Laughter
34
*Laughter*
The instrument to write with can be anything (cosmetics, blood, etc.) as long as it can write directly onto the Note and remain as legible letters.
Unusually, Fluttershy ended up sleeping in that morning. She had at first risen when Twilight had, of course, and had rushed through her dawn feeding and cleaning, but the night of little sleep had proved too much for her. As soon as the last feed bowl was full, she drifted back upstairs and buried herself under her covers. She spent the rest of the morning dozing contentedly and dreaming honeyed dreams, even the distant crackle of fireworks failing to wake her.
Around noon, however, it was a much softer noise that jolted her from her slumber.
Having spent much of her life around animals, Fluttershy was no stranger to unexpected noises. Although it had taken a few years of restless nights, she had learned to feel the movement of the cottage as an extension of herself, and now found it harder to sleep without the occasional scurrying of small critters inside it. She’d internalized every step they made, from the scratching of the birds to the heavy trodding of a bear, and tracked them in her mind even as she slept. That was how she knew that something was wrong.
Things were quiet when she startled awake. The sun was no longer shining; thin grey clouds were starting to roll back over the town. She lay frozen, her breath stopped, listening. All movement from below had ceased. Scuttling gave way to silence, the whole building echoing her, still, watching. And then, a faint noise, a thud somewhere below, a sound that she knew no animal of hers made.
A night from so long ago screamed before her eyes. Before the thought was even finished she had thrown herself from the bed, wings spread wide, a vengeful snarl growing on her face. Burglar.
She half-threw herself down the stairs, sweeping for intruders. All the animals were keeping to their corners, watching her warily. A flash of black licked at the corner of her eye and she twisted around, catching a shadow slipping away through the kitchen. She hissed and charged, horror-fuelled bile rising in the back of her throat as she pictured the drawer where she’d hidden the Death Note, so easily in reach...
All that fear dissipated as she entered the kitchen, discovering not a pony but a towering black monster dropping apples onto the counter. “Oh, Byuk, it’s only you,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”
“Oh, hey.” The god dropped the rest of his apples and turned to Fluttershy, taking in her still-raised wings and frazzled appearance. “Did I wake you up?”
“No, um... well, yes, but it’s okay. I should have been awake anyway.” For her own benefit, she squeezed around Byuk and peered into the drawer where she’d left the Note. It was still there, squeezed between her salt and pepper pots. The next time she saw Twilight, she would ask about a more clever hiding place. “I just wasn’t expecting you,” she continued, fears assuaged. “I thought you’d go with Twilight again.”
“Nah.” Byuk shrugged. “She has her own game to run now. Since you own the Death Note I dropped, I’m supposed to stay with you instead.” He grinned toothily. “I guess that means we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, huh?”
“I... guess.” Fluttershy edged around Byuk again, examining him. Up close, he was definitely more beast than pony. His hair was unevenly stiff and matted, more like fur than her own coat, and there was a stench to him like something that had been left in the dark for too long. Worse, there was no escaping the predatory curve of his mouth or overly-large teeth. Although it had been some time since the Mathilda Mouse incident, images of it still lurked in the back of her mind. I’m sure if think of him like a bear, or a big, cuddly lion, Fluttershy thought, we’ll get along just fine.
Byuk ignored her gaze, rearranging his fruits on the counter by order of size, and then picking up the largest, juiciest one. “Want an apple?” he said, crunching the first between his teeth. “It’s lunchtime for you, right?”
This was true. Fluttershy reached towards the smallest apple, grateful for the gesture, and then stopped and eyed the row suspiciously. “Where did these come from?” she asked, trying not to sound accusing.
“Found ‘em.” Byuk licked drops of juice from his apple, turning it over between bites. “Things got a lot easier for me after I realised I didn’t have to wait for Twilight to bring me apples all the time. I can just go out and pick them whenever I want.”
Fluttershy withdrew her hoof slowly. “Did you take these from Applejack’s orchard?” she asked. Byuk’s hesitation and look of dawning comprehension told her all she needed to know. “Did you steal these?”
Like a foal caught in an elaborate lie, the shinigami began shuffling back and forth in midair. “I thought no one would mind,” he wheedled. “It’s such a big orchard, and these are only a few apples...”
“No!” To Byuk’s shock and confusion, he found himself being batted lightly on the head with a rolled-up newspaper that was kept next to the fridge for this very purpose. Fluttershy scowled in between bats, scolding him. “No! Bad shinigami! We don’t take things that aren’t ours!”
Mortified and more than a little perplexed, Byuk withdrew from the physical plane, causing the next swing of the newspaper to pass through him. This also caused the last bite of apple to tumble straight through his claws and splat wetly on the floor. “Aw,” he mumbled, looking down.
Although the newspaper was no longer a threat, Fluttershy still hovered in front of him, folding her forelegs sternly in front of her. “As long as you’re living in our world, you have to follow our rules,” she said. “No more stealing. Promise?”
“Promise?” He tilted his head to the side. “What’s that?”
“Um...” Thrown slightly off her game, Fluttershy’s expression softened, and she took a moment to answer. “It’s where if you say you will do something, you will. And if you say you won’t do something, you won’t.”
“Huh.” This didn’t seem to satisfy him. “How’s that different than just saying things?”
“Because...” She settled to the floor, putting the newspaper aside. “Because it’s bigger. Anypony can say that they’re going to do something and then forget about it, or have something else come up, or just not do it because they’re mean. But if you promise something, you have to do it. Because if you don’t, nopony will ever trust you to do anything, ever again.”
“Oh, so it’s like a bet?”
“If that helps you understand it, then yes.” She decided not to confuse the matter further by delving into Pinkie Promises. “Now, do you promise you won’t steal any more?”
“Yeah.” Byuk knotted his claws together, looking vaguely excited by the concept. “I promise I won’t steal any more.”
“Good.” Fluttershy looked towards the remaining apples. Her stomach gurgled traitorously; she was hungry, and there wasn’t much else left in the cottage. “You can’t return these now that they’ve been picked,” she said. “So since you’ve already had one, you can help me pass the rest of these out for lunch. And as soon as we know what’s going to happen to the orchard, you and I are going to volunteer to clean up the mess from the storm to make up for this.”
“Okay.” Still grinning, Byuk swept up a legful of fruits and floated away to the main room. Fluttershy followed with the rest, going over her last few sentences in her head. I guess Sweet Apple Acres belongs to Apple Bloom now, she realised. Poor filly. I hope she’ll be okay.
She spent the next few minutes sorting apples into bowls along with regular feed, taking inventory as she went. The creatures who lived in the cottage crept out more cautiously than usual, sensing an unfamiliar presence in their midst. All the while, Byuk continued to pepper Fluttershy with questions. “Can a promise be anything?” he asked, crushing apples and flinging them into bowls haphazardly. “Could you promise that you would turn into an apple?”
“I could,” Fluttershy answered, pouring out grain, “but it wouldn’t be a good idea. You should only make promises that you know you can keep.” She reconsidered, remembering some of Twilight’s more experimental spells. “And even if I could, I still wouldn’t, because turning into an apple wouldn’t be a good idea. You should only promise things that are important, either to you or somepony else.”
“Okay.” Byuk nodded firmly, as though making a mental list. “Sort of like the Death Note. You can write anything, but only things that can and would happen work.” He held out an intact apple to a wary squirrel. “What happens if I keep a promise all the way to the end? Do I win something?”
“Well... kind of. The more promises you keep, the more ponies know that they can trust you. And the more trusted you are, the happier ponies will be around you. But if you ever break a promise, even once, you’ll have to earn that trust all over again.” She hesitated. In his strange, foal-like logic, promises really were starting to sound like some kind of betting game. “But remember, some promises are just for a little while, and some promises are forever.”
“Forever. Gotcha.” He held out the apple a little further, only for the squirrel to wrinkle its nose and dart away across the floor. “Aw, don’t be like that! Little fella?” The god charged after it, sending more critters scurrying across the floor and walls. Puzzled, he straightened up. More animals were glaring in his direction, not only at the apples he held, which to them would have appeared to be floating unsupported, but at his entire body. “What’s gotten into them?” he asked, drifting experimentally across the cottage. “They can’t see me, right?”
“Um... I have an idea.” The answer, which had been lingering on the edge of Fluttershy’s senses for a while now, was slowly starting to fill the room. “Um... Byuk...” She turned towards him, blushing and looking down. “When you... that is... after you eat an apple... where does it... go?”
He looked at her blankly. “Go?”
“I mean, um... do you... poop?”
“Do I... Oh! No, I don’t do that.” He shook his head. “Shinigami organs are super evolved... or is it devolved? I forget how it works. Even though we can eat things, we don’t need to. The Death Note does everything to keep me alive. Most of my internal organs don’t really do anything.”
“I see.” Fluttershy gulped. “So whenever you eat an apple, it just...”
“I guess it just stays... inside... me...” He paused. Byuk looked down at his belly. He tapped one talon against it and felt something slosh. Just like that, everything clicked. “You mean...”
“I’m afraid so,” Fluttershy confirmed, covering her nose. A few animals did the same. There was no denying it; Byuk stank of rotting and fermented apples.
“So that smell is me?” Experimentally, Byuk phased out of the material plane. The apples he held tumbled to the floor, but those inside of him did not. The decayed remains were now a part of his body. “I was wondering why everything smelled so delicious lately,” he commented.
“That’s... nice.” Now that she’d identified it, the smell seemed to cling to everything. Fluttershy coughed, her appetite gone. “Is there any way to get them out?” she asked.
“I... don’t know.” Byuk shrugged. “I guess they’ll rot into nothing eventually. Everything does.”
“Will that take a while?”
“Probably.”
Fluttershy gulped. Patient as she was, she wasn’t sure she would be able to put up with this on a permanent basis. “Maybe if you tried eating nice-smelling things?” she offered.
“Would that help?”
“We could try.” She quickly tossed out the rest of her apples and hastened to the door, sniffing for some fresh air. “I was planning to go to the market today for some supplies anyway,” she added, grabbing her saddlebags. “Would you like to come with me and see what we can find?”
“Sure.” Byuk drifted after her and the pair went outside.
There was a faint breeze, and the smell wasn’t as noticeable in the outdoors. Fluttershy breathed a sigh of relief, releasing tension she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. It felt strange, given how much had happened in the past month, but as she trotted into town, her foul but well-meaning companion by her side, it almost felt like nothing had changed at all.
---
“See you tomorrow!” Colgate called, exiting the base. She got a few tired waves in return. It had been a long, productive day; Twilight and the others were currently moving a bed directly into the kitchen so that Rainbow Dash wouldn’t have as far to walk in the morning. It seemed a shame to leave them, but Colgate pushed herself on and up the stairs. She had other duties to take care of.
“Night already?” she remarked as she emerged into the park. The hours had gone by even faster than she’d thought. Still, the last echoes of sunlight could be seen in the western sky; enough time to get some work done, the policemare reckoned. She set off for her office at a light trot, still mulling over the events of the day in her mind.
After taking an hour to locate L’s lab, which turned out to be in a large box stuffed under her desk, her forensics work on the mysterious ashes the Death Note had been found in had turned up nothing. Literally, nothing; no matter what instrument she used, magical or physical, the grey dust refused to react or register on any scale. She’d eventually turned the whole thing over to Twilight, who reported exactly the same results. By any scientific measure, the dust did not exist. She’d expected that this would drive Twilight nuts, but the studious mare seemed more concerned with poring through L’s seemingly limitless supply of old notes.
And as for Citrus Green... Colgate ground her teeth at the thought. Now there was a real piece of work. It wasn’t surprising that a “friend” of Kira wanted her dead. But when it came to the identity of the friend they were still grasping at straws, and of Citrus Green herself they’d found no sign of her whereabouts. Like the rest of Equestria, they would have to sit tight and wait for more news to come. Luckily for her they hadn’t been able to discover any pictures of her, just her name, but if a new Kira did manage to reach her before they did...
There was a cough, and Colgate jolted to the side, looking around in a panic. Instead of an attacker, though, she only saw Locket, standing silently by her side. “Oh, it’s you,” Colgate breathed, relaxing. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”
Locket gave her a tired stare, not meeting her eyes. “I’ve been walking next to you since we left the base,” she mumbled. “I thought you knew.”
“...Oh.” She tried not to show a wince. “Sorry. Guess I was more lost in thought than I realised.” Even so, she couldn’t help but be a little impressed. She’d been trained specifically to stay aware of her surroundings at all times, yet without even trying Locket had effortlessly vanished into the background. It started to give her an idea.
“Um... this... this is my street,” Locket said, scraping at the ground. “I just... didn’t want to spend another night at the base. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned away and started walking, her tail if not her head hanging low.
Colgate swore at herself for hesitating. “Linky?”
The mare stopped, looking only partway back. “You don’t have to call me that,” she said quietly. “Locket’s fine. It’s safer.”
Colgate ignored this. “Look, are you sure you’re all right?” she asked, approaching her. “You’ve been looking down ever since L died.”
Locket was quiet for a moment. “Are you asking me to leave?” she whispered.
“No!” Colgate drew closer. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Is there anything you want to talk about?”
“...No.” That seemed to be it, at first. Colgate turned away, but didn’t start walking. She counted down to herself, and was only off by one when Locket blurted out, “Except L was Kira.”
Bingo. Colgate subtly looked around. Out in the open wasn’t the best place to be having this conversation; still, even though she detected some faint, distant movement as the town settled in for the night, they were currently safely alone on the street. Locket was still only half-looking at her, but a slight quiver had come to her lower lip. “I trusted her,” she continued haltingly, having the sense to keep her voice low. “And I thought she trusted me. I worked for her for years without a problem. I mean, she was rude sometimes, but... she gave me everything, when no one else would even give me a second glance. Thanks to her I found a home, a job, a coltfriend... a purpose. And now I’m supposed to believe she was a psychotic killer?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Colgate nodded sympathetically, biting her lip. The last thing she wanted to do now was talk over her. Once she thought she’d waited long enough, she spoke. “But-”
“But it’s not just her,” Locket continued, turning towards her. “It’s Bon Bon. It’s Big Mac. It’s... it’s all of you.” She took half a stumbling step back. “No one’s ever asked to be my friend and meant it. Bon Bon just wanted me for my emotions. Mac just needed a cover story. And now you’re trying to c-cozy up to me too...” She gritted her teeth and looked down. “Is everyone I trust going to turn into monsters?”
A shrill wind blew. Colgate gulped and abandoned her initial plan of a hug, although she began to suspect that she would soon need one herself. “I was there when he said goodbye to you,” she said, deliberately using neither of her names. “I saw the way he looked at you. Do you really think you meant nothing to him?”
Locket didn’t answer, instead swishing her tail in time with the wind. “I can’t take this any more,” she eventually said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want anything to do with friendship. Not with you, not with Twilight, not with anyone. I can’t be lied to like that again. I just can’t. And if that means I can’t be on the team any more...” She made as if to walk away. “Then that’s okay.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Risking some physical contact, Colgate reached out and pulled Locket’s chin up towards her, looking her dead in the eyes. “I’m not giving up on you that easily. Like it or not, you’re one of us now. We need you.”
Locket squirmed away. “I said I can’t,” she argued, some familiar testiness returning to her voice. “I can’t buy into Twilight’s game any more. If you want to try to beat Kira with friendship, that’s fine, but you can count me out. I won’t be suckered into that kind of stuff again.”
“Exactly!” Colgate blurted. She didn’t at first know why, but then carried on as it clicked. “Can’t you see you’re exactly who we need right now?”
Locket didn’t answer. Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Colgate looked around again, this time conspiratorially. “Look,” she said. “I believe in Twilight’s philosophy, I really do, but the fact remains that we have two very angry gods of death hunting us down. If they ever regain even a fraction of their power, that means that we’re at a higher risk than ever of being controlled or killed, especially those of us whose names they know. That means that we need somepony on the team who’s good at watching, somepony who doesn’t trust anyone, not even me. Especially not me. Do you understand?”
There was still no response, so she continued. “Technically, I’m your boss now, and I think you’re due for a promotion. If I’m going to be the anti-Lyra, then I want you to be the anti-Bon Bon. Watch over us. Distrust us. Keep us safe from each other. Be the mare who’ll go down in the background of the history books.” She smiled. “Sideline.”
Locket finally moved, twitching once, the corner of her mouth quivering up into what Colgate dared to think was a hopeful expression. “Does... does that mean...” Finally, there was a smile. “A pay rise?”
Colgate had to laugh. “Of course,” she said. “And your own uniform too, as soon as we can find it, and free run of the base. I won’t ask you to cook and clean, though. We’ll share those jobs.” She looked back in her original direction thoughtfully. “In fact, if you like, I can formally sign you on as a deputy of the Ponyville police. Under a false name, of course. That would get you an official salary, and I might get some pressure taken off me if I’m seen to start hiring. Really, it would be helping everyone.”
“I... I’d like that.” Locket grinned shyly, but quickly hid it. “But you’re just my boss, okay? Nothing else.”
“Nothing else,” Colgate echoed. “And that’s just fine.”
They continued towards the police station, Colgate leading the way. She’s right to distrust me, though, she thought to herself, trotting slightly ahead. I am being deceitful, after all. But this time... this time, it’ll be different. She glanced back at Locket, only to look away when she saw the mare obediently staring at her. If Twilight can save Equestria by befriending a monster, then what kind of peacekeeper would I be if I can’t even befriend you?
This thought didn’t last long. As the station drew into view, Colgate stopped in her tracks. “Oh no,” she gasped, seeing a glint of white get sharper against the moonlight. “No, no, no!” She ran forwards, ignoring Locket’s questions, her eyes focused only on the rustling page on her door.
By the time Locket caught up, Colgate’s horn had lit up. The letter was ripped away in a blue flash and flung towards Locket, who clumsily caught it. She rapidly scanned the page, blinking at some of the names, then looked to Colgate. “What does this-”
Colgate wasn’t listening. Paying no heed to the note, she focused her magic, wincing against her inner sprain, and ever so carefully removed the metal spike that had held the page in place. She glared hard at the hole this left, then at the tool itself, and then hurled it down and threw her head back. “Ace!” she shouted, her voice echoing down the streets. “Stop nailing things to my door!”
---
Wysteria blinked her lights happily. She’d gone through a lot of information today, much more than she ever got to look at during her routine maintenance. On top of that, she’d gotten to run a full system restore on her sister Minty, who’d temporarily dropped off the grid. Being an abacus, even an advanced one, she could not feel or comprehend emotions in the same way that ponies did, but the way the excess information flooded across her wooden surfaces made her inner crystals shimmer with the closest she could approximate to a feeling of giddiness. Whoever her new operator was, she hoped that they would be together for a long time.
Lacking eyes, Wysteria could not fully appreciate how central she was to her surroundings. She was suspended by thick wires and metal struts in the middle of a dark, narrow stone room, her pulsing rubies lighting her up like a beating heart. A wooden staircase ascended up to her front. Tracks on the floor allowed it to be rotated to any of her sides, but it spent most of its time lined up with her main input face, where her new operator currently sat. A pair of stratoscreens built into her surface rapidly scrolled through the information he’d requested, with a third on the staircase itself writing an incredibly lengthy log of accessed files.
While she had no sense of what ponies looked like, she had learned to recognize her users by the vibrations of their magic and the way they moved her beads. Her regular operator was quick and not at all gentle, as bored as she was in her update routines. Another one sometimes stepped in and used her hooves, which tickled, but did little to relieve the monotony. This new pony was slow, and clumsy, and made a lot of mistakes, but he was absolutely relentless in his movements, not even slowing down between requests. Thanks to him, a non-stop stream of data had been flowing through her for close to eight hours. Had she understood the word, Wysteria might have thought she was falling in love.
She could not detect her chamber’s door opening, and did not know that her most favorite pony of all was about to enter the room. She did, however, note that at that point in time, her new operator’s speed markedly increased.
Warm Quilt surveyed the room as she entered. The other three adults gave her quick glances, but only one snapped to attention. Aside from Wysteria and her viewing platform, the room’s only other features were a pair of stratoscreen-fitted writing desks in the rather cramped area near the door, as well as a massive pile of blank paper that had partly fallen over. Information trickled across every screen in unbroken lines, following Shells’ unceasing commands. “How is he?” Warm Quilt asked, looking over his stiffened frame with concern.
The other unicorn of the group answered. “He’s read... everything,” he said, eyes similarly fixed. “He’s been like this all day, even while eating. First the internal files, then the recovered logs, news reports, death statistics, and now I think he’s trying to memorize the almanac or something. He’s gone through parts of the investigation that even we haven’t had time to cover yet. I don’t know how much of the information he’s actually retained, but I have to admire his perseverance if nothing else.”
“Hm.” Warm Quilt took another look around the room, squinting carefully into the dark corners. “Where is Sideline?” she asked once she was certain that the cloaked mare was not actually in the room.
“She went out to get snacks. It’s pretty late.” The grey unicorn checked his watch; it was close to midnight. Nearby, a yellow earth pony was slumped in the room’s only chair, his head on the desk and his eyes half-open.
“Ma’am! Ma’am!” the team’s remaining pony, a pegasus, said loudly. She performed a three-legged hop up to Warm Quilt’s side, her front leg seemingly stuck to her forehead in a salute. She was short for a grown pony, almost the same height as Shells, and occasionally fluttered to be at eye level with everyone else. “We finished our analysis of the Ponyville abacus’ logs,” she continued, trying and failing to prevent her lips from twitching up into an eager smile. “The records stop after the early-morning update, but thanks to this cool trick Kaidan did with resonance, we were able to pinpoint the exact moment when the crystals were destroyed!”
Warm Quilt had already started to walk towards Shells’ platform, taking care not to step on any strewn papers, but paused and looked back with interest. “That’s nice, Burning Bridge,” she said, then continued forward again.
“But wait! There’s more!” Burning Bridge hopped along beside her, still chattering. “Because around noon today, that same abacus came back online! And that means that it wasn’t the emergency protocol like we thought, which is why we couldn’t decrypt any more information! It was sabotage!” She slowed a little. “I mean, L still hasn’t sent us anything, so I guess we were right about that part at least. But still! It means that somepony out there was destroying evidence!”
Warm Quilt looked back again. “That’s nice, Burning Bridge,” she repeated, a little more pointedly.
“And that means that the last L must have come within a hair of catching Kira!” Burning Bridge finished, hopping excitedly.
This time Warm Quilt didn’t respond at all, simply marching up to the first step of the viewing platform. “Shells!” she called.
The colt froze, much to Wysteria’s disappointment. “Yes, Mammy?” he croaked.
Smiling, Warm Quilt ascended the stairs and came up behind him, nuzzling his unburned side. “I expected you downstairs an hour ago,” she said gently. “I’ve been waiting to tuck you in. Did you lose track of time?”
“A little,” he said. “This is really fun.”
“Someday, when your training’s done, you’ll be able to do this all the time.” She pulled him away from the machine. “But growing heroes need their sleep, too. You’ll have just as much time to study tomorrow. Won’t you get some rest?”
“...All right.” While the unicorn at the far end of the room gagged, Shells allowed himself to be led down the stairs by his hoof. At the bottom he halted and looked around the room as though he’d never seen it before, blinking at each of the other members of his team in turn. “Who are they?” he asked, drawing close to Warm Quilt’s side.
“There, there,” she comforted him, while the grey unicorn mouthed Are you kidding me? to the others. “They’re your new assistants,” she said. “You’ll be working with them from now on. Didn’t you meet them when you came in?”
Burning Bridge finally lowered her leg, but only after it had started to shake. “Sideline didn’t let us near him until he’d already been set up,” she said. “We’ve never actually been introduced.” She put on a friendly smile and started to reach out to shake his hoof, but quickly thought better of the idea.
With a series of precise prods, Warm Quilt pushed Shells forwards. “Shells, these are Kaidan, Asphodel and Burning Bridge,” she told him, gesturing to the unicorn, earth pony and pegasus in turn. “Aliases, of course. They work in this part of the facility and they’ll do their best to help you. We’re also expecting a fourth pony, one who may be able to fill in some of the blanks in our knowledge. If he’s still alive, he’ll be arriving by train in the morning.”
“Okay.” Shells’ good eye moved with surprising rapidity over his new companions, taking in only specific, unexpected details: not Burning Bridge’s height, but her quivering smile; not Asphodel’s sleepiness, but his visible ribs; not Kaidan’s leer, but the unusually sharp cut of his mane. He did give this last subject a more complete once-over, though, and stepped towards him on stiffened legs. “You’re from Neighpon, right?” he said slowly.
Kaidan smirked. “Real sharp eyes you’ve got there, kid,” he snarked. The sarcasm wasn’t entirely unwarranted; he was practically a model cut of a pony from the far east. It wasn’t just his shape that gave him away - his legs slender, his face angular, even his eyes seemingly made from nothing but hard lines - but his colour, or rather, his lack of it. Instead of any familiar pastel shade, his coat seemed to grow in a dotted greyscale, surrounded by a faint blackness that shifted from position to position, as though the light was falling across him at a different angle to everyone else. Despite the foreignness of the rest of him, however, his voice carried no trace of an accent.
“He is,” Warm Quilt confirmed, as Shells was still looking up at the stallion expectantly. “He’s a refugee. And that’s the last we’ll speak of it.”
“Mm-hm.” Kaidan sauntered over, looking with disdain across the colt’s ruined face. “So, kid,” he said, leaning against a desk, “word from below is that you’re some kind of super-genuis. How about you give us a taste of what you’ve been doing all day, huh?” He leaned forward. “Who’s our current suspect in the Kira investigation?”
Instead of answering, Shells froze up like a foal who’d been called on in class. He stammered, his brows furrowed in desperate thought. After several long, painful seconds of this, Kaidan shook his head to cut him off. “All right, maybe you’re still putting that together,” he laughed. “Have an easier one. What’s the most common demographic that Kira killed during the random period over the last two weeks?”
Again, nothing but stammering, this time punctuated by a drawn-out “Ummmmm...”
Kaidan raised an eyebrow. “Name any victim from the past week.”
There was an even longer, tremble-filled pause. By this point Burning Bridge was trying not to stare, and even Asphodel had found the strength to pull his head off the desk and watch in confusion.
All traces of humor left Kaidan’s face. “What do Kira’s victims die of?”
Warm Quilt didn’t have to speak to interrupt him. The shifting of a few faint wrinkles was all it took for her to put on a face that could set hay on fire from fifty yards. It read: Say another word to my baby and there is no level of torment in Tartarus that will compare to what I will do to you. “Don’t let him bother you, sweetie,” she said to Shells, who was still wearing an expression of fear and awe that belonged on a pony a fraction of his age. “You’re doing fine. It’s his job to ask difficult questions, that’s all.”
Shells nodded shakily. “Mammy?” he said, looking up at her. “I was wondering... When I’m done reading, will I get to go to Ponyville soon?”
“No.” The word came out with a forced quality to it; the others suspected it was one she did not say very often. “Ponyville isn’t safe, little one. For everypony’s safety it’s best if you stay here, where we can look after you. You’d be best to put that horrid little place out of your mind.”
“...Okay.”
The door opened and Sideline floated in in the form of a cloaked shadow, bearing a tray of sandwiches cut into triangles. Shells perked up a little upon seeing her. He strode quickly forward and stuck his head inside her hood; no light or sound gave away what passed between them inside of it. When he withdrew his head, however, much of the fear and uncertainty had vanished from his face. “Mammy?” he said. “Can’t I stay up just a little longer?”
“Well...” She made a show of biting her lip and looking around thoughtfully, although her eventual answer was apparent from her first word. “All right,” she said. “Just twenty more minutes, okay?”
“Okay.”
With a quick kiss on the colt’s cheek, Warm Quilt left, casting another stern glance at Kaidan on her way out. Once the door was shut, Shells took one of the proffered sandwich slices, swallowed it without chewing, and looked up at Sideline with all seriousness. “I have to use the bathroom,” he announced. Sideline nodded, put her tray down beside Asphodel, and took Shells by the hoof and led him out of the room.
“S-sir?” Burning Bridge called. In the time it took for him to stop and look back, she had already hopped across the room to him and straightened into another salute. “We’re all really excited to work for you,” she said, smiling brightly.
Shells received the compliment expressionlessly. “...Thanks,” he said, then allowed Sideline to lead him out into the hallway.
The moment the colt’s hoofsteps had faded out of earshot, Kaidan burst into a sharp trot and sharper cry of frustration. “This is ridiculous,” he griped, pacing rapidly back and forth in the confined space. “This is a joke, right? Do we all understand that? Are we all on the same page? This can not be happening.”
“Aw, don’t be mean,” Burning Bridge retorted, stomping lightly in time with his turns. “You were being a teensy bit hard on him. Maybe he’s just a slow starter. Besides, isn’t his mom just the sweetest thing?”
“The kid needs help to go to the bathroom!” Kaidan exploded, jutting his hoof furiously at the door. “That is not normal! I’m sorry, but if we’re going to catch the monster who killed the smartest detective in the world then we need the best, not some half-formed fetus of a detective whose mommy thinks he’s special! We could have got some actual work done today if that colt hadn’t spent all day hogging the abacus! And here was me thinking he was some kind of idiot savant,” he added, shaking his head, “but no! He reads through everything we’ve got and can’t remember any of it! What in the ひづめ is the point of foalsitting this brat?”
Asphodel, whom the others had suspected had actually fallen asleep by this point, finally spoke. “I’ve heard it said that the mind of a child is as a blank canvas,” he said in a sonorous voice, lifting himself up. “Once they have learned the patterns printed upon it, they begin to repeat it themselves, until they have crafted their entire worlds into nothing but what they have been taught.”
Kaidan snorted. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means a younger mind is better,” Burning Bridge interjected. “The earlier a foal learns a task, like solving crimes, the better they’ll be at it in the long run. And the blanker that canvas is, the fewer distractions they’ll have.” She hesitated. “Right?”
Asphodel blinked at her. “Well, no, but that’s a lot better than what I’d come up with.” He rolled over in his chair and grabbed a sandwich, chewing absentmindedly on it. “Look, I didn’t used to work here on Second, right?” he continued. “When I first got here, I did deliveries. Mostly food, sometimes weird stuff for First, nothing you wouldn’t expect. But then one day, I got a great big package marked to go all the way down to Eighth. I didn’t even know we had eight floors until then.
“They wouldn’t let me go all the way down, of course. I got stopped by a guard at the bottom of Fourth; big scary-looking guy, muscles like boulders. So I pass the package off to him, and you know what, he drops it. Not as strong as he looked. Then the top spilled open, and do you know what was inside?”
The others waited for the answer, but Asphodel just kept chewing. “What?” Burning Bridge gasped, eyes wide.
Asphodel gulped. “Sorry, my tongue got stuck,” he said. “There’s a lot of peanut butter on these things.” He admired the remaining half of his sandwich. “She sure does layer the stuff on thick, huh? Wonder if she’s really a pony under that hood of her-”
“What was in the box?” Kaidan growled impatiently.
Asphodel looked him in the eye. “Foal bottles,” he said. “Dozens of them. All great big ones, all empty. I asked the guard what for - bad idea, I know, but I was shocked - and you know what he said? ‘It makes it easier.’ Nothing else. Just that.”
Burning Bridge’s eyes fought to get wider. “You mean-”
“I don’t mean anything,” Asphodel said calmly. “That’s just what I saw.” He leaned back. “As is, it stands that for whatever reason, the behavior of our new boss isn’t an anomaly,” he said. “We also have no reason to doubt that the L before this one started in much the same way, and he, as you helpfully pointed out, Kaidan, turned out to be the smartest detective in the world. Perhaps it will simply take time.”
“See? Told you.” Burning Bridge playfully stuck her tongue out at Kaidan. “You just gotta have faith.”
“...Ugh, fine! Creeps me the 羽 out either way.” Kaidan resumed his pacing. “But that doesn’t change anything. I don’t care if he’s going to be a great leader someday, he’s a mewling infant now, and Equestria is in danger now. One of us should have been the new L, not him. What possible qualifications could he have that we don’t?”
“That is the hole in this theory of ours,” Asphodel admitted, reaching for another sandwich. “No matter the circumstances, a mind scoured clean should never learn from battle alone; it wouldn’t survive.”
“You can say that again,” Kaidan muttered. “But if Eighth isn’t incompetent and there is some purpose behind this, then what are we missing?”
At that moment, the doors to the narrow room crashed open, narrowly missing Burning Bridge. A dark-coated guard in pearly white armour stumbled in, panting for breath, then looked around in growing confusion. “Sirs, ma’am,” he breathed, “has the situation been taken care of?”
“What situation?” Burning Bridge asked, recovering first.
“The... the colt, from downstairs,” the guard said, looking uncertain. “He said that a fight had broken out, and Wysteria was in danger of burning down. He was in an awful panic, too. Was that not the case?”
Kaidan winced, already pulling the pieces together with mounting horror. “What room were you guarding until just now?” he asked.
“Why, the teleportation lounge, sir.”
The three investigators looked at each other, then all moved at once. Kaidan disappeared in a flash of light, stumbling as he rematerialized outside the door, while Asphodel staggered out of his chair and shoved the guard out of the way. Burning Bridge leaped onto Asphodel’s back and bounced off of him into the lead, colliding with Kaidan as he righted himself and sending all three of them tumbling against the far wall. In seconds they were up again and pushing past each other down the white hallway, knocking another confused guard aside as they entered a wide stairwell.
One floor up led them into a large, circular room, filled with all manner of bizarre sights. A dozen ponies were at work at stations set up in concentric rings around the central staircase, some taking notes, some swirling test tubes, some poking a small, round object with a stick. They only filled a small fraction of the space; during the day, a hundred ponies might fill all the stations quite comfortably. There were some desks covered in chemical vials, some with faintly glowing masks, some with machines that seemed to do nothing but beep, all strewn together with no clear pattern. A caged manticore slept near one wall, while a large, opaque pod bubbled faintly opposite it. The three investigators ignored all of this, however, zeroing in on one of the four hallways that extended from the central room. A bright light was beginning to shine through the cracks in the door at its end.
“No, no, no!” Kaidan yelled, charging into the lead. He jostled a desk as he ran, causing a large vial to tip over and begin to fall from the edge in exaggeratedly slow motion (hours later, when the morning shift began, a young scientist would notice it missing and catch it seconds before it hit the ground) but made it to the far end of the room unscathed. He reached the door just as a loud bang of teleportation magic hurled it open, blowing his mane back and smothering him in an expanding cloud of white smoke.
“Hoo-ee!” Burning Bridge said as she caught up, flapping her wings to clear the air. “That’s gonna be one rough landing.”
“Oh, that stupid...” Kaidan stomped into the room, blinking through the smoke that filled it. Already fans near the ceiling were starting to clear away the magical residue, revealing a circle of stunned unicorns on a slightly raised platform in the middle of another circular room. Each of them was strapped into a comfortable-looking chair, filling five of the eight available seats. Although they were immobile, they weren’t prisoners; the black bands easily slid off, and in fact two of them had already removed some of their bonds to look at the new arrivals. Kaidan stormed up to one of these and thrust an accusing hoof under her chin. “You,” he growled. “Did a burned colt and a cloaked mare just teleport out of here?”
“Y-yeah,” the mare answered. He thought she looked young, maybe the same age as his daughter, and had the expression of somepony upon whom it was slowly dawning that they’d just made a terrible mistake. “It, um, it was s-sudden, but they had ei-eighth-level clearance. Eighth! I didn’t even know we had eight floors!”
“Really? I did,” the stallion next to her quipped calmly.
“That was not cleared, you idiot! You just helped them escape!” Kaidan threw back his hoof and then held it there, hesitating as panicked tears came to the mare’s eyes. He heard a concerned cough from behind him and relented. “And where did they end up? No, no, let me take a wild freaking guess,” he grumbled, throwing his raised hoof over his face. “Ponyville?”
“Well, y-yeah,” the mare said, her breathing shallow. “That’s what he asked for. But the c-colt, um, the colt cast a spell while we were casting. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He wasn’t supposed to do that!”
Ignoring her growing panic, Kaidan stomped back to his waiting partners. Asphodel raised an eyebrow as he neared. “If the colt interrupted the casting, they could have landed as much as half a mile away from the lodestone,” he said. “Between that and that cloak, they’ll be nigh-impossible to track.”
Kaidan kept his raised hoof where it was, gingerly pinching the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe we fell for that,” he groaned. “Really. Us. Seriously. Unbelievable.”
“You think that whole thing was an act? He really was a genius?” Burning Bridge asked, following Kaidan as the unicorn stomped out of the lounge. “So much for a mind scoured clean, huh?” she added, nudging Asphodel with a smirk.
“Clever enough to slip from under our noses, at least,” Asphodel admitted. “What does that say about us, I wonder?”
“You know what?” Kaidan snapped. “I don’t want to think about that right now. Or ever.” He shook his head to clear the last of the smoke from it, leading the way back into the main chamber. “You know what? It’s fine. We all got what we wanted. You two got your super-genius, slugs-for-brains back there got to go to Ponyville, and I get to work in peace. Everypony wins.”
“Perhaps,” Asphodel said. “And yet, there’s one small detail that I can’t help but wonder about...” He stopped and tapped a few times at the floor. “Just a minor piece of trivia, nothing to obsess over, but I happen to know that the punishment for disobedience on the fourth floor alone is banishment. Do either of you happen to know, off the tops of your heads, what will happen to us if a mare from Eighth finds out that we’ve managed to lose her star pupil?”
Kaidan froze, and Burning Bridge bumped into his flank. The three of them looked back and forth at each other blankly. Then they all turned around and ran, pushing and shoving past each other back into the teleportation lounge.
---
Twilight Sparkle ignored the distant bang as she pushed her way back into the library. She carefully lifted off her saddlebags, which were packed tight with some of her books and supplies from the base, and then lay down on the floor right in the front room. “What a day,” she mumbled exhaustedly.
Her time after the fireworks that morning had been a whirlwind of activity. Between setting up Rainbow Dash’s living conditions, exploring the base, and collaborating with Colgate on her own work, she felt like she’d been running back and forth all day. Most of her time, however, had been spent poring over L’s literally rooms full of notes from her old cases - presumably before receiving Minty she had done everything this way - looking for any clue to her origins. It was slow going, even for a world-class study master; it had taken her until dinnertime to figure out that large sections of it weren’t written in code, but merely extremely sloppy writing and inconsistent shorthand.
It wasn’t until after sundown that she’d finally made a breakthrough. While the notes were well organized, they suffered from being extremely specific, with no overview of what context they’d been written in; it would have taken an encyclopedic knowledge of every criminal case from the past decade to figure out what any particular folder was referring to. Eventually, however, in the midst of the mountains of useless and unconnected information, Twilight finally found a pattern: L was reporting to someone. It seemed that before receiving her own abacus, she had gotten most of her information from an outside source which she referred to as Second. Most logs from the past year began with a list of statistics from them, formatted identically to the ones found from Minty.
There was infuriatingly little information on Second, despite L’s apparent relationship with them, but one other connection did start to emerge. While nearly all of her contacts were written as acronyms, one in particular, referenced in only the most unusual of cases, was referred to simply as “He.” “He denies any involvement,” was a recurring phrase, as was “He claims no knowledge of these events.” At the end of one report, Twilight found a frantically scribbled “He reports a connection to...” Uniquely, the remainder of that file was missing, and the rest of that particular page appeared to have been chewed off.
Some sort of liaison officer, maybe? Twilight speculated, collecting her thoughts. If Second was the group secretly pulling L’s strings, then “He” might have been her contact with them... but L also didn’t seem to trust him, either, which is worrying. Why wasn’t she allowed her own abacus right away? What secrets was she afraid he was hiding? And if L had a means of contacting him... can we locate it?
For the moment, there was little point in wondering. The notes she’d found would give her several days’ worth of work to do, and she suspected that it would take them weeks to search every nook and cranny of the base. Spike was starting to make a map, which was coming along well despite a number of false starts. Not knowing was tearing her apart, but she’d already worn herself down to the point of exhaustion several times while facing L, and she wasn’t about to make that mistake again. The best way to speed the process along right now was to sleep.
Grumbling internally, Twilight dragged herself back to her hooves and started for the stairs, dragging her saddlebags along behind her. Her old bed in the base had been tempting, but it was important to establish a pattern; she’d had enough of paranoia for a while, and she’d need her personal space if she was eventually going to slip back into the role of Kira. Besides, if she was honest with herself, the place was starting to give her the creeps; luckily, Locket and Colgate seemed to feel the same way. She’d made the excuse that she was afraid that spending even one more night in those bugged, claustrophobic chambers would give her nightmares. The fact that it happened to be true was just a convenience.
Stopping only for a glass of water, Twilight finally made her way into her bedroom. She locked her door behind her, then unlocked it, relaxing. “Midnight already?” she laughed, looking at her watch as she slipped it off. “So much for getting a good night’s...” She stopped and looked around. Something seemed off, and it wasn’t until she’d taken a few more steps that it struck her that she was talking to no one but herself.
Byuk was with Fluttershy. Spike was back at the base, obsessively guarding the killer notebooks. L was gone. For the first time since her quest had begun, she knew for certain that there was no one watching her. No shadowy gods, no clingy supporters, no prying detectives (she’d checked for wood chips on her way in) were studying her every move, waiting for her to slip up. After more than a month of pulling faces and dodging questions, she was finally, completely alone.
She’d never noticed how quiet the library got at night.
This is what I wanted, right? she thought once the echoing hollowness had fully set in around her. I’ve won. I’ve finally been left alone. No watchers, no enemies, no friends. This is good. This is ideal. She sighed. This is what I deserve.
Moving more slowly than before, she began to unpack her supplies. Opening one side of her saddlebags, she pulled out a stack of books, one thin white notebook tucked safely into their midst. From the other side, which she’d been especially careful with, she retrieved a bag of potato chips.
Twilight paused, studying the bag. She’d almost resented it back in the base, before she’d recovered her memories; now, the truth of Pinkie’s death returned to her, the gift seemed strangely fitting. She gripped it as resolve gripped her. Fluttershy was right, she realized. We should celebrate. These won’t last forever, and I might not get a chance to have them again. Regardless of everything else, Pinkie Pie would have wanted me to enjoy these. She ripped the bag open. After all I’ve done to her, I can at least give her that.
The smell was intoxicating. Twilight wavered to her desk chair and placed a red-dusted chip in her mouth, curling into an involuntary smile as it crunched between her teeth. Another followed, then more in untidy clumps. She felt ravenous, not for food, but for the familiarity. Most of her meals before now had been taken while working or imprisoned, and given the grab-bag that had been her diet in the base, it was strange how much of a luxury sitting down with her own bag of snack food felt like now.
Her pace became rhythmic, comforting, soothing down the frantic pace of the rest of the day. Her thoughts stopped racing and began to drift, what was once an act of her rare isolated moments becoming an act of remembering. This is for missing your funeral, Pinkie, she thought, lifting up one of the chips in a toast. And for everything else. But it wasn’t for nothing. When I’ve won, when all this is over, I promise, I’ll set everything right. I’ll make the world laugh again. You’ll see.
T
Even through the haze of horseradish flavoring, though, her mind didn’t entirely settle. Now that her mental gymnastics were coming to a close, another memory began forging its way to the front of her mind, one that she’d spent all day trying to force back. This time, she didn’t resist its advances. Where is Sunny Days?
Still chewing, she mulled over what Colgate had told her that morning. Assuming that Straw Bolt had told them everything - and, based on Colgate’s description of him, he didn’t seem the type to overlook anything - then in theory Sunny Days had already been rescued from someone called the Dollmaker, but had vanished before making it to her home. That alone was difficult to account for, but there was one detail in particular that had caused both Twilight and Colgate to pale in realization: the presence of a dead changeling near the hideout’s ruins. While the corpse hadn’t meant anything to Straw Bolt, their recent discovery about Bon Bon cast a disquieting new light over the whole affair.
Two changelings. Two figures from ancient history, resurrected. And both of them with some connection to the Kira investigation. She screwed up her face in thought and frustration. But what’s the connection? There’s no evidence that L and the Dollmaker were working together; if anything, kidnapping Sunny was just holding the investigation back. So what’s his interest in her secret? And where is Sunny now? Her face fell. If whoever’s behind this has changelings working for them... there’s a good chance those guards who picked her up weren’t really guards at all. After all that, did she end up right back in the Dollmaker’s hooves again?
Twi
But it’s all moot, isn’t it? another part of her argued. She worked her way through another set of calculations, much as it sickened her to do so. Sunny’s countdown started at twenty-three days, beginning a while after sundown on the night with the first golem. Since then I joined L’s team, met Fluttershy, was locked up for seven days, and then went through all that business with Applejack... Her stomach turned as she reached her answer. Five more days. Less than five days. And once that time’s up, Sunny will die by her own hoof, and whoever has her will have wasted their time and end up none the wiser. The fact that the Death Note didn’t kill her instantly means that it has to happen. It’s impossible for it to turn out any other way.
And yet...
She took a sip of water, washing some of the saltiness from her throat, and then stared up at the beaming moon. “What do I care?” she argued aloud, feeling the words burn her. She rested another chip on her tongue, but continued the thought internally. I’m Kira, aren’t I? Equestria’s greatest monster. I kill my own friends just for convenience. Next to the crimes of the God of Justice, what does the death of one filly matter?
But the words fell flat. Even as she tried to numb herself, guilt crawled its way over her body, still worming through the cracks in her armour. The whole point of becoming Kira was to bring justice to ponies whom society had overlooked. Nopony was supposed to be overlooked or turned away because of a system that was content to sit back and let terrible things happen. Condemning Sunny Days was a mistake, and causing her to suffer was even worse. I was foolish when I started this. I set things in motion thinking only of their tactical advantage, and then had to watch helplessly as it destroyed everything around me.
Light
No. She crunched a chip with finality. I won’t let this happen. Not again. I may be a monster; I understand that now. But I’ve dragged too many lives down with me. This isn’t about my survival, or any kind of game. This is about justice. I can’t bring back those I’ve let down. I can only suffer. Even if I were caught, nothing Celestia can do to me could compare to that. But this time, it’s not too late. I can stop this from happening. If I can set just one thing I’ve done right, just one, let it be her.
I don’t care if it’s impossible. I will find a way to save her. I promise.
Twilight
The thought brought some comfort, even without a plan to back it up. Yet even then, she felt like there was something that she was overlooking. There was something else, something at the back of her mind, or maybe the front, flickering, forgotten, trying to get her attention...
Twilight I’m talking to you.
Twilight froze. Her thoughts slowed as they hit a stumbling block, being awkwardly curved around in an entirely new direction. She blinked a few times, uncertain if she’d felt anything at all, and then crunched again on the chip currently in her mouth.
Can you hear me?
There it was again. The words were hers, unmistakably her voice, but she could think of no reason why she would have thought of that phrase at this moment. Hesitant in her paranoia, somehow afraid of looking silly even though she knew she was alone, she glanced back and forth around the room and whispered to the shadows. “Hello?”
Hello Twilight. I missed you.
Twilight nearly fell out of her chair. She curled up into a tense ball and looked around frantically. A number of possibilities flashed through her mind, none of them pleasant; she couldn’t decide whether she would prefer to be hearing voices or so paranoid that she was literally jumping at nothing. “H-hello?” she whispered again, more weakly.
Wait hang on. Let me try something.
>Is this better.
The answer was yes and no. The foreign voice could now be distinguished from her own thoughts, but at the cost of all the life being drained from it. There was no intonation to the voice, nor, bizarrely, any lack of intonation; the words arrived in Twilight’s mind as flat and expressionless as those written on a page. “Th-that’s better,” Twilight mumbled, refusing to uncurl. Don’t panic! she ordered herself. Keep with it. You stared down a god just days ago. This is nothing. Figure it out. “Are you... inside my head?” she asked.
There was no answer. Twilight waited for nearly a minute, her ears slowly unflattening from against her skull. She glanced around the room again, searching for any potential source of the toneless voice, still not entirely sure that she wasn’t just imagining things from stress. Inevitably, her eyes found themselves drawn to the now slightly crumpled bag of chips in front of her. Her jaw did its best to drop. An idea was considered, immediately rejected, and then more reluctantly considered again. Could it be?
Reaching out more hesitantly, Twilight pushed open the lip of the bag and levitated out another chip, a small one this time. Paying attention to every detail, she put it in her mouth, chewed three times, and swallowed.
>Yes. Sort of.
She held her breath. Are you... are you inside the potato chips? She waited a while longer for a response, and was about to reach for another chip when the voice spoke again.
>Twilight are you thinking at me.
Even without the inflection, Twilight could still recognize a question. “Yes?” she hazarded.
>Don’t do that. I can’t hear what you’re thinking. You have to talk.
>Also keep eating. If you stop for too long I’ll fade away.
>It’s okay. You can talk with your mouth full. I won’t mind.
At this, Twilight felt a surge of relief. For everything else that had happened to her, the contents of her head had always been hers and hers alone; she was glad that she didn’t now have to worry about censoring her thoughts as well. Now that her initial panic was dying down, she felt a forgotten excitement bubbling up in her. Although recent events didn’t allow her to entirely trust it, this new entity didn’t seem harmful. For once, she had a chance to study something that wasn’t openly trying to kill her. “What... are you?” she asked, grabbing a messy mouthful of chips.
>Your best friend.
>Silly filly.
A mouthful of chip crumbs landed on the floor. A bolt of dread shot through Twilight’s heart. “Pinkie Pie?”
>No silly.
>I’m her daughter.
A long silence followed, a naturally awkward one this time. Twilight took another chip and chewed on it, resuming her old thinking pattern. “...What?” she asked once she’d had time to collect herself.
>No wait a minute.
>That’s not the right word at all is it.
>I’m her.
>Sister.
>Clone.
>I’m what’s left of Pinkie Pie when Pinkie Pie is taken away.
>Echo.
>Call me Echo.
>Echo Pie.
Twilight kept eating, although she was becoming increasingly uncertain that she ought to be. “So you’re not Pinkie Pie?” she asked cautiously.
>I dunno.
>I’m like a letter you can talk to.
>It made my head hurt too back when I really was Pinkie Pie.
>But I still love parties. And I still love my friends.
>And that’s what really matters.
>Right Twilight.
“I... guess.” She sat back. Question after question piled up, then fell silent in the face of this impenetrable wall that was Echo. It was so easy to imagine Pinkie Pie saying those words, but the complete monotone of her delivery sucked all the life out of them, leaving an uneasy, almost nauseous feeling in their wake. All this was compounded by the tumor of a realization that she was she was truly talking to her dead friend - a friend who had a very good reason to hold a grudge. “How... how much do you remember?”
>Enough.
>I don’t know anything past when Pinkie made me.
>But if you found me I guess you know what happened.
“Right.” Twilight resisted a sigh of relief. She doesn’t know. I think. Her own end covered, she turned immediately to the most obvious question. “Echo... how the heck did you do this?”
>Nuh-uh.
>Not telling.
“What?”
>I knew you’d ask that.
>This was Pinkie Pie’s secret. She Pinkie Promised not to tell.
>Sorry Twi. It’s better if you don’t know.
“Oh... oh come on!” Twilight threw her hooves up in frustration. “You found a way to preserve your voice after death and now you’re using it just to tell me I can’t know how? Don’t you have any idea what this could mean?”
>I said I was sorry.
“Can you at least give me a hint?” She looked over the bag. “Did somepony teach you this, or did you discover it? Is it based on magic? Brainwaves? Spiritual energy? And why potato chips?”
>Um.
>Small doses.
>But. Wait.
>Did you say.
>Death.
“Yeah?”
>I’m dead.
Although these words were just as flat as the others, Twilight felt safe inferring that there was some degree of surprise behind them. “Yes,” she answered, the lurking reality of the situation finally rearing up over her in a series of memories. “You were murdered... by Kira.”
>Who’s Kira.
“What do you mean who’s-” Holding herself back from snapping, she took a deep breath before lifting up another chip. It came to her attention that she was beginning to tremble. “Back up. When do you think this is?”
>About six months ago.
>Are you sure I’m dead.
“How do you...” Twilight gulped back the obvious question, and then tried very hard not to think about what she was eating. “Yes, I’m sure,” she growled, her trembling growing. “I was there. I was holding you. You were bleeding out, and...” She choked. Thin tears burned her eyes as she was dragged back to those moments, still seared into her eyes. “And then, and every day since, I wanted so badly to go back and rewrite things. If I’d just been smarter, if I’d just done things a little differently, then it never would have had to happen. But it did, and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop it.” She reached out and tenderly caressed the bag, as she’d touched Pinkie Pie so long ago. “But what are you doing?” she asked, self-hatred warping into anger. “What’s the point of this?”
>Huh.
“How can you not know you’re dead?” Twilight demanded, tearily shouting. “Isn’t that the whole point? Isn’t that why you wrote all those letters, to say goodbye? Aren’t you supposed to be giving me some kind of closure? Or did you just think this would be funny?”
A pause.
>Did you keep my body.
Twilight lowered herself down. “Yes,” she answered, resentfully taking another bite. “We had a funeral. Everypony was there. It was beautiful.” Everypony but me.
>You can’t stop death Twilight.
>No one can. Not you. Not me.
>You can just hold it back for a while.
>Even I won’t last very long.
Suddenly chilled, Twilight grabbed the bag and looked inside. She’d been eating mechanically for a while now, scarcely noticing it. Even comically overstuffed as the bag had been, she was now well over a quarter of the way through it. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, only hesitantly reaching into the bag again. “I’m... I’m literally eating your lifespan, aren’t I?”
>It’s okay.
>It’s why I’m here.
>If you don’t eat me I don’t exist.
>But you shouldn’t eat too much in one sitting.
“I guess.” Twilight rolled up the top of the bag and magically sealed it. “I’m sorry, Echo,” she said, curling up in her chair. “I shouldn’t be mad at you. You’ve done something amazing, and I’m really thankful. But you’ve been gone for a while, and I was just starting to put it all behind me, and now... I don’t know what to feel any more. I don’t know what you want from me.”
>I’m here to help you.
>That’s all I want.
>That’s all I’ve ever wanted.
>And if all that means is giving you another chance to say goodbye that’s okay.
“Goodbye?” Twilight shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do that. I just found you again. I don’t know if I can go through losing you a second time.”
Echo’s voice was becoming fainter.
>Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.
>You’re the pony I trust the most to use the little time we have wisely.
>Wake me up when you’re ready.
“I will.”
>And Twilight.
>One more thing.
>Something really important.
>Run quick.
>And get a bucket.
“Huh?” At that moment, Echo Pie’s voice stopped, leaving an odd emptiness in its wake, like a faint buzzing noise that you don’t notice until it’s disappeared. At the same time, Twilight’s stomach tightened. Her insides churned and bubbled and her throat felt like it had switched into reverse, turning her panicked cry into an involuntary gurgle. She covered her mouth and bolted from her chair, angling towards the bathroom, but only made it a few steps before she keeled over and vomited red all over her floor.
Her head ached as she straightened up, spitting a few last flecks of potato from her lips. Her mouth tasted like a mix of horseradish flavoring and stomach acid. She numbly watched the slime she’d expelled spread across the floor, already starting to seep into the wood. “Huh,” she said, then coughed.
Now that her head was clear again, her mind was already buzzing with ideas. The how of the whole situation would, she felt, haunt her just as much as the function of the Death Note had when it had first arrived; sadly, if Echo Pie was resolute in not giving the secret up, there would be no sense wasting her remaining lifespan trying to drag it out of her. Tactically, the conversation had gone about as well as she could have hoped, establishing trust without giving anything away. If she played her cards right, she might have found not just a friend, but an ally.
It was all a lie, of course. She couldn’t let herself get attached to Echo. She didn’t deserve to. Not when she was responsible for the real Pie not being able to deliver the message herself.
Typical, her inner self snidely remarked. Trying to manipulate a pony who couldn’t rat me out even if she wanted to. The one pony in all of Equestria who might have forgiven me, and I can’t even bring myself to tell her the truth.
She glared back at the desk, and the bag of chips curled up on top of it. “Couldn’t even let me enjoy that, huh?” she rasped. Then she opened her door and went downstairs to find a mop.
---
Dear Princess Celestia,
I realized today that I hadn’t written to you since before the Applejack incident. Given the contents of my last letter, I thought it was important to reassure you that I’m okay. While I’m sure that you’ll already know at least some of what happened that night through other sources, I also thought you might want to hear about our results from me personally. The problem is that I’m not sure what to tell you, or how much I can stand to.
I’m safe and alive. My friends aren’t. Yesterday I had to watch another of my friends die, and for the sake of everyone else I had to hold in how I really felt. I’m fully aware of the concept of survivor’s guilt, but knowing about it doesn’t help me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling like if I had just been a better friend, then all of this could have been avoided. Now I’m stuck between two extremes of loss, and I’m terrified of making a decision. Am I supposed to keep living with these empty holes where my friends used to be, with this guilt and pain eating into me for the rest of my life? And if not, how can I cut these feelings out of me without cutting out a huge part of what makes me who I am?
When I started this mission to catch Kira, I told myself that I was doing it in the name of friendship. Even when my own friends started to get hurt, I still made myself believe that I was doing it for the good of all, so that Equestria could still experience friendship even if I couldn’t. Now it’s too late for me to go back. How do you do it, Princess? Once you’ve known the taste of harmony, how can you let that go? How do you go on with all these anchors weighing you down? How do you say goodbye?
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle.
Next episode: Showtunes!
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I can safely say that personified abaci and possessed potato chips are two things I never expected to see in this, or any, fic.
~The lizardman enjoyed the chapter, regardless
Funny and adorable
I'll bet Shells is more smarter than he looks. Meanwhile, his assistants make me think of a smarter version of the Three Stooges
The part with the potato chips was especially clever
Huh...they made her throw up at the end...if I were Twi,I'd send one off to Zecora for analysis.
Again with the body? And twilight doesn't think there's anything strange about that question?
4475171 The script says don't notice till it's relevant.
Always happy to see this update. Loved every bit of this chapter!
Pinkie's thoughts from beyond the grave stored in potato chips. That's so, so fitting.
We're already at chapter 34 and I'm already getting scared because the original death note anime ended with only 37 episodes or was it 38?
Anyway, Twilight when the end comes you might want to prepare yourself, I'm getting a bad feeling that your goanna go down like Light did only it's not goanna be (Best character on Death Note) Matsuda who does it.
4480708 the manga was 108 chapters though
4485133
I've only seen the show and hearing that the manga was 108 chapters long (holy fuck by the way) makes me hope he is going by the manga, but I from what I'm seeeing it looks more and more like the anime more and more
4484361
i.imgur.com/MJmgvAe.gif
Wow. Just, wow. This chapter was amazing! The whole bit with the potato crisps was brilliant. I'm also interested in "Shells" and how this story is going to turn out.
Two of the best shows ever made crossover? Awesome!
Even though I've said similar things before, I want to reiterate how utterly fantastic this story is and how much I enjoy it. I'd never have thought that there could ever be such importance placed on eating a bag of potato chips...
P.S.- I also wanted to give you my insignificant personal congratulations on being the first writer to both convince me to start watching an anime (Bokurano) and to inspire me to write poetry. Keep up the good work!
Trippy bag of potato chips!
4480708
In my theory, Twilight's defeat will actually be her Dying Moment of Awesome. She's come to terms with what she is, and doesn't seem to be attatched to her pride and hopes anymore. She continues on her current course because she has no choice left but to see Kira through to the end. She believes she will win, but when it suddenly becomes the case that she won't, I believe the following will happen:
Twilight closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths. This was it. The plan was no more. Opening her eyes, she gazed at her adversary a final time, and grinned solemnly.
"Good game."
Twilight Sparkle
Dies of a heart attack in a totally composed and badass manner, unlike that coward Light Yagami.
And Kira was dead.
Just flat out amazing. Your writing is impeccable! And the potato crisps had me like "This Nonagon guy... This guy is incredible!"
so in a way pinkies returned to say good bye!
4558785
4559337
I haven't been this mindblown since finding out that the VA for Spike is Cathy Weseluck, the voice of Near.
4560869 ...
I have no more words
guess we all learn something everyday
I may create a Paranoia Agent crossover in the same universe. If you know what that is, I will give you a sticker.
4513442 "Let's play again soon." - Potato Pie
4513442
If Twilight doesn't die full of regret, saying to herself "It can't all be for nothing!", but realizing that it was, then I will be disappointed.
4513442 I was really disappointed how they handled Lights death. Though to be fair, that really summed up the second half of DN. Mello does everything while Near just finishes what Mello started, while Light remains a dumbass. I really do hope that the writer makes Twilight's death extremely epic.
4705233 Please tell me you're quoting who I think you are.
TRIXIEEE
I just finished the anime, can't wait to read this!
4858359
*sigh*
ONCE AGAIN!
i.imgur.com/MJmgvAe.gif
4858582 Pardon my ignorance, but I don't understand the gif.
4863190
"When you get a reply to a really old comment"
4863200 In my opinion, any comment less than a year old is not a necro post, so I should be fine.
4868157 It's a comment that the writer has likely forgotten about, and has just been alerted out of nowhere. It's entirely possible that the alert got his hopes up.
I think it counts as a necro.
I do necros all the time anyway (I've been cutting down, but still), but you should at least be aware of what counts as a necro and what doesn't.
4873953 Point taken, sorry to the other guy, but I have a habit of speaking out when something I like is involved.
Something tells me that Sunny Days is not who she says she is.
Well...I've finally caught up with reading this crossover fanfic...and I find it just a fantastic crossover of one of my favorite animes, Death Note and recently favorite cartoon MLP:FiM. Now I'm not only to lie, I was a bit worry of how this was going to go and worry if this was going to be any good or just end up being complete utter crap.
But surprisingly this is very well written and well thought out, it's stays true to the source material yet at the same time, the fanfic author puts his/her own personal touch and original ideas, so it doesn't end up being a complete story copy of Death Note that has pony characters instead of human characters.
So I'm really loving this story, the fanfic author really knows how to make this story work between to shows that are complete opposites from one another. So I looking really forward to reading the next chapter when it comes out and I really don't mind waiting for it to come out, because I know it'll be worth the wait.
Huh, the potato chips are new. Didn't see those in any other versions.
When will this story return? I miss it a lot.
5674737 Monty Python and the Holy Grail reference.
5674728 New Mobile Report Gundam Wing
Fun to read again, I couldn't go forward after the first interlude as the story ended there at that time, glad to have read it again and what was added since I stopped. I love the twists that keep this from being the same tale as Death Note and I look forward to seeing where this goes once the Hiatus ends.
When will Death Note: Equestria be continued?
6122347 When my other stories are finished. Not soon, but sooner than you think. Have faith.
6122393 Thanks. I really do like this story you made.
This story truly captures the moral ambiguities and awesomeness of the anime and manga, and diverges enough to make it fresh. Well done
sorry for ask but... Any date about this going to continue?
When I told a friend that this exists, his words were, "That's not Equestria, that's just cosplay." On the surface of it, he's right, there's no way a canon Equestria could possibly go this grimdark within the time period this covers, which is somewhere within Season 3. But that's on the surface.
Having read what exists of it so far, I can say he's wrong. This is not cosplay, this is theater. It's familiar characters, given roles in a play not of their own devising and not of their world, and playing them to the best of their ability... and then veering off when the play ends, to continue it in a way that only they could.
And I must say that viewed from this angle, this work is excellent and is probably the best work of this type that I have encountered so far -- well executed, cleverly plotted and offering more than a few surprises.
This needs to be finished, or it'll stay around for eternity, mocking everybody.
I love Twilight as Kira/Light Yagami, it fits so well. I hope this is continued one day, though I understand that life should come first. God knows I have multiple stories I haven´t updated in ages
6836040 I understand you... :(
Please Please Please! let this fic not be dead!