I have returned once more to the world of Death Note, dear readers! I apologize for the late-ness of this next story, though I doubt it really hurt anyone's feelings... But, moving on. I also apologize for any strange formatting, mistakes with the paragraphs; something seems to have happened in the translation and I can't fix it... Anyway, thank you for reading , and now I leave you with this story, which I hope you enjoy, of course.
I do not own Death Note.

Matsuda walked through the short corridor leading to the office, his chest puffed out with pride. He had finally completed the assignment given to him by L, the world's three greatest detectives, and did it perfectly to the letter. In his hands laid a small box filled with the reports of the latest Kira killings, the rest shredded into the tiniest pieces possible. He stormed into the office where L and Light were hard at work, scanning page after page of files on their computers, their hands free to type without driving the other crazy now that the long chain that had dangled between them for so long was gone. "Wow," Matsuda thinks, "first I'm left to work with two geniuses, and now I have a chance to impress them, to show them I'm not a screwup!" He grinned as the two young men glanced at him, eyebrows raised.
"Ah, Matsuda," L said. "You have finished the task I gave you, I presume?" Matsuda nodded eagerly and handed the box over to L, who then removed the first packet. He glances through the first page and frowns. "These are not the correct papers."
"Huh?" was all Matsuda could manage. Light stood up and strode over, looking over L's shoulder at the report the older detective held between his thumb and first finger.
"He's right, these are the old reports we told you to destroy," he said before returning to his seat. He almost began to dive back into his work, then stopped and turned around.
"Matsuda? Where are the other reports?" He looked as if he already knew, but said nothing else, just leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, one ankle resting against the opposite knee.
"W-well, I..." Matsuda started, rubbing the back of his head and blushing darkly. L asked, "Matsuda, please do not tell me you have shredded all the new documents." He already knew by he look on the man's face what the answer was. "I'm really sorry," Matsuda mumbled. He hung his head in shame like a dog that was being scolded for relieving itself on the carpet. L just sighed and shook his head, his thick black hair falling farther into his face. Light just closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long breath before speaking.
"Matsuda, 'I'm really sorry,' isn't going to bring those files back. Why didn't you check to make sure those were the correct ones? God, you are the most incompetent fool!" he grumbled.
"I think it would be best if you took the day off," L said evenly. "Light and I need some peace so that we can work on get all that work back."
"All that work is right. This'll probably set us back several days, maybe a week!" Light muttered. Matsuda just nodded and walked out, trying not to cry. He mentally kicked himself all the way down the hall to the exit.

How could I have been so stupid? he thought. Why can't I do anything right? Maybe I should just resign from the case and go back to being a regular police officer... By this time, he had managed to get out of the building and to the sidewalk. He trudged along, hands in pockets and head down. As soon as the thought hit him to quit, however, he stopped and his face set in determination. "No," he said out loud, not noticing that the streets were quiet, not caring. "I'm not going to just give up because of that. I'm going to show those two that I can do something right!" And with that, he set off to find that something, his spirits lifting at the thought of gaining the duo's respect.

He found himself wandering through the rougher parts of the city, looking for asome crime to stop. It was no easy feat. Since Kira first began killing, the crime rate had dropped dramatically. A few times during his walk, Matsuda sometimes even saw small groups of policemen just standing around, chatting and looking bored. They had nothing better to do, after all. There was so little crime, even on the roughest streets in the city. Finally, though, Matsuda heard a desperate scream.
"Help! Oh God, someone, please, help!" The sharp cry resounded from the next alley down, and Matsuda took off in a sprint, his heart pounding. He slid to a stop, looking down the alley and reaching for his gun. There in the alley were four burly men holding a young girl to the ground. Her big brown eyes were wide with fear, her shirt pulled up to expose a flat belly, and her pants pulled down. One of the men was crouching between her legs, about to pull her underpants down, while the other two had her arms and legs secured. "Stop! Police!" Matsuda yelled, forgetting to draw his gun. The men turned, angry at the fact that they were being interrupted. The biggest man, a monster of a human with bulging muscles, that towered a good six inches over Matsuda, stood up from his place between the girl's legs and glared down at the smaller man.
"And what are you going to do, kid? Take us all out by yourself? Not likely. Now, run on home to your mommy like a good boy and let us finish our business, or things are really going to get ugly," he growled. Matsuda could feel sweat dripping down the dip of his spine, but he ignored it and started to draw his gun. The man saw this and, moving as quickly as a cat, wrestled the gun away from the unsuspecting officer. Before Matsuda could react, he was laying flat on his back. Mud and filthy water splashed up and soaked into the back of his clothing, and his head struck the concrete with a resounding crack; for a moment, all he could see was stars. "Now, then, are you going to leave now?" the man said. Matsuda shook his head to say no, and the man's face reddened in anger. "Alright, then I guess we'll just have to show you the error of your ways. Guys? What do you think?"
All of his posse had left the girl now, save one who was still holding her down, one hand over her mouth so she couldn't scream again. The others gathered around the fallen man, leering hatefully. They just gathered around the man at first, then one landed a hard kick to his ribs. Matsuda yelped in pain and curled up on himself, but it did no good. Every strike landed, causing searing pain to flare up all over his body. He turned at one point and went face-to-face with a heavy black boot. He blacked out for just a moment, long enough that he didn't hear his own scream of agony, the crunching sound as his nose was crushed into his skull, or the shattering of his front teeth. Soon, he was reduced to a mere ball of moaning flesh, pleading for mercy and receiving none. He felt tears coursing down his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away; it hurt too much to move his arms from their places at his sides and stomach, which had taken the brunt of the brutality. Suddenly, the only thing he could see was the leader's face looming over him, grinning madly. "So," he said, "had enough yet?" Though it hurt to open his mouth even a fraction, he managed to whisper a single word: "No."
The man scowled, then straightened up. "Well, it seems you have forced my hand..." the man sighed. He strolled casually over to the place where Matsuda had first stood and scooped something up, something silvery. Matsuda whimpered when he realized what it was, then started scooting backwards the best he could. The leader stopped him quickly by placing one thick boot squarely on the officer's crotch and leaning most of his considerable weight on it. Matsuda groaned in pain, immediately motionless. "Now then, since you didn't leave when you had the chance, I guess I'm just going to have to get rid of you..." He motioned to two of his lackeys, who each grabbed one of his arms and held them straight out in a sick parody of a crucifix. "Well, you can't say I didn't warn you," the thug said with mock-sympathy, then aimed the gun at Matsuda's abdomen. Blast after blast went off, though after the first one Matsuda didn't hear much. Waves of pain rippled through his body like an earthquake. He felt his body jerk as the bullets ripped through his belly, shredding everything in their paths. Finally, the gun was empty, and the pressure on his arms disappeared. It took him a moment to realize that the men had left him now and returned to their first victim: the young girl. He could hear her screech in pain and fear, but he made no move to look or even twitch.
I guess they were right, Matsuda thought numbly. I'm a screw-up. Even now, I can't do anything to help. Maybe, had I just left and gotten help, I wouldn't be lying here, d- But he couldn't bring himself to think the word 'dying.' Instead, he lay there, trying not to think about how much he had messed up this time, trying to ignore the stench of the blood that was pooling around him and congealing, trying to ignore the lightness he felt throughout his body. Soon, he felt nothing at all. The white-hot agony had soon faded to a dull ache to nothing at all. The screams of the girl had gone quiet once more. He hoped for a moment that she wasn't dead, too, hoped that she still had a chance to tell her story and the story of the brave, young hero that had so valiantly come to her rescue and went down for her. He would have smiled sadly had he been able to move at all.
No, they won't remember you as a hero, he thought. They'll remember you as the impulsive fool who couldn't do anything but spill coffee, slow down the investigation, and get yourself killed... Well, at least they don't have to worry about me messing anything up for them now. With that thought came his final, shuddering breath, and his thoughts ended as his eyes stared, blank and unseeing, at the cruel grey sky.