Dinner that evening carried an air unlike any other. His father, Yagami Soichiro, moved his chopsticks slowly. Normally, even during meals, he sat with his spine perfectly straight, asking questions like "How was school today?" or "Are you keeping up with your studies?" But today, he simply brought rice to his mouth, saying nothing. Thin shadows pooled beneath his eyes. Exhaustion had seeped into his face like a stain—the face of a man in his early fifties, worn thin. His younger sister, Sayu, kept glancing at their father while holding her rice bowl. Their mother, Sachiko, silently rearranged the soup bowls. After the silence stretched on, Soichiro spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "[serious]The task force is down to five people now" No one said anything. "[serious]We started with 141. Everyone quit because they were afraid of Kira" Raito took a bite of rice. He chewed. He swallowed. (141 to 5. That means—the investigation is functionally dead.) "[gentle]That must have been hard, Dad" Perfect words. Perfect tone. The words of a perfect son. Soichiro lifted his head slightly. Gratitude flickered in his eyes. Raito watched that reaction while his mind turned elsewhere. (Five people left. And they're terrified. Pursuing Kira with this setup is like building a wall out of sand.) Which meant—he was essentially safe. Sayu looked up. "[excited]But Kira only kills criminals, right? So what's there to be scared of?" "[angry]Sayu!" His father's voice cut sharper than usual. Their mother made a troubled face and said "Now, now." Raito set down his chopsticks and turned a gentle expression toward his sister. "[gentle]Sayu, your father's right. Killing is wrong, no matter the reason" "[sad]...Yeah" Soichiro's face softened into something like approval. Raito nodded slightly and returned to his meal. (Sayu's instinct is honest. It's close to mine. The people who deserve judgment are being judged—what's wrong with that?) But he would never say it aloud. Never. --- Deep in the night, sitting at his desk in his room, Raito opened the notebook. Black cover. The Death Note. Write a name in this notebook while picturing their face, and forty seconds later, that person dies of a heart attack. If he wanted to specify the cause of death, he had six minutes and forty seconds after writing the name. The rules were simple. And they worked. Fifty-two violent criminals had died just last week. When he pulled the notebook from the double-bottomed drawer, Raito had developed a habit of checking. Were the traps intact? Any listening devices? Cameras? Everything was fine. He spread out the list he'd copied from his father's files. Names of people who kept slipping through the cracks of the law despite having evidence against them. Raito fixed their faces firmly in his mind and wrote them down, one by one. (This is right.) When he set down his pen, there was no hesitation whatsoever. --- The next morning, when Raito entered the classroom, something felt off. The homeroom teacher, Ishida-sensei, stood in front of the blackboard and announced in a slightly louder voice than usual: "Well, we have a transfer student joining us today. Everyone, please make them feel welcome." The door opened. The first thing that caught his eye was the posture. An abnormal slouch. Shoulders curved inward, head tilted slightly forward, and yet—that lanky frame carried an unsettling composure. The white shirt hung half out of his pants. And his feet. He was holding his sneakers in one hand, walking barefoot across the classroom floor. Silence. The entire class froze. The figure stood at the front of the room, holding a coffee cup in one hand (where had he gotten it?), and quietly dropped sugar cubes into it. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. What was happening inside that cup was terrifying just to watch. "I'm Ryuzaki. Nice to meet you." That was all he said. Expressionless. His voice was neither high nor low, devoid of almost any emotional inflection. The class began to murmur. "What is this guy?" "He came barefoot." "How many sugars did he just put in?" The whispers rippled through the room. Raito didn't laugh. (This person—his eyes aren't smiling.) Ryuzaki's gaze swept across the entire classroom. It stopped for just a moment when it reached Raito. Just a moment—but Raito noticed. Ishida-sensei said, "Ryuzaki will be in the same advanced class as Yagami, and he'll be sitting next to him." Ryuzaki came to the seat beside Raito. Before pulling out the chair to sit, he looked directly at Raito's face and said: "[cold]Let's be friends, Raito" Raito's mind stopped instantly. (—He just called me by my name. Before introducing himself. The teacher only pointed to the seat; he never showed him the class roster. Yet he knows my name.) "[gentle]Of course. Nice to meet you" A perfect smile. So natural he was impressed with himself. Ryuzaki paused for exactly 0.5 seconds before responding. "[cold]That smile isn't genuine, is it?" —He said it loudly. Loud enough for the entire class to hear. Raito's smile froze for 0.1 seconds. "Wait, Yagami's smile is fake?!" "What do you mean, you can tell?" "I mean, I always thought his smile was too perfect, but..." Several classmates leaned forward. One girl started to say, "So the real Yagami is..." before covering her mouth. A boy muttered, "Now that you mention it, that smile is like a model poster," and the others laughed. Raito stood up. "[serious]That's not true! It's a natural smile!" For the first time in his life, his voice cracked in front of the class. Laughter erupted. Raito sat back down and looked out the window. The schoolyard at the end of autumn. Fallen leaves rolling in the wind. (Why am I panicking...?) Ryuzaki took a sip of his coffee and faced forward as if nothing had happened. --- When break time came, Ryuzaki naturally brought his sugar-filled coffee to Raito's desk and sat beside him. Where he was getting it from remained a complete mystery. Raito thought (I should keep my distance) while opening his textbook. "[serious]What do you think about the Kira phenomenon, Raito?" It was abrupt. Raito stopped turning the page. People who casually threw out questions like this weren't rare. Whenever Kira came up on TV, classmates would share their opinions. So Raito had an answer ready: "I think it's good, but it's scary too." But Ryuzaki's eyes. (This guy is testing my answer.) Raito chose his words carefully. "[serious]It's a fact that crime is decreasing. Whether you call that justice depends on your perspective, I think" "[cold]If the concept of justice depends on someone's subjective view—can it really be called justice?" Raito went still for a moment. (This guy... he can talk on the same level as me.) In that instant, he realized he was being drawn in. He was thinking seriously about his response. He'd never felt this way before. (Wait, wait, wait. I'm supposed to be suspicious of this guy—so why is this conversation interesting?) "[serious]Justice that doesn't depend on subjectivity doesn't exist. But when that subjectivity is supported by the majority—it approaches objectivity" "[cold]I see. So you believe the majority creates justice?" Ryuzaki seemed to consider this, letting a sugar cube sink into his coffee. "[cold]Then, when the majority is wrong—can that justice still exist as justice?" Raito searched for an answer. Ryuzaki's eyes were like an analysis machine, reading every shift in Raito's expression. Raito felt he shouldn't move, and yet something inside him was beginning to spin. (This is interesting. Talking with this guy is interesting.) That was the most dangerous thing of all. --- At lunch, as Raito and Ryuzaki sat eating their bentos side by side, three girls from the class were whispering nearby. "Hey, do you think Ryuzaki might like Raito? He's always next to him, and he was staring at him all morning." "Yeah, his gaze was intense." "He was totally staring! With like... a burning look." Raito froze, his bento lid still in his hand. "[serious]That's not it! This guy is just... just..." The words wouldn't come. He couldn't find the right word to follow "just." He wanted to say "a transfer student." He wanted to say "a classmate." But two seconds passed, then three, and nothing came out. Raito was bewildered in a way he couldn't believe. Ryuzaki threw him a lifeline, speaking matter-of-factly: "[cold]We're friends" "[serious]Right! That! Friends!" He agreed too eagerly. The girls said "You two are close..." and walked away. Raito stared at his bento. The tamagoyaki seemed to be making an unnecessary statement. Then Ryuzaki said quietly: "[cold]If Raito will accept me as a friend, then that would be... investiga—" —He stopped mid-word. Raito looked up. "[serious]...Investiga?" "[cold]Never mind. Would you like another sugar cube in your coffee?" He dropped a sugar cube into the coffee. A small clink. (He just started to say "investiga." Investigation—something that would follow that word. He was about to say something to me about that.) Raito's level of caution rose another notch. --- After school, in the empty classroom. The other students had gone home, the hallway voices had faded, and only Raito and Ryuzaki remained. Ryuzaki stood by the window, looking outside while chewing on a sugar cube—the strange habit of putting solid sugar directly in his mouth. Raito watched from his desk. Autumn light slanted through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. Wind rattled the glass. It was quiet. Raito thought (If I can extract information from this guy) and opened his mouth with what seemed like casual conversation. "[serious]Ryuzaki, do you have family?" In that instant— Ryuzaki's eyes froze. 0.5 seconds. Maybe less. But Raito saw it clearly. The motion of chewing the sugar cube stopped. The gaze directed at the window turned toward some distant void. His expression didn't move. But that blankness was different from his usual blankness. Usually there was the scent of calculation. Now there was—the scent of emptiness. Then it returned to normal. "[cold]Sugar is my family" Flatly, he put another sugar cube in his mouth. Raito didn't press further. (Not yet. This guy is hiding something. And if I corner him, he'll become the one doing the cornering. Right now is the time to gather information.) "[serious]I see. ...I eat dinner with my family every day" "[cold]Raito has a close family. Do you eat dinner with your entire family every night?" (He just confirmed my family structure.) Raito answered calmly. "Most nights," he said. (He might have already looked up that my father is the head of the task force.) Silence stretched between them. Not an uncomfortable silence. That's what made it slightly unsettling. Ryuzaki said "See you tomorrow" and picked up his bag. He left the classroom barefoot, sneakers in hand. Raito sat alone in the empty classroom, looking out the window. In the same direction Ryuzaki had been looking. The sun was setting. The ginkgo leaves in the schoolyard swayed in the wind. (Who is this guy?) On the walk home, Raito couldn't stop thinking. A transfer student appeared. He'd looked up my name. He started to say the word "investiga." He asked about my family. His eyes froze for 0.5 seconds. Each piece was small. But lined up together, they formed a shape. (There's a possibility this guy is connected to the Kira investigation.) But that wasn't what troubled him most. What troubled him was something else entirely. The conversation from earlier was still playing in his head. "When the majority is wrong—can that justice still exist as justice?" The words kept circling. He hadn't found an answer. He was still thinking about it. He'd never felt this way before. (I'm remembering it because I need to gather information about my enemy. That's all.) He told himself that. Something deep in his chest beat st