Hey everyone! I've been working on this story for a while, as in around or before I even started Tropical Torment, and now I finally found the time and inspiration to finish it.
I'm rather sad to say that my heart probably wasn't in it for the final stretch. It came to me around the first time I read Another Note, and then months if not years later, I kind of read Another Note again and my perception of Beyond Birthday and Naomi Misora wasn't quite the same as it was when I began this story, so I had to finish it in a different mind-state. In that sense, I apologize if it is inconsistent or rather choppy or drawn out... I don't think this is my best work, but I kind of figured that, if anyone views Beyond and Naomi the way I used to and partially still do, then perhaps they would find some entertainment and enjoyment in this fanfic.
I'm not really looking for criticism, though I guess I'm open to it. I more or less just wanted to finish this and get it out there for however many people may or may not enjoy it. Thanks for reading.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or Beyond Birthday or Naomi Misora or Death Note: Another Note. Those belong to Takeshi Obata and Tsugumi Ohba and Nisio Isin and all of their publishers and such.
Here we go.
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Beyond Distracting
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Beyond Birthday, known to her as Ryuzaki, watched Naomi Misora exit Backyard Bottomslash's room and close the door wordlessly behind her. She required a bit of alone time and refreshment, heading down to the kitchen on the first floor to get him the coffee he had asked for. He wondered absently if she would put in an acceptable amount of sugar in his cup as he stood, slouched, in the center of the room, his pale thumb pressed to his lips. His ragged, raven-hued hair hung limply in front of his depthless black eyes, the eyes that saw the name of any person he saw and their remaining life span floating hauntingly above their heads, the eyes of the shinigami that he'd had beyond his birth, hence his name.
Little did Naomi Misora know that the serial killer she was trying to catch was standing in the room she'd left behind her, at the scene of his own crime. He laughed quietly to himself, a very disturbing and unsettling sound, a sort of hehn henh henh at the back of his throat as he turned and glanced at the floor behind him. It still showed vague, faded remnants of the blood he had spilled a few weeks ago, when he'd removed the woman's left arm and right leg. Yes, it was all coming together now…
The clue was set, and Misora would return soon to solve it, one way or another, with or without his help. They would get to the fourth location, where the final "murder" would take place, and as long as she didn't figure out the locked-room trick, his task was completed – his predecessor, the century's greatest detective, L was defeated. L was defeated. The thought twisted his pale lips into a cruel, maniacal smile. L was the one that made him a copy, made it so he couldn't be L while L still existed, and L was the one that would lose. It was almost assured at this point.
Beyond slowly bit his thumb nail and took a crooked step or two, standing exactly where he'd laid Backyard Bottomslash's mutilated corpse, baring his teeth into another gleeful smile, even wider than before. He would create a case that that brilliant genius L could not solve, whatever it took. He dropped to the floor in an awkward heap, spreading himself out and shifting slightly so that he exactly mimicked the position of his third victim. Yes, he could already hear Naomi Misora making her way up the stairs and heading down the hall to the room he was in.
She was a worthy pawn of L, a good set of his ears, eyes, hands, and feet. She'd survived the attack Beyond had orchestrated in the alleyway and, though he often had to drop a few hints concerning the solving of his carefully constructed clues pertaining to his next murder, she showed an impressive use of deductive reasoning skills. She was an excellent FBI agent, without a doubt.
He smiled at the thought of her, though it was unclear exactly what emotions he was experiencing with her on his mind. His face cleared of any and all expression when he heard her stop just outside the door, fumble slightly with what was most likely a metal tray containing their cups of coffee as she managed to turn the handle, and then freeze in the doorway when she caught sight of him.
"Find…something?" she asked, her tone rather hesitant despite her curiosity. Beyond remained silent, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the faint sound of her breathing.
"Um, Ryuzaki?" she continued after a moment or two.
"I'm a corpse," he responded simply, blinking his large, shadowed black eyes as he fought to restrain a smile. Her responses to his admittedly bizarre behavior caused him great amusement, but he often refrained from letting on that he even took notice of her humorous responses.
"Hunh?" she questioned, not understanding his explanation.
"I have become a corpse. I cannot answer. I am dead," he evaluated further, concentrating on the feel of the floor hard against his back, cool even through his plain white shirt. He thought about what it would be like to be dead – or at least to know when he would die. The thought often vexed him, seeing as he could see everyone else's death days aside from his own…and that of the world. Misora hadn't made a sound for a minute or two, obviously thinking either about how to respond to his "death" or something else entirely, the next move on her part. Perhaps he was in her way, a thought that was only briefly interesting to him, because it was then that she made another attempt at coherent speech.
"…Um…mm?" And then she paused again, but it was a different kind of silence. It was one he recognized well, a thinking silence, a deducing silence… She'd noticed something, and he was immensely curious to know what it was. He carefully glanced at her out of the bottom corners of his eyes, his hair partially hiding his gaze to prevent it from being obvious that he was looking at her. She was staring intently at the wall behind him, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration. Her sharp eyes, a fascinating shade of grayish blue, gleamed in their sockets as her mind hurtled down some thought process that he wasn't entirely certain of.
Her pale lips were slightly parted in thought, her silken black hair framing her face and obscuring her forehead with its dark, feathery strands. He'd told her once that she was quite beautiful (and that she should present herself accordingly instead of spitting sugary coffee out upon tasting it,) and that hadn't been a lie. She was honestly very pretty, something he took rare moments to actually notice when he was waiting for the proper opportunities to lead her down the path that would help him surpass L.
Her lithe yet strong body was often encased in black leather, an appealing material in and of itself, her jacket always capturing the light and making it glimmer across her feminine curves. Her legs, toned by her practice of Capoeira and her consistent indulgence in tasks that required running, kicking, and other means of lower-limb movement, were highlighted by a usual set of form-fitting, faded denim jeans.
She often wore leather boots that made her feet even deadlier weapons and also gave her an unnecessary height boost, seeing as she was already quite tall. His eyes slowly traced the curve of her strong shoulders, moving down her shapely hourglass figure, following the firm undulations of her hips, and trailing down her powerful legs, before a question she murmured to herself made his thought process return to much more important matters.
"The mark left by the Wara Ningyo?"
Damn – the Wara Ningyo were partially involved in the locked-room trick, the one detail that could make or break the final commencing of his plans. She could have been noting something unimportant concerning them, but he couldn't let her get too far with their true purpose in his murders. They were meant to make murders look like suicides, and to shield the fact that the last "murder" would be suicide, so he could not afford to let her learn the trick before it was too late… He watched her closely as her eyes widened and she began to move toward him, still gazing above him with the coffee tray in her hands.
"Excuse me, Ryuzaki!" she muttered rather distractedly in one quick breath, pushing herself off of the floor with the intent of jumping clean over him. His eyes widened when he realized that she hadn't jumped far enough – and her boots landed squarely upon his stomach.
"Gah!" he groaned, unable to help himself as pain spread throughout his abdomen and surprise colored his supposed-to-be-corpselike expression.
"S-sorry," she murmured quickly and apologetically, moving off of him and placing the coffee tray on the table, taking a few steps away from both. She hadn't spilled a single drop, he noted with vague interest as she picked up the police file and began reading through it.
"What is it, Misora?" Beyond asked curiously of her, attentively taking in each and every detail of her countenance and behavior, carefully putting together the indicators of what she was thinking about. He rolled over and crawled across the floor toward her, rising to his feet beside her, standing not uncomfortably close.
"I'm looking over the charts of the crime scenes. In each of them…I noticed the same thing. About the locations of the Wara Ningyo." Beyond's eyes darkened slightly, though Naomi was too busy reading through the files to notice it.
"The locations? What do you mean?" he asked curiously, probing her inner findings further.
"When we investigated the scenes, the police had already taken the dolls away, so I never noticed before...but there is a noticeable trend in the placement of the dolls. This scene included – when you open the door to enter the room, the first thing you see is the doll. There is a doll directly opposite the door – The killer arranged it so that when you come into the room, the first thing that catches your eye is a Wara Ningyo." He listened to her as she evaluated further, her gleaming eyes still focused on the folder she held, and he wondered exactly where her thoughts were taking her. His fingers had begun to stiffen within the depths of his pants pockets.
"Oh yea…" he murmured, nodding as if he'd just realized the consistencies in the placement of the dolls as well, "That's certainly true for this room, and now that you mention it, I remember seeing the hole in the wall when I went into the first and second rooms as well. But Misora, what does that mean?" his question was simple but secretly vital. Her response was very important, and he waited with well-hidden but restrained anxiety for it.
"Er…um…" her uncertain reply was reassuring to him, revealing that her thoughts hadn't taken her too far. She seemed to be running through the remnants of her thought process, attempting to muster a convincing reason to support her earlier observation.
"Well…it might have something to do with the locked rooms?" she muttered without stunning confidence, her dark hair shielding her eyes from his as she thought. Perhaps he'd brushed off her reasoning skills too soon… She'd returned to the dreadfully important factor in his plans.
"How so?" he asked, keeping his emotions in check as he waited for her response, absently noticing a rather pleasant smell that he was close enough to her to receive. It was a natural, womanly scent that he'd rarely smelled before, seeing as he was rarely so close to women that he wasn't killing.
"At all three scenes, the person who discovered the body opened the door and came in. Using a spare key or breaking the door down. They all came into the room…and saw that creepy doll on the wall. The Wara Ningyo was the first thing they saw. No matter what, their attention was drawn to it. Maybe while their attention was distracted, the killer, who'd been hiding in the room, slipped quietly out the door…" Naomi Misora's tone had gained confidence, her mind working with much more certainty than before – and again, concerning the locked rooms. He had to be careful.
"As classic a locked room detective novel trick as the needle and thread. But Misora, think about it. If you wanted to focus someone's attention, you wouldn't need the doll," he informed her with certainty, watching her lifter her head and look at him directly in response to his words.
"Why not?" she questioned, her blue grey eyes penetrating his as she waited for his answer.
"If there was no doll, then the first thing they would see is a dead body. Just like you froze when you came into the room and saw my corpse. All he had to do was slip out of the room when someone came in and was staring in shock at the body," he evaluated smoothly, glancing down at the spot where he had been sprawled upon the floor, where Backyard Bottomslash had bled so meaningfully…
"Ah…right. Of course. So…did he want the person who found the body to see something besides the body first? I can't think of any reason why, but…" Ah yes, there – she was beginning to drop the Wara Ningyo issue. He just had to play upon her uncertainty.
"Neither can I," he agreed with her, watching the glimmer of a speeding train of thought steadily begin to seep out of her lively gaze. He was succeeding in making her believe the Wara Ningyo were unimportant, when, in and of themselves, they weren't – it was the long nails within them that were key.
"If he didn't want them to notice the body at all, I would understand, but what could he gain from arranging it so they didn't notice the body for a second or two? But in that case, why put a Wara Ningyo there? Is the placement just a coincidence?" she asked, turning away for a moment before turning back to him, awaiting an answer.
"No, I'm sure it was deliberate. It makes no sense to dismiss it as coincidental. But approaching it from this perspective doesn't strike me as very effective. Like I said before, rather than focusing on the Wara Ningyo and the locked room, I would prefer…I think we should concentrate on figuring out the message the killer left behind," he replied, watching her carefully as he'd planted one of the final seeds of discouragement concerning the locked rooms, hoping it grew into a lengthy vine of slithering doubt.
"But, Ryuzaki…no, you're right." Her eyes had glinted briefly as a desire to argue had run her through, but it had faded. His deceitful weed was growing, and hopefully, it would never wither enough for her to figure out the locked-room aspect of his brilliant plan. Of course he was right – and he fought back a smile.
"Sorry. I was wasting valuable time." Her tone was dejected, but he thought of a way to brush it off and continue on, rerouting her thoughts to help him set up the next stage of his plan – after a slight digression, of course.
"I would rather you apologize for stepping on me, Misora," he murmured truthfully to her, slightly enjoying the melancholy shadow in her eyes when her deductions produced no fruit – at least without his allowance. She was a very fascinating individual, intelligent and intuitive, yet mysterious to him. She did not always share what she was thinking or clearly portray her emotions, and yet she was quite skilled in deciphering the behavioral and vocal clues that others provided her with. Fascinating.
"Oh, right, of course," she murmured to him, as if she hadn't quite been expecting such a request.
"You mean it? Then as a token of your contrition, would you do something for me?" he asked, his black eyes probing her face as he fought back his amusement at her hesitance toward his vague question.
"…Okay…" she agreed without a hint of eagerness, obviously not enjoying the uncertainty as to what exactly he would ask, "What?"
"Would you pretend to be dead, Misora? Like I was a moment ago. The victim, Backyard Bottomslash, was a woman, so you might provide more inspiration than I did."
She simply stared at him for a moment, her pale eyes rather disbelieving, also indignant and slightly irked. It was a terribly amusing expression on her face, one that he'd seen often when he'd made other such bizarre requests that worked around plans that she could only hope to be aware of. Yes, she was a woman…
That was clearly depicted by her smooth, sinuous movements as she resigned to his wishes and lowered herself to the floor, lying just about in the location where Backyard Bottomslash had laid only days before, her strong, sculpted arms and legs stretched out in an approximation of the same position. She was a little off, but still… His dark eyes glimmered with heat, slightly surprising even to him. Something about her lying on the floor, in a similar fashion to a woman he'd killed earlier, after he'd asked her to was oddly stirring to him. He felt hungry, but not for jam…
"…So? Anything?" he asked her, finding his voice after he'd shaken off his emotions, blinking curiously at her with his depthless black eyes.
"No, not at all," she replied, her voice slightly stiff with her irritation and lack of understanding.
"Oh. Yeah, I thought not," he murmured, glancing at her again. The pale pools of light rippled on the surface of her leather jacket as she breathed, her raven-colored hair sprawled out in a tangled heap around her head, her pale blue grey eyes staring straight up, flaming subtly with her discontentment. He moved to one of the nearby chairs, sitting in his preferred crouched position with his knees up to his chest, still staring at her. He pointed out how her coffee was getting cold, as he gulped his down thoughtlessly. It didn't have enough sugar, certainly not enough, but he saw no sense in complaining at that point. After all, he was still a little distracted with the sight of Misora lying before him on the floor.
"Whew…hot coffee helps the pain in my belly," he murmured, partially to himself, partially to see the slight agitation in her eyes when she realized he wasn't letting it go. He stifled a smile as he set his cup down. His stomach was feeling better after all…
"Ryuzaki…was this the same as the first victim? After she died, he took the clothes off, then cut off the arm and leg, then put the clothes back on?" Her question was almost purely related to the crime scene, though he couldn't help but imagine a scenario of his own: Misora lying silent upon the floor, her pale eyes wide and staring, her soft lips parted, revealing her white teeth as blood welled within her mouth and pooled around her from the multiple, vicious wounds he'd created in her abdomen, his knife gleaming red as the eyes of a shinigami as he carefully unzipped her blood-spattered leather jacket to better get at her muscular yet limp arms, revealing more and more of her cold, bare, unfeeling skin…
"Yes. What of it?" he asked her smoothly, blinking his deep black eyes as he felt a strange warmth flicker across the surface as his lips as his blood began to pulse faster. He licked them. He thought of getting a jar of jam, just to see if it would satisfy this new, alien hunger like it had satisfied so many others. He'd imagined killing her multiple times in the past, but something about this particular scenario was different.
So very curious…
As he stared at her, he noted a slight furrowing in her brow once again and wondered where her thoughts were taking her, what mental paths she was curiously traveling down. She was still lying upon the floor, breathing slightly slower now, as if it actually was inspiring her current train of thought and was properly distracting her from any sort of indignation or irritation. She had once again entered a zone of deduction, and he didn't look away from her.
"Now, I know it's easier to cut up a body without the clothes getting in the way. Clothes are pretty sturdy, really. They get tangled up on the blade. But once he has the clothes off, why does he put them back on? Why not leave his victims naked?" she continued, unaware of the thoughts going through his mind, still surprising to him.
"Hmm…" was all he was able to murmur, quite distracted. He should've been able to focus better than this – he took pride in his impeccable focus. He was an aggressive top, unsubmissive and unflinching. He wasn't sure why her words were getting so twisted, seeing as he expected it was unintentional, but still…
She certainly knew her way around corpse mutilation. Perhaps they had something in common besides their intelligence concerning the solving and committing of crimes and their involvement in the current murder case. She was quite correct in noting how clothes got in the way – they certainly did, preventing the flesh and blood underneath from being reached. A blade would certainly be useful for removing clothing, especially stubborn leather and sturdy denim…
Why put them back on? Why put them back on at all? He slowly bit his thumb nail as he began to imagine how the blade would feel in his hands, how the slight tug of resistance would be hardly problematic as he sliced through her clothing, how her pale skin, no doubt soft and warm, would be revealed…
Such a lovely naked victim…
Warmth rushed through him, making his hair bristle slightly with surprise. He'd rarely had such thoughts before, certainly not of this magnitude of vividness and tangibility. Was it simply the situation that was evoking them? Or had they been there all along and only needed a sadistically erotic catalyst to awaken fully?
"Ryuzaki, are you okay?" she asked curiously of him, noticing his stiffened posture with his hand tightly gripping his knee. He looked at her in response, smiling rather creepily around his thumb.
"I'm perfectly fine, Misora," he murmured to her in a surprisingly nonchalant manner, severely out of context with his previous smile, his voice slightly distorted by his finger pressed firmly against his pale lips. Her expression became one of slight disturbance, her brow furrowing as if she couldn't even think of questioning his behavior at that point, her gaze returning to the ceiling as she attempted to regain the fragments of her previous thought process. Beyond Birthday bit his thumb nail again and again, listening to the quiet grinding sound as he watched Naomi Misora think on the floor.
He wondered how long it would be until she put together that it was key that Backyard Bottomslash's clothing had been put back on, despite how difficult redressing a corpse was, to show that the importance was in what was left of her rather than what had been taken. The fact that she'd worn a watch on her left wrist was only important in indicating that a time-keeping device was important, thus leading to the realization that the victim herself had been arranged within the room to be the hands of a clock pointing at 6:15 and 50 seconds. So far, she was on the right track – perhaps he wouldn't have to help her at all with this one, though it was one of his trickier clues. At least he thought so.
Seeing as she had somewhat confirmed that Beyond was as "fine" as he could possibly be, Misora continued to voice her thoughts aloud, continuing along the same path, the one that, if she made the right connections, would almost certainly take her directly to the answer. He waited, his dark eyes attentive.
"With the first victim, putting the shirt back on hid the cuts on the chest, or at least hid that they were Roman numerals. But this time…it must have been a pain in the ass. Putting clothes on a corpse…on anyone who can't move themselves…" she murmured quietly, her voice containing slight hints of disturbance at the thought of being unable to complete the bodily functions that allowed for movement, as if containment and restraint were unsettling to her. Beyond noted that silently, curiously.
Yes, it had been considerably difficult to set up this scene in the correct manner so that it pointed to the next victim, but it certainly hadn't been impossible. It was hardly worth considering when the grander scheme of things was put into true perspective. He called a response to his mind and to his lips, one of the many he had for just about any question she asked or any observation she made, to lead her on to the end.
"…Misora, the leg he abandoned in the bathroom was wearing a sock and a shoe." His observation was only helpful if one caught that he was emphasizing what was left behind, and in turn, what was taken, which was much more important in leading to what was truly left behind in respect to the clock of a room. But he couldn't make things too easy for her, now could he? Where were the fun and functionality and challenge in that? He hid a smile just below the surface as Misora responded.
"Yeah, I saw the picture." Her reply was short and simple, a subtle tone of slight disappointment behind her voice, as if she hadn't yet grasped the purpose of the remark he had provided her with. It seemed he had to help a little bit more...
"Then, I mean, perhaps the killer's goal…no, the killer's message has nothing to do with the clothes or shoes, but only to do with the severed limbs. Which is why he put everything else back the way it used to be," Beyond said, clarifying further and waiting expectantly as Naomi's smooth, pale brow furrowed in thought, her pale grayish blue eyes glimmering fascinatingly, frustrated and intelligent, lovely...
"But then…the left arm and the right leg. He left the leg in the bathroom and took the arm away with him…why? What was different about the left arm and the right leg? An arm and a leg…" She trailed off, so deeply submerged in thought that she could no longer summon the focus or inclination to voice the individual wonderings aloud. She stared up at the ceiling for a considerable period of time in silence, thinking deeply.
Beyond tilted his head back, just to see what she could see, wondering if it was anything interesting in and of itself or if it's only value in the current situation was to be a non-distracting surface to stare at. He bit his thumb nail slowly once again, calling to mind another hint for Misora and wondering how long it would take her to discover the crime scene's message if he didn't provide it.
He still had a few days left before the final "murder" would take place, so it wasn't like they were incredibly pressed for time, especially when all of the information needed for his plan to succeed was perfectly contained within his own head. Perhaps there was time for watching her struggle, or even for...a snack.
Beyond's stomach seconded the notion that he was in need of some sort of edible sustenance, growling very softly against his knees. He glanced down at his abdomen, blinked once, and then unfolded himself from his crouched position, rising to his feet visibly slouched over. Misora noticed his movements, settling her eyes sharply on him in response while still lying on the floor.
Beyond made his way around the armchair, heading with slow, shuffling steps into the nearby kitchen, which he'd already placed a few sugary treats in for just such a hunger. As he opened the fridge, carefully pulling on the handle with his pale fingers, he heard her call his name in a questioning manner:
"Ryuzaki?"
"Yes, Misora? Did you discover something?" he questioned in response, raising his voice only slightly, seeing as he knew she could still hear him despite the distance between them, and he didn't like wasting energy. He drew a cake from the interior of the refrigerator, setting it on the table beside him and heading toward the silverware drawer.
"Well, no... What are you doing?" Naomi called back to him from where she still lay upon the floor, her tone revealing her dislike of her uncertainty regarding his actions and the slight disappointment in her own, which had thus far produced no tangible fruit in solving the case.
"I cannot think on an empty stomach," Beyond replied simply, reentering the room that Misora currently resided in, holding the cake and two forks. He stopped beside the armchair he'd been sitting in previously, knowing that the cake was too large to effectively balance upon his knees and eat simultaneously, so he simply set it upon the floor and crouched with his knees up against his chest beside it. He was only a few feet away from Naomi, as was the cake.
On the outside, it was a pure, fluffy, white vanilla wonder of frosting, thickly crisscrossed with a glistening strawberry drizzle. On the inside, it was three layers of rich, decadent chocolate cake with melted fudge and more strawberry drizzle in between each. Beyond let a small smile of undeniable relish curl his pale lips, his sweet-toothed tendencies alive with anticipation.
Misora's blue grey eyes were wide with surprise and disbelief as she stared at him and the fantastic dessert he'd brought with him, her rational, sensible mind making such actions seem incomprehensible. She'd been surprised when he'd had the jar of strawberry jam at hand at Believe Bridesmaid's house, so he thought she would be somewhat accustomed to his bizarrely-sweet behavior, but still, the cake was much larger and more noticeable than a jar of jam.
It was amusing to him that he could still shock her, seeing as he'd done many a strange thing in the days they'd known each other and worked together solving this case. And he still didn't always know what to expect with her, which made it interesting... She sat up and stared at him, her smooth black hair sweeping across her shoulder with her movements, as he dug in with his fork, held delicately between his thumb and forefinger, and shoved a generous wad of cake into his mouth. He smiled with approval, moaning quietly with pleasure in the back of his throat.
She opened her mouth, as if to question how he'd gotten the cake there, where he'd gotten it from, when or why or anything at all to show her lack of understanding his actions, but then she sighed in surrender, dropping the matter entirely and staring with slight agitation at the cake, as if it were the source of her confusion rather than the man who had brought it over. Beyond shoved another forkful of cake in his mouth to hide his smile, instead focusing on the abundance of sugar and delicious taste against his tongue.
Naomi turned away from the cake when staring at it with agitation did nothing to help her understand it better, instead staring with irritated focus at the opposite wall, bracing herself up with her toned, leather-cased arms and reclining slightly, the light glistening in an entirely new way upon her smooth black jacket.
Beyond allowed yet another large piece of cake to rather-miraculously enter his mouth, his dark eyes watching Misora curiously as she finally sighed once again and dropped back down to the floor, as if she actually had been granted the ability to think better concerning Backyard Bottomslash's murder when she was reclined rather than when she was upright. Perhaps the lying down position also made the irksome cake easier to ignore. Beyond sucked on one of his fingers when a streak of creamy frosting had found its way onto his skin, when one of the too-big forkfuls of confectionary delight had lost a little of itself along the way to his mouth.
"Where did we leave off, Ryuzaki?" she asked him without looking at him, sounding slightly irritated toward the fact that she couldn't remember where she'd ceased to thoroughly investigate the case. She was also probably remembering how good his memory had been at the solving of the first crime scene and most likely believing it would be of great use in recalling the last few words that had inspired her previously productive thought process. Beyond actually did remember the last few words she'd spoken before he'd felt the inclination to retrieve his cake.
"An arm and a leg," he answered efficiently, watching with secret pleasure as her brow furrowed once more as her interesting mind began to work. He ate yet another piece of cake and waited for her for a moment or two before he voiced something that he believed would help her in the solving of the third murder scene's puzzling message.
"Once…on a different case…something happened that might help here. If you'd care to hear it?" he murmured curiously, his voice distorted by the delicious baked treat currently taking up the vast majority of space in his mouth. Misora once again did not look at him when she replied.
"Go ahead." Her voice was not hostile, but it wasn't entirely inviting either.
"It was a murder case, and the victim had been stabbed through the chest. Afterward, the ring finger of his left hand had been cut off and carried away. After his death. Can you guess why?" he asked with curiosity before wedging another sizeable piece of cake into his miraculously-capable mouth. He remembered the case well from one of his many studies at Wammy's, from a time that seemed so very far away... He'd discovered the answer effortlessly, solved the common scenario like non-genius child's play, and he waited to see if Misora would do the same.
"The ring finger of the left hand? That's easy. The victim was married, right? The killer must have cut it off to steal the wedding ring. Wedding rings have often been worn so long that they can no longer be taken off." Her tone laced her answer with confidence, a rather charming liveliness in her certainty. There was no human that didn't like to be right every once in a while, and Naomi Misora was no exception. Beyond smiled with pleased approval around another vast forkful of cake, satisfied that such an admittedly simple solution was well within the grasp of her practiced intellect.
"Yes. The killer was after money. Afterward, we successfully tracked down the ring on the black market and were able to trace it back to the killer and arrest him," he said with subtle, rather monotonous congratulations as he confirmed her correct answer. He left the story at that, curiously waiting to see if she would make the connection between what he'd provided her with and the crime scene's message. He'd given her a seemingly pointless clue that actually unraveled a great deal of the mystery if properly observed.
"But…that's certainly an interesting story and everything, but Ryuzaki, no one would cut off an entire arm to steal a ring. And Backyard Bottomslash wasn't married. According to the file, she wasn't even seeing anyone." Her tone was now slightly puzzled, her pale brow furrowed once again beneath her feathery black bangs, revealing her lack of understanding what he'd attempted to hint at. He took a moment to lick his fork, being careful not to answer too soon and reveal how well he'd thought this whole endeavor through. He watched the smear of creamy white frosting and blood-red strawberry drizzle glimmer upon the eating utensil before speaking.
"But there are more rings than wedding rings."
And Misora was pleasantly quick with a response, hardly giving him the time to spear a piece of the remaining cake between them and lift it up to his delightfully-sugar-lined mouth.
"But you still wouldn't take the entire arm."
He paused just long enough to give the illusion that she'd found a hole in his plan and that his observation and story had both been reduced to pointless rubble.
"Yes, you're right. That's why I only said it might help. If it didn't, then I apologize," he murmured slowly with droning sincerity, more sorry that she hadn't caught the meaning of his story. But still...she kept it interesting. His dark eyes flashed, though she didn't see.
"Not worth apologizing for, but there was no ring…no ring…" she said, obviously speaking to him at first but then pursuing an inner thought process that she didn't share aloud. Perhaps she would figure it out on her own after all... Beyond flicked his tongue against his fork as he watched her, peering through his hair at her as her mind took her away.
He then began to chew quietly on the prongs as he waited. Eventually, she lifted her arm upward, as if she were trying to grasp the light high overhead. Though he very briefly imagined the philosophical meanings to such an action, his mind wandered to another subject when he noticed a glint upon her finger. Yes, he'd noticed it before – an engagement ring, shimmering with an elegance that had found a comfortable middle ground between simply subtle and flamboyantly ostentatious. She stared at it for a minute or two, and he wondered if she was thinking of her fiancé, as it appeared...
He bit his fork a little harder, until the metal hurt his teeth slightly. For some strange reason, he didn't enjoy the thought of Naomi thinking of another man at all... His rational mind beat his bizarre emotions back, told him to attempt to look at the situation from a purely objective point of view. Was she even thinking about her fiancé? What did the ring mean to her? What did her fiancé mean to her?
He gazed observantly into her eyes, gauging the meaning behind her thoughtful expression, using his deductive experience to come to the conclusion that there was no evidence of that over-flowing, all-consuming, suffocating love in her eyes... Though he addressed that different people showed love in different ways, there seemed to be a chance that she was having mixed feelings about her engagement... and about her fiancé... And for some reason, that observation made him want to smile. He blinked. He wasn't sure why her personal life concerned him at all...or why he seemed so concerned now.
Was it wrong? He pressed his thumb to his lips, slowly submerging himself in thought. He wasn't certain what these strange feelings meant, seeing as he was quite unfamiliar with them. Still, in that uncertainty lay excitement. An engaging question was always worth an answer – and he was very interested in investigating what that answer might be. She didn't seem certain about whatever possibly-romantic future lay before her. And – he thought the statement before he considered its ramifications and the potential benefit of stopping himself – perhaps there was even room for him in those doubts.
He'd never considered such a possibility before, but now he couldn't seem to refrain from indulging in the ideas that began to flood his brain. A new plan was beginning to form... but it was interrupted when Naomi Misora finally revealed what she'd been contemplating so deeply, and helped him reroute his mind back to the current murder case.
"...Ryuzaki. Was Backyard Bottomslash right or left handed?" she asked curiously as Beyond filled his mouth with cake once again.
"According to your file, right handed. What of it?" he replied, his interest piqued in response to her possibly addressing the importance of which hand was taken, and maybe what was on that hand...
"So…chances are she would have worn a watch on her left arm. So perhaps what the killer took away…was a watch." Misora said, wonderfully confirming his suspicions as she lay there on the floor, "The right arm still had a sock and a shoe. So the arm he took away more than likely still had a watch on it."
"He cut off the arm to steal the watch? But why? Misora…you yourself said that it didn't make any sense to cut off an arm just to steal a ring. So why would someone do that to steal a watch? If he were after the watch, he would have just taken it. Watches aren't like rings. They never get stuck. There's no reason to cut off the arm," Beyond responded smoothly, contradictorily, as if she wasn't on the right track at all.
"No, I don't think he was after the watch either. But maybe the watch is this scene's message. If only the watch was missing it would be too obvious, so he took the arm too…" Naomi ventured experimentally, not being perturbed by his potential flaw in her reasoning. He could tell that her mind was still working.
"As a form of misdirection? I see…but in that case, we still don't know why he cut off the right leg as well. I doubt she wore a watch around her ankle. And even as a case of misdirection, there's still no need to take the whole arm – the wrist would have been plenty," Beyond countered once again, finding a true enjoyment in their game of wits as the sugar surged through his blood and sweetly coated his mouth. It was quite an intriguing situation in and of itself. Misora remained quiet on the floor, as if she were deep in thought once again.
"Left arm…right leg…left wrist…right ankle…left hand…right foot… watch… clock… timepiece… ticker… both hands and feet, both arms and legs…or are the bits left behind what really matter? Not the left arm and the right leg, but the right arm and left leg? The four limbs…" She murmured away, her thoughts projected aloud in a rather confusing tangle of words. It was most intriguing to almost watch her mind work through her face.
"Plus the head is five," Beyond offered, scooting slightly closer to her, terribly fascinated.
"Five…five minus two is three…three. The third scene. Limbs…and the head make five…the head? The neck…the neck, and one leg, and one arm…" Naomi's tangled thought processes continued, flitting swiftly through her lips as her mind spun, as if she were saying anything that came into her mind.
"If five minus two is three, then he could have cut off both arms or both legs, or the left arm and the head…if the left arm had to be one of them, then why the right leg?" Misora reached out with a coherent question, and started when she looked over and realized that Beyond was much closer to her than before. He realized his mistake, and wondered if she would react as he expected and ask him to move away in some way, shape, or form... But she merely gave him a strange look and then turned away, as if her thought process was still too pressing to be denied.
Beyond had another clue for her just sitting in the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said. Her question was swirling around in his brain, accelerated with the sugar from the cake he'd consumed. His ability to process and comprehend his surroundings was increased because of it all. Still, he wasn't sure why he wasn't assisting her with further figuring out the message of the crime scene. His previous plans came back into focus now that she'd seemed to reach a blockade in her mind.
She was actually quite close to him...He'd expected her to move away, at least a little bit, based on how she often responded to his proximity and behavior. Of course, he understood how demanding thought processes could be, even to override basic instincts and presently-pressing matters... Still, she kept surprising him. He wasn't sure how close she was to figuring out the crime scene's message. Would she figure it out on her own, or would she require his help once again? If she could figure out this crime scene's message... would she figure everything out after all, even his true involvement in this case and why he was doing what he was doing?
That was a distressing thought to him, seeing as it meant that all that he'd worked for and all that he'd done could be in jeopardy. He didn't want to underestimate her... that could ruin everything. So what could he do? If he led her to the end of the case, there was a chance that he would succeed and that everything would go just as he planned, but there was the slim chance that she would discover the secret of the locked room trick and destroy everything... Was there a chance that he could prevent that...? Was there anything he could do to distract her from the many secrets this case held...?
As he looked at her then, his mind zeroed in on the engagement ring, and the thoughts it had evoked in him, and he smiled. There was a chance that something along those lines would be distracting enough to prevent her from thinking too clearly in the days to come. Still, he couldn't make a decision until he thought it through, and as he thought about it, he began to see holes in this method... Perhaps he was overestimating his ability to be distracting to a woman – he knew that he wasn't well experienced in anything remotely romantic...
On top of that, there was a chance that it would make her more aware of him and his motives in the case than before... And it was also risky to his well-being. She did know Capoeira, after all... The more he thought about it, the more he wasn't certain if it was the right way to proceed... Naomi Misora sighed heavily beside him, calling his attention back to the present matter. He looked down at her, watching the frustration in her face with his shadowed black eyes. She still seemed to be stuck on the case, and that led to another distracting thought on Beyond's part...
"...Misora. I find that, when my mind isn't working the way I want it to, something sweet helps me think more clearly," he ventured, carefully scooting the plate of remaining cake across the floor toward her and holding out the unused fork that he had grabbed earlier. She blinked and sat up, shifting and looking at him with awkward surprise. She seemed apprehensive to take any of his advice after he'd given her the sugary coffee at the last crime scene they'd solved.
"...Ryuzaki, I don't really –" she started, beginning to refuse.
"I insist, Misora. You need to keep your mind sharp," he murmured helpfully, persuasively, and he stifled a smile as she sighed in resignation and took the fork from him. He watched as she stabbed the edge of the cake and brought a modest piece up to her mouth, chewing it and swallowing it smoothly and licking the frosting from her lips. Beyond found his mind much more focused on his previous digression, seeing as he was now wondering how delightful her mouth would taste...
He fully addressed the ramifications of what he was about to do:
Naomi Misora was a trained, intelligent, and physically-fit FBI agent. She was strong-willed, cautious, and undoubtedly engaged to another man. If he tried anything, he was most likely be opposing her better judgment as well as the promise she'd made to her fiancé. That could have a ferocious recoil, but... if there was a chance that she was remotely open to him and his upcoming actions, then it would most likely be enough to effectively make her focus on her love life instead of the murder case in the near future... Then he could succeed, surpass L, and still have a little more fun than he expected to in the first place...
Was it worth the risk?
In the end, he believed that he could do whatever he wanted as long as the case was properly left unsolved for eternity... and now there was just the means of getting to that point as distractingly as possible...
Naomi seemed to be finishing up with eating the cake. She'd eaten a good helping already while he'd been thinking, but he could see that she didn't really have half of the sweet tooth he did... It could've been a possible indication that she was soon going to move away from him and return to the case, putting a blockade in front of his desires. Still, the thinnest smear of frosting remained across her lips, a small drop of strawberry drizzle gathering tantalizingly at the corner of her mouth. Needless to say, he wasn't ready to drop the matter just yet. His mind formulated a plan, and his body began to act on it quite easily. He realized how much he wanted to kiss her, then, and as long as it assisted in his endeavor as well, he couldn't find the will to refuse himself.
He had to be quick about it, because he knew how wicked fast her reflexes were, and he had to be quiet, so as not to alarm her too much and trigger a defensive maneuver on her part. Catching her completely off-guard seemed to be the best move, without giving her time to oppose him... He realized just how entrancing this new aspect of his game with L was. He wondered how fun it was to actually play...to actually win...
Naomi went back for a small piece of cake, crossing in front of Beyond Birthday to do so.
As she drew her arm back toward her mouth, he took her hand in one of his own. Her skin was warm and smooth, just as he had expected, and it was a further indication to continue with what he was doing, seeing as she hadn't ripped her hand away from his immediately. She looked at him with careful intrigue, her face snapping toward his in response to his strange movements.
"Ryuzaki–" she started to ask, but her sentence was effectively terminated when he pulled her by her arm, capturing the back of her head with his other hand and pulling her face smoothly and swiftly to his all at once. Her lips pressed strongly against his with the force of their impact, and Beyond felt his blood begin to surge. That lingering, nagging desire that had been bothering him since he'd begun to fantasize about cutting her clothes off exploded in his mind. The catalyst of their proximity and chemistry finally overwhelmed him.
He heard Naomi's frosting-coated fork clatter upon the floor. She made a small, shocked, irritated sound in the back of her throat. Her mouth was rigid against his for an instant, her body stiffening all over with her resistance. She struggled slightly, and he felt her legs curl underneath her, making him fear a counterattack. He was just beginning to accustom himself in this action, and he wasn't ready for it to end so quickly.
He held her closer, while still being careful to not restrain her and initiate the basic instinct of escaping captivity. He had to make her want to stay, and he acted on that conclusion very quickly, in the only way he knew how. He tangled his fingers in her silken hair, letting his lips press and move against hers. The sweetness of the cake swirled within his mouth, danced upon his tongue, made him want more. He extended his legs below her and drew them back in, capturing her ankles with his feet and pulling her legs out from under her, making her fall more forward onto him with their limbs further intertwining. Yes... His blood was tangibly hot within him now, racing through his veins, almost as fast as when he truly, deeply imagined what it would feel like to succeed L.
This woman was rivaling his greatest desire on earth. How very unexpectedly interesting...
His body continued to take over, moving with Misora without much conscious direction from his brain. He touched her face delicately with his frosting-smeared fingertips, his mouth continuing to hunger for hers as his breathing began to transform into heady gasping. His body shuddered and ached, and he couldn't believe it when he noticed hers begin to slacken against his... Was she actually accepting him? He was incomprehensive. He'd only found around a five percent chance that this would work at all, and now... He'd never expected any aspect of that supposedly meaningless fantasy to become a reality. Now he couldn't deny the dream. For just an instant it seemed, she was kissing him back.
He extended his tongue and trailed it tentatively across her lips, tasting the sugar and the strawberry drizzle at the corner of her mouth, and his fingers brushed against her engagement ring, beginning to maneuver it off of her finger...
And once again he made a terrible mistake that he became instantly and painfully aware of.
Misora's mouth froze. Her body became rigid. And then something incredibly hard and unmerciful slammed into the side of his face.
Beyond rolled across the floor, his limbs splaying randomly until he finally slid to a broken stop and lay still. His entire head pounded, and he tasted blood in his mouth. She must've punched him. That was a likely cause for this effect... For an instant, he merely listened. The sound of his blood rushing through his mind as well as the resonance of his and Naomi's remaining gasping moved around his consciousness with a strange sort of serenity... but then his mind caught up with everything, and reality settled back in.
Beyond sat up slowly and unevenly as if he were a puppet with tangled strings, his hair hanging raggedly in his face, his eyes staring hotly through the fringe of the ebony strands. His head cocked to one side and blood welled from between his lips and dribbled warmly on his knee. He couldn't help but smile, though part of his mind assumed that it must've been a terribly unsettling sight, even to him.
Naomi sat across from him, her blue-gray eyes wide and glossy. It looked something like what he expected a burning human's gaze to resemble – full of a strangely heated agony, a nearly-terrible awareness, and inescapable warmth. She was obviously mortified with what she had done, which he had admittedly expected, and yet...she did not completely regret it. He could see that, somehow. There was a hesitation, a confusing resistance in her mind that she didn't seem to be able to process properly in her expression. It was one of the most fascinating things he had ever seen. She shuddered at the sight of his crimson-stained smile...
She had allowed him to kiss her far more liberally than he had expected, and now it seemed they were both quite surprised by that fact. There was nothing to be said for the moment, so they just stare at each other. Her hair was slightly frazzled and tangled, and the remnants of strawberry drizzle were still faintly coloring and glistening upon her mouth. Beyond could still feel his lips ache, still taste her on his tongue, and it was hard to prevent his smile from widening. His heart still raced in his chest, his entire body alive with heat and awareness. His flesh was tingling still, even after her body had ceased to press against him in any way. This was all quite a marvelous feeling, even if the side of his jaw was beginning to throb with pain.
Naomi turned away from him, a panicked look in her eyes, and interesting look in the very least as she looked down at her hand, at her engagement ring. He could almost see her stomach roil with repulsion... and something else, as well... It seemed he hadn't been wrong in assuming that her relationship was not wholly and completely fulfilling to her... But he couldn't get ahead of himself. This situation was still terribly unstable. Now he had to attempt to fix things and get the case back on track...if he could even think of anything else after that...
No. Of course he could. It was foolish to think that Misora was anything but a pawn in the scheme of surpassing L. He just had to make her feel better about her... moment of weakness, now...
"...I'm sorry, Misora... I'm not sure what came over me... That was very unprofessional, and I do apologize most sincerely," he said, partially lying through his teeth. His voice was soft and slow, as if he were filled with shameful regret, and it also helped him make sure that it didn't come out too heated and husky. He looked down, hiding his eyes from her view behind his hair, and wiped the blood from his chin with his sleeve.
He felt her gaze on him then, but silence lingered between them. He could barely hear her breathing any longer. She was much more contained in herself, now, but he wasn't sure that she was any less upset... He glanced up curiously through the fringe of his hair once again, seeing her still looking at her engagement ring. She then proceeded to stand up with smooth, sinuous movements, and head for the door.
"The head and arm and leg left behind are all of different lengths..." he said quickly and rather randomly and yet purposefully, finally speaking aloud the clue that he'd thought of quite some time ago to help her further solve the mystery of the current crime scene. His heart thrilled subtly when he heard Naomi's high heeled boots suddenly stop moving.
"...What?" she asked incredulously, turning back to him with a sharpened, uninviting gaze.
"The head, arm, and leg are different lengths... I figured it might be helpful in solving the case..." he murmured with staged awkwardness, swallowing another mouthful of blood as if it were an effort. Misora's brow furrowed with vicious incomprehension, and she whirled back toward the door, continuing to exit.
"I can't believe you're just going to try to fix things like that!" she shouted, throwing up her arms and making her hair swish angrily across her back.
"Misora, please do not let my inappropriate actions oppose your duty as an agent... Do this for Backyard Bottomslash... and to try to prevent there even being a next victim..." Beyond countered rather experimentally, seeing if he could tug at her heart-strings to get her focused once again instead of just providing her with case-relevant information. Fortunately, Misora slowed once again, her hand on the doorknob... She stood there silently for a moment, and he could see her shoulders tremble slightly... And then she turned and looked at the spot where Backyard Bottomslash had bled out on the floor.
Beyond's eyes flashed. He knew that look in her eyes by now. That was the look of deduction, and it was back. Yes – she was back on the case. That was evident. Things just got more and more interesting... Beyond waited in his crouched, heap-like position on the floor, his hair still tangled in his face but not obscuring his gaze of her calculating, wondering expression. He waited to see what she'd do next.
"Needle? Or hands..." she finally murmured, so quietly that he could barely hear her.
"What about needles?" he asked curiously, truly not knowing exactly where her mental paths were taking her. Perhaps it was something about her mental state of direction, the thought process she was following...
"No, hands…" Misora murmured absently in response, her voice rising in volume and increasing in intensity. She had made the realization of the importance of the clock... Yes... Beyond stifled a grin when she finally turned to him, that beautifully intelligent gleam in her eyes once again.
"A clock! Clock hands, Ryuzaki!" She announced with conviction, strength, and confidence. Now the game was back on. Time to make her think she'd done it all on her own...
"Hunh? Clock hands...?" he asked, as if he had no idea that the clock detail had been important all along. Feigned confusion made his black eyes widen in mock surprise, his pale lips parted in a lack of understanding.
"The hour hand, the minute hand, and second hand! Three of them! Each of different lengths!" Misora explained excitedly, turning back to him completely, holding out her hands with the brilliance of the deduction and all that it implied. "At the first scene, he took the Akazukin Chacha away to point us to Insufficient Relaxation, at the second scene he took the contacts to point us toward the glasses, and here at the third scene, he took away the wrist watch…and turned the victim into a clock!"
"The victim…into a clock?" Beyond asked, continuing to act as if he hadn't planned the whole thing from the start. He stared at her calmly, his black eyes deep and open for an explanation.
"By clock you mean…"
"The head is the hour hand, the arm is the minute hand, and the leg is the second hand! That's why the killer took the watch with him, and that's why he didn't just take the watch or just cut off the hand, but cut the arm off at the root and had to cut one of the legs off as well – otherwise there wouldn't be three hands left!" Misora continued, her voice still quite engaged in the current discovery. She approached him quickly, taking the picture of Backyard Bottomslash out of her pocket.
"Look at this, Ryuzaki. See? The head is the hour, the arm is the minute, the leg is the second, so this is 12:45 and twenty seconds," she said confidently, beginning to calm down and regain her composure now that everything was coming together. She just wasn't quite right yet...
"Mmm. When you put it that way…" Beyond mused, pressing his thumb to his lips and gazing at the photo, secretly marveling in his own handiwork. Misora was certainly on the trail now – he just had to bait her the rest of the way...
"When I put it that way? It's obviously the message he left behind! And he tossed the leg into the bathroom because it was only the watch he needed to take away, and he wanted to emphasize that," Naomi countered, still strongly backing up her conviction and trying to make him believe it. Beyond remained quiet for a moment, thinking intently about the picture and how to make her see it the right way.
"Let me see that," he murmured, taking the photograph between his thumb and forefinger and turning it every which way, tracing the shapes and colors and meanings with his eyes.
"Misora," he said after a moment, calling her attention to his discovery.
"Yes? What?" she asked, obviously curious to know if he had found the grounds to disprove her discovery in any way.
"Assuming your theory is correct…from the picture, there is no way to be sure that the victim's clock is pointing at 12:45 and twenty seconds."
"Eh?"
"I mean, look," Beyond stated patiently, holding the picture in front of her face and rotating it every which way, "Hold it like this, and it's 6:15 and fifty seconds. Or like this… Three o'clock and thirty-five seconds. And if you turn it 180 degrees again, 9:30 and five seconds."
"…Oh," Misora said with the realization of how many flaws her observation still left unresolved.
"If the victim represents the three hands, then this square room is presumably the numbers. The victim was lying in the center of the room, after all. And the victim was placed like this, parallel or perpendicular to the walls of the room, so I think we can assume it is one of the four patterns I mentioned. But four patterns is still too many. We need to at least get it down to two, or we can't really say we've solved the killer's message," Beyond mused critically, absently biting his thumb nail as he thought, summoning the right guiding words to lead Misora to the end of it all...
"The room…is the numbers?" she asked, just grasping the concept as it branched out of her initial perspective of the clock that was Backyard Bottomslash.
"Now that I think about it, the first message involved Roman numerals…which are often used on clock faces. But there are no Roman numerals in here. If only there was some hint to tell us which wall goes with which number..." Beyond looked around the room, noticing how the sky was beginning to show signs of the day coming to a close. As long as this crime scene was solved before nightfall, he figured that this had been quite a productive day... Misora stood beside him, also observing the room, her eyes roaming across the furniture and the other components, trying to find any hint of a clock's positioning.
"Ryuzaki, do you know which way north is? If north is twelve…" she started, though he could already tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn't completely on board with the theory.
"I already thought of that, but there's no logical reason to assume that north is twelve. This isn't a map, after all. It might be east, or west, or south," Beyond said dismissively, wanting her to think deeper than that...
"Logic…logic…yeah, yeah, we need proof, or at least something reasonable…but how can we tell which wall? There's nothing…" Misora murmured with slight frustration, her blue-gray eyes rather restless.
"Indeed. It feels like there's a wall blocking our path, too tall for us to climb over," Beyond muttered rather philosophically, trailing his thumb across his lips once again, wondering if she would pick up on the true meaning of his words any time soon...
"A wall? Good metaphor. A wall…a wall…" she said slowly, her eyes beginning to dart quickly around the room, as if her mind were working faster than before. Beyond waited patiently, his black eyes on her. He didn't miss the spark of intuition in her eyes as she no doubt figured it out at last.
"I got it, Ryuzaki," Naomi said, certainly calm and collected now, "The number of stuffed animals…the stuffed animals on each wall. The number of animals is pointing to the time. See? There are twelve of them against the wall with the door. And nine over there…twelve o'clock and nine o'clock. If we view the whole room as a clock, then the door goes on top."
"No, wait a second, Misora…" Beyond muttered, still finding a reason to interrupt her thought process, "Twelve and nine are certainly true enough, but there are five dolls over here, and only two on the fourth wall. If we use four numbers to indicate a clock face, then they should be twelve, three, six, and nine. Not twelve, two, five, and nine. These numbers don't fit."
"Of course they do. If we count the Wara Ningyo," Naomi said easily, side-stepping his potential boundary as if it were nothing and staring pointedly at the remaining holes in the wall, "If we add the Wara Ningyo to those two stuffed animals…we get three. And if we add the Wara Ningyo to those five stuffed animals…we get six. This makes it work. The third crime scene itself is a clock. The entire room is a clock."
Naomi Misora walked forward, a slight distance away from Beyond, and set the photograph of Bottomslash upon the floor, right where the woman had been laid out, and where Beyond himself had rested an hour or so ago...
"6:15 and fifty seconds," she said, and Beyond Birthday smiled with undeniable approval.
Look out, L... He thought to himself, ...I'm on my way to the top.
Naomi looked at him and smiled with pride, taking joy in her success, in the use of her brilliant mind, in the rush of discovery. Beyond looked up at her in return, and smiled easily as well, with a similar state of mind. Then Naomi seemed to remember what had happened earlier, and her smile shrank a little as she brushed her fingers across her engagement ring. She didn't speak – merely nodded curtly and then exited the room.
Beyond watched her go, licking his lips even after she'd disappeared.
He then laughed to himself, genuinely and loudly and without effort or shame.
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Well, there you go. Again, I don't think it's my best in any way, but I still wanted to share it.
Thank you all! Read and review! :D