A/N: Believe me when I say this is probably rushed. I had too many ideas and too little parameters, so we'll see how it goes, haha! Thanks for sticking with me all the way to the third chapter, heh.

It's Rousseau, back again. Today's entry is going to be a bit shorter than usual – I know you enjoy hearing me shove my opinions down your throat, but I do have a life.

To absolutely no one's shock, in the time since I officially declared myself anti-Kira, I received over a dozen death threats.

Cute. Very, very cute.

It's Quinn Maddox Rousseau – two n's, two d's, two s's, for those of you with spelling troubles. The profile picture's somewhat low quality, but you should be able to work with it.

Go on, Kira-babies. Get your savior to kill me for saying such terrible things. Kira is going to be caught eventually, and not everyone supports him.

That's real life for you. Get over it.

Kira's 'execution' count has risen well into the thousands and I've never been so morbidly fascinated by one man's murderous depravity.

That's right – he's working alone. His agenda and targets have been so in sync, it can only be the work of a lone genius. Kira has followers, but as of now he's working by himself.

Maybe a decade from now – hmm, though I'm going for six years, like WWII – it'll be revealed that I was way off, that Kira was some middle aged balding man with an average IQ and five team-members who all worked in a convenience store and simply read far too much shonen manga.

By then I'll have gotten over the potential embarrassment from being wrong and I'll be able to laugh with the rest of you. Ha, Quinn, you had such high hopes for what Kira was.

And I suppose I do. I want Kira to be perfect protagonist material – it will make it all the more dramatic when he falls. To him, it will look as if the villain won, and if that's not a story for the ages, I don't know what is.

Kira, Kira, so many theories on Kira.

Kira is lame. I want to talk about L, but what do we know about L? A reclusive, enigmatic detective who can be found rising to legend if you look through recent history hard enough. I did. L solves the unsolvable. He took the investigation world by storm, solving the most impossible cases like an adult would predict the end to a hackneyed child's tale. It was the jealous wife with the mood swings, it was not a gunshot but a car backfiring to cover the stabbing, it was because of the stillborn child that the father never returned, it was this who did this in this room with this weapon… I'm paraphrasing the cases, understand, but L is brilliant.

Forget anything you may have heard in passing, the rumors that he is rivalled by less shadowy detectives Coil and Denueve. Coil and Denueve are dirt compared to L, and you'd do well to remember that.

If I picture Kira as the Raoul, so to speak, L has to be the Phantom. Kira is the Moriarty to L's Sherlock. It's Eponymous Clent against Linden Kohlrabi. The Maquis circling Andre-Louis, both swords raised.

Have you figured out who is who? Have you even familiarized yourself with half these characters? That's your homework, beautiful.

Now, let's move on a bit. No, inquisitive readers wondering if I'm going to rant about the live action adaptation of that one anime.

This Kira case is something that truly grips me. I'm going to be stuck on that for a while now.

There was one reader who (very sassily) implied that maybe I should be leading the task force against Kira if I'm going to be such a sleuth about it. (The comment read a little like this: stop pretending you know jack about this case, it's embarrassing.)

And to reply to said reader's sass with candor… Well, if I were ever given the opportunity to work the Kira case, I would take it hands down. I'll see if maybe some miracle happens and I get asked by, hm, L himself? (Ha. Ha-ha.)

That said, maybe instead of taking potshots at my theories, you should work on developing your wit and creativity, guy234. Your username is abysmal. Have a good night.

(tl;dr

((Come on though, I didn't even hit 700 words this time.))

Those catty Kira supporters and salt machines need to shove off. I'm too busy theorizing and speculating on the true natures of L and Kira to waste my time on them.)

I'm off then, beautifuls.

Q. Rousseau

Earlier I had published that exact blog post. The response my Kira tangents got varied from 'yeah, yeah, you know what you're going on about' to 'go into cardiac arrest right now.' It was to be expected. It was a polarizing subject and my opinion was stark and easy to argue with. I came across like a jerk in everything I wrote, true. That was who I let myself be on the Internet. My persona, I guess. It wasn't unheard of, and I never did think anything of it.

Half an hour after finalizing and posting the latest rant, I found myself scrolling through pages and pages of memes and weird fact sites. That was what a librarian did away from prying eyes, after all. I would know, as a full-fledged librarian of not even two years.

I was getting there.

Fingering the half-finished iced coffee in my left hand, I sighed and rubbed my temples. It was going to be one of those evenings, wasn't it? The kind where I knew I had things that could use some doing (for example, cooking dinner or folding some laundry), but despite that there was still nothing to do. I set to tapping aimlessly in an empty word document, watching the screen fill up with keymash that looked almost Welsh in nature.

I could sift through storage, find some more mythology books for Light.

But that could wait.

I could set to laminating some new library rules to put up, spruce up the bookshelves a little.

An ultimately pointless endeavor. Those nice laminated sheets never lasted no matter how prestigious the school.

I could try to get into my five year old Fanfiction account that I only ever used for an experimental Zelink oneshot.

But… some chapters of my life were not ever meant to be looked back on. My grammar and spelling skills came much later than that awful oneshot.

And so I exhausted every possible idea to get rid of the crippling boredom.

I sat there at my desk and swirled my watered down coffee in my hands. I bounced my knee. I craned my neck to try to look out my window only to remember that I had bought some new thick curtains.

I laughed inwardly at myself when the email notification on my screen made me jerk to attention. How bored do you have to be to check your email of all things?

I had no friends. I only got work-related emails anymore.

That was how bored I was.

I opened a new tab and I checked my email, because I was desperate.

An hour after my computer pinged I would be thinking something like this: never had I been so glad for desperate boredom.

But it wasn't an hour after. I scrolled to the new message, fully prepared to skim over the staff announcement that was surely there waiting for me.

Instead I got a blank email. No subject, no date, no sender. Just a new message filled with nothingness, sitting pretty at the top of my inbox.

So did I open it? Of course I opened it.

Your interest in the Kira case has been noted. Despite the unorthodox reasoning and presentation behind your theories, as well as several mistakes, your accuracy rating so far adds up to a solid 76%.

However, it's clear that your theories will inevitably become too accurate for Kira to ignore. It is possible that if you continue publicizing your reasoning and findings, your life will be in danger.

If there was one thing I wanted the world to note, it was that as much as I turned to extreme viewpoints and held fast to them, I was not as no-nonsense about Kira as some people seemed to think.

I certainly didn't expect to be accurate in 76% of what I was saying – though a 50% wouldn't have shocked me.

But throw all of that aside in favor of the bigger picture.

I had been anonymously contacted because of my too-accurate Kira ravings.

No, no, go bigger.

I had been anonymously warned away from publically sleuthing.

The three days I had spent logged into Fanfiction was enough for me to realize that this was unrealistically fantastical. And with that train of thought came the inspiration for my next action.

I decided to reply.

Keep in mind that it was an email completely blank except for text. I had been contacted through my IP address, no doubt, but there was no way I could find a way to respond.

Well. Not conventionally.

This person – and dear lord, did I have a good guess as to who it was – followed my blog, the newer posts, at least. They were smart enough, or had the resources (or both, most likely both), to get an untraceable message to me. They knew how close was too close in this guessing game.

They were surely smart enough to understand a cipher.

Pulling up my blog again, I set to work on a new entry. I'm sure it would have been a treat for the dear readers (oh, ha, I know I'm irritating). But this message was for one and one alone.

With a set jaw and some freshly cracked knuckles, it only took several web searches and forty minutes to get my message exactly how I wanted it.

I double checked, patted myself on the back, and hit publish.

I counted to sixty, deleted the post, and settled in for the wait.

My wait took only two badly sung pop songs plus change – it seemed my friend was waiting for the action. My notifications pinged again and another blank message awaited me.

It's clear you have very little experience in encryption. You don't actually think a reverse numeral Caesar cipher will get past Kira?

Whatever your reasons for the childish cipher, your message was received. It's no surprise that you would continue blogging even after the warning, though the implication that that was your ultimatum was clear. You are interested in setting up a meeting with a complete stranger, though for all you know you could be conversing with Kira himself.

The message ended there, much to my disappointment. I'd expected an actual yes or no, though I guess that was a little stupid of me to think.

I was about to sigh and try to come up with a more convoluted code when my inbox number went up one again.

This message had one line in it. One line that had me grinning.

What an email that was. I guessed my friend was fond of strawberries.

Like a burnout phone. Smart, wasn't it? Very smart.

Eagerly (maybe a bit too much) I sent a message to that email. It only contained two sentences, and there was nothing I liked better than brevity and wham lines. I was pretty sure I'd incorporated both.

You're about as far from Kira as possible. I just so happen to know an out of the way café you may like; I have so much I'd like to share with you, L.

I hit send. And I dove from my chair and scrambled to collect all my notes.