Chapter Text
Author's Note: (7805 words).
Bold = Time-skips, P.O.V.s, stuff like that. Examples: (L's P.O.V.):, Time-skip: (We're on the train):, Small Recap:, The Present (Now):.
Italics = A character's thoughts. Or if it is in a sentence, it's a word that carries meaning to it, emphasizing a point. Examples: "Why does it have to be this way?", "I wish I could've changed the outcome.", "I want this.", "I can't lose."
Bold + Italics = A flashback of some sort. Example: I (John) lifted the perfume bottle to his nose, smelling the flowery, sweet scent. I smile softly at the remembrance of the scent.
Flashback:
My wife sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. A flowery, sweet scent engulfed the room.
"What's that smell?" I asked.
Wife: "Oh! I just got this new scent today. Does it smell nice, John?"
"Yeah, it does." I smiled at her happy figure.
The Present (Now):
"I miss you..." I said softly as I put the perfume down, looking outside my window. The sunset peering in.
Underlined = An Author's Note, but I'll be sure to tell you anyway. Example: Author's Note: (Blah, blah, blah...).
Bold + Underlined = Texting or calling. Example: Light: Where are you?
Italics + Underlined = When you're speaking a different language other than Japanese (because this fanfiction is already written in English so you wouldn't be able to tell if you were speaking English to others). Example: I sigh, shaking my head. "You're an idiot."
F/l/n = Fake last name (your alias)
F/f/n = Fake first name (your alias)
Y/n = Your name (your actual first name)
L/n = Last name (your actual last name)
F/n = Father's name
M/n = Mother's name
E/c = Eye color
H/c = Hair color
H/l = Hair length
S/c = Skin color
Same old thing, day after day... what a bore. This world is a rotten mess...
(???'s P.O.V.):
Bones clattered into a cracked skull bowl. "Two death's-heads. I win again-, but no hard feelings, right?" He cackled, his skeletal grin wide and mocking.
"Tch." The other Shinigami sighed, looking away with boredom. Then his eye turned lazily toward me. "Hey, Ryuk, would it kill you to join us? Come play for once."
"It's been five days now..." I thought, staring blankly at their game before replying with a shrug. "No, I'll pass." I stood from the pile of bones beneath me, stretching my stiff limbs. "It's 'bout time I got going anyway."
"Hm? Where you off to, Ryuk?"
"Anyplace you go around here, it's all barren anyway. Hee hee..."
I let out a hollow chuckle. "I dropped my Death Note."
"Whoops! Hyuk! Hyuk! Hyuk!" They burst into laughter, one slapping his bony knee. "You really screwed up, man! Hey... weren't you carrying around a second one behind the old man's back? You saying you lost both?"
Their laughter rattled the silent air around us. "So, you got any idea where you dropped it? Kyak kak kak..."
"Yeah," I said, turning my back on them as my wings unfurled with a sharp fwoosh, "the human world."
"What?!" they both shouted at once, their voices echoing through the gray wasteland as I stepped off the cliff, black wings slicing through the stale air. I plummeted down towards the entry hole, the human world growing closer with each beat of my wings, and I couldn't help the grin spreading across my face.
This single notebook, dropped into the human world by a Shinigami... sets off an all-out battle between three chosen people.
(Your P.O.V.):
The final bell rang, echoing through the halls like a sigh of relief. I packed my notebook and pens into my bag with slow movements, glancing at Light from the corner of my eye. As usual, he moved with quiet precision, sliding his textbook into his bag and standing up without making a sound. He always did things so... perfectly. "Ready to go?" he asked, adjusting his tie slightly. His voice was calm as always, polite but detached. I nodded and swung my bag onto my shoulder. "Yeah."
The hallway was loud with students talking about cram school, dinner, and which variety show they'd watch tonight. Light and I didn't say anything as we walked down the stairs. We didn't need to. We had most of the same classes together, partnered up the most for projects, and sat next to each other in almost every subject that used rank seating. I always ended up first in the class, with Light right beside me in second, or sometimes tied. But he never looked upset about it. In fact, he usually just looked... bored.
Once we reached the shoe lockers, I changed into my outside shoes quickly. Light finished lacing his before standing up straight, looking down at me. "Your Physics score was perfect again," he said casually, slipping his hands into his pockets as we started walking out of the school gates. The cicadas were screaming from the trees lining the road. The heat was still heavy on my skin. I shrugged at his comment.
"So was yours," I replied flatly. "You only missed half a point because you accidently wrote centimeters instead of meters." I didn't mean to sound cold. It was just... the truth.
Light chuckled quietly, his eyes focused ahead of us on the sidewalk. "That's true. You always notice everything, don't you?" His voice was tinged with something... admiration, maybe. Or curiosity. I couldn't tell. "You even beat me on the national practice exams. Top score in the entire country. I don't think anyone else noticed, but I did."
I looked up at him, studying his face. He didn't look angry or envious. Just thoughtful and bored as usual. His expression never changed much. "Mm," I hummed in acknowledgment. "Doesn't matter."
"You think so?" he asked, glancing down at me with that small polite smile he wore for teachers and classmates. But it didn't reach his eyes. "Grades matter a lot. They show who is most capable... who has the greatest potential."
I kept my gaze forward. "Potential for what?"
He didn't answer right away. The sun was setting behind the power lines, dyeing the sky orange and pink as we crossed at the traffic light. Light finally spoke again, his tone softer. "Potential to... make the world a better place."
Light walked with his hands in his pockets, posture straight, his expression calm but distant as always. I stared at the ground ahead of me for a few seconds before glancing up at him again. I said nothing for a moment, feeling the breeze brush against my hair and uniform skirt. After a moment, I turned to him. "You look bored."
He blinked and turned his gaze down at me, a faint smile tugging at his lips, voice tinged with amusement. "Do I?" he asked softly.
"Mm." I nodded slightly. "Yeah." I shifted my bag on my shoulder. "You always look bored. Even when you're taking notes or answering questions." He let out a quiet chuckle, his eyes looking ahead again. The warm breeze brushed against us, lifting strands of his hair slightly. "I guess I am a little bored," he admitted. "School isn't... very challenging anymore."
"Mm," I hummed. "I thought so-, and I can't help but agree." We walked in silence for a bit, the breeze ruffling my hair and his red tie swaying lightly against his shirt. A group of girls walked past us, giggling and whispering to each other when they saw him. Light gave them his standard polite nod, but I could see it in his eyes. He didn't care. After they passed, I spoke again. "You're always so popular, aren't you?"
He chuckled quietly, looking ahead at the crosswalk. "I suppose. But it doesn't really matter, does it?" He paused to press the crossing button with his knuckle. "Most people aren't very... interesting."
I tilted my head slightly, my bag strap sliding off my shoulder before I pulled it back up. "Do you think I'm interesting?" I asked, voice monotone as always. I didn't ask because I cared. I asked because I wanted to know.
His eyes widened just a little, then softened as the light turned green and we started walking again. "Yeah," he said after a moment, his tone almost gentle. "I do... I think you're very interesting, Y/n."
I blinked, registering his words but not responding. The silence stretched between us as we walked past convenience stores glowing under their fluorescent lights and salarymen heading home in suits.
When we turned down the street leading to our neighborhood, he spoke again. "You're always so calm," he said. "No matter what grade you get, how everyone praises you... you never react. You never seem happy or proud. You just... are."
I shrugged. "There's no point reacting to something expected."
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "That's what makes you so interesting."
We passed under the last streetlight before our houses. I could see the window of my room glowing dimly upstairs. Light stopped in front of his gate and turned to me. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, his voice softer than before, almost reluctant.
"Mm," I replied. I turned to continue walking to my own house, feeling his gaze on my back until I reached my door. I didn't look back. There was no need. I already knew he was still standing there, staring, with that bored look in his eyes.
Time-skip:
I slipped my shoes off at the entrance and stepped into the house. It was quiet, like always. I could hear the ticking of the old clock hanging above the doorway to the kitchen, each second echoing in the empty space. I bent down to straighten my shoes on the rack before walking down the hallway. The air smelled faintly of dust and old tatami. My father was sitting where he always sat after work-, on the floor cushion at the low table in the living room, newspaper in hand, glasses perched low on his nose. The television was on but muted, showing some evening drama I didn't care to look at.
"I'm home," I said in a flat voice, loosening my tie with one hand as I walked past him. He didn't reply, not even a glance in my direction. His eyes stayed fixed on the newspaper, unmoving except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. I stood there for a moment, staring at him. His hair was thinner than I remembered from when I was a child. There were more lines around his eyes. He hadn't really looked at me in years. I wondered if he even noticed I was standing here.
My bag felt heavy on my shoulder. I adjusted it before turning away and heading to the kitchen. The sink was empty. There was a half-eaten plate of cold rice and mackerel on the table with chopsticks placed perfectly beside it. I could tell he hadn't bothered making anything fresh. I opened the fridge and took out the leftover miso soup from last night, pouring it into a pot. The flame clicked on beneath the steel with a quiet whoosh.
I stood there as it heated, staring out the small window above the sink. The neighbor's balcony was empty, their laundry still fluttering on the line. The sky was already dark, the streetlamps casting a pale-yellow glow onto the silent road below. I wondered if Light was studying right now. Or if he was writing something in that neat, small handwriting of his, eyes narrowed in thought. He always looked like he was thinking about something far beyond what was in front of him. I didn't care what it was. I just... noticed.
The soup began to boil softly. I turned off the stove and poured it into a bowl, setting it down on the table. I sat across from my father. He didn't look up. I ate in silence, the only sounds in the room the clink of my chopsticks against the bowl and the ticking of the clock above us. The muted television flashed images across his glasses. I finished my meal, stood up, and carried the bowl to the sink. He still hadn't spoken a word.
After washing my bowl and placing it in the drying rack, I turned to leave. I paused for a moment, my eyes lingering on his still figure. His shoulders were hunched forward slightly. His hand holding the newspaper trembled just a little. I wondered what he was thinking about. Probably not me.
I went upstairs to my room, closing the door behind me with a quiet click. The walls were lined with bookshelves stacked neatly with textbooks, philosophy collections, and notes. My desk was clean, with only a single black pen resting on top of my open planner. I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the streetlamp glow.
The silence felt heavy tonight. Heavier than usual. I sat down at my desk, opened my math workbook, and began solving the problems for tomorrow's class. Numbers filled the quiet space around me, each formula and equation a small proof that I existed here, now, doing something that mattered in some way.
I finished the last problem before closing the book. My eyes flicked to the small, framed photo on the corner of my desk. It was old, the edges worn and faded. My mother was smiling, holding me in her arms. I was too young to remember that day. My father stood beside her in the photo, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, looking at the camera with a tired smile. He looked so much younger. So much more alive.
I turned off the desk lamp and stood up. The floor was cold under my bare feet as I crossed the room and lay down on my futon. I pulled the blanket up to my chin, staring at the ceiling. The house was silent except for the creak of the wood as it cooled from the day's heat. I could hear my father's faint cough from downstairs, followed by the rustle of his newspaper page turning.
I closed my eyes. The darkness felt heavy. I wondered what it would be like to fall asleep and never wake up. I didn't feel sad at the thought. Just... curious.
Tomorrow would come. I would wake up. I would go to school. I would get another perfect score. Light would walk beside me, looking bored. My father would remain silent. Everything would continue, exactly as it always had.
Over the past few days, I'd started waking up earlier just to catch the morning news before school, though it wasn't intentional. At first, it was just curiosity. Then it became routine. I'd sit at the kitchen table, knees pulled to my chest, my hair unbrushed, staring at the small TV balanced on the counter. The announcers spoke quickly, eyes wide, tension clear in their voices even when they tried to mask it with professional calm.
Another heart attack. Another criminal dead. Then another. And another.
I rested my chin on my knees as I listened. My father sat silently across from me, slurping his miso soup without looking up. The chopsticks in his hand trembled slightly, but he didn't say a word. He never did.
By the third day, they started calling it divine punishment. By the fourth, they called it mass coincidence. By the fifth, people began whispering "Kira."
I narrowed my eyes at the television screen. Coincidence. No. Coincidences don't follow patterns. Coincidences don't strike at the same time of day, targeting only one type of victim with surgical precision. I watched as they displayed mugshots of each dead criminal, their crimes listed beneath in cold black font. Kidnapping. Murder. Assault. Rape. All dead within seconds of each other. All heart attacks. No warnings. No symptoms.
My fingers curled around the edge of the table. This wasn't coincidence. This was cause and effect. Someone was doing this. Someone was deciding this.
But... how?
I didn't tell anyone what I thought. They wouldn't listen anyway.
On the sixth day, I noticed it. Or rather... him.
We were walking home from school. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees lining the street, dappling the sidewalk in pale gold. Light walked beside me, his bag slung neatly over his shoulder, his hair glowing almost amber under the light. He was talking about cram school again.
"You know," he said, voice smooth as ever, "you'd probably get even higher scores if you came to prep with me."
"I already have the highest scores in the nation," I replied, staring straight ahead as my fingers curled around my bag strap. My voice was flat, unemotional, factual. "Cram school is for people who need help. I don't."
He let out a small chuckle, though it didn't sound amused. "You're too honest, Y/n."
"Mm," I hummed, my eyes flicking to the side. That's when I saw it.
Floating behind him, looming at least twice his height, was... something. Its skin was a mottled gray purple, stretched tightly over bones that jutted out like spikes. Its eyes were wide and bulbous; mouth twisted into a grin lined with yellowed fangs. Black feathers protruded from its shoulders like broken wings. And its eyes... they were looking straight at Light's head. Or maybe through it.
I blinked once. Twice. The creature didn't disappear. It just hovered there, flapping lazily as if gravity didn't exist. Light kept walking, talking about the national university entrance exams, completely oblivious.
Or... was he?
My chest felt tight, though I wasn't scared. I never felt fear. I just felt... aware. Was this creature real? Was I seeing it like I saw people's names in red above their heads every day? An ability no one else had. Was this the same?
"...you're not listening, are you?" Light's voice cut through my thoughts. I turned my gaze to him. His eyes narrowed just slightly before he smiled. "What are you thinking about?"
I didn't answer. I just stared at him, then shifted my gaze back to the creature. It cocked its head at me. Its hair, long and spiked, swayed slightly in the windless air. It grinned wider, showing jagged teeth. I could hear something. A chuckle. Faint and raspy, like leaves scraping pavement.
"Nothing," I finally replied, turning my eyes forward again. My grip tightened on my bag strap. "You talk too much."
Light laughed softly beside me, shaking his head. "You're cold as always."
I didn't respond. As we crossed the street, the creature floated after him, silent and watchful. I wondered if it spoke to him the way it chuckled at me. I wondered if it whispered truths into his ear or if he was just as blind to it as everyone else was to the red names I saw above their heads. I wondered what it was. And more importantly... I wondered why it was here.
That night, I sat at my desk, staring at my textbook but reading nothing. My pencil rested unmoving between my fingers. I closed my eyes and pictured it again, the sharp grin, the twisted wings, the heavy olive eyes that gleamed like they knew every secret in the world. The creature following Light Yagami.
No... this wasn't a coincidence either. None of it was.
On the seventh day, when the final bell rang, I packed up my pens slowly, tucking them into their precise slots in my pencil case. The students around us were already chattering about cram school and convenience store snacks, scraping chairs against the floor as they stood up in groups.
That same creature-, the one with bulging olive eyes and jagged teeth-, stood hunched behind Light, his knees bent. As the bell's echo faded, he rolled his shoulders and let out a groan. "I thought it'd never end... how do you do this every day? It's so boring."
My eyes narrowed slightly. "So, he is talking to Light..." I thought. My grip tightened around my bag strap as I stood up. Light didn't react to the creature's words at all. Not a twitch of his eyes, not a flick of his fingers. Just silence. He gathered his books calmly and walked over to me, his eyes meeting mine with that same quiet composure he wore like a mask.
"Ready to go?" he asked, voice polite as ever. I didn't respond about the creature. I just nodded and turned, walking beside him out of the classroom. The creature blinked at Light, its olive eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.
"Hey-, where you going?" it rasped, wings rustling slightly as it hovered over the desk and drifted after us.
Light didn't respond. His gaze stayed forward as we walked through the crowded hallway. Students bowed and greeted him as we passed, and he gave them small nods of acknowledgment. We stepped out of the school doors into the humid late afternoon air. The cicadas were screaming again, their cries bouncing off the concrete walls.
"Hey, Light, are you listening to me?" the creature asked, flying a little closer to his head. Light didn't even glance at it. Instead, he looked down at me as we descended the front steps.
"You're quiet today," he said. "Thinking about the upcoming entrance exams?"
"No," I replied flatly, adjusting my bag strap. "I've already reviewed the entire curriculum. There's nothing left to think about."
He chuckled softly under his breath, though there was no amusement in his eyes. "That's just like you."
We reached the gate where two of Light's friends were lingering with their backpacks slung low and ties loosened. They waved lazily when they saw him. "Hey, what's up, Light? We were just gonna head down to the arcade for a bit. You coming?"
Light didn't slow his pace. "Sorry, I'm a little busy today," he interrupted smoothly, his polite smile never wavering as we kept walking. His friends blinked in surprise before shrugging and going back to their conversation.
The creature floated backwards in front of us, staring at Light with its wide olive eyes. "You don't have anything to do... aren't you just going to go home and hang out in your room as usual?" Its gravelly voice rumbled, though Light continued walking, eyes fixed ahead, completely ignoring it.
We turned down the quiet street that led to our neighborhood. The breeze ruffled his hair, and he spoke again. "You know," he said, glancing at me with that calm, unreadable expression, "you never join after-school clubs or study groups. Don't you think it'd be good to... socialize more?"
"There's no point," I replied instantly, my voice flat and calm. "They're a waste of time. They slow you down. Besides, no one in this school is worth socializing with."
Light chuckled, shaking his head softly. "You're brutally honest as always..."
"Mm," I hummed. We walked in silence for a while. The creature floated slightly above Light's shoulder, glaring down at his hair with twitching claws. I didn't say a word about it. There was no point.
When we reached the street where our houses split, Light slowed his pace, looking at me. "Do you... ever get bored, Y/n?"
I blinked up at him, my expression unchanging. "Yes," I answered truthfully. "But there's always something to observe."
He stared at me for a moment before that small, polite smile curved his lips again. "Right. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Mm," I replied, turning away and walking toward my house. I didn't look back, but I could feel his gaze lingering on my back. And from the corner of my eye, I saw the creature floating beside him, staring at me with those wide olive eyes that never blinked.
I opened the front door, sliding it shut behind me with a quiet click. The house was silent except for the muffled ticking of the clock in the living room and the faint hum of the refrigerator. My father was probably asleep on his futon, newspaper draped across his chest like always. I didn't bother checking.
I kicked off my shoes at the entrance, stepping into the hallway with heavy feet. My school uniform felt stiff against my skin from sitting in class all day-, the white button-up shirt clinging to my back, the black blazer creased around my elbows, the tie still perfectly knotted around my neck, and my pleated skirt brushing against my thighs with every step. I hadn't taken a shower yet, but that could wait. There were more important things to do.
I walked straight to my room, shutting the door behind me before flicking on my desk lamp. The warm glow illuminated my textbooks stacked neatly against the wall, my pencil cups, and my laptop resting closed at the corner of my desk. I pulled it toward me, flipping the lid open as the screen flickered to life with a soft whirr. My knees came up to my chest as I sat cross-legged on the chair, typing quickly into the search bar.
Kira websites.
The screen loaded instantly, pulling up dozens of questionable-looking pages with flashing banners and pop-ups. I clicked on one that seemed... slightly less unhinged than the rest. The title was written in bright blood-red font against a black background.
"The Legend of Kira the Savior".
I clicked on it, leaning forward slightly. My eyes skimmed the top paragraph.
"Why are the world's criminals being eliminated one by one? Because Lord Kira has returned. Lord Kira is a messenger from Hell who will not suffer the presence of evil in this world! Beware: You may only enter this site if you believe in Lord Kira's resurrection."
I rolled my eyes, resting my chin on top of my knees. "Lord Kira? Please..." My expression remained blank as I scrolled further down. As expected, there was nothing of use here. Just delusions and fantasy by people desperate to worship something that made them feel safer in a chaotic world. Humans always needed to romanticize what they didn't understand. Turning death into salvation to comfort themselves. Pathetic.
I closed the tab, opening my notes document instead. The white page glowed with rows of names written in neat, small text. Each line contained a name, age, date, time of death, and cause. All criminals. All dead from cardiac arrest or heart attacks. I scrolled to the top, reading from the first name again.
Kurou Otoharada. The Shinjuku killer who took eight people hostage in a nursery school. I remembered seeing it live on the news. The children screaming. The teachers trembling as he shouted threats with that twisted smile on his face. Then he stopped mid-sentence, eyes going wide before he collapsed to the floor, dead. Heart attack. They said it was stress. Trauma. Overexertion. But...
His name... his face... visible to the public. His death-, instantaneous. Everyone saw it. Everyone believed it. That was the first. Then the pattern spread to others reported on national stations, then to international news... but only after Japanese news stations aired their crimes.
I rested my chin on my knee, staring at the screen. "Only Japan broadcast that hostage situation. International news didn't pick it up until after he was already dead. Which means... our so-called 'Lord Kira' is also in Japan..."
"They have to be. Otherwise, how would they know these names and faces before anyone else?" I scrolled further down the list of victims. All criminals. All broadcast on television or at least reported in some form of Japanese news media before their deaths. My eyes narrowed slightly, my fingers tapping rhythmically against my calf.
Interesting.
If this was divine punishment, why only criminals shown on Japanese news? If this was mass coincidence, why only criminals, why only now, and why only with visible proof to the public? I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the darkness behind my eyelids sharpen my focus.
My eyes flicked open again, staring coldly at the list. I scrolled down to the second name. Takuo Shibuimaru. Male, twenty-nine. Cause of death: traffic accident. I remembered reading about him in a local article archived online. No criminal record. No arrests. He worked as a truck driver but liked to chat up the ladies. Died the same day as Kurou Otoharada.
My fingers drummed lightly against my knee now. "This might be going out on a limb... but I'd say Takuo Shibuimaru was also a Kira murder. Why? Testing." An experiment to see if his power extended beyond heart attacks. If it could cause accidents, other types of deaths. The pattern fit. After that day, the deaths diversified. Illnesses, accidents, sudden brain hemorrhages, ruptured aneurysms. All unexplained. All convenient.
I leaned back against my chair, my eyes unfocused as I thought. "Gradually... I've been noticing other people who don't have criminal records dying from illnesses and accidents. Did Kira think these people would become criminals in the future? Killing off brutal criminals-, people he thinks deserve it-, with heart attacks. And people he thinks will become criminals later... through illnesses and accidents. Strategic." I closed my eyes for a moment, listening to the quiet hum of my laptop fan. Interesting...
I rested my forehead against my knees, my eyes half-lidded. "Kira... whoever you are, you're just a person playing God."
I opened my eyes fully, staring at the neat rows of names on my screen. "This isn't divine punishment. This isn't justice. This is... selection. Calculation. Someone is deciding who lives and who dies."
I finally shut my laptop, sitting still for a moment, staring at my reflection in the mirror nearby. My hair was slightly disheveled from leaning forward so long, my h/c hair falling over my eyes. My uniform clung uncomfortably to my skin from the heat trapped in my room. I stood up silently, unbuttoning my blazer and placing it neatly on the back of my chair before loosening my tie and slipping it off over my head. The knot left a slight indentation on my neck, pale against my skin. I unbuttoned my shirt, feeling the cool air brush against my chest, then folded it and placed it on top of my blazer. My skirt came off next, and I folded that too before placing it beside the others in a neat pile.
I walked to the bathroom, feet silent on the creaking wooden floor. Flicking on the light, I closed the door behind me. The mirror above the sink was slightly fogged from my father's earlier shower. I stepped into the small shower stall and turned the metal knob slowly, the pipes creaking before hot water burst from the showerhead. Steam filled the small space instantly, curling around my face and chest. I stepped under it, feeling the heat sting my skin, burning away the lingering stiffness from sitting at my desk all evening.
I let the water soak my hair completely before reaching for the shampoo bottle. The clear liquid smelled faintly like rosemary mint. I lathered it into my scalp with firm, efficient movements, scrubbing until the foam slid down my neck and shoulders. Rinsing it out, I watched the white bubbles swirl around my feet before disappearing down the drain. Conditioner next. I worked it through the ends of my hair and pinned it up while I reached for the body wash. The thick gel smelled like mint and something floral. I squeezed some onto my loofah and began washing my arms first, then my chest, stomach, back, legs, feet. My movements were mechanical, precise. Like cleaning a tool.
As the water cascaded over my collarbones, I thought about the girls in class talking about their boyfriends. They'd whisper about kisses, about holding hands, about the way his body felt against theirs. Sex. Intimacy. I didn't understand it. Their words sounded hollow, like an advertisement for something I'd never buy. What was the point? It seemed... inefficient. Distracting. Meaningless. Like cramming for a test when you already knew all the answers.
I rinsed out the conditioner, letting my hair fall wet and heavy down my back. The water was still scalding hot, turning my skin a faint pink. I turned the knob slowly, shifting it from hot to cold. The temperature drop sent a sharp shock through my chest, my breath catching for half a second before settling again. The water ran cold down my back, my arms, my legs. Goosebumps prickled across my skin. I just stood there under the freezing water for the last couple of minutes, feeling it numb my scalp and shoulders. My mind went quiet. Completely silent. Not thinking. Not feeling. Just existing under the water.
When I turned it off, the air felt warmer against my chilled skin. I stepped out onto the bathroom mat and dried myself with a thin towel, patting down my arms and legs before wrapping my hair up and tying it tightly to absorb the water. I slipped on my plain black underwear and an oversized white t-shirt that reached mid-thigh. My hair dripped slightly down my back, cold against the cotton fabric.
I walked back to my room and closed the door behind me. The floor creaked softly under my feet. I grabbed the remote off my desk and flicked on the TV in the corner. Static hummed for a second before the screen flashed to life, the evening drama playing with canned laughter echoing through my small room. I pulled my futon out and sat down on it, knees pulled up to my chest, my arms wrapped loosely around them. My hair dripped quietly onto the blanket beneath me, strands sticking to my neck and cheeks. I didn't bother styling it.
The TV flickered with bright colors, actors crying dramatically over something I didn't care to understand. I watched in silence, eyes half-lidded, listening to the hollow laughter through the speakers and the quiet dripping of water from my hair to the futon.
Suddenly, the TV screen flickered, cutting off the insufferable drama mid-scream. The actors' tearful faces dissolved into a bright blue screen with bold white text scrolling across it. I blinked, my knees still pulled up to my chest, the damp fabric of my oversized shirt clinging slightly to my skin. Then the image switched to a middle-aged man with dark brown hair, wearing a dark brown suit and a blue tie, holding a stack of notecards in his hands.
"We'd like to apologize for interrupting the program to bring you a live, globally televised broadcast from Interpol's ICPO... with Japanese voice-over by interpreter Yoshio Anderson..."
"Mm?" I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head slightly. "Why emphasize 'Japanese voice-over'...?" I thought, my eyes narrowing at the screen. The man's tone was tense, almost forced. Something felt... staged. "That's unnecessary information... unless it's meant to sound official. Or it's part of a performance."
"We now take you live to the ICPO," another reporter announced, and the screen switched again. This time to a pale man sitting in a chair behind a small desk. He had long black hair that reached past his jaw and swept to his right. His suit was a light gray, paired with a black tie. A name tag sat in front of him, bold black letters reading: "Lind. L. Tailor".
He cleared his throat slightly, adjusting the microphone before speaking into it, his tone heavy with importance. "I am Lind L. Tailor, more commonly known as 'L'-, the sole person able to mobilize police in every country worldwide."
"L?" I mused out loud, voice flat and calm. The corners of my mouth twitched slightly in amusement. I rest my chin on my knees as my wet hair dripped onto the front of my shirt. "The greatest detective in the world..." The man who nobody knows the real name of, his whereabouts, or what he looks like. The man who can solve any case and has solved countless of them... Huh...
I narrowed my eyes further, studying his posture, the set of his jaw, the flicker of nerves in his eyes. "No... this is fake. L would never show his face. He would never say his real name to the world, especially not for something like this. Especially not in front of Kira. Not unless he had a death wish. The real L wouldn't make such an elementary mistake. My eyes scanned every detail of the broadcast. His posture is too stiff. He keeps glancing at something off-screen... cue cards probably."
And globally televised? I scoffed softly under my breath. "That's a lie." The camera angles, the lighting, the Japanese voice-over emphasis... "This broadcast isn't international. It's only airing in Japan. Which means... L probably already knows Kira is in Japan." Just like I thought. Only a fool would believe otherwise. The first murder was only shown here. The time frames matched up. It was obvious.
My fingers drummed silently against my knee. "Only Japanese news aired the Shinjuku hostage situation live. International broadcasts picked it up after the death. The ICPO has no reason to waste a global broadcast if the suspect is local. This is a set-up by L himself..."
The fake L continued, his voice echoing through the small TV in my room as I sat with my knees pulled up to my chest, damp hair sticking to my cheek.
"Criminals around the world have been the target of a killing spree... which I consider having turned into the biggest mass murder case in history. This monstrous crime must be stopped at all costs. I will not rest until the person or persons responsible are brought to justice. 'Kira,' as the perpetrator is commonly known, will be caught. I will hunt you down-, I will find you-, I guarantee it."
He spoke boldly, chin raised as if daring Kira to kill him. I blinked slowly, eyes half-lidded with disinterest, watching him posture like an actor on stage. "Kira would be stupid to fall for something like this," I thought, resting my cheek against my knee. "So easily provoked by words on a screen... if he does, I'd lose my respect for his intelligence."
I tilted my head slightly to the side, my wet hair brushing against my skin, cold from the lingering droplets. "L is baiting him. Testing. He wants proof that Kira can kill without physically touching someone. He wants to confirm the method. The radius. The time delay. Everything. And this... this is the fastest way to do it."
"Kira. I think I've got a pretty good idea of why you're doing this and what you hope to achieve. But what you are doing right now... is evil!! Police worldwide have launched a coordinated investigation..." the fake L declared, his voice shaking slightly with forced conviction.
The man on screen raised his voice in a final taunt, calling Kira a murderer hiding behind false justice. I could almost see it-, the string being pulled, the trap tightening around whoever Kira was.
I stared blankly at the flickering screen, unblinking, as Lind L. Tailor's chest suddenly seized. His eyes went wide, pupils shrinking with fear as his fingers clawed desperately at his tie. Foam bubbled at the corner of his lips before his head slammed forward onto the desk with a dull, final thud.
I didn't react. I just sat there, damp and silent, resting my cheek against my knee as my hair dripped steadily onto the futon beneath me.
"So, he fell for it... disappointing." My eyes narrowed slightly. "Or... interesting. He really does have the power to kill without touch. Without being there. Without a weapon. Just... death."
Two men in dark suits and sunglasses entered the frame, their gloved hands gripping under the dead man's armpits. His head lolled forward limply as they dragged his body out of view, shoes scraping against the studio floor. His open eyes stared blankly at the ground until they disappeared off-screen. The camera cut out for a moment before switching to a white background with a black fancy 'L' in the center.
The voice that came through was different from before-, lower, colder, with a distorted robotic undertone that resonated through my TV speakers.
"I... I don't believe it..." it said softly, as if half in awe. "This was an experiment to test a hunch I had, but I never really thought... that it would actually happen. Kira... it seems you can actually kill people without direct contact-, without having to be there in person... So, my hunch was right... I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't just witnessed it with my own eyes, but you can... You'd have to, of course. It didn't make sense otherwise..."
"I knew it..." I thought, my eyes half-lidded with calm focus. "Kira fell right into his trap. Although... he did successfully shake L in some way, shape, or form." I could hear it in his voice-, a subtle tremor beneath the robotic filter. Not fear. Excitement. Satisfaction.
"Listen to me, Kira," the voice continued. "If you did, indeed, just kill Lind L. Tailor, the man you saw die on your television, I should tell you that he was an inmate whose execution was scheduled for today, at this hour. That was not me. His arrest and conviction were kept secret from the media and went unreported even on the internet. Even you had no way of knowing about him, it seems... But I assure you, L is real. I do exist. So, come on! Try to kill me! Well, what's wrong? What are you waiting for?"
He kept taunting him, each word cold and precise, digging into Kira's ego. At this point, my hair was nearly dry, the damp ends brushing against my neck as I leaned forward slightly. "This is definitely better than any drama show on regular TV," I thought, an amused hum vibrating faintly in my chest as I rested my arms on my knees, leaning back on the heels of my feet.
"Come on!" L's voice snapped with calm aggression. "Go ahead and kill me. I'm still here. Can't do it, Kira? Huh... Evidently, you aren't able to kill me. So, there are people you can't kill... That's a valuable clue. Now I'll give you some information, in return."
I listened intently, eyes narrowed slightly. "Information?" I thought, tilting my head.
"Although it was announced that this was being televised globally... the truth is, we are only broadcasting in the Kanto region around Tokyo. I had planned to broadcast this message live to other areas in turn, but that's no longer necessary. I now know where you are-, the Kanto region of Japan, Kira. The police treated your first killing as an unrelated incident, but in actuality, your first victim was the Shinjuku Killer who took eight people as hostages in a nursery school."
I sat back, an almost invisible smirk flickering across my lips. "So, it really was as I had thought. Interesting."
"His crime, when compared to those of the notorious murderers who've died of heart attacks, was not very serious. Moreover, this case was reported only in Japan before anywhere else... I used that information to deduce this much. I knew, Kira, that you were in Japan!! And that your first victim was nothing but a guinea pig for testing your powers!! Which only means... you haven't been killing for very long."
My eyes stayed fixed on the black 'L' on the white screen, watching it pulse faintly with each word.
"We decided to broadcast in Kanto first because it has the largest regional population in the country. That you happened to be there was pure luck. To be completely honest with you, I didn't expect this to work so perfectly according to plan, but... now, I dare say, it may not be so long before I am able to sentence you to death."
I could hear the faint click of his tongue against his teeth before he continued, voice dropping an octave in finality.
"Naturally, Kira, it would interest me greatly to know how you carry out your murders without being present... But I don't mind waiting a little bit longer for you to answer my questions-, that's something I can find out after I catch you!! Kira... I'm going to find and dispose of you, if it's the last thing I do!! I'm... righteous!! Till we meet again, Kira."
The screen flickered to static for a split second before switching back to the drama show, the actors still crying and screaming over their petty arguments as if nothing had happened. Their voices felt hollow in my ears.
I hummed quietly in amusement, turning off the TV with a light click.
The room turned silent. I sat there for a while longer on my futon, knees pulled to my chest, my hair now completely dry. The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on my desk and the low hum of the refrigerator down the hall. The glow from the streetlights outside filtered through the thin curtains, casting pale yellow shadows against the wooden floor.
My eyes narrowed slightly as I stared at the dark screen of the TV. "Kira couldn't kill L..." I thought. "Why?"
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, fingers steepled against my lips as I let the possibilities filter through my mind like falling ash.
"He can kill without direct contact. That's been proven. Lind L. Tailor died instantly, exactly forty seconds after declaring himself as L. Meaning Kira can kill by simply seeing someone through a broadcast. But... he couldn't kill the real L. He taunted him to do it, over and over, and yet... nothing."
My gaze stayed unfocused as I stared at the floorboards in front of me.
"So that means... either Kira needs a face, or a name. Or perhaps... both. If it were just a face, it wouldn't have worked either way. Only L's symbol was displayed clearly on-screen. If it were just a name, he would have died as well when Tailor introduced himself as Lind L. Tailor. Which means... Kira needs both. A name... and a face. To confirm identity. To target them. To kill them."
My eyes narrowed further, almost closing as a faint hum of satisfaction reverberated in my chest. "That would explain why he could kill criminals so easily. Their names and faces are broadcasted publicly upon arrest. Both conditions fulfilled instantly. Convenient."
I let out a slow, quiet breath, feeling the weight of the day settle across my shoulders and down my spine. The muscles in my neck relaxed slightly as I unfolded my legs and slid down onto my futon, pulling the thin blanket over my body. My pillow felt cool against the side of my face as I turned to face the wall.
"So... Kira... you can kill without touching someone, without being there in person, but you're not omnipotent. You have conditions to fulfill. Limitations. Rules. And rules..."
My eyes closed, the darkness behind my eyelids deep and silent.
"Rules can always be exploited."
The quiet ticking of the clock blended into the slow rhythm of my breathing as I drifted off to sleep, my mind already calculating what the next day would bring.