Summary: [AU L Lawliet was just another run-of-the-mill detective working for next month's salary. With extremely righteous and strong opinions, he finds himself trapped in a mediocre world. When from out of nowhere a black notebook labeled "Death Note" dropped to the ground, picking it up will change everything.
Reversed
L Lawliet just sat there with his legs to his chest, spinning the revolving chair around in circles with his hands. He stopped the spinning by placing one foot off the chair, facing away from his desk. And that annoying case that lay upon it. (But the chocolates that sat beside it were delicious.) Stubbornly refusing to meet with the manila of the folder, he stared at the wall even though his backside faced the desk.
He was a great detective, better than most. However, he didn't want fame too badly, he didn't flaunt himself obviously, and he was taught (by his adoptive father) not to be picky about who gave the results of a case he solved himself. That usually made sweets turn sour, to know that an idiot might be presenting his reasoning to the court instead of himself. L wasn't like that famous detective "L" (now, isn't this ironic), who was known to pick only cases of his (her?) own interest. Instead Lawliet did any case presented to him, which was the reason of his current frustration.
His office was just one of the many that littered the headquarters, standard size, standard color, just not a standard look. The floors littered in candy wrappers and what not, a tea set in the corner, and a portable hot water boiler, which is the only appliance he really bought since coming. The gray walls were covered in large white paper and marker scribbles. Illegible to all but Lawliet himself. Those were records of past cases, interesting past cases. He had brought them here from England.
Thinking of his homeland, he couldn't help cracking a reluctant smile, which quickly turned into a childish frown. Japan was boring. (Even though they had a large variety of those strawberry pastries that he loved so much in different shapes!) Why Wammy decided to send him here was a question all in itself. Even L Lawliet, being the genius he is, couldn't even begin to comprehend the reason why his director, chief, adoptive father, whatever, thought that he needed a break.
The English Police Department had cases of interest, and was in charge of some of the largest international cases there are! He'd rather be in America than in Japan. At least in America none of the superiors had a problem with him wearing jeans. Here, if he just wore casual slacks the chief growled about how foreigners were "not formal" and "sugar addicts."
Sugar was something to keep his mind alert, not just an extraneous enjoyment of the tongue. However because of this, he was unable to sleep at night. He wasn't really all that healthy…looking at least. The dark bags under his eyes were the result of years of his sleeping disorder, and his back was hunched over due to his unusual sitting posture. Now at the age of twenty-five, his sweet tooth, posture, and unearthly sleeping patterns were engraved into his mind, unable to be changed. Worse than smoking, his sweets were.
The cause of these abnormalities, as he put it, was because of the crime rates going up, up and, up. It was unsettling. He captured one serial murder only to have another one spring up in its place. It was a never-ending cycle of criminals and victims. He worked without rest to capture as many as he could, worked on sugar only to capture those who commit appalling crimes, only for them to live while taking the lives of others.
Criminals live in jails supported by the citizen's tax money, they eat, wear, and use thing bought with the money of hard working citizens. Yet all they do is sit around and supposedly 'repent' for their actions. As a detective himself, he never knew what happened to criminals that he caught, only that they were supposed to be punished.
He always believed in the system of law and how justice prevails. He never second-guessed justice. Ironically, it was here in Japan that he found out. L was given the password to check cases and whatnot, which meant also the dealings of these criminals. He was surprised, no, dumbfounded at the sentences of some of the most ruthless killers.
Those that deserved the death penalty often never crossed to the other side. They lived. Some criminals were released due to lack of sufficient evidence since the proof was too indirect. Some lived because of good lawyers, who twisted every piece of evidence until you couldn't understand yourself what you were trying to say. Some lived because of luck. Sheer. Dumb. Luck. It was ironic that it was also because of 'sheer dumb luck' that he found out all this.
Lawliet grimaced at his trail of thought. It always led to one conclusion.
This world is imperfect, ugly. Yet I can't do anything about it.
He never voiced his insecurity, instead he tried to swallow it with whatever sweets he was eating. The only one who even knew a shard of his thoughts was Wammy. His adoptive father. At these times, he always expected the old man to come in with a piece of his favorite strawberry cake or a cup of hot chocolate. A comforting gesture and a momentary distraction.
However that man was an Asia away. Too far away to bring cake to him. Too far away to talk with him and reassure him of his basic principles. Before, there had always been that someone who would talk to him and urge him to stay on track. Here in Japan, weird, disgusted, or even frightened gazes were all he got.
A 3 percent chance of someone coming up to him to talk.
No one to talk to, the utmost boring place in the world.
In this crime-ridden world, 85 percent and the numbers are still rising.
He stood up, slouching, and walked toward the only window in his office. His hand plucked one of the chocolate candies on his desk before removing the wrapper and plopped it in his mouth. The window's view was a lot less interesting than the flavor in his mouth. Cars passed quite often, but people were scarce. After all, the thirty story police headquarters did have some intimidating features with the words "Headquarters" in large letter on the plaque in front of the building. L stared into the sun even though he knew it was bad for his eyes, however at the moment he cared less.
A shadow passed his face before the blinding light was back. He looked down in interest. A black notebook fell with a supposed 'flop' on the grass in front of the building. It wasn't everyday that a notebook drops down from nowhere.
"L-san, the Chief is looking for you," a hesitant voice quivered after a delayed knock.
L recognized the voice as one of the police force, what was his name?
"Thank you, Matsuda-san."
Ack, the chocolate was bitter at the center.
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L slouched his way out of the conference room. Two whole hours of propitiating the superiors really did a score on one's brain cells. Maybe that was the reason why he walked down to the front in search of a black notebook. He found it with ease; after all, there were only few places to look on green grass for a black notebook.
"Death Note," Lawliet read aloud. He stared apprehensively. It was probably a chain letter or a prank from some local kid in the neighborhood. But…
L looked around before carefully opening the book, holding the pages with his thumb and forefinger, just in case there was some toxic substance on the pages. There were rules on the inside of the cover written in white (ink?) in English. The font looked like some third grader's scratch, only more morbid, almost evil. Coming from the United Kingdoms, he took in the rules faster than drinking tea. It was definitely not some kid's prank. No mere child would go so far as to write this many rules and regulations on a prank.
The human whose name is written in this note shall die.
Lawliet's dark eyes narrowed. If it…no, there was no contraption on Earth that allowed a person to kill, no, to die just because his name was written in a notebook. L pinched himself hard. He wasn't going to murder someone just to find out if this elaborately planned prank was-but wait, L wondered if he was sure it was a prank, then no one would die so there should be no problem in…trying?
Once again holding the book with his thumb and forefinger, he stuck it out in front of him trying to keep a distance until he got into the building. He was not giving the chief another thing to complain about his mannerisms. Holding it close, his arm concealing the white words of 'Death Note.' Greeting two or three more people along the way (Mogi-san, Aizawa-san, and did he see Matsuda again?), he managed to get back into his office with relatively no confrontations.
Lawliet sighed, he sounded like a criminal trying to act unsuspicious in a police department. Which was almost it.
He turned the mini TV on. It was a 67 percent of people who would knock before entering seeing that he was watching something. There was nothing interesting on, so he settled with the default channel, the news. Some reports of a murderer who was keeping hostages inside a kindergarten, something the police would probably settle in the next four hours.
Turning his attention on the little black book, there were three things that were suspicious about this book. Firstly was the white ink. The white lettering of the book was not white out, L decided after two minutes of trying to scrape the white lettering off, the words didn't even chip. Second, the book seemed to be like a tissue box with never ending pages. L accidentally ripped a page out, but the note seemed as thick as ever. He counted the pages, 25, and ripped another few pages out from random spots before counting the pages again. Twenty-five.
Lastly, one that unnerved L out the most: the rules. It was like this notebook was designed for some higher power, definitely not humans. If he turned in the notebook and it was tested to be true, then the whole world would go into chaos. Whichever country had this notebook would rule, while the others hide in fear of being killed. This world would be dictated if it fell into the wrong hands.
No.
He would not let that happen. This world was crime ridden in the first place. If a single country got their hands on this notebook then—woah, Lawliet, back it up, L thought to himself. It was a tendency to over think problems, but he wasn't even sure if this one was true. He needed to try it out. Discreetly.
Truthfully, he was supposed to turn this in and let the government handle it. However, in who's hands would they keep the notebook and not use it for their own purposes? Even 'L' would probably use it to kill off criminals.
Criminals. That's it!
He turned quickly toward the TV. A crowd stood watching the large building as police and special force teams were trying to keep everyone at a distance. The reporter's voice came in statically as the broadcast was coming in live. A picture and a name were provided at the police's consent… L looked down at the black notebook lying innocently atop the horrid manila folder that he was avoiding. Unaware, he plucked a pen out of the penholder and opened the notebook to a fresh page.
He was about to mark the white page when he stopped. This was ridiculous. How could a notebook kill someone? L set his pen down and chewed on his thumb—another bad habit he never was able to break since childhood.
Kuro Otoharada. The temptation was too great. The name and picture were right there. This man was holding hostages at a nursery. He could get a death sentence depending on if he kills anyone. There wasn't a guarantee the man wouldn't. Wouldn't getting the hostages out safely be first priority? Should he risk the chance of waiting and one of the lives in that nursery? There was a 34 chance of the man just waiting as well, but he's taught himself to expect the unpredictable.
His last case in Los Angeles would have gone to shambles if it weren't for him sacrificing the hostage. It caused the only one who talked to him to turn her back on him, but he managed to find the criminal. Even if "L" got all the credit. That was a story for another time. Now, it was to write a name or not to write a name.
If he thought the hostage situation was hard to handle, this decision was practically killing him. Then suddenly, he thought of something. L didn't know if this was a stroke of genius or a heatstroke.
He took the pen again and scribbled "Kuro Otoharada" on the unblemished paper. He watched in fascination as the ink seemed to sink into the white paper effortlessly. The name was written. Now all was to time.
40…
39…
What if the man really did die?
20…
19…
Would that make him a murderer?
8…
7…
L bit his lip and watched the news for any sign of change.
1…
0…
Nothing. Nothing happened. L released a breath that he didn't know he was holding. This notebook was a fake, well obviously…
"The hostages are coming out!" the reported exclaimed as shouts of relief from the background commenced. The police rushed into the building on the pixels of the TV.
No way…"It seems that he died! Hostages said that he suddenly grab his heart and fell to the floor…speculations are that he suffered a heart attack. Only after the autopsy can we confirm the cause of his death…"
However, at this point L was no longer listening. The Death Note was the real thing.
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If the cause of death is not specified, the subject will simply die of a heart attack.
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A/N: Woah, my first Death Note fanfic. Here you go people! I may or may not continue this, so don't be disappointed if it ends right here.
I've always thought how cool it would be if they were switched. Since L and Raito are such different people, how would they react to different situations? If I have time, I'll continue L's purge of the world. Same Kira just without a God-complex. Maybe he'll have an inferior complex. Well that's my two cents for the Death Note fandom! I'll see if I can continue this or not!
Read and Review, because if you don't, I'll get Kira to get rid of you! (in the distance you hear maniacal laughter)