Death Note 1. Loss

Inspiration (or rather, the plot bunny) for this story came from Nilahxapiel. I'm just taking her plot idea and running amok with it. If you're curious how to adopt your very own bunny, see the Plot Bunny Exchange link on her profile or the address on mine. Enjoy!

Spoiler warning - Since this is post-series, it goes without saying that the end is going to be ruined for you if you read this.

* * *

Unexpected

Loss

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When Yagami Sachiko opened the door for Matsuda Touta on February 1st, 2010, only a few days after the incident at the Yellow Box Warehouse, it was a different woman altogether than the one he was accustomed to meeting.

He had spent plenty of time with Sachiko in the past at their home inside the city limits, accompanied by either Light or Soichiro. She was a cheerful and domestically gifted wife, for her dinners were wonderful and she occasionally sent cookies, _daifuku_, or other treats with Soichiro to share with his colleagues. She had inadvertently made parts of the Kira Investigation more bearable by providing even a tiny bit of homemade comfort to an otherwise deadly serious investigation.

The woman that answered the door at the relatively new home in the country was tired and unhappy. She didn't even greet him, merely opening the door and waiting for him to speak. She wasn't impatient or impolite, just… weary, as though she didn't care about who or what was at the door and only answered out of habit. There were lines around her mouth that he would swear had not been there before, and her eyes were red and sunken, as though she had not slept in days.

In short, it looked as though all the joy had fled from her life. Light's death, following on the heels of Soichiro's own, had broken Sachiko. Matsuda knew she had no one right now since even her daughter Sayu was still catatonic, unresponsive to questions even if her eyes were open.

Matsuda swallowed and held out what he had come to deliver. He had volunteered to do this, for he was the one that had helped kill someone this woman held very dear even if his shots had not ultimately delivered the killing blow.

"Yagami-san, the department sent this," he held out a small basket of lilies and roses with a card attached, "as condolences. We are all very sorry for your loss." The words sounded so hollow and pathetic even though he'd rehearsed them in the car on the way over. He felt terrible for even bringing this, for something similar had been done for Soichiro back in November. Sending flowers and taking up a collection for the family of a policeman that had been killed was standard, but to do so when she had so recently suffered the same loss seemed insulting. Even though Light had been a murderer, concealing this fact from his remaining family had become paramount, and they could not refuse to do the same thing for him that they had done for Soichiro. If she had even the slightest hint about the true nature of her son's death… none of them wanted to contemplate that.

She stared at it for a time almost incomprehensibly, her eyes slightly out of focus. He broke with the rehearsed nonsense and couldn't keep from saying more in a rush, desperate to somehow wipe that dead look off her face.

"I know this doesn't make up for Light's loss, but we wanted you to know that you aren't alone. If there's any—"

"How would you know anything?" Her subdued voice interrupted, her eyes slowly focusing on him. "Have you ever lost a child? Have you lost a wife and your oldest child to the same case in 3 months?"

She waited, staring at him with those dead eyes, so Matsuda finally said, "No." He felt ashamed. "We just wanted you to know, if there's anything we can do for you please don't hesitate to call."

"Can you raise the dead?" Another remorseful shake of his head as she waited expectantly. "Then there's nothing I want from you." She started to close the door.

"Yagami-san, please take this!" he said, holding out the meager gift. "If nothing else, give the flowers to your daughter." This was not how it was supposed to happen, even if he had expected little else given what had happened to her.

"Don't get any ideas, _Matsuda_." His name sounded like a curse. "I recall how you acted around her, but she doesn't remember you, so give up whatever fantasies you have about her." Even with such cruel words, her voice never betrayed anger, except when she'd said his name.

"Don't any of you _ever_ come out here again." She took the basket and shut the door before Matsuda could protest. He stood there for several moments, his hand outstretched as if he was still holding the flowers, frozen in place from the horror of the situation.

He turned woodenly, heading back down the sidewalk to his car, the beauty of the sun-dappled trees lost on him. Then he was in his car, turning the key in the ignition and hurrying away from something that was sure to haunt him for years to come.

* * *

"Aizawa, I won't be back at work today." Matsuda had his forehead in his hand and the other holding his cell phone to his ear, both elbows on the bar before him. "I need some time off, just the rest of today."

"I don't think any of us expected you to come back." Aizawa Shuichi's voice sounded remorseful on the other end. "I'll take care of your time off. Is she alright?"

"She blames us for all of it." Matsuda ran his fingers through his hair and went back to pressing both tightly closed eyes into his palm. If he didn't keep them shut, he was bound to start crying, as shameful as it was. He'd been a wreck since the moment he knew Light had strung them along the entire time, but this was the closest he'd come to breaking down. Seeing the devastation Light had left behind on his mother's face was going to undo him. "She doesn't want anyone from the department to come out there ever again."

"Did she- does she need anything?" Even Aizawa sounded doubtful, but he knew the older man was asking out of a sense of duty.

"Yeah," his voice was getting shaky. "She wants her family back. I have to go." He snapped the phone shut before his wavering voice could completely betray him. Instead he picked up the glass that was only inches from his elbow and downed the entire glass of scotch, breathing hard at the burn in his throat as he set it down. It took the focus away from his tears, if nothing else, and now his wavering voice was entirely justified.

"Another, please," he told the bartender hoarsely, who nodded at his request. He put both hands to his temples, squeezing hard and massaging to ward off his growing headache, his cell phone lying forgotten next to his empty glass. He didn't want to speak to anyone else until he had his head back on straight, which wasn't likely to happen if he kept drinking, middle of the day or not. He really didn't care if he looked ridiculous to the patrons of the restaurant as long as he could keep from thinking about Sachiko's face and her comment about Sayu's continued unresponsiveness.

Sachiko and Sayu were innocent bystanders caught up in this whole mess. Light had died by his shinigami's treacherous hand, and his father had died in the line of duty while trying to discover Kira's identity, but the two women had done nothing to deserve this kind of tragedy. Sayu had been kidnapped and even taken out of the country, and as far as he knew, she had said nothing since her return from that ordeal. Sachiko surely felt like she was the only one left alive, and Matsuda had gone to comfort her with hands still wet with her son's blood.

He wished he'd never joined the NPA, never been assigned to the Kira task force, and never agreed to stay on with L when he asked them to do so. He would never have met Soichiro, never started to idolize this man's maturity and coolheadedness when it came to everything but his precious family. He would never have admired Light's genius and masterful scheming and unknowingly praised Kira's intelligence as well.

Most of all, without being in the task force, he would never know the real truth behind the Kira killings and would never be forced to harbor the secrets that he did. They were going to eat away at him until he died, festering like an infected wound that would never heal. Perhaps it was a good thing that Sachiko had told them to never come back, for every time her face swam before his mind's eye, he wanted to beg forgiveness for trying to kill her son for being Kira.

"I'm sorry, Sachiko," he whispered, daring to use her first name even if she wasn't there. "I'm sorry, Sayu, for everything."

The bartender set down his next drink with a dull clunk of heavy glass against wood. He stared at the glass, thinking that it would never be enough.

* * *

It was like waking from a thousand dreams, a thousand nightmares, and never knowing if she was truly awake. There was that still quiet between sleeping and waking, that serene place where thoughts couldn't reach and there was only fuzzy sensation, and she was suspended there. She drifted in and out of dreams, the images and sounds playing like a movie that she didn't have to pay attention to if she didn't want to. The movies could have been fantasy or scraps of memory so disjointed that she could make no sense of them; everything had an unreal quality to it.

Months could have passed by, years, and she wouldn't know it. Time had no meaning here, and she ignored even the concept of it, only occasionally taking note of the images that flashed by, whether her eyes saw them or her mind created them.

Some people showed up in these movies more often than others. An older woman with dark hair and streaks of gray, a young sandy-haired man with a ready smile, a man with salt and pepper hair and a mustache, policemen in uniform, white-garbed doctors. She looked at them, unsure if they were real or imaginary, her mouth closed either way for she had nothing to say to any of them. Sometimes she had glimpses of food, a house in the country surrounded by greenery, flowers, alien landscapes with barren rocky desert, a prison cell. No memory or image was any more significant than another; it was all the same to her. Sometimes there was a woman's voice in the background, like a narrator for her nonsensical movies. It sounded familiar, but she couldn't make out the words and had no desire to decipher them.

It was no surprise that when she opened her eyes that day, the world was still unreal, for she had no idea where she was or even how she had gotten there. If it was another dream, it was at least consistent; nothing changed shape or color in the time it took for her to look around the room. It was large and full of windows and sunlight, which she had to close her eyes against for the brightness stung a little. When she tentatively opened them back up, more details of the room became clear. Almost everything was white, the doors on the closet, the dresser, even the wicker nightstand beside the bed. The bed itself was a riot of color, though, for the comforter was a flower pattern in vivid scarlet, yellow, and orange hues. Her hands were folded in her lap, and she was reclined slightly against pillows, as though propped up in order to look out the bay window before her. It looked out onto a garden that was bright with spring blooms, spots of blue, red, and purple standing out against a striking green.

The room was warm, and she used those pale hands before her to push the comforter away slightly, for the heat was making her uncomfortable. Her eyes fell upon another nightstand on the other side of the bed. This one had flowers atop it, a small pot of tea roses with a plastic spear that held a card in it. She reached out a hand to it, and her arm felt like lead weights. The motion of reaching out was weak and jerky rather than smooth as she expected. If this was still a dream, it was quite realistic.

She leaned, and the basket of flowers was finally in her weak grasp. She hooked a finger around the basket's handle and pulled it toward her. It fell on its side atop the comforter, so she straightened it, her fingers resting on the butter soft petals before picking up the card. Her hands felt clumsy, as though they were someone else's and she couldn't figure out how to use them. The envelope was unopened, but she was still curious what it was, so shaking fingers tore it open after dropping it several times. Several thousand yen worth of notes fell out into her lap as she pulled the card out, but she ignored that puzzle and read the card.

_Yagami Sachiko and Sayu, we at the NPA are deeply sorry for the recent loss of your son in the line of duty, as well as your husband. Know that they both did their duty as police officers and died as heroes. Please let us know if there is anything at all that we can do for you._

There were several names signed on the card as well as phone numbers, but none of it made any sense to her. Not even the names were familiar.

She closed the card and let it fall to her lap. Even so little activity had exhausted her, and now that she had accomplished the goal of finding out what the flowers were, there was nothing more to keep her awake, so she drifted off again into disorganized dreams and memories.

* * *

Sachiko nearly dropped the tray she was carrying when she came into Sayu's room for the third time that day. It was too much work most days to get her out of bed for meals as well as a stroll in her wheelchair in the garden, so she had taken to bringing the food to her room. Every day thus far had been the same; Sayu's empty eyes would not acknowledge her if they were open, or they would be closed in a slumber that made her look dead. She never moved or rolled over, always staying in whatever position she left Sayu in. It was disturbing, for not only were her husband and son dead, but her daughter seemed it as well, caught somewhere between life and death and always reminding Sachiko of her presence, whereas _sometimes_ gardening distracted her enough to forget that the men in her life were gone. Sayu was always there, though, and it was breaking her heart even more to tend her every day but see no signs that the girl was alive.

Today, though, there was something different. Sayu was sleeping with her head to the side, which was different enough, but there were yen scattered across her lap and a note in her hand. As she circled the bed, she saw the basket of flowers that Matsuda had brought months ago leaning on its side beside her, spilling a small amount of dirt on the bedspread. The cut lilies were long dead, but she had continued watering the roses so there would be more life in this room. Sayu had apparently dragged the basket to her and opened the card that Sachiko had not cared to open, for it surely contained little more than empty words.

Suddenly fearful, she set the tray down and pulled the note from her daughter's limp grasp, her eyes scanning the words before going back to Sayu's face. She didn't look upset, but that didn't mean she didn't understand what the card had said. She crumpled it in her hand and jammed it in her pocket, sitting on the bed after righting the flowers and putting them back on the nightstand.

"Sayu? Sweetheart, wake up," she smoothed a lock of hair back from her face, hoping to see those chestnut brown eyes flicker awake and look at her rather than off into space, but nothing happened. She waited long minutes, continuing to talk softly to her, telling her of the garden and her plans to expand it, letting her know about the latest books she had read and what she thought of the characters. She didn't watch the news anymore, and she'd stopped talking to the other women whose spouses were in the NPA, so she had little to relate as far as current events. Her old life had fallen apart, and she was working to build a new one devoid of things that reminded her of her former life.

Sayu didn't respond verbally even though her eyes did eventually open, the irises flat and mud-colored with no life in them. Sachiko got her to sit back up and put the spoon in her hand and the tray before her. Most of the time, Sayu would feed herself, but sometimes Sachiko needed to guide her through the motions a few times before she started. It was a mechanical process devoid of life, for Sayu would stare at nothing while she ate, sometimes scraping the bottom of the bowl several times and lifting the empty spoon to her mouth, unaware that the food was gone but continuing to go through the motions until Sachiko stopped her.

Sometimes, only sometimes, she wished her daughter had died as well, for the lifeless doll left behind had no humanity left in her, and it was only making them both suffer for her to stay like this. Upon realizing what she'd thought, she would usually flee the house and work furiously at the garden, even if it was pouring rain, for what kind of mother could think such a thing? Even if she'd lost the Light of her life, her wonderful son, and no longer had her hardworking husband in the home, she could not ignore the fact that she still had a daughter. The hard work was penance, and she would stay out there until the dark wouldn't let her see anymore and her thoughts stopped playing like a broken record in her head.

Then she would go back inside and stay with her daughter, one dirt-stained hand holding Sayu's and the other holding her book open as she read to her. The doctors said that she could come truly awake at any time, and she could probably hear what was going on around her, so Sachiko kept her company, hoping that someday she would see those eyes looking back at her.

Today was a step forward, even if she had only seen the evidence of it. For a few minutes, Sayu had been awake, even if she didn't know what was going on. It was a good reason to step up her vigilance, for perhaps if Sayu returned, her life could return to some semblance of normal, even if it was nothing more than a façade.

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It was the bright room again, but it must be early morning, for the sunlight was rosy and weaker in comparison to the last time. She tried to stretch, for her limbs felt dead and unresponsive to her. There was no money in her lap now, and the flower pot was back on the nightstand where she had found it before. There was a new basket on the other stand, one full of fresh cut flowers that looked like the ones she could normally see outside the window. She held out a hand weakly and cupped an orchid, running a finger along the petals. Breathing deeply, she found she could smell the flowers, their mingled scent perfuming the air with a soft sweetness. It made her smile even though the muscles found the motion foreign to them.

Her eyes focused on the new shapes in the room and found that there was a woman in the doorway this time as well, the one with the gray-streaked hair from her dreams. She wasn't moving, a look of surprise and shock on her face. There was something she was supposed to say, something that she was supposed to greet people with. She felt her brow furrow as she thought before it came to her.

Smiling a little, she lifted one hand weakly and whispered in a voice rusty with disuse, "Hi." The woman started crying, and that made about as much sense as anything else in her dreams, so she looked back out the window and went back to sleep.

Many more times she came awake with the feeling that it wasn't a dream anymore. Sometimes it was day and the woman was there, and she would speak to her for long periods of time. Her voice was soothing even if the words were incomprehensible, but as the vision or wakefulness kept returning, she found that she wanted to know what was being said and started to focus on the sounds, her eyes usually on the woman's face. One word kept surfacing over and over, "Sayu". She thought it was probably her name, for something about it seemed more familiar than the other sounds the woman used.

One day, she finally thought to ask the question. Before, she had simply listened to the woman, never thinking that she should or needed to respond in some way. Opening her mouth made the woman fall silent, so it was in a quiet room that her voice, which was much harder to use than her hands and arms, asked, "Am _I_ Sayu?"

The woman nodded, a tear slipping out of her eye. "Yes, dear, that's your name. Do you know what I'm saying?"

She nodded, finding that speaking had made the woman's words clear now, their meaning finally understood. "I understand you. What's your name?"

"I'm Sachiko. I'm your mother." Sayu, for she now knew that was her name, smiled a little as her hand clasped Sachiko's, and the woman's tired-looking face broke into a smile as well.

"Hello, Mother."

That was all she said that day, but each time she woke after that, it became easier to speak, to converse. Some of her visions and dreams started to solidify into memories, and she asked Sachiko about new ones each day, trying to confirm which ones were real and which were false.

She started to see new people, for her mother took her to physical therapy so she could start walking again, as well as re-learn how to write and use a keyboard. One day she asked on the way to the doctor's how long she had been asleep, and her mother waited a long time before she answered.

"It's June 3rd, 2010. You've been asleep since mid-October. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I don't know. It's still really fuzzy." There was no other word for it. There were memories of homework and junior high school and childhood friends so closely intermingled with college and learning to drive and finding a part-time job that she couldn't tell which were more recent.

"Don't worry about it, then. It'll come back to you in time." Her mother turned her attention back to the road. "Just focus on walking and writing again."

Her mother never seemed taken aback by what was surely a lot of unexpected questions about memories, taking them all in stride and answering them with infinite patience. Sayu couldn't anticipate when they would surface, so as soon as she recalled something new, she would check it against her mother for veracity.

It should have occurred to her long ago to ask, but one day a few weeks after she started speaking and she was sitting at the dinner table with her mother, she noticed that not once had her mother set the table for two more people.

"Mom, are Light and Dad coming back anytime soon from headquarters?" Her mother didn't say anything, so Sayu kept seasoning her food and arranging it to her liking. "I mean, they've been gone for months and months if it's almost July now." Now the silence was oppressive, and she looked up to see that her mother was sitting motionless, her chopsticks still in her mouth and her eyes intensely focused on her bowl of rice.

"Mom?" she asked, her heart rate picking up slightly. "Mom, what did I say?"

"Sayu…" she trailed off, putting her chopsticks down but not looking at her still. "They're not coming back." She put a hand to her mouth, probably to hide the grimace that formed there.

"No." Sayu shook her head, dreading what was coming. She could see it building like a storm cloud that she couldn't run away from.

"They… they were both killed while you were asleep." Sachiko held a hand to her mouth, and it looked like she was biting down on her fingers to keep from crying. "I don't know how else to tell you."

Sayu felt her face fall slowly, her eyes staring at her own plate. It was an eternity before she mumbled "Excuse me" and pushed her chair back slowly, as if shoving it back would break some fragile tension in the room. Her mother didn't stop her as she left the dining room, heading right out the front door wearing only her house shoes. It was late afternoon, and the air was getting warm with summer heat, but she couldn't feel it. Her skin prickled as though it was freezing out.

She didn't know where she was going, but she wanted to keep moving. Her thoughts ran in frantic circles as she berated herself mentally for being so stupid. There should have been some sign, something she should have noticed that would have let her know they were alone now. There were only their shoes by the door, only their coats in the winter closet. None of her father's things were in Sachiko's bedroom, and none of Light's awards were on display in the living room. Was she blind?

Like shutting off the tap of those memories, she let her mind go blank and just focused on the pebbles under her thin-soled shoes and the play of shadow on the road through the leaves in the trees. She could think about… _that_… later. Right now her mother was upset. She would go back to her in a few minutes. Her mother shouldn't have to deal with this alone.

Later, she'd think about it all later. She had to, or she'd go right back to being catatonic, dead to the world and hiding in her dreams untouched by reality. Right now she needed to be with someone, not standing alone in the road with the knowledge that her brother and her father were dead, and that she hadn't even been awake in their last moments.

With a heavy heart, she turned back to the house, forcing the thoughts away until she could deal with them later. She would go to the gravesites tomorrow and think about this whole horrible nightmare then.

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A/N - First off, to the faithful readers of my other stories, I have not abandoned them! I just needed a brief respite from all the angst. As you can see, however, I failed in this chapter, and it doesn't get any better next chapter. I actually ended the chapter here just because any more sadness would have been unbearable, and there's nothing positive to put in there.

I'm really trying to turn over a new leaf by writing stories that do _not_ center around angst and death, and this is far outside my comfort zone. You'll see what I mean in upcoming chapters. This plot bunny I'm working on not only involves characters I used to hate but also story elements I'm completely unfamiliar with, but why write if I'm not trying to improve?

If you made it through my lengthy exposition, yay! Thanks for reading!


	2. Hatred and Delusion

Hatred and Delusion

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Two weeks later, it still didn't feel real to Sayu. The day was gray, the overcast skies reflecting her melancholy rather than raging with thunder and pounding rain from her sorrow. Her father and brother's names were inscribed unmistakably on the marker in the cemetery, but she didn't feel any more upset than she had the other times that she visited. She felt terrible for trying to conjure the tears, but there weren't any. There was just a hollow, a cold dead place inside her. Perhaps she had made a mistake earlier in trying to block it out, but it was too late now to fix it.

Instead of mourning, she hated.

She hated the monster that had shot at her while completely defenseless just to prove a point. She hated the man who had masterminded the scheme and forced her father to give up a murder weapon to criminals. She hated Kira for keeping her family away from home so much and taking them away forever without giving her a chance to say goodbye.

Most of all, she hated herself. She wrapped her arms tighter around her knees and stared hard at the marker, feeling the familiar emotions rising to the surface.

She despised how weak she had been to allow herself to be kidnapped. The strong, independent young woman she thought she had been was powerless to keep herself from being used as a pawn in games that threatened the entire world. Nothing she was, nothing she did mattered when her weakness destroyed her father's career and his reputation. She remembered seeing the defeat on his face when he gave up everything he'd worked for as long as she'd been alive to protect himself and his family, all of it against his will. Criminals had forced his hand by using her as bait, knowing he would put her before his own life.

And Light, what had happened to him? He was so deeply entrenched in the Kira case that the last time she had seen him was when he and Misa were at the house together to visit. What had she said to him? Some juvenile admonishment that he should get married now that he had a career? Were those really the last things she had said to him?

The world around her was going mad, divided between supporting a faceless mass murderer and hiding in fear of his wrath, her own family members embroiled in this mess by being part of the small faction fighting to uncover Kira, and what had she been doing? Shopping for clothes with friends, hoping that she would have enough savings from her part-time job to buy concert tickets, and wishing that Light wasn't so busy so he could help her with evil Calculus. She was living in a bubble with her similarly vapid friends, trying to keep on living a normal life while ignoring the goings-on in the world.

When reality intruded in her happy little world, it took her confidence in herself, her father's job, their home in the suburbs, and eventually her father and brother's lives, leaving her this broken wreck.

She knew why she'd gone catatonic. The evil, horrible world outside had shattered her illusions that life was still mostly safe and pleasant, and she had been the catalyst that started her family's downfall. She couldn't live with the shame. It had been killing her to see her father's face so broken, and she hid from it. She didn't want to speak to anyone, for anything that came out of her mouth would only betray how utterly naïve she had been and still was. The only fool in a family of geniuses, she was the only one still deluding herself that life would return to normal someday.

Days of hiding, mute in her shame, had let her escape it all, able to block out all the bad memories and just live in her dreams, ignoring anything else that happened. Her dreams were safer than the world outside, and maybe she was weak, but there it didn't matter.

Now that she was awake, Sayu was lost. What life was there to return to now? There were no pieces of her former life left to pick up, all of it crushed into dust that ran through her fingers.

What good was going back to college? She couldn't go back there after so long an absence and face the same shallow people, the same friends who were more concerned about shoes and gossip than the worldwide catastrophe going on around them. Her degree hadn't even been decided, for she had been getting all of her required courses out of the way while she tried to decide what she wanted to do the rest of her life.

She didn't want to go back to studying if she didn't know what she was doing, and any work she got at this point would be waitressing, retail, or other unskilled manual labor jobs, nothing that she could do the rest of her life. True, in comparison to Light she was an idiot, but she needed more mental stimulation than dead-end jobs could offer her. There had to be something she could do, for she and her mother couldn't live forever on life insurance money. She was still young, too young to be a drain on her mother. Too young to be so useless.

Her thoughts were running in circles. It was time to go.

She stood up, pushing most of her weight onto her cane as she rose, and rested a hand briefly on Light and Soichiro's names, waiting to be overtaken by a wave of sorrow and feeling disappointed when all she felt was cold stone.

She had another appointment that afternoon to continue her therapy, so she should get going. Walking was getting easier everyday even if it was painful, for her muscles had atrophied from disuse and were reluctant to be used again. At least she only needed a cane to support herself now; it had been mortifying to be wheeled in and out of the clinic like an invalid, and she had kept a hand over her eyes because she didn't want anyone she knew to recognize her. Writing had been much more frustrating. The finer muscle control had abandoned her during her slumber, and she was horrified to find that her beautiful kanji had become similar to that of a child's. She was 20 years old, not some grade schooler, and it was embarrassing.

Another thing that was embarrassing was how much of a wreck she looked, in addition to how bad she felt. Sayu didn't like the girl in the mirror. Her skin was pale from minimal exposure to the sun, and her bones were far more pronounced in her face and hands because of all the weight she had lost. None of her clothes fit, hanging off her bony frame even though she had been thin to begin with. Her hair was lank and hadn't been trimmed in months.

She sighed as the trivial concerns surfaced while she crossed under the arch at the cemetery's entrance. It seemed that she was still doomed to be plagued by these inconsequential thoughts despite her shame at feeling them.

As she stood waiting for the bus in an unusual lull in traffic, the wind picking up stray leaves and wilted petals and scattering them across the road, she felt empty. She was one of the flowers chasing the dead leaves across the sidewalk, one more pretty petal amongst so many others as she fell from the branches, only to wither and die, cut off from her source of life before being crushed underfoot.

Who was she anymore?

* * *

After dinner that night, Sayu had an idea what she wanted to do the next day.

"Mom, where are Light and Dad's things?" Sayu wasn't sure herself exactly why she wanted to see them, but maybe their deaths would seem more real then. After all, they had been home so little near the end that right now didn't seem that different from her memories of the time before she had been kidnapped.

"Your father's are in the attic or the small shed in the backyard. He was living here before… he passed on." Sachiko stood and went to the entryway, taking down a small key ring from the row of hooks inside the front door.

"This key will open the shed, and this one is to the storage building that Light's personal effects are in." There was a strange look on her face when she said that.

"Misa… Misa didn't object to us having his things?" She was surprised that the actress wouldn't want to keep them around since she had been living with Light so long. She probably was as upset as they were at his death.

"_Amane-san _had no say in the matter because she isn't family, not Light's and certainly not ours." Her mother's voice was utterly cold, and Sayu decided not to ask any more about that. She might not be as intuitive as the men in her family, but she knew displaced anger when she saw it.

Maybe she should visit Misa, if she was still in Japan. Last Sayu remembered, she had been about to star in a Hollywood movie, so she might be in the United States now. Then again, it had been so long since she'd seen her, and so much had happened that Misa might not even want to see her. They had been friends once…. once upon a time, before her fairytale had crumbled around her.

She left after breakfast the next morning for the storage units where Light's things were kept. It wasn't a long bus ride, but it was far enough away that she would probably stop for lunch before heading back home. It made her feel more real to be surrounded by people rather than being at home, which was so quiet in comparison to how living in the suburbs was. She didn't dislike the peace or the spacious backyard and gardens, but she had grown up where she could hear the rumble of the train in the tiny backyard and see people almost everywhere she looked. It made her feel more lonely to be at home now.

She was surprised when she opened the narrow storage unit to find only neatly packed boxes sealed carefully with tape. None of them were open, as though her mother had packed them away or paid someone to do it and not touched them since. When she found the rolls of tape sitting atop an invoice in the corner, she guessed that the latter was correct.

Despite the fact that the space seemed full, it was deceptively small; there was very little here, probably only clothes and books. Her brother had never been very sentimental, only keeping useful things around and having a very utilitarian room. It was Misa that had been the romantic, filling their apartment with flowers and posters and knickknacks. Sayu had enjoyed visiting her there on the few occasions that Misa's schedule allowed it, even if Light had almost always been elsewhere, working hard on a case.

Sayu pulled her house keys out of her pocket and pulled down the first box. Her mother had never said that she couldn't open the boxes, and surely she expected her to do that rather than just staring at them. Using the keys to cut through the tape, she started going through the impersonal boxes in search of her brother.

Box after box had clothes folded carefully inside plastic bags, surely still fresh from the drycleaners. She held a few of the shirts to her nose, but there was no smell of Light's cologne, only the faint odor of starch. He had always looked so handsome in these. She glanced through the boxes of clothes briefly, more interested in seeing if his computer or any of his books or photos were in here.

She hadn't realized her brother was such a clothes horse when all but four boxes held suits and shoes. It made her smile a little when she finally opened two containers that held books. These volumes were all coursework related to his degree in Criminal Justice with a minor in Intelligence. There were textbooks and some nonfiction probably bought from the bookstore, nothing personal.

At this point, she knew what she was trying to find. Her brother had been so driven, so serious about his work, that he had seemed inhuman. Seemingly petty things like emotions hadn't seemed a part of him. What she was trying to find was some remnant of the boy he had been, even if he _had_ been overly mature for his age. Where were the photos, the jewelry that Misa gave him even if he never wore it, the watch he'd gotten when he graduated, the few things that weren't strictly useful? Where was her _brother_ amidst all of these things belonging to a police detective?

The second to the last box was small and only held a box of cologne and a few photos of him that had been taken by their parents, framed for him to take to his apartment. There were so few pictures of him taken in those last few years, with him not living at home anymore, and these were like a treasure. She lifted the cologne out of its protective box and sprayed it in the stale air inside the storage unit, and the familiar smell made her smile before she started to take out the photographs.

Here he was graduating from To-Oh University, looking so sharp in that pinstripe suit he'd gotten just for the occasion. This one showed him at their family celebration afterward, and he had a rare, genuine smile as he opened what was probably the cologne inside this box. This must be his first day at work, taken by their father as Light flashed his badge at the camera. Here he was at Sayu's last birthday party. She'd surprised him by leaping at him as the picture was taken and hugging him from behind, and his laughing face was priceless while hers was slightly goofy with her hair streaming behind her like that. It was the only picture she had seen of him laughing…

It vanished as her vision blurred suddenly, and she held the picture to her forehead where the tears wouldn't ruin it as she started sobbing. There wasn't anyone to hear her inside this tiny space with the door shut, and she wept, feeling so horribly alone.

She wasn't ever going to see his face again, after all.

* * *

Sayu didn't know how long she sat like that, but her handkerchief was a sodden mess when the tears finally stopped falling, though her breath would still catch as she set the precious pictures down. Since they were the only thing inside that small box, aside from the cologne, she put them back inside and set it near the door, having no intention of leaving them there.

Her throat still hurt when she opened the last box, and this one was full of his awards. Commendations for his test scores in high school and his outstanding progress in university, plaques commemorating his induction into the police ranks, titles and positions he had won all throughout his high school and college life. Even his police badge and identification were in here, somehow. She didn't question why as she took that out as well and put it in the box by the door.

Fortunately, that was the end of it, for her nerves couldn't take any more after that. She taped the boxes back up mechanically, swallowing away the remnants of the tears and wiping her face with the sleeve of her denim jacket since her handkerchief was still too wet. Hopefully there had been enough time for her face to stop being so red, and it didn't feel hot anymore.

Sayu left the storage building with the box clutched in one arm, unwilling to leave it behind even if it threw her off-balance when she was using her cane to support herself. She needed to get lunch and stop thinking about everything for a few minutes.

The only place nearby that she could go was a small bakery. She couldn't walk far with ease yet, so her options were limited unless she wanted to take a bus or the train elsewhere, and she only had so much cash in her wallet. In the end, her newfound frugal nature decided that the bakery would do. In the past, she had used the money from her part-time job to buy clothes and movie tickets and whatever else she wanted since her parents were paying for her college, but now, she felt like she was stealing from their savings to use it unnecessarily.

As she waited for her food, she paged through the numbers in her recently reactivated cell phone. Name after name she stared at, wondering what all of her old friends were up to but not really concerned. They seemed worlds away, after all. They were fading to just letters, their faces blurring together in her memory. There were so many names in here; girls from her classes, everyone from the newspaper club that she had joined on a whim, a few boys that she had known from high school that had tried to keep in touch before she made it clear she wouldn't date while in college. She didn't know why they were all still in here; maybe she had been unwilling to sever ties with anyone, no matter how trivial. Her parents had jokingly remarked that she had all the social genes in the family, for Light was about as detached as they came.

She thumbed 'Delete' on one name just to see if she felt bad for severing ties with one of the random names, and she didn't. Again and again, she made them go away, all the names connected with her past life. Her phone book dwindled to precious few names before she stopped. She kept Light's cell and work numbers there for she couldn't delete those, ever. Her father's remained as well as the number for the home they no longer had in the city. The only other person there besides her mother was Misa, and she looked at the number a long time before pressing 'Call' and holding the phone to her ear.

She didn't expect to get an answer, so when she heard Misa's bubbly voicemail, she tried to remember why she was calling.

"Um, Misa, it's Sayu, Yagami Sayu. I guess I was just wondering what you were up to and where you were. If you feel like calling back, I'd like to hear from you." She left her number and slid the phone shut.

After that, her food was placed in front of her, and she put the phone away, wondering if she would ever hear it ring again. She knew her mother had asked to move to the country for her sake, so it probably seemed to her friends as though she had disappeared, which wasn't a bad thing. She didn't ever want to say why she had dropped off the face of the earth, after all.

Despite the fact that she didn't really want to return home, she had no real reason for staying in the city after lunch, so she boarded the bus that would take her to the farthest stop from the city center before calling her mother to pick her up. It was odd to see her mother driving their car, for Soichiro had always done the driving if they went anywhere in it. It was one more unreal thing to get used to.

On the way home, she closed her eyes and leaned against the window, feeling drained from walking and from going through Light's things. Before the tears could come back, she just held the purse closer to her, wishing she had so much more than just a few photos.

That afternoon, she went through her father's things, and though there were a few more pictures, none of them recent, it was almost as impersonal as the search through Light's possessions had been. The two of them had been so dedicated to their work that little else remained of them after they were gone. Their whole lives had been tied up in the pursuit of justice, and as a result, her mother had taken every trace of the NPA out of the house and hidden it away in the attic or the shed, not wanting to see anything that reminded her of why her husband and son were dead.

Sayu couldn't blame her, though. Maybe Sachiko blamed Misa and the NPA and Kira for taking them away from her, but doing that let her still keep going through the motions of life. Who was Sayu to take her comfort away from her? So her mother didn't watch the news anymore and kept the television on daytime dramas or game shows or entertainment, so what? At least her mother didn't wander the city hoping to find her purpose again, as though it would fall out of the sky in front of her feet.

Sayu's routine consisted of visiting her family's grave markers, walking as far as she could before her legs and arms wanted to give out from exhaustion, and sitting in contemplation of the parks, the stores she used to visit, the malls, coffeeshops, anywhere that there were people. She felt lonely and tired and empty, and watching people helped her forget that.

She brought Light's photos and both his and Soichiro's badges into her room that night, placing the photos on top of the dresser and on the nightstands. They were tiny splashes of color in that white, white room, but she felt better with them there.

Her phone never rang with Misa's response, but she wasn't ready to give up hope yet. She left it on her bedside table with the badges, and they were the last thing she saw as she drifted asleep.

* * *

It was nearly a week before Misa called back, and Sayu was shocked at that point to hear her old ringtone jarring her out of her thoughts. The phone almost fell out of her hands as she yanked it out of her purse, dropping her cane to free up her hands as she stopped walking.

"Hello?" she said, her eyes widening in surprise, since at this point she assumed Misa wasn't going to call.

"Sayu-chan?" That voice sounded so hesitant that she wondered exactly who she was speaking to.

"This is Sayu."

"It's Misa." There was a pause that Sayu couldn't think of any words to fill. "I was doing a pretty intensive shoot, so my messages got a little backed up."

"I figured. You're always so busy." It was hanging there over their heads, the things neither of them were willing to talk about. "Where are you now?"

"I'm still in Paris. I should be back in Japan in a few weeks since we have a shoot in Italy after this."

"Are you still doing movies? Last I knew you were going to Hollywood."

"I quit the movie." There was another pause. "I'm just doing some modeling now. I don't really feel like acting."

"I'm sorry. Do you… do you want to get together when you get back?"

"I'd like that. I'll give you a call when I'm back in Japan, okay?"

"Sounds good. It was good to hear from you, Misa."

"You too, Sayu. Bye."

"Bye," she whispered before the line went dead. The woman on the other end of the call sounded as lifeless as she probably did.

* * *

Sayu sat on her bed later that week, using her laptop to peruse colleges so she could enroll before she wasted any more time in useless contemplation of her empty life. She didn't want to go back to her old school, but given that she didn't even know what she wanted to study, it was a fairly pointless activity that she was doing. She hadn't completed her third year of school since she dropped out after the kidnapping, but she did want a degree since that was almost always a ticket to a higher paying job. She needed to stay busy, to get on with living her life.

Without meaning to, she pulled up her knees and stared across the bed at the badges on her nightstand. They were all that was left of Light and Soichiro's legacy, the testament to their workaholic lives. Her father had been the head of the Kira investigation team; she had figured it out even if she couldn't tell anyone, and Light had joined even after Kira's "reign" had been established. They were both so courageous, putting their lives on the line to ensure that ordinary citizens were safe. Her father might have been part of the NPA long before Kira came along, but Light had known he could die and still joined, refusing to let fear stop him.

He was so brave. Why couldn't she be strong? Why was she always the weak one?

With thoughts like that to put her to sleep, when she woke the next morning, Sayu knew what she had to do.

-

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* * *

A/N - Believe it or not, I scrapped the draft of this chapter I wrote because there was _too much angst_! That's a first for me. This is also the first story I've done from a woman's perspective and it's so... different.

It is difficult to write about Sayu being so deluded about her brother's personality.


	3. New Purpose, New Direction

This chapter is dedicated to recipe for insanity, because not only is she a faithful and encouraging reviewer, she sent cyber-brownies for me and my overworked Muses. Thanks!

* * *

New Purpose, New Direction

-

-

_"What?!"_

Sayu waited, her hands behind her back as she rocked slightly back on her heels. She had waited until her mother was outside, kneeling in the garden and far from anything breakable, before she told her the decision she had come to that morning.

"I said I'm going to try to join the NPA." A smile formed on Sachiko's face in response, but the cocked eyebrow betrayed her disbelief. She shook her head as though Sayu had said she was running away to join a nudist colony, or something similarly outlandish. She opened her mouth to speak, set down the trowel she was using in the flowerbed, and looked to the side, as though the words she wanted would be found somewhere over there.

"Have you lost your mind?" Her eyes moved back to Sayu, who dropped her gaze in response. She knew she was never going to win this argument by being so meek, but it was incredibly difficult to do something that was going to upset her mother this much.

"No, Mom. I-"

"Then why would you say something like that?!" Sayu had never heard her mother raise her voice before, and she flinched unconsciously. "Did you forget how your father and brother died?"

"I have to do this."

"No, you don't." She raised a hand to silence Sayu when she started to object. "You don't have to throw your life away like they did."

"Listen to me," Sayu whispered, hoping that an even meeker plea would get her to at least stop interrupting her.

"I've heard enough. Now leave me be." Sachiko picked the trowel back up and attacked the weeds with renewed vengeance, the lines around her mouth tight with anger.

Sayu waited, debating her next words before turning and heading back into the house. The fact that she couldn't get through this time merely made her more determined to try again. Her mind was made up, after all, and she wanted her mother to understand and not condemn her for it.

She had woken that morning, her eyes alighting on the badges again, and she knew exactly what she was supposed to do. Light was not the only brave one in this family, and she would prove it. If he could risk his life along with her father, then so could she. She would take over where they had left off, picking up the reins and continuing the fight. No one would ever accuse the Yagami family of being cowards.

It was the most certain thing that she had felt since she woke up. What better way to make restitution for the problems she had caused months ago? It was her fault that her father had been manipulated, and she would do this to show him that he hadn't made the wrong decision in choosing her over the killer notebook. She had a multitude of sins to pay for, and a legacy to continue.

For better or worse, the decision was made, and now all she had to do was see it through to completion. That meant finishing her degree, probably one in Criminal Justice or another degree that would look good on an application to the NPA. She hadn't known her father's colleagues well enough to ask them for advice. She only knew Matsuda as well as … Aizawa? Was that his name? She didn't know their full names, though, and she wasn't about to walk up to the headquarters and ask for them.

Well, the Internet was as good a place as any to start looking, so she started looking for the actual application so she could find a college that would offer the degree she needed.

Sooner or later, Sachiko would be willing to listen, but Sayu was not going to waste time waiting for her. It would take another two years to finish her degree and however long it took to get hired. If she put the application in early enough…

As she lost herself in the details, she found that she had never felt better about a decision in her life, even smiling as she started taking notes. On top of giving her purpose, joining the NPA would make her feel even closer to them. It was a fitting testament to their lives, to continue the fight.

* * *

She still hadn't spoken to her mother again about joining the NPA several weeks later when Misa called. The other woman's voice was welcome even if she sounded different, and Sayu agreed to get coffee with her that afternoon. She was blissfully free of the cane and had no trouble being on her feet all day anymore, so she headed out early so she would have time to glance around the shopping district that the coffeeshop would be located in. Even though they didn't have the money to shop anymore, she still looked. She had finally gotten a haircut, so she felt more normal out in public with her long layers and a few textured pieces to frame her face.

It was still a few minutes until their meeting time, but she headed into the small shop and tried to find a table for them. Instead, she saw Misa already sitting there, stirring a cup of what looked like black coffee. She had let her bangs grow out and dyed her hair dark brown, but it had to be the former pop star and actress since her face was the same.

"Misa?" she asked as she stepped closer to the table. The older woman glanced up at her from her contemplation of the table surface, and it surprised Sayu to see how much had changed. The false eyelashes and dark makeup were gone, and even her jewelry was simple compared to her earlier displays of glamour.

"Hi, Sayu," Misa surprised her again by standing and hugging her in one smooth motion. They had been friends, but Misa was never big on hugs unless they were for publicity or to further wrap her managers around her finger. "I'm sorry for your loss."

The automatic words of condolences made Sayu swallow as she returned the hug; Misa's entire attitude was cultivated to make her always seem cheerful. She sounded like a stranger saying things like that.

'Thanks, Misa," she murmured, and Misa let go of her and sat back down. "It must have been hard for you, too. How are you?" Misa took a sip of her coffee, grimaced, and set the mug back down as Sayu took the seat across from her.

"I'm doing alright. I got back into work after- _afterward_ just to have something to do, and I'm out of the country as much as I can be." She tipped the coffee away from her, watching the liquid move around. "He always drank it black, and I hate it. I don't know why I kept trying to like it."

"It's hard to let go," Sayu murmured, feeling a familiar melancholy swelling inside her. She fiddled with the menu to have something to do with her hands.

"I'm sorry. Get something to drink or eat. On me, of course," Misa straightened up and set the coffee aside. "Sorry for bringing up that up. I haven't seen anyone that knew him in a while."

"Did you get to keep any of his things? My mother-"

"She cleaned all of his things out when I left to stay with friends. I didn't want to be alone after he-- died." There was a pause, as though she was still having trouble referring to Light as dead. "All of his things were gone when I got back. They weren't mine anyway. None of it was," she laughed a cold, humorless laugh. "I don't think Light belonged to anyone but himself."

"He loved _you_, Misa." The other woman smiled a little as she trailed one finger in circles on the tabletop.

"He said so too, but I'm a little old now to believe there was any truth in that." She gave the waitress a smile as she approached, ending the conversation. Misa ordered a sugar-free, fat-free mocha, something much more along the lines of her typical drink, and Sayu asked for an Italian soda and a muffin. An abnormal silence settled as they waited for their orders to arrive, and Sayu wondered if even one part of her life could feel completely normal again.

"How are you holding up? No one from the NPA had heard about you after you stopped speaking, and I wasn't about to go see your mother." Misa tried to steer the conversation back to something less painful.

"I'm mostly back to normal. I just... wasn't responding for months." She looked for something to say rather than admit why she hadn't said anything. "You stayed in touch with the people from the NPA?" This could be useful if she could get some inside connections to help get her application accepted.

"Not willingly. They were keeping an eye on me because there was still suspicion that I was the Second Kira, if you can believe that. Monchichi stayed on as my manager for a few more weeks until they pinned the Kira killings on some Teru Mikami. He's dead now, though." Sayu tucked the name away for later. She had done some preliminary research on the resolution of the Kira case, but most of the details were being kept secret from the media.

"Do you still keep in touch with any of them?"

"No. The sooner I could get away from them, the better. Why, you have some interest in them?"

"Yeah." Their orders arrived, and Sayu waited until the waitress was gone before continuing. "I'm going to try to get into the NPA. I need connections." Misa didn't say anything to that, and Sayu took a long sip of her soda before looking up, afraid of what she would see on her face. There was no emotion on Misa's face, only a blank, cold look. When she finally spoke, her voice was bitter in contrast to her dead expression.

"If you want any advice: be careful. It swallows you whole and leaves your loved ones with nothing." Her gaze was intense. "If you have to do this, just be sure before you sign your life away." Sayu had nothing to say to that, and another silence settled over them while they finished off their drinks.

"Well, I should probably get going. I have to get packing for another shoot next week." Sayu reached across the table and caught Misa's hand before the other woman could stand.

"Thanks for meeting me, Misa. It was good to see you again."

"You're welcome. It was nice to see you're alright now. Look, I'll be in and out for months, but I can let you know when I'm in Japan, even if it's only for a few days."

"We can get lunch or something."

"Sounds good. Take care of yourself, Sayu, and think hard about this decision of yours." Sayu squeezed Misa's hand before letting it go.

"I will. Keep in touch, Misa."

"Goodbye, Sayu."

Sayu looked out the window for a while after Misa left. Their friendship had grown strange, like everything else. A few months had ruined every aspect of her life, crushing it all to dust, and here she was still searching through the rubble for one thing left intact. She was starting to lose hope that she could find anything that would make her happy again.

Purpose was a fine substitute for happiness, though, and she tossed her trash before heading back home to continue planning out her future. It was time to talk to her mother again.

* * *

"Mom, I'm going to join the NPA after I graduate. If it bothers you that much, tell me now so I can get a job to pay for school." She had walked into the house and said it without preamble, for carefully planning out every word had not made it any easier to broach the subject with her.

"Not this again." Sachiko was cleaning the kitchen, and she didn't even look at Sayu when she stood in the doorway.

"I mean it. I've thought about it for a long time, and I want to do it because Light and Dad aren't the only strong ones in this family. I can do this, Mom."

"Is that why you want to do it? To prove yourself?" Sachiko finally put down her cleaning rag and looked at her. Her tone of voice was condescending and exasperated. "There are other things you can do in order to prove yourself. You don't have to go to your father and brothers' murderers and do the same work."

"It's not just that, Mom. They thought it was worth giving their lives to, and I respect their decision. I want to keep doing the same thing."

"Maybe they were fools," her mother bit out, turning away from Sayu again. "Maybe they forgot what was important in life and died for their mistakes. I don't want you to die too, Sayu. What does that leave me with? You think I like being alone out here?" Sachiko's hands stilled on the counter, and she leaned forward on her hands.

"Mom?" she asked, taking a few steps closer. "I don't... I don't want to leave you alone." Her mother let out a short laugh.

"No one plans to die going into the NPA, Sayu, it just happens." Sachiko turned back around and wiped away a tear. It shouldn't have surprised Sayu to see that, but her mother hadn't cried once since Sayu had woken, so it jarred her a little. "The worst part is, I know you're every bit as stubborn as your father. Nothing I say is going to stop you if your mind is made up."

"I don't want you to be unhappy. I just... I have to be doing something or I'm going to stop living again." She glanced away from the pain in her mother's eyes.

"No one knows that better than me." Sachiko heaved a sigh. "You don't have to find a job. I'm not going to take your college fund away from you even if I don't like what you're doing with it. Just... take a few years and think about it, please."

"Thanks, Mom. I'm not in a hurry, anyway." She gave her mother a quick hug to cover up her guilt for even that small lie. It was time to get started.

* * *

It took far more work than Sayu had anticipated. First, she had to study and attend cram school to get into a more prestigious university than she had been going to. While even her new school was no To-Oh University, it would look better on her NPA application. She passed the entrance exams on the first try, for while she was no genius, she was still better than the average student thanks to the same miracle of genetics that had made her brother a genius. She had ambition, and if she ever started doubting it, she was going to slip, so she worked harder every day than she had the last and never looked back.

After starting school, she shunned any sort of extracurricular activity during her first year in order to have the time to study and work out. The Police Academy had very strict physical entrance requirements, and she intended to be on the same level as the men applying to enter. That meant she ran 4 times a week and used the university's weight room and pool every chance that she had. On Saturdays, she only worked out since she didn't have classes, and on Sunday she slept like the dead until nearly noon to recuperate from the grueling schedule she was setting for herself.

Her weight fluctuated wildly since she was still partially recovering from her months spent asleep, but after a while it leveled off around about 10 more pounds than she weighed prior to the kidnapping. She was gaining muscle mass to the point that her mother noticed it, and she liked how she looked in the mirror with the wiry muscle that was starting to form. Occasionally, boys tried to ask her out while she was working out, but she put a stop to that annoyance with earphones and studious ignorance.

Dating was a distraction she wasn't willing to even contemplate, after all. She had a few female friends, but they were mostly on the track and field team and were in the gym anyway. That was how she met them, and that was about the extent of her relationship with them. She was too busy working to finish her degree within the two years she had allotted to spend time with friends.

She was a different person than she had been a year ago. She still wore the same clothes, since with limited funds she didn't bother to keep up with the trends and her old ones mostly fit even with her new build. She stopped wearing makeup since it was eating up time she could be sleeping, and she was a lot less friendly, spending most of her time studying and working on her list of things to do to get ready for work in the NPA. Her direction in life had changed, and her attitude shifted to go with it. She watched the news a lot more even if it was boring, and notebooks and textbooks replaced the magazines she used to own.

Most of all, she never let herself doubt the decision she had made, and every night the last thing she saw before going to sleep was the badges on her nightstand.

Misa called every time that she was back in Japan, and they met for lunch or coffee since Misa didn't have an apartment in Japan anymore. She simply stayed in hotels while she waited to leave for her next job. Sayu was reluctant to ask her to come back to the house, so they either met downtown or in the restaurant in Misa's hotel. The older woman was changing. Every time Sayu saw her, she looked a little more tired even if their conversation was lively enough after that first awkward meeting. Misa was far from happy, but for a few hours, they could both pretend that things were better.

She commented on Sayu's new look, which was more casual than it had been before. She hadn't said anything more negative about her decision, seeming to accept it as part of her new life. They had both tried to leave their old lives behind in different ways, and they stopped drawing to each other's escape plans. Instead, they asked about each other's jobs and lives and goals. Misa never had anything to say about goals, though. It sounded as though she was still living day to day and not thinking too far ahead, and Sayu didn't know what to say to that. As long as they kept in touch, she could push the worries to the back of her head, though.

Misa had started emailing photos of the locations she was shooting at, along with a picture of herself if the fashions she wore were at all unusual, and Sayu would send back reports of school. It became normal for them to email several times a month, but around mid-February, the emails from Misa stopped. Sayu continued to send letters, for sometimes she knew Misa traveled just to get away and stopped talking to everyone, but when April still brought no response, she stopped sending letters and just waited for her to call when she returned to Japan.

It wasn't until she had finished her third year of school that a package finally came in the mail for Sayu. There was no return address and nothing exceptional about the wrapping, but it was large and flat like a large book. Her mother gave it to her when she got home from her last day of school, and Sayu took it to her room to open it.

Inside, there was a huge album wrapped in tissue paper with a short note inside. The note was in Misa's handwriting with her practiced signature at the bottom. All it said was "I thought you should have this. I don't need it anymore, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you in person." The date on it read February 14th, Valentine's Day. Puzzled, she opened it to find a sort of photo journal. There were probably hundreds of photos dating back to what would have been high school for Misa even though she had been tutored by her foster parents instead of going to school. There were notes and souvenirs tacked everywhere inside alongside brief descriptions of shoots and tours and the beginning of her status as an idol singer. The last third of the book held pictures of Light and herself along with Misa. Even Matsuda and the man she called "Monchichi" were in here, for they had both been her managers at some point. This book was a veritable treasure, something Misa should have hung onto for years since it held so many memories. These were the pictures of Light that she had been searching for in the storage building, even if he looked every bit as serious as he had in his other photos. It was more than what she had, and that made the book worth more than its weight in gold to her.

Feeling suddenly ill, Sayu closed it and set it down. Now she had an inkling why Misa had not returned her letters, but she couldn't make herself get up and tried to find out.

It was a few weeks into her summer break before she looked on the Internet for any mention of Misa's name in the news. Sure enough, there were several, all dated shortly after Feb 14th. Misa Amane, former Japanese idol singer and an actress just getting started internationally, had fallen to her death from the skydeck of the hotel she had last stayed in. There were fatal levels of SSRI's in her blood from an attempted overdose as well. Sayu hadn't even know she was taking anything for depression.

After that, she stopped investigating Misa's name. She had her answer for why Misa wasn't responding as well as why she had sent her memory album. It hurt, but she had cried all of her tears out long ago. She just felt cold and even more reluctant to speak to anyone now. One by one, everyone she had known was dying or vanishing, leaving her and her mother alone.

It was just one more reason to focus on her career. There would always be work even if there would not always be the same people.

* * *

Sachiko did not grown any more amenable to Sayu joining the NPA, but she did ask about Sayu's progress in school during her fourth year, complimenting her on finally getting into the top 5 in rank in her class. It had taken so much work, and it made her work even harder to hang onto it despite her decision to join the track and field team. Joining the team made her improve her running and weight training because she could compete with the others on the team even if she didn't meet them for meals or parties after the meets. She had to keep studying, after all, even if she was winning several of the events on a regular basis. It was all done in pursuit of one goal, and it nearly consumed her every waking moment at that point.

About six months before graduation, she went shopping for proper attire for an interview. She had to look professional in order to get a job at all, and she wanted to look her best even just to hand in an application, for she wanted to start working as soon as she graduated even if all she was doing was waiting for her application to the Police Academy to go through. She was applying to the Academy first to become a full-fledged police officer before applying to the NPA, which was more of an intelligence agency than a police force.

The problem was, all the good suits were so expensive that it made her head hurt. She knew where Light had gotten his clothes, and the names were places she hadn't set foot in since her father had been alive. They had been an upper middle-class family, and she and her mother were not poor now, but their resources were so limited that Sayu couldn't justify spending hundreds of thousands of yen on a single outfit when she would need several.

Maybe it was pride keeping her from going to the department stores and finding a cheaper substitute, but she went home dejected from that first trip. When her mother asked what was wrong, she was honest about being angry that she couldn't afford good clothes.

"I have a reputation to live up to if anyone of them remember Light and Dad. I can't go in wearing department store chic when Light looked like he came off the pages of the latest fashion magazine."

"There was no denying they both looked the part," Sachiko was much less hostile about discussing the NPA, and Sayu suspected it was only because she refused to stop talking about it and had just worn her mother down after all these months. "Light had almost as many clothes as you do. How many boxes of them did we move?" Last year, Sayu had convinced Sachiko to bring all of Light's things home, and they had put them in the attic rather than leaving them stored somewhere far away.

"Probably 10 or so. Oh my gosh, Mom." Sayu stopped, setting down her chopsticks with a clack. She had just gotten the solution to her problem. "How well can you sew?" Sachiko looked at her in surprise.

"I can mend, but I can't do tailoring of the sort you're probably asking for."

"So it's okay with you if I... if I remake Light's clothes to fit me?" Sachiko smiled, her eyes a little sad at first, but when she looked up there was only approval on her face.

"I suppose it's best if you get some use out of them, since they're doing no one any good in storage. Besides, it might be nice to see someone wearing them again, especially where you'll be working."

Sayu looked at her in wonder at the first sign that her mother accepted her decision to join the NPA. She stood up and walked around the table to hug her mother tightly.

"Thanks, Mom. I won't disappoint you." Sachiko hugged her back briefly before letting her go and telling her to finish her food. There might have been tears in her eyes but she blinked them away.

"Don't let me regret it. We'll start going through those clothes tomorrow. I know where we can take them to see if we can modify them and still have them look good."

* * *

Six months later, Sayu set a new picture beside the one of Light graduating from To-Oh University. They looked more like a brother and sister than ever, for not only were their expressions similarly happy at their final class ranking, they were wearing the same suit. Of course, on Sayu it fit her curves much better, but it, along with all the others she had gotten fitted, was just another memento of her brother that she was carrying along with her. She had kept her fifth place ranking, but that was high enough that the NPA shouldn't overlook her application. She had surpassed the Academy's physical requirements for males her age as well, and coupled with a degree in Criminal Justice, she was in place to get hired. It was only a matter of waiting to start Academy training at this point.

-

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* * *

A/N - This still feels like exposition, but next chapter, Sayu will finally meet some familiar faces again! There's a timeskip between this chapter and the next, hence the break here.

I really wanted to use Misa more, but it would take too much of the focus away from Sayu if I included any more about what she probably went through. I feel bad for her.

Thanks for reading! See you next chapter.


	4. Coffee, Crushes, and Guns

Coffee, Crushes, and Guns

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October 15, 2012

Aizawa rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced at the memo that had just landed on his desk. It seemed that he had a newcomers' orientation that afternoon since they had just gotten a batch of new recruits fresh from the Academy. There was a list of names as well as the department that each new police officer was going to be assigned to, and it would be wise to at least glance at them to see which ones he needed to pull aside when his general brief was over. The department heads were in a rotation to give the general newcomers' briefing as part of their in-processing, and each department head would then take their newly assigned personnel for more specific introductions to their coworkers and a tour of their offices.

He had been looking forward to wrapping up his latest reports and going home early, but with this orientation he would probably be stuck here late, again. Perusing the list of names, he caught an all-too-familiar surname assigned to his own department and stopped, blinking to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

_Yagami Sayu._

Setting the memo aside, he pulled out the accompanying folder to see if he had the files on his new recruits as well. He found the only woman in the mix and pulled out the file. It _was_ Sayu, Soichiro's only daughter. He would know that face anywhere, even if in the photo she was unusually straight-faced and serious with her hair pulled back. After all, this was the same then-child that had been left fatherless after the whole Kira fiasco years ago, one more victim of Yagami Light's treachery.

What was she doing applying to the NPA? He looked over her reports and stopped, his own questions answered. She had graduated top of her class at the Academy and scored the second highest on the physical portion of the exam, which focused on her running speed, push-ups, chin-ups, sit-ups, the time it took her to complete the obstacle course, everything, and the fact that she had only been bested by one person when her whole class had been male was quite significant. The only thing she was mediocre at was her marksmanship, but even so, she had great reviews from her teachers at the Academy.

He put her file back into the folder and just stared for a few moments. It was actually shocking that she would consider working for them when the NPA had killed her father and brother, at least as far as she knew. Near had ordered them all to secrecy after Light's death, pinning all of the Kira murders on Mikami Teru and even letting Amane Misa go free when it was clear she knew nothing about Kira. Near had reported that he burned the killer notebooks afterward so they wouldn't slip into anyone else's hands, and even if Matsuda had doubts about that, no one was willing to question Near, who now worked under the title of L to carry on the illusion that L had never died.

Well, the only thing to do now was to see if he could get all of his reports done before he had to give this briefing. Maybe he would get a chance to speak to Sayu alone to see if she and her mother were doing alright. As a chief, he couldn't look like he was paying special attention to her, but most of the former Kira Investigation team wondered sometimes if the Yagamis were alright since Soichiro had been such a great chief, surrogate father, and friend to all of them. It seemed only right that they would look after his widow and daughter after he was gone. Since Sachiko had forbidden their return, it seemed a lost cause, but now they might have a chance. It was loyalty to a good man lost in the line of duty that spurred on that kind of devotion. He only hoped someone would do the same for his wife and daughters if he was gone.

Speaking of which, he should give his wife a call since he was likely going to be late for dinner. She had entirely too much patience with him and this demanding job.

* * *

"Matsuda!'" The man in question looked away from his contemplation of the empty coffeepot with its permanent ring of dried coffee and met Chief Aizawa's gaze.

"Chief?" he said a little glumly. Someone had emptied the pot and not bothered to brew any more, which annoyed him since his shift was only just starting and he needed the caffeine. He had been covering for Yamamoto for the past few days because the younger officer had called in sick. Normally, Yamamoto worked the afternoon shift when they had assignments from Near, but Matsuda, always the depressingly single guy, had volunteered to cover the shifts he would miss. It wasn't his fault that the other officers had families, but that meant that he was almost always the one to change shifts or swap schedules since supposedly he was more free to do so. He wasn't that bitter... really. Not bitter at all.

"I'm sorry you got stuck covering the afternoons again, but liven up a little. We've got a new recruit, and I need you to show her to her desk." Aizawa was grinning for some inexplicable reason.

"Sure, I'll get right on it." Well, that was an outright lie. There was no reason the Chief couldn't do something so simple, so why was he bothering him about it? More importantly, why was he bothering him when it was obvious he hadn't got his caffeine fix yet? "You in a hurry to get home or something?"

"No, I just thought you might want to meet her." He winced at that. Things must be really bad if his supervisor was trying to fix him up with someone. Did he look so alone and destitute? Was he so pathetic for being over 30 without even steadily dating someone?

"Thanks, Chief. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to drown my sorrows in some water, since no one can trouble themselves enough to brew more coffee."

"I'll go buy you some if you just go get her. She's in the conference room, and her desk is the one Yamamoto used to have in the main room."

"I want a triple Venti latte from Starbucks, in that case! Extra hot with no foam, thanks, Chief!" he dashed off in a rush before Aizawa could argue with that request. He usually did a few favors for him for always changing his schedule, and the least he could do was get him coffee, the lifeblood of the NPA. Matsuda used to joke that if they ever ran out, the whole caffeine-powered force would shut down since everyone would start sleeping on their keyboards.

He put a hand over his face to stifle a yawn from his strange sleep schedule as he entered the conference room, an enclosed room with one glass wall that looked out onto the main room for Intelligence Division personnel. There was only one person in there, and he blinked the sleep out of his eyes before he laid eyes on what was surely the newest attempt to fix him up with someone.

He blinked again and commenced staring. The woman stood in profile, looking at some notes posted on the whiteboard at the front of the room, but she was incredibly familiar. She was about 5'3" with a great figure and a nicely tailored suit to match, but something about her face was all wrong. He stared in shocked disbelief as she turned to him when he stepped into the room.

"My god, Sayu?! _Is that you?_" The words were completely idiotic, since there was no way this was her. He had given her up for dead at this point because they had heard nothing from Sachiko since he had taken her flowers. For all he knew, she was either still in a coma or had died in her sleep. It was impossible this apparition from his past was standing before him.

The young woman looked at him in mild bemusement, her mouth quirking up in a smile. Her voice sounded as though it was bordering on laughter when she spoke.

"I prefer 'Yagami-kun' at work, but yes, it's Sayu." She chuckled when he said nothing in response to that revelation. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I-- Well, no one had heard anything about you for years. Honestly, I thought you had died. I'm sorry, that must sound horrible." He blushed at the rampant idiocy coming out of his mouth, running a hand through his hair to try to dispel some of the nervousness.

"Well, I'm not dead. I just laid low until I had everything back together. It's a pleasure to meet you again, Matsuda-san." She was so composed, her voice still soft and polite just as he remembered. Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement, and he felt himself start to smile inexplicably in return.

Remembering why he was here, he stopped rambling and tried to get his bearings back. "Chief wanted me to show you to your desk. If you've got all you need from here, come with me."

"Lead on," she said, picking up her paperwork and satchel.

As Matsuda led her to her new workspace, he found himself both thanking Chief for the opportunity as well as cursing him for letting him walk into that situation unawares. Just like that, it was like the years in-between had vanished, all the time he'd spent not thinking about the younger sister of someone he had considered one of his better friends as anything other than another victim of Kira. She was just a girl who had grown into a charming young woman before being used as a tool to take control of a murder weapon. He had certainly found her pretty back then, and she was more than attractive now, but dammit, he didn't need this kind of a distraction! She had already said in quite certain terms that he was too old, even if she had phrased it as a joke.

He _was_ too old, but that didn't make it any easier to stop thinking about her.

"What made you join the NPA?" he asked by way of casual conversation as he wove through the cubicles with the ease of someone who had worked there for years. She took a few moments to respond.

"It seemed to be the right thing to do." When she left it at that, he wondered what she was leaving out.

"Here's your workspace. It used to belong to Yamamoto Takumi. He's out on sick leave right now or I'd introduce you. I'm covering for him. Other than that, most of our team has gone home for the day."

"Thank you," she said, glancing around her space. "I think Chief said I was free to go after this, but can you tell me where the range is?"

"The handgun range?" She nodded, and Matsuda had a hard time imagining that formerly trendy college student in uniform with a weapon in hand. "It's on B2, the second basement level. Do you want me to show you that as well?"

"I'll find it tomorrow after work. Thanks anyway."

"If you need any pointers, I'm--" Why couldn't he shut up?

"I'll be fine. You've been more than helpful, Matsuda-san. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," he chuckled a little uncomfortably. "See you later, Yagami-kun." As he walked away, he got the impression she'd changed in much more than just appearance. If he hadn't kept making a fool of himself offering to show her things, he might not have made her keep her distance like that. He was such an idiot, really.

He headed back to his office and waited for Aizawa to show up with his coffee. In the meantime, he would try to pick up where Yamamoto had left off compiling evidence for Near. However, hours later when the building was quiet except for the few employees working the afternoon to midnight shift, he still hadn't gotten anything done. Except, of course, for staring long and hard at reports his eyes wouldn't focus on and reliving certain events from the past.

Tomorrow, he would get his head back on straight, because it wasn't happening today.

* * *

Sayu left the NPA after her first day of training as an agent rather than a mere police officer in a positive state of mind. No one had treated her any differently for being one of precious few female agents, and she intended to keep it that way. She was going to make herself indispensable and reliable and serious, not flighty and emotional as women were often stereotyped. She couldn't start getting too friendly with particular people or allow herself to be perceived as anything less than a capable agent, which was why she'd turned down Matsuda's help. She didn't want him to start thinking he needed to take care of her or show her how to do things.

It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to stay isolated, but it would serve her purposes better right now to keep her distance. Later, when she had established her presence as a capable agent, she could loosen up a little, but not before.

It was nearly a week of boring introductory training before she could get down to the range to practice. Her days thus far lasted too long for her to catch the range while it was open, since they didn't keep it manned all day every day. On Thursday, they stayed open late, so she finally dropped her papers off at her desk and caught the elevator down to the second basement level.

As the elevator descended, Matsuda's offer popped back into her head. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to get some advice on how to improve her marksmanship, but something stopped her from asking. If she didn't know better, she would think the older man still had a crush on her, which was flattering and cute but not good in a professional setting. She didn't want to encourage any of that silliness, especially when she was trying to be stone-cold serious like her brother.

Goodness knows she'd had a hard time qualifying on the handguns at the Academy, so maybe she did need help. She wasn't a lousy shot anymore, but she had spent almost twice as much time practicing as everyone else in her class. Shooting was frustrating business, but Matsuda was pretty easygoing. Maybe he knew something she didn't.

As the doors opened to the B2 level, she was surprised to find it dimly lit in comparison to the rest of the building. The only direct light shone in front of her on a myriad of wooden plaques lining the walls. She stepped closer and read a few of them; these were the results of marksmanship tournaments held over the years, going back to 1970. Some even looked to be regional or national tournaments. Several different weapons were listed for each year as well as what looked like different courses. She scanned the names, following the plaques, one for each year, and the hallway toward the range itself.

When she got to the more recent awards, she stopped to look for her father's name. Light had never wanted or needed a gun since he was an agent, but maybe Soichiro would have won something.

_Oh, for heaven's sake._ She gritted her teeth as she read the names going back to 2000. It didn't take long, for one name dominated all the others, winning in at least two categories every year as well as placing in the regional tournaments.

_Matsuda Touta._

Maybe she did need to ask him for some advice after all.

Not today. But she would, someday.

* * *

Sayu made going to the range something of a habit, a good way to get rid of whatever tension she carried around at the end of the day. The range wasn't often in use, since most of the agents at headquarters weren't field agents, which was good for her since she didn't like to be watched while she was doing badly.

She was going to forget whatever she learned from the Academy if she didn't practice, for she could already see herself getting rusty. Today she had picked a .45, which was far too large for her, but she figured if she could master the worst of them she could handle the smaller ones with more ease. The problem was that gripping the heavy gun so tightly was making her wrists and even her shoulders hurt.

She had already taken off her jacket and stood in only her dress shirt, but she set the gun down and started rolling her sleeves since she was getting warm. Adjusting her hearing protection, she picked up the accursed weapon and got ready to expend another wasted magazine on the target that was starting to get really blurry from staring so hard at it.

A pop off to her right surprised her, followed by a quick succession of 5 or 6 more shots. The noise was often muted by her mufflers so otherwise loud bangs sounded like popcorn, but there was almost never anyone else on the range with her. Each firing position was separated by walls even if a hallway ran behind them, so she couldn't see whoever was down there even though they probably knew who she was.

She waited, debating whether or not to make a fool of herself with company. The whole range was dimly lit in back so it wouldn't interfere with the agents' view of the targets downrange, so she hoped that the low light helped conceal her identity.

Steeling herself, she picked up the weapon again. She was never going to be a good agent if she worried about stupid things like that. Her first shot went wild, completely missing the target, and she fumed. After that, things went right downhill since she had a hard time seeing the silhouette's outline. She only fired 3 more bullets, but she was angry enough after that to quit. Whoever was practicing at the same time had the pulleys bring their target up to the window so they could look at it.

Sayu saw it as it approached, and it was disgusting. There were no separate holes, only a smallish hole where the person's nose would have been in the silhouette. She was leaving. She dropped the magazine, cleared the weapon's chamber of rounds, and carried it up to the window to turn it all back in. When the range controller told her to get her target, she seethed with frustration and headed back to her position. Pushing the button that would bring it toward her, she tried to ignore the Swiss cheese she had made of the target's head and shoulders, her shot groups looking like she had fired a shotgun at the target rather than a .45.

_Please, don't let whoever that is see this._ She tore it down when it was close enough to reach and spun around, nearly running into someone who was heading down the hallway at the same time. She couldn't hear anything with these cans on, so she hadn't heard them coming.

"Sa— Yagami-kun!" The voice was extremely muffled, but unmistakable nonetheless as she bent to grab at the silhouette that had fallen from her grasp.

Of course, it was her lucky day in more ways than one. It was Matsuda, the NPA's marksmanship expert, standing there taking off his mufflers. She picked up the target she had dropped and crumpled the paper up against her chest as she flushed with embarrassment, trying to hide her failure.

"Matsuda-san," she greeted him perfunctorily as she took off her own hearing protection. "Practicing?" she asked by way of being polite, eying his horrifyingly perfect target.

"Every day." He didn't sound arrogant, at least, just stating the obvious. "I come down during lunch usually, but I had to work through part of it today and didn't have time along with eating, hehe."

"You practice every single day?" No wonder he was the top firer here. She didn't have that kind of time.

"Most days I come down and use up a magazine, that's all. Just enough to stay sharp." He was almost cheerful about all of this, and it only made her mood worse.

"I saw all of your awards," she almost grumbled as she said that, feeling unusually humble in his presence today. Most of the time she felt like she had the upper hand since she still had the feeling he "liked" her, but today she felt her age, young and foolishly prideful.

"Oh, did you?" His voice was unusually soft, and, to her surprise, he blushed, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. "They're just... awards. How are you doing?"

"Really bad," she further crushed her paper target, hiding it from him and anyone else. He chuckled a little as he watched her.

"Not a good day for you? What were you using?"

"A .45, and it wasn't a good day. I'm not usually this terrible." Matsuda glanced away down the hallway, seemingly debating something.

"The .45's probably too big to use at first. If you want, I could..." he stopped, and she looked over at him for he wasn't looking at her.

"Matsuda-san, if you have any suggestions, I'd appreciate the help." There, she'd said it. She winced, waiting for something to happen, even though she doubted he would start laughing or anything.

Instead, he turned back to her, his face devoid of its usual cheeriness and exuberance. For a moment, he looked completely different. It was hard to describe. Perhaps it was just... seriousness.

It was kind of cute.

"Sure," he replied, and she blinked to recall what she had said. "When do you normally come down here?"

"Right around 1700. Don't tell Chief, but sometimes I leave a few minutes early so I have time to practice." Matsuda chuckled and leaned slightly toward her as though sharing a secret.

"Don't tell Chief I told you, but he leaves early to keep from being asked more questions by people leaving. Otherwise, he never gets home." She smiled in response to that bit of information. "Do you want to meet up later this week, after work?"

"Sounds good. Is Wednesday good for you?" She wasn't quite ready to meet him tomorrow, but maybe the day after she'd be ready to ask for pointers. Her pride was going to get stepped on quite a bit during this "training", and she wasn't looking forward to it that much.

"As good as any other day." He looked like he wanted to say more but stopped instead. Sayu glanced at her watch to give her an excuse to leave before this got awkward.

"I've gotta go. I'm supposed to meet my mother to go grocery shopping, so I can't keep her waiting."

"Right," he agreed, stepping back to allow her to precede him. She dropped her target into the waste barrel as she walked by the range controller's office, and he waved at her from behind the glass as she left. Matsuda didn't follow, for he was still cleaning up his area, so she turned and waved goodbye to him as well.

"Thanks in advance. See you Wednesday." He tossed off a pretend salute with a smile on his face.

"Until Wednesday. Have a good day, Yagami-kun." She smiled and turned away, heading for the elevators.

* * *

Matsuda watched her walk away with a tiny smile on his face. Okay, so it wasn't and wouldn't ever be a date, but time spent with her was nice, even if most of the time he was making an ass of himself and feeling like a schoolboy with a crush. He was sure she could see it too, though she was kind enough not to say anything.

Yamamoto was giving him plenty of crap for this crush of his, claiming he'd never seen Matsuda falling all over himself. The two of them sometimes went out for drinks after the work day was over, so at least he too had the decency not to bring it up at work. Matsuda couldn't ever tell him most of the reasons he liked "falling all over himself" for Sayu, since much of it was tied up in the Kira case, but Yamamoto hadn't formed any grossly incorrect conclusions so far.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but did you just pick someone up in the range?" It was the range controller, Akira, asking him with a note of amused disbelief in his voice.

"No, I did not," Matsuda replied, glancing down the hall to make sure Sayu was out of earshot, and she was nowhere to be seen. She must be on the elevator. "It's not a date, and anyway, I'm too old for her." He deposited just his hearing protection because he kept his gun on him rather than borrowing it from the armory. He turned in the target, since he liked to use one for the entire week rather than wasting so many; he just aimed for a different place every day.

"Right," Akira drawled, clearly not believing him as he took Matsuda's things from him. "That explains why you're all red."

"I am _not_ red!" Matsuda hissed, feeling himself flush in response to the man's accusation, and Akira laughed.

"Hey, is that hers?" Akira pointed behind Matsuda, and he turned back to see a jacket hanging on the hook in the stall that Sayu had been using.

"Oh no! She's going to leave without it!" He could hear Akira laugh as he snatched the jacket from the hook and hurried down the hall to the elevators. He punched the button several times, hoping he wouldn't be too late. It took an eternity for the doors to open, but he hadn't quite wanted to bound up two flights of stairs in a suit, so he breathed a sigh of relief when the doors opened.

Stepping inside, he stabbed at the button for the ground floor and waited while the doors closed. He glanced down at the jacket, catching sight of the label. Surprised, he looked closer, making sure he had the name right. This was a men's jacket; the label in here wasn't from anyone who made women's clothes. He held it out but, sure enough, it fell like it was made to fit a woman, cut to fit someone with an hourglass shape.

Smiling a little, he checked the inside seams and noticed that they looked different, rougher than they should for a jacket of this quality. Sayu was getting more and more interesting to him. Feeling like some kind of pervert, he looked around the completely empty elevator before bringing it to his nose to see if Sayu wore any sort of perfume.

The scent that met his nose was astonishingly familiar, far more than it should be, for he had never been that close to Sayu to notice her perfume. It was more like a man's cologne, slightly musky and spicy rather than flowery. Yamamoto would accuse him of having gay tendencies for knowing this much about fashion and cosmetics, but he wasn't one to talk. It had been a side effect of his own interests in trends combined with being Misa's manager; it was impossible to be fashion-ignorant around her.

Misa... then it hit him. This was Light's cologne. He had spent years in close quarters with him, even living with him in the headquarters when L was still alive. He would know this smell anywhere, just as he knew exactly which hair gel Aizawa used and what kind of cigarettes Mogi smoked when he thought no one saw him.

He looked at the jacket again and, sure enough, the look of it was familiar enough that he could picture Light wearing it. Sayu was wearing her brother's clothes, and even his cologne! Before he could think anymore about that, the doors opened, derailing his confused thoughts.

He headed into the lobby, glancing around and not finding Sayu. He tried to fold the jacket up a little as he stepped outside the front doors so he didn't look so odd carrying around an extra jacket. There she was, at the bottom of the steps leading into the building.

"Yagami-kun!" he called, trying not to yell so loud that he embarrassed her. There were cars rushing by in the street, so she probably couldn't hear him as she walked toward a car parked a little way up the street. Cursing, he hurried down the steps, wishing he didn't feel like he was chasing her.

"Yagami-kun! You forgot--" She still didn't hear him, instead waving to someone inside the car as she approached it.

"_Sayu-chan!"_ This time she heard him, and so did half the people on this side of the street. She turned around, surprised, as he half-ran up to her. The wind was blowing her hair in her face from this angle, so she was trying to keep it behind her ears.

"Matsuda-san? Oh!" she saw the jacket in his hands.

"You forgot this," he said, trying not to look like he was breathing hard from dashing down there.

"Thank you. I can't believe I almost left without it." She let out a musical little laugh as he held it out to her, and he felt like a king, a big, stupid grin painting itself all over his face in response. She pulled the jacket on, her purse changing hands as she donned it, and Matsuda got a glimpse of the car right behind Sayu.

His stomach dropped and his smile vanished when he saw Sachiko's face staring back at him. She didn't have to frown or anything; he could see her displeasure in the tightness of her mouth and the way her hands were clenched on the wheel.

"_There's no way I'm letting Sayu marry a cop."_

"_Yeah, no way in hell."_

Soichiro and Sachiko's words came back to him from years ago, and he felt like a fool trespassing somewhere he was forbidden to be. He bowed slightly to Sachiko, all his cheerfulness gone, and turned away from both women.

"See you at work tomorrow, Yagami-kun," he waved over his shoulder, heading back to the NPA in a manner far more subdued than he had left it.

-

-

* * *

A/N - Finally, plot devoid of angst! I love writing this story. It's so much more lighthearted than my other stuff.

One comedian said, essentially, that the more complicated your Starbucks order, the bigger an asshole you are. Having worked at Starbucks, I couldn't agree more. Needlessly complicating things to seem "in the know" is ridiculous.

I'm assuming the NPA runs on 24-hour time. It's easier than all the silly AM/PM nonsense.

Thanks for reading!


	5. Making Holes in Paper Men

Making Holes in Paper Men

-

-

"What was that all about?"

Sayu sighed and looked out the window as she pulled her hair out from under her collar. "I forgot my jacket at the range, that's all. I was a little angry when I left."

"At _him_?" Only years of living with her mother made it possible to find the note of glee buried under that casual inquiry; Sachiko seemed completely engrossed in driving as she looked around, not at all relishing her daughter's potential disinterest in men.

"No, Mom, just at shooting." She paused, contemplating whether or not she should say "I _suck_" in front of her mother.

"He sounded rather familiar with you."

"I didn't tell him to call me that. It was probably an accident." Sayu shrugged, not feeling particularly bothered by it as long as he hadn't done it in front of her coworkers. She followed the lines on the road with her eyes as she continued. "He used to call me 'Sayu-chan' years ago when he visited with Light and Dad."

At the frosty silence in the car, she looked over at her mother, who just stared out the windshield.

"I'll make sure he knows not to call me that anymore." She said in a hurry, happy to see some of the tension go out of Sachiko's shoulders at that statement.

"You wouldn't want people getting the wrong idea, after all."

As they continued down the road to the grocery they most often frequented, Sayu wondered how long it would be like this.

* * *

"The hell's wrong with _you_ today?" Yamamoto Takumi queried as he set down the second round of drinks in front of Matsuda. "One second you're happy, the next you look depressed. It's weirding me out."

Matsuda bit down on the olive plucked from his empty martini glass to buy himself some time. Before he could say anything, the redhead dropped into the chair across from him, scrunching his eyebrows together in feigned thoughtfulness and steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

"Let me guess. It has something to do with-- _her_." Matsuda tried not to do something as juvenile as rolling his eyes and settled for snapping his toothpick in half between his teeth.

"Let's talk about something else."

"I _knew_ it! But okay, sure. How was work today? Oh wait, we work together, so I already know. Did you sleep well? How was lunch?" Yamamoto chuckled as he picked up the brandy snifter. "Discussing the weather is far less interesting than your love life, or the lack thereof, Touta-kun. I'm sure you don't want to hear about _mine_."

"I'll pass on that." Matsuda looked away to hide the color rising in his cheeks. Yamamoto had no secrets as far as his life outside work, much to his discomfort if the younger man ever got really drunk.

"So? Talk, or I'll ask questions."

Matsuda paused, staring into the cognac's amber depths as he pulled it toward him across the tabletop.

"Her mother hates me."

She had good reason to do so. He had seen in her face that she hadn't forgotten his playful misstep with Sayu years ago nor the fact that he had borne the news of her son's death. He was the face of everything she hated.

Twirling the stem of the snifter, he realized that he couldn't keep a family, _any_ family, to save his life.

"Yikes!" Yamamoto said quite unnecessarily as Matsuda tipped the glass back and downed the drink in one gulp. "Ever heard the phrase '_nursing_ a brandy'? Don't slam that; it's wasteful."

"Oops," Matsuda rasped, swallowing past the burn that crept up his throat and stung the backs of his eyes. He needed to use something cheaper to get drunk if that was his only goal.

"I don't know why you're so worked up about her; my mother hates all my boyfriends." Matsuda thought that anyone with common sense would dislike the younger man's taste in men. "Was yours any different?"

"I don't think I even dated when she was alive. She died 15 years ago."

"That long? Well, her behavior's normal, at any rate." Yamamoto swirled the liquid in his glass to watch the trails it made. "It's Yagami-san's job to be overprotective. Once she sees what a big softie you are around Yagami-kun, she'll change her mind."

"You know, I don't want to talk about this anymore." Matsuda smiled ruefully at his glass and pushed away from the table. "Let's play trivia or something; this isn't any fun."

"Okay, okay. I'll be waiting when you ask me for help." Yamamoto picked up his full glass and followed him to the bar, putting an overconfident swagger into his steps, his nose in the air.

"I'm sorry, I must have completely misheard you." Matsuda sneered in a mostly joking manner as he settled on a barstool near the monitors on the wall.

"You heard me. Someday, you'll ask."

* * *

"I think he's withholding information." Ide's voice broke the silence after the transmission cut off.

"It's _L_. He's always withholding information. It's probably nothing we need to know anyway." Aizawa's matter-of-fact tone bespoke years of dealing with that kind of behavior, both from Near and his namesake.

"We don't need to know every detail, I agree, but it wouldn't hurt to share things that could get us closer to cracking this case. How long has it been this time?" Ide showed the exasperation that the rest of them felt.

"Two months," Matsuda droned, closing his notebook with glazed eyes. His last cup of coffee had worn off somewhere in the middle of this teleconference. He didn't have the kind of stamina to do this job without it, especially when it involved people with a total lack of humanity. Was everyone that came from Wammy House such a robot, an automaton? The real L hadn't believed in breaks and neither did Near, it seemed.

Near conveniently forgot that they had full-time jobs outside working with him, and every second that he spent going over the case with them was time that they could be at home relaxing, pursuing hobbies, or spending time with their families.

Matsuda smirked as he contemplated that. He would be at work regardless, either pouring over Near's cases or getting a head start on the next day's work. The only exception was when he would go out with Yamamoto. Otherwise, he passed out on the sofa in front of the television.

However, tomorrow would be a delightful break from the norm. He had forgotten about the conference with Near today, but fortunately Sayu had said that she wanted to meet up on Wednesday. How mortifying it would have been to break their first… date, meeting, whatever it was.

Ide continued to carp about how he didn't like having secrets kept from him as they packed up. Mogi said nothing, as usual, but he seldom objected to anything. The man's stoic and silent nature was perfect for the police force; he never complained, completely unlike Ide and even Aizawa in the past. Aizawa had sobered over the years, growing into the role of chief even if he would never, ever replace Soichiro Yagami.

Yamamoto still acted like he didn't belong here in this group of solemn, serious agents. He could be serious when he wanted to but he was the ham that Matsuda had been in the past. People liked him for it, though. Whereas Matsuda had been barely tolerated as the one doing most of the screwing up, Yamamoto got grins and good-natured laughter.

They needed him. The Kira case had left an indelible mark on them all, but Yamamoto had been spared by not being part of the task force during Kira's reign. He possessed a merriment that they could only feign.

Matsuda was probably overthinking this. He got to his feet and rocked his head back and forth to crack his aching neck.

Even now, years after the case had closed, he still didn't think of Light and Kira as being the same person. Every time he tried, he brought on a pounding headache and a serious desire to get drunk. Some days he disguised it by hanging out with Yamamoto and playing trivia, and other days he spent quality time with a fifth of vodka and his couch.

Stupid, really. All of it. Common sense didn't keep him from doing it so much as it just made him feel guilty.

Even beyond the grave, Light was torturing him. Or was it Near?

He hadn't ever given up his suspicions about the extent of Near's involvement in the Yellow Box Warehouse incident. Ide had told him to get over it because he _was_ extremely biased, having cared for Light like a brother. However, he hid his doubts and worked with Near despite his misgivings about his methods. Near had solved the case, after all. Matsuda couldn't begrudge him for ridding the world of a dire threat.

However, Near's predecessor had shown a remarkable disregard for laws despite his preaching about the need for justice. As he saw other similarities between the two develop over the years, he wondered just how clean Near's hands were.

* * *

Sayu tapped one shoe against the floor as she rode the elevator down. She hadn't seen Matsuda toward the end of the day since she had been running errands outside the headquarters, but she hoped that he would still be available to coach her through firing.

Sometimes, she hoped that he would change his mind. Maybe something would come up and she could get out of this without feeling guilty about it. As much as she wanted to learn how to fire better, she didn't want _him_ to show her. He was really, _really_ good and she was pathetic in comparison.

She didn't like being helped or having her flaws pointed out, especially by him. Matsuda had always been Light's goofy friend or someone who worked with her father that sometimes came along with them for outings. He had been fun in the past, but that was 'the past.' There was a big division between 'now' and who they had all been years ago. With Light and her father gone, there was no going back to that time.

Sayu the carefree college student was dead and buried, and she had no desire to revive her. Her life now was penance for her inability to do anything worthwhile back then. There was no time for pointless distractions when she was carrying on her family's work.

Steeling herself when the doors opened, she stepped into the darkened hallway and headed for the range. Pulling her ponytail out as she walked, she tried to put it back in a bun so it would be off her neck. She didn't want to take it down and put it back up while she was firing since that might look flirty. Serious agents weren't flirty or feminine, and she was _very_ serious.

She must have been scowling for when she rounded the edge of the range controller's booth, both Matsuda and Akira looked at her strangely, their conversation coming to a jarring halt.

"H-hi, Yagami-kun," Matsuda said, smiling a little unsurely as Akira echoed the greeting in the same cautious tone of voice.

"Gentlemen." She tried to smile but it felt rather cold and unfeeling. "I had something on my mind."

"It looked like it. What do you want today?" Akira was the first to recover, safe as he was behind the glass.

"I'm not sure yet. Matsuda-san, what would you suggest?" Even that statement stung her pride. It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Ah, yes." He turned to the counter, his weird expression vanishing as he became more business-like. "I have the .45 caliber that you were using last time as well as a 9 mm and a .22. I can try to show you on the .45 but you might like the .22 more."

"What do you use?"

"A .45, same as I've been using for years." He shrugged, thinking nothing of saying that she couldn't handle the same weapon he used. "Let's get some rounds."

"Alright." Telling herself that it was her attitude that was going to make this miserable or not, she picked up her hearing protection and glasses since Matsuda had already taken the weapons and headed to one of the lanes.

"Have fun," Akira told them as he deposited the bullets on the counter, and Sayu gave him a somewhat strained smile as thanks.

To her horror after they had loaded the magazines, Matsuda wanted to watch her fire before telling her anything. She tried not to object too strongly, but she wanted pointers first, humiliation later.

"Yagami-kun, I can't tell you what you're doing wrong if I don't know what it is. I have some ideas, but I don't want to waste your time." He looked completely serious. There was no amusement on his face or any desire to enjoy himself at her expense.

That made it slightly easier to pick up the 9 mm and point it at the target downrange. She chose neither the smallest nor the largest caliber bullet. This was what she had practiced on at the academy, so it was probably what she was best at using. Taking a deep breath, she sighted along the barrel, unconsciously closing one eye and focusing on the target. Matsuda stepped back out of her peripheral vision, and she tried to block out the thought of him watching her.

Pop! She opened both eyes and saw that her shot landed in the white around the target's head. Looking back at Matsuda without breaking her stance, he just motioned for her to keep going. She bit her lip and fired a few more times, her shots sometimes hitting the target, sometimes punching useless holes in the blank space around it.

Matsuda waved to get her attention, and she pushed the cans off her ears so she could hear him, dropping the empty magazine from the gun.

"You're really tense today, Yagami-kun."

"I don't like being watched." She admitted since it was pointless to hide it. It was better to say that than to let him think she was this terrible all the time.

"I'm sorry." He looked sheepish for a moment then the look was gone, replaced by that serious expression. "Don't close your eyes more than a moment to make sure you're aiming right. Also, because you're so tense, the gun is jumping when you fire. The recoil should make your arms bend at the elbow, not jerk your shoulders back. You need to hold the gun more loosely; don't try to squeeze it."

"Um," she blushed, angry that he had found so much wrong in so little time. What was worse was that he only reinforced what she had been told at the academy; she already knew all of that.

"Try again. Don't focus so hard on firing perfectly and just… pretend I'm not here. Do you want to keep using that gun?" She nodded and took the magazine that he held out, belatedly realizing that he had reloaded it in the brief moments that he had been talking to her.

He let her fire some more and gave her a few new things to think about each time. Demonstrating a better stance than the one she had been using, she envied the way he stood there, no expression on his face as he unloaded an entire magazine into a space the size of her eye. He was trying to show her how her forearms should bend rather than forcing her shoulders back, but all she could see was perfection in the face of her inferiority.

_Jealous, much?_

"Yagami-kun?" He asked when she set down the 9 mm after her fourth magazine. "I think your biggest problem is that you're afraid of the gun."

"I'm not afraid of it." Sayu denied automatically, pulling her ear protection off and focusing on reloading the magazine.

"That's—I don't mean 'afraid' that way. I mean that every time you fire, no matter how relaxed your stance is, you anticipate it going off. Tensing pulls the gun side to side and your shots go high as well. Try the .22. I think you'll see that you do the same thing even if the gun is lighter."

"Fine." She couldn't quite keep the nastiness out of her voice, so she turned away to pick up the new weapon. It wasn't his fault that she was terrible; she didn't need to take it out on him.

Despite her misgivings about the gun, it was easier to fire due to its smaller caliber. However, as he had predicted, she still saw her arms trembling after the magazine was gone. Her shoulders and forearms ached from her death grip on the weapon.

"You're still anticipating it." At least he wasn't saying she was afraid, even though she really was.

She tried to ignore it every time, but for heaven's sake, she had been _shot at_ when she was kidnapped. Her fear of guns was entirely justified. It felt much better to have the weapon in her hands, but the noise always frightened her.

How she _hated_ being weak.

"Yagami-kun?" She was scowling again, so she didn't look at him. "Do you want to come back to this later? We can do more another day."

"I'm fine." She lied. _I don't want your pity. _She picked at a new row of rounds sitting in their plastic tray, debating whether or not to load another magazine when her nerves were so frayed.

"Alright. I have to leave in about 10 minutes, though, so we can fire a few more rounds."

"Am I keeping you?" She asked, the irritation going out of her voice as she turned to face him. Matsuda shook his head, the motion getting his hair in his eyes.

"Not at all. I just have some errands I need to run after this before the stores close."

"What time is it?" She looked at her watch to see that they had spent an entire hour down here. "I didn't know it was so late! We can stop, I'm sorry." She set the weapon down and pulled her hearing protection off along with her glasses.

"It's okay." He followed suit and bent to start sweeping up all the casings on the carpet. "Do you feel like you learned anything?"

Sayu pushed stray hair off her face and contemplated the shiny brass casings lying on the shelf before her. Her eyes traveled up to the target, taking note of the shot groups that were slightly smaller, fewer holes marking the white expanse around the silhouette.

"I think so." She tapped one of the weapons for a moment with a fingernail, feeling incredibly awkward. "Thanks, Matsuda-san. I really appreciate it."

He shrugged, the coolly professional attitude that he had adopted relaxing slightly with the motion. "It's no trouble, Yagami-kun. If you want to do this again, just let me know." His eyes stayed on the ground as he continued to clean up. Feeling foolish for letting him do all the work, she knelt and started picking up stray casings.

"I might. I want to get better at this." To her surprise, Matsuda chuckled softly as he stood and deposited trash in the barrel behind the lanes.

"I thought I was making you angry."

"That's not your fault." She dropped a handful of casings in the barrel and noticed that Akira looked oblivious to their conversation as he read a magazine behind the glass. "I just… don't like being bad at this."

"You aren't _bad_, S- Yagami-kun." Matsuda cleared and checked the weapons as he talked and she gathered up stray boxes. "At the academy, they teach you to pass the courses, not necessarily how to fire _well_. You're part of the NPA, not a field agent. They don't expect you to be an expert."

"Well, I want to be. Were you always good?"

"I don't know." He shrugged again and took the weapons to Akira, speaking over his shoulder. "I've had a lot of time to practice, that's all."

Despite his unassuming words, she knew that he was a natural. He had reacted the same way the first time she complimented him, even indirectly. That attitude, coupled with his impersonal way of correcting her, made it much easier to take pointers.

They would have to do this again.

* * *

When Matsuda saw the three tickets appear above the edge of his cubicle a few weeks later, he groaned inwardly. "Who's the lucky third wheel? Why, that's me, good old Touta-kun."

Yamamoto circled the desk with a grin on his face. "You're not the third wheel this time - I am."

"I hate blind dates." He punctuated his words by typing a little too hard, making the old keyboard dance on his desk.

"I know. I didn't think you could get stomach flu so many times in 2 years. However, this is not a blind date."

"Oh?" Matsuda clicked wearily through his end-of-day reports to further the impression that he was _not_ interested. He and dates had only one inevitable conclusion, which usually involved him getting stiffed with the bill. Maybe he could come down with the plague or necrotizing fasciitis next time and change things up a little.

"I'm asking Yagami-kun to join us since we're the only young ones on this team of old married men."

Fortunately, he didn't have his coffee in hand or he would have spit it all over his monitor.

"What." It was an accusation, not a question.

"I'm serious. I'm tired of waiting for you to ask for help, so you're getting it for free today."

"I don't—" He sputtered before Yamamoto's finger came dangerously close to flicking his nose.

"Don't _lie_ to me. I see you talking to her after work, blushing like a schoolboy. It's so _darling_." Yamamoto rolled his eyes behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

"You're really annoying, Yamamoto-kun."

"And you love me anyway. Don't be late! I know you're not busy." The younger man dropped one of the tickets on his desk and sauntered off, entirely too satisfied with himself.

Matsuda sighed and picked up the slip of paper. It was no use trying to stop Yamamoto, which was why he was still sitting at his desk rather than trying to prevent this pending disaster.

The movie in question was a historical drama, probably involving samurai and tragic love and other elements that they both enjoyed, so at least the movie would be fun to watch. He drummed a pencil on his much-abused keyboard, trying to figure out if he would have time to eat beforehand.

The only thing he and Sayu had done besides work was practicing at the range, except for the one time he had walked with her to the train station. On the days that Sachiko picked her up, he stayed out of sight inside the headquarters, having learned his lesson the first time. At least with the movie as an excuse, it could feel for a few hours like their relationship wasn't strictly professional. It might be nice.

When it registered that he was smiling like a loon while alone at his desk, he started and physically wiped the expression away before anyone could see, hiding behind his hand. He needed to get over this silliness before everyone thought he had gone crazy. Nothing cured a good mood like monotony so he launched himself into finishing his tasks since the workday was almost over.

"Matsuda-san?" The soft voice several minutes later made him look up from finalizing his reports in surprise. Sayu had one hand on the back wall of his desk, leaning slightly around the partition as if unsure of herself. "Are you busy?"

"Yagami-kun! What's going on?" He barely stopped himself from pushing his chair back and standing, but that would seem overly protective and it would just embarrass her.

"Did you know that Yamamoto-kun was asking me to the movies?" She looked so guilty and uncomfortable that he couldn't fathom what was wrong. He nodded slowly. "He told you?"

"He asked me to go too." Plucking the ticket from beside his keyboard, he held it up so she could see.

"Oh, so it's just as friends?" She let out a sigh of relief, blowing a loose piece of hair out of her face. "He's very hard to say 'no' to, but I was really hoping he wasn't asking me out."

Matsuda laughed at that statement; he couldn't help it. That was what had her worried?

"Yamamoto-kun, of all people, would never ask you--" He blanched at the unreadable look that crossed her face and laughed nervously, his hands fluttering in denial. Did he really just say that? "I mean, you're just not his type." Her expression darkened at the insinuation. "_At_ _all_."

She looked quizzically at him for a few moments before her eyebrows shot up.

"Oh!" She looked to the side and coughed delicately, which made her look unbelievably cute. She smiled, and Matsuda let out an anxious breath before he asphyxiated. "That's good to know. Well, I guess I'll see you later, Matsuda-san."

"In 2 hours. See you soon." He turned back to his monitor to hide any more stupid expressions he might be making. After she left, he slumped on the desk, glad that no one else could see him right now.

Talk about foot-in-mouth disease. Why did he say always say the wrong thing around her? It was a wonder she spent any time around him when he was acting like a moron.

Tonight had the potential to be both pleasant and… torturous.

-

-

* * *

A/N - **DreyaCira**, thanks for interesting medical discussions and diseases I'd otherwise not comtemplate. **recipe for insanity**, thanks for talking sense and getting me to write it again despite my misgivings. Many thanks to my sis for going shooting with me even though she had bronchitis and was miserable.


	6. Wakeup Call

A/N - I'll tell you what's "unexpected". This update. XD

* * *

Wakeup Call

* * *

Near looked over the monitors one more time, looking and listening for something that would give him a lead, something to pursue rather than more dead ends. The screens arcing over his head in the otherwise dark room gave him nothing new. He had seen these feeds at least twice and listened to the audio while he was in the studio's only other room.

He was beating a dead horse. There was nothing here.

Conceding a draw for the day since it was too humiliating to admit defeat, he powered the machines down to conserve energy while he slept. If they drew too much power in a day, the energy bills might raise eyebrows; he would strain this base's credibility if he wasn't careful since it was only a supposed recording studio.

This space in Los Angeles was his preferred location but, like his predecessor, he liked moving around. It made him unpredictable and therefore harder to discover.

If there was one thing bred into the Wammy House children, it was paranoia.

And isolation, which was not the same as independence. They weren't trained to work with or rely on anyone else. Roger was his only permanent assistant and the one who initiated comms with other agencies. He wasn't even here, instead working out of Wammy House where he could maintain his role as a caretaker of sorts.

He was consulting the Japanese NPA for this case, but they were merely his eyes and ears where he could not be. This particular team was full of familiar faces from the Kira case. The monumental pressure of that years-long killing spree had made them diamond-hard, one of the most tightly-knit teams he had ever worked with. However, he always worried that their past history would make relations strained.

Paranoia. Baseless fears, he tried to tell himself. They were professionals first. Had they not cooperated completely after Kira was killed and his second apprehended?

He pulled the headset off, disentangled it from his hair, and sighed. He hated wearing it; it hurt his head, but he didn't exactly have Restor here anymore to do the talking for him or hold the phone. Working with only Roger had forced him to learn a modicum of self-sufficiency, which was one of the things that Wammy House had not bred into them.

Mello had been much better at that.

Maybe he could get in touch with Lidner or Gevanni again. It might help to have another person on-site to go through the material he had. He had already sacrificed his secrecy with them, after all. They were his Achilles heel since he couldn't directly control them, much like the operatives that L had worked with in the past.

While he had never known their identities, he had known that L had associates outside Wammy House. Near had American agents instead.

Setting his musings aside for another day, he pulled himself from his seat on the floor with difficulty. He had been sitting there for hours after the conference with the Japanese chief and his feet had gone to sleep. Of course, if he used a chair, he might not have that problem, but he didn't like being so high off the ground.

The darkened makeshift studio was quiet except for the whir of air conditioning, but the silence and darkness at the end of his workday never bothered him. It was only other people that did that. He didn't need much, just very secure locks on the doors and a trustworthy alarm system. The less he had, the less he had to clean.

The food situation could use some improvement, though. He left the main room and entered the tiny room off to the side that served as his living space. While he reheated cold lo mein and vegetables in the microwave, he wondered if he should take up some sort of cooking. The sodium intake from eating takeout everyday was going to kill him.

However, living on a solid diet of sweets hadn't killed L, and Mello had eaten enough chocolate for a small army without any adverse affects. Maybe he was just a worrier.

Or maybe he was making plans to actually live to old age, unlike them.

If not for his genius and his predilection for working in isolation, he would have wondered if it was a mistake to stay in this profession. There was no one around anymore to reassure him that his numerous quirks were acceptable for someone of his intellect. Roger didn't sugarcoat things with him as some of Near's teachers had; he was an assistant, not a partner or a friend.

Wammy had been like L's right hand, a father figure or a stentorian taskmaster depending on his audience.

He pulled the noodles from the microwave and banged the door shut. The noise was like a thunderclap in the silence.

Why was he still comparing himself to a dead man? To dead men, rather?

Mello had died, taking his best friend with him and leaving Near to solve the case with the evidence he gave him. L had been killed by Kira years before. Only Near was still standing at the end, so why was the taste of victory only a distant memory?

Probably because Near had only come into his own after L died. He had stepped into the shoes of someone primed for this role, and even years after Kira was killed, Near wasn't sure the shoes fit but he kept wearing them. He still used L's name rather than his own; he was a fake running around in his predecessor's skin.

He still took on cases and he still looked for the unsolvable mysteries that plagued other countries, but he did it without any sense of personal fulfillment. It was what he was good at; that was all.

He didn't need purpose to help him sleep any better at night.

He sat on the carpet beside the mini-refrigerator and leaned back against his bed while he stirred soy sauce into his noodles. He hadn't bothered to turn on a light; his eyes were well-adjusted to the dark after a few minutes away from the monitors in the main room.

The only light came from the clock on his cell phone, and it made his pale hands and white sleeves glow in the darkness. He was a ghost haunting the world left behind after the Kira case.

He didn't know where he was supposed to be. Wammy House was no longer his home. He had nothing to go back to, and he wasn't sure what the future held either. Until he figured out what to do, he was content to continue on this path. He owed it to L, Mello, Matt, and Wammy to continue their fight.

In the corner of the room, the safe lurking in the shadows mocked his pious words. He spared it a glance before going back to his food.

* * *

As Matsuda waited outside the movie theater a few hours later, he realized that Yamamoto was in a position to humiliate him badly if he didn't show up. 'Accidentally' missing the bus or getting sick would leave him and Sayu together for the evening, and she was bound to dislike that given her seeming aversion to dating, or anything else remotely feminine, for that matter.

He checked his watch again and compared it to the ticket before telling himself to calm down. He still found himself checking his seldom-worn jeans for wrinkles and his boots for scuffs. He wanted neither to dress up nor wear his usual work clothes. Unfortunately, since he was either working late, hanging out with Yamamoto after work, or falling asleep on his sofa at the end of the day, he didn't wear much other than suits.

The T-shirt that he tried on screamed "mid-life crisis!" with its disturbingly vibrant pattern. The resulting solid polo shirt and jacket just seemed bland in comparison. He'd settled for a shower to commemorate the occasion as anything other than the usual drinks with Yamamoto, but that had eaten up precious time that he could have spent eating.

He was eyeballing the concession stand with hunger when he saw Yamamoto's reddish hair coming toward him.

"I was hoping you weren't skipping out on me, Takumi-kun." He said through his teeth as he grinned, turning to face him.

"That would be entirely too predictable." Yamamoto pushed his glasses up his nose and scanned the street thronging with the Friday night crowd. He was wearing earrings and had spiked his hair to get rid of the professional look that he needed for work, and his clothes were straight out of the latest fashion magazines. It made him look at home here whereas Matsuda felt out of place and straitlaced. He felt so old sometimes.

As if to confirm his fears, Yamamoto looked him up and down. "Could you have picked a more boring shirt?"

"Not unless I'd come straight from work." Matsuda chuckled at the expected comment before seeing something that made the laughter fizzle out of his voice. "She's here."

"Don't sound so enthusiastic... Oh dear."

Sayu had a height disadvantage and she was still looking for them so she missed the twin lackluster expressions on their faces.

"She changed her shirt, at least." Yamamoto said glumly and Matsuda nodded. "Over here, Yagami-kun!" He raised his voice and waved brightly until she caught sight of them.

It took her a while to get through the crowd, giving Yamamoto plenty of time to sigh theatrically and shrug at Matsuda.

She greeted them uneasily while her eyes darted around at all the people. A younger man with a group of friends bumped her from behind and she glared at him, pulling her suit jacket even tighter around her slender form.

_Light's_ jacket. Light's cologne too, if the whiff that the breeze brought him over the smell of popcorn and candy was any indication.

That black pinstripe had been one of his favorites. Matsuda would know; he had taken Light's clothes to be drycleaned quite a few times while he was chained to L. Sometimes it seemed like his memory of those events was better than his recollection of the day before; it was like a brand on his memory, burned so deep that no amount of time would ever heal it.

"Been a while since you were out on a Friday?" Yamamoto stepped around Sayu to give her a bit of space between himself and Matsuda.

"I don't make a habit of going out." Sayu tucked her hair back into her ponytail and half-smiled at them both in thanks.

Still half-entrenched in memories, Matsuda wondered if beneath the boy's clothes, the severe hairstyle, and the austere expression, the once-trendy girl with a sweet smile still lingered somewhere. The professional look really suited her, but it didn't seem like _Sayu_. She had metamorphosed into a sexless clone of her brother.

That left Matsuda in love with a mere memory.

. . .

_Oh_ _god._

His heart stuttered to a halt.

_**In love?**_

He clapped a hand over his mouth as if the traitorous words would escape him, eyes huge with horror. The blood pounding in his ears drove out all other sound. Was he getting lightheaded?

"Matsuda-san?" Sayu's voice jarred him out of his reverie. "Are you okay?" His face felt bloodless, wooden with shock.

"Touta?" Yamamoto's elbow in his side reminded him to breathe, and he let out the air in a hyena's bark, a hysterical laugh as his hand fell to pull the tie that he wasn't wearing away from his neck.

"Fine, I'm fine." His voice was somewhere in the alto range as he settled for sliding a hand to the back of his neck to hide the tremors. "I just… thought I'd left my iron plugged in. Sorry, sorry, hehe."

He tried to shrug nonchalantly as he laughed in a more normal timbre. Yamamoto arched an eyebrow at him, clearly wondering what was wrong with his head.

"You had me worried." Sayu was looking at him with unsure concern, which only made him feel like even more of an idiot.

"S-sorry, Yagami-kun." Great, now he was stammering _and_ blushing if the tingling in his face was any indication. "I just—"

"Does anyone else want popcorn? I can't watch a movie without it!" Yamamoto interrupted loudly, steering Matsuda bodily toward the concession by grabbing his shoulder. "Thanks for coming with us, Yagami-kun! We have to do something fun without all those older guys around."

"Thanks for asking me." She bowed the slightest bit toward Yamamoto before following them. Yamamoto waved her ahead of them in line so she wouldn't be crushed by all the people around them, and she thanked him wordlessly with a more genuine smile.

For a moment, she looked more like her old self, and it burned him like a hot poker in his guts. He looked away and fixed his eyes on the bright lights and the menu. He didn't want to look at her right now.

What perfect timing. This was his first real time with her outside work and he had to realize this _now? _It was one thing to call his ridiculous fascination a crush, but he had _never_ called it love! Love implied affection, romance, a desire for some sort of relationship. Had he gone completely mad?

It made him want to bang his head on the counter a few times. Maybe a few thousand times. Better yet, it made him want to fall back on the old standby: stomach flu. Or necrotizing fasciitis. A dentist's appointment. A call from Near to report back to the headquarters.

He checked his phone. Nothing. No help there.

Yamamoto caught him glancing around and gave him a look that clearly said, "Don't you _dare_."

"Matsuda doesn't get out much either." He said, turning back to Sayu. "Normally we'd do a meet-and-greet with new team members but I guess work's a little demanding right now."

"That's alright. I knew most of your faces already. My father used to be chief in Aizawa-san's position."

"No kidding? I thought your surname sounded familiar."

"My brother worked with the team too."

"Police work runs in your family, then." Yamamoto was perfectly at ease talking to her about her dead relatives. Matsuda pulled out his wallet and idly counted the bills in there.

"So why haven't I met your brother?" The younger man sounded genuinely puzzled but Matsuda sucked in his breath, frozen with his fingers still in his wallet.

Yamamoto knew about Soichiro from offhand comments, but not Light. No one _ever_ mentioned Light's name, as if it was an incantation that would summon demons. Not one of them wanted to deal with that.

"He died." Sayu's expression was calm, accepting as she turned back to the counter. Matsuda had not expected that. "He and my father died a few years ago."

Yamamoto had the decency to look ashamed. "I'm sorry. I really had no idea about your brother..."

"It's alright." Sayu turned back long enough to give a thin smile. "That's part of why I'm here, after all.

"So what do you do after work, Yamamoto-san?" She deliberately and casually changed the subject.

Yamamoto waved her off as only he could. "Takumi, please. We're not at work." She nodded.

"And you can call me Sayu, Takumi-kun."

Just like that. Matsuda almost rolled his eyes. So easy, but he wouldn't dare drop her surname like that. Her mother would pop out of the very grass and see him being too casual with her again. Besides, Yamamoto was perfectly safe since Sayu wasn't a man, and she knew that.

There was the poker again.

Before the night was over, he was going to have the stomach flu for real if this kept up.

He listened to the two of them making small talk around ordering food for the movie, only commenting if he was directly questioned. He hadn't moved on as it looked like Sayu had; Light's specter lingered whenever his name was mentioned.

For pity's sake, he had _gunned down_ his best friend. Of course he was going to obsess about it until he died. The sense of complete and total betrayal had faded over time, leaving only the sorrow at losing someone he had loved like a brother.

He had a habit of idolizing all the wrong people, it seemed. But who wouldn't admire the Yagamis? On the surface, they were a picture perfect family. There was the strong and capable father, the attentive, gifted wife who put up with his demanding job, the smartest, most cultured young man he had ever met... and Sayu.

He had never thought of Sayu like a sister.

Dimly he realized he was at the counter, so he ordered the first thing he could think of: a large soda. He needed the caffeine like others needed cigarettes. Before Yamamoto could do it, he offered to carry Sayu's drink while she divested herself of her jacket when they walked into the theater.

He could be a friend. Really. It would just take a while.

The theater was filling up quickly so they were forced to find three seats right next to each other. Yamamoto was stuck with the middle seat, for while Matsuda was grateful; he didn't want to be that close to Sayu after the unwelcome revelation he had earlier.

Sayu and Yamamoto conversed in an undertone during the credits and made offhand comments to each other throughout the movie. It had been an understood with Matsuda and Yamamoto that once the movie started, there was to be only silence, but it appeared that he could make an exception for her.

He tried valiantly to ignore the green monster skulking around behind him throughout the movie. It made it very hard to focus on the film. As they left, he saw that Sayu appeared to have made a fast friend of Matsuda's only real friend outside work.

_Stop it, you idiot. This is only going to make things worse._

Apparently Yamamoto had decided that they weren't quite done for the night since he invited Sayu to join them for drinks or food, her pick. She wrinkled her nose faintly at the mention of drinks.

"I'm not much of a drinker, but if you wanted to get real food, that sounds great."

"Sure." Yamamoto turned to him with a mischievous grin. "So, where to?"

Matsuda opened his mouth in helpless fury. There went his plans of escaping as soon as possible, and Yamamoto knew it. Some friend he was turning out to be.

"What about the place we went last week?" He was grasping at straws. Most of the time they just went out for drinks, not food.

"Mignona's? Yeah, that was great. It's not too far either." Yamamoto struck off in a random direction since Matsuda didn't know where he was going. He buried his hands in his pockets and found Sayu falling in beside him; Yamamoto was a better crowd-weaver and he was already getting ahead of them.

"I haven't seen a movie in a long time." She said as she ducked in and out of groups of people. "That was fun."

"How long is a long time?" Another thing Matsuda sucked at: small talk, especially with women. This was usually where dates got awkward. Except this wasn't a date.

"Since before I went back to college, so maybe three years? I was a little single-minded then."

"Where did you go?"

"J University." She flashed him a sheepish look. "Not To-Oh, like my brother."

Matsuda shrugged. "We can't all be that smart. I went to K, one of J's sister schools."

"What did you study?"

"Criminal Psychology. You?"

"Criminal Justice and History." She looked askance at him. "I didn't know you had a psych background."

"I've kind of gotten away from it, working here. That was a long time ago." She had focused on two subjects? She really had been working hard.

Of course, she had a lot to look up to, living in _his_ shadow.

Yamamoto was waiting for them at the intersection ahead, and Matsuda caught his sideways smile even if Sayu didn't. Bastard.

The rest of the evening proceeded in much the same way once they reached the restaurant; Yamamoto directed the conversation whenever Matsuda failed to hold up his end, and he kept them both involved. The man was skilled and he knew exactly what he was doing. At least it made the evening relatively carefree, for which he was grateful. Again. He would buy the man's drinks for an entire night after this.

Sayu was great company once she was outside work. She smiled, she laughed, and she looked nothing like she did at the office. There she seemed to think she needed to be stone-cold tough for he had never seen her smile after that first day. Out here, he saw more of the old Sayu peeking through.

Not that he knew the old Sayu that well. He hadn't exactly been friends with her when she was in college the first time.

Once they'd spent long enough at the table that Sayu started checking her watch, they paid their checks and made their way out of the building. The streets were still busy; Matsuda had forgotten that downtown was so busy at night, even more proof that he didn't get out enough.

Yamamoto conveniently remembered that he lived in the opposite direction that Sayu was going and bid them both goodnight outside.

"You two have a lovely night. You're both heading the same way, yes?" Of course Yamamoto knew that Matsuda used the trains too. "Bye! We'll have to do this again."

"Certainly!" came Sayu's reply, and Matsuda only waved.

Once they both turned away, heading toward the train station, Sayu checked her watch again, her smile fading.

"Mom's going to worry. I didn't tell her I'd be out quite this late."

"Is she expecting you?" What a stupid question. He rolled his eyes at himself.

"I have the car parked at the end of the line. I didn't want her to have to pick me up."

"Can you call her?"

"I don't want to wake her up." Sayu bit her lip, and Matsuda thought it looked ridiculously cute. "I told her I'd be out with friends from work, but still... I haven't exactly been social lately."

"Well... It's only one time. She can't begrudge you that."

"You're right. I'm overreacting."

They fell into silence after that, dodging groups of people on the way to the station. Matsuda couldn't think of anything worth commenting on after that, so he stayed quiet.

Sayu looked distracted and not exactly amenable to pointless chatter. Once they swiped their rail cards and boarded the train, she relaxed, but Matsuda just played the role of mute companion.

They sat on the horizontal seats lining the side of the train with enough space between them that Matsuda wasn't crowding her. Matsuda leaned back and read the advertisements for makeup on the other side of the train car.

_Say something, you dolt. Haven't you been wanting this chance?_

To his surprise, she turned her head and pulled out her ponytail holder. She shook out far more hair than he thought she had considering she always had it pulled back. She combed her fingers through it and shot him a sheepish look.

"It's been back all day, and it's giving me a headache."

He nodded, not knowing what to say that wouldn't be a compliment. She flipped it back over her shoulder and gave a little sigh of relief. It was halfway down her back, longer than she had worn it the last time he saw her so many years ago. She pulled out her phone and tried to send a message before she lost the signal, so he looked back across the train car.

"Is this seat taken?"

A clean-cut young man gripped the handholds above Sayu, looking at the seat beside her. She shook her head and looked back down at her phone. He took the seat right beside her, on the side opposite Matsuda and studied her phone.

"Is that the Motorola Sigil? What do you think of it?"

Sayu looked up in vague consternation. "No, it's an older model." She slid the phone shut and put it away in her purse.

"Oh, mine too. I'm thinking of upgrading, though." He smiled at her and she gave him a wobbly grin in return. "I'm Kato. What's your name?"

"Mina." She said without batting an eyelash, and Matsuda looked down into his lap with a suppressed grin.

"So, Mina-chan, heading home for the night?"

"Yes." She said shortly, her smile vanishing.

"Well, if you change your mind, come see my friend's jazz band. They play at the Blue Note every Friday. My phone number's on the back." He handed her a small card, which she took and pocketed after very briefly looking at it.

"Thanks." To Matsuda's utter shock, she turned to him and said, "Maybe next weekend we can see them. What do you think, Touta-kun?"

"Of course." He blurted out before he could react to her using his first name. Thinking fast, he added, "We can make it a date."

Sayu nodded with a smile in reply. Kato glanced back and forth between them and stood up with a lopsided grin. "Well, it'll be good to have you," he finished lamely. "I've got to go spread the word." He waved and headed off down the train to a different seat.

Once he was out of earshot, Sayu turned to him. "I'm _so_ sorry for calling you that. I was desperate to get rid of him."

"It's alright." Matsuda shrugged. "The situation was _dire_."

Sayu giggled, breaking the tension. She pulled the card out again and gave it a once-over. "It's not that I dislike music, I just..."

"Don't like men." He added, then kicked himself mentally.

"Exactly." She breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad someone understands."

That didn't make him feel much better.

"I mean, really." She turned toward him and continued in a low voice. "Do I look like the fun-loving type?" She gestured at her work clothes. "Do I look like the type to stay out all night?"

"No, not at all." Matsuda hoped that was the right thing to say; women were so hard to read sometimes.

"I'm boring, I'm serious, and I don't like the same things they do."

Matsuda had to laugh at that one. "Did you just call yourself boring?"

"Yes. I'm a workaholic." She frowned. "It's the hair, isn't it? I should just cut it off."

"What? Why...?" He stopped, annoyed at the strength of his reaction. "Why do you think you need to do that?"

"I only ever wear it back, and I don't do anything with it. If I buzzed it off, I wouldn't need to style it." At his look of shock, she grinned. "I'm kidding. I won't shave my head."

"I think it's fine. It's professional, at least."

"I know, but..." She twirled a piece that was hanging over her shoulder, staring at the ends in consternation. "Why bother with it?"

"Yagami-kun, cutting off your hair isn't going to turn you into a boy."

Oh... _shit_.

He did _not_ just say that.

She looked discomfited, shooting him a look that was half-accusation, half-embarrassment. "What are you talking about? Who said anything about that?" She wound her hair into a tight bun while she talked, tying it back with jerky motions.

"Nothing. No one, I mean." He backpedaled furiously, but she didn't look pleased at his attempts at apology. "It's just..."

"You don't know me, Matsuda-san." She looked like she wanted to say more, but she settled for leaning back against the seat and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yagami-kun, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was-"

"No, it's fine. I'll see you Monday." She pulled an mp3 player out of her purse and put the earbuds in her ears, studiously ignoring him. He glanced at the sign over the doors. Mercifully, his stop was coming up.

He couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't bungle this further. The rest of the ride, he stared across the aisle, watching her reflection in the window. She didn't look at him once.

Before he left the train, he glanced back to check on her. She was staring at her mp3 player and thumbing some buttons on it, completely oblivious to his exit.

Perfect.

So much for what had been a relatively pleasant night. Friends wouldn't have butted into her business like that. He really needed to work on his delivery.

And everything else.

He fell asleep on the sofa that night after only two shots of vodka. It wasn't like he was upset. Not at all.

* * *

A/N - I was really stuck, writing-wise, until I abandoned all my quiet haunts and sat in a noisy hookah lounge downtown. Voila, a random update in three hours. :/ I did cheat on the names of the universities and just used the first letter like they do in so many manga. I'm lazy.


End file.
