Light and Matsuda were at a bar. Despite what people thought, Light actually did hang out with Matsuda occasionally. It wasn't as if they were great friends, but sometimes they talked. Light wasn't all bad, despite the general lack of hygiene and proper social etiquette; sometimes he could be a great person to hang out with. And he made the most hilarious death threats when he was tipsy.

Matsuda looked over at Light, who was still looking nicer than normal. He was wearing a suit without any blood-stains and his gun was neatly concealed under the jacket instead of sticking out almost obscenely (like usual). He wasn't smiling or anything, but Light never smiled, so for Light, the whole aesthetic thing looked pretty fancy. Matsuda wasn't sure if it was the new partner or the L war or what, but something was different. Light was… different.

"Matsuda, you're staring," Light stated, downing a shot of gin. Light liked his alcohol like his women—hard.

When Matsuda actually thought about that statement, though, it didn't really make much sense. He should probably rework that sometime.

"Oh, sorry." Matsuda smiled and shrugged, scraping at a piece of paint on the bar. Light frowned slightly and ordered another shot.

There was a bit of an awkward pause as Matsuda tried to think of what to say to Light now that he was in a good mood. It was such a rare opportunity; he had to find just the right thing to say…

"Hey Light," Matsuda said, and looked at Light, who appeared to be paying no attention whatsoever. "What do you think about your partner?"

"Which partner? Naomi?" Light asked blandly. Matsuda nodded.

It was pretty clear what Light thought about the other partners, as most of them were either insane or dead because of him.

"Yeah," Matsuda said. Every day he was becoming more and more certain that Naomi and Light were meant for eachother. It was just like a romance novel: spunky former FBI agent tries to tame the rogue detective and love sparks. Matsuda could have written it while wearing a blindfold.

"You were right, she does shoot well," Light said offhandedly. "Of course, the fact that she worked with L only leaves me to believe that she is secretly an agent of the great detective. Let's face it, Matsuda, she's too good for us." Light brushed aside that last comment with a flick of his hand as if it meant nothing.

Matsuda felt his cheeks begin to burn. That was it! Light thought that she was too good for him. Well, she probably was, morally, but that wasn't the point. If Light ever wanted to become a normal person then he'd have to recognize his own abilities and self-worth. Maybe that was Light's problem: he was secretly insecure and hid his insecurities behind a god-complex!

"That's not true, Light. She's not too good for you!" Matsuda said.

"Matsuda, I never said she was too good for me," Light said with a cocked head, as if he was trying to imply something that Matsuda just wasn't quite grasping.

Matsuda decided to continue on his original train of thought instead of trying to figure out what Light's cold stare meant. It was starting to creep him out. It crawled vaguely like those moments when he realized that Light had committed acts of terrorism in the name of Tokyo, and that Matsuda would be the one who would have to explain it away.

"And what do you mean, she's working for L? How can she be working for L when she's working with you? That would be… it would just be wrong!" Naomi could never do that to her true love, even if her true love was pretty scary. Still, if anyone could handle Light's scariness and transform him into a good man, it would be his true love, Naomi Misora.

"She's worked with him before. She's clearly very competent, which is a little more than the rest of our dear NPA has to say. Whenever I ask about the great detective, she's dismissive and rather bitter. A little too obvious and heavy-handed to be genuine. No one besides me can possibly dislike L that much." Light paused and took a drink of gin, again causing Matsuda's eyebrows to raise; he was really downing a lot of those.

Matsuda interrupted, "Yeah, but that doesn't mean…"

Light cut him off and set down the glass. "Not to mention, she's not my greatest fan, and has made that plain on multiple occasions. She barely speaks about her private life. As far as we know, she doesn't even live in the country. She has L's proxy written all over her," Light finished with his hands raised.

Here was his chance to become a good, normal, great, wonderful person with a romantic interest and he was throwing it away because she might have worked for L one time for one case or something. Sometimes Light was an idiot.

"What?" asked Light when Matsuda stood up dramatically in the bar next to him.

"How dare you!" He stood there gibbering for a moment, stunned with outrage. Matsuda finally managed to sputter out, "You'd throw away everything just on useless suspicions! You have a real chance here, a real chance, but you don't want to take it because you're too afraid!" Matsuda finished by jabbing his finger in Light's chest.

Light just looked at him and finally said, "Matsuda, you have possibly become even dumber than you were before. It's a new record. Congratulations."

Matsuda decided then and there that Light would never understand. If this was going to work—and it would work—Naomi was going to need all the help she could get. And Matsuda would see that she would get it.


It was in that moment that she knew that no one was coming to save her. He could always tell. Their eyes went dim and glazed; they looked at the ceiling; and they realized that they were little more than whales with a harpoon in their stomach. Like Moby Dick, if Ahab had been anything like these dreadfully competent modern whale-killers.

He stood over her and grinned, really feeling he should explain this time.

"No one's going to find out, either," he said, staring down at her with a maniacal grin. "Because I'm just too good, sweetie." He laughed cheerily; she looked away.

This was the infamous whale-killer. He was not called the whale-killer because he killed whales, but because he killed in the name of them. The police department had wasted all their talent and creativity on the Kira case; now only Matsuda and a disgruntled Light bothered to name the killers. The choices were whale-killer or whale-man or baby-beluga—and the whale-man preferred the first to all of them. It most properly captured his true spirit, wild and free, at home in the great depths of the ocean...

He had yet to make the blood fountain, and was running a bit behind, but he was enjoying himself far too much. He just had to tell someone of his success—even if the someone he was going to tell was going to die very soon, and then wouldn't remember a thing he said. It was such a pity; he'd probably have to tell the next one, too.

His head shook back and forth wildly. Time to continue. He lifted his knife menacingly, back hunched and grin wide. "All the detectives are looking for me. L, Yagami Light, the entire NPA—and the best they can do is chase me in a car." He paused to laugh as if this was hysterical.

He tried not to be bothered by the fact that his hostage wasn't laughing; he had gagged her, so maybe that was the problem. He failed to recognize the fact that not only was he insane—he wasn't funny.

"But I don't have a car anymore! So they'll keep looking and they'll find nothing and the whales will live! The whales will live because you and your kind die! It's a nice trade-off, don't you think?"

The woman didn't shake or nod her head. The whale-killer was getting a little annoyed. He had expected something more dramatic on her part. If you have an audience, what's their use if they aren't entertained by you?

He sighed. "I guess you don't really care about all of that, though. Not that I blame you. You've been suckered by callous modernity. They only care about the trees—the whales are forgotten. It's not your fault; they've conditioned it into you. But someone has to pay. The masses are faceless and act as one, so you are just as good as the next."

She didn't seem to be awed or changed by his words, either. He clearly hadn't gotten through to her, he thought. There was no saving this one, just like there was no saving any of them. They were unrepentant. Vile. The whales died and they did not know or care. He was the only one fighting for them, and even this woman, faced with her death, did not beg for his pardon.

He looked at the walls and the carpet and sighed again. "Well, I guess I'll just have to kill you now."

And that was the fourth time.


"So, Misora-san, how do you like our dear detective?"

Naomi knew she'd regret answering the phone.

"He's delightful. Can I go home yet?" Naomi asked her benefactor, the detective L, who perhaps annoyed her even more than Inspector Light Yagami.

It was a hard thing to consider, actually. But after much debate she'd decided that they both put her in mortal danger without considering the consequences of her demise and they were both assholes. Light was only better because he at least talked to her, and was nice to look at; L just spammed her voicemail.

Naomi was currently standing in the middle of the hallway at the NPA homicide division's office. The office mates were giving her weird looks, then shrugging as they figured since she had lasted a week with Light Yagami, she must be insane too. She was insane by association: that was how low she had sunk.

L gave an amused chuckle through the telephone and she began to grind her teeth.

"Oh no, Misora-san, you can't go home yet," L said with a cheerful smile (she could see it through the telephone). "You still haven't tortured and humiliated Light Yagami. I can't let you leave until you've proven you're somewhat competent."

"Really. Because you were originally paying me just to work for the NPA," Naomi said, her eyebrows lowering dangerously.

"Yes, well, I lied."

Naomi somehow was not surprised.

Matsuda passed by her in the hallway and gave her a really weird look. She responded by continuing to glare at empty space. Sure, everyone thought she was insane—apparently even Matsuda—but she comforted herself by telling herself that one day she would kill L and paint the walls with his innards. Sort of like the whale man, but with fewer blood fountains and preachy environmental messages.

"You know, Ryuzaki, Yagami may be an ass, but he does have a point. I really hate you too." Naomi decided that it was threat time. "Frankly, I'd rather be a dummy in Light's demonstration video than spend another moment as your pet monkey. If you ever, and I mean ever, call me again demanding I do anything, you will find a car bomb in your mailbox and your severed hands hanging from the ceiling fan!"

Naomi hung up the phone and smiled. The office was staring at her, including Matsuda, who looked slightly more traumatized than usual.

"Well," Naomi said in a failed attempt to break up the silence, "I feel better now."


Matt wasn't sure why he had decided to look up L on Wikipedia but he was rather surprised by what he saw. He blinked at his computer and then looked at it again. Judging from the accuracy of the information, his initial guess was Near or Mello, but after a moment of thought he presumed it was Inspector Yagami.

Only Light Yagami would bother looking up that much information about Wammy's Orphanage for his own amusement and L's suffering.

(Speaking of which, the Wammy's orphanage page listed that the founder, Quillish Wammy, had established the orphanage out of an immense desire to watch children intellectually dog fight, procure crippling social disabilities along the way… and create the greatest detective in the world.)

Matt was trying to decide whether he wanted to tell Mello or not.

The picture he had used was the gothic L juxtaposed with what looked like a crackhead. Matt didn't think it was L, but then again, there were rumors…

The description wasn't terrible. He did say that L was a brilliant detective who took on the pseudonyms of at least five other detectives—Coil and Daneuve among them. He said that L had been a child prodigy. The real downer was that he listed L's social etiquette horrors, his probable sexual orientations and frustrations, and his general failings in the area of human rights.

The sad part was that Light didn't even have to make it up. It was all true (except for the sex part, but then again, Matt had never thought about L and sex before, and he hoped he would never have to again). Maybe that part was true, too—but it seemed like a petty comeback to that insult L had landed on national television.

Even after living with Mello, this was getting a little weird. Matt wasn't quite sure what to think anymore, or what to do about the Wikipedia page.

If he valued his time with Mello and his old role model, he'd edit it immediately; if he valued his life he'd leave it be and wait until Mello did it, because somehow the meddling detective would find out that it was Matt who changed the page. Only someone actually associated with L would change the page, and there were so few of those that they'd all meet unfortunate accidents if they tried. Restraining order or not.

Matt was beginning to feel that the restraining order had been a very bad idea. If they hadn't shut Light out, then none of this would have happened. So when you got down to it, it was all Mello's fault.


Matsuda had a new case on his desk. He hated it when there was a new case on his desk because it always meant he had to talk to the scary L on the computer. He was sure that L wasn't this scary in person, but without a face he was… pretty terrifying. Like snakes. Matsuda was really disturbed by snakes.

"Director Matsuda, I'm sure you're aware that I am the only one competent enough to possibly solve this case."

Matsuda sighed and looked out the window to where Light was no doubt waiting with his axe. Whenever L talked to Matsuda, he pretended Light wasn't on the force and that everyone who worked for Matsuda was a complete idiot.

It was just ridiculous. Ever since Light had started their war, L had gotten even worse. He was now offering to investigate a hit and run. Even Light hadn't seemed interested when he brought it up; he had been too busy solving the whale case without permission. He had waived it off, but now L wanted…

"I mean, you can have the case if you want…" It hardly even counted as homicide. Yes, it was horrible, it was tragic, but it wasn't L's usual. L's usual was Kira killing thousands without a single trace of evidence; but there was plenty of evidence in this, and more than a few traces. It was practically a paved road back to some half-inebriated idiot.

"I intend to."

Was it just Matsuda or was there a smirk inherent in that question?

"Ummmm, so then, I guess we're done here." Matsuda tapped his fingers on his papers and whistled, looking around waiting for the gothic L to wink out without a sign (as usual). L seemed to be taking his time today—as if he was observing Matsuda for signs of weakness to later exploit.

"What do you think of Misora Naomi, director?" The mechanical voice suddenly asked, dragging Matsuda out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" Matsuda chuckled awkwardly. "Um, well, is it really important?"

Matsuda was met only by silence on the other end of the computer.

"Erm, well, she's the only person I've ever seen get along with Light!" Matsuda repeated his laugh, which was more like a half-mad giggle at this point. L would understand the joke, he assumed.

L said nothing. Matsuda got the feeling that he was seething on the other end. But that couldn't be right, because why on earth would L care?

"Yeah, never better without her…" Matsuda trailed away and waited for L to log off.

L didn't abandon him until a minute of silence later. Matsuda then sighed and sat back, waiting for Light to ambush him and demand why L had gotten a case from Japan. Matsuda loved his job, but sometimes… well, sometimes he hated it a little.