Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

2003.

Light Yagami misses the Death Note by minutes, allowing someone else to take and use it. This notebook user is far less competent at covering their tracks, believing that no one would be able to find them.

The Japanese Police get involved. L joins the case but doesn’t bother going public with his involvement (the Lind L. Tailor broadcast never happens). He has no interest in playing games with this killer. All he wants is to know how they kill. With a small task force by his side, they successfully catch the criminal without causing a massive stir among the public.

In capturing them, L also seizes the notebook.

2009.

Watari dies as a result of a case gone awry and L disappears without a trace. Only a handful of people know about the notebook’s existence — L made sure to keep them quiet — and only Wammy’s House knows about L’s disappearance. No one knows he left with the notebook in his possession.

With L gone, his cases begin to pile up. Wammy’s needs a successor fast. Near and Mello are offered to work together, but Mello refuses, pissed that L left without choosing and that no one seems to care that he’s gone. He departs to pursue his own work, among which includes searching for the missing detective. This leaves Near to take on the mantle alone.

2019.

Ten years later, a serial killer takes the world by storm, killing hundreds via heart attack. The case is strikingly similar to an incident that happened in 2003 in the Kanto region of Japan: the entire inmate population of a prison in Tokyo all dying of heart attacks.

Near, needing more information as L didn’t leave anything behind, reaches out to the Japanese police for Chief Yagami, the man who headed the original case alongside the first L. However, instead of Soichiro, he meets the newly instated Chief of the NPA, Light Yagami.

Together they assemble the pieces of the case left behind by their predecessors.

Chapter Text

“That’s everything,” Light announces, setting the thin manila folder on the desk. He drops it a little too high and it hits the surface louder than he wants it to. The unintentional aggressiveness of the sound makes him cringe. Under his breath, he adds, “Everything I could access, at least…”

It’s unbefitting of the Chief of the NPA to murmur about work, he knows this. But after the things he’s learned these past few days, he’d say he’s earned the right to let a bit of his frustration seep through. Better now than later, while his men aren’t here to see it.

Though, that didn’t mean no one was here to see it. Much to his dismay.

“Thank you, I'll check it in a while,” L says, voice soft and more appropriate for the tranquility of the empty office floor, which makes Light feel only slightly worse for making noise.

The world’s greatest detective sits a few paces away at a different desk, one much longer to accommodate the absurdly tall card tower he’d been building all afternoon along with several other trinkets he’d toy with every once in a while. Right now, though, his eyes are glued to his laptop screen, a foot up on the seat with his knee to his chest. One hand gently scrolls along the touchpad while the other idly plays with a lock of long, white hair.

Light opens his mouth to respond, but a soft yawn drowns out whatever he meant to say. The fatigue is finally hitting him. He stretches his arms, joints cracking from the idleness of sitting for several hours.

L takes notice. “It’s late. Please get some rest. You will need it for tomorrow.”

Light blinks, rolling up the sleeve of his white button-up to look at his watch. 

11:00 pm. 

“I must have lost track of time,” Light says, bowing his head apologetically. “Sorry if I’m keeping you here.”

He only intended to stay an extra hour or two after hours to wrap up their research, and now it feels like he’s overstayed his welcome. They’ve been here compiling information since nine in the morning, with Light only stopping because the well had finally run dry. Overtime was common in their line of work, of course, but he only met L days ago. The last thing he wants is to inconvenience him already.

The apology isn’t really necessary considering L told him he’s free to use his headquarters for the case, but it felt appropriate to do so regardless. In addition to the unintentional overtime extension, Light can’t shake the feeling he’s starting to take advantage of the man’s resources to get answers he now wants personally. 

It’s frustrating – L invited him to work on this case with the hopes that he as Chief would have answers he didn’t, only for Light to discover several pieces of information he never even knew existed sitting just outside his reach.

Having only been instated months ago, Light is well aware that there are plenty of things he has yet to learn. However, anyone would find it infuriating – demeaning, even – to discover that things are being hidden from them, possibly on purpose. He can’t even begin to decide which is worse: it coming from inside or outside the police.

Though he served as a gateway into the police’s databases, in some instances, it was L who held the key to get in. Whatever information he couldn’t access as NPA Chief was eventually procured via a direct order from L himself, and even then, he’s certain there’s plenty they have yet to uncover.

Ultimately, any information they obtain would be beneficial, so it really shouldn't matter which one of them got a hold of it. But it wasn’t until today, digging into it as thoroughly as they have, that Light realized just how deep these strings ran through his own life. He can’t ignore how rapidly things are getting personal.

L waves his hand dismissively at him, the lock of hair coiled around his index finger swaying with the motion. “It’s not a problem, Chief Yagami. I rarely leave the office, anyway.”

Light walks over to the chair where his blazer hangs neatly. Though they were still in the early stages of their… partnership, the formality felt inappropriate for this hour of the evening. “No need for titles, L. You can call me Light.”

The man looks up to stare at him. His dark, grey eyes reflect the brightness of the screen, peeking just above the rim of the laptop. With half his face obscured, his expression is unreadable, though Light gets the impression he wasn’t a very expressive man to begin with.

“Please call me Near, then,” he says. “Unless it’s a hassle for you.”

Right. L is a title too. 

Just one of the many bombshells that were dropped on him during their first meeting – the first and true L disappeared almost ten years ago. It shouldn’t have been surprising to discover that the world’s greatest detective was more than one person, but nothing could’ve prepared him to hear it from the man himself. The way L – Or, Near, spoke of his predecessor going missing felt oddly blasé, like it was something he simply needed to get out of the way. Of course, he’s had ten years to accept this information. Light had a minute or so before they had to move on to the actual case at hand.

Though the man spoke of it quite indifferently at the time, Light didn’t let his tone blind him to the implications it had for this case. If Near is willing to disclose such classified information to him, then this situation is far more serious than what the police originally suspected.

Criminals all over the world experiencing heart attack-induced deaths by the hundreds in the past week, and of all the people in the world he could contact, Near went to the Japanese police. Granted he was hoping to find Soichiro Yagami, but Light assured him at the time that he could be of help. Near’s predecessor had left him almost nothing to work with, and unfortunately, Light now realizes he’s in the same boat.

“Near. Yes, I’ll get used to it,” Light says assuredly, taking his coat off the chair and draping it over his arm.

Near responds with a curt nod, returning his attention to the screen. The soft clack, clack of keys fills the silence as Light moves to collect his things from the desk provided for him. One by one, he places his belongings into his bag, only stopping halfway when the folder sitting innocently on the desk steals his attention once more.

Light exhales until his lungs are empty, hoping to expel the tension remaining in his system. The files are out of his hands. It really shouldn’t bug him as much now that he’s put everything they’ve gathered, scarce as it may be, together in one place. Near is right, he needs rest in order to properly pursue this case. But it isn’t really this case that’s weighing on him so heavily, it’s the case that hangs over it, the details of which taunt him from within that infuriatingly thin folder.

December 1, 2003. The entire inmate population of a prison in Tokyo, Japan dies within seconds of each other from a massive wave of heart attacks. In the days that follow, several other prisons throughout Japan see an outbreak of disease all resulting in death.

In cooperation with the NPA led by Chief Soichiro Yagami, the detective L assists in finding and capturing the perpetrator later identified as Hajime Kouda, a then-student of Daikoku Private Academy.

To see his own high school and his own father mentioned in the confidential case details left Light shocked. 

In 2003, Light remembers hearing about prisoners dying on the news. They later explained the situation to be an epidemic caused by a disease that spread via a shared food supply, but even then, Light found the explanation unsatisfying. Prison staff, guards, and visitors were all unaffected. It didn’t make any sense.

When he asked his father about the case all those years ago, Light knew now that the man lied to him. He claimed to not be involved with the team taking on the case, and at the time Light had no reason to doubt him. Especially when the situation seemed to die down only weeks later.

Now knowing of L’s involvement, his father’s lie was easier to understand. Perhaps the detective requested the case be kept under wraps to avoid leaks, especially regarding his involvement. Evidently, it was a good and effective decision since they managed to make an arrest and prisoners stopped dying. 

After the initial shock dissipated, Light was willing to let those details of the case go. It’s just that final line that haunts him.

Because no matter what databases they combed, all the files they sifted through, all the barriers he broke down with the combined might of L and the Chief of the NPA, there wasn't a single record explaining how a high schooler managed to commit all those murders. Answers from the past could be all they need to solve the murders in the present.

“–tired, Chief Yagami? Hello? Light?”

Light shakes his head, returning to reality at the sound of Near’s voice. “Yes?”

“Are you alright? You’ve been standing there for a long time.”

His senses rush back to him, remembering now where he is and what he was doing. He grabs the last of his belongings off the desk, shoving them into his bag, and zipping it closed. “Yes, don’t worry. I’m fine.”

He wants to reassure the man that this is completely unlike him, that he’s usually quick to adapt and absorb cases in their entirety. He needed to, frankly, as NPA Chief. But everything about this situation left his mind jumbled. 

And the fact that the L had to be the one to bear witness to it is not helping at all. Despite their priorities lying elsewhere, Light still wishes to leave a good impression.

With a resigned huff, Light sets his jacket and bag back down, approaching his new colleague. “Sorry, but do you have a minute to discuss? I understand if you're busy and that it’s getting late, but I'd like to have our information in order before tomorrow.”

“Ah, so that’s what it is,” Near hums, pulling away from the laptop. ”I assumed you'd prefer to wait until tomorrow morning considering you've been here all day.”

The callout feels unnecessary, but there’s no denying it when Near’s been here all day too. Light crosses his arms, leaning against a nearby wall where he can avoid knocking over the constructions on the table.  “There’s something about the case that bothers me.”

“The one from 2003?”

“Yes.”

“What part is bothering you?”

“All of it,” Light breathes out. “Just, all of it is so… Odd. I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around it. I remember hearing about it then and thinking it was strange, but all these new details just make even less sense.”

Near nods, reaching over his laptop to pull closer to him a small tower of multi-colored blocks. Some pieces at the top fall from the motion, clattering loudly on the desk. “I’ve yet to make any sense of it either. There’s virtually no record of the details of the deaths, so I’m hoping that tomorrow’s interviews will shed some more light on the matter.”

Tomorrow . In the file, along with the scarce details regarding the 2003 case, is a list of people who they’ve determined will know more information. This includes but is not limited to Soichiro Yagami, currently retired abroad with his wife, and Hajime Kouda, serving life in maximum security.

For whatever reason, despite the other being a literal serial killer, Light finds himself more nervous about interviewing his father. They haven’t really talked since Light’s congratulatory party for becoming NPA Chief. Sayu helped arrange their flight back home to surprise him, and it was the first time in a long while they’d been together as a family again. The last thing his father had told him before they left was how proud he was of him and everything he accomplished.

Clearly, there are plenty of things his father never told him too, for one reason or another.

“I mentioned it earlier, but if you would prefer to not participate in the interviews, I have no problems with that,” Near says, his words punctuated by the sound of blocks being placed on top of one another. “It’s nothing Watari and I can’t handle.”

Light shakes his head. He feels some strands of hair fall out of place, the gel holding his bangs to the side having lost its effect hours ago. “No, I’d like to be there, if that’s alright. I want to hear everything firsthand.”

“That’s fine. I only assumed you didn’t want your father to know of your involvement in this.”

Light’s lips press into a thin line. There’s no reason he should want to run from his father like a child who’s scared to get scolded for playing in the wrong room. He’s a professional, and there’s work that needs to be done. 

“I… He’ll understand. If anything, he’d probably be more upset if he heard that I wasn’t making myself useful,” Light jokes, trying to lighten the mood. The joke seems to completely go over Near’s head, though.

Slender fingers freeze mid-air on their way to the top of the brick tower, hovering just above their destination so Near could turn to give him a quizzical look. He accidentally knocks a piece down and onto the floor. “You’ve done a lot. Without you, plenty of that information would have been inaccessible to me.”

Light feels a bit bashful at how sincerely he says it. He reaches down, picking up the fallen red block, and hands it back to him. “Ah, that’s good to know. Still, I’d like to take on whatever I can to help both you and Watari.”

Near hums, setting all the blocks down. “Yes, speaking of that. I’ve been meaning to mention that until we are able to screen potential members for an investigation team, it would be best to keep the nature of our work a secret. It’s highly likely that someone has been trying to commandeer our means of getting information as we go.”

Light sighs, the worst-case scenario finally out in the open. “I thought the exact same thing. There’s no reason getting any of this info should be this hard for both of us.”

“I’m glad we agree. I'm currently in contact with the FBI and CIA regarding possible recruits. If there are any members of the NPA you feel can help move the investigation along, please let me know.”

“Actually, there is one,” Light says, moving closer to the desk. “Yamamoto Sekiguchi. We worked together in criminal affairs for years before I became chief. He’s a capable detective who knows how I work since we’ve known each other since high school.”

“Oh? Since high school?” Near taps his fingers on the desk in consideration. “I suppose we can afford to have one more graduate from your school as part of this case.”

Light’s breath hitches. Right. That slipped his mind for a bit. 

When Light fails to respond for a couple of seconds, Near speaks up.

“It was a joke. I apologize,” he says, reaching for a lock of his own hair and turning away. “We will consider letting Mr. Sekiguchi join us after Watari conducts a background check.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, you just caught me off guard,” Light laughs, trying to dispel the awkwardness. He didn’t mean to react so coldly; the sudden reminder just hit him like a train. “That part of the case bothers me the most. It’s hard to believe a high schooler was convicted for all those deaths.”

“If that’s the case, then perhaps I should show you this before you leave for the evening.” Near grabs his laptop once more, pulling it close and typing on the keyboard. He gestures to his side. “Please, have a seat.”

Light looks around for the nearest desk chair, rolling it next to Near’s and sitting down. He leans forward slightly so he can see the laptop screen more clearly.

“I took the liberty of having Watari already contact several people who worked at the prison where the heart attacks happened, many of whom have retired or switched professions since,” Near explains carefully, clicking through several folders until he lands on a particular page. “Before all the inmates died of heart attacks, two days prior, a man died from the same cause. The prison staff all told police at the time that they suspected he was the originator of the so-called ‘disease’ that eventually afflicted the rest, but there are no records of their statements.”

On the screen is a criminal profile of a middle-aged Japanese man with a head of greying hair and a sparse mustache. “He was a thief and murderer who was arrested for killing a man during a home invasion. His victim was Mizuno–”

“–Kouda? Hajime’s father?” Light interrupts, astonished to see the man’s name on the screen.

Near nods, moving back slightly and allowing Light enough room to get closer to the laptop screen. “He was murdered in 2002, leaving just his wife and their two children. Hajime Kouda was the eldest son.”

That settles it. If information this clear-cut was being hidden from them, then someone is certainly working to hide it. Now it’s clear how the first L managed to pinpoint Hajime Kouda as a suspect. However, that still doesn’t answer the most pertinent question anyone would have after reading something this absurd.

“How did L prove that he did it?”

“That, I have no solid answers to,” he says flatly, disappointment evident on his face. “I presume that after L discovered this outlier in the heart attacks, he theorized that his death was motivated by a desire for revenge, leading him to find the family of the criminal and observe them until he was proven right.”

Light raises an eyebrow, pulling away from the screen so he can look directly at Near. It seemed like an absurd leap in logic to think a man was given a heart attack; especially since his isolated death seemed the most natural out of all of them. “And how would he know he was right?”

“He would wait to see them kill.”

A pit opens up in Light’s stomach. According to the information they found, seven prisons across the Kanto region were affected, with nearly 500 inmates dead all in the month of December. If Near’s right, then how long had L known about the connection to Hajime Kouda? How long did he sit on that information, lying in wait as more and more prisoners died to ascertain how the young man killed them? And if he was successful in discovering it, which he likely was, then why is there no record of the murder weapon anywhere?

Light braces his elbows against his knees, rubbing his eyes as he tries to make sense of things. 

“This probably should have waited until tomorrow,” Near says, somewhat apologetically.

Light swiftly reels himself in, lifting his head to face Near again. “No, no, thank you for telling me. It’s best that I think about everything tonight so I have my thoughts in order for tomorrow. Seriously, Near, you should tell me these things as soon as they come up. ” His words come out a bit stern like an order, but the last thing he wants is to be left in the dark further.

“Spoken like a true chief,” Near remarks, amused, and closes the lid of his laptop. He reaches forward again for the blocks, returning to his previous work. “I only confirmed it moments ago while you were packing your things.”

“I see… Well, it’s certainly a good start.” There’s a small itch of curiosity that’s been bugging him for a while now. With their busy schedule ahead, he can’t think of a better time to bring it up than now. “Were you and the first L close?”

“No,” Near responds blankly.

“Oh. Did you two ever work together?”

“I only ever heard him once. On a voice call.”

Perplexed, Light asks, “A voice call?

“Yes.” A brief pause, before adding, "He called himself a monster.”

Light has to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying anything disrespectful. And yet, he can’t help himself. “Based on everything you’ve told me, I find that unsurprising.”

Near doesn’t agree or disagree, he only continues stacking blocks carefully. Light follows the movement with his eyes, his thoughts consuming him once more.

They certainly had their work cut out for them. With every new revelation came new questions, more complicated than the last, but he supposes that’s what one should expect when working with the world’s greatest detective, notorious for taking on the biggest mysteries in the world. One of which had been developing in the background of Light’s life this entire time.

Light wonders for a moment what would have happened if Near never contacted him for this case. He’d have lived in ignorance of all the things being hidden from him, by his work and his family. Whether or not that was the better option, he’ll find out very soon.

When Light’s eyes dart back to Near, he finds the man already staring at him. There’s a slight pause as one waits to be acknowledged by the other, before Light finally breaks the ice. “What?”

“Would you mind moving?”

It takes Light a second to realize he’s still in Near’s space, leaning in close enough to view the laptop screen which he’d already shut a full minute ago. The sides of their chairs are pressed together, their knees only a nudge away from one another. He suddenly feels very aware of just how big the empty office is as they occupy this tiny corner of the desk.

Light quickly rises to his feet, his chair rolling back slightly at the sudden motion. Their height difference puts all the necessary distance between them, but Light adds to it by walking back to his desk to grab his things.

“I should get going. We have a lot on our plate tomorrow.”

His dress shoes click against the tiles as he walks to the door, turning back around one last time to look at Near who’s made a ridiculous amount of progress on that brick tower in such a short time. 

“You should get some sleep, L.”

“You’re not the boss here, Chief Yagami,” he responds, and this time Light can actually tell he’s joking.

Light cracks a smile. “I know that. Still, we should go to bed.” He chokes on the poor phrasing of his words, smoothly tacking on, “Separately.”

“Yes, I assumed as much. Rest well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Light says goodnight back before finally leaving the room. As he walks to the elevator, now truly alone with his thoughts, he can’t escape the feeling that he is walking into a situation he may have been better off not knowing. Perhaps there’s a reason why the case had slipped his radar all those years ago, a reason why his father chose not to tell him about it, and a reason why all this information was being withheld from them.

Whether that was true or not, it doesn’t really matter when people are dying again. If they don’t pursue this now, things will only escalate. They can’t wait – justice can’t wait. An untouchable veil shrouds the case in darkness; whatever lies underneath it, they can only hope to expose together. They’ll get their answers soon enough.