The Girl With No Name

Chapter Seven

Chris and I weren't speaking.

Needless to say, after the previous day's discussion, him and I had fallen out. He was furious at me for not backing him up and agreeing with the detective. I can't blame him; even I was mad at myself for agreeing with L, but it had to be done at some point, and what better time to start than in the middle of a stressful, time consuming, life threatening murder investigation?

It was almost ironic - most men would actually resort to alcoholism in their despair, and yet Chris was being driven away from it. If my friend wasn't the one being forced to abandon his coping mechanism, I would've laughed at his misfortune.

He'd spoken with Watari and agreed - albeit reluctantly - to attend rehabilitation sessions every couple of weeks. It wasn't ideal, especially considering how inflexible the schedule of the investigation was, but he planned to make it work. I did what I could to make it more bearable for him, but this was easier said than done.

For starters, I'd been asked by L to confiscate all alcoholic beverages in his possession, and tell the bartender at the hotel not to allow him make any purchases. Knowing that Chris used his own methods to wriggle his way out of a sticky situation, I may have slipped the employees a bit of cash to uphold their end of the deal. I wasn't particularly happy about spending what little amount of yen I had left, but as long as it got the job done.

After discovering my meddling, Chris prohibited me from entering his room. He'd even gone so far as to barricade the door with a chair and coffee table when I started to pick the lock. I'd stood outside his door for almost half an hour, spouting teary apologisies through the solid wood, only to receive silence as my response. Eventually succumbing to fatigue, I'd gone up to my own room, resorting to text messages and voicemails. In my hopelessness, I'd tried all the cliche responses: "we'll get through this together" and "I'm here for you". It was enough to make even me cringe, but I really didn't know what else to say to regain my favour. I had hoped my dedication would be enough.

To no one's surprise, I was forced to walk to the task force the next day.

It didn't matter much anyway as, within five minutes of sitting down, I was back up on my feet and strapped into a car seat alongside my new best buddy.

Over the course of the night, L had had an ingenious breakthrough. His brilliant mind had formulated the plan to invite Light Yagami - who was renowned to be a great sportsman during his adolescent years - to play tennis. All of this, apparently, would help discern whether Light was Kira.

Foolproof, right?

At first, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. What the hell would a tennis match prove? Oh, Light Yagami has a solid grounstroke - must be a serial killer. If I thought L was a bit wacky before, then boy, I had something coming.

"So, what's the big idea behind this stupid plan again?"

Although I'd been mindlessly whittering for the duration of the drive, L seemed particularly irritated by this comment. "It's not stupid."

"It is stupid. How is a game of tennis going to prove whether Light Yagami is Kira?"

"Kira hates to lose," L reiterated

I genuinely wanted to bash my head against the seat in front of me, but I released my frustration with a sigh. "Everybody hates to lose, Ryuzaki. It's nothing special. Honestly, there are so many more things we could be doing to get somewhere with this case."

"Would you rather I have Watari take you back to the hotel?"

He had me there.

Between Chris' constant cold shoulder and the mundane activities I knew would be waiting for me if I was to go back to the hotel, I think I'd stick with the detective's bullshit. Besides, I hadn't just been asked to come to indulge in L's overly sporadic plan. According to the detective, he was convinced that Light Yagami would have some questions about his identity and felt that verification would be necessary in the form of a third party. Out of everyone, he asked me. Me. Naturally, I felt obliged to go. It'd be the equivalent of sticking a finger in his face if I refused, and we've only just gotten back on good terms. I wasn't risking that.