#L: You know Matsuda is always complaining about being single

[heyheydidjaknow]

eeeeek you can ignore this if it's not your cup of tea, but how do you think L would handle this situation?

reader has been helping out with the Kira investigation not a detective but has other useful skill sets to work alongside them.

time passes, reader and L spend many nights working together when others are asleep. Due to all the time they spend together, eader develops feelings for L, and L is already suspicious of that. The infatuation is pretty obvious to him.

Reader does not dare say anything but it's clearly eating them up inside. Do you think L would approach them and basically call them out on it, or just ignore it and pray that reader doesn't say anything?

I guess we can assume that L would consider it if it weren't for the Kira investigation , but his mind is too busy right now and it's not the right time?

Sorry I'd this is lame and oddly specific LOL i just went thru this before and it was such a shitty feeling hahaha

Dude this is not at all oddly specific. This is very solidly not oddly specific.

I think I might’ve touched on this before but I don’t remember so I’ll answer again; he isn’t going to say anything if you don’t. There’s no reason, it’s not his place, and until the case is officially closed he doesn’t have the time or energy to start anything. If it’s interfering with your work he’ll probably just try to set you up with someone nice so you get over it or suggest that you take a break because of how mentally taxing the whole situation is. But so long as you’re still doing what you’re supposed to do it’s not his highest priority given that every day they don’t catch Kira is another couple hundred people dead on a slow day, so either bottle it up and wait until the situation gets figured out or get over it.

[trans-l-lawliet]

Can you headcanon L and Matsuda being both autistic and/or with ADHD and kinda understanding each other eventual needs please?? And with the reaction/opinions of others (Light, Soichiro, Aizawa, Misa and Mogi)

Hi there! So, my ADHD had me in a pretty intense BNHA lock down (here is my sideblog shameless self promo lmao), and tbh I’m answering this ask first just because of the hilarious irony of it. 

I tried to answer both the premise and how the other characters react, and I’m still in the process of shifting back into Death Note mode, so bear with my dumbass ass

L and Matsuda were peak autism/ADHD solidarity, and they bonded pretty fast over it.

L already knew about Touta because he investigated the police very thoroughly, but Matsuda realised quite fast that Ryuzaki shared certain traits with him.

Both of them loved to sit down “weird”, and would be found discussing the case in the strangest of postures. Once Aizawa walked to Matsuda hanging his legs mid air as he laid down on the couch, while Ryuzaki was sitting on one of the armchairs, face pressed against the arm, his voice muffled as he recited the deaths’ data from the previous week.

“Ryuzaki, I literally can’t take any more information in today, I want to talk about Detective Conan” “Sure, but only if we can talk about my list of sweets after” “Deal. Which country today?” “I’m feeling Italy” “Nice. So, I’m on volume 42 and-”

L wasn’t much of a fan of having to repeat himself, or being interrupted mid sentence, but once Touta explained that it was because of his auditory processing issues, he started to give Matsuda five to ten seconds to reply, and would repeat what he last said if asked, two-three times if needed.

When they became closer and seemed to actually start developing something like friendship, the unstoppable force of Matsuda’s Labrador energy clashed with the immovable object of L’s rejection of physical touch. He tried to learn how to read Ryuzaki’s body language so he could take some steps back if needed, to which L was grateful for.

Once Touta learnt about what flavours L loved, and the right texture he could tolerate for his food, he started bringing snacks to share with him that catered to his needs. Except for eclairs, those were for Ryuzaki alone. The simply thought of eating one made Matsu’s skin crawl.

Ryuzaki completely dropped any form of degradation towards Matsuda after a particular night when he lashed out at him in frustration with the case, and Touta had a panic attack triggered by his RSD. If he ever expressed anything akin to an insult, L always made sure it was clear he was joking, in his own way.

Executive dysfunction had always been a pain to deal with, and Matsuda was no stranger to it, but he grew to be so grateful to have Watari around, he once cried about it.

The man was used to L's own version of it, and to have someone to actually help Matsu out by giving him pointers and tips, as well as a helping hand, it made his heart ache in a good way.

The other members of the Task Force didn’t know how to react at first, because Matsuda restrained a lot when he worked back in the police. They considered him clumsy and a bit of an airhead, but little did they know that the limits he pushed onto himself were to blame for that. 

Being in such a small team, plus being in company of someone who understood his needs better than any other coworker would’ve been able to made him feel more free to just be himself and behave in ways that actually helped him work better.

Like stimming. He didn’t know how much he missed it on a work environment until he was able to bring his favourite pen in and click clack it away while working through reports. Or bouncing his left leg as his right was tucked under himself on the chair.

Mogi had always been one to roll with the punches, and when he found both men in a deep conversation about home decor at three in the morning, he simply sat down with the reports he had brought and started working through them.

Aizawa started being slightly more considerate towards Touta, and tried to reduce his complaining about his attitude, as he caught on the fact that Matsuda had been simply restrained by societal expectations. It wasn’t at the same level, but he could relate to those feelings of inadequacy. This, in turn, softened his attitude towards L as well.

Soichiro, the always diligent leader, noticed how much more productive and eager to work Matsuda was, and tried to silently learn through observation. If he could make it easier for Touta once they had to return to the police, he would.

Light always had these feelings of slight irritation towards Matsuda, that he never put a name of and simply branded as thinking of him as stupid. But L saw right through Light in a lot of aspects, including this one. And He Did Not Like It At All.

When Ryuzaki handcuffed himself to Light, he made sure to invite Matsuda over to indulge in ranting about their interests even more than it was already usual for them. If Light ever complained about how much they were talking, Ryuzaki would tell him that surely Japan’s Top Student could push through and concentrate in whatever he’s doing, no matter if there’s a conversation going on around him.

Misa loved her manager Matsui. And Matsuda was very fond of Misa as well, even if he couldn’t admit it because she was still suspect of being involved in the Kira case, with so much evidence against her… But she was sweet and full of life, and he couldn’t help but admire her.

He never told her, but he was pretty certain the girl had a touch of ADHD herself. They settled in a fun friendship dynamic right from the start, and when they discovered they had the same tastes in music, random karaoke nights in her room were on. He even got Ryuzaki and Light to join once, even if neither of them actually sang a single song.

Touta explained to Misa a bit in regards of how to act around Ryuzaki, because she was Very Loud and even more physical than Matsuda, and he didn’t want his friend to have a meltdown because she just went slightly overboard with her natural excitement. 

Ryuzaki didn’t learn about this until he was reviewing the footage for Misa’s bedroom one night, and he wouldn’t admit it, but it was touching to see someone actually try to be accommodating instead of dismissive.

[lostsummerdayz]

Death Note One-Shot Chapter Review

“AH! SHINIGAMI!” But in 2020!

By: Nay Holland

Death Note started off as a manga and anime series that joined others in its ilk during the 2000s renaissance. This was the time period that brought us many herald classics such as Naruto, Bleach, One Piece, Inuyasha, Full Metal Alchemist, and Gurren Lagann. I can spend the entire time naming at least ten other series that would either go on to have devoted fans over a decade later or continue in some form. Of course Naruto lives on through Boruto, rumors of a Bleach revival are on the way, and One Piece is, well, never ending at this point.

However, among the “Roaring 00s” of anime, Death Note always stood out to me. While I was invested in Naruto since middle school, I hadn’t touched Death Note until my high school years. During this time, the series was still popular, yet it always seemed overshadowed by the other bigger names. Despite this, it remains a huge hit in Japan with several live action movies, a prequel light novel, several dramas, and a TV series.

Of course, there was also the Netflix Original film which was an attempt to “Americanize” the series, for whatever reason. Back in 2017 it was a talking point, mostly how it didn’t live up to the source material presented. Nowadays, no one really talks about it and it is probably for the best.

While Death Note is considered a cult classic in both the East and the West, it is no surprise that content is still being created to this day. The surprise factor stems from the unexpectant delivery of said content. On February 3rd 2020, the creators behind Death Note, author Tsugumi Ohba and artist Takeshi Obata, revisited the world that Kira left behind in a one-shot published by Viz Media.

While you don’t need to read the original manga to read the one-shot, the one-shot will assume you know the original source as many existing characters, themes, and events from the original manga are all featured within the chapter. That said, it will greatly enhance the experience if you know the source material. Past this point there will be spoilers on the original manga and the one-shot chapter as I’ll be referring to both.

This isn’t the first “one-shot” within the Death Note universe. The first official one-shot dates as far back as 2008, two years after the original series was completed. Set three years after Kira’s death, this one-shot focused on a new “Kira.” This “Kira” has access to the Death Note via a shinigami (who wasn’t Ryuk) and used it to murder those who had a low life expectancy. However, the new “L,” formerly known as Near, quickly shuts his antics down. The new “Kira” then uses the Death Note to kill himself and the shinigami retrieve the book.

Before we can discuss the latest one-shot, we first have to discuss Takeshi Obata’s art exhibit that was held in the Summer of 2019; Never Complete. 

Never Complete was an art exhibit celebrating Obata’s thirty-years as a manga artist. Within the exhibit, many of his previous works from Hikaru no Go, Bakuman, Death Note, and the latest ongoing series, Platinum End were all on display.

Bonus content which included first drafts of illustrations, were also featured. Among the bonus content, the most peculiar one was a storyboard draft of the 87-page one-shot. The storyboard draft can be seen and read in almost its entirety on the official Shonen Jump Plus website. Six months later, we have an official release in both Japanese and English. The official English translation can be viewed here.

Our story begins right where the previous one-shot left off. The shinigami who wasn’t Ryuk, gives Ryuk back the Death Note, claiming he was unsuccessful while also giving him an apple as an offering. Being bored of the shinigami world as well as a craving for more apples, Ryuk sets off to see who could be the successor of the Death Note. If it entails free apples, Ryuk ain’t complaining.

We then get to meet a young Minoru Tanaka, a middle schooler who is known for having the highest test grades in the region. When Ryuk introduces himself to Tanaka, the only thing Ryuk knows is that Tanaka is smart in school, comparing Minoru Tanaka to Light Yagami’s aptitude in school.

However, his actual grades are mediocre at best. This already contrasts Light who was a certified genius both in tests as well as grades. As Tanaka explains that his ability to score high on tests are dependent on his knowledge of IQ tests and quizzes, he bemoans that adults who see grades yet fail to see the bigger picture are no better.

As Tanaka holds the Death Note in his hand, all he knows is that it was once Kira’s. It is during this scene that we learn the state of Tokyo after Kira’s death, ten years later. Yagami’s legacy lives on as he is taught in schools around Tokyo. Tanaka exclaims that he was taught about him in Ethics class and in World History class, both of whom consider him to be an evil mass-murdering sociopath that placed Tokyo on the brink of destruction. 

There’s just one problem with holding the single most powerful and dangerous weapon in the world. What good is a Death Note if you can’t even read its instructions?

While this wasn’t a problem for Light as he was a genius who understood fluent English and Japanese, here was a middle schooler who struggled with English. He asks Ryuk to translate the English into Japanese, just so that he can understand how to use it.

However, while not as academically bright as Light, Minoru is more logical with his approach. He understands how the Death Note was used in the past. The major difference between the past and the present are the increase in security measures to ensure a repeat of what happened doesn’t transpire again. When Ryuk asks if Minoru can use the Death Note the same way that Kira did, Minoru hesitates.

Knowing the state of Tokyo right now as well as knowing the history of Kira and the Death Note, he has no interest or intentions of using the Death Note for similar deeds. Here lies a normal child who excels at critical thinking who has the opportunity of a lifetime.

Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. He also can’t risk the book falling into the hands of someone else who would use the book for the same reasons Kira did, or worse. So he does the one thing that he could do in this situation. He buys himself two years of time. He tells Ryuk to come back to him in two years, while asking him two critical questions.

The first question he asks is if it was possible for those who touched the notebook to still see Ryuk. This would involve the former Investigation Team and Near, who brought Kira to justice. 

The second question was how far can Ryuk move around without being close to Minoru. This comes into play two years later when Minoru decides to ultimately sell the Death Note.

That’s right. He sells the Death Note.

But not just to anyone, especially not via Craigslist either.

Conveniently, the TV broadcast station is close by Tanaka’s house. With a pen and paper he tells Ryuk to write a message that will incur interest without actually having to directly contact Tanaka himself. Since the net and all of its usage can be easily tracked, using the TV to broadcast the message provides a safe approach for Tanaka to cover his trail. Rather, you can’t cover a trail you never create.

Conversely, those who had seen Ryuk from ten years ago, were able to see Ryuk on television. This introduces several key characters from the original series into the one-shot. The first is Matsuda, who is every bit as hot headed and foolishly passionate in the present as he was in the past.

The second, is L.

Not the L we know, but, the current L. Near.

Fragments of the iconic “L vs Kira” fight start to show over the next few pages as the bids for the Death Note reaches into the trillions and L continuously wondering how things are playing out. He understands that the “Auction Kira” or “A-Kira” is playing a very cautious game, but fails to see the endgame.

As the bid for the Death Note reaches record highs, it is revealed that the two nations bidding for the Death Note are none other than…

...The United States of America…

...And China….

Despite two of the largest world leaders in the hot seat bidding on the Death Note, Minoru is unphased. In the end, the USA wins the auction. At this point, Near awaits to figure out just how “A-Kira” is going to attain the money. Thinking this through, Minoru demands payment in such a way that it is almost impossible to be tracked down.

Within this time period, it is enough for Tanaka to relinquish ownership of the Death Note, forget he had it, and live a peaceful life along with millions of others in Japan. Given the circumstances and how millions will have access to such money, as well as the owner of the Death Note forgetting he had the Death Note, Near backs off, admitting defeat.

There is one fatal flaw to Tanaka’s entire plan and it was a flaw that would lead to his death.

Turns out Tanaka was so smart that not only did he outsmart the smartest human alive, but he also outsmarted the Shinigami King himself. Shortly before the Death Note was relinquished, the King ordered Ryuk to write a new rule within the Death Note. The rule being this.

With even the Shinigami King being upset that the Death Note was allowed to be sold to another, this new rule ensured that Tanaka was going to die a month from now. The president, however, chose to relinquish ownership, but declares that he has the power of Kira to herald his power over everyone else.

So, as stated in the new ruling of the Death Note, Tanaka’s name was written in Ryuk’s Death Note as soon as he received the money and the chapter ends on that note.

The first thing I want to mention is that Tanaka was too smart for his own good. Kira’s downfall was that his God complex forced him to become disillusioned. Tanaka’s downfall was the complete opposite. He felt his plan was entirely foolproof without taking into the variable of the shinigami lowballing him.

This reminded me of the time when Rem declared that she would kill Light if he ever caused the death or harm of Misa. At this point this was Light’s first interaction with another shinigami. Knowing who Rem was and the type of person she was, he was able to manipulate her to his livelihood by sacrificing herself. Tanaka never got to see the Shinigami King himself, and the King made sure of it.

Tanaka not only never met another shinigami so he could understand how they would behave, but he also never met Near---I mean L. I gotta stop calling him Near.

He never got to meet L, he never got to meet the investigation team. All of Tanaka’s actions were met through the safety of his room. This was beneficial as he was able to cover his tracks, but it proved his downfall as he followed a plan from start to finish without thinking of the variables.

The moment Tanaka relinquished ownership, his fate was sealed. Tanaka wouldn’t have known about the rule change and it wouldn’t be up to Ryuk to remind him. Ryuk is many things, but Ryuk is a shinigami of his words.

It’s because of Ryuk being a shinigami of his word that proved to be fatal to Light as well. From the beginning of Light’s reign into Kira, Ryuk promised that if Light were to ever put himself in a situation where Light would die, Ryuk would write his name in the Death Note.

Ryuk never had the chance to warn Tanaka about the rule change as he was told never to show his face again. Thus, Tanaka died oblivious to anything that he had done, unlike Light who died knowing all of the things he’d done.

The final thing I want to reflect upon is the concept of legacy. Throughout the chapter we’re told about the lasting impression Kira had on not just Japan, but the entire world. It was this legacy that spurred the interest of ownership of the Death Note to begin with. Even if the Death Note was never used, the fact that it could be used to incite fear and dominance among one’s nation and the world is enough for anyone in a position of power.

The caveat of covering your path is that no one knows your name. This was the entire point of Tanaka’s ownership of the Death Note. He wanted to get rid of it while also making a profit off of it. If all of Japan would reap the benefits of the Death Note, then it was just a bonus.

His mother wouldn’t struggle, his family wouldn’t struggle, everyone would be set for life. This one child single-handedly caused an entire economic bubble and yet his legacy would be left behind with no one knowing who he was.

If you’re a fan of the series, I highly recommend giving this a read. In fact it makes me want to revisit the series one more time. It was nice seeing how my old favorites were doing ten years later, both literally and within universe. It was also a good read that, much like the original Death Note, left a lot to think about as far as current events.

The timing of the release of this chapter, the realistic physical details of the world leaders for USA and China, and the themes shared within the chapter are non-coincidental I believe. While a Death Note is obviously fantasy, it reads itself like a parody of modern-day politics. A caricature of the lengths those in power would go to obtain a destructive instrument used for intimidation purposes. 

Unfortunately, even if you do everything in your power to just live a peaceful life, in the words of Ryuk…

[misas-biggest-fan]

matsuda, matt, and beyond?

thank you so mcuh!!

Matsuda: Are you an idealistic person? 

I am a;osdjklkd LOL i try to default to thinking everyone’s good and everything will turn out well. It’s a good thing, but sometimes it’s meant that i ignore bad things and just wait for them to go away LOL

 Matt: Who is someone you can always rely on?

@theamazingpeterparkerr @thatoneweirddude21 @spiderwebb93 @antifacowboy @simplynothuman @kaelvas and i love you guys!! and i’ve made so many awesome friends here, too!! i’m very lucky to be surrounded by good kind people

Beyond: What’s the scariest thing that’s ever happened to you?

>:DDDDDDD OK GHOST STORY TIME!!!

ok well ill tell this one. so while I was living in East LA, (I was serving as a missionary and like doing service and stuff), and me and my friend lived in sort of one of the more dangerous areas of Montebello. the apartment we had at the time was TINY like terrifyingly small. it was also like...... always filthy. which was weird bc me and my friend cleaned it constantly. we’d spend hours cleaning and then we’d leave and come back and it’d all be grimy again....... there was also a weird feeling inside the house like we didn’t want to be there. we’d spend a lot of our evenings sitting on the curb under the streetlight outside our house because being inside made us anxious.

id also heard stories bc id had a friend in this exact same apartment a few months earlier and she’d said that one night, it was broken into while she was there and that they made loud noises and scared the person away and since then they put a chair in front of the door every night so we did thtat too

so weird stuff happened to me and my friend the entire time we were there. our bikes would break even after we fixed them multiple times. we got bed bugs (ew) i got kidney stones (story for another day but an equally horrifying one). so weird stuff. also one night, some dude was outside our house screaming about how he was gonna kill someone and then cops came and like literally dragged him away. very scary.

so anyway this all peaked when my friend woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom one night. we had bunk beds bc our house was too small for two beds (i know.) and she was on the top and right in front of our beds was this like, pushed into the wall kind of closet but it was also raised off the ground a little. and she wakes up and looks in front of her into the closet and sees someone sitting in it like this 

(so i guess sort of L-style LOL ;alkdjf;sfldkj ok but worse) and anyway, it’s sitting at such a height inside the closet that it’s looking right into my bed.

so my sweet dumb friend gets up and goes to the bathroom anyway bc she’s a. disoriented b. thinks its me???? bc im the only other person that could be in the house??? idk why she thought this LOL

anyway but in the bathroom she wakes up enough to be like ‘hmm they would not be sitting ominously in the closet at 3am it’s probably not them’ and runs back out and the person is gone.

so she sits awake in her bed all night and cries until i wake up and then she cries more and tells me everything.

a week later, the president of our mission came to see our house because so many church members had complained that it was cursed and dangerous and he took one look at it and was like ‘YOURE MOVING’

so was it a person who broke in and my friend scared him away?!?!? or was it a demon???? she said it was a v shadowy figure without a face but it was also dark...... my bet is kind of on demon bECAUSE IT DOESNT STOP THERE

because we move right!!!!!! to alhambra!!! SO safe1!! also gorgeous and cute. we get this great house. awesome place. and anyway the house is set up at the end of a tiny little like, sidewalk and another house is almost directly in front of ours so ours faces his and his faces like, to the side. the dude in this house was super old and senile and we’d always say hello to him bc in alhambra, everyone spoke chinese or taiwanese but not spanish or english, but this guy spoke spanish and he was like the only one so we’d always say hello and he’d always be super confused. BUT the one SINGLE TIME he made sense EVER was like  a week after we moved and this dude was always standing outside watering his roses and we came home and he was like HEY i have a terrible story for you and we were like WHAT and he was like ‘so i was standing here today watering my flowers and i looked up and saw my shadow on the side of your house on your porch by your door’ and we were lke ‘ok uh huh ok go on’ and he was like ‘ and then. i moved. and the shadow didn’t move. so i ran inside and ive been waiting for you to get home ever since im scared there Something in your house’

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I KNOW RIGHT.

so the story doesnt really like Stop There but that’s the last experience i had in LA w demons !!!!!! 

[zaney-hacknslash]

Death Note - Void Pt2

Ide

               Lunch rush packed the restaurant; customers clumped in the lobby so deep and thick, I could hardly elbow my way through to ask how long the wait might be. Servers and hosts flurried around with menus and congenial smiles, careful, always, to bow and greet everyone who came through the door, despite the fact that the grating sound of the doorbell sounded off every few seconds.

             Thirty minute wait. I checked my watch.

             Lunch rush hadn’t been part of this equation, honestly. I’d thought I could come sit down, alone, with Matsuda, for a handful of minutes, ask him a couple questions, and get back to headquarters in less than an hour. The time of day had never occurred to me.

             This was his favorite place right now, loud and hopping. Pop music blasted, the chairs were too close together, even on a slow day, and it always seemed just a degree or so to cold.

             Beside me, moody Matsuda stood glaring at the floor with his arms folded, like a little kid who’d gotten dragged against his will into an adult dinner party. Once or twice, I heard him sigh, a bit heavily, but the usual enthusiasm that swept him through his day-to-day life showed no sign of reemerging.

             If he hadn’t been so upset, I might have turned around and walked right out to find somewhere quieter to eat.

             I tried, several times, to say something to him, opening my mouth, and then immediately glancing at the other guests jammed in at my shoulder. Matsuda had no filter when it came to expressing himself, so I doubted the presence of strangers mattered, but I’d purposely brought him here to get a little privacy. I kept thinking he’d say something, even if it was just to complain about how long it was taking to get a seat, but he hardly looked up.

             “I didn’t expect it to be so crowded,” I admitted, at last.

             “It’s lunch time, Ide,” he muttered, more than used to my pickiness.

             “Yes, but I had no idea this place was so popular.” At least, I didn’t understand it. The furniture was garish and cheap, and imitation art of American movies stars from decades gone by cluttered the wall, along with vintage knick knacks. One or two photos of Elvis Presley and a single replica of Marylin Monroe’s famous white dress would have done the trick. This place tried entirely too hard to look like an American diner from the 1950’s.

             “This was your idea,” he reminded me.

             Even so, if we left now and went down the street to a place I liked better, he might not be as comfortable. He might not find anything on the menu he wanted to eat. Getting lunch with me might turn out to be something that merely added to his frustration, when all was said and done, especially since I’d more or less forced him to come along when he didn’t want to in the first place.

             Besides, anywhere else might be just as crowded, and if we had to start our wait all over again, not only would Matsuda be annoyed, everyone at headquarters could get mad at me.

             “It’s fine,” I assured coolly, though the doorbell going off over and over was getting on my nerves, like a bad song I couldn’t turn off, and the gentleman at my shoulder kept accidentally brushing against me and muttering, “Sumimasen,” right in my ear. He had bad breath.

             “Normally…” I pressed closer to Matsuda, trying to get away from my neighbor, “we eat kind of early.”

             Normally, he couldn’t stand to sit at headquarters past ten, so there was usually a break to get him coffee or some kind of snack. Either way, he always started whining about being hungry an hour later.

             That hadn’t happened all week, though. I’d barely seen Matsuda eat at all, in addition to hardly talking. Hopelessly, I stared around at the wild, uncomfortable atmosphere, struggling to tune out the door bell and the man coughing on the back of my neck, skeptical that such an unsettling environment could possibly restore Matsuda’s good cheer.

             Finally, a fresh-faced kid jaunted up to us, bowing. “Gentlemen, so sorry for the wait. If you would, follow me, please,” and then he hustled us through the crowded dining room, to a small table set for two, where he turned to smile at us. “Here we are. I hope this suits you.”

             In my opinion, he’d chosen the worst possible location for us, jammed at a tiny square at the center of the room, surrounded by a sea of people, but without Matsuda to assure him everything was perfect and thank the man, it was up to me to muddle through the polite talk.

             The host promised we’d receive timely service, and ran off again. Matsuda threw himself down in one of the chairs, grabbing up his plastic menu to immediately hide his face behind it; I barely got a glimpse of his slanted brows and down-turned mouth.

             I sat down too. The table wobbled, and the vase of flowers at the center was too big, crowding in on my space. The woman seated behind me was so close, I might as well have sat down in her lap, and the doorbell buzzed again and again.

             “You like this place, right?” I asked, lighting a cigarette and studying him.

             “Yeah. It’s my favorite.” The music was just loud enough to make it hard to hear him. That was new, too. Matsuda was normally so loud, he would have just screamed over the noise to make himself heard.

             Shuichi and the others seemed quite committed to letting him be, hoping his issues would resolve themselves, but I couldn’t bear to keep sitting by and watch him be unhappy. I’d do anything to relieve it.

             Just this once, I told myself, and then I never had to eat here again.

             “What’s good?” I wondered, finally picking up my menu. The food sounded just as bad as the atmosphere, the lunch menu cluttered with things like the Elvis Favorite, Marylin Monroe Patty Melt, and James Dean Fries. Absolutely ridiculous. Most of it was hamburgers anyway, but, at the very bottom they’d crammed in a few traditional Japanese dishes, for the old timers who got dragged in here by their kids.

             Although he’d normally rattle off for five minutes, issuing an exhaustive list of everything that looked good and everything that sounded gross, making recommendations, Matsuda just shrugged and sighed, like food had become an annoyance.

             Just once, I reminded myself again, and tried to focus on what I’d come for.

             I’d never seen him this way.

             Even before I really knew him, he’d always been that guy. The one who smiled all the time and greeted everyone he passed, never forgetting his honorifics, never remembering anyone’s name, the guy who always looked like he was about to blow a brain cell every time he had to sit down, be quiet, and do actual work for a minute or two. Back when he first joined the department, some people had sneeringly nicknamed him Nikko-san, partly after his uncle, who’d gotten him the job, and partly because he was Mr. Sunshine, but definitely not out of affection.

             After Chief Yagami and the others left to work with L, plenty of those same people had laughed good and hard about how lucky the task force was to have Mr. Sunshine working with them.

             When I rejoined the task force, I hadn’t been surprised at all to find Matsuda acting just as unprofessional and ridiculous as ever. I’d even asked Aizawa, “How have you dealt with that kid for so long? He’s driving me crazy already.”

             My old friend had frowned, almost as if the words had offended him, and he’d taken his time to answer, much more carefully than I’d expected, “Well…he’s not as bad as he seems.”

             The response had floored me. Here I’d been expecting Aizawa to grumble at least a little about what a pain Matsuda was—we were friends, after all, and pretty used to bitching to each other—but based on his reaction, it had seemed like the kid must have gotten under his skin, and I’d even detected a slight thread of protectiveness in his tone, or at least some disapproval of my talking bad about Matsuda.

             “I’m thinking about taking a day off,” I announced, laying my menu aside. “If I can.”

             Matsuda didn’t bite.

             “Yeah. You know. It’s been a long time since I had so much as an uninterrupted weekend.”

             Normally, he’d be all over that, more than ready to whine about working himself to death, eventually coming around to how important the case was, how we had to do what we could, and then back to how tragic it was to be young and single, carefree and restless without the time to sow his oats.

             Today, he simply muttered, “Yeah.”

             Behind him, I noticed a baseball bat hanging on the wall, supposedly signed by Babe Ruth himself, and steeped in a million vinyl records that had been plastered against the wallpaper. These people couldn’t actually think that enthusiasts of retro American culture would find this charming. They certainly couldn’t believe an American tourist would ever even miss home so much that he’d stumble through the door.

             “I think I’ll catch a ball game. The season’s almost over, and the Swallows are playing the Giants.” I dragged on my cigarette, hopelessly waiting for him to pick up his end of the conversation, if only to save me from the torturous sounds around me.

             He didn’t really like baseball, I remembered, or rather, he didn’t understand it. It moved too slow, he said, and he got bored fast, but I knew he enjoyed the novelty of garbing himself in home team colors, filing into the stadium with all the rabid fans, drinking a beer, eating a hot dog—like a “real American”—having a blast with old friends, and making new ones out of the people sitting near him. I liked going with him myself, because he always screamed loudest about the things he didn’t understand and got himself into interesting situations, or he hung off my every word when I explained, for the umpteenth time, how the game worked.

             “I doubt that workaholic Aizawa will want to go.” Even if Shuichi allowed himself to do something as sporadic as take a day off, he’d prefer to spend it with his family than with me at the ballpark, arguing about which team was better this season. “Wanna tag along?”

             Matsuda never answered, leaving me to sit there like an idiot, wondering why this new attitude of his bothered me so much.

             It hadn’t taken long for me to see how he’d gotten past Shuichi’s angry bear exterior to his cuddly teddy center. Matsuda had a likeable way about him, and where most of the detectives I’d met tended to be taciturn, cynical, and even pompous, his bubbly way of thinking out loud, laughing in the face of difficulty, and admiration for the rest of us made him a breath of fresh air.

             So, he’d gotten under my skin too. And, over the last couple years, he’d accomplished even more than that, becoming part of my life, effortlessly—my lunch mate, my drinking buddy, my sparring partner, my weird, little friend. Sure, he teased me endlessly about my love life and drove me crazy with his goofiness, but he never forgot my birthday, and when I had a bad day, he could tell. Even if I never told him anything very personal or serious, he had this way of reminding me things would work out any time I started to feel like they might not. Before long, I started to understand why even the chief let him tag along everywhere and overlooked so much of his silliness, because Matsuda was honest, simple, and even though none of us would ever say so to his face, really sweet.

             Seeing him so unhappy for so many days in a row was beginning to have an adverse effect on the team: Shuichi was getting worried, and even Mogi seemed distracted, I’d noticed Light becoming frustrated. Long-suffering Chief Yagami alone proceeded with his work unbothered, but he had to be that way, as the boss.

             All of it really rubbed me the wrong way.

             “Well, anyway.” I squinted at the menu again. The lights were too bright and stark, and I wanted to order soon so we could get out of here. “I doubt Light will let two of us take off at once.”

             “Sorry about that,” Matsuda muttered, probably just for the sake of being polite. He must know he was acting weird, even if he didn’t realize it bugged me so much.

             I never planned on any of this, and I barely knew how my relationship with Matsuda had segued so seamlessly from coworkers to actual friends, I just knew that right after I came back to the task force, while the others were busy, he’d taken it upon himself to tell me the whole story of every crazy thing that had happened since I walked away from them outside the station that night. A lot of what he’d said hadn’t been particularly relevant to the investigation, but he’d been so familiar and laidback, like we’d known each other forever, I’d gotten caught up in my astonishment at how cavalierly he was treating me—me, Dai Kaze, the guy no one had ever liked, since at least middle school—like it was just no big deal at all to sit down and have a chat with asshole Hideki Ide.

             By the time he’d finished, I hadn’t really known what to say, but there’d been a few questions to ask, and a few comments to make—routine responses—and I’d never forget the bright interest that had gleamed in his eyes as we talked back and forth, like maybe he couldn’t believe it either, that he was talking so casually with a guy like me, let alone that I’d talk back.

             After being around grumpy, old Shuichi, and Mogi, who sometimes seemed incapable of holding a conversation, it was probably pretty refreshing for him, and he’d chatted with me a lot since then, any time he felt bored or wanted to say something out loud. Over time, I’d been able to intuit that he appreciated how closely I listened, and that, even if I didn’t always have something nice to say, I made him feel important by acknowledging that he had thoughts and ideas and feelings.

             The damn feelings had honestly annoyed me at first, and there’d been times when I’d gone so far as to suggest he keep a diary instead of bothering me. I didn’t like snapping at him like that. I didn’t want him to think I was an asshole and stop associating with me. None of it fazed him, though, he kept talking about whatever came into his head, and, in time, I just got used to it.

             Anymore, I assumed I had the most personal relationship with him, which made me the one he’d feel most comfortable talking to in this state of obvious depression, but it still shocked me that I’d come to care about him enough that I’d take time out of my day to actively try to get to the bottom of Matsuda’s deep well of sentiments.

             “Hey, Matsu-kun. Wanna tell me what’s wrong lately?”

             He sat slouched, now, cheek resting on his fist, staring disinterestedly at the centerpiece, and from the reluctant glance he slid at me, I gathered he’d been hoping I wouldn’t bring it up. But Matsuda wasn’t a liar, so he asked, “Really? You want to know?”

             “You said Sumi…”

             Wincing, he stared all the harder at the flowers.

             “…I’ve never seen you take a break up so hard.”

             Involved in a case as extensive as ours, there wasn’t much time for dating, but Matsuda had a tendency to fall into the clutches of beautiful but shallow women, the kind who just wanted to have fun. They saw a good-looking guy in a nice car, didn’t know enough about the NPA to realize a corporal detective didn’t make much money, and ran the kid around, buying crap with his credit card and saddling him with the bags, like a pack horse.

             It was a trap I’d gotten into a lot back when I was younger—there were a lot of things about Matsuda that reminded me of myself—it had made me cynical about women, and it pissed me off to watch it happening to him.

             But Matsu didn’t have much capacity for cynicism, and, usually, breaking up with a girl didn’t do much more than dampen his spirits for a day or two.

             “Did you really think she was the one?”

             Matsuda suddenly sat up and took a long look around the restaurant. “Where the hell is the server? Hey!” He banged his fork on the wobbly table. Water sloshed from his glass, and I jerked my elbows back into my lap. “We’re ready to order over here!”

             “Geez,” I hissed, mortified, and watched as a frazzled-looking girl ran over, apologizing and jotting down his order. She turned to me.

             “Ah, sorry about that,” I muttered, feeling like the music might drown my voice out anyway. I couldn’t understand why they’d be playing pop instead of American oldies, unless they just didn’t honestly know anything about that era. “I’ll just have…” I’d never decided, because none of it had sounded any good. “Soup, and a salad.” I shot a quick glance at Matsuda, and then at her. “Sorry, really. He’s not normally so… Well, we’re in a hurry, that’s all.”

             “Not at all, sir!” she beamed. “I apologize things are so slow today.”

             She took off, and he settled his cheek back on his fist, glaring at the centerpiece again. “You don’t have to be sorry, Ide,” he announced. “It’s their job to serve us, and we’ve been sitting here forever.”

             “Even Aizawa doesn’t bang his fork when he shouts at the staff,” I muttered.

             With a small shrug, he reached out to rearrange some of the flowers, and I tried to find a way to change the subject to something more lighthearted.

             “These flowers drive me crazy,” he admitted in a moment, listlessly, though.

             They were the only even slightly nice thing in the restaurant, but I asked, “Oh, yeah?”

             “Yellow and purple carnations?” He wrinkled his nose. “What are they thinking?”

             I glanced at the flowers myself. “What if they were pink and orange?” We’d been guessing for a while that the dork might be colorblind, but he got extremely offended any time someone so much as asked about it. “Would that make more sense?”

             Matsuda suddenly scanned the room, eyebrows tilting toward his hairline, as if he’d just realized none of the color scheme in here made sense to him. “Pink and orange,” he echoed. And then, evidently blind to the glaring palette of crimson, chrome orange, and hot pink in the room, he frowned at me. “Why are you being such a jerk today?”

             “I just asked if you’d like that better,” I corrected.

             Instead of arguing, he fell back into the maddening silence.

             “Come on, seriously,” I prompted, after a couple minutes. “Are you really in this bad of mood over a girl?”

             Eyes fixed on the bobbing ice, Matsuda turned his glass around and around on the table, a sure sign of disquiet.

             “Or is there something else?”

             He picked an orange flower out of the centerpiece and stared hard at it, like he was trying to understand why I’d lie to him about its color.

             “It might be a good thing, Matsuda. At least now you’re not wasting time with the wrong person—”

             “That’s all great, coming from a guy who hasn’t been laid in the last decade.”

             I cut off mid-sentence to frown mildly at him, but Matsuda just stuck the orange flower into his water glass and glowered at it.

             “Is that your problem?” I demanded, a little sharply. “You’re not getting any now, so you’re turning into a cranky bitch?”

             “That’s what happens, right? Everyone says that’s what your problem is.”

             I rolled my eyes. “Shit, Matsuda. With a mouth like that, how have you made it through life without getting your face busted in?”

             He just frowned at his flower.

             “Didn’t your parents spend hundreds of millions of yen on your damn teeth? I’d watch who you pop off to.”

             Obviously, he had no intention of answering, so I sat back and studied him a while longer. Once or twice, he’d crept up to that line of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, but he had to be tremendously irritated, and that just didn’t happen all that often. I couldn’t believe he’d say something so crass to me, a superior.

             The fact that I’d brought him to lunch as a friend rather than a subordinate made for a tricky situation. I probably should throw a fit, box his ears, and write him up, but I’d started this by getting so personal.

             That’s exactly why Aizawa and the others have been trying to handle this so professionally.

             Stupid ass me just had to go screw it up.

             Even being here as friends, it probably wouldn’t be out of the question to rescind my offer to buy lunch, get up, and go back to HQ without him. That’s probably even what he expected. For all I knew, he’d intentionally pushed my buttons to get me to leave him alone.

             Then again, what he’d said didn’t actually bother me that much; for one thing, it wasn’t true, and for another, it was the sort of thing I’d gotten used to, growing up with three brothers. I decided to forget about it.

             Besides, overly emotional Matsuda didn’t know shit about putting up walls.

             “Who do you want relationship advice from?” I wondered. “Light? Kinda weird, getting tips about women from a kid fresh out of college.”

             Matsuda’s scowl deepened, and I knew my insult hit its mark.

             “Aizawa? His marriage it apt to fall apart any second now.” I checked my watch. “I’ll bet Eriko’s filing divorce papers as we speak. That guy sucks at love.”

             The next glare was so fierce and disapproving, I knew he really didn’t like me picking on his hero.

             “The deputy director?” I suggested. “Now there’s a guy who hasn’t been laid in a long time, Matsu.”

             At once, the frown fell completely apart, giving way to a gaping, shocked mouth and popping, horrified eyes. He checked over both shoulders, like Deputy Director Yagami might be listening in, and I knew he’d forgotten all about his wall of sugar glass. “Ide,” he hissed, “you don’t just say stuff like that.”

             “No?” It was my turn to shrug. “Well, my bad, I guess. I’m just saying, not a lot of great options. If you’re gonna tell anybody what the deal is, it might as well be me.”

             “Oh, yeah right,” he barked, suddenly, in an acidic tone. “At least the others won’t make fun of me.”

             I blinked at him. “What? Why would I make fun of you?”

             His hard eyes glared at me, like he couldn’t believe I had the audacity to ask that. “Trying to trick me into thinking I’m colorblind—”

             “I think you actually might be—”

             “Dissing on my music—”

             “Not everybody likes—”

             “Acting like it’s ridiculous for me to get upset after Sumi cheated on me.”

             Bingo.

             Go figure, all it took was to get him talking a little, and the truth spilled.

             I had to work very hard not to allow a satisfied smirk to pass my lips. Instead, I pretended to be bothered, fumbling with my cigarettes and mumbling, “I didn’t know all that annoyed you so much.”

             Matsuda glared at me, quiet again, probably realizing he’d said something without meaning to.

             “So…” I lit my cigarette. “She cheated on you, huh?”

             “Yeah,” he sputtered, “yeah, she did. With some…loser biboi she met in a trashy club. I don’t think she was even drunk, she was just done with me because I’m so boring, working all the time, not paying enough attention to her, even after I’ve spent every yen I earned last year on her. She didn’t even bother to lie about it, just showed up one day to give back the key to my apartment and laugh at me.”

             Calmly, I ashed my cigarette. Wasn’t that the story of my life?

             “Go ahead and laugh, Ide,” he dared. “Tell me I’m stupid, I should have seen it coming, and my taste in women is terrible, like you always do. Tell me it was dumb to think she was the one, and all women suck, and that you told me, months ago, she was just using me. Because you did, and you love being right.”

             I’d never seen him explode like that, half-shouting, drawing the attention of everyone on our side of the room, face burning with shame, eyes fierce with outrage. I never would have guessed the kid had such a temper hidden beneath all the manners and cheer.

             “Settle down, Matsu,” I advised, lowly. “What are you, nine?”

             Outrage turned immediately to rage. “You—”

             “Knock it off,” I snapped. “I didn’t say any of that.”

             He threw himself back in his chair, seething, and probably the only thing that kept him from all-out screaming at me was the fact that I was higher ranked than him.

             “Jeez,” I muttered, when I’d given him a few moments to get himself together. “I’d hate to see you get really mad about something.”

             “I am really mad!” he professed.

             “Right. Look.” I put my cigarette out, not wanting the rest, and glanced around for our food, thinking it would be nice to have a distraction right now. “What do you think this is? Some victory lunch? Like I brought you here just to rub it in your face that your girlfriend cheated on you? Damn. Here I thought we were friends.”

             His breath hitched, and his eyebrows tilted up in a sulky expression. I guess I’d never called him my friend out loud before, but it wasn’t exactly the time for a big, stupid grin and a victory dance.

             “I just wanted to know what’s got your panties in a bunch. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you—you’re the one being a little prick, talking about the last time I got laid and saying I’m bitchy because I don’t get enough sex.”

             Shame colored his face.

             “So, could you just take it down a notch?”

             Matsuda scowled at the table, and I thought I heard him mutter, “Sorry.”

             “Yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t really care.” And then I looked around for the food again, but I was just about to give up and go somewhere else. “I’m just saying being a jerk doesn’t look so good on you.”

             Slightly, he nodded.

             “It’s fine if you’re upset,” I told him, after another moment. “What she did to you was really shitty. But I don’t like to think that you’ve been pouting because you think nobody would care.”

             “No,” he murmured, “It’s just not work talk.”

             “Nothing you ever say is work talk. Anyway, you could have at least told me. I know a lot about dishonest, heartless women.”

             A hint of sympathy shaded his eyes.

             “That’s why I said you shouldn’t let it bother you so much. Girls like that are cheap—you can pick one up anywhere—and they’re not very creative. Cheating with losers, bringing back the key just to laugh at you…” I shrugged. “They aren’t worth the trouble. They definitely aren’t worth ruining a perfectly good lunch your buddy buys just to cheer your ass up.”

             Bewildered, he finally met my gaze again.

             “So, come on.” I smirked at him. “If you’re gonna be pissed off and sad, let’s order some whiskey.”

             Whiskey helped a little. After the first round, he’d started talking a little more normally about the usual nonsense that occupied his mind, and then the food came, so he was quiet a while. Mine wasn’t very good—the soup was thin and the salad was gritty, so I mostly talked and smoked, trying to keep him distracted. Regardless, his expression showed me he still was unhappy.

             After the second whiskey, we left the restaurant. It was a relief to be out of the noise and harsh lights of the diner, but Matsuda seemed content with lunch at least. In a few blocks, he started joking with me, so I knew the anger had burned out fast.

             I doubted anyone would believe me if I told them about it.

             Outside the headquarters, he hesitated, staring up at the building to sigh, and then he admitted, slowly, “I know you’re right…but…I really liked her, Ide. I…I loved her.”

             He did have terrible tastes in women.

             “Yeah.” I squeezed his shoulder. “That’s how it goes sometimes, kid. Sometimes, you really love somebody, and they just don’t feel that way back.” That, too, was the story of my life. Suppressing a sigh, I gazed up at the building too, with all its sparkling windows and the roof that tried to vanish in the clouds. “It’s not your fault,” I murmured. “There’s only so much you can do.”

             “I guess not,” he whispered.

             “You can find someone else, though.”

             Swallowing hard, he nodded.

             “Just don’t get cynical about it, okay? They’re not all like that.” I said the words, but the only reason I could so much as bother to think it was because of Shuichi and Eriko. She’d stood by him through everything, possibly the most loyal and genuine woman I’d ever met.

             I’d just gotten incredibly unlucky.

             “You’re not gonna wind up like me,” I assured him. “It’s impossible.”

             “How can you be so sure?” he asked, quietly.

             So many reasons, some he might not ever understand, some I didn’t think I could ever bring myself to tell him.

             At last, I teased, “’Cause you’re so damn cute,” and slung my arm around his neck. “If I were as cute as you, I might have a chance, but I got screwed in personality and looks.”

             Matsuda smiled a little. “I don’t know, Taniki-tan. Your personality’s not that bad.”