I'm Not Kira

𖥻  ִֶָ Light Yagami 𔘓  ּ𓊔

Light had always assumed the numbers would just disappear or stop. He didn’t think he’d survive this case. He hadn’t thought that went L told him he was a suspect. He hadn’t thought that when he’d spent five weeks bound in a cell. He hadn’t thought that when L told the others that, if he died, Light was Kira. He hadn’t thought that when L did die, and the taskforce considered apprehending him right then and there. His own father. His friend, Matsuda. And then, on top of it all, that final bit of salt in the wound, L had left him his title.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew L didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him. This was some sort of attempt at a trap, but the detective had failed to account for one thing: Light Yagami was not Kira. He had to deny it every single day. Had to tell his father, his coworkers, and even himself.

When L’s successors came into play, Light realized just exactly what L’s trap was. He’d given him the title to lure out his successors, to sic them on him without hesitation. It made Light sick. When Near suggested they meet in person, he jumped at the idea. If anything, it would give him the chance to explain himself in person. L couldn’t see it, but maybe his successor could finally see that he was innocent.

He hadn’t paid attention to his numbers in the past few years. However, he glanced at them that morning as he showered, caught off-guard when he saw how little time was left. Today would be the day, and it lined up with- No. There was no way.

He kept telling himself that, until the numbers hit zero the moment he opened the door and saw Near. Of-fucking-course.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I thought. I’ve kept an eye on her with what resources I can spare as of recent. I can give you a copy of the list I’ve made of people she’s interacted with repeatedly over the past few months, narrowed down to potential suspects and notable individuals.” He paused, lifting the cup to his lips and taking another sip. “Yes, I took photocopies of the pages in the notebook with writing, but I’ve already cross-referenced it with Kiyomi’s handwriting. It doesn’t match.”

A faint frown curved his lips, his gaze falling to the cup as his fingers idly stroked the rim. There weren’t many leads, and that didn’t really help his odds. However, he was hopeful, and he found himself trusting his new partner. *My soulmate,* he reminded himself, his hand briefly stiffening in movement.

A fast sketch

Just as planned.

Light was relatively fresh out of college, and he knew that most people wouldn’t be terribly dissatisfied with an entry level position. His family hadn’t really appreciated his desire to switch to investigative journalism over law enforcement, but they still supported him. Even when he left the country to travel the world for “inspiration,” they continued to support him. He truly felt free for the first time, able to learn and experience the world while working for an online magazine. He really had no excuse to be so antsy, but he was.

All his superiors wanted him to do was write foolish clickbait articles. Celebrity gossip, fear-mongering- all of it was so below him it felt filthy. But, as he traveled, luck struck, and a story practically fell into his lap. It had just enough sensationalized details to satisfy his superiors. Wealthy, foreign prince, missing royals, missing citizens, and a massive, ancient castle- all the makings of a “juicy” story. However, Light’s focus was almost exclusively on these missing people. He had to know what was going on in that castle.

“Excuse me, I believe there may have been a misunderstanding. I can’t-“ He stared as the door closed, leaving him alone in the room. “...wear this.” It had to be a joke. There was no way the prince actually expected him to wear some skimpy dress. The servant would come back in with proper clothes any second now. He stood there, waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

After a while, he checked the clock. 6:30pm. This wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a joke. Briefly, he considered refusing and attending dinner in his current state, but he knew that wouldn’t end well. His hands shaking, he shed the nightgown, taking the dress and carefully stepping into it. He reached back to pull up the zipper, heat filling his face when he realized there wasn’t one. It almost reached his tailbone. Swearing under his breath, he slid the shoes onto his feet. “What’s the point of this shit..? I can’t even walk on my ankle in these...” He grumbled, gently tightening the straps.