The warehouse was silent.
No—worse than silent.
It was the kind of hush that seemed to press on the skin, the air heavy, as though the world itself were holding its breath.
The body that had been Near's twitched once… then split open like paper tearing along a seam.
And from within, a tall figure stepped out, as though emerging from a shadow given flesh. Pale skin. Untamed black hair falling over sharp eyes. A slouched posture, hands buried in pockets.
The smile was unmistakable.
Ryuzaki.
The Task Force froze. Matsuda's gun arm dropped. Aizawa's breath caught.
Nobody moved. The cameras overhead caught every second, streaming this to watchers across Japan, America, and a dozen intelligence agencies worldwide.
Light's heartbeat slammed once in his chest—and then stopped.
Not literally, but in that way it does when reality takes a shape you did not plan for.
"…L?" Matsuda's voice cracked, small and unsure.
The figure ignored him. His gaze was locked on Light, and that smile—half lazy, half knife—didn't waver.
"I told you, Light-kun," L said softly. "This was never a game you could win forever."
The voice… it was exactly as Light remembered. Calm. Patient.
The sound of someone who knew too much and yet was content to let you hang yourself with the rope you'd been given.
For a split second, Light's mind sprinted through every possible explanation.
Illusion? Impossible—the air shifted around L's presence.
A body double? No—the cadence of speech, the micro-expressions… too precise.
An elaborate ruse Near had staged? That would require impossible coordination after death.
Then Light saw it—half hidden in L's left hand.
A notebook.
Not the Death Note. The cover was a darker black, almost absorbing the light. The binding shimmered faintly, as if threads of silver were woven through it.
And written in neat, deliberate English on the cover: Mind Note.
Light's eyes narrowed.
Ryuk, who had been lounging invisibly near the wall, tilted his head. "Ohhh… that's interesting," he drawled, his wings twitching. "Guess you're not the only one with toys, Light. It seems the other guys have finally joined in on the fun."
"This is really interesting, so interesting"
L stopped just short of Near's fallen chair. His bare feet didn't make a sound on the warehouse floor. "You look… surprised. That's rare for you."
Light's lips curved into a faint smile, perfectly measured. "Surprised? Hardly. I've simply been waiting for the right opponent to return."
L tilted his head, the gesture birdlike. "Return. Ah. So you knew, then?"
Light didn't answer. He could feel every pair of eyes in the Task Force darting between them, uncomprehending.
Aizawa finally spoke, voice tight. "What the hell is going on here? Near… he's—he's gone. And now you—" He faltered. "You're supposed to be dead."
"Supposed to be," L echoed. "But you know, Aizawa-san… the word 'supposed' is an assumption. And assumptions are dangerous."
Light studied him in silence, refusing to give the satisfaction of a reaction.
If this "Mind Note" was what it sounded like, then L's return wasn't just physical. It meant information. Knowledge. Possibly the ability to see into thoughts—if the name was literal.
If that were true…
No. He couldn't dwell on possibilities. He had to operate as though it were true. Because if L could read his mind, every stray thought would become a liability.
"I assume," Light said smoothly, "that you're going to explain this to everyone? Or is the cryptic act still part of your performance?"
L's smile didn't widen, but somehow it felt like it did. "I think I'll keep my explanations selective for now. After all, Light-kun… I already know what you've been planning."
The Task Force shifted uneasily.
Light's mind burned to know how much L knew—how much was bluff, and how much was truth. But he kept his breathing even, his eyes steady. "Then you must also know you're too late."
"Oh, I'm right on time," L said, and his gaze flicked to the nearest camera. "The whole world saw Near fall. They saw the great successor to L crumble in the middle of a decisive confrontation with Kira. They saw the Task Force powerless. And they saw me appear in his place."
Light's stomach tightened, but he kept the smile. "So you want to be my replacement nemesis for the public eye?"
"Not exactly," L said. "I want to be your shadow. One you can't escape."
Ryuk chuckled low, a rumbling sound that didn't belong in any human throat. "You two really are fun when you talk like this. It's like watching chess, but the pieces are knives."
The air shifted again. L's gaze sharpened. "You've grown arrogant, Light-kun. In my absence, you've convinced yourself you're untouchable. But tell me—how do you plan to win a game when I already know your next move?"
It was an open taunt, and Light recognized the bait instantly. L wanted him to react.
He wouldn't.
Instead, Light let out a soft laugh. "Then you must know you'll lose. Because, L… I don't just plan moves. I become them."
The two locked eyes, and the weight of that stare was a battle all its own. The Task Force might not have understood it, but they could feel it—the collision of two predators who had no intention of backing down.
Finally, L looked away, just for a moment, glancing down at the black notebook in his hand. "Do you know what this is, Light-kun?"
Light's gaze flicked to it, then back up. "I can guess. But I'm sure you'll be dying to tell me."
L's voice was quiet, but carried easily across the space. "Every name I write here… their thoughts become mine. Every secret. Every lie. Every plan."
Matsuda swore under his breath. Aizawa's eyes widened.
Light gave a slow, polite nod. "Then you already know I'll kill you, sooner or later."
L's smile was faint. "Yes. And I already know how you'll try."
The words weren't just a challenge—they were a statement of fact. And Light realized with a flash of irritation that L was already laying the board for the next match.
The cameras kept rolling. The whole world had just watched Near die, only to see his legendary predecessor appear in his place. Governments would be scrambling. The FBI, the CIA, Interpol—they would all demand answers. And every single one of them would now look to L.
Which meant… Light's war had just escalated beyond Near.
This wasn't just survival anymore. If L truly had this "Mind Note," then the balance of power had shifted. And somewhere in the folds of this new chaos…
Light could feel it.
Other notebooks. Other abilities.
He didn't know how he knew—just that he did.
L took a slow step closer. "Light-kun… enjoy the rest of your day. I'll be seeing you very soon."
And then he walked past him, the faint smell of rain and dust trailing behind.
Light kept his eyes on L's retreating back.
In his mind, he was already dismantling him—piece by piece, possibility by possibility.
The god of the new world would not bow to a resurrected detective.
If there were other notebooks out there… Light would claim them all.
No one would stand in his way. Not Near. Not L. Not anyone.
And certainly not death.