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citrusella-flugpucker · 4 years ago

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All 68 of my SU fics, apparently

((Because @novantinuum did it and then I wanted to do it and then they said “do it” and I took it as a dare

Compiling these gave me a sense of accomplishment. And pain. In my wrist.

Multi-line summaries nearly always squashed to lessen the vertical length of this post, even if most of it is below a readmore))

Multi-chapter fics, regardless of collection status (chronological order--oldest to newest):

And He Doesn’t Wake: My first SU fic, complete; “It can't end like this. Or: Waxing realistic as we examine the events of the episode "Bubbled".” Steven suffers halfway-realistic effects from being exposed to the vacuum of space. Probably not super canon compliant given what we learned in Growing Pains but a fic that branches off at Bubbled and rejoins canon around Mindful Education (and written around that timespan).

Diamond in the Rough: Incomplete; “Connie is in the hospital with a serious disorder, and her biggest chance is an experimental treatment combining minerals with blood transfusions. Little does anyone know...” Originally crack of “Connie gets powers from PD-infused blood” but then ASPR happened and I have to figure out where it goes now (and I want to! but...).

The Results Are In: Incomplete; “Sadie gets a piece of mail from her dad. For most people that'd be pretty mundane, but it's a little more complicated considering who exactly her dad is.” Barb/Blue Diamond crack (it makes sense in context) and affectionately called “Space Maury” internally for reasons that will make sense later. Has a similar but less “it flips the ENTIRE plot” issue with ASPR. I have many idea chunks but almost no connection between them

He’s Gone: Complete (and technically a oneshot with two “bonus chapters”); “Steven asks Peridot to get the shirt Connie got for him for his birthday from his closet. He says he wants to look nice. She's confused by his request. Greg and the Maheswarans are less confused and more terrified. He keeps saying it'll be okay. They'll be okay, even though he'll be going away. It'll just be a couple of days now. Or: Steven and Pink Steven are unable to fuse after being separated on Homeworld. That's not good for Steven.” Steven dies. That’s it. That’s the whole fic. Might potentially get an extra chapter or two still. Or not. Eh.

Thanks, Padparadscha: Incomplete/open-ended oneshot collection; “Stories about the best gem.” Padparadscha oneshots.

Your No-Good, Dirty-Rotten, Gem-Shattering, Rebellion-Leading Mother: Incomplete, little desire to finish; “What if Steven had gone to Camp Green Lake instead of Stanley? Or: If Steven Universe And Holes Were The Same Universe: A Fanfiction (thanks @captainjzh) Or, as the top of my Google Doc I started back exactly a year ago (*2019-01-07) says: SU x Holes: Because the fact that Steven Universe and Stanley Yelnats are both 14 is messing with me”. Wrote this as an exercise after reading the appalling original shopped screenplay for the Holes movie which was basically a nuclear fallout enthusiasts dream world but also quite possibly the worst and most uncomfortable thing ever written and I have had to have whole pages bleached from my memory

It’s Okay to Need Help: Incomplete (three chapters total planned), the last part of the pre-SUF-finale “Steven Corruption Theory” collection; “"Everybody needs support sometimes, and you need support right now, with this. And that's okay." She takes a deep breath. "It's okay to need help, Steven." Or: (Based in corrupted Steven theory as well as taking inspiration/using characteristics from a fic by @love-killed-the-superstar) Sometime after coming back from corruption, Steven sees a therapist to try to hammer out some lingering issues.” Steven has specific lingering issues from corruption due to the way they had to mitigate it, and that affects how he communicates with his therapist some days. Just been blocked on the best way to write it

Waiting is Worse: Incomplete; “Is there anything more awful than the feeling of powerlessness?” The movie mostly ends the same, except Steven doesn’t un-rejuvenate.

Realism: Incomplete, strong desire to complete; “As much as he may want it to be, this is not a dream. He's not possessing anyone. It's not happening to someone else. It's real.” Steven has the same effects happen to him as the Watermelon Steven from Escapism--an arm and a leg are amputated.

The President Kisses Babies, and Other White House Briefs: Incomplete, open-ended oneshot collection with very little overarching plot; “Oneshot escapades of President Connie Maheswaran and her First Man, Crystal Gem and public speaker, Steven Universe.” Inspired by a Tumblr post and with more ideas in the pipeline! Love this fic even if I lost most inspiration for four years!!

Collection (series) oneshots (chronological order):

Citrusella Tries (And Succeeds!) to Write a Fic Each Day of the Bomb: A collection where I tried to write a fic each day of the HotCG (wedding) bomb. I succeeded but also kind of not? XD

Could You Imagine?: “Imagination is wish fulfillment. What are some of the things Pearl has imagined?” Now We’re Only Falling Apart

Partake In New Extraordinary And Pleasing Pizza Lover Experiences (Or: Kiki's Lament): “Kiki rarely hates her job. But she does hate pineapples.” What’s Your Problem? (Also the title spells PINEAPPLE o.o)

Acquired Taste: “Steven has a snack as he helps prepare for an important ceremony.” The Question

My Whole Life: “Some people are just born to go into certain careers.” Made of Honor

We Can Think About Hope: Incomplete multi-chapter with no hope of completion (why it’s not listed in the multi-chapters, BTW... also the “kind of not” regarding success); “What's going on? What do we do now? Can you still hear me? (Or: The end of Reunited plays out differently.) (Or or: And He Doesn't Wake: Part II: This time with weirder angst! And more not waking!)”

Citrusella's "Steven Corruption Theory" Collection: A collection of fics written on the corruption theory premise before it became canon. It’s Okay to Need Help not duplicated here but would be at the end.

Change: “Steven's come back from probably the most serious thing that's happened to him--save almost dying after his gem was ripped out--but that doesn't mean he came back unchanged. (Based on the "corrupted Steven theory".)”

My Skin: “Steven does a mental inventory of what's changed about him since his uncorruption and finds himself starting to fall into a hole of self-criticism, until a song playing downstairs sets him straight. (Based on the "corrupted Steven theory".)”

Eternity in a Moment: “It had only taken a few hours, and yet, an eternity.”

I Can't Say with Confidence: “Over an hour. He's been sitting in the tub, fully clothed, the bathroom a mess… for over an hour.It should be working! Why isn’t it working?!” Based on this art!

It’s Okay to Need Help

Happy Steven's Day!: Just after Steven discovers his mother is Pink Diamond, Mother's Day rolls around...Greg just doesn't want Steven to be in a slump about it anymore.

You Deserve All the Joy: “Because nothing is better than being surrounded by family and love. Or: Steven's once-a-year struggle with a holiday he doesn't exactly have the ability to traditionally celebrate.” It’s Mother’s Day and Steven is sad. Post-ASPR

Universe Day: “"Being your dad is the only present I really need." Or: Greg and Steven talk and realize their experiences with Mother's Day have been two sides of the same coin.” Post-SUF

Citrusella's Comfortember 2020 Fics: Fics written based on prompts for November 2020 Comfortember... not finished with it

Speed Bump: “Steven's first night on the open road isn't as smooth as he wanted it to be. Attempt to combine prompts 2-6 of Comfortember (prompt 1 just couldn't be squeezed in): "first day/night", "nightmare", anxiety", "cuddling", "afraid to sleep"”

In the After: “Steven wonders if it was corruption. Comfortember days 7-10, though only in the most tenuous, technical sense (and by that I mean all four phrases are mentioned): "blanket fort", "lashing out", "confession", "crying"”

Late Night Hot Chocolate (described in next section)

Zombie Club Chronicles: Steven endures a violent accident on Frightnight (Halloween) that changes his life forever.

Beach City Zombie Club

Prompt: [Randomly roll from list: Steven] doesn’t enjoy the Halloween season, but [Fill in: Steven] take(s) them on a well-meaning trip to an old Gem Ruin where they come to realize [Pick from list: They’ve made a terrible mistake in coming here]

On Frightnight when he is 17, Steven experiences the most serious event of his young life. Almost exactly a year later, Steven takes Steven to Lars' ship in hopes of being able to hop off at a truly secluded gem ruin to talk about something that Steven and Steven have been disagreeing on for several months. Lars has an idea, and Steven comes to a realization.

For the Cluster Spooky Writing Challenge!

Late Night Hot Chocolate (also a Comfortember fic)

"Steven? What are you doing?" He stares into the pot.

The gem half's voice comes monotone. "Making hot chocolate."

"It's three o'clock in the morning. Why on earth are you making… hot chocolate?"

The slyness on his face is one pixel away from nonexistent and yet it's practically a traffic cone to his other half, as he remarks flatly, "Because I've lost control of my life."

Or: Steven and Steven both have nightmares that threaten to take them back to... that night... One copes by making the other hot chocolate and pretending he really isn't having any problems.

Comfortember days 16-18: Protective, Flashbacks, Hot Cocoa

Standalone oneshots (reverse chronological order--newest to oldest):

Rumble Strips:

Prompt: [Randomly roll from list: Greg] notices [Fill in: Steven] is in a somber mood lately. Out of the goodness of their heart they try to cheer up the sad soul in the only way they know how: [Fill in: WHO WANTS TO GO ON A ROAD TRIP?!]

"I really thought I could handle myself on my own." He scoffed. "Even my own therapist didn't think I could do it."

"I bet she thought you could handle yourself just fine. She probably just thought you'd do better with your support system close, bud. Like, literally, I mean." His eye weaved through the thin line of gravel past the edge of the shoulder. "You started saying some pretty concerning things."

Or: Greg and Steven stop on the side of the interstate on their way to Empire City for New Year's, to have a conversation.

For the Cluster Christmas Writing Challenge!

Auto-Injector: “In an alternate timeline, Steven meets Bluebird at her welcome party but he cannot, under any circumstances, try her hors-d'oeuvres. Or: Steven ends up with allergies because why not” (I have three more ideas for chapters)

Don't Put Beans Up Your Nose: “"I know you want answers, and I wish I had some for you, really, Steven, but from what you've described… those aren't things to play around with. It's unethical to knowingly subject you to those for the sake of 'experimenting', even if you consent." Or: Steven asks Dr. Maheswaran a question she's not ethically able to answer.”

The Exor-schist:

Prompt: A series of events have led to a terrifying effect on one or more of the series’ characters. [Randomly roll from list: Mr. and Dr. Maheswaran] are now suffering from [Randomly roll from list: Spiritual Possession]. How did this happen?

"This corrupted gem, it has a powerful connection to organic matter. Ones this powerful have been known to overtake and even kill humans."

For the Cluster Spooky Writing Challenge!

It's My Party and I'll Dry If I Want To: “You would dry too, if it happened to you! Or: Steven says he wants a pool party for his eighteenth birthday in Delmarva, after over a year of traveling the country. ...But why isn't he swimming?”

Ace Up Your Sleeve: “Or in your back pocket, same diff. Or: Steven's sad about potentially not getting to go to Pride.” (oneshot and an epilogue)

Milestone: “"Okay, so like, the books aren't, like, useless, but they assume you have like the perfect baby. Maybe consider the following: kids are dorks, man." Or: Steven went to the doctor. Once. Or: Greg thinks Steven, at 15 months, is being weird and missing milestones and is worried he's a bad dad so he goes to Vidalia for help.” May eventually be part of a babby Steeb over the years collection

Full Enclosure: “What am I going to tell you? You're better off not knowing the trouble I'm in. / I don't want you to worry about what I've just seen, about where I've just been. / You don't have to be a part of this, I don't think I want you to be! / You don't need this, you don't need me... Or: Steven defines himself by his connection to others. So when they all leave, then… he's no one. (In short: Steven is crushed by his need to be needed.)”

Vice: “He could stop whenever he wanted to. He just didn't want to. Or: Steven falls into a bad habit and tries to rationalize it as okay as long as he's not completely abandoning the idea of improving his life.”

Stairwell Solitude: “Over ten years, Greg wrote just six letters to his parents. What could they have contained?” Post-Mr. Universe

Striations: “At Connie's behest, Dr. Maheswaran makes a house call to Steven's place after his un-monstering. It's different than his last appointment, but its core is the same.”

Everything Stays: “Ever so slightly, daily and nightly, in little ways, when everything stays... Steven's therapist brings up something she's noticed about him outside his PTSD.”

I Do It For Me: “"Forgiveness is the intentional and voluntary process by which a victim undergoes a change in feelings and attitude regarding an offense, and overcomes negative emotions such as resentment and vengeance." Steven asks his therapist a question. The answer may surprise him.”

A Break in the Case: “Dr. Maheswaran takes a look at Steven's results but quickly finds herself in over her head.” Mid-Growing Pains

I have a couple entries in the @connieswap omake collection (Comic Relief and Same Old Steven)--I’m not linking them

Changing Tastes: “ Steven and Connie share a conversation after watching Crying Breakfast Friends: Under the Butterknife.”

Rejuvenated Regrets: “Someone calls Steven's name from downstairs. He's not listening closely enough to know who it is. He's not sure he cares right this moment. He wants Mom—Rose—Pink—and that's the one person he knows it's not.”

Gut Feeling: “Every time, he has to push his brain off that train of thought--what if she does it again?--but for someone with super-strength, he's surprisingly not very good at pushing.”

Lapis Watches Titanic (1997) ...There’s no summary

The Cluster Halloween Exquisite Corpse 2019 (I only wrote part of this!!): “Lars tells a horror story but loses track of it, or; a bunch of fic writers do an exquisite corpse and hilarity ensues. Written by DocCairo, citrusella, E350, love-killed-the-superstar and br42.”

Drift Away: “There are timelines where Steven fell into the biopoison when the Earth cracked under his feet. Here we see three times Steven (technically) lived despite a dive into pure poison, and one time he didn't.”

The Rose Wilts: “Once upon a time, he knew Rose. But he knew he didn't know everything.Sometimes it feels like he's learned more about her after she died than he ever knew while she was alive.“ Doug and Rose used to be friends

Tying the Knot: “Steven never wears shoes with laces, because he can't tie them. When Connie finds out, he's pretty chill about it.”

Haploid: “You're not sure if this is what being shattered feels like. You don't know if you want to be sure.” Mid-CYM

Thestral: “"How many have you seen?" "All of them." She answered without hesitation. "Oh." Or: Pearl and Steven talk about a type of gem that corruption has given some... special characteristics.”

500 Words a Secret Santa Gift: The Gratuitous Reference: “200 words a day, every day, until Under the Knife comes back. Or Crying Breakfast Friends. We're not picky at this point. Secret Santa edition! (A Secret Santa gift for @e350tb that deliberately and gratuitously references their 100 Words a Day series.)”

Sesimorp, Sesimorp: “A Lapis Lazuli makes a beautiful work of art.”

Ship Talk: “Lars and Steven share a moment on the Sun Incinerator.”

No Way Around It: “An order is an order.”

Give It A Try!: “Steven gets a Diamond to try something new.”

Better Off: “Peedee ponders what could have been.”

Steven x A Nice Calm Life Please and Thank You™: A Case for the Realization of a Bold New Ship: “Steven deserves a happy life free of interplanetary struggle and strife. It's my OTP. So I'm going to give him that! :D”

I Don't Know: “Will this ever make sense? Will this ever feel normal?” Post-ASPR

Force of Nature: “Her diamond gave her orders no longer.”

My Gemmortal (by XXXbloodstoneshardz666XXX): “the escupaids fo steven hardlight amnesia lion universe and his freinds n crushs” (this is exactly what it sounds like)

The Picture of Steven Pink: “It took a lot out of him.” (SU but Steven takes on the injuries he heals)

Self: “In the Connie Swap AU, Steven considers his identity and place in his family, community, culture, and himself. For a kid who at least tries to be all sunshine and rainbows, this isn't exactly the most fun thing to do, but sometimes it's necessary.” (these are different than the things in the CS omake collection)

I Really AM My Mom...: “"When you're singing, you want to use enough air that you could blow a throatful of peanut butter clear across the room." The crackiest of escape-from-Homeworld plots, based on a ClickHole article and a joke headcanon.”

Left: “Of course there's shame in bailing.”

Old shames (chronological order): Stories I just kinda cringe at now

Shrinking Rose: “Steven never felt bad about his stature. Until he did.” (I just don’t love it)

A Rose for Emily: “What if Rose wanted to spend the rest of her life with someone before Greg? ...It's safe to say she has a skeleton in her closet.” (less old shame than the others on this list but was hard to shoehorn in the A Rose for Emily style writing)

Alone: “Steven won't open up about how everything that happened is affecting him. Not even to himself.” (I know I’ve written other dark stuff but this one just hits different)

You Should've Asked Me, I'm Really Good at Naming Bands (November 2019 Unfinished WIPs): “(title subject to change) I did a challenge that I had to write my WIPs in November (revised to November and December) or be forced to post them unfinished. I got some updates done, but several not done. These are those stories. Dun-dun.” (only “shame” because they were things that were never finished--I also had a Connie Swap omake I was supposed to finish or the punishment was not to post it unfinished but to write Steven and Spinel (NOTP) but I just never did that)

#steven universe #steven universe future #steven universe fanfic #steven universe fanfiction #su fanfiction #su fanfic #long post #(it should be considering there are 78 FICS IN HERE)#THIS POST IS ITSELF THE SIZE OF A FANFIC #(68 fics not 78)

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spacerockwriting · 6 years ago

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I’m feeling much better now, so I’m going to talk about the time I saw Cursed Child. It started over a year ago. When the raffles were being released I entered every single one and when I failed at winning, I, like everyone else went to enter the queue on the main day.

The tickets went on sale while I was at work, and I put everything on hold, stressing myself out for the tickets. I get really anxious when I buy tickets for concerts because most of the time I’m fighting for really good concert seats, and with this, it was no exception. However, as I entered the buying portion, I didn’t know what to do. My first plan was to try and see the show in April, as my best friend and I were already planning a trip to see George Salazar and Joe Iconis’ Two Player Game while we were there. I was very impatient with my desire to see Cursed Child. In fact, I was so impatient to see Cursed Child I was willing to throw sums of money at a person who is no longer in my life, just so they could report to me the story. Desperate, amirite?

After much conversing with my best friend, the decision became clear that we couldn’t go see the show in April. We had a lot going on already for that trip, so the decision became that we would just have to go again! When I got in line to buy tickets, september became the time period I was most easily able to get. At first, the decision was like many, to do both parts in one day. However, my best friend is not a Harry Potter fan like I am. They’re familiar with it, they know the franchise, but the thought of having to spend six hours in a theater is not something they’d personally be interested in. Fair enough, so I got the two day tickets, which I’m glad I did!

So in a hurry, I buy two tickets to the September showing of CC. The queue went so quick, and the ticket buying process is a blur. I had no more than ten minutes to make a decision and I called him shortly after buying them and was like “guess we have to go back to New York in September” which he was obviously fine with.

When I bought the tickets it was too quick to really know where I was sitting and what I had bought. When we got there in April, we went past the building and saw a few of our favourite Marquees for shows, but at the time I wasn’t able to go in the HP shop. We saw George Salazar and met him and Joe Iconis at their concert, went to Irving Plaza for a last minute 5SOS show for their upcoming album, and had a blast.

Weeks before our September trip, my best friend asks if his little brother can come to the trip. I say sure, as long as he can finance his own way. A few days later I am asked if it is okay if he goes to the HP show instead. His little brother is a really big HP fan, so I get it. I have no problem with this. We make plans for the trip and I arrive in NYC late on Wednesday before the show.

The Thursday of the show was exciting! I had started to plan out a head of time all the things I wanted at the shop.We decide that my best friend should go see a show while we’re at our show, so he buys last minute tickets for Book of Mormon, and then later that afternoon we eat lunch at Ellens Stardust Diner. The food is really good, and if you’re into Broadway and musicals, I’d suggest it.

After, we go pick up Will Call tickets and he heads back to the hotel while we get to the venue. I am overly excited. I’m in my Hufflepuff backpack and Hufflepuff shirt (my Cedric one I got at Universal) and we wait and wait. We got there like an hour early, and I highly recommend that. We were close in line, but like fifteen minutes later the line was wrapped around in like a U shape. Going in, one of the people at the door told me that “Lounge is downstairs and to the right.” My friend’s brother looks at me and is like “Comet, what did you do?”

I had just pressed buttons on the ticket site until I received tickets. I didn’t know what I did, or pressed. I just blindly bought tickets. So we went to get merch and big reminder IF YOU ARE IN LOUNGE DO NOT BUY THE SOUVENIR PROGRAM which I didn’t know so I had to return my copy of the program, lol. While in the lounge they have a name list by the entrance and you give them your last name and then we got one free beverage (alcoholic or non) and snacks, and at intermission we had desserts and one free beverage (alcoholic or non). It was a blast. Everyone we sat near was excited and hyped up and people beside us were sharing alcohol with us, and tasting and it was like a party. Everyone was excited.

At the end, the waiters in the lounge told us to come back tomorrow and have a wonderful day. The service was excellent, and they were so nice and respectful about everything. They were happy to take pictures, whatever.

At the end of Part 1, the show just stops. There is no curtain call, there is no cast coming out. Just a screen with To Be Continued... Note: the cast does not meet after part 1. If you want part 2 merch, you can only buy it behind the counter after part 1, or during part 2. You cannot buy it in the regular shop. (it is available online, however.)

On part 2 day, I wore my Malfoy quidditch shirt from Universal and kept my Hufflepuff backpack. A LOT of staff were confused why a hufflepuff was wearing Slytherin and I’m a dork about Scorpius so, theres that. Because we were in The Lounge, as we came to call it, my best friend’s little brother and I got in the “special entrance” on the side of the shop. We supposedly counted as VIP and could enter early. As soon as we got in line, my best friend bid us farewell and went to see his night of Book of Mormon, and then we entered the venue and Voldemort Day started. All the staff hammed up the event and it just became even more of a party. In between snacking I got more stuff because I’m a nerd and tbh Scorpus’ wand is just as cute as Albus’ and I decided I needed a Voldy shirt too. (I also got two more plush fuzzy owls. One for my bestie, and one for his little brother.) During Intermission we got our free souvenir programs, the plastic cups, and I actually had more alcohol which is rare since I don’t really drink hardly ever because of my extreme reflux.

As soon as curtain call ended I told my friend’s brother we needed to high tail it to stage door because we were going to meet the cast. He had no objections, so we got in line and that queue was amazing. It was just a straight line and not a cluster and it was so calm. Some mum’s near us would pull out their programs and yell down the line who was coming which is very helpful because so many characters are in the show. When we were there, almost all the cast came out except for Jamie, the woman playing Hermione, I don’t think Rose came out, and sadly, Sam was not out. I did get to meet Antho, which I was really excited about. Lol, I went to show him my shirt and he was like do you want me to sign it?? and I misheard and was like “Oh, no! I was showing you!” and oops. But no hard feelings. The gentleman playing Dumbledore was VERY talkative and had conversations with pretty much every person in line. My best friend’s brother is actually a HUGE Marauder’s fan, so he was upset after we realized Myrtle was ALSO Lily and declined the pictures, lol.

When the cast was done, my best friend showed up and we all went back to the hotel and saw the goodies he got from BOM (my favourite musical btw)

We found out a few days later that Jo was at the Sunday performance of the Cursed Child, and Monday the cast of Fantastic Beasts were on GMA which we were SO upset we missed. I would’ve high keyed out in the middle of Times Square at 3AM for a glimpse of Ezra Miller, lol.

Some tips if you’re seeing Cursed Child:

Arrive Early! This gives you PLENTY of time to look around the theater and buy merch & food. Trust me, the theater is WORTH exploring.

There is NO HP food there. I saw A LOT of people ask where the gummy slugs/chocolate frogs/butterbeer was. They can’t sell those there, as Universal owns the rights to those items. That being said, Cursed Child, Fantastic Beasts, and HP are 3 separate franchises, so you won’t find them intermixing.

You CAN bring food into the theater!! Drinks too!

If you have Lounge Access, you have your own bathroom. Trust me, that will save you a TON of time.

Part 2 Merch is only available during Part 2 or after Part 1.It is kept behind the counter so you can’t get it during normal shop hours.

There is no curtain call after part 1. House lights come up and thats the end. No cast come out after part 1 either.

Seeing it in 2 days isn’t as bad as one would think. I think I liked it better than I would have seeing it all in one day.

The playbills have recaps of important HP events crucial to the plot. This is helpful for anyone who hasn’t read the books in a long time, or isn’t super familiar with the story. (i.e not me or my best friend’s brother).

I think this is long enough, but if anyone has any questions about seeing the show in NYC I’ll be happy to help!

#cursed child #ccsquad #comet rambles

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zaney-hacknslash · 6 years ago

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FallOut Prequel - Cover Up

Ide offered to drive, but I wanted to, because, if nothing else, getting behind the wheel of the car would give me some temporary control, and I desperately needed that.

Everyone looked grim, and no one spoke. Of course, no one had said much on the way in either; I’d been driving myself crazy, worrying about what we were heading into, and Ide, since he couldn’t reassure me in front of Light, had mimicked my silence. Kira, of course, had been sitting right behind me, plotting, eagerly awaiting the moment he could see Near, and the four of us, dead.

Only Matsuda had spoken, though not very much, since no one would respond to him, wondering about the meaning behind Near’s meeting, expressing how insulting and ridiculous it was that anyone could suspect Light of being Kira. There’d been something pointed in that, I’d thought, directed at me, but I hadn’t paid much attention to it. Matsuda’s loyalty to Light had blinded him, and I’d known it was just a matter of time before he couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

I had known that realization could be devastating, but I wouldn’t have thought in a million years that he’d shoot someone, especially not Light Yagami.

Now here we were, leaving the wharf, and Light, behind, carrying a burden I hadn’t expected any more than Matsuda’s attempt at murder. Occasionally, I glanced in the rearview, not entirely convinced I wouldn’t see Light gazing back at me with his sharp eyes, and the idea that he was dead felt so unreal, my mind kept trying to convince me we’d find him at the station.

Even if we did, I’d have a lot of choice words to say to him. After all, he could have gone ahead with his plans as Kira without dragging the four of us through hell; he could have gone head to head with Near without toying with our emotions and manipulating our loyalty and respect for the Yagami family. At least that way he would have spared himself the pain of being shot.

In the end, it was just as Near had said—we weren’t an important part of the case, he’d never needed us to catch Kira, and, in many ways, we’d been an obstruction. Knowing all that, I couldn’t help feeling bitter towards Near. Having the notebook was good enough for him; it had been all I could do to convince him to help us manage even a little of the fallout, and we were the only ones who had to try and make sense of the aftermath.

As the station came into view, my chest tightened. In the past, it had always looked secure and inviting, a place where I knew I had friends, but tonight its lights seemed austere, its form rigid. It had been built to uphold justice, and I was afraid to find out which side of that line tonight’s events might have thrust us to.

In the parking garage, I whipped into my reserved spot, staring a long moment at the sign ahead of me, at my own name—Captain Shuichi Aizawa—not knowing if that would be my spot, my name, my title in the morning.

Come what may, I had to shake off the bloody memories and focus on what to say.

Ide muttered my name, and I knew, whether I lost the title of captain or not, the three of them were still looking to me to lead them.

“Everyone let me do the talking,” I instructed finally. These events were already muddy enough without all four of us giving contradictory facts.

Internal affairs would look into it—they had to. Kira was dead. One of us shot him. Light’s death, at the very least, couldn’t go overlooked. Once they separated us and started digging, contradictory facts wouldn’t matter. I simply didn’t know how to hide the truth.

No one argued, though, as they followed me inside, clustered closely together, marching in sync, but the moment I stepped through the doors, I realized this was going to be much harder than I thought.

All eyes were on us; at first, I thought it must be my imagination, but people whispered to each other, some turned around, some stood up, staring at us as we passed, and the station stayed completely silent except for the sound of our footsteps. I caught glimpses of bewilderment and even horror in the faces around me.

One glance back at the others, and I didn’t have to wonder why. We looked bad. Ide had taken off his blazer, all but letting it trail by his side, where Matsuda kept stepping on it and was beginning to look annoyed that it was there at all. Ide either didn’t notice or didn’t care, though. He had a cigarette hanging from his mouth, the ash on the end already more than a centimeter in length, and he didn’t seem to be actively smoking it. Normally alert and stoic, Mogi appeared to be in a daze, frowning fiercely at whatever was directly in front of him—it happened to be me—like he wanted to throttle someone. He’d jerked his tie loose and ripped open the top few buttons of his shirt. Meanwhile, Matsuda looked like he was overly aware of everything around him, a sudden contrast to how he’d been at the scene of Light’s death, eyes glazed but darting, sometimes searching the faces of those we passed, distrustfully, sometimes glaring down at Ide’s dragging blazer and then at Ide himself. His face was white, and he’d gotten blood on the collar of his shirt, but that was nothing compared to the bloodstains mottling the blazer I clutched in my arms, and I wished I’d thought to leave it in the car.

Collectively, we looked like hell.

All the more reason, I told myself, I needed to handle this with the utmost delicacy.

That’s really not my strong suit…

At the desk, a young officer named Endo had been assigned to filing reports, but I doubted he had much to do these days, and accordingly, he sat back in his chair, shoes up on the desk, talking into his phone.

When he saw us, though, he suddenly sat up straight and stared, nostrils flaring with alarm.

“Put that phone away, Corporal,” I snapped, automatically.

Matsuda jerked like he thought I was talking to him—it was something I said to him often enough.

Hanging up on his call, Endo practically threw the phone onto the desk, and his eyes widened. “C-captain Aizawa—”

“And I know I didn’t see you with your shoes on that desk.” I glared at him.

“N-no, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“If you have time to sit here, making personal calls and putting your feet up, I can give you more to do.”

“N-no, sir,” he stammered. “My mistake, sir. It’s just been so slow, sir.”

I hesitated. Given the circumstances, I shouldn’t be marching in here, barking orders like I owned the place, but I’d fallen into my role as captain, naturally, during my desperate search for control.

Fidgeting, Endo waited for me to say more, and I knew the hesitation looked suspicious.

“Well, that excuse is about to expire,” I grunted. “Kira is dead.”

I hadn’t thought the room could get any quieter, but suddenly it turned still as a graveyard, as all murmuring and shifting of papers stopped, and I even imagined I heard a pin drop somewhere. Endo’s eyes popped, and he swallowed very hard. “Kira?” he gasped.

“Don’t sit there looking stupid, Corporal, I’m here to report.”

“Y-yes, sir.” He scrambled for his keyboard.

While I waited for him to fill out the particulars of time and date, my name and rank, I drew a deep but silent breath.

“At approximately 1:30 pm, the five of us—Captain Aizawa Shuichi, Lieutenant Ide Hideki, Sergeant Mogi Kanzo, Corporal Matsuda Touta, and Detective First Class Yagami Light—met with L in a restricted location to confront Kira—”

“Sorry…sir,” Endo interrupted, “Where was this location?”

“It’s restricted.”

Questioningly, he stared at me, but I went on.

“Kira was there, as L predicted. We had him outnumbered and surrounded; we managed to apprehend him, but he became desperate. We had no choice but to shoot him.”

“Ah…” Endo took his fingers from the keys suddenly. “Excuse me, Captain… I’m sorry. Could you please be more specific? Did Kira try to run? Do you know yet what Kira’s real identity was—for the report?” He scanned us. “What do you mean he became desperate, and who shot him?”

“He didn’t try to run,” I corrected. “He tried to kill us and had to be shot. Furthermore…” I drew an even deeper breath, struggling to squelch my anger and anxiety. “Detective Yagami was killed in action.”

This time, I really did expect Endo’s eyes to burst from his skull, and he looked through us again, like he thought he’d see Light somewhere. “How did that happen?”

“Kira killed him.”

“Yes, but how—”

“People die, Corporal,” I answered, coldly.

Suddenly drawing himself up, Endo sat back and folded his hands politely on the desk, and his expression took on a stern tone, voice turning almost soothing. “I apologize, Captain. I can see you’re shook up, so perhaps if you’d like to come back and file an official report after you’ve gotten some rest—”

“This is the only reason I came here, Corporal,” I snapped.

For a long moment, Endo read through the pittance of information he’d typed out, one eyebrow arched, as if he couldn’t understand how what I’d said was possible, and behind me, the others began to shift and nudge at each other, but I made a point not to glance back at them. They’d just better know enough to keep their mouths shut.

“Excuse me, Captain,” Endo tried again. “I suppose, what I meant to say, if the information regarding Kira is so highly classified that I’m not allowed to know the details—even to make the report—perhaps you should return tomorrow, when the commissioner and the director are in, and then you can report directly to them—”

“Well, what a good idea, Corporal,” I said irritably. “No, I’m telling you exactly what I would tell them. This. Is. My official. Statement.”

From the way his mouth dropped open and his eyes darted first to Ide and then to Mogi, on my right and left, respectively, Endo thought I’d snapped and expected one of them to step in and file the report properly.

Ide simply sniffed, “Listen to the captain, Endo.”

“Also,” I proceeded, “Kira had an accomplice with him; that man is dead as well—he killed himself.”

“His name?” Endo asked, but uncertainly.

I shook my head, and then I mentally kicked myself. I shouldn’t have mentioned Mikami. Maybe we could have passed him off as Kira. But fuck. Even that couldn’t vanish the bullet holes from Matsuda’s gun. And anyway, now that I thought of it, Mikami’s vehicle might be somewhere near the site where he’d died. Unless L—or I—disposed of it, someone would find it and put together the fact that he’d been there.

“That’s all,” I grumbled, finally, turning to go.

“Now, wait just a minute!” Endo cried, lurching to his feet. “You actually expect me to file a nonsensical report like this as if it’s official?”

“That’s your job,” I informed him, stiffly.

“Lieutenant,” he called out, exasperated. “Sergeant. I need all four of your statements!”

Ide shrugged at him. “Captain says you don’t.”

Around us, the squad stared and exchanged looks. Murmuring voices picked up again, wondering at it all.

Endo shook his head, looking almost frantically at me. “Captain, why wasn’t someone called out to the site? You should have—”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” I growled, automatically.

Next to me, Matsuda suddenly gave a nervous laugh.

“Of course not, Captain.” Endo gave a bow. “But… Protocol. I should at least get statements from the rest of your team.”

I shook my head, glaring back at him. “It’s my statement, or none at all. If the higher-ups have additional questions, they’ll have to ask me directly.”

A long moment passed, and Endo stared me in the eyes, like he could change my mind, and then he swore under his breath. “I’d better not get in trouble for something this sloppy.”

“Keep your damn shoes off that desk, and I’m sure you won’t.”

Frowning, he sank back into his chair, shook his head, and finally broke eye contact.

I turned to the others. Mogi and Ide were both giving me twin looks of slight concern, but Matsuda looked like he’d sank back into his own, little world. At least for tonight, I’d kept him out of lock up, but I didn’t know how or if I could prevent that forever.

Gently herding him in front of me, I started back the way we came, this time ignoring all the openly gaping faces that watched us pass. None of us spoke until we’d gotten back into the car and were driving away from the station.

“What now, Shuichi?” Ide wondered, faintly. “The higher ups won’t be satisfied with that report.”

I leaned hard back in my seat, barely keeping my grip on the wheel. “We had to report. All we can do is take this one step at a time.”

“We need to talk more about it,” Mogi decided.”

“He’s right,” Ide agreed. “We need to hash out exactly what we’re going to tell internal affairs. Tonight.”

“Damn bureaucracy,” I grumbled, wishing that, somehow, the higher ups could just accept that Kira was dead and not trouble me about it.

I frowned in the mirror at Matsuda, who stared out the window, blankly. Ide and I were almost always on the same page, Mogi was smart; I knew the two of them could talk to internal affairs without a problem. But Matsuda’s statement would be, no doubt, disjointed and guilt-ridden. He might simply confess. Without the death note, even if they believed Light had been Kira, he’d inevitably be indicted for murdering a fellow officer.

“Let’s get a drink,” Ide suggested in a moment. “I know I could use one.”

“Yeah, alright,” I agreed, without really thinking it through. Whiskey sounded good—just one—before going home to Eriko and facing more questions I didn’t have answers to.

I drove us to a bar in Kabukicho that Ide and I had frequented a lot in our younger days. For a Monday, it was surprisingly lively, so we picked a table in the corner and avoided the looks of other patrons while we waited for the server to come around.

She was all smiles, carrying menus, young and just trying to make it, with streaks of blonde in her hair that reminded me of Misa Amane.

Shit. Amane. We still hadn’t told her or any of Light’s family, and that sounded even harder than filing the damn report.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” I told her, glancing around at the others. “Four?”

“Make mine a double,” Matsuda interrupted, mechanically. “Neat.”

I stared across the table at him as he tore off his tie, and then his jacket, rolling up his sleeves and frowning ferociously into the polished table.

But the girl smiled, brightly, and touched his shoulder. “You got it.” She clipped away.

Whatever he drank, it wasn’t my business.

“Let’s review,” Ide decided as soon as she’d gone. He lit a new cigarette—I couldn’t believe how much he was smoking today, especially since I’d thought he was trying to quit—and took a long drag. “The shinigami and the notebook?”

I shook my head. “Completely off the table.”

“Shuichi,” he argued, in a wheedling tone. “That’s ridiculous. None of this makes sense without that.”

“Near said so.”

“So what? Last I checked, his ass isn’t on the line, and ours are.”

“If we want his help covering any of this up, we have to do what he tells us.”

His brow furrowed. “Okay. What are we supposed to tell the higher ups?”

“You tell me,” I muttered.

“Possibly,” Mogi murmured, looking carefully around to make sure no one was nearby to overhear, “no one would believe about the notebook anyway. Without a demonstration, it might as well not exist.”

Several minutes of despairing silence passed as those words sank in; I’d known that was true, but hearing it out loud made our situation seem all the more dire. While we sat there, each of us thinking hard about it, the girl brought our whiskeys.

“Well, anyway,” I said quietly, lifting my glass, “here’s to the end of the case. And all that entails.”

Delicately, Mogi and Ide touched their glasses to mine, but Matsuda all but smashed his in, slammed it hard on the table, grumbled, “Kanpai,” and downed the whole thing while the three of us stared at him. Then he winced, like the whiskey was the nastiest thing he’d ever had, and scowled across the room at the server, apparently blaming her.

“Anyway,” I picked up again, sipping from my whiskey and trying to ignore what he’d just done. “Without the notebook, where does that leave us?”

“We have two bodies on our hands,” Ide expanded. “Light’s and Mikami’s. But we’re saying three people are dead. No one’s going to overlook that.”

“We could say Mikami was Kira,” Mogi suggested. “That could explain why he killed himself. But.” He sighed. “That wouldn’t explain why Light Yagami was shot five times with police standard issue ammo.”

Inevitably, we all turned to Matsuda.

In a way, my mind still couldn’t make sense of what he’d done. He hadn’t really been Matsuda at the time, and he didn’t really look like Matsuda now, scowling so persistently, the tumult of his emotions turning his eyes dark and dull.

He ignored us, lifting his hand way over his head to shout, “Miss!” He tapped his glass loudly against the table. “Another double, please! Top shelf this time!”

We watched, dumbfounded, as the girl poured him another drink, and he shot-gunned it just as ferociously as he had the first one.

“The only thing we can do,” Ide decided, slowly, watching Matsuda and taking a sip of his own whiskey, “is stick to the story that Kira was shot and killed by the NPA. That’s the only way to explain the fact that all five of us are missing rounds from our pistols.”

“If we do that,” Mogi said, “we’d have to keep it from everyone—even Sachiko and Misa—that Light was shot at all.”

I nodded. “Near says he can handle prepping the body so that no one ever sees its wounds.”

“And what?” Ide snorted suddenly, through a cloud of smoke. “What about the rest of us? Just pretend we don’t know what really happened? Just lie about how Light was killed? Insist that we can’t disclose that?”

“I don’t think we have a choice, Hideki.”

“Well, that’s just mad. No one’s going to believe us.”

“No,” I agreed, stomach knotting. “We might even lose our jobs.”

“Then what about our other option?” Ide demanded.

To my bewildered look, he added, fiercely, “The truth, Shuichi.”

“The truth? What? That a shinigami brought a book of death to the human world—”

“No.” He matched my outraged tone. “You know.” He looked meaningfully at Matsuda. “Light was Kira. One of us killed him.”

I couldn’t look at Matsuda. He was busy ordering another double anyway, and this time he told the girl, “Just leave the bottle,” and threw a wad of cash on the table. “Keep the change.” Apparently, he had every intention of leaving here absolutely plastered.

“It’s too bad,” Ide insisted, “it’s too bad, Shuichi, that dumb ass couldn’t control himself, but he shot Light, and that little, annoying detail is a huge plot hole in this whole plan about lying to the NPA.”

Reluctantly, I finally turned to watch Matsuda, already kicking back his fourth shot, by all appearances, pretending he couldn’t hear us.

“He might get in trouble, I guess,” Mogi murmured, quieter than Ide, also watching Matsuda with a worried expression. “But…not if he shot Kira.”

“Do we really want the world to know that Light Yagami was Kira?” I wondered, honestly not sure. “What about Sachiko? And Misa and Sayu? What about us, working side by side, for six years, with the man we were trying to catch?”

“Could trash our careers,” Mogi agreed.

I shook my head, disgusted. “No good deed goes unpunished, I guess.”

“Light’s grave, though… They’d make it a shrine. Or deface it. Both. The Yagami family would never have any peace, not for the rest of their lives.”

“Pros and cons then,” Ide said dryly, when we’d taken a pause to watch Matsuda slam yet another shot. “We tell them Light was Kira and Matsuda shot him; it costs us our jobs, probably, his grave becomes a public site, and it, for all intensive purposes, ruins the lives of Sachiko, Sayu, and Misa Amane. Those are the cons. Pros: we don’t have to stress over a shoddy cover up, and the three of us won’t have to spend much time in the public’s eye.”

Again, simultaneously, we all looked at Matsuda. Without a doubt, all the press and media coverage would focus on the man who’d shot Kira, letting Ide, Mogi, and I sink into the background without mentioning much more than our names.

“Hey,” I said, when he didn’t acknowledge us. “Want to weigh in here, Matsuda? This affects you. A lot.”

“Hmmm…” He sloppily poured himself another shot and gulped it down before saying, much too loudly, “We should just tell ev’ryone we weren’t there at all, Aizawa! It’s genius. I wasn’t there, you weren’t there, nobody was there except Light an’ Near. We don’t know what happened. We were all at home.”

It was so stupid, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say other than, pragmatically, “And when they investigate the sudden death of Light Yagami and find bullets from your gun, you’re going to jail, and I won’t be able to help you.”

“Not if I file off the serial number, toss it in the ocean, an’ hop on a plane to some place that doesn’t extradite.”

“Are you just being absurd on purpose?” Ide asked, irritably. “We’re trying to solve a real problem here.”

In answer, Matsuda took another shot.

“Fine,” I grumbled, “forget it, Matsu. Just take it easy on the whiskey, all right?”

“Or at least share it,” Ide amended, shoving his glass in.

Spilling all over the table, Matsuda refilled us, unevenly, and topped off again.

Mogi met my gaze. “Ide might be right, Aizawa. We can hide the notebook, we can even hide Kira’s identity—at least for a while. I’m worried about him.”

“Me, too,” Ide whispered. “What’s going to happen to the man who shot Kira? Think about that. Even if some people might think he’s a hero, that’s subject to change. Or he might get harassed for the rest of his life. Depending on how things go, the NPA will always have a good option for a scapegoat.”

Again, my guts twisted, and I winced as I studied Matsuda, muttering under his breath and turning the whiskey bottle around in front of him, fascinated by the label. For a long time now, the NPA had been bowing to Kira, so even if Director Boko agreed to help us cover up Matsuda’s actions, there was no telling when some fanatic might get a job, discover that information, and use it for their own agenda.

Obviously following my line of thought, Ide insisted, quieter than ever, “It would be better for him if there’s no official record of it at all.”

The fate of the Yagami family and our jobs might be inevitable at this point—just one more thing destroyed by Kira—so if Matsuda was the only thing I could protect through all of this, I suddenly felt that I had to. No matter the cost.

“All right,” I grumbled, and suddenly reached over to clamp my hand over his glass before he could pour another shot. “Hey, you. Listen up.”

Bleary-eyed, he blinked at me, as if he’d forgotten I was there.

“First of all, that’s enough of this.” I pried the whiskey bottle away from him, dismayed to find so much of it gone. “Second of all, I need you to understand that Kira’s identity and what you did today go hand in hand. Do you know what I mean?”

Matsuda jerked his head no and stared away, out the window at the passing crowds of night-lifers.

“I mean, if anyone finds out you shot Kira, they’ll be able to find out Light was Kira. And vice versa.” I gesture to myself and the others. “We just finished deciding that’s a can of worms we’d rather not open. You’ve made it pretty clear you don’t give much of a damn right now, but assuming you wake up tomorrow and change your mind, no one can know what happened today. Kira was apprehended, Light was killed in the conflict, and we’re not saying who shot Kira. It’s classified information, we’re under orders from L not to say anything about Kira’s identity, the location of the conflict, or what Kira’s power was—in fact, it would be smartest to say we don’t understand Kira’s power, even now. We know he killed Light. And then we killed him. That’s all we know.”

Matsuda nodded heavily, like he completely understood, but I still felt the need to clarify, “Keep your mouth shut, Matsuda. Okay? No matter what happens, no matter who asks, no matter how you feel about it, you have to keep your mouth shut.’

A sardonic smile curled suddenly on his lips, and he locked gazes with me. “How’d I know you’re gonna keep your mouth shut, Ai?”

Astounded, we all stared at him. Ide choked and suddenly put his cigarette out, cursing to himself.

“It won’t do me any damn good to implicate you. It wouldn’t benefit any of us.” I stared hard at him, wondering where the distrustful thought had even come from. “You need to get that idea out of your mind right now, Corporal.”

For a little bit, he looked back at me, testing how much I meant any of that, and then he shrugged, all too flippantly. “I just don’t really think it matters, Ai.”

“Great,” Ide muttered. “He’s completely loaded.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?” I demanded.

Again, Matsuda just shrugged. “Well, ‘cause Kira’s justice an’way, right? He kills evil people, an’ I shot ‘im. Tha’ mus’ mean I’m evil.”

“That’s not exactly how that works.”

“But,” he went on, like I hadn’t spoken, “that means nobody’s gonna care wha’ happened ta Kira or who shot ‘im. They’ll all ‘sume he’s comin’ back ta punish me, so it doesn’t matter. If they know. If they don’ know… Who really cares?”

“Matsuda,” I said firmly, “Kira is dead.”

“I know that, Aizawa,” he said with a tone of great sobriety. “But as long as we’re gonna hide what really happened to him, we’ll always be the only ones who know it for a fact.”

It was a strangely astute observation for him to have made, and it kept us all silent for a long while afterwards.

Matsuda jerked the whiskey bottle back from me, muttering, “And I paid for this,” as he filled his glass to the brim, but I noticed his hand was shaking.

“So,” Mogi said in a little while, softly, and finished off his whiskey, “plead ignorance on all accounts.”

“I don’t know how we can manage it,” Ide groaned as he lit another cigarette.

Dully, I said, “For now, we just have to try and maintain.”

Mogi looked seriously at me. “Let’s assume there’s a scenario in which we have no choice but to tell people which one of us shot Kira.” He slid a look at Matsuda from the corner of his eye. “That is…if we have to tell them one of us shot Kira, there may come a day when we’re forced to disclose the truth. What then?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, at a loss. “We have to assume Near won’t go to great lengths to cover for us. Nobody deserves to take the fall for Matsuda’s mistake…”

I lingered over that word, trying to decide whether or not it truly had been a mistake. Obviously, he’d been overcome by anger—righteous anger—and Light had been trying to kill us. One might even call that self-defense. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let Matsuda be destroyed over something like that, but I had very little power when it came to protecting him. “I guess,” I said finally, “in the event that we really have no choice, admitting that it was Matsuda is the only decent thing to do.”

Those words felt like bricks as I spoke them. I had to admit, I did want to protect him.

Ide ashed his cigarette and said, gravely, “I think that’s the best we can do, Shuichi.”

A little while longer, we sat there, the three of us finished our glasses, and Matsuda polished off the bottle he’d purchased; I’d lost count of how many whiskey doubles he’d drank, but by the time we decided we couldn’t hash out anything more and that the rest would have to be played by ear, he was stumbling drunk, making a fool of himself.

First, he fell off his stool, laughing and writhing on the floor, like he couldn’t manage to pick himself up, and by the time I went around to offer him my hand, and Mogi was grabbing him under one arm, the bouncer came to eighty-six him.

He was a giant, muscular man with a permanent scowl, apparently not in the mood for any nonsense. Heaving Matsuda to his feet, I got in his way. “We’re leaving,” I told him, thinking to myself I wasn’t in any mood to watch some ape toss my corporal into the street.

From there, Matsuda stumbled outside and shambled down the sidewalk, chatting to himself some indecipherable nonsense about how he hadn’t been out like this in a really long time, saying we should hit the next bar we came to and just stay out all night, like a damn college kid.

So that he didn’t wander out into the street like an idiot, I kept a close eye on him. For six years, he’d been easy to manage. He said a lot of stupid things without thinking, and he put a lot of dumb plans into action without running them by anyone, but he was an ideal subordinate in that, usually, a stern word got him back in line with very little effort. But he’d surprised the hell out of me more than once today, and, I had to admit, I wasn’t sure how to deal with him when he was like this.

“Drinks were a bad idea,” Ide decided, lighting his newest cigarette. “I didn’t know he was going to go so over the top.”

Maybe we should have known. He was obviously disturbed by what he’d done, and so was I. I never would have thought cheerful, dip shit Matsuda could be capable of such rage and violence, but as much as I wished he hadn’t shot Light, I wondered what would have happened if he didn’t. Possibly, one of Near’s people would have intervened; I’d noticed they were armed. But I wondered if Near had had a back up plan for that piece of the notebook Light kept hidden in his watch. Possibly, without Matsuda’s reactionary thinking, Near would have been killed.

I’d almost sacrifice that, I thought. Sure, it wasn’t right, trading someone’s life for my own peace of mind, but we had a real problem now, and I wasn’t even sure Matsuda completely understood that. Besides, I had to admit, his behavior worried me.

We reached the car, but Matsuda stumbled a ways past it before I called, “Hey! Slow down!”

“Hell,” he slurred, turning to me and walking backwards, blazer slung over his shoulder. “All day it’s been, keep up, Matsuda, now ya tell me ta slow down?”

“You passed the car,” I told him, jogging out to retrieve him and haul him back. Stashing him in the back seat, I went around to the passenger’s side.

“Better take him home,” I told Ide, as he started down the street. “He’ll have to pick up his car later.”

We drove a moment in silence before he acknowledged that I’d said anything, and then it was just to murmur, much gentler than I was used to after twenty years of listening to him be cynical, “Someone just tell me it’s over. I…need to hear that.”

“It’s over, Hideki,” I assured, matching his tone. “For the most part, at least.”

He sighed. “I didn’t know what we were getting into today. I knew Light could be Kira��but I really didn’t want to think he was.”

Behind me, Mogi said, “No one wanted Light to be Kira.”

“No, but I feel like I wound up on the wrong side of history today.”

“Could be worse,” I told him, matter-of-factly. After all, Ide hadn’t felt angry enough to kill somebody.

Maybe I could have tired harder to convince the two of them that Light was Kira; I hadn’t seen the point at the time—after all, they weren’t looking at the evidence in the same light I was—I hadn’t wanted to actively try to turn my teammates against Light, especially not if I turned out to be wrong. Still, maybe if I’d done things differently, we could have avoided today’s bloodbath, and at least then our cover up operation would be twice as easy. Those damn bullet wounds were going to make my life miserable, I just knew it.

Getting Matsuda’s address out of him was hard enough without also getting the directions. Once, he gave us an old address, and we drove more than halfway there before he jerked upright in his seat and practically shouted, “What are we doin’ over here? I haven’t lived in that place for three years.”

Ide drew a sharp breath, and I knew he had to try pretty hard not to lose his temper as he explained, “This is the way you told me to go.” And then he had to whip a u-turn, while Mogi asked a number of times to get the correct location.

By the time we reached his apartment, Matsuda had all but passed out in the back seat, barely mumbling when we tried to talk to him, so we sat a moment, still wrestling with the day’s events.

In time, I said, “After I get the word from Near tomorrow, I’ll let Light’s family know…” It felt wrong not to tell them tonight—my duty conflicting with my sense of compassion and the unusual situation—but until the body was presentable, we didn’t dare hand it over to Sachiko. “Until then, nobody say anything to anyone.”

Ide and Mogi muttered their agreements.

“Matsuda,” I called, when he didn’t speak up, “go home.”

“I think he’s unconscious,” Mogi explained.

Grumbling to myself, I got out and went around to Matsuda’s door, but when I opened it, he just blinked and looked around like he had no idea where he was. “I’ll be right back,” I told the other two, as I took hold of his arm and dragged him out of the seat. And then, the whole way up to his apartment, I had to fight to keep him upright and not let his weight knock me over.

Just when I was beginning to finally feel extremely irritated with his irresponsible behavior, he suddenly blurted out, “Hey, Aiz’wa?” and even jerked, like he’d just woken up.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I…I shot him… I can’t believe it. But I did. I shot him.”

That, I had to admit, doused most of my annoyance outright.

“I know,” he went on, slurrily, “we’re fucked ‘cause of it… I dunno…wha’ happened. How I could do that.”

“You were angry,” I said, far too dismissively for the subject at hand.

Matsuda whispered, “Yeah… But still. How could I do that? I completely lost control…now he’s gone. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

One arm still around his waist, I pulled him a little closer, telling myself it was just to balance him better, not because I felt sorry. “It’s okay, Matsuda. It’s over.”

“’S’not okay,” he argued, drunkly. “I shot him. God. Why’d I do that?”

“It’ll be okay,” I told him again, even though I knew it wouldn’t. I just didn’t know what the fuck else to say.

At his door, it took forever for Matsuda to locate his keys, and then he dropped them, but finally he got it open, letting us into a small, surprisingly neat apartment, where the only signs of living were the mug on his coffee table and a blue, Wacko Maria jacket draped over the back of his couch.

Somewhat surprised, I turned to study him as he kicked off his shoes, braced dizzily against the wall. “You live here alone?” I wondered.

He blinked at me. “Yeah?”

I didn’t know how to tell him I’d really expected to find dirty underwear and empty pizza boxes scattered everywhere, and it made me realize I’d never given him enough credit, not from the beginning. Today, he’d blown a pen out of Light’s hand, and I couldn’t think of anyone I’d expect to be able to do that, especially not in the heat of rage.

Whether he was proud of it or not, I felt deeply impressed with him.

“C’mon.” I jerked his arm back over my shoulder and half carried him down the hallway, where I assumed the bedroom must be.

“Aiz’wa…” he muttered. “What’re we s’posed t’ do now?”

“What do you mean? The investigation’s over.”

“’Xactly. No more goin’ to headquarters. No more huntin’ Kira. No more Ligh…”

“That’s a good thing.”

I’d tried to say it optimistically, but Matsuda shook his head. “It’s fucked up,” he whispered. “No more Kira…tha’s good… But no more Ligh… That seems bad.”

In a way, humanity had lost a great asset, and I just felt so furious that Light had to waste his life playing god and killing people when he could have been out there making a difference, the way his father had.

Shoving the door open, I slung Matsuda, carefully, onto the bed, and he collapsed into the pillow like his head weighed a ton, still mumbling about Light.

“Look,” I sighed, jerking the blankets up over him more out of habit than anything, “it’ll be okay, Matsu… Just…get some sleep.”

Already, he seemed to have passed out, so I turned to go, but halfway down the hall, I hesitated to look back, and something troubled trembled inside me, inexplicably, like ripples through deep water. For a moment, it even crossed my mind that maybe he shouldn’t be alone, that maybe the bizarre and morbid things I’d seen him do all day were only the tip of the iceberg, and his mind might be even messier than I realized. After all, if angry Matsuda could so unforgivingly gun down a friend and profess that he wanted, without question, to kill him—not for justice or a sense of duty, but out of pure vindictiveness, fury, and hurt—what might he turn to assuming he became depressed? It might be good if I stayed and talked with him tomorrow, when his mind had cleared some, and assessed his real condition.

Then, though, I decided, that was just the cop side of me talking, trained to detect danger, more than used to talking people down from ledges. Surely, Matsuda would be fine.

Who knew, though?

I desperately wanted to see my family after a day like this one, to remind myself that there was still good in the world.

He might need me, and that was a feeling I couldn’t ignore.

Heavily sighing, I went back to the bedroom to shake his shoulder.

Barely awake, he turned over to stare up at me. “Nnyeah?”

“Hey,” I said quietly, trying not to be Captain Aizawa for a moment, trying to be just Shuichi. “Look…it’s gonna be okay, all right?”

“Mmhm,” Matsuda agreed, closing his eyes again.

“But, if for some reason it’s not…if you need me…call me. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbled against the pillow.

I’d call him tomorrow anyway, I told myself. This was bad, and I’d be a fool to let it get out of hand.

“Okay,” I said again.

Touching his shoulder one last time, I turned and left.

#writing #fanfiction #death note #touta matsuda #matsuda touta #shuichi aizawa #aizawa shuichi #i'm drunk #drunk editing

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