Chapter Sixteen

I hold him even after they tell me the Shinigami has disappeared. I hold him as they tell me that they will continue the investigation in honour of L. I hold him as they try to talk me into letting him go. I hold him. I hold him. I hold him.

Until he's taken from me, peeled off by the sympathetic paramedics who take him away.

I feel myself move, going after them, after him, until two hands hold me back, firmly. I try to fight them off but they're too strong. I attempt to scratch them, but they bare the pain. I turn to pull out a knife, but the hands use it as a distraction to turn me around and fold me into their chest. I wake up then, recognising who it is. I'm frozen in my emotions to physically react and end up limp in his embrace. Perhaps I should feel disgusted, or I should try to break away in exposure, but I know it won't help. So, I let him hold me, I let him claim the victory. Because, for now, he has it.

No noise, no panic, nothing distracts me from the warmth of L's body, his soul slowly leaving him, taken into the arms of Death. I watched it rise from his body, accepting its fate, surrendering to Death's peaceful embrace, leaving the limp identity in my arms. I don't know how long I stay like this, I just know that I don't wish to let go. I don't want to lose him yet. Not yet!

My mother died when I was six. But she did not abandon me in Death. I was taken in and raised, made aware of her culture, her religion, her way of life. It's no coincidence that the word shiva (a period of mourning) slips into my mind. All I know is that this period lasts seven days, give or take, a time of accepting the departed have gone. It's the only way I can describe the state I wake up in days later. I find myself having moved to my bed, my clothes the same, my hair in disarray, and my room mostly undisturbed, apart from a plate of food covered and uneaten. My stomach growls but I ignore it. Outside, drizzles fall from the sky, not enough to warrant an umbrella. My mind wakes to the laying of a black dress on the bed, with lace sleeves and a pair of stockings, waiting to be worn. I find it hard to move from my position, seated with L's body invisibly cradled in my arms. I can still feel him there, fighting to hold on, long enough for me to see. But there is no one there; not his head, not his scruffy black hair, not his pale, malnourished skin. The tears pour out of my eyes. When I cry, I make no noise. No hiccups, no sniffs, not even movement with my head. My tears hurt, and my chest pounds with the pain of a brokenness. That's all it has been lately. Pain, pain, pain. Death has been at my door more than most people, warning me, signalling the next move it made, one name at a time. But that day, Death was too loud, too insistent on calling attention to itself. Death at its relentless state, can hardly be resisted. I try to move, inviting the pins and needles to attack my numb body. My tears help distract and worsen the pain. I look for what can help me; anything to tell me that it's not real. But all around me, I feel nothing but the reminder, starting with the dreadful rain outside.

I pull the dress towards me, sinking in the smell of fresh laundry that somehow reminds me of him. It's clean, well-kept, so unlike him, but it's not the appearance that grabs me. It brings back L's persistent care for me; his need to remind me to eat, sleep, or even take a break from work if I need it. It's almost like he's the one who laid it out here from me. but I know that he's not, and I know that he never will. I let it be the curator of my memory.

The door opens, revealing Light, who gazes at me with worry. It looks genuine enough to be real, but I can't unsee what L's last memory showed me. it pains me to think about what he knew, what he pursued and all along, that he was right. It made sense that no one believed him, they wanted their conclusions based on evidence. The supernatural aspect aside, Light's clever use of the rules in the Notebook, the playful jab he's made all this time at Kira, all an act that the most robotic person on the world could see through. But L was smart enough to play back. He nearly had him. And that's why he was killed. He was too close. Now it's my turn. But I must know now, how do I play this game? How do I win? I contemplate with each step he takes to me, the precious moments disappearing. Am I sure to die by the Death Note? Or will he kill me with his bare hands? It doesn't matter. I just know what I must do. I allow him to get closer, to touch my shoulder, to pull me into an embrace, when I don't respond to his calling my name. Before, I felt invaded when his arms were around me, but still I sensed a protective invasion, like Light was shielding me from something. Now, I feel like I've been consumed alive and whole. But the sense of protection doesn't disappear. Its true intentions reveal themselves slowly as I lean into his chest. They, like his inner self, are aggressively unattractive and sheltered by his twisted sense of noble intentions.

I take a moment to wonder what goes on in Misa's mind when he hugs her. I suspect it's different for her but even so, if she is really the Second Kira, I wonder if the embrace is a reward for her love of Light, or rather, Kira. I wonder if he holds her out of thanks, out of a shared understanding of his ideal world he wants to create, or out of something else. Whatever his embrace, Misa, I suspect, is too blinded by her love, her obsession with Light/Kira to notice. Even if she does know, I wonder if she cares. My guess: she doesn't. but I do. Even now, I can feel myself doing it, quietly. Oh, how I want to! Because I don't need Light protecting me or sheltering me to find out what he really wants: more about me. I can do it. In fact, I should do it. There's never been more a perfect chance. But something stays my hand. I feel the suspend by the force of Death. It's a warning not to play judge, not to be angel of Death or a god; not even to the one who truly deserves it. I can pursue, but my purpose cannot become as twisted as Light's. I bite my lip and finally, the tears stop.

Light's not fooled. There's a distinct way he pulls me closer, as if my vulnerability is the perfect time to exploit something. I'm almost surprised when he doesn't go for it. Having just lost L, the way he seems too quiet about everything, it's clear that it's just really dawning on him too. Even if it's a victory, he doesn't act like the romanticised villains in fairy tales. Death's clutches are often noticed too late. To us, those who have departed will still lurk, like ghosts only they're alive and we can touch them. L is here for us both, alive. I'm mourning over what is real whereas he's still in denial. Somehow, I'm able to revive myself and pull out of his gentle yet firm grip. 'I'm going to change.'

'Sure.'

Pulling my dress with me, I walk to the bathroom, quickly showering under the rushing heat of the water before changing. The lovely stain of heat shows the red on my skin, fog up the mirror, which I wipe away with my hand to see myself brush my hair. I don't take my time, but that doesn't mean I don't care to look nice. I style my hair into a simple ponytail, making sure to leave some bangs out. Finally ready, I leave the bathroom and meet Light where I left him: sitting on my bed, his head bent, and his eyebrows furrowed in contemplating force. I could almost see the red lust in his brown eyes, but I'm no mind-reader. His hands, clasped together in focused thought, release the moment he senses my presence. He looks up at me, remaining silent but extending his hand as he stands. I silently look back and then, walk past him without accepting it. I know that we're all headed to L's funeral and I know that Light will be there based on a formality. The walk to the lift, the ride down from to the lobby, every part of it done in silence, tenses the air around me. I find it difficult not to keep my eyes on Light, who stands with his arms crossed in the other corner of the lift, eyebrows furrowed in thought. It's not until we meet everyone else that the silence, if not the tension, breaks.

'Frejda,' Mr Matsuda calls, 'are you—'

I nod. At least he had the decency not to finish the senetence.

'Let's get going,' Mr Aizawa prompts.

The car takes us first, to my surprise, a small church. The room is empty except for the priest, a small man, elderly and scrawny, reading from the Bible to start the service. I try not to let it surprise me that L and Watari were both of Christian background, and more so, try to hold it in as we follow the hearse that takes the two men to their final resting place. I watch silently as the caskets are lowered side by side, but we gather over the cross that represents L. I stand next to Light, still fighting my tears. I can't deny this is happening, but I can wish that it wasn't. I want Death to return L to us, to me, but I know that it doesn't work like that. Death shows no favours.

'Ryuzaki,' Chief Yagami says, almost quietly, 'we've gathered here at your private funeral. The public has no idea you're gone. We're going to make it appear as if you're still alive.

'This is not over yet. We'll continue to work with police all around the world. I swear to you: we will catch Kira and arrest him. That's our promise to you, so you—you can rest in peace.'

'That's right,' Light echoes, 'we'll catch Kira and avenge Ryuzaki. Solving this case will be our last gift to him, to Watari, to all of Kira's victims, and to all the people of the world.'

My stomach twists with disgust at his words. his voice sounds believably broken, as if he has lost a friend, a brother, or maybe, he grieves over losing a worthy opponent. He doesn't fool me anymore. He'll celebrate his victory in private.

'I swear right here and now,' he concludes, 'that I will send Kira to his execution!'

I dare not look at his face, for fear of what waits for me. when I give in and do, I see Light's face hidden by his loose bangs, his mouth frozen in a mourned frown. Oh, how you fool them all Light. What you said, I will make sure you hold up to your promises.

As the Task Force members prepare to leave, I do my final goodbye to Ryuzaki, a custom of my mother's beliefs, and place a stone by his grave-site. I can feel the questioning glances of the others but appreciate it when they don't voice them. I hear their footsteps walking away, but I stay a little longer, Light staying with me.

Good bye my precious L, I will see you again.

I finally turn to leave, Light left all alone. Mr Matsuda had apparently stayed behind waiting for us. Seeing Light stay put as I walk towards them, he asks: 'Isn't Light coming?'

I glance at the boy. Frozen in mourning.

Taking Mr Matsuda by the hand, I lead him away: 'Come on, Mr Matsuda.'

A week since the funeral, things at the Task Force have been relatively quiet, with the acceptation of some of the Task Force members following on regular police cases occasionally. Kira's kills have been small but set up in a way that they do the usual but minimal patterns. No one wants to deal with them yet. It's too soon.

I'd planned to leave early and report back sooner, but I felt that I was needed here one last time. I end up being right. Due to being another expert in the factory of technology, I help Light with a new project. It seems wrong, in the eyes of everyone on the Task Force, to use this place to continue investigating. Every inch of it traces the essence they left behind, and without them, the team feels incomplete. But I make no room to complain. Mourning has barred me from fulfilling my mission. I already loathe having to explain all this when I get back to France, and in person no less. Light works with one computer and I work with another, transferring the information to the same hard drive. By tonight, maybe earlier, everything should be out of here and the Task Force can start fresh elsewhere. I work quickly, my headphones listening to L's voice narrate a lot of the information he's gathered on Kira. There are a lot of ways to take this: redundant, monotonous, hopeless, maybe even insane, but I take it as a final chance to be with L.

It's an opportunity to step into his mind for a little bit, a moment to take the second chance at really hearing him out. I practically replay all that my mind can recount with the information presented to me. at least from where I cam in. like it was yesterday, I remember the way L first revealed himself to Light and placing him in a tight situation. I wonder how long Kira had been plotting to kill L at that point. Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer. My fists clench. I was blinded! Blinded like the rest of them by Light's—by Light's what? His perfection? His model student persona? His intelligence? His gentleness? Or perhaps, his friendship? From the moment he and I were introduced, Light had taken it upon himself to babysit me. I was deceived by the close eye he kept on me at what looked like necessary times. But I also was aware of how distant he remained. Light didn't take sneaky opportunities to ask me about myself and the fact that I played it safe by remaining distant myself helped some. Beyond mundane questions, I don't remember him investigating me. But he held tight to me when he could, when he needed to. I think about the time he had confessed to being Kira. L sent me to show him up to our meeting room. The moment he saw me, he embraced me.

Zut! That trick! His invading embraces, the slow warmth; L must have felt it too even if the boys never physically touched (except to fight and the day that L—)

I stop what I'm doing. No tears come although my heart overflows with broken, sinking deep red blood. I cannot allow myself to sabotage everything. All of this, each event and thought transpired, its brought us this far. Beating myself up over past mistakes won't help. Because even those mistakes have allowed me to see clearly with each gradual step we took to get closer to Kira. I can't believe that it was a coincidence that I started to deepen the possibility of Light being Kira just before L left us. My eyes needed to be opened slowly. All I must do now is answer the question 'why?'. I realise, just as I unclench my fists, that the last of L's files have played. Blood drizzles on the keyboard.

'Light, Frejda,' Chief Yagami calls, 'how're you two doing?'

'Well, we should be able to transfer most of the information and the system out of here by tonight. It's weird though, I almost feel like I'm stealing. I've created a voice filter identical to the one Ryuzaki used. We can use it to make the police think he's still alive and give them orders like we've been doing but—who is going to take the place of L?'

I hold my breath as soon as the question escapes his mouth, already knowing what the answer is going to be.

'Where will he work from?' Light continues, 'and what do we do with the Notebook?'

'Come on, what are you talking about Light?' Mr Matsuda says, 'You're the only one who can take the role of L.'

A pause allows for the thought to sink in. I'm stared of even uttering a sound, let alone voicing my protest.

'I don't know,' Light says hesitantly, 'Ryuzaki was killed by Kira because he challenged him. And that's not something I'm eager to do. Besides, I'd be fooling the people of the world.'

'I consider the partial honesty of that statement. L was killed because he opposed Kira, so even if Light didn't take on the role, it would be a win-lose situation for everyone anyway.

'I understand how you feel,' Mr Aizawa says, 'but you're really the only one of us who can do this.'

'That's right,' Mr Matsuda echoes, 'Even Ryuzaki said so himself. "You would be capable of succeeding L."'

Bile reaches my throat and the silent struggle to contain it nearly fails. Mr Matsuda may have remembered, but his naïve innocence bars him from remembering what L implied when he said that. L suspected that if he were to die, Light (being Kira) would take over as L and the ideal would become reality. Kira would gain complete control of the global police force and have them chase their tails while Kira ruled the world. His law would be his will and at his hands, a global totalitarian age sought by tyrants like Hitler and Stalin. I already foresee such a world emerging and wonder how many will bend to the will known as Kira and how many will wake up in time to seek out and destroy the demon behind the ideal world. We may badmouth Hitler and Stalin, but hardly any of us admit being like them, we want to see our ideal world as a reality. Because those that do and understand the cost of such a world would pay to see their own happiness, are few. A dangerous victim of such crises sits right beside me, smiling what he thinks is a quiet victorious sinister smile at the thought of how easily he came to power. If only I had the power to protest.

'I understand,' Light says, his voice retaining his earlier hesitation, 'alright. I'll do it.'

The men on the couches sigh of relief.

'But,' he turns to addresses us, frowning quickly at me, specifically, (all this I catch peripherally), 'I won't be like Ryuzaki, I won't take big risks like challenging Kira directly to gather information. It's just not me.'

'Yeah, it's probably better to play it safe,' Chief Yagami agrees, 'Ryuzaki may have been a little too confrontational.'

'In that case, I'll be able to do the same sort of work using both this computer and my own. In fact, it'll be possible for me to act as L in the comfort of my won room. I can be Watari as well.'

Zut! Merde!

'But it'll be difficult to pull off with Mom and Sayu around. Things will be easier if I could rent a one-bedroom apartment.'

I feel sick at being powerless to stop this. Why does he stay my hand?

'Well considering your age, it certainly won't look odd to anyone if I let you move out on your own.'

'Hey yeah!' Mr Matsuda cheers, 'and then we'll be able to use Light's new apartment as our Task Force headquarters. That's a good idea.'

'All that's left to figure out now is what to do with the Notebook,' Mr Aizawa points out.

'That's really not that difficult,' Light responds, 'there's six of us here, and we know none of us will ever use the Notebook, we'll just have one of us take it somewhere and hide it where none of us can get to it.'

After a pause, Mr Aizawa says, 'Please Chief, it's gotta be you.'

'Uh, yeah,' a nervous Mr Matsuda says, 'we can count on you. You're a pillar of justice after all. Heh-heh.'

The poor man must have nearly volunteered or something; nothing else would have warranted a nervous chuckle.

'You want me to—' Chief starts, and then, 'Alright.'

'We'll avenge Ryuzaki together,' Mr Matsuda declares.

'Yeah,' Chief echoes, 'Kira is still out there somewhere, we'll take him. That's a promise.'

I tune out the rest of the conversation in favour of observing Light, who turns to the empty seat on his other side, where L would have been.

I delay in tending to my bleeding hand, saving it as an excuse to leave when the room begins to get unbearably stuffy. The room reeks of betrayal and innocence, two scents that don't merge into a powerful spell-casting perfume. I leave quietly, making sure to show my hands to the questioning glances. Dazed, I find myself travelling to my floor. I end up in the pool in my clothes and bleeding hands, the pressure of the deep end getting to my ears.

Why? Why was I not able to do anything? I could have done it thoroughly, left nothing out! But he stays my hands, my entire body! Would I really become judge if I do it now? Is this what they call personal involvement? Or will I end up exactly like him? I wonder what it must have felt like, his first kill. L deduced that Kira's first kills were merely experiments. Even so, I doubt it was any coincidence that it was a criminal. I remember his innocence. I remember his strong sense of justice, the right kind of justice, pursued by a boy who understood that all he had to do was follow the law to uphold the law. I remember he understood that the world wasn't perfect and that all he had to do was right one wrong at a time to make a difference. But once he killed, once he felt the power of the Notebook in his hands, it had to have given him a sense of new authority, one exactly like a god although he himself isn't immune to death. How does it feel to have the power of the gods? How does it feel to agree that the right of a god is yours, once you set your mind to such a goal? How does it feel to lose your mind and soul to pursue a selfless yet twisted sense of giving the world the peace it desires? How does it feel to decide who is right and who is wrong?

In the world of G-d/gods, everything they do, everything they set up sets the human's life with a purpose. It sets us mere humans o a path to growth, a spiritual maturity that we couldn't understand, or thought we needed, only to be grateful for it later. There is a reason for the distinction between them and us. The G-d/gods are our creator(s), precursor(s), ruler(s), ruler(s), guide(s), our understanding of right and wrong. The reason for our existence. We humans have learned from the art of creation as well as destruction; the art to mend as well as to break, the art of love as well as the art to hate. Unfortunately, we can only master one a time. No matter how many times we try, we cannot destroy without unfixable repercussions, we cannot break without dangerous consequences, and we cannot hate without losing love. The rules of all the worlds we live in are set by the G-d/gods of that world, and any who go against such laws are in danger of facing the wrath of that divine. I've learned that such wraths delivered, are done so with the option of mercy, redemption and forgiveness. But we humans can only complain about the fear instilled and the free will, taken. It's only because that's the only we can imitate it: where there is anger, there is no mercy. We want to see the other as weak, held captive by our power. If there is a G-d who can show humanity mercy while always existing with such power, there are also gods who destroy without mercy or forgiveness. We tend to like those gods because we want a reason to be like them, to be okay with having such power. It couldn't be clearer that these are the very gods that Kira idolised before he decided to become one himself.

Somehow, I finally manage to get out of the pool. Dripping wet, I return to my suite, taking a quick shower and changing into long black tee and black sweatpants; if my body is hungry or thirsty, it doesn't complain, resting easy with doing what I should be focusing on in the first place. I doubt that the Task Force is happy that, after all this, I'm still leaving. There's no way to explain to them that I agree, but the need to go back, the call to go back, is stronger than the urge to stay. I relay the rest of the day to packing and doing the laundry where necessary. I start by packing up my lab kit, the most tedious and valuable portion of my packing. My lab kit was small when I first moved here, but working on the case, not to mention the constant relocating, a lot has been added to my kit. I'm careful to pack up evidence and test results separately, making sure to leave the important ones behind while taking the ones I can with me. it takes up until nightfall to finish that part of the organising. By then I'm on my second round of laundry, the fresh dried clothes piled untidily on the end of my bed. I start with packing those first, taking my time with the clothes in heavy contemplation. It's in this very state that someone interrupts me by knocking on the door. I drop my clothes, walking normally to the door. As my hand reaches to open it, I sense the growing sinister presence, deducing that Light Yagami waits behind the door. I don't bother feigning surprise or wearing a look of expectation when I open the door and see that I'm right. One look past my open door is all he needs to grunt in frustration. 'You're still going back?'

I roll my eyes, leaving the door open so that he can come in. perhaps hearing his either truthful or fake anger at my leaving will serve as a good distraction.

'Frejda, you can't be serious, you can't go back now, we need you.'

'And why is that?' I sigh, exasperated.

'The Task Force isn't the same without Ryuzaki! We're all the world has left and that's stressful enough. Furthermore, we are the only six who are aware of what really happened to Ryuzaki, not to mention the Notebook. We agreed to stay together.'

'You agreed,' I correct, 'I said and did nothing.'

'Sure, you just bled.'

I glare at him.

'I saw the blood on the keyboard. I came to check that you were okay when you were gone too long.'

'Or were you really wondering if I'd gone and shared everything I knew?'

'What?'

'That's the real reason you don't want me to go isn't it? You're just afraid that I'll share everything.'

'Shouldn't I have the right to suspect that? And besides, that's the least of my concerns. I know you too well to be worried about leaking information. No. I just, I can't have the Task Force lose another member. Especially not now!'

'My leaving will not be different from when Mr Aizawa decided to leave, Light. They already have you for a genius so you're all going to fine without me.'

Light's lips fold in anger before he releases an aggravated groan. 'Damn it, Frejda! Don't make this more difficult than it is already.'

'How in the Saints am I making this difficult? You're just—'

'Frejda, I'm the one who can't lose you now!'

That catches me off guard. 'What—what are you talking about?'

'Don't you get it? You're my connection to him. To Ryuzaki. If I lose you too then I'll have lost both of you. And our team, you, me and Ryuzaki,' he comes closer, placing his hands on my shoulders, 'you led us to places we couldn't have thought of on the spot. This case, it cannot on without you.'

'Well, it'll have to. You can go on without me. I told you all several times that this day would come, and unlike what we've been through in the last week, this was something you could, no, should have prepared for. Saints, Light! This doesn't have to be so bloody melodramatic!'

'Please,' he begs, pulling me closer, 'please, don't go!'

And then the final surprise: his lips press against mine.

The acceleration of my heartbeat and my widened shocked eyes are petty in comparison to the realisation that dawns. Light doesn't want me to stay here, he needs me to stay here. It's more than just his bogus speech about being an asset to the team, being an important connection between him and Ryuzaki. Something else feeds his desire to have me stay although I cannot deduce what it is.

Perhaps that's why I let him kiss me, let his blood-stained hands grab hold of my body to pull it closer; why I allow my hands to respond to the rush of air by wrapping them around his neck. We want something of each other: secrets, powers, the desire to see this to the end and be the winner. It's why I let him push me against the couch, why I allow his lips to travel between my lips and my neck, in a desperate attempt to pull out the core of each other's being. No clothes shed, our hands do not travel below the upper part of the back, his lips do not go lower than my neck. We lock ourselves in this, salvaging anything we can find on each other. Our hands clench each other's shirts, pushing the buttons that we hope will open the secret compartment. Our bodies press against each other, feeling the pressure to open the veil.

All too soon, disappointed, tired breaths escape our lips as Lights' head rests against my chest. Neither of us lets go of the other, not out of the hunt that failed but as if we hold on to him, to L. Light's right. The only close connection we have to L is through each other; and already, I can sense the destructive force coming our way, like a tsunami wave, swallowing everything in its path. I don't get up to resume my packing tonight.

Three days later, I say my good byes to the Task Force members. Mr Aizawa and Mr Mogi keep their formalities to the shaking of the hand, which I respect considering I didn't really get too close with either of them. Chief Yagami, warmer, gives me a side parental hug. 'Take care of yourself, Frejda. And thank you for everything.'

'You're welcome. And you too, Chief, make sure you stay healthy. Give my greetings to Mrs Yagami and Sayu.'

He's surprised I remember them, with the widening of his eyes. 'Sure. Of course.'

'Oh, Frejda!' Mr Matsuda engulfs me in a tight hug. 'I wish you didn't have to go back.'

'O—okay!' I hug him back, 'I'll miss you too Mr Matsuda. Don't you ever change, you hear?'

'Yes ma'am.'

'Good man.'

'Let the girl breathe, Matsuda,' Light chuckles.

'Oh, right,' he says letting me go.

'I'm gonna miss all of you. Watch out for yourselves, yeah?'

'Will do,' Mr Aizawa nods. 'You too.'

'Let's go,' the cab driver calls, 'I don't have all day.'

'Oy,' I sigh.

The Task Force members leave, except for Light, who gives me a glare. I would have returned it if not for that invading embrace he gives, a tight pull to his chest. I burry my head in it, hugging him back tightly, allowing him to leave his entire scent and being on me as L did. Even if I know the truth, I cannot deny the connection I've made with him. We release each other from our holds and I walk backwards to the cab, keeping my eyes on Light the entire time. Even as I get in and the cab drives away, I don't take my eyes off him until he's disappeared into Tokyo. What's left of him on my body suddenly goes from warm to cold, though it never leaves me, staining me like I'm stuck to a world of eternal winter. Whatever this was, it was no good-bye.

Light,

Kira—

I swear—

I will find you again and I will kill you.