It was an overcast day, the winds whipping violently all around the tall hotel building. The thick, heavy clouds that kept the sun prisoner behind their chilly walls threatened to unleash hell as the temperature dropped steadily. The breath that had been exhaled fogged up a small bit of the glass pane. The pigeons all huddled together on some of the lower balconies, cooing softly to each other between the harsh gusts of wind. The birds knew what was coming in the ominous clouds, yet the people on the ground still bustled about ignorantly.
'What was it about people that let them continue on with their routines so blindly as to not notice imminent dangers? What let the human race push on so stupidly? How could the masses of people that flooded the streets below be so ignorant?'
He sat nearest the window, his toes curling absently around the seam-lip of the computer chair that he sat upon as he stared balefully down at the bustling crowd from his thirtieth floor window. Musing silently that the people beneath him in the street resembles ants and seemed to act just as mindlessly, he brought his cup to his lips once more before digressing into his work mindset. One sound jab at the thick glass with his foot was all that it took to get him back across the room to where his desk was. A newspaper was spread haphazardly across one of the few empty spaces, a plate of donuts creasing one corner roughly and a bar of taffy staining one page with a spot of red oil. The small television set in the room, although muted, had a blandly pretty woman babbling on about the same headlines as the paper no doubt.
'Kira, Kira, Kira, Kira…….'
He pushed the paper, one irritated shove causing the entire stack of articles along with the plate and taffy and one or more pencils into the waste bin that had been strategically set next to the cherry-wood desk. This case was trying on his patience, effectively tugging a scowl onto his normally emotionless features. It was eerily similar to playing chess with himself, as each movement had a blatantly visible counterattack, leaving him to wallow in his indecisiveness. Every step he contemplated taking, each action that he tried to plan….. He could easily see two or three likely moves that Kira would make in response. His necessary moves were decidedly the ones that Kira wouldn't be expecting; hence he needed to look for not the soundest plans, but the blind spots that every chess player overlooked during the adrenaline-charged games in favor of those which were proven effective.
He was torn from his internal rant by the startlingly obnoxious buzzing and ringing of his alarm clock, forever doomed to be reset without true meaning. As an insomniac, he didn't have a real need for such an intrusive device; he preferred to keep one around so as to mark the start of his façade each day. Each time it went of in the mornings signified that he needed to leave the safety of his chosen bedroom and immerse himself in the workplace of his chosen task force instead. Having been brought into awareness that it was in fact six o'clock in the morning, he hopped down out of his black computer chair and made his way over to the annoying little machine, stretching in a cat-like manner as he did so. Once he had mashed the correct little silver button atop the noisy alarm with his pointer and middle fingers, the silence in his room returned to the ringing beauty it had been before the outburst. He let his black-rimmed eyes drop shut as he twisted violently to the right side, the string of cracking pops that followed giving the desired effect on his sore back. He opened his eyes, heading towards his closet as the next stop in his own self-created daily routine.
'Raito has been bothering me lately to go and purchase new additions to my wardrobe, although I cannot see why. My clothes have always been enough to get me by in the investigation. There is absolutely nothing wrong with blue jeans and a plain white T shirt.'
He shed his shirt, opting to take the moment to twist quickly to the left, meriting another set of cracks and pops, before slipping the clean white shirt on and tossing his other one into the laundry hamper. He quickly undid the button on his pants and let them fall to the floor, running a hand through his hair as he kicked them off and used his foot to throw them into the laundry basket alongside his shirt. He adjusted the elastic band of his black cotton boxers before grabbing a freshly folded pair off of the shelf before him and pulling them on one leg at a time.
When he exited the cream-colored closet and reentered the white room, he went and climbed onto his bed, on top of his steel colored plush throw that never got any use. His pillows, in their grey and black shammed glory, bounced lightly and were jostled as he got comfortable in his sitting style of choice. He began to chew on and pick at his thumb nail with abandon as his mind drifted to his task force, no doubt on their way through the busy streets below to make their way into his exclusive building.
'Yagami, Mogi, Aizawa, Matsuda, Ukita, and Ide. Not to mention the other Yagami...'
Raito had been aiding the investigation team for quite a long time now, and L could catch each double-meaning in his words, and saw each similarity between Raito and himself. It unnerved him how similarly they thought, and because of the way Kira seemed to see each of his movements with the clarity of someone who was anticipating such an action, it only made sense that Raito was indeed Kira. All of the facts thus far had underlying signs that indicated his role as such. Each turn of the investigation had vaguely pointed to him, and L doubted that there was another individual in all of Japan who was on the same level of intelligence that housed Raito and himself. Despite the fact that Raito had thoroughly convinced the rest of the team of his innocence, L decided that it didn't matter what they thought so long as he himself could see the true Raito.
'Yes, I can see through his warm and congenial front to the cold, calculating murderer beneath. His god-complex is simply flagrant in its existence.'
He was torn from his reverie by a sharp rap on his plain white door. He maneuvered to the edge of the bed and allowed himself a moment of lowered reasoning skill by sliding down onto the edge into a normal state of sitting. Scratching the top of his foot with the other in the pair, he nodded towards the door, regardless of the fact that Watari could not see through it. He rolled his head, stretching his neck and popping it, before he spoke.
"Yes, come in Watari."
He heard the door jam working and heard the creak of the door sliding into its tract and back into the designated place in the wall as his elderly friend entered, his gray-covered head bowed slightly in courtesy whilst he shuffled quickly into the room. In his hands was a small tray, made of ornately wrought iron that held a striking resemblance to the dinner set from the Whammy House, filled with a cup if tea, sugar pot, plate of crepes with strawberries, a small bowl of Lindt and Sprüngli Truffles and a smaller plate of marshmallows of different flavors and colors. He allowed a small smile to creep onto his face as his friend slid the door closed and set the tray on his desk where the newspaper had been.
"Good Morning Ryuuzaki, I took the liberty of bringing you breakfast. Today is your scheduled restocking day. Would you like me to go down to the sweets shop or should I send young Matsuda?"
He stood, walking over to the old man and laying a hand on his shoulder in appraisal before resuming his normal seat in his computer chair with his normal style before picking at the tray before him with muted interest. Watari waited calmly and patiently for an answer, having already become accustomed to L's particular quirks and habits. His gently wrinkled face had its trademark smile on it, the one that he always had when in L's presence. His suit was gray pinstripe today and his white gloved hands were folded neatly in front of him, at the same height as the pocket in which his watch chain was kept, the thin gold chain drooping out and leading up to the pocket where the watch itself was.
"I think that I will accompany you to the shop."
Watari paused, struck with just a faint surprise, before nodding promptly and making his way back out of the door. Before he slid it shut yet again, he spoke softly, his mustache moving with his lips.
"When should we leave? Perhaps in a half hour?"
He nodded silently, a small spoonful of crepe at his lips. Eating quickly, he watched Watari close the door again, and let his gaze become unfocused on the white wall before him. He decided that today was going to be a good day, weather permitting or not. So, as he ate and listened to the commotion a single floor down, he let his gaze drift down to where the secret drawer was in his desk. It was a tiny thing, but it served its purpose well and that was all that mattered, like with his wardrobe. His hand, more on its own accord than by voluntary command, drifted to it and opened it easily. His fingers were gentle, cautious as he pulled the worn and delicate picture out of its hiding place. Pulling the little picture up to eye level, he used his other hand to give himself another bite of sugary crepe.
God, how he missed her.
So, hello again faithful readers and newly found visitors. Tell me if this is starting out as total shit!
First I must apologize for the lack of updates to all of my other stories. Please review this new story!
Second, I must translate the titles for all of you.
(Cyrillic Russian) А Вчера Было Солнце : (Romanization) A Vchera Bylo Solntse : It Was Sunny Yesterday
(Cyrillic Russian) Дождь : (Romanization) Dozhd' : The Rain
