#vd.writing

Smirnov whistled. “What are you wearing, Misora? Come on, it’s March, and you’re wearing leather?”

“It’s my bike clothes. Give me a moment before you talk my ear off,” Naomi replied. She was surprised that the lack of caffeine and sleep had left her semi-coherent.

“You own a bike?” Sheridan said. “Sounds like you’re more of a rebel than we thought.”

“It’s not rebelling to own a motorcycle, Sheridan. What are you doing in here anyways, Smirnov? Need a hangover remedy?”

“Ha ha, Misora. No, check your work email.”

“If it’s a joke, I’m asking to be reassigned.” She pulled off her jacket and reached for her laptop, then opened her work email.  

“Agents Misora, Sheridan, and Smirnov:

You all are being recalled to Washington D.C. I expect to see Agent Misora in the briefing room at 10am sharp on March 12. Plane tickets are being mailed as of now.

Best wishes, Director Mason”

She whistled. “For whatever reason we’re being recalled, it’s probably confidential.” She scrolled down. “It takes an hour to get from here to Narita, light traffic at best. It’s probably best that we get going in an hour.”

“But what would he want with you alone?” Sheridan asked.

“Beats me. But right now, I think we should just get packing and all that.”

“Nope, just you,” Smirnov said. “My stuff’s ready to go.”

“Good to hear. I’ll be a bit. Grab me some breakfast while you’re down there, will you?”

“Sure.”

⁂

“So, who has any ideas as to what Mason’s thinking?” Sheridan asked as they boarded. Naomi hit her on the forearm. “Keep quiet. For all they know, we’re just a bunch of tourists visiting. We can discuss this later.”

“It’s technically later right now,” Smirnov said. “So, anyways--hey!”

“Pay attention to what I said. If someone who has access to Kira knows that the FBI is--was--in Japan, then all of us are at risk. Which means the both of you need to shut up until we’re in the car with Mason.”

“I was only joking around! You didn’t have to hit me that hard!”

“Even a joke can get someone hurt. The both of you should know better by now.”

“All right, all right.” Smirnov huffed.

Naomi Misora has never had the habit of sleeping on flights. As her colleagues dozed, she stayed wide awake.

Sometimes, I wonder what would’ve happened if we hadn’t met, she thought.

“Naomi, please, don’t you want to start a family someday?” Audrey said.

“Sure, but on my own time. I’m not unfulfilled--I’ve got a great job,” Naomi replied.

“But no boyfriend.”

“Oh, look at that, I’m choosing not to date a man, the world is ending. I’ve got nothing to lose by not dating.”

“You can say that when you’re 40 and don’t have any kids.”

“More reason to spoil yours, right?”

“Do I really need that much help, Director? The both of us know that I’m perfectly good at my job alone,” Naomi contested.

“Sure, but you’re lacking in base knowledge of firearms--which Agent Penber has,” Director Mason said.

“While that’s nice, Director Mason, I don’t need the help.”

“You can say that when you can’t ID the gun or caliber at a crime scene,” Raye said. They were friends in the academy, but apparently the fact he knew he was useful had inflated his ego to the size of Jupiter.

And there she was, at the stalemate. Either she accepted the help and continued on her job, or she continued to go the route of arrogance and end up crawling back to him. Fine.

“Fine,” she said, jerking her head outside of the Director’s office door. “Come on, jagoff, I’ll show you the ropes.”

“I’m not a rookie. I joined when I was 23,” he said, as she walked him to the unit’s office.

“I'm aware of that, you dork. You haven’t worked in this unit, so you’re a rookie. Jesus, you're 24 right?”

“25 in a month. Shouldn't you know this?”

“It's been a while, go easy. And it's nice to know.” She stopped at her desk and pulled up photos from the latest crime scene--exhibit B showed at least a clip of bullets. “Show me what you know.”

“Excuse me?” he said, both eyebrows raised.

“I know you're a good agent, but I don't know about you as a firearms specialist.”

He narrowed his eyes and leaned over the desk, clicking through to the body and then back to exhibit B. “That’s at least a clip of a 10 millimeter Auto.”

“Stats?”

“Six inch barrel, an average of 546 foot-pounds per square inch of energy. Velocity. This cartridge was used in the Miami shootout seven--dammit, eight--years ago. After that, the FBI issued new cartridges--this one--to each agent in Hostage Rescue and Special Weapons and Tactics teams.”

“So you could easily say that this person has connections to the FBI. At least, these specific branches.”

“Mhm. Against something like a .40 Smith and Wesson, the .40 has better recoil, and it’s better for both civilian and law enforcement use. Not for the 10 millimeter, though.” He stood straight. “What's that tell you?”

“I think you’ve given us a new lead. Don’t go letting that get to your head, though.”

“You’re letting it go to your head,” she said.

“I am not!” Raye replied. “Okay, maybe a little, but still.”

“Either way, it’s going to your head. Call in the interrogation team for me, I’m gonna go grab lunch.”

“Hey! I’m not your errand boy!”

“Sure, but you’re still doing your job. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“I better get something,” he said.

“I’ll see about that. You're not very imposing, you know.”

She returned five minutes later indeed. “So, what’s going on right now?”

“He did actually have a connection to the FBI--cousin, I think. Poor dude’s probably agonizing over it. Where’s my food?”

“In the breakroom. You can tell me more when you get back.”

“You could’ve at least brought it back.”

“I already tried, but I couldn't balance anything for shit. And I could eat a whole person.”

He sighed through his nose. “Dahmer. I’ll be back.”

She shook her head. "The one time my coffee takes precedence and you compare me to a serial killer."

"Oh, does it suck?" he asked. He smiled and she felt like she got punched in the chest.

She blinked as the plane landed. “Wake up, we just touched down,” she said.

Sheridan groaned. “Have you been awake this whole time? Dude.”

“It’s not like I haven’t stayed up over a day before. Wake up Smirnov for me while I grab our luggage.”

“I never pegged you for the guy who liked to cook,” Naomi said, leaning on the doorframe.

“My mom made sure,” Raye replied. “As for my dad, he just taught me the German and Russian stuff. And I’m a tad sick of takeout.”

“I can’t say I blame you for that. I gotta give a high five to your mom, though, you’re a stubborn bastard.”

“Hey! First of all,” he said, pointing the tongs like a weapon, “I took to it rather nicely. And second of all, I resent that statement.”

“You can take it. What are you making anyways?”

“Spaghetti. Not what you expected, hm?”

“Not really.”

“I won’t introduce you to the German and Russian stuff yet. Kinda heavy, if you catch my drift. Our favorite food is potato. Wait, no it isn’t. Either way. Do you wanna help?”

“Nah, I’m good.” She hopped up onto the counter anyways. "But tell me you can make Japanese."

“Oh, so you’ll stay around and potentially get in the way but not help? Tch. I see how it is. And of course I can, what kinda mother do you take mine to be?”

“Hey, I could’ve just left, but I decided to grace you with my presence. And I don't know her, dork.”

"Watch it, I might take that as flattery."

"Get a room already!" Suruga said.

"Shut up!" they shouted.

“Naomi?” Sheridan said, snapping her fingers inches from Naomi’s nose. “Dude.”

“Sorry, I spaced out for a second.” She pulled Sheridan’s luggage down and handed it to her, then Smirnov’s, and then her own.

“Yeah, lack of sleep does that to you.”

She inhaled. “Come on.”

⁂

“Glad to see you, Director,” Naomi said. “Is this a matter you can discuss as we ride to HQ?” 

“And you as well, Misora. Unfortunately, I cannot. This is to stay confidential, between the people I summoned, so Sheridan and Smirnov cannot hear as well.”

“Understood.” The ride lapsed into silence. She said, “Is it related to Kira?”

“Yes.”

She settled into her seat, desperately trying to keep her eyes open until she got into her hotel room.

“I see some familiar faces,” Director Mason tried.

March 12, 2010

Naomi wiped her hands on her slacks as the door clicked closed. She could count at least ten people.

Immediately, whispers started.

“No, kid, he doesn’t mean you,” a blonde woman said to her colleague. She rolled her eyes.

“The Bureau handed me over to the Agency, you know,” her colleague replied. “And he knows my dad. Of course he means me and a handful of other people.”

“Sometimes, I wish I didn’t know your tragic backstory.”

Mason cleared his throat and stepped aside to reveal…

A teenager. Playing with robots.

“This is N. He’s L’s successor. The both of us hand selected all of you for your respective skills, from both the CIA and FBI. This is the organisation known as the Special Provision for Kira.”

“And what if we don’t believe that?” one man said, crossing his arms.

“Tucker,” Naomi said, “don’t be stupid. What reason would Mason have to lie about that? Use your head.”

“After the original L died, he was replaced,” the teenager said. “The L that we all know of is a front put up by the Japanese Task Force.”

I wish I could be surprised, she thought. Their styles are too different.

“Fine, fine, I believe you,” Tucker said.

She shook her head.

“As you were saying, N?” she said.

“Thank you. As you all know, the Kira case first appeared in 2003--six years ago. I trust that you all know the basics of how Kira first appeared and what his MO was.” N pulled up his--Gundam?--transformer and using it as a puppet, and said, “But, as the case progressed, Kira had went on a two week hiatus. Then, all of a sudden, it was white collar criminals that were being killed in addition to the typical criminals. The MO had changed.”

“So then the weapon changed hands,” Naomi said.

“Correct. Then, after roughly five months, Kyosuke Higuchi--the Kira behind the crimes--had dropped dead after a car chase that brought down even my predecessor, who was famous for having never shown his face. The killings stop for one week. Then, they pick up again. The MO had changed--back to the original MO, but then murdering bank robbers and the like. The weapon had changed hands again.

“The day after the killings resumed, my predecessor had died, and was replaced by the Japanese Task Force, who did not want to cause alarm.”

“So can we assume that Kira had accomplices?” the blonde woman asked.

“Indeed. If you all remember, there was the Sakura TV incident.”

“What happened?” McEnroe asked.

“The Second Kira had made a broadcast on Sakura TV, which is known to be your typical yellow journalism hotspot in Japan,” Naomi informed him. “She held the entire station hostage, and called out to the original Kira.”

“She?”

“Women’s speech patterns vary from men’s. I don’t remember how, but it’s rather different. Where do we go from here, N?”

“That’s a good question, Naomi Misora. From here, we’ll be moving to headquarters in New York, downtown Manhattan. I’ll probably get into contact with the Japanese Task Force, and then we can share information back and forth.”

Somehow, she didn’t think that he was telling them the whole thing.

“Meeting adjourned,” Mason said.

Sheridan and Smirnov were waiting outside the door, and ambushed her just as soon as she got out.

“So, what was all that about?” Smirnov asked, one arm around her shoulder.

“Get off of me,” she said. “It’s confidential for a reason.”

“Aw, come on! It’s not as if you’re a civilian.”

“It’s still confidential, Smirnov. I’ll hear none of it.” She ducked under Smirnov and Sheridan, and said, “I’m going to ask the Director about possible arrangements for my apartment and… other things.”

“Of course. Don’t keep us waiting!” Sheridan called.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Director, a word?”

“Of course,” Director Mason said.

“I’m going to have some issues moving my things across country. See, my apartment is in Los Angeles--my--” she swallowed and forced herself to say it, “Raye’s brother is currently staying there, and I need a couple days to transfer the lease and move all of my things out, as well as make arrangements for therapy and the like.”

“Take as much time as you need. The building won’t officially be finished for another couple months. September, at least.”

“Oh, that’s later than I thought. Well then. Thank you for answering. I’m going to go and arrange a flight.”

She walked out of the building, and narrowed her eyes at Dunleavy asking a civilian for her phone. She made note of it and climbed into her car. She’d barely buckled when she almost backed into someone.

“You know, it’s usually considered good form to check your mirrors,” the blonde woman from earlier said.

“Sorry about that. I haven’t had much sleep,” Naomi said, after pausing for a second. Wow, she is… really pretty.

“Mhm." Halle nodded. "I look forward to it. You’re a legend.” Halle smiled.

She leaned onto the wheel and said, “I don’t know about legend. Though, I don’t think this organization needs one.”

Well done, Naomi, already venting to a woman you don’t know. Scratch that, barely know.

“You’re not known as one for no reason, Misora. I’ll see you around.”

Naomi nodded, and made sure to check her mirrors before backing out this time. She fell face first onto her hotel bed with a sigh.

“Totally blew that,” she muttered, peeling off her jacket. Her phone buzzed. “What’s up, Adrian?”

“Nothing much. Sorry that it’s taken me so long to call. I’d wish you a happy late birthday, but…”

“It’s bad luck. I know the superstition. Sorry, you were saying?”

“Anyways, I just wanted to ask, since this apartment’s lease is coming up, are you going to renew it?”

She swore. “When is that?”

“The 27th.”

“Gotcha. I’m going to renew it. By the way, you and your wife are going to need to move out sometime--I’m heading back to LA. I can stay with your parents for a while, but I’ll need to get back into my apartment before I lose my mind.”

“Naomi! Why do you never tell us these things…”

“I’m in DC right now, actually. I hadn’t learned that I was going to be coming back to DC until the ninth, so I couldn’t have told you and your family.”

“That’s fair. And confidentiality laws. Anyways, when are you going to head back here?”

“A day or so.”

“That’s not a lot of time to pack.”

“You won’t have to, not for a while. I’ll transfer the lease over before I leave, and then you and your wife will officially be renting it, not me. That’s when I have to move to New York.”

Adrian whistled. “You sure do move around a lot. Though, I remember Raye did that too. Comes with the job, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she said. Somehow, it didn’t hurt as much when he says it.

“Where in New York, out of curiosity?”

“The Big Apple, actually.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I am not. How’s your wife doing?”

“She’s all right. End of the seventh month--officially at 28 weeks, now. Are you planning on being the gay, spinster aunt?”

“Bye, Adrian.”

⁂

“I’m sorry mom and dad couldn’t make it. They’d love to see you,” Michael said. Naomi climbed into the car. “And, of course, Adrian and Laney are in the same boat.”

“What’s going on with Laney?”

“Morning sickness is back and worse than ever.”

She winced, though she had yet to experience that. All plans of it had went out the window when he died. She pursed her lips and forced all thought of Raye from her mind.

“Yeah, after her bout with HG the first time… Anyways, I heard you had to move to the Big Apple for work. Tell us how it is.”

“Providing I can get a chance alone, ha.”

“Trying to remain busy?”

“Busy as I can get, yeah.”

He tapped out the beat to the lyrics of All Apologies. “It’s weird to realise that you’re outliving your oldest brother.”

She smiled wryly. “I was all of six weeks younger than him. It’s weird to think I wouldn’t have died six weeks after.”

Michael was silent. The only resemblance that him and Raye bore was the cut of their eyes and their stature. Beyond that, it was hard to tell they were brothers at all.

“Naomi… You are in counseling, right?”

“I’m not suicidal.”

Scratch that. Same personality.

“You’re depressed, at best.”

Raye scowled. “I don’t like this guy.”

“Then kick the damn door down and let’s be done with this,” Suruga replied.

Even a glance at his face, cool but barely restrained anger boiling beneath the surface, could’ve told you his thoughts. He braced himself against the brick a la Rorschach in The Watchmen, and with one quick, almost stablike jam of his heel by the doorknob, it burst wide open. The children in the house recoiled from the door.

“Oh, Jesus,” Gardner muttered. “Raye, go upstairs with Naomi and search the house.”

Gardner's knees popped as he knelt to talk to the kids. Naomi cast an anxious glance behind her and followed Raye up the stairs. He was muttering darkly under his breath, about what he’d do to the guy if he weren’t with the FBI.

“Don’t beat the dead horse here,” she muttered, not intending the pun of the perp’s display name on the dark web.

“It won’t be a dead horse until he’s dead or in prison forever,” he replied. The clack of the slide being jerked back punctuated the statement. If he did do something rash, she wasn't keen on holding him back.

“Yoohoo, Naomi? Anyone home?”

She blinked. “Sorry.”

“He is the worst kind of person, and I’m not even a little sorry about saying that. Making snuff films of children,” Raye muttered, rubbing his temples.

“Agreed. Children are the one thing you should have restraint on,” Suruga said. “But at least we're not talking, like. Fetal abduction.”

Always the optimist.

"Dude, don't. I'm already sick to my stomach." (And he was looking a little on the green side.) The ME passed him a can of flat ginger ale.

“It just, uh… reminded me of a joke I made. By accident.” 

Michael shrugged. “All right.”

⁂

“So, how long are you going to be in California?” Nana asked.

“With the rent as is? Good luck,” Michael said.

“Oh, I know, it’s horrific. Luckily I make a decent amount of money each month, so I can make rent. And if I can’t, then I have lots of money in savings.”

“Or you could board with someone.”

Naomi paced around the room. Raye would’ve been 33. When did we get this old? she thought. Happy birthday, I guess. She tried not to imagine what it would have been like if he hadn't been called to Japan.

She picked up her ringing phone. “Hi, Nana. It’s nice to hear from you.”

“And you too, dear. How are you holding up?”

“Same as always. I’m sorry I can’t call as often as I’d like to. My job and all.”

“I understand. My son, when he was alive, was the same way.”

Her mouth twisted. “Yeah. How are you and Chris doing?”

“We’re all right. Missing him as usual. Chris' job’s going well, though. As for his brothers, they're over as an annual thing. I’d tell you more, but I don’t really think it’s my news to tell.”

“That’s all right. Either way, they know where I am and have my number. They can tell me on their own time.”

“You hear that, boys?” In the background, there was a cacophony of groaning from Raye's brothers.

She smiled. “I should be going.”

“Of course. Don’t let us hold you back.”

“You’re not. Either way, I’ll see—hear you, I guess—on my birthday.”

“Mhm. Goodbye, Naomi. We’ll be thinking of you.”

She shut her phone with a sigh, then emerged from her hotel room. “Sorry I’m late, Katie.”

“Don’t let it happen too often,” Sheridan replied. “What even was it about?”

“Family stuff. You know how it gets. Anything on Kira?”

“The Bureau is still digging its heels in. All we’ve got is that Kira is in Japan—obviously, that’s why we’re here. No dice on anything else. It’s a wonder that Mason’s still ordering us to do these things, since the amount of stuff we have is nil.”

“Kira’s bound to slip up. He plays a long game.”

“Gee, ya think? Either way, I’m hungry.”

“Breakfast hours finished over two hours ago,” Naomi chided. “You can wait.”

“The human body digests food over a period of two hours, and at the end of that time period, then you’re hungry again.”

“Sure. Whatever, go get something from the vending machine.”

“Don’t wait up.”

Kids, Naomi thought.

“Come on, she’s only a couple years younger than you,” Ian Smirnov chided. He filled in, at her blank look, “Your expressions can be really obvious sometimes. Lemme guess, you were thinking, ‘kids’.”

Either way, inexperienced people can be liabilities. Especially those who are too worried about other things than their job.” She raised her eyebrows. "And I'll try to ignore you bringing up my age. Women age better with some mystery, you know."

He rolled his eyes. “You can be so anal sometimes. It’s times like these where I’m not shocked your nickname is ‘Misora Massacre’.”

“Well, either way. Mason says to keep analysing the patterns of Kira’s killings, besides the obvious.” There was a two week stop in the murders in '04, and then a slew of murders of white collar people. It was all traceable to the Yotsuba Group, but then they all died the same year. Nothing since, just the same old regular murder of incarcerated people.

(As far as "same old" can stretch when talking about the murder of people in prison.)

“Of course he does. He’s a good boss, but he doesn’t know what to look for,” Sheridan said. “So, Massacre, what’s your prediction?”

“Don’t call me that. Probably nothing as usual. We’ve still got six more months left for the scouting, so I guess we wait for something major.”

Sheridan sighed through her nose. “Also probably nothing. Either way, I’ll check it out. Anyone on drink duty tonight?”

“That’s Churchill’s job as of…” Smirnov checked his watch, “12:01 in the morning today. Then, it’s Misora’s job next week.”

“Didn’t I tell you guys that I don’t partake in that?” Naomi replied. “Besides, I thought the Russians would’ve been perfectly happy to buy the alcohol.”

Smirnov snickered. This had been their running joke as of late.

“Jokes about Smirnov aside, I’ll get started,” Sheridan said.