#kfic

"Beh," Misa mumbles, but she settles down on the sofa to peer at the Jenga tower pieces L has dumped onto the table. Light and L sit opposite her; L, with uncharacteristic grace, places the last wood block on top of the pile.

"You know," Light remarks, "I'm pretty sure the pieces are already arranged as a tower when you first buy them. You didn't have to scatter them all out."

"Oops," L says without a hint of remorse.

No one moves. Eventually Light, with another sigh, leans over and starts stacking the tower up himself.

-

Light has played Jenga before, obviously. With friends during recess when it was raining outside, yeah, but more often with Sayu and Mom over the holidays. Mom is brilliant at it; Sayu's alright, but takes too many risks. Light's no strategic master, but he's also never lost, as far as he can remember — he just plays it safe and goes for the loose blocks in the middle.

Suffice it to say that this round is going to kill him.

"This should not be standing," he says in a desperate plea to the rules of physics.

Misa grins. She's only been taking blocks from the left side of the tower (and putting them on the right side, to be fair, but that should not nearly be enough to balance this structure). Even one piece in the base level is gone. "But it is!"

"Ryuzaki," Light says, gesturing at their inadvertent creation of the Leaning Tower of Pisa's inferior cousin, "how is — how?"

"Amane-san is quite a good opponent," L muses, neatly dodging his question. He leans forward with a smile, pressing his thumb into his lip. "I am honored to be playing against her."

Misa brightens. "Hey, Ryuzaki, you're not so bad!"

"I'm here too," Light mutters.

"Hmm." L tilts his head, thumb digging deeper. Light watches the way the strands of his hair fall out of and into place. "Let's see…"

Five seconds pass. Then ten.

Light, all of a sudden, realizes he's been staring at the way L's hair curls just slightly when it brushes against the nape of his neck for far too long. He drops his gaze immediately; it lands on the chain between them instead.

The chain. The chain connected to L's hand. He could end this hell with just one tug —

No, too suspicious. If he cheats at Jenga, L will surely jail him (again) for mass murder.

"Can you hurry up?" Misa crosses her arms, leaning forward. "It's only supposed to take a minute, you know."

"Not all of us have your reality-manipulating powers, Amane-san," L murmurs. His thumb has not left his lip.

"Or maybe I'm just better than you."

L's gaze flickers upward. "Did you often play Jenga in the past?"

"Not really." Misa shrugs. "My friends weren't all that into it."

"Then I find that rather unlikely." L glances back down to the pieces he's considering; Light lets himself exhale.

"No, it just means I'm a natural talent!"

Instead of responding, L reaches and plucks a piece away. It happens so fast Light has no time to blink, exactly the same way L eats sweets.

The tower wobbles and —

No. Still standing.

"Jeez," Light mutters.

"Unhappy I'm winning, Light-kun?" L puts his piece down on the top level. He puts it down vertically. (He's already placed five other pieces this way, packed together in a geometry that is apparently conducive to structural support. Light wishes he could strangle him.)

"Who says you're winning?" Light and Misa say simultaneously.

They blink at each other. Then Misa beams, putting her hand up for a high-five. Light meets it hesitantly.

"I do," L says, unconcerned. He tugs the chain. "It's your turn, Light-kun."

"I know that." Light leans forward, narrowing his eyes. Despite everything, this shouldn't be difficult. All he has to do is find a loose block, and then this tortuous game will continue on as usual.

He briefly considers collapsing the tower on purpose.

No. Light Yagami does not lose. He taps at one of the pieces; nope, load-bearing. Another one. Nope. Another —

Suddenly he's falling — wind whistles in his ears — and then he hits something bony and angular with a thump.

Light stares. He'll deny this later but he stares and stares and stares, until he finally registers that he is lying in the lap of quite possibly the second worst man alive and jolts back upright, pushing him away. "What the fuck, Ryuzaki!"

L's laugh is low and slow and amused. "I only moved my hand a little," he says. "I didn't know Light-kun could tip over so easily."

"You are cheating," Light accuses. "You wanted me to lose!"

"The tower is perfectly intact," L says. "No evidence, no crime."

Light tears his glare away from L to check. Yes, the accursed tower is still standing. Damn it all.

"That's the whole problem, isn't it," L continues. "No evidence…"

Misa slams her hands down on the table, making the tower judder. Light startles; he'd almost forgotten she was there. "You locked us up for two months and didn't even have evidence?!"

"There is plenty of evidence in your case, Amane-san." L turns to look at her. The loss of his gaze feels a bit like a punch, but a mild one that Light is not affected by whatsoever. "And besides, I was referring to Jenga."

"Well, what about my boyfriend? He never—"

"Just drop it, Misa," Light says. "He's not changing his mind."

For a split second, Misa glares at him. Light almost flinches — and then it's gone again, replaced with a pout. "But he's insufferable!"

"You'll only have to suffer me until we catch Kira," L says dryly. "So I suppose we'd best do that as soon as possible."

(Aizawa, muttering from the control room: "Oh, really.")

"Yeah, well, we will," Misa says. "And I bet Light's going to beat you to it, 'cause he's so much smarter than you. Right, Light?"

"It's still my turn," Light says. "If you pull me again, I'll break your nose."

"Hmm. Ten percent."

Light steadies both feet on the ground, clenches his chained hand into a fist, and reaches for the tower again.

He taps. And keeps tapping. With growing horror, he realizes that there are no loose pieces. Every level is made of just the middle block and the right block now, and none of them are pullable. They’re just not enough on their own.

…Wait.

Light takes a long inhale and holds it, just in case a breath would disturb the structure. He squeezes his eyes shut, then open. He reaches for the level 75% of the way up.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Light uses his thumb and index finger to maneuver the middle piece into a diagonal —

There! The right piece slips out easier than butter.

Light does not indulge his first instinct, which is to yell FUCK YES!!!!!. Instead he leans back, exhales, inhales, and then puts the piece back on the top layer.

The tower does not fall.

"Your turn, Misa," Light says, attempting to school his smile from "deranged" to "enthusiastic."

Misa claps in delight. "That was amazing!"

"Interesting," L muses. "Interesting."

"What?"

"I was under the impression that moving a piece other than the one played was a rules violation," L says.

"Wh—" Light nobly does not punch him. He weighs the possibility of claiming he had never done that, but the middle block is indeed at a distinctly unnatural slant now. "That's not true. You made that up."

L leans over the side of the sofa and plucks the manual out, flipping through it carefully. "'Any blocks moved but not played should be replaced'—"

"—'unless doing so would make the tower fall,'" Light reads over his shoulder. "And it would!" The middle piece is clearly the only one holding up the entire layer. "Take that, Ryuzaki!"

L frowns. "You, Light Yagami, are a sore loser."

"I think you're the sore loser here, to be honest," Light says, faintly giddy. He could kiss someone right now.

"Your turn!" Misa says triumphantly.

They both turn to look at her. Misa has removed the other side of the base layer. The tower is now standing entirely on one block, wavering uncertainly in the faint air-con breeze.

"What the fuck," Light manages.

Misa grins. "Good luck, Ryuzaki!"

He gasps for air. Rational thought floods in with it. Right. He can't give up. He promised himself he couldn't.

"I'm afraid I have to go," L is saying, despite the fact that he's leaning in even further. He is trying to suffocate me, Light realizes faintly. "Sorry. Maybe next time…"

"No," Light says, and tightens his grip.

L tilts his head. "Is something wrong?"

Ichigo Berry concerts aren't safe anymore. L, obviously, is even less safe, but somehow the idea of staying here alone is more intolerable than the alternative. He supposes part of it is leftover adrenaline from trying to spot L in a sea of lookalikes, and the rest is a fundamental conviction that if he lets L walk out right now L is going to find a way to kill him even faster than he's already planning to.

He manages a laugh. It sounds incredibly wrong even to himself, but L doesn't lean away, so it's fine. He's fine. "Sorry, Ryuga. I was just hoping you had some water on you."

"Aah. I see." (How does anyone pack so much smugness into two sentences?) "Here you are."

What L withdraws from one pocket and dangles in front of him between two fingers is not water at all but one of his juice pouches. Light narrows his eyes at him. L smirks back. All right, fine — Light takes the juice pouch. He unscrews the top and tips the contents down his throat because he'll be damned if he sucks on it the same way L does; he manages this with only moderate effort, which confirms to him that L does the sucking on purpose.

"Thanks," he says, breathing a little clearer.

"You're welcome." L stands, and Light does too, to maintain his grip. "But I do have an investigation to run."

Light is not going to die as long as L is here. Light is not going to die as long as he keeps L here.

"You don't want to see Ichigo Berry, Ryuga? You haven't seen any of the songs that aren't debuted on television yet." Mako and Serina are done with Aryarya and are chatting with the crowd now. Light could not possibly care less.

"What a shame," L drawls. "But I don't have a lightstick."

"I'll buy one for you."

"And I don't know how to behave at a concert."

"Lots of people don't."

"And I can't see the stage from here."

Light actually snorts. Like L isn't built like a beanpole? "Just one song, Ryuga. As friends."

L assesses him. It's there for a flash, the face of his would-be executioner, before it disappears into Ryuga's annoying sweet half-smile again.

"One song," he decides.

“…Isn’t it safer to just wear a helmet?”

“No.”

“Why,” says Light.

L somehow manages to convey a pout solely through voice as he says, “Light-kun is free to wear one if he wants.”

“I know that.”

L holds his gaze for a second longer, then rolls his eyes upward.

“I don’t like wearing those. It makes the air stale.”

“Oh,” says Light.

“Honestly,” the voice-only pout is developing further, “I don’t know how you can stand it, Light-kun. Another one of your amazing talents.”

Light scowls. “Don’t joke around.”

“I would never.” Liar. “Now let’s go. I wouldn’t want to keep the task force waiting.”

…

Light takes off his helmet.

“What are you doing,” says L.

Light smiles at him. “That industrial light should be large enough for two, right?”

“It’s you who said we shouldn’t risk our comrades’ lives.” L tilts his head, owl-like. “Please put it back on.”

“I’m only risking my life as much as you’re risking yours,” Light retorts.

“But you don’t have a reason for it.”

“I do.” Light steps forward, emboldened. “I told you, I want to catch Kira with you. So let me do this. We should find the answer together.”

L stares.

“…What?” Light asks.

Lidner doesn’t freeze, but something in her face sharpens. Kiyomi feels a stab of something like regret. She’s shown her hand too early. That’s always been her problem: she’s a damn show-off.

“I’m sorry for not informing you,” Lidner answers ever so smoothly. “I had a family obligation.”

Kiyomi startles. It’s the first time her bodyguard has ever mentioned anything about her personal life.

“I’m sorry,” she recovers quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Lidner smiles. There’s an edge to it, an inside joke Kiyomi isn’t getting, which at least is a reassurance that her suspicion isn’t wrong. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“See that it doesn’t.” This is a phrase she’s borrowed from television and she’s pleased with the way it rolls off her tongue.

Lidner dips her head in a nod, then turns away to monitor the scenery scrolling past again.

Kiyomi knows she jumps to conclusions, sometimes. Gets caught up in her own rhetoric, forgets the big picture. She’s too polite to be a journalist and too brash to be a politician and now that she’s transcended it, she can see that being a news anchor was killing more and more of her every day. She was born with too many questions and opinions and ideas for her own good.

She’s not wrong about this, though. She’s not.

There’s no point in asking Lidner anything more. Kiyomi knows she won’t get the truth. Kiyomi has always known what Lidner is here for.

Still —

“Miss Lidner.”

“Yes?”

“It’s past midnight,” Kiyomi says, inclining her head towards her bodyguard’s watch. “Happy new year.”

“Oh.” Lidner’s surprise melts into an only slightly crooked smile. Warm. Impossible to know if she’s faking or not. “Happy new year to you, too, Miss Takada.”