Those black eyes were chilling, and not because they were unfamiliar; they were uncanny and dreadful because L knew them too well. They were soulless, they were pits, they were lifeless, and they were his.

As it took its shape, popping and cracking and twisting into its new form, it also gained a new voice, saying the last thing that L wanted to hear from anyone.

Stop. No. You can't, that's mine...

The words stuck in his throat.

The thing started to advance, emaciated, nothing in the dark, hollow eyes but bottomless hunger. A long, red tongue snaked out of the mouth, licking the teeth and drawing black, sick blood from the prehensile muscle.