A shadow fell across the solitary cell. Something massive passed through the concrete wall. The human couldn't see it. Couldn't hear it. And yet it was unmistakably there. Ryuk folded his wings near the ceiling, gnawing on an apple as he surveyed the room. His enormous crimson eyes slowly looked down at the figure sitting on the floor. "[laughing] Man, this is hilarious," The death god muttered to himself in a voice no one else could hear. Another bite of apple. The crunch was satisfying. Human world apples were juicier by far than those from the realm of death. Raito sat with his knees drawn up, leaning against the wall. Whether from insomnia or something else, he stared blankly at the ceiling. Two weeks had passed since his confinement. Kira's memories were gone. When he'd relinquished ownership of the notebook, they'd vanished completely. The plan to judge criminals. The battle of wits with L. All of it. Now Raito genuinely didn't understand why he was here at all. Ryuk knew. He'd been watching the whole time from the beginning. "[sarcastic] Guy loses his memories and all he does is think about that detective," Raito whispered something to himself. "Ryuzaki... what's he doing right now?" In that instant, Ryuk burst out laughing. His wings trembled. Laughter filled the room—but none of it reached Raito's ears. The death god pressed his skeletal hand against his ribs, his grin widening. "[laughing] Humans really are entertaining," --- Twenty-seven monitors lined the surveillance room. In the pale blue glow, L sat on a chair with his knees drawn up. Hunched posture. Bare feet. He held a coffee cup in both hands, motionless. His left eye was silver, his right a deep blue—those mismatched eyes fixed quietly on a single screen. On that screen, Raito sat with his knees drawn up, staring at the ceiling. Watari approached slowly. A white-haired gentleman who had supported L's every action for years. A coffee pot was in his hands. "[gentle] Six days remain until the legal limit of confinement expires," L didn't answer. His fingertip tapped against the rim of the coffee cup. Tap, tap. Tap, tap. A habit he wasn't aware of. The evidence—there was none. Fifty days. Twenty-seven cameras. Twenty-four-hour surveillance. All communications intercepted. And still nothing. The logical conclusion was singular. Watari asked again, quietly. "[gentle] What will you do?" A long silence. L finally opened his mouth. "[cold] I'll release him," "[gentle] Understood. I'll begin the procedures—" "[cold] But there is one condition," Watari stopped. "[cold] I will connect myself to Raito with handcuffs. Chain length: 2.5 meters. We will share all activities for twenty-four hours," "[gentle] There are several other methods available, sir," "[cold] This is the most efficient," A pause of 0.5 seconds. Watari started to say something, then stopped. L returned his gaze to the screen. Raito was pushing against the wall, trying to stand. The chain made it difficult. Watari nodded without speaking. --- The basement door opened. Raito looked up at the sound. Standing there was a hunched man with bare feet and a shirt hanging out. He held a coffee cup. Eyes of different colors—silver and blue—looked at Raito quietly. Raito stood. The handcuff chain rattled at his wrist. "[serious] Finally," He said only that before stepping toward L. "[angry] Explain. Why am I here? Why are these cuffs on me? How long are you keeping me?" L, expressionless, quickly fastened something to Raito's right wrist. Click. Raito looked at his wrist. A new handcuff. And the other end was connected to L's left wrist. "[surprised] What are you doing!?" "[cold] I'm releasing you. However, you will remain with me at all times," Raito checked the chain length. 2.5 meters. "[angry] 2.5 meters!? What about the bathroom!?" "[cold] We'll take turns," "[angry] What about showers!?" "[cold] Just let me know," "[angry] What about sleeping!?" "[cold] Separate beds. Within chain range," "[angry] Within range!? You're insane!" L took a sip of coffee. "[cold] A rational investigative decision," Raito was speechless for about ten seconds. Then he took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as he could manage. "[serious] If you're going to release me, take off the cuffs first," L paused for a moment. Something was different from his usual flat tone. His eyes moved, fixing on Raito's face for just an instant. "[gentle] I won't let you escape. But... I want to talk with you again," Raito tried to object. No words came. *Talk with you.* Those words alone caught in his throat and wouldn't come loose. --- The 24th floor of Tiara Palace Hotel. L's suite room. Approximately 200 square meters. Monitors lined an entire wall. A sweets cart was always stocked. The distance between the twin beds was 1.8 meters. Raito stood in the middle of the room for a while without speaking. *(Is this... "freedom"?)* He looked at his wrist. The handcuff. The chain. Connected to L on the other end. It was clearly larger than the cell. But it was clearly not freedom. The first battle came at breakfast the next morning. L pulled a plate from the sweets cart. Pancakes. He began covering them with sugar—an excessive amount. Raito froze watching this. "[sarcastic] ...What is that menu?" "[cold] Sugar is fuel for the brain," As he said this, L began spreading jam on Raito's toast. "[angry] I can do it myself," Raito snatched the toast back. He tried to spread jam with his left hand. His right hand—his dominant hand—was cuffed. The jam was too thick. The toast crumbled. It fell apart on the plate. "[cold] As I suspected," L, still expressionless, offered another piece of toast. This one was properly spread with jam. Raito hesitated for three seconds, then silently accepted it. *(I feel like I lost.)* The shower argument happened that night. Raito said he'd go first. L said he would too. "[serious] I said it first," "[cold] It was simultaneous," "[serious] I was 0.2 seconds faster," "[cold] That cannot be measured," They stared at each other for five minutes. They settled it with rock-paper-scissors. L threw rock. Raito threw paper. Raito won. Raito walked toward the shower. The chain went taut. "[cold] 2.5 meters," "[angry] I know!" Near the ceiling, Ryuk laughed until his sides ached. His voice reached no one. --- Deep into the night of the third day in handcuffs. Raito jolted awake. A dream. A dark dream. Cold concrete walls. A solitary cell no one came to. Chained, calling out, but nothing—no one—could hear him. When he came to, sweat beaded on his forehead. His breathing was slightly ragged. The chain was taut. Looking toward where it led, L was already awake. He watched the screens, then looked quietly at Raito. Silver eye, blue eye—those mismatched eyes reflected Raito clearly in the darkness. "[serious] ...It's nothing," Raito looked away and tried to lie back down. The chain rattled. L pulled the sweets cart closer. After a moment, a pudding cup was placed in Raito's hand. With a spoon. "[serious] ...Why?" "[cold] Sugar is effective after frightening dreams, I'm told," With only that, L turned back to his screens. Raito looked at the pudding. He looked at it for a while. Then he ate it. It was sweet. On another night, as Raito read documents at a table by the window, something fell across his shoulders. A blanket. He turned. L was looking at his laptop. Not at Raito. He hadn't said Raito looked cold. The blanket was simply there on his shoulders. Raito couldn't remove that blanket. There was no reason to remove it—or rather, he didn't *want* to. That fact troubled him slightly. "[serious] ...Why do you do things like that?" L dropped a single sugar cube into his coffee. Plop. "[cold] The explanation would be lengthy," The conversation ended there. Raito turned forward and pretended to read. But the words wouldn't register. *(This guy makes no sense.)* And yet his chest felt slightly warmer. He tried to ignore it. He couldn't. This was the man who'd confined him. The man who placed pudding without explanation, who draped blankets without speaking. --- Deep into the night of the fourth day in handcuffs. The room was quiet. Only the monitors' pale blue glow flickered. L watched the screens from his bed. Raito lay on his own bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. The chain rattled occasionally. That was all. Raito, still looking at the ceiling, opened his mouth. "[serious] Hey, Ryuzaki," L looked up from the screens. "[serious] Do you really think I'm Kira?" Silence. A long silence. L didn't answer. Raito was about to look away—when it came. "[gentle] I sincerely hope that you are not Kira," The voice was small. His usual mumbling tone. But there was a different weight to it. Raito's chest tightened. This man was serious. The man who'd locked him away for fifty days hoped for his innocence. That contradiction spun through Raito's mind. Not anger. Not relief. Something inexplicable caught in his throat. His eyes grew hot. He didn't understand why he felt like crying. Because his memories were gone? Because of the loneliness? Or— Raito quickly turned his face away. The chain rattled. L was watching. He must have seen Raito's tears. But L said nothing. He simply placed a single sugar cube in his mouth. It crunched softly. The room fell quiet again. After a while, Raito exhaled. His face was still turned away. Only the cold of the chain transmitted through his wrist. Near the ceiling, Ryuk gnawed his apple, watching both of them. "[whispers] ...I see," The death god whispered in a voice that reached no one. His large crimson eyes moved between Raito and L. He'd dropped the Death Note into the human world out of boredom. But this—this was unexpectedly entertaining. Raito fell asleep without realizing it. L looked up from the screens and watched Raito's sleeping profile for a moment. The chain between their wrists swayed faintly.