L18-1 Suruga

"What's with the lax security?" Suruga said into the lens. After showing his face to the surveillance camera, he stepped inside the Kira Investigation Headquarters, head tilted.

The fingerprint recognition scans, retinal scans, metal detectors, and other security measures in place went unused as the door opened. Suruga didn't even have to show his FBI badge.

Following the guide lights along the walls, he boarded the elevator and descended four floors underground. Ahead, past the heavy gate, was the Operations Room, the nerve center of the Kira Investigation building. There was no sign of anyone, and the countless monitors in the center of the spacious room were turned off.

"I'm with the FBI, anybody here?" Suruga's voice echoed in the silence. The room was utterly quiet, without even the memory of the psychological tug-of-war against the diabolical Kira that had been waged within its confines.

Suruga reversed his steps, scratching his head, and there he was.

"Whoa!" Suruga jumped back at the proximity of the man who suddenly appeared behind him. L stood stooped forward, staring at Suruga. A tangled mop of hair, a plain white long-sleeve shirt, and faded blue jeans. He appeared to have a severely curved posture and was not poised for an attack as Suruga first feared. The most prominent feature among the various odd parts cobbled together to form his face were the black-rimmed eyes of a chronic insomniac. "Who are you?" Suruga asked, keeping both his guard and distance.

"Call me Ryuzaki," the man said as he jumped onto the sofa.

Perched with his legs folded tightly against his body, he reached for the few sugar cubes remaining in the bottom of what appeared to be a giant fish bowl.

"Are you for real?" Suruga had been told that L. went by the name Ryuzaki while working inside the Kira Investigation Headquarters. Despite the irritation he felt at the lack of interest the man showed toward his arrival, Suruga studied the back of his rounded shoulders as if to appraise him.

That L never revealed his real name or face was common knowledge. L had not even shown his face to Naomi Misora, who had worked with him to solve the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases. Thus Suruga had no choice but to take him at his word. However, the man standing before him was a far cry from his image of the world's top detective.

"Uh, forgive me, but I'll be blunt. Are you really L?"

"Yes. I, too, am L." The man who called himself Ryuzaki answered obliquely as if to evade the question. However, the answer seemed to boost Suruga's confidence in the man. As long as no one else is around, the first step is to insinuate myself into Ryuzaki's favor. Without revealing my intentions... Suruga thought, as he cleared his throat and approached the man sitting on the sofa.

"Hideaki Suruga," he said. "I'm with the FBI. Raye and I came up through the academy together. And now I've taken over Naomi's duties. I was supposed to host their wedding reception too, but..." Suruga let slip, to which the man on the sofa turned around, finally showing an interest. Actually, only his head twisted around while the rest of him continued to face forward like a marionette with tangled strings.

"You're Suruga? With the FBI?" Peering through the tangled mop of hair, the man fixed his gaze on Suruga's forehead.

Although Suruga remained stone-faced as per the rules of under- cover work, he was assaulted by a chill that made his hair stand on end. The FBI had issued him a fake ID, and any reference to his real name in records L was likely to hack into had been changed. All the necessary precautions had been taken.

But what if he can see my real name... Fighting back the thought, Suruga continued, "I came here to offer my gratitude. For avenging Raye's and Naomi's deaths by defeating Kira. Don't hesitate to let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

The man calling himself L continued to stare at Suruga, while one arm found its way into the fish bowl. Seeing his hand fumbling inside the empty fish bowl in vain, L suddenly jumped off the sofa with a look of shock. He peered under the sofa and crawled under the table on all fours, clearly in search of something. Crawling over the bundle of cables

extending from the monitors, he continued onward, moving his long arms and legs in a herky-jerky motion.

What the hell? Suruga was rendered mute by the man's bizarre action; L reached the wall and stood up after bumping into various obstacles along the way.

With a quickness belying his curved posture, he pushed against the unadorned wall according to some unwritten formula. Then, what appeared to be a seamless wall opened up, revealing compart- ments one after the next. In the first compartment was stored more of the same white long-sleeve shirts and faded jeans he was wearing, the second held a stash of cell phones, and the next a collection of Misa Amane merchandise. All of the contents were meticulously arranged and organized.

Finally, the last compartment L opened was empty.

"We have a situation!"

"What is it? A new case?"

Suruga couldn't help leaning forward. Maintaining a stern look, L. asked, "Would you mind running out to get me some sweet potato cake from Funawa?"