The jingling of a boutique’s door chime is almost too ordinary for the weight of what you and Misa are planning. She tugs you inside quickly, her blonde twin-tails bouncing behind her, sunglasses perched awkwardly on her nose despite the store’s dim lighting.

“We can’t look suspicious,” she says with a grin that’s far too bright for someone on the run.

You glance at her. “Misa, you’re wearing six-inch platforms and a lace choker. You’re always suspicious.”

She pouts but then laughs, brushing it off. “True. But I can’t just not be cute, you know?”

Despite the danger hanging over both your heads—the growing heat from the task force, the possibility of Light’s manipulation closing in—you let yourself laugh, just a little. Misa’s charm is dangerous like that. She knows how to drag you into her world, even when it’s crumbling.

She flips through the clothing racks with a practiced hand, but you both know what you’re really here for: Clothes that would let her out with an elegant bang.

“Do you think I could pull off brown hair?” she asks suddenly, holding up a short, simple wig.

“I just…” she trails off, biting her lip. “I don’t want to be her anymore. The girl Kira used. The girl who waited and waited like she didn’t matter unless someone else told her she did.”

You look at her, and for once, she’s dropped the mask.

“We’ll get you out,” you promise quietly. “We’ll leave the city, start over somewhere. No more Kira. No more Light. Just you.”

Misa’s eyes flicker with something fragile, something terrified. She nods quickly, as if afraid to believe it.

She lets out a quiet laugh, genuine this time. “Yeah… Maybe it’s finally time for that.”

And just like that, the plan to run doesn’t feel like running anymore. It feels like freedom.