Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alea iacta est.

 The die is cast. / The game has begun.

Dedication

This thesis is dedicated to L.Y., 

the one whose insights fueled this entire work,

…

…

…

...

This work would not exist without you.

L Lawliet

“Oh. My. God!”

Kira hisses, full of frustration, and his high-end microphone picks up all of the aggression in his furious voice as he laments, “Use. Your. Brain! Y’know, the thing between your ears? Try it! I know this is a new idea for you, but—”

The sound of clicking fills the room, and the multi-colored screen glows on Kira’s face as it has a hundred times before. Again, his petite yet professional microphone picks up everything—the sharp, constant clack of keys, his screams of rage, and even the breath he drags through his teeth as his teammate dies for the tenth time.

A small corner at the top of the screen reads: 170k watching. A chat box is at the bottom right corner of the screen, the comments moving at a miraculous speed. There’s no face cam. Kira is, and always has been, a faceless streamer.

The familiar ping of a donation floods Kira’s ears and the notification pops up on his screen, as the text-to-speech voice reads:

kiraworshipper193 donated $10!

king kira ur my goat but ur coping so bad rn its actually sad… L would solo u rn

L?

The chat moves so fast it’s basically static to Kira’s worn-out and tired eyes. A beat passes, and then behind the screen, Kira just… laughs. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and it’s not warm. It’s loud. Petty.

L. The fact that a fan has the audacity to compare him to L… L has always been a sour topic on Kira’s tongue, their online ‘beef’ dating back to months ago. For some reason, when a fan had asked L his opinion of Kira, L had completely condescended to him, claiming his act was ‘childish.’ 

“Kira is childish,” L mumbled on his stream a couple months ago, the words now well-engraved in Kira’s head, “Kira is childish and he hates to lose.”

Which Kira had taken as completely offensive—how dare he—and when he was informed of this insult on stream, he was furious and immediately bit back, saying L was a boring streamer, and that his streams could lull him to sleep. Which was true. The other streamer’s calm, know-it-all nature pissed him off to death, the way he acted like he knew everything. To which L reacted to that clip, pointed another jab at Kira, and he returned the ill-hearted favour, creating another loop. This rude exchange has continued up until now.

“Cop… Me!? Coping? Coping!? Chat?” Kira chuckles harshly and the mic spikes, “Okay user kiraworshipper193, I’m guessing you’re new, because you probably don’t know that I invented coping. You’re using words in my syllabus! And no, L would not ‘solo’ me!”—Kira says the word and his name like it’s poison—”Oh my God! Don’t you dare say that to me! I swear, when my screen flashes the word victory, you guys better clip this and shove it right up kiraworshipper193’s hairy asshole!”

Right after Kira finishes his rant, his prophecy is fulfilled. 

His screen flickers.

VICTORY

Kira smirks.

One. Two. Three seconds pass.

Then laughs, uncontrolled, cocky, “See? See! I win! Again! I WIN! What do you think of that, kiraworshipper193!? Am I still coping!? Huh!? Can L still solo me now!? Of course not, you really think he could solo me?”

Chat

OK OK OMG IM SORRY KING

HES SPITTING BARS DAAMNNNNNNN

oh hes MAD MAD 

W

W

W

OHH THAT TWINK L COULD NEVER BEAT U MY GOAT

umm this rant is longer than usual… is he ok…?

W

UR JUST MAD CUZ U KNOW L WOULD EAT U UP

W

W

HE IS SO HOT WHEN HE GETS MAD

The chat moves so fast it starts lagging. Normal for his streams. He rants for two more minutes, then he looks at his watch and realizes he needs to wrap it up. 

Kira ends the stream smirking, “I guess that’s all for today. I may or may not stream tonight. Do not nag me, you guys know I hate it when you do that. See you later.”

He closes the Twitch tab.

And suddenly the person behind the laptop screen isn’t Kira anymore—it’s Light Yagami.

When the Twitch tab is open and the chat floods the screen and his microphone is on and rage fills the air, he’s Kira. Kira, the mainstream faceless Twitch streamer, with 9.7M followers and a very devoted fanbase. He streams a variety of games, ranging from chess to combat. Known for his aggressive, cocky persona, his reputation is somewhat controversial due to his rude behaviour online, some labeling him “childish.” But what still manages to draw people on the Internet to him is his intellect. It didn’t take long for countless people to acknowledge how Kira’s gameplay is practically flawless: his strategies never fail, his abilities are extraordinary, from adaptability, precision, hand-eye coordination, extremely quick reflexes, and of course his critical thinking. There are way too many threads and videos that try to analyze Kira’s gaming style, it’s difficult to comprehend how good he is.

A “gaming genius” is what people call Kira.

But when the stream ends and the tab closes and his microphone is off and the air is quiet, behind the screen, he’s Light Yagami. 

Light Yagami, the person behind it all, is a nineteen-year-old university student majoring in law. He plans to take core law courses plus electives in criminology, criminal psychology, forensics, and ethics. He has brown-beige hair and almond eyes. He lives in Tokyo, Japan. He has a younger teenage sister named Sayu. His mother’s name is Sachiko. His father, Soichiro, is chief of the NPA. His family adores him. He likes dark coffee and miso soup. His favorite color is scarlet red. He’s popular among his friends. He just graduated high school, and recently got accepted into To-Oh University, one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Light has always been known for his sharp intellect, being a skilled planner, hardworking, talented, and having outstanding scores in every subject. His deductive and problem-solving skills are excellent and he’s been told so all his life, he’s never flunked a class and never will.

A “natural genius” is what people call Light. Perhaps that’s the strongest trait that the two of his personas share.

Nobody knows that Light is Kira. 

Nobody knows that Kira is a nineteen-year-old university student. Nobody knows that Kira just graduated high school. Nobody knows that Kira streams from his bedroom in his small, friendly childhood home in a humble town in Tokyo. Nobody knows that Kira is Light Yagami.

And Light intends to keep it that way forever.

Light makes his way to the bathroom to look at the mirror, holding a brush and some cologne in hand. 

It’s such a hassle to keep both of my lives intact, Light thinks as he brushes his hair and parts it slightly to the side, but I have to make sure they never collide.

Light looks in the mirror and sees himself. 

There’s a nineteen-year old boy in the mirror. His hair is auburn and neatly styled. His eyes are almond and tired from pulling too many all-nighters. There’s supposed to be eyebags under those eyes, but they’re covered up with a thin layer of concealer that nobody notices. The boy is wearing a maroon polyester v-neck sweater and light grey jeans. 

Under all of the fame, the boy in the mirror is who Kira is:

Light Yagami.

He sprays some of the cologne on himself and walks out of the bathroom. He smells like cedarwood and warm amber. Light starts thinking, he thinks a lot, his brain never really stops working, as he’d put it. He thinks of how he started streaming in the first place, how Kira was born. Light remembers how he was halfway through his third-year of high school, and… He was bored.

It was the same routine everyday. Light would go to school, come home, extra classes, and repeat. On the weekends, he would sometimes hang out with his friends, or go to the mall with Sayu, but nothing particularly interesting. Light was bored. That, and the fact that Light viewed the world as rotten. Day by day, crimes seemed to increase in numbers, and Light was sick of it, and the fact that he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Not until he started university or finished his law degree, Light would be helpless. He loved helping on cases that his dad was working on, but lately his dad had been reluctant on letting him get involved in cases, saying Light should focus on school since he was in his last year and prepare for university entrance exams. 

So Light… picked up streaming. He started streaming on Twitch. He started off polite, still putting up his “polite teenage boy” act and he had small numbers at first. Only a couple viewers, but loyal. When he reached the thousands, he started occasionally getting frustrated at games when he lost, and his viewers seemed to love it—people loved to see honesty, they loved to watch when the mask dropped. And so, Light stopped trying to be ‘appropriate’ or ‘polite’ when he streamed, and he let out his daily frustrations on those games. People would comfort him, rage with him, or sometimes laugh with him, but he’s not doing it for them; streaming is Light’s only chance to be himself.

Nobody’s watching when he streams, his parents, classmates, or teachers aren’t watching, and he can be as free as he’d liked. And Light especially loves the freedom of streaming, because it allows him to voice any opinion he has without having to filter them. Late night streams can turn into late night talks with his fans, and even sometimes philosophical debates. Light loves those. He can be as honest as he’d like. No more talking to himself in his head, or—

“Big brother!” Sayu speaks in Japanese, a pack of chips in her lap as she sits on the dark-brown cotton couch. Her gaze flickers from the TV to Light as she says, “You’re all dressed! Where are you going?”

His mother is in the kitchen cooking dinner for his sister, and his father if he comes home tonight, although unlikely. Light closes the bathroom door behind him and answers, “Sayu, I’m going to see that apartment, remember? I think I’m gonna move in tomorrow.”

“What!?” Sayu nearly drops her pack of chips, flinching. “You’re moving out!? Now!?”

“No,” Light immediately reassures her, startled from the outburst, “No, I’m just seeing it and making official agreements with the owner. I just said I’m moving in tomorrow.”

“Are you really moving out?” Sayu pouts, an exaggerated expression, but Light knows not all of it is an exaggeration. “Mom, I can’t believe you actually let Light move out! Who’s gonna help me with homework now!?”

Light sighs, pretending to be offended, “So all you need from me is homework, huh? Fine. I’m gonna move somewhere very far—”

“No, no, no, no!” Sayu whines, “I was just kidding! But seriously, why are you moving out? To-Oh can’t be that far…”

“It is that far, sweetheart,” Sachiko, their mother, stops cooking to interject softly although her melancholic eyes betray her words, “To-Oh is pretty far from our house. Staying here would be a hassle for your brother, as the trip there and back takes a long time. You wouldn’t want to burden your brother, would you?”

“Well, no…” Sayu stops to think, then she pouts again as she turns to Light, “But you’re not leaving forever, right?”

Technically, yes. University will keep Light busy, although nothing that will actually stress him out since he is capable of most of the classes. What will take up most of Light’s time is juggling his side career as a streamer. With that, university, and additional campus organizations… Light is pretty much busy forever. Well, until he graduates, but by then he’ll be busy with his job, too. Light looks down at his watch and realizes he may be running late.

“Of course not,” is the answer Light huffs out instead. It’s far from reality, but he reckons Sayu won’t take the truth well, so the answer will suffice. Light adds, “I’ll visit often, promise.”

“Pinky promise, alright?” Sayu extends her pinky finger.

“Whatever,” Light chuckles at links his pinky with hers, “‘Kay, I gotta go now. See you, Mom! Sayu!”

Sayu is whining something about how Light didn’t say ‘pinky promise’ back, and his mom may have muttered a ‘stay safe’, but their voices fade abruptly after he rushes out of the house, hurrying to the apartment.

The apartment. It’s a thirty-minute walk there, and Light has no ride. He promised the landlord he’d be there by 5.30 p.m, and now it’s 5.00. He should arrive in time. 

After an entire week of apartment-viewing, this one is most likely the best option, Light’s decided. The trip from there to To-Oh University is only a five-minute distance. Other than that, having his own place will teach Light to be responsible, to learn how to live on his own, which is the reason that convinced his dad to agree to this idea. In reality, the real basis why Light insisted on having his own apartment is far from these two reasons: it is a crucial part of Light’s big masterplan.

Light’s big masterplan of what, exactly? 

Well, even during the earliest days of his streaming career as Kira, Light had already planned for it to be a long-term side job. He sees himself still continuing to stream maybe even a couple years into the future, but definitely throughout university. To do this, he needs a sufficient, professional gaming set-up. Previously, Light has been able to stream in his own childhood room with a minimal set-up, only on his home computer, with a high-end microphone that needed weeks to save up for. He has managed to destroy and delete all traces of previously going on Twitch perfectly, so streaming at home has never been a hassle. But that’s not the main problem.

It’s actually the fact that he needs to live up to his reputation.

Kira currently has 9.7M followers on Twitch. He’s reaching 10M soon, which is a big milestone, and he only expects it to grow over time, thus he needs to improve the quality of his set-up—more professional, more high-tech. At first, Light hesitated on this idea, but then he realized with the nearing of university, he could just get his own apartment, buy his own set-up, and purchase the best gaming equipment. He just needed to make the best option.

And the apartment he is about to enter is certainly the best option.

After thirty minutes of non-stop walking, Light finally makes it to the apartment, a place called Aoyama Residence. He confirms some things with the frontdeskman, and takes the elevators up. His room is on the tenth floor, number 1031. When he knocks on the doors of his room, the landlord opens it and greets Light with a smile, to which he returns precisely.

The landlord gives him some paperwork to sign, only some contracts to confirm that Light will really be staying here. Light confidently confirms it and signs on the paper. Then, they take another look around the apartment; it’s very sufficient, perfect.

Light’s shoes click satisfyingly against the pale wooden floor underneath. The concrete walls are off-white in a clean way. Just by touring the bathroom, Light can tell that the water systems are optimal, no drainage or leakage. Then, he makes his way to the bedroom and—

There are two beds.

There are two beds.

Two. Beds.

What. The. Hell?

Two beds, on either corner of the room. And now, there’s two desks, on either corner of the room too, one for each bed, and—okay, what the hell!? When Light toured the apartment last week, that extra bed and desk was not there, it was not there and Light can swear by it! Was it in the contract? No, no way, Light skimmed it but he didn’t miss anything, no, there’s no way, this wasn’t discussed, this… This will ruin Light’s entire plan. And Light can hear by the way the landlord is stuttering and gulping behind him, that this was not in the contract and by all means this is unfair and the landlord will pay for ruining Light’s schemes, because what the hell?

“Ah… Mr. Yagami,” The landlord, Mr. Yamamoto, finally manages to gulp, his voice shaking and nervous. “I do apologize for the new… arrangement.”

Light wants to give this damn landlord the most horrible, most cruel, the most unmerciful glare of all humankind the moment he turns around. But of course, he can’t. He needs to play the perfect role of a nineteen-year-old university boy, so he turns around and gives a soft look of concern, eyebrows furrying in confusion. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Yamamoto,” Light gives a confused smile, trying his hardest not to let his rage leak through, “Can you please explain? Why are there two beds?”

“Well, you—you see,” Mr. Yamamoto’s voice strains with fear, “A… Another client wanted to book this room, but all of the single rooms are already—already booked, and…”

“But that wasn’t in the contract, was it?” Light’s smile never drops.

“Yes, but—but,” Mr. Yamamoto keeps stuttering and it pisses Light off so much. The landlord continues, “You already signed the contract, and it—it states that you are obliged to stay… for at least 6 months, Mr. Yagami.”

What the hell.

Mr. Yamamoto looks at the ground as he says all of this, voice still tainted with uneasiness and a slight ounce of guilt, pleading for mercy. Light wants to scream, and to shout, and to go on a rant on how this man is so stupid and how dare he trap Light into this situation? Does he know how much time Light spent planning out this entire thing? Light literally has the map of this apartment room tattooed in the back of his head, he already has the future setup memorized and the equipment needed is in his online shopping cart! The whole point of this was to find an apartment that allowed sound-proof walls and specifically no roommates. It’s too much risk, too unsafe. If Light had known that he’d be stuck with a roommate—which by the way, he does not know who his roommate is—Light would have never stepped foot into Aoyama Residence in the first place!

Light can sue. Light should sue. This is a crime, isn’t it? Yes, it is. This is clear material misrepresentation. Light agreed to rent a single-occupancy apartment. A roommate was never disclosed! That changes the entire nature of the contract. If the landlord failed to tell Light before he signed, that’s concealment at best, fraud at worst. Misrepresentation makes a contract voidable. 

I can rescind it, Light thinks, I should rescind it!

And that ridiculous six-month clause? Unenforceable, if it’s being used to trap Light into a situation he never agreed to. Consumer protection law exists for a reason. Payment doesn’t legitimize deception. He didn’t perform what was promised, the contractual obligation hasn’t been fulfilled. 

This is breach. Plain and simple. He thinks a few lines of fine print can corner me? Light scoffs mentally. Idiot.

“Mr. Yamamoto,” Light breathes, his smile tethering on the edge of a scoff. He tries to sound worried and shocked instead, not pissed, “But I didn’t know of this… Why didn’t you inform me sooner?”

If you had informed sooner, I would have never, ever, stepped foot into this damn apartment, Light seethes internally. I have never been so pissed before.

Light can take this case to court. He thinks about it, but then, no… That’s an even bigger risk. It risks public exposure on his name, and he needs to stay hidden behind his identity as Kira. Taking cases to court will require a lot of digging on his personal profile, and it’s too big of a risk that the world will know who he is. The judges will also question why Light takes this matter so seriously, which might be a point, since if Light isn’t hiding his identity as a streamer, there’s nothing he should be panicking over since it’s just an unexpected roommate. Should Light really just step back and take this?

No, of course, not, Light scoffs inside. But then again, Light has signed the contract, and has fully paid for the apartment, too. If he did drop this apartment and tried to look for another one nearby, the other options are… not really that different. In fact, some other apartments have worse properties and living conditions. It’s not worth it to make this into a case just for him to have to search for another apartment later. Complicated. Inefficient. 

Am I really going to just sit back and take this? Light thinks begrudgingly. He really wants to win this case over, prove that this is a crime, and get Mr. Yamamoto behind bars, where criminal scum like him belong. Light has always had a dislike for criminals. The world is rotten. Criminals are rot. Crime is rot.

If only I had the power, Light seethes inside, criminals like you would never roam around freely—I’d make the world a better place.

That’s the entire reason Light is studying law in the first place, but that’s going too far. The point here is, Light might really have to just accept this crime. He might have to let the landlord go, because that’s for his own good. Finding a new apartment and organizing a new set-up will take too much time and hassle, and the other apartments are just the same or even more mediocre in quality. Staying in this apartment might be—no, it is the best choice.

Damn it.

Light just has to think of a way to stream secretly, without his roommate knowing. 

There’s a couple ways to do that. He’ll think of it later, since it relies on a couple other factors, such as his roommate’s personality, how often they stay at the apartment, their analytical skills... For now, Light’s certain that staying in this apartment is, sadly, the best option. He looks down at Mr. Yamamoto, who is still trying to reason for himself and downplay the situation. Light interrupts all of that noise, he can’t bear to hear it any more.

“Okay then, Mr. Yamamoto,” Light puts on the most convincing fake smile on his face and softens his voice, “I guess it’s fine. Can I move in tomorrow?”

Mr. Yamamoto nods ecstatically and they finish touring the apartment. Everytime the other man looks away, Light shoots him the most petty, annoyed, and cruel glare. Finally, the apartment tour comes to an end, and right as they leave the room, Light asks him another question.

“Mr. Yamamoto, if you don’t mind me asking,” Light tries to sound polite, “Who will my roommate be?”

The landlord blinks once, twice, then replies, “Of—Of course, Mr. Yagami. Let me check my files for a second”

He looks through a handful of files he has in his hand, a stack of slightly crumpled papers. A couple seconds pass by, then:

“Your roommate, right? His name is Rue Ryuzaki.”

Light spends the walk home deep in thought. Light wonders who his roommate is. He wonders why the name Rue Ryuzaki rings in his ears, over and over again. He wonders why he can’t stop thinking of L.

When he gets home, it’s 6.30 p.m. Sayu asks Light to eat dinner, and he says he’ll eat later. He forgets to. The moment he gets in his room, Light looks up some of L’s most viral gameplays—not that he hasn’t watched them before—and studies them.

I’ll beat you, L. Just watch me.

“Hmm. Chat, what do you think of this move?”

L hums, face lit up from the glow of his computer as it displays the huge chess board, green and beige as it usually is on chess.com. A small corner at the top of the screen reads: 180k watching. L brings the chocolate bar to his lips and the annoyingly loud crack sound of it snapping is, obviously, picked up way too loud by the high-end mic, which his fans find infuriating. The chat box at the top corner starts moving at an incredible speed.

The room surrounding L is plain. Boring. He’s sitting on the pale wooden floor, and off-white concrete walls surround him. He and Watari are staying at a temporary flat. He’s moving into the apartment tomorrow, and…

Checkmate.

L has always been a faceless streamer, so his eager viewers can’t see the sheer pride on L’s face as he smirks when he realizes he’s won. Just one more move… 

CHECKMATE — WHITE WINS!

“Checkmate,” L murmurs, voice leaking with satisfaction—a phrase the viewers have heard a thousand times before. Chat moves so fast, mainly praise and admiration, nothing out of the ordinary. For a couple seconds, L lets them revel in the glory of him winning the eleventh chess game in a row.

Chat

GG GG GG 

W

W

W

W

AAANDDDD THE GOAT STRIKES AGAAINNNN

KIRA COULD NEVER

W

W

W

opp blundered so bad bro

11 GAMES IN A ROW IS INSANE WTF

IDC KIRA WOULD SOLO U

W

W

L YOURE SO GOATED HOLY GOATT

A familiar ping! breaks the silence.

LMYGOAT donated $10!

L PLEASE PLEASEEE REACT TO THE LATEST KIRA CLIP PLEAAAAAASEEEEEEE HE TALKED ABOUT U

“The latest Kira clip?” L’s voice perks up just slightly, which the microphone catches, and mumbles, “Sure, I’ll take a look at it. Please, give me a second.”

L presses alt-tab to switch to his other window, opens up YouTube, and there enough, it’s already in his home page. Kira clips always blow up very fast.

“This one, chat?” L hums, intrigued. “‘Kira Crashes Out After a Fan Says L Would Solo Him’? …Interesting.”

He presses play on the video. 

“Cop… Me!? Coping? Coping!? Chat? Okay user kiraworshipper193, I’m guessing you’re new, because you probably don’t know that I invented coping. You’re using words in my syllabus—”

L pauses the video. He says, “Actually, that’s not true. The word "coping" has roots in the early 1600s for its physical sense. Although it is true that its modern psychological meaning of managing stress emerged much later. However, its definition in the 1960s and 1970s came from theorists like Lazarus, Folkman, and Linehan. So, no, Kira, you did not invent ‘coping.’”

L presses play again.

“—And no, L would not ‘solo’ me! Oh my God! Don’t you dare say that to me! I swear, when my screen flashes the word victory, you guys better clip this and shove it right up kiraworshipper193’s hairy asshole!”

For a moment, L is silent. He wonders if the viewers can hear the smirk in his voice as he points out, “I do wonder why he gets so worked up from someone saying that I would ‘solo’ him. It is clear here that that is what got on his nerves, since his voice spikes the highest when he says, ‘And no, L would not ‘solo’ me.’ It is interesting, to say the least.”

The chat starts lagging from moving too fast. L presses play once more. He observes silently as Kira starts gloating when his screen flashes the word ‘VICTORY.’

“See? See! I win! Again! I win! What do you think of that, kiraworshipper193!? Am I still coping!? Huh!? Can L still solo me now!? Of course not, you really think he could solo me?”

“Again, here, he is mostly frustrated about the fact that kiraworshipper193 said I would solo him,” L explains almost immediately after pausing the video. “It’s not that he thought he wouldn’t win. Kira does not have low self-esteem. Instead, it seems like… He wants to prove that he’s better than me.”

L starts reading the chat.

Chat

SPITTING BARSSSSSSSSS HOLY GOATEDNESS

W

W

W

I LOVE YOU L THANK YOU FOR DOING MY REQUEST

W

STOP condescending to my king goat KIRA. HE WOULD EAT U UP

W

NAH KIRA JS MAD CUZ U BETTER THAN HIM

kira kinda is better than u tho…

oooh u wanna kiss kira so bad it makes u look stupid

W

W

NAH TS PMO MY GOAT L WOULD NEVER KISS THAT TWINK KIRA

GET HIMMM L

Reading the chat, L gets an idea. His lips curl upwards. He takes another bite from the chocolate bar, then he smiles.

“Well,” L whispers, his tone challenging yet playful, “If you really think you’re better than me… Prove it, Kira.”

And L ends his stream right there.

Without the Twitch tab open, without the chat box running, and without the microphone picking up every sound he makes, the man behind the screen… is still L.

When he’s streaming, playing chess, wondering his deductive thoughts out loud, he’s L, a mainstream faceless Twitch streamer, with 9.6M followers, and a solid fanbase. He’s known for his calm demeanor, his soothing voice that has the slightest hint of a British accent, and his habit to eat sweets right against the mic. But most of all, L’s known for his extremely impressive intellect, he has an unbeaten streak on chess.com, he can finish escape-room games and puzzles in minutes, and even when he plays combat games (although very rarely), he’s exceptional at them too. His critical thinking skills, analytical skills, and deductive skills and overall intellectual competence is highly admired by the chess, gaming and streaming community. 

But, something ironic is, behind it all, he’s still L. Without the online persona, his personality doesn’t change that much. He’s not trying to juggle two separate personas. He’s just L.

L Lawliet is his government name. He’s a 22-year-old university student. He goes to Oxford University. He’s a Law & Society Major with specialization in criminal justice. He’s in his last year of university, and is working on his thesis. He’s an orphan, but he was taken into an orphanage, Wammy’s House, by Watari. He was born and raised in England. He likes all kinds of sweet foods, ranging from desserts, candies to fruit. His favorite color is navy blue. He’s also juggling his detective side job. After L graduates, he aims to be a full-time detective. 

He turns his computer off, and in the dark screen he sees his own reflection.

There’s a person in the reflection. He has unstyled, neck-length coal-black hair. He is wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. 

Even without the fame, the streams, and the microphone, the person in the reflection is still L.

L looks at the clock and realizes he may be running late to the appointment he set up with Mr. Yamamoto, the landlord of the apartment he’ll be staying at for the remainder of the case. There’s some contracts he needs to sign but the payment has been dealt with. 

The case—at the moment, L is researching a high-profile criminal in Japan, and he got permission from the university to move there temporarily and attend all his classes online since L is a star-student anyway. 

It’s not even a case of L’s interest, which he typically wouldn’t take, but mainly he was needed to serve as some sort of teacher, a guide. The case actually wasn’t something he needed to solve, but it acted as more of a hands-on case study (or fieldtrip, as L thought of it) and L was expected to help a couple kids from Wammy’s House solve the case. Normally, L would’ve declined this job immediately, but then he remembered he was bored with his currently mundane life, so he took it up just to occupy some of his free time.

L is currently in his senior year of university, but he deemed it the most underwhelming and boring. There’s almost no more lectures, not that L particularly enjoys them, but there’s no more knowledge for him to study. Almost everything has been taught, the only thing left to do being his thesis. 

L doesn't particularly know… 

What to write for his thesis.

The truth is sharp and cold. L, the greatest world detective to-be, is in a slump.

Throughout the year, he has been waiting to find something, something interesting that he can use as fuel to write for it. But nothing really came up. L’s professors were nagging, and he’s now halfway through the year, yet he hasn’t started at all. Not that it’d be a problem—L’s sure he can manage writing his thesis in just a couple days—but the problem is…

He doesn’t have anything to write about.

Usually, a case he’s been working on should inspire him, since L only takes cases that are interesting to him, right? Actually, there are no cases L can take. Watari and a couple other higher-ups said that L should put off taking cases for the moment, to quote unquote ‘focus on his thesis.’ And that L will ‘take cases up full-time after he graduates.’  

This is the worst part. Absolutely nothing is rattling L’s brain anymore. He would write his thesis based on a case, but he’s banned from picking up cases.

And so, L mentally labels his senior year as ‘the most boring university year ever,’ to the point he started streaming on Twitch and even willingly agreed on going on a Wammy’s House fieldtrip just to occupy his boredom.

A week ago, L was informed that he needed to find an apartment to stay as soon as possible within Tokyo, Japan, for the fieldtrip-case-thing. Watari immediately flew L out, and after they’d landed, they stayed at a temporary flat but it was far from the location demanded (a headquarters, something like another outlet of Wammy’s House). After some apartment seeing, he found a place exactly where the higher-ups had requested he should stay, Aoyama Residence—only a five minute walk from the headquarters. Actually, Aoyama Residence had run out of open apartment rooms when L and Watari arrived and wanted to book, but it only took a bit of convincing and, albeit a bit unethical, some threatening to get L a room there.

I suppose I need to ask Watari for a ride, L thinks as he opens his phone. I’m running late.

Thankfully, L and Watari aren’t late, when they meet Mr. Yamamoto and the meeting is no more than a couple minutes—or, that’s how it should’ve gone. At first, everything is fine. Mr. Yamamoto hands L some paperwork to sign, which he fills in all under the fake name of Rue Ryuzaki. L initially refuses to tour the apartment again, saying he has already seen it before, but Watari agrees to do so for safety measures. 

And that’s when they stumble across the bedroom.

The bedroom…

Has two beds.

Two. Beds.

“Excuse me, Mr. Yamamoto,” Watari clears his throat. “Can you please explain why there are… two beds?”

This was not at all in the contract, as L had read it thoroughly, nor was L informed of this arrangement prior to this meeting. In fact… This is a crime. To be exact, this is material misrepresentation. The unexpected addition of a new variable, a roommate, changes the entire nature of the contract, and since Mr. Yamamoto did not inform L before he signed the contract, this case is somewhere between concealment and fraud. In conclusion, this contract is voidable due to the blatant misrepresentation.

To add onto the crime in this lie: L remembers that the contract stated he should stay for a six-month period, as mutually agreed when they negotiated a week ago, since L has to stay in Japan for that amount of time. However, considering consumer protection law, that time-period is now unenforceable because L never agreed to having a roommate and the prior payment is not a bypass for deception. There is a lack of contractual obligation that remains unmet.

To put it simply, this is a crime.

However, L does not find this situation troubling in the slightest.

Although he will be forced into proximity with his roommate, there are other factors to consider, such as how often the roommate stays in the apartment, the roommate’s personality, and more. If the roommate doesn’t question L's identity, doesn’t make efforts to interact with him, or even rarely stays at the apartment, then their presence is not that big of a problem. Although there is a eighty-three percent chance his future roommate will make efforts to interact with him out of proper etiquette, it is not absolute. On top of that, mere interaction with the roommate will not risk L’s identity. L can lie. L has a fake identity written on the contract anyway. He will play his role as Rue Ryuzaki, and he will not disclose details about Wammy’s House or even his identity as a streamer. L is responsible with these matters.

On top of that, finding another apartment will be… difficult, to say the least. An entire week of apartment-seeing has shown L that there aren’t better places out there, the alternatives are the same in quality or even worse, and this apartment is already at a perfect location. Again, Watari and the higher-ups specifically requested Aoyama Residence. There is not much to be done regarding that order. L is stuck here.

Therefore, the best decision L can make here would be to suck it up. 

Hiding his identity will be easy. L has done it all his life.

Mr. Yamamoto stutters and stammers while reasoning, “Well—well, you see, we—we said before that there are no more rooms left, and—”

“So I will have a roommate?” L interrupts, a bit rudely.

Mr. Yamamoto chuckles nervously, “Yes—? We apologize for the—the sudden arrangement, I hope it… won’t be a problem…”

Watari clears his throat to hide the disdain on his face, and he opens his mouth but L beats him to it.

L mumbles, “It’s fine. Thank you, Mr. Yamamoto.”

“Ryuzaki?” Watari seems taken aback, a rare expression on his face. “Is this really not a problem?”

“No, I think it won’t be,” L simply answers, bringing his thumb to his mouth. Mr. Yamamoto seems relentlessly thankful for his mercy, although L didn’t accept this situation for the sake of him. L turns his head at the man to ask, “Who will my roommate be?”

“Of—Of course, Mr. Ryuzaki,” The landlord fumbles with a stack of crumpled papers in his hands, before answering:

“His name is Light Yagami.”

During the car ride back to their temporary flat, L sits in the passenger seat. Night time in Japan, L has found, seems to be darker than it is in England. Watari is not restless, his expression now devoid of the previous worry. It seems Watari has reached the same conclusion that L had gotten before, that there’s not much to be done, and keeping that room is the best option.

Watari is driving beside him, and his voice is not full of concern as it was before, but now curiosity leaks through as he asks, “Ryuzaki, why did you agree so quickly to the sudden arrangement?”

“Well, I think it’s fine,” L hums, “I’ll be careful, in fact, on that contract my name is written as Rue Ryuzaki. I can play the role of a quiet roommate. And besides…”

L wonders who his roommate is. L thinks the stars look brighter tonight. L spends the ride home thinking of Kira. 

“...I’ve been bored lately,” L finishes.

Who are you, Kira? 

The question lingers in his head.

Light is moving in today.

He’s in the middle of packing. Actually, Light had already started packing the night before. Today, he was just finishing sealing boxes and making sure he didn’t leave any important stuff. Stacks of beige cardboard boxes filled the room, each with their own labels scribbled out in black marker ink: “room essentials”, “personal”, “academics”, “video games”, “clothes”, and lastly, the decoy box—”more clothes.” It’s a decoy box, inside there’s a top layer of neatly folded clothes, but at the very bottom of the box there’s his high quality microphone (wrapped in a hoodie), audio interface tucked into a shoebox, cables coiled tight, a capture card, and hard drives slipped into sock bundles.

That way, if any of his family members opens it, they’ll stop at the clothes. Nobody digs past folded laundry. Light knows that. It’s the perfect decoy. He can get all of his streaming equipment to his new apartment without anybody knowing he’s Kira.

After he tells his mother he’s done packing, a truck pulls up to the front of his house. He says his goodbyes to Sayu, his mother, and his father.

“You have to visit often!” Sayu mumbles, trying to hide the tears in the corner of her eyes. “You pinky-promised.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Light chuckles and pats her head, “I promise, Sayu. I’m only moving thirty minutes away.”

“Take care, Light,” His mother says softly, “Make sure to eat the food I packed for you. Visit when you can.”

“Thanks mom, I will,” Light gives her a soft smile.

His father, Soichiro, has a melancholic look on his face as he sternly says, “Do your best, Light.”

“I will, dad,” Light says, and then he hurries to the truck, “I’ll visit soon!”

A medium-sized moving truck pulls up to the house, movers load the labeled boxes, and everything is driven to the apartment. Light watches the “more clothes” box like a hawk, he makes sure it’s loaded last or placed somewhere safe as he keeps his hands in his pockets to look relaxed. When they get to the apartment, movers unload and stack boxes by room, and they ask Light where he wants certain boxes to be.

Light directs them with short, polite answers. Boxes end up stacked against the walls, one suspiciously heavy one among them, and law books in a separate, obvious stack. He thanks the movers and bids them goodbye.

The boxes are in his room, the one with two beds, and yet—there’s only one person which is himself.

Is this some sort of prank? Light thinks for a moment. Where’s my roommate?

For a second, Light wonders that maybe his roommate bailed last second. Light continues to unpack his belongings as he thinks about this. It’s ridiculous. Light wouldn’t necessarily be complaining if his roommate was a no-show, but this outcome is just unexpected. In fact, when Light had first entered the apartment, there were no other shoes on the shoe rack. Just from that, Light can conclude that nobody had entered the apartment aside from him. But it’s currently 7 p.m, and who in their right mind would move into an apartment any later than that? 

And then the door opens with a clink and Light can hear distant chatter from the doorway and yeah, that’s definitely his roommate.

Light stops unpacking his things to get up, and he peeks at the stranger from the doorway. Almost like a little kid. There’s a person there, at the doorway, with only two boxes at his feet, talking to an elderly man in a suit. The person—now Light can see after changing the angle so he can peek more clearly—has messy black hair, skin a pale porcelain shade, he seems to be wearing a long-sleeved white shirt, blue jeans, and his posture is uncomfortably hunched over. The guy is speaking fluent Japanese, although there’s something in his cadence and tone that feels foreign and tells Light he may not be born or raised here, although that’s a rather far-fetched conclusion. The guy closes the door behind him.

I guess I need to greet this guy, Light thinks, if I’ll be living with him for at least six months, I might as well make a good first impression. A new friend won’t hurt. He just can’t get too close.

“Hey!” Light greets the man, a hand in the air and one of the brightest, most charismatic smiles on his face. He continues, “I can help you with that, if you’d like.”

The man turns around and has an unfazed expression on his face. His eyes are round, the pupils are jet black, his unstyled hair is covering most of his gaze as he turns his head slightly. A beat passes until he answers, “That would be nice. Thank you.”

Light has absolutely no idea that ‘the man’ is L.

Light, for the first time, does not know everything in the world. 

He is entirely clueless at the fact that his new roommate is L, the streamer that he has been beefing with for months.

“It’s no problem,” Light chuckles, picking up one of the cardboard boxes from the floor. The man, who Light doesn't know is L, takes the other box and the two of them head to the bedroom.

Just from that interaction alone, what Light does know is that his roommate is no ordinary guy. First of all, who brings only two boxes into a new apartment? Actually, that’s a good indication; his roommate may already have another place to live. Perhaps this apartment is just a second home for the roommate, thus why he isn’t bringing many items inside, also implying that he will not spend a lot of time here. That’d be great, actually. Or, his roommate is just strange, which Light can tell from the expression on his face and his behaviour, and—

“I think I can take it from here,” L says when they’ve reached the bedroom.

Light blinks, and then his split-second bewildered expression morphs into a polite smile as he says, “Of course! Oh, and by the way, I’m guessing you’ll be my roommate?”

“Yes, it seems so,” His roommate murmurs, bringing a thumb to his lip to bite the nail. Strange. 

“Well, it’d be rude of me not to introduce myself,” Light laughs a bit awkwardly, “I’m Light. Light Yagami.”

“Ryuzaki,” The man—now Light knows as Ryuzaki, and still not L—simply answers.

“Okay, Ryuzaki,” Light’s smile wavers just a bit, a microexpression he wouldn’t expect anyone to catch. His smile turns somewhat apologetic as he continues, “I’d love to get to know each other better, but I might have to finish unpacking first.”

“Same here,” is what his roommate answers. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to continue unpacking, Light-kun.”

Light-kun? 

The word echoes in Light’s brain, but he pretends as if it doesn’t as he says warmly, “Of course.”

As Light unpacks his things, he places stacks of clothes on his bed, brings out his law books, he realizes one thing: 

His roommate, or more specifically Ryuzaki, as Light knows him, is weird.

He’s definitely not what Light expected. No, not at all. Well, in the first place, Light didn’t expect a roommate at all, but most of all he didn’t expect his roommate to be so strange. Pointing out the most obvious reasons: L came in barefoot, he has this weird habit of biting his nails mid-sentence, and he is strangely unexpressive. Very strange. On top of that, he seemed to react completely aloof to Light’s unnecessarily friendly behaviour, which is a reaction that Light has never, ever received before from any of his peers. 

It’s almost like, Light doesn’t want to continue the thought, it’s almost like he could see right through me.

To add onto this conclusion, to even hear the word Light-kun roll off his tongue is even weirder, to say the least. 

Using someone’s first name in Japan is an action reserved for very close relationships like childhood friends, family, or when somebody directly gives permission to do so. Doing it without permission is generally perceived as somewhat rude, and although Light wasn’t offended, he was shocked even if he let none of it actually show on his face. At first, the assumption that Light had was that his roommate may be a foreigner and he may not be accustomed to Japan’s local etiquette, judging from his facial features and, again, the cadence in his voice that sounded off. But Light half-dismissed the thought because how L spoke Japanese was perfect. Whatever. Why was Light thinking so much about this anyway?

Ryuzaki is… weird.

But for some reason, it doesn’t disgust Light. No, it… intrigues him. For some stupid reason he can’t name. Ryuzaki’s indifference feels like a direct challenge from the man, as if he isn’t and won't be buying Light’s act. No… Ryuzaki is unlike any other person he’d met before. It feels exhilarating but also frightening, to have someone to see through him so easily. He needs to find a way to stream and not get caught by his new, strange roommate.

And Light isn’t a person to back down from challenges.

Light Yagami is strange.

That is the conclusion that L has reached from the simple prior interaction. Yes, Light Yagami is strange. Very strange. There’s something about him that’s off. Light is a bit too normal, L decides. A bit too polite and friendly that it feels somewhat forced, not in a cruel way, but as if he’s hiding something. Yes, L realizes, Light Yagami may be hiding something. He just seems too normal, he’s playing the act of a teenage boy too well to the point it seems fake. Light has to be hiding something for him to hold up an act that well.

That, and the fact that L gained no prominent reaction from calling him Light-kun. It was more of a trick from L’s part, to see if Light would show signs of being uncomfortable or taken aback by the nickname since L knows that calling someone by their first name in Japan is reserved for close relationships. Naturally, calling Light by his first name should irk or poke him in some sort of way, but he was devoid of any reaction, adding to L’s suspicion even further. A teenage boy should’ve shown some sort of shock or confusion at the forced intimacy, some might’ve even been offended, but instead Light shrugged it off, or his mask was too fixed in-place for the reaction to actually show. Something is… off.

Whatever it is, L will find out eventually. For now, he’s taking things slow. Things will unravel with time.

L takes out a chess board from one of the boxes and absentmindedly places it on his bed. He brought it here on Near’s request, as the boy requested a rematch with L now that they could play chess with one another when they met, since L is now in Japan. He initially paid no mind when he placed it down, so Light’s interruption is unexpected.

“Ryuzaki, you play chess?” Light perks up from the other side of the room, head turning to face L. 

L is caught off-guard as he answers, “Yes, I do. Why?”

“Nothing, really,” Light chuckles, “I do too. What a coincidence, right? So, how good are you?”

“I’d say,” L brings his thumb to his lips again, “My skills are adequate.”

“Adequate, huh?” Light repeats, not mocking, but challenging. “We’ll see later.”

“You want to play later?” L asks, not of inquiry, but of confirmation.

Light’s smile is no longer friendly, there’s a glint in his eyes that was missing before, competitiveness. He answers, “Yeah. Do you?”

“Fine by me,” is what L says. And then they continue unpacking in silence.

L takes a mental note of how Light leaves one box labeled ‘more clothes’ unpacked. He can’t help but psychoanalyze the entire situation; it’s what he’s done all his life. L’s bed is messy with unarranged clothes, identical to the ones he’s wearing right now. His desk, which sits right beside the edge of his bed, has a bunch of wrapped sweets perched on top of it. Chocolate bars, four plastic bags of marshmallows, dozens of wrapped lollipops, and more. He leaves his English law textbooks inside his bag, they give off too much about his identity.

L can’t help but look to the other side of the room. He sees neatly folded clothes on Light’s bed and tidily stacked academic books stacked on the desk. One of the spine of the books read ‘Japanese Law’, to which L can draw the conclusion that Light is a university student who majors in law. Which is scarily similar to L, who’s doing the same, only in England. 

Light suddenly gets up, to which L infers that he’s done packing, and announces, “Ryuzaki, I’m gonna cook instant noodles for dinner. You want some?”

L answers, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Okay then,” Light says politely, and then, “And don’t forget, you owe me one chess game!”

To which L does not reply. A silent agreement. 

Light-kun, you remind me of someone, L thinks, you remind me of Kira.

“The Caro-Kann defense, huh?”

Something in L’s eyes shines as he asks the question. Not of inquiry, but it's as if he's testing the waters.

Light catches it immediately, the intent in his eyes, even though it’s so well-hidden, because of course he does. 

The words are like a bullet to his heart. Sudden, unexpected, and hit just as hard. Because nobody that Light has ever played against before has ever been able to read his moves so easily. So quickly. 

L’s eyelids are lazily drooped over as he looks up to stare at Light. His lips quirk up a little, a microexpression Light immediately catches but pretends he doesn’t.

“Is there a problem?” Light asks. Not a question, either. It's his way of biting back, the words overlapped with beautifully-hidden mischief. He can't help but smile.

It’s 11.34 p.m. L and Light should be asleep, given it’s their first night at the apartment, tomorrow is Monday and they both have classes tomorrow. They’re not asleep, however. 

They’re playing chess like two people who have just discovered the game.

Light shouldn’t be this serious, competitive, or careless with the way he’s talking to L right now. However, he is. Whether Light wants it or not, he can't help some of the glee that leaks from his recent realization.

For the first time, ever, Light has found a worthy opponent.

Everytime he had previously streamed as Kira and countered countless opponents—fans or even haters that tried to break his winning streak on chess.com—nobody ever actually lived up to their words or promises. A part of it strokes Light’s ego a lot, the fact that he is good enough at chess to the point he is unbeaten, but it inevitably gets terribly boring without a challenge. Light loves challenges. He greatly missed the electrifying thrill of the game he only felt when he had first started out playing chess, now nowhere to be found, entirely due to the sheer lack of competency his opponents have shown.

L is different.

The way L defies all of his moves and stands strong where his previous opponents have easily fallen to his feet is nothing short of electrifying. It's a surreal feeling, to have someone be able to dodge all of your advances so well, as if he can read his mind before he forms the thought, before he even moves a single muscle. A strange, new feeling circles throughout Light, it blurs between the theoretical triad of fear and excitement and mischief. It makes Light feel alive.

Alive, so alive, with the burning need to win.

The difficulty of the game only makes winning seem more appealing and more of a need to Light. He wants to win. He needs to win. He needs to win this game and prove his skills to L. He wants to see the look on L’s face when he realizes his skills are not “adequate” compared to Light’s. The troubling urge fills his heart and spreads to his lungs and it’s the only thing he can think about, how victory will feel, the look on his roommate’s face when he has to come to terms with his inevitable loss, and how Light might feel dizzy from the sheer satisfaction that will be thrumming through his head.

Light needs to win so badly.

“Light-kun, I must say,” L hums, “Your skills are impressive.”

Is that meant to be a compliment or not? Light questions internally. The words are, but the way he said it… Is he testing if praise will make me slip up?

Light chuckles warmly, “Thanks, Ryuzaki. You aren’t too bad either.”

But the more Light pictures it—the thrilling scene of Light kicking away his opponent’s porcelain white king, the sound of the ebony wood being knocked out of the chess board as Light replaces it with jet black, his own chess piece—the more he is met with confusion. Because, a small part of him feels as if…

A short clink that fills the quiet room as L suddenly kicks his rook away, replacing it with his pure white pawn.

And this leads Light to echo the horrible truth in his head:

Light may not want the chess game to end. 

Light, for the first time, may not want the chess game to end. He’s always done previous games quick and easy, desperate for the rush of adrenaline as he traps his opponent’s king, but now, he finds himself not wanting the game to end. It's not that he doesn't want to win. He does. Because, of course, Light wants to win. Instead, it's the fact that without this cat-and-mouse chase, without the rush of adrenaline from doing power moves and dodging L’s advances, and without the fear, excitement, and thrill from playing in near-silence because both of them are too busy thinking—Light will not know what to do.

Light will not know what to do, because L has permanently ruined chess games for him. Light will not know what to do, because now, now that he's met his match, every other chess game he plays will feel far too mediocre and boring, because L has set the standards dangerously too high. Because L is different. L is new. L is toxic. L is a terrible poison that fills his heart, lungs, and head, with the need for more. 

Light will not know what to do when he finds himself craving for more, more chess games with L, and maybe even more than just chess games. 

The worst part is: Light doesn't even know that his opponent is L. Light thinks that his brilliant opponent is his new, strange roommate who has the name Rue Ryuzaki and Light is slightly troubled by the fact that his noisy mind is preoccupied and silenced by a complete stranger, just some guy, who he had met that evening.

Light hesitates, but he asks anyway, “Ryuzaki, can I ask you something?” 

L moves his bishop. He answers, “Yes, Light-kun?”

Light hesitates again. He finally huffs, trying to sound as polite as possible, “Why do you… sit like that?”

Like that refers to the very unusual sitting position L is in, with both of his feet on the chair, and crouched over. Perhaps ignoring it would've been weird, so Light gives into asking. Aside from that, he is pretty curious.

“This sitting position simply increases the efficiency of my deductive abilities,” L answers, voice monotone, “If I sit normally, my reasoning ability would drop by 40%.”

“Oh… I see.”

Huh. Strange.

Well, on the other hand, the game is not progressing.

They’re far from an ending conclusion, the game stuck in a cat-and-mouse chase between pawns and rooks and knights and their respective queens and kings and their intellect. 

“You play like someone I know,” L mumbles, piercing the silence. His voice is laced with precision, as if he’s rehearsed these words a million times before.

Light immediately asks, “Who?”

“Kira.”

Check.

L murmurs his name—Light’s name—so easily.

In chess, "check" means a player's King is under immediate attack by an opponent's piece, requiring the player to respond by moving the King, blocking the attack, or capturing the attacking piece on the very next move. If none of these are possible, it's checkmate, and the game ends.

Too easily, as if it doesn't shake his entire world. He's acting like he doesn't know what he's doing, as if these words are just a random test, when in reality they are an experiment he’s carrying out as if he's already thought of the hypothesis and is certain of the outcome already. 

Off-guard. Light is, and has been, caught off-guard. A state he hasn't been in for a long, long time. A state Light thought he was above being in. Caught off-guard.

Light’s grip falters. Caught-off-guard, too. Even if only for a micro-second, L catches it perfectly, as if it’s the lead he’s been looking for.

Who are you?

It's the only question Light can think of. The question repeats over, and over, and over again in his head, who are you? And his soul fills with devastation when he realizes he's broken the most crucial, obvious rule when playing chess with his roommate: Light underestimated his opponent.

Because, if Ryuzaki is ‘just some strange roommate' like Light thought he was, then why does he know how to press all of Light’s buttons? Why does he know every move that Light makes before he even acts? Why does he know what Light is thinking before he even speaks? Why and how does he know who Light is?

Light decides to think about it later. The statement isn't necessarily a direct accusation, it's still a statement, no, an observation. In fact, Light can handle this pretty easily. 

“Really?” Light laughs, as if the statement is a joke. 

L blinks. Once. Twice. He asks again, “You know who he is, Light-kun?” 

I can't pull an act as if I don't know who Kira is. Kira almost has ten million followers, and on top of that, clips of him—of me—are constantly surfacing on the Internet. It’d be foolish and even more suspicious to claim as if I don't know Kira. I'll admit I’ve heard of him, but say that I don't follow his streams and fanbase closely. That's right, Light internally revels in his victory, This is the perfect move.

“I’ve seen a couple clips of him, but I do have to admit I don't really follow his streams that much,” Light chuckles casually. He puts down the chess piece he was holding. “He's a streamer, right?”

“Yes, he is,” L brings his thumb to his lips. “You play similarly to him.”

Does he?

No, he doesn't. In fact, Light purposely avoids using Kira’s signature moves when he plays in real life, to avoid comments like this. Maybe he’s used one or two similar moves but nothing groundbreaking enough to correlate the two of them. L is reaching too far and the worst part is, he's right.

To be able to draw a hypothesis from an exchange as minor as a chess game, in which Light has already tried his best to cover up his tracks… No, his roommate is no ordinary person. In fact, dare Light say, he may be an… equal.

Impossible.

“How, exactly?” Light questions and lies through his teeth, “I’m not too familiar with the way he plays.”

“Well, first of all, you opened with the Caro-Kann defense, and although Kira doesn't use that opening as much anymore, it is a notable move that Kira often used in his early streams,” L recites perfectly from memory, as if it's no big deal, “Then I sealed for the center. To which you reacted by offering a pawn, trying to avert my position, which I didn't fall for. It's not a Kira move, but something he would definitely do in that situation. And these are just two of many occurrences that link you to him. The way you play certainly… resembles Kira.”

Huh.

Light's roommate, who he knows as Ryuzaki, just admitted to psychoanalyzing him like it's not a big deal. It should be unnerving, insulting even, to be reduced to nothing but a comparison, an analysis. Instead, Light finds it… interesting. Albeit inconvenient, but he's not one to back down from a challenge. Light can work with this. 

He’ll just flip the tables around.

“You sound like you've analyzed Kira a lot,” Light says casually. “Are you a fan? Or… you did mention Kira as someone you know. Are you acquainted with him?”

L hums.

L’s got Light right where he wants him. Cornered. 

That's exactly what Kira would say, the thought constantly circles L’s mind. He's trying to dig for information out of my identity. He wants to know why I know so much. Little do you know, Light-kun…

“Not acquainted, per se,” L answers after a beat. And then, with a knowing look, as if he knows something Light doesn't, L says: “But I can say that I know him.”

Light lets the off-guard expression slip from his face. He replies, “Really? That's cool, Ryuzaki.”

“Yes, I do suppose not many people can make that bold claim,” L murmurs calmly. “Are you a fan of his?”

Actually, I should be asking you that question. Are you a fan? Light can't help but think, you keep on talking about me as if you know me. Who is this guy? Is he someone I’ve played with before? I have a lot of enemies, is he one of them? No… No. If he is, he would have reacted more emotionally while talking about Kira. There's something in his voice, but not bitter resentment like most of my enemies do when they talk about me. No. His tone is calm and analytical. Who are you, Ryuzaki?

Because it's clear that ‘Ryuzaki’ is not just a roommate, now. 

He knows something.

Something Light doesn't want him to know.

“I wouldn't call myself a fan,” Light decides to say, a smile still on his face. “I’ve seen a couple clips, but as I've said before, I don't really follow his streams.”

“I see,” L mumbles but he sounds as if he's unsatisfied by the answer, “Anyway, it’s your turn, Light-kun.”

They play for around thirty more minutes. Light checks his watch. It's a couple minutes past 12 a.m now. He has the Introduction to Law class tomorrow. Classes don't start until next week, but this is more of an opening seminar. To attend on time, Light needs to wake up at least at 5.30 a.m.

“Ryuzaki,” Light interrupts the previously thick silence.

L perks up, although the grip on his chess piece strengthens. He answers, “Yes, Light-kun?”

“Well,” Light scratched the back of his head sheepishly as if he was embarrassed to continue his words, although L was not buying the act. Light continued, “It’s kinda late… I have class tomorrow.”

“You're a university student?” L asks far too casually, as if he's not missing the entire point.

“Yeah, but that's not the point,” Light seems caught off-guard, he replies, “I have to wake up early tomorrow. Well, I don't have class exactly, but it's an introduction to the class, so basically the same thing.”

L hums. Then he adds another question, “You’re going to sleep?”

“I guess,” Light wonders why he's not sick of the constant questions but pretends not to think about it. “I'll need it tomorrow.”

L has the audacity to ask another question, and it's the worst one out of all, “Are you not troubled that we haven't finished the game?” 

Light stops for a fraction of a second to think.

This is not an inquiry, Light realizes. This is accusatory. He assumes I'm troubled. This reads like some sort of test. Why is he still psychoanalyzing me? Regardless of his identity, I can't let anyone know that I'm Kira. It’s too complicated. I have to dodge all of his advances somehow.

“Maybe we can continue tomorrow?” Light smiles.

L murmurs, but there's a change in his tone, “Sure.”

“‘Kay then,” Light says, getting up from the kitchen table and dumping the empty styrofoam container from his previous instant noodles into the metallic trash can. He hears L’s feet shuffling behind him.

Light picks up his smartphone from his desk, walks to his bed and lays down. He’s on his phone, opening Twitter, on his Kira account, and his back is facing the wall so his screen isn't exposed.

Initially, he’s scrolling through his timeline calmly until he comes across multiple posts talking about:

“L challenging Kira.”

Then he sees that #LvsKira is the number 1 trending hashtag on Twitter. 

Worldwide.

What.

The.

Hell.

In the span of the one day and six hours that Light was away from his phone and not on the Internet, apparently L has challenged Kira to “prove” that he is better than him, the topic has quickly become the #1 trending hashtag on Twitter, and everyone is expecting L and Kira to duke it out on the battlefield like the medieval times.

What the hell.

There are really no other words to describe it, except what the hell. Light quickly takes his earphones to watch the clip that is scattered all over his timeline.

“It’s not that he thought he wouldn’t win. Kira does not have low self-esteem. Instead, it seems like… He wants to prove that he’s better than me.”

Okay, Mr. Know-it-all. Wow. L really does get on Light’s nerves so much. Annoying. It takes everything in Light to not roll his eyes in real life. L is so infuriating. Does he think he knows everything in the world? So nosy.

“Well if you really think you’re better than me… Prove it, Kira.”

The clip ends.

…

Damn you, L!

Light nearly bursts a blood vessel.

He's one Twitter thread analyzing this clip away from actually crashing out. In fact, Light is seeing red. L gets him so worked up in the worst way possible. Light really needs to punch this guy. Wow. Wow.

It's so difficult for Light to pretend he's not furious in front of his new roommate. It's especially difficult for Light to just swallow the lump in his throat and pretend he's not seeing red right now. 

In fact, Light is so mad, he immediately posts a tweet afterwards. 

From sheer rage.

The tweet gets likes and replies in seconds but Light is already logging out of his account. He can't bear to scroll on his timeline any more. He wants nothing more than to not see anybody talking about this entire thing. Ever. Again.

The audacity of that man. 

L.

Damn you, L. He’s trying to make a fool out of me, Light thinks, what does he get from psychoanalyzing me in front of one-hundred thousand viewers? He's horrible. Terrible. This is the first time in my life I’ve been provoked to punch a man in the face so hard. He's so annoying. So smug. I hate him so much. How dare he intimidate me in public, in front of my devoted followers!? I'm gonna make him pay for this. Just you watch, L.

Light falls asleep after ranting in his head, back still facing the wall, staring mindlessly at the hazy scene of his roommate, Ryuzaki, who is sitting at his desk and typing something on his laptop.

Light has absolutely no idea that his roommate, Ryuzaki, is L. 

Light has absolutely no idea that his roommate is in the middle of sending a DM to Kira.

L has everything he needs. 

And yet, nothing at all.

He stares blankly at the new Kira tweet, the one directly intimidating L, as if the words will change somehow and give him all of the clues he needs.

There's only one thought that runs through his mind endlessly:

L’s roommate, Light, is exactly what he imagined Kira to be like in real life.

And L doesn't quite know what to do with this conclusion. From the way he talks, the way he laughs, to the way he plays chess, it's all so very Kira-like. That's not really concrete evidence, though, so L finds himself wanting more.

L wants more, more pieces of the cracked mask, he wants to see more. He wants to see Light get mad and his voice slip just the slightest bit, a form of satisfying auditorial evidence when he gets to hear it. He wants to see the look on Light’s face when L imitates his chess moves and he will proudly label the image as concrete visual evidence. He wants to see Light lose, and he wants to see Kira reveal himself as the roommate in their shared apartment, as he receives the ultimate confession.

After all, confession is the queen of evidence.

L can't remember the last time he's felt so intellectually hungry. It's not a sweet sugary infatuation, it's not a toxic obsession, instead it's fascination, in a way. Encountering Light Yagami feels like solving his first case. It feels like finding his first lead. It feels like opening his law textbooks for the first time. It's new.

It's the most interesting case L’s ever handled.

Light Yagami, a freshman university student, is eerily an expert at lying through his teeth and wearing such a concrete mask. It should be unnerving. It should be scary. It should be. Instead, L doesn't find it that way. He finds it… interesting. 

Light Yagami is a case that L needs to crack. And whatever this is, L will get to the bottom of it. Because he always does. Because he's a few steps ahead, already.

Because, Light Yagami, I know you're Kira.

There's no concrete proof. There's no specific phrase that Light uttered which links him to Kira. There's no specific moves that Light pulled which links him to Kira. That was just a chess game, it's not enough to profile him as Kira. But Kira hates losing… No, there's no hard evidence. This is all purely from L’s gut instincts. 

And L has always been taught to trust his gut.

His gut whispers soothingly yet firmly, that Light Yagami is the human embodiment of Kira. Light Yagami is exactly how he has always imagined Kira to be in real life. L can clearly see Kira, the arrogant unfiltered streamer, being Light’s second life. L knows he's right.

This is cheating, in a way. This is unethical. L has analyzed Kira to the bone, to the deepest depths of Light Yagami’s skin, without the other man ever knowing it. But L has never been one to care about ethics, has he? All that matters is he gets what he wants. And he will.

His future opponent, Kira, or Light, thinks he's never played against L. From his perspective, this is a first-time encounter, since L and Kira have never publicly interacted—when really, it's the exact opposite.

In reality, L has played against him exactly once, just earlier today, at 11 pm on the kitchen table for two, inside their shared apartment room of Aoyama Residence. And from that unfinished game alone, L already knows everything he needs to win.

L will win.

It repeats like a mantra in his head as L types out a message to send to Kira.

I will win, no matter what, and I will eliminate you, Kira…. Because I already know who you are.

Message requests 1 new person you may know

L @L
i’ve seen your tweet. would you accept one chess match with me on chess.com?
and when would you be available?

Light wakes up to a message request in the inbox of his Twitter messages.

It's L.

Light is ecstatic.

He's still in his bed when he reads the message, still in his pajamas, his roommate is still typing across from him, and then Light reads the message over and over again, and he has to physically contain himself from smirking. He yawns instead. He turns off the alarm ringing on his phone, the time reading 6.30, just as he expected he would wake up.

Light accepts the request in a heartbeat. He texts a reply back. Instant. He tells L that he’s available next Monday at around 4 p.m.

It’s exhilarating.

It's so exciting knowing that, next week, Light will be ecstatically triumphing on his victory over his rival, L, a streamer who was foolish enough to oppose him. Light can't wait. Light needs to feel it now. He wants to hear L’s voice waver, wants to see the winning screen, wants to feel L crack under his fingertips, wants to see L fall to his knees. A chronic, infectious desire he feels like he's been born with, and it thrums electrifyingly throughout Light’s brain and into his vessels.

You've fallen right into my trap, L.

Our rivalry ends next week. I'll win. No matter what. I will eliminate you, L!

Light already knows how this will end. He’s already planned how to stream later next week. He chose the date for a reason. He's fully prepared.

Light gets up from his bed.

“Ryuzaki,” Light greets politely, “Good morning.”

L looks up from his laptop, from where his eyes were previously glued to. He looks like he hasn't slept a single bit. 

“Good morning, Light-kun,” L replies, as if he didn't expect to be greeted. He says nothing further and his gaze returns to the bright screen.

“Is it okay if I ask you something?” Light asks, a bit sudden.

L doesn't look away from the screen, “That is?”

“Can I have your number?” Light asks, his smile unwaveringly polite, then continuing, “You know, for the sake of good communication, since we’ll be roommates for a while. I'm going out today.I'll tell you what time I’ll be getting back.”

L clearly hesitates for a couple seconds. That is what finally tears his gaze away from his laptop.

He wants my number, L thinks. Light wants my number. Why? Well, the reasoning is logical, but there's something else behind his voice… I don't really have an option here. I'll give him one of my numbers.

“Sure,” is what L finally says, “Just write it down on a piece of paper and give it to me. I'll add your contact later.”

“Thanks, Ryuzaki,” Light smiles. 

L doesn't say anything back.

Light places a piece of paper on L’s desk, and then he gets ready to leave for his Introduction to Law class. He's wearing a suit. He says goodbye to his roommate. Right as he's about to walk out the door, his phone rings.

It's Sayu.

“Hey, Sayu,” Light answers the phone as he walks out of the door and he pretends not to see L turning his head.

When he's out the door, Sayu answers, “Light! Mom! It's Light on the phone!”

“Light, how are you? Is everything okay?” His mom's voice is loud and clear and caring from the other side of the line, “Where are you right now?”

Light is taking the elevator down as he chuckles, “I'm fine, mom. Sayu. Thanks for calling. I'm heading to my first seminar.”

“Woah! What's that?” Sayu asks. Light huffs.

The call ends when Light has walked halfway to To-Oh. Light is the one who ends it, saying his class is about to start.

When he finds his class, and the seminar actually starts, Light finds himself understanding everything easily. Everything related to academics has always come easy to him, anyway. Not a surprise. He’ll graduate soon, maybe early, and then he can focus on Kira somewhat-full-time, while juggling his job.

“Good morning, class, this is Introduction to Law. You may call me Professor Fujimoto. Today we are going over the syllabus of…”

The seminar is boring.

Unbelievably boring.

Light already knows everything he needs to know by simply looking at the syllabus. The old man, Professor Fujimoto as Light can recall, gives unnecessary explanations. He should just send the PDF file of the syllabus and dismiss everyone for the day.

Light opens his phone underneath the desk. He looks back up at Professor Fujimoto. The man has white-grey hair, he's clearly in his 50s and is reading off of the slides being projected onto the big whiteboard.

Light looks back down at his smartphone. There's unread messages from Ryuk.

Ryuk is one of Light’s loyal online friends. Or, really, Light’s only loyal online friend. He found Kira’s Twitch account in his early days, dating way back to a couple months ago, and he has stayed ever since. He finds Light ‘interesting’, and loves commenting on his streams. Ryuk is a streamer himself, but he mainly only plays Mario Golf (who plays Mario Golf in this day and age?), and streams on an irregular schedule. He has a solid following, but nowhere near as big as Kira’s.

Ryuk is really the only person that Light ever tells anything to. Light doesn't really trust Ryuk with his heart, but just enough that he can tell things about his daily life. He tells Ryuk about his future plan, how he’s successfully moved to his own apartment, but it's not really his own. He tells Ryuk about his strange roommate and his comment yesterday when they were playing chess, and then tells him about how L has texted him and how he’ll stream without Ryuzaki knowing.

His online friend doesn't compliment him or hype him up. No, really, he never does. Ryuk doesn't take sides. Instead, Ryuk sends a laughing emoji and asks why Light is still so secretive about his identity as a streamer.

Of course, Ryuk doesn't get it, Light scoffs inside. He doesn't understand anything. He doesn't get that I have to hide being Kira because that's how I want it to be. Aside from the fact that handling my close friends and family's reactions will be hard, it’s because… Whatever. I don't really care either way. 

Professor Fujimoto doesn't realize Light’s on his phone at all. Not even in the slightest. He eventually dismisses the class just like that. 

Light packs his bags and leaves. He doesn't look forward to the next class.

The walk back to Aoyama Residence is silent. 

And then it's not.

Drip! Drip! Drip!

It’s suddenly loud, the sound of rain dripping on the floor, and all over Light’s suit, and all over his bag, and it's loud. It's humid and cold and moist and Light didn't bring an umbrella. Damn it.

He takes off his sling bag and uses that to cover himself from the rain, instead. It smells earthy and his hair is soaked.

The rain pours, and it pours, and it keeps on pouring, and then—

“Ryuzaki!?” 

Waiting for the next week is dreadful.

L can assume as such for Kira. But it is twice as dreadful for himself.

There's a plethora of reasons that L can think of as to why Kira would set the deadline so long. An entire week. Still, none of the reasons he can think of really clicks to him except for the fact Kira may just want to see him suffer. An entire week is a long time. And in the meantime, L is stuck with Kira himself—technically, his roommate, Light.

Light is Kira.

That fact helps make the wait feel just a bit more bearable. 

In the meantime, L can wait. He will interact more with Light. He’ll find out what's behind the shell of Kira. And he will win their chess match next week because by then, he’ll already have all of his opponent’s moves noted down and analyzed thoroughly and he’ll know everything he needs to know.

He finds himself inevitably waiting for Light to return. He pretends he's not. He's saved Light’s number. He tells himself this is not attraction, not infatuation, not obsession, but this is fascination. Light Yagami is simply a case to crack.

Light Yagami’s hair is auburn and warm. His eyes are carved from autumn leaves themselves, and looking into them feels like sitting too close to a fire, too close to the Sun. L should tell himself to look away, but he can't, the flames are strong and burning and wild and they sting lightly but they make L feel more alive than he's felt in years. His eyes are the shade of chestnuts and warm honeycombs, but they're the kind that turns a shade of gorgeous whiskey-red when sunlight looms over them in a tight embrace. 

How can he look away, when Light is all he's ever wanted? 

How can L look away, when Light fills in the void that L has dedicated his entire life to? L knows all too well about the gaps, the cracks, and the mundaneness of life and yet Light fits perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece, in those places?

And so, L has decided, he will not look away. 

He will accept the game, the competition with all of his heart, and he vows to be victorious at the end of it. But before the game starts, L whispers to himself the most important bullet point from the terms and conditions and he repeats it like a mantra:

I will not fall in love with you, Light Yagami.

It’s a very simple promise, but a heavy one. Light may be all kinds of beautiful and he is the human embodiment of sweet deception and temptation and tightly-knit masks and honey-glazed stares and legendary chess games that go down in history with his impressive intellect. Light Yagami is a pearl that shines bright, too brightly it feels suspicious, in the sea of painfully dull clams—he's the only thing that shines in L’s world, and L has never seen anyone or anything quite like him before and it's so exhilarating. Light is beautiful and captivating and mesmerizing and horribly dangerous and fake. He's hiding something. He's not as nice as he may seem. Seventy-eight percent of his smiles are fake. He's not as all-good as he claims. He is more than that. He's above the pleasantries, above the awfully polished tone, above things like asking for his phone number, no, he's more than that. 

I won't fall for you.

L tells himself not to fall for him, because it would mean losing.

Because, even this early on in the sick twisted game of mind games and intellect that they’ve tangled each other in, L knows: he can, he might, and perhaps he will fall for Light Yagami. 

And falling for him will be a loss on his part. 

And so L swears, vows, and promises that he will do otherwise.

Because Light, in their forced proximity, is so close to knowing him, and the only person he’s ever really let in.

When Light is away, L gets a call from Watari that tears through his thoughts. Just what he needs.

“L, we need you at the Tokyo Annex right now,” is what Watari says.

L shortly makes his way down the elevator, and he walks to the Tokyo Annex—the headquarters of where the case study is being held, another branch of Wammy’s House and where the kids were sent to inspect the case, and he stays there for some time. They're only having an introduction.

The place isn't big, in fact, it's merely a small warehouse. It's nothing like the London hotels that L has stayed at before to finish helping on cases, but it doesn't really feel like Japan either, it feels a lot like a segment of the Wammy’s House building cut out and placed in this foreign country. 

A snippet of his home, cut out and put a couple steps away from his new apartment. The floors are made of fine wood but they creak lazily when he walks. The walls are beige and the paint looks freshly dried. If L’s memory is correct, this place is actually an abandoned warehouse that's just recently been renovated. In what L assumes is the living room, there is a table in the middle with four chairs surrounding it, and three kids are sitting.

It's not the first appearance that L makes in front of other people.

Light Yagami is the first to see him. 

Not just physically.

“Hello,” L greets the kids, “I’m L.”

L finds it somewhat alarming that there are only three kids in the entire annex. He expected more. 

“These boys are Near, Matt, and Mello,” Watari explains sufficiently, “They are the top three most intelligent kids from the orphanage.”

Only a couple seconds go by before the room erupts.

“L!? Like, the L!? Is that really you!?” One of the boys shouts, and L doesn't know what his name is, but his hair is overgrown, a golden shade of blonde and to his neck. He's wearing an ebony black long-sleeved shirt. His voice is strong and laced with shock and admiration. His English is very fluent and accentuated and he stands up to say, “Holy shit!”

Watari clears his throat.

“Hello, Mr… L,” There's a brunette sitting cross-legged on the floor, his eyes don't look up from the Nintendo switch in his hands—his fingers are very busy, gliding across the screen. He's wearing a black-red striped long sleeved shirt.  “Nice to meet’cha.”

“Mr. L?” L tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows furrow in confusion. Kids don't exactly call him that everyday.

“It's fascinating to finally meet you, L,” Another boy says, he has thick, slightly wavy white hair and his voice is calm, overlapped by the others. Then he says, “When can we have the rematch?”

The one with white hair must be Near. They've played chess exactly once online, under orders from Roger. Of course, L emerged victorious. To which the boy, Near, requested a rematch ever since.

“Hold on,” L pauses, “Introduce yourselves one by one.”

“I'm Mello!” The blonde boy announces proudly, “I’ve heard about what you’ve done, and how you've helped on cases! That's so cool, dude—”

“Did you really just call the L ‘dude!?” The one with brown hair shoves Mello, “You can't say that!”

“It is undoubtedly impolite to say that, Mello,” The one with the thick, white hair frowns.

“Shut up, Near, you big-headed twit!” Mello rolls his eyes, and then he turns to the one with brown hair and says: “Matt, you're supposed to be on my side!”

“Yeah, but you can't just call the L ‘dude’, you’re out of your mind, Mello!”

The brunette, who L now knows is Matt, turns around, chuckles awkwardly, finally puts down his switch and says, “Um… Hello, sir. I'm Matt.”

L blinks. This Matt boy really has a thing for honorifics, does he? He brings his thumb to his lip, then says, “Please drop the honorifics. Just call me L. Or, Ryuzaki in public.”

The three of them look bewildered. They stare at L as if he's an alien.

L points at the blonde one: “Mello.”

He points at the brunette in the middle: “Matt.”

Finally, he points at the one on the very right, and says: “Near.”

“Did I get your names correct?” L asks all three of them.

“Yes, you did!” Mello is ecstatic. 

Near nods.

Matt puts his Nintendo switch down.

“Do you three know why you're here today?” L asks again.

Near answers too fast, too soon, and earns a dirty glare from Mello when he answers correctly, saying, “For the recent Shibuya Cleansing murders.”

“That’s right,” L hums an approval, and Mello has a scrunched-up envious look on his face and Matt is completely unbothered. It's clear as day. L can read the dynamic between the three of them like a book. 

“Let’s talk about the M.O of the case,” L says, and the boys pay full, unwavering attention. “There has only been one victim so far, but I am not surprised if the culprit continues to commit more. Seeing as the culprit seems to do their crimes with the motive to spread their…” L pauses for a second, spitting out the next word with disapproval, “...Ideology.”

Matt tilts his head slightly in confusion hearing that hypothesis. L pulls out one picture from his pocket. It’s a printed-out mugshot.

“This is the first victim. His name is Masanori Matsunaga, a man in his fifties. A week before his death, he was broadcasted on the news as a wanted criminal charged with sexual assault. He was brutally stabbed in the heart in a criminally active district in Shibuya,” L brings a thumb to his lip, “Oddly, and I think we can categorize this as the signature of this crime, the knife used to stab the victim has the kanji of the word ‘justice’ engraved on the handle.”

The room is silent as L talks. 

L mumbles, again, “Another piece of evidence was found at the site.”

He takes out another piece of paper from his pocket, but it’s folded this time and when it unfolds it shows a printed close-up photo of a note. The note is not handwritten, it is typed out in the Arial font.

Criminals will continue to die, the note reads, I am justice. I will cleanse the world.

“We can clearly see the motive of the perpetrator now,” L smiles, thumb still at his lip, “Anyone knows what it is?”

All three of the kids raise their hands up. L points at Mello and says, “You.”

Mello looks so grateful to be chosen. He says, voice loud and clear, “I know, L! The culprit is clearly doing this as an act of justice. He believes that what they’re doing is right. He despises criminals, hence why the victim is a criminal. Also, from the first and last line, we can assume that the culprit will continue to target more criminals.”

“That’s right,” L hums lazily, “Anyone else wanna add anything?”

Near tilts his head and asks, “Were there any fingerprints on the knife or the note?”

“That’s a good question,” L mutters, “No. There weren’t any fingerprints at all. Also no other samples of DNA could be found, either.”

“No footsteps?” Matt inquires.

“Strangely, now that I think of it, there’s no footsteps either,” L recalls firmly, “The culprit must’ve been using socks.”

“What about security footage?” Mello insists, “If the crime happened in a criminally active district, shouldn’t there be cameras nearby?”

“Good point,” L promptly acknowledges, “But no. All cameras were tampered with from behind before the crime occurred.”

For a moment, the room is completely silent. All of the kids seem to be deep in thought. The perfect opportunity.

“Do note that this has been circulating all over social media, the locals have been talking about it because of the note and the motive,” L simply says, and then he mutters, “So I suppose we will be investigating this case…”

The kids look up at him with so much expectation and admiration, and it should be flattering, and it is, but L just finds himself not too caught up in the sight. This case is mildly uninteresting to him. The walls around him are plain and beige, porcelain tiled. He prefers the concrete off-white walls in Aoyama Residence. He thinks he can solve the case in seconds. He doesn't really want to solve it yet. It's getting late. He wants to go home. He wants to eat dinner, and maybe stream, and read English literature, open some of his law textbooks, and he wants to play chess with Light once, or twice, or thrice, or more, as many times as the other lets him.

“...Some other time.”

The equally shocked faces on their faces are amusing.

After Watari requests some elaboration, L says he will research about the case personally before he discusses it with the kids. Watari and the kids believe it after a quick hook, line, and sinker. In reality, L just doesn't want to solve the case. And so L dismisses them. 

He leaves the Tokyo Annex.

The walk back to Aoyama Residence is silent.

Until it's not.

When the rain starts pouring, it's noisy. Water drops everywhere, and the sky cries, and cries, and cries, its tears dripping without hesitation onto the grass below. L's clothes are soaked, his hair is unbearably damp, but he can't have it in him to really care.

L doesn't mind the rain.

He never has.

Drip! Drip! Drip!

Until one sound pierces through the muffled noise:

“Ryuzaki!?”

It's Light. 

It's Light’s voice, it's his roommate’s voice, it's Kira’s voice speaking Japanese, calling out L’s other name.

L turns to see Light, with his sling bag over his brown hair, now just as damp and wet as L’s and his suit is soaked just like L’s shirt. 

“What are you doing out in the rain?” Light approaches him, concern flashing all over his face, and the worst part is not all of it may be fake, and then he says again, “You’ll catch a cold!”

Light’s sling bag is actually pretty wide, and he puts it on top, over both of their heads. It's not the most efficient shelter, but it stops the rain from hitting them so harshly.

It's the least likely move L could ever expect Kira to pull. 

“Thank you, Light-kun,” L then lies through his teeth, “I was taking a walk, and then it started to rain.”

“Well,” Light huffs, as if L’s reasoning doesn't make sense, and it doesn't, “You should bring an umbrella next time you go out. It's the rainy season in Tokyo, y’know?”

“I do apologize if this comes off as rude,” L warns, “But you don't necessarily have an umbrella with you either.” 

L may seem apologetic to Light, but the cheeky smile on his face makes him think otherwise. For a split second, Light looks like he's resisting the urge to scoff and roll his eyes.

Instead, Light chuckles, and says, “Looks like I forgot. Remind me next time.”

They walk home together, clinging onto Light’s sling bag over their heads, and it's a terrible idea because the forced proximity is torture.

“Were you seriously just going out for a walk?” Light asks again. He clearly doesn't buy it. 

“Yes, I was,” L lies once again. He then changes the subject, “Are you cooking dinner again?”

Light seems taken aback, eyes blown wide but not enough to seem overdramatic. He mutters, “Yeah, but… The last time I did, you didn't eat any.”

“That's because you cooked spicy food last time,” L explains, “I don't like spicy food.”

It's only half a lie. The truth is, L didn't eat Light’s cooking just in case it was poisoned. Not that L genuinely suspects Light would do that, although he is Kira, there's only a 5% chance Kira would actually pull something violent like that—and he doesn't even know he's L. It's more of a general safety precaution he was taught at Wammy’s House.

They chat about stupidly mundane things on the way back to their apartment.

L should find it annoying. He does not.

When they get home, they take turns using the shower. It’s mundane. When Light cooks dinner, it’s not spicy, and L only eats after he sees Light take the first bite. Light does his laundry for him. When they play chess, L opens with the Caro-Kann defense. When Light is about to sleep, he says goodnight. When Light wakes up, L is still sitting by the desk, in the same position he was in when Light first fell asleep, because L hasn't slept at all.

L does not know that, when Light sleeps, he dreams of L—he dreams of victories and chess boards and winning and meeting L. 

Light does not know that he has already met L.

It’s late at night, 2.11 a.m. As usual, L isn’t asleep. He’s on his laptop, which isn’t a shocker, and the bright lights coming from his screen are efficiently stopping Light from sleeping at all.

Light really wants to rage and scream and get mad at his roommate for not having the basic decency to at least dim the lights of his laptop. It pisses him off a lot. He tries scrolling on his phone to relieve his emotions.

Light is scrolling on Twitter, when he sees the tweet:

Light is sitting on his bed, opening one of his law textbooks, or Japanese Law by Hiroshi Oda, in its fourth edition, to be precise. His bedsheets are porcelain white and the book’s pages are slightly beige and they smell faintly addicting just like every new book does. 

He’s skimming the pages until L passes by, walking over with his back hunched as usual, and he diverts his attention.

“You study law, Light-kun?” L inquires, eyes brimming with curiosity.

“Huh?” Light says at first, taken aback, and then he finally answers, “Yeah, I do.”

“So you’re a university student majoring in Law,” L mumbles to himself, not really a question for Light.

“Yeah, I am,” Light turns his head slightly. "Sorry if this question is a bit personal, but are you also in university, Ryuzaki?”

I’ve got you, Light revels internally, I’ll find out who you are soon, Ryuzaki.

“I am, actually,” L utters and Light doesn’t expect him to elaborate but he does, “In fact, I’m in my senior year.”

“Oh, really?” Light perks up and on his face is actual surprise and not an exaggeration for once, “So, you’re working on your thesis then?”

“I am,” L confirms, and he initially turns to step away but stops when Light speaks again.

“So, where do you go?” Light asks, “it can’t be that far from here, right? Let me guess, University of Tokyo?”

Something in L’s expression falters, as if he’s not expecting the inquiries. A beat of silence passes before he says, “No. Actually, my university is outside of this country.”

Light has surprise written all over his face, “Really!? That’s cool, Ryuzaki! Where? Wait, but if that’s true, then why are you in Japan?”

“Personal matters, but I’ll be flying back out soon,” L mutters and he lies through his teeth when he says, “and I go to Cambridge University.”

“You’re joking!” Light gapes. For once, he doesn’t look like he’s faking his surprise.

I’m not joking, but I am lying, L thinks, but I guess it’s not too far off of a lie. I go to Oxford.

“What’s your major?” Light asks. 

L can’t help but think, you sure do talk a lot, don’t you, Light?

“Actually, I also major in law. I take Law & Society with specialization in criminal justice.”

“You’re kidding,” Light chuckles, “I also major in law, and take electives in criminology, criminal psychology, forensics, and ethics.”

“It seems we have a lot more in common than I initially thought,” L mumbles, and he’s not really saying this to Light but more to himself.

“Watari,” L says over the phone, “If, hypothetically, I were to willingly reveal my face on an online platform in live time, would you be able to discard all of the media regarding it in a situation that requires so? That includes any photos, videos, or any other visual media of that matter.”

The other line is silent for a while. Finally, L can hear:

“It depends on the audience,” Watari says, his voice stern, and yet subtly laced with concern.

“I can estimate maybe above five million during the live occasion, but the total amount of people who would see my face is unable to be directly determined, perhaps a minimum of ten million,” L says, his voice slightly muffled as he chews a marshmallow in his mouth, “Oh, and the audience is international. Anyone would be able to access it, no matter where they are. Do keep in mind this is a hypothetical situation, Watari.”

There is a long beat of silence.

“It is possible, L, albeit exceedingly difficult,” Watari finally states, “Is there a problem regarding this matter?”

“No, Watari,” L hums, “Thank you. I have everything I need.”

When they play chess once more (for the third or the fourth or the fifth—Light doesn't know, he's lost count), Light opens with Caro-Kann again.

It's sort of like a running joke between them.

The next day, and the day after that, Light doesn’t have class. He doesn't have class until next week, actually, since that's when university starts.

Light has observed that his roommate doesn't leave the apartment much, except for their previous encounter in the rain. He wants to ask what he does for a living, but that may come off as rude, but at the same time, Light can't help but be bothered by the fact that he doesn't know anything about his roommate. 

“Light-kun, have you heard?” L ponders, during one of their many chess rounds on the grey cotton living room couch, “Tomorrow, L and Kira are going to have a chess match.”

“Is that so?” Light doesn't look up from the chess board. Half of it is because he's thinking about his next move—L has sacrificed a bishop and offered it up in his hands, but indulging in it would put him in an alarming position, so he opts to ignore it—and the other half is because he’s known well enough now to only give neutral answers to that matter.

Light is now certain that his roommate is someone he knows online. He is definitely more than just an acquaintance or a mutual, and they've directly interacted at least more than once before. He just doesn't know who.

“Yes,” L says, and then he smiles against the thumb on his lip when he sees that Light ignored his trap on the chess board, and also the trap in real life. He continues, “Who do you think will win?”

Light hates not knowing things. When it comes to Ryuzaki, he doesn't know anything.

“You sure are invested in these things, huh, Ryuzaki?” Light chuckles instead of giving a real answer, thinking L will just leave the topic alone.

L does not leave the topic alone. Instead, he simply mutters even further, “If you promise not to tell anyone, I have important information regarding this ordeal that I would like to share with you.”

“I won't tell anyone,” Light finally says after some hesitation, and it's somewhat of a promise and a lie just as all of his other words are, and then he probes further, “What is it?”

Light finally looks up, looks at his roommate like he's the only thing in the room that matters.

And perhaps he is.

He knows him as Ryuzaki, and not really anything else, but still everything at once, if ‘everything’ refers to the mundaneness and routine in his roommate’s everyday life—Light knows all of that very well. But maybe that is what it means to know someone. Some people think so.

Some people think that to know someone is to be familiar with them. They'd believe that to know Ryuzaki is to memorize the portrait of his almost shark-like eyes, wide and round in shape and hiding things he’d never say. His pupils are fully black like Light’s side of the chess board, and to know Ryuzaki would be to know the hex code of his irises as they fade into charcoal grey, and to know how it feels to touch his awfully pale porcelain-white skin. That, and finding out how, after doing some of his laundry, Ryuzaki doesn't wear the same clothes everyday although Light previously assumed as such, but really he just has multiple pairs of the same long-sleeved white top and jeans. 

For a while, L says nothing further. He knocks over one of Light’s knights, replacing it with his queen.

Maybe knowing Ryuzaki has something to do with knowing how he likes his coffee: disgustingly sweet with seven to nine ice cubes, or also knowing that he plays tennis. Perhaps even how Ryuzaki takes ages in the shower and his shampoo smells like weirdly authentic strawberries and he despises spicy food and he very rarely sleeps, thus the eye bags under his eyes, and how he firmly thinks gameshows are boring.

If knowing someone really is to be familiar with them—then perhaps some people can say that Light knows Ryuzaki.

However, Light is not ‘some people.’

Familiarity is not enough to know someone. You can be familiar with someone, but if you don't hear from them for years, you won't know them anymore, and you'll realize you never really did know them, you merely knew a version of them because people change all the time. Light knows this all too well. He's known a relative that used to be achingly sweet to him before—a distant uncle from his mother’s side—and he's grown up to see that same person turn up on the news as a criminal, and he used to be familiar with him but he clearly doesn't know that man anymore. Light doesn't know why he committed the crime or how the result of his court hearing turned up or if the man is still in jail. People change, sometimes they become better, but more often they fall into sin and mistakes and the realm of no-return. Familiarity is not enough.

Light thinks, instead, that to know someone is to know their past, present, and their future, to be intertwined with their soul, to know what they’re thinking before they think and to know what they’d say before they even open their mouth, to know what they want and what they regret and what they will do better and to memorize their dreams like your own and to understand them with all of your heart.

Light wants to be known.

Light doesn't let people get too close, so nobody knows him. His mother thinks he's studying in his room when he's not and his father rarely comes home and he loves Sayu but she would never understand. His high school friends are nothing more than shallow relationships, surface-level bonds he maintains for status. Light can't help it, it happens sometimes not out of his will, because he doesn't view them as equals and they don't really view him as equals, either. Even from an early age, the people around Light have always put him on a pedestal—high class rankings, junior tennis champion, golden medals—and when he's that high he is unreachable to the people below, he’s gotten bored of the mundane world, and he just ends up not bothering with meaningless relationships. Light used to wonder if he’d ever find someone equal to him. Now, not anymore, since he's met Ryuzaki.

He separates his personal life from Kira so firmly, and draws the line between the two personas so clearly they can never blur, but it's not because he doesn't want people to know him. No. In truth, Light does it because he doesn't want people to think they know him, when really, nobody does.

But Light could know Ryuzaki, and vice versa. It’s the first time he’s ever had a thought like that.

However, Light doesn't know where Ryuzaki is from or what he does as a job or what he takes as his major or where he wants to go after he moves out after the six months in the contract pass by or if he even will move out at all. He doesn't know if Ryuzaki’s name is actually Rue Ryuzaki, and he doesn't know if he lies through his teeth as much as Light does when they talk to each other. He doesn't know why Ryuzaki likes sweets so much, or why he started playing tennis. He doesn't know who Ryuzaki's parents are. He doesn't understand Ryuzaki too much, but then again he really does, but not enough to really know him in a sense. He doesn't know why Ryuzaki knows more about him than he wants him to. He doesn't know anything about the man, actually. He doesn't know anything about Ryuzaki outside of his everyday habits. And Light hates not knowing things. He really doesn't know Ryuzaki at all.

There's only one thing he really knows and is certain about Ryuzaki, which is:

Ryuzaki is the only equal he's ever talked to, and perhaps, the only one he will ever meet. 

But this fact is one out of way too many contradictions. 

In this context, then, Ryuzaki is outside of Light's grasp.

Light doesn't know Ryuzaki. 

But he could.

“I want to tell you,” Ryuzaki whispers, “I’m L.”