Seeking His Hand
Chapter One
Soichiro Yagami is not a young man.
His knees creak when he sits, and when he stands. He can no longer crouch under the chassis of a broken carriage, or lay new tar patches on an old roof, or carry crates of ammunition to the policing station. He is aging like an oak tree in winter, and he knows it.
It matters to him - but not for reasons of vanity. He has never cared for looks beyond good grooming and personal hygiene. And Soichiro has married a good wife, who loves him for what he is inside. She doesn't care if his outer shell is but a husk of what it once was.
Soichiro's age matters to him because he is a provider, and after a certain age, a man can no longer provide what he once did for his family. Soichiro hasn't reached that age (yet), but he knows it is coming, and he knows he must be prepared.
To the Master of the Yagami Household, Mr. Soichiro Yagami:
That is why he's putting on a coat and tie, shining his shoes, reviewing the last month's bank statements. He is preparing.
I write to you as a Suitor of the most serious intent.
The morning is dawning bright and crisp. Birds are beginning their melodies, and roosters are already retiring for a nap. Soichiro requires strong coffee, and a stronger stomach. He loves his wife. He loves his children. He is not ready to imagine giving one of them up, no matter how old they have become, or how tall, or how intelligent or independent. He will never be ready, he fears.
Your eldest child (a 'child' no longer, though you can perhaps excuse the limited diction of a Suitor in petition) will come of age this February, and, as I understand it, yet un-Matched. It would be my great pleasure if you would do me the honor of entertaining my Suit, this Sunday hence, April 5th, at your esteemed residence.
As he stares into the only mirror in his family's house, combing his hair, he remembers when he was on the other side of letters like that. His words were never as well-scripted, his handwriting much poorer, but he remembers the necessity of humbling himself before Sachiko's father. A suitor can be turned down flat for even the hint of egotism.
Yours most sincerely, and respectfully,
L Lawliet
Today is that very "Sunday hence," and Soichiro is reminding himself that it is not for his own benefit that he agreed to meet with this Mr. Lawliet.
It is for Light's.
Light is his firstborn, and everything that a father could ask for in a son. Soichiro loves him with a fierce pride, and a protectiveness that some might say would be more appropriate to display for a daughter (though Sayu, to be sure, enjoys the same protectiveness). But Light is growing up – in many ways, has been grown up for quite some time – and he is alone. It won't do to leave him isolated, especially when Soichiro knows that one day, he will be too ancient to provide for Light himself.
So Soichiro must do what he can for his son, even if (right now) it feels like the doing of it will cause him to lose Light completely.
The carriage bringing Mr. Lawliet to Soichiro's home is absolutely lavish. Drawn by four horses and shining with new black paint, it looks like the carriage of a prince. Through the four windows, Soichiro can see that six people could easily fit inside. There is only one, however, and at first glance, he doesn't seem the type to ride in such a thing.
He is wearing a pure white poet's shirt but no coat or vest. He wears no hat. When his driver opens the carriage door and he steps out of it (thoughtfully, deliberately, as if he has planned down the second which movements he ought to make), Soichiro sees that the man is wearing only the plainest trousers and shoes whose heels are barely higher than their lawn's short grass.
Nevertheless…the man must surely be Mr. Lawliet.
With a second look, though, it becomes clear that he is the type to ride in something like that. Once out of the carriage, he carries himself with the careless air of the gentry class: clearly born into a land-owning family. Unused to outdoor labor, his skin is pale as porcelain. Unused to manual labor, his hands are clean and smooth.
Soichiro stands in the small front doorway, what could generously be called a foyer. He watches as Mr. Lawliet approaches the front steps. As this is the first Suit that Soichiro has ever entertained, he reminds himself of the stern yet benevolent confidence that Sachiko's father displayed at his own Suit and tries to project that same air.
"Master Soichiro Yagami of the policehand's academy," L greets him. "I am L."
They sit in the "parlor" of the house. More of a tiny den than anything, Soichiro offers Mr. Lawliet a chair there, and he takes it with cordial thanks. Soichiro takes the remaining seat directly across from him. The chairs are old but sturdy, with clean cushions, and there is a small wooden table in between. On the table lays Mr. Lawliet's letter of Suit, and Soichiro's ledger detailing the sum of Light's dowry.
It feels in some absurd way like a business deal is being hammered out. In some ways, it very much is.
Sachiko had taken great care to set up a small tray of tea, milk, and sugar. Soichiro takes one cup, and Mr. Lawliet the other. He takes the liberty of piling six cubes of sugar into his.
"What is your family's business, Mr. Lawliet?" asks Soichiro. The name of Lawliet is unheard of in their town.
"Just L will do, if you please. My grandfather began several enterprises," Mr. Lawliet says. His voice is a low, rumbling murmur. "He is an inventor, chiefly. Then he turned to philanthropy, which he still continues. And most recently, he has tasked himself with training detectives."
Soichiro nods. He admits to himself that he is impressed. "A renaissance man, I take it."
"Quite," Mr. Lawliet answers, sipping his tea.
"And what line of his work do you yourself follow?"
Mr. Lawliet presents Soichiro with a wry smile. "I am a detective."
"Have you caught many criminals?" asks Soichiro, curious.
"My fair share," Mr. Lawliet says mildly.
A few beats of silence ensue. Deciding to cut directly to the chase, Soichiro asks: "Why do you want to marry my son?"
One corner of Mr. Lawliet's lips twitches, almost as if in humor. "I'm given to understand that most fathers don't bother to ask why. Apparently, most ask, 'how much gold will it take to get my offspring off of my accounts and into yours?'"
Soichiro nods, acknowledging the usual route of these sorts of conversations, but he says nothing further. He truly does want an answer – and preferably, an honest one.
Mr. Lawliet stares at him for a moment, then sighs almost imperceptibly. "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. …or husband," he says.
Soichiro makes a thoughtful "hmm" sort of sound, thinking that perhaps elaboration is forthcoming.
"I am a widower, Master Yagami. And I am told that two years is far too much time for a man as young as I am to be going on alone."
"I must be honest with you, Mr. Lawliet –"
"Please, Master Yagami. Call me L."
Soichiro shifts in his chair, clears his throat. Nods reluctantly. "L. I must be honest with you. Light's dowry is not nearly the size that he deserves. I have worked hard to save for this time in his life, but with a policehand's wages such as they are…"
L raises one hand, stopping Soichiro's meager words. "Think nothing of the money, Master Yagami. I daresay I have enough for the both of us."
Soichiro can't say that he is surprised. L's letter was written on cream-colored sheepskin (expensive) and in ink made of crushed violets (more expensive still). Soichiro knew that he must be at least marginally wealthy.
If he is being honest with himself, the money does matter. Light needs a secure future…why else are they having this conversation? And if L doesn't care about finances, why negotiate a Suit at all? It isn't as if Light can give him children.
Because it's clear that L truly doesn't care about the financials. He is dressed in plainclothes; no jewelry. No purse ringing with gold pieces colliding against each other. He doesn't even wear a nobleman's wig.
Soichiro tries to think of a way to voice his confusion without sounding insulting or obtuse.
L is not patient enough for him to work out the phrasing. "In any case, I trust your judgment. You're an upstanding citizen, you provide for your family, and as far as I can tell, you are faithful in all things. So, in regards to the dowry, draw up a contract of what you feel is fair. I shall sign it even if your son comes to me without two coppers to rub together," he says.
If money is that inconsequential, Soichiro thinks, there must be something else at play. But what?
"Do you know Light?" he asks.
"Not personally, of course. But I have some skill in deducing the characters of men, and your son strikes me as….well. He has struck me."
L is polite, respectful. He dutifully plays the part of humble Suitor. Soichiro can find no fault in his manners, honesty, or pocketbook. Light has gotten other Offers before this one, of course. He is a handsome boy, and many Suitors have taken note. In fact, they have told Soichiro in no uncertain terms that his looks are enough to make up for his inadequate dowry. Some have been downright crude about it – Soichiro turned all of them down on the spot. Nothing in L's words matched that sort of an attitude. In fact, Soichiro wonders if Light's appearance was even what L was referring to when he said Light had "struck" him.
L leaves with more cordial words of thanks. After the door is shut behind him, Soichiro doesn't discard his letter as he did all of the others. He places it carefully back into its crisp envelope, ties the ribbon closing the flap just so. The letter sits quietly for two days while he ponders his decision.
This is one tradition he hopes to only undertake once. He wants to do it right. Sachiko still keeps the Offer letter that Soichiro gave to her father, inside a cherry wood box on top their chest of drawers.
Soichiro hopes he has chosen correctly. Can a father ever really know?
In the end, only time will tell. There is work to be done today, and Light will be waking soon. It will not do for him to dawdle. Since Soichiro has decided to entertain L's Suit, he must now show Light his letter.
Light sleeps in the kitchen. There aren't enough bedrooms in the house for both he and Sayu, and Light had long ago concluded that the most logical solution was for him to sleep in the kitchen, so that Sayu's privacy could be maintained.
"Sayu's growing up, Dad," Light had pointed out, reasonably, at the age of twelve. "She wants her own room and neither of us would be comfortable sharing it at this point. So I'll just sleep down here. It's warmer anyway, and Sayu can have all of her girl stuff in there."
Older now, at the tender age of eighteen, Light maintains his composed rationality. He has slept in the kitchen ever since that day. His bed is nothing luxurious, and Soichiro knows that it is not the most comfortable thing in the world. But Light has never complained. Even now, he sleeps in tranquility.
Soichiro quietly, carefully slips L's envelope under Light's pillow. Light will find it in the morning – Soichiro knows that he always checks. He has caught Light at it several mornings now. Light swipes his hand casually, quickly, but thoroughly under his pillow, and, finding nothing, rises to begin the day, no discernable emotional reaction on his face. It is tradition to find one's Offer letter (or letters, if things fall apart midway through an engagement) underneath a pillow at some point between the eighteenth and nineteenth birthdays. Soichiro cannot tell whether Light checks for his own so dutifully because he is eager for it, or terrified.
Author's Note:
I am so happy to see this fandom picking up again!
I must give credit where credit is due:
Firstly, to BC3. She is my everything, and the whole idea for this fic came from her, as well many significant plot and backstory developments. Though the actual text of the chapter was from me, I consider this fic collaboration with her. Just as our lives are a collaboration. ;)
Next, I must cite Jane Austen's famous quote: "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife."
If certain customs or cultural references seem familiar to you, they very likely are. I have pulled from various historical practices, as well as creating a few of my own. I wouldn't call this fic's universe strictly a Regency historical romance, but there are several ways in which it will fit the genre.
I hope you all enjoyed our contribution to the Death Note Fandom Revival. Heh. More of this fic is definitely to come!
- Magic