"Near, I can't find that action figure," you mumbled, pushing you hair behind your ears.

"Hail?" a familiar voice called.

You looked up and gasped. "Mello? Mello!" You ran up to him and hugged him.

"What did you do to your hair?" he asked, nodding toward you.

You played with your hair. "I had it highlighted It. I thought it wou-"

"I don't like it," Mello told you.

"That's what I said," Near muttered, looking at a Lego piece.

You rolled your eyes.

Let's back up.

Your real name is Hikari, God only knows what your last name is. You have long brown hair and brown eyes, big and innocent. You're 18, and fourth in line to succeed the great L. Your best friends? They're the three in front of you, even though they don't really like each other. Your intelligence is slightly above average, and you have a few slight quirks. Nervous habits like cracking your knuckles and fidgeting and talking to yourself, among many other things. You have a large vocabulary and a creative mind. Your initiative is quite low, but you can think fast. You're fourth in line because of your great compassion to contrast the boys' hearts of stone. Right now, you're staring at Mello, who, for one reason or another, is burned at the face. So, of course, you're worried sick and cracking your fingers. Also, he was holding a gun to Near, but let it drop when he saw you, knowing it would probably push you over the edge with worry. You don't know what's going on, but you can probably guess because Mello is only predictable when he's fighting Near, making his inferiority complex everyone's problem.

Back to the story.

"Hail, why don't you come back with me for a while?" Mello asked casually.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Near growled.

"Aw, Near. I've been here a week. I want to go live with Mello for a while. No need to worry. I'll be back in a few days." You patted him on the shoulder. There was no reason not to go see Mello for a while. You packed a suitcase and left.

Near frowned and you thought you heard him say, "I wonder if I'll see her again."

You followed Mello to a car which brought you to a hideout. Inside was a couch with several people sitting on it, casually chatting to each other, the television on, showing something you couldn't see from your angle. The place smelled like sweat and blood and booze and chocolate and video game cases and cigarette smoke. Your head twirled with the disgusting smell men can somehow live with.

Wait a minute.

Video games? Cigarette smoke?

Oh, God.

You twirled to face Mello, who was next to you, introducing you as "Hail, a friend from Wammy's." He looked at you and smiled mischievously, as if to say, "Gotcha."

The sound on the television stopped and the screen went black.

"What's up, Matt?" one of the men asked a thin boy, hidden between two burly men. He stood noiselessly, as was his custom.

You eyed that boy. First you saw his boots, his jeans, a furry vest, gloved hands, striped long-sleeve shirt, cigarette, goggles, and the red hair.

"Hey, Matt," you said casually.

He raised an eyebrow. He took a drag of the cigarette then asked, "What did you do to your hair?"

"Oh, this? There are a few blonde highlights. I thought that I should change it a little," you told him.

"I don't like it," he said flatly. You frowned, but at least he let you explain, unlike Mello, and Near had just said "I don't like it" when you walked through the door. Your frown turned to a smile as your eyes met Matt's.

He walked over to you and held out his hand to shake.

"It's been a long time," you remarked.

"Too long," he breathed too quietly for you to comprehend.

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

Two sturdy palms pushed into your back and forced you into Matt's arms.

He caught you, as expected. Mello snickered behind you, as did a few of the smelly guys with him. You turned to them. They each pointed to someone different.