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Light Yagami has not known peace since L.
Peaceful as it was, his old life was empty and pointless. Every day was a film caught on a loop, playing the same scenes over and over for years. Of all the things to tear through the monotony, he never would’ve guessed it’d be a notebook.
One that brought Light to godhood—brought Light to… him.
Despite changing the trajectory of his life forever, the notebook itself could never compare to the moment that broadcast appeared on the TV in his teenage bedroom—the moment he truly knew his days of quiet were no more.
Likewise, Light Yagami has not known peace since becoming L.
On that rainy day when L left his flesh and his title, Light caught both with a bone-crushing grip; one that he can still remember, despite all attempts to forget.
L was never the liveliest person to begin with. He lived like a ghost, existing in the periphery of the world where no one could see or speak to him as he indulged himself however he pleased. In their days together chained at the wrist, L seemed to float through the space he occupied, his mind a far greater presence than his body ever was.
Part of Light expected the man to look exactly as he always did when death finally took him from the world. Which is why, even after all this time, the vision of L’s final moment still plagues him.
There was a split second he felt his own heart stop as he alone saw the signs of life be pried away from the man in his arms.
Wide, knowing eyes gave him one last look of sorrowful victory before growing dim. Pale skin, cold to the touch whenever they brushed against one another, went frigid under his hold. Color that Light wasn’t aware he had slowly drained from his face.
And as L’s body relaxed in Light’s arms, something occurred to him.
Death was so peaceful.
He’d never thought about it before, even when serving it by the thousands. Not until years later when the detective’s absence truly began to weigh on him. When Light felt that pulse disappear, in the middle of alarms blaring and several grown men screaming for their lives, Light thought L looked so peaceful .
That singular moment of peace, not even his own, haunts him in ways he’ll never speak of. He thought he’d buried the feeling alongside L, yet much like the man himself, the feeling lingered. It came to him in the form of a voice in his head, low in timbre and dripping with arrogance, asking him if this was the victory he wanted.
Light continued onward in spite.
A new era of justice was born quickly thereafter. One that Light spared no time molding to form the pillars atop the steadily growing foundations of his new world.
Things were moving quickly, and yet not quickly enough, as they barreled toward the end. It was only a matter of time before Kira became truly uncontested on the world stage.
This was not a road one traveled for peace. Seeking peace is what made the hammer of the law waver. And so it wasn’t peace that he wanted, but rather, satisfaction. Of which he was soon to receive when he came face to face with the final vestiges of L.
Light was not an impatient man by any means, but when you’re staring down the road leading toward your indisputable victory, there’s an undeniable urge to run . To grab at it as soon as possible and watch as the world changed forever in your hold.
Instead, he’d deny himself the urge for now and grant himself tomorrow the pleasure of savoring it to its fullest. For now, there were other ways to find satisfaction – to stave off his impatience for that glorious day.
Light enters his empty hotel room and goes through the motions of retiring for the evening. It was difficult these days to get a single moment alone. Now more than ever, all eyes were on him.
He made the excuse of needing time to himself in preparation for their first meeting with the SPK at the Yellow Box Warehouse. Of course, only he knew it would be their final one as well.
The truth was he did need to prepare; he simply glossed over what he was preparing for. Regardless of how he phrased his reasoning, he knew certain people would’ve immediately written it off as lies. His team had spent these past few years learning not to trust him. With the SPK’s interference, that distrust could have only increased exponentially, and so did his own.
It became a natural part of his routine to check every room he entered for bugging. These days, he can barely even guess who they might be from. He gave the place a thorough search, just to be cautious, but it really didn’t matter now – not when the end was so close and everything was practically set in stone.
It wasn't people, but merely hours , standing between him and his perfect victory.
He was always too busy grasping for his next victory to celebrate the last, but what was there to do now as he was left to wait for it? His blood runs hot beneath his skin, impatient for a taste of satisfaction.
There’s an easy fix for that. Light could very easily demand satisfaction and watch as people fell into place, desperate to give it to him. Pick any person he wants among the many who want him and take them without even thinking.
But that's too easy. It's all too easy.
He wants a challenge.
He wants L.
And L is dead.
He climbs into bed, now donning his night clothes, nerves still alight despite all his efforts to shake the thoughts of a dead man from his head.
The silence was welcome company. That is, until his mind began filling the space with shadows at his bedside. The figure types away at a laptop, every movement punctuated by the phantom sound of clicking keys and the occasional rattle of a chain.
Light turns to his side and, like always, the man is no more. The sheets were empty—by design, of course, because Light chose to be alone tonight. Still, his mind provides him the image of pale skin, dark hair, and that wide, knowing gaze tearing him apart piece by piece.
A lithe hand slowly moves towards him, and Light promptly rolls away onto his back where the hand should no longer reach him. Instead, it follows Light for as long as Light’s mind allows, gliding bony fingers down the length of his arm.
He’d imagined this more times than he was ever willing to admit. When the notebook granted back his memories, he’d been horrified to recall the way his memory-less self would imagine such things as he laid next to the man in bed or sat with him on long nights at HQ.
The humiliating realization initially tainted that victory. He refuses to let it taint this one as well.
Light closes his eyes and the hand continues to move across his body, grazing his stomach and climbing its way to his chest. This was the night before the grand finale, and he’ll let the shadow of L have its final moments with him before he claims victory at the warehouse.
As the warehouse crosses his mind, a wicked idea forms in Light’s head. He opens his eyes and the shadow of L is gone, leaving in its wake the vision of a gothic letter N.
Light’s pulse quickens, his veins thrumming beneath his skin. Soon within his reach would be the real remnant of L’s shadow – something more than just the ghost of a hand. Instead, a body falling to the ground in veneration and defeat. Much like the real L.
The thought was electric, and Light suddenly grew bored of the apparition of pale limbs obediently caressing his body. There was a very real satisfaction awaiting him—one he could only get from a real challenge.
He refused to humor him before; maybe he'll humor him now.
Fuck it. Light decides to give him a call.
Light reaches over and grabs his phone from the bedside drawer. He dials the number the task force had been given to privately discuss their suspicions about the second L. How could he possibly forget it when the smug bastard only gave it to taunt him?
Information was always a welcome bonus, of course, but Light knew every call swathed the primary goal of getting under his skin.
Surely, Light was allowed a little revenge before the end.
The phone rang and Light pressed it against his ear, counting each one.
Brrriiing…
Brrriiing…
Brrriiing…
Already one too many rings than usual when he calls on their main line. His recipient is likely caught off-guard—a small taste of satisfaction at the tip of Light’s tongue.
It takes one more ring before the line is picked up. Light waits a moment to see if he’ll speak first. When it becomes apparent that he won’t, Light decides to bite the bullet.
“Near?”
A slow inhale, followed by a quiet, “Light Yagami.”
Immediately, Light registers the lack of a voice changer. They both had stopped using them after the mafia’s attack on the SPK with the notebook, but Light never found the time to truly listen to the voice of his adversary. The monotonous tone wasn’t that far from the previous L’s own.
Though much softer, every word that came out was mocking at best and outright accusatory at worst. He spoke Light’s name like he was keen to get it out of his hands and let it collapse on the ground.
Light grins wickedly, without a hint of it seeping into his voice. Controlled as always, he says, “Oh, great. I got the number right. I was worried I may have already forgotten.”
“Is there something you need? We have an important day ahead.”
To the point, like always. Never allowing him an inch yet goading him to step forward regardless.
“I want to talk to you about that, actually. Are you alone?”
“No. Two of my men are in the room with me. Though they cannot hear our conversation if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Not like it mattered if they could. “I see. I’m alone right now.”
“I figured you were considering you’re calling the phone line intended for the Japanese task force.”
Light gives an airy laugh, trying for a friendly atmosphere to match the informality of the call. “I’m part of the task force too, remember? You said we could call, day or night.”
“... Yes," Near says wryly. "I suppose my offer does extend to you as well. What would you like to discuss?”
Light gives the silence a moment to breathe, and then strangles the air out of it.
“You think he’s going to be there tomorrow, don’t you? Kira.”
Silence.
Did it surprise him? Is he panicked to know Light’s already seen through his excuse of a meeting? That he’s still thinking it over now? Light ran through all the possible expressions he might’ve made upon hearing his words. If only had a face to pair with it.
Still, Light is pleased with just how long it takes for Near to respond.
“Yes. I suspect Kira would be eager to meet all his primary threats in one location.”
Light takes a shaky exhale to disperse his zeal, skillfully feigning it as nervousness. “I see. I figured that was the goal. Are you not concerned about the danger you’re putting everyone in to meet him?”
“No. The goal is not to meet Kira, but to catch him. I can guarantee the safety of everyone tomorrow except Kira.”
Light cracks a smile at the clear threat. The ghost of L’s hand is on him again, following the previous trail up his chest and slowly making its way to his throat. His own hand rests on his stomach, gently massaging the grooves of his abdomen to settle the eagerness boiling in his gut.
“That’s good to hear. I’ll be honest, I’m a bit nervous.” Light’s voice is dripping with practiced sincerity.
“Nervous?”
“Of course. The task force has been chasing Kira for years now. If you believe he’ll be there tomorrow, then this may finally come to a close.”
“I understand why that may make you nervous. You’ve had your hands full as L, I’m sure.”
Light hums in response, eyes trained on the hotel ceiling. It reminds him of his old bedroom; of staring into the empty space between carefully placed hidden cameras, trying to picture the face of a man he’s never met.
His hand slowly inches lower. “I’m not sure how L managed it. A shame he can’t be there to see your plan unfold tomorrow.”
“... Light Yagami, what is this actually about?”
Light rolls his eyes. His hand stills just as it reaches his waistband. “I just want to discuss what’ll happen tomorrow.”
“Okay. What do you believe will happen tomorrow?”
The corners of his mouth twitch upward, and Light allows his eyes to flutter shut once more as his hand finally breaches the barrier of his waistband. He’s pictured such a moment for years, counting down from forty as every final adversary stands helplessly, awaiting judgment.
“What happens if Kira kills everyone?” His breath hitches imperceptibly, and a shudder runs down his spine. Light continues, his excitement betraying him. “What if Kira wins?”
Near makes a disapproving noise. “Why do you think that will happen?”
“You’re luring him in by using everyone as bait, aren’t you? As the head of the task force, I shouldn’t approve of such callous decisions being made without my team and I’s input.”
A soft sigh. “If an apology is what you wish to hear, I promise that once we arrest Kira I will apologize to your team in person.”
His team, but not him. “You sure are confident that you’ll arrest him.”
“Confidence is good in a leader, correct? I’ve chosen to have confidence in my team and the safeguards we’ve set,” Near says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “You should do the same. It’s not befitting of L to lack conviction.”
That makes Light’s teeth clench. And his dick twitch. “Are you saying I’m not fit to be L?”
More sternly, he responds, “I’m saying you lack conviction. No one will die. Not even Kira.”
Interesting. “Not even Kira, hm?”
“Yes. My team is prepared to apprehend him as soon as we guarantee his identity.”
Light holds back another laugh. He has a few guesses on how Near intends to do that—all of which he’s already planned around and more. The fact that Near even expects to walk out of that warehouse alive is amusing in itself.
“Alright, Near. It’s a bold plan but I trust you know what you’re doing.”
“Good. I trust you not to tell the other task force members about this either.”
“Don’t they have the right to know what you’re walking them into?”
“They do. However, it would be inconvenient if they changed their minds.” He pauses, and that accusatory tone is the most obvious it’s ever been when he says, “Kira would prefer everyone to be present. Wouldn’t he?”
“He would,” Light says, a soft sigh escaping his lips as his hand finally comes in contact with his member, half hard and eager for satisfaction. “It’s a perfect trap… just for him.”
“Mm. Are you satisfied?”
Light does a sharp inhale. Not yet. “You’ll take responsibility for everything?”
“Of course. Including Kira’s incarceration.”
“Oh? You intend to keep him as a trophy?”
“As a prisoner,” he clarifies. “I’ve already made arrangements.”
There he goes again. Speaking like he was guaranteed to live with that unshakable confidence—the same confidence Light was met with a lifetime ago that made him want to destroy his bedroom TV or take the steel chain linked to his wrist and use it as a garrote.
“How diligent. Is it possible for me to ask what said arrangements are?”
Near laughs. It’s more an amused huff than anything, but Light suspects it's the closest he'll ever get to hearing him laugh. It's not as if they’ve had many opportunities to laugh in their previous calls. Not out loud, at least. Light was very good at holding his in.
He contemplates pushing further for a real answer, curious about what Near has in store, if only because he’ll never live to fulfill it.
Near’s tone is ice cold when he says, “Don't worry. You will find out soon.”
Light clenches his jaw, opens his eyes, and moves his hand faster.
It's different. He’s so different from L, yet so similar in all the ways that grated on his nerves the most.
Talking around the truth was a familiar game—one that L played a very specific way. He was a liar straight to his core, using his lies to catch Light off-guard and watch his balance waver in ways no one else could ever see. Chipping away at his wall of carefully crafted reactions for a single crack of truth.
He called him his friend, praised him as an equal, humored his opinions, and gave him the space to believe even just for a moment that they weren’t all bare-faced lies. And Light would respond receptively, before spewing lies of his own. A room full of smoke and mirrors where everything was obscured but each other – that was their game.
One that Near refuses to play.
Near, without hesitation, rejects him with every word out of his mouth. Nothing he said was a lie. In fact, he couldn’t have been more honest with his contempt toward Kira—toward him. No masks, no hiding, no holds barred.
Light, in all his life, had never felt rejection so concentrated on him. It’s like Near can’t even stand the idea of allowing Light to imagine the possibility of Kira winning. He shuts down every scenario, never allowing Light what he wants to hear. Straightforward like L was, but relentlessly so. It was L's confidence without self-righteousness or ego.
Frustration turns into excitement. He can't wait to see that confidence shatter on the warehouse floor.
“I hope you're right about this, Near. I'd hate for Kira to get you too.” He hopes Mikami writes Near's name last, so he can savor it.
“You don’t need to worry about me. Tomorrow will go exactly as it needs to.”
“It certainly will.” With Light peering down at his lifeless body and walking out the sole victor.
“Are you still nervous?” Near asks. His attempt at concern—if it even was that, and not another thinly veiled taunt—sounded bored.
“No, not anymore.”
“Very well, if that’s all you need from me, I will–”
“Near,” Light interrupts. If he’s that eager to end the conversation, Light will make one last petty attempt to extend it. “Before you go…”
Near responds with dead silence. His dedication to forcing Light to speak first is almost impressive. Always patiently waiting for Light to reveal himself.
Light decides to take a page out of L’s book, see what truths he can find before they all come spilling out tomorrow. “If you need anything, anything at all that can help, you can call me here any time.”
“That won't be necessary,” Near answers almost immediately. Like he’d been ready to reject whatever it was before Light even said it.
The frustration of it all goes straight to his dick. Light can’t even be mad.
“Do as you see fit. We’ve prepared for everything,” Near says with an edge of finality. “Stop thinking and rest. You will need it for tomorrow. Have a good evening, Light Yagami.”
Near only allows Light enough room for a quick “You too,” before he hangs up.
The phone beeps and the line goes dead, leaving Light in the same silence he started with. The ghost of L's hand is nowhere to be found, only Light’s own as he jerks himself off to incomplete gratification.
No matter. Awaiting him tomorrow is a much grander satisfaction.