The new directive had settled upon the task force, giving them a renewed, if grim, sense of purpose. The phantom of Kira remained their ultimate goal, but the hunt for the corporeal devil wearing L's face was now their immediate priority.
It was Miss Marple who, after a long period of thoughtful silence, posed the first, most practical question. "If one is to hunt a fox," she began, her knitting needles clicking softly, "one must first know where its den is likely to be. We are looking for a man who can impersonate you, L, and who possesses a truly wicked understanding of human nature. Where, exactly, does one begin such a search?"
The room looked to L, who was methodically unpeeling a chocolate bar, breaking off each square with meticulous care. He did not look up as he gave his answer, his voice a quiet, simple statement that landed with the force of a physical blow.
"We are going to ask Light Yagami for help."
The statement was met with a stunned, collective silence. It was Captain Hastings who finally found his voice, sputtering with an indignation that spoke for everyone.
"Ask Light for help?" he exclaimed. "Poirot! Holmes! Have you ever heard such a thing? The boy is our prime suspect! We have him at the top of our list, and you wish to invite him into the very heart of our new inquiry? We are here, L! You have the finest deductive minds in history at your disposal, and you wish to consult a seventeen-year-old student?"
L finally looked up, his dark eyes sweeping over the dumbfounded faces in the room. "You are the world's greatest detectives," he agreed, his tone flat. "And that is precisely why you cannot be the ones to ask. You are looking for a culprit. I am looking for a state of mind."
He paused, letting his logic settle in the air before he began to build his case. "This is not a consultation," he explained, his voice taking on a clinical, analytical edge. "It is a test. A perfectly balanced equation. Light-kun is, by all accounts, a genius. His deductive skills are, for his age, truly exceptional. We will present him with all the known facts: Kido's confession, her claims of being ordered by 'L', and the clear impossibility of me being the one who gave that order. We will then ask for his analysis."
He looked directly at Hastings, then at Holmes. "Consider the two possible outcomes. Scenario one: Light applies his intellect to the problem and arrives at the only logical conclusion. He deduces that there must be an impostor, a second L, a brilliant manipulator who is playing a separate game. If he does this, it proves his deductive abilities are as formidable as we believe. It does not prove his innocence, but it would be the action of an innocent genius. My official suspicion of him would, therefore, have to be lowered."
He took a breath. "Then there is scenario two. Light, a confirmed genius, fails to arrive at this simple, logical conclusion. He instead offers a flawed theory. Perhaps he suggests Kido was delusional. Perhaps he suggests I am suffering from a split personality. Perhaps he tries to muddy the waters with convoluted ideas designed to lead us away from the simple truth of an impostor. If he does this," L's voice grew colder, "then we must ask ourselves why. Why would a brilliant mind deliberately choose the wrong path? The only reason would be because he already knows the truth is far more dangerous and is actively trying to conceal it. In that case, my suspicion of him will increase to over ninety percent."
The cold, brutal genius of the plan silenced the room. It was a perfect trap, a question where any answer, right or wrong, would reveal a deeper truth about the person being asked.
"To ensure the purity of the test," L concluded, "the interaction must be between him and me alone. He is already familiar with me as Ryuzaki. He is on his guard. The presence of any of you would be an unnecessary variable. You will all need to be out of my sight."
In the monochromatic wasteland of the Shinigami Realm, the air was filled with the grating sound of bone dice and the dry, listless laughter of bored gods. Ryuk, crunching on a withered, sand-like apple, drifted over to a particularly ancient Shinigami whose form seemed carved from desiccated, petrified wood.
"Hey, old man Nu," Ryuk cackled. "This new human, this B.B. The one the King brought back. I've been watching him. He has one of your special notebooks, and he was given the Shinigami Eyes. Isn't that a bit much? That much power in one human… it's not very sporting, is it?"
The elder Shinigami, Nu, slowly turned its head, the movement accompanied by the sound of cracking stone. Its single, glowing eye fixed on Ryuk.
"You see power, Ryuk," its voice rasped, a sound like boulders grinding together. "You do not see the vessel that holds it. Look closer at the human, Beyond Birthday."
Nu gestured with a long, twig-like finger towards a shimmering portal, a window into the human world that showed B.B. laughing in his darkened room.
"He has the Eyes. He has the Death Note," Nu continued. "And he despises them both. Especially the notebook."
Ryuk tilted his head, confused. "Despises it? Why? It's the ultimate tool!"
"Because it is a blunt weapon," the elder Shinigami explained, a strange hint of something like amusement in its ancient voice. "A hammer for a task that requires a brush. The boy does not want to simply end a life. That is a crude and uninteresting act. He believes Kira's work, for all its scale, is artless. A simple, repetitive execution. A boring display of power."
Nu's glowing eye seemed to narrow. "This human, B.B., he does not want to kill. He wants to paint. He wants to use the human soul as his canvas and their despair as his pigment. He wants to create masterpieces of manipulation, to prove that he can make any human do anything he wishes. The notebook is a shortcut he holds in contempt. He will only use it when he has no other choice. For him, the true art lies in breaking them long before their heart stops beating."