Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The human world faded from Ryuk’s perception with the silent closing of a door. One moment, there was the sterile white of a high-security warehouse, the metallic tang of fear and the sight of a young man dying on a staircase, utterly alone. The next, there was only the vast, hollow expanse of the Shinigami Realm.

Silence.

It was a different silence than he was used to. This one was… absolute. For the first time in decades, there was no clever voice weaving plans beside him, no frantic scribbling of a pen, no dramatic pronouncements or quiet, manipulative questions. There was only the rust-coloured sky, the endless dunes of dust and the quiet, gnawing boredom that had been his existence for millennia.

He flexed his clawed hands, feeling the absence of a weight he’d grown accustomed to.

No Death Note. No contract. No apples.

Especially no apples.

He let out a grating laugh that echoed emptily across the wastes. So, that was it. The greatest entertainment of his eternal life was over. The human, Light Yagami, had been a brilliant, chaotic flame, and Ryuk had warmed his hands by the fire until it consumed itself. It was exactly what he’d wanted.

A spectacle. A story to remember in the long, dull centuries to come.

So why did the memory of those final moments feel like a sinking ship pulling him under?

He replayed them, as a Shinigami might inspect a curious fossil. Light, cornered, stripped of his godhood, bleeding out on the steps with the desperate, pathetic flailing of any other mortal. It was the inevitable end. Ryuk had written it himself, just as the rules dictated. A name for a name. A life for a life. A simple transaction.

But the transaction felt anything, but simple now.

His gaze was drawn to a sudden burst of colour amidst the drab desolation. An unusual sign of hope in the monochrome wasteland. There, nestled between two jagged rocks where only dust should be, was a sapling. It was a sickly thing, thin and pale, but undeniably, impossibly alive. And from its single, slender branch hung one perfectly formed, brilliantly red apple.

Ryuk stared, his yellow eyes unblinking. Trees did not grow in the Shinigami Realm. Life did not create here; it only waited to end. This was a paradox. An impossibility.

He shuffled closer, his large frame casting a long shadow over the fragile plant. He reached out a single, sharp talon and traced the smooth, waxy skin of the apple. The gesture was unnervingly familiar. It was the same way he’d often reached for the fruits offered to him by a human hand—a hand that was now still and cold.

‘Here, Ryuk. An apple for your thoughts.’

The memory surfaced, unbidden. Not of a grand plan or a murder, but a quiet moment. Light, leaning back in his chair after some intricate manoeuvre, a faint, self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He’d been wearing that day—a fine, charcoal grey wool that looked inexplicably soft under the harsh desk lamp. The way the crisp white collar of the shirt beneath it peeked out always made Light look a bit too neat, too harmless, like a trick box wrapped in silk, as he tossed a red fruit into the air.

The human never truly gave anything freely; the apples were always a bribe, a payment for silence, a tool to keep his bored God of Death placated, but in those moments, there was a… rhythm to their coexistence. A game within the game.

Ryuk had thought of himself as a spectator, amused and impartial. However, a spectator doesn't feel the absence of the actor so acutely. He wasn't just thankful for the entertainment. He was, with a dawning, unsettling clarity, thankful that it had been that particular human who had picked it up. That specific, brilliant, horrifying boy with eyes full of ambition and a smile that could charm the heavens while plotting to overthrow them. The one who looked at a God of Death not with fear, but with the calculating gaze of a potential business partner.

The young Light, before the weight of the Note had fully twisted him, had been a fascinating creature. Not "sweet"—such a trivial label. Light Yagami was… intriguing. Like a rare gemstone, dazzling, but holding depths you long to explore. His aura shimmered with a rebellious glow, a vivid jolt of life in Ryuk’s world that seemed frozen in time, and Ryuk, who had only ever known the dim twilight, had been mesmerized by the blaze.

The apple on the paradoxical tree seemed to glow under the bleak light. It was a symbol of that connection, of the one thing from the human world that had truly, deeply mattered to him. It was the bridge between his eternal boredom and Light Yagami's fleeting, brilliant storm.

Ryuk closed his bony fingers around the fruit and plucked it. It came away easily, sitting in his palm with a tangible, impossible weight. He brought it to his mouth, his teeth sinking into the crisp flesh with a sound that was obscenely loud in the silence. The flavour burst on his tongue—the same sweet, sharp, perfect taste.

The taste of his greatest entertainment.

The taste of Light.

For a single, suspended moment, it was just him and the memory of that flavour, of that human.

And then the world went black.

Chapter Text

Ryuk’s consciousness snapped back like a sudden, blinding light flickering on in a pitch-black room. One moment, there was the void—the taste of an impossible apple still a phantom on his tongue, the image of a dying boy seared behind his eyes. The next, he was standing. The gritty, stale air of the Shinigami Realm filled his senses, and the raucous, familiar sound of dice clattering against stone grated on his ears.

"—finally moving! I told you he was just asleep."

"Looks more like he was dead. Been standing there staring at the wall for an hour. Lost his mind since he lost his notebook, I bet."

Ryuk’s head swivelled, his vision swimming into focus. Two of his fellow Shinigami were hunched over their gambling game, barely paying him any mind. The scene was imprinted on his memory, a moment from a lifetime ago. This was… the day. The fifth day since he had let his Death Note fall. The day he had decided to go and see what kind of human had been interesting enough to pick it up.

A cold, electric shock, entirely alien to his kind, jolted through him.

It wasn't just a memory. It was now.

He looked down at his hands, at the sharp, bony claws. He flexed them, then, almost frantically, his gaze turned inward, seeking the ever-present counter of his life span. It was there, a vast, sprawling number, exactly as it had been… before. Before decades spent watching a human boy become a god and then become a corpse.

It was real. He was back.

The other Shinigami were right. He had been losing his mind from boredom before, but now… now he was losing it from a tsunami of something else.

"…Yeah," Ryuk managed, his voice a dry rasp. "Guess I should go get it."

He launched himself into the air, the familiar act of flight feeling strangely new. He breached the barrier between worlds, the bleak hues of his realm giving way to the blinding blue and brilliant white of a sunny day in the human world.

Was the famous Kira smirk fully formed yet, or was it still that hesitant little curve of the lips he’d used back then, before he was certain of his victory? Ryuk recalled the hours the boy spent in his room, the intense furrow in his brow as he rationalized his killings, completely alone in his moral vacuum. He missed watching that singular, terrifying intensity, the way Light's eyes would glow when a new piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

The Bored God soared above the sprawling city of Tokyo, a place he had once viewed as nothing more than a complex anthill. Now, every building, every moving car, every tiny human figure was a landmark in a story he already knew the tragic ending to. He was flying toward the beginning, armed with the knowledge of the end.

Ryuk grinned. He could still hear the soft thud of the Death Note hitting the carpet that night, moments before he’d spoken. Light, spinning around to face a creature of nightmare in his safe, pristine bedroom. The shock had been exquisite—the momentary slackness in that usually arrogant posture, the wide, stunned look in the eyes that would become Kira's. Yet, before Ryuk had even finished his introduction, Light was already speaking, calmly and dismissively, trying to control the narrative.

That rapid recovery had been brilliant. However, if Ryuk appeared in the same terrifying way this time, he'd just repeat the pattern. He needed their re-introduction to be different.

Things were different. He was different, but what did one do to make a better impression? He was aware of the standard human protocols—the meaningless pleasantries and gifts—but using them would only allow Light to immediately take control of the conversation, reducing Ryuk to a predictable variable. He was a god, not a diplomatic guest. The greeting needed to be a statement, something utterly off-brand that would short-circuit Light’s analytical mind.

Ryuk wanted the "What in the world are you doing?" look—that rare expression of stunned curiosity that Light usually reserved for L’s best moves. Maybe he'd drop in through the open window, perhaps landing a little too loudly, just to see Light jump, but then quickly offer some sarcastic, entirely unhelpful piece of advice about his homework. Anything to bypass the horror and get straight to the delightful arrogance he missed.

His eyes scanned the city below, and they landed on a splash of vibrant colour nestled between grey concrete buildings. A flower shop. Flowers. Humans gave each other flowers for all sorts of reasons. They were colourful, temporary and fragile—much like humans themselves. It felt fitting.

Ryuk descended, landing in a secluded alley beside the shop. He focused, a low hum building in his chest. He was going to do something profoundly stupid, something no self-respecting Shinigami would ever consider. He was going to spend a minuscule, utterly insignificant fraction of his life span.

The world shimmered around him, his form condensing, solidifying. The feeling of weight, of solid ground beneath feet, was bizarre. He looked down at hands that were still long and sharp-nailed, but now had a tangible, corporeal form. He was visible to all.

He stalked toward a shop window, drawn by the bright, glassy surface reflecting the human street. He stared at the figure there: obscenely tall, looming over the passersby. The simple white shirt, soft and unadorned save for a small black symbol, covered his usually skeletal frame. The pale, khaki-coloured cargo pants gave his long legs an odd, exaggerated bulk.

He observed the slight metallic flash from his lower lip, where a ring caught the light. His eyes, though still unnervingly yellow, were framed by dark hair and sharp, chiselled bone structure, looking more like... a very stressed-looking human. He hated the feeling of the heavy combat boots, but the ensemble was memorable.

Ryuk strode into the flower shop, the bell on the door jingling a cheerful alarm. The air was thick with the perfume of a hundred different blooms. A young woman with a kind face looked up from behind the counter.

"Welcome! How can I help you today?"

Ryuk pointed a finger vaguely at the sea of flowers. "I need a… collection. For a human."

"Of course! A bouquet? For what occasion? A birthday? Get-well-soon?"

He considered the question. Occasion? The occasion was his return, his second chance to witness the best show the world had ever provided. It was the fifth day since the boy had found the book, the start of the glorious, complex game that had occupied Ryuk for years. However, he couldn't exactly say "massacre partnership." What foolish human word covers the shared knowledge of global murder, the strange co-dependence built on apples and death?

"It is to celebrate an opening," Ryuk stated. "The first step of a very long commitment that has just begun. It has already been five days." He tilted his head. "I expect it to last for quite some time."

The florist’s professional smile softened. "Ah, I see," she said, a little sigh in her voice. "Five-day anniversary! That's so sweet. A lovely way to mark the start of something serious. You want to express your admiration."

Ryuk nodded slowly. That was close enough.

He thought of Light. Of his brilliant, sharp mind. Of his youthful intensity that was both terrifying and, in Ryuk's private opinion, utterly captivating. He wasn't a fool; he knew the human was a manipulative, arrogant creature. But with the context of everything that was to come, that arrogance seemed less like a flaw and more like the spirited defiance of a particularly clever and beautiful wild animal. A sleek, dangerous cat, perhaps, that deigned to allow your presence.

The florist moved to gather stems. She picked vibrant, structured flowers. Birds of Paradise, for magnificence and freedom. Snapdragons, for grace and strength. Delphiniums, for levity and dedication. She wrapped them in crisp paper, creating a bouquet.

She handed it to him, her eyes twinkling. "It's a very confident bouquet. Perfect for a confession of such strong feelings!"

Ryuk took the flowers. A confession? Well, he supposed it was, in a way. He was confessing that he found Light to be the most interesting entity in all of creation. The florist, it seemed, understood the depth of his appreciation perfectly. He was proud of himself for navigating the confusing human ritual so successfully.

"Thank you," he said, genuinely pleased.

He paid with coins he manifested from nothingness—another trivial use of his power—and walked out, the bell jingling behind him. The moment he was back in the alley, he let the human form dissolve, the life span expenditure stopping. He was invisible again, a Shinigami clutching a bouquet of brightly coloured flowers.

He looked down at the bold, beautiful arrangement in his claws. Yes, this was much better than just startling the boy.

He flew towards the Kanto region, towards a certain, brilliant boy. The distance was negligible; he'd crossed far greater voids on a whim. The tricky part was the cargo. Ryuk held the arrangement out in front of him, watching the blossoms shudder in the wind. A simple thought, a casual exertion of his innate power, wrapped the bouquet in a field of temporal stasis. The air around the petals solidified, freezing the moment of their perfection.

Ryuk adjusted his flight path, veering directly over the Tone River, knowing he was minutes from the familiar, structured home of his chosen human.

Chapter Text

The walk home was a study in normalcy.

Light Yagami laughed at the appropriate moments as his two classmates chattered about university prep and a new idol group. He offered thoughtful, mild-mannered comments, the picture of a perfect, high-achieving son. All the while, the secret thrum of power beneath his ribs was a constant, exhilarating drumbeat. Five days. Five days since the world had become his canvas, and he, its divine brush.

As they turned onto his street, his sharp eyes catalogued everything. A cat sunning itself on a wall. The new car at the neighbour’s house. And then, the anomaly.

Leaning against the wall a few houses down was a man.

He was obscenely tall, easily over 190 cm, and slender in a way that seemed almost unnatural. His clothing was a clean, simple white t-shirt, the soft fabric starkly set against pale khaki cargo pants that added bulk to his long legs. It was an expensive, trendy look, but the man wore it with a profound air of detached boredom, gazing up at the sky as if watching something the humans couldn't see. A faint metallic glint caught the sun from his lower lip, and the heavy black boots seemed out of place with the rest of the outfit's lightness.

"Whoa, check that out," one of his friends whispered, nudging Light. “Is he a runway model? Look at the height on him!"

The other friend squinted. "He looks a little scary, though. Like he hasn't slept in a week, or maybe he’s wearing eyeliner. His eyes are intense, and that face is just... sharp."

The first friend muttered, "Still, those are some great clothes. He's got that expensive, Tokyo street style down cold. Do you think he's waiting for a photoshoot?"

The second friend shivered. "Nah, he looks like he's waiting for something to die."

"He's probably just waiting for a delivery," Light suggested. "Or his mother. Stop building drama where there is none, it’s just a tall guy in big pants." He felt a prickle of annoyance that his friends' attention, and consequently his own, was being wasted on such an unimportant variable. Why is he still staring at the sky? It’s not an unusual cloud formation.

They reached the gate to the Yagami residence. Light exchanged final goodbyes with his friends, his back to the stranger. He pushed the gate open, the familiar creak a sound of home, of normalcy.

"Light Yagami."

The voice was a low, gravelly baritone. It came from directly behind him.

Light turned, his heart giving a single, hard thump against his ribs. The man was no longer leaning against the distant wall. He was here, right at the edge of the property, having crossed the distance without a sound. Up close, he was even more startling. His skin had a greyish pallor, and his eyes were a piercing, almost luminous gold. And in his long hands, he held a bouquet of flowers.

Light’s mind screeched to a halt... his own expression a masterclass of polite, slightly confused composure. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice even, his eyes boring into the man's. "Is this some kind of—"

The man casually lifted the bouquet. "Don't worry, Light. The flowers are a gift. A welcoming present, you could say. After all, it's not every week a Shinigami gets to see his property put to such fantastic use."

The notebook. The rules. A Shinigami. This is it. The owner has come. Light's eyes flicked from the flowers to the man's face. Up close, the tall figure possessed a strange, disquieting familiarity, not a memory, but a feeling akin to finally recognizing a noise you'd heard only in a dream. The air around the man felt thin and cold, making Light’s skin prickle, but he did not step back.

The Shinigami’s words echoed clearly in his mind.

A welcoming present.

So, he wasn't here to simply take the notebook back. He was here to… negotiate?

Light’s survival instincts and his colossal ego warred for a moment. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the man's as he took the bouquet. The stems felt cool and real in his hand. "I see," he said, his mind racing through scenarios. He needed to get this creature inside, away from prying eyes. "Perhaps we should talk inside—"

The front door swung open with a cheerful bang.

"Light! There you are! I was wondering what was taking you so long!" Sachiko Yagami beamed at her son, her gaze immediately dropping to the extravagant bouquet in his hands. Her eyes lit up. "Oh my! Flowers! They're gorgeous! Who are they from?"

Light’s heart gave a single, tight squeeze. He glanced down at the bright arrangement, his lips parting to say, "A man. He was just—" But he subtly moved his head to confirm the street view: the impossibly tall man was gone, the spot where he'd stood now empty save for the quiet street. The realization that the Shinigami had vanished was all the signal Light needed. He turned back to his mother; the confusion instantly replaced by a charming, slightly embarrassed smile.

"Just some admirers from school. A study group. It's nothing, really." He smoothly stepped past her into the house. He handed her the voluminous bouquet with his right hand, and with his left, he quickly pulled the folded exam paper from his bag. "I got my practice exam back. And can you put these in water?"

Sachiko's delight was immediate. Her focus darted from the unexpected flowers to the familiar high-score sheet, the scrolling title catching her eye first. "First place again! Oh, I'm so proud! And I'll put these in the best vase we have! I think they'd look perfect right in the entrance hall!”

If the Shinigami was watching, if this absurd "gift" was a test of Light’s appreciation, leaving it downstairs would be a catastrophic miscalculation. The God of Death needed to know the offering was valued, kept close. The idea of a floral arrangement in his sterile room was faintly repulsive, but necessary.

"Actually, Mum," Light interjected smoothly, laying a hand gently on her arm. "Could you put them in a vase for my desk? I'd like the colour while I'm studying. They're a nice distraction."

"What a wonderful idea, Light! I'll use the crystal one, it will look lovely up there. Just give me a few minutes to fill it, alright?"

"Thanks, Mum. I'm going to go study now," Light said, already heading for the stairs. He climbed the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. He could feel it—a presence, a pressure shift in the air of his home, centred on his bedroom. He paused outside his door, took a steadying breath, and turned the knob.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, the click of the latch sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet room.

And there he was.

Chapter Text

The room was a perfect square.

Light’s single bed was pushed against the far wall, granting him a clear line of sight from the door. To his left stood the floor-to-ceiling bookcase, its shelves bowed under the weight of legal texts and criminology journals. To his right, his meticulously organized desk faced the window.

The "man" was sitting casually on the edge of Light's perfectly made bed, but the illusion of humanity was gone. Great, dark, feathery wings were draped around his shoulders like a cloak, and his grin was now a wide, terrifying slash of sharp teeth and pure, unadulterated amusement. The golden eyes glowed with an inner light.

"Took you long enough, Light." The Shinigami slowly leaned forward, resting his skeletal elbow on his knee and allowing his massive head to tilt quizzically. He was so close that Light could see the minute, alien details of his sharp teeth, the wide grin threatening to split his face.

Light firmly pressed his back against the cool surface for a needed moment of stability. He watched the creature, his mind snapping into analysis mode: Threat level? Unknown. Motivation? Unknown.

He swiftly placed his school bag against the wall near the door before stepping away. "I assume you are the Shinigami whose notebook I possess.”

The Shinigami grinned wider, and the action sent a sudden, surprising jolt through Light's chest. "That's a very formal statement for the circumstances," the God of Death observed, his voice a low, gravelly tease. "And yes, I'm the guy. My name’s Ryuk. The real question is, are you surprised? Did you actually think you could avoid meeting a God of Death?"

Light felt the challenge in Ryuk’s tone. He pushed off the wall, walking toward his bed with slow, deliberate steps. He flashed the creature a confident, charismatic smile. "On the contrary. I wasn't surprised at all. In fact, I've been waiting for you."

Ryuk’s grin softened, morphing into something intensely interested that made his golden eyes seem to burn. "Oh yeah? Waiting just for me? That's… sweet," he rasped, his voice dropping, though Light merely registered the shift.

Light pressed his hips against the edge of his desk. "Gee," he scoffed. "A personal visit from a Shinigami. How incredibly kind of you, Ryuk. Not that I doubted this was a Death God's notebook, but seeing things with my own eyes like this lets me act with greater certainty." He pushed off the desk, turning to pull the notebook from his top drawer.

As he turned back, Ryuk was suddenly there, standing impossibly close, having shed his monstrous size for the tall, pale human form. Light froze, a sudden, inexplicable heat rising in his cheeks. Too close. Why am I flushing?

A strange energy crackled between them, and Light could feel his composure dangerously wavering. He instantly recognized the need to regain distance and control. "I suppose that display of physicality was meant to be imposing," he remarked, raising one eyebrow in feigned annoyance. "It's unnecessary, however. You've established your presence. Furthermore, hovering over me while I attempt to access my supplies is rather inefficient. Could you step back, please?"

Ryuk threw his head back and let out a dry, wheezing chuckle, the sound oddly muffled in the human form. He took two steps back and plopped down heavily with an exaggerated lack of grace onto the bed, resuming his casual posture.

Light cleared his throat. He pulled his chair out, sat down and fixed the Shinigami with a stare. "There are some things I wanted to ask you." He pulled the Death Note from the drawer, flipping it open to a central section—the pages were densely packed, names filling every line.

Ryuk didn't even lean in. He plucked the book from Light's hands and snapped it shut. "Yeah, I already know you're loving it," he drawled. "This is amazing, really. Death Notes drop down a few times, but nobody ever fills this many pages in just five days. Most humans are too scared. I haven't felt this interested in anything in centuries. I've been looking forward to meeting the human who picked it up all day. You have a very exciting mind, Light."

Light felt a hot, confusing wave rise in his chest.

This creature, a God of Death, was alarmingly chill, far more relaxed and less demanding than any figure of authority Light had ever encountered. It was clearly hiding something—perhaps the true, terrifying cost of the notebook—yet Light didn't feel the need to press for that secret.

Light opened his mouth, ready to ask the next logical question about the rules and his soul, but the thought hadn't even fully formed when Ryuk acted. The God of Death tossed the notebook back onto his desk.

"Relax. I'm not going to do anything to you. The moment a Death Note lands in the human world, it belongs to the human world. It's yours now."

"Mine?" Light murmured, reaching out to claim the book, his fingers gripping the black cover. He pulled the notebook toward his chest, holding it like a shield. As he did, Ryuk rose from the bed and silently glided forward. Before Light could register the intrusion, Ryuk was looming over him, the tall, pale human form caging Light against the edge of his desk.

"You don't have to keep it, you know," Ryuk continued, his voice a low rumble near Light's ear. "If you don't want it, you can give it to another human. When you do, I'll just have to erase all your Death Note memories. But I hope you keep it. I really want you to keep it and use it."

Light felt the heat of Ryuk's presence, the contact on his arm and the book, but focused only on the crucial words.

"Since you've used my notebook, you're the only one who can see me," Ryuk purred, his breath a cool, unsettling breeze against Light's neck. Light stiffened, the sensation foreign yet not entirely unpleasant.

Ryuk's gaze dropped to the book in Light's hands. His long, claw-tipped fingers slid from the cover to brush against Light's knuckles. "This notebook... it's the bond between Light the human and Ryuk the Shinigami." The creature leaned in further. "There's no price, but... when you die, I'll be the one writing your name."

Light’s muscles tensed. His mind felt hazy, fixated on the chilling, grey pallor of Ryuk’s skin so close to his own. He was acutely aware of the weight of the Shinigami’s body pinning him against the desk. Ryuk’s face was lowering, and Light’s gaze was trapped, drifting between the terrifying grin and the golden, luminous eyes.

"I... I understand the implications of... of the usage..." Light stammered, the words emerging as a clumsy, useless jumble.

Ryuk's lips brushed Light's ear. "One last thing. Humans who've used the Death Note cannot go to heaven or to hell. That's all."

A dizzying wave of heat rushed to Light’s face. He was painfully aware of his own shortness of breath, of how the solid plane of the desk was the only thing keeping him upright. Ryuk’s form seemed to flicker at the edges of his vision—one moment a terrifying monster with wings and claws, the next this impossibly tall, pale man. The cool breath on his neck, the faint scent of ozone and the sheer presence of him—it was all too much, too real.

This creature, this Shinigami… it felt like staring at a puzzle he’d already solved. The usual calculations, the intricate web of manipulation he’d already begun drafting in his mind, felt superfluous.

Summoning every ounce of his fraying composure, Light slowly turned his head. The movement brought their faces unbearably close. "Do you mind? Your… personal space is… non-existent."

Ryuk’s grin widened, but he obligingly tilted his head back a few inches, though his arms remained planted on the desk, effectively caging Light in. "Sorry, sorry," he chuckled, the sound utterly unrepentant. "You're just so interesting to watch. Any more questions, Light-o?"

"Have we…" Light started, his brow furrowing. "Have we met before?"

The effect was instantaneous. Ryuk’s playful demeanour froze. His golden eyes widened a fraction, shock, maybe, or a deep longing. Then, he threw his head back and laughed, a full, resonant sound that seemed to shake the very air in the room.

Ryuk lifted a hand. Light flinched on instinct, but the touch was feather-light. Cool, leathery fingers gently brushed a stray strand of hair from Light’s forehead, tucking it behind his ear. The contact was electric, sending a tremor straight down Light’s spine.

"This is gonna sound really cheesy." Ryuk leaned in again. "But yeah. We have. In another life."

Light’s brain short-circuited. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird, a frantic, pounding rhythm that echoed in his ears. A scalding heat flooded his cheeks. He could feel the blush spreading down his neck.

What the hell?

What the actual hell?

Something made his stomach swoop and his thoughts scatter into a million incoherent pieces.

Light, the brilliant sceptic, the future detective, did not believe in "another life" or fantasies. Yet, he had a God of Death caging him against his desk, and he was holding a mass-murder weapon. Since the supernatural was now observable fact, concepts like reincarnation and past lives had to be considered logical possibilities.

Light’s fingers automatically tightened on the Death Note, and he brought the object up, clutching it just below his nose, the black cover acting as a psychological barrier. "Given your statement, was our relationship in this ‘other life’ defined by an unbreakable link? A necessary, destined counterpart? A spiritual—"

Ryuk’s grin remained wide. "Are you trying to ask if we were best friends, or maybe roommates?" He ran the back of his hand slowly down Light’s rigid spine, from the nape of his neck to the small of his back. "Well, if we were 'roommates' in another life, we definitely shared some secrets. We knew each other's favourite colours—blue, right?—and maybe spent hours talking about that perfect jasmine shampoo scent you like so much. We probably argued over the best kind of plant to keep on the desk—a small jade plant, perhaps?—and you definitely told me about your plan to own a purebred white dog someday. We were close. The kind of close where I never had to leave your side."

The details cemented the belief that the supernatural was deeply, personally invested in Light. This confirmed everything Light believed about his own superiority—even a God of Death recognized his significance.

Ryuk slid his hand around Light's waist, pressing him more firmly against the desk edge. The Shinigami let his mouth curve into an expression of deep, personal familiarity, and Light felt a shiver of confusion and exhilaration run through him.

Light looked up. "What… were we, exactly?"

Ryuk let out a low, amused sound. "Are you sure you have the necessary emotional vocabulary for the answer you're looking for, Light-o?"

Light could take a hint.

A strange, flustered heat bloomed in his chest.

Really? They were… they were what? His brilliant mind short-circuited on the implication. He couldn’t finish the thought, but he knew what it meant.

His gaze lifted, tracing the sharp, terrifying lines of Ryuk’s monstrous form—the leathery skin, the predatory grin, the eyes that glowed like hellfire. By any human standard, it was a visage of pure nightmare fuel. So why, in this moment, did Light’s addled brain find it… endearing? The way Ryuk’s head was tilted, the almost playful curve of his claws—it was like looking at a massive, otherworldly husky that had decided you were its favourite person. The thought was so absurd he was certain he’d lost his mind.

He instinctively lowered the Death Note. His thoughts were a formless hum, drowned out by the overwhelming sensory input. The space between them was charged, electric and shrinking. Ryuk was leaning in, that terrifyingly familiar grin softening into something more focused, more intent. Light’s breath hitched, his own lips parting slightly. They were so close he could feel the shift in the air.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Light, honey? I'm bringing in your vase of flowers!" His mother's cheerful voice, followed by the distinct sound of the doorknob turning, sliced through the thick atmosphere like a blade.

The spell shattered.

Chapter Text

Ryuk floated in the corner of Light’s bedroom, his massive, feathery wings casually draped and partially passing through the solid wood of the wall and the bookshelf. He watched, utterly fascinated, as Light accepted the vase of flowers from his mother with a picture-perfect smile.

“Thank you, Mum.”

The door clicked shut, and the polite warmth evaporated from Light’s face. He walked straight to his desk and carefully moved his pen caddy to make room for the vase, placing the extravagant flowers right next to his monitor. Just then, his eyes found Ryuk’s in the dim room.

Ryuk let his massive wings dissolve into the air as he instantly reverted to his tall, pale human form. He glided smoothly from the corner and dropped back onto the edge of Light's bed, crossing his legs.

So, Light wanted to keep the flowers in his private sanctuary? Interesting. Was this a new tactic? A deliberate, charming ploy to appeal to Ryuk, to make him feel special and thus more malleable? Now this was the manipulative, brilliant human Ryuk remembered. The one who had just been a blushing, stammering mess moments ago was clearly a temporary glitch.

“I’m flattered, Light-o. Really. I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”

Light’s lips curved into a small, practiced smile. “They’re a gift. It would be rude not to appreciate them.” His tone was smooth, diplomatic. It was a complete lie, a perfectly crafted piece of social politeness, and Ryuk knew it. But damn if it wasn’t a little cute, the way Light thought he could fool a Death God with such a transparent human trick. If Ryuk didn’t know him better—if he hadn’t seen the depths of his arrogance and cunning in a previous life—he might have actually been touched. Ryuk missed that arrogance. He missed the grand monologues, the sound of that voice weaving a vision of a new world with Ryuk as his sole, unholy witness.

“So,” Ryuk began. “You’ve got the notebook. You know the rules. What’s going on in that brilliant, scheming head of yours? Must be something big.”

Light’s eyes lit up. He walked over and, to Ryuk’s immense surprise, didn't just sit near him. He sat right beside him, their shoulders almost touching. Then, with a shyness that was both a calculated performance and a genuine, flustered reaction, Light leaned over and tentatively looped his arm through Ryuk’s. He rested his head against Ryuk’s bicep.

“Well,” Light started. “I was thinking… this world is rotting. It’s filled with people who do terrible things and face no consequences.” He paused, letting the word hang in the air, hoping it would resonate. “But with this,” he tapped the Death Note with his free hand, “and with you by my side… I can change that. I will become the god of a new, perfect world. I will pass judgment on the wicked. And only you will see it. Only you will understand.”

There it was.

The monologue. The ambition, raw and terrifying and magnificent. It was everything Ryuk had been waiting for. He could feel the vibration of Light’s voice through his arm, could smell the clean scent of his shampoo. The combination was utterly intoxicating.

Ryuk let out a low, rattling chuckle of pure delight. He looked down at the top of Light’s head, at this fragile, deadly, adorable creature. This version of Light is almost... vulnerable, Ryuk thought. A little more clinging than I expected, but it makes the performance better.

“You know, Light-o, Shinigami don’t care about justice or your big, world-changing ideas. I won’t interfere in your planning or your judging. I’m just here because I think watching humans try this is the most fun thing in existence.”

Light's head tilted up and shifted his weight, causing his legs to brush subtly against Ryuk's. A smug, certain smile began to form on his lips. "I take it that means you're prepared to handle the anomalies," Light mused. He threaded his fingers further into the arm he was clutching. "My plans, my judgments. It's a heavy burden, but I suppose someone has to be the exception to all those rules, wouldn't you agree?"

Aha! There it was.

The Shinigami recognised the arrogance, the smug, irresistible belief in his own superiority. Light Yagami had already decided he was the anomaly. He was not asking for permission. He was telling the Death God he was subject to Light's exceptional status.

Ryuk let his smile widen, a lazy, hungry look. "You really think you can just write your own rules and expect the universe to follow?" He brushed his long, claw-tipped fingers lightly across Light's jawline. The brush became a slow caress, trailing down Light's neck to the exposed skin of his collarbone. Ryuk shifted his weight on the bed, leaning in to crowd Light's personal space, his breath—cool and sterile—ghosting over Light's ear.

Light’s heart hammered against Ryuk’s arm, but he managed to force the vital question past his suddenly dry throat. "Ryuk, why did you drop the notebook in the first place?"

Ryuk gave a satisfied, rumbling chuckle. He cupped Light's head in his hand, keeping him close. "I dropped it because the Shinigami Realm is a grave. A true, dead place. No one feels anything, no one creates anything. We pass time napping or gambling, and if we see someone actually working, we say, 'What are you working so hard for?' and laugh at the fool. Being down here is much better. You, Light, are the most alive thing I’ve ever seen, and that’s what this is all about."

Light’s expression flickered. He quickly calmed his face, regaining the mask of controlled intellect, but he did not move, remaining anchored to Ryuk's arm. The silence stretched, filled only by the soft thump-thump of Light's heart.

Ryuk continued to gently trace the curve of Light's skull with his large, clawed hand, waiting for the counter-strike. Light, however, slowly lowered his gaze, looking down at the black notebook clutched in his lap. His breathing deepened slightly. What's this? Ryuk wondered, genuinely perplexed. Where is the smug nod? The self-congratulation? The human was acting strangely.

Then, Light slowly raised his head. His eyes were wide and intensely serious, searching Ryuk’s face with a directness that felt both honest and terrifying.

"So," Light stated. He paused. "You must really... like me then, huh?"

Ryuk stared. The Shinigami felt a bizarre, unfamiliar sensation—a deep tremor of delight that was far more satisfying than any apple. His grin stretched wide, impossibly wide, revealing his terrifying teeth in a joyous display. He leaned back just enough to admire the human curled against him, his golden eyes sparkling.

"Oh, Light-o," Ryuk said. "More than just like. I'm completely obsessed with you."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Later, washed and changed for bed, Light slid under the covers. He was wearing a simple, deep navy-blue cotton set that felt soft and familiar against his skin. His hair was dry, and the clean, jasmine scent lingering in the air. His teeth felt meticulously clean and smooth from his nightly brushing.

Ryuk had resumed his post in the corner.

“Ryuk?”

“Hmm?”

“This form you have… the human one. Is it an illusion? Or can you actually feel things with it?”

Ryuk’s golden eyes glowed. “It’s as real as I want it to be. Less intimidating for your fragile human senses. And yes, I can feel. The texture of your hair, the heat of your skin… the crisp, perfect skin of a red apple.”

“And the Shinigami Realm… is it truly as terrible as you said? Just… nothing?”

“It’s worse than nothing. It’s the absence of everything that makes you so interesting, Light-o. No ambition. No drive. Just an endless, grey boredom.”

Ryuk folded his huge wings with a barely audible rustle, and his body compacted, the monstrous image replaced by his human form. He walked slowly to the side of Light's bed and sat down, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight. "It's not terrible like pain," he explained, resting his elbow on a bent knee. "It's terrible because nothing changes. There are no choices. There's nothing to do, but exist."

"How many of you are there? Is it an infinite expanse of 'nothing,' or is there a physical structure to your Realm?"

Ryuk tilted his head, amused by the rapid-fire questioning. "It's not infinite, no. Think of it like a monochrome desert, stretching forever. There are only about a hundred of us left, Light-o. The population shrinks when a Shinigami dies, but no new ones are born. We all gather around the main platform—the Shinigami King's mountain—mostly just because it's the closest thing to 'land' we have."

"The King? It’s a monarchy? Does he govern or impose rules?"

Ryuk chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. "The King is just one very old, very ugly Shinigami. He sits up there and hands out the Notes, but he doesn't govern. Mostly he just sits and grumbles about how lazy everyone is. Nobody listens to the old man."

Light opened his mouth, already formulating a follow-up question about the King's authority or the Notes' distribution. Before he could utter a syllable, Ryuk pressed a finger gently against Light’s mouth. Simultaneously, he reached across the bed and firmly tugged the covers up to Light's chin, forcing the human's head back onto the pillow.

“You should sleep, kid,” Ryuk said. “Your little body needs it.”

The sudden, forced intimacy left a faint blush high on Light's cheeks. He swatted Ryuk’s hand away from his chin. "Don't treat me like a child," he snapped. "My mind is perfectly capable of functioning on minimal sleep. I was merely gathering data on your species' political structure." He settled his head against the pillow, giving Ryuk a look of intense, frustrated challenge. “What about you?” Light asked.

“I could nap. Or sleep. But that’s dull. I’ll just watch you.”

Light stared at him, the previous frustration melting into pure disbelief. "You're going to just... watch me? All night? Are you trying to emulate some future creepy stalker trope? You know, the kind where the love interest sneaks in and watches the female protagonist sleep for her 'safety'? It's disturbing."

Ryuk’s grin was unrepentant. "Is it about humans who sparkle that's hitting theatres in a few years?"

An idea sparked in Light's mind. If Ryuk's goal was proximity and entertainment, he could provide a far more palatable alternative to being a nocturnal stalker.

"Fine," Light said. "If you're so set on being here, then at least make an effort not to be a creature from a horror movie. You don't sleep, but you can lie down, can't you? The bed is large enough. Pretend. It's less creepy than hovering in the corner like a gargoyle."

Ryuk’s eyebrows shot up, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features before it was swallowed by amusement. "Sharing a bed now, Light-o? How forward." But he didn't hesitate. In a fluid motion, he stretched out on the bed beside Light, lying on his side to face him, his head propped on his hand.

"Like this?"

The space between them was minimal. Before Light could overthink it, Ryuk shifted, closing the gap entirely. An arm draped over Light's waist, pulling him into a loose, natural embrace.

Light stiffened for a fraction of a second, his mind screaming about personal space, but the hold was… comfortable. Warm. It felt less like an invasion and more like a completion. He found himself relaxing into it without a conscious decision, his head nestling against the pillow, his body curving slightly to fit against Ryuk's.

His eyes, however, remained open, tracing the lines of Ryuk's human face in the near-darkness. The sharp jaw, the perfectly shaped mouth, the way his hair fell just so… It was annoyingly well-crafted.

"Why this, though?" Light finally asked. "This specific face. It's... noticeable. If anyone else could see you, it would draw far too much attention."

Ryuk chuckled. "I didn't choose it. It just... appeared when I decided I wanted a form you wouldn't find repulsive. A Shinigami’s human form is a reflection of their essence, or so they say. I guess this is mine." He gave a casual shrug, his fingers idly tracing patterns on Light's back. "It costs a bit of my lifespan to maintain, you know. Not much, but still. No other Shinigami would be stupid enough to pay it."

The confession sent another warm thrill through Light. It was a sacrifice, made for him alone. He opened his mouth to ask another question—about the cost, the mechanics, the "essence"—but Ryuk's arm tightened around him, pulling him flush against his chest.

"Light-o," Ryuk murmured. "It's 1:17 AM. Your human body needs to shut down. This isn't me treating you like a child, but you get too honest when you’re sleep deprived. Now, stop thinking. Go to sleep."

Light was ready to argue, to prove his mental fortitude, but the words died in his throat. He didn't bother opening his eyes again, instead letting his cheek press gently into the pillow. "We've probably done this hundreds of times before," Light mumbled. The protective warmth from Ryuk, coupled with the soft weight of the blanket, was too much to fight. His body simply decided it was done. "...Good night, Ryuk."

Chapter Text

Light woke to the pale, pre-dawn light filtering through his window. His mind was clear. He felt… good. Rested. Deeply, profoundly recharged. Then, memory returned in a rush. The Shinigami. The Death Note. The shared bed.

He shot up into a sitting position, his hand instinctively flying to the other side of the bed. The sheets were cool and empty. A quick scan of the room confirmed Ryuk was gone. A strange, hollow feeling bloomed in his chest. He glanced at the clock: 5:03 AM.

Where would a god of death go at this hour? The thought was immediately followed by a wave of self-irritation. Why should he care? The emptiness of the room meant he could think, plan and act without a pair of unsettling golden eyes tracking his every move.

Light swung his legs out of bed.

A shower, then he’d get a head start on his work. He had a list of criminals whose data he’d compiled, just waiting for their names to be written.

As the hot water cascaded over him, his mind drifted back to Ryuk. The feeling of those arms around him, the casual intimacy of it… it was a potent tool. He could use that. He could allow more cuddling. He could let Ryuk play with his hair and whisper those terrifyingly devoted words in his ear.

...and maybe we could read together on the couch, and he could rest his head in my lap while I—

Light shut the water off with a sharp twist. This was getting out of hand. He was strategising, not… fantasising. He dressed with efficiency, pulling on a fresh school uniform as if it were a suit of armour.

Seated at his desk, the Death Note lay open before him like a sacred text. He began to write, his hand steady, but with every stroke, a part of his awareness was tuned to the window, listening for the rustle of dark wings.

He was so engrossed in both his task and his peripheral vigilance that he barely registered the soft sound until it was right there. A shadow blotted out the growing dawn for a second before the window slid open effortlessly. Ryuk flowed into the room, his monstrous form folding in on itself, shrinking and reshaping into the tall, pierced human who had given him flowers.

"Morning, Light-o."

Ryuk was dressed in a charcoal grey hoodie, its material thick and soft, visible beneath a deep indigo denim jacket. The jacket was slightly oversized, giving him a broad-shouldered silhouette. His jeans were a faded, dark grey wash. His hair was styled with the front swept back from his face, leaving strands of dark, almost black hair falling near his temples.

Light refused to look up, focusing intently on the page. "You're back." He kept his tone neutral, disinterested. Ryuk didn't seem to mind. He drifted over to the desk. Light felt a presence behind him, then the gentle, familiar sensation of long fingers combing through his hair, tucking a stray strand behind his ear. A shiver ran down his spine.

"Couldn't let my favourite human start his day on an empty stomach," Ryuk said with smug pride. He then dropped a large paper bag onto the desk, right on top of Light's carefully organised notes.

Light frowned, about to protest the disruption, when the rich, buttery aroma of freshly baked pastries and seasoned eggs hit him. He looked up. Ryuk was also holding a small wicker basket filled with perfect, gleaming red apples.

"I got the apples from a market," Ryuk said, leaning a hip against the desk and crossing his arms. "But the breakfast…" He grinned, all sharp teeth and triumph. "That's from La Réserve, in Paris. Their chef is supposed to be one of the best. Figured only the best for you."

Light stared, his mind short-circuiting. Ryuk had flown to another continent to pilfer breakfast from a five-star restaurant. It was absurd. Extravagant. And, though Light would never say it out loud, it perfectly catered to the refined, expensive taste he secretly harboured.

"This is… unnecessarily complicated," Light stated, even as his hand reached for the bag. The pastry he pulled out was still miraculously warm, flaky and delicate.

"Nothing's complicated when you can fly," Ryuk shrugged, watching him with rapt attention.

Light took a small, deliberate bite. It was, infuriatingly, the most perfect croissant he had ever tasted. He carefully wiped the corner of his mouth. "This is adequate. Thank you." He managed the words without sounding too eager. Ryuk just nodded, reaching into his basket to pull out an apple. He polished the fruit on his denim jacket.

"You enjoy that human food, Light-o. I prefer my prize," Ryuk said, sinking his teeth into the apple with a loud crunch.

Light watched him. "Do Shinigami require food? You said your Realm produced nothing. Is this an absolute necessity for your survival?"

Ryuk took another bite before answering. "No. Survival is boring. I eat them because I want to. They're sweet, crunchy and they remind me of the intensity I found when I came here. My addiction. The only thing I crave.” He looked from the apple to Light. "And they're a symbol, too. The symbol of our perfect partnership, you could say. It feels like this is how it's always been—you with your genius, me with my obsession."

Light felt a twist in his stomach. He forced himself to take a large bite of the croissant, trying to look preoccupied. After a moment, he spoke again. "Why the effort with the clothes? You look... excessively conspicuous. Why is a Death God bothering to dress like that?"

Ryuk smiled, leaning in. "I'm learning, Light. Clothes are a social language. But mostly... since only your eyes have the privilege of seeing me, I must make it worthwhile. I want you to enjoy looking at me. Consider it a private performance of style. If it keeps your focus, it's a necessary investment."

Light felt the heat spread from his collar up his neck. He huffed out a breath. "I suppose it is a better use of your time than standing around in rags." He shoved the rest of the croissant into his mouth in a clear attempt to stop talking.

Ryuk's grin widened. "Good boy. Now, don't eat only croissant." Ryuk placed a small, round quiche with a golden, flaky crust next to Light's notebook. "I also brought their famous miniature chocolate éclair," he announced, pulling a tiny, perfect pastry from a separate box and placing it enticingly close. "And this, their cheese soufflé."

Light stared at the sudden, elaborate spread, which now took up half his workspace. He gingerly pushed the soufflé away. "Thanks, Ryuk. But I am already full. I cannot possibly eat all of this."

"Nonsense," Ryuk countered. "You're too thin, Light-o. You run on coffee. You need to maintain your energy if you want to be God."

"My weight is optimal for my height and metabolism," Light snapped back. "And I don't need cheese soufflé to maintain my ambition." He paused, looking at the clock. "I will take the quiche and the soufflé, and eat them during my lunch break."

Ryuk considered this, then smiled, a wide, easy expression. "Leave them here, then." He gathered the small, round quiche and the soufflé, placing them back into the paper bag. "I'll hold onto them. I'll make sure they arrive perfectly intact for your break."

A muffled clatter from the kitchen below signalled the start of the Yagami family's day.

"It's nearly six-forty-five," Light observed, his energy snapping back instantly. "My mother will be making breakfast." He smoothed down his clean school shirt. "I'll tell her I decided to meet a study partner at a café near the school."

He took a final sweep of the room, making sure his bed's pillows were positioned correctly. He paused at the door. "I need to brush my teeth. Since you're so intent on studying humans, come observe the routine. It might give you some new entertainment."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Light led the way to the bathroom.

Inviting a Shinigami, a God of Death, to observe his oral hygiene routine was arguably the most bizarre thing he had ever done, but the logic was sound. If Ryuk was going to be his constant, invisible companion, he needed to understand the basics of maintaining a human facade.

He flicked on the bathroom light, the bright white tiles and clean lines a stark contrast to the shadowy intimacy of his bedroom. He took his toothbrush and squeezed a precise stripe of toothpaste onto the bristles. Ryuk leaned against the doorframe, watching with open curiosity.

Light opened the medicine cabinet. He pulled out a new toothbrush still sealed in plastic and handed it to Ryuk. "Well?" Light prompted, nodding toward the new brush. "Since you're intent on observing human existence, you might as well participate in the fundamentals. It's the most essential part of morning hygiene."

Ryuk’s nose wrinkled. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, you have to,” Light said. He squeezed toothpaste onto Ryuk’s brush. “If you’re going to be this close, your breath should be acceptable. Furthermore, neglecting oral hygiene leads to plaque build-up, gingivitis, halitosis and eventually, periodontitis, which can cause systemic inflammation and even contribute to heart disease.”

Ryuk stared at the loaded toothbrush as if it were a strange, minty weapon. “Heart disease? From not doing this? Humans are so fragile.”

“Precisely. Now, watch me.” Light demonstrated, making slow, deliberate circles against his teeth. “You need to clean all surfaces. Don’t just scrub the front.”

Ryuk mimicked Light with a sigh of suffering. A bit of foam dripped down his chin. Light rolled his eyes, but found a smile tugging at his lips. He turned to face the mirror, and after a moment, Ryuk shuffled over to stand beside him. There they were, side-by-side, brushing their teeth in perfect, foamy synchrony. Ryuk caught his gaze in the mirror, and his golden eyes crinkled at the corners in a silent, amused smile. Light’s own smile widened around his toothbrush.

It felt… domestic. Normal in a way that nothing in his life ever was.

After they finished rinsing, Light noticed a smudge of toothpaste still clinging to the corner of Ryuk’s mouth.

“Hold still,” Light instructed. He reached up and gently wiped the spot away.

Ryuk remained still. He allowed a slow, knowing smirk to spread across his face as Light's fingers neared. “I knew you couldn't resist touching me, Light-o. It's a very small price for this form.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Light retorted, a faint flush rising to his cheeks. "The wings were far more efficient, and I found your original face less distracting. Stop fishing for compliments." His touch remained gentle. He finished cleaning the spot, his thumb brushing lightly against Ryuk’s lower lip. “There.”

Light slowly lowered his hand. Ryuk remained silent, his golden gaze fixed on Light's face.

"What?" Light asked, confused by the sudden, intense quiet.

"The sensation is strange."

"It's mint," Light explained. "The chemical is called menthol."

Ryuk’s gaze dropped to Light’s mouth. “It’s… a good kind of strange. It makes me wonder about other human sensations.”

“Such as?”

“Such as…” Ryuk leaned in, closing the minimal distance until Light could feel the cool, sterile breath ghost over his lips. His hand came up to cradle Light’s jaw. “The sensation of your lips. I’ve been wondering about that since the moment I saw you.”

Light’s heart was a frantic drum against his ribs, his eyes fluttering closed—

BAM BAM BAM!

“Light! Are you in there? I need to get in! I’m gonna be late!” Sayu’s voice, high-pitched and frantic, pierced through the intimate bubble, followed by urgent rattling of the doorknob.

Light jerked back as if electrocuted, his face flooding with heat. Ryuk let his hand drop slowly.

“I—I’ll be out in a second, Sayu!” Light called. He quickly shoved the towel back onto the rack and smoothed down his shirt, refusing to meet Ryuk’s eyes.

Ryuk let out a slow, dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling in utter exasperation "Seriously? First the mother, now the sister? This specific point in the universe seems ridiculously biased against anything interesting happening. You need to have a serious talk with whoever controls the plot of this existence, Light-o. I was just about to find out if human kisses taste better than apples."

Light shot him a withering glare. He yanked the door open to find a panicked Sayu, already in her school uniform.

“Finally! I'm sorry, Light! I promised Ayumi I’d help her with the class decorations before homeroom!” she exclaimed, brushing past him without a second glance at the seemingly empty space where Ryuk stood.

A soft sigh escaped Light as he stared at the closed bathroom door, the tension slowly seeping from his shoulders. He took a single step down the hall when a gentle hand on his elbow stilled him. Ryuk materialised. He didn't speak, simply leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to Light’s cheek.

"I can be very patient," he murmured. "For you."

Chapter Text

Light’s day at school passed with a surreal sense of calm. However, for the first time since he’d found the Death Note, he didn't feel the gnawing, paranoid anxiety of leaving it unattended at home. His mind now had a guardian. A terrifying, obsessive, and oddly devoted guardian. The simple, unshakable certainty that Ryuk would do anything he asked—would protect the Note, would protect him—allowed a part of him to finally relax. He even found himself genuinely listening to his friends' chatter during lunch, where he enjoyed the remains of the exquisite quiche and soufflé.

("Your mum really went all out, Light!" one of them had exclaimed. Light had simply smiled, a secret, knowing thing. "She has her moments.")

Ryuk had excused himself before afternoon classes, citing boredom with the "mind-numbing drone of quadratic equations." Light had almost smiled. It was fair, his student routine was a necessary mask, but even he found it tedious.

On his way home, he stopped by a market and bought a bag of crisp, red apples. Ryuk had surely devoured the entire basket from that morning.

"I'm home," Light called out as he entered the house.

"Hello, Dear!" his mother's voice floated from the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready soon!"

Light went straight to his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him. He stoppe short. Ryuk was there, lounging on the bed in his human form. But the floor was a sea of white cardboard boxes and black garment bags, all bearing the discreet logos of luxury brands Light only recognised from fashion magazines.

"Hey, Light-o," Ryuk greeted, his grin wide and expectant.

Light blinked, setting his school bag and the apples down. "Hi. What… what are all these?"

"Presents," Ryuk said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He gestured vaguely at the mountain of boxes. "Clothes. Your favourite colours. Your style. Well, my version of your style, but better."

Light's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Why not?" Ryuk countered, swinging his legs off the bed and picking up a flat, large box. "A God deserves a fitting wardrobe, doesn't he? And your old stuff was… functional. Boring. You should look the part even when you're playing the part of Light Yagami, top student." He handed the box to Light. "Go on. Try this one."

Light took the box hesitantly, his fingers tracing the embossed logo. "These are from… where did you even get these? This is all designer."

"Paris," Ryuk said with a casual shrug. "After lunch. I just picked them up."

"You mean you stole them?" Light hissed.

Ryuk looked genuinely offended. "Of course not. I'm not a common thief." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and pulled out a thick, black credit card and a stack of high-denomination bills, along with a few antique gold coins. "I've been around for centuries, Light-o. You think I haven't accumulated wealth? I have accounts, safety deposit boxes… all under aliases, of course. I just… acquired a new card for this identity." He waved the plastic. "It's all perfectly legitimate, from a certain point of view."

Light shook his head, trying to be the voice of reason. "Ryuk, this is excessive. I have enough clothes." He walked over to his wardrobe to prove his point, pulling the doors open, but they were empty, except for his neatly hung school uniforms, every drawer and hanging space was bare. All his casual wear, his jeans, his sweaters—gone.

"Ryuk! What did you do with my clothes?"

In an instant, Ryuk was behind Lights, his long arms wrapping around Light's waist, pulling him back against his chest. "Shhh, calm down," he murmured into Light's ear, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "I donated them. All of them. To several different charities across the city. They're gone to people who actually need 'functional' and 'boring'."

Light struggled for a moment, but the hold was firm yet gentle. "You had no right!"

"I have every right to make sure the most fascinating being in this world isn't dressed like a background character," Ryuk countered. "These new clothes are better. They're softer, they'll fit you perfectly and they'll make you feel as powerful as you are. If you truly, honestly hate them, I will go and get every single one of your old shirts and pants back. I promise."

Light let out a long, defeated sigh, the fight draining out of him. The logic was twisted, but it was undeniably Ryuk. And the promise—the fact that Ryuk would undo it all if he asked—mollified him slightly.

"Fine," he relented. "Let's see what you've chosen that's so much 'better'."

Ryuk's hold loosened. He released Light.

For the next hour, Light found himself playing model. Ryuk had seemingly furnished an entire boutique. He pulled out boxes containing silk-blend t-shirts, impeccably tailored trousers in deep charcoal and cashmere cardigans that felt impossibly soft. Each piece was indeed in Light's preferred palette—navy, charcoal, black and white.

"Try this, my genius."

Light took the odd assortment of clothes. He changed, then hesitantly approached the mirror. A thick, black crewneck sweatshirt adorned with a surprisingly large, sleepy cat print covered his torso. Below, beige shorts fell just above his knees, exposing his pale calves, which were then swallowed by high white socks. He looked utterly preposterous, yet... it worked. The combination softened his sharp features, making him appear startlingly innocent and approachable.

Light watched in the mirror as Ryuk approached, closing the gap until he stood directly behind him. Ryuk reached out, gently brushing the hair back from Light's forehead and letting his fingers linger on Light's temple.

"Look at you, Light-o. So much softer." Ryuk then tilted his head slightly, peering down at the reflection of Light's face, before trailing his hand down, cupping Light's chin with a possessive grip. "This relaxed fit is clever. It hides the monster, but it still shows off the sheer length and lean muscle of your body." Ryuk's voice was a low rumble right next to Light's ear. "You look entirely too sweet to be plotting global domination."

Light registered the sensation of the rough, cool pads of Ryuk's fingers against the sensitive skin of his chin and temple. The proximity was overwhelming. He found himself focusing entirely on the effort of regulating his breathing, ensuring each inhalation was measured and silent.

He deserved this. He deserved the absolute devotion and the exquisite aesthetic of the new wardrobe, which felt like armour made just for his ambition. He recognised the strategic value of reinforcing Ryuk's commitment.

Time to reward the indulgence.

Light pivoted on his heel, turning fully into Ryuk's space. He looked up. His arms rose instinctively and curled loosely around Ryuk's neck. "I will accept this wardrobe. It is... suitable. Thank you." He allowed a small, genuinely radiant smile to touch his lips—the kind that usually only appeared when a complex plan succeeded.

Light held the position, basking in the warmth of his victory, completely unaware that the genuine, profound surge of contentment and physical excitement he felt was entirely his own.

Ryuk’s grin was a brilliant, unguarded thing. “You like them? Really?”

“I do,” Light said. “It’s more than okay. I’ll keep them all.”

A low, pleased rumble echoed in Ryuk’s chest. He pulled Light flush against him, one hand splaying possessively against the small of his back. “Good. Because I got you the cashmere scarf for when it’s cold, and the leather gloves to match my jacket, and about a dozen more shirts in different colours so I can see which one makes your eyes look sharpest…”

He listed the items in a low murmur, his other hand coming up to gently card through the hair at the nape of Light’s neck. The touch was electric, soothing and thrilling all at once. Light melted.

“Ryuk,” Light breathed, tilting his head back. “I have about fifteen minutes before dinner.”

The Shinigami’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to Light’s lips. “Fifteen minutes,” he repeated. “That’s more than enough time.”

Light’s smile was a slow, confident curve. “It is.”

And with his arms still looped around Ryuk’s neck, he used his leverage to pull him down the final few inches, closing the distance himself. The kiss was soft, a sweet, searching press of lips that tasted of promise and felt like a beginning.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

A strange, nagging itch had been buzzing at the back of Ryuk’s mind all evening. It was probably nothing. It was definitely nothing compared to the warm, solid weight of Light settled between his legs, leaning back against his chest.

In his Shinigami form, Ryuk could fully envelop the human, his larger frame a living armchair. He rested his chin on top of Light’s head, watching the elegant, deadly script flow from his pen. Each name was a death sentence, and the boy wrote them with the focused grace of an artist.

"We should take a trip," Ryuk said. "Just you with me. And my credit is unlimited, in case you were worried."

Ryuk felt the subtle shift in Light’s posture, a minute relaxation. Light slowly lowered his pen and tilted his head back, looking up at the Shinigami. A small, pleased smile played on his lips. "You want to take me on a date?"

Ryuk chuckled. "Yes. That is exactly what this is, Light-o. Except it's better than a date, it's an acquisition of your time for my exclusive enjoyment."

Light’s thin eyebrows rose. "I don't see why not."

"Good," Ryuk promised.

Light settled back down, keeping his smile. "Arrange it."

The simple command sent a thrill of delight through Ryuk that was sweeter than any apple. This was better than he’d ever dreamed. This was…

The nagging itch returned. Ryuk dismissed it. Whatever it was, it belonged to a different story, a sadder one. This timeline was better.

Light hummed a quiet tune as he finished the block of names. He stretched languidly, rolling his shoulders to relieve the minor tension. He casually flicked the Death Note shut and set it beside his pillow. "That's enough for tonight," he announced, already pushing off the bed. "I should probably see how the public is reacting now that I've been so busy."

He walked straight to his computer and flicked it on.

"Ryuk, come look at this," he said, a note of genuine excitement in his voice.

Ryuk complied, the world shifting as he took on the familiar, comfortable shape. He leaned over the desk, his hands resting on Light’s shoulders as the boy navigated to a rudimentary fan site.

"The Legend of Kira the Saviour." Light leaned forward in his chair, basking in the screen's glow. His nose wrinkled slightly.

“Why the face, Light-o?"

Light sighed, letting his head fall back slightly to meet Ryuk's gaze. "The name," he explained. "I had hoped they would choose something more sophisticated. Kira. It's so pedestrian, so obvious. But it stuck. I suppose it conveys what I am."

Ryuk smiled. He lowered his head and pressed a quick, firm kiss to the top of Light's hair. "You worry too much. They could call you 'Fluffy Bunny,' and you'd still be the most terrifying thing in existence. You're the most beautiful, dangerous thing I've ever seen."

Ryuk observed the faint, tell-tale flush that immediately rose on Light's neck, a reaction Light desperately tried to suppress by staring fiercely at the monitor. “…I suppose I can overlook the simplicity.” And that’s when Ryuk saw it. A smaller, linked news article on the side of the screen.

Detective L Condemns Kira in Shocking Broadcast.

Oh.

That’s what I forgot.

A cold knot tightened in Ryuk’s gut. He’d been so wrapped up in soft sweaters and softer kisses that he’d let the single most pivotal event of the original timeline pass them by. He watched, frozen, as Light’s excitement curdled into confusion. The boy quickly clicked the link, his eyes scanning the detailed transcript of the global feed.

"I'm Lind L. Tailor, more commonly known as 'L'," Light read aloud. "'Kira,' Tailor continued, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of why you’re doing this. But what you are doing…is evil!'" Light slammed a hand on the desk. "Evil!?" he spat, turning his furious gaze up toward Ryuk, his breathing ragged. "He dared to accuse me of evil to the entire world! I could have ended his pathetic, irrelevant life live on television! It would have been the perfect, undeniable proof of my authority!"

Ryuk chuckled. He reached out and gently combed his long fingers through Light's hair. "Light-o," he began, his voice soft, almost soothing. "Think about it. The famous, secretive L... would he really reveal himself so easily? On live television? To directly challenge and provoke you?" Ryuk then tilted Light's head forward slightly, forcing the boy to lean into his chest. "You're too smart to fall for something that simple, my beautiful monster. You didn't miss a thing. You successfully dodged a ridiculous bait-and-switch."

Light remained locked in the gentle restraint of Ryuk's arms, his breathing gradually slowing, but his eyes never leaving the screen. He read the final summary of L's challenge. "Lind L. Tailor stated that Kira’s actions are an affront to judicial stability and promised to personally oversee Kira's apprehension.'"

Light's earlier fury turned cold. He ripped himself out of Ryuk's arms, pushing the Shinigami back an inch. He spun toward the bed, grabbing the black notebook in one swift motion. "He dared to call my efforts 'instability'! He treats my new world like a petty crime! He believes he can apprehend me? I need to remind the entire world who holds the power!" He reached for a pen. “Lind L. Tailor. I’ll write his name right now. It’s not too late to make a point.”

A strange, hollow feeling opened up inside Ryuk. A disappointment that their perfect, insulated bubble had been popped so easily. A frustration that despite all his efforts, the game was pulling Light back in, and this version of Light—his Light, who wore cat sweatshirts and planned dates—was still willing to walk right into the same snare.

He forced his trademark grin onto his face, a mask of amused detachment. “Do what you gotta do,” he said, the words tasting like ash.

Light barely glanced at him. “I apologise, Ryuk, I need to be alone to think for a while.”

“Sure.” Ryuk’s voice was light. He leaned down and rested his forehead against the back of Light's head for a brief, heavy second. He then straightened before stepping back. The warmth of the contact faded instantly.

A dark ripple washed over Ryuk’s human form. He shifted back into the towering Shinigami. The strange, upsetting feeling coiled tighter in his chest—a feeling he didn't have a name for and didn't want to examine. He turned and effortlessly slipped through the closed window, his massive black wings briefly visible as he cut through the open air and disappeared.

Chapter Text

The silence in the room was a physical weight. Hours had bled into midnight. Light hated how much he liked the expensive pyjamas that Ryuk had acquired. The light navy pyjamas smelled faintly of apples and money. They were comfortable, but the price he'd researched was astronomical. Did this simple lounge set contain gold thread, or was Ryuk just obscenely careless with his wealth?

Light sighed and scooted up against the headboard. His eyes kept drifting to the empty window pane. He wasn't watching for the silhouette of giant wings. He was simply checking if the clouds had cleared for the morning. 

He needed sleep. Time to go to bed.

Lind L. Tailor was very much alive, having been used as bait by the real L. The broadcast hadn't been global. It was a meticulously staged trap, released region by region to pinpoint Kira’s location. The inconsistencies in the timestamps were there, clear as day, for anyone who knew to look. Ryuk's offhand comment had saved Light from a catastrophic error, and the man Lind L. Tailor had survived his fifteen minutes of fame.

Light felt a hot wave of humiliation wash over him. He, Light Yagami, had almost been outsmarted. No, he had been outsmarted. He’d been so blinded by his own rage, so sure of his godhood, that he’d nearly written his own death warrant.

Light slid under the covers, pulling them tight around himself. The bed felt too big, the room too cold. It was... warmer last night.

Shut up.

Light’s cheeks felt suddenly hot. He’d slept with Ryuk once. Yesterday. Why did the memory of that solid warmth feel so significant now? Why did the emptiness feel so… empty? He scowled into the darkness. Ryuk was probably off in some orchard on the other side of the world, gorging himself on apples, because for a Death God, the whole planet was just a convenient convenience store.

Light curled into a tight position beneath the heavy comforter, trying to generate the necessary warmth on his own. He wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them up close to his chest, but the bed remained stubbornly cold and empty.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, the mattress dipped with a new, familiar weight. Light went rigid before his body recognized the presence and relaxed all on its own. An arm slid around his waist, pulling him back against a solid, cool chest. Leather and the faint, ozone-like scent of the Shinigami Realm filled his senses.

He turned in the embrace. Ryuk was there, in his human form, grinning down at him without a care in the world. "Oops. Did I wake you?"

"It's okay. You've been gone for hours. Did you even eat anything while you were out?" Light mumbled, his voice muffled against Ryuk's chest. "Don't tell me you went all that time without finding anything decent."

"Relax, I took care of my own needs. Apples don't buy themselves," Ryuk said cheerfully, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Light's back. "And the ones in France are particularly snobby this time of year. Had to see for myself."

Light took a slow breath. This was harder than facing L.

"Ryuk," he started, his gaze fixed on the collar of Ryuk's jacket. "I…" He forced the words out. "You were right. It was a trap. Lind L. Tailor wasn't the real L. I… didn't write his name down."

Ryuk’s hand stilled for a moment, then resumed its soothing motion. "Huh. Okay."

Light blinked. "Just... 'huh, okay'?" He finally dared to look up, expecting to see amusement at his expense, but Ryuk's expression was merely... attentive.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Ryuk shrugged. "I'm not on his side. Or yours, technically. I'm on the side of 'whatever Light does next.' It's all fun to me."

A faint blush warmed Light's cheeks. "Even when I'm being an arrogant fool?" he murmured, the admission feeling strangely like a confession. "That's still fun for you?"

Ryuk’s grin softened. "Light-o, every side of you is fascinating. The god, the strategist, the brat… I like it all. I left because you said you wanted to be alone. That's all."

The simple honesty of it undid him. Light let his head fall forward, his forehead resting against Ryuk's shoulder. The words were a muffled whisper into the denim. "...I didn't want you to leave."

Ryuk went very still. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Light said quickly, pulling back, a flush on his cheeks. He scrambled for a change of subject, for solid ground. "This weekend. Our… date. How about Spaceland?"

"Sure. Sounds fun."

"Good," Light said. Then, a comfortable silence fell over them.

Just as Light’s eyes were drifting shut, Ryuk’s lips ghosted over his ear. "My treat. I'll rent out the entire park. You can have whatever ride you want, all to yourself. No waiting."

Light’s eyes snapped open. He blinked, processing. "I must be more tired than I thought. It sounded like you said you'd rent out the whole park."

Ryuk smiled, leaning in to brush his lips lightly against the curve of Light's jaw. "I did say that, darling. When you are as rich as I am, logistics are just a polite way of saying 'I paid enough.' You are my greatest obsession. Why would I ever subject you to inconvenience?"

Light found himself smiling slightly at the confirmation of his power over the Shinigami. He pulled back just enough to create space between them. "I appreciate the offer, but no. We are not doing that. We are going to be two regular people on a regular date."

"Such a demanding little thing." Ryuk smiled and gently ran his knuckles along Light's cheekbone. The warmth was infectious, and Light couldn't stop the wide, genuine grin that broke across his face in response. Ryuk's lips found his then, a slow, deep press. Light kissed back, letting the heat of the contact banish the remaining coldness of the room.

Before Light completely lost his train of thought, he was the first to break the kiss, pulling back with a soft, panting breath. "Okay, that's enough—" he started, but Ryuk just hummed, chasing his lips again in a series of softer, quicker kisses that made it impossible to form a coherent thought.

Light managed to turn his head away with a breathless laugh. "Ryuk, seriously—" His protest was cut short as Ryuk's mouth found the sensitive spot just below his jaw, making him gasp. His hands came up to frame Ryuk's face, a feeble attempt to push him back that turned into simply holding on. A moan escaped Light when Ryuk's tongue swept into his mouth. The sound seemed to snap something in Light.

This is getting out of hand.

Light broke the kiss and mustered his resolve, pinching the soft skin of Ryuk's side as Ryuk's hands started to wander lower down his back.

"Hey!" Ryuk yelped. He rubbed the spot dramatically. "That's no way to treat your favourite Shinigami."

"You're my only Shinigami," Light grumbled, snuggling deeper under the covers. "You're impossible, Ryuk. Yesterday it was all 'you need your rest, Light-o,' and now you're trying to sabotage it. Make up your mind."

"You're absolutely right," Ryuk murmured, his smile softening. He leaned forward and gently rested his forehead against Light's. "My apologies. I get distracted by you." He pulled back just enough to press a feather-light kiss to the tip of Light's nose. "Now sleep. I'll be right here."

A warmth that had nothing to do with embarrassment bloomed in Light’s chest, spreading outwards until it tingled at his fingertips. The gentle press of Ryuk’s forehead against his and the soft kiss on his nose—it was all a terrifying sense of rightness, as if a piece of him he never knew was missing had just clicked into place. This was dangerous. This was a vulnerability he couldn't afford. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to pull away.

“You’d better be,” Light mumbled. He shifted closer, burying his face against Ryuk’s chest. An arm wrapped around him, pulling him flush, and Light went willingly, tangling their legs together under the blankets.

L is out there. He’s searching. But the thought felt distant, unimportant, like a faint noise from another room. The detective was a ghost, a phantom problem for another day. For tonight, it didn't matter. The world, with all its games and challenges, could wait.

Let tomorrow come.

Chapter Text

Sayu Yagami had a theory.

It wasn't about a math problem or a history essay. It was about her brother, and it was, frankly, the most fascinating puzzle she'd ever encountered.

Light had always been… well, Light. Perfect, handsome, brilliant and kind in a slightly distant, "I'm-on-a-higher-plane-of-existence" way. He could probably ace any exam without studying, solve world hunger with a spreadsheet, finish an entire box of cookies and still maintain his perfect physique, bench-press their father while giving a thoughtful interview on international law and learn to speak Martian in an afternoon. He was the best big brother, but he was also a statue on a pedestal.

Lately, however, the statue was… glowing.

It started subtly.

The sharp, focused intensity in his eyes would sometimes soften into a distant, private smile for no reason at all. He was more present at the dinner table, actually listening to her chatter about school instead of just nodding along while clearly solving complex equations in his head. He even laughed more. It was a genuine, relaxed sound that was becoming familiar.

Then came the style evolution. Light’s wardrobe had always been a study in neat, conservative perfection. Just yesterday, Light had walked in the door after being out, and Sayu had frozen mid-sentence. He was wearing an olive-drab jacket with a high turtleneck underneath and wide, flowing white trousers. The whole look was so cool and effortless—she couldn't believe her boring, perfect brother looked like he belonged on a Tokyo street-style blog. And Sayu knew those brands. It was all ridiculously high-end.

Three days ago, on a Tuesday, was the first time Sayu saw him dress like that. It was past 7 PM, and he'd claimed he was heading to his usual late-night cram school session, but the bright, almost giddy look in his eyes wasn't the look of someone anticipating advanced calculus.

Sayu blinked, bringing herself back to the here and now.

A soft smile played on her lips as she mentally checked off everything she noticed. There were the unexplained, happy smiles that seemed to light up Light’s face. He also felt more relaxed and sociable, chatting easily with everyone. His style had seen a drastic improvement, more confident and unique than ever before.

Her mental detective work was interrupted by a sudden realisation. Math homework.

She hauled herself off the couch with a groan and trudged upstairs to Light’s room. She raised her hand to open the door, only to find it firmly locked. That was new. He only locked it when he was changing or… really, really didn’t want to be disturbed. She knocked softly. "Light? Are you in there?"

There was a faint, hurried rustle from within, followed by footsteps. The lock clicked, and the door swung open to reveal her brother. And once again, he was dressed like he’d just stepped out of a magazine. He stood there in a dark olive hoodie that looked impossibly soft, layered over a perfectly clean white shirt. The fabric of the hoodie looked rich and substantial, complementing the deep navy colour of his jeans.

"Sayu? What is it?" he asked.

Sayu’s eyes darted past him, trying to snatch clues from the room, but his body blocked most of the view. "I, uh… I need help with my math homework," she said, craning her neck. "The quadratic formulas are being stupid."

Light sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "Fine, come in."

He stepped aside, and Sayu entered, her eyes scanning like a hawk. The room was neat as always, but then her gaze landed on his desk. A tall, clear vase of outrageously bright flowers sat right next to his desk lamp. The arrangement was unlike anything Sayu's mother would buy: fierce Birds of Paradise, purple Snapdragons and spikes of deep blue Delphiniums. They were too architectural, too intense and completely out of place in Light's minimalist room. It was deeply suspicious.

"Those flowers are pretty!" she said. "And what is that? It's huge!"

On Light’s bed, resting against the headboard, was an enormous, almost blindingly white plushie. It looked like a giant, fluffy ball of snow that had been given a face—a shy, pale snout peering out from behind long, unkempt tendrils of fur, with small, piercing blue eyes.

Light followed her gaze, and his expression softened in a way she rarely saw. "Oh, that," he said. "It's a yeti. A gift from my boyfriend. We went to Spaceland yesterday—he won it for me. The flowers are from him, too."

The words washed over Sayu without fully registering. Oh. Right. She distinctly remembered Light standing in the entryway yesterday. He was wearing a long, flowing dark coat worn over a pale cream hoodie, paired with sleek black trousers and polished dress shoes. He looked more like a minimalist fashion blogger. He’d waved her off, saying he was meeting "a friend" at Spaceland.

"That's so cool! I've been wanting to go! Maybe I can go with Ayumi next time…" Sayu babbled, already putting her textbook on Light’s desk. "Okay, so this problem here, I don't get the factoring part at all…"

Light sat beside her, pulling the textbook closer. "You just need to find the factors that multiply to 'c' and add to 'b'," he began, his explanation clear and patient. He was halfway through the last problem when the delayed bomb in Sayu’s brain finally detonated.

Boyfriend.

Sayu shot to her feet. "Boyfriend?!" she shrieked, whirling to face him. "You said boyfriend! Not 'a boy who is a friend'! Boyfriend!"

Light looked genuinely startled. "Sayu, what—"

"You got a boyfriend?!" The questions exploded out of her in a torrent, her voice swinging from panic to sheer, unadulterated excitement. "When? How? Who is he? Is he in your class? Is he tall? Oh my god, my big brother has a boyfriend! And he's romantic! He gives you a giant yeti plushie and flowers!"

"Sayu, calm down.” Light gently placed his hands on her shoulders, but his grip was just a fraction too firm, a sign of his internal panic. Sayu felt a wave of gleeful certainty wash over her. This is the most genuinely human I’ve seen him act in years, all because of this boyfriend!

"Is he a secret? Are you hiding him from us? Tell me his name right now!"

Light let his hands slide from her shoulders, then used one to rub the back of his neck. His eyes, which usually held such cold certainty, were warm and a little bright. Sayu watched his gaze flicker to the absurdly fluffy yeti on the bed. "He's not a secret, no. It's... recent. I wanted to wait until things were settled before mentioning it to anyone, especially Mum and Dad."

Sayu bounced. "You can't just drop this and expect me to be quiet! You still haven't told me his name! Where did you even meet someone who gives you giant fluffy yetis?" She pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture.

Light sighed, a small, genuine puff of air. "I'm not telling you his name today, Sayu. But..." He paused, hesitating just long enough to make Sayu lean in. "We're planning to go out for a meal next week. I'll take you with me. You can meet him then. Will that satisfy you?"

She leapt forward and hugged him. "You're the best! I promise to be cool. Now, tell me the plan! Which day? And what kind of restaurant? Are you taking me somewhere that serves giant milkshakes? I have to prepare my social calendar and my outfit!"

Light gave her a long, level look, clearly regaining his control. "It will be Saturday, dinner time. And the restaurant is a modern fusion place." He paused, his expression turning oddly blank. "He specifically chose it because the chef is known for ending every tasting menu with a single, unpeeled apple served on a velvet cushion. It’s their signature finish."

Sayu’s jaw dropped. "An expensive restaurant where the best dessert is... raw fruit?"

Light shrugged. "It's not just 'raw fruit,' Sayu. It's a specific Fuji, perfectly sourced." A slight, almost private smile touched his lips. "He has very particular tastes, but that's part of his charm, and I find that refreshing." He offered a tender pat. "Just worry about your attire. It's an upscale establishment."

The absurdity of the apple-on-velvet detail finally unlocked the hidden premise for Sayu. Her eyes widened. Expensive restaurant. High-end fusion. Fuji apples on a velvet cushion. And those discreet, frighteningly expensive clothes Light had been wearing lately. Then, she mentally audited the watch on his wrist—a model she'd only ever seen in a magazine spread about collectors, not consumers.

Light’s boyfriend wasn't just a rich guy, but an ultra-rich guy!

Her face adopted a look of intense, internal calculation. "Light," she said, her voice dropping. "Is he older than you? And... is his apartment in an area with a doorman?"

The private smile on Light's face confirmed her worst, most thrilling suspicion. He looked away briefly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks, then tucked his hands into his pockets with a gentle, bemused expression. "Yes, he's a bit older. He has a lot of experience," he replied simply, without elaborating on the age. "He's a self-employed venture capitalist who focuses on supporting unusual, high-risk ventures—which is why he has such strange preferences." Light pointed vaguely toward the window. "His apartment is a penthouse, actually, and yes, it has security. It's necessary for his line of work."

Sayu processed the words.

Venture capitalist. Penthouse. High-risk. It sounded like a financial shark. Light’s boyfriend was too much, too rich, too something for her earnest, brilliant brother. She had to be his defence. "Got it," she said with forced calm, nodding firmly. "So, he's like an entrepreneur. Does he, uh, have any weird health problems I should know about? Just in case."

"I assure you, he's physically fine."

"Okay, then, what about... what kind of boundaries have you set? I mean, have you even kissed him yet? Does he expect you to keep things secret? Because that’s usually a red flag. And, uh, are you planning to have protected sex? I don’t want you catching anything."

Light made a small, choked sound, and his usual air of cool detachment shattered like glass. "Sayu! That is obscene! What is wrong with you?" He took a breath. "Everything is under control! We are not having any 'issues,’ and we are handling it responsibly.”

Sayu tilted her head. "So... you've already done that stuff?"

Light's face turned a shade of red that clashed violently with his room's neutral tones. "No, we have not! But that is beside the point, and it is none of your business!" He grabbed her textbook off the desk. "The help session is over, and your inquisitive phase is officially finished!” He gently, but firmly, ushered her toward the door. “You will not mention this to anyone—especially our parents—until I'm ready. Got it?"

Sayu nodded vigorously, already out in the hall. "My lips are sealed! Seriously, thank you for being honest with me, Light. And I'm really sorry if I embarrassed you. I just needed to know you were being careful."

Light let out a slow exhale. "I know, Sayu. But save the melodrama for your friends. Go study."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The door clicked shut. For a moment, Light just stood there, his back against the wood, listening to Sayu’s retreating footsteps. The silence that descended was profound, broken only by the low, rattling chuckle that emanated from the corner of his room.

His head snapped toward it. "You."

Ryuk, who had been invisible to Sayu the entire time, unfurled his lanky form from where he’d been perched on the bookshelf, his wide, red-eyed grin a beacon of amusement. "Heh heh heh... 'Are you planning to have protected sex?' Priceless! The look on your face, Light! I thought you were going to spontaneously combust!"

Light’s cheeks, which had only just begun to cool, flared with heat again. "Not a word," he hissed, striding toward his desk. The mortification was a live wire under his skin. Of all the conversations to have an audience for...

"You know, for a little human, she's got a sharp mind," Ryuk mused, gliding through the air to hover near him. "Thinks I'm some rich, creepy old man trying to corrupt her pure, genius brother. Heh heh... she's not entirely wrong, I suppose."

"Be quiet," Light ordered. He needed to shove this messy, emotional outburst back into a box. The memory of Sayu’s protective, panicked questioning was infuriating, and yet... a small, traitorous part of him felt a strange warmth. No one had ever been so fiercely, naively concerned for him.

His glare intensified, focusing on Ryuk. This was his fault, too. "And while we're on the topic of things I should have been told," he began, his tone dangerously calm. "Care to explain why, when Sayu almost barged in here earlier, you suddenly remembered to inform me that any human who touches the Death Note can see its Shinigami?"

Ryuk had the decency to look slightly abashed, scratching the back of his neck. "Ah, yeah... that. Must have slipped my mind. It's not exactly a common occurrence, you know."

"Slipped your mind?" Light repeated. "That is a rather significant detail to 'slip your mind,' Ryuk. What if she had touched it? What if my mother had while cleaning?"

Ryuk chuckled. He leaned in close to Light, resting his heavy chin on Light's shoulder with a surprising gentleness. "Heh... would have been interesting." He gave a breathy laugh near Light's ear. "Come on, Light. I only neglect the things that bore me. You and your notebook? You're always the exception."

Light's shoulder stiffened instantly, and he shoved Ryuk away with a low grunt of disapproval. "Your affection doesn't negate your negligence," he hissed. "Beside, if Sayu had touched it, she would have seen you. And then I'd have to explain why I'm dating a monster who thinks an unpeeled apple is the height of culinary achievement.” He pointed a finger at the fluffy white yeti plushie, as Ryuk had christened it after winning it yesterday. "From now on, the notebook stays inside Fuyu. It will be out of sight and, more importantly, out of touch." Light turned to his desk, quickly unlocking the top drawer and extracting the black notebook before handing it to Ryuk with a curt gesture. “Now.”

"Alright, alright," Ryuk conceded, his wings giving a lazy flap. "You're the boss." He took the Death Note, holding it loosely, and began to phase his arm directly into the giant plushie's dense white fur. “You know, most humans just hide it under the floorboards. This is... new.”

Light sighed, his gaze flickering from the plushie to his desk drawer. "It was going to go into the false bottom I constructed in my desk drawer, secured by a custom lock and a small triggering mechanism. But Fuyu is better. It makes me feel safer. It's out in the open, yet nobody would ever suspect that a giant, fluffy guardian is holding the key to the new world."

As the black cover sank into Fuyu, Ryuk's eyes flashed red, and he gave a sudden, surprised jerk. He pulled his hand back out, leaving the notebook inside. He stared at Light. "Hold on. I'm seeing names dated into the New Year... and the year after that! You've filled pages! That's nearly eighteen months of work in advance!"

A small, proud smirk played on Light's lips. "Of course, it's in advance. I'm not a fool, Ryuk. I use the periods of least resistance to systematically purge the globally recognised threats." He lifted his chin slightly, a genuine warmth entering his eyes as he looked at Ryuk.

Ryuk sighed. "You know, this over-achieving streak of yours is getting out of hand. I've seen humans get obsessed, but you're treating mass judgment like a term paper you need to finish before a holiday. What's the big hurry?" He leaned in, his gaze locked on Light's mouth before running the back of his clawed hand slowly down the side of Light's neck. "Trying to free up your calendar for someone special?"

Light instantly stiffened, a flicker of heat rising in his cheeks. He slapped his hand over Ryuk's cold fingers and shoved them down and away with a low hiss. "Don't be crass!” He stood up sharply, placing his hands on his hips. "For that lapse in judgment, you are confined to a single apple a day for the next forty-eight hours. Consider it a timeout." He then walked over to his bed, deliberately ignoring Ryuk as he picked up the large, white yeti plushie and carried it to his study area.

Light sat at his desk, pulling the giant plushie close to his chest and letting one arm wrap around its plush body. He turned his back on the Shinigami, the silent treatment being the most effective punishment he could currently administer. He picked up a pen and staring blankly at his calculus text.

For a few minutes, the scratch of his pen was the only sound. Light was determined to stay angry. Ryuk had jeopardised his secrecy and then had the audacity to laugh at his humiliation.

Then, a cold, leathery wingtip gently poked his shoulder.

He ignored it.

A moment later, a massive, grotesque head lowered itself into his peripheral vision, upside down. Ryuk was hanging from the ceiling, his yellow eyes wide in an exaggerated attempt at innocence. "Still mad?"

Light pointedly looked at his textbook.

"Heh. Fine." Ryuk dropped to the floor with a soft thud. "How about a peace offering? A useful piece of information I haven't forgotten to tell you."

Light didn't look up, but he stopped writing.

"There's something called the Shinigami Eyes," Ryuk said. He moved closer, and a long, clawed hand came to rest lightly on Light's shoulder, the touch surprisingly gentle. "A human can make a deal with me, trade half their remaining life and they'll be able to see the names and lifespans of every human they look at."

Now, Light turned his head, his interest genuinely piqued. "The name and lifespan...?"

"Yeah. But," Ryuk added, leaning in until his face was close to Light's. "Here's the part you'll like. A human who makes the deal will not see the lifespan of any other human who is using the Death Note. Their lifespan becomes... unreadable."

Light's anger evaporated. He took a deep breath, burying his nose briefly in the yeti plushie's clean, soft scent before lifting his head. A smile touched his lips. "Is that so?"

Ryuk, seeing the change in demeanour, took it as an invitation. He slunk around and wrapped his long arms around Light from behind, his chin resting on top of Light's head. “I can't just give you the Eyes. Rules are rules, even for you. But look, if you need better reconnaissance, I can simply buy you your own private satellite. Or we can fly over the city together every night. That's better than half your life, right?"

Light leaned back slightly into the cool, solid presence, his own hand coming up to rest on Ryuk's arm. "No deal on the Eyes, obviously. That trade is too dumb." He tilted his head back, looking up at Ryuk. His fingers traced the texture of Ryuk's leather-like arm, his tone thoughtful. "I'll accept the flights as an alternative to the Eyes."

Ryuk grinned. He dipped his face, letting his cold lips brush lightly against Light's forehead. "Does that mean your teen angst is over? Am I forgiven for my total brain fart?"

Light's tension visibly eased. He tightened the arm he had wrapped around the giant plushie as he allowed Ryuk to nuzzle his head. "For now," he said, his voice soft, but firm. "But from now on, you tell me everything. Immediately. No more surprises."

Ryuk let out a low, humming purr of pure contentment. He began to gently card his long, clawed fingers through Light's soft brown hair. "Heh heh heh... no promises, Light," he whispered. "But I'll try." He pressed another soft, cold kiss to the crown of Light's head. "For you.”

Chapter Text

Special Agent Raye Penber had seen the files.

He’d studied the briefings. He knew the gravity of the Kira case. The world’s greatest detective, L, believed a single individual in Japan’s Kanto region was responsible for the inexplicable heart-attack deaths of hundreds of criminals. It was a terrifying, unprecedented threat, and L’s suspicion had fallen on the very heart of the investigation—the Japanese police.

That’s why Raye and eleven other FBI agents were now in Tokyo, tasked with a secret mission, to shadow the members of the Kira Task Force and their immediate families to find the source of the leak. Raye’s assignment was Soichiro Yagami, the Chief of the NPA and head of the Task Force. And that meant surveilling his son, Light Yagami.

Raye had expected... well, a pretty typical student, maybe a little stressed. His briefing file showed Light Yagami was a top academic—the kind of teen who was probably overly focused on school, maybe a bit awkward or socially withdrawn due to intense studying.

Instead, Light Yagami was the opposite.

For days, Raye had trailed him, and the profile that emerged was baffling. The boy’s life was a study in pristine, almost tedious, normality. He woke early for a run. He attended school, where he was clearly popular and respected. He went to cram school in the evenings. His style was conspicuously, expensively fashionable—tailored trousers, cashmere sweaters, a leather jacket that cost more than Raye’s monthly rent. He was even stopped on the street a few times by modelling scouts, which he always declined with a polite, charming smile.

On a few afternoons, Light had met with a group of female classmates to browse high-end cosmetic stores. Raye, from a discreet distance, had watched the boy seriously consider sheet masks and moisturizers, offering his friends thoughtful opinions. At home, through the long-range lens, Raye had seen him studying diligently, but also laughing with his younger sister, and—most bizarrely—often hugging a giant, fluffy white plush yeti while reading on his bed.

Raye had included it all in his reports to L.

⟪ Subject displays high sociability, refined taste and no visible signs of stress or paranoia. Engages in atypical, but benign activities, including cosmetics shopping with female peers and possessing a large stuffed yeti. However, financial anomaly is detected in wardrobe. Subject's outerwear is notably expensive, including a recent Brunello Cucinelli cashmere blend coat and Saint Laurent leather jacket. Estimate cost of daily attire often exceeds two thousand dollars. This level of spending is highly suspicious and inconsistent with the stated income of a civil servant's family, even a Chief of Police. No evidence of suspicious behaviour. ⟫

It was the most perplexing surveillance of Raye’s career.

He didn't suspect the boy of anything criminal. The subject was exactly what he appeared to be. A brilliant, handsome and somewhat quirky teenager who was likely unaware of the danger involved in accepting such lavish expenditures from an unseen source. Raye filed a mental note, separate from the Kira report, that the boy needed to be discreetly checked on, he was too young and too appealing to be accepting such extravagant gifts innocently.

Saturday, 15^th December 2003, arrived.

The day was quiet. Through his binoculars, Raye saw Light reading in his room, the giant yeti plush serving as a backrest. The normalcy was grating. He was about to call it an early day when, at 5 PM sharp, a sleek black taxi pulled up to the Yagami residence.

Out of the house stepped Light Yagami, looking sharp in his designer coat, followed by his excited younger sister, Sayu Yagami. The two teenagers shared a quick, customary goodbye with their mother, promising not to be back too late. As they walked toward the taxi, Sayu was practically vibrating with energy. "Are you sure he won't be mad that I came along? The Golden Fuji is such a fancy place!"

Raye instantly noted the restaurant name, Golden Fuji, a high-end French-Japanese fusion place.

He now had a time, a place and a clear reason for the designer clothes.

… …

The date was 9^th December 2003.

Outside, the daylight hours were noticeably short.

If someone had told Ryuk a century ago that he’d be sitting on a human’s bed in a human form, with a damp, cooling sheet mask residue soaking into his skin, and the self-proclaimed God of the New World straddling his lap, he would have laughed himself sick.

It had all started a few hours earlier, leading him to this moment.

Boredom, that ancient and familiar companion, had driven Ryuk to do something he’d never done before: actively gather intel. He’d phased through the walls of the NPA headquarters, a silent, invisible spectator to a meeting led by a tired-looking man who strongly resembled a less-perfected version of Light—his father, the Chief.

On a small screen was the single, stark, black letter 'L' set against a white background. His plan with the broadcaster, Lind L. Tailor, had yielded nothing, he explained in his flat monotone. However, by analysing the data and pattern of the first victims, he had formed a hypothesis. Kira was likely in Japan, specifically the Kanto region. Therefore, a dedicated task force was being formed. Furthermore, L instructed them to investigate how the initial victims were reported in the Japanese media, specifically requesting to know if any news outlets had included photographs or footage clearly showing the faces of the criminals who later died.

Ryuk had listened, his interest piqued. This was a juicy development, and it wasn't helping Light. It was just… sharing a particularly entertaining piece of gossip. It wasn't like this information changed anything because Light had already written names for the next two years and had no intention of acting on this. It was purely for their mutual amusement. So, he’d flown back to Light’s room, finding the boy studying at his desk.

“Light-o, you’ll never guess what I overheard,” Ryuk began, and proceeded to relay the entire meeting.

Light had listened, a slow, intrigued smile spreading across his face. “Is that so? How interesting. Thank you for sharing, Ryuk. That’s actually very useful information.”

“It’s not useful at all since you’re not doing anything,” Ryuk corrected quickly, pointing a claw at him. “I’m just telling you for fun. It’s a good story.”

“Of course,” Light said, his eyes twinkling with a knowing light that made Ryuk’s non-existent heart skip a beat. “For fun. And for such a fun story, you deserve a reward.”

Ryuk’s mind, for a glorious second, conjured images of a certain red delicious apple, or perhaps something... more. Something involving the delicious sight of Light's flushed face buried somewhere against Ryuk’s neck, the sound of Light’s shirt hitting the carpet, the feel of those perfect, soft human hands raking across his back and the high-pitched, breathless pleas he knew Light was capable of.

Yes, this is definitely the reward I've been waiting for. It's time to cash in.

However, instead of anything Ryuk hoped for, Light rummaged in his desk drawer and pulled out a flat, crinkly package. He handed it to Ryuk. The Shinigami took it, turning it over in his claws.

“What… is this?”

“It’s a face mask! For skincare,” Light explained, suddenly launching into an enthusiastic babble about hydration, pores and the importance of a good routine. “We should totally put them on tonight! It’ll be fun.”

Ryuk stared at the flimsy little packet, then back at Light’s bright, utterly serious face. He let out a long, rattling sigh that spoke volumes of his resigned affection. No going there today, he thought with a mix of disappointment and overwhelming fondness, but as he looked at Light, so happy and animated, a strange sense of contentment settled over him. Fine, he thought. If this is what makes my little god happy, then this is what we’ll do.

And so, with a quiet breath, Ryuk returned to the reality of the moment, ready to face whatever came next.

Light was focused, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration as he unfolded the damp green tea sheet mask and meticulously aligned it onto Ryuk’s human-like skin. Light’s bangs were neatly pulled back by a soft white headband. Ryuk’s arms were wrapped loosely around Light’s waist, holding him steady. The position was intimate, Light’s legs hooked around Ryuk’s hips, and it was… nice and warm. The pink rabbit mask on Light’s own face, with its floppy ears, was so absurdly contrary to his usual severe demeanour that Ryuk’s chest did a weird, fluttering thing.

How did I get here? Ryuk wondered, not for the first time.

His plan had been so simple. A do-over. Use the Life Lengthener, travel back and watch the spectacular, predictable show of Light Yagami’s descent into godhood once more. The first time had been fun, but it had ended too soon. He’d wanted a better first impression, that was all. Less "I am a Shinigami" and more… intriguing.

And it had started the same. The dropped notebook, the feigned shock, the brilliant, arrogant boy picking it up. But then, instead of asking why, Light had looked up, his eyes wide not just with fear, but with a strange, dawning recognition.

“Have we… met before?” Light had asked.

And Ryuk, caught off guard by the directness of the question that echoed his own secret, had done something stupid. He’d leaned in, his grin softening into something almost real. He had implied they were important to each other—perhaps not in this life, but certainly in some other, where the rules didn't matter so much.

Ryuk had meant it as a vague, cosmic joke. A tease. He hadn’t expected the words to land like a physical blow, to see the calculated walls in Light’s eyes shatter for a single, unguarded moment. From that second on, the script was burned. This Light was… different. He was softer around the edges. He still had that burning ambition, that terrifying intellect, but it was now punctuated by shy smiles, by casual touches, by a willingness to be cute.

And Ryuk, the bored, eternal spectator, found himself utterly captivated. He told himself that (1) it was just a more interesting show and that (2) when Light tried to “manipulate” him with this new affection—bringing him apples, buying him silly gifts, sitting in his lap like this—Ryuk was just playing along for his own amusement. The Shinigami absolutely was not prolonging Light’s lifespan because the thought of this timeline ending prematurely made him feel a hollow, aching dread he’d never felt before. No, of course not. That would be breaking the rules. He was just… delaying the finale. For fun.

“There,” Light said, his voice pulling Ryuk from his thoughts. He finished smoothing the mask and wiped his fingers on a towel. “Now we just have to wait ten minutes.”

Ryuk tightened his arms, pulling Light a little closer. “Heh. You look ridiculous.”

Light’s lips, the only part of his face not covered by the pink rabbit, quirked into a smile. “So do you. You look like a mouldy avocado.” He gave a final, brief squeeze to Ryuk's arm before wiggling off his lap and standing up. He immediately went to his desk chair where he’d left Fuyu, picking it up with both arms. Light then walked over to his bed, sinking down onto the mattress and lying flat on his back, carefully pulling Fuyu onto his chest and stomach, hugging the soft toy securely.

This was precisely the kind of mood Ryuk wanted Light in. Ryuk remembered the cold silence that followed when he'd revealed the rules regarding the Death Note's touch just before Sayu had almost burst in. The silence hadn't been tension so much as a single-apple-a-day suspension for two full days and zero sheet masks tonight. Ryuk, unable to withstand the deprivation of both affection and fruit, had felt compelled to act. Later that evening, he'd followed Light into the shower, leveraging the heat and water for a truly desperate, all-or-nothing kiss that had been his most powerful plea for forgiveness. This current relaxed state meant his human had accepted the bribe and the full allowance was restored.

They settled into a comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the faint rustle of fabric as Light shifted. Ryuk propped himself up with one elbow near Light's pillow, leaned down and gently rubbed his cold, flat palm over Light’s head. 

"My dad was stressing about the case. He said the person in charge of the investigation said Kira is likely a student because of the timing of the first few killings. It’s infuriating that they picked up on my initial laziness. But my schedule has since become much more evenly distributed. I think it’s going to look like a deliberate counter-move. I bet the detective is wasting time right now trying to figure out if I transitioned to an adult schedule to throw him off, or if I actually have an accomplice.”

Ryuk gave a low, rumbling laugh. “That’s my genius. Always one step ahead, even when you’re just optimizing for apple-delivery time.” He gently dragged his fingertips across the crown of Light's head.

This timeline felt much different now. Last time, Light only changed his timing after he realized L had caught on to the student schedule, and he wasted weeks setting up those silly little traps. Now, the schedule was locked for eighteen months, purely for convenience. There would be no testing, no clue-dropping, just an endless, seamless deluge of justice.

“You’re right, it’s genius,” Light agreed. “And it’s obvious, of course, that the person leading the investigation is L, and my father's small, desperate team will be his local muscle.”

Ryuk, responding to the change in Light’s mood, tapped the tip of Light’s masked nose with a cold finger. Light beamed beneath the rabbit mask.

“They’ll need a name for that operation. Something official, something dramatic… The Kira Investigation Unit? The NPA Shadow Team? No... The Kira Task Force. That sounds about right. L is clearly sharp, which is commendable, but he's fundamentally misguided. His next logical step will be to suspect an insider—one of the officers—and then, by extension, investigate the officers' families.”

“Heh heh… you just pull that out of thin air?” Ryuk was genuinely taken aback. Last time, it had taken concrete evidence and weeks of panic for Light to reach these conclusions. Now, he was predicting L's moves like he was reading from a script. "This is going to be hilarious. They'll be working day and night while the real Kira is on an eighteen-month vacation with his yeti." The irony was more delicious than any apple.

“Tell me about it,” Light sighed, but it was a happy, relieved sound. "Just think, Ryuk. No more stress, no more rushing, which reminds me," he said, tapping a finger on Ryuk's chest. “We can actually do all the things you talked about. The spa days, the private art viewings... all that 'experiencing the pinnacle of human decadence' you went on about."

Ryuk caught Light's tapping finger, lacing their hands together. "Your wish is my command. Consider the world your boutique."

Light's smile softened. He let the satisfaction settle for a moment, then his brow furrowed. “Dad is going to wear himself ragged on the Kira Task Force. He’ll never catch me, but he’ll certainly try to.”

Ryuk watched the subtle flicker of pain in Light's expression, that small, complicated bit of humanity he found so fascinating. His cold grip tightened around Light's hand.

Little hypocrite. That’s why he’s so delicious.

Ryuk raised their joined hands and gently brushed his lips against the back of Light’s fingers. “Feeling guilty, oh mighty Kira?” he prodded, curious.

“A little,” Light admitted. He pulled his hand from Ryuk's, sat up and quickly tore the pink mask off his face, tossing it into the bin with a satisfying thud. “But it’s a necessary burden. Besides…” Light turned to Ryuk, leaning close to examine the mask’s seal. “It’s not like I’ll be adding any new names for a long, long time. He can chase ghosts all he wants.” He then carefully pinched the edge of Ryuk’s green mask and peeled it away with slow, steady care, dropping it into the bin.

Light quickly took the moment to blot the excess liquid onto his neck, before working the serum into his own temples and cheekbones with an expert, circular motion. Then, without asking, Light leaned in. His cool fingers settled on Ryuk's bare skin, rubbing the leftover residue from the mask into Ryuk's face. Ryuk allowed it, letting his eyes drift shut.

“You know, it’s honestly not just for fun.” Light’s fingers worked at Ryuk’s hairline. “Even if I am still young, and even if you are an immortal Shinigami, it’s never too early to start preventive care. Look, you already enjoy apples, so you clearly appreciate the finer things in life—you’ve learned to brush your teeth, haven't you? Well, skincare is just as fundamental. It’s maintenance. Plus, I can’t run a new world order successfully if I'm chronically stressed and breaking out. Now I can finally spend time researching the best moisturizer and finding a proper tailor for you.”

Ryuk stared at him, truly gobsmacked. He’d suspected Light’s new efficiency was aimed at making more time for them, particularly for enjoying the expensive gifts Ryuk had showered him with, which had certainly made Light less bored. However, Ryuk hadn't anticipated the destination of that free time. This obsession with grooming had started subtly, sparked by Sayu's influence and amplified by gossiping female classmates who saw Light as their new, receptive focus group. Light had automated almost two years of God-level killing, not to plot world domination, but to ensure he had time for proper exfoliation and tailor appointments.

This was commitment. A bizarre, terrifying and deeply flattering level of commitment from a human who was planning his new world order around their… whatever this was.

Light finally removed his hands from Ryuk’s face, leaving his human skin sparkling with a healthy, dew-kissed glow that matched Light’s own. The coldness of the serum had faded, replaced by the warm satisfaction of a completed ritual. Ryuk looked at Light, who still wore a ridiculous, fluffy white headband pulling his chestnut bangs back, making his now-luminous eyes look enormous and focused.

Light, pleased with his work, tucked his head under Ryuk’s chin, settling the yeti plushie, Fuyu, securely between their chests like a soft, fluffy barricade. Ryuk instinctively wrapped his long, cold arms around Light, drawing him close until their newly pampered cheeks rested side-by-side on the pillow.

“You,” Ryuk said, his voice husky, “are the most terrifying creature I have ever met.”

Light pulled his head back from Ryuk’s shoulder, shifting so he could look up into Ryuk’s eyes. His smile widened, beautiful and deadly. “You’re the one who said we were important in another life. I’m just making sure this one lasts.”

“I… said that?” Ryuk remembered the moment—that silly, unexpected sentimentality that had crept into his voice when Light had asked. He'd meant it as vague, poetic nonsense to explain the intense, unique bond that drew them together across timelines.

Oh.

The realization struck Ryuk with the speed of a falling Death Note. Light actually believed they were in some kind of cosmic, long-term relationship. That was why, just yesterday at Spaceland, Light had casually introduced Ryuk to the ticket taker as his "boyfriend," a title Ryuk had simply ignored, filing it away as typical Light-Yagami-weirdness.

Ryuk stared down at the smug, beautiful, terrifying human. A slow, genuine grin spread across Ryuk’s face. He pulled Light close, his grip possessive. He was a Shinigami who had just been courageously proposed to with a lifetime of high-end skincare and automated genocide. It was perfect.

“Then I suppose we’ll just have to make this one the best one yet. I am yours, and you are entirely mine.” He tilted his head. “As for your father, L and the poor, desperate Kira Task Force… it’s a shame, isn’t it?” He chuckled, a warm, dark sound. "I almost feel bad for everyone who has to work for a living while I get to spoil my absolute favourite obsession. Almost." He sealed the unspoken confession with a soft kiss. "But not really."

Light’s eyes fluttered shut at the touch, and he leaned completely into Ryuk, allowing the soft kiss to linger. He let out a low, satisfied laugh, a genuine, happy sound, as he pulled back. “Yeah.” His hands came up to lightly cup the back of Ryuk’s neck, his thumbs rubbing gently against the skin. “Sorry, Dad.”

Chapter Text

The screen went black. The calm, challenging monologue of Lind L. Tailor or rather, the convicted criminal playing the part, ended. In the early hours of 6th December 2003, the experiment came to a close. L watched, unmoving, his knees drawn to his chest in his chair. The command centre was silent, the air thick with anticipation that had nowhere to go.

Nothing.

No heart attack. No dramatic, public death. The broadcast concluded, and the world continued to turn, utterly unaffected. Kira had not taken the bait.

L slowly brought a thumb to his lips, his dark eyes fixed on the now-dark monitor. This was… unexpected. He had calculated the probabilities. A 97.8% chance that Kira, a narcissist who had just been directly challenged, would react. A 2.1% chance of hesitation. A 0.1% chance of… this. Absolute, total silence.

It was the 0.1% that was the most fascinating.

“Watari,” L’s voice was a low monotone, cutting through the silence. “There has been no anomalous death reported matching our broadcast, correct?”

“None, L,” Watari’s calm voice replied through the speakers. “The actor is perfectly safe.”

L hummed. He reached for a porcelain cup and took a large scoop of the chocolate mousse within. The sweetness was a sharp contrast to the bitter puzzle before him.

Why?

Several hypotheses presented themselves, each with its own implications.

One. Kira knew, somehow, that “L” on the screen was a fake. This suggested a level of intelligence or information access that was alarming. It meant Kira was not merely a vigilante with a power, but a strategic thinker who could see through deceptions.

Two. Kira saw the broadcast, felt the provocation, but his self-preservation instinct overrode his ego. This painted a picture of a patient, disciplined killer, far more dangerous than a hot-headed one.

Three. Kira simply did not see it.

The third hypothesis was the simplest, and often, the simplest explanation was the most elegant. It merely required that Kira, for whatever mundane reason, was not watching TV at that specific time. Perhaps he was asleep. Perhaps he was at work. Perhaps he was… otherwise occupied.

L’s gaze drifted to the world map on his main screen, the data of the first Kira victims still glowing. The initial cluster was in Japan. Kanto region, to be precise.

“Watari,” L said, licking the spoon clean. “Please prepare the necessary documents. I will be formally requesting the creation of a special task force with the Japanese police. We will begin our investigation in Tokyo.”

“Understood.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

L sat curled in his chair, the glow of multiple monitors painting his pale face in shifting hues of blue and white. The time was 2:37 AM, 16^th December 2003. Before him, digitised reports from the twelve FBI agents scrolled in a relentless stream. L needed a pretext to act. The truth was, Kira's shift to a consistent, regular killing schedule had begun even before Interpol contacted L. Yet, L clung to his original deduction. The initial, afternoon-heavy pattern still suggested a high schooler with free time. The subsequent, total shift to daily regularity didn't disprove the student theory. It simply demonstrated Kira's terrifying, analytical mind.

L concluded that the mysterious power must be effortless to use, allowing the killer to quickly integrate mass murder into a regular, highly scheduled life. Thus, L's only remaining strong hypothesis was that the killer was a narcissistic intellectual genius. L seized on the convenient assumption: Kira was receiving information with near-instantaneous precision from the NPA, so every member, and their families, was a suspect. 

His gaze, however, kept drifting back to one file: Light Yagami.

The truth was that this "insider leak" theory was merely a framework to focus scrutiny on the Yagami household. The son, a genius-level intellect with top-tier academic scores. The profile fit a narcissistic young man who might believe he held the right to pass judgment on the world.

L had anticipated a subject displaying signs of stress, grandiosity or at the very least, a recognisable pattern of deception. However, what L was getting from Agent Penber’s reports was a portrait of a baffling, multi-layered enigma.

Light Yagami was, by all observable metrics, perfect. His routine was impeccable, his sociability effortless, but it was the anomalies within this perfection that held L’s attention captive. The sudden, dramatic upgrade in his wardrobe to brands that screamed old money. The benign yet peculiar habit of cosmetics shopping with female classmates. And the yeti.

L’s fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up an image of the massive, fluffy white plushie from Penber’s surveillance photos. A reverse image search and a cross-reference with major toy manufacturers yielded nothing. A deeper dive led him to Spaceland’s prize catalogue. The "Abominable Snowman" grand prize, requiring a near-impossible score at a single carnival game. It was a one-of-a-kind item, not available for purchase.

Someone had won that for Light Yagami. Recently.

L immediately ordered the retrieval of the amusement park's CCTV footage for that specific time—and his monitor flashed red. The park’s entire internal security system near the prize centre and the games had experienced a five-minute power failure. A complete malfunction, right when Light Yagami would have been there with his mysterious friend.

L's eyes narrowed. "A localised power failure. How… theatrical." He began typing, his commands pulling up the park's system logs. "Watari, can you trace the origin of the malfunction? Any remote access points or code signatures?"

For a long moment, there was only the sound of L chewing on his thumbnail. Then, Watari's voice came through. "I have traced the failure to a single, corrupted command sent to a primary power relay. The method is… unorthodox. It bypassed every layer of security not by breaking them, but by appearing to be a legitimate, low-level system refresh. The digital signature is a null set. It's as if the command generated itself from within the system's own core programming."

L stilled. "A ghost," he murmured. Light Yagami's mysterious, wealthy friend. The one with no past, who appeared out of nowhere, was he a hacker of this calibre? Someone who could make systems forget they were even attacked? 

L’s thumb pressed hard against his lip. He opened another tab, reviewing Penber’s log of Light’s purchases. A high-end hydrating serum and a collection of sheet masks. The behaviour was so mundane, so human, it felt like a deliberate mockery of L’s own dark, sugar-fuelled existence.

Then, Penber’s latest report, filed Saturday evening, sat open. The agent’s tone was shifting from professional observation to personal concern.

⟪ Subject and sister dined at 'The Golden Fuji,' a high-end fusion restaurant. The unidentified male associate joined them. (Agent’s assessment: The male's level of physical closeness with the subject is inappropriate.) He is unnervingly thin and tall, and his attention to the subject bordered on creepy obsession. I observed him rubbing the subject’s shoulder repeatedly while talking to the sister. The subject seemed either oblivious or accustomed to the close contact. The level of expenditure, combined with the subject's age and profile, raises personal concerns of potential external influence. The subject appears to be a brilliant, but perhaps naïve teenager in a situation that merits a welfare check, separate from the Kira investigation. ⟫

L steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them. His best agent on the ground was not building a case against a killer, but growing worried that his target was a victim. The perfect son and student was also a boy with a quirky, almost girlish side, who was possibly being groomed or manipulated by an unseen affluent, non-parental figure exhibiting an alarming financial sponsorship of Light Yagami's domestic and recreational life. It was a narrative so messy and human it threatened to derail L’s clean, logical suspicion.

However, L did not believe in coincidence. A third party. He focused on that.

“Watari,” he murmured. “The Golden Fuji reservation for three, under the name Yagami, Saturday, 15th December. I need the name of the other guest.”

The information returned minutes later.

Ryuk Kuroda.

L’s fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling every string, accessing every database. The resulting profile was as strange and layered as Light's own. Ryuk Kuroda. Age: 25. Nationality: Half-Japanese, half-Taiwanese, with a complex international heritage hinting at old, obscured wealth. Watari confirmed the existence of a sizable land claim in rural Scotland, tied to a near-forgotten barony, ownership of a massive, yet currently unusable, silver mine in the Yukon Territory, Canada, and a collection of rare, first-edition New York comic books valued in the tens of millions.

Profession: Self-employed venture capitalist, specialising in high-risk, unusual ventures. Ryuk Kuroda was a patron of the profoundly weird. He was the primary backer for a startup attempting to genetically engineer glow-in-the-dark bonsai trees and held a majority stake in a Swiss firm that sold "atmosphere" (literally bottled air from specific moments in history, like the night of a specific lunar eclipse). His returns were either zero or astronomically high, with no discernible pattern.

L abruptly leaned back, pulling his knees up higher in a rare, startled motion. Apparently, Kuroda gifted Light his entire wardrobe—L had seen invoices for designer denim, Italian leather boots and Swiss watches that matched Light’s current attire exactly. This man had the kind of wealth that bypassed all common sense and existed purely to indulge absurdity.

L pieced together Light and Kuroda had first interacted in early December at an exclusive, members-only art gallery viewing—exactly the sort of place a bored, brilliant student and an eccentric young billionaire might cross paths. Ryuk Kuroda had entered Yagami Light’s life in early December. The same month Kira appeared.

Accompanying the financial data was a series of covert photographs from Agent Penber. The man, Ryuk Kuroda, was striking, alarmingly tall, painfully thin and unnaturally pale, dressed exclusively in heavy, custom-tailored black suits. His face was set in a permanent, faintly creepy, wide smile. Critically, the photos showed Kuroda being overtly affectionate with Light, a hand resting possessively on his back or a close lean during conversation.

The image of Light, looking so innocent and receptive beside the predator-like Ryuk Kuroda, was compelling. L had anticipated a killer. He was finding a victim. He mentally reduced the probability of Light being the primary Kira by a cautious 3%. It was ridiculous. It was infuriating.

L was certain the core profile of Kira—high intelligence, zero empathy, access to information—still applied to Light Yagami. However, the current evidence depicted Light as utterly distracted, focused on brand names, preoccupied with obtaining a matching leather jacket for Ryuk Kuroda and seemingly oblivious to the man’s frightening intensity.

Light was behaving less like a world-changing killer and more like a naïve youth enjoying his first, bewilderingly lavish relationship. If Light was Kira, he wouldn't need a patron, he would simply be the source of power.

L let out a slow breath.

The pieces were all there, but they refused to form the picture he expected. They formed something else entirely, and it was throwing him completely off balance. L was convinced Light could be the perfect killer, but the only evidence Raye Penber had supplied was related to high-end shopping and inappropriate adult contact. The thought that the FBI was conducting a multi-national operation only to prove Light was involved in a tawdry, non-Kira-related crime was L's greatest fear. Light Yagami could be either the most dangerous criminal L had ever pursued, or the world’s most distracting red herring. 

L highlighted the name Ryuk Kuroda. This was the variable he hadn't accounted for. The third person. The key to understanding the enigma of Light Yagami, and by extension, perhaps, the truth about Kira.

Chapter Text

Light Yagami was, by all accounts, a model son and an exceptional student.

However, for the past week, he had also been a model subject of an FBI investigation. Ryuk, in a moment of apple-munching helpfulness, had not only confirmed the tail, but had provided the man’s name. Raye Penber. The knowledge bred a low-grade annoyance, like a mosquito buzzing persistently in a quiet room.

“He’s still out there,” Ryuk had chuckled, his voice a low gravelly hum from where he lounged, invisible, in Light’s desk chair. “Looks like L smells something foul. He must not be convinced by your performance with the rich boyfriend.”

Light hadn’t looked up from his textbook. The “rich boyfriend” strategy had been a work of art. Let them see the expensive dinners, the designer clothes Ryuk’s human form—a tall, sharp-featured man with an unnerving grin and arresting golden eyes—so effortlessly provided. Let them construct a narrative of a vulnerable teen and a manipulative, darkly-inclined, perpetually-loitering, inexplicably solvent purveyor of high-end accessories. It was a far more mundane, and therefore more believable, sin than being a mass-murdering deity.

Even so, L was stubborn.

The detective’s suspicion was a searchlight that had briefly flickered away, only to swing back with renewed intensity. And while Light, as Kira, was untouchable, Light Yagami, the high school student, was growing weary of the constant audience. Flying above Tokyo after dark was completely out of the question. The biggest annoyance was the distance it forced between him and Ryuk. Their late-night conversations, the simple, alien comfort of leaning against the Shinigami’s leathery hide while they watched a movie, the ritual of Ryuk preparing his perfect, chilled apple platter, Light's attempts to get Ryuk to try a moisturising face mask—all of it had to be put on hold.

Thus, it was time to weaponise Light’s domestic life.

He found his opening one evening, the faint prickle of being watched a familiar sensation on the back of his neck. He plucked Fuyu, the oversized yeti plush, from his bed. Ryuk had won it at Spaceland, using a comical amount of supernatural skill to rig a simple carnival game, just to see Light’s exasperated smile. The plushie was a symbol, a piece of their shared, secret history and the perfect prop for what came next.

He padded down the hall to Sayu’s room and knocked softly. “Sayu? Mind if I come in?”

“It’s open!” Sayu called.

Her room possessed the same structural footprint as his, but it was warmer, softer. Posters and strings of fairy lights broke up the beige wall space, and while the shelves were full—with an organised clutter of manga, school awards and various accessories—the room was meticulously clean. She clearly just had more things than he did.

She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed, a thick, brightly-coloured volume of shojo manga open in her lap. His sister beamed, shuffling over to make space on her bed. “Light! Is this a social call or are you finally admitting you need my help with literature?”

“A social call,” he said, offering a tired, but genuine smile. He settled beside her, placing Fuyu between them like a soft, white anchor. He let the conversation drift, allowing Sayu to steer them from exams to the merits of a new ten-step skincare routine—a topic he could discuss with surprising authority, much to her delight.

However, Light was also a master conductor. He let a carefully timed pause hang in the air. He allowed his gaze to drift to the window, a flicker of unease crossing his features before he quickly smoothed it away.

Sayu pounced on it. “Okay, what’s wrong? You’ve got your ‘thinking too hard’ face on, but it’s the worried version.”

Light looked down at Fuyu, his fingers tracing the seam of its plush arm. “It’s… silly,” he murmured. “I feel like I’m being watched. Followed. For over a week now.” He finally met her eyes, letting her see the carefully measured concern in his own. “I know it sounds insane. Maybe the stress is getting to me.”

Light watched the emotions play across her face. Confusion, dawning horror and finally, a fierce, protective fury that made something strangely warm in his gut.

“A stalker?” she whispered. “Light, that’s not silly! That’s serious!”

“I’m probably just imagining it,” he insisted softly, pulling the yeti into his lap and hugging it. The faint, otherworldly scent of apples and static that clung to it—Ryuk’s scent—was a genuine comfort. It centred him for the final act of his play.

Sayu’s jaw set. The wheels were turning. “Don’t you worry,” she declared. “I have a plan.”

Light looked at her. Sayu was his own personal masterpiece of normalcy. He was aware that, unlike him, she was allowed the space to be simply good, not perfect. She was three years younger, and from the moment he'd held her tiny hand as a proud four-year-old, his protective instinct had been absolute. He admired her easy, unforced happiness and her remarkable ability to see the best in everyone—a kind of quiet strength that only the truly innocent possessed. She was the one true thing in their house, and he took immense pride in knowing he helped maintain her world. For that reason, he gladly took on all the family's expectation, leaving her to pursue a carefree life.

A true, affectionate smile touched Light’s lips. He reached out and ruffled her hair. “Thank you, Sayu,” he said. “I trust you.”

Sayu’s smile was huge and instantly genuine. “You got it! Leave it to your favourite little sister. When I’m done, that guy won’t even want to look in our direction, I promise!”

Light held Fuyu close. He knew L would perceive this as yet another layer of his elaborate deception, but the warmth he felt was entirely real. The truth was, he didn't have to force their protection. He merely had to trust it. Raye Penber was tailing a phantom, and soon, both he and L would learn that the most dangerous weapon in Light's arsenal wasn't a Death Note, but the absolute, protective love of his family.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Raye tapped the screen of his phone, the draft report to L blinking in the low light. The surveillance was a waste of resources. Light Yagami had consistently been the model student—studious, attentive to his little sister and currently, embroiled in a dramatically lavish, but utterly non-Kira relationship with some impossibly rich man.

L's initial profile was brilliant, but the real Light simply didn't fit. The kid spent more time trying on designer shirts and arguing about the ethics of expensive, imported apples than he did plotting global genocide. The only anomaly was the boyfriend, and that problem couldn't be solved with a discreet tail, but rather it required a background check that L refused to authorise.

L was L. The cryptic reply had been one word.

Continue.

Raye sighed, running a tired hand over his face. He had his orders.

Light was back to being aggressively normal. Raye had witnessed him patiently helping his sister with a complicated geometry problem or arguing with his mother about which brand of tea was superior. The only excitement was a trip to the local convenience store for—Raye checked his notes—a specific flavour of chips.

The final straw came on the evening of 18th December.

The sun was setting, painting the Yagami household in hues of orange and purple. Raye was leaning against a large, decorative stone planter on the corner, casually flipping through a small pocket notebook where he kept his observation logs. He was relying on the twilight to obscure him as he finalised his notes for what he intended to be his last report.

He never heard the approach.

"YOU!" The voice was sharp, maternal and furious. Raye jolted, his gaze snapping up to find a short, neatly dressed woman in a thick cardigan and an apron practically nose-to-nose with him, brandishing a heavy-looking frying pan. Her eyes were intense, and Raye realised with a cold stab of surprise that he was looking at Sachiko Yagami, Light Yagami's mother.

"I knew it! My daughter and I saw you yesterday, and the day before! You're the one following my son!" she shouted. The front door of the Yagami house flew open. Light Yagami and his younger sister, Sayu, stood there, their eyes wide with alarm.

"Mum? What's going on?" Light asked, sounding confused and worried.

"Look, Light! It's the creep!" Sayu cried out, half-alarmed and half-elated. Then, she pulled a colourful silicone spatula from her hoodie pocket and rushed off the porch, positioning herself shoulder-to-shoulder with her mother, ready for battle. "Awesome work, Mum! We actually caught him!"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, dear!" Sachiko affirmed. She then shifted the frying pan slightly, not taking her eyes off Raye. Then, she gave a small, loving smile over her shoulder to Light. "Light, sweetie, call the police, would you? Tell them we've cornered the loitering, low-life, privacy-invading, gutter-feeding, utterly repulsive personal security threat who has been bothering my children!"

Panic seized the agent. This was a catastrophic breach of protocol. "Wait! Please, don't call the police," he said, his hands raised placatingly. "There's been a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding? You've been stalking my son!"

"I'm a federal agent," Raye said. He fumbled for his wallet, flipping it open to show his FBI credentials. "My name is Raye Penber. This is part of an official investigation."

Light’s eyes narrowed slightly. "An investigation? Into me?"

"It's… it's related to your father's work," Raye said, scrambling for a way to de-escalate without revealing everything. "I can prove it. I need to make a call. To the consultant your father is working with. He can explain everything to Chief Yagami directly."

"Official investigation my foot! You think we're stupid?" Sachiko spat, tightening her grip on the pan.

Sayu nodded emphatically beside her. "He's just trying to trick us, Light! Don't listen to him!"

Light gave his mother and sister a confident, reassuring glance. "Mum, Sayu, stop. The ID looks authentic. Dad always told me how secretive these high-level investigations are. If this truly is related to the Chief's work, we shouldn't escalate without checking. We're on secure ground here."

A massive wave of relief washed over Raye.

Light Yagami just handed me the lifeline.

Chapter Text

Light's calm demeanour and accurate knowledge of police procedure were surprisingly helpful. Raye was deeply grateful. He nodded sharply. "Mrs. Yagami, I assure you, this is a matter of national security that impacts the Chief's mission directly. I am not a stalker. I need to make a secure call right now, and I promise you, the consultant will explain my presence to your husband."

Sachiko hesitated, the pan lowering a fraction. The mention of her husband's work gave her pause. Light placed a calming hand on his mother's shoulder. "Maybe we should hear him out, Mum. For Dad's sake."

Sayu looked from Light's confident expression to Raye's frantic one, then let her shoulders relax. "If Light says it's real, then it's real, Mum," Sayu conceded, lowering her spatula, but keeping a sceptical eye on Raye.

"Very well, Agent Penber," Sachiko conceded, the frying pan now resting against her thigh. "If this truly involves my husband, you will step inside and contact your consultant from our living room. I want this settled now."

Sayu immediately stepped back from the defensive line, but her eyes never left Raye, her posture coiled and alert. They appeared to relax, but Raye, trained to observe, saw the tight, ready tension in their shoulders and hips.

Muttering a hurried apology for the intrusion, Raye stepped out of his shoes before walking into the brightly lit hallway. He swept his eyes over the space: polished wood floors, a cosy living room and framed photographs documenting every milestone in Light's and Sayu's lives.

A perfect life, Raye thought, the very definition of un-Kira.

Raye nodded to the family. "I apologise for the methods. I understand this was alarming. I appreciate your cooperation, given my need for discretion." He sank cautiously onto the edge of the low couch, finding himself flanked by Sachiko and Sayu, who sat on two separate, facing chairs. They were the tribunal. He was the suspect.

Light, ever the perfect son, saw the necessity of the moment. "I'll fetch everyone some tea and biscuits."

Raye Penber felt a wave of betrayal as Light vanished into the kitchen. The young man, the only person in the room who didn't actively want to hit him with cookware, had abandoned him to the Frying Pan and Spatula Guard. The combined, silent glare of Mrs. Yagami and Miss Yagami was worse than any aggressive interrogation. He felt utterly exposed, sitting there as a sacrificial offering to the god of impeccable domesticity.

Raye took a steadying breath. He held up his phone so the two women could clearly see it. "I am going to call the primary consultant on this case now. He is the one who will brief the Chief directly. I need to inform him of the security breach so he can immediately verify my status with your husband, Mrs. Yagami." He dialled the secure line. It was answered on the first ring.

"Ryuzaki? It's Penber. I've been… compromised. The Yagami family confronted me."

There was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by the sound of frantic typing. Then, L's distorted voice came through, calm, but firm. [“…I see. Put me on speakerphone, Agent Penber”.]

Raye did so. "Ma'am, this is Ryuzaki, the primary intelligence consultant who is directing the investigation your husband is leading. He has the final authority on all surveillance matters and will quickly resolve this for you."

[“My greetings to everybody. I am the case liaison, Ryuzaki Hideki. I understand you are quite alarmed, and I sincerely regret the alarm this has caused in your home.”] The voice echoed in the quiet room. [“Agent Penber's surveillance was undertaken on my directive. It was a necessary, though regrettably intrusive, security measure. The situation is extremely sensitive. I am currently making contact with Chief Yagami regarding an unrelated matter. I will inform him of Agent Penber's identity and location, and he will confirm that this agent is part of his security detail. Please, do not involve the local authorities. I must ask you to allow Agent Penber to wait with you inside your home until the Chief speaks with you directly."]

The line went silent for a moment.

The room seemed to shrink around Raye under the intensity of Sachiko Yagami's narrowed gaze. "You said you were directed by Mr. Ryuzaki... but you're going to inform Soichiro now?" she stated. "That means my husband had no idea you were tailing our son."

"Oh, so now we're dealing with a top-secret conspiracy where even Dad is kept in the dark?” Sayu crossed her arms. “And why are you tailing my brother? He's a perfect student, he hasn't done anything wrong! Are you just harassing successful people because your consultant is a jealous creep?"

Raye winced, forcing himself to remain professional. "Mrs. Yagami, Miss Yagami, I understand your outrage. My credentials confirm my status. I am acting on direct, classified orders. Although I can't reveal the full reasoning, I assure you, Ryuzaki has his reasons, and I must trust the Chief Consultant's judgment, even if I don't know the full details myself."

Sachiko began to tick off the facts on her fingers. "Kira case, top-secret, FBI, no clearance for the Japanese police... and you were tailing Light.” The frying pan, previously resting, snapped back up to a combat-ready position. "You think my son is Kira?! Is that it?! You're investigating a high school student for mass murder?!" She brought the frying pan up, pointing directly at Raye's head. "You tell that Ryuzaki I want to meet him! I want to give that sick, paranoid shit of a detective a piece of my mind for daring to look at my son sideways!"

Sayu slammed her spatula on the arm of her chair in agreement. "Yeah! Tell him we're coming for him! He must be such a socially awkward, unwashed, sugar-addicted weirdo who can only function in the dark! He probably sits in a creepy squat all day because he has no social skills or normal bone structure! We're going to bring him a bucket of soap and a therapist when we're done with you, his little FBI agent here!"

A sharp, static-filled crackle came from Raye's phone.

["I am still listening. And Miss Yagami, although I may consume a regrettable amount of sugar, my hygiene is satisfactory. Moreover, I assure you, my bone structure is quite normal, merely underutilised."]

Sachiko's eyes flashed. "That's perfect! Then tell me right now, Mr. Ryuzaki! Why does a socially stunted, hunchbacked sugar-fiend like you think my brilliant son is a mass murderer?!"

“He doesn't have a reason, Mum, he's just jealous!" Sayu said, answering for him with a dismissive wave of her spatula. "He looks at our family and our house and my perfect brother, and his little heart can't take it! So he has to tear it all down because his only friends are a computer screen and a pile of empty pudding cups! He doesn't want justice! He wants everyone to be as miserable as he is!"

The professional part of Raye’s brain, the part not screaming in panic, was reluctantly impressed. They had constructed a near-perfect caricature of L's personality based on zero evidence. To call the man a friendless sugar-fiend was a blasphemous oversimplification, yet it held a kernel of painful truth that was undoubtedly pissing L off right now.

["Jealousy is an irrational impulse,"] L replied. ["My conclusions are not. The first victims died in Japan, primarily in this prefecture. The time of death for the initial burst correlated precisely with school hours and weekends. It is not a leap to suspect a student, but it is the only conclusion that fits the timeline. Your son, at the top of his class, living at the epicentre... he fits the parameters. It would be negligent to ignore it."]

Sachiko slammed the frying pan against her knee. "The only conclusion that fits the timeline? That's the most irrational thing I've heard, Mr. Ryuzaki! Why would you suspect my son, when your criteria should be focused on people with high-level police access! You're not looking for the truth seeing that you're looking for the easiest, most convenient person to crush to prove your oversized, analytical asshole ego is right, regardless of who you destroy!"

“Go, Mum! He's just trying to cover his butt! He's clearly so socially inept he doesn't know the difference between a high-level suspect and a high school student! He's a miserable, privacy-violating weasel who operates entirely outside the rules and thinks his own arrogance makes it okay!”

Raye desperately wanted to sink into the plush sofa and disappear, but a small, terrified part of him was starting to find this funny. He could already hear Naomi's sardonic laugh when he told her about the frying pan and Miss Yagami's spot-on profile of the world's greatest detective. Alongside that, he was genuinely concerned for L's pride—the "oversized, analytical asshole ego" comment had to sting—but mostly, he was concerned for his own survival in this domestic ambush.

Sachiko shook her head, her eyes fixed on the phone as if she could see L through it. "This is not over, Mr. Ryuzaki. You're not going to hide behind a distorted voice and an FBI agent. I need to see my husband, and then you are going to meet me. I want to look you in the eye and demand to know why your arrogant, unscientific mind chose my son as a scapegoat. I will list every one of your flawed assumptions until that oversized ego of yours shrinks to the size of a tea biscuit."

L offered a dry, dismissive cough. ["Mrs. Yagami, your request for a face-to-face meeting is duly noted, and I can appreciate your maternal concern. However, such high-level coordination requires proper security clearance and planning. I perceive your husband online now. I will brief him immediately, and then he will speak with you."]

The speaker phone instantly cut to a dial tone. The silence was immediate and absolute. Just then, a calm voice cut through the tension.

"Tea and biscuits are served." Light strode back in from the kitchen, balancing a delicate porcelain tray. The shift was instantaneous and total. Sachiko lowered the frying pan to the floor so quickly it made Raye blink. Her rage melted into a saccharine smile.

"Oh, Light, honey! You didn't have to! Sit down, my precious boy."

Sayu jumped up to help steady the tray. "Let me take that heavy side, Light!"

Raye watched the change with mounting disbelief, the two protective women now fussing over Light Yagami. A bead of cold sweat ran down Raye’s temple. One minute they're threatening to kill me, the next they're offering me tea! This family is genuinely insane!

Light poured a cup of tea for Raye, holding the kettle with practiced grace. "Milk or sugar, Agent Penber?"

Raye took the cup, grateful for the polite distraction. "Black, thank you. And please, call me Raye."

Light then settled neatly between the two women, who framed him like bodyguards. For a brief second, Raye felt a calming sense of professionalism return, anchored by Light's easy civility.

"Here, Agent Penber," Sayu said, pushing the biscuit plate closer, though her tone lacked any sweetness. Raye thanked her, but when he glanced left and right, he saw Sachiko's hand resting protectively on Light's leg, and Sayu's fingers drumming a silent, impatient rhythm. Their shared, cold atmosphere—a promise of retribution held in check only by Light's presence—sent a palpable shiver of dread down Raye's spine.

"So, what happened with Dad?" Light asked calmly, taking a sip of his tea and glancing at the mute phone.

Sachiko sighed. "Agent Penber called his consultant, a Mr. Ryuzaki Hideki. He's supposed to call your father to explain everything. Then, your father will call us."

Sayu let out a disgusted snort. "Yeah! That's what makes it so annoying! Some investigator is using the name of Ryuzaki Hideki, the pop star! The nerve of that arrogant asshole to share a name with a celebrity!"

"Sayu! Language!" Light admonished, his tone one of mild, but firm disapproval, before turning a pleading look to Sachiko. "Mum, you heard her! You're going to let her talk like that?"

Mrs. Yagami gave a quick, dismissive wave of her hand. "It's fine, Light. We're under siege. When someone threatens the sanctity of our home and the reputation of her brother with such lazy, arrogant logic, I consider the use of colorful epithets to be entirely justifiable. It was earned."

Seeing Light's genuine confusion, Raye felt a professional duty—and a personal desire—to clarify. He set his cup down carefully. "Light, please let me explain the specifics that were discussed on the phone. The consultant is indeed named Ryuzaki Hideki. He is the lead detective working directly with your father and his task force on the Kira case. He ordered me to observe your family, specifically you, Light Yagami."

Raye paused, fighting down a wave of shame. "Ryuzaki's reasoning is based on the idea that Kira must have access to police data, given the nature of the victims. Since your father is the Chief of the task force, the investigation has to account for the possibility of a leak through his immediate circle. That's why I was watching." Raye leaned forward slightly. "I feel awful about it. I told Ryuzaki days ago that you are clearly innocent, a model citizen. He ordered me to maintain the post anyway, but I have found absolutely nothing to suggest you are anything, but a good person."

Light's face went utterly blank. "Wait. Me? You think I'm... the mass murderer? Kira? The criminal who’s killing people all over the world? That’s why you were watching me? That's insane!"

Raye started to reply, "No, Light, I don't believe that, I'm just following—"

But Sachiko and Sayu moved instantly.

"Of course you're not, honey!" Sachiko stated, pulling Light into a fierce, suffocating side-hug. "Don't you dare let that unwashed, bastard detective's logic upset you! He's just projecting his own miserable life onto you, you hear me? You're perfect!"

"Yeah, Light, don't worry!" Sayu chimed in, patting his arm. "Only a desperate, damn coward who thinks he's too good for social skills would suspect a perfect person like you! He needs to eat a vegetable and get a life!"

The agent chose his words carefully, prioritising the women's protective instincts. "I know I owe you a massive apology for acting like a voyeur, and I am ashamed. But let me state this as a professional. Light is demonstrably innocent. He's polite, disciplined and consistently ranks at the top of the nation. I've told Ryuzaki that Light is beyond reproach, that he is the most innocent person on our list, and frankly, I feel dishonoured to have tailed him. I assure you I will continue to defend his innocence in my reports."

Raye watched as the hostility in the room visibly lessened. He registered the change with immense relief. His sincerity, or at least his professional endorsement of Light's character, had successfully transferred the full weight of their fury onto L.

Mrs. Yagami sighed, releasing Light slightly, but still keeping him close. "Thank you for your honesty, Agent Penber. You clearly have some sense, even if your consultant does not. We will hold him responsible for this disgrace. You may be a federal agent, but you're a good man, doing a regrettable job."

Sayu waved her spatula. "Yeah, you're not the problem, Agent Penber. You’re just the unlucky idiot who got stuck with the worst boss in the world. We forgive you."

Raye managed a slow, genuine smile, accepting the reprieve. "Thank you, Mrs. Yagami, Miss Yagami. That means a great deal to me."

A fragile, comfortable silence fell over the room, broken only by the soft clink of porcelain as Raye and Light sipped their tea. A moment later, Sachiko stood, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"A family still needs to eat. If you'll excuse me, Agent Penber, I need to start preparing dinner." She gave Raye a final, stern look, which he interpreted as don't move. As soon as Sachiko was out of sight in the kitchen, the atmosphere changed again. Sayu nudged Light, then leaned forward, her demeanour shifting from protective warrior to curious younger sister.

"So, Raye," Sayu began, dropping the "Agent Penber" title with ease. "You're quite handsome for an FBI agent. You must have a girlfriend, right? Like, what does she think about you staking out houses in Japan? Is she a spy, too?"

Light gave his sister a look of disapproval. "Sayu, that's incredibly rude!"

"It is not! I'm just gathering intel! Besides," Sayu continued, ignoring her brother and looking Raye up and down, "if you're being honest about Light, then we should at least get to know the agent who was wasting his time. How old are you, anyway? You look about twenty-eight. Did you go to some special secret spy school or just regular university?"

"No, no, I agree with her," Raye said, giving Sayu a genuine laugh for the first time. "Your sister is just being thorough." He looked at Sayu. "I'm twenty-eight. I do have a fiancée. She's currently waiting for me to finish this assignment so we can settle down. Her name is Naomi, and she's not a spy, but she used to be an investigator with the FBI, specialising in undercover work. As for my education, no secret spy school. I went to a regular university for criminology before joining the Bureau."

Sayu let out a melodramatic sigh of disappointment. "A fiancée? Well, that's just typical! The cute ones are always taken. Congratulations on the upcoming wedding! I hope you quit your job so you can have a better life with Miss Naomi."

Light stared at his sister. "Sayu! You are being inappropriate!"

"It is appropriate!" Sayu shot back, crossing her arms. "He's clearly a good man who's being manipulated by a toxic work environment! Offering congratulations and suggesting he quit his terrible job is the highest form of respect for his mental health! Besides, if he doesn't quit, that paranoid boss of his will probably end up targeting his fiancée next because she might be smarter than him! I'm just looking out for his future, Light!"

A wave of warmth spread through Raye as he watched the siblings interact. He found himself relaxing deeply into the sofa cushion. He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Thank you for the heartfelt advice, Sayu, but don't worry about my job. We sorted that out already. Naomi's the one who resigned from the FBI. We agreed it was the best path forward for our marriage. She's brilliant, yes, but having a stable home environment is important and it’s much safer, and my job provides the consistent income. She's focusing on her private consulting work now.”

Sayu's brow furrowed. "But she just... quit? Because you're getting married? You're telling me you asked your smart fiancée to give up her career for your stable income?"

Raye nodded, missing the note of incredulity in her voice. "It was our decision, Sayu. I asked, and she agreed. Stability comes first."

Sayu turned to her brother. "Light, is that normal? She's a smart agent, but she has to quit because they're getting married? I mean, Mum quit to be a housewife, but she wanted to. And I thought things were different now!"

Light shrugged, appearing entirely rational. "It is what it is, Sayu. Women, like anyone else, have agency, and people make personal choices that suit their circumstances. Maybe Miss Naomi wanted a break from the Bureau. Maybe she saw that her particular specialty was too dangerous to mix with their family life, even if she is strong enough to handle it." He took a slow sip of tea, his eyes meeting Raye's for a moment. "Agent Raye certainly seems like the type of man who would prioritise his fiancée's safety and present every possible logical argument for why she should step back, regardless of how much she loved her career. If she agreed, then it was simply the more rational path for her to take, even if she's capable of anything."

Raye stared into his teacup, suddenly uncomfortable under the weight of Light's insight. The words struck him with the force of a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs. He had been so proud of their mature, mutual decision, wearing it like a badge of their pragmatic love. However, now, framed by Light's analysis, the truth was laid bare. He hadn't presented options since he had presented a foregone conclusion wrapped in the language of concern. He had painted vivid pictures of every possible danger, of dark alleyways and unseen threats, until the "rational" path was the only one left shining. Naomi, in her steadfast love for him, had walked it without complaint.

But at what cost?

The memory of her face when she’d handed in her resignation—not sad, but settled, a quiet closing of a door—flashed before him. It wasn't peace he saw now, but loss. A fierce, aching determination solidified in his chest, burning away the cold logic he’d clung to. He needed to see her, right now. He needed to look into her eyes and tell her he was a fool, that her fire was the reason he loved her and that he would stand beside her, truly beside her, no matter which path she chose to walk.

Raye was staring at the porcelain teacup, seeing not tea, but the reflection of his own flawed logic.

"Agent Raye, what's wrong?" Light asked. "You've been spacing out for almost a minute."

Sayu leaned forward, her earlier teasing gone. "Yeah, please don't have a breakdown in our house! Just tell us if you need water."

Raye closed his eyes briefly, gathering himself. "I apologise. I was just reflecting on a personal matter. Naomi and I—" He didn't get to finish. The phone, which he had silenced, suddenly began to vibrate and ring loudly with the distinct, urgent tone of an important call from his operational contact.

"Penber speaking."

["Agent Penber. My apologies for the delay. Chief Yagami and I have had a comprehensive discussion, and all necessary security and procedural issues have been cleared. I have assured him of the temporary nature of this protocol. Please place the device on speakerphone so that Mrs. Yagami may hear the conclusion of our discussion."]

Raye immediately complied, hitting the speaker button.

Sayu jumped up. "Mum! He's talking! Come back, the sneaky detective is on the line!"

Light's eyes went wide with shock. "Sayu! Are you serious?” He quickly leaned toward the phone, adopting his most respectful, earnest tone. "Mr. Ryuzaki, please accept my deepest apologies for my sister's language. I assure you she meant no offense. We are all just deeply concerned about the nature of this inquiry."

L's monotone voice cut through instantly. ["An apology is unnecessary, Light Yagami. I am aware of my own faults, my social presentation and the predictable emotional response they elicit. I require no external validation or critique. Your father is now fully briefed and will arrive shortly to provide you with the necessary security clearance and instructions regarding Agent Penber's continued presence."]

The moment L's voice dropped out, Mrs. Yagami re-entered the room. The speakerphone suddenly crackled, and a familiar, calming voice took over the line. ["Hello, everyone. I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I want you to know this is as much a shock to me as it is to you. Sachiko, I can only imagine what you've been through."]

A heavy sigh came through the phone. ["Ryuzaki's theory is based entirely on the need for 'police access,' and Light, being my son, fit the worst-case parameter. I argued forcefully against this ridiculous suspicion. But he did what he felt was necessary. As for Agent Penber, he was just doing his job. Don't worry, everything is under control now. Agent Penber, thank you for your service, you are free to leave."]

Sayu nodded. "Okay, Raye can go! But Dad, when are we going to meet the detective? We can't just let that asshole get away with using us for his paranoid little game! Tell Ryuzaki he has to prepare for an official apology to your family!"

["Sayu! Did you just use that kind of language? Sachiko, did you hear that? I want to know why you allowed our daughter to speak that way!"]

Sachiko ignored her husband entirely. "I heard her, dear, and her choice of vocabulary is the least of our problems right now! She's right. He can't treat our family like this. You tell that Mr. Ryuzaki he is meeting us, face-to-face, to listen to our formal complaint against his conduct!"

Chief Yagami's voice was heavy with the weight of his impossible position. ["I wish I could grant that. You are absolutely entitled to that meeting, but Ryuzaki is the most secretive man on earth. I've only ever spoken to him over this secure line or through text. I don't know his location and I certainly can't drag him into our living room for tea and grievances."]

A faint, measured click signalled L's interruption. ["The Chief is being truthful, Mrs. Yagami. Personal meetings are a profound security risk. However, I can offer a material compromise. I will offer the Yagami family a full, all-expenses-paid international vacation to the destination of Mrs. Yagami's choice upon the conclusion of this protocol. I will also personally fund Light Yagami's tuition for his first year at To-Oh, provided he is accepted. This is a logical settlement for the emotional damage."]

Raye watched the three family members. Mrs. Yagami and Miss Yagami seemed ready to launch another round of arguments, but then, Mrs. Yagami simply nodded, a slow, decisive gesture that settled the matter.

She addressed the phone in a voice that was suddenly calm, cold and utterly final. “I suppose that's the best we can expect from you, Mr. Ryuzaki. You owe us this, and more. The matter is settled, then. But know that your arrogance has earned our contempt." She paused, letting the silence hang, then raised her voice to address her husband, her tone changing completely. "Soichiro, is that you still on the line? Don't worry about us. I'm making Light's favourite sukiyaki tonight. We'll be fine."

The sudden silence from the speakerphone signalled the end of the official business. Raye, officially relieved by the Chief himself, quickly gathered his coat. He rose, feeling the exhaustion of the confrontation lift entirely. He apologised again for his intrusion.

Mrs. Yagami, now fully reverted to the gracious hostess, pressed a small, neatly wrapped packet of the homemade tea biscuits into his hand. "Give these to your fiancée, Agent Penber. Tell her we're sorry you had to be the one doing this terrible job."

Raye, deeply ashamed and genuinely touched, managed a sincere, "Thank you, ma'am. I am truly sorry for stalking your son." He bowed before walking toward the door.

As he walked away, he regretted not getting a moment alone with Light to casually inquire about the mysterious wealthy male friend, but then, Light's rational, slightly chilling voice echoed in his mind regarding Naomi’s career quickly superseded the concern. If Light Yagami was willing to get close to someone, surely he had already analysed the person's character. Maybe I really have nothing to worry about.

Raye shifted his thoughts back to the mission. L, using the codename Ryuzaki Hideki, had successfully negotiated compensation and cleared Raye, all without revealing his identity as L, the world's greatest detective. The Japanese police believed Ryuzaki was simply a lead investigator. Raye knew, however, that L had been arranging a secure headquarters for the Kira Task Force. Soon, the Chief and the entire team will have to meet the legendary detective.

What will happen then?

Raye only hoped L didn't decide the next logical step to confirm Light's innocence was installing miniature surveillance equipment and listening devices throughout the Yagami home. He scoffed internally, immediately dismissing the thought as beneath the world's greatest detective. Light had already been thoroughly vetted. There is absolutely no need for escalation, Raye thought, as L is definitely not an obsessive genius who sees the least likely suspect as the most probable target simply because the evidence points elsewhere.

Chapter Text

L rotated the sugar cube between his thumb and forefinger, watching the crystalline edges catch the low light of the monitor. The issue was not that Light Yagami had done anything suspicious; the issue was that he had done nothing suspicious.

The FBI report was meticulous: Light exhibited empathy, helped with chores, treated his sister, Sayu, with respect, and maintained a supportive relationship with his father, Deputy Director Yagami. This perfection was a defence L was sure of it, built not of lies but of impeccable performance.

The Penber incident—Light’s mother and sister confronting the agent with an intensity that bordered on violence, only for Light to step in and offer the man the benefit of the doubt—was a flaw. Most families would have been baffled, maybe called the police quietly. The Yagami women had been instantly, aggressively territorial. It was the swift, unnaturally aggressive defence of the family unit, the way Light had effortlessly pivoted from casual teen to reasonable adult negotiator, that convinced L this was not a lapse in surveillance, but a glimpse of the precision required to maintain such an exquisite façade.

The true confirmation of Light’s uniquely perceptive and cautious nature had come from an unexpected source: the Kira Task Force’s own inaugural meeting.

L recalled the scene that belied his deep interest. He had entered the secure conference room, introduced himself as L and been met not with awe or deference, but with a wall of silence from five men wearing plain white masks.

The lead figure, Chief Yagami, had spoken, his voice firm through the fabric. “Before we proceed, you will provide us with verifiable proof of your identity as L. We will not discuss a case of this sensitivity with a voice on a speaker, regardless of the claims made.”

It was a stunning, and frankly, brilliant precaution.

After a tense silence, L had complied, providing a sequence of codes and verifications that only he and Interpol’s highest echelon could know. Once satisfied, the masks had come off and the men had introduced themselves. L had even offered a rare, genuine compliment.

“A prudent measure. I commend your operational security, Chief Yagami.”

The Chief had shaken his head. “The credit isn’t mine. It was my son, Light. When I told him I was meeting a world-class investigator on a secretive case, he warned me. He said, ‘Father, you are dealing with someone whose entire existence is secrecy. How can you be sure the person you are meeting is who they claim to be? You must verify his identity before you reveal your own team.’ It seemed… overly cautious at the time, but he was right.”

He was right.

The words echoed in L’s mind.

A teenage boy, with no formal investigative training, had instantly identified a critical security flaw that seasoned police officers had overlooked. He had anticipated the nature of L—a creature of shadows and verification—and had devised a simple, effective countermeasure.

This was not the mind of a normal, law-abiding student. This was the mind of a strategist. A mind that understood deception, identity and power dynamics on an instinctual level.

A mind, L concluded, perfectly suited to be Kira’s.

The perfection, the family’s fierce protectiveness, the preternatural foresight—it all wove together into a tapestry of probability that L could not ignore. Light Yagami was too clean, too prepared, too aware.

He placed the sugar cube in his mouth, the sweetness sharp on his tongue. The logical next step was clear. To prove Light’s innocence—or confirm his guilt—required a level of observation that went beyond tailing agents and background checks. It required immersion.

He needed to see the performance when the actor believed the theatre was empty.

L picked up the secure line. “Watari. The preliminary data is conclusive. We are proceeding with Phase Two. Prepare the surveillance team for the Yagami residence. I want cameras and audio in all common areas and in Light Yagami’s bedroom.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The headquarters of the Kira Task Force was a study in controlled chaos. Banks of monitors glowed, displaying news feeds and data streams from across Japan. In the centre of it all, perched on his usual chair with knees drawn to his chest, was L. To his right sat Watari, a silent, dignified presence. Arrayed before him were the chosen members of the Japanese police force.

At the head of the group, his posture rigid, was Chief Soichiro Yagami.

The initial meeting had been a necessary, if unpleasant, formality. L had revealed his identity, his methods and the reason for their gathering. The air had been thick with tension even before L had detailed his first major investigative action in Japan.

“As you are all now aware,” L began, his voice a low monotone that cut through the hum of the computers, “prior to this task force’s formation, I dispatched twelve FBI agents to surveil the families of individuals within the NPA who had access to critical information.”

A collective discomfort rippled through the room. It was one thing to know L was secretive. It was another to have their own families targeted.

“This action,” L continued, his dark eyes fixed on the Chief, “led to an unforeseen complication. One agent, Raye Penber, was compromised. Not by Kira, but by the family he was observing.”

Soichiro Yagami’s jaw tightened. “You mean my family, Ryuzaki. My wife and my daughter discovered a strange man following my son, and they acted to protect him. As any family would.”

“Indeed,” L said, without a hint of apology. “This forced my hand and required me to reveal a portion of the truth to you, Chief Yagami, over a most… volatile speakerphone call.” The memory of Sachiko Yagami’s voice, cold with contempt, was strangely vivid. “The Penber matter is now closed. He and his fiancée have returned to the United States. His final report was unequivocal: Light Yagami is not Kira.”

A low buzz of disbelief circulated amongst the officers. Aizawa frowned deeply. “To put the son of the lead investigator under foreign surveillance without the full team’s knowledge… that is a significant procedural breach. It nearly caused an international incident, and it has jeopardised Chief Yagami’s position.” Ide, the logistics officer, murmured a quiet, “Unbelievable,” while Matsuda just shook his head, looking utterly lost at the depth of L’s machinations. They had worked closely with Light’s father, and the revelation that their leader was also a key suspect’s parent was almost too much for them to process.

Soichiro Yagami held up a calming hand. “Thank you for your concern, gentlemen,” he said, “But honestly, the risk to my career is secondary. My wife and daughter... they’ve already handled things. They were, in fact, absolutely convinced that Ryuzaki here was simply operating on jealousy.” He sighed, offering L a dry, sidelong look. “My daughter called him a miserable, privacy-violating weasel who operates entirely outside the rules and only suspects Light because his ‘little heart can’t take’ seeing a functional family. The point is, they are fine.”

L offered no verbal retort to the scathing personal insults. A wave of relief seemed to wash over the other task force members. One of them, Matsuda, practically sagged in his chair. “So, it’s settled then! We can rule Light out!”

L’s index finger tapped against his lip. “No. We cannot.”

The relief vanished, replaced by confusion. Soichiro’s eyes narrowed. “What more do you need, Ryuzaki? You had an experienced FBI agent on him for days. You heard my family. You paid us compensation for the emotional distress. What possible reason do you have to still suspect my son?”

L began to methodically lay out his logic, like placing stones on a Go board.

“My initial suspicion of Light-kun was based on probability. The perpetrator is highly intelligent, possesses a strong sense of justice—however twisted—and likely has a personal connection to law enforcement. Light-kun fits this profile perfectly. He is the top student in Japan, the son of the Chief of the NPA and has expressed a desire to follow in your footsteps.”

“That describes hundreds of young men!” Soichiro countered, his voice rising.

“Perhaps,” L conceded. “But let us examine the incident with Agent Penber. Of the twelve families under surveillance, yours was the only one to discover the agent. The only one to orchestrate a confrontation that resulted in his complete and utter professional compromise. The odds of this happening by chance are astronomically low. It was a masterful, almost surgical, manoeuvre that neutralised the threat without a single drop of blood.”

“It was my wife defending her child!” Soichiro slammed a hand on the table. “You are seeing conspiracies in a mother’s love! My son is a good boy. He tutors his sister without being asked. He helps the elderly neighbor with her groceries. He volunteers at the local community center. He is kind, and honest, and he would never—could never—be this monster!”

L found the list of mundane virtues mildly irritating. It proved nothing. Kind people committed atrocities every day. But he could see the raw, paternal faith in Soichiro’s eyes. It was a variable he had to account for.

“Your belief in your son is noted, Chief Yagami,” L said, cutting him off. “And it is precisely because of your unwavering faith that I am proposing a solution that will, in theory, exonerate him completely. If he is as innocent as you believe, then observing his daily life will only prove it.”

He let the words hang in the air.

“I am proposing the installation of hidden surveillance cameras and microphones in the Yagami household. Specifically, in the common areas and in Light-kun’s bedroom.”

The room went dead silent. Soichiro looked as if he’d been struck.

“You… you want to spy on my family? In our own home?” he whispered, horrified.

“I want to eliminate a suspect from my investigation with irrefutable evidence of his innocence,” L corrected. “This is the most direct method. If Light Yagami is not Kira, the cameras will show a normal teenager studying, sleeping and interacting with his family. The investigation moves on. He is cleared, permanently.”

L could see the war raging within the Chief. His duty as a policeman versus his duty as a father. His desire to catch Kira versus his desire to protect his son’s privacy.

“This is the only way, Chief Yagami,” L said. “Give me this, and I will personally exonerate your son. You have my word.”

Soichiro Yagami closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He was trapped by L’s impeccable, maddening logic. “Fine,” he gritted out. “But on two conditions. First, only you and I will have access to the live feed. No one else on the task force watches my family like a television program. Second, the moment you have the proof you need, the cameras come down.”

“Agreed,” L said without hesitation. A small price to pay.

He turned to the rest of the team, who looked stunned by the exchange. “This development means our resources can be focused elsewhere. Matsuda, Aizawa, I want you to begin a deep analysis of all victim data from the last 72 hours. Look for any patterns I may have missed—geographical clusters, minor criminal records, anything. The rest of you, assist Watari in cross-referencing known prison schedules with the times of the heart attacks. We are looking for a link, a thread Kira may have dropped.”

As the team dispersed to their new tasks, a low energy humming in the room, L swiveled back to his main monitor. Soichiro remained seated, staring at his hands, the weight of his compromise heavy upon him.

L’s finger found its way back to his lip.

It makes too much sense, he thought, the familiar thrill of the hunt settling in his veins. The impeccable student, the doting son, the only family to expose an FBI agent… it’s all too clean. Too perfect. Kira is there. I can feel it.

He spoke softly into his headset, his voice barely a whisper. “Watari. Brief the surveillance team. The Yagami residence is the primary target. I want eyes and ears inside by nightfall.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The first few hours of the surveillance were the most morally torturous of Soichiro Yagami’s life. Sitting beside L in the dim glow of the task force headquarters, watching a live feed of his own living room, felt like a profound betrayal. He was a trespasser in his own home.

L, of course, showed no such compunction. He was a statue of focused analysis, his dark eyes darting across the bank of monitors.

The initial survey of Light’s room had been briefed. It was, as expected, impeccably neat. Textbooks were stacked with geometric precision. The only anomaly L had pointed out with a curious hum was a large, white Yeti plushie sitting in a chair in the corner.

L tilted his head, his finger lifting slightly from his lip. “That large, white Yeti plushie in the corner of Light-kun’s room… its design is quite distinctive. Does it fit with any of Light-kun’s current interests? Perhaps he is fond of obscure mountain mythology?”

Soichiro frowned, racking his brain. “I... I have no idea. Maybe Sachiko or Sayu bought it? My wife and daughter often bring home small gifts for him, especially if he passes a big exam.” He paused. “Though I cannot recall seeing that particular toy before.” He gave a guilty, helpless shrug. “I spend most of my time here now, so honestly, I do not know. It must be something recent.”

He really didn’t know his own son’s room anymore.

As the evening wore on, the surveillance became a window into a world Soichiro Yagami was too often absent from. He watched Light and Sayu sprawl on the living room floor, bickering over a video game. He saw Sachiko bring them a plate of sliced apples, ruffling Light’s hair. Then came the facemask night. He watched, captivated, as his wife and two children, all with green, glistening sheets on their faces, laughed uproariously.

This was his family.

Happy, whole and normal. See? He thought, his chest tight. See how ordinary they are?

And then the conversation happened.

The facemasks were still on when Sachiko, her voice slightly muffled, asked, “So, Light, dear. When are you planning on telling your father about Ryuk?”

Soichiro froze. On the screen, Light stiffened almost imperceptibly.

“Tell Dad what?” Sayu chimed in. “That you’re dating a super tall, cool, older guy? Or that he’s, like, ultra-rich?”

Soichiro’s breath hitched. Boyfriend? Light had a boyfriend? Everyone knew but him? He stared, dumbfounded, at the monitor. His blood pressure spiked. A rich boyfriend? He could only manage a strangled, disbelieving noise that caught in his throat.

L offered a small, dismissive shrug, returning to his squat. “I can confirm that the ‘tall, cool, older guy’ is a wealthy and recurring fixture in Light-kun’s life, and he is often the subject of Light-kun’s correspondence.”

Soichiro turned to L, his voice a low, wounded growl. “You… you knew about this too? It was in Raye Penber’s reports, wasn’t it? You knew my son had a boyfriend, and you didn’t think to mention it to me?”

L didn’t look away from the screen, where Light was now giving a soft, resigned explanation about not wanting to bother his stressed father. “Agent Penber noted a ‘wealthy male friend’ who visited once. Light-kun is a popular, attractive university candidate. It is statistically probable he would have suitors. I was also exploring the hypothesis that this individual was either providing tools or alibis for K. You were not informed because it was not relevant to the operational briefings.”

“Not relevant to the briefings?” Soichiro sputtered. “He’s my son!”

“And my suspect,” L replied, his voice flat. “If Light-kun is Kira, he requires a method. A student, even a brilliant one, does not typically have the resources for complex biological or engineered weapons. An ‘ultra-rich,’ older and apparently doting boyfriend, however…” L finally glanced at Soichiro, his eyes unsettlingly calm. “It provides a potential source of funding, materials and perhaps even a secondary location for his activities. It is a logical avenue to explore.”

Soichiro felt a cold dread wash over him. L was twisting a piece of his son’s personal life into a weapon, building a paranoid fantasy on a foundation of nothing.

The next day, the observation continued. A fake news bulletin flashed on the screen—L’s provocation about 1500 investigators coming to Japan.

Sayu scoffed. “Fifteen hundred? What a stupid idea. I bet it’s that Ryuzaki’s doing.”

Light and Sachiko returned from the kitchen.

“What’s got you all worked up, Sayu?” Light asked.

“Oh, just some dumb news,” Sayu said, sneering at the TV screen. “Fifteen hundred people are coming to find Kira. It has that creepy Ryuzaki’s fingerprints all over it. That socially inept moron is clearly lying. He just threw out a huge, fake number because he knows he has zero actual leads since he failed so spectacularly with Raye! He is trying to save face by making it look like he has global support, but it is just another desperate trick from a privacy-violating weasel. He will probably spend all his time counting his sugar cubes instead of briefing them.”

Light choked on his drink.

“Light! Are you alright?” Sachiko patted his back, her gaze hard as she focused on the television. “Your poor father, having to work with someone like that. He is clearly panicking and making up those massive numbers to provoke a reaction from Kira. It is a pathetic, desperate bluff, and it only serves to put more stress on your father and his dedicated team, who are actually doing the real work. He needs to realise he is not infallible and touch grass.”

Soichiro fought a desperate battle not to smile. He glanced at L, expecting some defence, but L merely continued to stare at the bank of monitors, his thumb pressed to his lip, his expression totally unchanged.

Sayu crossed her arms dismissively. “And you know why he’s throwing this huge, fake number out? Because he still has absolutely zero real leads after all this time! All that high-and-mighty talk, and his biggest breakthrough was spying on a high school student—my perfect brother! It’s pathetic that he still suspects Light when he’s clearly run out of ideas.”

Soichiro muttered a desperate, silent prayer. He felt simultaneously like the most disgraced father and the luckiest husband in the room. Sayu’s final, arrogant flourish was undeniably “a bit much.” But before he could lecture her or apologise, L spoke.

“Chief Yagami,” L said, not looking at Soichiro, but still focused on the monitor showing Light’s home. “You must be immensely proud of your wife and daughter. Their aggressive insight into my methodology is truly remarkable.” He paused, adjusting his position slightly. “They correctly identified the announcement as a bluff designed to provoke a reaction. Their emotional defence of Light-kun, which they articulated with such... colourful detail, is highly efficient. I have seldom encountered a psychological defence system so perfectly calibrated to protect its subject. It reinforces my initial assessment that anything connected to Light-kun is designed for flawless performance.”

“That is my family! That is not a ‘performance,’ that is my wife and daughter expressing their very real, and frankly justified, anger!”

L’s gaze remained fixed on the monitor. “Justified anger is the most effective camouflage. Their vitriol serves a dual purpose: it vents their genuine feelings while simultaneously creating a hostile environment for any further investigation. It is a brilliant, if unconscious, strategic move.”

“You are seeing conspiracies in a mother’s love and a sister’s loyalty!” Soichiro’s voice rose, his fists clenching at his sides.

“I am observing data,” L corrected flatly. “And the data suggests that proximity to Light Yagami results in highly coordinated, defensively aggressive behaviour.”

On the screen, Light, having recovered, held up a placating hand. “It’s a fake number, yes, but we don’t know who this Ryuzaki is. He must be a skilled investigator to be leading this, and he must have his reasons for a tactic like that.”

Sayu pouted, crossing her arms. “I’m still offended he has the same name as my favourite idol. He’s ruining it for me.”

Light gave a small, knowing smile. “Sayu, I doubt that’s his real name. Think about it. In a dangerous case like this, with a killer like Kira, it would make sense for the lead investigator to use an alias. In fact,” he added, his tone turning thoughtful, “I wouldn’t be surprised if ‘Ryuzaki’ is actually L, the famous detective.”

In the observation room, Soichiro stiffened, his eyes darting to L. On the screen, Sachiko and Sayu processed this.

“L? The L?” Sachiko murmured. “Well, I suppose that does make sense.”

“It doesn’t excuse his bad manners and his behaviour towards you, Light,” Sayu insisted, though with slightly less venom. “Being famous doesn’t give you the right to be a creepy.”

Back in the task force headquarters, the silence was profound. Soichiro watched L, waiting for a reaction—a twitch, a hum, anything.

L’s thumb pressed harder against his lip. “Fascinating,” he said, the word barely audible. “He not only anticipates the provocation but correctly deduces my identity from a single, fabricated news item and a codename. His mind works on a level far beyond his family’s, yet he uses that intellect to gently guide their emotions, to de-escalate their anger while steering them toward a more ‘logical’ conclusion. He is managing them.”

“He is being a reasonable son and brother.” Soichiro argued. What in the world was wrong with L? The detective was obsessed. Every logical action Light took—every polite, sensible word—L twisted into a calculated criminal manoeuvre.

For Soichiro, Light was simply an intelligent young man trying to soothe his stressed mother and sister. L needed to stop seeing Light as a flawless weapon of deception and see him as a good, innocent boy.

“He is maintaining control,” L stated, finally turning his head to meet Soichiro’s gaze. His large, dark eyes were utterly calm. “He is ensuring their outbursts do not become a liability. He is, once again, flawless. This only reinforces the necessity of our continued observation. We must see what he does when he believes no one of consequence is watching.”

Here we go again, the endless, circular logic of L.

Arguing now was pointless; L needed to see his own theory fail on camera. Soichiro was tired, but his will was steel. He needed this surveillance to end so he could clear his boy’s name and shift his attention to the real problem—the rich, older boyfriend Light had been keeping secret.

“Understood, L. Flawless. Since you are so convinced, let us continue watching. We must, after all, see this through to the end so that we can eventually dedicate all of our time to the actual Kira case.”

“Of course. There is a 99% probability that continued observation is the most efficient use of our immediate resources. The ‘actual Kira case,’ as you call it, cannot proceed until the suspect A variable has been definitively eliminated. I will continue to process. Your cooperation is, as always, statistically expected.”

Soichiro stared at L, who was already back to his preferred position, thumb pressed to his lips. The man was either truly incapable of recognising basic human emotion or simply chose to ignore it.

Soichiro closed his eyes. With Light’s upcoming university entrance, Soichiro desperately hoped that after this surveillance was concluded and L’s obsession would finally be put to rest. His son deserved to enter To-Oh University like any other young man, free to make his own connections and pursue his education without L’s shadow following him into lecture halls and social events.

Days later, the tension finally broke. The surveillance had concluded. The rate of criminal deaths—always a critical factor—remained completely unchanged during the period the Yagami family was under observation. There had been no hidden movements, no strange behaviour and no evidence whatsoever.

They were clear. His family was safe, his son was exonerated and L could finally—finally—focus on the real case. Light was no longer a suspect. Soichiro allowed himself a deep, satisfied sigh.

It was over.

He turned to L, ready to demand the next steps.

L looked up from his computer, his dark eyes fixed on Soichiro. “The 72-hour window was insufficient to definitively eliminate the variable. However, I consider the domestic surveillance to be complete. I will, of course, be monitoring Light-kun’s progress at To-Oh University very closely. His intelligence will be an invaluable asset to the Task Force.”

Chapter Text

The unchanging grey landscape of the Shinigami Realm had always been a metaphor for its inhabitants: predictable and eternally bored. Ryuk, who had supposedly lost his notebook down below, had been gone long enough that he was merely a footnote in their dull history.

Rem was mostly indifferent.

Her only point of interest was Gelus, who always occupied his perch by the dark pond, silently observing the human girl, Misa Amane.

Rem floated over to the stagnant pond where Gelus was always stationed, but found the spot deserted. Puzzled, she turned to a hulking, bored Shinigami idly scratching at the stone nearby.

“Where is Gelus?” Rem asked.

The Shinigami grunted, not looking up. “Gone. He almost threw his life away for that human girl he watches. Her stalker was about to kill her. Gelus had his Death Note open, ready to write the man’s name.”

Rem stiffened. Writing a human’s name to save another’s life was the one unforgivable rule for their kind. The Shinigami who did so would turn to dust.

“Before his chalk touched the page,” the Shinigami continued, “the stalker just... dropped dead. A heart attack. Another Death Note killed him. Someone else got there first.”

Rem stared, processing the unbelievable situation. Gelus had been moments from self-destruction, only to be saved by a rival killer.

“And where is he now?”

The other Shinigami shrugged its brittle shoulders. “No idea. He got excited, started talking about finding the person who saved the girl. The last thing I heard him shout was something about going to the human world to find out who did this.”

Find out who did this.

Rem felt a flicker of interest. Ryuk had lost his second Death Note a while ago. The other Shinigami had been gossiping about it for months. Rem guessed a human was now using it, and that human had just saved Misa Amane’s life.

Just then, a faint, rustling sound signalled the return of Gelus, who zipped to a halt nearby. “Rem, hi! I’m leaving now,” he said. “Misa was saved! She’s fine. It was definitely a Death Note, but I have no idea who the owner is. I’m going to the human world to find them and thank them.” He spun to leave.

“I’m coming too,” Rem stated.

They ripped through the dimensional barrier and emerged high in the human sky, several hundred feet above a vast urban centre built on a massive grid. The city, which Rem recognised as being built on a sprawling continent, was alive with the frantic pulse of human energy and the metallic scent of vehicle exhaust. They were likely in New York, a chaotic, illogical sprawl of buildings.

Gelus floated erratically, his tiny, brittle arms wide open in bewildered excitement. “Look at it! The sheer size of it! We don’t know where to start. Do you think the human who saved Misa is famous? They must be, to have a Death Note. Maybe they’re some kind of great detective working here?” Gelus rambled, his voice thin against the rushing wind. “We just need a clue, Rem! A sign!”

Rem said nothing. She floated still, her large frame easily ten feet tall and draped in white armour, a stark contrast to the small, colourful world below. Her great, vacant eyes scanned the horizon, processing the flow of people and energy, ignoring Gelus’s frantic speculation. She knew this was a mistake. They had landed haphazardly. They needed logic, not hope.

Rem turned her head toward Gelus. “The human we seek, and the girl Misa, are both connected to Japan. That is where we will find our answers. We go to Japan.”

“Japan!” Gelus exclaimed, his small form quivering with relief. “Rem, you’re always so logical! Thank the dust you’re here, I’d be floating in circles forever.”

They travelled swiftly, the Shinigami observing the patchwork of cities and fields below. “Look at them all, scurrying,” Gelus mused. “So weak, so fleeting. It’s a miracle they accomplish anything at all. Not like Misa, of course. She creates beauty. She’s… perfect.”

Rem offered a silent, slight nod.

It was easier to acknowledge his obsession than to argue with it.

As the coast of Japan came into view, Gelus’s tone grew thoughtful. “Whoever killed that stalker… they have my eternal gratitude. They have power and purpose. I admire that.”

Rem, who had been passively filtering the ambient terror and fascination from the human world, cut through his musings. “The humans call that power ‘Kira.’”

Gelus jerked to a halt. “Kira?”

“A name they invented,” Rem clarified, her eyes looking down at the country they approached. “They know the deaths are murders now. This ‘Kira’ is a figure of great conflict. Some humans pray to Kira, others hunt for Kira. The world is divided.”

Gelus processed this, his large eyes wide. “A god and a criminal all at once? This Kira is more complex than I imagined.” He followed Rem as she began descending with clear purpose. “Where are we going now?”

“Tokyo,” Rem answered without hesitation. “The heart of this nation. It is where the greatest concentration of human power and communication exists. The trail will be warmest there.”

Gelus looked at her, utterly impressed. “Tokyo! How did you know that? You know so much about this world!”

“I observe. I listen. You should try it,” Rem stated flatly, though the slight tilt of her head suggested she found his cluelessness almost endearing in its simplicity.

They descended into the neon-drenched city. As they floated above the bustling streets, both Shinigami grew still, extending their senses. Shinigami could not easily track one another, but with focus and patience, they could feel the faint, unique resonance of another of their kind—a cold, static hum in the air. They hovered for what felt like an hour, feeling nothing but the chaotic buzz of human life.

“It’s strange,” Gelus finally said, his voice low with confusion. “I can’t feel Ryuk’s presence at all. Or any Death Note. Shouldn’t we be able to sense it if we’re this close?”

Rem’s brow furrowed slightly, a rare sign of deep thought. “It is strange. The resonance of a Death Note is a void that pulls at the fabric of this world. It should be detectable, like a ripple in still water. For it to be this silent… either the notebook is being shielded by something we do not understand, or the holder is not here.”

“But he has to be!” Gelus whined, his form drooping. “Where else would Kira be?”

“Patience,” Rem said. “A Shinigami’s perception is not a human’s. It requires stillness.” She began to drift downward, moving like a ghost through the crowds of Shibuya. Gelus followed, his head swivelling at every flashy advertisement and noisy arcade.

“Look at it all! So many colours! So many… things!” he exclaimed, pointing at a cluster of vending machines.

“They are distractions,” Rem stated, the very picture of a weary mother guiding an overexcited child. “Focus on the emptiness between the noise, not the noise itself.”

It was then that Gelus froze, his clawed hand shooting out to point at a massive digital billboard overlooking the scramble crossing. “REM! LOOK!”

The screen showed a live music show, and the performer was Misa Amane, her blonde hair and gothic Lolita style unmistakable. The host was asking about her sudden move to Japan.

“I just felt a calling!” Misa chirped, winking at the camera. “I think my destiny is here!”

“She’s here! She came here!” Gelus cried, jumping up and down in mid-air. “She’s in Japan, Rem! She must have come to find Kira, to thank him, just like me! We have to go to her! She’s the key, I know it!”

For a full minute, Rem simply observed as Gelus celebrated, his joyous exclamations drawing strange, unseeing glances from the humans passing below. He was a spectacle of pure, unadulterated fandom, and she was his weary, stone-faced anchor.

“Don’t you see, Rem? It’s a sign! She said ‘destiny’! That’s code! She can’t say ‘Kira’ on television, so she’s using a secret message! She’s coming to find him, just like us!” he proclaimed, his voice ringing with the triumph of having cracked a divine code.

Rem spoke, her tone as dry as the Shinigami Realm. “She said she felt a ‘calling’ and that her ‘destiny’ was here. That is a common and vague human expression. She could be here for a romantic partner, a career opportunity or simply a change of scenery. You are inferring a great deal from very little.”

Gelus puffed out his chest, a gesture of proud indignation. “I’m not that dumb, Rem! I watch her. I know her. You don’t say your ‘destiny’ is in a country you’ve never lived in unless it’s something huge! Something life-changing! And what’s more life-changing than meeting the person who saved your life? It’s obvious!” He crossed his arms, looking immensely pleased with his own deductive skills.

Rem stared at him for a long, silent moment, her hollow eyes giving nothing away. Finally, she gave a single, slow nod. “Very well. We will go find Misa Amane.”

“Yay!” Gelus shot into the air like a firework before zipping back to her side. As they began to drift in the direction the news chyron had indicated for Misa’s hotel, Gelus’s mind was already racing ahead. “So, when we see her… should we get her a gift? I know human fans do that for their idols. They bring flowers, or letters, or… or really expensive handbags! I saw that on a show once. What do you think she’d like? Maybe we could find a really rare apple for her? Or… or we could write her a song! Do you know how to write a song, Rem?”

Rem continued floating forward, not even glancing in his direction. “No. We are invisible, intangible beings of death. We are not bringing the human girl a handbag.”

“Well, we could at least think about it!” Gelus insisted, undeterred. “Her fan club president would definitely have a plan! They coordinate light sticks and cheer slogans and everything! We should be just as prepared!”

“The thought is noted. And dismissed,” Rem stated, her tone finally putting a definitive end to the discussion, though the long-suffering aura she emitted was that of a parent who had just endured a child’s lengthy plea for a pet dragon.

Yet, as they moved through the dazzling, illogical chaos of the city, a foreign thought took root in Rem’s mind. Gelus’s obsession was foolish, but it was a focused energy in a realm of apathy. And this human girl, Misa Amane, who drew such devotion and was now inexplicably drawn toward the epicentre of Kira’s power… it was a confluence of events that felt less like coincidence and more like a pattern. A faint, burgeoning curiosity stirred within her. Perhaps observing this would not be entirely tedious.

“The handbag,” Rem stated abruptly, cutting off Gelus’s latest idea involving a skywriter.

Gelus froze mid-float. “...What?”

“You mentioned an expensive handbag. If a material offering is required for this… meeting, then that is what we will acquire,” Rem said, her tone still flat, but with a note of finality.

Gelus’s jaw dropped, then he let out an ecstatic “WOOHOO! You’re the best, Rem!”

“I have no concept of human monetary value,” she continued, already planning the necessary, distasteful steps. “But if we are to acquire a physical object, we will require physical forms. We will need to acquire bodies.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Tokyo was a beautiful, frantic dream, and Misa Amane was wide awake. Her penthouse suite high above the city was a mess of open luggage, designer clothes and fan mail, but her mind was perfectly, singularly focused. Coming here had been an impulse, a feeling in her soul she’d announced as “destiny” to her managers.

But the real objective was Kira.

He had saved her. Twice.

First, the man who murdered her parents years ago had dropped dead of a heart attack just as the cold case was being closed, giving her a long-awaited, distant sense of peace. Then, just weeks ago, the stalker with a knife, the one who had cornered her in a parking garage… another heart attack. It wasn’t coincidence. It was a sign. Kira was her guardian, her avenging angel, and she had to find him.

She remembered watching L’s broadcast with that Lind L. Tailor guy, claiming Kira’s power was global. But Misa had done her homework. She’d looked up the early reports, the ones before the whole world was watching. The pattern started in Japan.

Her public schedule was packed—a TV appearance this morning, a radio interview this afternoon and a massive meet-and-greet with fans tomorrow. It was the perfect cover. Smiling for the cameras, signing autographs, she could ask subtle questions, gauge reactions. Someone in this city knew something, and Misa Amane, with all her fame and charm, was the perfect person to find them.

The door to her suite opened and her personal assistant, Yumi, hurried in. “Misa-chan, just a reminder about your schedule tomorrow. The main event is the ‘Misa-Misa Fan Festival’ at Hibiya Park at 1 PM. You’ll have about two hours there, and then you’re completely free until your fitting at 7 PM for the gala.” Yumi adjusted her glasses. “Do you need anything else?”

Misa leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You know that private investigator I asked you to quietly hire? The one to look for any... unusual patterns or reclusive genius types in the Kanto region? Any updates?”

Yumi’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Misa-chan. He said the trail is ice-cold. He has no new leads.”

Tamping down her disappointment, Misa waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine! We’ll just have to try harder.” She walked over to her closet. There, awaiting its debut, was the outfit for the fan festival: a fitted, black lace-up corset paired with a short, pleated red-and-black plaid skirt. Heavy silver chain belts draped across the waist and skirt layers, connecting to thick, studded wrist cuffs. It was a bold, punk-inspired Lolita look that demanded attention and conveyed a strength she hoped would draw a certain someone’s eye.

Misa gently ran a hand over the plaid fabric. The audience tomorrow would get her full, vibrant energy. She owed her fans a performance that transcended the stage. But the moment she was free, her focus would snap back to her mission. Kira was not just a killer; he was the ultimate visionary who was cleaning up society’s mess—a necessary light in the darkness.

Misa closed the closet door. An extreme fan must always be prepared to offer her idol more than just admiration; she must offer resources, devotion and a willingness to be useful.

The next day blurred exactly as Misa had planned.

She gave her fans the flawless, high-energy performance they deserved, poured her heart into the meet-and-greets, and fulfilled every professional commitment. The non-stop, dizzying pace of her life left her constantly in motion, but now, finally, she was done.

Misa was bone-tired from the festival, yet the disappointment lingered because she’d had no time for Kira research and had found no new leads. Still, she remained hopeful. She stepped into her quiet room and turned on the light. Then she kicked off her heels and started cleaning up, tossing promotional flyers into the recycling and gathering the mountain of fan gifts that had been brought to her room.

Among the stuffed animals and letters, one item stood out, making her pause mid-step. She remembered the two fans who had given it to her—a strikingly elegant, tall woman with an aloof, cool demeanour, and her companion, a clumsy, wide-eyed man who seemed to vibrate with nervous excitement.

Their dynamic was odd; the woman was like a still, deep lake, while the man was a babbling brook tripping over his own feet. He’d practically shoved the sleek, branded bag at her while the woman just watched, her expression unreadable. Misa, used to expensive things, had been genuinely shocked when she’d glimpsed the label. This wasn’t just a nice gift, but rather a “sell-the-car-to-afford-it” level of extravagant. She’d almost been afraid to touch it.

Now, after changing into her pyjamas, she approached the bag where it sat regally among the other presents. Her curiosity finally got the better of her. She carefully unboxed it, the leather impossibly soft, and carried it to the full-length mirror. As she held it up to see how it looked, she noticed something odd—a weight, a thickness in the base that shouldn’t be there.

Frowning, she unzipped a hidden compartment.

Inside was a simple, stark, black notebook.

Misa reached in, her fingers brushing against the cool, textured cover.

The moment her fingers made contact with the cover, the air in the room turned ice-cold. In the mirror, behind her own reflection, a monstrous shape materialised—small, hunched and strangely doll-like, with a patched body of blue and white fabric-like skin. It sat low to the floor, resembling a crude, stitched-together toy with one large, yellow, vacant eye. Misa’s breath hitched, and a piercing scream tore from her throat.

The creature panicked. “No, no, no! Don’t scream! Please! I’m a friend!” he yelped, waving his long claws frantically. In his agitation, he stumbled over absolutely nothing, his own feet tangling as he crashed into a nearby vanity stool with a loud clatter.

The sheer, clumsy absurdity of it made Misa’s scream die in her throat. The frantic waving, the tripping… it was bizarrely familiar. Her eyes widened. “You… you’re the fan from today. The… the clumsy one. Mr. Gelus?”

Gelus, picking himself up from the floor, beamed, his terrifying features somehow arranging themselves into a look of pure, unadulterated joy. “Yes! It’s me! I’m Gelus! And I’m a Shinigami! A god of death! That book you’re touching is my Death Note! You write a person’s name in it while picturing their face, and they die of a heart attack! That’s how Kira does it! He has one too!”

Misa stood frozen, the words “Kira” and “heart attack” echoing in her mind, connecting everything. Gelus then turned his head, speaking to the empty air. “See, Rem? I told you she’d understand! She’s so smart!” He looked back at Misa. “Oh, right! You have to touch the other one too! It’s in the bag, under the tissue paper. Quick, touch it!”

Still processing the revelation that Kira’s power came from a magical notebook wielded by a death god who tripped over furniture, Misa numbly reached back into the bag, her fingers finding a second, identical notebook. The moment she touched it, a second, even more imposing Shinigami appeared beside Gelus. This one was taller, with an aura of serene, ancient power.

Any remaining fear in Misa vanished, replaced by a strange sense of recognition. She looked at the elegant, aloof Shinigami and bowed her head slightly. “Miss Rem.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

A low, internal hum—the Shinigami equivalent of a thrill—told Ryuk that the game was about to accelerate. He did not know what, but he knew something interesting was on the immediate horizon, but it did not matter because what mattered right now was the very palpable tension across the dinner table.

Ryuk was finally facing Light’s father.

In his human shell, Ryuk appeared as a polished, wealthy young man of twenty-five. Tonight was his official debut as Light Yagami’s boyfriend to the man of the house.

Ryuk had already navigated the easier test; Light’s mother, Sachiko Yagami, had met him with Light for lunch at a prestigious restaurant while Light’s father was busy with work, and Sachiko had been delighted that Light had found such a gentleman. She even told Sayu that Light was lucky to have found such an emotionally mature partner.

Tonight, however, the table was set for five.

Light’s choice of clothing was flawless. He wore a warm, thickly textured beige sweater over a pale collared shirt, the stripes visible at the neck and sleeves. Ryuk bit into a piece of excellent chicken, the taste muffled by the heavy, critical gaze of the Chief of Police. He was the only one who felt the pressure because Light was currently beaming at Ryuk while explaining a dish.

Ryuk was locked in a silent duel of wills. It reached a tipping point when Light, laughing at something Sayu said, casually laced his fingers with Ryuk’s under the table. The simple, trusting act was so endearing it sent a thrill through Ryuk, a sensation that was immediately countered by the sheer, palpable force of paternal glare directed his way.

It was moments like this, feeling the warm, solid weight of Light’s hand in his, that made the tedium of the human world worthwhile. This new, softer Light was still a fascinating paradox. Just a few nights ago, Ryuk had watched him work meticulously into the early hours, cross-referencing a secret, encrypted website he’d created. It was a place where people could submit requests for Kira’s judgment, but only if they provided concrete, verifiable proof of the target’s crimes.

Light had been like a scholar, poring over court documents and news articles, his brow furrowed in concentration. One name on the list had given Ryuk a flicker of vague recognition— Tsutomu Yukida—a name that felt like an echo from a forgotten dream, but he couldn’t place it.

“—and the broth is made with a special dashi that takes hours to prepare,” Light was explaining, his voice full of genuine pride. His mother beamed at him.

“Light has always had such a refined palate, even as a boy,” Sachiko added, her gaze warm and slightly misty.

Sayu, seizing the moment, grinned across the table. “You’re a lucky guy, you know that? My brother is, like, perfect.”

Light chuckled, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “Sayu, stop.”

“I’m just stating facts!” she insisted, then turned her attention to her father. “Right, Dad? Isn’t Light just the best?”

Chief Yagami’s eyes flickered from his daughter’s eager face to his son’s, then to Ryuk. He gave a noncommittal grunt that was somehow more disapproving than a full-blown lecture.

Seeing an opportunity to poke the bear, Ryuk decided to escalate. He turned his hand to properly intertwine his fingers with Light’s, lifting their joined hands to rest conspicuously on the table. “You’re absolutely right, Light,” he said, his voice a little too loud and cheerful. “The flavour is exquisite. Almost as sweet as you are.” He gave Light’s hand an obnoxiously affectionate squeeze.

The resulting sound was a sharp clink as Chief Yagami’s chopsticks hit the edge of his bowl with unnecessary force. “The chicken is getting cold,” he stated.

Interesting, Ryuk mused internally. The Shinigami King rules with absolute, dispassionate power. But a protective human father? Now that’s a force of nature that can be genuinely terrifying in its focus.

Light, sensing the tension, reluctantly withdrew his hand, though a faint, amused smile played on his lips.

The remainder of the meal passed in a stilted, heavy silence.

Ryuk continued his silent contest. He smoothly shifted to an effortlessly charming demeanour. “Chief Yagami, your home is truly lovely,” he complimented. He then looked at Light. “Your father has created a very strong foundation here, Light.” The words were true, but delivered with an unmistakable layer of condescension that implied the ‘foundation’ was now outdated.

Soichiro, missing the subtle jab, took the opening to press his advantage. “I have always believed in discipline and clear boundaries, Kuroda-san. It is the only way to succeed in a chaotic world. I assume you share that philosophy in your work?” He was fishing for a philosophical difference, clearly hoping Ryuk would reveal some flaw.

“Absolutely,” Ryuk said. “But a boundary, Chief, is only useful if one knows exactly how far one can push past it.”

The conversation settled into an uncomfortable rhythm, Light occasionally interjecting to protect Ryuk from his father’s scrutiny. Ryuk noted that Soichiro seemed incapable of connecting with him on any subject outside of veiled interrogation.

The meal concluded with a quiet scrape of chairs. Sachiko clapped her hands together. "Time for clean-up! Light, dear, why don't you and Ryuk take on the kitchen tonight? I want those pots sparkling."

Ryuk barely suppressed a grin. He knew exactly what Sachiko Yagami was doing. The ‘sparkling pots’ were just an excuse. She was strategically removing the immediate problem—her son and his wealthy, disruptive boyfriend—to have a word with her overbearing husband.

Poor Chief Yagami. He was already fighting a losing battle; his wife had clearly sided with Ryuk. His doom was sealed. Ryuk would certainly play the part of the energetic, adorable son-in-law, fulfilling the clean-up request flawlessly. Anything for the family peace!

“Great idea, Mum!” Light agreed, relieved and grabbed Ryuk’s elbow.

Ryuk quickly began stacking the bowls. He also made sure to give Sachiko a genuine look of appreciation.

As they gathered the final items, Sayu leaned over, a playful smirk aimed at her father. “See you later, Dad! You should probably try to look really sorry before Mum starts. You failed the ‘Don’t-Scare-My-Son’s-Partner’ test pretty spectacularly. Let us know if you survive the performance review!”

Soichiro straightened abruptly, eyes narrowing at his daughter’s audacity. “Excuse me, young lady?” he challenged.

“That is quite enough, Soichiro,” Sachiko interjected firmly, not even raising her voice, yet radiating absolute command. “Manners. Remember? Now, grab your jacket. We are going for a long walk to get some air and talk about how to treat our guests.”

Soichiro’s attempt at resistance vanished. He simply sighed, pushing his chair back with a heavy groan. “Yes, dear. A walk it is.”

Sayu, sensing her victory was secure, burst into a giggle and skipped away from the table. “Ciao! Don’t worry, Dad! I’ll save you a seat for your favourite documentary!”

Ryuk followed Light toward the kitchen, leaving the Chief to his fate. As they navigated the doorway, Ryuk chuckled, leaning close to Light’s ear. “I’d say that went splendidly, wouldn’t you? Your father seemed almost thrilled to have me here. He was so attentive.”

Light scoffed, setting a stack of plates down on the counter with a quiet clatter. “Oh, for sure. He likes you about as much as a cat likes a bath. Dad looks at you with the same unbridled enthusiasm a bomb disposal expert looks at a tangled mess of wires. It’s a very specific, very focused kind of ‘like.’”

"Ah, so he cares!" Ryuk said, resting his chin on top of Light’s head and looking at their reflection in the dark window above the sink. “I don’t know, he seemed pretty passionate.”

Light let out a soft sigh, the sound content rather than weary. He turned within the circle of Ryuk’s arms, looping his own around Ryuk’s neck. “He’s just protective. Once you’ve been around a bit longer, he’ll... well, he’ll probably still look at you like you’re a particularly complex case file, but he’ll tolerate you for my sake.”

“Lucky me,” Ryuk deadpanned. He leaned down, pressing a quick, soft kiss to the tip of Light’s nose, making him blink. “So, after you utterly destroy that To-Oh entrance exam—because we both know you will—what’s the plan, genius? Your place or mine for the victory party?”

Light’s smile was brilliant. “Yours. Definitely yours. We can order in, and you can tell me more about these ‘high-risk ventures’ of yours and give me a private tour of that glow-in-the-dark bonsai lab you invested in.”

“Deal,” Ryuk said, stealing one more kiss before reluctantly releasing him to face the mountain of dishes.

Chapter Text

Gelus had never known a happiness so complete it felt like his single, oversized heart might burst. He was here. With her. Misa Amane, the girl whose brilliant, fleeting life he had watched from the cold, grey expanse of the Shinigami Realm, was now right before him, and she knew him.

She wasn't screaming anymore. She was asking questions, her eyes alight with a fervour that mirrored the devotion he felt for her. And the most wonderful, incredible part? She was looking for Kira too! She saw Kira as a hero, a saviour, just like Gelus did!

Gelus fidgeted, his stitched limbs trembling with excitement as he watched her pore over the Death Note, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was so smart, so determined. He was so lost in his adoration that he almost missed the dangerous glint in her eyes when she looked up and declared, “I know how to get his attention. I'm going to go on television.”

Gelus blinked his giant eyes, the sound of her words a distant buzz over the roaring approval in his heart. Television! Of course! Misa had been on television before! She was a star! This was clearly the best idea ever conceived.

“Yeah! That’s a super good idea, Misa!” Gelus cried. He flapped his stubby wings once, barely disturbing the air. “The best! You’re so smart!” He leaned closer, his stitched smile stretching wide. “Whatever it is, I'm sure it's going to work! You always know what to do!”

Rem let out a deep, rattling sigh. “Gelus,” she said, “you have no idea what she just suggested.” She turned her head towards Misa. “Misa Amane. Explain your plan clearly. What exactly are you proposing to say, and how will it 'get Kira’s attention'?”

Misa tossed her blonde pigtails over her shoulder and beamed, looking utterly pleased with herself and Gelus’s praise. “It’s super easy, Rem! I'm going to do a broadcast and say I'm the real Kira, of course! But everyone does that, right? The key is the secret message!” She leaned in, her eyes shining with mischief. “I’ll drop a clue that only the real Kira will understand—a secret code about Shinigami and the notebook rules. Since he’s using a Death Note, he must know those rules, just like we do! When he hears the code, he’ll realise I’m legit, and he’ll contact me right away! It’s foolproof! And then we can meet him!”

Gelus felt like his stitches might pop. This was it! The masterstroke! He bounced on the balls of his feet, a low, happy gurgle escaping his throat. Misa wasn't just a famous idol, but also a strategic mastermind!

“A secret Shinigami code! Misa, you're a genius! A total, complete genius!” he yelled. He whirled around to face Rem, practically vibrating. “Rem! Did you hear the sheer brilliance? It's the perfect plan! The absolute best one!”

Rem remained a silent, disapproving statue, her silence a void he didn't even notice.

Misa's laughter was like music. “I know! It's the best plan!” she agreed, running over to enthusiastically slap his raised claw. The high-five was a pact, a promise of the adventure to come. “We're gonna find him, Gelus! We're gonna meet the amazing Kira. This is going to be so much fun!”

“But we have to be super sneaky about it!” Misa continued. “I'm not going to show my face. I'll record a voice message—with a voice changer to make it all mysterious and cool! The video will just be a black screen with a giant, glowing letter 'K' rotating slowly. It'll be so dramatic! Then, I'll get a super loyal fan who works at a broadcasting station to play it. They'll do anything for me, and they won't ask any questions!”

Gelus listened, his eye wide with fascination. Every detail sounded more brilliant than the last. “Oooh, a secret agent broadcast! And a spinning 'K'! Kira will love it!” he gasped. His mind immediately leaped to the next, most important step. “We should start getting ready to meet him! We need gifts! What do you get for a god of the new world? Maybe... a new pen? For writing in the Death Note? It has to be a really good one!”

Misa clapped her hands together. “A perfect idea, Gelus! We'll be the best supporters ever!” She then grinned, a sly look on her face. “And don’t worry about the resources. We have Rem’s money!”

The mention of money made Gelus’s single eye blink. Oh, right! The human world ran on those little pieces of paper. It was all so confusing. But he remembered the day after the fan meeting, a few days ago, how Misa had helped them. Rem, in her elegant human form, and him, as her clumsy "brother," now officially existed thanks to Misa’s connections forging them papers.

And Rem, with centuries of passive investments Misa helped her access, was suddenly incredibly wealthy by human standards. It was Rem’s vast wealth that had bought that impossibly expensive handbag they’d used to deliver the Death Notes to Misa.

“That’s right!” Gelus chirped. “We’re a team! Misa has the fame, Rem has the money-paper things, and I have… enthusiasm! We can get Kira the best pen in the whole world!”

“Okay, step one!” Misa announced, holding up a finger. “I'll write the script tonight. Then tomorrow, I'll sneak into a recording studio and do the voice with the filter. Step two, I get the video file to my fan at the station. He'll air it during a news segment. Step three, we wait for Kira to contact us!”

Gelus cheered, “Yay! Step one, two, three! So simple!”

A low, rasping voice cut through his excitement. “And how,” Rem asked, her hollow eyes fixed on Misa, “will you know if it is the real Kira who contacts you, and not the police setting a trap? How will he even find you?”

Misa's confident smile faltered for a second. “Well... I... I hadn't thought that far. I just knew he'd find a way.”

“Then think now,” Rem insisted.

Misa bit her lip, then snapped her fingers. “Wait! I've got it! In the broadcast, I'll tell him to send his Shinigami as a messenger! I'll say to meet at the big clock in Shinjuku Station at midnight! That way, only the real Kira would understand and be able to send his Shinigami to meet you or Gelus!”

A sharp, polite knock at the suite’s door instantly silenced them. Misa’s head whipped around. “Just a second!” she called out, her voice shifting back to its public-friendly chirp. She hurried over and opened the door a crack, revealing her assistant, Yumi.

“Misa-chan, sorry to disturb you,” Yumi said, bowing slightly. “I just wanted to remind you that it’s past eight. Will you be ordering room service for dinner? And please remember your nutritionist said to avoid heavy carbs after seven.”

Misa smiled brightly. “Don’t worry, Yumi! I’ll just call for a salad and some grilled fish. Thank you!”

Once Yumi was gone, Misa turned back to her otherworldly companions, her expression turning apologetic. “Sorry about that! I got so caught up I forgot you might be hungry. We should take a break and get some food! You have to try the room service here, it’s amazing!”

Gelus tilted his head. “Oh, we don’t need to eat, Misa! Shinigami don’t consume human food. Our existence is sustained by the lifeforce we extend by taking human lives.”

Misa’s jaw dropped. “No way! You still have to try it! I haven’t had proper Japanese food since I was a little girl living abroad. We’re all having some! It’s too good to miss!”

Gelus felt a wave of adoration. Misa was so generous, thinking of their enjoyment even when they didn't need it! “You're the best, Misa!” he chirped.

Misa beamed and snatched a glossy folder from the desk. “Come look! This is the menu!” She waved them over, and Gelus shuffled closer, peering at the colourful pictures. He didn't understand words like "sashimi" or "tempura," but Misa's excited explanations made them sound like the most delicious things in any world. “We'll get this, and this, and oh, this looks good too!”

Rem, who had been observing silently, finally spoke. “The only sustenance we know in our realm are the apples from the world tree. They are usually bitter and dry. It is a rare event to find one that is even mildly palatable.”

“Apples?” Misa's eyes lit up. “We can order apple pie for dessert! You'll love it!”

three days later, the plan was in motion.

Disguised in a drab school uniform and a dark wig, Misa looked like any other teenager. She held the tape securely in her bag as she walked, Gelus a comforting, unseen presence at her side.

“The person we're meeting,” Misa explained quietly, “he runs a fansite dedicated to me. He's what you'd call... dangerously loyal. He once got into a physical fight online defending my honour.” She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. “I know I'm not the smartest, but I understand people. I know how to spot the ones who will move heaven and earth for you, no questions asked. It's a powerful tool. And that's the kind of absolute support I'm going to give Kira, too.”

Gelus felt a sharp, unfamiliar pang. “Misa, no,” he whispered urgently. “You can’t think of yourself as a tool! I like Kira, but I love you! I wouldn’t want him to see you that way!”

Misa giggled, a sound that was both fond and cutting. “Silly Gelus. You’re one to talk.” She adjusted her wig, her eyes distant. “Rem told me. You watched me grow up. You saw everything that happened to me. And you were going to kill that man for me, weren’t you? You were going to trade your eternal life for mine.” She met his invisible gaze. “That’s the ultimate devotion. That’s being the ultimate tool for someone you love. And that’s exactly what I want to be for Kira. Don’t you see?”

The air left Gelus in a soft woosh. He had never thought of his sacrifice in those terms, but she was right. The parallel was perfect and heartbreaking. He had been ready to offer everything for her, and now she wanted to offer everything for Kira. A wave of sadness for her washed over him, but it was quickly followed by a surge of pure admiration for her self-awareness. “Oh,” he said softly. Then, his usual enthusiasm returned. “You’re amazing, Misa! You understand everything!”

“See? It’s not so sad,” Misa said, her voice gentle now. “We have each other. We’re a family in this, and we’re going to meet our idol together.”

Gelus felt a warmth spread through him. “A family… I like that!”

As Misa reached for the café door, a figure stepped in front of her, blocking her path. It was Rem, her tall human form clad in a simple trench coat, her face as impassive as ever.

“Rem!” Misa gasped, stepping back. “What is it? Why are you here like this?”

Rem didn’t waste a breath. “The broadcast is no longer necessary. Abort the plan.”

“But why?” Gelus cried, confused.

Rem’s gaze was piercing. “Because I have located Ryuk.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The plan was dead.

Long live the new, infinitely better plan.

Misa could hardly believe the turn of events. Rem had explained it so calmly: a chance glimpse of her old friend Ryuk while drifting through the city’s air currents, a quick conversation and just like that, a meeting was arranged. Misa had clasped her hands together, nearly squealing. The truly amazing detail was where Rem found him.

That was the most romantic, dramatic thing she’d ever heard!

“Oh my gosh! So they just... fly together?” Misa had practically whispered, her heart fluttering. “Like a midnight stroll, but floating? Is Kira's Shinigami always with him? Do they have a good relationship? Are they like best friends?” Her idol's life suddenly seemed layered with this intensely mysterious, almost soulful connection to a death god.

Kira is just perfect in every way!

Now, sitting in the impossibly plush interior of a luxury sedan, Misa felt like a princess in a fairy tale. She’d chosen a disguise fit for the occasion—a cute blue wig and her favourite white Lolita dress with lace stockings.

Rem and Gelus, in their human forms, were silent sentinels. Rem stood as a stunningly tall, angular woman. The tailored purple jumpsuit Misa had insisted upon moved with an unnatural grace, defined by sharp lines and a high collar. Beside her, Gelus was transformed into a boyish figure, noticeably smaller than Misa. He wore a crisp, oversized cream-colored hoodie and black trousers that gathered perfectly at his ankles.

When the car purred to a halt in front of a restaurant whose name she only knew from celebrity gossip blogs, her breath caught. It was a place for billionaires and royalty. The chauffeur, a man whose uniform looked more expensive than Misa's entire wardrobe, opened the door. “Please follow me. My masters are expecting you in the private dining area,” he instructed with a polite but firm nod, guiding them toward the glittering entrance.

As Misa stepped onto the curb, she clutched Gelus’s arm, her excitement bubbling over. “Gelus, Rem, quick! You two knew Ryuk, right? Did he talk about how he liked the human world? You think he's friends with Kira now?”

Gelus's boyish face screwed up in thought. “Yeah, we knew Ryuk. But... he was always a bit different,” he murmured, adjusting his oversized hoodie. “He was the one who was never really satisfied in the Realm. He'd even talk back to the Shinigami King casually, which no one else did! He had strange ideas about... well, everything. He always seemed to be looking for excitement, which is weird for us, since we're supposed to be okay with boredom for millennia.”

Rem, following Misa with her long, elegant stride, added in a low voice, “Ryuk has dropped notebooks into the human world the most frequently of any shinigami. More than once, he has tried to 'spice things up.' His frequent visits mean he is far more accustomed to and integrated into the human world than Gelus or I. He seems to be establishing his 'human' identity and connections quite well.”

Misa gasped. “So Ryuk is cool, and Kira is perfect, and they're secret best friends! This is going to be even better than I thought! I can't wait to see what kind of person is worthy of being Ryuk's friend! We're finally going to meet them!”

The moment they stepped through the heavy, ornate doors, Misa felt like she was drowning in silent wealth. Everything glowed. The floors were polished obsidian, reflecting the soft, warm light of immense chandeliers that looked less like fixtures and more like frozen waterfalls of gold and diamond. Even the air smelled expensive, like rare wood and white flowers.

The chauffeur respectfully ceded them to a hostess—a woman in a perfect black dress whose smile seemed professionally calibrated. “Welcome. I will show the party to the Azure Room,” she stated, her voice smooth as silk. The chauffeur gave a curt nod and vanished.

Misa leaned in close to Gelus, whispering urgently. “I saw this place on a 'Billionaires' Dining' special! They charge so much that you have to pay a deposit just to look at the menu! And they have a dessert, an apple! They actually serve a simple apple on a silk pillow—can you believe it?! It’s the most ridiculous, amazing thing ever! Kira has such amazing taste!”

Gelus blinked. “Wait, an apple... on a pillow?” he whispered back to Misa, looking genuinely puzzled. “Are you sure that part is Kira's taste, Misa? Because... that sounds exactly like something Ryuk would do. He's always been obsessed with apples. If he's settled in and is 'establishing an identity,' I bet he chose this place, not Kira.”

Misa’s eyes widened slightly, absorbing the new detail about Ryuk's obsession.

Ryuk loves apples... noted!

The hostess stopped before a door discreetly marked 'Azure' and extended a hand, clicking the latch.

Misa's breath caught. She stepped inside and stopped dead. There were two people.

One was a spectacularly tall man, lean and sharp, dressed head-to-toe in black—a form-fitting dark turtleneck under a thick, dark leather jacket. He was pale, handsome, and Misa could sense the distinct, chilling aura of a Shinigami around him. This must be Ryuk in human form. Leaning close against his shoulder, almost casually, was a second young man.

This second man, Kira, was her age, impossibly neat, with wavy, light-brown hair and eyes that seemed to hold a brilliant, calculating light. He wore a sweater vest in a refined shade of grey over a crisp white, collared shirt, paired with tailored dark trousers that fell straight. Everything about his clothes looked like they were made specifically for him—simple, tasteful, and intensely sophisticated. He was flawless.

The tall man—Ryuk—straightened, detaching himself from the other young man with a fluid, almost too-quick movement. His pale lips curved into a wicked, knowing smirk as he fixed his unnervingly bright eyes on Rem and Gelus.

“Well, well, well,” Ryuk's voice was a low, amused drawl. “Look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say, what fell from the sky.” His glowing red eyes swept over Rem and Gelus. “Rem. And little Gelus! Still in one piece, I see. Good, good. I heard a rumour you were about to turn to dust over some human girl and a grand gesture of true love. Glad you didn't go through with it. Much more fun to have a reunion down here, don't you think? What a party!”

“Ryuk,” Rem acknowledged, her tone flat and utterly devoid of warmth. She completely ignored his teasing and moved to sit down, offering a quiet, “Kira,” to the boy in the sweater vest, her respect for the human evident.

Gelus shuffled forward, a frown on his borrowed face. “Don't 'what a party' us, Ryuk! This is your fault! You let your notebook get found! And I'm grateful your human saved Misa, I really am, but you... you're just...” He trailed off, flustered, his eyes darting between Ryuk and the human he was so clearly attached to.

“Aw, don't be like that,” Ryuk crooned, clearly enjoying the reaction. He then looked past Gelus, his eyes landing on Misa. “And hello there, little star. Misa Amane, right? I've heard so much. It's good of you to come and meet your idol.” His tone was light, but the underlying message was clear: admire from a distance.

Misa nodded gracefully at Ryuk. “A pleasure, Mister Ryuk.” Then, she focused on her idol, her composure melting into pure reverence. She bowed. “Kira-sama. I am Misa Amane. Your biggest supporter.” She gestured to the notebooks she carried. “If you would touch these, you'll be able to see my companions in their Shinigami forms later.”

The young man stood and gave a slight, formal bow of his own. “Welcome, Misa Amane. I am Light Yagami. Call me Light.” Light Yagami. The name echoed in her mind, so fitting for the bringer of a new world. “I see. So you have two Shinigami aligned with you.”

“No! Just one! Me!” Gelus interjected, waving his hands. “Misa is my notebook’s owner! Rem is just... tagging along!”

Ryuk chuckled, leaning close to Misa's ear. “Think of Rem as the babysitter. Someone has to make sure the love-struck one doesn't get you both killed.”

Misa let out a light, airy laugh, nodding in agreement. “He's exactly like that! It's a full-time job for both of us, making sure he doesn't trip into something dangerous!”

Light allowed a small smirk as he observed Gelus's frantic energy. “The evidence does seem to support that conclusion.”

“Hey! I am right here!” Gelus squeaked, waving his arms.

A polite knock interrupted him. The door opened and the hostess entered, beaming as she walked directly to Gelus and presented him with a laminated colouring book and a cup of crayons. “A little activity to keep you occupied, young man,” she chirped.

Gelus froze, his jaw slack. He mechanically took the items, his entire posture slumping in defeat. He then turned and trudged to a plush chair in the corner, sinking into it with the colouring book on his lap. The sight of the centuries-old Shinigami being mistaken for a child was too much, and the room erupted in soft chuckles and shared smiles.

Dinner proceeded with surprising ease.

Light Yagami was not the stern god Misa had imagined, but a charming, witty, and frighteningly intelligent young man. The chemistry between him and Ryuk was palpable, a fact Rem noted with a stoic, “A Shinigami and a human forming a romantic bond is unprecedented and against the natural order.”

Ryuk just cackled, waving a dismissive hand. “The 'natural order' is boring! This is much more fun.” Rem simply shrugged and continued eating, having stated her piece.

In the corner, Gelus, having gotten over his pout, was now fully engrossed in meticulously colouring a picture of a dinosaur.

As they discussed his work, Light revealed the sophisticated system he'd built. He still wrote names years in advance based on major criminals, but to address flaws and wrongful accusations, he'd created a secure, encrypted website—"The Kira Initiative"—where people could submit evidence against criminals who had evaded the justice system. A team of anonymous volunteers he'd recruited vetted the submissions. “Relying solely on the flawed justice system is unsustainable,” Light explained. “This allows for direct, citizen-driven justice.”

Misa was in awe. “Let me help! I can do anything!” Light smiled, appreciating her fervor. “I could use a public liaison. Someone with your reach could help promote the site discreetly. You would be my 'Voice'.”

As exquisite dishes were presented—delicate sashimi, perfectly grilled wagyu, and steaming miso soup—the conversation flowed as smoothly as the green tea. Misa listened, utterly enchanted, as Light elaborated on his “Kira Initiative.” He explained the multi-layered verification process for submissions, ensuring no single person could abuse the system. “It creates a decentralised court,” he said. “One that operates beyond corruption and bureaucracy.”

Throughout his explanation, Misa noticed the small gestures between him and Ryuk. A subtle nudge of a wine glass from Ryuk, a barely-there smile from Light when Ryuk made a dry comment about the “bland” decor. It was so cute! She was absolutely shipping it. Her fangirl heart was doing backflips. This was even better than she'd dreamed—Kira was a visionary and he was in an epic, forbidden love story!

“So, as the 'Voice',” Light concluded, turning his full attention back to her, “your role would be to guide public sentiment. Use your interviews and social media to drop subtle hints, to shape the narrative that Kira is a force of true, organised justice, not random chaos.”

Misa nodded vigorously. “I can totally do that! I'll be the best Voice ever!” she declared after swallowing the most amazing tofu.

With the plan firmly in place, a comfortable silence fell over the table, broken only by the clink of fine china. Gelus, having finished his dinosaur, was now showing a surprisingly detailed crayon portrait to a politely nodding Rem.

Light leaned back, looking genuinely satisfied. “Excellent. Then for now, the planning is concluded. Let's just focus on the food.”

Ryuk grinned, raising his glass. “Now you're speaking my language. To a good plan, and even better apples!”

A comfortable lull settled over the table as the focus turned entirely to the feast. Seeing Gelus looking curiously at the various dishes, Misa decided to help him out, carefully selecting some asparagus and sweet potato tempura for his plate.

Rem, ever the pragmatist, added, “Do not let him skip the asparagus, Misa. It is beneficial for the human digestive system.”

Gelus looked from the strange green spears to Rem, utterly baffled. “We don’t have a digestive system! Not a real one! This is ridiculous!”

“The form functions on human rules,” Rem stated simply. “If you wish to keep it, you must fuel it. It is logical.”

Gelus was about to retort when he caught Misa’s bright, approving smile. His protest died in his throat, replaced by a sense of duty. “Oh… Well, if it’s for Misa,” he said, his voice softening. He picked up a piece of asparagus, gave it a suspicious sniff, and then took a small, committed bite, determined to be a good… whatever Misa needed him to be.

As Misa savoured a piece of the tempura, its lightness astonishing her, she couldn't contain her delight. “This is amazing! The food is so much better than any fancy hotel banquets!”

Light nodded in agreement. “I'm glad you like it. This place is a bit of a special spot for us. Ryuk insisted on coming here for our first official dinner together. Since then, we've celebrated family occasions here too—my sister Sayu adores their teriyaki. But don't let the ambiance fool you because it's quite reasonably priced. The only thing that's genuinely exorbitant,” he added with a faint, amused shake of his head, “is the 'Ruby Apple Delight'—a perfectly ordinary apple served on a velvet pillow.”

Misa laughed, the sound bright and clear. “That's so funny! I love it!”

“Priorities,” Ryuk chimed in, pointing his fork for emphasis. “They have them right where it counts.”

Just then, Light reached for the salt, his hand briefly brushing against Ryuk's arm that was resting on the table. It was a fleeting, unconscious touch, but Ryuk shifted slightly, leaning into the contact for a moment before pulling away.

Gelus's jaw went slack. The asparagus hung forgotten from his chopsticks. “Hold on,” he whispered, his voice squeaking. “Are you two... together? Like, together together?”

Light looked up, a perfectly calm expression on his face. “Is that a problem?”

“Not for me,” Ryuk chuckled, looking amused by Gelus's reaction.

Gelus spun to face Rem, his eyes pleading for some kind of cosmic clarification. “Rem! They admitted it! A Shinigami and a human! That's... that's...!”

Rem dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I am aware. The rules are explicit. They are also, in Ryuk's case, apparently optional. The arrangement is unorthodox, but it has not resulted in the collapse of either realm thus far.” She gave Gelus a pointed look. “Therefore, it is not our business. Finish your asparagus.”

Gelus sputtered, ready to launch into a full-blown theological debate, but Rem swiftly used her own chopsticks to push the offending piece of asparagus right into his open mouth. He made a startled “Mrph!” sound.

Misa giggled behind her hand, but her curiosity was piqued. “Sorry, I'm just curious. What's the big rule about it?”

“The big rule,” Ryuk said, savouring the attention, “is that it's a death sentence for us. If a Shinigami purposefully extends a human's life they've grown attached to, they die. All their remaining years go to that human.” He nodded toward Gelus. “That's the kind of sappy, self-destructive move he was about to pull for you. Pathetic, really.”

He then grinned. “But what Light and I have is a real partnership. He's got his own goals, and I get front-row seats to the most entertaining show on Earth. No rule-breaking required. We're just built different.” Ryuk then reached out one long, pale finger and gently twirled a strand of Light's impeccably neat brown hair around it. Ryuk winked at a flustered Gelus. “Some of us are just better at love, I guess.”

Gelus slammed his small hands on the table, instantly regaining his fury and volume. “That's not fair! My love isn't like that!” he argued, his face flushed. “It's not about romance or... or that! It's pure protection! I just want to be by Misa's side and make sure she's safe and happy! I'm her guardian, not her lover! There's a big difference!”

Misa, touched by his sincerity, patted his arm gently. “Aww, Gelus! That's so sweet! Of course, I know that! You're like my little brother now! We're family! And it would be totally weird to date your brother, obviously!”

Gelus froze, his mouth hanging open. “Little... brother?” He looked down at his cream-colored hoodie, then at his small hands. The centuries of his existence, the wisdom of the Shinigami Realm, vanished under the weight of that simple, devastating phrase. His shoulders slumped. He pushed away from the table, muttering under his breath, “Little brother. Misa sees me as a little brother. I'm older than her! Little brother...”

Misa watched her "little brother" sit back down, his cheek resting sadly against the laminated dinosaur as he resumed colouring. Well, at least he’s quiet now. She turned back to the table with a quick, nervous smile for the two men.

“I apologise for the dramatics. Gelus is... sensitive,” Misa explained.

“It's fine, Misa,” Light assured her, a corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “It's certainly a more exciting history than most people have. And it led to you being saved. I truly am thankful that he didn’t have to intervene.” He paused, looking genuinely sincere.

“Speaking of that, Light,” Misa leaned in, “how did you find out the name of the guy who tried to kill me? He wasn't a known criminal, and the police hadn't even named him publicly when it happened! That whole part has always amazed me!”

Light took a sip of his tea. “The beauty of the Initiative is that it bypasses the sluggish official systems. The man who attacked you had a history of threatening behaviour against other public figures, but the complaints were mostly ignored. However, an anonymous team of concerned citizens—who are also Kira supporters—had been privately collecting evidence on him for weeks. One of them found the necessary records, logged the information, and submitted his full name through the site's secure channel. It was an instance of proactive, collective citizen justice.”

“Wow, that's so smart!”

Ryuk’s face softened into an expression of pride. He leaned forward, resting his chin momentarily on Light’s shoulder with a distinct clack of teeth. “He really is the best, isn't he, Rem? No other human could pull this off!”

“Since we have reached a mutual understanding,” Rem said, folding her napkin, “we still need to proceed with one more necessary ritual.”

“Right.” Light rose and walked to a beautiful, deep-red, velvet-lined storage bench that looked like it held expensive wine or furs. He flipped the heavy lid. Inside, tucked beneath a layer of pristine white tissue paper, was a large, branded designer travel bag. “Ryuk, the goods.”

Ryuk reached into the bag and pulled out Light's worn, but immaculate, black Death Note. Light held the book. “Misa, I want you to make physical contact with the notebook,” he stated, his voice firm. “Once you've done so, the power will be confirmed for you, and should Ryuk ever lose his human disguise, you will retain the ability to see him.”

Misa grinned, leaning forward and gently resting one finger on the edge of the Death Note. The subtle, cold magic felt immediately familiar and comforting. She settled back down, admiring the group. “You know, thinking about the Death Note... I'm super curious about your disguises! You all look so different. Ryuk is all tall and emo-chic, Rem is like a runway model and Gelus is this adorable kid. Is it hard for Shinigami to keep up these perfect human forms? Do you have to, like, practice a lot? Or does it, you know, take some kind of special Shinigami juice or something?”

Rem sighed, a low, rasping sound even in her human form. “It is not a matter of 'juice,' Misa Amane. It is a matter of effort and constant focus. To maintain a convincing form that can interact with the human world requires us to actively shift and hold our physical nature.”

Ryuk chimed in. “Yeah, it's boring, but necessary if you want to eat decent apples and hang out with your boyfriend. It's just a constant little magical hum in the background.”

Gelus looked up from his colouring, his face momentarily losing its sulkiness. “The energy required isn't infinite. It feels like... like having a huge weight on your back all the time. It saps our internal resources.” He looked at Misa. “It makes us weaker, slower. If you have to maintain the form for months or years, the constant draw means our actual lifespan is slowly, incrementally depleted.”

Light's head snapped up from the dessert menu. “What? Lifespan is depleted?! Ryuk, you didn't tell me that maintaining this form actually drains your life force! Rem, is that true? If it makes you weaker and costs you years, you absolutely should not be doing this!”

Misa gasped. “Wait, really? It hurts you guys? You should just go back to your cool monster forms! We care about you! You don't need to do this for us!” She stood up and walked over to the corner, gently tugging Gelus's sleeve. “Come on, little bro. No more colouring. You and Rem are going to sit right here and stop wasting energy being human!”

Light continued to stare at Ryuk, the worry clouding his normally sharp eyes. He was leaning back, his shoulder now squarely against Ryuk's chest. Ryuk, in turn, gently lowered his chin to rest on the crown of Light's head, his arms wrapping lightly around Light’s shoulders in a protective, comforting embrace, his voice humming low against Light’s ear.

Rem looked at the pair, then back at Misa. “Misa Amane, our accumulated life span is counted in geological time. The drain is small. The loss is negligible and we are not on the verge of collapse.”

Ryuk punctuated Rem's point with a final, lazy squeeze of Light. “She's right. Think of it as spending pocket change from a lottery win. It's not worth shedding this amazing disguise just yet. We are safe and we are not going anywhere.”

Misa watched the intimate scene unfolding between Light and Ryuk. Her heart swelled. Aww, they really are the best power couple! It was so beautiful to see her idol, Kira, look so concerned and loved. Okay, so they lose a tiny bit of life, but they have many years! She smiled widely, returning to the table. We're the perfect team! We're all in love, we're all safe, and Kira is totally going to win the world without even breaking a sweat!

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The morning of the To-Oh University entrance exam was crisp and clear. Hopeful students gathered at the gates, their anxieties and ambitions filling the air. Among them, hidden in plain sight, L sat on a bench some distance away, his posture a familiar crouch as he observed the scene.

His focus, as it had been for a few months, was singular: Light Yagami.

His eyes, dark and unblinking, catalogued every detail. Light’s outfit was a study in understated wealth. The wool of his tailored coat, the precise cut of his trousers, the subtle branding on his leather satchel—L’s mind automatically calculated the cost, and the total was staggering for a high school student. L recalled the results of his discreet inquiry into Ryuk Kuroda’s supposed real estate and investment portfolio.

I see Light Yagami’s very rich new partner is certainly making sure his boyfriend arrives in style.

Light finished the exam with an hour to spare, emerging from the hall not with the frantic relief of his peers, but with a calm, purposeful stride that set him apart. L watched him go, a puzzle piece moving with frustratingly perfect alignment. He had his team reposition to follow Light’s path, expecting him to head straight home.

It was a surprise, then, when L himself emerged from the testing centre later—having taken the exam under an alias, partly for cover, partly out of a perverse competitive streak—and found Light Yagami still there, loitering near the main gate.

He was not alone.

Leaning against the brick wall beside him was the man L knew only from blurred long-lens photographs: Ryuk Kuroda. In person, he was even more imposing. Dressed head-to-toe in black, his height and sharp, pale features drew stares, but his attention was fixed solely on Light, a possessive, almost predatory fondness in his gaze.

Light was speaking to him, a soft, unguarded smile on his face. L had seen Light adopt many charming guises—the dutiful son, the focused student—but this vulnerable, relaxed aspect felt too authentic, too deeply layered, to be a practiced manipulation.

If this is an act, L thought, pressing his thumb deeper into his lip, it is the performance of a lifetime. The percentage must be re-evaluated. This consistent portrayal of innocent intimacy was unsettling L's certainties.

Ryuk suddenly dipped his head and pressed a brief, gentle kiss to the spot where Light's neck met his shoulder. This was the moment. L approached, his gait deliberately slouched.

“Light Yagami?” L said, his voice a quiet monotone.

Light turned, his expression shifting seamlessly to one of polite, friendly curiosity. “Yes? Oh, hello. You were in my exam hall, weren’t you?”

“I was. My name is Ryuzaki Hideki,” L said, his eyes flicking from Light to the man beside him. “You finished very early. I was impressed.”

“It was a fair exam,” Light said with a modest shrug. His composure was flawless. “This is my boyfriend, Ryuk.”

There was no hesitation, no flicker of unease. Ryuk offered a slow, sharp-toothed grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A pleasure,” he said, his voice like gravel.

“Likewise,” L replied, feeling the strange, chilling aura the man projected. It was… otherworldly. “You two make a… striking couple.”

Before Light could respond, the scene was joined by three more people.

L’s analytical mind snapped into overdrive. He immediately recognised the famous idol Misa Amane, her presence turning heads. But the other two were unknowns. A tall, elegant woman with an air of ancient, detached serenity, and a younger, clumsier-looking boy who seemed to vibrate with nervous energy.

“Light! Ryuk!” Misa called, bouncing over to link her arm with Light’s. “We saw you from the car! Are you ready to celebrate?”

“Just about, Misa,” Light said, his smile warm and genuine.

He was clearly the centre of this strange, eclectic group. L’s internal database whirred. Misa Amane’s connection to Light was a new, significant variable. But the other two… they were complete blanks. His instincts screamed that they were important.

Misa took a step back, her gaze lingering on L’s bizarre appearance. “Hello! I'm Misa Amane, Light-kun's friend!” She turned to Light. “Light-kun, who is this scary-looking, weirdly dressed person? Is he an avant-garde artist?”

“Misa, this is Ryuzaki Hideki. We were just getting acquainted,” Light explained easily.

Misa's eyes widened. “Ryuzaki... Hideki? Wait, is that like the big mystery idol, Hideki Ryuga? That's the same name! How funny!”

Light chuckled softly at Misa's enthusiasm, his attention momentarily moving back to the strange man. “Yes, the name is quite the coincidence. Ryuzaki, she means it. My younger sister is also oddly obsessed with that particular celebrity. I suppose you can't escape celebrity culture, even when you're focusing on exams.”

L shifted his weight, his eyes momentarily sweeping over the other two newcomers. “The coincidence of the name is statistically irrelevant, but the fact that Miss Amane is now present, alongside these two individuals, is a significant change in your social profile, Mr. Yagami.” He paused, chewing slightly on his thumb. “Perhaps Miss Amane can enlighten me. How did your acquaintance begin? Famous people do not typically cross paths with ordinary people accidentally.”

Misa giggled, squeezing Light's arm affectionately. “No, we definitely didn't meet by accident! Ryuk introduced us. Ryuk and I have a working relationship—we have the same business manager. So, when Ryuk and Light became serious, I came over to vet Light to make sure he was good enough for my best friend!”

Light gave a modest, slightly embarrassed laugh. “Misa is being dramatic, but yes, Ryuk introduced us through his circle of friends. Rem is Ryuk's long-time friend, and Gelus is Rem's younger brother. We're a tight-knit group.”

Ryuk reached out a long, pale hand, took Misa’s hand off Light’s arm, and politely set it aside as if it were a misplaced prop. He then slipped his own hand firmly into the space between Light's coat and his side.

“Misa and I have a long, tedious professional history,” Ryuk explained, maintaining physical contact with Light. “She's just here to celebrate my successful conquest. Light is a smart student, and quite simply, the most entertaining and extraordinary human being I have ever encountered—and believe me, I've met a few. He's mine, and I tend to get a little attached to my most treasured finds.”

Misa giggled, her high-pitched voice piercing the quiet morning air. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the couple. “See? This is what I mean, Ryuga! They just can't keep their hands off each other! It's a miracle Light managed to focus on the exam at all! They're adorable, of course, but I almost feel sorry for anyone who doesn't have such an intense, beautiful relationship! It must be so boring for you single people to observe our group!”

She then turned to L, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated concern. “Oh, and sorry for being so familiar and calling you by your nickname! But you look exactly like a little, tired raccoon clinging to a branch—all hunched over and pale! I just had to call you! I lived abroad, so my manners are terrible! I hope you understand!”

She then grabbed Gelus's arm. “Gelus! Tell this gentleman that I am simply expressing my sincere joy for my friends!”

Gelus, delighted to be included, bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. “She is! Misa is totally sincere! She always says what's true!” He pointed a small finger at the couple. “And she's right about Light and Ryuk! They are always, always cuddling! And you know, it's actually scientifically proven that people in relationships have better brain chemistry, so Light is probably even smarter because Ryuk loves him so much! You and I, Ryuzaki, we are not in a relationship, so we might not understand the brain boost of true love! And you should really get some coffee, because you look like you need it! Coffee is important for high-level thinking, like the kind Light does!"

L closed his eyes briefly, inhaling slowly.

Gelus pressed on. “It's a fact! Love makes you smarter! It's not acting! It's science!”

Rem, who had been observing the exchange with the still patience of a stone monument, finally moved. She placed a cool, long-fingered hand gently on Gelus’s shoulder, instantly silencing the bouncing child.

“That is enough, Gelus. We have made our point.” She gave L a look of detached consideration, almost pity. “You appear to be a man deeply burdened by solitude, Ryuzaki. Perhaps this constant chatter is a shock to your system.”

Misa, taking advantage of the quiet, cheerfully linked arms with Light again. “See, Light finished the test super fast! He's definitely going to be top of the class! And Ryuzaki finished fast too, just after Light! So you two are basically classmates already!” She looked at L with bright enthusiasm. “How about you come celebrate with us, Ryuga? We're going out for a fancy meal! You can be Light’s new study buddy!”

A wide, genuine smile spread across Light's face. “That's a fantastic idea, Misa! I would genuinely love to know you better, Ryuzaki. We can compare notes on the exam.”

Ryuk's sharp eyes narrowed in immediate disapproval. He subtly slid his arm from around Light's shoulder and placed it around Light's waist, exerting a gentle but firm pressure that clearly encouraged Misa to step away.

Misa, however, was equally determined, clinging to Light's arm with playful resistance. Light remained perfectly still between the two of them, the picture of serene calm, utterly unperturbed by the low-key tug-of-war being waged for his physical proximity.

L felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. He looked into Light's eyes, searching for the calculation, but found only warmth and interest. His innocence is too dense to be penetrated. L analysed the risk: accepting the invitation would mean subjecting himself to the full, intimate surveillance of Light’s inner circle.

This man is dangerous, he concluded, irrespective of whether he is Kira.

I must approach him carefully.

L shook his head once, sharply. “That will not be necessary. I have other commitments that require my immediate atten...”

His blood ran cold.

He spotted two more familiar figures approaching from across the street: Sachiko Yagami and Sayu Yagami. The memory of his last, disastrous encounter with them—a phone call where Mrs. Yagami had blisteringly accused him of harassing her son and a sweet-looking Sayu had called him a “creepy, stalker pervert” for having Raye Penber followed—was still vividly, painfully fresh. Raye Penber and his fiancée had been utterly useless, vehemently defending Light’s character and effectively shutting down that line of inquiry.

This was a tactical retreat.

“Well, I won’t keep you from your celebration,” L said, taking a step back. “It was nice to meet you all.”

“Are you sure about skipping lunch, then?” Light asked, gently pulling Misa's hand off his arm. He paused, then added, “If you do not want to do that, perhaps we can plan to see each other more often after the opening ceremony?”

The offer was so sincere it was disarming. But L saw Sachiko Yagami’s eyes lock onto him, her expression shifting from cheerful to suspicious. “No, thank you,” L said quickly. “I have… other commitments. Let's certainly connect at the entrance ceremony. I look forward to it. Goodbye.” He turned and melted into the crowd of departing students, his mind churning.

He didn’t look back.

Later, in L’s command centre, the glow of multiple monitors illuminated his face as he stuffed a piece of cake into his mouth. “Watari,” he said, the name both a command and a plea.

“Yes?”

“The two individuals with Light Yagami and Misa Amane today. The tall woman and the clumsy boy. I need everything. Names, backgrounds, financials, anything you can find.”

The silence that followed was longer than usual.

When Watari’s voice returned, it held a rare note of frustration. “I have been trying since you sent the initial alert. There is… virtually nothing. The woman appears to be registered as ‘Rei Mido,’ a reclusive investor with substantial, old capital. The man is listed as her dependent, ‘Gelu Mido.’ The paper trail is impeccable, but it is also shallow. There is no history before two years ago. No childhood records, no school photos, no digital footprint. It is as if they were created, fully formed.”

L stared at the two profiles now on his main screen. They were phantoms. And they were now inextricably linked to his prime suspect, who was himself linked to an ultra-rich boyfriend and a famous idol.

He slumped deeper into his chair, the sweet cake turning to ash in his mouth. The puzzle of Kira, once a complex but solvable equation, had just been scattered to the wind. Light Yagami was no longer just a suspect hiding in shadows, but he was a king at the centre of a bizarre, seemingly impenetrable court.

For the first time, a cold, unsettling doubt crept into L’s mind. A doubt that whispered he might never find the evidence he needed, that the truth was hiding in plain sight, protected by a shield of the utterly inexplicable.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Ryuk’s wide, sharp-toothed grin stretched across his face as he looked in the direction L had vanished. He lifted the hand he had been using to hold Light’s side, brought it up, and pressed a dramatic, loud kiss to Light’s knuckles.

“Well, that's that then,” he drawled, still chuckling. “Our little raccoon decided he didn't want to play anymore.” He looked down at Light with amused possessiveness. “I bet he bolted the second he saw the women of the Yagami family approaching. Smart move, for a detective.”

Misa frowned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Wait, really? That weird, hunched-over guy was the famous detective L? And he ran away? Why would a detective run just because he saw Light's mum and sister coming? Did they yell at him or something?”

Ryuk draped an arm over Light's shoulders, pulling him into a snug side-hug. “It’s a long, funny story, Misa-Misa. But yes, that was L, and yes, he absolutely fled the scene. I promise I will tell you all the details later. He got quite the fright last time they talked.”

Light, leaning into the contact, simply smiled, his eyes glinting with triumphant amusement.

Before Ryuk could elaborate, a cheer rose from the approaching figures. Sachiko Yagami hurried over, her face beaming, followed closely by a bubbly Sayu.

“Light! Darling! And Ryuk, dear!” Sachiko exclaimed, kissing Light on the cheek before squeezing Ryuk's arm. “Congratulations, my brilliant son! We just know you aced it, number one, without a doubt! And Misa-chan! Rem and Gelus! Thank you all for supporting my boy!”

“Mum, please,” Light laughed, gently detaching himself to hold Ryuk's hand. “The results aren't out yet, so we don't actually know.”

Sayu bounded up, grabbing Misa's hand. “Oh, Light, who cares about the results? You're the genius! And Misa-chan, thank you again for the autograph!”

They were one big, happy, loud group, the Yagamis absorbing Light's bizarre entourage without question. It had been simple enough to introduce them a few days ago, Ryuk reflected, tightening his grip on Light's hand. Misa was 'Ryuk’s very famous friend,' Rem and Gelus were Misa’s 'management and brother.' Sayu, utterly star-struck by the genuine Misa Amane, had immediately asked for a signed photo and subsequently ignored the two Shinigami, having achieved her primary goal. It was all seamless, all flawless.

“It's time to celebrate, yes?” Sachiko declared. “Let's go, everyone!”

And the large party set off in a cohesive unit.

Ryuk watched the boisterous group walk ahead—Misa chattering brightly to Sayu, Sachiko proudly leading the way, Rem calmly steering Gelus. He lowered his gaze to Light, his pale fingers tightening around the smaller, warmer hand in his grip. Light looked up at him, a genuine, private joy lingering in his expression.

“You know, my brilliant human,” Ryuk murmured, leaning close so only Light could hear, “you looked positively irresistible when you were focused on the exam. Are you sure you didn't finish early just to spend more time distracting me?”

Light let out a small, quiet laugh, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Maybe. But since we have a few days before the results and the start of university, let's plan a little trip, just the two of us. We deserve a break.”

“Of course,” Ryuk agreed instantly, his grin sharp. He squeezed Light's hand again. “Speaking of distractions, you hardly have anything left to do these days. The Initiative is running itself, the names pile up, and I just have to sit there and watch. I am almost worried about L; he's probably utterly lost now, having nothing to go on.”

Light glanced back at the gates L had fled through. “Don't worry about L. He's predictable. He'll observe a few more days, find nothing and then, feeling the pressure from the police to actually do something, he'll likely try to get closer by asking me to join the investigative task force he's putting together. I'll decline, of course. The authorities will soon realise they have no real means to catch Kira, and public opinion will continue to shift in our favour, just as planned.”

Ryuk watched the beautiful, terrifyingly intelligent human beside him outline his plan, and his shinigami heart swelled. He is so effortlessly clever, it's intoxicating. I am utterly besotted with this sweet, murderous, calculating creature.

He leaned in, his lips brushing Light's ear. “Before the university ceremony, let's hold a different ceremony just for us, where I can properly congratulate your genius in private.”

Light's entire neck and ears turned bright red. “Ryuk!” he hissed, swatting the Shinigami’s arm before quickly disentangling their hands. He hurried to catch up with Misa and Sayu, leaving Ryuk chuckling deeply.

Misa and Sayu looked back in concern.

“Light, are you okay? Did Ryuk say something mean?” Misa asked.

Light smoothed his collar. “No. Just... being himself. I needed to stretch my legs.”

Sayu giggled. “I bet he was saying something naughty about you two being alone together on your trip! Ryuk is always teasing you about that, isn't he? Probably something about ‘christening the hotel room’ or ‘testing the structural integrity of the headboard’.”

Light’s face, which had been cooling, flared scarlet again. “Sayu!”

Their mother, Sachiko, who had been listening with a fond but exasperated smile, turned around. “Sayu! That is quite enough.” She then fixed her gaze on Light, her expression turning serious and maternal. “And Light, dear. Although I’m very happy for you and Ryuk, please remember to be… responsible. Always use protection.”

Light looked as if he wished the pavement would swallow him whole. “MUM!”

Gelus blinked, leaning toward Rem. “I don’t understand. Protection from what? The weather?”

Rem answered with her typical bluntness. “They are discussing contraceptive devices. It is a preventative measure for coitus.”

“Alright, we’re done!” Light announced, his voice strained. “Topic closed. Thank you, Rem. Gelus, I’ll give you a book on human biology later.” He then glared back at his boyfriend, his expression promising retribution. “And you. The couch is looking very comfortable for you tonight.”

Ryuk just grinned, completely unrepentant. “I’ll just have to be very persuasive later, then.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Ryuk, as predicted, did not sleep on the couch.

Later that night, in the sprawling silence of his penthouse, the threat was a forgotten joke. The only thing that mattered was the feel of Light beneath him in their large bed, the brilliant, calculating mind finally quieted, reduced to a state of pure, shuddering sensation. Ryuk took his time, mapping the elegant lines of Light's body with hands and lips, learning every spot that made his human gasp and arch off the sheets.

He worshipped the sharp mind by reducing it to blissful static, rewarded the day's perfect performance with waves of physical pleasure that left Light clinging to him, his perfect composure shattered, whispering Ryuk's name like a prayer. The only light came from the city below, painting silver lines across their tangled forms.

Much later, as Light slept deeply, curled against his side, Ryuk watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. The camera, as it were, slowly pulled away, leaving the two figures in the dark, peaceful room, the city's endless glow their only witness.

Propped on one elbow, Ryuk watched Light sleep.

Light's breathing was deep and even, his body completely slack against the sheets. The faint red marks from where Ryuk's sharper Shinigami form had held him were already fading into the soft, warm tone of his skin. The clever mind was quiet, the expressive eyes hidden. Moonlight traced the elegant line of his shoulder.

He looked peaceful. Ryuk’s chest swelled with a smug, tender satisfaction.

Then, his phone vibrated. The contact name made him raise a brow: ‘Light’s Dad’.

Light’s Dad: My wife informed me of the discussion after the exam. I am choosing to address this directly. Are you treating my son with the respect and caution he deserves?

Ryuk smirked, typing with one clawed thumb.

Ryuk: You have my word, Chief. His well-being is my priority.

The response was almost immediate.

Light’s Dad: Good. He seems happy with you. Don't make me regret giving you my tacit approval.

Ryuk looked from the phone to the sleeping form beside him. The message was clear: he was accepted, with all the paternal threats that came with it. A wicked impulse seized him. His claws tapped swiftly on the screen.

Ryuk: Does this tacit approval extend to a formal blessing? Say, for a marriage?

The response was almost instantaneous, vibrating with fury.

Light’s Dad: ABSOLUTELY NOT. It is far too soon! You are both far too young!

Ryuk let out a low, silent chuckle, his chest rumbling. He typed back.

Ryuk: Just a joke, Chief. Settle down.

There was a long pause, longer than before. Then, three dots appeared, bouncing with clear agitation.

Light’s Dad: A joke? You mean… you DON’T want to marry my son? My son, who is at the top of his class, handsome, responsible, kind-hearted, and has his entire future ahead of him? You’re just… what, wasting his time?

Ryuk blinked, utterly bemused by the man’s whiplash-inducing logic.

Ryuk: I apologise, Chief. I am serious. I plan to keep Light forever. I was only joking about the timing. We will proceed at a pace appropriate for Light's career. You have my solemn assurance.

Another pause. A final message arrived.

Light’s Dad: That is the correct answer. Do not bring this up again until he has graduated.