Like she’d seen him or met him once before.
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There was something about him that reminded her of Rue Ryuzaki—of Beyond Birthday. But the resemblance was backward, like this was the original, and the other had been a copy.
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“Um, have we...?” she asked, even though he was hardly blocking the entrance bodily, and she could have simply ignored him and walked on inside.
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The young man instantly leapt at her.
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Leapt at her? No, that’s not right. He actually tried to throw his arms around her.
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“Huh?! No!”
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Misora instantly bent backward, brushing off the man’s embrace, and moved smoothly on to the offensive. She lowered her upper body backward, spinning once in the air and raising her back legs like a scorpion, slamming both heels down onto the man’s shoulders. Both blows hit hard, and the impact knocked him off balance.
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With a thunderous crash, he tumbled down the subway stairs.
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Whoops. A little overboard.
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Certainly, he had assaulted her, but Misora quickly righted her- self and ran down after him. “Are you okay?” she asked.
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He was lying on his stomach like a crushed frog.
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“I see,” he muttered, seemingly talking to himself. “Watching videos and seeing it for real is quite different, but now I think I understand.”
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“Hunh?”
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What was he talking about? Had he hit his head on something? Her first day back at work, and already in trouble...
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“Um... can you stand?” Misora said, reaching out toward him. The man looked up at her, his eyes in shadow, as if two holes were staring at her.
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“Thank you,” he said, and took her hand. Misora pulled him upright.
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“Are you injured? Does it hurt anywhere?”
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“I’m fine, thank you,” the man said, not letting go of her hand. Even on his feet, he did not attempt to move away. They appeared to be shaking hands. Like warriors on a battlefield, exchanging a firm handshake after surviving yet another bloody fight.
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“You are very kind,” he said, with something like a smile, and at last let go of her hand. Then he tottered away as if nothing at all had happened, slowly climbing the stairs again.
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“Ah. . .w-wait! Just a second!”
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Misora had almost let him go, but a moment later she ran after him, circling around in front of him again. She was an FBI agent and could not let an assault crime go unpunished. The young man was sucking his thumb. He did not appear to be at all nervous.
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“If you aren’t hurt, then you’ll have to come with me. Sexual assault is a serious crime. You can’t go around throwing your arms around women. What were you thinking?”
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“Don’t just stand there. Say something. This attitude won’t make things easier for you. What’s your name?”
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Naomi Misora had asked his name.
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The young man nodded.
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And answered.
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“Please call me Ryuzaki,” he said, unperturbed.
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Just like someone else had.
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And a few years after his arrest, on January 21, 2004, serving a life sentence in a California prison, Beyond Birthday died of a mysterious heart attack.
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Totally irrelevant to you who don't give a damn. but I am very bad Tat remembering people's names, and no matter how many times I hear them I can easily forget. When you reach my level, using a roundabout expression like "bad at remembering names" is far less accurate than declaring aggressively that you are good at forgetting them. Additionally. I am very good at losing track of things. The pen I was using just a moment before. the shoes I was wearing just a minute ago, even the book I was reading a second ago just vanish into thin air. But this is just a matter of losing track of them, not actually losing them. and I can always find them again soon enough (in other words, I am just as good at finding things as I am at loing track of them), but unlike things, people's names. once forgotten. are not soon remembered. They say that all memories remain inside the brain even after you have forgotten them, but I am sure that is an outright lie. At the least. forgotten names have been completely erased. What do I do when I've forgotten a name? Nothing much. Frankly, when talking with an actual person, there aren't that many opportunities to address someone by name. Unlike in fiction, it is perfectly normal to hold a conversation with someone whose name you do not know, which can be said for occupations and labels as well as names. Whoever this guy is I have absolutely no idea, but it seems like we have apparently met several times before and he obviously knows me—l have had any number of conversations like that. and they usually go pretty smoothly. "Oh, but maybe he only half-remembers me and is just making conversation without really being sure who l am,” l wonder, and the conversation ends. That said, l once did this with someone l had honestly never met before, which depressed me. "He must have thought I was such a nice guy! So wrong! l'm really painfully shy! Antisocial!" But it was too late. Why am I talking about this? Because I don't need a Death Note, but I wouldn’t mind having the eyes of the shinigami.
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This book is a spin-oFf of the massively successful Death Note man- ga by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. I wondered what a spin- of? novel would be like, and now I know. I am completely honored to have worked on something by people who have both dramatcally enriched my life. Personally I found this job to be extremely stimu- lating and very worthwhile. When I first started working on it the projected subtitle was Mad About L, but the tone of the piece was more serious than I had imagined. Instead, it became Death Note: Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases.
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I wish you all sun, sea, and books.
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NISIOISIN