A/N: My first Death Note fanfiction...ish. I have a few more saved on my computer, but this one goes up first because it is the most complete, the most interesting, and, perhaps, the weirdest. That said, if you are not seriously wtfing before the end of this story (or you might not be, if you figure out what's going on beforehand), then I have not done my job properly.
Read carefully, some sections seem similar to others but aren't. And crazy color schemes are there just for fun.
R & R!
D
They sat in a white room. The walls were completely bare, and there were no windows to let in any extra light, yet somehow the room was bright, almost too bright. There was only one door out of the room, and that was to the right, and also white, with a shiny white knob. The furniture was futuristic and streamlined – two couches set across from each other, a glass table in between. The couch cushions were white as well, and they were comfortable enough to sit on, but Light wanted some color in the room; as it was now, he had to blink just to keep his eyes focused, and he felt the beginnings of a headache tingling around his temples. He rubbed them and tried to concentrate.
Ryuzaki crouched on the couch opposite him with his thumb in his mouth, biting his nail distractedly. Strange, really, that that wasn't bothering Light. Something in the back of his mind told him that that particular quirk had once annoyed him, but it didn't now. He was too busy focusing on the chess board on the table: black stone and glass, ornately carved, no doubt expensive.
Ryuzaki picked up his bishop in that odd way, holding it with only his thumb and index finger, and moved it diagonally down the board. "Your move, Light-kun."
Their game had been going on for a while now; for exactly how long, Light found it hard to say. Neither of them seemed to be able to get ahead. Ryuzaki was clever, Light was clever, and they both wanted to win. They both needed to win. In a strange way that neither understood, this game was more important than anything.
Light sat back into the cushions and crossed his left leg over his right. Somehow, Ryuzaki's last turn had shifted the balance of power on the board. He needed to look at the bigger picture and set things right again. "Interesting choice, Ryuzaki."
"Yes." Ryuzaki leaned forward, eyes unchanging. He was so pale, and his clothes, the wrinkled shirt and baggy pants he liked to wear, were white. If Light didn't focus, his opponent would blend right in with the room, and only his messy dark hair and piercing, inquisitive eyes would remain. "Although you were expecting something of the sort, I assume."
"I was." Light considered the board for a few more seconds, and then moved one of his black, black pawns forward. He closed his eyes. White on white…he massaged the area around his eyes with the pads of his thumbs, a trick his father had taught him to help relieve headaches. Relax.
"Light-kun?"
He opened his eyes. Ryuzaki was peering up at him curiously. "Yes?"
"Are you alright? Do you want to stop?"
"No, I'm fine. Have you made a move?"
Ryuzaki considered for a moment, then moved his knight across the checkered board, stone, glass, and stone again, in the shape of an L—that was how rooks moved, was it not?—to capture the pawn. Light smiled.
"Of course…just as planned."
The game went on for a few more minutes, back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes Ryuzaki had the upper hand, sometimes it was Light. Even when there was nowhere to go, both players seemed to be able to manipulate the situation so that the tide would turn again, and again. Anytime Light's headache threatened to overwhelm him, he would close his eyes and keep playing, turn after turn, move after calculated move, until—
"Stalemate, Light-kun."
Light opened his eyes. "Is it?"
"Yes." Ryuzaki nodded. "Good game."
Light shook his hair out of his face, nodded, and checked his watch. It was later than he'd thought. He looked back up at his friend. "Well, that was a nice little waste of an afternoon. Although, with the case at hand, perhaps we should have…"
"No regrets," said Ryuzaki, just before he stood and walked out of the room. As Light watched him go, he felt something peculiar in the pit of his stomach. "Perhaps we can play again, but for now, Light-kun, no regrets."
Light opened the door to his room. The walls had been painted red, a deep, somewhat sensual red, not angry or bright or blinding. He couldn't remember when he had painted his room, maybe when he was much younger; perhaps it had simply always been red. The dressers, the bookcase, his bed, and his desk were that same shade of red; even the bindings of the books on the shelves were red. He didn't mind. Red was his favorite color, after all.
He stopped to check his reflection in the mirror, the tall one with the cherry frame. He stood out in the red, red room, with his brown slacks and striped shirt and brown hair, but that was alright, he was used to it. He finger-combed his hair and looked at his reflection. Something was off. Was that a flash of red he saw in his eyes? No, no, impossible. He stared into them, more closely—it was gone. Just an illusion, the light streaming through the window, causing the crimson to reflect off the wall and into the mirror…that was all. He crossed the room and closed the curtains—they felt like velvet in his hands.
"Light-kun?"
He turned and saw Ryuzaki, standing there quietly, in the nearest corner of the room. Light hadn't seen him come in, but of course, he must have been there, maybe the entire time, no, because of the handcuffs he had to have been there the entire time. Light felt reassuringly for the cuff around his wrist. Maybe he just hadn't seen Ryuzaki reflected in the mirror when he was too busy looking for himself.
Ryuzaki took a step forward, one of his long, slumping, purposeful steps. Even though it was darker, now, he stood in stark contrast to the rest of the room, he, who was so pale, white, and the bedroom, which was so, so red. "For a minute, I thought you forgot about me," he said softly, pleasantly. The heavy words didn't merit such a flat tone—where was the inflection?
"I wouldn't do that, Ryuzaki," Light said immediately.
"Sometimes," Ryuzaki replied, "I'm not sure that is the case, Light-kun. Would it not be easier for you to forget me?"
Light shook his head. "No, no, of course it wouldn't." He crossed to Ryuzaki, put his hands on his shoulders, and looked straight into his eyes, those dark, wide, enigmatic eyes and only saw himself again. Twin mirrors. But surely his friend didn't understand him correctly. "You know that," Light pressed.
A sad, mysterious smile played across Ryuzaki's lips, and he said, "Do I?"
Light leaned down and slipped his arms around Ryuzaki in a hug, and Ryuzaki tensed automatically—he wasn't used to this yet, not really—and suddenly Light was filled with some kind of inexplicable longing, something that grew with each stitch of fabric he felt under his hands, with the assurance that Ryuzaki was real. "You should know it," he murmured into Ryuzaki's neck. "I'm glad to have you here." He knew by the wave of feeling that washed over him that this was terribly true, that he felt as if he was seeing Ryuzaki for the first time in a very long time. He burned; his fingers toyed absentmindedly with the hem of his friend's shirt.
He felt Ryuzaki's hand on the back of his neck as the other man whispered, "I hope you know what you are doing."
"I always do." It was nothing more than the truth. Ryuzaki took a step backward, stumbled; Light fell with him, grasping, seeking, clinging, and he searched for an explanation or some sort of forgiveness in his friend as he settled against Ryuzaki's skin and whispered, "No regrets."
They breakfasted in the blue room. Light always liked how cool this room felt, how there was variety in the color: the walls were light, the curtains dark, and all around there were watercolors of seascapes varying in shapes and sizes. The plates were blue, too, or, rather, they were white with a border of tiny blue flowers around the edges. Light watched as Ryuzaki, who seemed to complement the rest of the room with his white, cut into an incredible stack of pancakes, topped with syrup and whipped cream, punctuated with a cherry. Light's plate was empty. He smiled, and Ryuzaki looked up and noticed him.
"Would you like any?" he asked pleasantly.
"No, thanks," Light said. "I'm not hungry."
"Alright." Light watched as Ryuzaki chewed the pancakes, closed his eyes, swallowed. How he could manage all of that food and stay so thin would forever remain a mystery.
"Mysteries…" Light mused out loud. "Speaking of which, we should discuss the case."
"Ah." Ryuzaki set his fork down on the table and propped his hands up on his knees. "I was hoping we would. There is something that I would like to try with you, Light-kun."
Light shifted a little in his chair. "Ryuzaki, you still don't trust me? I thought we were past these games."
"Almost. Not quite." Ryuzaki paused to take another bite of his pancakes before continuing. "However, you are the only person with whom I think this might have a chance of working. Tell me, if you were Kira, and you were having a conversation with L, what would you ask?"
"If I were Kira…" Light trailed off and thought for a moment. "Besides any personal information, I'm assuming."
"Yes." Ryuzaki smiled. "Obviously, I would be on my guard."
Well, that was no fair. Something was wrong about this, Light felt. Although he was sure he wasn't Kira, not now, not consciously, his memories were riddled with holes, filled with blanks. If Ryuzaki were trying to get him to admit something, to betray something, would he know? No. Better to have more faith in himself than that. He wasn't Kira. He never had been. "Well…I would ask…why are you so fixated on catching me, then? The world has become a better place since Kira surfaced. Crime is down 70 percent, wars have ceased, people are watching themselves, making sure they stay within the limits of the law. My ultimate goal is to…to create a utopia, a perfect world. How can you possibly contradict that?"
"I see." Ryuzaki cocked his head. "I suppose it is because I do not believe one person should be able to wield that kind of absolute power, Kira-kun. I do not believe that what you are doing is the correct way to reach that ultimate goal."
"If that person uses that power for good…"
"In this situation, what is good?" Ryuzaki didn't take his eyes off of Light as he chewed another forkful of pancake. Odd, really, the pancakes still looked as though he had never cut into them at all. "Taking lives for the benefit of the world, is that what you say is good? What about the innocents? Reformed criminals? The FBI team? And what about when there are only the 'righteous' left? How could you hope to keep your power when there are none left to judge?"
Light responded almost immediately. "There will always be some left to judge. People aren't inherently good. They are more prone to do whatever it takes for them to survive than to help their fellow man. By the time my work is complete, the world will be a better place, a safer place."
"I see…and what gives you the right to judge, then? You over everyone else, over everything else? Are you not one of the people?"
He answered as Kira. "I know right and wrong. I am justice. I am everything."
Ryuzaki sipped out of a teacup that Light hadn't noticed before and said, "No, Light-kun. You are not everything. Not to everyone and certainly not to me." He lowered his eyes and sipped again. This was one of the few occasions where Light wasn't sure exactly what his friend meant, how using his name like that, right there, was supposed to pull the discussion back to them, but he certainly did not like it, and he looked at his friend inquiringly, intensely, while tapping his fingers on his still-empty plate. Busying himself with his breakfast, Ryuzaki said, "This has been an interesting discussion. Thank you, Light-kun. No regrets."
They sat in a white room. The walls were bare, and it irritated him. Surely some color would do the room some good. He searched for an exit, but there was only one door, to the right, also white, with a white knob. It was an asylum in here, too bright, too white. The furniture was futuristic and streamlined – two couches across from each other, a glass table in between. He wanted something older, something broken in, familiar. The couch cushions were also white, that same pure, clean, aggravating white, but they were comfortable enough to sit on. Light wished desperately for any color in the room; he had been fighting off a headache for how long—fifteen minutes? An hour? He rubbed his temples and tried to concentrate.
Ryuzaki crouched on the couch opposite him with his thumb in his mouth. He was biting his nail and that one little nervous habit bothered Light, it wasn't helping him concentrate at all. Light squinted and tried to focus at the chessboard, which seemed to swim and blur—the only other black thing in the entire room besides Ryuzaki's hair and his wide staring eyes.
"Your move, Light-kun." Ryuzaki looked at him inquiringly, perhaps mockingly. Was he being toyed with? No, no, better concentrate. Just keep focused.
The game of chess seemed endless, and Light searched the corners of his mind for a time when he hadn't been playing chess with Ryuzaki, and couldn't find it. Well, the game had to end. All things came to an end eventually. Just a question of whether Light could keep enough of his sanity to win out in the end.
Light sat back into the cushions and crossed his right over his left. Somehow, Ryuzaki's last turn had shifted the balance of power on the board. He needed to look at the bigger picture and set things right again. He needed to ignore his pounding headache. He could feel the strain in his voice as he said, "Interesting choice, Ryuzaki."
"Yes." Ryuzaki leaned forward. With his white clothes and white skin, he blended into the room; he wavered in and out of focus before Light's eyes, confounding him. But Ryuzaki wasn't important. His pounding head and the chessboard were important. "Although you were expecting something of the sort, I assume," he added.
"I was." He wasn't. He hadn't been able to expect much with this pounding inside his skull. Light considered the board for a few more seconds, and finally moved one of his bishops in retaliation. He closed his eyes. White on white…he cradled his head in his hands and told himself to calm down.
"Light-kun?"
He opened his eyes. Ryuzaki was peering up at him curiously. More than anything, he wished Ryuzaki would stop looking at him, it wasn't helping. "Yes, what is it?"
"Are you feeling alright? Do you want to stop?"
"No, I'm fine. Have you made a move?"
Ryuzaki considered for a moment, then took his knight between his thumb and index finger and moved it across the board in the shape of an L—that was important, goddamn, that had to be important—to capture the bishop. Light smiled painfully.
"Of course…"
The game went on for a few more minutes, but it seemed to take an eternity. It was clear that Ryuzaki was gaining the upper hand, and while Light tried to keep up, he wasn't focusing on the match anymore. Even when Light thought there was nowhere for Ryuzaki to go, the other man seemed to be able to manipulate the situation so that it would turn against him. Light's headache threatened to overwhelm him, but he would close his eyes and keep playing, turn after turn, move after move, until—
"Checkmate, Light-kun. I win."
Light opened his eyes. "Really?"
"Yes." Ryuzaki nodded, smiling. Cheeky bastard. "Good game."
Light shook his hair out of his face, and nodded, wondering when he had started sweating. Ryuzaki checked his watch—Ryuzaki hadn't ever owned a watch before, had he? "It is later than I thought," he said, looking back up at Light. "Well, that was a nice little diversion. We'll play again, Light-kun, and then maybe you'll get the chance to beat me."
"No regrets," said Light, just before he stood and walked out of the room, feeling queasy. "Until next time, Ryuzaki. No regrets."
The field was the purest green he had ever seen. Light didn't recognize the place—he didn't know anywhere where the grass went on for acres, maybe even for miles, until it was the only thing in the world that mattered and didn't. No trees, no buildings, no anything, the field rolled along uninhibited to the horizon, where it seemed to melt and fuse with the sky. Light allowed himself to relax, unwind, to simply lie in the cool grass and smell the fresh country air and bask in the teal rays of the distant sun. Had he been stressed, frazzled, before, maybe? If so, he didn't remember. That was all left behind now: it had melted away into something more soothing, more basic, more natural.
As he stretched his arms, he felt the familiar touch of cool metal on his wrist and turned to see that Ryuzaki was lying next to him, staring up at the emerald green sky as a lime-colored cloud danced its way around the shining sun. Funny, Ryuzaki was still wearing his white clothes; didn't he know he would get grass stains on them? But of course, he wouldn't mind, not Ryuzaki. He just kept staring, wide-eyed, at the sky, as if something in it was off. That was something Light always liked about Ryuzaki, how he could be so oblivious in some ways and yet so terribly observant in all of the ones that mattered.
"Hey, Ryuzaki."
Ryuzaki responded without taking his eyes off of the sky. "Yes, Light-kun?"
"Well, I was wondering," Light began, shifting and propping his head on his hand. "What are we going to do after we solve the case?"
Ryuzaki blinked, and it looked like he was on the verge of a sigh. He settled his head into the grass, and Light had the peculiar urge to touch his hair, but now wasn't the time. "What makes you so sure that we'll solve the case?"
Light shrugged. "I guess it's foolish to assume anything, but I feel like if we continue to work together the way we have been working that it won't be long now. Perhaps that's naïve."
"No, I see your point." Ryuzaki's eyes followed a cloud that looked suspiciously like an ice cream cone as unfelt winds pushed it across the sky. "Yes, I agree that if we continue working together, the probability that we'll solve the case is extremely high. What do you think will happen once the investigation is over?"
"Well, that's easy. You'll go back to traveling the globe, the world's most famed, feared, and celebrated detective, and I'll finish up at the university and probably go on to work in the police force like my father." Light drummed his fingers on the grass and added, "The trouble is, I don't want it to be that way."
"Oh?" Ryuzaki still didn't look at him, which was disconcerting. "You want to come with me? I didn't realize you had such a romantic soul."
Light laughed. "I don't have a romantic soul, because what we have isn't anything like real, romantic love, and you know that. Or, at least, I know that." He settled onto his stomach and rested his head on his arms. "Sometimes I think you're in actually in love with me, is that right?"
Ryuzaki did not respond, and that was answer enough.
"Either way, that isn't the issue," Light continued, unfazed. "This issue is that you know I match you in intellect, you've said so yourself, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life thinking about how I'm destined for greater things, and you're going to miss having a tennis partner and someone to bounce your ideas off of. Hell," he grinned, "You might even miss me once in awhile. I know I'd miss you."
"I may miss you," Ryuzaki said quietly. "Yes, Light-kun, I will miss you. And you have been very valuable to me. It's something I will consider. I…will…have to discuss it with Watari, of course."
"Yes, of course," Light agreed, but he felt a surge of pre-emptive excitement rising in his chest anyway. "It may be awhile yet," he added, to remind both of them.
Ryuzaki blinked at the sky again and said only, "It's going to rain."
Light rolled over again and saw that he was right. Heavy, forest green clouds had crowded into the sky from nowhere. He closed his eyes drew a breath and braced himself.
The rain fell in huge, clear droplets, and it was surprisingly warm. Light laughed as it fell on his face, in his hair, he didn't mind at all as he was drenched by it. He opened his eyes and saw that Ryuzaki was sitting up, that his white shirt was soaking through, and that the raindrops running down his cheeks under his wide eyes made it appear as if he was crying. It made Light feel an incredible amount of pity for him, although he couldn't explain why, and he grabbed the other man by the shoulders and pulled him down, pulled him closer, to cover Light like some sort of blanket, although which one of them needed comfort and security right then was up for debate. Ryuzaki closed his eyes and turned his head away. He was such a child sometimes. The handcuffs clinked elsewhere.
"It's alright, Ryuzaki," Light said, smiling in the rain, as he smoothed his friend's messy hair out of his face. Ryuzaki buried his head in Light's shoulder and his hands sought shelter under Light's shirt. He was trembling. "It's alright," Light repeated.
"No regrets," Ryuzaki whispered.
Light lay under Ryuzaki and let the rain wash his sins away.
The yellow room was bright and mellow and full of sunshine. Sometimes, Light thought he confused it with the sunshine entirely, that the room itself was made of streaming particles that were transient and changing in themselves. There were occasions when the room with its curtains with the daisies and the sunflowers and its huge windows and its smooth yellow carpet seemed to fade away completely, and all that remained was the impression of something warm and soft and glowing. In the morning, the windows caught all of the light and this room that was not a room was pleasant to be in, all warm and reflective and amiable. Light was never particularly drawn to this room, there had been too many jokes about it—so much light, light like his name, light like the sunshine which soaked through his skin now and filled him with radiating power.
Ryuzaki sat behind a wooden desk in a dark chair with a setting sun carved into the back. He was sitting straight up, feet on the floor, which was unusual; how could he think, seated like that? The sun threatened to overwhelm him at times, it was so bright, and he was so white. His desk was a mess of papers, and he sifted through them all, quietly, meticulously, sorting them all into two main piles. When he saw Light standing before him, he nodded in acknowledgement.
"Hello, Light-kun," he said, without looking up. "Take a seat, and give me a moment."
Light nearly jumped. Surely that other chair, the one in front of the desk, hadn't been there before? He pushed at it; it seemed sturdy enough. He climbed into it and pulled his knees up to his chest. Underneath him, the floor shimmered and flickered with sparkles of dust and sunlight. It faded completely, only to snap back into place; the light was gone. There was only wood.
Ryuzaki was looking at him. "You had a question?"
"Yes, I did…" Light put his hand to his forehead and stared at the floor, which shimmered again. "Or I thought I did. I woke up this morning and I felt that something was wrong…something was wrong. Now I can't remember."
"Well, take your time," Ryuzaki said casually, placing a piece of paper on top of a pile marked "Near." "It will come to you, I'm sure. Right now, I have a few things to sort out pertaining to the case."
"Of course, the case." Light nodded, and then his eyes widened. "I remember now! Ryuzaki, this case, it feels like we've been working on it for an eternity. I woke up and could barely remember a time before the case."
"Yes, that's what it seems like sometimes," Ryuzaki said pleasantly.
"But…" Light cradled his head in his hands. "I lay there forever, Ryuzaki, trying to think…I thought I was going insane." His eyes held Ryuzaki's, eager to keep his friend's attention. "This case, Ryuzaki, the Kira case. What is it?"
Ryuzaki nibbled on his thumbnail. "What is the case? You don't remember?"
"Not a thing," Light replied, shaking his head and sighing. "I don't think I've remembered anything about it for a very long time. I think I've been playing along with you."
"The Kira case?"
"Yes, Ryuzaki. Can you tell me about it?"
"The Kira case?" Ryuzaki repeated. He shifted another paper from the center of his desk, this time putting it onto a pile marked "Mello." "Kira is a serial killer who targets criminals. Why, Light-kun, I'm disappointed," he chided. "The Kira case is your case. You should remember it."
"My case?"
"Yes."
"So I was specially appointed to work on it, then?"
"You were best qualified to give insight into the mind of the murderer," Ryuzaki said after a moment. "After all, you are the only suspect."
A distant bell clanged in Light's heart. A warning bell. The light in the room shone copper, red, gold. He didn't understand. "Was I?" He laughed; he tried to turn it into a joke. "I see. Do you still think I'm Kira, Ryuzaki?"
"No, Light-kun," Ryuzaki said quietly. "I do not think you are Kira."
Ryuzaki's tone hung in the air, and the gentle sunbeams grew blinding. Light blinked. "Well then, I…" He swallowed. "May I review all of the files on the case, then? I want to be… as up to date...as I can."
"Go right ahead," Ryuzaki said, pushing the two newly sorted piles forward. "But you might be alarmed by what you see. And they're heavier than they look."
Light glanced at the closest stack, the one aptly named "Near." On the top sat a list of suspects; his name had been marked in yellow highlighter. It glared at him. He picked up that stack from the bottom, deciding to leave the other for later. He glanced back. The room sparkled gold around Ryuzaki, the only constant. He sighed and said, "I can handle it, Ryuzaki. No…no regrets."
They sat in a white room. The walls were completely bare, the furniture simple, and that was fine. There was nothing to distract him, now. Light's head was clear and he needed nothing more than to concentrate on the game in front of him. In some way, the plain, white room offered him that chance to focus without disruption.
Ryuzaki crouched on the couch opposite him with his thumb in his mouth, biting his nail with purpose. Light could tell that his opponent was faltering a little. Perhaps the room was beginning to get to him. Perhaps he needed something to eat. None of his usual snacks were to be seen anywhere. Either way, whatever it was was working to Light's advantage.
After a couple of minutes, no doubt weighing the costs and benefits, the probability of each outcome with such numerical precision that would not save him now, Ryuzaki picked up his bishop in that odd way of his, holding it with only his thumb and index finger, and moved it down the board. "Your move, Light-kun."
Light was enjoying their little game. He didn't know how long they had been playing, but he could sense that the end was near. Neither of them seemed to be able to get ahead until now. Ryuzaki was clever, Light was clever, and they both wanted to win, but Light needed to win. It was something he could feel, something he understood. This was a game that he had to win.
Light leaned forward in his seat and clasped his hands in his lap. With his last turn, Ryuzaki had intended to shift the balance of power on the board. He wasn't going to succeed, not if Light could help it. He needed to look at the bigger picture and keep things moving in his favor. "Interesting choice, Ryuzaki."
"Yes." Ryuzaki closed his eyes. He was so pale, and his clothes, the wrinkled shirt and baggy pants he liked to wear, were white. In any other circumstances, he might have blended right into the room. Not now, not in Light's mind. The only important things in the room were him, Ryuzaki, and the chessboard. Everything else melted away. "Although you were expecting something of the sort, I assume."
"I was." Light considered the board for a few more seconds, and then moved one of his pawns forward. He was the black side. He liked that, somehow. He couldn't say why, but it seemed fitting. He felt confident, and smiled.
"Light-kun?"
He noticed that Ryuzaki was peering up at him curiously. "Yes?"
"Are you alright? Your eyes…never mind. Do you want to stop?"
Light laughed. "No, I'm fine. Are you feeling alright, Ryuzaki? You seem…strained."
Ryuzaki sighed. "I suppose it's just fatigue. Working on the case as we have been…It's my turn." He considered for a moment, then moved his knight in the shape of an L—fitting—to capture the pawn. Light smile grew broader. Ryuzaki had fallen into the trap.
"Of course…just as planned."
The game went on for only a few more moves. It was clear to Light, now, how he needed to manipulate Ryuzaki, and he played it out brilliantly. Ryuzaki himself seemed incapable of resisting. The room was getting to him, Light was certain. All of that white was distracting him. Well, that was his folly. Light was focused, in control. Ryuzaki didn't even seem to notice when, at last, Light won.
"Checkmate, Ryuzaki."
Ryuzaki opened his eyes. "Is it?"
"Yes." Light nodded. "Good game. Exciting." He checked his watch, surprised at how late it was.
Ryuzaki sighed, and tipped his king over with one long, pale finger. "Yes, you did win. It is over."
Light laughed again. "Well, you don't have to sound so disappointed. We can play again tomorrow, and then you'll have the chance to win over me. I know you can. We're pretty well matched, all in—"
"No, Light-kun." Ryuzaki shook his head sadly. "We cannot play again tomorrow. This is it."
"Why?" Light was confused, and he let it show on his face. "Do you mean that we'll be too busy with the case? We found time today…"
"No." Ryuzaki stood, looking incredibly serious. "We cannot play again tomorrow. You won, Kira-kun. You killed me."
The words hit Light with full force, but it took a second for him to process them entirely. He felt numb. "I…what?"
"This is a dream, Light-kun" Ryuzaki said slowly. "You are Kira. You killed me. I have been dead for four years. You won."
"No." Light struggled against it, but every instinct, every bone in his body told him that Ryuzaki was right, that he had known all along that Ryuzaki was right, why was he still fighting? "No, I couldn't, I wouldn't, look, Ryuzaki, you're trying to convince me that I'm Kira again, aren't you? It's another trick. Ryuzaki, I would never do something like that, you know me, could you believe that I, as a person, would—"
Ryuzaki leaned forward and kissed him, so softly and gently that it was as if he wasn't there at all. "Goodbye, Light-kun," he whispered. "I'll be seeing you soon." He stroked Light's cheek and added, "No regrets."
Then he left.
Light awoke with a start. Sweating, panting, he waited for his eyes to accustom to the darkness of his room. There was no light to be seen. No white. No Ryuza—no L. He had been dreaming. That was all.
He felt someone shift next to him, and heard a girl's voice, high-pitched and grating, mumble, "Light? Are you alright? You were moving around a lot. Saying stuff. Were you dreaming again?"
"No, Misa," he said. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep."
Misa's soft, light hair tickled his shoulder, and he felt her sneak an arm around his waist. He heard the blind love and blinder trust in her voice as she said, "Okay. If you say so, Light."
"I do. Don't worry about it. Goodnight." A dream. That was all it had been.
The God of the New World settled his head back into his pillow, and, despite himself, he managed a smile. It was as L had said, as he had said, as L had said again.
No regrets.