Chapter Text
L's hands delicately brushed the fading imprints of cuffed chains on his skin, porcelain pale from all the last few months he had worn it alongside Light. There was so much to think about, which grated on him like the ringing sound of a funeral bell in the distance. Shinigami, a notebook of death, Kira, Kira Kira…..
Though the chain was gone, its presence lingered-around his wrist, in his mind, and in the stalking steps of the boy in question walking toward him.
Recently, with the concept of his death looming over him, L's mind wandered over the confines of a case. His brain felt muddled like rainwater, mixing in with coarse blood that diluted the brain and his corneas, so all that he could see was a red tinge in the air. Blood. That is what he will spill soon. He stopped looking at any reflective surfaces, afraid to find blood on his lips and the pounding of a heart attack and Kira's leering grin.
But besides that his thoughts still wandered elsewhere.
Most importantly and strangely, all he could think about was rats.
The Skinner Box. It was an phycological experiment of the 1930s that would be ecstatic and nauseating, if it wasn't an experiment centered around filthy lab rats. The endeavor was meant to prove that the pursuit of reward could overpower all instincts, even survival, an honorary hypothesis that turned sour. It revolved around placing the creatures in a cramped modified chamber, in which a lever, pressed by the animal, triggered either a rewarding stimulus such as food and water, or a negative, such as painful shock. The rats rapidly learned to press the lever for a reward and to avoid pressing the lever that gave them the shock. He could still see the disheveled rats in his mind’s eye—scrawny creatures with quivering whiskers, their lives reduced to pressing a lever. Food. Shock. Reward. Pain.
Soon you took away the physical reward, and the bland lever became just as important to them
The Wammy house employed something similar. They had built their own Skinner Box, but with human children instead. An orphanage where no kids were adopted from. Hidden from the world.
When they took away the food, water, or another privilege, it was due to bad marking on grades. This was the “pain” the “shock.” But praise, food, water, acknowledgment and stimulation of the mind, was the “reward.” It was more efficient then any implanted electrodes in the brain could ever achieve. What resulted…..was a self-consuming circle none could break.
He remembered asking Watari, in his small voice and thumb plastered to his mouth, after he was told about the experiment. It was the first and last time he asked a question since he arrived at the orphanage; “How many times did the rats press that lever?”
And he would smile brusquely, with a glint in his eye. “Thousands and Thousands of time every hour”
Rats prioritized vitalizing their pleasure circuits over food, even when hungry, and water, even when thirsty. Male rats would ignore a female in heat and repeatedly cross grids delivering electric shocks to reach the lever. Female rats would abandon their nursing pups to continually press it. Some rats would press the button as often as 2,000 times per hour for 24 hours, neglecting all other activities. To prevent death by self-starvation, they had to be disconnected from the apparatus. Pressing the lever consumed their entire existence. Their entire universe.
It wasn't shocking to him then, realizing how similar the system Roger and Watari employed, on him and the mixed matched group of abandoned orphans who were deemed lesser than animals in society. It just made sense to use such a process, like dirty hues turn colorful, cardinal clarlet and xanthous amber forming a kaleidoscope, a perfectly well thought out necessity. And L was clever enough, smart enough to push past the urges, to break the circuit entirely trivial of Wammy;s validation, because not even the cells of his brain can keep him prisoner in his own neurobiology.
It was only when his predecessor A hung himself, attached to a noose from the rusty bell tower, and Beyond rampaged, did L fully realize he never broke free. Never was in the first place. Because it was only then did he understand that he was representative of that lever the rats pulled that every one in that house reached out to press, to become. He was cyanide disguised as dopamine, a bundle of nerves.
He wasn’t just another rat in the system. He was the —the ultimate goal of every orphan who cycled through those walls. To be L. To replace him. To press that lever until their bones crumbled under the weight of ambition. He’d pretended for so long that he was above it, beyond the system’s manipulation. But he wasn’t.
The grooves of his fingers pressed into his veins, feeling the blood pulsing through his wrists. Red, ichor, thrumming through his arteries. It was the horror of it understanding everything. His role in his world. His imminent death.
The perfect rat in the perfect cage.
L pretends to startle, when he hears calculated footsteps approaching. He knows the sight that will greet him, of whatever chafed sociopathy will show through the porcelain cracks. His swishing thumb moves away from his flesh, and he looks up with an indulgent look that is not entirely false.
“Light-kun.” He instinctively says. “How good of you to join me.” The older mutters. “Here I thought you would try and stay away with your unchained newfound freedom, but here you are, staying close by my side”
He can see the way the boy's eye twitched at the statement, and his hand went to his wrist, as if a phantom pull told him the chain was still there. “Isn't that what you wanted in the first place? For me to be near you at all times?”
“Sometimes it's useful to keep the thorn at your side. So yes, you're correct. But you are not Kira” His tone remained flat and dispassionate as he knowingly thought, you are Kira. “And I have released the both of us. You are free to leave the building you know. We have been over this.”
Light is not as good as he thinks he is at hiding his expressions. He scowls visibly, and he thinks that even Matsuda, if he wasn't getting coffee for the rest of the taskforce, would pick up on his false visage.
Surprisingly Light seemed annoyed when L released him after the capture and murder of Higuchi. Maybe Light hated being unchained. Because even though being chained meant he wasn't free, it meant that L was not free either.
“Now look over those files for me, Light.”
Light seems hesitant. “Right”
L nods, stilling his stunted breath at their abrupt closeness. He pushes it aside, out of sight out of mind and goes back to staring at the floor. He is interrupted nearly 10.5 seconds later.
“See! You're doing that again!” Light proclaims incredulously. Irritation bubbling over, as the rotating chair screeched against the marble flooring.
“Doing what, Light-kun” he said, saying the abbreviation purposefully condescending.
“You're staring at the floor. That's why I came over here in the first place!” The wheel of the chair scraped against the polished floor as Light pushed him closer.
“I’m thinking.” His teeth grit, thoughts trapped beneath sealed lips.
Light reached over and and pulled L’s arm down, his thumb slipping of his mouth
“Hm, what was that for?” He asked, wondering if Light was trying to put them in a stage of forced proximity, so that L could get conditioned to their closeness
Light combatted his question with one of his own. “What are you thinking about? You're not staring at your computer screen like usual.”
Ah. Of course Kira wanted to know what his most ambitious enemy was thinking, planning. Especially since he thought L’s suspicious behavior of staring at the ground warranted weariness. Little did he know that was a common habit for him. And he was not thinking about Kira…..his throat constricts though he does not show it, and the syllables rush out.
“Rats. I’m thinking about rats” L truthfully said. It was either that or explain how he was thinking about Light and Kira and the false god he believed he was, and how it made him ill, like a biblical sickness.
He could see the surprise palpable on his face, he could practically hear the cogs and wheels in Light's brain halting. “What?”
“Dirty little rats. Those creatures that scurry around on the floor. Personally I've never had problems with them literally but-”
“Why.” Light looks truly confused, it was actually quite cathartic. Serves him right, after putting L through such continuously compromising and stressful situations. “Why the hell are you thinking of mice?”
“Rats. Its a critical distinction” He tuts, correcting Light.
“I know!” He says, erupting when his intelligence was undermined. So typical of Kira, and of himself. He should start making a tally of all the times Light self-reported with his outbursts.
“How does this have to do with the Kira case?” He pressed, clearly thinking L was lying, or messing with him. And he wasn't entirely wrong.
“No, it's not about Kira”
Light, in Kira fashion, reflectively frowned when he realized L’s attention was not on him. “So, why then?” He said, swiveling the chair back around when L tried to turn away.
L let out a long dragging sigh. He twisted around, opening his mouth to deliver a nagging flippant remark, but something caught his gaze. Wavering, his stare found the sharp irises of Light's eyes, which cast a rouge glow on his pupils in the limelight. A bloody vermillion.
Red eyes, like….well his thoughts often wandered to that individual from time to time. Calloused hands and blood-soaked nights. Perhaps since he suspected Kira would kill him soon, he thought about him more and more, worried that he would be waiting right behind that veil of death, to pull him down to a wretched eternity with him.
L was not afraid to die. He was afraid that when he did, Beyond would be there waiting for him in the afterlife.
“Ah my apologies, Light.” He said in a not so apologetic tone, his voice drifting off, in a wayward cycle. “You just reminded me of something. Someone.”
Light paused, irritation blending into intense curiosity, when he realized there was something he didn't know. “Who?”
“A Rat” He said, eyes floating to where Matsuda had come through the door fumbling as he balanced several cups at once. He absent mindedly added, “Someone dead.”
He was glad for the distraction, and for the first time thanked Matsuda, who fumbled awkwardly with the praise. He pretended to cheekily looked pleased as he put 13 cubes of sugar into his coffee while Light watched in disgust.
Beyond Birthday. Out of everyone, he was the one who pressed the lever the most, always finding true euphoria in the mere sight of L. He remembered those horrid days, hearing reports from the orphanage that after he left that Beyond had changed his appearance physically to match himself, like he couldn't handle not having his ruby red eyes on L at all times, that he would only be able to reach rapture if he could see him in his cracked mirror.
Beyond was the only one whose pleasurable reward was L’s pain.
Light kept looking at him, watching the way his fingers snapped at the paper cup. But L’s mind wasn’t on Matsuda or the coffee. It was on the lever. On the Skinner Box. On the endless cycle of reward and pain. And now most disturbingly, on Kira.
L huffed, half to himself, half to light, who drank too properly like he was drinking at a five star restaurant rather than from cheap coffee beans in a cheap lid. Perhaps he has been getting too metaphorical of late. Logically he knew waxing poetic was unbecoming of himself. Perhaps the drug that is Kira had become so potent that it had begun to deteriorate the grey and white matter of his prefrontal cortex, moving like a violent virus across his brain. All to spread to his heart.
Because if Beyond had pressed the lever for L, he worried then that perhaps Light was pressing it, too.
L’s first thought, after Light spoke after Higuchi's death was;
This is my Kira.
But this time he couldn't put him under the microscope.
Though he did not appear different outwardly, he was no longer Light, the 18-year old intern. Well Kira had always been Light, but awareness caused Yagami to act quite differently. Like salt and sugar look the same, but the taste that sits on the tongue has a different flavor.
Blood also looked the same. Sometimes he wished he could cut Light open, and see if he really was human. Or rather see if golden divine ichor flew through his veins instead.
Perhaps these violent tendencies that twitched at L’s fingertips was due to the fact he was aware that Light had him in a corner. Through day and night the shine in Light's eyes reflected that of a predator, a god who was ready to gorge on his victory. He could hear the bells ring and they sounded like the cold clanging ring of a funeral chime.
However, there was something that contradicted L’s original theory of his impending doom. Though they were no longer chained together, Light still clung to him every second he got, like a parasite feasting on the marrow of L’s bones.
“Ryuzaki, walk with me”
“Ryuzaki, come with me and Misa to get coffee. They have plenty of sweets there. And I’ll even pay” He would croon despite knowing L was far richer than he is.
“Ryuzaki you're annoying me, don't eat your food like that, here I’ll teach you proper etiquette..”
“My my Ryuzaki, you stayed up again? You slept more when we were sharing a bed” He would chuckle.
Even though the few days after Higuchi died, L was certain the old Light, the one who was sentient and aware he was Kira was back, Light had not killed him, but instead watched him like a snake ready to strike. Quite Like he was investigating him, not the other way around.
Predator and Prey, Prey and Predator. He was not sure which roles were for who. They switched so often, like the flipping of a coin. Teetering on the edge. Ready to reveal heads or tails.
Both of them observing each other, waiting for the other to crack. It was like everything had changed after they had found the notebook of death, and Light had grazed those pages, and screamed out when he saw the Shinigami. And it felt like nothing had been modified at all. He had slightly suspected Light to get Rem to kill him, after he set Misa up, but it did not happen, and he hadn't gone through with his plan to interrogate Misa again and test fake rules. He knew the “couple” were both Kira, and though he knew he had enough to persecute Misa, the Shinigami attached to the death note was an entity that he needed to factor in.
It was likely a small percentage Light would kill him with his bare hands. Light always looked at L’s neck, most likely fantasizing about strangling him in his chair or when they were chained together at nights in his bed. While instead of counting sheep to fall asleep, L memorized all the pressure points it would take to neutralize Light if he dared do so. Which never comes for an insomniac like him.
Though part of him was relieved, satisfied by Kira's return, a notion of him remembered Light, when his memories were gone, and he was just Light, a boy too clever.
He recalls, It had been a late night almost a month ago while they were still chained together, when the boy did something extremely unexpected, that not even his data could predict.
Light sighed, his pen tapping rhythmically against his notebook. “Ryuzaki,” he finally said, breaking the silence, “When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t sugar?”
L didn’t respond at first, his large, dark eyes flickering over the screen.
“Ryuzaki.” Light’s voice sharpened.
“Hm?” L hummed without looking up.
“When did you eat?”
“I don’t recall. Perhaps it was this morning? Or yesterday?” L’s tone was nonchalant, but he knew Light could see the faint slump in his usually rigid posture.
“You’re going to burn out if you keep going like this,” Light muttered.
“I assure you, Light-kun, I am quite accustomed to these working conditions. Your concern is noted, but unnecessary.”
Light rolled his eyes but didn’t press further. Instead, he stood and walked to the small kitchenette at the corner of the room.
A few minutes later, he returned with a plate containing a sandwich and a cup of tea. He placed it unceremoniously in front of L.
“What’s this?” L asked, finally breaking his gaze from the screen to peer at the plate.
“It’s food,” Light said dryly. “People eat it to stay alive. You should try it sometime.”
L tilted his head, studying Light as though he were a particularly baffling clue in the Kira case. “Did you… make this for me?”
Light sighed, sitting back down and picking up his pen. “Don’t read too much into it. If you collapse, it’ll slow down the investigation, and I’ll have to pick up the slack. I don’t have time for that.”
L’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “How very pragmatic of you, Light-kun.”
“Just eat,” Light muttered, already returning to his notes.
For a moment, L didn’t move, staring at the plate as though it were a puzzle to solve. Then, he picked up the sandwich and took a slow bite. He chewed thoughtfully, the corners of his lips quirking in what might have been amusement.
“Not bad,” L said after swallowing.
Light didn’t look up. “Don’t expect me to make it a habit”
Light’s pen stilled in his hand. He looked up, his expression unreadable, caught between annoyance and something more complicated.
“It’s nothing,” he said curtly, but his eyes lingered on L for a fraction longer than necessary before he returned to his work.
He could still taste the bitter bread on his tongue, and the buzzing feeling of Lights' sole attention. Not that it had changed, Light seemed to look even more at L lately, like he wanted L to know that he was watching. Always watching.
L had decided to not discuss testing the thirteen day rule with the taskforce. Nor did he have any plans to do so. By playing ignorant, there was a better chance that Light wouldn't see him as an immediate threat. He knows that Rem has been acting awfully suspicious, especially when gazing longingly at any mention of Misa in what he had profiled as blind adoration. He couldn't test her, without knowing that the god of death would play a role in his demise. Though he was unsure about the paranormal forces that led to a Shinigami killing a human and craved to know more data on such.
It still did not secure his safety. Light may think that L was testing the thirteen day rule in secret without them knowing. And may use those pretty words of his to convince Rem the same thing, thus killing him. Not only that, Kira has started killing again, and Misa may very well have the eyes. Like Beyond had.
Its worse, to know that the taskforce are almost completely on Lights side. So naive, with little knowledge and vocabulary to understand why L still gazes at Light like he was a serial murderer just cut loose. Because he was exactly that. His intuition and intelligence was a curse. Knowing exactly what was going to happen to him before it did. Light had him in a checkmate, and he didn't just want to capture the king. He wanted to wipe it off the board, smash it into little wooden pieces. Light, Misa, Rem, all have triangulated him, and are now waiting for Light's perfect orchestra to reach its highest note.
He hears Beyond's voice in his head.
“Are you afraid Lawli?”
The note never comes.
Checkmate turns into a stalemate, the days drag on and L lives to see his 25th birthday. However he does not tell anyone on the taskforce about the date, and tells Watari not to get him anything this year, holding himself up in his room to stare at the hopeless kira case files.
The old man didn't listen and bought him a decadent seven layer cake.
He sometimes is surprised not to feel warmth on his side when he is laying in his bed. It felt for so long, even though it was a relatively short time, that Light and L had been sleeping together. No, not in that way. Being chained together caused problems for their sleeping arrangement, causing them to unfortunately share a bed at night.
Put two sociopaths in a bed together, sleep was a luxury if they ever got it. Most nights involved L stealing the blankets and vice versa, or typing on his computer into the late hours of the night just to keep light awake. And Light would retaliate by kicking him in the behind until he fell off the mattress.
So strangely enough, even though he heard the funeral bells in the distance, death had not come to claim him yet. He was not sure how to feel about that.
A silent voice told him to just test the thirteen day rule. It would be simple. Two criminals on Death Row would be sent a page of the Death Note and would write in them once before the pages were confiscated. If they did not die once 13 days had passed, L would prove the rule was fake. But he would sign his own death warrant to prove he was right.
“Kira” had started killing again, confirming there was a second note, and the taskforce was getting restless. They needed to locate the other death note. But in doing so, he was closer to drawing his last breath.
He would be disappointed, if Light used Rem to kill him. He wanted to say to Light that if he was gonna kill him, then he should do it with his own hand.
But he hasn't yet, so now they were both locked in an excruciating stalemate.
“Ryuzaki, Lets play chess”
This time, L agreed.
They are on the 17th floor of his building and the clouds, L gingerly grips at the mahogany table, another tapping incessantly at the wood, thoroughly unsettled as rain droplets splatter against the window, like blood does when it hits the walls.
Light does nothing to disguise his distaste at L, or maybe for the fact that L is looking at the melancholy sky, rather than him. He isn't entirely enraptured, with shapes the fog makes, rather he chooses to not look at the other, for every time he dies, he imagines himself with a needle and a scalpel, dissecting his brain.
His most irritating suspect, chose the white set, the holy pale chess piece sliding first. When L glances back, its his turn to voice his disappointment at the move.
“A Kings Gambit opening” he notes. “How basic.”
Light frowns. “Its effective”
“Is it?” A lilt of tease at the edge of his voice. He waits another turn, and pushes his d5 midnight bishop diagonal.
Lights brows furrow slightly. “What defence is this? Scandinavian?”
“Guess.”
Back and forth they pull at each other scratch, at each other in a metaphorical sense but never skin deep. Not yet. And he knows the other wants too, as much as he does, to watch the other bleed.
A droplet reaches the windowsill, teetering on the edge of life and death before plummeting down the side of the skyscraper. The clouds continue to weep and L cant help but smile as Light makes his first mistake.
“Oops” he mocks, scooping up the pawn with his concealed knight. Light, lecherous, manipulative, prideful Light carved up his own grin as well, because in the next second, he too has reached his pawn, and murdered it.
It's only pawns, but it feels more than that. It's a playing field where they can observe each other's behaviour, and watch how their intertwined lives have unfolded. If Light is a king, then Misa is a queen that can move in any direction, the Shinigami, their knights, or perhaps bishops. He always played white.
Then L is the moonlit king, whose only defenders were the foolish task force playing the role of pawns, and perhaps the undetermined bishops, Wedy and Aiber.
Only L can face Lights burning eyes and see him for what he truly is.
Speaking of Aiber, at the door, a knock was rapped, echoing, once, twice before being pushed open. The man himself came waltzing in.
Slicked back hair and the thick french cologne, Un Matin d'Orage, that he had become involuntarily accustomed to wafted through the air before his voice did.
“Ah L!” he said, having refused to call him Ryuzaki like the rest. “And Light.” He said considerably less enthusiastic.
“Aiber” He greets, his words stale as he faces the theatre of war in front of him. He moves his intricate queen to the right.
Aiber does not seem taken aback by L’s prosaic response, rather encouraged by it. “I see you playing with your toys” he teases, and L is not sure if he means the chess set or the boy across from him. Maybe both.
This time L turns around. “You know me well” he deadpans.
Aiber chuckles walking closer until he is leaning over L’s shoulder. His jasmine breath is tepid against the bump of his neck. “So who's winning?”
Light is eerily quiet since the man arrived, and isn't quick to proclaim himself the premature winner. Instead he watched him, like a predator watches another.
L blows a hair out of his face. “Hm, I think we both know who will come on top.” He says, if only to rile Light up further.
Aiber chuckled at that, shuffling to grab a chair, before straddling it, thick chin in calloused hands. He waved dismissively, “Go on, I’ll just watch” , his eyes barely glancing at the board to go back to settling on L.
Light grits his teeth, which is only audible for anyone to notice except L, and moves his pawn three spaces up. Clearly, he was mad at Aiber for intruding their sacred space, their cat and mouse game of chess, and for staring at what he saw as his mouse for the entirety.
L could already tell that light was going to try and use this to his advantage.
When he moves his knight, it clicks with the black space on the board he asks, feigning incuriosity; “Aiber, how did you and Ryuzaki meet?”
Aiber had been smoking. Drinking as well. L could tell from the way he pressed his enthusiastic words out of his throat.
“Good question kid!” he said, unfolding his legs to lean in closer. “I ‘met’ him the night he arrested me, while I was pretending to be a DGSE on my way to poland. Turns out he had been surveilling me for over a week, waiting to scoop in and collect me to bring me into Paris authorities.”
He shot a lethargic wink at L. “Those officers were truly stupid. You should have seen their faces when L told them off”
Light sent a faux appreciative look at L, as Aiber continued.
“However, he gave me one of his classic ultimatums. I would either spend the next thirty years in jail in the filthy prisons in Paris, or I could be on probation and help work on cases with him.”
“And you chose the latter?” Light questions.
“Of course I chose the latter! And several cases later, I don't regret it.” He said, clasping a hand on L’s shoulder that lingered for far too long.
“Several?” Light arched an eyebrow. “I’d love to hear about how you used your expertise. Tell me about them.”
Light had a way about subliminally commanding someone to share every detail of a story, and Aiber was not immune, especially since he loved to talk.
“I’m glad to hear someone shares an interest” he nudges L and says “You should learn from him.”
“Aiber.” L warns, tries not to hiss through his teeth. Light's smile grows wider. L knows that Light knows from countless hours of observation that he can tell when he is uncomfortable.
Two psychopathic geniuses can hide themselves from the world, but not each other. A cruel speculum.
“Well the first few were easy tasks, get close to a leader of a gang, or trafficking ring, infiltrate and gather information, you know the drill, I’m a con man, and I was utilised as such. However, that one case in california” He whistles. “I had to go face to face with another conman. That one was…”
“Where in California?” Light presses, palm pressed flat on the table.
“Los Angeles. The city that never sleeps.” He exaggerates a yawn, and every fine hair on the back of L’s neck stands up.
“It ended up being called the LA or what was it? BB murder case, though L made sure all details from the case were not released. Airtight.” He made a motion of running his finger across his mouth like a zipper. “Which is a shame because that serial murderer nearly got to L-”
L’s feels his chest tighten like a cobra. Like Kira was in the midst of writing down his name in the finest ink.
L tries not to take the bait and make him stop running his mouth, but Aiber, growing more confident, leans in further. “The killer looked just like him,” he breathed.
L needed a way to shut this down, quick. Dark lashes shudder, and his head tilts up in an oncoming sigh. “Drunk of High?”
“What?” Aiber startles, caught red handed. He steps a few paces back, raising his hand in mock guilt. He laughs, “Okay okay, you got me there”
“Both then?”
“Well….”
L does not share his amusement. “You know I still have you on probation. Any substance is against it. Sober up quickly or I’ll make certain your term is longer.”
Aiber sighs. “You used to be fun. Now all you do is walk everyone on a leash.”
“Ask Watari for help with the hangover” He adds with false laziness.
“Right right” he waves his hand walking swiftly towards the door, not before halting, to reach out with a big hand and ruffling Lights hair like one would do to a dog. He could see the inner war in Lights mind; to continue playing the polite college student or slap Aibers hand away in irritation.
“Leave” He said, neither malicious or warmly, and Aiber shut the door with an echo of bourbon laughter.
Afterwards it was quiet for half a millisecond, before Light opened up his mouth and spoke with his silver tongue.
“An LA murder case huh.”
L gives him a long dead pan gaze. “Ah. Nothing special about it.”
“That's not what Aiber was implying.”
“Aiber was saying a lot and nothing at all. Don't take him so seriously in that state, Light-Kun” he said, adding on the prefix to knock him down a peg.
“And the serial killer of the case?”
L made sure his breaths were even, so he could come across as causal as his blood against the walls of his veins. “What about it?”
“He said he looked just like you.”
“Hm” L hummed, clicking the black knight against the white one, before taking it in his hand. “That's just Aibers' delusion. Did you know he thinks that Matsuda and Ryuga Hideki look alike?”
“Not the point-”
“Its exactly the point. And there's nothing else about it” He rolls his shoulder, glancing at light to make his next move. “Your turn”
Light moves his bishop, with a face akin to a blank slate. Which meant he was frustrated.
Light, consciously or subconsciously saw the world as his chessboard, and information about L was something that could move the game forward. The people are an obstacle in his game, and L, a shiny new toy. Though his intelligence was far beyond the years of his age, or any normal person, his worldview was naively childish. To use and discard people like dolls, to change plans like the shuffling of a card deck, never seeing the consequences of his own actions. Juvenile.
And L was the same. To him, Light was a plaything, that was becoming increasingly more dangerous, but more exciting.
“Aiber is interested in you.” Light said, out of the blue after two minutes of silence, in which L did not blink.
“He just misses his wife. He's a simple man always looking for a respite” L said, unsurprised.
“I doubt his wife looks like you.”
“I hope not,” He said, not missing a beat.
Light frowns. “What do you mean?”
He lazily points at his face. “I’d feel bad if she looked like me.”
Light looked shocked, and L’s eyes narrowed, trying to find out if he was faking it.
“What?” He challenged. “I’m frankly described as conventionally unattractive. Nothing more or nothing less”
“I don't believe that.”
Now it's L’s turn to frown. “How so?”
“Your looks are…but….” Even though Light always intrigued him, he was starting to annoy him. Why was he acting like a flushed brat, a shy schoolboy?
L wanted to chew cardboard. “Don't be shy, Light-kun. Say what you mean.”
Light bristled, straightening. “You're abnormally ……..beguile. Pretty.
The knight chess piece slipped out of his hand. “Repeat what you said.”
It was almost painful, the way Light had tried to cover up his blush under a cool collected facade, though a pinkish-rouge pallor he had never seen on him before gave it away. “I said what I said already.”
“Then indulge me and say it again.”
Light looked like he wanted to flip over the chess board. “I said, you're abnormal….looking.”
“You think I’m pretty, then?” L looked at him intensely, sending an ink black boiling stare that could bore into his.
“That's not what I said!”
“That's exactly what you said.” He murmured, taking back the chess piece and moving four spaces up to collect a pawn. “But I am glad you said it.”
Lights jaw went slack. “Really.”
“Yes.” he said, soaking in his expression with owl-like eyes. “I can now conclusively say that my suspicion for you being Kira has went up from 0 back to 5%
L knew all of Light's microexpressions, and had memorised them until the tiniest hint could give him a clue into what he was thinking. Predictably, he didn't need to, because Light at the moment made an expression that if it was a sound it would be head-splittingly loud.
“What! How the hell did you deduce that from? L, Ryuzaki, have we not gone through this?” Higuchi was Kira, and even though the killings have not stopped, you cleared me of suspicion in front of the entire task force and my father. Was that a lie?”
“No” L lied. Truthfully his instinct and suspicion of Light being Kira has always, and never wavered at 99%. But it was unlikely Light knew that. “Yet what you said about me raised the statistic.”
He really was poking the snake, but from the angry blush on his face made it all worth it.
“You can't be serious, Ryuzaki. All because I called you abnormal”
“All because you called me pretty, yes” L said blithely, before he nodded to him. “Now your turn.”
“Wait, no no, you dont get to do that.” Light leaned over, casting a shadow over the chess board and planted his hands on the armrests of his chair. “You need to tell me why that is.”
L looked up, quite comfortably caged between Lights arms. He decided to pinch a little further at the serpent's scales. “Why should I”
Light cleverly threw back his own words. “Indulge me”
The corners of L’s lips curled sharply. “I’m ugly. That is a fact, at least to the average human. However, from the data I've collected, only Psychopaths find me attractive. Kira is a Psychopath. And you.” He jammed his finger into the delicate part of Light's ribs, watching him wince. “Find me attractive. Psychopath. Have you connected the dots yet, Light-kun?”
“I don't find you attractive! And…” Somehow, this made Light blush further. Reducing the silver tongued genius to mumble his words. “I-how? How do you know that?”
L shrugged, pushing Light away, who stumbled and plopped back into his forlorn chair. “My theory is always proven right.”
“What could you possibly mean? I mean….how many psychopaths have found you attractive?”
L began to count on his fingers. “1, 2, 3….4”
He revelled in the lack of control Light had over the epiphany. “No way” He breathed. “You got to be kidding me.”
“5, 6,7,8….no 9. Yes nine criminals, all diagnosed with a sociopathic disorder in some way. All sentenced to death after I captured them.”
All except for one. But Beyond birthday still died anyway in confinement, at Kiras hand. After all, when he had discovered his death, it was when he joined the Kira investigation.
Light luckily jolted him out of those gripping thoughts before it pulled him under. “Your ridiculous Ryuzaki. Absolutely ridiculous.”
L looked at him, at the beautifully carved jut of his jawline and those….aubourn eyes, and found himself wishing Light had leaned in a little closer.
“Back at you.” He whispered.
“I have Misa.”
L hummed.
“I don't find you attractive.”
“But all the signs point to the opposite.”
Lights perfectly threaded eyebrows dipped. “Signs?”
L sighed, standing up, his long body reaching over the table. His hands curled, as he observed light, who did not lean away.
Placing two underneath the intrinsically carved jawline, and lifted his chin up to eye level from where he was sitting.
“As someone who has watched you for days on end, I've watched you more than you have seen yourself. I know the signs.”
Light's voice turned a raspy tune. “You know you're actually pretty creepy”
L cocked his head to the side like an owl. “Creepy?”
“Yes. No one stares at young boys for hours without being a pervert.”
“Most aren't Kira”
“None are”
L tightened the fingers on the soft skin of his chin. “Most aren't so perfect like you. Top grades, handsome face, routine so normal it would look scripted. Every aspect of you is artificially cultivated, crafted like some grandeur plan. A god pretending to be human, or human pretending to be a god”
He could see light visibly swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing.
“You think I’m god?”
“Whichever way, a childish one.”
This time, light doesn't take the bait when L picked away at his disillusioned god complex and suffers his pride. Instead;
“Well you also just noted that I’m handsome.”
L’s brow twitched. “Hm?”
Light looked like he rolled a royal flush “Handsome. You called me handsome.”
He feels as if this is a conversation that has happened before. L clicks his tongue, shaking his head in faux disappointment before dropping his hands. From the look on Light's face, it looks like he wants to snatch it back.
“Hey where are you going!” He complains loudly, that the taskforce could probably hear him from the other room.
“I need a break from your needless pestering” He says simply, watching Light squirm with annoyance.
“You started it!” he yells back, and L tries to hide his smile. How strange reality has become, from witty mind games with the teen to petty arguments that buzz blood-warm at his skin.
He hears the leather soles of shoes tap at the alabaster flooring, until it stops right next to him. “You can't leave yet. We need to finish the chess. And I need to talk to you about a few things.” Light said, coming up from behind him, his breath caressing his neck and causing gooseflesh to rise at his porcelain skin.
“Need to or want to?” L shoots back.
He raises his eyebrows when Light is quick to say. “Want to.”
“Hm” he hums, uneasy at his admittance. “I’ll consider it. That is, if you buy me some cake. Preferably vanilla with whip cream.”
Light blinks twice before smiling sharply. “Oh Ryuzaki. I’ll get you more than that.”
The chess once again ended in a lukewarm stalemate. He thinks Light is holding back from beating him. Just as he is holding back from killing him.
-
Turns out, the boy decided to make it a date. He reserved a candlelit dinner at one of the notoriously expensive restaurants in Japan, stationed on the top floor near a window. Also known for its fanciful and perhaps plethoric deserts.
The glowing lights of the Kanto region spread out before him, a spectacle, prism in the twilight. Close enough to squish his cheek against the glass pane, he could see the people crowding down below, talking with their loved ones, rushing home from work. A hivemind of ants. It's how he saw the world, and how Kira did too.
Speaking of the devil, he shifted his eyes to where he was seated across from him. Light looks exceptionally beautiful in the limelight, though L deigned not to say anything. His suit was thoroughly ironed, wearing the suit like it belonged to him, though he guessed it was actually his fathers. His eyes, usually dark and perilously intelligent, were smoky with sin. He could be mistaken for wearing eyeliner that accentuated his jawline. Yes handsome was the only way to describe him.
The whole situation is very ironic, that if L dappled in humour he would find it funny. Sitting across from the man who wants to kill him, and vice verse. Like the final supper of Jesus and Judas. He is brought back to his early childhood in church. Psalm 23:5 – “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies…”
L sighed, his breath frosting the cold window, before fully turning to face him.
The priest had decorated himself in bloody hues, as he folded through the golden adorned pages of the bible, and spoke of Jesus' betrayal like it was a sacrifice.. He held L’s hand in his and squeezed it until it turned a rashy red as if to get the point across. “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me—one who is eating with me.”— Mark 14:18 he had said with the powerful boom of his voice.
But L does not dwell long in things from the past, that were not the present reality. He opens his mouth facing Light directly.
“You're not going to be able to pay for all of this” He said simply. It was the first few words he had spoken since he had gotten here, and they had been sitting in silence which could have been awkward if they were normal people.
Light tried to pay it off with a laugh. “I have money, you know. I’m not some broke college student.”
“Yes, but perhaps I should pay for it’
“Like I said Ryuzaki, I was the one who took you out, I will pay” Light said, waving around an expensive sheepskin wallet like it meant nothing to him.
“I’m a billionaire,” L replied blandly and perhaps bluntly.
Light smiled, smoothly tucking in the napkin on his lap. “It makes me wonder, did you inherit your money or did you earn it all”
“I earned it” L said, pretending to be bored as he flicked at the champagne chalice, ringing like a bell as it did. His ears tingled with intense focus of the honey like the quality Lights voice had.
“How?”
He cocked his head to the side and smiled. “I started investing in stock and financial schemes when I was seven”
Light's face morphed into something that resembled genuine shock. It probably was.
“Children can't own bank accounts.”
“Of course not, that's why I got Watari to invest for me.”
“I see,” Light nodded, his eyebrows, however, narrowed. “I didn't expect that….”
The waiter came, all dapper with a tedious black bow and a glossy suit. “Mr.Yagami and…” he turned to look at L, face scrunching up in disgust when he spied the unorthodox outfit he was wearing at the establishment, his classic cotton shirt and blue jeans.
“Mr Ryuga ” Light finished for him. “He's with me”
“Of course,” The waiter said, gaining some composure. “Welcome gentlemen, to our esteemed establishment. How should I start you men off for tonight.”
Light cleared his throat. “Well, we would like…”
L was quite irritated when he ordered for the both of them, until Light ordered a large fluffy vanilla angel cake with strawberry whip cream. He was quickly forgiven, in his mind.
“You remembered what I wanted,” L commented, as the waiter left.
“I have an excellent memory” He replied and if L was the type of person to roll his eyes, he would at Lights pretentiousness.
“But the real reason why I remembered, was because it was about you” Light continued, and L knew where this was going. “I wanted to talk to you because I wanted to get to know you.”
He wanted to say coarsely, that “Of course Kira wants to know everything about his enemy. Every thread seen is one that can be tugged on. Exploited."
“Why do you want to know?” He still asks anyway. Just to see what grand excuse Light will come up with this time.
“For two months we were chained together, in constant company of one another. Yet it seems as if I know nothing about you.”
Over those weeks, l had spent hours upon hours, days and days staring at Light. Dissecting him, seeing what made him tick. It seems now that Light wants to be the one holding the scalpel. Touche.
“I don't believe it. What do you really want to know?” he says, twirling the fork around with his thumb and pointer fingers, wishing he could stab it down into the mahogany of the table.
“You” He insisted.
L’s pouty lips downturn into a frown. “You know me enough.”
Light straightens in his chair, crossing his arms. “You say that, but it’s clear you don’t trust me. You watch me like I’m under a microscope, waiting for me to slip up.”
L’s can't help but sharpen his amused eyes. “And do you feel close to slipping, Light-kun?”
Light exhales sharply through his nose, frustration brimming beneath the surface. “You deflect everything. I’m trying to have a serious conversation about how we can make progress, and you’re playing games.”
“I assure you,” L replies, his voice low and even, “I am always serious.”
Light follows the movements with his umber pupils before looking him directly in the eye. “What is Watari to you?”
L stills. He is not going to give away answers easily.
“Try and guess”
“He is related to you”
L smiles. “No”
“So he is not your legal guardian?”
“Yes”
“He is just your caretaker?”
“He is not just my ‘caretaker’. But yes, he plays that role”
Light taps his fingers against the lace tablecloth. “So your an orphan”
“Was an orphan. I’m an adult now”
“How old are you now?”
“24.” he lied, chewing the inside of his cheek.
“You don't look it” Light practically whispers.
“Is that an insult or a compliment?” L questions, not that he cares.
Light ignored him, hurtling straight for the next inquiry. “Where did you live when you were a child?”
L tuts. “Only yes or no questions”
“England then? Is that where you grew up?”
“Yes and no.” He sighed, rubbing the fork on his lip. “ How did you know?”
“You look like you have English heritage. It was a shot in the dark.” Light shrugged. “What do you mean yes and no?”
When L did not give him a hint, Light sighs. “Did you move around alot? To America perhaps.”
L nods, always enthralled at Lights deductions. “Correct”
Light beamed at L’s affirmation. “Did you grow up in an orphanage?”
L paused, realising this was reaching into dangerous territory.
“Why does it matter?”
But his non answer was an answer in itself. Light smiled, all teeth, honing in on that particular distrust.
“So you did grow up in an orphanage” Light raised his eyebrows, with what could be interpreted as mocking and interest. Whatever it was, it was prying. “I assume it was an orphanage in England then.”
L swallowed, swirling the spikes of his fork into his napkins. “Light Yagami attemded Machida Municipal Minamiya Elementary School between ages 5-9. That's where you went as a kid. I heard that the teachers still talk about how brilliant you were as a student there. And don't get me started on your middle school”
Light stuttered at L’s counter attack. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“Ashai Ito was your best friend at the time, all the way up into the sixth year, when he left the region. But you never really liked him, did you? Let me guess you used him to make yourself look better. After all, he had such bad grades it must have looked like a charity case from an outsider-”
“Ok ok I get it” Light said, smacking a firm hand on the table, silencing it. “I dont even want to know how you know that information. I see your point is.”
“And my point is?”
“That you dont want me prying into your life.”
L smiled around his fork, chewing half-heartedly on the metal. “Exactly. It seems like we are at an understanding.”
Light attempted to hide his frustration with a cough. “I dont think it's fair that you know so much about me, but I don't know anything about you.”
“Perhaps it's because one of us is Kira and the other is the detective trying to catch him.”
Lights fists clench around the butter knife. “I’m not Kira, and do you actually think I’m going to be able to find out your name through these simple questions?”
“No, if you thought that you're even dumber than I thought” He bit down hard on his fork, the metallic taste soaking his tongue. “But no victim would willingly give information about themselves to their killer.”
“I’m not going to be your killer” Light groaned, though the knife in his hand gleamed sharply. “Don't try and make yourself out to be some perfect victim either.”
L leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his knees. “And what about you, Light-kun? Are you suggesting that you, a paragon of perfection and discipline, are the perfect victim? Continuously accused of being Kira by some deranged detective.”
Light chuckles softly, though the sound is hollow. “I’m not as perfect as you think, Ryuzaki.”
“Of course not,” L says without hesitation. “No one is. But you certainly enjoy pretending to be.”
Light’s smirk falters, and for a moment, the mask slips entirely. “You think you know me so well.”
“I’m not, but the facts remain the same.”
“It doesn't. You willingly chain yourself to your Kira suspect for months yet you won't even tell me, after I’ve been cleared as Kira-”
“You haven't been cleared.”
“-anything about yourself. You said I was your first friend”
L feels something uncomfortable tug at his chest, perhaps his heartstrings. He had lied when he had said that. He had figured Light would have realised that by now. But…..
His emotions get the best of him.
“Alright. I get it.”
Light stops talking, his arms returning to his side. He still looks bitter in his stone composure.
He knows angering Light is a bad move. Like taking a pawn in a chess game. He's bathing in hot water, when Kira so clearly has the upperhand. But he says it anyway.
“I’ll tell you one thing….you are not the first person I said that too.”
He doesn't see Lights expression, because a millisecond later he hears the rolling of a elaborate trolley and the professional voice of the waiter “Gentleman, your dinner is here”
His mouth waters when he sees the cake. It's a decadent three layers vanilla, the frosting a pasty whipped buttercream, smooth and fluffy strawberries garnishing the powdered ganache and sugar.
He glances at what Light ordered, a medium rare steak drizzled with sweet gravy, an english delicacy, only to find that light is still staring at him. His arms crossed, eyes hazy and lips pulled taught.
Ignoring him as the waiter glides away, he stabs into the cake, digging into the fondue. When it reaches his lips, his dark eyes widen minutely. It tastes like heaven.
“And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.’ In the same way, after the supper, he took the cup, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.’” Luke 22:19-20-
Light, who seemed determined to glare at him for the rest of dinner, glances away when L begins licking up the frosting with his fingers, a livid rouge on his cheeks.
“Mmm” he mumbles. “This might be better than where Watari gets them. Light, you need to try this cake.”
Light shifts, more than a little irked. “Ryuzaki, if you think I’m going to just pretend you didn't just say what you did-”
He is swiftly cut off when L dives forward and shoves a spoonful of the frosting dessert into his open mouth. He shouts muffled, eyes widened with surprise. But with no choice, he bites down and swallows.
“See it's good isn't it?”
Light, snarling, shoves the fork away, clattering onto the plate. L plops back down onto his seat in his usual position. He watches, satisfied as Light wipes away the mess on his pink lips with the sleeve of his suit.
“Don't do that again.” He says warningly, but his voice is surprisingly tuned with a sense of softness. L’s diversion worked.
“No promises” equally breathy, taking a larger bite from the middle of the cake himself.
Suddenly bile rises to his throat.
“L, Ryuzaki” Light frowns as he chokes. “What's wrong?
He doesn't answer, instead, he spits out the cake from his mouth and back onto his plate. He tries not to throw the rest of his stomach up as well.
“What the hell! That's gross?” He hears Light say, but he's not really listening. Instead he wipes away all the residue of the cake near his lips with his thumb in rapid desperate fashion.
“Were you choking? Wait seriously, what's wrong?”
“Disgusting” L mutters, practically a whisper. But Light hears it. He sees the shaking of his hand where he tries to hide it in his lap.
“It can't be disgusting, you just tried it and said it was amazing a moment ago-
“I told you to get vanilla filling. This is not vanilla.” He says not even looking at the cake anymore. Where the red lining was sneakily hidden in between the layers.
“Wait then what is it?” Light said confused, reaching over the scoop up some of the middle filling.
He chews for a moment before shrugging. “It's just strawberry”
“Strawberry jam” L corrects.
“So? Why are you so pale over it?”
L downs a glass to wash the taste away before replying. “I hate strawberry jam.”
Light looks shocked before he deadpans; “Your joking”
L pushes the plate away. “Dead serious.” His mouth is tainted with cloying ichor sweetness, as horrid as swallowing blood and guts. He reaches over with spindly hands and chugs down a whole glass of water.
“You're that picky you would throw up your food?”
“It was strawberry jam.”
“So? You ordered strawberries”
“Only for the topping. And you're the one who ordered it.”
“Don't blame me, you're the one acting like a baby.”
Though annoying, L is glad light rushed to the assumption that L was a picky eater. He didnt want to explain the real reason of why he hated even the mention of strawberry jam.
Beyond Birthday had a certain appetite for red foods, particularly strawberry jam. Always leaving empty can of it and worst of all-
Its so stupid. His aversion to food. Why did something so minor in the grand scheme of thing that happened nearly eight years ago by a dead man still affect him?
Still he shoves the plate away from him. “I’ll call the waiter and ask for them to remake my order”
Light shoved the plate back in his direction, nose scrunching up in distaste. “No, I’m not paying extra.”
L, maybe a little pettily pushes the plate even farther away from him. “Then I’m not eating.”
“You're unbelievable,” He mutters. “Cut around the edges and just eat that!”
“The jam has infected the rest of the cake.”
Light lets out a long suffering groan. “You always act like a pampered princess Ryuzaki
“If you say so Kira-Chan”
Light grits his teeth, obviously wanting to say he was not Kira nor was it the correct title, but didn’t know where to start. He refrained.
“I regret going out with you” He huffed.
“Going out huh? So this is a date?” L couldn't help but tease.
Light looked embarrassed. “No. But this just further proves that I’m not Kira.” he tries to fruitlessly save the conversation. “And Kira wouldn't suffer through a date with the most annoying of his enemies without killing him.”
L stopped himself from pointing out the fact that Light technically did just suffer a date with him. Without killing him.
“Hm, so if it is a date, you're not Kira. But if it isn't, you are?”
He could practically hear Light audibly sneer in his mind. “That's an unfair assumption to make.”
Their bickering was a relief. It was strangely comforting. How can something so familiar be so abnormal at the same time?
“You said it yourself”
“Your trying to trap me into saying that I’m on a date with you because you know I can't admit I’m Kira” he glared with his entire face. “Your perverted.”
“Perhaps. Are you?” he presses.
Light tries to keep a serious annoyed face. But suddenly, his face relaxes and he laughs. Like chiming bells.
The check comes later. L pays for all of the meal after the Lights card declines.
L thinks he could smile.
Chapter 2
Summary:
When tempted, no one should say, ‘God is tempting me.’ For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone; but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.
-James 1:13-15:
Notes:
I posted this slightly off schedule, so thanks for patiently waiting! Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Misa has not been at the Task Force headquarters lately, and clearly by design. Mogi sits around doing nothing, picking at the couch linen by pretending to look over the endless files L curated for him, while Matsuda constantly whines about her absence.
“When is Misa-Misa going to come back?”
“ Misa was so much more fun”
“Don't you agree, Ryuzaki? I want to see her dance again-”
“I’ll start dancing and give you a little jig if you don't shut up” Aizawa grumbled, just the right amount of sarcasm that Matsuda finally got the hint.
However his needless pestering did pose a question. Where was Misa?
L finds it ironic that by letting Misa do whatever she wants was letting more people die, but trying to convince everyone to test the fake thirteen day rule was a death sentence. She was the key that light used to lock L in handcuffs. His hands were tied. L could do nothing, except widdle down his fingernails with his teeth.
“You really need to stop biting your nails, Ryuzaki, it's a bad habit” he hears Lights forged gentle voice speak beside him as he thinks. It sounded like a golden bell, chiming in the sunset on a celebration of death. He tunes it out.
L did not care that criminals were dying, since most were on death row anyway. Its not why he joined the Kira case to begin with. Rather it was the injustice of it, that Kira had deemed himself worthy to judge.
To judge Beyond .
Either way risking his life was not going to work in this scenario. He was the only one who still suspected Light was Kira, and if he died, all that knowledge would be wasted. Then Watari would be ripe for the picking, and everything would be lost.
But his words are as bland as porcelain, and he couldn't convince anyone, his theory of light being Kira was discredited among the taskforce. Yet he needed more people, who could believe his theory. Someone who could carry on the truth if he died.
Wammy's house loomed like a ink-black shadow in the recesses of his mind. His heirs….if L died they would continue his legacy either way, so why not bring them onto the task force prematurely?
It would be supremely dangerous for them but it would be a failsafe.
L had never met his new batch of heirs in real life. Ever since the A and Beyond situation, Watari and Roger agreed the best way to prevent such a thing from happening was to keep a distance. Of course, he had talked to each of them briefly, but mostly with M. Mello. He was the one most unstable in the newly implemented psych evaluations.
“Ryuzaki are you listening-”
He had decided, in telling the story of the LA BB murder case to volatile Mello, so he could prevent him from following the footsteps of his predecessors, A and Beyond…though L had lied through his teeth many times when he recounted the story. And of course left chunks of it out. But the theme hopefully stuck in the boy's mind.
Near would be 13 now, Mello, 15 and Matt, the third contender would be turning 16 in a month. N would be the one most likely to succeed him. However to bring a fresh faced child barely into his teens onto the taskforce would bring outrage, even though L really didnt agree about the moral implications of child labour. He had solved over a hundred particularly gorey cases younger than they were.
But how would Near fare against Light Yagami? Despite Kiras' good godly disguise, he would not hesitate to kill a child if they got in his way.
Suddenly he was ripped out of his thoughts when a cold hand grasped his wrist, pulling his thumb out of his mouth.
“You act like a toddler, you know.” He hears the devil speak. “I told you to stop chewing on your thumb”
“And you're an irritable child” he calmly protests, opening his mouth and placing his thumb back on his tongue just to watch Light squirm.
At least Light hasn't changed in that aspect.
“You're doing this on purpose?” Light says,
“Doing what? It's not like I’m biting your fingernails.” He teases coldly.
Light rolls his eyes. “It's disturbing.”
“Hm” L says, flicking his palm. “I think you just like controlling my every little move.”
Light laughs, all snark. “Don't try psychoanalyzing me over this.”
“Would you like for me to analyse you over something else. Like how you brush your teeth four times a day indicates brash insecurity?
Light crosses his arms. “How about we talk about the circles under your eyes. They've gotten darker, perhaps it's because of increasing fear?”
L wanted to smile. Over such little things Light always revealed the smallest hint. Like how he was frustrated that he could never make L afraid of him.
“That's strange, my eyebags have always been dark.” He humors him. “Especially when I was worried Kira would strangle me as I slept with the very chain I attached myself to him.”
Light's voice drops. “No, they were less dark” A feeble foolish attempt at gaslighting. “Perhaps you miss it, sleeping next to something you deemed dangerous”
“Correction, something that is dangerous.” L cocks his head. “But maybe that would fix my insomnia. I see your insinuating that we share a bed again, in hopes that you do finish the job and smother me as I sleep”
“I might do it now if you keep thinking that I am Kira!” He hisses a little too loudly because from across the room Aizawa raises an eyebrow. “And I would never do that.” He quickly adds.
“And I don't think you're Kira. See, now we are both lying”
Light looks really nice in the harsh artificial shine of the skyscraper lamps when he is mad. Especially in his black leather turtleneck, the colour of
blasphemy
.
“I’m not lying.” Light attests, scooching closer.
“Me neither” L lies.
Light tries to suppress a bitter grin.. Half cruel, half soft. L cant help but lean over and whisper in his ear.
“Your quite easy to irritate. Light-kun-”
“Stop bickering you two!” He hears Aizawa shout across the room, who took the muttering as continuous quarrelling. “And how the hell did your conversation turn from biting fingernails to this?”
Light looks disappointed when L backs up. “You know it's impolite to eavesdrop” He says, causing the older man to send him a look that conveyed something along the lines of “ Everyone could hear you speaking anyway. ” And considering the mortified expression on Soichiro Yagami's face, he wasn't the only one listening in.
Light coughs, but L smoothly rattles on. “To answer your earlier question, Matsuda, Misa has been absent lately due to increasing attention from the media and plans with agents to star in more than a few magazines.” He then directed his gaze to Light. “No other reason right?”
Light frowned innocently. “I haven't been keeping up with her”
“That's strange, she is your girlfriend after all.”
“Of course.” Light said starkly, looking anywhere but L’s face.
L went back to thinking again. Perhaps because Misa was most likely in current ownership of the other notebook, he wanted to keep her away so L wouldn't try and find a way to expose her. Which also made no logical sense since Misa, the figured second Kira had the eyes. So wouldn't Light want to have her find out L’s name? But at the same time Light had not yet used Rem to kill him…so he was holding off.
The Shinigami herself was actually floating near the couch, wings outstretched staring into nothingness. She was a creature of very few words, wandering the halls, and staring often at Light with those bulging yellow eyes. He questioned her a few times, and decided it wouldn't hurt to start again.
L turned his gaze from Light, who was now sulking with a faint pink flush on his cheeks—a rare and curious sight—to the pale, looming figure of Rem. She hovered near the couch, her skeletal wings casting faint, eerie shadows against the wall.
“Shinigami Rem.” He calls across the room. He sees a twitch in all eight of her lopsided ribs, a shift in temperature of the room. Everyone falls silent.
“It is just Rem.” She answers, hesitantly, wearily.
“Would you be so kind as to walk with me? I have a few questions.”
Soichiro stands up. “Are you expecting to question the Shinigami alone? We haven't discussed this-”
L raised a tentative hand to silence him. “I would just like to talk to her, if that is okay with Rem.
The ever silent Shinigami narrows its eyes, gaze flickering to Light, another indicator of reluctant loyalty he planned to dismantle. Light did not reveal his weariness on his face, because in the next second Rem spoke.
“I will walk with you, human”
The halls were large and empty as always, but a perfect size for a 9 foot god of death as it floated beside L, matching his pace. When he was certain he was far enough away from the main foyer, and nearby cameras and recorders Watari could document, he decided to speak, starting off firm.
“Rem,” L began, his voice cutting through the deadly silence. “You’ve been hovering here for days, silent and watchful. Why?”
Rem’s lips curled back faintly, exposing sharp teeth. “I have nothing to say to you.” L, undeterred, leaned forward slightly clasping at his visible bony knuckles like he was resting a hand on an easily breakable teacup.
“Then why did you decide to talk to me?”
“Because I have nothing better to do.”
“Hm. You don't strike me a someone who does things simply for the whim of entertainment”
“Humans are not entertaining”
Like moving a queen to an open square with no pawn to defend it, he takes a risk. “I think your lying”
Rem nearly stops in her tracks. “Is that an accusation?”
“You misunderstand. It’s an observation.” Rem’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t speak.
“You’re not as detached as I think you're making yourself out to be.,” L continued. “You watch Light Yagami like a hawk, but there’s a flicker of something else when your gaze drifts to the topic of Misa. Concern, perhaps?”
“That’s none of your business,” Rem said, her voice colder now.
“Yet it is,” L said softly. “Misa’s actions have repeatedly implicated her as the second Kira, indicating you two might have had a connection, yet Light has kept her at arm’s length. But If you cared for her safety, you’d have stopped her from risking her life in such a way. But you didn’t. Why?”
“So you suspect that Misa is the Second Kira? You put yourself in a dangerous position.” In the limelight her teeth grow “If you are going to arrest her, I will kill you where you stand.”
L had a feeling it would escalate. So he pulls out his ace card from his sleeve. “Ah,” L said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “So you admit there’s something binding you to Misa beyond obligation.
“I admit nothing,” Rem snapped, her voice sharper now.
“You care for Misa. I knew it. Saw the way you acted when she was mentioned. You could stop Misa. You could take the Death Note from her, or you could… terminate the connection altogether. Yet here you are, still watching. What are you waiting for?”
Rem’s wings shifted, and for a moment, she seemed to waver. “You think you’re clever, L, but you’re blind to the simplest truths. I’m not here to justify myself to you. I stay because I have no choice.” She snaps. “You will regret this.”
“Regret is a human flaw,” L replied evenly. “But fear? Fear is universal, even among gods of death.” For a moment, silence fell between them.
“If you try to harm Misa, I will kill you. No hesitation.”
L looked up at her, unflinching. His pulse beats below his skin. Indecipherable “And if I die, who will expose Light Yagami for what he truly is?” Rem froze, and L could hear that unnatural blood in her boil.
He sighs, playing the sudden, vulnerable perhaps even soft facade of a caring man. “Truth is, I care for Misa.” The lie slips so smoothly on his tongue he is sure not even a god of death could see it as anything but the truth. “She is a young girl, and I have no interest in arresting her. In fact I want her to live a full healthy life, free of guilt or suffering.”
Rem seemed taken aback, her wings folding in on herself. “There's no way. You arrested her on no basis before.”
“That was before I realized she was a victim of her circumstances. That the true perpetrator, the one that was manipulating Misa this entire time.” He watched acutely as her face scrunched up in disgust.
“Light Yagami” He whispers, like it was a little secret between the both of them. “He most likely manipulated you into making you believe that I would bring harm to Misa, which is the last thing I would ever do. You have Misa’s best interest in mind. It looks like we have more in common than you think.”
Rem stepped closer, her shadow swallowing L’s diminutive frame. She looks unsure now. ...You’re bold, human. Your intellect borders on recklessness. You're playing a dangerous game.” But still she leans closer, conspiratorially. “You're playing a dangerous game. How do I know you're not lying to me?”
He knows now he's got her hooked.
“You must know subconsciously that I am not. That’s what keeps you in check, isn’t it?” L continued, his voice a near whisper now. “You know that killing me would tip the scales in Light’s favor, and yet… you hesitate because Misa’s fate is tied to his. If Light wins, Misa loses. Am I wrong?”
Rem’s silence was answer enough. L leaned back, his small grin now almost imperceptible.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Rem. You’ve been very helpful.”
Rem speaks, low raspy but now only with the aggression of a tamed dog. “You think you understand the workings of Shinigami, but you don’t.”
L stops looking up at her, the glow in her pupils, more of a shine than his own. He decided to let a shred of truth run from his lips. “I do know how they work. I met one before.”
His admittance has her wings spreading in stutter denial. “Impossible”
“Ah quite. He was technically a man. But born with the eyes of a Shinigami”
L remembers that day on the T.V when the second Kira had mentioned the “Shinigami eyes.” For a moment, L had thought Beyond had returned, and was now haunting him through the scratchy screen. He had screamed and fell to the floor, with all the guilt-laced memories of Beyond and his grotesque and amused eyes flooded his throat, and he couldn't swallow the strawberry jam tinged bile that rose with it. He nearly threw up that time, but gained composure, and shoved the memories he had been forced to remember back down.
Yet they lingered like a parasitic cyst.
“And like a god of death he knew when everyone could die.” He finished, and if Rem had eyebrows they would raise. L found it easier to talk about beyond when he didn't have to internalize it.
For the first time, Rem looked genuinely surprised. “That is….curious”
“Yes indeed.”
“Who was he?” She asked, no, demanded , more intrigued.
“I’ll tell you more about him later. That is if you don't kill me in the next few days.” He insisted, watching her cat-like pupils slim further. “But perhaps we can bond more in the meantime. Say, have you ever tried a lollipop?”
“No….”
“Interesting, try mine, its apple flavour. Light told me gods of death love apples…”
When Light told Rem to kill L months ago, he meant it, and was ready for it. He wanted to see those ugly eyes, the ones he spent nights thinking of adjectives to describe.
Unsightly
Ghastly,
Revolting
Hideous
Grotesque
Angelic -
Eyes! He wanted to see the little shine L had in those pupils fade into eternity. He would never have to see them again, as they burned holes into his own.
L would die. Light never went back on his plans.
But that “ never ” was about to end.
When he embraced Misa after regaining his memories, he had whispered for her to go dig up the death note. Yet he also had told her to ignore the last sentence he had written in deathly black ink, the one that ordered her to kill L.
She never got her Shinigami eyes a second time. But Light didn't slightly care. Because he no longer had any plan to kill L at the moment.
Oh he hated Ryuzaki. He always would, he told himself. And he still desired to kill him. Fantasized about wringing that horrid neck of his.
Yet he didn't know why, but he didn't want him to die. At least not yet. His hesitance, this sudden disturbance surprised even himself. Ever since Light held that sleek black notebook he knew what he wanted. To be a god. Nothing would stand in his way. But now he was unsure why he wanted to keep L alive in the first place. It was an emotion completely unknown, foreign to him. Unwholly unlike him. The sudden want was turned into a need to keep the man breathing for the moment, like the idea was naturally transplanted in his brain.
L simply had that effect on him.
When he reluctantly had to talk to Misa again, he tried in vain to rationalize his thoughts.
Misa sat cross-legged on Light’s comforter, hands curled into tiny fists, laying aside her on the bed, the Death Note open on her lap. Her usual playful demeanor was subdued as she twirled a pink glittery pen between her fingers, her bright eyes locked onto Light. He stood near the window, staring out at the darkened streets, hands clasped behind his back.
“Light, I don’t understand,” Misa said, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. “Why are we letting Ryuzaki live? He’s the only one who suspects you now. If I get the eyes- use the notebook, it’ll look like someone else did it. I could save you.” Light turned his head slightly, his expression calm but his eyes hard. Reasonably, letting Misa get the eyes would shorten her lifespan, which was actually ideal to him, considering just how annoying she was. But knowing L’s name might tempt him, like Eve tempted Adam, to write his name down.
“Misa, do you think I haven’t considered that? Killing Ryuzaki seems like the obvious choice, yes. But it’s precisely because it’s obvious that we must avoid it.”
Misa frowned. “But—”
“Think,” Light interrupted, his tone sharp but measured. “If Ryuzaki dies, who do you think they’ll suspect? Who else would benefit from his death?” Misa hesitated.
“But if I’m the one to write his name, how would they connect it to you?” Light sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture, Misa. Ryuzaki has made himself indispensable to the investigation. If he dies, the task force will rally, not crumble. And they’ll focus all their efforts on avenging him. Do you really think my father would let it go?”
Misa pouted, leaning forward on the bed. “But he’s so close to proving you’re Kira! If we don’t do something soon, he’ll—”
“Ryuzaki is… useful,” Light interrupted again, his voice quieter now, contemplative. Misa tilted her head. “Useful? How?” Light turned fully to face her, his gaze piercing. “As long as Ryuzaki is alive, I can control the direction of the investigation. I can anticipate his moves, counter them. If someone else were to take over—a less predictable mind—it would be harder to manipulate the situation.” Misa nodded slowly, though she still seemed unconvinced.
To Light, what he was saying even sounded stupid. He noted to himself that even his manipulation was duller than usual., that if Misa was less blinded by her love towards him, might decipher through the blatant manipulation. His cognitive abilities must be declining due to L’s presence. It was much easier to blame him.
“But… What if he does catch you? He’s dangerous, Light. He doesn’t trust you, no matter how much you pretend to be friends.” Light’s jaw tightened, and he glanced away, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
“I know.” There was a brief silence, heavy and tense, before Misa spoke again, her voice softening. “Is it just that? Is he only useful to you? Or…” Light’s eyes snapped back to hers, his expression cold and unreadable.
“Or what, Misa?” She hesitated, fidgeting with the pen. “Or do you… care about him?” Light scoffed, and the idea of ever caring for that creature was ridiculous.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Ryuzaki is a tool, nothing more. I keep him alive because it benefits me, not because I care.”
“But you don’t hate him,” Misa pressed, her voice almost teasing. “If it were someone else, you’d kill them without thinking twice. Admit it, Light—you like having him around, even if you won’t say it.” Light’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. Misa was getting too pushy.
“Don’t confuse pragmatism with sentimentality, Misa. Ryuzaki is a threat, and I’m handling him in the best way possible. Nothing more.”
Misa's eyes turned glassy, when he turned to her. “If you say so.”
His mind achingly churned. Ryuzaki was a threat, yes. But he was also the only person who truly challenged him, who saw through the masks and lies. Killing him would mean victory, but it would also mean silence—a silence. An ugly loathing and most egregiously empty silence.
“Leave Ryuzaki to me,” Light said finally, his voice cold but strained. “Don’t write his name. I’ll decide when it’s time.” Misa sighed, leaning back on the bed. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so handsome, Light.” She attempts a coy smile. “How about you join me on the bed?"
He remembers the nights he would share a bed with L. How a chain that was 6ft long felt like ten inches on especially cold evenings. He wonders if L turned up the air conditioning to the max just so Light would have to press near him, to salvage some warmth. It was easier to think of L as the pervert, then the other possibility….
That L tempted him.
The detective was an angel in mortal flesh. Because angels are meant to be scary, to look monstrous, to ward off evil.
And Lind.L Taylor was wrong in calling Kira evil. If Angels were meant to repel the wicked, then Light isn't evil because he's more drawn to L then ever.
When Light didn’t respond, Misa sighed, turning over her pink strawberry covers. Light's gaze stayed fixed on the night sky, the weight of his own words pressing heavily on his chest.
He had taken the risk, and luckily L had not decided to not voice or test the 13 day rule even though he suspected the detective knew the rules were fake. His subject changed, but his objective stayed the same. Kira would still become the god of the new world.
Truthfully, he just wanted Ryuzaki's vile eyes to see his new world come into fruition when it happened. Then, he would kill L himself.
The bells are still ringing in the distance.
L remembers A’s body hung on the tongue of the bell, his neck dark as a heliotrope and stretched out, his cheeks a blotched amarthine.
A had hung himself, quite dramatically, on the Wammy's House bell tower...the morning of Beyonds 18th birthday. It's where he adopted such a childish name from birthday , as his serial killer's title. Beyond Birthday , the world's greatest criminal. A fucked up stunted fantasy. Perhaps Beyond knew it himself, and why he knew it would never last. Its why he locked himself in that sacred room and lit himself on fire.
But before then, he had just been Beyond. And when he arrived at the orphanage, it was just B.
B had arrived at the orphanage three years after L had. He had not met him right away, since L was mostly if not always separated from the rest of the children, who all looked at him in either awe or jealousy for having his own room and title.
From what L heard, the first month Beyond was at the orphanage was very hard for him. Back then, he was clearly albino, with pale long hair and red eyes that he had tried but failed to cover with his bangs. Being so unique in appearance and in erratic mannerisms, he was immediately cast out by his peers, often hitting, slapping him and pushing him to the ground. And unlike L, he didn't know how to fight back.
When L asked more about the strange boy, Watari said that he was unsure of his origins, that he was mostly likely Slavic, and they had found him at hospital after a terrible fire ripped through a housing complex, leaving everyone living there dead or with horrendous burns. However, Beyond was the only one who did not suffer anything but occasional coughing from the smoke.
In the beginning months, B would always sit alone, near the apple tree by the fence of the Wammy hill. L would watch the strange new boy climb it everyday, hiding in the leaves like it was a blanket, or sitting on the ground and carving dirt angels and picking out worms like a rat. Perhaps he could relate to the loneliness, though he was self-imposed, but still he felt inextricably drawn to him. Perhaps it was because he also caught B staring back.
So when Roger came to him, saying that the boy had disappeared for curfew, first of many times, L shocked him by volunteering to find B.
He wasn't hard to find. He was behind the apple tree like he wanted to be found. When L found him, he looked up with a sardonic grin. Two children looked into each others eyes and saw the others soul for the first time.
Sometimes he wishes he didn't approach him. Perhaps Beyond’s lifelong obsession would never develop into the cannibalistic desire it became, starting with the young seeds of youthful admiration. Or maybe it was inevitable, like the snake swallowing the sun. Both of their fates were sealed, more permanent than a name being written on a note of death.
“You are who they are calling L?” Beyond had immediately guessed. And like a snake coiling around his prey, he never let go.
Its why even though L is miles away from the Wammy house, he still feels its unshakable presence. He has his pocket wired phone in his hand, and he keeps flipping it. Up and down. He knows what he has to do, but a part of him is still stuck in time at that orphanage. And if he brings his new heirs onto the Kira case, all those dreadful memories would be a reminder of what he lost, and what he did.
But Kira is closing in on him. Light is planning something, and he needs to disrupt it. And the only way to preserve his legacy, in the case those pristine hands got to his throat, it would be through his heirs.
However, he still needed time to think. Beyond's voice was particularly loud tonight, like it always was during the small hours of dusk, where he could hear A’s body thudding against the walls of the bell when it swung.
He slides open the balcony, and lets the rain drown it out.
It's been days now, and he keeps fluctuating between desire to write L’s name in the death note and have him skin himself alive, and being abhorred at even L missing a single breath. It reached its peak when L talked to Rem alone, with those dark boring eyes hiding some master plan. To move the pawn forward in their physiological game of chess.
But if he killed L, he’d risk sending him to heaven, and Light intended to ensure his torment lingered here in hell.
Not that the detective is some perfect little angel. With those watchful eyes staring at him day in and day out during his weeks and weeks of confinement after he lost his memories. He was a devil who deceived him, and Light sometimes fantasized about tormenting him day in and day out.
He was a serpent with legs. And he needed to cut them off, so L had no choice but to squirm to him.
That is how Light found himself walking up the flights and flights of glass-panes stairs, with one direction in mind. Ryuzaki’s room. He wanted to get him alone.
His fingers curled at his side, as he nodded to Aizawa goodnight, who was heading for the exit. He gave him a strange look, since Light was staying behind. Probably thought he was going to stay up late using L’s software to look through databases. With an inhale of the steel air, and tilt of his head, he leaves.
Light takes a different hallway, keeping his footsteps measured and paced, hoping he doesn't look too suspicious in Watari’s cameras. Not that he was planning on doing anything nefarious, but sneaking unprompted into L’s room warranted some worry.
When he reached the door, he breathed a sigh of relief that L had not changed the passcode on his door, the one he tried to hide from Light when they had to enter his room each night to rigidly share a bed when they were both handcuffed. He takes the fact he had not changed the passcode as an invite.
The well oiled door does not creak when it opens, but the click echoes in the empty room. He frowns, at the silence, void of the tapping of a keyboard or the munching of sweets. He had expected L to be in his bed, doing anything but sleeping, or typing obsessively at the computer like the sadist he was.
But he wasn't there at all.
Light took a step further, his manicured fingers brushing the knob of the door. It looked like he was breaking and entering rather than his original idea of intimidation. His gaze lifts to the partially made bed, with a lumped comforter and sprawled sheets and something close to a quick-fix of nostalgia courses through him. All those nights they had spent, leaning on the edge of the comforter trying to keep their backs against each other.
One time L had rolled over in his sleep and spooned him, clinging like Misa did, but with uglier snores. Now that he thinks about it, L was probably not even asleep. He just did it to annoy him. Bastard .
A warm tingling made himself present at the memories, as he remembered the early mornings trying to find a normal breakfast, while L munched on english sweets. He glances towards the wall where he threw them at the detective after he offered them as a healthy snack.
He was so caught up in the net of his thoughts that he didn't register the cool wind dusting his skin. The balcony sliding door is cracked open.
It's been raining non stop for weeks now, and he can hear the downpour slapping wetly at the concrete outside. He slips off his shoes, and then huffs and takes his socks off, before stepping into the storm.
L is at the edge, like a figure in the abyss. Looking up at the sky, not blinking, even as the water hits his eyelashes and runs down his face like tears he will never cry. Water gathers and pours down like a pounding waterfall, causing Lights steps to be wobbly, but go unnoticed.
He doesn't call out Ryuzaki's name. Just watches, perhaps in awe, though he can't tell what he feels at such an intriguing sight. L’s typical white shirt is soaked, see-through enough that he could see all eight of his ribs, and the fabric that clings to his inverted stomach. It's anemic.
L’s hair is stuck to his face, punctuating his bony jawline, and the sallow pallor of his cheeks against the black of the evening. He must have been standing outside for a long while. But he is not shivering, even as Light begins to feel his own muscles lock up from the cold.
Suddenly L turns, and there is no surprise at him seeing his suspect having joined him on the strange endeavor of standing barefoot on a raining balcony. He must have known he was there the entire time.
“Light”
“Ryuzaki”
The rain that was so very loud a moment ago, drowns out into a trickle as L smiles, a genuine look.
He doesn't look sad or particularly happy. L just looks contemplative. Did he always go out in the rain, when he wanted to think? Not when they were handcuffed together, but he wouldn't put it past the detective.
“What are you doing out here?” He presses, as L gives no answer.
“What are you?” L replies, and Light is caught in the absurdity of the situation. He hated L, and his idiotic rhetorical questions. In fact L is so close he could push him off the balcony tight here and now, smash his pretty head against the pavement below. He can say he slipped from the rain.
His heart pounded in his chest, each beat like a menacing drum, more wild and ferine than the last. His hands clenched the cold spire of the balustrade, the smooth surface trying but failing to ground him. The thought had come unbidden, dark and insidious, snaking its way into his mind.
It would be so easy. Just a small nudge.
Light took a step closer, his bare feet scraping crudely against the cement. Cold sweat gathers at his brow, disguised as precipitation. L didn't even flinch. Did he suspect what light was thinking? Was the trembling of his fingers gave it away, or did he think it was from the cold?
The rain would wash the dark blood away. It would be quick.
Instead he offers a hand. “Come inside Ryukaki. You will get cold”
“I’m always cold” Light had stopped smiling, but L’s fake unusual grin turned acidic. It must be one of his masks. They always alternated on who got to wear them. Who got to pretend .
“I’ll warm you up” He replies, and he can tell from the way L’s expression dropped, he can hear him over the beating torrent.
L does not take his hand. But he follows Light inside nonetheless.
Water sponged by the cotton of their clothes and the strands of their hair drips on the marble floor, seeping in between the divots as they stagger inside. He bumps into the sliding door, nearly tripping on L’s toe. When it shuts close, they nearly trip again on the carpet. They are a mess, a circus show of wet monkeys.
“You made me all wet” Light complained, knowing L’s quick retort would come flying towards him.
“You should not have followed me outside then” Predictable.
“Then you could freeze to death.” he said, plopping onto L’s bed, not caring that the rainwater trickling off of him was soaking the sheets. “But it's surprising how you survive without me for all these years”
“I've had Watari” He chimes mundanely as a reminder.
Light snorts at that, but ignores it. “After all I've done for you, I should be thanked”
L hums. “Maybe I should” He says it so casually, so blithely, Light doesn't pay attention.
“Courtesy of you, now my feet are wet, and I won't be able to put my shoes back on until they dry” he sighs, frivolously. “I-”
Suddenly he stops talking. Forgets the notion of breathing .
L is crouching in between his legs.
He blinks a few times, and hears his internal monologue chant it like a hymn; L is on his knees .
“What are you doing?” He proclaimed, unsure of whether he should flinch away or lean in.
From one angle, it looks like L is bowing to his king. But then suddenly he tilts his chin upwards, and there is a small smile gracing his lips.
“I’m thanking you.”
At that moment he thinks something sinful was to happen, with L’s face, and pouty lips so close to his crotch.
But no, instead he clutches a airly pristine white cloth, that he produced from gods nowhere. It had suddenly appeared in his hand, like it always belonged.
“What do you mean?” He asks dumbly.
“You said your feet are wet. I’m here to cleanse them”
Cleanse.
He wasn't given a second to process the information, before a soft fabric was pressed against his feet. Light didnt want to admit the embarrassing sound that left his lips, akin to a whimper. His jaw clenched and his feet tightened.
L’s hands were cold against his skin, uncomfortably intimate. From when he was shivering from the harsh temperature a moment ago, he was now shivering from something else entirely. The water that was wiped off was warm. The malicious lighting of the room made L look….intensive.
He should pull away, but he couldn't get his body to move.
He stared fascinated, as L continued focusing on his work, his usual dirty eyes adverted to the worthless ground, where sinners should be. Yet he still felt L’s piercing gaze on him, inspecting him, cutting him open. The skin on skin contact did not help lessen this feeling, and he tried to stop himself from squirming.
“You've been quiet tonight, Light. Something on your mind” Its the lilt of a tease. Not quite not enough mocking for him to reply with a witty insult. He cant explain how what L is doing is beyond weird, but he knows it will fall on deaf ears, since Light is letting it happen.
When he struggles to find an answer L fills in the gaps.
“Let me tell you a story, if you may humor me” L speaks, like he's asking permission to his lord in the most condescending way. “One of purification.”
“What do you mean”
“Well the scripture.” He can barely feel his toes now, like his mind had shut off all feeling in his lower limbs, so he wouldn't feel the tepid tingling of them. “The washing of the feet in the bible”
“Yes, of course I know that story. Learned about it in English studies” Light hisses, at a particularly harsh wipe at the soles of his feet, which starts to feel like burns. “Jesus washes his disciple Judas' feet even though he knows he will betray him.”
L’s head tilted, his thumb brushing his lips. “Yes. A gesture of devotion. Of purification. Of the disciple serving his master.” His words lingered in the air, heavy with implication. Light knows what he's trying to slyly say. He feels as if L had dug into the elastic of his skin and began to pull .
“Or” L says, his hand movements still firm and deliberate, like they were not having this absurd conversation. “Perhaps it’s the other way around,” His smile creeps up, like a shadow. “A god humbling himself before a sinner.”
As stupid as L is acting, Light will play this idiotic mind game. He leans in closer to L, and raises his chin, so he can look him directly in the eye, so no vulnerability is stolen from either of them. “And which of us is the god, and which is the sinner, Ryuzaki.?”
When L does not reply, his grip tightens. L then drops his smile, bitter amusement flickering like a candle in the wind. “You tell me. Who is it that casts judgment on the world? Who bears the burden of salvation?”
“I already told you I am not Kira”
“I’m not talking about Kira, I'm talking about god."
"Your metaphor is convoluted. My feet are dry."
“But your sins are not cleansed." He grips onto Lights ankle, and doesn't let go. A strange moronic panic flares. “Or are you too pure for such a ritual?
“Stop acting absurd Ryuzaki” Light says. Your scaring me. He drops his chin, and wiggling his feet away like a worm. “I didn't realize you were Christian-”
“I’m not”
“Then what is this about”
L glares up at him, like he is annoyed that Light isnt catching on to whatever subtext he is weaving. “Let me clear this up for you, Light-kun” He adds the abbreviation, putting distance between them like he hadn't just been getting close to his feet. “I’ll tell you another story” He bows his head again, slipping away from Light fingers. “One I think you will like.”
Light tries to open his mouth to retort before L shushes him with a wet slimy finger to his mouth, and continues.
“Before Jesus ever washed Judas' feet, his own was cleansed. When invited to dine at the house of a pharisee named Simon, a woman arrived at the same house. She was a known sinner, an adulterer, and a prostitute. When she set her gaze on Jesus, she was overcome with emotion at the sight of the lord, she fell to her knees and wept at his feet.
Rainwater still present in L’s hair drips down onto Lights leg. It slips tantalizingly slow down his skin.
“Her tears begin to fall onto Jesus’s feet and she wipes it with her hair, and begins to anoint them. Here is what really matters, he allows it even though she sins like she breaths.”
Light doesn't know what to say. All the ignited words he was going to say were doused.
L crafts the final blow. “So let me ask you again. Who do you think the sinner and the god is in this situation?”
Lights ankles knock against the wooden frame as L drops them. It echoes.
“If your saying all this just for me too continue falsely confirming your suspicions that I am Kira, then you are wrong-"
“I am just asking a simple question.” L blinks. Its a fabricated response.
“There is nothing simple in this charade. You put yourself in the sinner position. Falling to your knees in the open legs of your top suspect is unbecoming of you” His voice wobbles, but he swallows it down.
“Is it? Perhaps it isn't. I put myself in the sinner position after all. Or maybe I believe myself is god, cleansing away the sins of my disciple that may or may not be Kira”
Useless convoluted Ryuzaki , he wants to yell, unsure of why the flaying words are getting underneath his flesh.
“This is again a heavy handed metaphor-”
“Or maybe it's ironic in both scenarios.” L interrupts quietly. “In the Bible, this act was one of forgiveness, of cleansing sins. Yet here we are two men drowning in sins we refuse to acknowledge.”
Light’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. “Speak for yourself, Ryuzaki. I have no sins to cleanse.”
L practically sings-songs the lines he no doubt traced in his head before the conversation even started. “If you do not, then you truly are god. Which you are not. So we do not need to argue over the pretense now. The woman who washed Jesus's feet was a whore, and Judas was a traitor."
“None of us are that-”
“-Would be a lie." He hums. "If you have no sins, perhaps I am the sin that tempts you.”
Lights breath hitched. Did L figure it out?
“That makes no logical sense.” Keeping his voice monotone.
“I was being sarcastic." L said, entirely velvet. “You're too meticulous for such a thing.”
The words spark something unidentifiable in his gut. Light suddenly sees in the back of his cerebellum, a vision. Of L holding a bloody apple. The detective bites into it, and instead of white juicy fibers in his teeth, its flesh.
L is offering the apple to light. Tempting him, so he could abandon Eden, his dream of a new world.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Light said finally, snapping back to reality, his voice steady but low.
However he thinks privately to himself, that even a sinner can become divine. And when that happens, he will cleanse him.
L's hands hover over the call button.
The reason he is alone, legs hanging from the headboard and still wet from the debacle with Light and scripture on his lips, was to call-
He remembers the night he found out that Beyond had suffered a heart attack in prison.
Ice. It had travelled down his spinal cord. Then a beat of silence, of contemplation, follows, dragging through memories fuzzy and half-rotted, the terror speaking in his place.
He confirmed with Watari if it was true. When the old man had hesitantly nodded, his aging hands still clutching the phone line to the hospital, L had-
L had-
He doesn't reminisce. Instead he looks down at his sleek grey button phone, Roger’s number already typed in.
To calm the shiver of his shoulders he squeezes his arms tighter, folding slightly at the hip with an awkward tension. It's disquieting, when paired with muddy water eyes not yet filtered, not quite clear though a spark settles on his iris at the sight of a phone ringing knowing what he has to say when it picks up.
He pressed down.
“Roger, I need to talk with my heirs……”
Notes:
Sooo how are we all feeling? What do you guys think is going to happen next? (spoiler: I already know.)
I think I went a little overboard with religious metaphors and symbolism but I am not subtle at all, and neither is Lawlight.
Chapter 3
Summary:
But the subjects of the kingdom will be thrown outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
-Matthew 8:12:
Notes:
Final's nearly killed me! Hopefully you enjoy this chapter, and I get a good grade.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
First was the shock, then came the rage. Then came Mello’s foot stamping down on one of Nears hideous polymer dolls.
“I can't believe this. You're joking-I mean you have to be joking!” Mello screeched, hands balled into fists so he won't throw the old man by his shirt and get in more trouble then he already was. “This must be some sort of test! This can't…. happen.”
He can still hear the cracking of plastic under his heel. His voice is stifled taught, threatening to spill over like boiling water left too long.
“M, please refrain from breaking Near’s toys.” Roger said sternly with a glare in his spectacles. He glances at the broken stumbled figurine, crushed beneath the weight of his scuffed leather boots.
“Toys? Toys !” Mello threw his arms up, exasperated. His face was flushed red like pomegranate, with white seeds freckles. The floorboards creak as Near scooted over to grab his crushed doll, patting at the blonde strands that came from its plastic head dismissively.
“Are you concerned about his
toys
when he is joining L on a case in god-forsaken
Japan?”
“I understand that you are worried for him-”
The other boy runs slender fingers over the fractured plastic, smoothing the yellow synthetic strands with detached precision. “Your concern Mr. Ruvie,” Near murmurs, atonal, without looking up, “-Is misplaced. Mello is upset because he is not the one going.”
“Stop talking like I am not here!” Mello snaps and he wishes diligently that he could kick him, from where he is sprawled out on the floor on his stomach.
“I’m not wrong am I?’ Nears grating voice adds. He is picking at the paint of his creepy dolls, the fiber flecking like skin onto the carpet. “I think I don't have to tell you why.”
“Shut up!” Mello rounds on him, his voice sharp enough to draw blood.
Roger shifts in his seat, the leather of his chair groaning beneath his weight “Now M, don't do anything drastic, or we will have to take punishment into account-”
“-And you shut up too, old man. I don't care”
But Near is already speaking again, his voice monotonous, an oil-slick calm against Mello’s fire. “You’re not angry that I’m going to Japan. You’re angry because L didn’t choose you.”
And he is right. He has better grades on the tests, and always beats me. Always first place.
Near stares at Mello's shoes, blankly blinking. His quiet, clinical observation slides into the air like a dagger, sharp and deliberate.
And it lands.
“So that's it?” His words lash like a whip, twisting and cracking against the decorated tiles. “L has basically chosen who his heir is.”
Near stirs, the pieces of his toys falling like dry autumn leaves from his hands. “Not true.” He speaks calmly. It was impossible for him not to speak so mundanely. “This doesn't mean that L had chosen an heir yet. We can still work together, just not on this case.”
It's oddly generous for Near. He doesn't buy it. He feels his lips blister from how hard he is biting them.
“This is the Kira case. The case. You're in line to be the heir. You actually get to leave this damned orphanage-”
“Mello!” He hears Roger bark.
He lowers his head, until he is looking at Nears forehead, anywhere but his eyes. “But it's fine, Near. You're better than me. You've always have been.” His tone reeks with envy. “You can cozy up with L all you want. I hope you're killed by Kira. Playing with your dolls wont save you.”
“Mello you get back here-”
He wasn't listening. His skin was vibrating, like lava seeping underneath, boiling and broiling until it finally fizzled up-
Mello’s breath falters. For one fractured moment, silence. But the silence is louder than the words.
Mello slammed the door.
The sound reverberates through the room, shaking loose the dust gathered in the cracks of Roger’s office. Roger exhales sharply, adjusting his foggy spectacles as though the act might clear the tension in the room. “I can discipline him if you'd like, N.”
Sweat prickled at the curve of the man's aging nose. He had been clammy ever since L had called him, which meant that the conversation over the line was more than a little tense.
“No.” Near said firmly, feet itching at the carpet. His pinky nail digging into the meat of his palm as he tries to process all the information, all the sensory details of the last 7 minutes 4 seconds and 28 milliseconds.
When dealt with an overload of sensitive data, he was taught to list it out, a mind map nestled between the hypothalamus and the cerebellum of the brain. He begins to catalouge.
- A half an hour past the first ringing of the bell tower on whammy hill. Near was outside, watching some of the younger kids pull the legs off the grasshopper. They ignored N. They knew better than to approach someone superior than them.
- One of the faculty members approached him however, trotting on the shrubs with a troubled expression. She led him through the ornately decorated hallways, the orthodox glass paintings lining nearly every window.
- She led him to Rogers office. It smelled of bitter nutmeg fragrance and coffee beans that cloyed at his nose like antiseptic. The man is still on the phone, mumbling and stressing his words while aggressively wiping at his forehead. Near immediately plops down onto the floor.
- Criss-cross applesauce. He can only maintain the sitting position for so long before his knee pops up like he is in a sluggish seat.
- Mello enters. They both ignore looking at each other in eye, especially since the final test results for the year came out. Yet he can still feel the teens gaze boring like two incisors into his encephalon.
- Roger says those unsavoury words
- “L has called for assistance from one of his top two potential heirs to assist him on his most troubling case in Japan.” He hears a stilted breath inhaled sharply through the trachea. Then….
- Unsurprisingly he says ”We have both chose N”
Roger’s voice had barely finished the syllable before Mello’s entrance and then he threw an expected tantrum. Near sighed, finally feeling more organized. He looks up to his director again.
His voice cuts through the stillness “Mr. Ruvie” Roger snaps to attention, like Near was the one in charge, and not the other way around. “When does L want me on the case”
He straightens, glancing at his computer “Right away” he stands up from his cushioned seat, staring down at his computer, eyes analyzing the arrangements. “We have a private jet set to an airport in the Kanto region of Japan in 2 and half hours”
Near nods, his gaze befalling to his puppet dolls. “How much of my belongings should I bring?”
Roger hesitates, his lips thinning into a dashed line before he answers. “None.”
Near frowns, thinking he misheard. Roger sighed intuitively, and it finally sank in. It made sense. No room for distractions, as the whammy instructors called it.
“This case is airtight. We don't need your little toys being sprawled across the taskforce floor.” Roger said more sternly. “You will be working the greatest detective ever known, and other adults, it's time you start acting like it.”
Near dipped his chin in understanding. His hands are still on the doll in his lap. He lowers his gaze, a rare frown crossing his pale face.
The doll’s stringy yellow strands remind him of something. Or someone.
He says nothing, standing with mechanical precision as Roger begins gathering the necessary paperwork. Before Near follows him out of the room, he tucks the doll beneath his shirt, a small, fragile thing hidden against his chest.
If Mello can’t go to Japan, Near will bring a version of him anyway.
In the amber glow of the setting sun, the grounds of Wammy’s Orphanage felt quiet, serene even. Inside Matt’s cluttered, dimly lit room, the silence was broken only by the rhythmic clatter of keys beneath his fingers. The makeshift computer on his desk blinked with life, stray wires curling like ivy around its edges, and the faint hum of the machine drowned out the distant bell’s second toll.
The bell tower chimes twice, signaling evening. 5:00. At the exact same time, Mello bursts into Matt's room. The door swings open and cracks its nob against the drywall.
Mello strode in, breathless, his bag slung over one shoulder. He acted like he owned Matts room, barely glancing at the entrance he had unhinged quite literally.
“I’m running away,” He declares, slightly out of breath. He pulls some strands away from his hair and waits, trying to look confident. Matt doesn't turn around from where he is hunched over.
Matt didn’t turn, his focus rooted on the glowing screen in front of him. “You always say that” He says dismissively. His hands are typing away at his computer, a bundle of pasted together parts, like Frankenstein, as he liked to call it.
“I mean it this time!” It sounds foolish, even to him, but he knows this time he will. His teeth shake from how hard he is clenching them. He hated how desperate he sounded, but the truth was heavy in his chest, too loud to ignore. “I’m already packed.”
This got his attention. Matt pauses from where he is twiddling with the loose keyboard tiles, before putting his hands to the side. He rocks in his chair for a moment, casual but thoughtful, before finally turning around.
“What happened, Mello?” Matt asked, his gaze landing on his overstuffed bag hanging limply on his bony shoulders and his puffy eyes. “Is it Near?”
“When isn't it?” He growls, his voice low and bitter. His lungs deflated, and he cant help but lean against the wall. It feels cold, flushed against his heated anger. A sharp contrast from the fire raging in his chest.
It's grounding. Just as familiar as this little charade. Every year, he whispers his secret urge to his friend, wishing to enact it;
I want to run away.
When Matt does not answer, it feels like an insult to the soul. His silence is pointed, stinging more then any word could.
He steps closer, his shadow stretching across the room, only illuminated by the shine from the screencasting, glowing an electric blue glow on Matt's auburn hair. A Walkman is automated and playing beside him, but no noise is coming out of it. Matt always said he never liked the actual music, and preferred just to see the mechanics of the machine churn.
Matt made it himself, out of metal scraps and circuit pieces that he bargained for from the nurses and teachers. Just like every electronic in this room. Only the top students can have their own new materials, and Matt is third.
And Mello is second. There's a tense feeling in his jaw, at the idea he might be stuck in that place forever.
“Near was brought onto the Kira case” Mello finally says. His voice is quieter now. Raw.
Matt finally looked at him, into his pin-prick irises, and gave a tense grimace.
“Ah. I guess you see that as a privilege.”
“What do you mean?” He snaps.
“Well” He shrugs, straightening his spine with an audible click. Pretending to stretch casually. “I personally wouldn't be crawling all over myself to try and join the most deadly case L has done. Have you not heard the rumors Mrs. K has been saying? The criminal he's trying to catch can kill with just a name and face-”
“That’s exactly why I should go!” Mello’s words tumbled out in a torrent. “I’ll solve the case before Near. I won’t be chained to the law like L—if we can catch him before then, I’ll prove that I’m the heir he deserves—”
Matt raises a skeptical brow that immediately falters all the words on Mello's tongue.
“Their is a big chance L will demote you for going against him and he wont approve-
“Don't be an idiot.” He fumed. “I have to do something drastic. You're a fool to think that the fight for the title of heir would be anything but fair” He hissed.
“I get that but-”
“Shut the fuck up Matt! Don't you understand?” His voice cracked under the weight of his frustration. “Its too late, I must be reckless.” Mello’s feels a scratching at his throat, a wound opening up and blooming. “Near gets to meet L in person, becoming his confidant on the case. He is practically cemented as L’s heir”
Matts lips part in protest “That's not entirely true-”
Mello's fists slam against Matts desk, rattling all the strewn bronze gadgets on the stray mahogany surface. “Just because you're content to be a third-place failure, doesn't mean I am!”
He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. It hung in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating, causing his eyes to sting. Matt's chin falls downwards, bangs brushing over his face. He looks like he's frowning, from the regret flashing across his face.
“Listen Matt-”
“No,” Matt cut him off, his voice unexpectedly firm. Mello flinched. Then Matt’s tone softened, turning a new leaf, a quiet exhale of resignation. “It’s fine.”
“I don't mean it.” Mello tries again.
“Yes you do. You're a terrible terrible liar. Always have been.” Matt’s grin was faint, crooked. It carried no malice. “And you're right. I like being a third place failure as you call it. But….”
He trailed off, spinning back toward his desk. His left pointer finger clicks on the keyboard mouse. Like a low-burning match the screen alights anew.
Abruptly a dozen different tabs pop up at the same time. L’s signature is signed on each.
Mello gasps, echoing in the cluttered room. He shuffles closer, nearly made mute in shock.
“Those are L’s confidential files….you hacked into his database!”
Matt postures himself at the acknowledgment. “Yup” he pops the ‘p’ , punctuating his pride. “Been preparing for a while. Figured I’d wait for you to have a use of it”
“Then all his information on Kira-his suspects, are here?”
He smiles, ear to ear. “Yes M ” Matt is the only one who can make his initial sound sweet. “All of it.” He glances at his cot, and Mello only notices now that Matt has folded a bag with all his possessions, a sleek grey backpack stuffed full.
“You knew?” Mello questions, his lungs expanded with air, and he felt light headed.
Matt begins to unplug his laptop. “No. You just say you are going to run away so often that I was waiting until you were serious about it.” Matt rolled his shoulders, closing his laptops and taking out the laptop port. He tosses the Walkman to the side. “Are you serious?”
Mello tensed at the question, holding his breath. Matt stills at the hesitation.
“You'd be right if you don't want to do this. We might be caught. I assume you have a route planned out in that brilliant head of yours, but Roger will send people after us. L will punish us severely.”
“But if the outcome is good, L will also reward us” Mello pointed out.
Matt nodded. “True. But Are you ready to do this?”
Mello took a deep breath. “Absolutely. I am going to Japan no matter what.”
“ We are going to japan” Matt says, his grin turning lopsided, infectious. “Don't forget me now”
A contagious spurge of elation reaches him “Ugh Matt, you, don't always have to correct me on my grammar.”
Matt laughs. “At least that's something I’m better at than you.”
Mello joins in, before pausing. “Do you think we can do this?”
Matt doesn't say yes or no. He stands up and takes Mello's packed bag out of his hand, as in a subtle offer to carry it. “Of course. I've always wanted to leave this frankly awful orphanage-”
The gravity of the situation returned. “I mean do you actually think we can actually beat Kira before Near does” Mello's eyes fall onto the pristine floor. “Near has always been better. First place-”
“Not to me.”
Mellos face shoots up, glaring directly into Matt's own. “What?”
“I mean you've always been first place to me”
The shock reverberates through his bones. There is silence for a moment, and Mello waits until Matt is carrying both bags and his laptop until he whispers gently.
“You're a very stupid Matt.” He feels the tug of a genuine smile on his face.
“Hey?”
“Everyone knows Near is better than me.” He watches Matt crush the Walkman under his boot into blinking shiny pieces, snapping with a satisfied crunch.He guessed the other knew there was a tracker in it the whole time.
He steps over the shattered shards. “Why do you see me the way you do?”
“Because I look up to you” Matt says casually. “More than Near. More than maybe L”
He always had a way of saying things so profoundly, with such a carefree tone. It squeezes Mello's heart, and he has to swallow down the constricting in his trachea.
“I-” He almost wipes the corner of his eye-ducts, feeling conflicted. He instead settles on saying “we should leave at the cover of night. We will need to find a nondescript hostel or camp out in a few homeless shelters so they can track us.”
Matt nods, throwing open the window. Cold air gusts through the slit, tossing his hair.
“Anything else?”
Mello feels a smirk claw onto his face. “Lets leave a note for dear old Roger.”
Matt, guessing his tone, chuckles. “A profane one?”
“Of courses. I've always wanted to swear that hag out with my words, but on paper will do.”
Matt is already rummaging for a pen. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”
“You have no idea,” Mello muttered, the spark of rebellion lighting his eyes as he leaned over the desk to scrawl the beginning of their farewell.
“Ryuzaki, there has been a reported murder this morning!” The phrase cut through the conditioned air like an alarm.
This gets L’s attention. Though Aizawa often speaks in dramatic urgent tones, the quickness of his breath told him it was important. And instead of reporting the usual dozen dead inmates, he had said
murder
. Singular.
“Is it Kira?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder, but not entirely swiveling in his seat. Light inches closer, no doubt trying to listen in.
“Yes. I mean no!” Aizawa sputtered, mouth tripping over itself as he loomed closer. At the sudden denial of Kira's involvement, L begins to turn back around to his monitor.
“If its no, then I have no interest-”
“The victim, that is what is unusual.” He says, slightly out of breath. By now many of the task force was gathering around, like moths to a flame. He could feel Light still beside him, close enough that his presence burned at the edge of L’s awareness.
“The victim? Some famous politician?” L guesses, picking at the flesh of his cake.
“No. some random civilian.” He is holding a slim pack of files close to his tie. “No connection or ties to any government. Its the scene of the crime is what's strange”
Soichiro leans over Aizawa's shoulders, massaging the dark circles under his eyes. “And?”
“It was originally logged as a death by Kira,” Aizawa plops the files on the desk. “But the autopsy report showed that the victim was actually killed by an outside influence, a needle to the neck, some poison that induced a fatal a cardiac arrest”
“But it's not Kira or the work of a death note?” L spins the fork in his hand.
“No, it looks like it was a traditional murder at least, a murder that was supposed to look like Kira's kill. The fact that the innocent had no criminal record or police file, proves this.”
“Hm.” Is all L said, and went back to looking at his screen, fork slipping into his mouth. Aizawa frowned furiously.
“I was just sent the pictures of the crime scenes by the deputy director.” He adds, his face muscles twitching.
“So?”
“Are you not even gonna look at them?”
“Of course not. It's clear what this is.” L said bluntly. “It's quite obvious what this is. A murderer saw an opportunity to evade the police by masking his crime as a Kira kill. A rather clever tactic, though I’m surprised it hasn’t been attempted sooner.”
“Wait, wait” Aizawa held his hand up to get him to slow down. L did so reluctantly. “You're not seriously dismissing this, Ryuzaki. Aren't you going to investigate this? We need to catch this guy!”
“We are a task force investigating the serial murderer Kira.” Was L’s curt reply. “Not every opportunistic criminal who tries to slip under the radar. This is a matter for the police.”
“They have no forensic evidence, and the deputy director specifically requested you-“
“No, I don’t do “requests” he said flatly, watching Light in the corner of his eye, discreetly reacting to the conversation. Watching always watching so L could feel it, like the weight of a stone at his chest.
Actually half of the task force was doing the same except less sneakily, opting to openly stare at him. “I can't be catching every petty serial killer” He concludes simply.
Aizawa took a grating loud breath through his stubborn nose. Clearly trying to keep his anger issues at bay. “With all due respect” he said, with no respect at all in his tone. “I saw the images, and I can tell that the killer is meticulous and needs to be dealt with and locked up quickly.”
“That's the Japanese police’s duty, not mine.”
“It's still connected to Kira.”
“But it's not
Kira
.”
“It could have a connection.” Matsuda pipes up in defense.
“Or just another domestic dispute. Maybe the serial killer won't strike again” Mogi mumbled.
L ignored both of them. “We need to focus on Kira or anyone who has a death note. I don't have time-”
“Doing what, chasing lost leads?” At his statement, L tried not to scowl. His reaction, or lack thereof, made him continue on.
“At least look at the photos. I know I’m not on the police force anymore, but I heard from a leak that the victim was found in a lock room, completely spotless of DNA and the forensic team have no faith in gathering any.”
L stilled at where his fork had plunged into the cream of the baked batter.
“No evidence? And a locked room?” He asked.
Aizawa, jaw clenched, nodded.
Familiar . L reached over to grab the file, but before his finger could brush the paper, Light, who had been sitting idly before, made a move. He pulls the file away, and hands it back to the ex-officer.
“Sorry Aizawa, but L is right, he, we should only be working on the Kira case right now.” His eyes narrow.
Distracting.
Ls fists curled, gripping at his loose jeans. Of course Light wanted Ls attention to be on Kira, solely on him. Not some petty criminal. He was such an attention seeker he might as well be a call boy.
It was suspicious however. Light knew L couldn’t find proof of him being Kira, but always dangled the fact he knew that he knew and no one else did over his head like a treat on a leash.
L sighed. This only proved that he still needed to work on the Kira case, and find a way to prove to the others that Light was in fact the perpetrator.
“This is a potential serial killer we are talking about! It’s been all over the news for fucks sake! How can you not see how dire this is!” Aizawa argues. Matsuda shrinks at the yelling, slinking back in the corner.
“Not my serial killer” L imagined Light smirking in his peripheral vision. He wipes the crumbs off his jeans.
What are you gonna say next, ‘your Kira’? As if we aren’t all working on this together?"
“If you are so invested in this killer, then go on and solve it yourself.” L insists simply, hoping not to come across as too condescending. It doesn't work.
“I can’t. You know I can’t. We need more people. More manpower. Hell, we need more people on this Kira case!”
The tapping of L's computer case stopped abruptly. It was now of never. He should let them know about his newest development. Who he was bringing onto the taskforce as his final act.
“Yes” he mumbled. “We do need more people.”
He can hear Lights blinking minutely in surprise. Aizawa even looks taken aback.
L glances at Lights wrist, his watch screen gleaming. 3:00. N and his handlers would be arriving soon. He might as well explain who he invited before he arrived. He wanted to keep it as a surprise to gauge Light's reaction, but with 5 sets of eyes on him, he was forced to reveal this specific card early.
“Last night, I decided to bring another person onto the task force team. He will be reaching headquarters shortly.”
The busied room erupted.
“What? You are telling this to us now ?”
“Ryuzaki, what do you mean?” He hears Soichiro say, fatigue twinging at his face as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Where did you find him?” Another demanded.
“Who do you have that you haven't already brought onto the task force?” Aizawa remarks lethally, clearly in a foul mood.
“We have Aiber!” the man in question waves from the velvet couch “And you, the top detective, so who? Don't tell me, the boogeyman?”
He had a point, but he kept his expression unreadable. He should have brought N on sooner. If he got them onto the Kira case, in the very beginning, if Light eventually killed him, they could still monitor him as a suspect and perhaps catch him in the act.
Throughout the ordeal, Light stays quiet.
“The man” Boy . “I am adding to the taskforce is important. He is capable of my intellect, though he is no me….not yet .”
Aizawa scoffed at that, and L watched in some satisfaction as Light’s eyes narrowed into cat-eye slits. “Who is he?”
He didn't want to say they were his heirs, or they were from the Wammy house, which was an underground operation meant to be a secret for a reason . Nor did he want to reveal Nears age, because no normal human would accept a pre-teen in a dangerous case like this.
L tried for a softer voice. “The individual I am talking about is a….budding young detective in the making, and comes from the same organization I originate from.”
“Wow!” Matsuda chimed in. “I didn't know you were part of an organization.”
“Of course you didn’t,” L replied, already bored with the line of questioning.
“That's not surprising, look at his handler!” Mogi shifts in his chair. “Watari looks like a businessman. A British one in fact”
“No way…”
L clears his throat.. “The one I want to bring on” He cuts them off abruptly. “Goes by the name ‘N .’
“Do they all have abbreviations? I mean the people in your organization” Matsuda said excitedly.
“Not the time, Matsuda,” Soichiro interrupted, cutting him off quickly. Though his own expression betrayed his curiosity. “Now, L, how much do you know about this “ N ” character.”
He had been keeping a sharp eye on his heirs since they were named, yet he had only spoken to Mello, but he had never been permitted to see any of them in person, ever since his last heirs…. well .
“I know enough. He is on par with my intellect, rational, and perceptive. He is the smartest out of the three.”
Soichiro raised an eyebrow. “ Three ?”
“Yes. Three . Please do keep up” he sighed, popping a cherry in his mouth. Everyone looked at him incredulously as he chewed for an awkward long moment. “There are a few others in the organization.”
He swallows the seed in a large gulp. “But I only want to bring N in for now. I can always bring the other two in later.”
What he really meant was that if anything were to happen to Near, he could be replaced. L didn't include that. It was the harsh reality of anyone in the Wammy house. They had known it ever since they learned gravesite etiquette for their fellow orphans who never made it out. It was hammered in their brains, from the very acronyms they were given.
B for Backup .
A for Alternate
C for Copy
E for Extra
D for Duplicate.
Ect ect ……
It was a simply effective means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less.
Like usual, Beyond speaks in his mind again. “ You're a tool.” He whispers, rouge eyes flashing with the syllables. “An object. You exist to be used.-
-Just like all of us”
Without the elaboration, the police chief coughs. “I see” Soichiro says, predictably tense but refrained. Aizawa on the other hand, was less accommodating.
“So you deign to tell us that you have what, spare detectives at your beck and call” He says. “And you only mention them now. What organization is that? Why didn't you bring them on before?”
“You ask too many questions, police man” Wedy snarks smoothly from the sofa, laying her heeled feet and cream legs over Aibers thigh. She is smoking a thin cigarette, and L is satisfied that he did not implement any smoke alarms in the building.
“This darling is right. I thought you already submitted into trusting L” Aiber says slightly louder, the only one with the ability to make his quip seem like a reassurance.
The man's lips pucker in distaste. “Trust is earned. And right now, L is hiding more than he lets on.” Aizawa rubs his temples, frustrated. “If anything, N is probably another trifling criminal he's invited onto this damned case.”
Wedy and Aiber both simultaneously look offended.
L ignores the accusation, his gaze flickering briefly to Light’s face. There it was the faintest twitch of irritation at the corner of his mouth, the subtle shift in his posture. L didn’t miss it. Light was too controlled to voice it outright, but the idea of not knowing L’s plan in advance, was angering him.
An eye for an eye my friend. He whispers it in his mind, before zoning in on Soichiro's continued statement.
“Ryuzaki, I say this as a colleague, this isn’t something to take lightly. You’ve brought in outside help before, but this... N...Aizawa has a point. Why now?"
L’s voice dropped. “The situation is more complicated than you think. Shuichi-San was right earlier. I am chasing lost leads”
Aizawl stiffens. Light clenches his jaw further so that L wants to point out how it could break.
‘“Besides, if I am to say die sometime soon-” he glances at Light none too undetectable.
“Don't say that!” Matsuda acclaims, slicing off the briefest of eye contact with his main suspect. Soichiro shushes him.
He continues “-Then we will need a new leader of this task force, someone who can handle all my assets and data. That boy is N.”
“Boy” He starts in surprise. “What do you mean,
boy
?”
Oh , he slipped up. L hides it with a subtle shrug. “I assure you, N is capable. You will understand when you meet him.”
As if on cue, the crackle of the intercom sparked to life.
“Ryuzaki, our guests have arrived at the door.” Watari affirms over the speaker.
L glanced at the clock on Light’s wrist again. 3:02. Punctual, as expected. "That will be him," L murmured, sliding off his chair with his usual awkward grace.
The alarm lock of the door blinks a lime green shine, fizzling open. Everyone stood to attention. Even Aiber. L has the twitching urge to stare at Light, but he refrains, keeping his gaze straight.
He already knew what his number one heir looked like from all the files, reports and pages of documentation. But seeing him in person has his entire skin twisting. An ire that was unfamiliar to him.
Near walked in, hunched over, neither in a confident or meek way. His pale clothing was practically pajamas, clinging to the baby fat still evident of his age. His coat swallowed his small frame. He was flanked by a tall, serious-looking man and a younger woman, likely his handlers. Near’s expression was blank, his eyes scanning the room with clinical detachment, his pale translucent skin untouched by sunlight.
Something stirred deep inside him. He knew that Near looked similar to him, but the resemblance was remarkably uncanny. Their most apparent likeness was in their eyes. Both possessed dark, deep-set eyes framed by dark circles. It was as freezing as a scalpel, likely the boy also shared the ability to dissect others without emotion. A perfect little replica.
L’s irises were something Beyond was never able to fully make identical.
"This is N," L said simply, stepping aside to let Near fully enter.
He could practically feel the shock coiling from Light behind him. It made him want to see him sweat.
How will you react to this Light?
Matsuda, predictably, was the first to react.
"Wait, he’s a child!”
Notes:
Have a Merry Christmas for those who celebrate! Thanks for reading!
Chapter 4
Summary:
For such men are false apostles, deceitful workmen, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ. And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. So it is no surprise if his servants also disguise themselves as servants of righteousness. Their end will correspond to their deeds"
-Corinthians 11:13-15!”
Notes:
Well In my defense life is hectic, which is why this took so long to update. Though I am truly sorry for making some of you wait for so long. How is everyone doing? Lets pretend like this little hiccup in updates never happened. Anyway, enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Light squints his eyes, and knows that if he thinks a little harder, he could enact a plan. Use this stagnant but not empty room to his advantage. Have Rem kill L, because he right now proved just how dangerous he was, by bringing to the case that insolent little boy-
But he can't even manage to summon his thoughts. He is still inextricably shocked .’
“This is N. You may call him Near.”
Near . L’s tiny ace card. When he had first unconventionally introduced himself, there was an understandable uproar.
“You brought a child into the Kira case?”
“This is the detective? That's a kid!”
“He must be 6!”
“No, he looks 11.”
“Some people naturally look young-” His father tried.
“He doesn't even look like he's hit puberty yet!” Aizawa snapped. “He looks even younger than my daughter!”
Matsuda scratched his head, frowning. “I mean that might be an exaggeration….”
“I’m not exaggerating, I mean look at him!”
Through all of this Near stayed silent, wide solemn eyes fixed on L, like a doll waiting for instruction. Light wouldn't be surprised if he was a wound up toy.
Finally L spoke, the bluntness of his velvet voice silencing the room. “There is no need for doubt. He is of age.”
Soichiro cleared his throat. “And what is ‘of age’ to you, L?”
L returned to his perch, dark eyes scanning the room until it ended on Light. He did not elaborate.
Light folded his hands in front of him, trying to remain composed, and not stare at Near as the child settled down, not on the chair, but laid out on the floor. He hoped that since everyone else in the room was gawking, his expression was unreadable, but knowing L, he was picking apart his composed facade like strawberry jam from a cake.
Two of the adults who had walked into the room with Near had resumed position beside L and the boy, who had scooted towards the older amidst the prying stares. Light could only guess that they were his bodyguards by their black tucked suits, or perhaps agents of whatever organization they were a part of. L and Near did act familiar with each other, especially with the way Near sat closely to L’s feet. Everything about this situation was an unknown variable. Light needed to find out.
Quickly .
His eyes met L, and he found the man had his thumb pushed to his pink gums. A smile danced on his teeth.
Damn ! His thoughts finally organised themselves clearly. He is seeing how I will react. Like some sort of test.
L getsured for Mogi to bring him some files, which hesitated before he begrudgingly agreed.
Near’s small hands faltered from the weight of the papers before he put them on the floor. Everyone in the room collectively grimaced, except for L, who leaned forward in his chair and whispered something in his ear.
What was he saying? Light temples pulsed.
L then addressed the room. “Now that introductions are complete, it is time for all of us to get back to work. N and I will be working over here for the time being.”
Near haven't even spoken a word yet. Hardly an introduction. Not even a knife could cut the tension that was strung high in the room.
Lights fist clenched, as everyone walked back to their seats, uneasy and sparing glances at the pair. But Light stayed rigid in place.
“Oh, Light, you're still here?” L said, and Light could pick up a hint of smugness in his tone.
“You're free to go work with the computers. I’m having N look at some of the physical data I've collected in reports.”
Light’s lips twisted imperceptibly. “I see. But don't we usually work together?”
“Yes. Of course. But right now it's important for me to brief N.”
When he didn't move, L shifted his seat closer to Near. “Light, do you have trouble hearing?”
“No.” he said, knowing that playing an act to try and cover up his ire was fruitless, yet he couldn't help it. He turned to the boy, his face splitting into a smile.
“Near” Light tried to keep his tone polite and warm. Like he was talking to his little sister, Sayu. “You've introduced yourself, but no one has introduced themselves to you.”
Near continued to look at him blankly through his curly bangs. Light continued.
“My name is Light Yagami, which stands for ‘moon’ But you can call me Light like Ryuzaki does” He beams, like he does outwardly when he is forced to take care of children, explaining the kanji slowly. Near does not look impressed.
“My name means gift of god” Near says curtly. Its his first words spoken, and it echoes through the room.
Light inwardly scowls, because he was god and he could already tell Near was going to be anything but a gift.
“But only address me as N.” He added on blithely.
His inflection was even more tuneless than L’s. His grin becomes strained.
“It’s impressive to hear that someone so young has already made such a name for himself in... detective work."
Near glances at L, who is too busy glaring into Lights soul to notice or care about N’s discomfort. He twists the corner of his pages, hands fumbling.
When Near doesnt respond, he presses. “Say, you're in the same organization as L, have you worked on a case with him before?”
L, correctly realizing that Light was trying to goad Near into giving private answers away, responds accordingly. “No. This is my first case with N.”
His tone is sharper now, and they lock gazes. “But seem so familiar with each other?” A slip of annoyance curdled in his voice, at the closeness the two were sharing. “In fact N, I’ve never heard of you, have you even solved a case before-”
Suddenly, there was a rapid series of faint irregular flutters, as dozens of papers had flapped on the floor. All heads in the room swivel to see Near hands posed in the air, had purposefully dropped all of the files, which spread messily onto the glossy floor.
“If you can't solve the case, or can't solve the puzzle” Near’s shy persona was washed off at the moment of his abruption. “Then you're just a loser. And I am not.”
“I-” Light startled, caught off guard. Even L blinked. The paper crinkled as Near pulled out a singular page with his two pointer fingers. Ignoring Light he turned his back on him and spoke to L directly.
“I believe I have been caught up on the case when I was on your private jet.” He said. “I want to see if our theories align.”
L sat up from the chair, as if Light was not here and grabbed the page the boy was holding up. “Agreed. Let's talk privately.”
“Why not here?” Aizawa interrupts from his desk, clearly eavesdropping on the conversation.
L typically ignores him, and Near stands up like a newborn fawn.
“And how should I address you? As Ryuzaki?” N asks.
“You can just address me as L.” He says. Light feels a jolt in his chest. Near got to call him L, but he couldn't call him that? He glared at them through the corner of his eye as the body guards followed them out the door.
- and out of the room, leaving the mess on the floor.
Later as Light sat fuming on the couch, scoffing when Matsuda brought up his most infuriating idea yet.
“I think Near and L must be related!”
Light turned his head away as Aizawa gasped outrageously. “That would be ridiculous. There is no way a man like that would have siblings”
“Yeah he seems like an only child to me. Though I always thought Watari might secretly be his father” Mogi commented quietly.
“Well if you ask me, maybe Near is L’s child” He said wistfully, leaning the back of her head against the pillow”
“Don't be ridiculous.” Light says, though his mind begins to race.
“I mean think about it, they look so similar.”
Light had thought about it. Their identical pale complexion, their ghostly appearance and delicate looking frames contrasted with their piercing eyes. If he was his child, he would have most certainly passed those unsightly traits down. He could already tell, from the little he had gleaned from him, that Nearsmannerisms were eccentric and odd like L’s, with both their fingers always fixated on something at all times. In fact the entire time he had seen Near, he hadn't stopped twisting at his hair or fiddling with his nails.
He was a poorly refined imitation of L.
“But then that means Near would have to have a mom” Aiber frowned, in a teasing manner. “Ryuzaki never striked me as someone who is into women”
“He seems like someone who isn't into men either” Wedy added, having Light feel the percussion of his heart skip a beat.
“N isn't his child or related.” Light reiterated, slightly forceful this time.
“So you're saying it's just a coincidence that they look and act so similar”? Aiber chuckled.
“Think about it, L said Near was of age. Which means that he's too old to be L’s child” Light said. Though he knew that was a half-lie on L’s part. He guessed that Near couldn't be more than twelve.
“Not necessarily true!” Matsuda chimes in.
Aizawa groaned and rubbed his head while his father slid his glasses further up his nose.
“Let not speculate on one of our key members. Its inappropriate not to mention unprofessional”
Aiber scoffed at that and Matsuda frowned. Aizawa, however, scowled.
“I think we should. We've been letting Ryuzaki keep too many secrets lately” He said. “We don't even know what the organisation L and N come from”’
“L has always been a private person, that's why he is the world's greatest detective. We are the lucky few he even trusts enough to be on this case. ”
“Well he said he trusted us,” Aizawa said, crossing his arms. “But he knows everything about us, but we know nothing about him”
“Are you suggesting that he does in fact not trust us?”
Light decides it was a good time to reinforce the task force's growing distrust. “Maybe it's because he still suspects that I am Kira”
The room stiffens. Light uses this to his advantage.
“I already told you to stop speaking like that” His father blustered.
“It's true. Even though he says he is inclined to the theory that I was under the control of Kira, he believes that I am actually the one orchestrating everything.” He puts on a solemn almost defeated facade.
“But you're not Kira, you've been cleared!” Matsuda pointed out.
“Not entirely. Ryuzaki mentioned something about fake rules.”
“But we decided not to test them out”
“Because he knows that he was wrong, but does not want to show with hard evidence that he is,” Light said. “He will always be suspicious of me no matter what”
“That's unfair!” Matsuda said. “We know Ryuzaki. He is just a cautious person”
“He's not cautious, he's paranoid. Why else would he bring a new person on, someone we never met, let alone heard of before?”
“-Because he does not trust us.” Aizawa finished for him. The lines in his face deepened.
“Exactly”
“Son” Sorichro coughed. “Remember what I just said? No more speculation on Ryuzaki's private life.”
Light internally cursed his father. He had such loyalty to L, it never ceased to frustrate him.
“Understood,” he said with a polite nod. Hands on his knees, he pushed himself off the couch
Hopefully his words sowed enough seeds of doubt in the taskforce.
Near made himself scarce for the next few days, and he couldn't catch L alone. Not that he needed to, but it had felt strange, the weeks following the removal of the handcuffs, they barely had the chance to have to be alone in a room together. Back when they were physically tied together, they spent the majority of the time with just their minds to entertain each other during late hours without the task force's interference. Now Near was taking up all of L’s precious time.
Near had claimed that his real name meant “Gift of God.” Later, Light went on to his father's computer, making sure it was not one of the task force routers, and searched up “Names that mean “G ift Of God .” He felt quite pathetic when over 150 results came up. Light tried hard not to slam his fist on the keyboard. Infuriating. It didn't narrow down Near’s name at all. Nor did he know his last name either.
Truthfully, he didn't know what to do. Near was a complete oddity, an Ace card in a stack of kings. It made no logical sense, where the little detective had come from. An investigator by that strange childish name did not come up anywhere on the web or newspapers. It seemed like the boy had never even solved a case before. A complete shadow, and a pale one at that. Instead of laying all of his chess pieces on the board, L was hiding something from him.
Light was determined to force his hand. Unravel those spidery fingers around his mind and here the crackle and pop as he broke the ligaments in half.
Finally, on the evening of a dreary Wednesday, Light got L alone.
“Where's your little puppet, Ryuzaki?” Light began, trying to keep his tone weightless, but his chuckle faded as soon as the words left his throat.
“Puppet? Hm.” L shrugged, from where he crouched in his chair, staring at his feet like they had suddenly grown eyes and were peering back. “He’s quite independent. He is still catching up on the case, but once he is, he will be willing to collaborate with all of us again.”
“Yes, it would certainly be nice to talk to him again.” Light said, internally frowning. Near, judging by his intellectual capabilities, would have definitely caught up on all the files and information of the case. So why was L so plainly lying?
He saw L look over his shoulder to glance at Light, drawing him in like a black hole. Oh . He tried to hide a bitter grin. He was likely keeping Near away for protection, but he was most definitely keeping Near away so they could cultivate a plan on catching Kira, without their main suspect knowing.
He inched closer to the man, pupils expanding. “And, Near, does he have any theories about Kira? I am sure I and the rest of the task force would love to hear his….thoughts.”
“He does not have any opinions that he has shared to me”
“Oh come now. You must have told him your theories as well.” He creeped closer.
L’s irises shrank. “I didn't want to influence his viewpoint. I want him to come to his own conclusions.”
Triumphant in his deduction, Light straightened until he was directly above L‘s sitting form, breathing down his neck. “Don’t be like that L. It's only us here. We both know that you want Near to come to the same false conclusion you did. One that incriminates me .”
L does not squirm at the claim Light suggested. He didn't even react, to his own disappointment.
“It would be interesting if Near came to the same conclusion. It would help with the validity of my false conclusion as you put it.”
“You just can't let the idea of me being behind this all.” Light quipped, watching as L’s gaze flicked up into his own, and captured it for a long tense moment. “Or maybe you can't let the idea of me go?”
There was a temptation dug into the subtext of his words. L didn't dig for it, instead he spoke with a tone that could be interpreted as a taunt. “Perhaps I just can't let the idea of Kira go.”
Light….felt something uncomfortable stir in his chest. L said that he couldn't let go of Kira, not Light. Everytime that L looked at him, did he see Kira instead? Did he see Light as his own person when they played those chess matches, or did he just see it as another way to get closer to Kira? It made perfect sense. That was exactly what Light himself would do if he was in L’s position.
“I see.” Light swallowed down a hiss, an irritation bubbling his way up. He should just kill L here and now. If only he wasnt so damn cautious, and did not have cameras crawling in every corner of the room, he could find a way to signal to Rem to write his name in the death note-
Or wrap his hands around that skinny throat of his and squeeze his neck-
He had already said to Ryuk almost what felt like a lifetime ago, that he was willing to kill L with his own hands if he had to. What was stopping him now?
“Light? You're staring again.” L snapped his pointer finger and thumb in a graceful motion. “At me specifically.”
“Sorry” Light said, not sorry at all. “I was just thinking about your protegee again. I still can't work out his age. Do you mind telling me what it is?”
“He is not my protegee”
Interesting. Though his tone remained deadpan, L had gone on the defensive, claiming Near was not his protegee, rather than answer the question. It only further proved that L was a mentor to Near, and perhaps had been mentoring him for a while.
Light recalled the conversation he had with the rest of the taskforce about the absurd possibility that Near was biologically related to L. His next words were spoken carefully.
“What is your relationship with Near?”
L feigned ignorance, batting his eyelids. “Elaborate.”
“How do you know him?” Light said, punctuating his words by leaning over so that his hot breath grazed his skin. Goosebumps followed in its wake.
“Are you trying to indirectly ask me from what organization me and him come from? Because I already made it clear that it is to be kept confidential.”
Now L was playing an idiot, letting Light lead the dance but tripping him every time he made a move.
“ No ” His niceties melted away and his words turned pointed. “I’m asking what his relationship is to you .”
“Oh.” L hummed, not caught off guard in slightest. “Well truthfully, if you have to know, I don't have one.”
“Have what?”
“A relationship. With him” L confirmed, leaning his head back so he could look Light smugly in the eye. “In fact, I never met him before this case.”
Light was taken aback. L must be lying. Near and L had acted too familiar in their first interaction, immediately gravitating towards each other like one does when the other is acquainted.
L had brought on Aiber and Wedy, people he knew and trusted for this case. The people he didn't trust, he made sure to root out before the case even started, or in Light’s unique situation, keep them attached in handcuffs. But there was still a connection. A knowledge of one another.
“I do know him,” L rephrased his words, breaking the silence once more. “In the way someone knows someone when they read up on another person. I knew of him beforehand from the files he had and what he was like. And he knew even less about me.”
What could L possibly be playing at? Inviting a child detective nobody has ever heard of and didn't look a day over 10 years old to the most dangerous high profile criminal case in the history of the world, the punchline being that L has no personal connection to him at all. He supposedly comes from this closed-lip organization, yet L has never talked to the boy in the same guild as him?
Maybe L was using psychological warfare and trying to execute him through the sheer insanity of his decisions.
“Ryuzaki.”
“Yes?.”
“What did it say about Near on the supposed files you read?” Light spoke. Perhaps there was something he could salvage from this. Maybe more information could lead him closer to finding the pieces to the jigsaw puzzle that was Near’s real name.
L rarely smiled, but the corner of his smooth perfect lips curled into a knowing smirk. “By the way, how is Misa-Misa?”
Damnit. L was pivoting his conversation, trying to change the subject.
“She's fine.” Actually, the mention of Misa reminded him that she could still be utilized. He could get her to make the shinigami eye deal with Ryuk, and if he could find some excuse to get her into the building, she could see Near’s name. He would die, and she could tell him L’s real name….
Yes . Then he could hold L’s name over his head, and he would have no choice but to submit to the will of Kira. L would do whatever Light wanted by threatening to write his name down, and he wouldn't have to kill him.
And if he was forced too, he would write that L’s final moments would be him saying the words “I accept you as my god” from his velvety dying voice.
“Why do you ask?’ Light questions at L’s sudden change of pace.
“Oh I just recalled I had to tell you something about her.”
“What…?”
L closed the gap between them, reaching up from the pillow of his chair, straining his neck so he could whisper directly in his ear. His breath smelled like honey laced with an intoxicating amount of sugar.
“I've ordered for her to be put on house arrest. You are not allowed to visit her for the time being.”
Of course. Light thought, as anger flared in his ribs. He almost forgot. L was the Anti-christ.
It had been 72 hours after running away that Mello knew they were going to have a problem. Two problems in fact. Transportation and Matt himself.
They didn't have a car, and had been walking for the last few days, hauling their bags over their shoulders like beggars. They also needed to find a way to Japan, but they had no passport, and the little records they had were only possible to access through Wammys. System which could be traced.
Worst of all, even if they did get a passport, they had no money to buy a ticket since Matt was too busy wasting the little change they had on cigarettes.
“I cant believe that you decided to waste our money on more of this shit” Mello hissed, snatching a box of Marlboro from his stack and throwing it at the other face. “We need food, you know!”
They had been holed up in a dingy motel for the last few hours, waiting for the sun to go down so they could move again. The room they rented was so cheap that the single bed they could afford had broken headboards and the world's most stiff mattress that they gave up and ended up just sleeping on the floor.
“The lamps are so dim in here, I’m just using the cigs to light the room” Matt joked, before he fell into a fit of coughs.
Mello threw another pack at him, which Matt caught with gloved fingers.
“You know” Matt said, conversationally, perhaps trying to ease Mello's foul mood. “You should try one, it's relaxing. Clearly you need it-”
“Absolutely not” He spat, fluffing at the pillows on the ground, before launching it at Matt again. Expecting this, he dodged.
“We need to set up connections” Mello began, watching idly as Matt put out the stub of his cig on the pillow, burning a dark hole in the fabric. “Someone who could forge us a passport, or a licence”
“We don't need a licence to drive a car” Matt chimed unhelpfully.
“But if we get caught without one, both our asses are getting shipped right back to Wammy’s” Mello exasperated. “Besides, we don't even know how to drive a car”
“Speak for yourself.’ Matt huffed, digging his thumb into his chest as if to hint at the obvious fact he knew how to drive.
“I dont think Ive ever even been in a car before,” Mello grumbled, half to himself. Matt straightened in shock.
“Really? Never ?”
Mello shook his head, plopping onto the floor, elbow digging into his knee. “Not like any of us are allowed to leave Wammys premises to begin with, let alone have anyone driving us around.”
“But before the orphanage?” Matt asked. “You must have been in a car before then.”
Mello thought for a long moment before saying “I don't remember anything before Wammy.”
“Oh.”
He shifted uncomfortably, a question tingling on his tongue. “What about you? Did you have a life before being an orphan?”
Matt scoffed at that. “You make it sound like life only began for you when you came to Wammy’s.”
When he didn't comment, Matt cleared his throat shifting uncomfortably.. “I did have a life. And from what I recall life was good” His voice fell into a sigh. “My parents were nice people. I even remember that we had a family vehicle. It could have been a modest Mercedes but I don't quite know…..”
Mello allowed him to trail off for a while longer. The sun was like a melting pot against the dusty glass window, like a slow burning cigarette.
“Thats ... .cool” The words drift, hanging like a man strung on a noose. He sniffs and goes to turn away.
“You know what” Matt said, hooking Mellos attention. “I say we change the fact you've never been in a car”
Mello straightens, before snorting. “We don't have any money to even get a taxi” He then wavered for a moment when he saw Matt's nefarious smirk. “Unless you're suggesting we steal one?”
“Why! You read my mind!” Matt crowed sarcastically.
“That thought already crossed my mind before.” Mello said. “But we would need to hotwire a car, unless we mug someone for the keys, but that could be too risky since we don't have any weapons.”
“Rewind” Matt chimed, holding up a gloved finger. “Who said I can't hotwire a car?”
Mello felt a sudden rush in his veins. “You decided to tell me this now!”
“You didn't mention you needed one before! I’m only your humble servant afterall” Matt scoffed.
Both of their faces split into matching crescent grins.
That night, they broke into a steel fenced parking lot with a pair of pliers. Mello regretted wearing his spiked boots as they got stuck on the spires nearly setting off the alarm.
“Find something practical, with big tires” Mello hissed, as they crept silently on the cement. “Like a truck.”
Matt wiped his goggles with a nod, before halting. “Is that a 1970 dodge challenger I see?”
'A what?’” Mello sputtered, squinting his eyes to see better in the dark. “What the fuck are you talking about.”
“It's a type of car” he waved off. It was practically a different language to him “A classic one. You wouldn't get it.”
Mellos eyes finally adjusted to see the shiny piece of metal matt was ogling. “It's a dainty little thing”
“She's perfect.”
“No no! We are not choosing some pretentious steel wagon over something that costs less gas, can go longer miles, and-”
It was too late, Matt padded over to his new shiny toy, gesturing excitedly for him to follow. Mello hissed, trying to get him to shut up as he rolled a giant rock underneath his heel.
“Oh come on Mello. This is the best ride you will ever have! The seats are even velvet” Matt said, peering through the shaded windows before stepping back.
“No.”
“Think of it!”
“It's not practical!”
“I don't see how it isn't,” Matt complained. “It has two front seats and three in the back for our future children”
Mello blushed. Furiously . “What the fuck, Matt.”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding .” the other boy put up his fingers complacently.
“Not funny”
“It is, but-” Abruptly Matt is interrupted by a loud crash, and the shattering of glass.
“Mello-!” He stared blinking at the once intact window of the passenger seat. He had used the rock to chuck it through the tinted plane glass, and it had given in, scattering across the leather cushions.
“I thought you wanted us to be quiet!” Matt said, mouth twitching sporadically. “You sure are a hypocrite.”
Mello shrugged his bony shoulders, rolling his arm as he did to unlock the front seat door. “How else were we supposed to get in?”
Matt ignored the rhetorical question, to further bemoan the damage the beautiful automobile had sustained. Mello would have found it endearing in any other circumstances.
Mello shifted to the left, patting the driver seat. Matt followed in after, stiffening for a second, but relaxing as soon as his gloved hands melted into the lascivious steering wheel.
“Oh baby, I can't wait to ride you”
“I really hope your talking to the car”
Matt's glasses fogged up as he laughed. “Who else would I be talking to?”
Mello resisted the urge to smile and instead leaned in, wiping away the precipitation on the windshield. “So, are you going to do that thing where you touch random wires together to get the car up and going?”
Matt stared at him for a long time, as if he was stupid, though Mello liked to attest that specific look was usually directed to the other instead. “You mean hotwiring?” He laughed, rubbing the sheen gloss of the wheel. “You don't hotwire a car. Everyone gets that wrong. Takes too much time to steal a car. You have to ignition punch it which when it comes to this older model means-”
“Oh shut up you nerd.” Mello sputtered, feeling far out of his element. “Quit your rambling, and actually get to ignition punching or whatever you losers call it.”
Matt smiled, looking down at where his scuffed boots perched on the brakes. “Ok. But I know you like when I talk.”
Notes:
I'm thinking of making a few art pieces for this fanfic since I've recently learned how to use procreate. Or maybe I should just stick to actually writing this story.
Chapter 5
Summary:
But because of your stubbornness and your unrepentant heart, you are storing up wrath against yourself for the day of God’s wrath, when his righteous judgment will be revealed.
-Romans 2:5
Notes:
Hey guys its been a while! I have to finish the first draft of my original novel by the end of the month, which is why I have been delayed on updating this fic.
Also-I made some artwork for this fic, you can check it out here
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“I see.” L spoke calmly, twisting the strands of his hair as Roger sighed on the other end of the phone. “It does make things slightly more difficult, but I can't say I didn't expect it.”
“What do you mean L? You knew they were going to run away?”
“Hm, I had a feeling Mello would run away, but I am quite surprised Matt followed along, but lets be honest- I shouldn't be.”
“So you had suspicions that he would attempt to do such a thing?”
“Yes, did I not make that clear?”
“Well-I!” The old man coughed. “Why didn't you tell us sooner! We have the means to prevent such a thing.”
“I don't approve of your “means” Rodger. You can't punish someone who hasn't done anything yet.” L clarified. “However, once they return to Wammy’s, you can punish them by whatever means necessary. Understood?”
“L-” Roger tried to argue, before he realized the endeavor was fruitless. “I understand. I’m ready to deploy all of our agents to find the runaways if necessary.” “That's a waste of resources. I will send someone else instead.”
Roger made a noise of displeasure. “Who?”
“Halle Linder. You haven't forgotten her yet, have you?”
Roger paused on the other line before saying. “She is with the CIA, I thought.”
“Not if I call her in. She will assist in anything, including tracking a couple intelligent children down. I remember she was fond of me when we went to Wammy’s together. ”
“I don't recall that. I remember she vehemently celebrated when she left Wammy’s so she wouldn't have to see you again.”
“I think that was because she left Wammy’s, that had nothing to do with me.”
“L.” Roger said warningly.
“Anyway, she will listen. Send all you know about the possible whereabouts of Mello and Matt immediately.”
“To her or to you?”
L sighed. Roger still was an idiot. He hung up.
He had already decided he would have Agent Linder join the team ever since he heard that a close acquaintance of hers died in Higuchi's reign. This made her more likely to quit the CIA and join the Kira investigation. The problem was convincing her to deal with catching a couple of Wammy kids. She didn't want to do anything that was associated with Wammy considering her prior experience with it.
But with a few fanciful words he would get her on his side. That or blackmail.
Besides, he wasn't too worried about the boys running away. He had suspected Mello was going to try and run for a while now, the Kira case was just the tipping point. He was no Beyond. He had made sure of that when he told him about BB’s story.
Still he didn't want Linder to capture them and drag them back to the Wammy’s house, just monitor them, and make certain they don't put themselves into direct danger. He would rather Mello’s brain stay intact then get blasted by a shotgun, after the teen riled someone he shouldn't have.
Actually, the two being off grid was beneficial, if Kira was to win the game, kill Near and L, he would find their connection to Wammy, but they would not be able to discover Mello and Matt.
That would require himself losing. And L intended to never give Light the upper hand again. He had Misa under his control, and though he had not fully wrangled Rem under his influence, he was certain Rem was leaning away from Lights command. He was inching his pawns out of stalemate, but Light still had the queen….
L had been selfish since childhood. Since his very first formative years, since his very early conscious thoughts revolved only around one thing: Himself. If he wanted a toy, he would take it from the other children; if he wanted a meal, Watari would fetch him a five course desert; if he wanted to read books; a library would be made for him.
So he would get the correct chess pieces, and he would get Light. Captured.
He was jostled from his thoughts from a quiet knock on the entrance to his room, and the creaking of the door and the padding of small footsteps reached his ears. He immediately recognized the tread as Near’s. He was surprised. Though he maintained that Near should stay near the 30th and 40th floor, while he was down on the 13th. Near rarely walked around, having been confined to his room for days, and he had not seen him even stand up since he arrived, until now.
“N.”
“L” The other addressed, barely batting his eyes. Silence echoed. Even for L, who had no shame, had to admit conversations with his heir were terribly awkward.
They had understood each other immediately when they first saw each other. They hadn't even met before and L didn't have to go through the tedious process of talking to someone who was raised to replace him. Nor did Near gush and fawn over him, like some in the Wammy’s house, or boast and try to get his approval. They had simply telepathically clicked, and acted familiar because the situation called for it.
Near didnt speak for a moment, looking down with his large black eyes. “I can't sleep.”
L reflectively checked the clock, the glaring red light blinking 1 AM on the desk. “So?”
Near, for once, looked nervous. “I needed something to pass the time. Do you have any material for me to go through again?”
L, who had been staring at the security camera watching Rem floating in the foyer, shrugged. “Nothing we haven't discussed.” Then L’s tone turned slightly chasizing. “I'd rather not go over the plan again, considering you are my successor, and shouldn't need to hear details twice.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here” “Because I can't sleep”
L realized he was a hypocrite. Telling Near he didn't need to hear things twice, when L just did.
“You have your toys to play with, right? That will keep you occupied”
“I brought them with me,” Near said, producing a pack of cards and a strange amber doll from his oversized shirt. L began to stare, until his eyes became blurry at the edges, and he came to the conclusion that Near would not leave.
“Alright. Just sit on the carpet for now”
Near immediately plopped onto the floor, in an unorthodox manner. L finds his movement passively irritating. Though again, that would make him a hypocrite, since he did the same things.
At least with Beyond, he knew L enough, seen L through those crimson eyes to know what he looked like. He knew him a little too much. But Near, since before this week, never spoke or seen L before. Yet he was a mirror vision of him, subtracting a few qualities. It was as if a ghost of himself before he left the Wammy's house came back to haunt him.
Near shuffled the cards, plopping on the carpet, before picking them up, three at a time. L sighed, sitting back down. The cushion of the chair offered enough warmth to sink into, but L stayed rigid, hunched over with his feet directly beneath him. He stared at Nears antics for a moment longer.
“I forgot to mention, but I made sure that Misa does not enter the task force headquarters. As you know why.”
“Because she is the second Kira, yes” Near finished before him, picking up a queen of aces out of his stack.
It was reliving, to know that after Near had gone through all the files, and timeline of the Kira case thus far, and had come to the same conclusion: Light and his girlfriend Misa were the first and second Kira.
However, Near didnt understand why Light was kept away from him so far. Near said, as the second detective, he should be allowed to interrogate the suspect, or at least be in the same room as him. L couldn't exactly explain to him that he wasn't the second detective. He was a backup, a failsafe. He was only here as another pawn in his defense, one to increasingly back Light into a corner.
“Light was displeased at this. I decided to add that as evidence to the case. Next time you go through the files, please make sure to note that.”
Near nodded, barely looking up. “I doubt that single note would be useful in a court of law.”
“It's not. None of the notes will be used in court.”
Near stilled at that. “Then why are you collecting them?”
L hummed. “It's evidence for the taskforce, once they come to their senses and arrest Light Yagami.” He leaned forward further, watching the king and queen cards, a royal flush, trickle back down onto Nears lap. “When he is arrested, the Japanese or any international government won't have any interference, and I will act on my own authority. Therefore he will never make it to court, and instead, I will have him executed in one of Wammys holding facilities.”
The silence was so loud that L nearly left the room entirely, so he could hear himself think. Eventually Near flicked one of the cards, toppling over to reveal a joker.
“Hm, I should have assumed the great lawful L would do something highly illegal.”
He perked up at this. Was Near finally forming his own opinions outside of L? “Do you disagree with my decision?” L coaxed.
“Not particularly” Near replied, and L was momentarily disappointed by his lack of stance. “But I think I get it now”
“Get what now?”
“Get why you prefer Mello over me.” Near said idly, like his blunt words weren't aberrant.
L collected himself quickly after the uncharacteristic nature of what was just said. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”
“Because Mello has the traits you're looking for. The willingness to do anything, illegal or not, to win.” To win.
His analysis wasn't entirely incorrect. The corner of his lips twisted upwards. “Yes, I do like winning. I know Mello does, though there is a reason he is in second place. And you, N, like to win too.”
“If you can't win the game, then you're just a loser” Near whispered, soft as a sullen wind.
L nodded in agreement. “Consequently, your argument is faulty. I prefer those who are willing to win. Therefore, I cant prefer Mello over you, when you have the same drive”
He wasn't sure why he lied. There was no reason to coddle the boy, he might as well admit the truth: he did prefer Mello over Near. And from the boy's face beneath him, he wasn't convinced either.
Near held up the sleek joker card next to his pale face, the shade of the waxy paper the same complexion. “Then, may I ask, if you can tell me a story?”
For the uniquely second time in this convoluted conversation, L was puzzled. “A story?”
“Yes” Near blinked, giving no indication of what he meant. The joker stared back.
“Tell you a story.” L said blankly. “Why.”
“Because you told Mello one.” Near explained. “You talked to him alone, and told him a long story. I know this, because Mello bragged to me about it afterwards, refusing to tell me what it was.”
L didn't sigh, but he had the aching urge to do so. “I see. Then what story do you want me to tell?”
Near then looked him directly in the eyes. Dark pupils matching the other.
“I want you to tell me the one you told Mello.” He confirmed. “The one about Beyond Birthday.”
There was a tension that filled the room, clogging his lungs, enough so that L had the itch to fling open the windows. It was strange, hearing that name, spoken out loud and not from his own mouth or in his head. It shouldn't feel as monumental as it was.
The momentary placidity made Near visibly hesitant, as he yielded from L’s gaze, while he continued staring down at the boy.
“Some other time.” L finally conceded. “I don't have time to tell a bedtime story to someone who is supposed to be my successor.”
L walked out of the room a few minutes after that, leaving Near and his cards, all alone.
—
L doesn't like looking in mirrors. He makes certain to avoid them at all costs, hence why there are no mirrors in the building. However he keeps catching his face in the reflection of various surfaces, in the ripples of his coffee, in the shiny space on his desk, in the tall windows, in the carefully polished floor.
Right now he saw his reflection in Light Yagami's bourbon flecked eyes as L bores holes into his monitor screen.
“Ryuzaki.”
It's not Light's usual silky voice that speaks from behind him, careful in approach. It's Aizawa. His face is in his usual grim mould, down turned eyes and hardened brows. He is unusually quiet though, a little more cautious in his approach. In fact, perhaps the entire task force is like that recently. Solemn. Like a funeral service with no orchestrated music. Whether the funeral was to be for Near, Light or himself was not yet determined.
“Yes?” He asks his attention diced in half, as he stares at his security monitor watching Light Yagami a few floors above. He isn't doing anything suspicious, as he is doing his own paperwork, and from the looks of it, his fathers taxes. Still, despite it all, he’s been glued to his face all morning, unable to find himself looking away.
Aizawa clears his throat. Again, L does not even glance in his direction.
The man sighs, defeated. He doesn't seem like he’s going to put up much of a fuss today. Instead he slides something in front of L. It's a flaxen folder, with more than a few pages stuffed behind the laminated paper.
L continues to look at Light. He could feel Aizawa bristle, his temple scrunched like a crumpled up candy wrapper.
“It's the files the police force have gathered on the copycat killer. The one I spoke about last week. “ Aizawa began with a cough.
“The one using Kira’s crimes as a cover to commit his own?” L asked, detached.
“Yes.”
L’s eyes didn't move. “I told you to stop having contact with the police. You're not a part of them anymore, so you shouldnt have classified documents.”
They sent it my way. To send to you” he empathized.
“I've already told you, I’m not interested” he tries to reiterate.
“The killer struck again.”
L paused.
“They found another body late last night. A woman this time. Same pattern of death and the same theatrical way her death was staged. No evidence. It aligned exactly with the murder that happened last time. They think it's the same killer.”
That was…interesting. Usually, when someone kills another, using such a trivial copycat method, they tend to stay low for a long period of time. Very rarely do they commit another murder only a couple weeks apart.
“You mentioned…..how his crime scenes seemed theatrical?” “Yes, the killer posed the bodies and left a few objects behind that the police are attributing to the killer leaving them intentionally behind.”
“Elaborate.”
“You can see the files yourself, you know,” Aizawa argued.
L let out a long standing sigh. He turned back towards the screen monitor, watching as Light moved from his chair to the sofa, in which the two had fought on months ago. It wouldn't hurt to take a look at the case, even though he sworn he wouldn't take any other cases while the Kira one was still ongoing.
No, he couldn't even bring himself to glance at it. He had a duty to take Kira down, and he would spend every minute, every second, working towards doing so. That included staring at Light through his carefully placed security cameras when necessary.
“I won't. I’m not going to look at them.” L said. “I already told you this.”
Aizawa opened his mouth to protest but L halted him, flicking the ceramic side of his cup to make a chime. “That doesn't mean I can't help you.”
“So you are going to help with the case.”
“No.” L said bluntly, handing back the files. “But I can send you to someone who can help you.”
“Who?”
“Near. The boy needs some intellectual stimulation, this will help keep him entertained.”
Aizwa scowls at his closing words. “You know Ryuzaki, I really hate the way you talk about crimes like they are something to keep you entertained. Like they are some kind of game.”
“Are they not?” He asked rhetorically.
Aizawa’s anger was eroding away his cautiousness. “Excuse me?”
Light flipped over his papers and now was working on his mothers taxes separately from his fathers. L didn't want to miss him doing so.
“You are dismissed, Aizawa.” He said. “I grant you permission to debrief Near on your new little passion project.” “Hopefully Near doesnt see these horrible crimes as some amusing puzzle like you do, L”
“Its Ryuzaki,” L corrected, before Aizwa slammed the door behind him.
L swiveled back in his chair, before nearly biting down on his tongue. Light was staring directly into the corner of the room where the secret camera was. Directly into L’s eyes.
He smiles. Clever.
—
Light followed Aizawa through the blind spots of the hallway, hidden from the cameras he knew L was peering in from the other end. Aizawa opened a door, and Light counted with his breaths, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5….
Aizawa spent thirty seconds, before he was out, looking more red and angered in the face. Light smiled, as he stormed off, taking another corner. It looks like he found where Near was.
Though he wasn't technically barred from seeing Near, L had made sure to disclose what room Near was mostly holed up in to everyone except for Light. This he knew was intentional. But now, he thought as he approached the knob of the door, he could have a private chat with Near. Just like he wanted.
The task force had temporarily vacated headquarters for the evening, leaving only Near, Aizawa, L and Light behind. L, naturally, had placed surveillance cameras in the room, but that didn’t bother Light. He had learned to play his role well enough that even the great detective himself had no proof that he was actively looking for Near.
The door creaked open. He immediately spotted a tuft of white hair. Near. Back faced to him, with a file laid beside him. But not only that, he had something else in his little hands. A blonde little figurine resting on his thumb.
Light leaned against the table, watching as Near sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a collection of small, plastic dolls. Some had makeshift button eyes and mouths, where Near had drawn small, crude details onto them with a marker.
Light scoffed. "I didn’t take you for the type to play with dolls, Near."
Near didn’t look up. He was carefully positioning the figures, his fingers moving with delicate precision. He could tell, from the stiff way his shoulders pointed, he was tense. “I didn't expect you to be here, Light Yagami”
“I think you mean you didn't expect me to find you.” Light corrected, stalking closer.
“I’m not too hard to find,” Near said, glancing up to the security camera hidden in the crease of the wall. There was no wire tap in this room, he could tell from when he went through L’s security database. “There is no rule against it.”
“No, that is true,” He said. “Yet you still said you didn't expect me.”
He saw the subtle way Near squeezed his doll, his porcelain dolls curling, digging into the linen. The one he held had streaked hair, like the string he had used was originally a different colour, and he had gone over it with a dull yellow marker.
Light pressed further. “What are you doing here? I expected you to be chained to L’s side, from the way he keeps talking about you.”
Near pauses for a moment. “And how does he talk about me?”
“Like your most trusted advisor” Light said, eyebrows furrowing.
“Jealous?”
Near was quick with that quip. Light almost faltered the retort on his tongue. “No, in fact I’m grateful.”
“Grateful?”
“Ryuzaki would never leave me alone. If you are as efficient as L claims you are, you should know by now that I was chained to him for months” He held up his wrist for the dramatic effect to really drive the point home.
“That's because he believes you are Kira.” Near replied, careful eyes following him as he moved across from him.
“Belived” Light challenged. “Not anymore. Unless you and L are hiding something, and you just slipped up there?”
Near’s thin eyebrows narrowed. “No.” He said quietly, tugging on his doll's hair.
Light's eyes honed in on the creepy little puppets. “You know, I have a little sister, who is just around your age.”
He took a further patronizing tone. “And she's just around your height as well” He said, hand held lower in the air as a reference point. He could almost see Near glare.
Light saw an opening, and he made sure to tug on that thread and pull.
“She looks up to me, you know.” He says, trying for a more false casual tone, to see if Near picks up on it. “Being her big brother and all. Tell me, do you have anyone like that in your life?”
It's clear that he is fishing for any sign that Near had a relation to L in any way. He can see by the way Near stalls his hand that the boy had noticed it immediately.
“If I did I wouldn't tell you.”
“Why not?” Light forces a chuckle to lighten the room. “We are working on the same case together.”
“Has L ever told you anything about his life outside of detective work.”
His throat tightened. He remembered when he took L to that restaurant, and how hard it was to get an answer in his childhood, even when he was the one pressing for questions. He could brag to Near that he knew L grew up in an orphanage in England somewhere, but was that really the truth? L afterall, was a skillful liar.
In reality, Light didnt know anything about L.
“That's right.” Near says, like he won the conversation. Light isnt letting that happen. He’s not done yet.
“I was just trying to find a common ground between us, Near.” Light began. “Extend an olive branch in peace.”
Near twirled a lock of white hair absently. “Is that what you're doing?”
“That and also getting to know my younger colleague” he said “I still don't quite get it.”
“Get what?” Near asked cautiously.
“Why Ryuzaki, or as he insists you call him, L” Light said none too bitterly. “Brought you onto this case. You must have a background with each other, otherwise he wouldn't invite someone so much younger here.”
“I’m just someone he knows will keep up with his intellect.” “I can keep up with his intellect, much faster than you,” Light thought with a hiss.
“Yes, but how does he know that?” He pressed.
“Because he tested me.” Tested?
“Test? Test you how?”
Near picked at the sewn seam of the tiny beaded eye puppet he currently held in his hand. “You ask too many questions, Light Yagami”
He was quick to retort. “And you evade too many answers.”
“But I’m not obliged to answer any of them.” Near said matter of factly.
“You're difficult, you know.” Light chucked, hiding his frustration. Near looked away and shrugged his shoulders like the irritating child he was. “But I do have another question for you, and this time I expect you to answer.”
He speaks with such confidence, that he sees Nears detached facade break into a raised eyebrow. “If you say so.”
“How do you know you passed?”
Near doesnt answer immediately. “What do you mean?”
“You said he tested you, but how do you know you passed?” Light asked, watching as the blonde doll was crammed further in a vice-like grip. “Ryuzaki always toyed with me. Would set up little tests, with misleading dilemmas, questions without the full answer, or would even change the parameter of the interrogation just so I would fumble for the right answer.”
“That was because you were a suspect.” Near vacillated.
“Yes, we are both being tested on different criterias. There's no doubt about that.” Light affirmed. “But according to what you said earlier, L still believes I am Kira. No matter how many times I got cleared, or passed his little tests to prove that I am not Kira, he still believes it”
“What are you getting at?” Near huffed.
“All I’m saying is,” Light watched as the boy's eye contact wavered. “How do you know you passed the test he set up for you?”
The figurines around Near looked even more worn down at first glance. From the twitch of Near’s finger, like the bluffing tell that gave away the poker face, he could see that there is doubt clouding his mind.
He blinked slowly. "Maybe not. But since he brought me here, I suppose I’m the one he trusts."
There was something in Nears' tone that made Light's jaw clench. “Yet here he has you stowed away in this room, all by yourself. Does that speak volumes to the trust he has in you?”
“That's because he doesn't trust someone like you to talk to me.”
“Or maybe, it's the other way around” Light suggests maliciously. “Perhaps he doesn't trust you to interact with me. You might interfere with whatever new test he set up for me.”
Near has long since dropped his detached facade, opting to rather glower at him directly in the face.
Light stood up, grinning as he did so. "But, let's just say you are right. You passed L’s test. It would be nice wouldn't it be?" he said smoothly with a mix of sarcasm. "Being so close to L. Having his favor. It would be best to make it stay that way."
When he didn't reply, his gaze shifted to the doll in his hand, the one that Near kept glancing down too, as if in reassurance.
“That doll in your hand, who is it?”
“It's just a doll” His speedy defense made Light realize the opposite.
“I don't think so.” he hummed. “That doll means something to you.”
“It's just a doll” Near repeats flatly, but the way he clutches the puppet closer to his chest gives away his sudden fit of nervousness.
“If I’m allowed to guess-”
“You're not,” Near said coldly.
“-That doll is a figurine of someone in your actual life.” Light said triumphantly, sliding the last puzzle piece into place. “Someone close to you”
“You're wrong” Near suddenly spoke with much more confidence.
Near met his gaze head-on, and for the first time, Light saw something shift in the boy’s pale gray eyes. Not arrogance. Not innocent.
Something harsher.
“We aren't close, not close at all.” Near deadpanned. “In fact, he sees me as his enemy.”
Light felt something sharp crawl up his spine, but he kept his smile firmly in position. “If that's the case, try not to make a doll of me.”
—
It seemed Light had shown up just to taunt him, and only when he the man in question left, did Near allow the visible signs of distress to show, his lip curling between his teeth.
He couldn't deny that his words got to him.
Though L didnt test him traditionally when he chose him to come onto the case, Near supposed he could categorise the Wammy's house as one giant exam. He hasn't passed the test because he has not surpassed L. And L clearly didn't see him as an equal. He still wasn't a chosen successor. More like a placeholder.
Near knew he flinched, when Light directed the conversation to the doll of Mello he held in his fingertips. If he couldn't even win the conversation against Light Yagami, L was an even farther goal post.
“What would you do?” He asked the Mello puppet, his curved smile looking even more cruel in the saturated lighting. He already knew the answer. Mello would curse and scream at Light until one of them cried. He wonders how it would be, to be a person whose first reaction is aggression. It's always something he admired in Mello, despite the clear weakness of it.
Near sighed, moving some of his other still frumpled dolls to the side to grab at the beige folder Aizawa had dropped off moments earlier before Light stalked into his room.
Aizawa had said that it was a case L passed onto him for the time being since he didn't have the time being. It was about a double murder a week apart both using Kiras' methods to hide it being a homicide. L must not have even looked at it, leaving it to Near to solve a relatively simple case. It wasn't even classified as a serial killing yet.
Near placed Mello’s figurine next to his lap, and opened the folder, expecting another dull murder case to solve as easily as signing paperwork.
He was wrong.
Notes:
Question for you all: would you rather have shorter chapters, but I could update faster, or longer chapter, but my updates slower?
Chapter 6
Summary:
“Yet these people slander whatever they do not understand, and the very things they do understand by instinct—as irrational animals do—will destroy them. They are wild waves of the sea, foaming up their shame; wandering stars, for whom blackest darkness has been reserved forever.”
-Jude 1:10, 13:
Chapter Text
“It was called the Skinner Box”
“The Skinner Box?” B often repeated every word L said, like he was in awe of it. He was back there again. The overgrown lawn. The smell of dust and summer. Back when L only thought Beyond’s name was B.
"I don't get it. If it was about rats, why call it that?”
L shrugged, his back cracking as he did due to the awkward angle. “I assume since it's an experiment to train animals to perform behaviours for awards, it's connected to the rats, and their ‘learned helplessness’.”
The boy paused, a frown dancing on his lips. “The rats, did they ever unlearn their behavior?”
Quillish probably didn't want L talking to the other children, when he could be in his room focusing on whatever cold case he had assigned to him today. At 10 years old, the man had encouraged him to isolate as much as possible, and L initially followed that protocol. All the other children were too far below him. They bored him immensely, and they knew he was too special to approach, when they did see him.
But B had stuck to him like a thorn at his side. And maybe, if L admitted to himself, vice versa, since L often found himself willing to talk to the younger boy.
“No.” L answered his earlier question. “They couldn't unlearn their behaviour, with the short lifespan they had.”
B picked at his thumb, weeding it through the grass. They sat near the apple tree, close by to the prickly strawberry bushes that grew from the roots, from where they first met. L crouched on the ground with his bare feet, avoiding getting any grass stains on his jeans. B had no such qualms, his body outstretched in the more muddy part of the greenery.
“What about animals with long lifespans?”
L hummed, noncommittally. “I assume it would be similar. The Pavlov experiment conditioned dogs to salivate when they saw or heard an object associated with food.”
“Like..?”
“Like a bell. If for example, a bell is rung every time a dog is fed for a consistent amount of time, the dogs will start salivating every time they hear a bell.”
“So the dogs can only be conditioned to slobber?” B giggled, particularly high pitched like what he said was extremely funny. “I would prefer to be a rat.”
“Dogs most likely can be conditioned to do other things.” L said, though his eyebrow twitched at the thought of not knowing any more experiments that explored classical conditioning. He would have to research it more, or get Quillish to do it for him.
“Can humans be conditioned as well?
L tried not to blink under B’s sudden and intense stare. He thought back to when Quillish first told him about the experiment, and revealed how the rats had pressed the lever thousands of times.
He remembered the knowing look they shared, as they looked out the window to all the other children playing in the lawn. He remembers the sudden rising of goosebumps, and the solemn feeling, that in a way, he wished he could be one of those rats.
“Yes.” L answered honestly. “Humans can be conditioned.”
B didn’t move for a while. A fly landed on his cheek and he didn’t even flinch. He kept his eyes pinned on L, like he was trying to solve a puzzle with no edges.
“Do you think we’re being conditioned?” he finally asked, voice low. L paused.
“We’re being educated.”
“Same thing.”
“Not necessarily.”
B sat up, hugging his knees. Dirt clung to his clothes like moss. “We eat the same food every day. Wake up to the same bell. Do the same tasks. Get points if we’re good. Get lectures if we’re not. Or less food. I don’t think that’s education. That’s… programming.”
He tapped his temple once, then again, harder. L didn’t respond immediately. He couldn't relate. His schedule was different from the regular kids. He was given a variety of food palettes to try from, especially when it came to the area of sweets. Along with an assortment of cases. He didn't need grades, he was beyond it.
His gaze dropped to B’s thumb, raw and peeling. The boy had chewed the skin until it was pink and sore. He knew what that was, he copied L’s mannerism. Though where L only nibbled, B bit down into his thumb hard, always making himself bleed. It was a nervous tell. A form of self-soothing, ironically learned. He looked away.
B always took things too far.
“What, so you think we’re rats?” L asked, more curious than accusatory.
“I know we are,” B smiled. The wind picked up a little. The leaves above them shivered. L didn’t like the silence that followed, how it seemed to stretch, elastic and invisible, between their skulls.
“I don’t think I’m a rat,” L said flatly.
“You’re the one watching from above,” B murmured. “I think you’re the one with the clipboard.” L hated how accurate that felt.
“Then what does that make you?” he asked, sharper than he intended. B grinned.
“Just a rat.” He looked at his hands like he was imagining claws sprouting from his fingertips. Then he tilted his head and asked, “If you were a rat, would you ever stop pressing the lever? Even if it never gave you anything again?”
L didn’t answer right away. His brain caught on the image of himself, hunched and gray, pawing endlessly at a switch that once gave meaning. That image disturbed him more than he cared to admit. “I don’t press levers,” he said instead.
“You’re still in a box,” B replied, voice hollow. “We all are.” They sat in silence again.
Only this time, it wasn’t uneasy. It was quiet, like a shared secret. L watched the way B’s mouth twitched when he thought. The way he compulsively tapped his fingers against his leg. There was too much….vigour running through him for a boy of his age. It was like watching a fire build inside a glass jar. He was only eight. And L may only be ten years old. But he was a genius, with a mind far beyond his years.
Or at least that's what Quillish claimed.
“Would you ever press it, even if it hurt you?” L returned the question. He remembered Quillish explaining how the rats, even through agony, would continue to press the lever, as if it would give them even a fraction of short relief.
“The lever?” B looked at him. His eyes were so dark, even in their cardinal colour, they seemed more like pupils than irises.
“I already do,” he said simply. L didn't know what to say to that. And so, like always, he stored the answer away. Catalogued it. He didn’t realize until much later that it was the first moment he feared B. And the first moment he recognized him. Not as another child in Wammy’s House. But as the lever in his own box.
-
Halle Lindner was trying to trail her targets, but if there was one thing she knew as an agent, following a good driver in a car was much easier than tracking a bad driver.
Unfortunately for her, Mello and Matt were bad drivers.
It took them an hour to drive to London in their stolen vehicle, a trip that should have taken an extra half hour if they drove closer to the speed limit. Which they didn't. They took sharp turns every chance they could, tailing others just to make people go faster, changing lanes like they had the right away each time. She had to admit, there were a few times her heart skipped a beat when their car began swerving drastically, enough that she thought they were going to crash in a ditch, or smash into another car and be crushed on impact.
Earlier that morning, her account had suddenly been wired, 100,000 US dollars. After the initial shock, an old name appeared on her phone. Roger Ruvie.
She loathed speaking to the man, but he had promised that he was only there to relay a message from L, who had sent her the money and a message; to track down two runaways from the Wammy House.
Halle wanted to refuse, not wanting to become a pawn to L’s pundit, but she thought it over. Her co-worker had been killed by Kira around a month ago. More were likely to die. She wanted, in this case, for L to win, and if the detective's focus was to waver because of these two insolent kids, he would have more difficulty finding Kira and getting vengeance for her.
“Ok, I’ll do it. Send all the information you've gathered” She said as professionally as she could manage to a man she partially despised.
“Good.” Roger said on the other line. “The money sent is just an advancement. We will pay double once you find the children.”
Halle didn't care about the money. “I also want something else in return.”
She heard Roger let out a long-suffering sigh. “Which is?”
“I want to talk to L.”
A pause. “For what reason?”
“The reason is my own. If you don't find this agreeable” She said administratively. “Then let's terminate this deal immediately.”
“Ah ok. Fine.” Roger faltered. She could hear him adjusting his spectacles from the other side. “I am sure L would not mind talking with you in exchange for this.”
“Then do we have a deal?” She asserted.
“Yes.”
After the near grueling hour keeping her eyes pierced in front of the road, ready to slam the brakes at any moment due to the traffic Mello and Matt were causing, she had expected for them to do the rational thing and board a train. It would be much easier to corner them there.
But no.
They kept driving around the city. They first stopped at the Big Ben, and got a passerby to take a photo of them posing idiotically beside its bricks. Then the British museum and parliament of Westminster. Afterwards, they switched tactics and went down alleyways like a narc with their windows rolled down, talking to every slightly suspicious person they saw.
She assumed they were trying to find an “in” to the underground scene, or some gang that could supply them with assets, such as a fake passport. Otherwise they would never make their way to Japan, which L claims they were trying to head.
It was a foolish endeavour. They were like a fish swimming in a vast ocean, expecting food to waltz up to them. These children were supposedly the runner up successors for L. They didn't seem nearly as intelligent as she thought. She could capture them now and drag them all the way back to Wammys.
The problem was, L didn't seem all too concerned about bringing them back immediately.
He, in his message, said “It's only natural for the boys to want to explore the outside world more. Feel free to either capture or just monitor them.”
It was getting close to dusk, on the outermost part of the city, when Mello and Matt finally parked without continuing to run their engine.
Her legs felt sore from being cramped under the wheel the entire day. She pulled her blind spot mirrors to the side and unbuckled her seat belt. The two boys looked like they weren't going to go far from their automobile, as they walked down another alleyway.
Halle turned on the radio, flicking through the channels before settling on a voice of a woman anchor reading out the most recent Kira killings. She flicked open her laptop and got to work on updating her agency.
It was maybe a half an hour later when there was a loud sound that made her hands halt on the keyboard. Shouting erupted.
Her eyes immediately narrowed, peering past the windshield. The sun had long since dipped behind the horizon, leaving only shadow in its wake. But from the glow of a singular lamplight, she saw figures darting from the alleyway.
From the blond hair and the shine of lenses, she knew it was Mello and Matt.
Following them, more people emerged, dashing wildly behind them. It took her half a second to realize they were chasing them.
Mello and Matt ran to their car, but instead of getting into it, they turned around to face their opponents. Halle’s eyes widened. With the little light she was given to work with, she spotted a gleam of a knife being unsheathed.
Were these children seriously about to get gutted right in front of her? The larger men seemed to be shouting something angrily as they advanced. She didn't know these kids personally, but she wouldn't put it past them to piss off people they shouldn't. And from the looks of it, they pissed off the local thugs of the area. She counted four of them, all varying degrees of sizes. Even if the Wammy house gave them formal defense training, which she knew didn't, they wouldn't be able to fight off these grown men, especially with a blade.
Considering the fact she knew L would probably not pay her the double amount of money she was owed if she let the two die to an underwhelming knife attack. She had no other choice but to engage. Halle slams open the car door and bolts towards the man closest to them, the one tightly holding a dagger.
He looked towards her at the last second, but by then it was too late for him.
Her knee slammed into the man's stomach, causing him to keel over. She slams her elbow onto the small of his back and hears a sharp crack before he topples over. The knife clatters against the cement.
The three other men stumble back from the shock of her arrival, before a fist is being thrown her way. She swings to the side, and dodges another punch. She grabs her attacker's arms and twists it behind his back, and then yanks upwards. She hears the crunching shift of bone being popped, as his shoulder is dislocated.
He screams, loud enough that Halle lets him go. He staggers into his friends arms, who are barely able to hold him upwards. They glance at Halle with shaky expressions, before fleeing.
She glanced down at the man sprawled beside her polished shoes. She hadn't realized she knocked him out cold.
Then Halle freezes. The knife is gone from where it fell on the ground.
As soon as her awareness is heightened, she feels icy metal being pressed against her neck. A blade threatening to dig into her jugular. A voice, that still was in the early stages of puberty, followed after.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Halle Linder.” Mello said, his inflection stuffed full of smugness.
The other boy, Matt, pulls the gun she had strapped to her leg, checks the canister, and clicks the safety off. Mello takes the knife off her throat, and goes to stand next to Matt, who has the barrel pointed at her.
Despite all this, her heart rate stayed fairly steady, if not a little peeved. “So you know my name.”
“We know your identity.” Mello smirked. “Halle Linder, Age 23, CIA agent. You've been following us all day.’
“You knew I was tracking you?” Halle asked, trying to hide her annoyance with a stony expression.
“Yes, we caught onto it immediately.”
“Really? At what time did I start trailing you?”
“At around 11 AM, on the dot,” Mello said confidently.
“Wrong.” She said blandly, like she had other things to do. Which she technically did. “I started following you guys at around 4 in the morning.”
Mello's face dropped into a humbling grimace.
“Close enough.” Matt chimed in, unhelpfully. “And you still fell for our trap.”
“Which was?” Halle asked impassively.
“Piss off a bunch of brutes and have you come to the rescue so we can take you while your weak.”
Halle didn't blink. So their plan was to upset a bunch of criminals to drag her out into the open so they could use her own weapon against her?
“Anyway” Mello pushed past him, ignoring his quip. “We know who you are. You've been hired by Wammy to capture us.”
“Wrong again,” Halle said. “I was hired by L. Personally.”
Blue wild eyes widened. “Really? L is even trying to catch us?”
“How many people did he send after us?” Matt pressed further.
“Only me.” she said, deciding to be truthful.
“Only you” Matt reiterated with a smile. “Lucky us.”
From the way he was holding the pistol, she could easily smack it out of Matt's lax grip. Taking them down wouldn't be too difficult. Her eyes narrowed as she calculated how injured they would be if she fought them.
They might get accidently as wounded as the guy she just beat,she thought to herself quietly as Halle's eyes glanced towards his body.
“How did you guys find out my name?”
Mello, slapped a hand on Matt's shoulder. “He can find out anyone's name, age, and social security number with just a computer. He researched everything about you while we led you on a goose chase across London.”
Good to know, she thought again to herself. These boys were smarter than she initially thought.
“What do you want with me?” She said, eyeing the weapon in his gloved hands idly.
“We want you to give us fake passports.” Mello stated.
“And book us flights to Japan," Matt added. “First-class.”
Halle gave him a pointed look. “And if I refuse?”
“We will kill you.” Mello said.
Halle knew their bluff. They didn't have the consciousness to kill anyone, let alone pull that trigger. Atleast, not yet.
“I still refuse. What now?” Halle asked.
Mello's eyebrows furrowed, glancing back at Matt before back at her again. “If you still refuse, we will leak the fact that there is an American operative on an unauthorized rogue mission to MI6.”
That was a slightly more viable threat. Though MI6 and the CIA were allies for the most part, agents operating in allied countries usually have to get permission from their respective secret services before carrying out a mission. She hadn't gotten permission, like many CIA agents, but usually, they didn't get caught and their information leaked.
“I thought you were going to kill me,” She said.
He scoffed. “Would that be preferable?”
Halle sighed.
“Ok. I will get you to Japan” She said lowering her hands to the side in practiced defeat. “I guess I have no choice.”
The last part was a lie. She could still take down Matt and Mello. But she had been mulling over this mission all day, and came to a conclusion: Roger most likely didn't relay the fact she wanted to talk to L to the man himself. Completing this mission would be useless if she didn't get what she wanted, even if she was an extra 200,000 USD richer.
However, if she went with the boys to Japan, she would be closer to wherever L is. Japan was where Kira was most likely to be, and she might be able to be the one to capture him once L finds out his true identity.
She would also get to have a conversation with L.
As soon as she goes to Japan, she will make sure Mello and Matt dont run off and try solving the Kira case on their own. If worse comes to worse, she will find a way to send them straight back home, even tied to the airplane seat if necessary.
“But I have one request,” Halle imparted.
Mello looked at her funny. “Which is?”
“I drive the car.”
-
Light stared at his T.V screen, slightly confused.
A few days ago, he was about to contact Misa about a criminal, a serial burglar that was recently released from probation, only to find out he died of a heart attack a day ago. He frowned. He thought he made it clear to Misa that she should not kill without permission during such delicate times. Though it had been difficult to communicate with Misa since she was not allowed to be near Task Force HQ. Rem had also been on a silent streak for a days now. Staring at him and the other task force members, still as a ghost.
Still as death.
He went for the remote to switch the channel, when spindly cold fingers wrapped around his wrist. He nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Ryuzaki!” He blustered, turning to L, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Don't scare me like that!”
“Is Light-kun scared of me?” he asked, in a tone that could only be described as mischievous. Light knew the tell tale signs that L was amused.
He glared at him. “No, you just came up behind me and grabbed me. How are you so quiet on your feet?”
“It's because I go barefoot,” L says, settling beside Light. “You should give it a try.”
“I’ll pass.”
Their oddly unrestrained banter reminded Light of the months where they were forcibly chained by each other's side. They would bicker all day and night. Such as when Light would pass L a wet towel after it was his turn to shower, and L, ever the insomniac, would get creative trying to keep Light awake, such as stating random facts about useless information. Or even worse, reciting the Russian alphabet backwards, until Light threw a pillow at him.
It was torture, being so close to L. His wrist was locked in his grasp. L’s fingers had felt like a handcuff for a split moment. Though now with his memories back, he wished they were still chained together. If he had to kill L, or have Rem do it for him, he wanted to be right by his side when it happened. To catch him when he falls.
If he was chained to L, he would never leave his sight. Would never leave to go consult with Near, or leave to sleep alone in his room. Light was almost tempted to ask L if they wanted to go back to sharing a bedroom.
It was a weakness that festered inside him, a blight he knew about yet lacked any idea on how to remove it without accidentally hurting himself. So it only grew and grew, until the symptoms started to show.
L took the remote out of Lights hands, and clicked the T.V off.
“Watching the news? How Kira-like” L challenged, his voice closer to a tease.
“You know, not everyone who watches the news is Kira.” Light attested.
“Ah, but Kira only watches the news,” L said. “You can never be too careful.” A part of Light also wished he could go back to the time he punched L in the face. The detective was always such an expert at getting a rise out of him.
He realized that L’s legs were pressing against his own. He was awfully close, even crouched in his usual position. Light felt a strange undeniable warmth float to his cheeks. He didn't know whether to lean away, or lean closer.
The man was still for a long drawn out moment.
“Hm.” L hummed.
“What?” Light snapped, trying not to freeze at the fabric of L’s shirt tickling his shoulder.
“You’ve talked with Near.” L enunciated
The illusion of playful bantering shattered.
“I wasn't told I couldn't," Light said.
“You're quite defensive.” L drawled. “I never said you couldn't, yet you assumed immediately that I would imply that you broke a rule.”
His tongue felt dry. “I was thinking you were going to try and twist my actions again. Make them sound suspicious.”
“Your actions are suspicious.”
“Really Ryuzaki” Light crossed his legs. “What is suspicious about it?”
L, who had kept his eyes fixed on Light the entire time he entered the room, inched his face closer. “For once, you talked to him alone. In the evening. When everyone had already left Task Force headquarters.”
“So am I not allowed to stay after hours?” Light scoffed. “Do I have to remind you I lived at headquarters with you for months while you had me chained to your side like a dog?”
“Light-kun is missing the point,” L said, patronizing once again. “I’m saying why did you wait until everyone has gone home to talk with Near?” “I was busy with paperwork.”
“You finished your paperwork at noon.”
It wasn't a question, he stated it like a fact. “So you were watching me through the monitors.”
L shrugged.
Light was not surprised, but he acted like he was. “Watching me? You know what's suspicious? The fact you're wasting time observing me like a creep instead of working to solve the Kira case.”
“Observing you is working on the case.” He could see that L was just trying to antagonize him now, from the small upwards twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Light found himself smirking bitterly. “That's not the only suspicious actions you're committing, Ryuzaki.”
“Which is?”
“Bringing a child that doesn't look a day over twelve onto a case and claiming he is a detective that could match your intellect. And now you spend so much time together, yet never reveal to the rest of the taskforce what you two are plotting.”
“Sounds like jealousy.”
Light jaw snaps shut.
L didn't blink, gazing ever closer.
“You have a staring problem.” Light hissed
“You do as well.” L was definitely smiling now. “Kira.”
Now he was just tempting him, to strike him across his face. If he was the man he was a month ago, he might have done it. But he knew who he was now, and knew he had to be more measured. He had self control.
Then, he noticed how L had moved so close to him that he had practically crouched over top of his lap, their noses mere inches apart. He could hear L’s breath against his neck, and can clearly see the wide black holes that were L’s alluring all-seeing eyes.
Light realized in that moment, he had no self-control at all.
“Stop calling me Kira” Light said, unable to hide how hoarse his voice had become.
L didn't blink. “You look uncomfortable. Did my words struck a chord?” “Yes, because they are lies,” Light rasped.
Somehow, L found a way to lean even closer without touching him. “The most believable of lies always have a grain of truth.”
“Thats not true.” He tried, unsure if he should push L off of him. Not sure if he wanted to.
L shifted over top of his legs. “Liar.”
Just as Light was sure they were going to meet, skin to skin, they were interrupted.
“Ryuzaki” Watari coughed. “I've brought you some treats as requested.”
L slid off of Light unphased. “Oh perfect. Go ahead and wheel the trolley over to me and Light.” He stood there, feeling unusually flustered. Light rubbed his jaw. How could L remain so unbothered by pulling a stunt like that?
Watari rolled the well-adorned cart. It carried delicate towers of cream puffs, lemon-glazed petit fours, and miniature éclairs, white icing glinting like polished pawns. A glass dish of dark chocolate truffles rested in the center like a king on the board.
“Thank you, Watari,” L said, plucking a tart with a candied cherry the color of dried blood.
He sat farther away from Light this time, and he tried not to feel a stir of disappointment in his chest.
As Watari left the vicinity of the room, L quickly swiveled to face him.
“Would Light-kun like one?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That never stopped me.” L took a slow bite, sugar sticking to the corner of his mouth. He didn’t wipe it off. Light watched the smear, vaguely irritated. Scornful, he looked away.
“You're oddly quiet,” L noted, still chewing. “Are you upset about something?”
“Something?” Light said coldly. “You got into my space. Again.”
“You enjoyed it.” L shrugged. Light’s eyes honed in on the way the detective pressed his tongue into the inside of his cheek. Light crossed his arms and scoffed, trying to appear irritated.
L didn't care about his obvious state of annoyance. With a loud gulp, he gestured to the sweets again. “Come on. Take a bite. You’ll feel better.”
Light hesitated, then chose a petit four confectionery. He took a bite.
It was supposedly apple flavour. Yet it was way too sweet, and he had the urge to spit it out.
He swallowed it anyway.
Light’s eyes scrunched from the aftertaste still sticking to his mouth. He needed a drink of water to wash the aroma away.
“Did you not like it?” L asked, obviously knowing he didn't.
“No.” Light humoured him. “I was way too sweet.”
“Hm.” L hummed. “That was what I would call a bitter treat.”
Sometimes wondered if he would even need the death note to kill L if he wanted to, or if the detective would just instead fall dead from sugar-induced diabetes.
“Ryuzaki. For your own health, I hope you're messing with me.”
L relaxed against the soft plush of the couch's armrest. “We both know you don't care about my health.” Light couldn't help but admire something akin to a genuine smile almost reaching L’s eyes.
-
The room outside of L’s room was colourless. White, bland, sterile. Like the pasty painted walls of an asylum. The rest of the Wammy house was ornately decorated with stained baroque windows and carved marble edges that lined the walls and parts of the ceilings. Left over structures from when instead of the orphanage, it was an 18th century chapel.
However, L’s room was the only part of the Wammys house that didn't have some left over foundation. It was like an empty pocket, with only a bed, lights and a computer. It was one of the largest rooms in the building, compared to cramped quarters the other children were given. No windows. A well-oiled door. And absolutely no decorations. Watari had gifted it to him almost immediately on arrival. And it stayed the same.
L wouldn't have it any other way.
Tonight however, he was having a particularly hard time falling asleep. Most of the children were already in bed, having their usual nightmares brought on by the stress of their upcoming tests that L didn't have to take part in. He sat on his bed, spine curved, knees pulled to his chest. He hadn’t slept. Again. The bell had started ringing. It wasn't the enormous bell that was positioned outside on the steeple. No, it was a tiny chime, as barely audible as the buzzing of the lights he kept on all during the night, or the faint tick of the clock in the hallway. For the last week, he had been hearing a sharp ring outside his door. It always came in threes, a triple ding and then silence. At exactly around 2 AM.
At first, he thought it was a coincidence. It wasn't that noticeable that L would check to see what it was. But he had come to the conclusion, as the clock struck 2 and the chime echoed, he knew he must investigate.
He walked to his door. Barefoot. The air tasted bitter, like the tang of copper.
He opened the door slowly.
B sat criss-cross outside the door, a shocked look premating his face.
“B?” L looked down at the quaint, shaking boy seated at his foot. It looked like he had been crouched in the darkness for a long time, his eyes squinting from where the light of L’s room graced his eye.
It was only then, he realized, when his eyes adjusted, B had a small bell in his hand.
“What are you doing?” L asked, staring brazenly down at the bizarre scene. B looked overwhelmed, rubbing his unnatural eyes, shaking erratically. “I was sitting….” “Outside my room?” L hissed, for the first time, perplexed. “You should be in bed, on the opposite side of this building.”
His eyes narrowed further, focusing on the bell B clutched to his chest. “What is that? Were you ringing that thing just now?”
B stalled for a moment before nodding.
L felt at a loss of words for a brief moment, coming to the quick conclusion that B, for whatever reason, was right outside his door ringing a small metallic bell.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I know…” B whimpered, looking incredibly guilty, but at the same time, not budging from his spot on the dusty floor. “I just wanted to see what would happen.”
“What would happen?” L snapped, his chest feeling sore from the way his heart beat against his chest. “What do you mean?”
B sniffles. Not so innocently. “I thought since the Pavlov experiment used bells to condition those dogs….I-”
L froze. “What?”
“You told me. The bell. It conditioned them to-”
“Yes, I know.” L said quickly. “Why were you outside my door, ringing that bell?” it gleamed as L set his grey eyes on it.
“I-”
“You know that's not how conditioning works. That's not even how Skinner Boxes work” L clenched his fist, having the urge to slap B’s lost face. “What were you trying to stupidly create? See if it would rewire me?”
“No, no!” B sat on his knees now, looking like he was going to beg. “I just wanted to see what would happen!”
L scoffed. “What do you think was going to happen? I was going to be like those dogs?”
“I just wanted to see how long it took for you to notice me.” B said, a small, weak smile playing on his lips. “To see how long it would take for you to open your door and realize it was me ringing it.” L felt his hand stall in the air. His throat felt incredibly dry. “Ah. So it has been you ringing that bell. You've been outside my door all week. Every night.”
B grinned, his eyes radiating a reddish hue. “It took you longer than I thought to notice.” It was just another attention seeking game. He was trying to play with L again.
“I didn't notice because it wasn't that significant.”
“But-”
L leaned down and snatched the bell from the other boy's hand. B frowned, reaching out to grab L’s hand but only grasping at empty air.
“This was very irresponsible of you. You're up past curfew, and I’ll tell Quillish if you try again.” He ran his fingers through his hair, watching intently. “The bell you have been ringing keeps me up.” L lied.
“That's not true” B says abruptly, using his foot to stop L from shutting the door. “Its not my fault. You rarely sleep. You haven't slept since Wednesday, and I didn't ring the bell that night.” L paused. He didn't want to know how B knew that. But right now, B looked like a weak little boy pouting on his knees in front of him. Pathetic enough that he wasn't worth punishing him.
“Got to bed B. That's an order from your superior.” L sighed, pocketing the trinket. He said the word superior like a lie, as if it meant something. Like he was not only a couple years older, still with baby teeth.
“Wait” B whispered.
He was really pushing the limits. “What now?”
“Can you let me inside your room?” L slammed the door in his face.
A while after that, B eventually found a way into his room. And night after night, L would continue to stay awake, always on alert.
Notes:
Halle Lidner is such a fascinating character. Like we know absolutely nothing about her background besides being a former CIA agent who becomes an SPK member and wants to fight Kira since Higuchi killed her acquaintance. Yet she is the same age as L and seemingly sympathetic too Mello and Near and helps both of them during the canon story. Which led me to the idea that she was actually went to Wammy's house as a child, considering there were multiple Wammy house orphanages across different countries.
Anyway, tell me how you felt about the chapter! See you very soon.
Chapter 7
Summary:
”See, the day of the Lord is coming—a cruel day, with wrath and fierce anger—to make the land desolate and destroy the sinners within it.”
-Isaiah 13:9
Notes:
Hi everyone! Originally this chapter was going to be around 8k words but I split it into two chapters instead. The next chapter after this one will come out very soon, in a couple days max. I'm very excited for you guys to see what's to come.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
L hadn't slept for nearly 72 hours, before he eventually couldn't take it anymore. As soon as Light left his room after he had gotten Light to eat some of his confecteries with him, his eyes slipped closed. The last image that lingered in his mind was Light’s flushed, amused expression under the soft lamp glow. Then sleep dragged him down like a hand around his ankle.
He woke up from the cusp of a dream, shaking. That was the first sign he knew something was off. His hands immediately raised to his throat, feeling the subtle raised bumps of gooseflesh on his skin.
He didn't know what emotion he was feeling, but he knew something was causing a lump to push against his throat. He blinked twice, before stretching from his position, where he was curled up on the couch. The leather felt especially cold, from where it was warm mere hours ago, with Light's presence. The cushions felt stiff under his weight.
The room was dark. Shutters sealed. The silence was almost perfect, except for the ringing.
Those damn bells. Imaginary or not, they clashed faintly in his ears, as though swinging just beyond the walls of the room. As though from inside his own skull.
“Watari,” he called out. He didn't want to admit it, but his voice sounded hoarse.
There was no answer.
L felt sparks of pain in his arm. He found that his sleeve was bunched up, his nails latched to his skin. He immediately pulled it away with his other hand, like his arm didn't belong to him.
A sheen of sweat gathered at his temple. L rarely dreamed,he rarely slept and when he did, he could usually control it. He prided himself on it. But this time… this time felt like something else. Something slipped past him.
You can control it. Shape it. Like you shape everything else.
But this time, he couldn’t even remember what “it” was.
“Watari—!” He snapped, full volume.
Finally, the familiar, measured voice responded from down the corridor. “Yes, L? I’ll be there in a moment. Just preparing your breakfast.”
L slumped against the couch in momentary relief. “I was worried you were going to take forever to answer me.”
Watari hummed. “I apologize for the delay.”
L stewed for a moment as he heard the soft clatter of cutlery being set on a polished platter. Why did he feel like something bad was going to happen? His gut feeling had never been wrong before.
A few moments later, Watari, already adorning his well-ironed suit, strolled into the room, pushing his customary silver tray.
L flinched. The bell in Watari's tea cart rings louder than usual. His throat hurt.
“How was your sleep?” the man asks, in a warm, familiar tone. L waited until he picked up the tea pot to reply.
“Better than usual. I slept for three hours.”
“Ah, so you slept in then.” Watari said, pouring him a cup. L picked up a silver spoon and spun it between his fingers. He nodded, half listening to what his caretaker was saying.
He put 12 sugars into his black chai tea, before pausing,
Then added a thirteenth. The number sat like lead in his stomach.
Thirteen. The unlucky number. Or a symbol. A mirrored “B.”
Perhaps it was the accumulation of all the past events of these last couple of weeks, as to why he felt off. Everything with Light gaining his memories, yet being unable to prove it. Maybe it was with recruiting a successor onto the case that had reminded him of how terribly wrong the last batch of successors went.
“Where is the shingami Rem?” he asked. He always got such a cold feeling around her, so maybe that was why his body temperature was skewed.
“She is down in the briefing room, last I checked the monitors.”
“Which was when…?”
“Around 10 minutes ago” He confirmed.
He was relieved for a mere moment. Him and Rem have had continuous late night talks, when all of the taskforce members, and Light, finally left the building. She wasn't completely on his side yet. She was still wary of how L was able to decipher that she cared for Misa. Once L convinced her that he would give Misa impunity if they incriminated Light, he would take the victory,
The thought made him smile as much as he could. But the feeling of dread did not dissipate.
“You and Light were quite close yesterday evening,” Watari said, seemingly out of the blue.
“Hm.” L said, making no comment. He took a sip of his tea. His nose wrinkled in response. Not sweet enough.
“Well, do you have anything to say about it?” Watari said, a little more firmly. Like a parent that wants their child to admit to something.
“No.” L said honestly. Though he had invaded Light's personal space, he felt no shame about it. It was a tactic to get Kira to feel some embarrassment instead.
Though from the angle of the surveillance cameras, in which Watari was watching from, it probably looked a little inappropriate, considering he was crouching over his main suspect's lap. Practically straddling him.
It was a simple trick, an experiment in human discomfort, with L as the examiner.
It felt nice however.
Watari let out a long suffering sigh, which meant he knew the man wasn't going to press the issue further. Good. He tilted his cup, taking another sip from its dainty ridge.
He paused just as it burned his tongue. But that was not why he hesitated.
He remembered something from his dream.
It was a faint scrap of memory that pervaded his brain, replaying in his dreams. A meaningless one, but for some reason, it had made him wake up in shivers.
He was in the little chapel that connected to the main building of the orphanage. His dark pupils stared up into the fractured light that spilled from the painted windows, which had painted angels and delicate looking saints.
No one used the chapel. Though the orphanage was built on the bones of a religious establishment, Wammy never forced any of the kids to honour any of its former tradition.
It smelled of dust and cedar and something fainter, mildew maybe, or incense. The pews had been covered in white sheets like corpses, and the crucifix above the altar was missing its Christ, leaving only the wooden outline like a shadow.
Though L didn't believe in anything remotely god-like or divine, yet he liked to stare at the architecture and the stained glass. Frankly, he liked to stare at pretty things. His head tilted upwards as spires of metal divided the glass, appearing almost dragonfly like in its patterning.
When he felt like his personal room was too large and vacant, he would go here, where no one could bother him.
Or so he thought.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and a cackling “Surprise!” That nearly caused him to yelp.
B had sneakily crept up behind him while he was sitting in the wooden pews.
L was genuinely shocked, but he tried not to show that he had fallen for B’s typically lame jumpscare.
“Got you!”
“No you didn't."
“You were totally scared, I saw you flinch.” B protested.
L looked at him with a practiced blank look. “Wrong.”
“Liar”
“Wrong again.”
“I was still able to get behind you without you noticing…!”
B’s voice was more strained than usual. Like he was trying to force it to sound deeper then it was. Like L’s voice. It was a fake baritone drawl. An imitation.
When the boy seemingly dismissed his quip, B prattled on. “This is why I am always able to sneak up on you.”
L doesn't look at him, but he knows he is smiling. “What do you mean?”
Beyond lurks closer, enough that he could feel his heated breath on the back of his neck. “I mean…” He whispers at the cusp of his ear. “You always ignore me until I get too close. And by then, it's too late.”
L purposefully ripped himself from the memory. He looked up at Watari, his familiar face grounding him in the present
A drop of condensation dripped down the ceramic side of the cup. He wiped it off with his thumb.
Out of everything to dream about with B, why did he dream of such a forgettable conversation?
It felt like a warning.
The bell on the cart chimed again, just slightly, and his throat clenched like a reflex. He put the spoon down. He didn’t say another word for the rest of breakfast.
“You always ignore me until I get too close. And by then, it's too late.”
—
The evening bled into the morning, and then back to early evening once again as Near sat vacant in his room. Ever since Light left after their last, admittedly tense conversation, the boy had stayed in one place. No one came to attend to him. He had his escorts, but they left after they finished their transport duties. He didn't have his own Watari to accommodate his every need, nor did the taskforce realize they had to check up on the child, thinking it was L’s responsibility.
Near’s stomach growled. He placed a small palm on his abdomen, as if trying to stifle the hunger aches.
He had crouched in a circle of case files for a day now, if his track of time was correct. Though he wasn't entirely sure, considering he rarely glanced at the screen monitors. It wasn't important. Though the pulsing headache he got from slowly staring protested such a dismissal.
Though he had been assigned by L to continue researching on the Kira case, the files that Mr. Aizawa gave distracted him.
At first he had only bothered to glance at them. Two deaths, seemingly linked through heart attacks, were not very interesting or important. Though he believed in adamantly stopping a potential serial killer, aiding in stopping Kira who claimed hundreds of thousands of more took priority.
Yet.
When he got a look at the coloured crime scene photos, he instinctively brought it closer to his face, examining it. They struck him as strange. Staged to look like something entirely different then what Near had originally marked it up as, which was a double homicide of convenience.
Feeling like he was being watched, he glanced up at the security camera in the corner of the room. His mind began to pick up the pace, racing with that taunt Light Yagami had spoken about earlier.
“Ryuzaki always toyed with me. Would set up little tests, with misleading dilemmas, questions without the full answer, or would even change the parameter of the interrogation just so I would fumble for the right answer.”
Near felt as if the words were lodged into his brain. Light had a way of getting under people's skin. The next set of words he had said afterwards.
“How do you know you passed the test he set up for you?”
Every time he stared blankly at the documents upon documents on Light Yagami's history, the words replayed, like a looped broken machine.
Which led Near to abandoning his Kira workload to look at the copycat case again.
Despite only having two victims, Aizawa had reported that the NPA had already dubbed it as the working of a serial killer, due to the high likelihood that he would strike again. Which was likely why the deputy director Koreyoshi Kitamura had consulted the taskforce and L specifically.
“This is not Kira, he would not mutilate. “ Near whispered to himself.
The name of the first victim was Reina Arakawa. She was 18, female and was working part time as a tutor and teacher aid at Keio university. On her body, there were lacerations, specifically intentional carvings, once Near got a better view of the post mortem photos. They were slim but gaping, found on the sternum before descending along the rib cage.
Her body was discovered in her bedroom, locked from the inside. Scanning through the investigators report, they claimed that there was no sign of forced entry. Neither did forensics find any prints outside of the victims.
The second victim was a little more notable. This one was someone who the real Kira would definitely target. His name was Kiyoshi Ishimaru, and he was 31 years old and had no official profession when he was murdered. He was a serial burglar, who raided several houses and served a ten year sentence before he was released on probation. His body was found in a dingy locked apartment, double bolted from the inside. All exits and windows secured. Once again, there was no sign of struggle. His cause of death was pronounced a heart attack on the autopsy table.
The difference, however, was this time however, the body was found facing down, on his stomach. The jagged slashes were carved into the back of his shoulder blades and down the length of his spine. In the reverse position Reina was found in.
In his research of the first victim, he had quickly found out that she also had a criminal record of shoplifting, but with her parents' money, it was swept under the rug, kept quiet. Hardly a huge offense either, though, it wouldn't stop Kira.
But this wasn't Kira. Even the police, who were naturally incompetent, knew that.
What they didn't know, Near filled in the gaps. The method of murder wasn't too hard to figure out. In fact it was easy, like the killer didn't even try to hide the fact that he was using forensic tricks to simulate a heart failure.
Though there were no visible injection wounds, Near knew that by using a syringe under fingernails or between toes, would leave no trace of an abrasion. Looking at the post-mortem analysis, there was a high concentration of KCL in the blood. This solved how the murderer would induce a heart attack. High doses of Potassium Chloride Injection could cause a cardiac arrest, and even make it look natural.
Why the victims didn't show any sign of struggle, could also be explained away. The killer must have sedated the victim first, maybe using a drug like midazolam. Then, during their subconscious state, carved into the meat of their skin.
However, what was difficult was the victims relation. Their only connections were the slashes they had, the poison induced heart attack and the lowly criminal record. It didn't explain the motivation behind the slashes either. They weren't close in age, having a thirteen year age gap between both victims, so it was highly unlikely they knew each other in life, or knew a third party by extension.
Could that really be it?
Near, chewed on the crest of his thumb like he had seen his mentor do the day before, wondering if it would clear the bewildered fogginess that pervaded his mind.
A profile of this killer was starting to grow, expand, evolve. Though he was still stuck on many of the aspects, he figured on singular things. This wasn't the murderer's first time killing. It's his first time using this method however.
Near, on all fours, crawled over to the computers that lined the wall of the room. Laying on the stomach, he quickly booted them up.
His first order of action was to scan for any CCTV footage outside of the addresses where the bodies were found. Specifically he checked the dates before, during and after where the murders took place.
He watched like a hawk as he saw each victim step into their homes, scanning the shadows of the alleyways to see if the perpetrator was stalking them, or waiting in hiding.
He found nothing.
The angle at which the apartments had windows that barred CCTV footage. Any other position would work, but as luck may have it, their homes were in the worst possible place to grab any video surveillance feed. It left too many openings for a murderer to slip by undetected. There was no other external system to watch from, so the idea of catching any movement of the killer remained fruitless.
In his attempt to organize a frustrated amount of convoluted evidence, Near stationed his Mello doll on the floor, facing upwards like the first victim. Since the rest of his dolls were confiscated when he was escorted on the plane to Japan, he used the cards he had spread across the floor hours earlier. He picked up the joker card and placed it facing down, like how the second victim was found.
Why was one positioned on their back, and the other on the front? Was it merely in the position they died in?
He didn't think so, and he knew Mello wouldn't think that either. They were taught not to believe in coincidences. The body placement was purposeful.
As she shuffled through the portfolio again, a photo slipped out from the file, a grainy looking photo of evidence found near the body of the latest victim. Near had looked at it before when he first went over the case of the copycat killer, but it always ended up making him frustrated. From a glance, it looked like a suicide note. A scrap of written paper that just happened to be beside the victim as he succumbed to his death.That was what the first responders originally thought it was as well.
Then, with the suspicion of a homicide and the nonsensical way it was phrased, it was ruled out, before being put back into question by himself.
Because Near compared the handwriting of the note to samples of the victim, and found that it was exactly the same. Which meant that Kiyoshi had written it.
The note was staged like an inquiry, citing nothing but a single sentence ending with an ink bled question mark. It read:
“Are you still pressing that lever?”
The message was so senseless, it could be mistaken for an inside joke. He almost wanted to discard it as completely unrelated to the case, though Near knew it was something important to cling onto. A thread to tug and pull. Even if it was a red herring, and the reasoning was simply made for the sole purpose of confusing the investigators. It still told him a lot about the psyche of the killer.
It would be even better if another note was found to complete this seemingly incomplete sentence. But there was no message found when the first victim died.
Unless the investigators missed it.
But he couldn't organize a thorough re-examination of Reina's apartment. Only L had those resources. If he asked L for that, and Near failed to find anything on the second search, he had a gut-feeling L would be disappointed in him.
Near rubbed his temple, scooting closer to his doll. He had perceptive intuition, and all his senses were telling him that something was terribly wrong with this case.
The wrong part being that this killer was imitating being a copycat, but going no lengths to actually attempt to assimilate as one. It was not like the incompetent police were profiling it as, like the killer was trying to pretend to be Kira.
The way the crime scene was laid out, it was as if the murderer was smiling and winking at him, as if saying he knew that Near knew he wasn't trying to hide the fact he wasn't Kira.
The only reason the police had even dubbed it as a “Kira copycat” was because the victims died of heart attacks. The wounds were obviously not self inflicted, like some autopsy technicians were claiming in the report.
The wounds themselves were also confusing. Most were made while the victim was still breathing, but it wasnt simply for torture. There were more painful places to cut if that was the objective.
Near held the pair of autopsy photos up to the light letting his wide eyes squint. The harsh sharp red lines of scarring began to blur, causing Near to realize a shape was forming. He forced himself to blink as his eyes reflectively began to water. The blotting of his retinas became clear just as the realization became lucid.
The lacerations resembled roman numerals.
Specifically a single roman numeral in particular.
XIII which was otherwise known as the numeral representing number 13.
—
Halle got the boys' economy seats. No perks, upgrades or special treatment. Not even an aisle seat for them to stretch their legs. Just the cramped middle row of the back cabin, in which the air smelt like compostable sweat and diapers. Halle could imagine the two of them squeezing their nose and breathing through their shirt as they sat beside a mother and her baby.
She herself got first class.
With a glass of chilled water in one hand and a bowl of beluga caviar in the other, she let the hum of the engines lull her into a sense of peace. For the first time in twelve hours she did not have the two pubescent teens kick at her seat like they did when she was behind the wheel of the car. She also felt bad for the poor souls sitting in front of them.
Halle buying a ticket surprised them; and the fact she got on the plane with them surprised them even more. They thought their blackmail would keep her complacent in their childish plan. When she announced that she would be joining them, they even attempted to stop her from doing so. Mello, dropped the word “kill” too many times, bringing up the threat of a measly gun in the middle of the airport cafe over the soggy chocolate croissant he had used Halle's card to buy. Matt mumbled something equally incriminating about how “If she tried anything funny,” and something about murder.
She nearly smacked her head in disbelief.
"Keep your voices down," she whispered through gritted teeth, shooting a glance at the security guard hovering near the magazine rack. "If you two want to get every cavity of your body searched and deported before takeoff, be my guest. But if you talk about shooting me one more time in the middle of an airport, I’ll personally call the TSA."
They quickly halted their efforts of imitation after that.
Once they landed in Kyoto, Halle expected at least some professionalism. If not, then from the basic laws of travel decorum. But no.
Both Mello and Matt made a run for it. While she was waiting near the conveyor belt to grab her suitcase, she heard the quick pattering of shoes against marble airport flooring. Halle looked over her shoulder and saw they had abandoned their battered suitcases and instead were sprinting towards the door, like fugitives in a foreign country, which they technically were.
So dramatic.
She sighed, looking up at the large mock model of a faux airplane that hung from the dull airport ceiling. It was such a drag chasing after them. Luckily, they were foreigners to Japan, sheltered all their life in an orphanage, she didn't expect them to go far with the little street skills they had. They had also forgotten their passports, so if they were asked for identification, they wouldn't be able to give it and be detained. This told her all she needed to know about their level of planning.
Still, they were far from stupid. Luckily, she herself also had an ace card up her sleeve. Before they boarded the plane, while Matt was distracted bickering with security over taking his goggles off, she’d planted a discreet tracker inside the lining of his laptop case. He never let the thing out of his sight. He’d carried it on board like a mother with a newborn. There was no way he’d ditched it.
So she let them run.
Halle hauled her sleek black bag off the conveyor belt, leaving Mello and Matt's ragged duct taped ones behind. Ordering a private car she called in beforehand, she booked herself a 5 star hotel suite closest to the airport. The sheets were crisply folded, and a glass shower with a deep bathtub with jets, something she knew the boys needed. Finally, a nice place to sleep.
It was nearly midnight when she slipped out of her leather loafers and into her plush robe, and a coffee mug of jack daniels whiskey in her hands. It was only after she got settled, and opened her laptop to check the tracker’s signal. For a moment, all she saw was a red ping bright and blaring. Then it flickered. Once. Twice. Gone.
She blinked. Refreshed the page. Waited. But all that remained was a lifeless icon marked with the phrase she didn't want to see: Tracker Disconnected.
Those little devils. One of them, Matt, she’d wager had found the small planted tracker, and crushed it. She stared at the screen for several long seconds, her jaw clenched. Not just because they’d destroyed her device. But because they were starting to learn.
Picking up her phone, she began the heady process of contacting Roger and let them know that Mello and Matt were in Japan. Perhaps she could still use this to her advantage.
Notes:
I'm trying desperately not to spoil what's going to happen.
Chapter 8
Summary:
The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of people, who suppress the truth by their wickedness, since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them.
-Romans 1:18
Notes:
This chapter is longer than I expected, but once you read it, you will understand why that is. Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Mello’s boots hit the slick marble floor like gunshots. People shouted, bags tumbled, a toddler started crying as he shoulder-checked past a row of tourists with too many cameras and not enough reflexes.
“Go, go, go !” he barked over his shoulder. Matt was barely a step behind, hoodie up, goggles pushed halfway up his forehead as he dodged between luggage carts and airport staff yelling in Japanese. The electric doors hissed open like something out of a heist movie, and then, they were out. The November Kyoto air hit him like a wall. It was barely dusk just past golden hour and the city outside the terminal pulsed with life. Electric lanterns flickered to life in foggy shop windows. Taxis honked, people shouted across streets, and somewhere nearby, the faint jingle of a parlor drifted through the chaos.
“We left the bags!” Matt gasped, winded. “And the passports. Jesus, we left the—”
“They’ll slow us down,” Mello cut in. “Halle will be on our heels at any moment. And she will check the bags first. I want her to think we’re idiots.”
Matt shot him a look. “...Yes, but leaving our passports does make us idiots.”
“Not the point.”
They rounded the corner into a cluster of vending machines and ducked behind a delivery truck. Mello yanked off his coat and Matt handed him the duffel they'd pre-packed, one they smuggled through with just enough essentials. Burner phone, cash, disguises, a few protein bars, and a thumb drive with things no one at Wammy’s would ever want leaked.
“She’s going to track the laptop,” Matt said, pulling out the device from its case. “Bet you anything she put a beacon in here before boarding. Its embedded deep, I don't think I can get it out without damaging the device”
Mello didn't hesitate. “Kill it.”
Matt paused for a moment. “You're not talking about the laptop right?”
Mello spun on his heels, despite being crouched. “What's the problem, it's just a laptop.”
“This isn't just any laptop, it's my laptop.”
“We can get a new one.”
“I had this one custom made….”
“Then keep it and let Halle drag our asses all the way back to Wammys!”
“But-”
“Fine. You can keep it,” Mello hissed. “But if you do, you can't follow me. I’ll do this all on my own instead.”
He went to stand up, but a sharp intake of breath stopped him. “Wait.”
Matt looked at him, his eyebrows clearly furrowed, even when shadowed by the shade of his goggles. Raising the laptop over the tuft of his head, he took a deep breath, and dropped it.
The device made a harsh crack on the pavement, causing Mello to jump in genuine disbelief. Not giving it even a second, Matt stomped on it twice, hard. It sparked once, the screen spiderwebbed, then went dead.
Mello gulped. “I-” He didn't actually expect him to do it. He had seen Matt work on that computer ever since he was twelve. He had made it using scraps of material he got bargaining with Roger to do better on grades.
Matt didn't waste any time. He pulled a mini screwdriver from his pocket and began prying the guts out of the machine, to make sure no one could ever fix it and access valuable information.
“You always bring tools with you?” Mello asked, arching a brow. Matt grinned, his cheek visible sunken from where he was chewing on it.
“You bring chocolate everywhere. We all cope.”
“Having something to eat is practical," Mello said, giving him a pointed look.
“Your chocolate obsession is worse than any addict” Matt jokes, twisting the metal like a toughened steel braid.
His lips twitched. “Who are you calling an addict? Hypocrite.”
Once the intestines of the laptop were scattered in a nearby drain, they moved again, this time with less urgency. Mello tied his hair back, slipped on a baseball cap he snatched from a passerby. Matt traded his hoodie for a long-sleeve with a fake tourist logo on it which translated to: KYOTO; Get Lost Here!
They blended into the milling crowds fast, keeping their heads low. That was the thing about Japan. Foreigners stood out, but if one dressed the part, no one asked questions. Tourists moved in flocks. They were practically camouflaged. The two swiftly headed toward the train station.
“Think she’ll come after us herself?” Matt asked, not addressing Halle by her name like it would summon her at any moment. His eyes scan the street as Mello gives a dry laugh.
“I don't doubt she will try to play this clean. Wait at the hotel, check the tracker, maybe make some calls.”
Matt smirked. Matt smirked, “She’s going to be pissed.”
“She’s already pissed. You saw her face when I said I wasn’t wearing the seatbelt.”
Matt snorted. “That was your breaking point?”
“The plane was,” Mello snapped, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Do not make me fly economy again”
Matt nodded in agreement, like a plastic bobblehead souvenir.
They crossed the street, heading down an alley littered with washed-out fliers. A cat darted from under a dumpster, startled by their footsteps. Mello slowed, pressing a hand against the concrete bricks of the wall. He exhaled hard. Matt caught the hesitation.
“What?”
Mello shook his head. “It’s just weird. Running like this. Without instructions.” They both stood in silence for a beat. Neither of them said Wammy’s name, but they didn’t have to. The whole damn system still lived in their bones.
“Feels kinda good, though,” Matt said finally. “No one is watching us. No L.”
He flinched at the name. “L never watched” Mello hissed. “That's the whole point of why we are here. To get him to see us. Instead of just Near.”
Matt paused again, eyes tilting upwards towards a train that blared past them. When it passed, and the silence fell again, he spoke.
“That's not why I’m here. I already told you,” Matt said, not looking at him. “I'm not here for L. I’m here for you.”
Mello couldn't help but flush red. He covered his face with his gloved hands, as if trying to rub off the pink pigmentation. Why did Matt speak so softly when he addressed him?
"Whatever. I don't care why you're here, as long as you are here.”
Matt returned a smile.
Because of their lack of passports, they had to find the second worst place for teenagers to book a room in Japan besides a love hotel. They settled in a room on the top floor of a trashy hostel that they were half convinced was a money laundering scheme in poor disguise.
“This computer isn't even as close to as beautiful as mine.” Matt said, typing rapidly on the new laptop they stole from a businessman's briefcase.
“Let it go Matt.” Mello sighed, tossing open the drawers of the desk in hopes to scrounge up any cash left behind by previous visitors.” Your computer is dead and in pieces at the bottom of a storm drain.
He frowned. “You don't need to remind me.”
“Have you broken through L’s servers?”
“Not what it's called.”
“Whatever.” Mello said, smiling as he found a roll of Japanese yen. He would have to hide this from Matt before he wasted it on more cigs. “Have you done it yet?”
“Patience.” he protested. “This would have been much easier if we kept my computer. I already had all the data needed to hack into the system.”
Finally, his coding skills could be of use. Matt helped encrypt L’s computer servers. He did it instead of doing his exams at Wammys this midterm. Luckily, he still had all the information needed to untangle his own firewall, and access all the files from the Kira case.
Around twenty minutes later, Matt jumped off the bed and placed the computer on the desk. “Were in!” he said, patting the chair for Mello to sit in.
The boy nearly fell over in his rush to see the screen.
Orange icon files flashed in front of them, neatly organized in zip files and categories. His pupils widened. “Theres so many!”
“Its going to take hours to sort through all this.” Matt said. “I bet Near has already reviewed them all.”
Mello shot his nastiest look at him. “We can too.”
“ You can.” Matt clapped him on the shoulder teasingly. “I’m not spending this evening examining those badly formatted case files.”
“Why not? This is the part we've been waiting for.”
“I’ve never really been into investigation,” Matt said sheepishly. “No matter how much Wammys tried to force that passion onto me.”
“Roger must have found you insufferable.”
Matt cracked into a laugh. “You have no idea.”
Mello's smile faded. “I’m going to ask you again.” he sucked in a harsh intake of breath for the second time that day. “Why are you here?”
Matt was much quicker to answer this time. “To protect you,” he said bluntly.
The room, as small as it was, felt even tinier. Mello almost went through with the stupid idea of questioning Matt further. Why do you always say things like that?
Instead, he said;
“Like you could anyway.”
Matt's lips twitched downwards, but he maintained a grin. Mello didn't think the silence could get more awkward.
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going outside for a little bit.”
He plunged back into his usual contemptuous tone. “Yeah, to smoke.” Mello scoffed. “We don't have a balcony, you're going to have to go all the way to the street.”
“Worth it.”
“Addict.” He called out, just as the door shut. He heard a muffled laugh and Matt's bulky boots making loud noises as he descended the hallway.
Mello wiped off the strange feeling creeping up his ribcage and into his heart. It was something he couldn't identify, a species he couldn't pin. Was it butterflies? Or just simple nervousness.
The computer whirs as he scrolls the screen down, changing the brightness. His eyes squinted as he went to the newest uploads.
It took him a short while, but he found all the files Near was working on.
He frowned. Near wasn't working on the Kira case currently. He saw that the most recent activity was directed away from the main Kira source files. Instead, he had labelled heaps of data with the code Serial Kira Copycat .
Mello leaned closer. Two murders? Why did L bring Near all the way to Japan just to work on some petty case. Perhaps Near was working on this case while still trying to uncover Kira? Mello felt a spike of jealousy that L trusted Near to take on two cases at once.
Curiosity got the best of him. He pulled up the biomedical evidence, the crime reports, the autopsy photos, the CCTV logs Near had written down.
He stared.
And stared .
Mello had memorized every aspect of the BB murder case. It was the only story L had given him, and it would be against his core belief to not remember every aspect of the time his mentor gave him his full undivided attention. He recalled the mechanical voice that whirred and spoke through the computer as he relayed the events that happened in LA. Though it concealed L’s actual voice, Mello felt like he knew the man more personally, just by counting the inflections that happened rarely during the course of the slow and steady pace of the conversation.
He didn't miss a single detail. That was what Wammy had taught him to remember.
Therefore, the images pervading his screen confused Mello. It took him less than a minute to see the blatant connection between the autopsy photos in front of him and the gory ones L had described to him two years ago.
Mello wracked his head. This couldn't be right. Mello knew everything about the Wara Ningyo case. He also knew how it ended.
BB was dead. Killed by Kira months and months ago.
This couldn't be right.
Something constricted Mello's chest. He suddenly recognized the feeling he got when Matt left the room for what it was:
Dread.
“Tell me about the Los Angeles case you were talking about last week.” Light said, skipping the pleasantries of small talk and skipping to the point, his tone a pause short of a demand.
It still felt weird to not be in the presence of L at all hours of the day and night. It was as if the handcuffs and chains conditioned Light to always feel like he needs to be at least 3 feet away from L at all times. The muscle memory simply hadn't been unlearned.
Still, the distance offered new opportunities.
Like questioning Aiber alone.
“What do you mean?” the man in question asked. He had found him leaning against the hallway, underneath an overly saturated beam. His arms were crossed, and he stood confidently but relaxed, like he was the star of a noir film from the west. “That came out of nowhere.”
“I’m following up. You mentioned the case you were talking about that time me and L were playing chess.” Light said. “When you interrupted us.”
“I was pretty drunk at the time” he groaned, rubbing his temple. “Still am.”
“You called it something, but I don't recall what it was. Though I do remember that you mentioned that in this case the killer looked like Ryuzaki.”
Aiber perked up slightly in awareness. “Ah, that jogged my memory.” He stretched his arm, cracking his knuckles. “Yes, I remember I was talking about that.”
Light’s memory flashed mention to the carefully blank expression L had on when Aiber mentioned LA. Too emotionless, like a poker face. He also recalled how he had quickly tried to shut that conversation down.
“I’m interested in it. I want to know more.” He steps forward. “About the case.”
Aiber shrugged slyly. “Well, I can tell you that the case was called the Wara Ningyo Murders”
Before Light could probe deeper, Aiber moved in, uncomfortably close.
“Why are you asking me about that case? Why not L?” He felt Aiber to his side, breathing down his neck. “Perhaps it is because you favour me?”
Light stiffened. He hit on L, now him?
“Don't tell me you're trying to get with me now.” Light deadpanned.
Aiber smiled in his attempt at looking flirty, but he pulled away. “Why not? Do you not feel the same?” His tone was half-hearted and teasing.
Light wouldn't shut it down if he could use Aiber, but Light didn't take the man to be a wide-eyed love-stricken teenage girl like Misa.
“I know you have a wife.” Light pointedly quipped.
Aiber’s eyes brightened at that, fondness seeping into his pupils. “Yes, you should see her, she is very lovely.”
“If that's the case, how about you stop cheating on her?” He said. Not that he really cared, he was more than willing to go out with other girls to keep up his cover before Misa threatened to kill them.
Aiber looked at him, confused. “Its an open marriage.” He said, rolling his shoulders. “It's mutual."
Light hesitated at that. He had to admit, the perspective of Aiber being in an agreeable and healthy relationship phased him. Thinking about any con-man with a life outside their dirty crimes made him feel a squeeze in his gut. Light didn't want to name it as guilt, but the feeling stayed.
Either way, Aiber, and Wedy’s name would end up in the Death Note one day. After he finally figured out what he was going to do with L.
“I think I’m a little too young for you, you know” Light tried a different angle. Aren't you well into your 30s?”
Aiber's well groomed eyebrows raised. “Well yeah. How old are you?”
“18”
Aiber whistled. “Yeah, you're right, you're too young…for me at least” then a grin split his face. “Though I will admit, I didn't think L would go for younger guys.”
Light blinked, stunned. It finally sunk in what he implied.
“L and I aren't a thing.” He said, though panic rose in his throat, like he had been caught and now was in the process of being convicted.
“Oh, so it's a casual arrangement,” Aiber winked.
Light tried to maintain a normal and composed facade. How would Chief Yagami's son react to being accused of having homosexual relations with the world's most infamous detective?
He remembered yesterday, the way L had curled close to him beside, no , on top of his lap. Licking his fingers as he ate the confection. Smiling .
“Nothing like that happened. And you-” He said as calmly as he could muster. “You even asking that is overstepping your station. It's inappropriate to pry into other people's business.”
“Yet, it was you who was nagging for more information on the Wara Ningyo Murders a minute ago. Is that not prying into L’s business?”
Light glowered, giving up on being subtle with his expressions.
“Can you blame me?” Light scoffs. “The man is mysterious. Is it wrong to be curious about him?”
“The first thing you should learn in this line of business is that curiosity can be a dangerous thing.”
Light bristled. How can Aiber call his line of business, which was, up to only a few years ago, criminal ? “Its hardly dangerous to ask about my senior colleague. Especially since you've known Ryuzaki longer.”
Aiber tilted his head back and laughed. “I know close to nothing about L. In fact, you probably know more than me, considering the two of you were oh-so close together these past few months.” His smile curled up further in clear blatant mischievousness. “With the chains and all.”
Light compulsively had the sudden urge to touch his wrists, remembering the cold metal that scratched against the joints. Days in days on end. At night L would pull on them, harshly to wake Light up. For no reason but to remind Light that he talked in his sleep, and that it was annoying. Or he would tug it like a leash when he started to drift off when they were busy transcribing on the computer late at night. Light wondered if L intentionally made Light stay awake, keep him sleep deprived, as a torture tool.
The more he thought about it, the more he frowned, even aware that he was making such an expression in front of Aiber. Because, even though he knew rationally that L slept, it was always after Light had given up on trying to keep his blurry retinas open. In reality, Light never saw L sleep.
He wondered what he would look like. Would his legs curl up to his chest, keeping a protective gait as he dozed off? Would his breaths be visible through the rise and fall of his chest? Would he lay on his back, arms sprawled to the side, open and vulnerable. Or would he sleep rigid and straight, slender hands neatly folded on his sunken ribcage?
He had to know.
There was a sense of entitlement when it came to L. He frankly, deserved to know every facet of L’s being. It was why he brought L to that overly expensive restaurant and pressed him for answers. It's why he stared at him, the way he knew the detective did twice as much. He knew L’s every little micro expression, knew how he put his shirt on in the morning, how he shuffled awkwardly to the side when they were both forced to take a shower together several times while in handcuffs. But who never averted his eyes despite it.
Still, L was practically a stranger. The little information he had gleaned couldn't even count as a single piece in the large jigsaw puzzle that made up the world's greatest detective.
As soon as Light had gotten his memories back, he knew he needed to know. Not just his name, but everything that made up that name in the first place. L had made him go weeks and weeks in an isolated prison cell, staged a mock execution and had his own father fake shooting him, and had him chained like a caged animal to his side. Lastly, his most egregious crime, his relentless and stubborn will to capture and execute Kira.
“Thank you Aiber” he wanted to say. “ For reminding me.”
For calling to mind what he needed to do. For a while now, Light was starting to even question why he had abstained from getting Rem to kill L. Death was too small of a thing for the detective.
Light had the right to strip him bare of all his secrets. To know what expression he made when he was truly happy, and what face he would make when he was absolutely and utterly afraid. L had dared to pick at his mind, but Light would return that tenfold. A hundredfold. Light would see anything L didn't want him to see, and Light would reveal anything L tried to hide.
L wanted to give Light, Kira , the highest capital punishment.... death.
So it was only fair that Light returned the favour. Something he knew, from his heavily guarded mind, that the detective would find worse.
After that, Light would finally have the incentive, the courage, to actually write L’s name in his notebook. He would need no help from a Shinigami to do that.
“What's with that expression, Yagami?” Aiber said cautiously. He realized he hadn't replied nearly fast enough to his earlier quip like usual. The conman wasn't dumb, like perhaps Matsuda, so Light quickly softened his face, so the highly perceptive man couldn't guess there was ever a change in his mood.
“Apologies.” He said slowly, like shaking a trance. “I’ll admit, I really don't know anything about Ryuzaki, even though we did spend so much time together these last few months.”
“Well, he did suspect you of being Kira.” Aiber shrugged. “I doubt he wanted his top suspect to know anything that could lead you to finding out his name.”
“Its not that,” He paused for a more sensitive effect. “I don't even want to find out his real name” Light lied smoothly. “I like his current name. I think Ryuzaki suits him well.”
Aiber hummed before shaking his head. “I disagree. I don't think that name suits him at all.”
“Well his other alias is
L
, I think Ryuzaki is far less absurd-”
A small smile creeps up on Aiber's mouth. “That's not what I meant. See-” He ran his thick fingers through his thinning golden hair. “I don't like where he got the name from.”
By not elaborating he knew the man was purposefully baiting him to interrogate him more. Perhaps he would come across as suspicious if he continued to drill for more information. Light knew he was falling for it, but the lure was too enticing to pass up.
“What do you mean?” Light asked innocently. “Where did he get the name from?”
Aiber's shoulders tensed. “Well it's from the Wara Ningyo case . The very one you were asking about beforehand. The killer went by the name Ryuzaki.”
Light’s eyes widened. “If that's true, why is he using that name as an alias?”
Aiber cracked his knuckles while he hesitated. “L only uses aliases, names of people he has defeated. Like Eldorado Coil, Deneuve. Anyone he outsmarts, he uses their name afterwards when hiding his identity while working on a case.
Light felt his heart sinking in his chest. If L were to somehow defeat him, would he use the name Kira? An awful thought crossed his mind. He could imagine L pursuing a new case, introducing himself to a known suspect as Light Yagami.
He swallowed, trying to hide his nervousness. “I see why he uses aliases, but why use the name of that criminal? Is it because the name is Japanese?”
“I suspect that could be a partial reason. English names are difficult to come by in Japan” Aiber nodded. “However, perhaps he chose the name because it's specific to this case. I mean the real Ryuzaki was killed by Kira in jail months and months ago. I’m sure using the name that was a victim of Kira would be symbolic for him.”
When had he killed a criminal named Ryuzaki? He had written thousands and thousands of names, and though he had close to photographic memory, Ryuzaki didn't ring a bell.
He recalled, though, jotting down a bizarre criminal's name in his notebook close to the beginning of his time as Kira. One that committed his heinous crimes in LA. They labeled the killings " The Locked Room Murders."
“I remember now, Ryuzaki, the killer's real name, was Beyond Birthday.” Light realized out loud.. “It's the same as the Wara Ningyo murders you were talking about. I recall seeing it on an American broadcast a while back. I’m interested in cases like that, since at the time I was working towards being a police officer.”
When Aiber looked slightly surprised, Light laughed to ease the tension. “I’m my father's son after all.”
Aiber broke his pause to laugh with him. “You're right, I probably should have clarified that the two cases were the same. To the public, it was called the Wara Ningyo case, but the people like us working on the actual case, we called it the Los Angeles BB murder case.”
Light had to admit, he was actually intrigued on the semantics of the case. “How much of a role did you play in the criminals capture?”
“Practically zero.” Aiber said. “I was Ls glorified eyes and ears of the case, but in reality I didn't uncover anything useful. Another FBI agent was the one competent enough to gather all the evidence.
Light kept his face neutral, though he was actually astonished that L hadnt gone to investigate in person. “Who was the agent?” he asked.
Aiber rubbed his head lazily. “Oh I forgot the name”
“Naomi Misora.” Said a voice behind the both of them. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, instantly recognizing that low timbre tone. “Her name was Naomi Misora.”
Light and even Aiber stiffened as L approached, both feeling like they've been caught talking behind his back. He was barefoot, like usual, but he walked slowly, approaching them in taught steps.
“Ah right, that was her name.” Aiber’s smile turned strained as he looked at L. “She quit the FBI afterwards, right?”
Light was stuck in the process of gritting his teeth, as L ignored Aiber, his tar pit stare honing directly in on him. He knew that name. It was the same name of that scarily intelligent woman he had written on a page of the death note after tricking her into revealing her true identity.
Naomi was dangerous, nearly giving that crucial and vital information to L after Light had killed her husband. He couldn't believe the coincidence of her name being brought up again, and at this moment. She was telling the truth about knowing L personally.
He met L’s glare. How much does L know about her whereabouts after her husband died? How much is he bluffing?
“She went missing a few days after her husband died” L said blankly, and Light knew the detective was looking at him for any sign of a flinch or recognition to grace his face. “He was one of the dozen FBI agents that were killed by Kira after they were deployed to Japan. I also believe she has been long dead, and that Kira is the one that killed her.”
“What makes you believe that?” Light asks. Not only had L been eavesdropping on their conversation, but he also revealed that he knew Naoimi was taken down by Kira. If L were somehow able to find out that Light had a connection with Naomi, the evidence would be too outstanding for the taskforce to ignore.
“The Naomi I knew her as, would be determined to uncover Kira's identity after what befell her husband.” L said, examining Light carefully. “I don't doubt she was finding evidence quickly, enough that Kira had to eliminate her just as fast. .”
“How unfortunate” Aiber sighed. The other two didn't hear what he said, too busy looking each other down, that the man had to cough twice to get their attention.
“Well.” Aiber’s eyes ping ponged between the two of them, before he shifted uncomfortably. “I should probably get going,” He guessed, stepping back.
“No you should stay here.” L said, grabbing Light by the cuff of his sleeve. “Light and I will leave.”
Before he could protest, L was already tugging him down the hallway by his shirt. Light was reminded of the times L would take the luxury of tugging at the chain to get Light to go somewhere with him. Now, without the handcuffs, L was now resorting to pulling him by the fabric of his clothes. It felt far more intimate.
As they rounded the corner, Light pushed L’s hands off of him, staggering slightly back, before gaining his composure as L spinned around to look at him.
“L and I aren't a thing.” He had said to Aiber earlier. Though he had maybe flirted, or better words for it, teased L, he wasn't attracted to him. That wasn't why he had kept L alive either.
“Only psychopaths are attracted to me.” L had said days before, his face twisted into something gorgeous as his lips morphed into a beguiling smirk.
Light was not a psychopath.
“Should I ask you why you want to talk to me alone?” Light said, dusting the sleeve of his shirt with his palm, feeling like L’s touch had burned.
L continued to walk, leaving Light to pick up his pace. Barefoot, he was silent, while Light's polished leather shoes clacked against the marble tile flooring. “What is there to talk about? Perhaps I just wanted you alone?”
Light swallowed. “I thought you were going to talk more about Naomi Misora. Is that not why you interrupted our conversation?”
L paused briefly, glancing over his shoulder slyly. “What more should I say? We both know you killed Naomi.”
Light halted his steps, legs cramping. “Are you serious Ryuzaki? This again?”
L’s posture sagged just a little further than usual, like something was weighing on him more than he wanted to admit. Or maybe he was performing sadness. With L, you could never be sure.
“Don't worry Light, no one takes me seriously anyway.” L said, the front of his body now fully facing him. He was being allusive again, and Light is reminded of the time they were both out on the patio, getting soaked to the bones from the rain. And afterwards, when L dried him off….
“So now you're accusing me of killing Naomi, a woman whose name I didn't know until a few minutes ago?” Light argued, that familiar boiling irritation bubbling up into his throat. “What now? Are you going to tell my father this and have him pretend to shoot me again, just so you can see my reaction?
L stepped closer, invading Light's personal space. “I already got a reaction. You recognized her name as soon as it left my lips.”
He remembers Naomi's horrified face when he had revealed he was Kira. Light had felt triumphant in that moment. Light no longer felt high on that victory. Her eyes now reminded him of L’s at the moment, wide and dark.
“L-”
“Why call me that?” L didn't blink as he spoke. “I thought you said Ryuzaki suited me much better.”
Light paused briefly. How much had L listened to him and Aiber's conversation?
“Not after I found out you got the name from some serial killer.” Light hissed, no longer resisting, he acted on the urge to grab L’s shoulders tightly. “How about we talk about that rather than more baseless accusations.”
L ignored him. “Why not talk about it? The taskforce can't take my word. Their profession doesn't allow them to believe that I saw you look like you recognized Naomi, a victim of Kira, as actual evidence. Not even the most corrupt court would take that as solid proof. You're safe as ever, Kira .”
Light tightened his grip. His nails, like thorns. “I wish you would stop calling me that.”
“I wish you would drop this act, Light.” L said leaning into his touch.
That wasn't fair. Light deserved to see L’s facade break, not the other way around.
His hands slid closer to the base of L’s neck. It was still his shoulder, but it was hovering ever so closely. “Ryuzaki, I just want you to see me for who I truly am.” He forced out a sigh. “That I’m just a college student, who you think is clever enough to be Kira. But I’m not him. Stop clinging onto something I’m not.
He felt a pang in his chest as L’s expression changed into one of disappointment.
“Your right…” L said. He knows he’s lying. They both know the other’s lies, but they are never able to prove it. “You're not Kira.”
Relief flooded his veins, along with something else. Dissatisfaction . “I’m glad you can finally admit that.
“You can let me go now” L said, causing Light’s brow to wrinkle in confusion.
His eye’s lead Light gaze downwards. His fingers were still clamped around L’s trapezius muscles. He huffed a breath of annoyance, ready to pry his fingers from L’s shoulder. But something stops him. His body won't let him. He frowns.
“Stop clinging onto me, Light” L repeated, louder this time, a near echo of Lights words seconds ago. Light should let go, but he only squeezes harder. Not hard enough to leave bruises, but enough to leave a mark. He feels oddly warm.
L doesn't pull away. Instead, after a half a second or two, his hands settle over Light's side, and pull him closer.
He doesn't know whether he should be thankful for what happened next.
“Ryuzaki!” He hears Matsuda yell from the opposite side of the corridor. “Oh and Light-!”
The both of them pushed each other away, L, pushing him a little harder that Light nearly stumbled.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Panting, Matsuda caught up to him. His skin looked clammy, sweat visible on his neck. He looked as if he had been running around.
“What is it Matsuda?” L demanded. He picked up on the unusual fraught pace the other deputy had in his voice.
Matsuda grabbed his knees, catching his breath. “Its hard to explain but Watari found something worrying, and he needs your attention immediately.”
“Did he find something out about Kira?” L asked, and with those words, Light's stomach dropped.
Matsuda shook his head. “He said it's not about Kira, and that's the problem.”
L looked caught off guard. “Elaborate.”
“Those were his words not mine,” Matsuda said. “I’m not entirely sure what's going on either, but he is out of his room and in the foyer right now, and is trying to contact someone.”
“Who?”
“I don't know, but he sent me to get you as fast as I could.” Matsuda gulped another bout of air. “He said it was urgent. Very urgent.”
Matt compulsively chewed on the corner of his Seven Star cigarette pack before opening it. There was a strange anxiousness that came with rain. It hit the pavement loudly as it poured down, leaving even the dry parts of the cement damp from the precipitation.
He pushes his goggles up onto the hilt of his forehead, to save them from fogging up as the flicker of flame from the lighter licked the tip of his cigarette.
He noticed his fingers were trembling. He didn't know if it was from the cold or not, but he pulled his hoodie up just in case. The neon glow of other sketchy hostels and establishments blinked across the road. A lone car goes past, tires hissing on the asphalt. Otherwise, the street was empty.
Matt glanced to the top of the hotel building as he fiddled with his flash drive in his pocket. He could already imagine Mello pacing the room, muttering, maybe even swearing as he thought out loud. The thought made him smile around his cigarette.
“Got a light?”
Matt startles, turning his head sharply to face the voice. A man steps out into the lamplight, though his face is partially concealed from the reflective shadows. He’s only a few paces away. He looks tall, but also appears to be purposefully hunching his shoulders. He made a quick guess that perhaps he was insecure about his height.
“Excuse me?” Matt faltered, completely caught off guard. He was almost entirely sure the street was empty a mere moment ago and he hadn't seen this stranger walking, let alone anywhere near this sidewalk.
“Ah, apologies. Perhaps I wasn't clear.” He walks closer, enough that he can briefly see more of his features. The thing that jumps out at him immediately is his gaunt cheekbones, and mousy black hair. “I was wondering if I can borrow your lighter” He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “You see, I’m also out here to have a smoke.”
“Oh, I see,” Matt replied. What he thought was rain was cold sweat sliding down the back of his neck. He stepped closer to accommodate the man. He seemed polite enough, and he also spoke English, which meant he was a foreigner. They already had common ground.
“Yeah no problem.” To him, smokers found each other even in the oddest places.
“Thank you.” The stranger said, a tad too excited for a common gesture. Matt outstretched his palm, lighter between his fingers. At a closer look, it seemed like he had a burn scar on the side of his face, though it looked healed, enough to be completely overlooked to the unobserved eye. His hair, Matt noticed, also concealed much of the disfigurement, leading him to believe there was more scar tissue hiding. More of his black strands fell over his face, enough so that the man had to run a hand through his hair to push it back, all while putting a cigarette against his lips.
However, instead of taking the lighter out of Matt's hands, the man leaned forward, guiding his cigarette toward the flame still in Matt’s grip. He looked up at Matt expectedly through his eyelashes, which looked oddly thin, like he had plucked some of them out.
Trying not to feel uncomfortable by his sudden closeness, he clicked the lighter on. His fingers shook, he could barely get them to work. He tried not to recoil from their proximity. The flame furled, lighting the man’s cigarette.
The man didn't immediately pull away, and the tell tale smell of imported tobacco hit his nose, causing Matt to flinch.
Finally, though not fully looking away from him, the man inhaled, taking a long seemingly unpleasant drag of his cigarette.
He then pried it away from his lips and looked at Matt like he was studying him. The puddle near him warped and bended from the light. “You don't mind if I join you out here right?”
Yes, I do mind, he wanted to say.
“No, not at all,” Matt said, trying to be civil. He shifted on the soles of his boot, trying to think of how to start small talk to stop the awkwardness seeping into the conversation. “So, are you also staying at this hotel?”
“Not yet.” he said, but didn't elaborate.
Matt frowned. The man hadn't gone in for another inhale, instead his cigarette relaxed loosely on his fingers. He was holding it all wrong, pinching it between his thumb and pinkie.
In fact, his attention was completely and solely on Matt. He came to the conclusion that the guy hadn't even blinked the entire time he was looking at him.
More of the heavy acrid tobacco hit his nose, as if the man was holding it purposefully so the breeze would cause the stinging smoke to hit Matt's face. He grumbled This is why he always stuck with nicotine.
“Fancy stuff” Matt remarked. “What kind is that? I can tell that kind of tobacco is not Japanese.”
The ember gave enough light to show the expression of amusement flash against his face.
“Clever boy!” He snickered, shifting the tone up an octave. “It's from America."
Matt really wanted to step back as the man said that, but he decided against it. “I see.”
“It helps me think,” the stranger began, saying his words like he was replying, or answering an open-ended question. “You know.” Residue smoke curled from his lips as he peered down at the butt of his cigarette, still not making any move to bring it back to his lips like any normal addict would. “You ever get that? The need to burn something to stay focused?
Matt found that he couldn't shuffle away. “Uh, yeah I guess, sometimes.” He was really hoping the conversation would end. “I get that.”
The man's eyes widened in delight. Matt noticed then that pupils he had thought were brown looked slightly red in the limelight. “I like you. You see, a friend of mine never got what I meant when I said that.”
“Honestly, neither do I.” Matt wanted to confess.
“Right. Well I doubt a friend of mine would understand what that meant either. He doesn't smoke.” Matt smiled, thinking about buying Mello more chocolate.
The man chuckled. “Well I’m not talking about smoking.” The words slipped out like a barely contained secret.
Matt paused. “Oh.” He didn't want to pry any further. Someone's business was someone's business. In fact, he took another slow drag, the cigarette now burning down to its first third. “Well I should probably get going. I forgot to ask, but what's your name?”
“Ryuzaki.” The man said almost immediately. He looked down, and Matt felt like he was looking at his forehead rather than his eyes, all while maintaining his gaze. “Whats yours?”
“Matt.” He stated “Just Matt.”
The man grinned even wider, showing his teeth this time. Then covering the small distance in a single stride he wrapped his arm around Matt's shoulders, pulling him in like one would a friend, but much tighter. The limb felt cold and slithery as it drew taught.
“Say
Jeevas
” Matt's stomach dropped, straight into the pit of hell. “You don't need to lie to me.”
Every joint and ligament froze. Did he hear that properly? Jeevas . His surname. He hadn't heard that single word since it left his mothers lips before she died.
“What..?” Matt shuddered, wanting to believe he had misheard. “What did you just say?”
The man ignored him. He was so close now, and so frighteningly cold . His long bony fingers settled on the ridge of the boy's neck, right near his pulse. Coiling around it like a snake.
“Ah, so that friend of of yours” he said, voice low. “He’s still behind you in the hotel, right?”
Matt’s cigarette nearly fell from his lips.
“Who are you?”
He is pretty sure the man's nails had dug into his skin enough to make him bleed.
“I won't ask again.” the man whispered, which sounded more like a giggle as his breath grazed Matt’s ear, serpentine and sharp. “Is Mihael still upstairs?”
Matt’s cigarette dropped to the wet pavement, where it fizzled and died.
Notes:
Must have been the wind.....
Chapter 9
Summary:
The LORD is a jealous and avenging God; the LORD takes vengeance and is filled with wrath. The LORD takes vengeance on his foes and maintains his wrath against his enemies.
–Nahum 1:2
Notes:
Nearly 60k words in, and we finally made it to the moment we have all been waiting for.....
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Everyone was already huddled in the main foyer room when L and Light hastily arrived, following Matsuda's steps, whose less than polished shoes squeaked against the floor. L’s gaze flickered over those who had gathered, which was the entirety of the current taskforce.
Soichiro was tapping his foot incessantly, sending a reassuring look at his son. Wedy had taken a spot next to Mogi on the chairs, but unlike him, she wasn't sitting properly. Aizawa was looking at Near with a pinched expression, one you only see on exhausted fathers.
Aiber had somehow made it to the meeting before the both of them.
Light throws him one last glance before a wave of professionalism washes over the two. They inched even further away, an appropriate distance to appease any onlooker.
L’s irises settled on his handler. He notices that Wartari does not have his cart, sweets or anything with him in attendance. Something broke that routine it seems. It must mean he finds whatever he is about to say is quite serious. He maintains eye contact with the man, trying to glean any information from his expression. He appears calm, if not tense, and bows his head slightly as L enters.
“Evening.” he said simply. With everyone's eyes on him, he walks to his usual designated middle chair. Crouching, he felt the uncouth fogginess that came with Light being near him disappearing, leading to clearer thoughts. He resisted the urge to look back again.
“Watari,” he asked, steadily. “I assume there is a reason you called everyone here.”
“I didn't mean to call everyone here, Ryuzaki” He said respectfully. “That was just by chance. I only asked Matsuda to get you immediately. And there is a reason”
The long drawn out note in the last word that stayed static in the air, giving away the fact that though the man was outwardly composed, he was thoroughly agitated.
“I see. How compromising?”
That was a coded shorthand for; “How much can we say in front of the taskforce” and in L-speak, “How bad is it?”
“Very.”
L’s hands twitched, with the inability to have something to twist in his fingers like his customary candy wrapper. Instead of saying what the Task Force expected to say which was “Tell us” he said: “Tell me.”
There was the shuffling of steel chairs. Everyone leaned closer.
Watari, getting the hint, switched to speaking Russian. Something only L could understand.
“Roger contacted me around an hour ago,” Watari began.
Already Aizawa and Mogi were sharing looks at the unfamiliar linguistic sounds. If they had spoken in English, they would have been able to decipher some of what they are saying, but the Russian alphabet was a completely different matchup, one that they wouldn't understand and hear the information they were relaying.
“-He had just gotten off the phone with Halle Linder.”
L tried not to visibly tense, in hopes of not giving any of the conversations substance away.
However, behind him he can already hear them whispering:
“What are they saying?” Wedy inquired.
“What language are they speaking?” Aizawa complained.
“Russian” Mogi mumbled. “I think.”
“Did something happen with my successors?” L asked fluently, the language flowing easily out of his practiced lips.
He could already feel Light’s focus on him. Watching. Waiting . Measuring the foreign words like he was trying but failing to understand them.
Watari nodded grimly. “Roger stated that Mello and Matt blackmailed Linder into making fake passports for them.” He reported. “She said she had no choice, but she was able to board the plane with them.”
“So they are in Japan?” That was not good news. He was counting on them never making it to an airport.
“Come on, what are you guys saying?” Matsuda tried to cut in.
“Unfortunately, they are.” Watari said, ignoring him. “It's just not that as well. As soon as they arrived, Mello and Matt escaped Linder's watch.”
“Did Halle not put a tracker on them?” L frowned.
“She did,” Watari sighed. “They were able to disarm it.”
The boys were now in the same country as Kira. However L couldn't help but subtly slump into his chair in relief. He thought it was something worse, like Roger was reporting to tell them about their accidental deaths.
Partially, he was proud of the boys. From what he knew of Halle, she was a difficult person to trick. That's why he chose her to go after a pair of his brightest successors. Unfortunately, it also went against his direct orders.
“We will have to reevaluate our situation.” L said placidly. He could see why Watari was taking this to be a much bigger issue than it was. Watari liked things that fall in line. Organization was his primary principle. The boys always disrupted his order, which led to his more than high blood pressure rising.
“Get me on the line with Linder.”
“You can only contact her through Roger.”
L gave him a look. “I doubt that.” Then his demand sharpened. “Get her on the phone for me, right away.”
Aizwa turned to Near, who for the first time that L saw, had a face even paler than before. “Can you understand them?”
Near pushed ahead, holding what seemed to be laminated files closer to his chest, wrinkling his shirt. Much to Aizawa’s disappointment, he switched to Russian as well.
“Is it true? Mello ran away from Wammy’s?”
From the coverage he had read, Near and Mello had a volatile relationship. They were always paired together due to their intellect, but they were always fighting. Or a better way to phrase it was that Mello was always picking a fight with the other.
He turned directly to Near, like he was facing his reflection. “Yes, he ran away about a week ago.”
Near kept a carefully crafted expression, one depicting complete blankness. “Why wasn't I informed of this?”
Before L could answer, Soichiro coughed loudly, echoing the room into silence. “Ryuzaki.” He objected. “It is against protocol to be speaking in a foreign language in front of your colleagues.”
L had done a lot of things that were against protocol, though he knew why Sorichiro brought it up this time around. They all thought he was hiding something. Which he was.
“I apologize,” he said unapologetically, switching back to Japanese. ”This is a personal matter.”
“Between you and Watari?” Aiazwa questioned coldly. “Or Near as well? He seems to know what's going on while the rest of us don't."
“And we've been here longer.” Matsuda cut in.
“Again this begs the question, where do you even know Near from?” Mogi muttered, too loudly. The taskforce began to nod their heads in agreement.
“This has nothing to do with the Kira case” L drawled. He looks at Watari. “Why did you call for everyone to come to this meeting?”
“It does have something to do with the case, considering it is disrupting, ” Watari affirmed. “I thought I would inform you, and then you could make the decision of whether you tell the taskforce.”
L understood. If they had gone behind the taskforces back in a private meeting, Soirichro would likely see the phone records if he started calling Lindner directly, a CIA agent, and think he was doing something suspicious. But by getting everyone in one room, L could tell them bits and pieces, control what information they knew, and they wouldn't question it further.
He hummed slowly, before flicking a limp wrist gesture to abruptly silence the room, for a second time. “I apologize for leaving you all in the dark like this” he began. “Truth is it's not anything too strenuous to worry about.”
“You were speaking in a foreign language a moment ago. If it's nothing serious.” Light met L’s gaze. Doe-like eyes fawning over him, turned devilish almost immediately. “Then why haven't you told us yet, Ryuzaki?” he challenged.
Of course Light was going to use a time like this to manipulate the taskforce into thinking he was untrustworthy. Typical Kira. He glanced at Near, who was now staring at the floor, his face unreadable. Time to reveal more.
“Two of my ...associates have gone missing, and were last seen in Japan." He said, and this time he technically wasn't lying. Just withholding major points. Like the fact they were missing because they ran away. “I need to open a missing persons case and try and track them down.”
“Why didn't you just tell us that before?” Aizawa demanded. “Instead of speaking in a language you know we don't understand with Watari?
“Because,” L said, holding onto the last consonant. “It has nothing to do with you.”
“It can be,” Matsuda said. “We can use our resources to help find your people.”
“I don't need anyone's help,” he said bluntly. “Especially not from you.”
Matsuda's face fell.
Soichiro stepped forward, farther away from his son. “Ryuzaki, I don't see why we can't."
“You were recruited to work on the Kira case, not a missing persons case.” L explained. “ I can do both while you continue with your valuable work. Unlike you, I have the capability to divide my attention between two cases.”
“Yet you couldn't even be bothered to give even a bit of your attention to the new serial killer copycat?” Aizawa snarked. “The one that even the police director demanded you read over.
L didn't like solving cases with an unoriginal Killer. Much of the fun was the chase, the capture, the conviction of the perpetrator. Like hunters whose reward was a stuffed up taxidermy of a deer on the wall, L wanted a bounty. A copycat killer wouldn't be half as satisfying as capturing the authentic prize. Kira was one of them. Light was one of them.
“L,” Near abruptly spoke from his tight lipped trance. “About the copycat Kira-”
Light interrupted him, looking between the both of them. “Your associates,” he reiterated. “They are the same as Near, aren't they?”
He paused before delivering the fatal blow. “They don't work with you, they work under you.”
The entire room took a sharp intake of breath.
Light always had a habit of figuring things out at bad moments. When L didn't answer right away, he continued.
“You mentioned that Near comes from the same organization as you. With all due respect " Light said with no respect at all. “I’m guessing you run the organization, not just a part of it.”
L stared at him. Light forced his hand. “Yes, one could say I’m the absolute authority of it.”
“Those associates of yours that went missing must have been under your orders” Aizawa glared. “You had more of your people deployed to Japan, just like N ?” A vein on his forehead was becoming more and more visible. “And you didn't tell us?”
"Not voluntarily,” He refuted. “Its a delicate situation.”
“They’re under your command,” Aizawa shot back. “You’re responsible.”
L didn’t raise his voice like the officer was baiting him to do. “I take full responsibility.”
“Then tell us who they are. And what is this organization that you keep pulling people from?” Soirichro commanded the conversation again. “What even is it?”
“Thats information I am not at liberty to say.”
“Give us a name.” Soichiro, bolstered by his son's pestering, pressed further. “You can't operate with an organization we don't know the name of.”
“You were doing it before.” L said, pressing his thumb further into the plush of his lip. “Whats the difference?”
“Whats the difference?” He sputtered, repeating his words. “The difference is that your operating in an unethical manner-”
“-Father,” Light suddenly cut in. L couldn't help but be surprised by Light's uncharacteristic interruption. “Ryuzaki has a right to question us as well. We have all stood by and conducted this investigation unethically with him. I mean, look at how this case has been run, with Misa’s detainment and the fact we already have two formerly incarcerated criminals working side by side with us on the case.”
Wedy and Aiber shared a glance.
He wasn't sure why Light was now switching to defend him. L was sure it was for his own selfish reasons. It confused him. He wanted to crack that brilliant mind open and see what's going on inside that cunning head of his.
Pushing his thumb against the gums of his teeth he thought quickly as Light continued his words.
“What are you trying to do Kira?
Perhaps he was trying to posture himself as someone who was trustworthy, so L would reveal more to him later. An
Us
vs
Them
type of dynamic, in an effort to get him to lower his guard.
Light continued. “To catch someone like Kira, we can't play by the rulebook, Father.”
Although he spoke almost directly to Soirichro, his eyes bore into L’s. “Sometimes we have to break the laws to get justice.”
Couldn't have said it better myself , L thought. Though the line of breaking laws to get justice sounds exactly like something Kira would say.
“Light-kun makes a fair point.” L said, slightly sarcastic that only Light could pick it up.
“I’m still not buying it,” Aizawa complained. “We have a child acting as a detective,” he pointed at Near who said nothing in defence. “And missing subordinates you tried to hide from us which are from an organization he won't tell us about. That's more than just sketchy."
“Aizawa, I admire the fact that you are standing with your convictions,” Light said, voice smooth and composed like a musical number. L was not getting more than irritated that Light was defending him. It made his icy skin, warm . “But we should stop pretending this is about protocol. You've all trusted Ryuzaki with more than just orders, but you've also trusted him with your lives.”
Aizawa’s mouth opened and closed, like he was trying to find a counterpoint but came up with nothing.
Soichiro was the one to finally speak, his voice undoubtedly tight. “Light… I understand your point. But this isn’t just about trust. We’re supposed to be the justice system’s last line of defense.”
There was a gleam in Light’s eye, one that revealed fury. L imagined he was thinking along the lines of “You weren't following protocol when you listened to L and pretended to try and execute your own son.”
L took it as his turn to speak, to try and control the conversation back into his will. “Who here thinks Kira plays fair?”
No one answered. No one moved.
When no one spoke up and raised their hand like L expected, he went on with his point.
“And you would be right. Kira is not fair. He does not follow the rules, protocols or any proper channels.” he looked around the room, meeting everyone's eyes. His gaze lingered on Light’s a little longer than everyone else's. “If we want to beat him, we can't play fair either.”
When he and Light weren't arguing, they could be quite convincing to others, he noticed, as the taskforce shuffled in uncertainty.
“To catch someone like Kira, we’ve already abandoned traditional methods.” Light turned toward the room, hands folded behind his back like a student giving a report. “We let Ryuzaki lead for a reason. Because he gets results.”
Both Soirichro still kept his gaze, but his eyes softened ever so slightly. Aizawa looked away at L’s harsh stare, glancing at the marble floor.
“About Kira…” Matsuda started, causing everyone in the room to swivel their heads towards him. He stiffened, but continued. “Do you think your associates are missing because of him?”
L wanted to laugh bitterly at that. The likelihood of Mello and Matt running into Kira was zero, considering he had Kira standing almost right in front of him.
Soirichro closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. “You deployed your operatives to Japan. Did you ever stop to think what would happen if Kira found them first?”
L wanted to say that he didn't deploy them to Japan since they were runaways, but that would be giving too much fuel to the fire.
“I did.” He said, tapping his armchair rhythmically with his fingers. “And I took measures.”
“Clearly not good enough,” Aizawa snapped. “They’re missing, aren’t they?”
“That was not Kira’s doing” It was their own actually, L thought ironically to himself. He was really hoping sharing the BB murder case would make Mello less rebellious, but it seemed to have the opposite effect, and he revolted, dragging another one of his successors with him.
“They are not dead.” He corrected.
“Abducted?” Mogi asked.
“I assume they just lost contact with us” He lied. It was an easy one to sell. “I will be able to find them.”
“Ryuzaki this is ridiculous-” Aizawa began to argue.
“Gentleman” Watari interrupted, voice firm. “This is not productive.”
Matsuda looked like wanted to sink into the floor. Aizawa still looked peeved. The tension in Soiricho's jaw tightened
“Watari is right.” L confirmed. “I understand your constant questioning, but I can't always give you answers.”
He turned to his handler. “Get Linder on the line.”
“Of course Ryuzaki” Watari bowed his head. He strolled gracefully over to the computers and began to type efficiently with his gloved fingers.
“Is this Linder another one of your many other associates?” Aizawa said with his arms crossed.
L knew she would hate being called that, but it wasn't exactly wrong. He decided to air out the actual definition of her profession before they found out themselves and made it an even bigger deal. “She is actually a CIA agent.”
The room exploded into noise.
“You're saying you're working with the CIA? The Americans-”
“PSIA authorize this?”
“Are you out of your mind-”
Ah. he had not gotten permission with the Public Security Intelligence Agency to allow a CIA agent to enter the country. He will have to tell Halle to be careful not to run into any Japanese Secret Service Agents.
When L didn't answer, Soirichro raised his voice. “Answer us L!”
L gave Watrari a look that he hoped conveyed his general meaning; “You deal with them.”
Watari stopped what he was doing and stepped forward, blocking L from everyone's view.
“I’ll explain.” he said in his low controlled voice.
L looked at Light's narrowed eyes so closely, that he didn't know Near had crossed the room until he was face to face with the boy. He was still smaller than him, even when L was crouched.
“L.” he began, his tone as flat as his face. Though with the urgency in which he walked, he was actually more earnest than he let on. He couldn't drown out the arguments that were persisting behind him, but he gave his full attention back to his young successor.
“Yes?”
“Its about Mello” Nears knuckles were white from where he was holding orange files. L noticed those weren't the colour of the Kira files. “I need to ask…..did he run away because of me?”
Though L didn't know Near and Mello’s relationship personally, he also knew that every direction pointed to the fact Mello was jealous that Near was chosen for the Kira case, and stubbornly decided to prove himself in the worst way possible.
He decided not to sugarcoat it. “Yes.”
Near looked like he already knew the answer. “I see. So It's my fault.”
L disagreed, but it also felt like an open ended statement was the best possible option in deterring the boy from falling into self-pity.
“Perhaps.”
Near's lips tightened ever so slightly before they opened. “Then let me help you locate him.”
L tilted his head, before replying. “No.”
Nears spine bent in an effort to lean closer to his mentor. “I know Mello almost better than anyone.”
“I don't doubt it.” L reckoned. “But you won't be useful.”
Nears almost translucent eyebrows furrowed. He could hear Light say something sharply to Aizawa. L’s eyes were blurring around the edges. Near looked more and more like a young child-like Beyond when his vision was bleary.
“I don't see why I can't be.” Near said blinking. “And if it's my fault, I want to fix it.”
“I brought you here to help with the Kira case. Nothing else.”
“But being brought onto the Kira case is what caused this.”
“Are you saying then, it's my fault?” L said coldly. “Since I am the one who recruited you onto this case?”
This time, Near isn't able to mask the tic of nervousness. He swallows visibly. “No, I’m saying I can be helpful.”
“I can guarantee you won't be.” L said tartly. “I ordered you to be reviewing the updated list of names of Kira's latest victims.”
“L, I’m your successor.” Near said with a whisper. “I can handle three cases at once.”
“Three?” L’s tone stayed unimpressed. “You're only supposed to be working on only one.”
Near paused. “I’ve also been examining the Kira copycat killer. Aizawa gave me the files” he shifted the orange papers in his hands, almost as if signalling to them.
L’s gaze flashed to Aizawa, who was busy arguing with Watari.
“I told you not to bother with that.”
“I know. However I can handle many cases. It's what I was trained to do.”
“Yes, Wammy’s house trained you well.” L said. “But I ordered you to use that intellect to review the Kira case.”
“I’m still prioritising the Kira case.”
“Are you?” L questions. “You're treating this copycat killer like it's just as important as Kira.”
“With all due respect, this case strikes me as important.”
“It can't be more important than the real Kira.” L insisted.
“Have you looked at the case files though?”
“I don't need to.”
“But-” L raised his hand to attempt to stop Near from continuing down this uninteresting spiel.
“It’s just a killer trying to hide his crimes using the methods of another more prevalent killer” He insisted, his voice sliced through the low roar of the room.
Near, who always tried to keep a neutral expression, looked blatantly anxious to speak up.
“No, that's not what is happening. The copycat killer is trying to get a message across.” Gaining more momentum Near raised his voice an octave, enough that there was no mistaking the words he spoke next.
"Why else would he be craving Roman numerals into his victims?
L froze.
The world went silent. Not muffled. Not quiet, but truly silent . L couldn't hear anything. His successor's lips were moving but no sound, not even a grating noise, graced his ears. He could see the movement, as everyone was still arguing around him, gesturing and shifting.
He heard none of it.
The screech of a chair shattered that illusion.
It was his own, scraping violently across the floor, stopping everyone's chatter in an instant. L didn't even register it was his own chair making the sound as he abruptly stood, enough that the walls blurred from the striking movement. By the time he got back to himself, he had crossed three steps across the floor and was ripping the files out of Near's small hands at the same pace of his heart bashing against his ribcage.
He knew. He knew now.
He heard shoes rotating on their heels, Nears sharp but quiet gasp he took hold of the folders harshly in a white knuckled grip. He perceives Light's head turning in his peripheral vision. His eyes are bleary in his bout of dizziness, in his spasm of realization. It felt like a dose of vertigo had gotten into his veins, the edges of his sight pulsing.
“Ryuzaki-?” Someone called his name. Maybe it was Matsuda. Aizawa. Or ever quiet Mogi. He didn't reply. He found himself incapable of answering. He staggered to the middle of the room, his bony shoulders pushing past people's startling bodies. He sees Aiber straighten against the wall with a frown. Watari steps forward, in confusion, only to freeze when he sees what L does next.
He raises the files high.
And slams them down onto the floor.
Paper hits marble, exploding against the tiles in a flurry of flung documents. He hears an indignant inhale of breath from the others. The files spread across the floor, overlapping and disheveled. He can feel his chest moving from how his breath rises and falls. Rapidly. Even then the oxygen does not feel like it's properly reaching his brain. He watches as gravity spreads the contents across the floor. A flurry of images, documents, grainy photos. They stilled in chaotic layers, like the aftermath of a denotation.
Someone sucked in a horrified breath. “What the hell?”
“What is this?” Another person was able to ask. He doesn't register who said it. It could be Light for all he cared. His gaze was focused on only one singular thing.
The files.
Roman numerals carved into pallid flesh.
L drops to his knees in the middle of the floor. Hard. It makes a cracking thunk against the flooring, but he doesn't feel any pain. He hears more shouts of questions from the taskforce, but it is like white noise to him. His eyes feel like they are peeling as he stares at the crime scene photos that Near had collected of the Kira copycat The gracefully carved XIII stared back at them, more horrifying than the victims' twisted expression in their death throes.
The number 13. Illustrated against the skin of another. Cruelly marked into a body drained of color. Scored with surgical accuracy.
Just like before.
Exactly like before.
The dread was not even comparable to the immense amount he had felt when Light had touched the notebook for the first time and screamed in the helicopter. He knew what this meant, but he didn't want to even utter the name even in his mind. This wasn't a mimicry. This wasn't a homage.
This was him .
His fingers, long and pale, began sorting through the files, his breath hitching as he did. He was growing into a frenzy. Everything was falling into place. The numerals, the positions of the bodies, back and front.
“What are we looking at?” Soirichro muttered, mouth twisted in disgust as he glanced at the gory autopsy photos. L hastily reads through the reports, his hands burning. He feels as if the paper is cutting into him as he holds them up. Slicing in scars like Beyond had done to his victims.
Locked rooms. The mutilated corpses. The recurring 13, intended to look like a B. Again and again that number glared back at him. The positions of the body, one facing the front, one facing the back. The poison induced deaths. It all clicked to reveal a horrifying photo-realistic puzzle.
“Seriously, what's going on?” He realizes it's Light talking now, and he doesn't look at him to know that he has crouched to his level now. “Is that the copycat Kira case?”
Worse , L thinks, his curved spine turning to ice. He knows what he's looking at, but at the same time, he is desperately tearing through each page, looking for something to prove him wrong. For the first time he wanted to be absolutely wrong. His hands were clasped on his knees like they were in prayer.
Let this be someone else. Let this be a mistake.
“Are you finally looking at that case?” Aizwa scoffed, his voice biting from behind. “Why now-”
Why now? L thought. Why did this have to happen now? Light eyes are burning into the back of his skull. He imagines them purely red now.
The connections between the victims were as obvious as a bloody fingerprint. As L’s body hovers over the files, blocking every person surrounding him from its prying view. Only obvious to him however.
Reina and Kiyoshi had a 13 year age gap. Just like the victims in the Wara Ningyo case. Just like Beyond had done in LA.
Kira killed him . He was told about Beyond's death by his most trusted officials in America. He had them confirm that the body lying in that desolate cell was his .
He realized his crucial mistake then. He should have checked and confirmed the body himself. With his own eyes.
And then, he felt it. A slip of paper, tucked like a thorn between the reports. He pulled it free, hands trembling. Each word felt like it was lashed into his skin as he read it.
“Are you still pressing that lever?”
The synapses in his brains fired off. It was as if a whip was thrashing at his nerves as his vision narrowed singularity on that brief horrible sentence. That confirmed it. This wasn't a Kira copycat, that happened to be imitating the way BB had theatrically staged his victims in LA. This was Beyond.
Back from the dead.
L didnt scream and fall on his back like did when he had heard the announcement of the Shinigami Eyes on live television by the second Kira, and realized Beyond never lied about them. He didn't panic. Didn't fall onto his back and cower. He felt himself stop shaking as the facts all came together. Like a string being pulled too tightly, he ripped the piece of paper in half. It tore and echoed in the shocked room.
“Thats evidence!” Aizawa yelled. “You can't tear up evidence!”
L was far past the point to care about evidence.
A cloying taste of strawberry jam rises from his throat to his sour tongue. It might be bile, but he can't tell, they both sting the same.
How had he not known sooner? He imagines Beyond tipping his head back and laughing vivaciously at L’s sudden realization. He should have known it was Beyond much much sooner. It was poetic in a divine sense, that by ignoring Beyond, he had gotten closer, and closer and closer-
“You always ignore me until I get too close. And by then, it's too late.”
If only-
He can't bring himself to speak. Everyone in the taskforce surrounding him, looking at him like he was a gargoyle, curled up and about to sprout wings. Or better yet, a rat, who was clawing at the papers below him.
Near is trying to meet his eyes, his shock subtle in his expression. Watching. Stricken. Watari’s mouth is slightly open, as if trying to decide whether to ask if he's okay in Russian, English or in Japanese. He is used to L’s occasional outbursts. L wants to tell him that it's much worse than he thought.
One of his failed experiments has come back.
L slowly pushed himself into a standing position, his back craned more than usual. His spine felt as if it was full of metal rods, bending at all the wrong angles. He can feel the weight of his shoulders like its pressure had suddenly become known to him. He hears himself talking but doesn't know what he says until a second after.
“Pick up the files.” He orders, pointing to the floor.
A grating pause.
“I want everyone to look at these case files. Now.”
Still complacent in the sudden disturbance of his mood swing, Matsuda is the first one to move, nervously crouching down to pick some of the scattered files off the floor. Mogi joins him after, grabbing the papers and holding them into the crook of his arm.
L begins to walk away, towards the computer terminal, the screens mirroring each other for rows and rows. He walks past Near, not needing to spare a glance to know the boy was confused. He was clever, but he wouldn't understand. Mello might understand, but then again, L was the only one who truly understood.
He gripped the edge of the glass table, putting his whole body weight on the structure, he felt like collapsing. He heard the taskforce flipping through the files, muttering to each other. He knows they are shooting looks his way. Watari is approaching, but L doesn't turn to greet him. He finds his bleary eyes stare down on the mounted glass pane. His reflection peers back up.
It's smiling at him. Its eyes are ruby red.
L knew Beyond was dead. He wanted to believe it, like how he wanted to believe Light Yagami was Kira. He had joined the Kira case knowing he was going to find and arrest his killer. He had stared at Light knowing he was looking into the eyes that wrote down that absurd name Beyond Birthday.
But L was wrong.
L was never wrong.
He could almost hear Beyond giggling until it turned into choked chuckles. Could almost see him, lingering in some corner of the room like a specter, thrilled at the sight of L hunched over like this. He could imagine, as his arms quivered, that he was starring in one of Beyond's fantasies at the moment. He knew Beyond's greatest dream was to see him be brought low to his knees, and he can imagine, from his posture, and dishevelment, he looked absolutely pathetic.
“L.” Watari said gently behind him. “May I ask what just happened? Is everything all right?”
L doesn't want to see his expression when he tells him, but he swivels anyway, to find the comforting gaze of his mentor, that will change the second his voice cracks.
He makes sure his lips don't quiver when he speaks, though he knows the result will still be the same.
“ He is alive.”
He doesn't need to specify who. Watari instantly knows. He can tell by the fact that his face pales to a sickly degree.
“Who is alive?” a voice cuts towards them. Higher pitch. Younger.
Light.
Of course. Ever the eavesdropper.
“Leave us be.” L tries to feel irritated by the intrusion, but he just feels exhausted. “This is a private conversation.”
“No, you don't get to pull that card again.” He argues, crossing his arms. “I defended you back there for hiding your secrets, but this is another matter entirely. Why did you just act like that?”
He can't tell him about Beyond. He had already shared enough, back when he thought Light was Beyond's murderer, and he was now just ashes in the wind. He couldn't bring himself to tell anyone about Beyond, even as he watched the Task Force comb through the files, at a loss of why they were doing so. Not even Aiber, who was in the Wara Ningyo case knew that much. Watari was the closest confidant he had, and even then he couldn't bring himself to utter anything about Beyond besides what the man already knew.
And he most certainly couldn't tell Light about Beyond.
And L knew he wasn't wrong about one fact of the matter, that despite how far they had come, or how close Kira was to being cornered, Beyond would destroy it.
It brings him back to his early days of knowing the boy…..
L recalls the sky first. That long stretch of dull silver above them, thick with clouds that never seemed to move. Wammy's lawn had been clipped too short, the grass prickling his arms and neck as he lay still, shoulder to shoulder with B. The coldness came next. Not from the wind, but from B’s skin against his own.
Even beneath the flaxen warmth of the sun, L had felt chilled, like ice was slowly creeping from the boy beside him into his bones. A quiet kind of chill. Paralyzing. They lay like that for some time, saying nothing. L kept his eyes trained on the clouds, trying to focus. He liked to imagine them as animals or objects, anything his mind could twist into logic. A lion crouching. A teacup mid-fall. The soft swirl of something that could’ve been a question mark, or a hook.
But B wasn’t watching the sky. L had known that, even then. He could feel it, the way B’s gaze was pressed into him like heat, but there was no warmth. He didn’t return the look. He didn’t need to. He had grown used to the sensation of being watched by Beyond. Still, he remembered speaking. Something faint. Idle.
"That one looks like a cross," He had murmured, raising a finger lazily toward a lump of cloud sagging at the horizon. B didn’t respond. Not right away. Then, flatly:
"It looks like a grave."
L said nothing in return . He didn’t want to know who B had buried in his mind that day.
It might have been peaceful, if not for the way L’s nerves never quite calmed. Being near B was like holding a match near dry paper. One wrong movement, and something would ignite.
Then something shifted in the periphery of his sight. A soft buzzing of wings. A dragonfly dipped from the air above, graceful and slow, before landing lightly on L’s outstretched finger.
Its weight was as light as a breath. Translucent wings shimmered faintly in the sun, their veins catching light in a way that looked almost metallic. Its body was slender, segmented, a shade of green not found in the grass. L raised his hand slightly, drawing the dragonfly closer to his face, his dark eyes narrowing with the quiet attention. He didn’t like insects. He didn’t like animals, or most living things for that matter. But this was quite pretty. He could see every line in the wings, every tiny twitch of its legs. A perfect, symmetrical creature. For a moment, he simply admired it.
Then B spoke, voice low and honey-smooth. "You like it?" L didn’t answer. Not exactly. His voice came softer than it ever had been, like he was afraid the sound might scare it away. "It’s beautiful."
There was a long pause. B shifted beside him, the blades of grass rustling slightly beneath his movement. L didn’t look away from the dragonfly. His breath was cautious. It really was pretty, for a lowly insect. And L liked pretty things.
But B liked destroying his things.
Without warning, B’s hand reached across the space between them. A blur of motion. A wet, crunching squelch. L flinched. His arm jerked instinctively, but it was too late. The dragonfly was crushed between B’s fingers.
"B." L said his name in a breath of disbelief. B sat up, slowly, smiling down at his palm like he had uncovered something fascinating. The wings were still twitching. Barely. A faint shudder, like a dying breath. Transparent and iridescent, now creased and torn, half-embedded in the smear of green ichor staining B’s skin.
L stared. He didn't feel sadness, except for something uglier, like disgust. He had watched cadavers get cut open with their stomach spilling out of their organs at a very young age, but he felt more revulsion as B’s fingers pulled delicately at the insect’s broken body, peeling back what was left of its shell like he was dissecting a mechanical toy.
"It’s not so beautiful anymore," B said, voice casual. "But it was. You’re right about that." L didn’t reply. Instead, he watched in silence as Beyond casually tore off the wings one by one, letting them fall into the grass like discarded petals.
Now, he finds himself meeting Light's gaze, straightening so that they are on equal standing. He imagines dragonfly wings framing Light's sides. He already can see Beyond pulling the both of them apart like he did that insect.
It seemed like Beyond had been intentional in killing by simulating a heart attack like Kira’s. He also was deliberate in choosing his two victims this time around. Kiyoshi Ishimaru Reina Arakawa. Together, by only using their initials, they spelt out a name:
K-I-R-A
Beyond was intentionally challenging him. Both Kira and L.
Light eyes narrowed as he just stared back at him without answering his earlier demand.
“Ryuzaki, don't make me repeat myself” Light chided. “Tell me what's going on?”
L doesn't.
“Ryuzaki? Aizawa steps into the conversation now, his bushy eyebrows hardened. “Why are you making us look at this case? What's your sudden interest in it?”
Ryuzaki . That name again. He regretted ever using Beyond's alias. What had been a reclamation, an attempt to overwrite Beyond, had now felt like something had been taken from him.
“What do you deduce, Aizawa?” He asks, not expecting an answer. He feels he is far away in someone else's body.
Is this how Beyond felt? Disconnected from his own identity?
“If I knew anything, I wouldn't have been pushing for you to look at this case days ago!” Aizawa argued. “Why are you now just grasping this?”
L wished he had shoved the files into his face, and convinced him properly to look at them before. Didn't back down when L refused.
He was shifting the blame again, but it was better than confronting the truth.
L was wrong .
Light tried to step forward again to press further, but Watari shifted his body ever slightly to stop him from doing so. He negotiated instead to keep badgering him.
“Well, what did you deduce, Ryuzaki?”
Light looks just as open as he did that time he dried Lights skin after baiting the boy to join him outside the rainstorm. He had said;
“You said your feet are wet. I’m here to cleanse them” The warmth of the towel heated his cold palms. The silence between them, thick as wet cloth.
As he did so he told him the story of the woman who washed Jesus feet in the house of a pharisee named Simon. He had purposefully mirrored the story to try and feed into Lights' sickening god complex, just to see what would happen.
The irony isn't lost on him now. He remembered how the tale went. The woman, a so-called sinner, had wept at the feet of Christ, washing them with her tears, drying them with her hair. Her hands trembled as she touched what was holy. And when the others saw her when they recognized who she was, what she was, an adulter, a prostitute and worst of all a sinner .
“He would know. He would know what kind of creature touches him.” Was the claim.
"If this man were truly a prophet," They all whispered, "He would know what kind of woman this is." All around her, they judged her in their own form of justice, their disapproval clothed in righteousness.
But Christ had let her stay. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away.
L remembered that part most of all. Because Light had looked like he wanted to recoil from him as he asked the question: “What did you deduce, Ryuzaki?”
And Light, of course, was no messiah. No divine thing. He's not even a shinigami. Beyond was much closer to being that.
And L had sinned. There were stains on his hands that soap couldn’t touch, not even bleach. He hadn't felt guilty about it at the time, but…
If the Task Force knew, If they ever truly knew what L was, If they knew what Beyond was, What they both had done, what they had covered, would they still look at L the same way? Or would they whisper behind their hands, just like the Pharisees?
“I’ve come to a new conclusion,” he said the syllables slowly, like there was cotton in his mouth.“This copycat… is significantly more dangerous than we originally assessed.” Light leaned forward slightly, brows furrowing like he was about to interject. However, his father’s voice was cut first.
“What brought you to that conclusion, Ryuzaki?”
L glanced briefly at Watari. The old man’s jaw was tight, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple. He chose his next words carefully.
“That information is classified.”
Before the taskforce could abruptly argue about L withholding information again, he continued.
“You don’t need to concern yourselves,” L added. “This particular situation falls under my direct jurisdiction. I’ll handle it alone.”
“But-” .
“I said alone.” L said, interrupting Matsuda without raising his voice. “Starting today, I’ll be reallocating a portion of the Kira case resources to investigate this killer.”
A stunned silence followed. Then Light broke it.
“Ryuzaki, but that doesn’t quite add up.” He began to approach the desk deliberately. “Not long ago, you told us that the only serial killer worth your focus was Kira. You’ve always said you don’t involve yourself unless there’s a significant number of victims.” Light gave a small, almost theatrical frown. “Why shift your attention to someone with only two bodies to their name?”
L didn’t look at him.
Don’t pretend you understand how I operate, Light Yagami. L thought bitterly.
There was a pause. Then L added, voice low and cutting: “Because I know for a fact, those weren’t the only two.”
He could see Light's expression fall into a blank slate, a poker face, a tell tale sign that he was disorientated and was trying to hide it.
Soichiro was the first to react, a sharp inhale through his nose. “Ryuzaki,” he said, voice tight with disbelief, “Are you saying there are more victims we don’t know about?”
L tried to come up with an excuse to shut the conversation off until it steered into an uncomfortable route, but then something happened.
Rinnnnng
All the screens at once flickered. It was an incoming call from one of his encrypted lines.
A call at this hour? Maybe it was Lindner. He held his hand out to stop Watari from intercepting it. He didn't want to be distracted right now.
The sharp alert caused everyone to look uneasy, but Soichiro immediately paused before pushing forward with his rant. “-As I was saying, how do you know this killer has claimed more lives than just two?”
“The pattern of the killings are similar to that of not just Kira but another serial killer as well.”
The beeping from the monitor terminals stopped for a brief moment.
“Not all of his killings were categorized as murders. Not all were even connected by jurisdiction. Yet the ones he wanted to be infamous for, he made certain that everyone knew it was his work.”
Matsuda looked like he swallowed a sour treat. “But Ryuzaki, how do you know it's the same killer?”
He isn't given time to reply.
“Haven’t you caught every serial killer you've been assigned to?” Aizawa said more snarkily. “If you already know this murderer, why the hell is he still out there?”
Before L could come up with an appropriate answer, the call started ringing through the computers again.
Rinnnnng
It sounded like a scream.
“Uh, Ryuzaki” Mogi finally said. “Shouldn't you get that call? This is the second time it's rung.”
He checked the ID, still letting it ring. It sounded like a bell. “It's coming from a secure line.”
“Then answer it.” Light ventured.
L just stared at the console. His intuition told him he should not pick up the call. That he would not like what he heard at the end of it.
He let it ring, until it stopped.
Confusion was scrawled across everyone's face. “Why didn't you pick it up?” Light prompted with a demand.
“We were in the middle of a civil conversation” L said blasely. “Now Aizawa-”
“What if it was the deputy director?” Soichiro inquired briskly. “You should call back.”
Watari was looking at Ryuzaki for orders. He shook his head.
“No.” L said, his heart pounding against his chest. “Back to what we were discussing-”
“Ryuzaki-” Light tried to argue.
Rinnnnng
The call cut through the air once again. L flinched.
“For Godsake!" Soichiro lamented. “answer the call Ryuzaki!”
L didn't move. However Light did.
In one smooth stride, he closed the distance, ignoring L’s outstretched hand as he stepped past him. With a practiced flick, Light tapped the console and picked up the receiver, pressing the mic button.
“Good Evening, this is L” Light said smoothly into the microphone. “Who am I speaking to?”
There was a frantic buzzing for a moment, and L watched stationary, unable to move as a choked whisper broke through the static.
“L?” The voice was close to a hoarse murmur. “Is it really you?”
His chest violently twitched. Though lower when he first heard him, before he went through puberty, L recognized the child who spoke almost instantly.
Mello .
L snatched the receiver from Light's faulty hands.
“Yes it's me, M ” he addressed quickly, waving to Watari to turn the call off of the speaker. The old man's hands flew over the keyboard, but it wasn't fast enough. He could already hear astonished gasps behind him. It was unmistakable.
“Where are you?” L implored, skipping over a few steps of chastising the boy for running away and getting straight to the point. If he could coax him, he would be able to get Mello to come back to the Wammy’s house willingly, and considering Mello had called him, his odds were in his favour. “Tell me now.”
“I can't." That's when L realized Mello's raspy voice sounded more and more like he was holding back a muffled sob. He sounded panicked.
“Listen to me M,” L said quickly, gesturing to his handler who had failed at turning the speaker off, and was now in the process of trying to trace the call. “Tell me your location.”
“ He won't let me.” Mello quavered. With the mention of a He, L’s breath halted. “He’s got Matt, and he's forced me to do this- to call you-”
A shuffling sound followed. Abrupt. Rough.
“Who has you?” L demanded, his stomach dropping all the way to his tailbone. “M, tell me this instant.”
There was a pause.
Then Mello’s voice again, this time quieter, like it was scraped by something L didn't have the video feed to see.
“He… he wants to talk to you.”
Something was happening on the other side of the line. A yell smothered by distance and the scratch of metal. A faint thud. Then—
Stillness.
Then static crackled. And something… laughed.
And L knew . His body reacted before his mind did, nails curling against the table.
He knew who was about to speak before the first syllable broke through.
“Darling…” Beyond sang sweetly, saccharine smooth. Clear and loud enough that there was no mistaking his words to the Taskforce. To L . “....That wasn’t very nice. You let it ring.”
Notes:
Beyond: Darling guess who's back from jail!!!
Thanks everyone for supporting me to continue writing this fic. I genuinely love your guys comments and I always make sure to reply because they truly make my day. I'd say we are at 1/4 mark of writing this fic, and lets just say, it only gets wilder from here on out!
Chapter 10
Summary:
“For then there will be great distress, unequaled from the beginning of the world until now—and never to be equaled again.”
-Matthew 24:21
Notes:
We finally made it to the double digits when it comes to chapters! I couldn't have done it without you guys, seriously, without your comments I would never have gotten this far. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this chapter, it certainly will be….what's the word for it? Shocking? Creepy? Exciting? Anything that describes Beyond Birthday, is what will describe this chapter.
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Darling…that wasn’t very nice. You let it ring.”
Watari's body is the first to go reticent. His hands, the only part of his anatomy still moving, stumble clumsily over the audio feed dashboard. Soichiro’s hand twitches sharply as the word darling is spoken. Aizwa's fingers curl into a half-fist. Matsuda literally flinches. Mogi’s nostrils flare. Wedy’s casual posture freezes. Airber's ever tapping foot halts in its tempo.
Light stares like a pinned insect, like a pawn had slithered forward on the board and stolen his king.
And L…
He was masterful at wrangling in his expression, and he just barely managed to control the slackening of his jaw, and his lips siphoning down into a curl of distress. The voice hits his ears first, then it strikes his brain even harder, causing his nerves to come alight in the form of stinging goosebumps rushing across his neck. He swallows, esophagus burning like a scorching flame.
That brandishing voice, that loud octave, used to be only a high pitched chime when he was younger. Now it spoke through the computer monitor, a completely different octave. He hadn't heard Beyond’s voice in years. Barely during and after the case. He had expected his throat to have been burned so badly that his voice would croak, but though it was hoarse, it was smooth and flowed through the speakers like a slow moving syrup.
L does not respond. Despite the one phrase, there are too many things happening at once. The speakers are on, a breach in his perfectly constructed sound system which is against the usual machinations of his mic. It meant that it had been hacked, overridden to be that way, forcing it to broadcast, and L to do so in return. It was a violation.
Secondly because the speaker is on, everyone can hear. The sleazy nickname darling echoed especially heavily against the metal walls. He didn't hear the taskforce gasp, which told him that they were holding their breaths.
So L doesn't say anything in reply yet. He knows Beyond is more than eager to fill the silence soon enough. His mouth and chin are raised barely from the mic. He hovers, waiting, calculating, heart straining against his chest.
Beyond audibly inhales the hushness, like he is savouring it. L almost has the half mind to hang up instantly. Out of the corner of his cornea, he can see Watari struggling to turn the audio off the speakers.
Even now, even knowing what the murders were, L finds it hard to believe that Beyond is alive, and is talking at this very moment. It feels like some sick imitation. Not only is he somehow breathing on the other end of the line, he has his successor.
“Don’t hang up,” the voice said again, coiled and sweet. “Mihael has been very brave.”
His skin prickled along with the wiring nerve fibers of his brain. Beyond actually revealed Mello's real first name. He is vaguely aware that Kira is in the room, and the threat feels like it has personified teeth, and is readying to bite him.
Beyond could reveal Mello's full name if he wanted to. One whisper away. One flick of the tongue and his successor's name could be revealed to Light. To Kira. Mihael Kheel .
He could do so much worse.
“Who-” Soichiro started, but the caller's chuckle cut him off.
“Oh, don’t interrupt. You’ll ruin the moment. It’s been so long since we’ve spoken properly, hasn’t it?” Beyond cooed, laughing like he had said something akin to an inside joke.
“-I can hear him. L is trying very hard to keep quiet right now. Pretending he's not here. But he's always been terrible at hiding from me.”
With either mockery or familiarity, Beyond tone switched back to directly addressing him .
“Isnt that right L?”
L knows he can't kill the connection, as much as he wants to, as much as he wants to plug his ears and close his straining bulging eyes that look at the taskforce as they revel in their shock. He heard Mello's heavy choked off breaths. It takes L tremendous effort not to bite his thumb and smash the mic in a childish tantrum at the fact that this was all his fault. The game had already begun, and he had stumbled unknowingly through the first steps like a child. Ignoring the murders. Ignoring Beyond.
And now his successor had fallen into the hands of a man he had warned him about. Ready to be torn apart like a snared dragonfly.
“Beyond.” He states. It's all he says. That's all he has to say. He knows Aiber recognizes the name from a harsh hiss through his teeth. “It's you.”
Light looked macerated from sweating. Beaded along his hairline, soaking the collar of his shirt. L felt a flare of gratitude that his body was built in a way that it was near impossible for him to do the same. Though when his body ran cool, it coursed colder as Beyond continued his speech.
“Answering my call at last?” L doesn't need a video feed to know he is smiling. “I thought you would’ve been eager to hear my voice sooner. How rude. After everything we shared.”
Watari had half given up on trying to block Beyond’s call from the speakers and was now staring at the static of the screen, quivering, while L remained perfectly still.
If they weren't before, everyone is listening. Sardonically, he wonders if Rem is listening in as well. The poor shinigami might write his name down in pity.
Beyond continued, his voice oozed through the mouthpiece, like his words were trying to touch L’s lips and sink into his tongue.
“I was starting to think you didn’t care anymore.” It was too loud. Too intimate. A terrible combination to have at the same time.
Everyone is eerily silent, as his grating sickly voice sweetens as he talks. L takes a sharp breath through his nose, unable to breath through his mouth.
“You're supposed to be dead.” It's a short-cut statement, one he knows will bother the other.
From the sharp cut off hiss, Beyond wasn't too happy by L’s flat tone.
“Hm. No hello? No, how are you? It’s been so long. I thought I’d get at least a small little gasp of yours . You always were so cold to me.” Beyond makes a noise that sounds like a barely contained laugh. “Ah. That’s why I kept you warm.”
L pushed past the last trailing words in Beyond's spiel, ignoring the murmurs behind him, ignoring Watari who looks as rigid as the faulty stages of rigor mortis.
He wants to ask about Mello. But instead, his pride demands him to know how Beyond did it. Like an audience attendant wants to know the inner workings of the magician's trick. How he was able to fool him.
“How did you do it?” He asked as calmly as he could. If he gave any incentive of emotion to Beyond, he would no doubt believe he succeeded in his little surprise call. “I made sure you would never leave prison unless it was in a body bag. So how did you fake your death?”
He knows Beyond is smiling behind the receiver. “Who said I faked my death? Maybe I did die and came back to life. Like Lazarus, only….better looking.”
“I know you're lying about both.” L hissed.
“And yet, here I am. Risen .”
“Don't play with me” L’s fingers flexed. He tried not to think he was flinching. “This isn't a game”
“Yes it is” He corrected lopsidedly. “And I made it just for you. Don't you like it Lawly?”
He used that stupid nickname. It wasn't his full name, but it was getting awfully close.
“Stop-”
Beyond interrupted him. “My, my. You sound breathless already. I haven’t even started.”
Interrupting L only fuels the other, he could tell from the gleeful snicker. When L didn't reply to his quip, too busy clenching his fists to stop himself from losing his composure, Beyond continued.
“Is this the part where you ask me how I got Mello’s phone? Or should I skip to the part where you ask me if ‘I hurt him yet?’
The implication thumped against his chest. Mello was in Beyond's hands, fully at his mercy, something which the others had time and time again lacked.
His voice raised a notch. “I swear if you touch him B, I will-
“Oh, I’ve already hurt him, Lawly.” Once again, the use of the nickname is like a slap to the face. It hurt more than when Light punched him. It felt like the beginning stages of a heartattack. “-That’s not the question. The question is; will you stop me? ”
“You think I won't?" L said, mustering his confidence. It wasn't entirely unfounded either.
Beyond hummed. A squeeze of panic made its way up L’s throat.
“I think about many things. Most of them obscene. Most of them about you. But this one….” He chuckles, the sound of his breathing becoming uncomfortably heavy. ” This one I know.” He prattled cheekily, though it wasn't really an answer to his demand in the first place.
“-I know you won't stop me”
The words drop with a sort of lazy malice only Beyond could achieve, before cracking thinly into a wild splitting laugh.
“-And I think that you care about him, don't you? Little Mello. Little replacement! It’s cute.” Beyond let out a long suffering sigh. A completely drawn out one.
“Not as cute as you were, but I suppose we all settle eventually.”
There were more gasps from across the room. L hadn't looked at the rest of his team yet, and didn't want to. The only person he could tolerate looking at was Watari
“Stay quiet,” L murmured. “All of you.” He raises a hand, though they don't immediately fall silent, still too shaken up.
“Yes, stay quiet,” Beyond snickered from the other side of the line, distorting the audio ever so slightly. “Stay obedient for dear L.”
L really wished he could go back in time to when he had the influence to shut Beyond up with a single look.
He collected himself swiftly, not addressing him immediately. “What have you done with him?”
“With him or should I say them ? I have Matt as well.” He giggled, almost to himself. He hears someone try to shout through a gag. “Oh, L, I must say, your taste in protégés has really gone downhill.”
Near looks the most in turmoil he had ever seen him. He looks like he is on the verge of throwing up.
As if on cue there is another sound on the other side, behind the serial killer, muffled and agonized.
L is so focused on the concerning noises, that he doesn't realize Beyond begins to speak again.
“Though you never replaced me and A, did you?” He says it with such ecstasy it can only be described as religious. Like L had seen those priests bemoan with a certain flamboyance when speaking a sermon about the revelation scriptures. A sort of hopeful bellowing about how god will return to the earth one day and destroy everything
Beyond similarly, was back to exactly that. “I hope you didn't make that same mistake of missing my funeral like you did A’s?” he teased.
It was a reference, only Quillish and himself would know. He remembered the large dried and tear stained eyes laid unseeing on the autopsy table photo. Rope burns molted around the young boy's neck. He did not see the body in person after the initial incident, only on the pixelated screen of his laptop.
Now, he wishes he had made sure to see the pictures of Beyond body when he thought he was dead.
Why hadn't he done it at the time?
Was it because he didn't want to see what he thought would be Beyond’s supposed corpse, lifelessly crumpled and barely preserved on some prison stretcher? He hadn’t wanted to see that face, his visage, stilled, scorched, painted over to disguise the burns. He had told himself he didn't because of efficiency. But now the omission hollowed him out. This mistake was too late to correct.
He ignored Beyond's earlier quip. “Tell me if you'll keep them alive,” L sibilated, voice flat. He hopes that he will use them as hostages rather than kill them as a stunt to get a point across.
“Don’t waste time.”
Pray he wants leverage. Pray he won’t discard them for spectacle.
Beyond tuts. “I’ll keep them alive.” He says with the lilt of a taunt. “For now.”
A pause. “Well… unless I don't," Another cackling laugh. “Which one do you want me to keep alive? Mello? Oh, sweet boy. Loud little thing. He screamed like a banshee.”
There’s a faint scrape in the background of the call, like something being dragged across a floor.
“-Or Jeevas perhaps? He's been quite silent. He just takes it. Well, that might be because he's unconscious."
Then the giggles come, high and piercing at first, then catching on the grit in Beyond’s throats until they rasp into something uglier, like a hinge grinding on a rusty door.
Across the room, Near’s face went chalk-white, the faintest tremor breaking across his skin. His hands were curled into tight fists on his lap, nails biting crescents into the skin.
If L engaged with this convoluted threat, it would only go downhill. So he diverted.
“Let them go, B.” He says the shortcut letter with the same snapping tone he spoke with when he was a child. “Otherwise I will not grant you any mercy when I capture you.”
There was a soft whistle of air from the other end, as if Beyond was pretending to consider it.
“Why would I do that, when they’re such… exquisite leverage?” Beyond teased. The words rolled grotesquely off his tongue
“Dont think for a second I won't find out where you are, Beyond.”
“Oh dear, you shouldn't be focusing on where I am. You should focus on what I want.”
“I already know. You sent your invitation,” L deduced. “Thirteen carved into their flesh. Front and back. You always did love your symmetry.”
“You noticed!” He said excitedly. He sounded like a child all of a sudden. A demented one at that. “You noticed .” Beyond echoes with a trill.
“I mean, I made it quite obvious didn't I? My crime scene was practically a love letter, don't you think?” He purred. “I left breadcrumbs, sugar. Like a fairytale. A 13 here, a B there. Romantic right?”
“You mimicked Kira's method just so you could carve roman numerals as your initials into a man and a young girl.” He states, irritation bordering on anger, rising in his trachea.
“Gorgeous weren't they? You should have seen their faces before I wrecked them.” He whistled, like he was catcalling someone on the sidewalk.
“I know you like looking at autopsy photos. It fascinates your little mind. And you have to admit, my crime scene looked beautiful. A canvas.” he tuts. “But you never compliment my work.”
“You're disgusting-” L declared, matching Beyond’s rising octave.
But before he could. he cut him off. “You know, I was very disappointed you weren't responding to my lovely letters.”
He paused his ramble, as if considering something for a moment. A common talking pattern Beyond had a habit of doing since his preteen years.
“-But then again, ignoring me only worked out in my favor. I got to meet my newest guests as an extra bonus! Look where we are now. And from the way your voice just cracked, oh yes -I heard it, it sounds like you’re starting to regret it. ”
“B-” L was quickly losing momentum from the conversation.
“Mmm, quiet down now. I’ve waited so long for this conversation. Let me savor it. Humor me, Lawly.” L gritted his teeth at the name again. “It’s been years .”
Beyond sounded even more triumphant. “You buried me, didn’t you? In your mind. Or did you cry a little, secretly? I like to imagine it. You, alone, with the rain outside. Mourning me.”
“No one mourned you,” L said coldly. His eyes were paper dry from staring bloodshot into the mic.
“Don't be like that Lawli-” He begins to sing his name.
“Stop.” L hissed before he can pronounce it fully. “Dont say it.”
“Don't say what?” Beyond teased. “Your name? Are you going to beg me not to?”
L didn't open his mouth further, realizing whatever he did. There was no chance he could turn the speakers off now.
He sighed dramatically, like a novice actor, then continued, his tone shifting into that of a mocking one.
“You’ve got such a pretty name,” Beyond whispered raucously, too close to the mic now. “Why don’t you like hearing it?”
He spoke more casually now. This worried L. Beyond was veering dangerously close from the potential demands of ransom and more to the territory of childhood musings.
When L didn't respond, too busy with the resounding retort he kept in his head saying:
“You know why.”
Beyond continued;
“You think I’ve forgotten it? Please. I’ve been keeping it safe for you.” He imagined he smiled, lingering on the syllables. “Would you like me to spell it out?”
That's all that takes for the room to change. Some of the taskforce members, like Mogi, go to aid Watari in trying to shut the speakers off. Aizwa is saying something loudly, but even with everyone in the building in this room, he feels like it's only him and Beyond, separate from this world.
“Oh, am I on speaker? Is that why?” Beyond said innocently, knowing fully well he was the one who overridden the system and had addressed the taskforce moments earlier.
“How daring.” He proclaimed “Your name could be so useful to Kira. I wonder what he’d do with it…”
Even though Beyond chuckled darkly, L couldn't tell if he had figured out who L suspected to be Kira. Did he know he suspected Light? Did he know that he was in the room?
L was in a bad position. If he said his name, Light could easily write his name down, or get Misa to do it. Was Light leering at him right now, excited by the twist of events? Does he notice how distressed he is? He must find it a handsome sight.
L risks glancing at the boy. To his surprise he doesn't look like anything he expected. He’s got the same twisted expression he had when his father promised to execute him and pointed a smoking gun at his son's face. He’s gaping like a dog without a leash. His eyes look almost as bulging as his own on a normal day. His teeth are locked in a harsh grit.
Simply put, he looks scared .
“Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t said it yet. Not the whole thing. But I could . ” L hears Beyond say. He can envision him tapping the side of his head like a tick as he spoke.
L licked his lips. His voice came flat. “Why are you calling me? It's only incriminating you even further” His mouth pressed into a thin dashed line. “State your purpose.”
A chuckle crackled through the line, pressing against the walls of the room. “Purpose? Oh, L, you wound me. I’m calling because I missed you. Don’t you miss me?”
This time, his handler seemed to have gained a minuscule of his equanimity back.
“B,” Watari said evenly, though his tone carried a weight it hadn’t before. “You’ve made yourself very clear. This, whatever you’re doing, will end here.”
Before L could stop him, Beyond addressed Watari directly.
“Oh, will it?” He taunted, seemingly gleeful that Watari had intervened. “Of course you would think that, Quillish Wammy .”
The pair froze. Beyond had revealed his real name. It took all of L’s effort not to look over and see what Kira-Light reaction is. There is no amount of damage control to stop him from knowing.
He should have taken the threat of Beyond's Shinigami eyes seriously when he was a child. Of course he would remember all their names, even Wammy’s.
His horrid attention was now directly targeted at the man in question. “Did you think I forgot you?” Beyond sounded delighted. “The true founder of Wammy’s House. Collector of so many little orphans.
L’s eyes snap to Watari’s face, but he doesn’t speak.
“You never did like me, did you, old man? How precious. A and I didn't like you either.”
-Always keeping us away from each other. Always keeping me from Lawly. Always afraid I’d ruin your favorite toy.”
His voice goes stunted and poisonous. “Spoiler:” he sang. “I will.”
Watari remains still, rigid as a rafter. But his expression has gone stony. He looked dried up, puckered like a raisin. Pale in the sense that if L was told a Beyond was forcefully removing the blood from his veins, he would believe him.
To keep control, L used the only thing on his itinerary.
“Leave him out of this, Backup .” He knows the nickname will hurt. Like a knife slipping into the scarred cavern of an old wound.
B’s breath faltered immediately.
“Oh, you remember. ” It sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth, all while keeping a cheerful tone. “You remember how much that name hurt.”
“The name suits you.” L quipped harshly.
“You wound me, Lawly. But that’s alright. I’m used to being your dirty little secret. A backup is always needed. The copy can always surpass the original.”
His voice lilted into an eerie childish tone. “Afterall, backups are only created for one reason. For when the original breaks.”
“You’re rambling,” L said, his voice thin.
“No no, I’m remembering . There’s a difference. You used to like it when I talked too much. You said it helped you predict me.”
There is another rustle, and some vague movement. From the sound, L could guess Beyond was biting his lips to stop himself from chortling.
“But we both know the truth.”
Watari leaned slightly forward, voice barely a whisper, trembling. “L… don’t let him… don’t…”
L barely spared the man a glance anymore. It seemed Quillish was losing his composure.
But he hadn't lost his yet.
“Your tirade is getting tiresome.” L said, annoyed by B’s constant need to speak in riddles. “I will find out where you are. I won't play these juvenile games.”
“You already are.” Beyond insisted. L wondered if anyone else could see past his honey tone and hear the visceral hatred in his inflection. “You always did….Just like when I made you play back then.”
He knew what he was referencing. The games Beyond played with him and the other children at the Wammy house.
“You didn’t make me.”
Beyond snickered. “Didnt I?
L knew the question would be rhetorical before it left the others mouth.
“Tell me Lawly, who did? Quillish? The orphanage? God ?” He scoffed, like it was a ridiculous notion.
“But if you truly believe I never did….then let's test that theory.” B said. “Let's play a game.”
The air left his lungs. Evaporating from his throat.
“It's called hide and seek. Tell me where you are in Kyoto, and I won't start carving your name into Mello’s back. I think you know what letter it starts with.”
The muscles of L’s chest tightens around his ribcage, like a cobra. Like Satan as a snake in the garden of Eden. Constricting, coiling, cracking at his bones.
Everyone's jaws were set so tight, the tendons of their necks stood out. All of L’s aching muscles tightened automatically like a spring. Anticipation halting him from even twitching.
Beyond beings to count down.
“I’ll give you ten seconds, dear.”
The silence between Beyond’s sentences was worse than the words themselves. It was like the dead air was resurrected to be alive, shifting, tightening, and twisting of bodies ready to move, but with nowhere to go.
“Nine…”
L’s throat tightened. He could see Mogi's hand had left his pocket entirely, fingers spread wide against his forearm, as if trying to stop himself from reaching for the invisible holster of his nonexistent gun.
“Eight…”
Wedy, who still kept her arms crossed, had her nails digging into the leather of her jacket.
“Seven,” He continued, his voice soft now, almost coaxing.
Beyond had to be bluffing. He knew that. But that was before the fire. He was still, in L’s mind, classified as unpredictable.
“Six…. “
It was likely Beyond already knew where the headquarters were, judging by how he hacked into the security phone line, but…
“Five…”
Could Mello withstand the pain?
However, before Beyond’s jeering tune began to form the number four, he was interrupted, at possibly the worst moment.
“Ryuzaki” Light interjected, little more than a hiss, but it already was too loud.
“Don't tell him!”
The moment cracks like a frail broken bone.
“You can't let this man, whoever this is-” Light enunciated, surging forward. “Have the knowledge of your headquarters! It's too compromising.”
Ryuzaki . He said the name.
In front of Beyond.
L, for the first time since in a long time, purposefully squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace. He braced for the impact.
“ Ryuzaki ?” Beyond repeated over the phone. There was a click of static, along with an inhale of disbelief. “Did you just call him Ryuzaki?”
Light stared, mouth open and blinking like a deer caught in the headlight. Perhaps he realized his fundamental mistake. Perhaps he let the alias slip on purpose.
“Oh that's rich. You let them call you that? You took my alias?”
The chuckle started low, then cracked open into hacking laughter, perverse and wild.
“Enough.” L said, clipped. Beyond doesn't listen, he cackles for a long uncomfortable moment, his giggles turning into roaring howls.
When he calms down a second later, his voice is hoarse. “Using my name?” His reply is almost tender for a moment, which makes it infinitely worse. “How sentimental! So you have missed me!”
He couldn't miss the near invisible tightening around the Lights' eyes. L is careful not to let his chest rattle as he retorts, so it would sound absolutely controlled. To anyone but Beyond. Or Light.
“No. I don't." L’s stomach squirmed, empty with nothing but sugar that now left only a cloying taste in his mouth. “Don't get it twisted.
“Oh” He tuts. “Don't be ashamed I feel the same way." There was a wet low chuckle that unwillingly seeped through the speaker.
His voice dipped lower. "Don't worry.” He can but won't imagine Beyond licking the side of his mouth. “I’ll show you just how much I missed you. Very very soon.”
L’s breath hitched. Light blanches, the usual tan flush of his skin that the other usually lacked now evaporating of all color.
Beyond leans into the mic again, like he can crawl through it.
“I’ve got a new game, since you like to play hard-to-get.” He clapped his hands, commanding the room again. Playing it like a fiddle. “Say it, say you missed me.” His tone had turned oily; amused.
“-Or I’ll start leaving pieces of your successors at every train station from here to Nagano. Fingers. Nails. Teeth.”
L’s mouth tasted sour. “They’re children.”
He knows that it wouldn't deter him. He had seen the photos. From Beyond's second victim in LA. She was only thirteen. He had gouged out her eyes. Scooped out like fruit from a rind.
“So were we.” he can hear A’s voice say in his mind, still unchanging from the period his nose was clogged from snot. At the time, A had claimed it was the cause of a sinus infection rather than admit he had been crying for hours upon hours. “So were we”
“Don't make me force you to say it.” Beyond said, slightly irritated L’s now listless bout of muteness. “Mello’s esophagus is looking very cuttable right now.”
“You already said you wouldn't kill them.” L snapped.
“I lie,” Beyond answered smoothly. “You taught me that, remember?”
“Then clearly I taught you poorly.”
“Oh, don’t pretend it wasn’t deliberate,” Beyond sneered.
“Lying to them. Lying to yourself. Shall I enlighten your little task force? L stands for Liar? ” He sings, like a hymn, rising with a bubbling tremor.
“Should I tell them how early you started deceiving me?”
There was a tremor of glee in his voice, like the edge of a blade catching light. He knew he had everyone's attention, along with the one he craved the most, which was L’s.
“Tell them. Go on. Tell them how old you were, when you first started lying to me?”
“Tell me Light, from the moment you were born, has there ever been a moment where you have told the truth?”
He found himself to be a relapsing hypocrite.
The Taskforce, if they weren't already, shifted uncomfortably. He can see, in hindsight, them asking later what he meant by such a thing.
“What kind of child were you, Ryuzaki?” He imagined them saying. Matsuda would twitch uncomfortably as he spoke, Aizawa would be demanding, and Light would be upfront. “ What kind of filthy, fragrant little boy were you?”
“I see you still hold onto these childish grudges, Beyond.” L gritted. The attempt to humiliate him was slowly draining him bit by bit.
“Here you are, chiding me for being childish,” B murmured, laughter boiling up against the microphone. “Speaking of childhood, should I tell the good gentleman and gentlewoman to listen to all the things you did to me? Or should I tell them all the things I did to you?”
The muscle in L’s jaw writhed. If the taskforce weren't in the process of ratcheting with alarm, they certainly were now.
“This audience of yours must be frothing at the mouth, eager to know what makes the great L tick! Maybe I should let them in on your little bedtime stories. All the genius ways I made you stay awake.”
He knew Beyond was purposefully trying to make everyone uncomfortable, by misconstructing the truth. Trying to get under their skin, staring with the epidermis, nails digging into the dermis, and finally reaching the third layer, the hypodermis.
L, unable to chew on his thumb, bit into his tongue until he was sure it was going to bleed-
Beyond sarcasm twisted into a poor replica of pity. “Oh, don’t look so pale, Lawly. I’m just warming up.”
L tried not to let the words sink their claws into his flesh. Beyond must know the effect, which is why he progressed, cutting deeper.
“We've barely begun dear. Forget the games earlier. Afterall I already know you miss me, I don't need that sweet little trembling voice of yours to admit it. I can imitate it whenever I please.”
“And on the topic of where you are…” His voice turned low and smug. “I already know.”
There was a wheezing chorus of gasps from the taskforce behind him.
It must be a bluff L thought, though it didn't stop the pounding pulse in his wrist.
“Lets move onto what I’m really here for. You can guess. Go on” Beyond rifts, his voice imposing more weight on everyone in the room. Especially L. “I’ll let you try again.
His nails dug into the fiber of his navy jeans. L wont let this opportunity to gain the upper hand to slip past him.
“You're going to start looking for Kira.” L estimated cautiously, even though he knows with a hundred percent certainty that one of Beyond's main objectives is to get to Kira. He just knows that Beyond was delicate, like a bomb, and he would have to tread carefully.
A batter of silence. Then, “Start?”
“Oh, L. You still think you’re ahead of me. That’s adorable.”
L recoiled. Light had moved to the edge of the table, almost, but not quite beside him. His knuckles were almost purple from how hard he was gripping the table.
‘If I’m not already, then I will be.” L countered, unfaltering.
“Hm. If you say so.” Beyond said with a lopsided hum. “But here's a hint, angel. You will have to take a more….. hands-on approach in order to defeat me.”
L’s large eyes narrowed, the shadows deepening like tar pits.
“What do you mean?” he demanded, tone sharpening.
“I mean” he murmured, savouring every word. “You won't be able to avoid me this time” Beyond said, like he was reminding L of something he already knew.
His next words were more confronting than playful, as goosebumps rippled on everyone's skin, except for L.
“Was it cowardice that stopped you from visiting me in person? Hm? Was it cowardice, that made you recruit my poor Naomi to go to Los Angeles instead of you? You didn't even step foot in the city. Were you afraid I would climb through your window while you slept?”
“I never go to the scene of the crimes I solve.” L said, keeping his tone orderly. His spine, which was usually bent, stayed rigid.
“Oh, but when it came to Kira, you broke your own rule.” Beyond’s accused, inflection thickening into something honed. “You declared war publicly. You came to Japan yourself, where you knew the killer was.”
He can imagine Beyond shaking his head in disbelief. “I find that to be a grave insult.”
L’s pulse thrummed, but he let no change betray him. Of course Beyond would twist it into a personal slight. Of course he would see insults in L’s every move.
He must be insanely frustrated to find the man he revolved his entire world around was more invested in the Kira case then the one he personally tailored around him.
“When I heard such a thing back when I was in prison.” Beyond drawled. “ I thought that- no it couldn't be you. That's not my Lawly.”
His tone turned up a notch. “L putting himself in the line of danger?” He tutted.
“-Not very rational,” Beyond sing-songed. “Not very L.”
L felt a flicker of triumph at that. Not very L. Beyond didn’t know him as well as he thought. It meant there were cracks to exploit.
“So your goal is to find Kira, and defeat him?” L predicted carefully, steering the conversation so he could glean more information. “Or are you going to continue killing?”
“Why not both?” Beyond’s cheer turned manic. “If I beat Kira before the greatest detective, well, the detective won’t look very great anymore. And I’ve only killed two people. That’s practically saintly of me.”
“It's not.”
“Oh, but it is. Don’t you think I should triple that number? A love letter for each victim. Blood inked across the map from across Japan. All while I bring you and Kira to your knees. Or maybe just you…” He could practically hear Beyond’s lips cracking from smiling so widely.
“-Perhaps me and Kira have more in common than you think. Maybe I’ll join sides with him.”
“You wouldn't," L replied frigidly.
“Why wouldn't I?”
“You don't like to share.”
There was a sudden wavering, before Beyond made a noise that could resemble a snicker. It vibrated in his ears.
“Hm. True. But I have means to ends you haven't even conceived of yet. Don't worry, you will understand soon enough. The next body you find will make it very very clear.
“I won't let you kill again.” L stated flatly.
“You should be grateful.” Beyond hissed, “that your little successor isn’t the one on the slab tonight. They’re squirming as we speak.”
L grimaced, eyes flickering to Near, who was still motionless. As if catatonic. “You're sick.”
Beyond laughter exploded down the line. “Yes!” He shouted, back to being hysterical. “Yes I am! What does that make you? You're the one who made them successors. You're the one who took my name….
“-You're the one who kept pressing that lever.”
The words were like the sting of a scalpel. They slashed against his chest.. His hand flinched only once, recalling the note he tore up, the one only he and Beyond understood.
“Are you still pressing that lever?” It had said.
“Ohh, there it is. Did I reveal too much? Look at that. He's stopped talking again.” Beyond's words reverberated in everyone's skull. “Sweet, isn’t it? He knows how to play dead because of me. I taught him that trick.”
L’s lips remained sealed.
“But don't worry, after I’m done with you, you won't need to pretend to play dead. And I won't need to be Kira to kill you. Afterall, you've been rotting since Wammys. I’m just peeling back your skin.”
L’s hands, which had hovered, now clenched around the mic, fingers whitening against dark metal.
“You know I will stop you.” His voice was strained, but firm. “I’ve stopped you before, and I will do it again, Beyond.
“Ah-ah- ah .” the man chorused, like an out of tune nursery rhyme. “That’s not my name. Say it. ”
L frowned. He had already said his name?
Briefly confused, he forcefully moved his numb lips to snap back.
“I’ve already said it.” L retorted, words squeezing out of his gritted teeth.
What more could he want?
“No no, ” The younger proclaimed, laying his voice thick with sleekness. “My real name,” he demanded, his cadence fully indulgent.
The silence that followed was long and suffocating. Predictable. There was only inert static, a hole in the cushion of his brain where the answer should be. He couldn’t-he wouldn’t, understand.
When L said nothing, Beyond exhaled sharply, the sound jagged, ragged, and almost animal.
“Oh dear.” He crooned. “Not going to say it? Well then, I guess I have no choice but to give Mello and Matt a little break….for now.”
His voice tapered suddenly, enough that it felt like Beyond was actually putting a blade and pressing it to the soft part of his throat.
“-But don't think for a second I won't get you to say it. You will say my name. Not Backup , not B , not Beyond Birthday .”
The air around him cracked, as Beyond paused, tone hissing like he was being boiled alive.
“You will call me L. And when I find you, and yes, I will find you-
His words this time, cut down to the marrow of L’s bones.
-I’ll make you scream it.”
With that, the line cut off with a violent click.
Notes:
If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment. I'll confess, I save all your comments to a google doc and look at them when I need motivation to write. So they really mean alot!
Pages Navigation
EviesFinalSunset88 on Chapter 1 Thu 05 Dec 2024 03:59AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 1 Thu 05 Dec 2024 05:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
Sadge5 on Chapter 1 Fri 06 Dec 2024 05:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 1 Fri 06 Dec 2024 06:32AM UTC
Comment Actions
Am3thyst__11037 on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Dec 2024 03:37AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Dec 2024 05:55AM UTC
Comment Actions
Hertakel on Chapter 1 Wed 11 Dec 2024 03:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 1 Wed 11 Dec 2024 04:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
whitoknighto on Chapter 1 Sun 25 May 2025 11:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 1 Mon 26 May 2025 04:45AM UTC
Comment Actions
osxborn on Chapter 1 Sat 14 Jun 2025 12:07AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 1 Sat 14 Jun 2025 05:51AM UTC
Comment Actions
Haniette on Chapter 1 Sat 02 Aug 2025 07:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 1 Sun 03 Aug 2025 12:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
Am3thyst__11037 on Chapter 2 Fri 13 Dec 2024 08:07PM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 2 Sat 14 Dec 2024 12:43AM UTC
Comment Actions
EviesFinalSunset88 on Chapter 2 Sat 14 Dec 2024 01:49AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 2 Sat 14 Dec 2024 04:49AM UTC
Comment Actions
iliketulips on Chapter 2 Sat 14 Dec 2024 01:58PM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 2 Sat 14 Dec 2024 05:21PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mike_the_creator on Chapter 2 Sun 15 Dec 2024 09:44AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 2 Sun 15 Dec 2024 05:57PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mike_the_creator on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Dec 2024 10:11PM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 2 Mon 23 Dec 2024 09:59PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mike_the_creator on Chapter 2 Fri 27 Dec 2024 05:12AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 2 Fri 27 Dec 2024 06:51AM UTC
Comment Actions
AZZ_0909 on Chapter 2 Mon 03 Mar 2025 05:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 2 Mon 03 Mar 2025 10:19PM UTC
Comment Actions
Candyman (Guest) on Chapter 2 Fri 22 Aug 2025 04:44PM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 2 Fri 22 Aug 2025 08:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
Am3thyst__11037 on Chapter 3 Mon 23 Dec 2024 11:43PM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 3 Tue 24 Dec 2024 02:26AM UTC
Comment Actions
EviesFinalSunset88 on Chapter 3 Tue 24 Dec 2024 07:16AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 3 Tue 24 Dec 2024 08:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
Cranks88 on Chapter 3 Tue 24 Dec 2024 11:48AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 3 Tue 24 Dec 2024 07:16PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mike_the_creator on Chapter 3 Fri 27 Dec 2024 05:11AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 3 Fri 27 Dec 2024 06:52AM UTC
Comment Actions
Mike_the_creator on Chapter 3 Sat 28 Dec 2024 09:28AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 3 Sat 28 Dec 2024 09:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
Leafy_Lights on Chapter 3 Sat 28 Dec 2024 01:09PM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 3 Sat 28 Dec 2024 09:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
GardenOfElysium on Chapter 3 Wed 08 Jan 2025 10:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
SapphicKocho on Chapter 3 Thu 09 Jan 2025 05:46AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation