Chapter Text
During the raids, Kiyomi and Misa had been given an apartment at the task force headquarters to stay in until the case was completely resolved. L made it clear that they would be confined in some way until everything was cleared in order to limit the number of factors that could come into play. After assuring Rem over and over that it was okay, Misa and Kiyomi had settled into the same apartment Misa had been confined in before.
The air was tense, Kiyomi felt like there were eyes on her every move, even if she knew they were completely alone. She didn’t trust those cameras to be off.
This is where Misa was living while L investigated her? Good god…
It wasn’t bad by any means, it was actually pretty comfortable, but it was horribly bland. Kiyomi couldn’t imagine how stressful it must have been to have your every single move watched, every conversation monitored, with only Rem for friendly company. Misa must have been so lonely…
They sat at the kitchen table together, drinking coffee. The silence stretched on.
“What are we going to do after all of this?” Misa asked softly.
“...What do you mean?” Kiyomi watched her.
“I…I don’t know.” Misa stared into her cup. “So much has changed in such a short time. I feel like I’m not even the same person anymore.”
Kiyomi looked down, she couldn’t argue with that, she felt the same way. If she looked at a photo of herself from three months, six months, a year ago, she wouldn’t even be able to recognize that girl. That version of herself was dead.
“I…” She trailed off, not sure what to say.
“I know you feel the same way.” Misa supplied, looking at her. “You’re different too. Maybe it’s for the best that we’ve both changed. Maybe we can… I don’t know…”
Kiyomi examined her. “What do you want… after all this is over?” She asked. She desperately hoped Misa wanted the same thing she did. Being around Misa wasn’t… difficult like it could be with some people. Being around Misa wasn’t boring or frustrating. It wasn’t a chore, it was the easy choice, the better choice. Kiyomi could only hope Misa felt that same way.
“I want you.” Misa said looking up at her with a little wistful smile. “Whatever comes next, I just want… to be with you.”
Kiyomi smiled back, soft and in love, feeling tears well in her eyes. “I want that too.”
She leaned in and kissed Misa. Coffee, vanilla, and lipstick. It tasted like heaven.
They pulled back from the kiss a moment later, their foreheads pressed together.
“I have an aunt.” Kiyomi started. “She lives in Spain. She’s… like us. And she just got married.”
Misa looked at her.
“If you want, we could go visit her? I could… I could tell my parents I’m studying abroad.”
“Are you asking me to run away with you to Spain?” Misa asked, her voice teasing.
“...”
“Wait you are?” She sat up.
“I mean… It’s not the worst place we could live.” Kiyomi said. “They legalized same sex marriage there a few years ago, I have family there, my Spanish isn’t great but I can get by…”
Misa grinned. “I would love to go to Spain with you.”
Kiyomi grinned back. “Really?”
“Yes.” Misa kissed her deeply, holding her face in her hands. “My contract is almost up, if they haven’t already severed it, and I have no family left here… I would love to see Spain.”
Kiyomi hugged her tightly, overwhelmed by joy and love.
Yua Akahoshi was anxiously pacing her apartment when she finally got the call. She cursed, immediately recognizing the number. The damn police just couldn’t leave her or her son alone… But maybe… maybe they had found him? Maybe he was safe? Maybe…maybe…maybe…
She would contemplate that phone call later, wonder if it would have been better to just not answer. If she should have just thrown her phone out the open window and let it shatter on the sidewalk.
As good as that would have felt, it wouldn’t have changed anything.
Remembering that day in retrospect, it all seems so pointless. The way she had shoved her bare feet into a pair of house slippers and thrown a dirty sweatshirt over her head before rushing out the door. None of it made any difference. Fate had decided the outcome long ago, she was just playing into its cruel hands.
She was a mess when she arrived at the building. Once again, any situation that involved her son had her looking like a desperate shell of a woman, grasping at straws that weren’t ever there to begin with.
They said they found him, that he wanted to talk to her, that she needed to be there as soon as possible. Hope was still blooming in her chest at the prospect of seeing her son, of helping him. She could still save him, she was his mother!
As an elderly gentleman led her into an elevator, she reminisced.
Nobu’s birth was very quick, albeit painful. Most mothers have a hard time with their first delivery, and Yua was no exception. Still, it felt like her son was itching to see the outside world, like he was desperate to meet it face to face and take on whatever was in store for him. The nurses described him as ‘tenacious’ for the way he wriggled and kicked when they tried to swaddle him.
She loved him. She loved him like she had never loved anyone else. Not her own parents, not her husband, not herself. It was the wild, self-sacrificing, burning love that she had never been shown, but she was committed to show it to the child in her arms. That squirming, whimpering, ruddy faced infant was her life's accomplishment. She would do whatever it took to see him thrive.
Yua had named him for that internal strength. Because trust takes a lot of strength. She had hoped that the determination he showed from his first day would grow and become a pillar that others could rely on.
What’s in a name?
She was led down into a basement. Before them was a door. The elderly man stopped.
“Mrs. Akahoshi. I must inform you that…” He trailed off, pausing as he gathered his thoughts.
“What?” She growled.
“We have undeniable proof that your son is Kira. That he was acting as Kira for some time. I understand that this may-”
“For the love of GOD!” She snapped. “That again! When are you ever going to give it up? When are you ever going to let that go? My son is not Kira. Yes, he’s troubled, yes he has been through horrible things in his life. That doesn’t make him a murderer!”
“Mrs. Akahoshi-”
“Is this how L conducts all his investigations?!” She demanded “He just finds someone who kind of fits the bill and pins evidence on them until it sticks? It’s all so fucked up. My son has nothing to do with Kira, so either let him go or-”
“Mrs. Akahoshi, please.” The man cut in. “Your son has requested to speak to you.”
She gave him a death glare.
“One of these days, you’ll realize what you’ve done, torturing an innocent boy this way. I hope it haunts you.” she snarled and pushed past him through the door.
Her son sat before her, fully restrained. She walked forward, pulling the blindfold off his face.
Nobu blinked, flinching at the harsh bright light, he was horribly pale and thin.
“Honey…” Yua said softly, taking his face in her hands. “Nobu, are you alright? I promise I’m going to find a way to get you out of here…”
“Mom…”
“Hush.” She whispered. “Listen, I’m going to get you a good lawyer. Don’t give me that look, I’ll manage it somehow…”
“Mom.” He broke in firmly. “Mom, they weren’t lying to you. I am Kira.”
“Stop that.” She pulled his face up to look her in the eyes. “You don’t know what you’re saying…”
“Mom! Listen!” He pulled his face from her hands.
She stared at him shocked. He couldn’t seriously be… No, they must have messed with his mind. Not her son.
He sighed, sagging against the bonds. “Mom I am Kira - no, listen to me - just let me talk.” he sighed softly.
And as she listened, it got worse and worse.
She couldn’t deny it any longer, that was her son. That was him behind those eyes, he had always had that spark of stubbornness, the stubbornness that she had instilled in him.
He told her everything. Finding the notebook, testing it, framing his old friend, killing innocents and criminals alike.
He looked up at her. “I’m… I’m sorry, mama.” He sobbed. “I’m not… the son you thought I was. I don’t care about the rest of it. I don’t care about killing those people, but I care about you. And I’m so, so sorry I let you down.”
She stared at her hands. Hands that cradled him as a baby, hands that carried him to bed, hands that soothed him when he cried.
Yua shook her head looking away. “Nobu… I don’t understand. I don’t understand why.”
He swallowed his tears, looking up at her. A scared and desperate child. “I thought… I thought…” he trailed off. “Fuck, it doesn’t matter now. I’m a murderer, Mom.”
She didn’t know him. He was a stranger from her womb.
She sat down on the cold concrete floor in front of him, holding her knees to her chest as she listened to him cry.
Was it something she had done? Had she coddled him too much? Was it Yoshio? Was it his arrest and imprisonment? He was one of the first people Nobu had killed…
She swallowed hard.
And all those innocent classmates, teachers, neighbors. Killed because they got in his way, interrupted plans, got too close to the truth. Or just because… they annoyed him. For no other reason. He just found them vexing.
Something somewhere along the line had gone wrong. Was it in his DNA? Yoshio’s hands certainly weren’t clean, she had found that out after his arrest. Was it all him? Was there something in her? Was there something fundamental about the combination of them that made their son… what he was?
Was it in his development? His early childhood? Was there something they missed? Something she could have done when Yoshio was still in the picture? What about after he was arrested? Had she not done enough? Had she not been there enough? She had brought Nobu to grief counseling and gone herself. The cheapest she could afford on her shitty income but it was better than nothing… Did she drink too much? Were the two glasses on a Friday night too much? Was she not home enough? Questions swirled around her head endlessly.
Is this… my fault?
“Mama…” She heard Nobu’s voice, thick with tears. She surged up and hugged him. Murderer or not, stranger or not, he was her son.
“Mama…” He sobbed into her shoulder. “It’s not your fault.” He whispered. “It’s not your fault…”
When Nobu had finished giving his confession, he cried himself to sleep in his mothers arms. It was the last thing he would ever do.
Yua kissed his forehead, smoothed his hair back, and stood to leave the room. As she did, she came face to face with the elderly man again. This time, he held a laptop. A simple white screen, with a black letter L.
“Mrs. Akahoshi.” L addressed her.
“What?” She asked, miserably wiping her eyes.
“I must stress that you can never repeat any of what your son has told you. It is to remain strictly confidential.”
She nodded numbly. “Who would I tell? I don’t have anyone left.”
An awkward silence stretched between them. “Can I ask you something?” She looked at the laptop.
“...Yes.”
“Is there… is there any way to…” she looked down. She felt ashamed to be asking this. According to every metric of justice she had ever heard, Nobu should be put to death. But if there was any way to stop that. To just get him a life sentence. To keep him alive…
Call it maternal instinct, but she still desperately wanted to save him.
“I’m afraid it is not in my hands, Mrs. Akahoshi. From here, any trial and sentencing will be carried out by Interpol, not myself.”
Yua hung her head, she knew what that meant.
She failed.
Her one job. Her one tie to her old life, to the life that made her happy and fulfilled.
She failed.
The elderly man caught her before she could collapse sobbing on the concrete floor.
Light watched Nobu give his confession, it made him feel more confused than ever.
He felt… something. But he wasn’t sure what exactly. Some strange mass of emotions whirled in his chest, changing too fast for him to tell what they were.
L had seemed hesitant to let Light watch the confession, but had caved after Light gave him a stubborn glare. A ‘ if you say no, I’ll hack the security footage and watch it anyway ’ kind of glare.
He didn’t regret it, he needed to see this, and L needed to learn that Light wasn’t made of glass. He could handle these tough situations.
Still, seeing Nobu, someone he had grown up with and at one point considered a friend, talk so callously about planning his and L’s deaths…
It was clear that Nobu didn’t regret any of what he had done, and never would, no matter what punishment he was given. Being Kira was a part of his identity, no amount of outward influence would be enough to convince him that he was wrong.
It almost made Light sick to see someone so similar to himself reduced to such a pathetic state.
L double checked to make sure that the entire recording was secure. When Yua Akahoshi turned her back on her sleeping son and walked out the door, he nodded at Ryuk.
Nobu Akahoshi died of a heart attack in his cell on October 8, 2007.
A few weeks later, L was laying on the couch and Light was lying on his chest. At Light’s insistence, he had agreed to take a break and rest for a few minutes.
Still, he couldn’t help but worry.
The case was winding down. Nobu Akahoshi was dead. His confession had been sent to Interpol, and they were satisfied with L’s work.
Misa and Kiyomi had been released and given a generous amount of ‘compensation for their troubles’.
Rem had agreed to never allow Misa to use the Death Note. Rem would hold it for her, but Misa would retain ownership. L, of course, would keep remote tabs on Misa and be updated on any suspicious behavior.
Yua Akahoshi had left Tokyo entirely. Her son’s ashes were released to her and she had accepted them without a single word. The last L had heard, she was on a train headed for Hokkaido, near where her husband had been killed. Some sort of closure? He wasn’t sure, and at this point, he didn’t particularly care.
He trailed his fingers through Light’s hair. Unsure of what to do. He desperately wanted to bring Light with him, but he was torn. He could always set up in Japan temporarily… It was a thought he had entertained before…
Light looked up at him. “You’re thinking too loud.” he teased, cupping L’s cheek.
L sighed and held him tighter. “I’m just… not sure what we do next.” He admitted. “I’ve never… been in a situation like this one before.”
Light looked at him. “I could always go with you.”
“What about school?” L asked.
Light shook his head. “College is boring. Besides, I was thinking of taking a semester off anyway.”
“A semester off?”
“You wanted me to go to therapy, didn’t you?” Light asked, looking up at him. “Well… you’re right. I… I need help. After all this, my mind…” He sighed, frustrated. “I think I need to learn how to be a person again.”
L nodded, he knew that feeling all too well.
Light paused. “If I go with you, I’ll be able to do that, right?”
“Of course.” L looked at him. “I can do almost all of my cases remotely. If you were to come with me, or if I were to stay here, you would get the best care available. I’d make sure of that.”
Light kissed his shoulder.
“I think… I think I’d like to go with you. There are too many memories here. I need… I think I need new surroundings. Maybe it’ll help.”
L nodded, running his hand through Light’s hair. “Would you like to see where I grew up?”
Light sat up suddenly and looked at him, shocked.
“It’s not a risk now.” L reminded him. “I trust you fully, and now that Kira is no longer a threat…”
“I would love that.” Light smiled softly.
L met his kiss halfway.
The bluebird was singing.
Epilogue:
In the months after her son’s death, Yua Akahoshi moved to a small town she and her husband visited on their honeymoon. It was quiet and quaint and no one there knew her name. Under a pen name, she became an artist, drawing and painting visceral scenes from her life. Mothers holding dead children, twisted bodies riddled with bullet holes, anatomical hearts torn to pieces, a boy strapped to a chair and blindfolded, a notebook covered in blood. It was graphic, brutal, shameless, and critically acclaimed.
Under her pseudonym she gained international recognition for her work. She never cared about any of that. She wasn’t doing this to make art, it was the only catharsis she had.
She found peace in the quiet rhythm of her work, but never in her mind.
Fifty years later, she died in her sleep; dreaming of her husband and son.
Kiyomi and Misa spent two years in Spain with Kiyomi’s aunts. They fell deeply in love in the arid hillsides of Andalusia. They walked through cobblestone streets of the pueblos blancos, they visited markets and cafes, they drank wine and made love.
At the end of their first year, they got married. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was undeniably beautiful.
They later returned to Japan. Misa went back to school and became a fashion designer. Kiyomi became a reporter.
After the case was over, L and Light planned to take time off to rest. L was going to take Light to England, introduce him to the children, and hopefully help him recover from the horrible traumatizing year that they had both just lived through.
Unfortunately, sometimes fate has other plans.
And today, fate’s plan’s name was Mello.