Disclaimer—I have no rights or responsibility of DeathNote, as that privilege belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and the art by Takeshi Obata—and if I did, L  (along with Alucard, Hannibal Lector, the Phantom of the opera, Jack Sparrow, Abel Nightroad, Jareth the Goblin King, Aloysius X. L. Pendergast, Count of Monte Cristo and Argent) would be chained up in my basement dripped in chocolate with whipped-cream and I would be enjoying it very much…and no doubt he would too.

TitleGreyWalker…or formally known as The Fallen

Synopsis—Even the dead have their way of making themselves known.


Chapter Title—Scorpions in my Mind

Chapter Synopsis—Imagine that you were going to kill someone, now what do you think would be the most difficult part?

Author's Notes—For the stake of argument, just read and review. This story is based on the Japanese movie rather than the manga, because I love L too much to have him perish at the manipulating hands of that selfless evil monster, Light Yagami. So, GreyWalker is a story greatly influenced by a particular idea of mine, where L Lawliet comes back from the other-side. Please, just read and review.

As always with my other fan fictions, there are Foot-Notes at the end of every the chapter. Do not hesitant to ask questions.



OOO Scorpions in my Mind OOO


Things in the Kira-case had been progressing well, ever since the discovery of the DeathNote… however, the investigation had recently deviated from otherwise normal and logical police-work and towards a field that few ever mentioned and none understood—the "paranormal." This direction was only affirmed by the constant, almost ominous presence of a Shinigami. A Death-God who named itself "Rem."

It was a figure, who much to the dismay of the Kira-Task-Force lingered, always trailing behind them or more specifically following wherever the killing notebook went. It was as if the Shinigami and the DeathNote were two magnets, and their opposite forces were so strong that nothing—and absolute nothing would come between them. Besides it was written that whenever one went, the other must surely follow. And if a Death-God wasn't unsettling enough, the thing moved with a creaking sound as if someone was walking on old rotten stairs that were bound to give in at any time. Perhaps it has arthritis, the idiot Matsuda proposed, no matter how innocently. However despite the sudden change of events, the Shinigami was no less distributing to the eye. It had yellow-golden eyes that seemed to peer and dissect your soul, a pig-like nose, inspired Medusa hair and a body, which appeared to be constructed from white bones. But, bones from where, or better yet from what?

Human or Shinigami, or perhaps something entirely different?

That was quite possible.

After all, who knows what Otherworldly things existed out in the world?

"Ryuzaki," came the voice again, just barely heard over the rambling, pondering thoughts.

How intriguing… a monotone voice mused thickly to himself, A Shinigami…so they do exist.

In the bleak corner, there was the figure of a young man, thin and apparently fairly tall if his back wasn't curved like a hunchback. He did not sit on his bottom like normal, civilized people, but on the balls of his bare feet with his knees bundled at his chest. Despite the sophisticated, high-technical equipment surrounding him, he was otherwise plain, wearing faded jeans and long-sleeved white-shirt that only heightened his pale, almost sickly complexion. Besides, the clothes practically hanged on his bony provinces. If that wasn't odd enough, there were dark lines under his wide, bulging eyes. It was like he hadn't slept in years, almost as if his sense of justice would not permit to rest. His eyes were uncommon dark, virtually black and hidden under a mass of spiky disheveled hair. Still, his eyes watched and interrogated the Shinigami, relentlessly. The young man watched the creature with mute interest, like a museum patron examining a radical piece of art.

Radical and quite unnatural, he noted to no one. Flicking aside a strand of oily hair, he proceeded to stack up sugar cubes with delicate precision.

Believe it or not, this particular individual was the most respected detective in the world and perhaps in the history of mankind, but his identity was always shrouded in mystery—until now. He was none other than L. 

Or Ryuzaki.

"Ryuzaki!" grew louder and louder the name.

L wondered, What other things lurk in the shadows, and prey on man's weakness and especially his desires?

But perhaps the bigger question was—would you even want to know what was out there?

A hand slapped on his shoulder and the grinning face of Light Yagami came into view. Huffing a short laugh he said, "Earth to Ryuzaki."

L smiled politely but not sincerely. "Hmm, yes."

"Glad to see that you are still with us." Straightening his red tie, Light Yagami flopped himself into the chair and ran his limber fingers through his hair. He exhaled and then openly expressed his well-rehearsed concern. "You nearly gave me a fright, you know. Staring off into the distance like that. Not responding. I didn't know what was happening." –And that was the truth of it. Light added sweetly, "I think you should take a load off."

"Not likely." The detective raised a suspicious brow, because foremost he never trusted Light Yagami, or any advise that slipped out from his teeth, and crooked smile. Looking at the sugary tower of goodness, L plucked off the newest addition and dropped the sugar cube into the wide gaping abyss of his mouth, and sucked gingerly on it. Swallowing he said, "Besides… I believe a vast majority of the population refers such preoccupied behavior as 'daydreaming,' or 'off in La-La Land,' am I correct?"

"Yes," he answered. "So, which of the two were you visiting?"

Dropping his eyes L reluctantly answered, "Neither. Just thinking."

Interested in whatever the great, mysterious and seemingless nameless detective was thinking, Light raised a skeptical brow and asked hesitantly, "Dare I ask what were you thinking about?"

A measurable beat of silence followed.

He answered with his voice controlled and perfectly emotionless, "Death…or more important murder."

"Wh—what?" At such a blunt answer, Light sat up in his chair and demanded in a hushed whisper. "Murder? Why such ghastly thoughts? That's terrible. You're not depressed again, are you?"

"Depressed, no" he confessed wholeheartedly. Shaking his head, L nibbled his thumbnail and eyes returning back to the Shinigami, he said grimly, "Perhaps it's our new guest."

Unlike the other members, save but Light Yagami—who had a 64 chance of being Kira now—L was not unsettled by the presence of the Death-God, but strangely relieved. Calmed by the fact that a major piece of the puzzle laid inches from him, locked in a glass box—the DeathNote. It was the turn of the tide, and all the unanswered and relenting questions that probed his mind, now lay bared.

Still, he suspected that something was missing.

"What? The Shinigami," Light inquired. "I suppose it is possible that a Death-God could inspire such thoughts. So," he promptly eagerly, "what about murder?"

At first he did not answer, because it seemed again, he was swept up at staring at the Shinigami, and then he said suddenly, "Light Yagami…I want to imagine that you are going to kill someone."

"Is this another one of your games? Because, if so I really have no interest in playing." The young man stiffened at such a request. "Ryuzaki, I really must protest—"

Smiling L said, "Just indulge me. Entertain my thoughts." When Light had no further protest he continued, "Good," he said. "Imagine that you are going to kill someone. Now, what do you think would be the most difficult part?"

Light was speechless. Never before had he been ask to participate in such a morbid discussion, especially with L. "I—I don't know—"

"Make an effort to answer now, Light," L demanded roughly. "Three, two, one…Spare me that look—I am not making fun of you, or playing linguistic tricks on you. I am completely serious."

"I am failing to see the point of this Ryuzaki," he said angrily.

"We are dealing with murder, Light. It perfectly fits," he said as if the answer was completely obvious.

A pause followed, and the L explained, "People are not designed to die easily. Humans are surprisingly sturdy creatures. Besides, there is the tendency to resist being killed. Survive to live. Fight or die. Nobody wants to be killed, no one wants to die. And there's a good chance they'll try to kill you back. From this particular point of view…to murder someone just by writing their name in a black notebook is a flagrant violation of fair play, wouldn't you say? If not, cowardly…"

"I don't know." A dark shadow crossed Light's eyes at the hidden insult.

"True murder requires imagination."

Recoiling slightly Light sneered, "Don't tell me murder is an art."

"Maybe…" Ryuzaki meekly confessed. "It all boils down to a matter of perspective, and the same thing could be said with justice." Light blinked, realizing that statement was entirely true. There were numerous, if not countless views about what exactly was justice. Such as Kira's justice…and L's justice, and who is to say which one, if any was correct.

The Shinigami who had been warring a staring-contest between L, it seemed had finally given up the chase. It's mystic voice complained, "You are staring at me."

L simply smiled and nodded, as if to say, "yes, I know."

"Ryuzaki…" the youth warned.

The detective blinked, returning back into reality and mumbled apologetically, "Forgive me if it disturbs you, Shinigami-Rem." L added, "You are not the first to voice that complaint."

"And I doubt I shall not be the last," the white spongy creature noted with a hissing rasp. 

"Mmm," L noted half to himself and half to Rem, "I suppose that assumption is fair…and most likely accurate."

A face and a name, he thought, were the indigents to murder, or at least in the Kira-Case. L had always, so adamantly refused to reveal himself, because quite obvious, it was dangerous—if not suicidal. Now, all his precautions were in vain as a Death-God peered at him, with his name laid bare to him. Of course, the idea that this creature could kill him without a regret and hesitation, was certainty not comforting. He found himself wondering exactly which name, if written in the DeathNote would kill him—after all, he had so many. There was Eraldo Coil…Danuve…Ryuga Hideki and Ryuzaki, and that was just to give a few. But perhaps, the more intriguing was, which name was the Shinigami peering at? Which name was dancing in those Shinigami-Eyes?

For L, it was not only the eyes of a Shinigami he was glazing at, but also those of B, Beyond Birthday.

At the memory of B, Ryuzaki froze. Afterwards, a rare sight occurred, he closed his eyes. Actually closed his eyes, and much longer than a blink.

For reasons yet to be explained, B had a special sense of sight. He always knew your name before you said it, and somehow knew the time of death of every person he met, face-to-face. He had seen the world through those eyes since before he could congenitally remember, hence his nickname, Beyond Birthday. It was this particular gift was made him a possible and furthermore, a most valuable asset to the Whammy House, and more importantly— one reason L took every precaution to avoid those eyes.

And yet, here and now, he was willingly staring at a pair of Shinigami–Eyes.

"Something is brothering you, Ryuzaki."

Snapping his eyes open, L continued his staring contest. "Shinigami-Eyes…"

"What about them?" Light asked.

Was it possible that Beyond Birthday had the eyes of a Shinigami? If not, how else could be find victims with the initials B.B. or to find people who were fated to die on a certain day at a certain time. It was always that last part that irked L, bothered him when B confessed, "I am not guilty, they were bound to die that day anyways." How did he know that they going to die? As Rem said, normally contact with a Shinigami was a prerequisite for acquisition, but B had no such contact with one.

"If only I could see the death of the world," L said outloud, quoting B.

"What?" Light asked. "What did you say?"

"How did he know that they were going to die?" L asked outloud. "Did he see it," he inquired to no one in particular.

"Um Ryuzaki," Light said hesitantly, "Stop it. It freaks people out, including me. You are staring again."

"I am not staring, but remembering."

Remembering the first time, he met B face-to-face.

The first and only time, Beyond Birthday witnessed his name, which was the very one the Shinigami was looking at.

Inside his mind, L was revisiting the past, which was something he did often as a detective—but this time, it was special. It was personal. Reality blurred as L saw a single jailhouse cell. Inside was a figure, black and charred with the thick smell of gasoline drifting about him. His clothes had melted against his skin and could just barely be distinguished. One arm was handcuff to the bars, and an IV butterfly inserted in that hand, which feed him morphine and saline to replace the lost fluids from the burnt skin and muscles. He was sitting on the cold concrete floor, couched over with his knees bundled tight to his chest, and fingertips drumming on the iron bars. Drumming nonchalantly, as if his current predicament meant nothing and was boring to him. 

Any other person would have died from such intense exposure to fire or at least in extreme pain, so much so that the screams would be endless and echoing in the jailhouse. And yet, he never whimpered once. Never grimaced. Never cried.

Standing before the bars, L peered closer inside and saw a near-perfect image of himself staring up at him.

A mirror reflection…

A mirage…

Save but the burns, of course.

Peering out from a mass of black hair was a pair of strange eyes that for a moment had a slight hue of maroon to them. They traveled upwards and focus on a spot just hanging about his head—just like how Miss Amane had done at the college, when he first met her. Smiling like the sadistic murderer he was, B spoke in a low and raspy voice that echoed in his mind, "Ah…it is a pleasure, L Lawliet."

So, he could see it. See the name and when they die.

Jumping out of the chair L called out, "Watari! Get me a transfer to the Los Angeles Correctional Facility."



If you made it this far, I must thank you.

Foot Notes

O Basically, this is a story regarding L coming back form the other-side. Yes, I know that the story about Taro Kagami is just a back-story and a test for the original DeathNote story. Otherwise, it was the first prequel. I know about the Death-Easer, I do think it defeats the whole purpose of the DeathNote. I have constructed a much different idea…partly because we know so little about the Shinigami-King…

O With Beyond Birthday, I did my research by reading Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases, which I highly recommend reading. It might be a bit short for my taste, but very educational towards the DeathNote universe.

O "If only I could see the death of the world," is a quote from the book and more importantly from B himself. I would love it if they mad it into a movie, like DeathNote, and DeathNote: The Last Name and L Change the World. That would be so wicked.

O Yes, I know that Beyond Birthday is dead with Kira starts his killing game. He dies on January 21, 2004—but let is pretend he did not.