Wells, no reviews on my last chapters. I do hope you notice this one, as it's the LAST ONE FOR THIS STORY.

And thar she blows V Yeah, down there. Below the border line. Yep. Why are you still reading? You should probably scroll down there now. That's where the story is. Are you seriously still reading?

... didn't think so. Now go. Read. VV Down there. Yeah. :scroll!!:


There wasn't much left to be done at the Wammy's House. Mello was gone, so there was no more mildly amusing Near torture. L was dead and Near was named his successor, so there was no goal to be met anymore. All that this red haired gamer had left to do was beat the same game on his Game Boy for the tenth, possibly eleventh time. It had indeed been a year since Mello's departure, and there were already preparations being made for Near to go to America and meet with the president of the United States. Life was truly going to be boring from now on.

It was early in the morning when Matt heard a knock on the door to his room. He looked up at the door accusingly from his game as though it could be pounding on itself. Shifting that thought from his head, he realized that the knocking meant someone had to be on the other side causing the disturbance (it was early and his mind was working a little slowly).

"Who's 'ere?" he said to the mystery knocker.

"Matt, you've received a letter in the mail."

This was the voice of the old man that now owned the orphanage since Watari had also died. Ignoring the mention of his real name as a shortened version of "postal service," Matt stood up from the bottom bunk of the bed in his room and walked cautiously over to the door. He never got any mail. He had only ever gotten one letter from his chocoholic friend since he joined the mafia in Los Angeles (which had given him a good laugh if nothing else). He opened his door and stared at Roger through his orange tinted goggles. Roger scowled.

"Three weeks cleaning the lawns!"

"W-why?!" Matt looked down past his nose and saw the cigarette he was holding near his lips. "Oh."

"Don't even know how you manage to sneak those damn things in here…" the old man grumbled, holding out an enveloped letter. "There's no return address, so there's no telling who it could be from."

Matt looked at the envelope as the door was shut in front of him. He turned and walked back to his bed, somewhat recognizing the elegant script handwriting on the address to the orphanage. He wasn't sure why…. For the first time in weeks, he paused his game and set it next to him. He opened the envelope carefully, as though afraid it might explode in his hands. Luckily it didn't. He pulled out a few small, yellow sheets of paper that had clearly been torn from a legal pad and looked immediately for a name. The cigarette dropped from his mouth and threatened to burn a hole in his jeans when he found it. He flipped back to the first page and began reading, picking his cigarette back up before it could light his jeans aflame.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Oy, Matty.

First off, I'd like to know if the bullshit in the letter Mello
recently sent me was real. He's in the fucking mafia!?
What's he gone and done that for? I warned him about
getting mixed up in all of that, didn't I? I just hope you
didn't run off after him. One sixteen year old mafia
member is enough to deal with. Pretty annoying,
really. I did my damndest to try to keep that kid out of
trouble and he ended up taking after me anyway.

I'm rambling. Sorry bout that. If you've heard anything
from him, then let me know.
He's certainly not returned
any of my letters, the little bugger….

Ah. How rude of me. Didn't even say hello, just went
and started pestering you about your rogue roommate,
haha. Sorry. You know what I get like when either of
you does something stupid. Like the time you decided
to take your Game Boy apart and it blew up. And no,
I'm still not letting you live that one down.

Well, I've been having a jolly good time since I left. Hoo,
boy, I'll tell you. I can't give any details, but it involves a
certain psycho serial killer located in the Kanto region of
Japan. Yeah. I went and learned Japanese on a whim
after I left the orphanage. Bet you didn't expect that.
Also bet five quid you've done nothing but play your Game
Boy since Mellonhead left. I'd be bored out of my mind,
too. Come to think, I
am bored out of my mind right now.
Living just isn't any fun when everyone thinks your busy
mourning the dead, you know?

I wonder, does Roger know about L and Watari? I imagine
something should have been sent to the orphanage about it.
But if that were so, then Mello wouldn't have gone and joined
the fucking mafia. Which I still just can't picture. For anything.
It's ridiculous.

Anyway, yes, about L and Watari. Their hearts 'stopped' and
everything, which I
know was sent to the orphanage. That
bit was supposed to be sent. But, I was in charge of a little
con that worked out in the end (although I was scared to
fucking hell that it wouldn't, I'll have you know). Had to
pose as an official at some court house after one of L's con
artist friends talked my way inside (God bless Aiber, even
though I do think he's gayer than Elton John with a side of
Axl Rose). And – here's the kicker. I changed their names.

I learned about a rule. A rule about Kira's powers that even
he doesn't know about. God bless Ryuk as well, even though
he is a bitch for starting the whole mess in the first place.
He told me about it (I'm not going to give you any information
on Ryuk. You wouldn't believe me if I did. I barely believe
me as it is). If you legally change the name of a person killed by
Kira's methods within the twenty-four hours after their
death, then they
come back to life. Isn't that the shiz? See,
Ryuk thinks I'm cool, so he helps me out more than Kira. He's
only been following Kira around because he thinks the
whole Kira mess is amusing for God only knows why.
Despite the fact he started this, as I said, he's pretty cool.

I asked L what being dead is like. He said he doesn't
remember. Does that suck or
what? Watari doesn't,
either, but he's old so he's allowed to forget plus he's
cooler than Llama-head. Can't even remember what
death was like! What the hell? And they say he's smart.
Psh.

Alright, he rolled his eyes and walked away, back to
the point. Well. Actually, that's about all there is to say
for now. I
WANT YOU TO WRITE BACK. I'm going to
come to Wammy's and (insert extremely painful sounding
threat here) if you don't!! I didn't put a return address on
the outside because I don't like Roger and I don't want
him to write shit to me. So, here's the addy:

P.O. Box 731, Kōen Street, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan

I will say this one more time, so you understand, because
Mellonhead obviously didn't.
I WANT YOU TO WRITE BACK.
Yes, that means soon. As soon as possible. You'd best
write back. You already know about what will happen
if you don't.

Love ya, kid.
Be good.
DON'T JOIN THE FUCKING MAFIA!

αlpha εpsilon–
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Matt's cigarette had fallen out of his mouth again right around the "they come back to life" part, and had successfully managed to burn a hole in his jeans. Scowling at the thing as he picked it back up and flicked a few ashes off of its tip onto the floor, he read through a few random parts of the letter again. He wasn't sure who Ryuk could have possibly been, but from the way she had put it, Ryuk had given Kira this power… which meant… could he have possibly been anything other than human? Granted, the Kira case had some strange supernatural aspects attached to it, but for anything other than humans to be involved was incomprehensible.

He was definitely going to write back. And he was definitely going to have a talk with a certain megalomaniacal chocoholic.

But first, he had somewhere around a thousand questions he needed answered.


Mello hadn't checked his post office box in ages. It had been a few months since he wrote to her after tracking her down in Japan, where she had no doubt been helping L on the Kira case before… before that happened. He found himself unable to come to terms with the fact that his idol – or at least, one of his idols – was dead. It wasn't so much devastation as it was disbelief. It didn't feel any different than it had when he was alive, so his mind wasn't going to allow him to believe it.

He got a few strange looks as he walked into the post office and looked for box number 333. It wasn't every day the people there saw a teenager clad in all leather and eating a chocolate bar walk into a building with a sign that said clearly "no food or drink" on the front door. Mello glowered at these people so they wouldn't say anything to him about it. It wasn't his fucking fault he was addicted to chocolate, after all…. The leather thing was sort of entirely his fault, but that wasn't their problem, so they had no fucking reason to be glaring at him!

His first reaction to the contents of his postal box was complete and utter shock. His second reaction was to pick the overflowing letters up off of the floor quickly before he could get any more strange looks from the other, slightly less eccentric people who were getting their mail. He took the last three letters out and stacked the pile neatly before flipping through them. The top letter was Matt's sloppy handwriting, but the other three thousand or so had a different handwriting. A neat, elegant looking script. That meant that…. His eyes widened as he flipped through and found that every other letter, except maybe one or two more from Matt, had the same exact handwriting, with no return address.

He was going to be taking some time off from mafia happenings on that particular day. That was for sure. He had a lot reading to do.

Hours later, Mello was laid down on the bed in his apartment with copious amounts of torn envelopes and yellow paper surrounding him, all yelling the same things at him. How he was a, quote, "fucking Mellonhead" for joining the mafia when L died. How she couldn't believe he thought that's what she would have done (hah, yeah right. He knew damn well that's what she would have done). How L and Watari were actually still alive – which had promptly caused him to choke on his chocolate bar and spontaneously be forced to learn how to perform the Heimlich maneuver on himself. Telling him to write back because she was worried. Later letters began including that if he had gone and gotten himself killed, she was going to hold a séance just so she could beat the crap out of him. After telling himself he wouldn't over and over as he read through the letters, his eyes finally betrayed him and forced him to shed a tear for the first time since he was ten years old. He, Mello, the kid that got into the mafia in Los Angeles and worked his way to the top by the age of fifteen, had shed a tear over a few (hundred) letters.

And, he thought to himself as he reached under his bed to pull a pack of notebook paper out, it wasn't quite as mortifying as he had expected it to be. There was one problem, however.

Of all the things that could have happened when he had to reply to thousands of letters, it just had to be this….

He'd lost his fucking pen.

Grumbling in annoyance, he stood up next to his bed and stretched out; he'd been laying flat on his stomach reading for the past umpteen-something hours in leather that didn't offer much room to move, after all. He decided he'd read Matt's letters after replying to hers. He obviously hadn't been as persistent in attacking Mello with envelopes and legal paper as she had, so he was sure it would be safe to wait for a bit. He walked through the living room of his apartment and opened the door. Then – of all the sacrilege reactions he could have made in his surprise – he dropped his chocolate bar, gaping at the chain smoker standing at the door with a Game Boy and his hand raised to knock on the door. He looked up. Mello saw Matt's eyebrows rise through the orange shields that were the lenses of his goggles.

"Leather fetish much?"

After a moment longer of gaping at the mildly amused gamer, Mello rolled his eyes at the moronic question. He probably should have read Matt's letters. That would have avoided a lot of confusion. There was only one reason he could have been there, however. The question didn't even need to be asked before Mello could give a sigh of resignation and give Matt an answer to it.

"Fine," Mello said as he heaved a sigh, "but you're sleeping on the couch."

"Knew it," Matt said, his amused grin widening.

"What?" Mello asked, reaching down to pick up his dropped chocolate.

"You do love me."

Mello stood back up, glaring at Matt. "Bite me."

"Wow, you've developed all kinds of fetishes, 'aven't ya?"

"Fucking pervert…" Mello muttered, pushing his way past Matt. "Come on! We're buying a damn pen!"

Matt looked after the chocolate (and now leather to top it off) obsessed blond for a moment, before shrugging and walking after him, now giving his focus back to his Game Boy.


And there you have it! That's the end of the story, but the sequel is still to come, so be patient. There will of course be more from Akino. With as much thought as I put into the son of a bitch, there'd better be. Matt and Mello won't play a huge role in it until later, or until a third story, but they shall be back. I would have never wrote this if they weren't going to be back.