Rain and Blood
The clatter of metal resounds as it is fired from the barrel, holding a brief suspension within space before impacting its target.
A gloved hand grips the trigger with eyes set, determined and focused. A body falls to the floor, crimson seeping from a wound to the head.
The gun lowers and the opposite hand lifts a bar of sweet and barred cocoa. A snap echoes through the space as the wielder partakes of the treat.
His booted feet turn and then clank against the metal of the flooring before he takes the stairs and exits the room.
Awaiting him is a scarlet motorized bike, the thrill of the impending ride filling the young man with excitement and subsequently prompting a very slight smirk to cross his scarred face.
Taking his seat, he lifts the helmet and secures it upon his head before revving the engine and leaning forward to speed out onto the adjoining road.
He thinks of his victim, blue eyes hardening and mind willing itself against any guilt. It is his job as a leader of the mafia. It is his job to kill.
The light above shifts from green to yellow and the man speeds on through before the change to red is made. He switches into another lane and continues forward.
Evening waits upon the brink and the man knows it is only a matter of time until he will be required to kill again.
As he stops at the next light, his attention is directed to the right, where the upbeat hum of a night club wafts across the vicinity.
A line of people await admittance and the young man watches them absently as he taps his finger impatiently for the traffic to proceed.
His eyes prepare for a withdrawal before someone claims their immediate and intense observation. He recognizes the face and observes the changes he was responsible for inflicting.
The girl his gang had abducted and exchanged for the killer notebook several months ago. She stands there with a small group of teens her age and smiles.
But her eyes are detached and he knows that it is his fault. She has not completely recovered from the event.
Shortly after her kidnapping, he had been reunited with her father and the man had been shot within his presence. The wounds had been undoubtedly fatal.
His hand grips the handle of his bike tightly and his eyes narrow slightly. The guilt resurfaces. The light changes and the car in front is beginning to inch forward.
He looks away and ponders a moment before switching on his right-turn indicator and directing his bike toward the club.
Merely idling within the lot, he looks to the girl again. She is like a ghost. A specter of his past that had been conjured to remind him of the consequences his actions had caused.
His life is filled with corruption. It is filled with sin. He feels the weight of the rosary beads around his neck and the culpability he has inflicted over himself.
But it is far too late to try changing anything. It was all necessary for him to achieve his ultimate goal. He wants to overcome his feeling of inferiority, wants to prove that he is the rightful heir to the great detective, L.
He lowers his eyes and shakes his head before returning his attention to the road and revving his bike once more.
He sweeps passed the girl and her group, overhearing a few whispers from some of them at the sight of the motorcycle. It is impressive, after all.
Catching only a single glimpse of her eyes as they observe the sight of him, he sees that no form of recognition takes her demeanor. She does not realize who he is. It makes sense. She has never even seen him before.
Without looking back, he resumes his course back to the life he has chosen. He does not want to change and so he has already decided to live with all of his guilt and to never waver from his path to acknowledgement.
He veers onto the main road and speeds through the light, eyes set on the skyscrapers ahead and the group that is awaiting his orders.
All he has to do is lay low within the city until an opportunity to continue pursuing Kira emerges. When it does, he is determined to be ready for it.
Rain begins to sparsely fall and the road grows slick. He steadies himself and increases his acceleration. It is one of life's greatest thrills, after all.
He had only progressed a half mile from the club when the downpour becomes too much for him to even see through. He spots an awning and brakes before steering towards it and waiting beneath.
Gazing out at the wall of water, he removes his helmet and shakes his head. A sigh is released from his lips and he relaxes as he is again required to wait.
Neon lights are visible from buildings beyond and are reflected within the gathering puddles. Electricity is literally ignited within the air and lightning strikes.
A figure begins to approach then, though the young man can barely make out who it is. He wonders if the person is seeking an escape from the rain as well.
The water before him is parted and within the shadows, he identifies the silhouette. It is the girl. The specter returns displays a look of complete recognition.
How does she know?
She approaches him with a determined facade and he fearlessly meets her stare.
"I know who you are," she says, prompting his eyes to narrow.
He observes her drenched state as she pants and clutches at the strap of her purse.
"I looked you up after I recovered," she explains. "And just now, when I saw you on your bike, I chased after you."
He is silent a moment before responding. "And now that you've found me, what do you intend to achieve?"
"Nothing," she replies, gaze hardening. "I just wanted to meet face to face with the person who changed my life."
His gaze narrows further and he steels himself. It is true though, her path had been irreversibly altered at his hand. She had been a means to an end.
"Also," she continues. "I wanted to ask you something…"
"What is it?"
Her eyes waver slightly as she inhales, brows creasing. "Did my father…did he die well?"
And the man's exterior softens. Did she know that he had not been the one to fire the shot? He stares into the eyes of the compelling person and then slowly nods. "He did."
She offers him a small, sad smile. "That's good."
The sound of the rain is all that can be heard but it begins to decrease in magnitude. Cars return to the streets and the liveliness of the city is rekindled.
His attention returns to her and he extends a hand. Did this action make any sense? Logically, no, but he had never been a logical person anyway.
Within this moment, his offer simply feels right.
"Get on," he beckons.
He does not pause to consider whether or not she will trust him or whether or not the continuous passing of time will make his arrival at the destination he is scheduled to reach a late one.
She hesitates, eyes cautious. Years of upbringing with a police chief for a father and a law abiding brother has honed her into an individual who knows what sort of warning signs to look for.
However, she seems to see through to his true intent and subsequently steps forward to take a seat behind him. Her arms surround his torso and she slowly leans her head down against him.
The man glances back, slightly astonished but also relieved. He is going to try and restore a small semblance of enthusiasm within the girl's life.
Because even more intense than his desire to be recognized as number one among the orphanage's brilliant minds, Mello has always felt a strong inclination towards offering his aid to those who need it.
And though he often suppresses this urge, this girl has almost instantly called upon it.
Yagami Sayu, the one whose life he had nearly destroyed. He owes her at least this small act of courtesy.
He revs the engine again and tears through the thinning wall of water and reemerges onto the street, speeding towards the club she had left in order to seek him out. He will return her there and then remove himself from her life completely.
This is closure.
As he turns into the parking lot and brakes, he feels her slightly tighten her hold.
"You aren't a very bad person at all," she tells him then.
He chuckles humorlessly and then looks back as she lifts her head. "Maybe not, but actions define everyone."
"That's probably true," she tilts her head, "because if you were a bad guy then you would've simply left me alone beneath that awning."
He says nothing, only stares down at her expressionlessly.
She sighs before climbing off the bike and then readjusts her bag and attempts to smooth her hair. "Goodbye."
He nods and then summons a smirk, "so long, kid."
She waves and turns before walking towards the building. He stares after her and, when she glances back, his smirk transitions into a smile.
In some alternate world, he would follow her into the club. He would get to know her, buy her a drink and act upon the interest that she has so swiftly inspired.
However, he is destined for a different path; one of blood and sin and struggle. A path separate from the one she will lead.
He tears his eyes away from her, resolution reaffirmed and speeds off towards the next victim that will die at his hands.
This is who he is.
He is a condemned member of society and a mere puzzle piece within a far grander design.
But he is still determined to stand apart. He is prepared to do whatever it takes to achieve that outcome.
He would not have preferred it any other way.
He thinks of the girl and acknowledges that he is also removed of the guilt he had previously associated with her. She has baptized a small but significant portion of his soul.
She is rain, cleansing and renewing.
And he is blood, unalterable and fleeting.
The End
Sincerely,
Café Blue