A/N: I'm back, and in pain, of sorts. Jammed index and middle fingers in the door, and procrastinating while switching fingers for several keys...difficulty typing..ow.. and junior year is so UGH. APs, SATs, just to name a bit of the trauma. And what kind of effin schedule is free-class-free-class-free in the middle of the damn day? D: (end rant)

This chapter was done a week ago and now that I look at it, well, I may need to MAJORLY revise. But I figured I'd put it up for the time being for the lulz.

Disclaimer and warning in chapter 1.

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Feeling kind of lazy at the moment, so I'll update the responses later. Love you peoples, Opacus, Lulio chan, yanri cake, UiStar0304, lydia-chan, Nyu-chan, crazy kid, SutaakiHitori, and Sida :'D.

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Chapter 10: Liar

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L... you must know that the person that you are responsible for in terms of her good graces with the law, is Amane Misa.

Just as planned.

"Well then, thank you for informing me of such, Rem." L said softly, although he continued to bite down with unreasonable force against the fork that he held in his mouth, his teeth meeting the metal surface past the goodness of the whipped cream of the strawberry shortcake. He ate the slice slowly, savoring the flavor although it was possible to order a cake by demand via the services of the hotel. Finishing the last of the cream, he took another slice and left the kitchen area, sitting on the couch that he was crouched upon approximately sixteen point four hours ago. Ah, the memories.

Is there... anything you wish to know?

"Yes, actually," L spoke in a quiet tone, watching the sleeping Raito with a careful glance and minding the way his fork touched the platter, as if any noise that broke a small limit would awaken the auburn-haired genius deep into some well-needed slumber. "Rem..." he began, quite unsure of how to phrase the question. The shinigami waited, not exactly crouching anymore due to the breadth of the area, her massive white wings spread out in comfort; L was grateful for her patience, as he learned through experiences after Misa, that some females were terribly impatient to a degree of impossibility.

"Does Kira actually use the Death Note as the device of murder?" L asked intently, knowing that although his suspicions were indeed one-hundred percent, but there was nothing awry about a small confirmation. For if not, then he would need to do some large amounts of calculations.

That is so.

If Raito-kun is in possession of a Death Note, then the percentage that he will be Kira is one-hundred, supposedly. After carefully browsing through his school bag, there seems to be nothing of notable interest involving the case. Therefore, I shall invite myself over to his house to search, most likely in his room if the case may be that I miss something. Sixty-four cameras, after all, can not cover the middle of layers of books.

But if Raito-kun is Kira, and does possess a Death Note, then surely he has his own shinigami, as well?

"and when we meet, we shall confirm each other with our gods of death"

The second Kira has met the first Kira, and since Amane-san is the second Kira...perhaps... there is a sixty-seven percent possibility that Amane-san's shinigami, as the second Kira, was Rem. And of the first...

"Have you been contact with any other shinigami lately in the human realm? I do not require knowledge of who the shinigami was seen with, or where in particular, but rather a general area including the shinigami's description." L was straight to the point- if there was another death god flying around, then not only would it would confirm Rem's agreement to his suspicion that Kira used the Death Note to kill, one-hundred percent, but also reveal a location of Kira- whether or not he was working alone or with a group. If the shinigami was spotted in the Kanto region, then there was a seventy-nine percent possibility that Kira was working alone, and if not, then the assumption holds that there is a group called Kira, yet the leader is the holder of the Death Note. Although, nonetheless, Kira is, most definitely, Raito-kun.

Rem gave him a begrudging look, one of clear unhappiness towards both the situation and the predicament that he had put her through lately. Deciding that her affection for the blonde-haired idol may result in more than the death god had originally bargained for, which was not much, she thought carefully about the response as to not reveal the true mastermind behind the plots. Although she had to admit, that L was catching on at a record pace.

Yes. One right here in the Kanto region of Japan.

Presuming that Rem does not hold more than one death note and that death gods cannot guard over a number of humans greater than one, with eighty-two percent of the presumption, then this other shinigami is following Kira. "Is there a name in which the shinigami you have sighted corresponds to? A physical description, perhaps?"

Tall, as most death gods go compared to the human race. He has a more human-like appearance than I, if you will compare the similarities between races; his skin color of dark blue may persuade you that he is indeed not from your world. He wears casual human clothing, similar to the black ones in your closet, a belt with double-hoops, and stitches below his neck. He has a single earring on his right ear, silver in color. His wings are black feathers, spanning like those of bird-like creatures. His name is Ryuk, although I believe that such a name is of no importance.

"From a glance at a shinigami, you sure do seem to know a lot about this Ryuk character." L mumbled through the cream of the strawberry short cake and the metal fork, recording the description in the small notepad that he had conveniently placed in his pocket, taking it out to scrawl with elegance. "Sixty-eight percent," he placed down the strawberry-scented pen on the pad of paper that he had just placed on the table to chew on his cake-delight. Placing the fork down on the half-way eaten slice, he picked up the said scented items and tilted his head back at Rem, eyes showing apathy.

L, did you know that...

Well, he supposed he could always.

"Rem, does Ryuk like apples?"

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Yagami Raito was quite pleased; the bed in which he was in was incredibly soft, possibly from a finely fabricated material that he could not recall affording. The slight scent of fruit did not bother him as much as he thought it would have. It was nice; this strange, unfamiliar comfort of a lavish, soft pillow and the mattress, in fact, Raito was quite sure the mattress was manufactured for important persons, like he. After all, the God of the new world was anything but unimportant. Now, if only he could figure out what it was that had led him to such a comfortable feeling, that he could experience waking again to the cozy blankets, enjoyable warmth of the sun, and sense of calmness.

A small smile tugging at his face, the young Yagami turned to his left, a casual motion that he had always done when getting up in the morning every day; his left elbow would serve as a prop as he lifted himself up and out of the bed. He turned around slowly, enjoying the warmth of the sun- it was not glaring at him like most days, or hiding amidst the clouds, but providing warmth as if only he was the sole receiver, a sign of approval for his actions as Kira, a sign of justice. His eyes opened slowly, as the casual motion, to see the digital alarm clock next to him when he woke in his room every morning. Only, he was quite sure he was not in his room.

And he was quite sure that he did not recall an older raven-haired detective staring at him with onyx eyes void of emotion, yet managing to pull of a look of adoration all at the same time. In the betraying sunlight against his will that shone upon the detective's figure, Raito was quite sure that the glow of the others' eyes was just to his illusion, as well as the shine on those rosy lips that were so close to his own.

Raito blinked.

And fell backwards in realization, off the bed.

What a shame, L mused, watching the slow reaction of the Kira suspect and his friend, enjoying the thud when Yagami Raito fell from the bed in a startled manner, partially due to the welcoming sound the impact on the floor made, partially due to the fact that the other was in pain at the moment. I was hoping that he would not do that, although it is an unfortunate case where the possibility of him not doing so is twelve percent.

"L!" Aggravated, Raito glared back, but being in the position he was in, he could not see the detective as the said other did not peer his head over the top of the bed.

"Yes, Raito-kun?" The addressed detective responded, as if being called by a fellow co-worker for a light-hearted affair. Well, technically Raito was his fellow co-worker, and the situation could be considered a light-hearted affair by some.

"What was that for?" The Yagami prodigy had emerged from the side of the bed, his perfect hair looking a bit imperfect for the lack of a better word, and those caramel orbs in a fixated glare upon L's own onyx ones of apathy.

"I do believe that it is best for Raito-kun to explain the question, for the posed one is quite vague." L responded, knowing exactly what the auburn-haired man meant. Of course, he would never pose a direct answer, it was just too... fun to watch the younger become frustrated, although the mere idea of doing something to his enlightenment was seemingly a strict taboo.

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

"...What ever," the other yawned, dismissing the previous thought at the action, stretching his arms and slowly stood up from the soft carpeted floor where he had fallen, noting the different clothing he was wearing. He frowned a little; he did not particularly enjoy wearing the color without a purpose, for the Yagami prodigy dressed to his mood. Most of the time, he was in a happier, for the lack of usage towards a better word, mood than not, partially due to his "god of the new world" title, so he was more accustomed to wearing his light-beige jacket.

"After Raito-kun finishes breakfast, I will accompany him to his house for a change of clothing." An ideal example of going into a friend's house, and possibly investigating the area for any signs of the Death Note. L nibbled on his thumb, motioning to the small table in the middle of the room by the row of sofas, with a finely set-out morning meal for two. Being responded with a nod and watching the auburn-haired man saunter towards the bathroom, the raven-haired detective made his way over to one of the large armchairs. He looked at his slightly-fizzing drink inside the tall glass container, thin yet elegant, although the glass was not ornamented in any particular way or manner.

He slipped a lavender sugar cube into his mouth, taking a brief glance at the other set-out glass of liquid. It was the same shade of light golden-orange, like sparkling cider; or apple juice, as was the actual intended appearance of the liquid. The two glasses of liquid were identical in size and amount, fizzing slightly. L placed two sugar cubes into his mouth, unaware of the colors, tilting his head up against the armchair and flipping on the television to Sakura TV; for as far as the detective was concerned, there was no other channel that Kira favored (or possibly, the other way around).

But of course, that woman Takada was broadcasting her unconditional love for Kira and the said murderer's supposed reasons for taking a multitude of human lives, and bashing the figure of L in any way possible. L did not mind the bashing on his part; in fact, he did not mind what any one else thought of him, but it was that worship towards Kira that aggravated him to the slightest. After all, killing with, even said Death Note in the supposed name of justice, was just another abuse of power and, had he not known any better, an excuse to get away with mass-murder.

The screen changed as L let out a breath he did not realize he had been holding, only to groan slightly in frustration as another commercial popped up about a show that was coming exclusively to the channel called "Kira's Kingdom," run by the self-proclaimed number-one Kira supporter, a young man with the look of a businessman, clad in a black suit and glasses of professional apparel. His hair vaguely reminded L of his own, only much longer and parted to a more feminine degree, and his face split out in a wide grin in the advertisement. L supposed that he should feel some sympathy for the poor man whom had a percentage of being married with kids and a financially-well paying job once Kira disapproved of said man's actions and decided that there was no use in the program.

"That guy's an idiot." L had not noticed that Raito had finished using the washroom and was sitting next to his chair in a stylish furniture piece of his own usage, an amused look on his face upon watching the screen. "Mikami Teru. He's a popular lawyer in the Kanto region, it's actually quite surprising that he supports this irrational programming."

L surmised that Raito did not have to be Kira to find the program... interesting. After all, what was there not to question upon to a programming that featured worshipers of the "Kira Cult" and praise him? In all seriousness, the half-hour could be used for much more efficient things, like a better weather broadcasting program. or another episode of Misa-Misa's Happy Sweets. To his concern, the next aired episode would be concerning a homemade cake recipe that he definitely did not want to miss out on and anticipated with a great frivolity.

"I didn't know you knew how to make waffles," Raito looked down upon his plate with a quick "itadakimatsu," and started to devour his breakfast after a few pokes at it to make sure that it was relatively safe to eat. After contemplating whether the comment was a compliment or an insult and decided that belittling over such lithe matters was wasteful, L figured as much, referring to the poking of food. As Raito knew L, whom knew Raito as being Kira, said L would most-likely slip some truth serum or likewise into the younger one's food. Luckily or not for Raito, the waffles were relatively safe. The apple juice, however, was a different matter altogether.

L noted that Yagami Raito was always so perfect in his community; he went to school with clean clothing, neatly-tied shoelaces, perfectly-combed hair, and a relatively decent appearance. He spoke politely, choosing his words carefully as to not offend, and was patient with everyone. He raised his hand in class when feeling the need to contribute something, smiled towards strangers with an apology when bumping into them, and took all opportunity to downturn any compliments. That was Yagami Raito, not Kira.

Kira was the manipulative bastard that followed L around; the person who reflected everything Raito was not, and manipulated people without mercy or a second thought. Kira was the hidden portion of Raito, and L was not sure whether or not he was privileged to endure with "Raito's" impatience, abusive habits, competitive traits, and language, as he had. It was all a controversy: what came first, the chicken or the egg? What came first; Raito or Kira? Surely Raito would have first been of existence, to pick up a Death Note, but "Kira" was not all to blame: for Raito had allowed Kira to emerge from whatever "light" the murderer had been hiding in. But, to pin the blame on him...

"This isn't milk." Raito stated, holding onto the glass of liquid that he presumed was his drink. After all, if not, there was no logical reason that it would be sitting in the position of his drink. Of course, when it came to trivial matter, L was more illogical at times than not. Such as ditching him under a table for about two hours; oh, how he enjoyed that.

"No, it is not." L jerked from his endless train of thoughts and glanced at the motioned object, suppressing a smirk and a spark of his emotionless eyes. "Milk is a concentration of homogeneous mixtures from the ma-"

"I know what milk is!" Raito gave him a glare, one that clearly expressed "not amused." Although, to L, it was ,quite indeed, the said feeling of amusement. "What is this substance that looks like apple juice?"

"If it looks like apple juice, then why does Raito-kun doubt the substance?" A valid question, as L looked up towards the caramel orbs, waiting for their eyes to lock..

"Looks are deceiving. Apple juice doesn't fizz." And a valid response, as their gazes met. "And knowing you, L..."

Knowing me? The gaze broke. L could not help but feel slightly strange at the irony of it all. You don't know me, Raito-kun. You really don't, even though we have been on this case for so long. It is indeed such a shame that the situation has come to this, Raito-kun. We could have been normal friends had you never picked up the Death Note, of that acquirement method I am eight-seven percent certain of, then this situation would not exist. Yet then, I would not be in Japan, either, I suppose.

"Correct- this is not apple juice at all. At least, not all of it. In fact, the drink I ordered is a special mix from the hotel, what would be called a 'fruit punch,' is that correct? It contains half ounce of lemon juice, half ounce cherry juice, half ounce of sour apple juice, and two ounces of apple soda." L explained, drawing a small diagram, barely recognizable but an attempt at one nonetheless, with his fingers.

"What an odd mixture," Raito stared at it, leaning towards the liquid as if upon a closer inspection, something would jump out at him. After five seconds, he safely concluded that there was nothing hidden in the liquid. "And your drink is the same liquid?"

"That is so." L replied, keeping his tone bland and neutral. Of course not.

"Trade drinks." Raito looked up from his drink and into L's onyx eyes, as if searching for a clue; but to no avail did the apathetic orbs show a hint of anything in particular relating to the dilemma, or anything, as a matter of fact. The raven-haired detective accepted the implicated challenge, looking back into the depths of caramel, asking the simple question of why.

"Raito-kun. Do you not trust me to put something inside your drink?" L asked ever-so-innocently, a small pout gracing his features at the distrust and dismay towards the provided drink. "And yet, you trusted me with the waffles?"

"I took a course on food poisoning before as a required subject for one of the courses that I was hoping to be placed in," the auburn-haired man explained, exchanging the glasses and straying away from L's gaze, placing the glass to his lips. "However, I do not recognize the liquids used in this drink mixture. In your terms, there is always the slightest percent possibility that our drinks may be of different liquids, and there is no need to add anything in to avoid suspicion. Knowing that you suspect me of being Kira, then you would only naturally slip something into my drink or give me a different drink of mirror-image appearance. However, I, knowing this, would ask you to trade drinks. However, as the great detective L, you would anticipate this and place the experimental mixture your drink, so that the trade will become null. Then, there is the possibility that I may anticipate even that step, which results in your placing something in my drink."

"That's quite a long train of thought. How suspicious of you to have such an interest in the complications of the mind," L mused, watching as the other slowly drank the liquid. Raito-kun, you over-analyze things sometimes, and that is your downfall. It is actually my drink that I have placed something other than what I had described to you, although I do amend you for figuring out that the drinks may have been a different mixture. What you are consuming is not exactly a mixture of lemon juice, cherry juice, sour apple juice, and apple soda, but rather the similar mixture of lemon juice, cherry heering, sour apple liquor, and dark rum. One of Matt's favorite martinis, as he so eloquently described the flavoring to me via email last night; Candied Apple, was it called? Presumably quite sweet.

Raito made no comment towards the statement and drank the entirety of the glass, placing it down firmly when finished with his right hand, biting his tongue visibly in distaste as Raito would do upon devouring something sweeter than the anticipated flavor. L observed carefully, as detectives always do, but could not detect any changes in behavior or mood; just the fact that the auburn-haired man had been sitting still, slowly letting go of his glass for the past few minutes.

Perhaps, then Raito-kun is one of the eight percent of the population in the Kanto region whom have a resistance towards being affected by alcohol. If that is the case, then it is necessary to find another method of causing him to induce to a intoxicated state, or one of an unclear mind. Perhaps one option would be the deprivation of sleep; after all, it has been scientifically tested that lack of sleep had eighty-seven percent to cause a state of an unclear mind towards the subject, although risking the two percent of causing insanity through various test subjects. However, that method would not be particularly acceptable on my part for the risk of personal matters, if considering the option of Raito-kun finding the handcuffs again and attaching me onto the bed so that he could sleep. Of that, or something likewise, I am fifty-one percent certain that he would attempt the events of.

"Ryuzaki?"

"Yes, Raito-kun?" L looked up, slightly startled that the auburn-haired man was addressing him with such a questioning manner behind his tone, and using the name L was identified as during the course of the investigation instead of the actual name of "L" itself.

"D-don't call me that." Raito muttered solemnly, placing his legs upon the armchair in a very L-like fashion, and his arms crossed at the wrist, hugging onto his knees loosely.

"Is something the matter?" Perhaps, the effects were delayed, L mentally remarked, making a note to record down all observations in his notepad (and after that, the laptop) later. First two minutes, or so I presume the time with eight-one percent certainty, there is no reaction. Then, it seems Raito-kun is showing insecurity upon saying his name; perhaps the affects of alcohol resulted, in this particular situation, to an identity crisis. If he is Kira, then it would be relevant as to a confusion of who he really is.

"No." Raito muttered, then repeated the word loudly, the volume increasing with every syllable, until L was quite sure his ears had gone deaf. The auburn-haired man froze, as if in realization of an exciting discovery, caramel eyes lighting up for a split second, before letting out a sigh and focusing his gaze back onto the floor.

Raito-kun is in denial about something that he does not wish to share, and believes that there is no one out there whom can understand what exactly the thing he does not wish to share is. Possibly it is due to this misunderstanding that has kept Raito-kun's ideal within him; if he is Kira, then the fact that he is Kira is the said thing that Raito-kun is hiding. Telling someone would definitely... adjust the amount of pressure on him, yet there have been cases in which five-percent of those whom keep a secret, most of said five percent being criminal records, have been moved to a mental clinic for insanity treatment.

However, it is only seven-percent likely that, due to Raito-kun's current supposed unclear state of mind, that his actions are equivalent to his subconsciousness. L remarked, tilting his head by a four-degree angle to the slightest, watching the younger. Raito kept his head down, retaining the position for exactly forty-four seconds (of which L was seventy-nine point eight percent certain towards), before carefully placing his feet on the ground, toes first and tapping the floor as if to determine whether or not the substance was actually solid.

"Why." His voice was not exactly slurred, and from the gaze of those eyes upon the detective's lithe frame, L could tell that the young Yagami had not the slightest conscious control over what was occurring.

L waited, attempting to figure out what exactly Raito was trying to ask. Given that the other was in an intoxicated state, an unclear state of mind (or so he had hoped, for it was the only logical explanation for the Yagami prodigy's considerably irrational behavior), figuring out was not a simple task. There were just too many factors in the line of the equation, blocking and falsely leading his mental train of thought towards incorrect candidate reasons.

"Why," the word was repeated, as L kept on observing. Raito now stood from the armchair, his two hands gripping onto the armrests of the said chair before fully standing in front of the dining table. He faced L, as the raven-haired detective only observed. There is an expression on his face which I cannot recognize, L noticed, the other now two feet away from him. Perhaps, the said expression is remorse. If Raito-kun is Kira..

Stop it! Stop thinking that everything involving him relates to Kira!

But the percentage is above ninety. Ninety-four point sixty-five, to be precise. Therefore, if the likely possibility that Raito-kun is Kira, then Raito-kun will ponder questions during his subconsciousness about the methods and ideals behind Kira. The explanation-

The smell of saltine.

L looked up from his sitting position (as well as thinking position) to the brunette, certainly startled to see that the other had tears at the corners of the glazed-caramel eyes. His expression was a recognizable one of a person not content with the situation that said person's life had taken on at the moment, with his lips curving down the slightest as if in protest, his cheeks tinted with a carnation pink, and his eyes almost pleading. L felt a hand clutch his right arm, clinging rightly to the white fabric of his white shirt, the other hand by his ear, tracing the ridges.

"Why."

The hand dropped, and onyx eyes met caramel, a brief moment of two different types of confusion; the detective wondering what exactly was troubling the younger man besides him at the moment, the suspect wondering why his consciousness was taking role of his subconsciousness despite his vain efforts to break the connection, and the said overtaking subconsciousness behaving in a particularly Freud-like manner.

Nonetheless, what Raito had said in a tone of anguish to the detective, was not something that he had anticipated to the slightest percent.

"Why don't you love me!"

L was not sure whether it was the words or the desperate tone of voice that caused an uneasy feeling in his gut, but the discomfort at the bottom of his stomach was, as such, uncomfortable. If Raito-kun is Kira, then by devising a plan, even in the state of an unclear state of mind, shows his childish confidence to overrule the detective L. In this scenario in which I am eighteen-percent certain of the possibility of, the dur-

Slap!

"You're thinking about Kira again, aren't you!"

L could not deny that, as he slowly brought up a hand against his cheek to feel the sudden warmth of his skin, rubbing slowly at the sudden sharp pain, eyes widening to the slightest of visible notice at the action. Of course he thought about Kira- it was the case that he was in at the moment, the case he had been assign-no, the case that he had taken personal interest to. Of course he could think of nothing other than Kira with the prime suspect; under some form of intoxicated interrogation through the course of actions, was in the room with the detective, and not particularly far away in any sense.

"You put something in that drink, didn't you. You're such a bastard." His voice was low, almost as if in a sleep-like trance, as the younger brunette fell to his knees almost as if on cue, leaning over and resting his head on the detective's lap in a sleeping position. A hand traced small lethargic circles around L's right thigh, caramel eyes focusing on nothing in particular.

"Perhaps so, Raito-kun." L responded softly; he was not sure how to reply to the other. If he had expected anything from Raito being in an intoxicated state or a drunken one, depending on different effects that liquor had on different people, it was anything but this. He had predicted with thirty-seven percent possibility, taking account of Raito's new-found closet-impatience, that the said younger man would confess that he was Kira. He was fifteen percent positive about a physical assault towards him of any sort (therefore explaining that the seats between them were a considerable space away so he had the option of escaping the room had that occurred). He was twenty-one point three percent certain of the standard hallucinations and slurred speech. The remaining percentage was of the "other" category, but at the moment, "other" could not possibly sum up how the young Yagami was acting.

It is almost as if Raito-kun is not there at all. A subconsciousness talking. His tone has become more reserved, L noted, etching the thoughts in the back of his mind for further internet-searching and investigation at a later date, and approaches a topic that he most commonly keeps to himself. Not quite realizing that he was doing the action himself, he placed one hand upon Raito's head, semi-consciously aware of exactly how soft those auburn locks were. He had a small frown of dispute on his mask, due to his mentality arguing over what thoughts he should have at the present moment; to follow along with what ever Raito seemed to be making a point about, or to begin an interrogation upon the subject of Kira.

"Why don't you love me," he repeated, as L simply looked down, onyx eyes catching wide caramel ones with the slightest challenging tint to their hazy outlook. "Ryuu-chan?"

The first thought that popped up into L's mind, was the denial that he was female. In fact, L was quite sure that he was one-hundred percent male, even internally, unless the three-percent possibility was true that his whole life, he had been living in an illusion, a hallucination, and would never realize it. Or, it could be that he had gone crazy from as far back as he could remember, and been in a constant stage of denial.

The second thought that roughly pushed out the first, was a simple three-worded thought. Why don't you? L did not reply, breaking off their meeting of gazes, only continuing to softly stroke the others' locks. Perhaps, it was, not as important to the Kira case as some other facts that he could be asking Raito at the moment, but if the concept of the said emotion was related to Kira's deception and manipulation, then L considered it fair game.

For Raito-kun to ask me such a question, L considered, his fingers stopping for a brief second, before continuing the unaccustomed journey upon the dark honey-colored strands. First of all, Kira would use the concept of holding a relationship with the additional details of manipulation and betrayal of trust in order to control the partner in said relationship. That is currently the case with Amane-san, and possibly contributing to why Raito-kun is personally dissatisfied in meeting her; only because it is necessary, and not out of personal welfare upon the subject. Second of all, Kira would use the concept towards me, in order to either corrupt my sense of justice or reduce me to a stage of confusion as Amane-san has shown countless times. For me to be a replacement of Amane-san... He stopped for a brief second, repressing a shudder at the sudden mental image of himself wearing those uncomfortable heels and the rather inappropriate attire, before dismissing the image. No matter how much he enjoyed how the crosses and laces looked on her clothing, he was no comfortable with the image of himself in such. Although the thought of being able to openly attach himself to Raito did not seem all too...

No. That is what Kira plans to think.

But what about Raito-kun?

Raito-kun is Kira. Raito-kun is Kira. Raito-kun is Kira.

Then for Kira to ask such a question... he looked down once more at the said person, removing his hands and simply observing. It did not seem as if Raito was to say something, but appearances were indeed deceiving. The caramel orbs glanced back at him, and their gazes held, almost transmitting the unspoken message: Well? Why don't you?

Because Raito-kun is Kira. L answered back with his eyes, unsure of whether or not the other actually understood him, as the detective was told countless times that his said onyx eyes were constantly deprived of emotion. Because L is to despise Kira. L is to hate Kira, and place righteous judgment upon the murderer, and because L is justice while Kira is just a pseudo-god, a self-proclaimed title. It is such a shame that Raito-kun has to be Kira... because I do enjoy Raito-kun's presence...

But if he was not Kira, then you would not have taken interest in him in the first place, a small, annoying, voice nagged in the back of his mind, as he considered the option as well. It is such a shame that you are Kira, Raito-kun... L mentally sighed, feeling an unknown weight upon his chest that did not seem to let go. Frowning visibly, he gave a brief thought towards the internal pressure upon him; it did not feel painful or anything likewise, but there was just something weighing down his chest area, it seemed. Perhaps he was ill, yes, that must be it.

"I'm not Kira." L snapped from his slight reverie to notice that Raito had lifted his head from the raven-haired detective's lap, and began to mutter to himself, as if the auburn-haired man was a small five or six year old who was troubled with something. The case, of Kira, was indeed quite troubling in fact. "Not Kira. Not Kira. Not Kira. Not Kira. Not Kira. Not Kira."

In younger children, repetition is used as a memory aid, L recalled, observing the others' actions carefully, placing one hand to his lip and biting on the nail of his thumb with a small pressure from his teeth. Repetition is used to memories the first words of a toddler, and it is used to memorize words. Constant repetition in some cases, with slightly elder children, and, depending on the degree of repetition and tone of such repeated item, may involve people of even elder ages. This involvement, is one of manipulation. Like the typical pendulum swung at a person's eyes to induce sleep, repetition is one way to wipe out memory and implement a false one.

In this case, L noted that the "not Kira" fragments were neither increasing or decreasing in volume, but merely the speed in which the said words were spoken. Kira would manipulate Raito-kun to the degree that Raito-kun is not even subconsciously aware that he is Kira anymore. An escape plan... perhaps a planned method for future uses? There is not a logical reason that I can think of that would place a situation of denial upon this matter, unless Raito-kun believes that if he does not know that he is Kira himself, then the chances of slipping up will be slimmer, of such I believe by thirty-three percent.

The raven-haired detective sat there, thoughts pushing about and calculations being done concerning the current situation in his head, before being interrupted by the sudden movement. He looked down at the other, whom had stopped the "not Kira" repetition approximately five minutes ago, caramel eyes blank and unfocused. Raito lifted his head, turning away from the elder man's gaze, retreating from L's lap slowly and grabbed his hand on his wrist. Upon further inspection, L noticed that the portion of the wrist was adorned with a pretty ornament; a finely-crafted and professional-looking watch, with three small knobs at the side. The watch that would always irk the detective for some reason that the said detective had not figured out yet.

L watched intently as Raito took the watch off without speech, hanging onto it, before throwing it immediately at L. Being the junior tennis champion that he was, L managed to catch the watch with his hands before it would have contacted with his arm and created an uncomfortable impact despite its size. Taking the watch with both hands, L merely looked back at the experiment that he was observing; unmoving, with the exception of the eyes darting back and forth irregularly. As if Raito was being chased.

Caramel eyes closed, as if one would close one's eye lids upon enjoying the warmth of a summer breeze or the cool air of a certain location. L placed the watch on the table, intent to investigate the importance of the action at a later moment than the present one, eyes never quite leaving the closed pair. There was nothing but silence, but an awkward tension had filled the room, rolling off their disconnected gazes and caressing the stiffening air.

The light incoming from the semi-curtained windows seemed to be a disturbance, its shine illuminating the disconnected eye-lock, as L prepared to speak. Perhaps, I shall ask Raito-kun whether or not he is Kira. After all, there is no investigation without questions. Opening his mouth slowly, he was just about to propose his question when he noticed that the young Yagami had lifted his gaze, eyes widening. Taken aback by the sudden movement, L recorded the said movement in the back of his head, watching intently once again.

The wait was not long; almost immediately, Raito had turned his body to fully face L, placing two hands on the detective's shoulders. An all-too solemn look was placed on the man's face, caramel eyes meeting the onyx shade, before breaking away and retreating to his original seat on the armchair. Perhaps Raito-kun has come to his sen-

"Why don't you understand, Ryuu-chan?"

Perhaps not.

"Can't you see that it's for justice?" His voice was soft and higher-pitched, like that of a falsetto singer or a six-year old child; however, it held a tone of exhaustion and exasperation. "Why, Ryuu-chan?"

Please be direct and refrain from calling me that, L mentally told him, not that the other was paying any attention to the said detective at the moment. Those two ambiguous questions were repeated, in the same manner as the "not Kira" was, before Raito fell silent.

By attempting to tell himself that Raito-kun is not Kira, L mused, considering the events, then... However... It is illogical. Raito-kun could clearly be Kira if that was Kira speaking, of his crimes and of handling the system of wrongly-implicated sense of justice. Previously, Raito-kun muttered that he was not Kira... paradoxical. Perhaps, his intention is to confuse me?

But Raito-kun has no control over his intentions, as his actions clearly state. L sighed, "Raito-kun, if I may ask you a question?"

No answer.

Peering over towards the other, the raven-haired detective was twenty-four percent startled at the fact that Raito was sleeping. Well, considering the after-effects of alcohol...it is quite disappointing , that I have no interrogated him to the slightest. Raito-kun... what have I concluded from this? He glanced at the watch, lying on the table. It shone with a sly glint as the sun's rays embraced the glass cover, as L picked it up slowly, feeling the metallic loss of heat. Propped up in his armchair in a semi-forty percent more effecient position, he began to consider the watch. What was so special about the watch?

A fluke?

He turned it around, inspecting the back. An ordinary professional business-watch, from a well-known brand, as expected of Raito. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He inspected the band, estimating the percentages of the materials that the metal was made from, but the said observation was of no contribution to Raito, or Kira for that matter.

He looked at the face of the watch, menacing white little dashes on the black, mimicking him for being unable to reveal their secret with every tick of the small second hand, as the detective mindlessly but all-too-intently fumbled with the white bars.

Whirrr.

This model... the model of this watch, I recognize its functions from a previous case involving this very model... He spun the middle knob in a rapid fashion, exactly in equal intervals of four times a second.

Whirrr.

Click.

This is... L took interest in the action; by turning the small white knobs of the watch, it was possible to eject a section of the finely-built item, originally designed to hold spare flat batteries customed for watches. However, the item inside was not what one could identify as a battery. L recognized the small protruding piece of metal as a holder for a spare battery, the thin-types with a flat surface and circular body to replace the present. The metal's base was carefully crafted, and the shine of the said surface nearly glowed.

But that was not what held the raven-haired detective's interest. No, it was rather the small, neatly folded piece of paper, notably crinkled and lined. Steadying the hand that was not latching onto the watch, he slowly unfolded the paper into four small boxes, taking it out of the watch as the surface area expanded. It was a plain sheet of lined paper- there was nothing unusual about it, although the small object that fell out of the folded paper was certainly interesting.

He looked down at the needle-thin object and picked it up carefully, recognizing the object as an actual needle, sharp enough to easily prick his fingers and draw out the blood. Holding onto the neck of the small object with caution, he examined the paper; nothing unusual. Nothing unusual about the needle either, but he was a fool if the proposed situation was that the two objects were there by coincidence. The needle is with the paper, because the needle is to be used with the paper. L concluded, wetting his lips with his tongue without great notice. Needle and paper... needle and paper... there is no thread to go through the needle, there is no writing utensil to write on the paper.

L did not notice that the needle, though held ever so carefully and watched with caution, pricked his finger as a few drops of crimson flowed out of the miniature wound. Taking no interest in the occurrence with a hunch that the tip was not dipped in anything dangerous, the detective's lips parted in a circular shape, in realization. Ninety-four percent chance, that perhaps, the purpose of the needle is to draw blood. Given that, the person can write on the paper. He blinked. However, what is the significance of writing on paper?

The human whose name is written in this notebook shall die.

"Rem?"

Upon realization, L quickly placed the needle back into the simple folds of the paper, sliding the piece into the watch and giving the compartment a push. Said compartment slid into place easily, as the detective placed it on the table, retreating from the object as if it was timer ticking down with rapid pace.

What is it?

"Is it possible... for a piece of the death note to be functional after it has been ripped out of the notebook?"

It has to be a death note page. It has to. Raito-kun is Kira. There is no other logical reason as to why the piece of paper would be there, with seventy-one percent chance possibility to be of aid in his final moments before arrest, possibly using the second Kira's ability to kill with only the face, only the shinigami's eyes...a last resort...

If I can ever catch him...

I do not know. Shinigami, generally, will do no such bothersome thing to rip out a page or two of the notebook and use it for some unidentified purpose. Shinigami cannot destroy each other in that method, so there is no purpose.

L responded in silence, a finger making its way to his mouth, nibbling softly on the nail. Ninety-eight percent possibility that it is functional. For, there is nothing non-suspicious about a Kira-suspect having a possible writing utensil and piece of the Note in there without purpose.

A long silence, before dismissing Rem back to her invisible state should Raito awaken.

Ninety-six percent.

x x x x

"What the hell did you give me?"

L winced at the sound of Raito's voice, loud and vibrating through his delicate eardrums, as if he was the one whom actually consumed and was going through the after-effects of alcohol. Carefully placing the bottle of aspirin back into the respective cabinet where he took it from, he calmly sat on the armchair and casually started on another bite of cake, holding it ever-so-peculiarly with his thumb and index finger.

"Well?" Raito set the glass of water down, one hand still holding onto the glass firmly as if letting go was a fatal incident, the other hand upon his head, slightly messing the auburn locks. He knew that L had slipped something in his drink, or something along those lines, because the last thing that the Yagami had remembered was his head being perfectly fine and taking a sip of the said apple-juice mix. Which, apparently as he had experienced with unfortunate side-effects, was not exactly an apple-juice mix.

"That is quite vague, Raito-kun." L replied nonchalantly as if there was nothing was wrong. After all, there was the fifty-one percent chance that over-reacting to the situation that he had a high possibility to be bodily harmed was to result in an increase of possibility for the latter mentioned situation. His best option was to keep low and a calm presence, for being at such conditions increased his reflexes by two percent, which was considered handy when one is calculating the percentages of being punched before or after a little rant.

"You know what I'm talking about, L." If looks could kill, Raito would not even need a Death Note for the surely impending doom of the older detective. Ah, but only if. "What the fuck did you slip in my drink? I'm pretty sure that an 'apple-juice mix' doesn't knock someone out the moment that the person drinks it and gives the person a headache upon waking."

"To put it bluntly," L said after a few moments of the silent tension growing so thick that one would require more than a small buter knife to slice through, taking a sip of his sugar-filled tea. "Alcohol."

"You did not say anything about alcohol being in the drink."

"I did not say that I was being truthful, ether."

"You're such a liar..."

A few more moments of silence, as L contemplated the rising of percentages of being harmed. "Does Raito-kun not remember anything after drinking the liquid?"

"No, did I do something?" Raito asked, all the while telling himself that the time would come later where he could enjoy the argument; "creative" discussions or actions were not exactly his best point when his head throbbed like it did at the moment, even down with two glasses of water.

L placed down the cup of tea, tilting his head ever so slightly and stared at Raito without much visible intent at all, giving the younger man an impression of the typical zombie-like features of mouth hanging slightly open and eyes void of everything. L grabbed the metal object next to his seat and held it up, the metal strip dangling from his two fingers. "Does Raito-kun recognize this?"

"Give me that." Raito reached for it in a swiping motion and to his surprise, more so than not, the detective had willingly handed over the object.

If Raito-kun is surprised at the fact that I have willingly handed over an object which connect him to Kira, this raises his percentage. If he does not and believes that it is a normal watch, then his percentage decreases. However, the fact that he subconciously handed me the watch while muttering Kira-related items definitely relates to this, creating a less than one percent chance that his possibility of being Kira will decrease.

"Raito-kun is quite aggressive." L commented, straying from the other and concentrating on the cake. It was not terribly hard to do, as cake always favored his attention to Raito's death-glare.

Neither had exchanged a word as Raito sighed and stood from his seat, the clenched hand finally letting go of the glass of water, as L observed from the reflections of the said glass, keeping his eyes down and hair hanging over the onyx orbs. He kept his gaze upon the delicious delicacy that was cake, and slowly shifted said gaze at the glass, reflecting Raito's feet moving to the door, and stopping for a brief second, before slipping into his shoes. There was a shuffling sound, presumably of clothing, as the detective heard the door creak open. He did not turn around, but questioned it. "Going somewhere?"

He waited for the response, but upon receiving none the detective slowly turned around to find that the said recipient of his message was gone from his sight, the door still open and a cool breeze of air-conditioning blowing in from the hallways. Sighing slowly, L placed down the piece of cake that he was devouring, making a small comment about how some troubles seemed more troublesome than it was worth, and made his way towards the door to slip on his footwear. Hed peering on both sides of the hallway before closing the door and depositing the key into his pants pocket, the opposite one of his sugar-cube box this time, the detective frowned slightly as the auburn-haired man was nowhere to be found.

Seventy-one percent possibility that Raito-kun is traveling to his home, replacing his clothing and formulating with a plan to drop his percentages of being Kira, as if he realizes that I realize that the watch he carries holds a hidden compartment. I am ninety-one percent positive that the piece of death note and pin are not placed in the watch before his receiving said object, as the watch is of prefect condition. Knowing Raito-kun's obsessive complex over material items, that is not much of evidence, but the manufacture date on the back of the watch proves that the item was brought barely a year ago.

The approximate date of exactly a month before the first Kira incident.

Which concludes, that if Raito-kun is Kira, the purpose of obtaining the watch does not contribute to the Kira case at all. L frowned; it would not do any good to further investigate on the manufacturing of the watch or anything of the sort. Wondering how he could compile the newfound evidence to an increase of Raito's percentage, from ninety-six to one-hundred, L did not notice sprinting out of the hotel at remarkable speed and nearly trampling over a countless amount of people before the inevitable situation happened in which he bumped into someone.

Clang.

Something, rather. Taken aback by the thought of carelessly running into a pole in deep thought, L slowly shook his head and calmly walked towards the direction of Raito's house, which was not too far away.

That pole was quite dangerous. Such needless obstructions... I am six percent positive that the previous pole would have much better usage had it been a candy cane. ... yes, of that I am quite sure.

It took approximately fifteen minutes of speed-walking for the raven-haired detective to reach the located house, without much trouble of bumping into any more inanimate objects. A fairly sized house. L noted, before excusing himself to the house, knowing after a few hours of investigation that the spare key was under the welcome mat and making his way into the cozy living room area.

Knowing the area all too well in manners that would be considered not exactly honorable, the detective inconspicuously climbed up the soft carpeted stairs to the one room that he had been looking for: Raito's room.

Kneeling behind the shadow of various items, L waited for the sound of the shower to start. The wait was not long- he had entertained himself by counting dust particles on one of the vases for two minutes, before proceeding to the closed door. He pulled out the strip of red paper between the door and the frame, then walked inside and slowly eased the strip back inside. There was no doubt that Raito would figure out that the detective was in, or had been in, his room. The fact, however, made it ever so more interesting.

A desk. A chair. A bed. The floor. L observed, marking down the possible sitting places that would be a possible station for Kira's work. I suppose I shall begin with the desk.

L sat upon the comfortable seat of the chair next to the desk, pushing in slightly and observing the desk area. Kira kills using a Death Note. Assuming that Raito-kun sits here, as he has done so in the surveillance cameras, his killing method would be from this very desk, of which I am forty-percent positive of. If that is so, then the black notebook is somewhere easy within reach. He glanced at the bookshelf, the innocent and oh-so-casual piece of furniture that seemed to mimic his observation. To walk towards the bookshelf is a risk. If only those who can touch the Death Note can see the shinigami, then there is a risk of Raito-kun's family of brushing upon the spine, should the book be in the shelf. That is one option that I can eliminate.

Next option: under the bed. L lifted himself from the position in the chair and walked a short distance of four feet to the bed, sitting on it. There was nothing unusual, it seemed. If the notebook is to be under the sheets, then the risk of Mrs. Yagami touching the notebook while cleaning the sheets or picking up clothing left on the bed, remains the same as the brush by the bookshelf. Raito-kun is much too organized of a person to keep the Death Note under the bed, which lowers the percentage that the Note would be attached to this piece of furniture.

His eyes descended on the drawers of the desk.

Once again, if Mrs. Yagami is clea- L had brushed his hand upon the soft, metallic handle, in a feeble attempt to open the drawer just for the sake of looking at what was inside. Locked. Surely there is a reason to this. His eyes rested upon the key lying on the table, half-shifting to the shadows of the mountain of textbooks that covered a portion of the desk. Such a device, this plan of hiding something cannot be hiding the Death Note. It is too direct, and... unintelligent for someone like Raito-kun to devise a plan to hide the Death Note in the drawer and leave a key semi-hidden on top of the desk.

Nonetheless, something just compelled L to grab the key and unlock the drawer, leaving the key hanging and observing the contents of the drawer. One notebook; rather, a normal diary. In the detective's terms, a red herring. There was just something so unnatural about the thought of the young Yagami keeping a diary, that L took it from the drawer, stating that this drawer was prone to more inspection upon the fact that L was quite sure that he was just shocked with static electricity the moment his fingers brushed upon plywood. As far as he was concerned, wood did not conduct.

Keeping the fact inside his mind for later recalling, the raven-haired detective sat back down on the somewhat comfortable bed and slowly opening the said diary, curious as to what was inside. Most people would place a normal diary down upon the discovery, knowing better than to look inside. However, most people would also not come upon the conclusion that the putting down of the diary could be a dismissal of clues, and falling into a trap that only Kira could plan out with such manipulation, concealing secrets inside the very dismissed and harmless-looking book. After all, there could be countless secrets, and just possibly...

L opened the cover.

It appears that this is not the Death Note wrapped in a book cover, or is the Note hidden anywhere within these pages.

It is not too disappointing... for if Raito-kun is indeed Kira, as the percentage highly favors at the moment, then the prolonging of the revelation of the case would mean the prolonging of Raito-kun's life; given that Kira is to be executed for the numerous amounts of people whom were murdered.

L frowned. Where had that come from, anyway? He was not supposed to care for Kira in any way other than to lead the crazy murderer to his death, and possibly guide the said person to whatever version of Hell that death-note users were sent to. But, that is Kira. Raito-kun cannot possibly be Kira. Raito-kun. is Kira...

This exceeds my calculations.

Slipping a strawberry-flavored sugar cube of the new box that he had replaced not quite long beforehand, the infamous detective flipped through the notebook without much attention, scanning the neatly-written cursive letters for anything similar to the Death Note, or any names of the victims. He stopped at approximately the middle of the rather thick standard diary book, the entry being an aged one but not quite as old as the previous entries, the two words screaming his own alias: Ryuga Hideki.

Entry No. 82
10:32 PM

Dismissing the fact that he was unable to locate a date on the entire sheet of paper, or any other entry for that manner, L kept the intriguing detail in the back of his mind along with the other small oddities that have popped up around Raito. He continued to read, completely missing the sound of the shower turning off, and the mutterings of one quite familiar to himself.

Today, I met Ryuga Hideki at the campus. But that's not his name. It's L.

The great detective himself.

Who would have realized that the world's greatest detective was anyone other than the typical middle-aged man wearing a Sherlock Holmes suit and wearing a fedora-like hat? Who ould have realized that L was actually someone with sickingly pale skin and a sugar obsession? Who would have realized that L had eyes that just screams "panda" with those dark circles presumably from the lack of sleep?

I wonder why you revealed yourself to me, L. You said I was your suspect of being Kira, by three percent. Whether or not you are right, is just for me to know. However, why tell me? Is it something to invoke my percentages of being Kira?

I don't think so. At least, not anymore.

Rather, shall the appropriate term be, I don't want to think so?

You rival my intelligence, L, of that I can tell upon first meeting you. Although the successor of this little debate between us is surely pointing towards my victory, it is not entirely boring with you around. In fact, I prefer your presence over Misa's. You're everything she's not. In a good way.

But that doesn't change anything, L. I'll have you know that by revealing the progress of the task force to me through those pictures and messages, and by revealing yourself to me as your true identity today, this will come to be my advantage. I know your face, and now all I need is a name. This will not be too troublesome, but I suppose I can prolong your demise, for you are quite an interesting individual. In-

"L, what the fuck do you think you are doing?"

This is not going to end well.

L was never quite as startled as the moment he was reading a large mystery novel about a series of murders when he was younger for leisure, and Watari had tripped over something, causing a large disturbance. The current moment of sudden.. panic.. being close to the oddity of feeling from years ago, greatly intrigued the detective.

"I am reading, Raito-kun." L closed the book and lifted the item with both hands, thumb and index finger grabbing the upper corners as Raito snatched the book away and placed it back into the drawer, closing it and removing the key.

"My journal?"

"I was looking for-"

"I KNOW you were looking for clues of Kira!" Raito raised his voice, his back still turned to the detective, before emitting an all-too audible sigh. Wordlessly, he reached into his closet and pulled out a clean button-up shirt and white slacks created in the fashion so that they could be mistaken for dress pants, along with a large bundle of white clothing.

"Sometimes, L," Raito muttered, arranging the bundle of indistinguishable white clothing in his hands, the towel wrapped loosely around his waist which he was aiding in supporting with his right elbow. "I want to be Kira."

It certainly piqued L's interest.

"All your talk about is Kira. I know we're on the case."

A pause.

"If I weren't suspected for Kira, you wouldn't take interest in me at all. Everything you do to me is because of Kira. I'll tell you right now, L, I. Am. Not. Kira. So go take interest in someone else and get out of my house."

L was about to reply to the auburn-haired man to explain how the detective was not to let the other out of his sight, but realized the attempt as futile as Raito simply left. He did not cause a ruckus, which meant that he was in a state of denial, ignoring everything around him that did not pertain to his liking.

L looked back at the open drawer, his hand running through the smooth plywood; the almost too-smooth surface seemingly new compared to the desk, although said desk was in well-kept condition. Leave the house? Of course L was not going to do that. He was a detective, and investigating criminals' homes was one of the requirements at times in said occupation.

But if Raito-kun is not Kira...

He shook his head slowly, standing up and searching through the bookcase for any oddities in structure and content. Raito-kun is Kira. That is why I am here in his house, and investigating his room for the Death Note, as it is absent in his school bag.

That is the only reason you spend time with him, is it not? Another clue to Kira? The small voice nagged in the back of his mind, as L began to consider to question his mental status. Hearing voices was probably not something normal, even if said voices are the constructions of the conscience.

... Yes... it is. L argued back, paying less mind to the task at hand and more to his inner thoughts, a debate which was quite distracting and displeasant.

Aren't I his friend? I said it myself, did I not?

A pause.

That is so...

Without a second thought, L left Raito's room and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen. The small television by the windowsill and counter was on, but not turned to any particular news programming, and not turned to any channel that he recognized. Raito was watching with a platonic-like bored expression; or possibly, and inextinguishable one, leaning on his crossed elbows, sitting on the chair of the kitchen table counter. Not too far away from his right arm was a pile of bags of consomm├ęs flavored potato chips, and next to said pile was the book that Raito had taken downstairs with him.

"Raito-kun," L stood behind him and waited for the program (of which he realized was a cooking show on the food channel, featuring how to properly prepare the cut of slices of chicken with almonds dipped in lemon sauce, of which the detective questioned the watching of as it was not sweet at all) to end before speaking in the regular monotone.

"I believe I have asked you to leave, Ryuzaki." Raito replied, eyes still glued to the television as another chip was devoured mercilessly.

The other alias? Perhaps he is planning something..? I am seven percent certain that he has a plan in mind, but only three percent sure that the plan will be executed, which ever formation he may have in his mind.

"My apologies." He replied simply, onyx eyes shifting to the screen, although not particularly interested at the hair-conditioner commercial.

"Why are you still here?" His voice had a slight twinge of annoyance. "I told you I'm not Kira."

To investigate you.

"I am your friend, am I not, Raito-kun?"

"Who are you trying to fool, me or yourself, Ryuzaki? It's quite obvious that both of us can be skilled actors."

"I do not believe that I am acting." L placed a hand on Raito's shoulder, causing the younger man to turn around, onyx orbs meeting caramel.

"Then you tell me, Ryuzaki. What kind of friend leaves you at school, installs cameras in your house, label you a subject for mass murder, follow you around constantly, tells nothing but lies, ditches you constantly, and slips things into your drink as well as invade all forms of your privacy?"

You are a praise-worthy actor, Raito-kun.

"I'm sorry." L simply said.

"Liar." Raito was about to look away, and possibly focus back to the programming of which he clearly did not take much interest into, had there not been a movement restricting him from doing so, and the movement being the slight tugging of L's arm.

"This," L pushed back a stray piece of hair that was by Raito's ear, leaning in for a chaste kiss, pulling back with haste as the calculations of the possibilities of whether or not it was a greater percentage that he would be assaulted from the action, had not yet completed. "Is not a lie."

But you're right, Raito-kun. L is built on nothing more than a compilation of pseudonyms, and expected behavior of an intelligent detective. In essence, I am a lie.

Despite the seventy-six percent of his mind that told him to retreat the situation and observe Raito from surveillance cameras, and that there was enough interrogation and proof of ninety-six percent to gather thoughts and conclude more of the location of the Death Note, the remaining percentage won in terms of L's being continuing to stay in the current position. L felt a hand snaking around his waist, fingertips swirling small circles on his hip.

"I'm not unsatisfied to hear that." Raito murmured. Before L realized what exactly was happening, a warm moisture was over his mouth in a starved manner, tongue roaming endlessly as L's breath hitched, blobs of doubt forming inside his mind. The blobs, of course, being ambiguous and unrevealing, even to the detective himself.

But if a lie is being lied to, what does that make you?