his mind. He groaned, then raised his hands above his head. L retrieved a pair of silver handcuffs and began to press them to F’s wrist.

Before the cuff could be secured, the man turned and pushed L to the ground. He stood up with a manic grin, pressing the heel of his foot into L’s chest as he hissed in pain.

“Stop!” Light screamed. 

F grabbed L by the collar and pinned him down with his face pressed to the ground. It was clear that his husband was trying to fight back, struggling in his assailant’s grip and trying to keep his composure. Still, Light could feel a sense of dread seeping into him.

“Let him go! You can’t—” Light leaned forward, trying to break through the ties that bound him to the cabinet. “You bastard!”

Light closed his eyes and pushed his arms forward, desperately trying to escape his restraints. He pulled, and pulled, and pulled until finally…

Light stood up from his place on the ground, rubbing his wrists due to the friction of the zip tie. His eyes widened as he saw the severity of the situation.

There was blood dripping from several areas of L’s body, along with early signs of bruising. He’d tried to resist, but F had seemingly stopped all of his attempts with ease. The cult leader had his hands around L’s neck and was pressing into his pale flesh, to which L cried out and tried desperately to fight through the pain.

Light began to feel his pulse thundering and his heart rate increasing to new levels. He let out a yell and charged towards F. He jumped and raised his fist, then slammed it into the man’s jaw. He fell to the ground with a loud grunt. Light soon followed, his arms reaching out to shield him from the impact.

He quickly stood and moved back to his target as L rubbed at his now freed neck. Light kicked F in the ribs as he screamed in terror. His screams made him kick him again. And again. Again. Again.

He needs to be punished. Light thought, staring at the criminal's horrified expression. People like him don’t deserve to live.

Light climbed on top of F as he flailed around pathetically. Light shoved his tanned hands into his throat, just as the man intended to do with L. He pushed harder into his jugular as he screamed for someone, anyone, to help him. Light couldn’t care less.

“Raito!” L cried. His given name sounded so wrong on his husband’s tongue, and yet… “Raito, hold on.”

He heard L run towards him, but didn’t dare to divert his attention from F. Light would save so many lives. He needed him to die.

He felt a pair of hands grabbing at his shoulders, trying to pull Light off of him. Why would L do such a thing?

“Raito, you can’t kill him.” L pushed his love off of F with a stern look in his eyes despite his injuries. Light couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Why was he shaking? “You can’t be doing this right now.” L continued.

“There are search warrants out for this place. F’s declared wanted by the organization and both the London Police and Japanese Task Force. They’re going to be here any minute. They’re going to see you.”

Light froze. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No, he was supposed to prove his innocence. He wasn’t supposed to repeat his mistakes as Kira. What was he doing?

“Get up,” L practically begged him. “You need to get up right now.”

Light scrambled to stand, causing L to follow. He brought his hands up to grip Light’s forearms. His pale hands trembled despite his firm grip and Light could almost feel how rushed his breaths were.

“You can’t go home.” L said, the pitch of his voice wavering. “Aizawa knows you’re Yagami Raito. He found out because of a stupid mistake and I couldn’t talk him out of it. He wasn’t like the others, Raito, he was—”

L trailed off, his gaze frantic and unfocused. Light brought a soft hand up to cup his husband’s cheek, hoping he wouldn’t mind the blood on his hands. Light’s eyes didn’t leave L’s as he waited for him to regain his composure.

“He’s going to arrest you tomorrow.” L stated, tears welling up in his eyes.

“What?” The word escaped Light before he could even process what L’s information meant.

He was trapped. They knew everything. Light couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t— He couldn’t—

“You need to go.” L cried. He pushed Light towards the door, trying his best to stay calm. “They can’t see you here.”

“L—” The name slid off his tongue with a delicate tone. “L, I’m sorry.”

“Just go!” His husband screamed. "Do you want me to drag you out?!"

Light flinched, but still nodded his head. He walked towards the door as L’s body shook with his sobs. He couldn’t look back now.

London — October 31, 2021 — 10:24 PM

L walked out of the chrch, dragging the Kira-obsessed preacher outside with him. He stared ahead with dead eyes, as if a guillotine was about to cut off his head for the entire task force to see.

Mogi walked up to take the cultist into the backseat of his car, to which L allowed him to. He needed time.

Then, he heard a grunt behind him, which made him scatter from where he stood.

Matsuda Touta had been thrown onto the ground.

As if L could hardly believe it, he stared into Aizawa’s eyes with a look of horror as he firmly slapped a handcuff onto his wrist. Then another. Your husband is next. The chief seemed to say. Give up.

Then, he watched as the unlikely presence of Amane Misa was dragged out of the building—albeit, much more gently due to her condition—and cuffed as well.

They were going after everyone, it seemed.

So, he took a deep breath.

And got in his car.

London — October 31, 2021 — 10:40 PM

Light drove away, using the car Misa had taken from him to get as far as he could get from that church.

His mind was screaming at him to slow down and stop; that this whole endeavor was totally meaningless. But he couldn’t prevent what would happen the next day if he stayed in London. There was no way.

He lost.

“You don’t know anything about me.” L had snapped at him. “I didn’t have a reason to like you. I don’t need a reason to dislike you either.”

His husband’s words flooded his mind, leaving him to drown in a sea of memories that he could never rise up from.

“Everything about you makes me sick. I hate seeing your fake smile, those eyes that seem like strangers to me. I hate it all.”

He drove faster, desperate to drown out the voices with the sound of the engine. It hardly worked.

“If you were to know everything, I wouldn’t feel like such a monster.”

If L was a monster, then what did that make Light? Perhaps the devil incarnate, fallen from godhood and now cursed to live a loveless life. 

Maybe they loved him enough not to care.

He shook the thought from his mind as soon as it came to him. He’d been a fool to believe that.

“Just go!” His husband screamed. "Do you want me to drag you out?!"

Light was a fool.

As he drove, his mind directed him to the view of a bridge overlooking a beach. Powerful waves crashed against the shore, as if they were in the eye of a hurricane. Grains of sand were blown away by the force as the waves dominated the area.

The murderer pulled over beside the bridge, his breathing uneven.

“Damn it.” Light sobbed. His grip tightened on the leather of the steering wheel. He had to get out of town. He had to get out of the country. He had to go anywhere that wasn’t England.

He leaned forward as tears spilled out of his eyes and dripped onto his khakis, already soiled with the filth from his earlier encounter. His knuckles began to whiten as he let out a cry.

“Damn it!”

His forehead fell into the steering wheel, hitting him in the head and making him cry harder. He shut his eyes and tried to imagine a life outside of Britain; a life without his family. He was done for. He lost.

One trembling hand reached out towards the radio, turning up the volume of the pop station he’d barely registered due to the stentorian voice in his head. As it turned to full volume, he hummed and stepped out onto the street.

A barrage of raindrops fell on the man, his body becoming soaked. His black jacket was left behind in the car; a glorious shield abandoned by its user. The rain beat down on his navy button-down and bloody khakis, making him shiver.

Nevertheless, he walked over to the bridge and stared at the view below: a small, empty beach with wild water splashing onto the sand. 

He placed one foot on the ledge, then another. His tanned, shaking hand gripped the railing as he bent down to remove one of his black dress shoes from his foot, now caked in blood.

Then, before he could even think to step over the railing, a large splash of water soaked his back with rapid force. He turned, only to see an L Organization car stationed right behind him.

It parked just in front of Light’s, the headlights shining on the damp ground. L Lawliet stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut with his elbow. He stepped onto the bridge and looked his husband in the eye with that familiar analytical expression.

“Raito,” L began. “What are you doing?”

Light didn’t respond.

“Get down.” L insisted, reaching a hand out to his husband. “Please, Raito.”

“I can’t believe you knew.” Light said, wiping a tear from his eye with a smile. He tilted his head back with a laugh. The sound of his voice filled the silence of the bridge. His body trembled with every chuckle, but it didn’t relent. “You knew all along. You knew that I…”

L watched him, doing his best to control the tremors in his hands. He nodded, his eyes blurring with tears. Still, he kept his gaze fixed on Light.

The sculptor’s head dropped down as he panted. His drenched caramel hair draped over his eyes in an even formation. “I’m Kira.” 

The rain kept pouring. Cars sped by with soaking windshields, yet the clouds never parted. The pair was soaked, their shirts sticking to their filthy arms and shoes flooded with rainwater. 

“So.” Light turned his head to face L slightly, his eyes finally peeking out from his bangs. “What are you going to do now?”

L found it in himself to smile, his tears now falling and mixing with the rain. His dirtied shoes took a step forward toward his lover.

“Nothing.” He said, his voice unwavering. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Why haven’t you left already?” Light asked, his shoulders beginning to tremble from the weight of his own machinations. “You’re L. I should have been arrested by now.”

“You really don’t get it.” L said, slightly bewildered. “I’ve given up my career to save you, even though I knew you were a serial killer. You don’t understand my motivations?”

“I don’t—” Light choked on his own words as he violently sobbed. “Everything I did was wrong. I killed people. I hurt you; I hurt our daughter. I don’t— I don’t know why you’re here even when you know that. I kept this all from you and didn’t even try to make things better.”

“It’s too late for that, now.” L said, his voice muffled by the fabric of his lover’s sweater. “You can run away; get away from it all in every way you can imagine. This doesn’t have to be the only solution.”

Light’s legs buckled, and he stabilized himself with the railing. “Because you love me?”

L nodded. “Because I love you.”

Those words were the final straw. Light fell to his knees and sobbed, his black shoe still barely holding onto his foot. He dug his fingernails into his back as he wailed in agony.

L rushed to his husband’s aid and dropped to the ground beside him. He held Light’s face in his hands and wiped his streaming tears with his thumb. Without warning, L embraced him and buried his face in his neck.

The feeling of warm, wet tears on his neck only made Light cry harder. His unstable grip grew tighter around his lover, so as to never let him escape again.

“I wanna go home.” Light sobbed, his grip on L’s red-stained sweater increasing tenfold. “I just wanna go home.”

L paused. Home. 

Home was where the task force knew they would be. Home was where they’d have to face their daughter after what happened that night. Home… was where Light felt the most like himself.

“But Raito—”

“It’s Light.” Light stared at him with glassy eyes and a broken expression. “Please. It’s Light.”

L froze momentarily, until eventually, he grabbed into him harder, to the point where all he could focus on was the collective warmth of their bodies as they merged into one.

“Okay, Light.” L muttered into Light’s collar. “Let’s go home.”

London — October 31, 2021 — 10:45 PM

Sayu’s mind raced as she drove.

What would happen to Misa? To Touta? To Light?

She was just being a coward again. A stupid, dumb coward. She was supposed to be there for Light. She promised. But—

She braked so fast she felt her hair whip into her face. Then, she cleared her vision. There was a woman on the road.

The woman stood up frantically and ran up to the passenger’s seat. It was only then when Sayu realized who this woman was. P.

Ugh.

Against her better judgment, she opened the window.

“Lady Sayu!” She immdeiately began to beg. “Lady Sayu, you must help!”

“And…” Her eyes narrowed as she found the proper words. Light was always better at this stuff. “Why would I do that?”

“I’ve dedicated my life to our cause.” P said, as if that was a valid answer. “Please, I will be eternally grateful. To be saved by a lady of pure, godly blood—”

“You’re insane.” The words left her before she could process them, but she hardly cared. What else was she supposed to say? “I look forward to seeing your face on the news.”

Then, she rolled up her window and drove away.

At lesat she’d never have to deal with that freak again. She could just go back to helping Light.

She prayed that was still an option for her.

London — October 31, 2021 — 11:20 PM

The pair stepped into the workshop, the moonlight flooding the room in deep indigos. Light’s miniature figures shone brightly due to their reflective material, as well as his assortment of tools.

L stared at the room: Light’s first proper studio, provided by the detective himself. The business had grown substantially since he first saw Light sculpting his sister’s face on a park bench. His income could never rival L’s, yet it was by far the more interesting and convenient profession.

He heard a set of footsteps move from behind him, causing him to turn. Light stared at him, and nodded towards the stairs that lead to their proper living quarters. His husband’s black dress shoes had flakes of crimson on them, as well as a bit of dampness from the bridge. L looked down at his own clothing and noticed they were in similar condition. 

The detective followed behind his husband as they ascended towards their loft. Once at the top of the stairs, Light entered his personalized pin code, and the door opened with ease. He held the door open for L, his eyes misty and downcast. L then took a deep breath and stepped into the living room.

Similarly to the lower level, all of the lights were turned off. After all, it was the middle of the night. L removed his shoes, signalling for Light to do the same. L stared forwards, his eyes locking onto their family portrait. He’d never been comfortable with having his picture taken, but having his family with him instilled some kind of safety.

His eyes were drawn to similar framed photos lining the walls: their wedding day, Noriko’s baby pictures, and several other milestones. Then, he looked towards the small hallway leading to both of the house’s bedrooms, as well as the bathroom. The tension that had been building up in his body finally seemed to lessen. Noriko was just down the hall. She was okay.

He redirected his eyes to Light, whose breathing was all but steady. He brought a tender hand to L’s face, collecting tears the latter had no idea he’d shed. The detective hiccuped and moved closer to his husband, wiping a smear of dirt from his perfect face.

Then, with nothing left to lose, they kissed in each other’s embrace.

London — October 31, 2021 — 11:35 PM

L and Light had ended up sitting together on their bed, changed out of the soiled clothes from the raid. Their faces were tainted by tear tracks, though they stayed together through it all, huddled together like they were still newlyweds.

Light let out a wet huff. “This has to be the worst birthday ever, right?”

“You did what you thought you had to.” L said as he leaned in further. “It’s not your fault.”

“I was the one who started killing criminals in the first place.”

“Light, you were seventeen and under the influence of a supernatural force.” L insisted. “Kira’s Kingdom is run by grown adults who refuse to see reason for the sake of a cult. You are not to blame for that.”

“Is that what you’ll tell the task force?”

L hesitated. “I’ll do my best.” He said. “Maybe I can get Interpol and the CIA in on it with enough money.”

“You’re not going to buy out Interpol for the sake of a mass murderer.”

“I could if I wanted to.” His gaze fell to Light’s wrist.

“You’re still wearing the watch.” L stated. “It’s made of the notebook, isn’t it?”

Light nodded, shame visible in his expression.

“It’s crafted well. The leather is so distinctive, and yet it took me years to notice.” His husband continued. “Though, now that you’re aware of it, does it not bother you that I’ve been tracking your location?”

Light’s body tensed, “It makes me feel safe,” He settled on. “knowing you’re watching over me. How long has it been?”

“Since you woke up from your coma. I decided that if you ever made a move on your own, I would be there.” L answered. “So, I followed you to the National Gallery when you met with Sayu. I heard you when…”

For a moment, the detective hesitated. His pale hands froze, hovering in the air, before they met Light’s.

“I heard you say that you could never love me.” He said, speaking in that monotone Light knew all too well. “Not when I’m… me.”

L simply stared at Light after speaking, then gently brushed his cheek with his thumb. “You’re crying again.”

Light’s eyes widened, causing more tears to spill from them. He was crying. Why the hell did he keep crying? But L didn’t dare move away.

“I think you were wrong back then.” L’s gaze softened, as if the phrase ‘you were wrong’ had the possibility of breaking him. And in all honesty, it would have in a time before he worked the counter at that shitty coffee shop. “I believe you love me so much that acknowledging that fact is too much for your body to handle.”

“No,” Light choked out as L caught another tear. “I’m not even supposed to be here. All I’ve done is lie to you.”

L let out a sad sigh and scooted closer to his husband, changing his seating position in the process. He allowed his hand to guide Light’s head into his lap. “Do you remember when Watari died?” He asked. “He’d been the only constant in my life for a long time. He was the man who raised me and enabled me to become a detective in the first place. Without him, it felt as if my life as L was pointless. I started crying spontaneously, I could barely get out of bed, and all I could think was ‘Am I broken now?’”

He moved his hand to Light’s caramel hair and brushed it gingerly with his fingers. The motion caused his sleeve to ride up, revealing the physical proof of his words.“But you were there, Light. You promised to stay, and you did.” L’s voice began to waver, but he continued to speak. “When we moved into Wammy’s House together, I thought that grappling with the weight of handling the successors would be impossible without Watari, but you stuck through it all. You helped to prepare every meal, you helped tutor every child, to the point where I knew I had to spend the rest of my life with you. And when Noriko was born, all I could do was watch how wonderfully you treat her, treat us. So no matter how much you hate yourself, Light, I know you love both Noriko and I. This, I know, is 100% certain.”

“I love you.”  Light repeated with a smile. “I love you, don’t I?”

“Tomorrow, they’ll try to tell us that you don’t.” L stated. “They’ll judge you as Kira, and only as Kira. You cannot take them at their word. You must promise me.”

“I won’t listen.” Light said, a tear escaping him and leaving a small wet dot on L’s pant leg. “I’m not afraid. But I…”

He looked up at L, a short laugh escaping his lips. “I really would’ve liked to meet you in another way.”

L brought a hand to his husband’s face, once again gently rubbing his thumb across his cheek. He pulled him close and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“This is the only way we could have met.”

London — November 1, 2021 — 7:15 AM

Light’s eyes slowly opened to a bedroom illuminated by sunbeams.

He tiredly looked over to L’s side of the bed, where the covers were uneven and clearly pried open deliberately. Then, he saw L perched on the foot of the bed, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Aizawa-san,” L began. “I’ll have to ask that you take one of the undercover vehicles in the Organization’s supply as to not cause a scene. I don’t want to scare my daughter. And if anyone notices an L Organization vehicle at my home, they might deduce that I’m…”

Light could vaguely hear Aizawa speaking on the other line, to which L nodded and thanked him with practiced neutrality.

“Please allow us some time together before you arrest him.”

Seemingly, Aizawa agreed, as L muttered a “thank you” into the microphone. Then, he hung up the call and turned back to Light, only now noticing that his eyes were open.

“So this is it.” Light said, so breathily it was barely audible.

“Yes.” L looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. “This is it.”

Light crawled out of bed, his body still sore and aching from his encounter with F. He brought a hand to L’s chin and turned his face towards him.

He blushed with such a deep pink that it made Light think about those days with awkward confessions and sugary drinks exchanged with trembling hands. He pressed his lips to his husband’s; one final kiss before the end.

That morning, they got dressed as they always did. L dressed in a white sweater and tattered jeans while Light dressed in a black turtleneck and dark slacks. They walked the halls of their loft with quiet footsteps and stopped in front of the closed bedroom door belonging to Noriko.

Light’s hand hovered over the doorknob. His daughter; his reason for living. She deserved a goodbye. She deserved one final hug and kiss from him. She was supposed to go back to Japan with him, to the festivals.

“Papa, why are you leaving?” He imagined her tiny voice. “Papa, you need to come back! I thought you didn’t hate me! Why are you ignoring me?!”

His hand dropped to his side. He couldn’t do that to her.

They walked past the photographs that held the history of their relationship and the famly they built from it. They paid no mind to the sets of matching teacups that would never be touched again, nor the food in the fridge that would rot without Light there to cook it. They walked into Light’s workshop, where through the window, they could see an undercover L Organization vehicle.

Light’s doom.

He turned to L, feeling something between frantic and at peace. He didn’t know what to think. Did he ever?

L looked back at him with the same grey eyes he fell in love with.

“Together?” He prompted, holding out his hand and transporting Light back in time yet again.

Light hesitated, his hand still at his side. Slowly, he raised it, fingers trembling. His hand interlocked with L’s and warmth gathered in their joined palms.

Light smiled. “Always.”