Final Report

Matsuda stands awkwardly. He keeps adjusting his feet, as though he can't decide how far apart they ought to be. It's more of an unconscious effect, though. Consciously, he is more aware of his hands. He would like to stuff them in his pockets, but they're occupied with an object, so he comforts himself with the fact that they're doing something besides fidgeting aimlessly or picking nervously at his clothing.

"So, um," he stammers, unsure of where to begin. "I, uh. I finished the rest of my files. And I turned them in, with my reports. It's pretty much done. I mean, I told them I'd be at the last meeting, but I had one more report to give before I could come."

The one-sided conversation is incredibly awkward, and so he begins to babble. Anything to fill the silence. "So, yeah. Report. It's over. I mean, I can't believe it's over. You know, I can't even really remember what it was like before it started. Do you get that?" He presses onward as though afraid of being stopped. "And, I can't believe it was Light," he manages. The words catch in his throat, but he forces them out.

"I mean," and if his hands weren't full he's be flailing them around, as if a more violent movement would help. As it is, they just clench tighter, knuckles turning white. "I shot him! I'm the one who shot him, and I still can't believe it!" He thinks a bitter laugh would be appropriate, but all he can manage is a strangled sob. "I thought he was my friend. Did you, ever?" He answers his own question. "No, you were too smart for that. Everyone but me, huh? Idiot Matsuda."

"But, uh, he's dead now. And Kira support is quickly being squashed. We'll have the official release of who it was out at the end of the week. No one's going to worship a dead old man convicted of sexual assault." He tries to crack a smile at this mention of their victory, but his face muscles feel frozen.

He shifts his weight, and then the words come out in a rush, continuing because he can't stop now. "I don't know what to do now," he confesses. "I don't want to keep working with Near. I still think he might have used the Death Note. But I don't know if I can go back to working for the police. This whole thing is so screwed up, I'm not sure...I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do anymore."

"But, um, I didn't come here to talk about that," he closes off the subject as soon as he realizes he's said far more than he ever meant to. "Sorry. So, summary: Light is dead, press release is going out, Kira supporters should be sufficiently dissuaded." He sucks in a breath. "And the Death Notes, real and fake, have already been burned. I watched them do it. And I turned over the ashes to make sure there was nothing left."

He fidgets. "You were right. Did you know that? You liked to be right. You always were. I admire you for that." He would wipe at his face, but his hands grip the cup too tightly.

"I have to go to the meeting. Last one. But I brought you coffee. I put about ten sugar cubes in it, too. You always add tons. Added tons. Maybe you still do. I don't know." He bends over and sets it down. "I'll...talk to you later, I guess." Matsuda walks away, wiping at his face.

The next person who walks by glances over and notices a coffee cup in front of an unmarked grave.

A/N: First Death Note story. Review and let me know what you think!