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“Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.”
-Oscar Wilde
Matsuda wasn’t the best at talking with women, he had to admit that. He was charming because of his cluelessness and kindness, but sometimes it wasn’t enough. He didn’t have the kind of smooth talk that could make any woman fall in love with him. Half the time he couldn’t even tell when one was flirting with him, brushing it off as her just being nice.
But now—now the situation felt more serious than ever, because he actually wanted to impress someone.
There was this girl he’d met at one of the cooking courses. She wasn’t flashy, she didn’t try to draw attention to herself, and maybe that’s what drew him in. She was focused, careful with her knife work, patient in a way that made him fumble even more because he wanted her to notice him. And yet, every time she smiled his way, he panicked—was she smiling because she liked him? Or because he’d just added way too much salt again?
Matsuda told himself he needed a plan. Something clever. Something that would make her see he wasn’t just the bumbling guy who accidentally dropped a ladle into the soup stock. Maybe… he could actually use cooking to his advantage. If he could manage one dish—just one dish that didn’t look like a disaster—maybe she’d laugh with him instead of at him.
The thought alone made his stomach twist with nerves.
She was breathtaking, but that wasn’t why he was fond of her. She had a kind heart and was supportive of him even when he did something humiliating.
Like that one time when he mixed up sugar and salt. It happens to the best of them, but it completely killed the taste. She didn’t laugh at him or make him feel worse about it. On the contrary, her dishes were almost always perfect.
Unfortunately, some other men thought the same about her. He didn’t want her to fall for someone else—not only because he was into her, but because he didn’t want her to get hurt. He knew he would treat her well, but he couldn’t say the same about others. He couldn’t allow such a kind soul to be scarred by this world.
That was why he took extreme measures. He decided to ask Light for help. To be honest, Light was the first person who came to mind. He was so charming that Matsuda was sure he could make friends with anyone… maybe except L, but he was a lost cause anyway.
Matsuda even remembered checking Light’s dating records once, back when they were gathering intel in case he was Kira—which Matsuda had always found unbelievable. For someone so young, Light could surely show off with how popular he was with girls.
However, Matsuda was confused at first. After all, Light didn’t seem like the kind of person interested in dating or chasing anyone. That had to mean he simply attracted people—and that meant he could help him… right?
Matsuda was sure Light wouldn’t deny his request. After all, they were friends, and Light had always been kind to him—even if he sometimes got a little sarcastic or seemed done with everyone, including Matsuda himself.
When Matsuda explained the situation, Light only raised an eyebrow—something Matsuda interpreted as confusion, though he couldn’t be sure. The younger man was always so hard to read, and Matsuda had grown used to it over time.
Light stayed silent for a moment, clearly considering the request. Convenient, really. After all, Kira surely wouldn’t waste time helping acquaintances with something so insignificant when he could be scheming instead.
“Alright, I’ll help,” Light finally said. He found Matsuda’s request a little ridiculous, but taking a break could work in his favor.
“Thank you!” Matsuda beamed, genuinely excited that someone had his back and that he wasn’t alone in such unfamiliar territory.
“You’re welcome. So—we need to start with the basics. Anything she particularly likes?”
Matsuda pondered for a moment before answering.
“Well… she’s into figure skating. She talks about it a lot, actually.”
As he spoke, a sheepish expression appeared on Matsuda’s face. He seemed timid just talking about her, which was almost adorable—like a high school boy nursing his first crush.
Light was about to advise him to simply take her to the rink. It seemed like the wisest course of action: she could teach him, giving him her full attention. It was a perfect plan.
However, he didn’t even manage to voice his thoughts before he heard another voice. L.
The man had a habit of appearing out of nowhere. Just a few days ago, Light had been making coffee to satisfy his caffeine fix when L suddenly appeared, startling him so badly he had almost spilled it. Somehow, he’d managed to compose himself before his mask slipped.
“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” L said in his flat tone. “I have an idea, and there is a 213.7 percent chance it will work.”
Light narrowed his eyes. Of course L was eavesdropping. And of course he was inserting himself now, probably just to spite him. After all, this was the same man who had once installed sixty cameras in his room without hesitation.
He wanted to tell L off, to point out that it was him Matsuda had asked for help. But of course, he couldn’t say that aloud—he had a reputation to maintain. Instead, he felt the beginnings of a headache, a common symptom whenever L was nearby.
Besides, Light was certain those ridiculous percentages were made up just to make L sound smarter.
Still, he had to get rid of him somehow if he wanted to move forward with his mission, no matter how difficult it was.
“Is that so?” Light asked in a calm tone, though there was a faint hint of challenge beneath it.
Matsuda, on the other hand, was perplexed. It wasn’t like L to offer him help. Usually, he was harsh and dismissive, treating Matsuda like a nuisance. This sudden change of heart was surprising. Still, Matsuda admired L’s quick thinking and decided to trust him on this—hoping Light wouldn’t mind.
So before L could even answer, Matsuda chimed in brightly:
“Oh, that’s a lot! Sure, let’s try it!”
Of course, L’s first idea was stalking the poor girl… who would have thought? They were crouched in the bushes like some creeps.
It was more than humiliating—at least for Light—even if he kept his usual poker face on. With how advanced L’s technology was, it was obvious they didn’t need to be hiding like this. If he had the money to buy a skyscraper in the center of Tokyo, he surely had the money for anything else.
Apparently, Matsuda shared the same feeling, because he asked hesitantly:
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
L seemed unbothered by his hesitation as he answered,
“It is. She might be afraid of hurting your feelings, already taken, or simply clueless about your interest. We need to gather information first.”
Light could hardly believe he’d actually gone along with this. Everyone knew L’s love life had all the passion of a sock. What could he possibly know about seducing women or relationships?
Still, Matsuda just nodded, clearly convinced by L’s words. Light let out an exasperated sigh, no longer able to hold himself back.
“Or maybe just ask her out? That would be the easiest.”
“That won’t do,” L replied flatly.
Matsuda could feel the tension between them escalating. At this point, it was normal—sometimes they were calm, and sometimes they argued about every little thing. It was hard to stop them when they got like this, but Matsuda had to try. He wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t.
“Uh—she’s getting away,” he pointed out quickly.
They both stopped arguing and turned their attention to the woman. Matsuda was right—she had just bought some vegetables at the market and was now heading toward the bus stop.
“We need to move,” L pointed out.
Light felt like ending this ridiculous operation right then and there, but he couldn’t bring himself to disappoint Matsuda. The older man was foolish enough to agree to L’s idea in the first place. After all, this was the same person who, if left alone, would happily lock himself in a basement, live on sweets, and work cases all day—which, in fairness, was exactly what he did anyway.
It didn’t help that they stuck out like a sore thumb. Light was quite recognizable thanks to his achievements—and, of course, his very public relationship with Misa (at least that’s how it looked on the surface). Not to mention his brown hair, which stood out in the sea of black. And then there was L, who looked like a drug dealer crouched in the bushes. Matsuda was the only one who looked remotely “normal.”
Luckily, they hadn’t drawn attention yet. The bushes around the market were thick enough to hide them, even though getting into them had been almost impossible.
The bushes were spiky, so no one could jump over them—let alone try to push through. The only other way around was to go through the flats surrounding the market and open the back doors.
One would expect such barriers to make the market look ugly and unapproachable, but in reality, they made it seem prettier, almost more eye-catching.
Still, the three of them actually had to crawl so they wouldn’t be seen. The bushes might have been inaccessible, but they weren’t tall enough to cover them if they stood upright.
By the time they got closer, the woman was already sitting at the bus stop. Matsuda managed to catch a glimpse of her.
“I know her,” Light said, causing Matsuda’s eyes to widen.
“You do?” he asked.
“Yeah, she’s in a higher class. I can talk to her if you want.”
Senior year, to be exact—or at least Light thought so. She was around twenty-four, and she actually looked her age. He had stumbled across her a few times, mostly because she had joined the chess group he was in.
Matsuda nodded cheerfully, clearly relieved they wouldn’t have to stalk her anymore.
Light, however, was certain that L already knew he and the girl went to the same university. This whole stunt was just another way to humiliate him and get under his skin. He had to admit, it was bratty—but it was exactly L’s style. Mentally, he was like a ten-year-old stuck in the body of a grown man.
“Seems like you have a high chance with her, Matsuda,” L suddenly remarked, as if his opinion was the grand conclusion of their little escapade.
Those words made Matsuda feel very optimistic. He got distracted and ended up tripping over a small stone in their path. Though he managed to keep his balance, the noise drew the woman’s attention.
Unfortunately for him, the front doors of the flats were right next to the bus stop. That meant he was completely busted.
“Matsuda, hi! What are you doing here?” she asked, her expression brightening the moment she saw him. It was clear she held him in high regard.
He blushed from embarrassment. He knew she would never guess his real intentions—after all, it was so unlike him to follow anyone. Even with that thought in mind, he still felt like this was the worst possible outcome.
“Just getting groceries,” he lied. Thankfully for Matsuda, the bus she was waiting for arrived right at that moment. He wasn’t sure if he could have kept up with the deception much longer. After all, he was a pretty righteous guy.
It just felt wrong—even if it was technically harmless.
The bus doors opened, and before stepping in, she leaned forward and hugged him lightly in a warm goodbye. Then she teased him, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“By the way, you have leaves in your hair.”
Matsuda froze, his face burning as she clearly enjoyed his disheveled appearance.
“Anyway, see you in class,” she added with a smile.
Right… they had one this Friday.
“Yeah, bye,” Matsuda answered, though he knew she wouldn’t hear him over the engine of the bus. His face was as red as a tomato. He quickly ran a hand through his hair, trying to pull out the leaves she’d mentioned.
Light and L had kept their distance, clearly giving them space to talk—but close enough to catch every word. Now, as the bus pulled away, they approached him.
Matsuda braced himself, fully expecting a mocking comment from L. Surely he wouldn’t let an opportunity like this pass, right? …And yet, L said nothing.
Instead, it was Light who spoke first, his voice calm but carrying a faint edge of amusement.
“Well, that went better than expected.”
Matsuda blinked, then glanced nervously at L, who remained utterly unreadable. The detective tilted his head, fingers absently brushing his lower lip as he studied him.
“I calculate a 76 percent chance she is interested in you,” L finally said, matter-of-fact. “Your clumsiness seems to work in your favor. Fascinating.”
Matsuda stared, caught between relief and embarrassment.
“R-Really? You think so?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Light cut in smoothly, his lips curling into a half-smile. “She seems nice, Matsuda, but you’ll need more than tripping over rocks and leaves in your hair to keep her attention.”
L’s dark eyes flicked toward Light, just for a second, before he turned back to Matsuda.
“Still, it is progress. Unlike some people, you can afford to be genuine.”
Light’s smile stiffened, the challenge in L’s tone impossible to miss.
The next day, Light went to her classes. He looked for her, but she didn’t seem to be there. He assumed he was simply unlucky—that she hadn’t come to university that day.
How surprised he was when, at lunch, she sat near his table. Turns out she had just missed her first lesson—maybe overslept.
Light could understand why Matsuda was so fond of her. She was ambitious, kind, and her red hair made her stand out. Not to mention, she was gorgeous.
Still, she wasn’t his type. Not that he was interested anyway, but even he could appreciate someone’s beauty and charm. He had felt the same, briefly, about Misa—at least before she had forced herself into his life. After that, the fleeting admiration turned into pure disgust. Her behavior might have been convenient for him, but what was the point of beauty if the personality behind it was lacking?
So, while he pretended to be engaged in his acquaintances’ chatter, in reality he was calculating how best to approach her.
He stood up and asked if they could talk in private. She immediately agreed, as if she had been expecting him to ask. She continued to surprise him—a feeling he both despised and secretly enjoyed.
On one hand, he liked unpredictable people; they cured his boredom. On the other, they were harder to control.
They stood in the corner, and before he could even voice his thoughts, she spoke first.
“I’ll gladly hang out with you… in a platonic way, of course.”
Light’s face betrayed nothing of his inner confusion; he kept his usual amiable façade firmly in place.
“What do you mean?” he asked smoothly. Had she noticed him looking at her? He was subtle, careful, but perhaps she had read his signals wrong.
If she was really that perceptive, she could become a threat if she and Matsuda ever became a thing. Light decided to play it cool for now.
“A little birdie told me that you like me, so I assumed you wanted to ask me out,” he said lightly.
He had a pretty good idea who might have spread such a rumor, and he wasn’t amused.
“Oh. Actually, I’m here because my friend is fond of you,” he clarified smoothly. “Whoever told you I’m keeping an eye on you must have gotten things all mixed up.” Not to mention, he already had a girlfriend—a fake one, but still…
She seemed to realize, belatedly, that he was asking her out on his friend’s behalf. Her mistake wasn’t really her fault, but she felt humiliated all the same. A faint flush crept into her cheeks, betraying her unease.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “So… who is that friend of yours, then?”
“It’s Matsuda. We work together on cases.” It was a safe answer—after all, Matsuda was a detective, but she didn’t know about the Kira Task Force. That was top secret.
Her eyes softened at the mention of him. Light took it as a good sign.
“Ah yes, I’ve noticed his affections toward me. I was waiting for him to invite me on a date.”
“Why didn’t you do that, then?” Light asked, his voice calm with curiosity—even though he already had a good idea of her reasoning.
“I just think he should make the first move.”
It was understandable. After all, Japan was known for its strict social rules. There was no prohibition against women making the first move in a relationship, but tradition still weighed heavily. Women were expected to stay at home and take care of the household, while men were expected to work. Of course, times were changing, but not fast enough for it to be the norm.
“I see. I’m sure he was just unsure how you would react, but I’ll let him know he has the green light from you.”
With that, he excused himself and returned to his table. There was nothing more to talk about—not with her. The mission was accomplished, and Light wasn’t the type to waste time on idle chatter unless it served a purpose.
As soon as he sat down, he texted Matsuda, telling him to go for it since she was clearly interested.
To be honest, Light felt a little disappointed that everything had gone so smoothly. He had prepared strategies for every possible scenario, only for the entire situation to resolve itself with almost no effort. It was unsatisfying. He was sure Matsuda and the girl would have ended up together even without his intervention.
Challenges excited him, but here, he hadn’t even been given the chance to shine—or to show what a “good friend” he could be.
The only person who could provide him with entertainment these days was L. Not that Light would ever admit it—the detective’s ego was already insufferably high.
Speaking of which, he would need to make sure to get his retribution for this little stunt L had pulled. Light knew L would try to sabotage him, but spreading a rumor to the girl that he was interested in her? That was petty, even for him.
That game between them lasted longer than either of them would ever care to admit. A delicate dance—show just enough of your hand to keep the other intrigued, but never too much, lest you be bitten.
L had been a thorn in Light’s side since the very moment they met. He could already imagine what his father would say if he knew the full extent of their…relationship. That Light should be the bigger person, ignore the provocations, and let it go. But Light would rather do anything but that.
All his life, he had been forced into the role of the “mature one,” the golden child who behaved with composure and restraint. This time, he wanted to indulge himself—to act not as others expected him to, but as he chose.
Besides, L was six years older than him—seven, if he remembered correctly. Shouldn’t he be the one with the emotional intelligence? And yet, half the time, L behaved like a child, picking fights for the sake of amusement. Petty, bratty, relentless.
And Light, against his better judgment, found himself meeting him at every step.
He couldn’t let that smug man win. His pride would never allow him to lose—least of all to someone as insufferably obnoxious as him.
Light knew he was being baited. He recognized every trap, every calculated prod designed to pull him off balance. And yet… he couldn’t stop himself. To refuse to engage felt cowardly, and Light Yagami was anything but a coward.
At least, that was how he chose to see himself.
For now, he decided to do something he would normally consider childish—precisely because he knew L wouldn’t expect it. The satisfaction of seeing the detective’s face would be far more rewarding than the hesitation he felt at lowering himself that way.
To an outsider, their mind games would resemble nothing more than two children squabbling over a favorite piece of candy.
And speaking of sweets… those were L’s weakness, the backbone of his entire diet. Light knew that Wataru supplied him with dozens of them, since L was far too absorbed in his work to buy them himself.
Light even knew which bakery the cakes came from. After all, it wouldn’t be fair if L knew everything about him while he remained in the dark… right?
The next morning, he went to the bakery in disguise. Calmly, he introduced himself as an acquaintance of Watari’s, explaining that the older man couldn’t appear in person and had sent him instead.
He assured the staff that Watari himself would pick up the cake later—Light was merely there to deliver a message. Their client, he said smoothly, had decided it was time for a small change.
Just this once, the product should contain vegetables and fruit.
The reason he gave was simple and plausible: the cake’s intended recipient was a notoriously picky eater, but in need of adjusting their diet. And technically, it wasn’t even a lie.
The workers had no reason to doubt him. His elegant appearance, polite demeanor, and the precision with which he described the order left little room for suspicion.
Light felt it was exactly what L deserved. After all, his definition of justice was always different from others. The thought of L biting into that corrupted cake made him almost giddy. He knew perfectly well that the energy most people drew from rest, L siphoned from sugar. To tamper with that supply was as intimate as it was cruel.
And just as he’d imagined, L grimaced faintly when he took a bite. The displeasure was subtle, barely perceptible to anyone else—but Light knew him too well not to catch it.
L didn’t spare him a glance. Instead, he simply reached for his phone and called Watari. Within the hour, the bakery had been contacted. The workers explained everything, down to the smallest detail.
The only inconsistency? The man who had placed the order was blonde. Last time L checked, Light Yagami was not blonde.
Still, L’s suspicion settled instantly on him. No one else would dare to stand between him and his sweets. No one else would find amusement in such petty cruelty.
He spent the rest of the day sulking in silence, expression blank, mannerisms unchanged. But Light could see it—how L lingered a fraction longer over his teacup, how he avoided eye contact, how his hand curled a little too tightly around his spoon.
Watari brought him his usual cake for free to compensate, but L tasted none of the joy he normally did. The sugar was there, but the satisfaction was gone. He refused to give Light the satisfaction of an outburst, refused to acknowledge the trap.
And yet, in his silence, he admitted something to himself: he had expected vengeance. In fact, he would have been disappointed had Light not retaliated. He just hadn’t expected Light to stoop so low
Light walked into the task force the next morning, smugly anticipating L’s reaction. He almost tripped over his own feet when he saw it: L sitting at the kitchen table, expression unreadable as always, but with a suspiciously neat row of… carrots, apples, and what looked like a tiny celery stick strategically placed around his plate.
“Ah,” Light muttered under his breath. “So petty.”
Matsuda, oblivious as ever, plopped down next to L. “Hey! I see you got your… uh, breakfast?”
L gave Matsuda a tiny, imperceptible nod. “Yes. But it is not enough.”
Light’s eyes narrowed. “Not enough? You didn’t eat the cake?”
“I adjusted it,” L said calmly, stabbing a carrot with surgical precision. “I replace 37 percent of sugar with… this.” He held up the celery like a weapon.
Matsuda blinked. “Uh… so you’re saying you ate the cake?”
“No,” L replied. “I merely… inspected it. For quality control. One must know the enemy.”
Light’s jaw tightened. He wanted to scream. He wanted to toss Matsuda into the nearest hedge and lecture L on petty warfare, but instead he smiled, deadpan. “I see. Of course. Quality control.”
Matsuda tilted his head. “Wait… you two are fighting over sweets again?”
It reminded him of the time when they were once had an argument about how much sugar is in one chocolate bar.
It started when L offered Light one,the brunette didn't have a sweet tooth at all but took it anyways.He pointed out to the older man that's its basically inedible and so the debate started
L stared at him, unamused. “It is called strategy, Matsuda. Something you would not understand.”
Light’s lips twitched. “Indeed. And yet, somehow, you’re still slow to learn.”
Matsuda just laughed, completely missing the subtle war raging across the kitchen table. “Well… you guys are weird.”
And somewhere deep down, Light realized that no matter how much he planned, L would always find a way to ruin his satisfaction—but that didn’t make it any less fun.
As Matsuda reached for an apple from L’s plate (a rookie mistake), L smacked his hand away with the celery stick.
“Property of the investigation,” L said flatly.
“Yeesh! Fine!” Matsuda rubbed his hand, pouting. “You’re more territorial than my cat…” Then, suddenly brightening, he turned to Light. “Oh! By the way, Light-kun—I think I’ll ask her out today!”
Light blinked. For a brief moment, his irritation at L was replaced by mild surprise. So Matsuda actually listened to me?
L’s head tilted, his thumb pressed to his lip in that maddening way. “How… fascinating,” he murmured. “Statistically, Matsuda-san, you have less than a 10% chance of success. But please, proceed. I would enjoy the entertainment.”
Matsuda flailed. “Wh-what the hell, Ryuzaki! Can’t you be supportive for once?!”
Light almost smirked—almost. He leaned back, folding his arms with deliberate calm. “Don’t listen to him, Matsuda. You’ve got a better chance than that. After all, she was waiting for you to make the first move.”
The detective’s dark eyes shifted to Light, sharp and calculating, as though silently asking: And how would you know that?
Light held his gaze, refusing to blink, his smile polite but laced with challenge.
It was ridiculous—Matsuda blushing like a schoolboy, L wielding celery as if it were Excalibur, and Light sitting there pretending he wasn’t caught in a love polygon of his own making.
And yet, for some reason… Light was having fun.
It didn’t take long for Matsuda to take action. After all, L must have been teasing him earlier—hadn’t he said Matsuda had an 80 percent chance of success? It wasn’t as if that number had fallen out of nowhere… no, it had to be one of L’s typical mind games.
Soon enough, Matsuda was pacing around cheerfully, as if he couldn’t comprehend that his dream had actually come true.
“Light, you won’t believe it—she agreed!”
Light raised an eyebrow, hiding his amusement.
“Naturally. It would have been disappointing if she hadn’t.”
Matsuda beamed.
“But I mean, I texted her and she replied super fast and—”
“Slow down,” Light cut in, suppressing a laugh. “Breathe. Everything is under control.”
Light was in particularly good spirits, and Matsuda’s excitement only added to it. The outcome had been expected, of course, but that didn’t make it any less entertaining.
He almost seemed… relaxed. And he despised that, especially since he couldn’t explain why. He should be on his guard constantly—after all, L was always watching him. One mistake, and it would all be over.
Perhaps it was Matsuda’s influence. Irritating, yes, but also so hopelessly gullible. Even if Light mostly used him to maintain his public image, he found himself tolerating Matsuda—something he couldn’t say about most people.
Matsuda inhaled deeply, puffing out his chest like he was preparing for battle. “Right, right. Under control. Totally. It’s just—wow, Light, she said yes so fast! I thought maybe she’d, y’know, hesitate or—”
“She didn’t,” Light cut in smoothly, smirking. “Which only proves what I told you. She was waiting.”
Matsuda’s grin widened. “Man, you’re a genius!”
Across the room, L swiveled lazily in his chair, spoon dangling from his lips. “Incorrect. Light-kun is many things, but a dating consultant is not one of them.”
Light shot him a sharp look. “And you’re one to talk?”
“I merely observe,” L replied, expression flat but eyes glittering. “Statistically, the faster a reply, the more likely it is she was simply already holding her phone.”
Matsuda paled. “Eh?!”
Light’s smirk widened as Matsuda started to spiral. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just jealous you’re succeeding.”
“I am not jealous,” L said immediately, but the way he shoved a sugar cube into his mouth like a sulking child did not help his case.
Light’s good mood only doubled. Matsuda, still flustered, bowed dramatically to him. “You’re the best wingman ever, Light! You’ve gotta give me more advice later!”
“Of course,” Light said smoothly, though his gaze flicked back to L with deliberate smugness. “Anytime.”
The task force room had rarely been this chaotic. Matsuda was pacing with his phone like it was a bomb about to explode, Light was smug beyond reason, and L… L was eating sugar cubes one by one, muttering statistics under his breath like a monk chanting prayers.
“Light-kun,” L finally said, voice calm but heavy with accusation, “if Matsuda succeeds, I will consider it proof you tampered with the natural order of the universe.”
“Please,” Light replied, tone dripping with false modesty, “I simply gave him good advice. Something you clearly lack.”
Matsuda, oblivious, pumped his fist. “Yeah! And now she wants to meet tonight after work! Can you believe it?!”
Light gave a serene nod, basking in Matsuda’s joy. “Congratulations.”
L’s eyes narrowed. “Suspicious.”
“What’s suspicious about success?” Light asked sweetly.
“You,” L deadpanned. “Always you.” He shoved another sugar cube into his mouth, chewing with deliberate slowness, eyes fixed on Light.
The tension was absurd: Matsuda spinning around like a lovesick teenager, Light glowing with self-satisfaction, and L silently plotting the downfall of celery, carrots, and possibly all vegetables in general.
And then Matsuda, in his infinite ability to say the worst thing at the worst time, blurted:
“Hey, maybe if it goes well, Light and Misa can double date with us sometime!”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
L dropped his spoon. Light’s smile froze in place.
“…No,” they both said at the same time.
Matsuda asked Light to accompany him on his date. The younger man’s mission was to listen in on their conversation and offer insight if needed, thanks to Matsuda’s hidden earplug.
Light tried to explain that Matsuda should just be himself—that would make it feel like a normal date with a woman, not a rehearsed performance.
However, Matsuda was blissfully clueless about his subtle hints, leaving Light with no choice but to agree to this circus.
It also sentenced him to endure L’s inevitable taunts.
“Telling Matsuda what to do on his own date? I didn’t take you for such a control freak, Light-kun.”
Ah, yes—the “nickname.” In Japan, it was a common way of addressing co-workers… except that L had no manners, and it was clearly a taunt, delivered with no regard for Light’s feelings.
Matsuda gasped at L’s audacity, as if it were the first time the black-haired man had ever acted this way.
“Did you hear that, Light? He called you a control freak!”
“Yes, I heard that the first time, Matsuda. No need to repeat it,” Light replied in an exaggerated tone.
The date took place in a cozy restaurant in the middle of Tokyo, a place full of character that Light had recommended—perfect for a first romantic encounter.
The waiter took their order, and soon enough they were served a delicious-looking sukiyaki. Matsuda, being the gentleman he was, ordered the same dish as her—he didn’t want her to feel awkward about choosing something at the top of the price menu.
Light had been right about the atmosphere. The chairs and couches were comfortable, inviting relaxation. The lighting wasn’t harsh like in some buildings; it was soft, warm, and arranged in a way that added intimacy. You could see everything clearly, but it never felt intrusive. Matsuda had even reserved a spot at the edge of the room earlier for extra privacy.
The restaurant seemed quite popular. Matsuda could hear quiet murmurs from nearby tables, the soft strains of jazz playing in the background, and the occasional clatter of plates being set down. Despite the gentle bustle, it all blended into a comforting ambiance, perfect for a first date.
The woman, whose name was Rebecca, kept the conversation flowing. Their topics ranged from personal interests to politics, and even to family.
At first, Matsuda was nervous and anxious, but he gradually gained confidence as the evening went on.
Light was there more for mental support than anything else. One hand held some paperwork, while the other maintained his caffeine fix with a steady stream of coffee.
Still, he managed to keep his focus divided, balancing both surveillance and casual observation with effortless precision.
Everything was going smoothly—until L appeared next to Light. Maybe he should have chosen a different location than the task force headquarters, but the place had excellent surveillance devices.
He had underestimated L’s intrusiveness. The black-haired man sat next to Light, eyes fixed on the restaurant footage with an intensity that made it look like he was watching a romantic comedy unfold.
Light could already smell trouble. Soon enough, he lost contact with Matsuda. Matsuda was speaking, but it was clear he wasn’t hearing a word of it.
The chance of L tampering with a device was low—but with him, anything was possible.
Light liked when things went according to plan. L, however, was a constant obstacle, throwing chaos into every carefully calculated move.
Matsuda’s face briefly shifted into panic. Suddenly, he felt as if he had been thrown into the middle of a storm. Then he looked at Rebecca, and her smile made his heart flutter.
Seeing how content she looked, he decided to risk it all. His expression hardened into one of determination.
“Rebecca, I need to tell you something.”
He took her hand, a hint of seriousness in his tone—so unlike the bubbly detective she had come to know.
“We’ve known each other for a long time. I know it’s our first date, but I feel like we’re destined to be together.”
He let out a sigh and continued.
“That’s why I’m asking… would you like to be my girlfriend?”
“We’ve known each other for a long time. I know it’s our first date, but I feel like we’re destined to be together.”
He let out a sigh and continued.
“That’s why I’m asking… would you like to be my girlfriend?”
The confession was so perfectly Matsuda that it made Light almost groan. Nervous, earnest, and completely unpolished—exactly what made him endearing. He didn’t have a rehearsed speech or a dramatic flourish. He didn’t quote poetry or try to impress with witty metaphors. He simply spoke from the heart, stumbling over words, blushing furiously, and yet somehow managing to make every syllable feel sincere.
It was the kind of moment that only Matsuda could pull off: awkward, genuine, and utterly charming. Rebecca’s warm smile and gentle laughter were all the validation he needed—no clever strategies, no elaborate plans, no manipulation. Just him, being his honest, straightforward self.
Even Light had to admit, begrudgingly, that it suited him perfectly.
Rebecca blinked, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. For a moment, she said nothing, her smile faltering as she searched Matsuda’s earnest eyes.
Then, slowly, her expression softened. She laughed lightly—not mockingly, but with genuine warmth. “Matsuda… you’re really something, you know that?”
Matsuda’s heart thumped in his chest. “R-really?”
“Yes,” she continued, squeezing his hand gently. “I’ve liked you for a while too, but I didn’t know if you’d ever… you know, say it.”
Relief washed over Matsuda, and he almost melted into the table. “So… you’ll be my girlfriend?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Rebecca said, her grin widening. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”
Across the city, Light let out a quiet, victorious sigh, smugly leaning back in his chair. L, on the other hand, simply tilted his head, spoon in hand, and muttered:
“Hmm. Predictable. But emotionally… fascinating.”
Matsuda didn’t notice the two watching him. He only had eyes for Rebecca, and for the first time in weeks, he felt like the luckiest man in Tokyo.
After that, Light and L fell silent. Matsuda had revealed a new side of himself, and it irked them both that, even with their brilliant intellects, they hadn’t noticed he was capable of being such a charmer.
They watched as Matsuda paid for both of their meals like the gentleman he was, and then exited the restaurant, holding hands with Rebecca.
Light closed the footage and refocused on his paperwork, now that his intervention was no longer needed.
“Who would have thought Matsuda had it in him,” L finally chimed in.
Light leaned back in his chair, swirling his pen absentmindedly. “I can’t believe it. He actually succeeded. And without a single intervention from me.”
L tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. “You sound… disappointed.”
“I am,” Light admitted, his tone smooth but tinged with incredulity. “I planned everything, calculated every variable… and yet, Matsuda just… did it. Naturally, he still had my advice in the background, but still.”
“Perhaps,” L said slowly, savoring each word, “you underestimated the power of… genuine enthusiasm.” He paused, tapping a sugar cube against the table. “And foolish optimism. Statistically, it works surprisingly often.”
Light shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t act like you weren’t watching too. I know you were.”
“I was observing,” L replied, voice calm. “But that does not mean I approve.” He smirked faintly. “Although… I admit, it was entertaining.”
Light groaned, rubbing his temple. “Entertaining? Entertaining?! I’ve just been outwitted by a detective with zero subtlety and a penchant for saying exactly what’s on his mind.”
L’s lips twitched. “Zero subtlety… yes. But apparently effective. You might consider studying this phenomenon for future reference.”
Light clenched his jaw, realizing there was no winning here. “You’re impossible.”
“As are you,” L said simply, returning to his sugar cube, leaving Light to stew in silent frustration—and secretly, a strange sense of grudging admiration for Matsuda’s chaotic success.
The next day at work, Light had a pleasant surprise waiting for him. Matsuda greeted him with a pack of sushi and a voucher to a bookshop.
Light adored reading all kinds of literature, though he rarely showed it—he didn’t want to seem too nerdy. That didn’t change the fact that he was genuinely pleased with the gift.
Matsuda thanked him again and began to recount what happened after they left the restaurant. In short: they went for a long walk, kissed under a cherry tree, and then he walked her home.
Matsuda seemed genuinely cheerful, and it was one of those rare moments in Light’s life when he felt slightly frustrated. He hadn’t expected such gratitude.
Usually, people took him for granted—especially from someone like him, perfect in every way. He was used to being praised, but this time… he hadn’t even done anything to deserve it.
It was a pleasant feeling, as much as it was irritating. He even noticed that Matsuda had changed his phone wallpaper to a picture of his girlfriend.
Love really did make people happier—but also foolish and easy to manipulate. Light silently hoped he would never experience whatever Matsuda was feeling right now.
By the end of the week, things had settled into a strange rhythm. Matsuda was practically glowing every time he spoke about Rebecca, gushing like a lovesick schoolboy, and Light had resigned himself to being the reluctant witness to it all. He still held his usual calm, calculating exterior, but inside… a small part of him had to admit it was amusing to watch Matsuda stumble through love with such unfiltered enthusiasm.
L, as always, sat nearby, silently analyzing everything, occasionally letting out a single, pointed observation. “Emotionally inefficient,” he murmured when Matsuda tripped over his own feet while trying to buy flowers. Light suppressed a smirk; it was the perfect balance of chaos and control.
Matsuda, oblivious to the subtle war between them, continued to thrive. He went on dates, held hands, and even sent Light random photos of the two of them at the park. Light accepted them with his usual polite smile, though he filed each one mentally as “data points.”
And yet, despite all the petty chaos, the teasing, and the absurdity of L’s constant commentary, Light felt a rare satisfaction. Matsuda was happy. Rebecca was happy. And in some twisted way, even L seemed… content in observing it all unfold.
As Light returned to his paperwork, sipping his coffee, he allowed himself a small thought: perhaps the world didn’t always need perfect strategy. Sometimes, it just needed a little chaos, a little love, and an absolutely clueless detective.
At least now that the Matsuda dating case was resolved, Light could fully focus on L. He even had a plan—a move the detective wouldn’t see coming and one that would surely displease him. After all, what could be more frustrating than when two people are locked in a game, and suddenly, one of them… seems to forget the rules entirely?
For the first time in a long while, Light allowed himself a brief lapse, a small, deliberate “loss” of his usual meticulous memory for strategy. It wasn’t that he was careless—rather, he was testing the waters, seeing how L would react when the predictable patterns were gone. And oh, how delicious it would be to watch the meticulous detective stumble, even just a little.
And Light Yagami will enjoy every second of it.