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L is bored. There is only so much to do in the Shinigami realm before your mind rots away to nothing, and L exists on the brink of this state. He is jaded by his surroundings, but there's still enough of him left to crave something more. L is vaguely aware of his intelligence, though the only thing he's used his mental faculties for is coming up with creative ways to write names in his Death Note more efficiently. Soon enough, he realized that there was no point.
There is no intellectual stimulation to be found among L’s peers. They play card games. Eat tasteless food. Peer into the human realm, looking from portal to portal just as the people they’re watching flip channels on their televisions.
Watching the humans is the least mind-numbing of the activities available to L. Before long, he takes an interest in a boy who lives in Japan. It isn’t infatuation—it’s not the same as Gelus and his human girl. What L feels for Light Yagami is different. It’s solidarity.
On the surface, Light seems like an average human boy. No, not average—he is exceptional. He earns perfect scores on all of his exams. He’s a tennis champion. Everything he does is notably above average. And yet, L can tell that something is wrong. There’s an emptiness in Light’s gaze. He holds his friends at arm’s length. His days are filled with hours of studying that he surely doesn’t need, and during his free time he often sits on his bed and stares out the window. It’s not too unlike the way L stares into the portal. Light is bored. L is bored. When the boy comes home from school and settles into his desk chair, his muscles unclench and his fake-happy facial expression settles into one of weariness. If L remembers correctly, school-aged humans are relatively young and energetic. They aren’t usually this tired.
Light needs something to stimulate that listless, incredible mind of his. And L needs entertainment. When L hears talk of a missing Death Note going around, he knows exactly what to do.
L gives Light five days to get used to his new toy before coming to visit him. During this time, Light is wonderfully efficient with his work. He had started out with doubts—first about the Note’s validity, and then about his own guilt. But with time, he becomes a spectacular little Shinigami, writing down scores of names with ease. Light seems to be particularly preoccupied with “justice,” taking the lives of humans he's deemed to be wicked. It’s an interesting concept. Light tells himself that he will be the God of the new world. Of course, Light is a human being and always will be. But it’s cute that he likes to pretend.
When the five days are up, L flies down to pay the boy a visit. The first thing L notices about the human world is how colorful it is. The portals through which L watches this place have never picked up quite enough detail for this difference to come across. The sky is a vast expanse of blue, the grass a verdant green. Cars come in various shades and styles, for some reason. Many of the humans adorn themselves with flashy outfits and accessories—this is common among Shinigami as well, but never with so much color.
For a moment, L forgets about Light and simply soars through the air, taking it all in. A candy shop catches his eyes, and he flies in to take a look.
L picks up a piece of chocolate from the floor and stuffs it in his mouth. L has eaten candies from back home, but the chocolate he once knew would taste like a mouthful of dirt in comparison to this. This piece of heaven that melts on his tongue is sweet like nothing he’d ever tasted before. It is milky smooth. It feels like electricity, stimulating his body and powering his brain. For Shinigami, food is not a necessity. L ate candy the way a human might smoke cigarettes. Enjoyment never felt like quite the right word. He swipes a few more treats when the humans' backs are turned, and stuffs them in his bag. He’ll get Light to buy him some more. He has to.
Speaking of his new friend, Light should be home from school soon. L flies over to the Yagami family home and crouches on Light’s bedroom floor, thumb in his mouth.
Minutes later, Light enters his room and his lips curl into a smile. He immediately turns on the news and cracks open his Death Note. He’s come alive. It’s beautiful. L can’t help but laugh.
“You seem to like it,” L says.
Light screams.
“Why are you so surprised to see me?” L asks. “I’m L, the Shinigami who dropped that notebook. From the way you’ve been using the Death Note, I can tell you’re aware that it’s no ordinary notebook.”
Light has fallen to the floor. He’s sweating and panting. “A Shinigami? ” he finally shouts.
L observes as Light deliberately pieces himself back together. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and reopens them. No, Light, this isn’t a dream. Light picks himself up from the floor and steadies his voice.
“I’m not surprised to see you, L,” Light says. “In fact, I’ve been waiting for you.”
Light’s hands are still shaking, but never mind that. If he wants to put on a brave face, that’s fine. The faster he gets used to L, the better, since L plans on staying here as long as possible.
“I appreciate your visit,” Light continues. “In fact, there are a few things I’ve wanted to ask you."
Light opens up his Death Note and shows L the pages full of names he’s written. He’s proud of his work. It reminds L of the way he himself used to act.
“Impressive,” L says. “I’ve heard of Death Notes coming down to the human world a few times before, but no one’s ever done this many in just five days.” He moves closer to Light and takes a good look at his face. “Most would be too scared.”
“I’m not afraid,” Light says. “I used a Shinigami’s notebook, and now you’ve come to visit me. What happens now? Are you going to take my soul or something?”
L tilts his head. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to do anything to you.”
Light’s eyes widen.
“You picked up the notebook, so it’s yours now,” L says.
Humans seem to think that Shinigami are a lot more complicated than they really are. Though it’s true that the Note comes with a few rules.
“Since you picked up my Death Note, you’re the only human who can hear or see me,” L explains. “The Death Note is a special bond between the two of us. And I’ll also be staying here with you for a while.”
Light frowns. “For how long?”
L shrugs. “Until you die. Or, until I get bored. Whichever happens first.”
Living with Light is a very educational experience. It’s different from the time L spent watching him through the portal. Here, L gets to ask questions and have them answered. He discovers through Light that humans have many peculiarities that he had never noticed on his own. For example, they are very protective of their bodies. L learns this during his first evening with Light, when the boy snaps at him to not look when he’s getting dressed.
“Why is that?” L asks, now facing away from Light and staring at the wall. “I’m aware that humans typically keep their bodies covered, but I don't understand why.”
“Well,” Light mumbles. “It’s a matter of privacy. Certain parts of the body are intimate, and we don’t want other people to see them.”
“That’s interesting,” L says. “Some Shinigami wear clothing for matters of personal style. I do not. I don’t see the point.”
“Shinigami…you guys don’t reproduce, do you?” Light asks.
“No,” L informs him. “We spawn into existence supernaturally. Also, we can’t have sexual relations.”
“Aren’t able to, or aren’t allowed?”
L chews on his thumbnail. “Does it matter?”
“No.”
There is silence for a bit, save for the rustling of Light’s clothing.
“Humans, uh, we reproduce through sex. And I guess that’s why it’s typically quite embarrassing to be naked outside of that context. It’s sort of an emotional thing.”
It’s a curious topic, but Light seems uncomfortable with discussing it, so L decides to not push it any further.
“You can turn back around now.”
Light is now dressed in softer clothing—pajamas, he called them—and his face is a bright red.
L gently pokes Light’s cheek. His skin is soft and warm.
Light wrinkles his nose and pulls away. “It’s also generally frowned upon in the human world to touch people without their permission.”
“Oh. I apologize. I was just wondering why your face changes color sometimes. It’s red.”
“You don’t know about blushing?” Light asks.
“No. I’ve seen it, but I don’t understand its purpose.”
Light hums, considering his response. “It’s a physiological reaction to moments of heightened arousal—typically embarrassment, anger, or physical exertion. The process is a bit different when it comes to exercise, but in emotional contexts, the body enters a state of hypersensitivity as it prepares for potential threats. This triggers an increased amount of blood flow to the facial region, which results in the red color.” He glances back at his bookshelf. “I have a book on anatomy somewhere in here. You can read it if you’d like to learn more.”
L’s gaze is trained on the boy in front of him. “You’re very fascinating, Light. I want to study you.”
Light sits back down at his desk with his notebook. “That’s fine. Just don’t get in my way.”
L’s days are spent following Light around, trailing behind him like a shadow. He listens to lectures at Light’s school and watches Light write names in the Death Note at home. He crouches in the corner of Light’s room as Light explains his elaborate plans. Light’s good-boy persona fades into something darker: his mouth twists into a cruel smile; his sentences are punctuated with prideful scoffs. L offers Light small pieces of advice in exchange for candy, donuts, and cookies. Life is sweeter than it has ever been.
The nights, however, are less eventful. Light, like most humans, spends these hours sleeping. L watches him, as his eyesight is unaffected by the room's darkness. L has read about sleep phases in one of Light’s books. He can see Light’s eyes twitching beneath his closed lids as he enters REM sleep. His body tends to move more during this phase as well, and L can imagine that the boy is dreaming. About what, L can only wonder.
One night, L notices that Light is unable to fall asleep. He lies down and closes his eyes the way he always does, but Light’s body is tense and his breathing patterns are heavy with deliberation.
Light had been watching the news before bed, and learned that one of his victims—a man arrested as a murder suspect—had been wrongfully convicted. New evidence had come up to prove his innocence, and the actual culprit has now been arrested instead. Light killed him immediately.
Judging from Light’s body language, he likely feels guilty for what he had done. It’s strange. L thought Light had gotten over his fear of killing, but perhaps this has only happened in part. The idea of “justice” seems to serve as a protective measure against Light’s squeamishness. If he plays the role of a god who purifies a rotten world, he can kill without remorse. But if he takes the life of someone deemed “innocent,” his humanity quickly returns. How interesting.
L has a hard time understanding what the big deal is about killing and death. Humans already have such short lifespans; what’s the harm in cutting them a little shorter? But the more time he spends with Light, the more it seems to make sense. Humans value their lives precisely because of their brevity. Light’s life is dynamic, each day bringing something new. If he lives for long enough, his hair will start to turn grey like his father’s—a mark of how long he has existed. Time matters for him, in a way it never has for L.
Light tosses and turns. He wakes up gasping for air. A nightmare, L presumes.
“L?” Light whispers.
“Yes?”
“Do Shinigami sleep?” he asks.
“They can,” L replies. “But it isn’t necessary for our functioning.”
Silence stretches between them for a few moments. Then, Light draws back the covers on his bed. He stares at the wall as he speaks: “It must be uncomfortable, sitting on the floor all night. You’re welcome to rest here, if you want.”
“Would you like me to?” L asks.
“If you want,” Light quietly repeats. “You’ve given me a great gift by letting me use the Death Note. The least I can do is offer you a bit of hospitality in return.”
It doesn’t feel like affection, but there is something different about Light. Gone are his grandiose speeches and self-righteous laughter. He looks smaller. He looks human. He is warm, L realizes, as he climbs into bed next to Light. The feeling of Light’s body next to his own cold skeleton is pleasant. Light curls into L, resting his forehead against the Shinigami’s chest. L strokes Light’s hair, comforts him as he fights off nightmares born from L’s Note, L’s power.
They don’t talk about it in the morning.
L watches as Light yells at his television. On the screen is a man who introduced himself as Nind. N. Nailer, the detective known as Near.
“I am righteous! ” Light roars. “Those who try to fight me… they’re the evil ones!”
The man collapses, and Light cackles with glee.
Then, an electronic-sounding voice comes from the television. “Kira,” it says. “You can actually kill people without direct contact…”
There is no one on the screen. Nind. N. Nailer’s chair is empty. “Listen to me, Kira,” the voice continues, “the man you saw on your TV was a condemned criminal scheduled to die today, at this hour. 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.”
Light’s eyes are wide with shock and anger, but L finds himself laughing. “He got you there,” L points out.
Light, frozen, does not respond.
The voice reveals himself as Near. “Come on,” Near taunts. “Kill me if you can!”
But Light cannot. Light knows this. L knows this. And apparently someone else does, too. How exciting! Up until this point, Light has been the smartest human L has ever encountered. But now he seems to have met his match.
Near goes on to explain that this “international broadcast” is actually only being shown in the Kanto region of Japan. He’s managed to pinpoint Light’s location with such a cleverly-laid trap. L smiles, delighted with this development. The two humans will have to hunt each other down without revealing their own identity, lest they end up killed. What an incredibly fun game!
Meanwhile, Light’s face is contorted into a fierce snarl. “Near,” he spits. “I will hunt you down wherever you’re hiding, and I will eliminate you! I am justice!” he proclaims.
Light shuts off the television. “L,” he begs, “I need you to help me take Near down. You can use your Shinigami eyes to see his name, right? So all I have to do is get you to look at him, and—”
L scoffs. “You know the rules, Light. If you want to use my eyes, you’ll have to go through with the deal.”
“I’m not throwing away half of my life,” Light insists.
L shrugs. "Too bad, then.”
“But—” Light sighs, and his cheeks puff out. He looks like a sulking child. “Can’t you at least do something to help me?”
“I may offer you hints every now and then, but I’m here as an impartial observer. Not as your assistant,” L reminds him. “Also, it would kill me if I used my powers to provide you with direct support.”
“Kill you?” Light repeats.
“Yes. it is possible for Shinigami to die. We exist to take human lives, not to prolong them. If I use my powers to aid a human’s well-being, I will turn to dust and die.”
Light clenches his fists. “Don’t you—don’t you care? You said you were fascinated by me. You’ve lived for long enough. Wouldn’t helping me be a fun way to go out?”
“Well, I can't continue to watch you if I'm dead. Besides,” L says as he puts his hand on Light’s shoulder, “Wouldn’t you get lonely without me around?”
Light is silent, and shrugs him off.
Near’s real name is Nate River. L sees it written above the detective’s head when he enrolls in Light’s university. L can only imagine how shocked Light must feel when the white-haired boy leans in and whispers, “I am Near.”
L has never seen anything so interesting. Rather than remaining hidden at a safe distance, Near is intentionally approaching Light. And L is fortunate enough to get a front-row seat to this battle of wits.
Could it really be him? L imagines Light thinking. L can practically see the wheels turning in Light’s head as he navigates his interactions with Near. His brow is furrowed throughout the tennis match. He takes careful sips of his coffee at the cafe. He ignores L’s occasional commentary and focuses singlemindedly on the man in front of him.
Of course it’s normal for Light to give L the silent treatment when they’re in public, as it would look very strange if Light appeared to be talking to himself. Still, there is something a bit annoying about the effect Near seems to have on Light. In the following days, L finds that Near is all Light wants to talk about, all he wants to think about. Near is Light’s friend from school, his colleague, his rival, his perfect match, his hunter, his prey. And L? L is just there.
Not that it matters. L is supposed to watch from the sidelines, and he is content with his role.
Shortly after joining the task force, Light gets a girlfriend. Another Death Note user, and not just that—she’s the girl that Gelus died for. Small world.
With another Death Note user on his side, Light has a whole new host of schemes available to him. Things could get even more interesting. But for some reason, L feels dissatisfied. There’s something off-putting about the way Light interacts with Misa. L finds himself turning away when Light kisses her.
L waits until he is alone with Light, then asks: “Are you in love with Misa Amane?”
Light scoffs. “Of course not. I’m just using her for my plan. It would be foolish if I fell for her.”
Fell for her. An interesting choice of words. Like the woman is some sort of trick.
“Do you mean to say that you aren’t attracted to her, or that you won’t allow yourself to be?” L asks.
“Does it matter?” Light throws L’s words back at him.
L takes a deep breath. “What if I told you it did?”
Light laughs—a shallow, nervous sound. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
With time, L becomes even more invested in Light’s schemes. He pushes the limits of the Shinigami’s rules to help Light as much as he can. It’s because he admires the beauty of Light’s intellect. For the first time, someone is applying themself and learning how to hack the rules of the Note instead of mindlessly writing down names. Misa isn’t smart enough to keep up with Light, so it’s up to L to engage with him. He provides assistance in a roundabout way, speaking in riddles as they hatch their plans. And if helping Light causes the boy to look at him more often, this is simply an added bonus. L really doesn’t care about that sort of thing at all.
After Misa’s capture, Light takes L and Rem to a forested area, away from prying eyes. They come up with a plan together, a way to take advantage of the rules regarding ownership and relinquishment. They talk circles around Rem, who only cares about Misa’s safety. She does not see the beauty of Light and L’s game.
The Shinigami realm was bleak and stifling, but L knew he was intelligent deep down. Here with Light, his mind gets to flourish. Light has only lived a mere fraction of L’s lifetime, but it is with him that L feels more alive than ever.
After they leave the forest, Light buys L a package of sandwich cookies as thanks. L grabs Light’s hand and devours the cookies in seconds, licking the crumbs from Light’s fingers.
Light’s face is ablaze. “You aren’t supposed to eat the wrapper,” he finally says.
“I apologize,” L replies. “The cookies looked so delicious, I couldn’t wait. My digestive system can handle the plastic.”
Later that night, L thinks about the way Light reacted to L’s tongue on his fingers. He wants it to happen again. L joins Light when he climbs into bed. He hasn’t done this since the nightmares stopped.
Light frowns at L. “I don’t need you to do that anymore,” he says. “I got over it.”
“You speak of needs,” L says. “But maybe this is about wants.”
“What do you want?” Light asks.
L doesn’t know how to articulate it. He is unsure if his sentiments fit into the human concepts of romance or sexuality. He just wants to be close to Light. He wants to lie next to him and be reminded of his body’s softness, his humanness. He wants to chat with him deep into the night, hatching plans and playing mind games. He wants to be the god of the new world, together with Light. He wants the two of them to be the same.
“I want you,” L finally says.
L can feel the heat radiating from Light’s body. He is agitated and tense.
“You can’t say something like that,” Light whispers. “It isn’t normal.”
L scoffs. “You aren’t normal." Light had killed thousands of people over the past few weeks. His everyday conversations were filled with lies. He was obsessed with becoming a god.
“It’s gross. I thought you can’t even…Just get out of my bed,” Light says. He looks the way he did when they first met. Scared.
L quickly obeys Light’s request and crouches on the floor. Light stares, and L has a feeling that he has just ruined something. “Never mind,” L says. “Just pretend it didn’t happen.”
Light turns over to face the wall. “Gladly.”
L watches over Light in his dingy little prison cell. Light grows hungry and tired. He can’t talk to L. His mind is understimulated. There is no color here; everything is grey.
After a week, Light says the word and L releases his ownership. L watches Light’s eyes widen and brighten. He becomes the boy he was before the Note, unstained by L’s morbid fingerprints. He stares through L’s body. In Light’s eyes, he is already gone.
L watches the task force apprehend Higuchi. He technically isn't supposed to be in the human realm unless someone takes ownership of his Death Note, but L knows that it will happen soon enough. He comes down early, excited to see what is about to occur. The police officers pass around the Note, each one terrified at the sight of Rem. L scans the area for Light, but doesn’t find him among the patrol cars or the men scattered around the street. Then, he notices a helicopter parked to the side of the road. L walks over and phases through the vehicle’s wall to see Light and Near sitting side-by-side.
“Light,” L can’t help but greet him. “It’s been a while.”
Light keeps his eyes on the scene ahead of him, unable to detect L’s presence. Near speaks into his headset, commanding the officers to bring the notebook to him. The detective stares at Rem with caution and awe, but doesn’t spook as dramatically as the others.
“It really is a Shinigami,” Near mutters. “They really do exist…”
Near twirls a lock of hair between his thumb and index finger as he holds the Death Note in his other hand, limp-wristed. His eyes are wide as he puts the puzzle pieces together. Near is fascinating. His intellect intrigues L. But Near is not the star of the show. The climax should be coming any moment now.
“Come on, let me see it!” Light snatches the Note from Near’s loose grip.
Yes, yes, this is it! L finds himself fidgeting with anticipation, hooking his thumb around his lip. After all this time, his creation is finally coming back.
Light clutches the notebook in a double-handed iron grip. His body is frozen, mouth agape.
Then, he screams.
It is a deafening sound, violent and guttural. Long and painful and animalistic. It’s the most human thing L has ever heard come out of Light’s mouth. He howls, he mourns, he rejoices! His beautiful plan, the fruit of Light’s labor and L’s, has finally been fulfilled.
Light is gasping for breath, and his face is slick with sweat. He remembers now. He remembers L.
“Light,” L says. “I know you can’t see me, but you might be able to guess that I’m here. You know I wanted to watch our scheme play out. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
Light’s gaze passes right through L’s body. He is not thinking of him. He’s thinking of getting the Note back. This is fine. It isn’t like them to celebrate, anyway. It isn’t like L to miss people, to have reunions. Perhaps the human world is making him go soft.
Light is tapping away on his laptop with one hand and flipping through the Note with the other. He makes some excuse to Near about cross-checking the names written in the notebook with the names of the murdered criminals. Light opens the secret compartment in his watch, stabs himself without flinching, and writes Higuchi’s name with his own blood. His hands are steady, his voice smooth, his mask unassuming. It is only when Light turns his face away from Near that he allows himself to indulge in a diabolical smirk. This is when L knows that he has just watched some part of Light die, and another be reborn.
The clear-eyed boy wasn’t the man L fell for. L’s attention was captured by the bored weariness beneath Light’s mask. L’s heart—if he has one—was swayed by the bloodthirsty, cunning Kira. L knew from the start that the Death Note would bring its user nothing but misfortune. He’s enjoyed watching Light's corruption.
Still, L misses being able to interact with Light the way he used to. Even after Light touches L’s Note, the two of them hardly ever talk. Light spends almost every waking moment with the investigation team. The times he and L had spent staying up late in Light’s bedroom, working through plans, seem very far away.
Shortly after Kira’s return, L has a talk with Rem.
“I understand the risk,” Rem says. “And I’m willing to die for Misa. The way you feel about Light is the same, isn’t it?”
L shrugs. It doesn’t matter. Light isn’t brave enough to give in to the part of himself that wants L. L isn’t human enough to pursue him. Their lifespans are incompatible. L is a scientist and Light is his lab rat. Light is a television show and L is some guy watching from his couch. He can’t break through the screen. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t have. But he did and now, what then?
Rem dies. Near dies. Watari dies.
Light and L have a talk after, on the roof. Light asks to see L’s face.
“You can see it perfectly well,” L responds.
“That’s not what I mean,” Light says. “Let me touch your face.”
L crouches down, as he often does. Light puts his hand on L’s cheek and carefully traces his bony shape. He draws L in and kisses him—hesitant, then hungry. L’s tongue is the only soft part of his body. Warm and bathed in liquid.
Not able to, or not allowed? L doesn’t know. There is no intimacy in the Shinigami realm. There is nothing but grey. Nothing but gambling and idle small talk and people-watching; taking lives and stuffing them into the place where your soul should be. When you get bored enough, you stop writing. You die.
Shinigami learn each other's names. They are familiar with one another. But they do not love. Not each other, anyway. L has only ever seen Shinigami develop feelings for human beings. Perhaps the humans have something that his species lacks.
L doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. There’s a tightness in his chest, a longing. He feels the way he does when he’s flying. When he’s starving for sugar. When he’s had far too much. Light’s face is flushed bright red. L puts his hand on Light’s neck and feels his pulse beating furiously. A physiological reaction to moments of heightened arousal.
“What Rem did,” Light finally says. “I don’t want you to do that for me. I want you to stay.”
“What makes you think I would die for you?” L asks. “I’m an impartial observer. I’m just here to watch the show.”
“You didn’t seem very impartial when you kissed me back.”
“I guess,” L admits.
He studies the expression on Light’s face. Light Yagami, master manipulator. Kira, killer of thousands. Rem has just died for the sake of her love. Is Light planning something, or could it be real?
Silence hangs heavy between them. Even in the best case scenario, there is nothing L can do. Light will die eventually; it’s only a matter of time. Shinigami exist to take lives, not to extend them.
Mello, a new detective, has come to replace Near. And if Mello dies, another successor will come and another, and another. Light is locked in an endless battle, and whether it is by murder or old age, he will pass away. Even a hundred years is the blink of an eye. It’s strange how finity feels just as unforgiving as the bleak immortality L has plodded through thus far. Perhaps there is no way to win.
Some god L is. He is powerless to stop Light’s inevitable demise. He took a loveable honors student and turned him into a monster who is now about to be killed. L doesn’t deserve to be deified. But this is something L has always known: people rarely get what they deserve. Human or Shinigami, the world is merciless and cruel.
Light knew this as well, but still he tried to bring about justice in his own clumsy way. And if not for L and the Death Note, some other thing would have ruined Light eventually. There had always been a devil lurking in that boy; the only question was what would cause it to awaken.
L is not kind. L is not good. But when Light is shot, L feels a pain in his chest. When Light screams, the sound is a knife in L’s ears. There is nothing he can do. All he can do is destroy.
Blood runs down Light’s wrist. His body contorts.
“What about your dad?” Matsuda shouts. “What the hell did he die for?”
Light takes a shaky breath. “My dad…you mean Soichiro Yagami?” His voice cracks. “That’s right, Matsuda. In this world, all those earnest people like him who fight for justice—they always lose. You want a world where people like that are made to be fools? I know you understand, so kill the others!” Light begs. Spit flies from his mouth.
L wants to grab Light and fly out of the warehouse and wrap him in his arms. But the exits are blocked, and only L’s body can pass through the walls. L is useless. He can only kill one person, maybe two, before he turns to ash.
Light takes the scrap from his watch and starts to write with his own blood. He isn’t quick enough this time. Bullets shred through his body and Light, Kira, god of the new world, collapses onto his back.
He looks so small. He always wanted to be a god. In a way, he was. He wielded the Death Note with more diligence and creativity than any Shinigami L has ever seen. But he was always so human. Soft flesh easily pierced by bullets. A warm body curled up next to him in bed. The desire to touch L’s face, to pull him in close. The childish pride, the little tantrums he threw after every loss. The desperation with which he is screaming L’s name and saying please, please.
L does the only thing he can do. He takes out his notebook and writes Matsuda’s name, stopping the officer before he can put a bullet in Light’s head. Then, quick as he can, L writes: Light Yagami loses consciousness and passes away peacefully.
L’s own death is the opposite. It is excruciating, the process of falling apart. He reaches out to Light and holds him. Thirty seconds left. L’s fingers crumble and collapse as he tries to wipe Light’s face clean. His cheeks are smeared red with blood. How long ago it all seems. L doesn’t know what to say. I’m sorry feels presumptuous. I love you feels unreachable.
Light’s speech is labored, coughing between words. “Will we meet again?” he finally manages to say.
L uses the last of his strength to speak. “I don’t know.”