Weeks passed. And nothing. A dull, quintessential nothing.

Well, not entirely nothing. In that time, I'd finally organised another call with Jason in which he (begrudgingly) agreed to give me more money. It was more than I'd had initially, but probably still not enough to support me for the following months (or years, or decades; however long this hellish case would last). With L's input, I'd invested into a number of certain stocks, and was steadily cultivating a small wealth of my own. Of course, my humble fortune couldn't hold a candle to the amount of cash L had stuffed into the pockets of his metaphorical jeans, but I was happy with it nonetheless.

Despite my steady inflow of money weighing down my purse, I decided I would still remain with L (for various reasons; namely because it meant I wouldn't have to commute every morning, and after all the conversations we'd shared about friendship, the poor guy just seemed lonely). The detective didn't seem to mind my limpet-like clinging, and we continued to live as we had erewhile - in a peaceful, symbiotic coexistence.

Still, with no signs of life from either of our two killers, it was a very boring coexistence.

Though, at long last, after a long eternity of aforementioned nothing, we received - and by this, I meant we intercepted and thus stole - a message from the second Kira. Said message was constructed of yet another video and, interestingly enough, a sheet of paper taken from a journal - because apparently pseudo Kira liked to keep track of his non-murderous hobbies in life. Said paper was currently being dangled from the detective's spindly fingers as he studied its contents.

"The last entry," he mused. "It's clearly a proposition."

I outstretched my hand like an eager child begging for candy. "Here, I want to see."

The man obliged and my eyes skimmed the paper. All the entries listed dated back to 2006 from the first to last day of May. The dates in the journal seemed scattered; totally random; a bit boring to be honest. Still, pseudo Kira being the devious prankster he is, couldn't help but toss a casual Shinigami comment in the entry made on May thirtieth. I huffed.

"Oh, I'm so sick of hearing about Shinigamis!" I groaned, thrusting the paper back in the direction of the detective. "I swear, if someone mentions anything more about Gods of death or apples, I might just casually throw myself out of the window."

The rest of the task force looked slightly nonplussed by my passionate deceleration, but the detective hardly took any notice, his expression remaining unchanged.

"These windows are bulletproof; they don't open," he told me simply. His tone had shifted from its usual bored melancholy to something much more uplifted. Was he teasing me? "You could try a lower floor, however."

"Don't tempt me, Ryuzaki."

Of course, I was joking. I'd never actually go through with it. I had way too much going for me. Besides, I hadn't even written out a will yet. Where would my humble fortune go? Who would I even include in my will? Having said that, did I actually like anyone that much to give them what few belongings I owned?

... I'm on the Kira case. Why don't I have a will yet?

"I would greatly prefer that you did not attempt to jump out of a window, regardless of what floor it is on, as it would most likely result in you dying," the detective argued. "Your death would not only be a complete waste of talent, but it would also be a shame to lose my first friend so quickly."

Somewhere behind me, I could hear an excited buzz - most likely Matsuda, the infernal gossip - but chose to ignore whatever eccentric comment he was making. Instead, I decided to give them a show; something to talk about. It could be funny.

"I'm so glad to see you care, Ryuzaki." I placed a hand over my chest, smiling with dramatic earnest. "I'm touched. My heart flutters."

Sadly, L was not playing ball. "If that's the case, you might want to see a doctor," he said.

I rolled my eyes. Geez, what a buzzkill.

Speaking of killing...

Less than five seconds later, our prime suspect rolled in through the door, ramping up the tension by a tenfold and quickly reminding us that oh yeah, Kira still exists.

Light sidled up to his father, speaking quietly. "Dad, hey, I got your call. He really wanted the journal broadcasted on TV?"

The Chief nodded, handing him the journal entry. The boy's eyes scanned the page, zeroing in on the line of kanji at the bottom of the paper. He read it only once, face morphing from minor confusion to sudden realisation and then understanding - and there was the lightbulb moment (again, no pun intended).

L drifted into Light's space with as much subtlety as a toddler, eyeing the boy intently. "So what do you think? Is it real?"

The boy in question ignored the detective's creepy eyeballing, simply stating, "It's hard to tell at this moment in time. All I can say is that he must be very stupid."

Matsuda nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I agree. I mean, it's so obvious that he wants to meet Kira at the home game!"

"If we did air this message, it would create immediate chaos," Mr Yagami offered. "The game would have to be cancelled."

L gave a large sigh from behind us, stuffing a piece of chocolate into his face. He was the picture perfect example of a midlife crisis.

"I'm not even sure how to deal with this whole situation anymore," he moaned. "If we made the diary public, we'd be forced to make a televised announcement cancelling the game on the thirtieth. On the other hand, if we don't broadcast it, we can rest assured the second Kira won't do anything."

Well there we go. There was our game plan. Don't do anything. Job done.

"But won't cancelling the game just make him angry?" Matsuda asked. "There's no telling what he'll do."

L brushed off his worry. "Frankly, that's not a big concern. From what we've witnessed, it's safe to say the second Kira admires the first. He gave his word to the Kira we invented that he'd refrain from killing aimlessly. I'm inclined to believe that much is true."

He then raised an authoritative finger. "I say we make it public and make an announcement cancelling the game. At the same time, we'll announce that on May thirtieth, we will be setting up checkpoints on all roads leading to the Tokyo Dome. Finally, we'll send a response from our invented Kira; something along the lines of I understand and I agree to meet you there."

The entire lower half of my face slipped into a frown. Was he serious? That was a dumb fucking idea. If we really did this, we'd be giving the two Kira's so much leeway. We may as well have set up a tea party and politely invited our two killers to mingle and get to know each other. Sure, this gave us an opportunity to catch them both, but it also left a lot of space for the *Trojan Horse to get rolled in and mesmerise us. I couldn't speak for the others but I wasn't sure that I was prepared to make that chance.

"Wouldn't it be better to just do nothing?"

The detective turned his head, regarding me with minor interest. I instantly stilled under his ominous gaze. "Explain."

Shaking myself back to reality, I took a deep breath. "Okay, I understand that doing this might help us apprehend one of the two - if not both - Kiras, but at the same time, we're also handing them the perfect opportunity to confront one another. On more tha—come on, bear with me here. On more than one occasion, they've slipped between our fingers long before we even realised we'd grabbed them. Who's to say they wouldn't do it again?"

The men in the room exchanged glances, considering; debating.

"Think about it," I pressed. "The second Kira is more powerful than the original. That much is fact. He may be viewed as less of a threat since he's submissive to the first, but when we take into consideration that he only requires a face to kill, he's indisputably much more dangerous. Still, he acts on impulse and this makes him reckless, which is something I'm sure the first Kira recognises and would want to rectify.

"On his own, the second is much more likely to slip up, so the chances of us catching him are a lot higher. If we were to catch him, we could determine what he uses to kill, and - assuming the original uses the same weapon - this puts the first Kira at a disadvantage. But if the pair joins forces, then we're the ones at a disadvantage.

"The first Kira is clever; he knows how to hide. He's managed to do it for months now, and he's been doing it pretty darn well - excluding the incident with Lind L Tailor where he revealed his location like a moron, but that's not my point. He'd easily be able to deplete any chances of us catching him or the second Kira and he'd have the second Kira's ability to kill with only a face, resulting in an even larger number of people being killed. Wouldn't it be best to stop any potential interaction between them before that can happen?"

L, whose expression had morphed into something utterly unnamable, shifted in his seat. "If we air the message as planned, I don't think the real Kira would even consider going to Aoyama, though it's possible the second one might. It all depends on how stupid he actually is." He paused before surmising, "An interaction is highly unlikely to occur."

"But what happens if it does?" I pestered. "What do we do then?"

"As I've just said, it's unlikely to occur."

"Yeah, but what if?"

The detective stared hard as if daring me to question him one more time. Obviously, I was irritating him - and that thought filled me with a twinge of sadistic glee - but I had to get my point across. The world's greatest detective was being ignorant and that was not okay. He needed to consider all the possibilities. We were tempting fate here, and if I'd learned anything over these past few months, it was that fate was a heartless bitch.

Still not convinced this was the right thing to do, I heaved a sigh of martyrdom. "Fine. We'll go with your plan. I don't like it, but fine."

I was willing to bet big money that we'd just made a mistake and now fate's good friend irony was going to bitchslap us across the face and laugh.

As I stared at the back wall with disdain, the auburn haired teen and I caught one another's gaze and I made a point of rolling my eyes as if to say Look Light! Now do you see what I mean? Stupid plans. The boy merely smirked.

"Assuming the second Kira isn't actually the idiot we believe he is," L continued, paying no mind to my very obvious childlike sulk. "There might be another message hidden in this diary - one that's not so obvious.

"If there's a message here, written in some code that only people with this Shinigami power can understand, there'd be no way for me to decipher it. Still, it would only make sense for us to look into all the places mentioned in the journal. On the twenty-second, he's meeting a friend in Aoyama. The twenty-fourth, he's meeting another friend in Shibuya."

L gingerly slipped another chocolate between his lips before continuing. "We have to be prepared for the possibility that all of our efforts will be fruitless. All we can do is place more surveillance cameras in Aoyama and Shibuya in the hopes that we might capture something. We should also arrange to have undercover officers in both locations on these dates."

Matsuda sat back in his seat, an easygoing and almost cocky grin on his face. "I should probably go to Aoyama and Shibuya since I'd blend in with the crowd there, you know."

My heart melted, and I very nearly hugged the poor guy. He was still clutching so desperately to his youth! How adorable. A tender smile brightening my face, I gave Matsuda a pat on the back, almost sympathetically. "I think I'll join you."

"I'll go too," Light decided, ignoring the blatant look of panic and distress blossoming on the Chief's face. "Aoyama and Shibuya are places I'd go anyway."

The detective agreed, understandably. Aoyama was a wealthy neighbourhood. Being the youngest, we'd look the most natural in that sort of setting. Matsuda... yeah, I suppose he could still pass.

The end of the night saw us three huddled around the table like a group of Boy Scouts trying to learn how to pitch a tent. We were setting up the basis for our trips: when and where we'd meet, how we'd get there, what we'd actually do once we arrived, etcetera.

"It shouldn't be too hard to pull off," I said with airy confidence. "Our faux killer will likely be too busy looking for Kira to even consider the police." To further emphasise my nonchalance, I shrugged. "Besides, we're going undercover. He won't suspect a thing."

To the right of me, I couldn't help but notice the small half smile growing on Matsuda's face. He'd gushed about going undercover to catch Kira before, hadn't he? He was so excited. It was adorable.

Outside, I could see that the warm haze of the sun had begun to fade, replaced by a grim and greyish dusk. Speckles of light began to shimmer as office workers clocked in for their night shift and homeowners began to settle for the evening.

Light raised his head, eyes tired and unfocused, glancing to the window. "Looks like it's getting late," he said. "We can talk more about our trips tomorrow."

Matsuda hummed, gathering his things. "Sounds good, Light."

The pair stood, heading towards the exit. I did the opposite, crossing the suite towards the bedroom, looking forward to some much needed sleep.

"We'll see you tomorrow, Agent!" I heard from the officer.

Attempting a halfhearted smile, I waved my hand lazily. "See you guys! Have a safe journey home. Call me if you need me."

The pair left the room, the sounds of their footsteps dwindling into silence.  I didn't care to show them out; they knew their way by now. Throwing open the door to my - L's - room, I practically collapsed on the bed, nuzzling my face against the pillow like an affectionate dog. With a low and content sigh, I slipped under the sheets, grabbing my phone from the nightstand and seeing that One Missed Call was displayed across the screen in glaringly white letters. Having already taken note of Chris' absence that morning, I knew full well it would be him and swiftly dialled his number. A few strained dial tones, and then the quiet ambience kicked in, my friend's tired voice emitting from the phone's speakers.

"Hello?"

"Hey man. Where were you today?"

"I wasn't feeling great. Withdrawal."

"Ah."

A few awkward beats passed.

"So, what happened?" He asked. "Anything new?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah. We received some sort of journal from the second Kira. You're missing out."

I heard a scoff. "Seriously? A journal?"

"Mhm, I know right. The entries all date back to May last year, and they're completely random - you know, just generic diary bullcrap - but some contained specific locations."

"Such as?"

"Aoyama on the twenty-second, and Shibuya on the twenty-fourth. Seeing as our guy wanted this to be broadcasted, we're thinking there's a possibility it could be a way of arranging a rendezvous point with the original so they can meet."

Chris sounded impressed. "Good thinking, Batman. And what are we doing about it?"

"Exactly what he wants," I admitted, trying to hide my disgruntled groan. "We're going to broadcast the journal and send a reply from our fake Kira. Surveillance cameras are going to be put up around both locations in the hopes we catch something shady. A few of us will be going undercover as well, myself included."

"You going alone?"

"No. Matsuda will be there too," I said simply, purposefully leaving out the fact Light was coming as well, not wanting to wake the beast and face his brotherly wrath at this time of night.

Chris snorted. "Have fun with him - if you can."

"Matsuda's an angel. Leave him alone."

We talked for a few minutes longer, chatting and tittering until I noticed a shadow flickering in the doorframe. Judging from the slouched posture and wild head of hair, it wasn't Watari. No, Watari had the good sense to knock instead of lingering by the door like a vampire, waiting to be let in (though, taking into consideration his pale face and rabid insomnia, the vampire theory would actually explain a lot). I rolled my eyes at his behaviour, but felt I was in a good enough mood to humour the detective anyway.

"Hey, I gotta run. Talk to you later, yeah?"

My friend gave a hum. "Sure thing. I'll call you in the morning."

"Okay. Feel better."

"Bye."

The call clicked off and I placed my phone delicately on the nightstand, looking expectantly towards the door. "You may enter, bloodsucker."

He did so, albeit slowly, frowning at my joke. I smiled up at him. "What's up, Sherlock?"

As everyone in the task force was well aware, L wasn't one to beat around the bush, and he didn't do so this time, answering as bluntly as possible. "I want you to keep a close eye on Light during the entirety of your two trips. I have asked Matsuda to do the same."

Oh nice. I'd been subjected to babysitting duty. Couldn't wait.

"Yeah, I thought you would do," I mumbled. "So, what, do you want me to wear a mic or something?"

"No, I trust you enough to relay information back to me yourself."

I nodded. "Okay. That's fine by me."

The older man kept staring and even though I'd become used to his infrequent but incessant eyeballing, this was really starting to unnerve me.

"Anything else, Ryuzaki?"

"No," he declared promptly, turning to the door. "That will be all. Goodnight."

I watched him go, wondering whether it would be right or not to feel concerned. "Goodnight... weirdo."

*     *     *     *     *

The morning of our super secret undercover mission (as Matsuda liked to refer to it as) greeted me with a bright yellow sun and and an angry red swarm of acne bumps. I groaned at myself in the mirror, begging the beauty gods that the spots would stay put and not burst forward in all their gross and gooey glory.

Tentatively poking one of the spots, I reached for my foundation. Just in case, I told myself.

I hadn't worn makeup in weeks. I'd be damned if I didn't take advantage of this opportunity. Plus, I was going out in public. With people. Young people. I'd much rather be viewed as part of the clique than as their homeless drug dealer. With that thought in mind, I used extra care as I applied the last of my makeup, blending in any blotchy foundation and wiping away mascara smears.

No. Today would be fine. Everything would go smoothly. Matsuda would pick us up and drive us there, and we would have a fantastic time looking for notebooks and pretending to be besties (even though Light and I can barely stand to be in the same room due to the awkwardness, and Matsuda is hopelessly oblivious and likes basically anyone). What a great day out!

I nodded to my reflection, confident and sure, and left the bathroom.

"You look different" was the first thing I heard and it did nothing to help my nerves.

Brushing my hair out of my face, I looked over at the detective, becoming unfortunately blasé to this sort of treatment. "I'm hoping you mean good different in oppose to bad different because I worked hard on this makeup today."

The detective scanned my face and I stood patiently like a good little spectacle. Apparently my eyeliner wasn't packed on well enough to suit his panda-like tastes as he asked me, "Why bother?"

Why bother? Why—?

Resisting my primal urge to strangle and maul, I deadpanned. "Well, I am going out in public. With people."

"Yes, there do tend to be people in public spaces."

"Don't be snarky," I chastised. "You know what I mean. I just wanted to look nice for a change. Is that a crime, detective?"

He hummed. "I just see no reason why you would need it. I have not noticed any obvious flaws in your normal appearance."

Oh wow. Hello. That was new. If I'd been your average teenage girl, I think I actually might've have blushed.

"You know, I think that's one of the nicest thing you've ever said to me. In fact, I think that's the only nice thing you've ever said to me."

Looking back, that statement rung true. L and compliments just refused to mix - unless, of course, he was on the receiving end. Even so, in spite of his cynical nature and massively inflated ego, L could be a genuinely nice guy when he tried.

"Well, you don't tend to invite many nice comments."

I take it back. I hate him.

"Okay, now that's just rude!" I whined, crossing my arms. "I am a perfectly decent person."

"Shall we agree to disagree?"

"Oh, leave me alone, you ugly raccoon."

"I take offence from that."

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out, continuing to glare at the detective. "Good, I'd hope so."

Light Y
We're close. Five minutes away.

I sighed, shoving my phone back into my pocket and double checking I still had my wallet tucked away (I had money now, so of course I was going to spend it as frivolously as possible).

"Alright, well the cavalry has arrived," I declared, giving the man a demure pat on the shoulder as I passed him (surprisingly, he didn't flinch). "I'll be heading down now. Adios amigo."

If he waved goodbye, I didn't see it.

* * * * *

Outside the hotel doors, a black Honda sat parallel to me, parked and waiting. A casually dressed police officer sat in the front seat, hands at the wheel, with a certain suspect sitting idly beside him. I slipped into the backseat, greeting my partners with a demure nod. "Morning, gentlemen."

Light returned the gesture as he we pulled away from the sidewalk. "Good morning."

"You seem grumpy," Matsuda pointed out, shifting the car into first gear. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"No. It's nothing new. Just Ryuzaki being an ass again."

Light chuckled. "I can understand that."

I snorted. "Can't we all? I called him a raccoon. Now I'm kinda afraid he might evict me. Or maybe he'll smother me in my sleep."

The pair looked at me incredulously, and I could only shrug. "Personally, I wouldn't put it past him to secretly want to kill us all."

"What?" Matsuda cried. "That's not true."

"No, think about it. You'll know this better than anyone else, Matsui, because you annoy him the most. You say anything - anything at all - and Ryuzaki looks as though he's ready to pounce on you."

There was a momentary pause and then Matsuda snickered. "I could say the same to you, Kat."

I blinked wildly at the nickname - seriously, Kat? Did I look like an animal? - but didn't ponder on it too much. My brain focussed more on what the older officer was insinuating. "What do you mean?"

"Have you seen the way he looks at you when you speak? Like the other day when we got the journal. He looked angry, yeah, but also... riveted. Light, you must've seen it too, right?"

The younger boy glanced to the side. "I wasn't paying much attention to be honest."

He didn't look like he was paying much attention now either, and I couldn't blame him. This conversation was better suited to teenage girls - not detectives. Even so, Matsuda was adamant.

"Still, the look was there. I think he likes you."

The laugh that followed genuinely brought tears to my eyes. It was loud and brash, and I'm sure it gave the poor teen sat in front of me a headache, but I couldn't help it. The thought of the detective liking anyone (other than himself and Watari perhaps) was almost inconceivable. Plausible, perhaps, under the right circumstances, but the thought of the detective liking (as in like-liking) me of all people just seemed... wrong.

My brain could not process it. Would not. Nope. Nada. Outright refused. Not today. Moving on.

"Gosh, you're such a girl, Matsui!" I exclaimed, still clutching my stomach as I howled with laughter. "Seriously, you're pulling these allegations out of thin air."

"He called you his first friend," the elder man argued. "That has to mean something!"

My face fell into a semi-serious deadpan. "Yeah, you do know what the definition of the word friend is, right? There's no liking involved."

The man just continued to stare at me through the rearview mirror, a playful gleam brightening his eyes, brows wiggling suggestively. My amusement faded, minor annoyance setting in. I ground my teeth together.

"Matsui, I mean it. There is nothing going on between Ryuzaki and I."

"But you're living with him," he insisted, knowing full well that he'd found a weak spot, and was grinning cheekily. "Aren't you?"

Oh wow, he was really going to play that card. Back me into a corner why don't you, Matsuda? Fucking prick.

"Well, yeah, but that's incidental. It's not—"

"Then my point stands!" He cheered.

Lord, give me strength. I wanted to punch the guy so hard.

I held up a finger, trying my darnedest to come across as serious and not to stumble over my words in embarrassment. "It's all down to circumstance. If I hadn't run out of money, I'd still be living on my own. The man antagonises me constantly. Were you not listening to what I was saying earlier about—"

"Okay, okay! So maybe you don't like him but, in my opinion, he definitely likes you."

I cracked my knuckles warningly. "No offence, Matsui, but your opinion is stupid and invalid."

"Unrequited love," he crooned, wiping away a fake tear and sniffing. "It's so sad."

A groan tore its way from my throat. "Can you just drive please?"

Really, why was everyone so intent on tormenting me today? First L told me I was unlikeable (which, to be frank, didn't actually surprise me; he'd always been a dick), and now Matsuda - physical ball of sunshine with the face of a puppy and rainbows shooting out of his ass - was mocking me. Unlikely as it seemed, Light was being the most civil out all of the men I'd encountered today, and he was infamous for being a ratty bastard. Right now, though, he was my best fucking friend.

Take this as a lesson learned, kiddies. Do not judge a book by it's cover. That book will eventually piss you off and you will want nothing more than to watch it burn.

We pulled into a small parking complex not too far from Aoyama, the neighbourhood in question looking glam and green across the way. The three of us headed towards the nearby university, approaching a rather daunting group of students who were throwing cheesy smiles in our direction. I threw a sceptical side glance to the teen walking next to me. What elaborate scheme had Golden Boy choreographed now?

"Excuse me, Light," Matsuda asked quietly. "Who are all these people?"

"These are some of my friends from university," he explained, turning to his schoolmates with a blindingly dazzling grin (probably fake). "Everyone, this is my cousin, Taro. It's his first time in Tokyo, and he wants to see Aoyama and Roppongi, so I figured the least we could do is show him a good time."

He then gestured to me, and I tensed as their eyes crawled to find mine. "This is Katherine. She's visiting from the States so show her some hospitality, and help her out if she needs it. I'm counting on you guys."

Even though my ego was growling at Light's insinuation that I needed help adapting, I bowed low and respectful, maintaining my pleasantness whilst the group's attention was directed to me.

"Oh, and play nice, gentleman," he added, his slimy grin stretching into a even slimier smirk. "Someone's already got his heart set on her."

Some of the guys lets out deflated groans, and I laughed airily in response to Light's teasing, but inside, I felt every cell in my body seize in anger.

Fuck you, Light Yagami. Fuck you and everything you stand for.

We integrated into the group with ease. From an onlooker's perspective, it might've even seemed like we belonged there. We mingled; made small talk when appropriate; laughed at each other's jokes, and feigned interest whenever one of Light's friends cared to share a funny anecdote. I didn't allow myself much time to enjoy it, keeping my eyes peeled for a sign of any dodgy behaviour... and notebooks apparently. Over the course of the next hour, I saw none. Nothing but hipster teens, mall babes, and way too much PDA in my opinion.

Honestly, I was disappointed. Perhaps it'd been too naive of us to think that the second Kira would have made an appearance. After all, it'd just be the equivalent of walking into your own snare - a definitively stupid move. I'd like to think that pseudo Kira, in spite of his reckless killings, was smart enough to realise that. I mean, he'd managed to evade us for this long; he must have some brains.

Knowing we wouldn't get much more out of this pointless endeavour, we decided to close up shop for the day. Matsuda was tired. Considering how excitable he'd been, I wasn't really surprised. He was seriously like a little kid, exhausting himself after talking up a storm. The officer decided it'd be best if he went home, and we didn't stop him.

Watching as Matsuda's retreating figure melted into the crowd, I nudged the teen in the side. "Hey, do you want to stop for something to drink? I'm parched."

I received an unenthusiastic but compliant, "Sure."

Seeing as I had absolutely no idea where the best places were to sit and drink in Aoyama, I left it to Pretty Boy to lead the way, and we just so happened upon a quaint little coffee shop along one of the main roads. I'd much rather have gone for a martini or even some draft beer, but I decided this would suffice.

Taking a seat, I ordered orange tea instead of the usual coffee. After all, it wasn't doing anything for my health and I was growing concerned I'd develop an addiction and end up like the sugar-crazed insomniac. Light took for a *shincha tea. It was way too bland for my taste, but each to his own.

Settling down with our drinks, Light and I had delved into a little game of friendly interrogation, like twenty questions - but much more cryptic.

I already knew more about Light than he did me due to his dad's proud ramblings and the (borderline voyeuristic) spying of him and his family, but he was much less two dimensional than I had figured. He wasn't boring like I'd initially decided. Contrarily, he was actually really interesting to listen to. The things he discussed were mundane and generic (and maybe slightly cynical for a boy of his age), but the way he spoke was captivating. Like an Athenian actor, he was passionate and precise, luring my attention with a small smile or simple hand gesture, and holding me hostage with only his words.

Hell, Light could probably start reciting the Book of Leviticus and I'd still sit listening with unrivalled attention.

That was quite a scary revelation.

Although, I wasn't too enamoured with the boy when the tables were turned on me and I was forced to answer his torrent of questions. You could tell he was born and bred for police work. It practically became an interrogation!

"How old are you?" was one of his first questions, and I released a faux gasp of horror.

"By God, Light. You just committed the cardinal sin."

His face fell into an expression of confusion and very minor offence. "What?"

"Asking a woman her age," I explained, clicking my tongue scathingly. "That's despicable."

Realisation hitting him across the face, a string of humble apologies fell from the younger boy's lips, and I raised my hand to shut him up. "I'm kidding. It's fine to ask. I'm not much older than you actually. I've just turned nineteen."

His brows raised and he (not so discreetly) looked me up and down before asking, "Really?"

Oh, well that's flattering. Did I look that old already?

Flinching, I asked, "Is it so hard to believe?"

Light instantly picked up on the source of my offence and soothed it with the tenderness of a masseuse.

"Of course not. You look great. It's just, in comparison to other people our age, you seem older."

I considered that for a moment. "Yeah, I see what you mean. I'd say the same applies for you."

"What about that man you were with?" He asked, a slight tilt to his head, giving him the appeal of a confused puppy. "Hiromi, was it?"

"Oh, him. He's twenty five."

That seemed to surprise him. "Is he really your boyfr—"

"No," I said, a little too quickly. "That was just part of the cover." Slightly embarrassed, I continued to insist, "He's a friend. A good friend. More like a brother if anything; we grew up together."

"You said you were from America when we first met," Light stated rather than asked.

"Yes, that's true. I was born in New York."

"So, as an American agent, do you work for the FBI? Or is it the CIA?"

"Neither. I'm more of a - shall we say - private investigator."

"Like L?" He countered.

I snorted a little, shrugging my shoulders lazily. "Nowhere near as good as him but yes, I'm like L. Though you could say I'm much more hands on than he is but essentially, we do the same job."

"Hands on?"

"Yeah. L is someone who works behind the scenes. This is the first time that he's shown his face to colleagues after all, and he's been solving cases for well over a decade. L is not very hands on.

"I, on the other hand, work like every other detective would. With people. Going to crime scenes; questioning the suspects; sometimes I've been sent out to apprehend the culprit and make the arrest." I grimaced, thinking back to those godawful on-foot chases. Hopping fences was a dangerous feat. My poor jeans never fully recovered. "Yeah, that's always a fun time."

"Wouldn't you say it's a bit risky?"

I let out a short laugh. "It can be, yes, but I've always been good at restraining people. I'm stronger than I look, you know."

Arrogance had infiltrated my tone like the troops in the *September Campaign and, even though I really wanted to make Pretty Boy squirm, I decided not to roll back my sleeves and flex. If he really needed to voice any doubts or sexist comments, I suppose I could just punch him. That should be evidence enough.

"Besides," I grinned. "Firearms are legal across the US, which makes the whole ordeal a hell of a lot simpler. People tend to respond better when you're holding a gun."

"Have you ever shot someone?" He said slowly, his expression shifting slightly. The pleasant smile fell from my face and I raised my guard, the tone of our conversation taking a sharp turn down morbidity street.

He was really asking if I'd ever killed someone, wasn't he?

Alright, Kira suspect. I'll bite.

"Light, define murder for me."

The boy didn't even have to think. "The premeditated killing of another human being."

A textbook response. What else did I expect?

"Right. And do you believe that murder can be justified?"

This seemed to stump him, and he took a momentary pause. "The chances of me considering a murder justifiable are small, but I guess it would have to depend on the scenario."

"Alright, then let me give you an example - one that's quite common, sadly: a man's daughter has been raped. This man knows the identity of the rapist and kills him to avenge his daughter's dignity. Would that murder be justifiable to you?"

"Absolutely not. The man had other, more humane, options that could have led to his desired outcome."

"Good. My thoughts exactly. Do you think Kira would agree?"

Light opened his mouth, but I wasn't finished.

"After all, when you think about it, Kira has, in a sense, adopted the role of the father as his own - defending the righteous and the victimised, and killing those who've done wrong. True, he doesn't do it with a shotgun or a butcher's knife, but murder is still murder, right?"

He didn't answer. I didn't expect him to.

"Let me ask you another question. Light, do you think I'm a good person?"

"From what I've seen, yes. Obviously I still don't know you all that well but you seem like a nice woman and you're good company."

Oh wow. What a charmer.

"Thank you," I said honestly, pushing away any soppy, saccharine thoughts, and maintained my serious facade. "Can I tell you something personal about myself, Light?"

He regarded me warily, but nodded in agreement.

"It's something I don't tell a lot of people, so I'd have to ask that you keep it between us."

Again, he nodded, a little sharper this time.

I took a deep breath, willing my body to relax as every muscle turned to stone and my stomach did backflips. Looking up, I scanned the tables surrounding us, making sure all heads were downcast or deep in conversation. It made me feel slightly better, knowing that my secret wouldn't be shared with a handful of nosy strangers (but, by all means, tell a potential serial killer; that's way safer).

"I was a criminal."

Oh wow. Bit blunt, Agent. Maybe L was starting to rub off on me.

Light sat back, eyes widening in surprise. "Really?"

I hummed. "A whole lifetime ago. I've renounced it now and I'm trying my best to make up for what I did, but I can't deny that that lifetime still happened.

"This'll sound like I'm making excuses for myself. I'm not, but there is more to the equation than X and Y. When I was younger - I'm talking prepubescent here - I had no home. I was orphaned at birth. Had no family. No connections whatsoever. I had to live on the streets. With no source of income, it meant I had to steal. Steal food, steal money, steal things to pawn. Shoplifting was probably my most recurring offence, but I did mug civilians every once in a while. Sometimes I got brave enough to break into someone's house, but not often."

Grimly, I glanced down at my drink, watching my reflection blur as the liquid swirled in the cup. "I resorted to violence on more than one occasion. I fought with others - people like me; thugs. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I still did it. It was just my method for survival. I didn't enjoy it."

"How old were you?" His voice had quietened, dipping into more dulcet tones. 

"When I committed my first crime, I was nine. My circumstances remained the same for two whole years."

"What changed?"

"I got lucky. Someone found me, took me in, gave me a life and an education." I broke off, adding a shaky chuckle. "I've been serving my own personal penance ever since."

The boy opposite didn't speak, likely sensing the delicacy of this subject... or perhaps plotting a way to murder me without drawing suspicion. It could've been either. Regardless of the reason, I appreciated his silence.

"Now, when I look back, I regret what I did. Immensely. It was a huge mistake, and I wish I'd never done it. But I had no other choice. If I hadn't done what I did, I wouldn't have been able to get money to buy food. Without that, I would've certainly have died. Do you think Kira would spare me if he knew that fact?"

He leaned back in his seat. "To be honest, no."

"Precisely. What Kira doesn't seem to understand is that people who commit crimes aren't necessarily bad people. All it takes is one bad day or a moment of desperation. Not every crime committed is an act of hostility. You can never know what's going on in a person's mind."

I shrugged. "Besides, how can Kira truly know for definite that the people he's killing are guilty?"

The boy cocked his head. It was more of a jolt, if anything. "What do you mean?"

"I know the law system inside and out, and I'm sure you do too. It's corrupt - that much is undeniable. A considerable amount of people are placed in prison for a crime they didn't commit - or were framed for - and it can take years for the truth to come out sometimes. Kira kills before there's even an opportunity to reassess a crime.

"Then, there's the money aspect. Money makes the world go round after all. Did I ever tell you how much I hate lawyers, Light? Well, I do. Lawyers are leeches; they suck every penny out of those involved in their case. Some people just don't want to invest half their savings so they plead guilty to a minor crime to do a shorter sentence. Plea bargains, I think they're called. Some of those who are sentenced are guilty and some are not. Again, how can Kira decipher which is which?

"Really, there's tons of factors that Kira doesn't take into account when he kills criminals. His view is entirely two dimensional. He kills without knowing the context behind the crime and he doesn't stop to question whether his victim actually deserves what they're getting. That is why he needs to be stopped."

I took a breather, raising my hands in blank admission. "Even so, I'm not going to cross my fingers and say that 'I hate Kira with every fibre of my being' like a good little detective, because that's not completely true. Yes, I hate Kira's ego. I hate his hypocrisy. I really hate how he's choosing to kill innocents for the sole reason that they pose a threat. Still, I don't necessarily hate what he's doing."

It felt strange to admit that; traitorous almost. But it was the truth. Albeit, a brutal truth, but a truth nonetheless. Plus, I'd been hoping my passionate declaration would evoke some sort of reaction from our Kira suspect. Most likely, my hopes would be dashed as Light was an Oscar-worthy actor with an iron leash around his self control, but it was worth a shot, right?

"On the off-chance that Kira didn't make mistakes and murdered criminals who genuinely deserved the death penalty, then I could perhaps support him. If he showed mercy to those who were desperate or perhaps made a mistake, then I'd definitely support him."

Light's shock was practically palpable. "Really?"

"Oh, wholeheartedly. I uphold the law, sure, but even I can't deny that a world without criminals would be a better one. Let's face it, life would be so much easier if crime would just go away."

The boy sighed. "In an ideal world."

"Yep, in an ideal world. Sadly, this isn't an ideal world, and humanity - Kira included - is flawed. We make mistakes, and he punishes us for it." I laughed humourlessly, making a point in saying, "I'm no religious fanatic, but even I know that so called Gods are able to forgive."

Raising my cup to my lips, I gave him time to debate my statement, personally picturing Light to be the philosophical sort of atheist, but all he did was stare. I broke the eye contact, feeling far more unnerved by the intensity of his eyes than I'd ever felt whilst under the detective's gaze, quietly admitting, "That's why I hate him and will always pursue him, no matter what."

The silence that followed hammered against my skull with the strength of a steam engine, and I only then realised how grim the atmosphere had become. God, I really hoped no one was listening in to this discussion...

I cleared my throat, hoping to dislodge whatever frog I'd swallowed. "Let's move on from this topic."

The other agreed, seeming to rake his brain for a new conversation topic, preferably - hopefully - one that was less depressing than my epic Richard III monologue. Thankfully, this was Light I was talking to and not the antisocial husk I'd grown used to. Therefore, mere minutes later, the conversation was back in full swing.

"So," Light began. "I noticed before, you had an alias - the one you used at the entrance ceremony."

Slowly, I nodded my head, not really wanting to know where he was going with this.

"My father called you Agent. Initially, I thought that might've been a second alias, but it seemed strange to have two - like L. I can understand why he would need two, but you... you don't seem that special."

I felt myself blink once, and then again.

"No offence," he quickly added.

Fuck you. "None taken."

"So, can I ask, is Agent your real name?"

I grimaced. "Kinda."

"Kinda?"

"In a sense, it's my alias because it's not my real name. But in another sense, it's not, because I don't have a real name at all."

Light frowned. "What do you mean?"

My shoulders shrugged of their own accord. "I was born without a name."

There was a cool, crisp sort of silence. I sat waiting, watching surprise blossom on Light Yagami's pretty face, and there Light sat, broodingly, mind engrossed in quiet calculations.

"Sorry, I'm confused," he said, knitting his brows together. "How can you be born without a name?"

I wanted to roll my eyes so badly. Light Yagami, ladies and gentlemen: Japan's Golden Boy with a mind of the highest calibre yet can't connect the fucking dots. Really, was it that hard to imagine someone not having a name?

"When I said I was orphaned at birth, Light, I meant it literally. Apparently my mother wasn't the type of woman to wait around. She was up and gone the minute the cord was cut and I could breathe on my own. I wasn't even born in a hospital, for crying out loud, so it's not like I have any legal birth documents to validate my existence."

A sad smile pulled at my lips and I glanced down, seeing Light's face soften. He offered me a half hearted smile as a sign of comfort, most likely feeling that any other method of comfort would be all too personal and that would be awkward (yeah, as if things weren't already awkward).

"I'm sorry."

I brushed it off, but smiled gratefully, before continuing my story. "Because of that circumstance, I was sent to an orphanage. The woman who was in charge wasn't the most affectionate caregiver so she didn't bother to name me either, and I was never adopted. I ran away when I was eight, living on my own until I was eleven when I was taken in by the association that raised me through my teenage years. By that point, I didn't require a name. I was too accustomed to living without one anyway. That's why I'm left nameless."

Light's reaction was priceless to say the least. If my insides weren't being torn apart by nostalgia, I probably would've laughed at his surprised face.

"So you're saying that you have no name whatsoever?"

"Precisely, and that's exactly why I'm on this case; Kira can't kill me. I'm immune, to put it simply."

"That's an odd stroke of luck. I suppose you don't have to worry then."

"Well, I didn't. Now, this second Kira has come about and I'm stuck in the same boat as everyone else." A sigh bubbled in my throat. "So annoying."

The conversation slammed into a dead end, and we both sipped our teas to break the awkwardness. Light was the first one to speak.

"So, where'd the name Agent come from then?"

Well, isn't that the million dollar question.

"It's a funny story actually," I said, already starting to giggle at the memory. "Well, for the first few years at my new home, people would call me whatever they liked. Some of them would invent a name they thought suited me, and some just hurled insults at me; it differed. That lasted until I started working on my first official case. It was a small homicide investigation. Nothing too fancy. Still, it was my first case, and I was a bit nervous.

"I was due to talk to one of main suspect's relatives under the guise that I worked with the FBI. So, of course, as a fake federal agent, I'd introduce myself as 'agent something'. I had everything planned out but, at the last minute, I panicked and forgot my alias, so I ended up only saying the word Agent like an idiot. Since then, it just sort of stuck."

"Don't you think it's slightly demeaning?" He asked.

I thought absolutely that for a brief second, but shook my head. "Not really. I suppose in its own special way, it's still my identifier. It's what I am and what I always will be."

"You seem pretty sure of that."

"Oh, I am. When I was nine, I had only a basic education - letters, numbers, and a poor understanding of manners. When I was taken in, I received my first official education. There, I pushed myself. I wanted to learn. I worked almost every hour of everyday. I didn't have weekends. I didn't slow down. I didn't stop. I pushed myself and that's why I am where I am now."

Yep. Here I was, sipping tea with a potential mass murderer who killed people like me. Life was good. So glad I made it this far.

"Besides, I was born to catch criminals. Crime is all I really know."

Light chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. "I suppose being involved in crime gives you an insight as what to look for."

"Exactly."

Bringing his lips away from the rim of his cup, he asked, "So, how long have you been working with L?"

"This is the first time I've worked with him." Knowingly, at least. "I joined the investigation not long after Tailor died, which is how I discovered Kira in the first place, so it's been a few months. I haven't really been keeping count. Days like these just tend to blur into one." I paused to exhale. "It's tiring but it'll be worth it in the end."

The expression on Light's face softened, melting into concern. "Why would you cause yourself so much stress?" He asked. "You're young and have a life full of potential ahead of you. Why risk it on such a dangerous case?"

Once more, I had an urge to say the same to him (given he was a whole year younger than me and a full time university student), but kept my mouth glued shut, going with my default - and frankly, honest - answer.

"I was bored, and this looked exciting. It's not everyday you latch onto a case like this."

His laugh was like sleigh bells, ringing loud and clear across the cafe. "You can say that again."

I hummed and glanced at my watch out of habit, raising a brow as my brain made sense of the analog hands. We'd been here for over almost an hour and a half.

Draining the rest of my cup, I looked towards my coffee partner, gesturing to the time. "Should we head back now? It's getting late."

The boy glanced towards his own wrist and agreed, finishing his drink with one graceful swig and calling for the bill. After much insisting from both ends, I persuaded him to split the bill, and we went along our merry way.

Arriving back at L's hotel room, I reiterated back the day's events and the utter lack of evidence that we'd procured. He didn't seem too disappointed - probably because he had a huge stack of glazed doughnuts in front of him - but he notably wasn't too happy about it. In his mildly distressed state, he failed to notice that his sugary stack of diabetes became one heart attack fewer as I walked past the table with doughnut in hand, smirking all the while.

Just as I was about to bite down on my stolen treat, a sharp ping from my phone alerted me to an incoming message. Laying the doughnut aside, I opened my texts, partly expecting it to be my favourite blonde (you know, the only person who ever texted me) asking how my day went. Surprisingly, it wasn't. Even more surprisingly, it wasn't from anyone in my contacts.

The message consisted of a simple greeting and a smiley face emoticon. Frowning, I read the digits and faintly recognised it as the cell number one of Light's male associates had gifted me with that afternoon. Allowing the briefest of smiles to appear on my face, I sent back an affirming greeting. The conversation bounced back and forth from there, progressing from idle small talk to halfhearted compliments to considerably raunchy flirting.

I wasn't the type of girl to do something like that often often, but for once, I was enjoying that small moment of crazy teenage girl drama. It felt good to just take a breath, let it all go, and allow my brain to recline. Kira could take the backseat for a while; I had sweeter things to think about.

Another ping and my phone was in my hand instantly. This time, I noticed, the contents of the text were a little different. His response was short, but it conveyed the message behind it well enough. He'd tossed in a cute pet name, I noticed, and purposely placed a suggestive winky face emoticon at the end of his sentence. You wouldn't need to be a detective to figure out what he was implying.

I chewed on my lip, contemplating whether or not to text back.

He was cute, I supposed, in a boyish-nerdy-douchebag kind of way (a bit like Light in that sense, but nowhere near as attractive). His intentions, on the other hand... not so cute, but still hugely flattering.

It was clear what he was after, and I didn't want to lead this poor guy on by faking interest. Then again, it had been a while since I'd had a lay, and God only knew when I'd land myself another opportunity like this. He was attractive, around my age, and seemed interested enough. Would a casual hookup be so wrong?

"Who are you talking to?"

Startled, I quickly hit the off button, looking up at my roommate with the innocence of an angel. "Nobody."

L knew better than to trust my cherubic facade and didn't seem very convinced by the juvenile it's nobody excuse (yes, I was vigorously kicking myself for not providing a better lie). The older man stared expectantly, waiting for his answer - taking a hefty bite out of my doughnut, the bastard.

I swallowed my reluctance and glanced back down at my phone, unwilling to meet his domineering gaze. "It's just one of Light's friends. He invited a few of them to Aoyama today. One of them asked for my number. I was just trying to be nice, you know."

He nodded slowly. "Seems like a very stimulating conversation."

My head snapped up. Oh fuck. He'd seen.

I stared hard at the detective, trying desperately to think of a mature and logical response to this, and trying even harder to keep the blood from rising to my skin and exposing my mortification.

As if sensing my embarrassment, he raised a hand, speaking with an irritating level of apathy. "Oh, don't mind me. Please continue."

Then, he toddled off back to his computer as though nothing had ever happened, turning his back just in time to miss my face lighting up like a Christmas tree. Except that Christmas tree was angry. And it was on fire.

Well okay, fine. If he was going to oblige me, then fine. Fine!

Still, as I stared at the mobile in my hand, fingers hovering over the screen, I couldn't bring myself to type, and I hated myself for it.

There was nothing wrong with me pursuing the boy's advancement. Nothing at all. We were both consenting adults with a mutual attraction for one another. That was it. Of course, I couldn't speak for my potential partner, but I had no desire to form anything serious with him. It'd be a momentary release of all the stress and sadness and frustration I'd been feeling recently. If anything, this was healthy. This was good for me.

Then why did it feel so wrong?

*     *     *     *     *

A/N

* The Trojan Horse was a large wooden horse said to have been built by the Greeks and presented to the citizens of Troy as a 'gift' during the Trojan War. What the Trojans weren't aware of was that the structure was actually hollow and contained a force of Greek soldiers, who later attacked the city. 'Twas subterfuge!!

* Shincha literally means new tea in Japanese since shincha leaves are picked at the very beginning of the harvest. I figured if Light was going to drink any kind of green tea, it would be shincha. After all, he is God of the New Tea ahahahaha (please end my suffering)

* The September Campaign was an event that took place in September 1939 during WW2 in which a force of (predominantly) German troops invaded Poland

I really wasn't sure whether to label this chapter Backstory Galore or LIGHThearted Puns as both are very relevant titles (that reminds me, another fun GWNoN drinking game: take a shot every time I use a Light-related pun; there shall be many so prepare for alcohol poisoning)

Anyway, I hoped you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I used up most of the recycled content from last chapter and thrust it into this one. Yes, I know there wasn't much going on between A and L - or even my poor baby Chris for that matter - but I really wanted Light and Agent to have some more interaction. This chapter very much belonged to them.

(Ngl they have pretty good chemistry at the minute. If Light wasn't a narcissistic serial killer with a raging God complex and no concept of human emotion, I'd probably ship them)

Speaking of ships, Matsuda is the proud mother of the L/Agent ship and wants his babies to go forth and multiply. He knows what's up and he's calling them out on it #matsudaisnotacluelessidiot

[UNNEDITED come on its almost 10,000 words cut me a little slack]