Lying in the dark at night, Light came to a quiet but disturbing realization.

I should have killed Sayu.

It made his stomach turn over and his heart drop like a stone, but he knew it was true. They had to have realized, if their leader had any intelligence at all, that Kira had killed Takamura. But Kira hadn't killed Sayu Yagami. Why? They had to be asking. Why?

He had worked so long and so hard to reach this point. He'd told himself that he could feel nothing, because sentiment bred mistakes and mistakes would lead to his downfall. And now here he was, slipping.

What was Sayu to him, anyway? A little sister, yes, but hadn't he said he would sacrifice his family if he had to? A little sister who asked him for help with her geometry homework, who giggled over teen idols on television, who came into his room without knocking and lay on his bed and asked about what girls he thought were cute. A little sister who'd been ecstatic when she'd learned that Light's girlfriend was a model, who'd talked Misa into dressing her up for a day, and nearly given his mother a heart attack when she came down in what their mother called leather lingerie.

No, Sayu was nothing to him at all.

He turned to his back and looked up at the ceiling.

Sayu who was now silent and empty, a shell of the girl she'd been. It would have been merciful, Light thought, to kill her, spare her this. But the thought was hollow.

He'd been ready to. Held the pen and her face in his mind over the piece of paper, and hadn't done it. Because he couldn't; because if he wrote down her name nothing would make sense anymore, and something in him knew that here was a line he couldn't cross.

But the fact remained.

I should have killed Sayu.

He closed his eyes and dismissed the thought. A small thing. In the end, it still wouldn't really matter. She was just one more proof of everything he had to do.